#so i went with the second latest one (third latest one if we count the collab with dani martin)

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

VIVIFEST SEMIFINAL 1 CONTESTANTS

here are the rules, in case you don't know what this is about. as the title suggests, here are all the songs that will participate in the first semifinal!

here is the poll to vote for your favourite :)

NO HAS VENIDO A SUFRIR - NIÑOS MUTANTES

niños mutantes ('mutant kids') is an indie pop band from granada formed in 1994 and composed of juan alberto martínez, nani castañeda, migue haro, and andrés lópez. they are staples in the genre.

no has venido a sufrir ('you haven't come to suffer') is an existencialist song about shielding someone from suffering in life, having an optimistic tone full of light.

2. ROMANCERA - GUITARRICADELAFUENTE

guitarricadelafuente ('little guitar of the spring'), stage name of álvaro lafuente, born in benicàssim (castelló) but with an aragonese heritage, first became known for his version of the popular cuban song guantanamera [a fucking masterpiece, i strongly recommend it] in 2019, and since then he's been going song, with a very particular sound inspired by old hispanic songs with traditional themes and musicality, and of course, with the guitar always at the center of the music.

romancera (a type of traditional hispanic poetry) is an ode to the city of barcelona, where álvaro grew up, with lyrics alluding to its charm and the mystery and fantasy of its nights, sounding as ethereal as the lyrics are meant to be.

3. ESA TAMBIÉN FUI YO (QUIERO ACORDARME) - ALBA RECHE

alba reche (aka the love of my life), born in elx (alacant) became famous through the singing contest / reality show operación triunfo 2018, where she was the runner up [for some reason totally unrelated to my obsession to this show more people from here might appear later on <3], and since then she's became a staple in the spanish indie pop scene, and especially in queer and pride contexts. she has also recently started a podcast where she interviews other indie artists [i really recommend it it's great!!!].

esa también fui yo (quiero acordarme) ('she was also me (i want to remember)') is a gut wrenching song where she recounts traumatic experiences she's had but that barely remembers (because of trauma), and reconciles with her past self as a form of healing. its a lot, and it's incredibly executed.

4. ANSIEDAD - GINEBRAS

ginebras ('gins') are an indie rock band formed in madrid in 2018 and composed by [my girlies] magüi berto (vocals), sandra sabater (guitar and vocals), raquel lópez (bass), and juls acosta (drums). they're probably the most well-known female indie rock band right now, to the point this october they are doing their first song in the largest venue in madrid, the wizink center [and of course i'm going to see them <3]!

ansiedad ('anxiety') talks about precisely that, anxiety, and how shitty it is. it has very straight to the point lyrics, and such a fun beat and music, it's great i love it.

5. LO BAILAO - NIA

nia, whose full name is estefanía correia, was born in las palmas de gran canaria (canary islands) to a canarian mother and a father from guinea bissau. she became known through winning operación triunfo 2020 [told you there were more], and since then she has been on multiple tv shows and has performed in various award shows. prior to her breakthrough, she worked in the spanish version of the lion king!

lo bailao ('what's been danced') alludes to the spanish idiom 'que me quiten lo bailao' ('may they take away from me what's been danced'), which funnily enough was the title of the song that represented spain in eurovision 2011 [an underrated bop tbh]. it means more or less that, no matter if things go right or wrong, at least you had fun through it and that's what matters. just as the idiom, this song is fun and a perfect summer bop!

6. ME HE PILLAO X TI - ANA MENA & NATALIA LACUNZA

[when i tell you i have the biggest grin on rn. prolly my most listened song this year &lt;3]

ana mena, born in málaga, is THE spanish pop girlie right now (alongside aitana), she's making numbers and having hit after hit. she recently released her second album, bellodrama, and has been breaking records ever since. she is very influenced by italian music and in fact has tons of songs in italian, and her most known songs are spanish versions of italian songs (both bops btw, they're un clásico and música ligera, i highly recommend them).

natalia lacunza, born in iruña, was a contestant in operación triunfo 2018, where she ended up third, and since then she's become royalty in the spanish indie pop scene. she has collabed with at least half of spanish indie pop artists and groups (among them guitarricadelafuente in her first single ever!), most of them queer (like her), and her solo stuff is just mind blowing. she also recently passed the 1 million listeners mark in spotify!!

me he pillao x ti ('i've fallen 4 u') is a fun pop song about unrequited love and that feeling of having a crush on someone who you can't pursuit cause they already have a partner. it's absolute brainrot, i love it.

7. LUCKY - SHEGO

shego (yes. like the kim possible character) is an indie post-punk band formed in madrid in 2021 and composed by maite, raquel, charlotte and aroa. they are best known for its aesthetic, attitude and sardonic tone in their songs, and have collabed with big names in the indie world like zahara and, of course, natalia lacunza herself.

lucky talks about going back to something (or someone) that you know its bad, but can't help to. however, the song is positive, trying to convince the listener that this time it'll be the last time.

8. POR PRIMERA VEZ - NEREA RODRÍGUEZ

nerea rodríguez, born in barcelona, first became known through being a contestant in operación triunfo 2017, and since then she's been busy: she's become a professional voice actor, she's composed songs for disney movies, she's been a main actress in the spanish musical la llamada for 5 years now, and on top of that, she's been releasing music on her own.

por primera vez (for the first time) is a pop-rock song about all the 'firsts' in a relationship and how they can also turn into 'lasts'. the aesthetic and beat reminds of the y2k trend, started in spain by aitana in 2021 or so.

9. NO QUIERO - ANNE LUKIN

anne lukin, born in iruña, first became known - just as the previous artist - through being a contestant in operación triunfo 2020. since then she has released an album, and has delved into her own sound, uniting more melodic elements with 80s-style electronic stuff.

no quiero (i don't want to) talks about the dread of not wanting to die alone but not knowing how to love, all with a synth-like sound.

10. LA FUNCIÓN - ROI MÉNDEZ

roi méndez, born in santiago de compostela (galicia), was a contestant in operación triunfo 2017, and since then he's released an album and has collabed with bands and artists like sinsinati, veintiuno, and ainoa buitrago.

la función (the show) is an intimist ballad about hiding your true feelings behind a façade and being unable to be your truest self because of that. it's his first song like this, so he chose to be vulnerable for once.

[haikyu-mp4]

Friend of a friend

word count; 2535 – gn!reader, suggestive at the end, manga spoilers

Back in high school, you went to Inarizaki and chose to be a manager for the volleyball club in your second and third years. It was incredibly fun and you might have cried when they won nationals in their last spring tournament before your class graduated.

Even after graduating and going your different ways, you stayed friends with Suna and the twins, as well as some of the other players. Unfortunately, you spoke much less frequently with the others.

Being friends with those three means gossip sessions, which is why you were lying on your bed with your computer open on a video call with the guys, updating each other on the latest gossip.

“How’s the new team, Rin?” Osamu asked, making Atsumu squint with a cocky smirk as he probably immediately started comparing it to his team. Suna shrugged his shoulders.

“It’s cool. That Komori guy is nice, I never really talked to him in high school,” he said, mentioning him because Atsumu had told you guys all about the players in the All-Japan group back in your second year. And of course, everyone knew about the best high school libero of the monster generation. You let out the tiniest gasp, covering your mouth when the twins started cackling while Suna looked confused. “What?”

“We never told you?” Osamu asked Suna in particular while you were making wild gestures for him to shut up. “Y/n has had the biggest crush on Komori since our second year at Inarizaki.”

Oh, the horror. Suna’s face lit up in a way it rarely did, suddenly armed with precious information to be used against you. “Are you serious?”

“It was a high school crush, get over it!” you yelled as if the blush on your cheeks was not giving you away.

“You were practically drooling.” Atsumu accused you and if you could punch him through the screen, you would.

“Miya, I swear to god-” but Atsumu knew you couldn’t reach him, so he smirked and kept that big mouth talking.

“When we were at nationals that year, the two of us went off to go watch Itachiyama.” he started, but you interrupted him.

“Because Tsumu wanted to stare at Sakusa,” you mumbled, already giving up on making him withhold any information.

“I was scoping out the competition! Anyways, one look at Komori was all it took before I was punched way too hard in my shoulder and forced to give up any information I had,” he explained, making it as dramatic as he could for Atsumu-purposes and clutching his upper arm as if he could still feel it.

“Reeeally?” Suna cooed. “From what I can tell, he’s single.”

Osamu had his mic off as he was in the kitchen making food, leaving you to the two worst ones. “This is why ‘Samu is my favourite,” you mumbled. He gave the camera a thumbs up and a wink, still leaving you to your own defences.

“Is he the one getting you a date with your lifelong crush?” Suna asked rhetorically, phone whipped out in the corner of his screen making your face go pale.

“No, but neither are you!” you yelled, hoping it was somewhat threatening, but it sounded more desperate. “And who said lifelong? I hate you.”

“Fine, suit yourself.” he finally said, but the way he was side-eyeing the screen while Atsumu smirked told you this was not over yet.

Fortunately, weeks went by without you hearing anything else about any supposed date. Komori did come up in conversation now and then, which you appreciated when it wasn’t just so they could tease you. You could feel the crush blossoming again every time Suna told you about their adventures in volleyball and it felt somewhat nostalgic.

Should you give in and ask Suna for his number?

This is what you were wondering as you walked through the city, barely dodging bikes that tried to run over you while you daydreamed. The better option is probably giving in, but you preferred admiring him from far (far) away rather than facing the possible rejection. You pushed the door to the cafe where you’re meeting Suna, before huffing as you realised it said pull. Good start to the day for sure. When you finally got inside, you were muttering under your breath as your friend’s laughter rang in your ears.

“Shut up!” you barked at him before sitting down. He already ordered two hot chocolates when you said you were on your way.

“What’s got you so scatterbrained?” he asked, leaning his arms on the table.

You glared at him over your hands, which you were leaning on. “How to secretly perform a lobotomy on my enemy while he’s sleeping,” you answered, but your ears still burned red knowing what was actually on your mind.

“So you weren’t thinking about a certain teammate of mine?” Suna asked, wiggling his eyebrows. However, he looked genuinely surprised when you just leaned back down on your hands, not denying it. “Wait, you were?”

“Why am I friends with you?” you whine, finally sitting up to sip your hot chocolate in hopes that it would fix all your problems.

Suna smirked, hearing the bell ring over the door of the cafe. “I can think of a few reasons,” he said quickly before lifting his hand in greeting, making you whip your head in the direction of the entrance. To your horror, there stood none other than Komori Motoya. “Motoya!”

The libero smiled kindly, making your heart skip a beat as he walked over to you two. “Sunarin! What’s up?” he asked.

“Just catching up with this lovely person,” he said, throwing you a devilish grin. Komori turned to you, bowing lightly to greet you as well.

“Right, Suna told me about you. Komori Motoya.”

“Hi,” you said, feeling shy as you told him your name as well. As if you didn’t already know his name. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Thankfully, he didn’t seem to think too much about how you said finally. “And you.” With that, Komori smiled and excused himself to order his coffee. This gave you some time to soundlessly curse at Suna, until you had to plaster a smile back on your face when he came back over, sitting down for a moment while waiting for his name to be called. “You were friends from high school, right?”

“Yes.” You glanced at Suna for help, words stuck in your throat. “I was a manager for the volleyball team.”

Komori made a sound of realisation like he finally put two and two together. “I thought I knew your face from somewhere!” he said, memories flooding back of the game in their last year of high school where they faced off against Inarizaki. “The pretty manager who got scolded by the referee for being too loud.”

You laughed at the memory, looking at Suna to see if he remembered as well and somehow managing to overlook that he called you pretty. “That’s the one,” Suna said, confirming that he did.

“You beat us in the semifinal,” Komori added. “Rin said you saw another one of our games at nationals once.”

“Not just once,” you chuckled before realising what you said and shutting up immediately. Both of the boys chuckled as well, one to ease your embarrassment and one to embarrass you more.

“Komori!” the barista yelled, relieving you at the perfect time. The man stood up and got his drink before coming back over but not sitting down. “I’ve got to go, but let’s meet again sometime, yeah?” he asked, directing the last half at you more than his teammate.

“Yeah,” you agreed, putting as much effort as you could into giving him your best smile. He bowed quickly before turning on his heel and leaving with a final goodbye.

Your eyes went straight to your friend, squinting. The second the cafe door closed, he burst out laughing, trying to not be loud and disturb others. “Not just once!” he mocked, making you bury your face in your hands. “You’re so hopeless at this.”

Let’s just say Suna told the twins how that went over your next video call, so now you’re watching them laugh at you as well, begging any existing god for it to stop and to just bury you already. After a few minutes, the laughing and teasing cooled off. “Well, now it’s my turn to step in,” Atsumu announced, and once again they got to watch the colour drain from your face.

“Step in? There will be no stepping in.” you stuttered.

“This Friday, I’m hosting a private party,” he said like a rich man from some movie. “And let’s just say you’ll enjoy the guest list, y/n.”

You bury your face into your mattress, pressing a pillow over your head. “Please, anyone. End my misery!”

But who are you to deny a good party? It’s just for fun, nothing interesting.

Nothing interesting at all- the thought drifted off into nothing as you watched Sakusa and Komori walk through the door. You chuckled to yourself at how Sakusa seemed to already turn around and try to escape when he saw there were more people there. From the corner of the room, where you previously chatted with Atsumu before he had to answer the door, you watched them. While calmly sipping your drink and leaning against the wall, you observed how sweet Komori acted, turning Sakusa back around and urging him to stay.

However, you should never let your guard down when you’re friends with a Miya. Next thing you knew, all the previously mentioned guys were looking where Atsumu pointed; right at you. In a fight or flight moment, your eyes widened and you escaped into the crowd before Komori could even see you properly. What a classy reaction!

The party went on and you danced with a couple of people you knew from here and there. It was a decent party, you had to admit Miya was good at hosting. Lucky you also crossed paths with a smirking Suna at the edge of the living room turned dance floor. “You truly are the image of grace,” he teased, and you glared in betrayal.

“Thank you,” you answered instead of arguing, moving along with the beat. Suna still seemed smug, and you felt a sense of deja vu when he lifted his hand and yelled ‘Motoya!’ over the loud music. “Have I told you that you’re the worst?” you asked in your sweetest voice before using some liquid courage to turn around to your undeniable crush with a drawn-out ‘heeey’.

“Hey, I was hoping I’d find you,” he responded, a hand caressing your upper arm because some people were pushing. “Where did Suna go?” he asked, glancing up once or twice before settling his gaze on you.

“I asked him to call on you, actually,” you lied, choosing fight instead of flight for once. After all, you had downed a cup or two of mixed alcohol since earlier.

“Really?” Komori smiled and you naturally copied it, albeit a bit more dazed. “Why?” he started moving with you to the music, his hand stroking down your arm and finding its place on your waist.

You didn’t answer him with anything more than a flirty smile and sheepish shrug, stepping closer to him and getting lost in the music while you dared to. If Suna was so insistent on him perceiving you, you didn’t want to seem like some loser with a childish crush.

Eventually, the song changed and you looked down into your now empty cup with a small pout. You left it on the closest surface and turned to Komori. “Should we go somewhere quieter?” you asked, pointing towards the stairs. When he agreed, you loosely grabbed his hand and pulled him up the stairs, looking around for a moment before realising the only good options were the bedroom or the balcony. “Bedroom or balcony?” you asked without thinking much about what it might seem like.

Did he look nervous? Komori was fiddling with his empty plastic cup and didn’t meet your eyes, biting his lip as he looked at the door to the bedroom. “Don’t you think it would be occupied?”

You shrugged and walked over to the door, pulling on the handle and swinging the door open only to find an empty albeit a bit messy room. Turning back to him, you knew your cheeks were burning. It’s just from the alcohol… “Coast is clear.” Komori followed you inside before closing the door behind you, hesitating for a moment before deciding not to lock it. What if that scared you off? What if he misunderstood? The two of you ended up facing each other in the middle of the floor, both thinking too much to make the first move. You weren’t sure if you pulled him upstairs for anything specific, you honestly just wanted to talk to him more now that you had the chance. And guts.

Komori accidentally dropped the empty cup he had been fiddling with and winced, seemingly spurring into action from that little movement alone. “You’re gorgeous.”

You looked at him wide eyed before the words just fell out of your mouth. “I have a huge crush on you.”

A breathy chuckle left his lips and it brushed over your face because he was so close, yet he was seemingly moving even closer by the second. “Sunarin told me.”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, cursing your best friend in your mind until you feel Komori’s hands land on your hips more confidently. “I hate him,” you informed him in a whisper. The little space between you felt like it wouldn’t fit anything louder.

“I don’t,” he answered with a small grin before he kissed you, making your arms automatically loop around his neck to pull him closer. You kissed him back with the lust of every wandering thought you had of him the last few years, and he kissed you back with the passion of someone who wasn’t used to being the crush with a cousin like Kiyoomi. When the back of your legs hit the bed, you lay back and pulled him with you, feeling one of his hands slide under your shirt, which you had no intention of stopping.

Suna wasn’t sure if he was happy or not with the sounds coming from Atsumu’s bedroom when he went looking for you. He was glad his plan worked out but he did not need the mental image that came with you moaning his teammate’s name. Is it possible to rinse your brain? Also, Atsumu would act so mad about you doing whatever in his bed before you ‘snuck’ out of the party hand in hand with Komori.

And Osamu would hear all about it in the morning when you came to get food wearing an EJP Raijin sweatshirt. He’d tell you having you there on your derailed walk of shame was bad for business, but still let you sit there and babble about how great Komori was, both in bed and after.

At least you were happy, and that made them happy too.

masterlist

[eletricheart]

All's well when it ends up with you

(Mother Miranda x Reader)

*pic creds to owner, got it from pinterest

Word count: 1061

I thought of the song Margaret by Lana Del Rey feat Bleachers and then i just found out it's Valentine's Day somewhere in the world so yh

When you know, you know

ps: fluff🥰

ps2: song at the end

ps3: not proofread pls lmk any mistakes

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

The first time you saw each other was at a Conference in Switzerland, you thought she was the smartest person in the room.

The second time was only a few months later during an University presentation in London, you went only to accompany your friend. She noticed.

The third time she went after you, she didn't know why she was so interested in you, maybe you’d make a good experiment. Therefore, she “ran” into you at your daily coffee run.

The scientist was quick to stop you on the street. “Hi, I’m sorry you’re just so familiar. Have we met?”

You stared at her wide eyed, recognizing her from the conferences. “Hi! I-yes. I saw you at the lecture in London. Though, I don't think we talked.”

She gave you a smile and nodded. “I’m Miranda.” The woman said, offering her hand.

You were quick to introduce yourself and shake her hand.

It started slow, Miranda would bump into you in the street until you knew each other enough to exchange numbers. If questioned she would say it was to make the experiment easier, that it was necessary to fully know you for research.

𓄿

For the first time in decades the scientist was nervous to talk to someone. You were sharing a glass of wine on your balcony, sitting in comfortable silence.

Miranda was playing with her rings, lost in thought of your possible reactions to her proposal.

You were quick to notice, turning your head to look at her and holding her hand to stop her fidgeting. You gave her a gentle smile. “What’s on your mind?”

She took a deep breath. “What do you think about moving to Romania with me?”

𓄿

You were sitting in your living room trying to process everything the now priestess explained to you regarding the village.

Miranda was in front of you, watching the gears turn in your head. She tried to reason with herself that if you rejected she could always force you to go, but it wouldn't be the same, you wouldn’t be the same.

The scientist was surprised when all you did was nod and say “wild”.

𓄿

Miranda realized she was in love with you a few days after arriving. She was watching you lazily set up your room, you’d stop everytime you found something interesting to either dress it or tell it’s entire story.

You were wearing a cowboy hat while telling the exact concert you bought it for.

You noticed her staring at you with a small smile. Momentarily stopping the story. “You okay?”

Miranda furrowed her brows and nodded. “Yeah, I’m great.”

𓄿

You noticed you were falling for the priestess way earlier than her. It was around the second time she hung out at your place, the woman insisted on cooking for you, so you sat on the counter watching her master your kitchen.

You would try to crack some jokes and she would look at you in disapproval.

You were laughing at your latest one while she stared in confusion. “Come on, you gotta admit this one was funny.”

The priestess slowly shook her head. “You’re insane.”

You smiled widely. “Clinically proven, baby, nothing new.”

She rolled her eyes with an almost unnoticeable smile.

But it was enough for you to notice so you spend the rest of the night trying to make her smile again.

𓄿

It was not only your first year at the Village but also Valentine’s day. The townsfolk had already decorated when you were walking by to buy some groceries. You weren't sure how Miranda felt about the day, but you couldn't resist buying a few flowers.

And that's how you ended up behind her at the lab holding a small vase with a red tulip. You gently touched her shoulder after hiding the flowers behind your back. “Heyy, the town seems very passionate about Valentine’s day. Did you know that?”

Miranda turned to look at you and tilted her head. “I don’t really…care…about what they do.”

You chuckled. “Well…I got you a flower, in a vase, because it’d feel like a murderer if it was in a bouquet.”

Your hands trembled slightly when presenting the tulip to Miranda.

She carefully took it from your hands and nodded, awkwardly looking at you.

You felt like your heart was about to explode with how fast it was beating. “So, I-um-I’m gonna go, bye.” You said before almost sprinting out of the room.

Miranda was confused, extremely confused. Maybe you got the wrong flowers, maybe you didn't mean “love” and it was all a silly mistake.

You couldn't love her, not after all she's done, after all you've seen. Why would you feel even the slightest affection for her.

The more she stared at the flower the more she’d want you to love like her. She regretted not saying anything, what if you thought she didn't care for you.

So she did what she does best, she researched all she could on Valentine’s day, it was mostly useless but knowledge nonetheless.

Once she deemed her findings worth it, she went after you with a stack of papers and the flower.

You were reading in your room when she got inside looking like a woman on a mission. You confusingly stared at her when she sat in front of you. You were about to speak when she cut you off.

“The flower means love and according to my research you’re supposed to gift flowers or chocolate to your partner on this date. Those are facts.” She looked at you for confirmation.

You nodded and started to nervously pick on your nails. “You-you don’t have to feel it back, really, we don't even need to talk about it.” You said, with an equally nervous laugh.

Miranda nodded with a serious face and got out of the room a few moments, later returning with a flower made of silverware.

She presented it to you. “It’s shiny and a flower.” The priestess took a deep breath before speaking again. “I don't like to admit when I don't know something. But I don't know how this works or why you like me. Although I am absolutely sure this isn't going to end well. So…think before you accept this.”

You smiled, quickly accepting her flower. “I’m willing to try for you.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Good.”

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

requests are open: masterlist

[screaminglygay]

third time is a charm, right? (part four)

pairing: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, wanda maximoff x fem!reader, natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff

summary: getting to know wanda and natasha must be wonderful, right?

warnings: swearing, bad flirting once again, hints of sexual themes

word count: 2.4k

an: hi! hello! im back, hopefully my wifi will work forever from now on. thank youuuu for all of your support, i love you guys so much!!! so sweet!  💞 💕 💞 

(italica = your thoughts)

In the last three days you checked your phone like nine billion times, still nothing. Being frustrated is a weak word to use in this situation. You were furious, screen time on your phone went up by 89% as it almost hit the number of 13 hours per day. You could make a bet that you´ve seen every Instagram post, every latest information on twitter, in the second it was posted.

I am going to die, I swear. Did I just get ghosted again? Again?  

You let out a big sigh, looking around your room makes you go back to reality as you notice the mess. Not just in your head, but also everywhere around your camp spot, for the past days. Seeing this doesn’t make you very happy, but you're really not in the mood to clean up this bomb situation.

Your phone buzzes.

Every thought bothered by the junk in your living room is now out of your mind at the same speed as it came in. Jumping for your phone wasn’t the smartest idea as you stab yourself with something, you grab it.

What the fuck? A fork?  

The fork is being thrown away, landing somewhere between your box from take-out and dirty sleeping shirt.  

Your phone buzzes again.

Finally, you took it and looked at your messages. Your eyes quickly scan who texted you. It´s Natasha.

Oh my god! It´s her! Yes! Celebrations!

You smiled to yourself as you did something like a cheerful winning dance. Knowing you´re alone, you went fully in with that dance moves. Clicking on the message so you can get some satisfaction makes your heart skips a beat.

Natasha🔥

<12:49>

Hey sweetheart! We´re at town, would be okay if we came to yours for a bit?  

<12:50>

To talk of course 😉

Your cheeks immediately turn to a shade of pink. The heat makes you take off your hoodie, but it does not help at all, you stand up and start to walk around the messy room, dodging everything that lies on the floor. Looking back at the phone, your fingers quickly type your agreement.

They did not ghost me, nice.  

Your phone buzzes one more time.

Natasha🔥

<12:55>

20 minutes and we will be there! xx

You look around and a sigh of relief escapes your mouth. Typing quick “okay” as a reply must be enough, your brain can't type more than that as you're already smiling. Only happy thoughts in your head, the two gorgeous women are actually sent from heaven. Sitting back on the couch did not last long, you got back up as you noticed that the mess was still everywhere, and you had 20 minutes to clean it.

Shit.

You cursed yourself for being gay mess, literally. Being the clumsy you, it took you seven slip ups on your own clothes and three times spilling the same coffee cup to understand that you have zero chance of cleaning this in time.  

Okay, come (Y/N), you’ve got this.

You look at the floor where the spilled coffee is slowly rolling to you.

Maybe I don’t.  

The more you look around the more you feel trapped, the chaos on the ground surrounds you. You don´t even know where most of the things came from. Papers and books are scattered across the coffee table, empty snack wrappers the floor, and a pile of laundry has found its way onto the couch as well as on the ground, chair and somehow even on the kitchen counter. Taking off your rings sounds like a good first step.

Sigh.

Determined, you grab an old towel and luckily you find a bucket, so you fill it with soapy water, ready to clean it all. As you kneel, you can't help but wince at the sticky sensation as your hands encounter the wet mess. You start scrubbing aggressively, hoping to remove every trace of the many accidents. But the coffee spill is just the beginning. Your eyes dart around the room, searching for the next task. You spot the papers first, and you quickly gather them up, trying to sort them into some order.

Burger king coupon? Where did i even get this?

You aim it from a distance, thinking you won't need to take the extra five steps to actually put it in the trashcan. Unexpectedly, your aim is much better than you thought it was possible. You grin with pride, quickly forgetting that you have work to do.

Okay, what´s next? Oh.

Rushing to the couch, you scoop up the pile of laundry, quickly folding and stacking them in a corner. It's not perfect, but it will have to do for now. Time ticks away, urging you to keep moving. The once cluttered floor now starts to regain its sense of space, giving you a glimmer of hope that you might finish in time.

But the clock continues to tick faster and faster, and there's still work to be done. You dart around the room, dusting off surfaces, straightening cushions, and rearranging misplaced items. Your hands move swiftly, almost instinctively, as you strive to restore order to your living room.

It doesn't look that bad. It looks like my old apartment... kinda-ish.

It's not perfect, but it's significantly improved. The spilled coffee has faded, the papers are neatly stacked, and the floor is no longer a minefield of wrappers and clothes. You take a moment to catch your breath, wiping sweat from your forehead.

Quickly running to the bathroom, you take the first perfume and spray it in the living room. Breathing faster than you should you start coughing at the way too sweet perfume hitting your nose.

With only moments to spare, you make a final sprint to the front door, checking your appearance in the mirror. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself for your angel's arrival, hoping that they will see it as a normal apartment, despite the recent chaos that had occupied you and your living room.

Ding ding.

Oh my god, they are here! Okay, it´s happening. Everybody stay calm. Everybody stay calm down! Haha, office reference.

You giggle at your own thoughts as you peak at yourself one more time in the mirror, winking at yourself.

That was cringe.

You shake your head a little bit, trying to gain confidence you once definitely had somewhere. Quickly opening the door was one way ticket to gay panic once again. Your heart skips a beat as you take in their presence. Natasha, with her confident stance and piercing gaze, smiles as you open the door.  

Beside her stands Wanda, radiating an otherworldly aura. Her expressive eyes hold a mixture of sweetness and authority at the same time.

Speechless for a moment, you find yourself in the presence of two ladies who probably have the superpower of looking heavenly in any circumstances. The gravity of their presence fills the room, and you can't help but feel hotter than from the world record cleaning you did just a minutes ago.

“Hello, pretty girl.” red head said.

“Hi! Hello, welcome!” You move to the side so they both can enter your apartment.

Welcome? What am I? A bellboy or something?

Closing the door, you let out a big sigh, trying to get your brain cells together to work as a team.

They both walk in, looking around the place you're living in. Trying to take small details about you, Wanda immediately looks at the pictures you have on the wall. Bunch of meaningfull and meaningless pictures together.

“Aww you look very cute here, is this your dog?” Wanda asks with a wide smile as she turns to look at you for a second and then she looks back on the pictures.

“Uh no, that was... Uh my friend´s dog.” You stutter a little bit, that caused Natasha to look at you straight away.

“Friend´s?” She comes closer to you. “I don’t like lying, sweetheart, do you love?” She tilts her head, and her beautiful eyes look at her girlfriend.  

“Nope.” Wanda smirks already knowing what´s about to come, but still pays more attention to the pictures.

Natasha's eyes meet yours, her gaze steady and observant. Swallowing hard was another indicator for the older woman that you're not telling the whole truth.

“Technically it´s not a lie.” Your eyes squint a little bit.

Hearing Wanda let out a very adorable chuckle didn’t help you at all. But you don’t dare to look at her, you're still fixated on Natasha, who is watching you like a mother who is waiting for your explanation after being at a parent - teacher meeting.

“But practically we were uh more than friends...” you squint your eyes even more, biting the inside of your cheek as a replacement of fidgeting with your rings as you took them off while you were cleaning.  

“You were?” She was playing with you, it was obvious, you knew it right away. Simply nodding wasn’t the answer here, but you suddenly lost your voice. It was like she caught it and with her big, muscular fist and didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.  

You clear your throat, hoping it would give you few milliseconds to think of an answer.

“That´s why the picture is ripped. He was uh also there, but I cut him off. I love his dog thought.” You try to laugh it off, but Natasha maintains the same face expression. “I call it my straight era.” another joke that actually worked this time. 

All of you laughed at that statement.

Bingo. Mrs. Joker is back in the game. Oh gosh. Cringe, extra cringe. Calm down. Please and thank you.

“We all had that era.” Natasha added, while Wanda came back and nodded.

“I get it though, that dog is very cute.” she chuckled.

You smile at Wanda but hearing Natasha´s comment made you turn back to her.

“Oh, you did? Tell me more!” You smirked looking at Natasha, hoping she will tell you something about her “straight era”. “Pretty please!”  

“Aw you have such a nice manners, darling. Okay, alright.” Natasha giggles. Wanda was already sitting down as she almost broke your arm dragging you with her as well. She pulled you towards her, so you were sitting on her lap.

“Oh... um I-” you blushed already feeling the warm feeling in your stomach.

“We need to train this a little, baby, you're just sitting in my lap now, can you imagine other things? You would explode.” Wanda winked at you, wrapping her hand around you, squeezing you a little tighter. As Natasha finally sits next to you on the couch, watching your interaction with Wanda.

After two hours of talking from your first boyfriends to your favorite episode of Scooby-Doo, you figure out both of them are not so different from you. Maybe Natasha owning a big motorcycle company and Wanda owning architectural corporation makes them richer than you, but besides that. You three are pretty similar. You have lots of things in common, reading, watching movies and shows, cooking, going on walks, cuddling.  

Wanda and you were having the longest conversation about why Emily Dickinson is the best poet, while Natasha only knew she was very fruity and wrote a poetry, but she was admiring how you and her girlfriend were understanding each other so effortlessly without speaking like a normal human being. When the new topic finally came in, Natasha took the lead and asked you a bunch of questions about your favorite music. When she showed her playlist, you had to let out a big laugh.

“Taylor Swift, really?” you look at her, while you shift at Wandas lap to get a better look at her playlist.

“What? I don’t look like a Swiftie?” She acted like she was hurt by your words.

“Uh, no?” you laugh even more. “You look like a Nirvana kind of guy, Blink 182, Pink Floyd, but not a Swiftie, no.” you admit.

“When we started seeing each other I told her I like Taylor Swift, since then she is listening to her non-stop.” Wanda explained.

“See? That makes sense. Wanda...” you nod towards her “the ray of sunshine is a Swiftie and it make so much sense.”  

“So just because I wear black that means I can't listen to Taylor?” She fights playfully back.

“I didn’t say you can't, I just meant that you... a motorcycle company owner who wears leather even as a pj´s won't just play Shake It Off in her shop.” you try to make your point.

“True. Because I think Shake It Off is a song that gets too much credit, just because it´s a simple pop. But something like Eyes open or Better Than Revenge would be great to play in there.” she smiles “Also I don’t think people would mind if I played anything like Lover, because sometimes you much rather hear a song that speaks to you, other than something that just sounds okay and has a lots of drums in it.” she finishes you off.

You don’t say anything at all, you just nod.

“It was your game and you still lost, baby.” Wanda teases you a bit.

“Okay, fine. Fair points, you won.” Even though you don’t want to, you admit it.

“Like I always do.” She moves closer and kisses your cheek.

You tense in Wanda´s arms.

“Relax, detka. We got you.” Wanda whispers in your ear, slowly moving her hands to your stomach as Natasha comes closer to you.

“Yeah, (Y/N). Relax, baby.” Natasha finally connects your lips together as she makes your mind empty. The gentle pressure of her lips against yours sparks a surge of warmth. Her touch evokes a tingly sensation that makes your heart skip a beat. The warmth and softness of her touch imprint upon your senses, etching a memory that you know will linger long after the kiss is over. But for now, her lips are in the perfect place, on yours. If this wasn’t enough, you feel other lips on your neck. As Wanda´s lips trail along your neck, a shiver dances down your spine, electrifying every inch of your being. The gentle press and release of the younger woman kisses unleash pleasure and vulnerability at the same time, leaving a mark, both physical and emotional on your neck. 

Your brain is now overtaken by these two goddesses, leaving it empty as the first time you saw them.

That empty you don’t even realize that they didn’t need you to text them your address to find out where you live.

an2: let me know your thoughts on this and what should happen next! If i didn´t tag you, let me know as well and i´ll add you!!

taglist: @arualdcg​ @beholdagaywriter​ @snowdrop1026​ @itsdoni@newawakening9​ @aliherreraaa @zzswiftyzz​ @lesbiantothemoonandback​

[judysxnd]

Can you write a fluf pedro please? Maybe one where the reader is trying to get him somw sleep and we know he is a workaholic

Thank you for your request! I tried to write it from the reader’s pov. I’m not used to it, and I don’t really like it, so I don’t think I’ll do it again. I automatically write from an omniscient point of view and even as I wrote this one I had to correct myself so many times because I wrote “you” instead of “I”. I think it makes it a little weird, don’t hesitate to tell me. If it bothers me too much I might change the pov. We’ll see! But I really liked the idea, thank you! I hope you like it!

I have one more request that I need to write. I think by Sunday I’ll publish it! I also had a few ideas on my own today, like literally I had lunch at 2pm and couldn’t eat properly because I had to write the ideas before I forget them. I’m so excited, it’s been a while since I felt like that towards writing!!!

——————————————————————————————

“That was a good book” I said, sighing. “But the ending though, I really need to buy the second book”. I turned my head to the left, thinking I’d see Pedro, but he wasn’t there. I frowned then took my phone to look at the time. 1:17am. “I read for that long?” I was shocked. I got up, and exited the bedroom to find Pedro.

It was late and very weird that Pedro wasn’t next to me in bed. Sleeping or not, he usually joins me around 11pm. As I entered the living room, I noticed light coming from the kitchen. When I entered, there he was, extremely focused on reading what was in front of him. A cup of coffee was next to him. I silently walked next to him. He didn’t even hear nor notice me. When I arrived next to him, I saw that he was reading his lines, and that the coffee cup was almost empty. That’s when I remembered that he was starting soon to film for his latest tv show, so he was working a lot to learn his lines

“How many coffees did you have?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. He got a little scared which made him turned to me very quickly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you” I laughed as I was caressing his back.

“I don’t know, I stopped counting after pouring the third one” you sighed.

“You need to go to sleep P”

“I’m not tired, the coffee’s working”

“It’s really late, at least stop and join me in bed”

“I can’t, look it’s just two sentences, those two, I can’t remember them, it’s not even 20 words” he said, showing me the line.

“It’s because you’re too tired” I now had my hand in his hair. “Come with me to bed please”

“I told you I am not tired”

“Who said we were going to sleep?” he looked at me confused. I went behind him, putting both of my hands on his shoulder, starting to massage him. “You are all tensed up. You need to relax, let me give you a massage. If you don’t want to sleep after then I’ll let you learn your lines”

“Hm.. okay” he said, already giving in, feeling my hands on his body. I knew he would fall asleep under my touch. Apparently I have magical hands. Also, he is very tired and deeply needs to sleep. He spent hours and hours reading his lines, making his brain work more than it was supposed to.

I took his right hand, and guided him to the bedroom. I already had some calm music playing in the background that I put when I was reading.

“Take off your shirt, I’m going to get some oil” I said as we both arrived next to the bed. Pedro did what he was told and laid down on his stomach. Not even two minutes later, I was already on top of him, putting some oil on his back. He was humming as I was massaging him. Literally, it was like music to my ears. “Feels good doesn’t it” I whispered, trying to lullaby him slowly with my voice.

“Yeah.. it does” he quietly said. Minutes by minutes, I felt his body relax, until it wasn’t anymore. That’s when I noticed that his eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly opened.

“Pedro?” I asked. No response. “Mission accomplished” I whispered, getting off of him very slowly. I went to wash my hands in the bathroom then came back to bed, joining him.

Next morning, I woke up by arms around my body, and hands pulling me. Pedro was pulling me against him. I couldn’t help but giggle.

“Good morning angel” he said with his raspy voice, right next to my ears, making me shiver. A big smile formed on my face.

“Good morning” I answered. I finally turned around to face him. His face was more relaxed, not showing any sign of tiredness anymore. “How did you sleep?” I said, playing with his messy hair.

“Very good” he said analyzing me, his gaze wandering on my face. Then he added “Thank you” before kissing my forehead “I don’t know what I would do without you”

“Anything for mi querido” we both smiled. Pedro suddenly kissed me and pulled me even closer to him.

[weaveandwood]

Writing prompt - You and Gale are in the markets - What happens next.

I'm sorry if these annoy you.

These never annoy me! I love writing them. I've had some pretty intense writer's block this week, and I think this one helped me work through it. Happy Saturday!

NSFW 18+ Word Count: 2200 CN: Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Gale x Named Female Tav

“What do you think? The sweet roll stand next?” Ora asked, her hands full of boxes and bags from the shopping they had just finished up at the Waterdeep market. She had been home for a month, a whole glorious month, and they had settled into something comfortable. She hadn’t gotten that far off look in her eye at all this extended break, and Gale’s anxieties about waking up to find her gone without a trace had disappeared. 

It was an unseasonably warm fall day - not that Gale was complaining. His wife flourished in the sunshine, and though she was never really one to show a lot of her skin in public, when she got warm she tended to wear a top without sleeves. This one had thin straps and was deliciously low cut, showing off one of his favorite parts of her body - though if he were being honest, everything about her body was his favorite. It was all he could do not to stare, and she had caught him more than once in just the last hour. Gale, eyes up here, she had said, playfully bumping into him as they walked down the crowded street. I’m sorry, you are just so beautiful, I can’t take my eyes off of you. You can’t blame a husband for admiring his wife, he had replied in an attempt to save himself from further teasing. 

He held some of the boxes and watched her make small talk with the vendor, who had become fast friends with her once she was home more regularly. She asked about her latest adventure, how her poor husband was faring without her, if she had tasted any better rolls in any of her travels. “Never, I always look forward to getting these ones, best in Faerun!” Ora responded with her sincere smile that lit up her face and made Gale fall deeper in love, if that was even possible. Still, it was impossible to not notice from his vantage point behind her how her leggings hugged every curve, the years of adventuring honing her body into a masterpiece. One that he was finding he needed to get his hands on. Soon.

Ora turned around then, a small box of rolls in hand and caught Gale with a dark look in his eyes. One she recognized well, one she loved being on the receiving end of. 

“See something you like, sir?” She smiled at him as he moved his eyes slowly up her body, taking her in, committing her to memory just as he did every single time he looked at her. He closed the distance between them, leaning down and whispering in her ear. 

“It is taking all my self control right now not to take you into a dark side street and take these maddening clothes off of you and show you just how much I like what I see.” 

A sharp intake of breath. She liked when he spoke to her like this, detailing the things he wanted to do to her. “Hmm, it’s really too bad Waterdeep doesn’t really have dark side streets at midday, I would be quite willing to go along with your request. You know, it’s a shame I don’t wear dresses really, I see how they can be convenient for this kind of activity. What are you going to do about this problem?” She smiled, a devilish look on her face.

Gods, he loved her. 

“The tower is much closer than the cabin from here…” he trailed off. They hadn’t spent much time in the tower since that third Midwinter Festival when everything went wrong. Still, they were almost at the end of the market. “Or there’s the inn a street over that we could rent for the night. Repeat our second Midwinter?” He remembered that night fondly - the night with the glowing rabbits. The night he was so nervous she wouldn’t show up. The night she did, and made him believe that they could be real again. 

“Let’s go to the corner and then you can cast Dimension Door to get us to the tower?” she said, surprising Gale who completely forgot in his desire that he could essentially get them anywhere he could see. Usually, he preferred to take a leisurely stroll through his beloved city. “Quickly,” she added. This was not the occasion for a leisurely stroll.  

A short, dizzying time later, they stood in front of the tower, Gale unlocking the warded door. As it opened, he let Ora enter first. He shut the door behind them and put the boxes on the entry table before grabbing her hand, spinning her around and kissing her deeply. 

“I’ve been wanting to do that since we walked into the market.” He smiled, leaning his forehead against hers. “You are addictive.” He reached down to her top, untying the lace keeping it tight against her body, loosening it slowly. He trailed kisses from her lips, to her cheek, to her neck. He felt her breathing pick up as he ran his fingers along them hem of her top, slipping under it and lifting it over her head. He stepped back, looking at her - this woman who was so beautiful, so fearless, so sexy, and somehow his. She made eye contact with him as she kicked off her boots, then quickly pulled down her leggings and underwear, leaving her naked in the entryway of the tower. 

He pounced. 

His hands were everywhere. He honestly needed more hands, his desire to feel every inch of her skin was so great he contemplated conjuring a few before deciding against it. For now. He pressed her against the wall, kissing her with a fervor reminiscent of when he was a younger man, an apprentice at Blackstaff, eager to impress, eager to bed equally eager classmates.Their tongues slid against each other as Ora reached between them to unbutton his linen shirt. He quickly shrugged it off, tossing it across the room. 

“Gods, you’re so...perfect” she said, looking at him in wonder as though it was her first time seeing him. As though she didn’t say the exact same thing the night before as they made love in front of the fireplace in the cabin. His lean, athletic build, though not as muscular as he once was when they met, the fine smattering of hair across his chest, down his stomach, leading even further down his body, and his gorgeous skin tone ticked all her boxes. He was everything she desired. She kissed his neck and he unbuttoned his linen pants and quickly let them pool to the floor along with his underwear before kicking them out of the way. 

He reached up to her breasts, the objects of his desire all morning. He paid them proper attention with his hands before bending down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucking on it lightly, feeling it get hard before moving to the other one. He flicked his tongue over them, her soft moans only steering him onward as he kissed his way down her body as he got on his knees in front of her. He stopped at each small scar on her stomach - some from her times as a Scout, some from their own adventure, some newer. Each scar was given reverence and appreciation for healing and not taking her from him. She looked down at him, his own personal goddess, and he was here to worship. 

She gasped as he placed one hand on her stomach, the other lifting her leg to drape over his shoulder. He looked up at her and with a flattened tongue, licked her from her entrance to her swollen bundle of nerves. She laid her hands on his head, her fingers tangling in his hair as she adjusted her angle, using both him and the wall for support. He continued licking, tasting her, humming softly against her soft skin, slick with her own arousal as she moaned softly, faint echoes reverberating through the entryway with its high ceiling. She sounded like music.

“You taste so sweet, my love,” he said as he looked up at her, leaning his head against her thigh that was resting on his shoulder. He gently lowered her thigh from his shoulder, kissing it gently. He kissed her hip bone, then back up her stomach. His tongue dragged a path from her breasts up to her neck, and she felt him pressing against her, hard with want.  “But now, I need to feel you around me,” he said softly into her ear, his warm breath sending tingles through her body. “Shall we pretend we’re in that dark side street now, my love?” He whispered the spell for darkness near her ear, a faint purple glow emanated from his hands as he channeled the Weave, his movements confident and assured as the light disappeared from the entryway. 

“You do know I can still see, right?” Ora laughed as kissed him, the elven side of her heritage giving her darkvision, able to make out Gale as if he was bathed in a dim grey light. 

“Well, we will have to remedy that,” he said, his hand caressing her face lightly, feeling the shape of it. Running the pad of his thumb over her soft cheek, tracing its way down the deep scar he loved, though she had been a little self conscious about it when their relationship had transitioned from flirtations to something more. She was so fierce. He put his hands on her waist, turning her around to face the wall. He kissed the back of her neck, hearing her breath catch. He pressed against her, his hardness pressed into her delicious curves. 

“I need you, Gale. Now,” she moaned as he flicked the tip of her ear with his tongue, driving her mad. She arched her back, pressing her hips back against him as his hands roamed over her backside. He kissed her shoulder as he wrapped one hand around himself, pulling her hips back slightly with the other to get a good angle as he positioned himself at her entrance. 

“Then you shall have me,” he whispered as he pressed into her, slowly at first - he always loved the feeling of her giving around him as he entered her, her warm body enveloping him. He moaned as she took him as far as he would go, fully seated inside her. “Gods, Ora, you…” he lost his train of thought as he pulled his hips back and thrusted into her again. And again. And again. 

“Have I made…the verbose Gale Dekarios…speechless?” She panted as he pressed her into the wall, her chest flat against it. Her hands braced against the wall to give them both a little leverage and support. She was completely his for the taking. 

His arm wrapped around her waist, his hand pressing flat against her stomach to hold her close to him, his chest against her back. He preferred being able to see her face while fucking her, but holding her body tight against his was nearly as good. He moved his hips faster, the sound of their pants and moans echoing through the high ceilings of the entryway. 

“You take the words from my mouth whenever I am inside you. You render me quite incapable of coherent thought.” He held on to her tighter, one of his hands lowering down her stomach, reaching between her legs to rub her sensitive clit, to help her find her release as he felt his own approaching. “I love you,” he moaned as he kissed her shoulder, sucking it lightly.

She called out his name, her breathing labored as her knees buckled slightly. He dug his fingers into the soft skin of her abdomen to support her better as he felt her starting to tighten around him. “That’s it, Ora, come for me. Please, let me feel you come around me,” he panted, fucking her hard, his hips snapping against her with each deep thrust, a fire pooling low in his abdomen. 

“Gods!” she cried out, arching her back more as she reached her peak. He felt her pulse and flutter around him, sending him crashing over his own precipice. He closed his eyes and threw his head back as he felt himself fill her up, his own cries joining with hers to form a beautiful chorus. 

Spent, he pulled out of her, kissing the back of her neck, her earlobe, her shoulders. He turned her around and pressed her back against the wall again before kissing her deeply. 

“I love you,” he said before he channeled the Weave again, bringing light back into the entryway so he could look upon his love. He tucked a strand of hair that had worked its way loose behind her ear, smiling as he did. She smiled back at him, and his heart swelled. 

“I love you, too.”

He kissed her deeply, then took her hand, leading her up the stairs to the bedroom, to the bed they once shared. They stayed there all night, making love in it twice more before the sun rose the next morning and they went back to their cabin.

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Nine

Summary: Things don’t go as well when Em takes her turn at Dieter’s new game, and angst ensues.

Rating: R (reference to sexual acts and several f-bombs)

Word Count: 6500

My own attempt at the game was not as successful as Dieter’s. The massage portion went well. It was magical being able to run my hands over Dieter’s body and he truly seemed to appreciate my limited skills as a masseuse. And the second half of the game started out nicely — until I worked my way below his waistline.

”I’m so sorry,” I apologized for the hundredth time. 

Dieter caressed my face. “It’s fine, babe,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

”It’s just … I used to always gag when the doctor used a tongue depressor on me. I have to be careful brushing my back teeth.” I was absolutely mortified. 

Dieter kissed my forehead. “I get it. I understand. We’ll just put that on the list of ‘not gonna happens’. No biggie.”

It felt like a biggie. I’d tried it once before, years ago, with similar results. The guy in question had made a federal case out of it. We’d broken up not long afterward. 

“I just … wanted to make you happy,” I mumbled.

”I am happy,” he said. “Any time I spend with you makes me happy. And there are still a lot of ways you can make me extra happy.” 

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

It didn’t help that Dieter left on a press junket for his latest movie that Monday. The cast was doing group interviews as well as single interviews, taking turns appearing on various talk shows, and recording promo spots for local entertainment news programs. They were spending most of their time in New York, but would fly to Chicago and a few other cities for media blitzes. It would end in Los Angeles, where they would do the rounds of the West Coast based talk shows and attend the premiere, but that wasn’t for almost three weeks.

He managed to call me most evenings, but we didn’t always get to talk for long. Sometimes he was in between interviews and only had a few minutes to spare; other times, he was back in his hotel room but exhausted from the day and not really in the mood to talk much. I understood, but I missed him.

About a week into the junket, my phone pinged. I picked it up and saw a text from an acquaintance.

Have you seen this?

I tapped on the link and opened a video on YouTube. It was an interview for a New York news outlet, with Dieter and one of his co-stars, a very attractive young woman named Erica, who played his character’s lover in the movie. They were somewhat minor characters, and of course, his character ended up dead by the end, killed by her jealous husband. Dieter was still working his way back to the leading man role.

The video started off innocently enough, with the interviewer asking them a few generic questions about the film. Then they cut to a clip, a steamy love scene between the two of them, which I hadn’t seen before. The interviewer asked if it was hard to shoot scenes like that. Erica giggled and shook her head. “Not with him,” she said. Dieter put his arm around her and laughed. 

I clicked the pause button. I’d seen enough. This particular “friend” liked to stir up trouble, so I wasn’t surprised that she’d sent me this video. 

I put the phone down, then picked it back up. I Googled Dieter’s and Erica’s names as well as the name of the movie and found several more video interviews online. Two were of just the two of them, and while one was innocent enough, in the second, Dieter laid his head on her shoulder while laughing over something the interviewer has said. The rest of the interviews featured the entire cast, and in all of them, he was seated right next to Erica. He had his hand on her knee in one, laid his hand on her arm in another, and leaned against her in a third. 

I closed the browser and put the phone down again. Less than a minute later, I picked it back up again, and pulled up the first video again, the one my co-worker had sent me. I copied the URL and sent a text to Dieter:

explain this?

I had no idea when he’d have a chance to answer. He was terrible about texting, and most likely wouldn’t get back to me until he had a chance to call. It was just after 5:00, which meant it was just after 8:00 in New York, and he’d been getting back to his hotel closer to 10:00 most nights. Or at least, that’s what he’d been telling me when he called me. 

Calm down, I told myself. Wait until he has a chance to explain himself. It was hard, though. It had been over two weeks since I’d seen him in person, and things had ended on a slightly sour note, at least for me . I missed him, and he said he missed me, but …

I tried to watch a movie but couldn’t pay attention. I read the same paragraph a dozen times before giving up and putting my book down. In the end, I just sat and stared at my phone, willing it to ring but simultaneously dreading it.

Finally, just before 7:00, it rang. It was a FaceTime call and I took a deep breath before I accepted.

“Hey,” he said when the app opened. “What did that text mean?” He looked tired, but that day I had no sympathy for him.

“It meant what it said,” I told him.

He frowned. “It’s an interview,” he said. 

“With Erica,” I said.

“Um, yeah, she’s in the movie, too,” he said. “So what?”

“Oh, please,” I shot back. “Just tell me, are you sleeping with her?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said, “where is this coming from?” He really did look surprised, but I was tired and had been fretting over this for hours and I had the bit between my teeth.

“I’m not blind,” I said. “You’re all over her, and not just in that interview. And I’ve seen the film clips.”

“First of all, I am not ‘all over her’ …”

I cut him off. “I don’t think there’s one interview where you aren’t touching her,” I said. 

“I touch everyone,” he protested. “You know that. Hell, I’m touching Rick in half those interviews. Do you think I’m sleeping with him, too?”

“You aren’t kissing Rick in the movie,” I said.

“Okay, back up,” he said. He was starting to get angry now. “We shot that movie before I ever even met you, so you can’t be jealous about that. And there were probably thirteen people in the room when we shot those scenes, so there was absolutely nothing erotic about it, trust me. Besides, you knew I was an actor, you’ve seen some of my previous work, this can’t come as a surprise to you. It’s my fucking job.”

“Yeah, okay, so you didn’t know me when you shot those scenes,” I shot back, “but you know me now and people are sending me these videos showing you flirting with another woman …”

“I am not flirting with her,” he shouted. “For fuck’s sake, she’s married. I’ve met her husband; in fact, he was here last weekend and he was sitting just off camera for half those interviews. They’ve got two kids.”

“Then why are you acting like that?”

“Because I’m bored as hell with these fucking interviews? Because she’s my friend? Because I miss you?”

I snorted. “Oh, yeah, right, you miss me.”

“I do,” he insisted. “Well, maybe not right at this moment …”

“Fuck you,” I said.

“Hey …”

“Just stop pretending, okay? We both know you can do way better than me, so why do you even bother?”

I hung up before I started crying. I had always known in the back of my mind that this wouldn’t last long. Our lives were too different, and I was nowhere near good enough for someone like him. Our last weekend together had proved that.

My phone rang but I ignored it. After it rang five more times, I turned it off. It wasn’t even 8:00 yet, but I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.

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

I avoided my co-workers the next morning, and the day dragged on and on. My eyes were still puffy from crying when I woke up, and no amount of makeup could completely disguise it. Finally, the day ended and I headed home, wanting nothing more than to take a huge dose of ibuprofen for my headache and eat a pint of ice cream, the traditional cure for a breakup.

I had known going in that things with Dieter wouldn’t last. How could it work? He was an A list actor (well, currently B list but working his way back up to the top tier) and I was a nobody. Our lives were too different. Still, there had been moments when I truly thought we could do it, that we could exist in a bubble where he was just Deet and I was Em and Dieter Fucking Bravo was a character he played sometimes.

When I got home, there was a strange car in front of my house, but I figured the neighbors had company and didn’t think anything of it, until I unlocked the door and stepped inside. There was a bouquet of roses in a vase on my coffee table and the kitchen light was on.

“Hello?” I called out tentatively, my phone in my hand, ready to call 9-1-1.

Dieter stepped out of the kitchen. “Hey,” he said softly.

“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I thought you were in New York.”

“I flew home,” he said. 

“What about the press junket?” I knew those things were usually written into the contract when an actor signed on for a movie, and were nearly impossible to get out of.

“Told them I had a family emergency,” he said. “And I’m flying back on the red eye, so I’ll only miss one day of interview hell.”

I shook my head. “That still doesn’t explain why you’re here.” He had a key to my place; maybe he wanted to return it in person and get my key to his place.

“Well, you wouldn’t answer my phone calls, so I figured this was the only way to get you to talk,” he said. “And we definitely need to talk.” He took my hand and led me to the couch.

“I think we said everything last night,” I said, pulling my hand away from him.

“No, you said everything last night,” he said, grabbing my hand back. “You didn’t want to listen to me.”

“There’s not much to say,” I said. “It’s pretty clear it’s over.” My voice caught a little in my throat but I managed to keep myself from crying.

“Why do you say that?,” he asked sadly.

I sighed. “Because it’s true,” I said. “I saw the videos.”

“And I told you she’s married,” he said. “And we’re just friends. I hadn’t seen any of them since we wrapped. These press junkets are stressful and we’re all thrown together for hours and hours day after day.” He took my hand and started stroking my palm. “You know I’m pretty touchy-feely, especially with people I know. That’s just how I am. It doesn’t mean anything.” He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed it softly.

“I wish I could believe you,” I said.

“Why not?”

“Because,” I said.

“Because why?”

I guessed I’d have to spell it out for him. “Because look at me! I’m not like Erica. I’m  not a size two, I don’t have perky boobs, I don’t look like I stepped off the cover of Vogue.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” He frowned. “I don’t give a shit about any of that. I don’t want Erica, or some fake-ass model. I want you.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “I can’t even give you a blow job.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me. “Listen to me,” he said. “Look at me.” He hooked a finger under my chin, lifting my face so I was looking him in the eye. “I. Love. You. You understand?”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. I said so.

He pressed his forehead against mine. “Sweetheart,” he whispered. “You can believe me. You have to believe me. I love you. I love you so much.”

”But …”

”No buts.” I knew he was being serious because he didn’t make a butt joke. “Sex is great. I enjoy it a lot. But I’d rather be celibate with you than have a fucking orgy with anyone else in the world. Got it?”

“What did I do to deserve you?” I whispered back.

“Hell if I know,” he replied. “I’m still trying to figure out what I did to deserve you.” He chuckled and slid his arms around me. “I missed you so much,” he said in my ear. “These press tours suck. I wish you could go with me, baby.”

“Stupid job,” I said.

“Yours or mine?,” he asked. I laughed.

“Both,” I replied.

“My flight doesn’t leave until 1:00 am,” he said. “What do you want to do until then?”

“Oh, you think you can say you love me and I’ll tumble into bed with you?” I teased.

“Pretty much,” he said, winking. “But you haven’t said it back yet, so maybe I don’t want to.”

I grabbed his chin and held his face still. “I. Love. You,” I said, punctuating each word with a kiss.

“Now was that so hard?,” he asked.

”That’s what she said,” I teased. He laughed so hard he started wheezing. 

“That’s my smart ass girl,” he said once he could breathe again. “Anyone could suck me off, but only you can make me laugh like that.” He kissed me, hard. “Now, how about some dinner? I haven’t had anything to eat since last night. My stomach has been in knots since you hung up on me.”

”Would some In-n-Out be a sufficient apology?”

“You know I’d do anything for In-n-Out, baby.”

”So would I,” I admitted. 

“But I won’t do that,” we both sang, off-key. 

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

The day after our reconciliation, I was dragging at work. A student commented that I looked tired, and I wouldn’t have said anything, except Eileen was standing right there.

“Yeah,” I said, “I didn’t get much sleep last night. My boyfriend’s been out of town on business and he flew back yesterday to surprise me. But he had to fly back to New York on a red-eye, so by the time he left for the airport and I got to bed, it was well after midnight.”

I turned to Eileen. “By the way, that reminds me,” I said casually. “I’ll be taking a couple days off the week after next.”

“Oh?,” she asked. Even though she wasn’t technically part of the library team, she was very interested in our comings and goings. I think she even kept a spreadsheet of how often the textbook clerk and I were out so she could complain about our doors being locked.

“Yeah, Dieter’s movie premieres that Thursday, so I’ll need that day off to get ready for the red carpet, and then there’s at least one after party that night, so we’ll probably spend Friday sleeping.” I smiled at her and then turned away to help another student. Take that, you gossipy bitch.

Before he’d gotten into his rental car to drive back to Ontario Airport, Dieter had asked me if I’d accompany him on the red carpet. It wasn’t something we’d planned on doing, but he said that he wanted to prove to me — and the rest of the world — that he was officially off the market. “Taken. No longer in circulation. Unavailable. End of story,” had been his exact words, each one accompanied by a kiss on the tip of my nose. How could I say no?

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

Dieter had gotten back in town Sunday night. The cast had spent every day since doing interviews in L.A. and I hadn’t had a chance to see him, but after work on Wednesday, I drove to his house. He wasn’t home yet when I got there, but I let myself in and rummaged around in the kitchen to see if there was anything worth cooking for dinner. It looked like he hadn’t had time to go shopping since he’d gotten back, though.

I texted him to ask what time he thought he’d be home so I could arrange for food delivery. Surprisingly, he texted right back.

Maybe 7, not sure. If too late I’ll call you. Eat when u want, save me leftovers. Love u.

I opened up GrubHub and browsed through the restaurants that were available. I decided on Chinese food, since that was easily reheated or could even be eaten cold. I placed an order to be delivered at 7:30. If Dieter wasn’t home by then, I’d go ahead and eat if I was hungry.

I flopped on the couch and turned on the TV. He had cable and subscribed to almost every streaming service there was. I opened up Disney+ and started a binge of my favorite old school animated Disney movies. I’d made it to Robin Hood when I heard a key in the door.

“Hey,” Dieter said, his face lighting up. “What are we watching?”

I paused the TV and crossed the room to hug him. “Old Disney movies,” I said. “Dinner should be here in about twenty minutes. Golden Pagoda.”

He kissed me. “Good, I’m starved. Did you remember to get those cream cheese wontons? I love those things.”

“Yes, I did,” I replied. “And egg rolls, and that horribly spicy chicken you love.”

We settled on the couch and he unpaused the TV. “Oh, man, I remember this one,” he said.

“It was my favorite when I was little,” I said. “I had the hat and everything.”

“You aren’t one of those girls who had a crush on the fox, were you?”

I shrugged. “Guilty,” I admitted. 

He shook his head. “What is it with that fox? Is it because he doesn’t wear pants?”

“Half the classic Disney animal characters don’t wear pants,” I pointed out. “Nobody’s crushing on Donald Duck or Winne the Pooh, though. I think it might be the accent. And the hat.”

“I’m gonna get me a hat,” he said.

It felt good to just be together, watching a movie, being silly, and waiting for our food to arrive.

“I’m glad you’re home,” I murmured in his ear.

“Me, too,” he said, pulling me a bit closer. He kissed my cheek. “And I’m glad we’re good.”

I laid my head on his shoulder. I’d done a lot of thinking since our fight and reconciliation. “I’m sorry. I was an idiot.”

“Nah, you were just being human,” he said. “Love makes people crazy sometimes. I’ll probably do some dumb shit at some point, and then we’ll be even.”

We snuggled and watched the movie until the doorbell rang. Dieter fetched the food while I got some plates out of the kitchen and we covered the coffee table with takeout containers. We ate until we were full and there was still a ton of food left.

“This’ll last us the whole weekend,” he said as we packed everything back up and shoved it into the fridge. “Which is good, because after the premiere, I just want to crash for a few days.” He yawned and stretched his back.

I glanced at the clock; it was only 8:35. “What time do you have to be up in the morning?,” I asked.

“We have an interview at ten, so I need to be out of here by nine, so … 8:45?”

“Let’s make it eight,” I said. “I’m not sending you out into the world without a shower and a decent breakfast.”

“But I don’t wanna get up that early,” he whined.

“I’ve got to get up early, too,” I said. “I have an appointment at the spa at ten for a mani/pedi, facial, and something called a seaweed wrap?” I checked the calendar on my phone. “Then home to change, makeup at one, hair at three, and we have to be there at what, five?”

He nodded. “Have you decided which dress to wear?” 

I’d spent the previous weekend with a stylist who had overwhelmed me with designer dresses in a million colors and styles. We’d narrowed it down to three choices, which I’d taken photos of and sent to Dieter for his vote. Annoyingly, he’d said he liked them all and to pick the one I liked best.

“Yeah, the green one,” I said. I stepped into the bedroom and took the dress, in its garment bag, off the back of the door where I’d hung it when I got in. I unzipped the bag and pulled the dress out. It was a deep hunter green satin, sleeveless, with a fitted waist and a deep slit in the skirt. The back of the skirt trailed on the floor in a short train, and there were two drapes of material hanging from the shoulders. It was elegant and simple but the color and the satin made it look horribly expensive, which it was. I’d about fainted when I saw the price tag, but the stylist had assured me we were only renting the dress and anyway the designer was giving us a break on that just to get her name out there. 

“I even got you a little something,” I said. The stylist had rummaged around in her closets and found a silk tie that almost exactly matched the color of the dress. I pulled it off the hanger and handed it to Dieter.

“I love it!,” he said. “It’ll go great with my brown suit.” He disappeared into the bedroom and I heard him digging around in the closet. He reappeared with a gorgeous chocolate brown suit that I hadn’t seen before.

“Where have you been hiding this?” I asked. 

“In the closet, duh,” he replied. I smacked him and fingered the fine wool cloth. “I bought it in New York. Bespoke splurge. We are going to look so good tomorrow,” he said.

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

I had been poked and prodded and pampered until I wanted to scream. At first it had been fun, lounging in a chair while three different aestheticians worked on my hands, feet, and face, but then I’d had to go lie in a hot room with slimy layers of seaweed wrapped around my body to “reduce puffiness and draw out the toxins.” I was sweaty and gross by the time the spa attendant came back for me and shoved me into a freezing cold shower “to shock the system and kickstart the metabolism.” 

I barely had time for lunch — a salad with no dressing and cucumber water; spa cuisine sucks — before heading back to Dieter’s place to get dressed. He’d arranged a driver so I didn’t have to worry about traffic, at least. I struggled into the Spanx and uncomfortable push up bra the stylist had made me buy, then gingerly put the dress on, afraid of tearing it. It had been altered to fit me and while that made it look much better, it meant there wasn’t much leeway. I’d just gotten into it when the doorbell rang and I shuffled to the door, holding up the long skirt that dragged on the floor when I was barefoot.

It was the makeup artist. She schlepped in several tackle boxes of supplies and a fancy lighted mirror. She set up a workstation in the kitchen, spreading her things out all over the island. 

“Okay, sit down, relax, and let me do my magic,” she said with a grin. She swathed me in a sheet and clipped my hair back away from my face. The kitchen chair wasn’t the most comfortable seat in the house but every time I squirmed, she gave me a look and I did my best to sit still while she powdered and painted and blended and smudged and plucked away at my face. Every once in a while, she’d frown a little and get out the makeup remover and start over.

Finally, she nodded. “Voila,” she said, turning the mirror so I could see what she’d done.

Holy shit, I thought. That can’t be me. I looked like I’d stepped off the cover of a magazine.

She laughed. “Yeah, the magic of makeup,” she said. “You wouldn’t recognize half the women in Hollywood if you saw them without professional makeup. The photographers are going to eat you up.”

She was still packing up her things when the doorbell rang again. She motioned for me to stay seated while she answered it. The hair stylist bustled in, hauling her own array of equipment.

She moved me to the kitchen stool, which was taller than the chair, and draped me in a tie-dyed cape. She spritzed my hair with water, and started to blow it dry, working it with a round brush. She paused, worked in some mousse and went back to work with the hair dryer. Next came the curling iron, then the hair dryer again, then the curling iron yet again. She sprayed me with hairspray until I sneezed, then kept fussing and teasing and pinning and curling until I was ready to scream. Finally, she seemed satisfied and gave me a hand mirror. 

My hair fell in soft, sexy ringlets around my face. The sides were swept up just a bit and held with glittery bobby pins. I had insisted we not do any color or add extensions, but it was amazing what she’d been able to do with my hair. My gray streaks looked like fancy highlights and my hair had a bounce to it instead of just hanging there like it usually did.

“You like it?”

“I love it,” I said. 

She packed up and left, just as Dieter was coming home from his last round of interviews.

“Wow, you clean up good,” he said when he saw me. 

“Shut up and get dressed,” I told him. “We have to leave in forty minutes.”

He laughed and disappeared into the bedroom. He’d had his hair done that morning before the interviews, but I’d probably have to fix it before we left, since he had a bad habit of running his hand through it and messing it up.

Twenty minutes later he reappeared in the brown suit, with a tan shirt and that vibrant green tie. He hated wearing a tie, and I knew that by the end of the evening it would be in his pocket and he’d have the top few buttons of his shirt undone, but for now he looked like a proper grownup.

I slipped on my shoes (beautiful strappy heels that were incredibly painful after five minutes) and found my purse. It was a tiny clutch that barely held my eyeglasses but I knew that if I didn’t take them with me I’d have a headache by the end of the movie. I could see without them, but I very rarely took them off. Walking the red carpet without them, and in brand new heels, was going to be an adventure.

“Ready?” Dieter offered me his arm and I took it.

“As I’ll ever be,” I said. 

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

“You look amazing,” he said softly when we were tucked into the back of the town car. The partition was closed, so the driver couldn’t see us as Dieter kissed my neck.

“Stop it,” I chided him. “You’ll mess up my makeup.”

“That’s why I’m kissing your neck,” he said, trailing little kisses down from my ear to my collarbone. “I’ll mess up your makeup later.”

“This isn’t fair,” I complained. “I can’t kiss you back because I’ll smear my lipstick.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, face buried in my throat. When he was done, he lifted his head and said, “Life’s not fair, get used to it.”

“I hate you,” I said with a laugh.

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You love me. You said it and you can’t take it back.”

“You’re in a good mood,” I said, fixing the stray strands of hair that were falling into his face. 

“It’s almost over,” he explained. “These promo tours and premieres are a pain in the ass. We do the red carpet, watch the movie, go to the party for a while and then we’re done.” He threw his head back and laughed. “We can just relax for a while. I’m turning my phone off this weekend, it’s just you and me and all that Chinese food.”

I laid my head on his shoulder, careful not to disturb my hair too much. “That sounds wonderful,” I said. My feet already hurt and I was counting the minutes until I could get out of those damnable Spanx.

We arrived at the theatre. The studio had gone all out, booking the Chinese Theatre (formerly known as Grauman’s; we were both old enough to think of it as that) in Hollywood. Our car pulled up to the curb and a smartly dressed young man opened the door for us. I slid out as gracefully as I could and waited for Dieter to climb out after me. There were hundreds of people lining the walkway to the theatre, which was actually covered with a red carpet, albeit one that had seen some use. There were a few threadbare spots and stains scattered over it but it was still nice.

“Dieter!!” Fans were screaming his name as he emerged from the car. 

“Show time,” he whispered to me before turning to the crowd with a brilliant smile and starting to wave at the fans. “Just follow my lead,” he said out the side of his mouth.

We walked slowly along the red carpet, as fans shouted and cheered. Some had signs, others waved autograph books or photos or Cliff Beast action figures at him, begging for a signature. I watched him as he graciously acknowledged everyone he could, signing things, asking how to spell names so he didn’t make a mistake. I just stood beside him, my hand tucked into the crook of his elbow, mostly ignored by the crowd.

When a young woman asked for a selfie, he obliged, even though it meant I had to let go of him. She giggled and kissed his cheek while they took the picture. He looked up at me and winked. I rolled my eyes and he laughed. “Get in here,” he said, pulling me into the next selfie, his arm tight around my shoulders.  After that, he declined any more selfies, except for a young boy with a Cliff Beasts t-shirt and the hairless head of a cancer patient. We stopped and chatted with him, took several pictures, and I asked his mom for their address, which I typed into my phone while Dieter was moving down the line. 

“I’ll make sure he gets something really cool,” I promised the boy’s mom, who had tears in her eyes. Then I hurried to catch up with Dieter; we were almost to the wall of cameras, as he’d called it.

There was a huge backdrop covered with the logo of the movie, the name of the studio and several sponsors. Opposite it was a horde of photographers, all jockeying for position to get the best shots of the arrivals. “Here we go,” Dieter said as we stepped into the line of fire.

Photographers were shouting his name, all trying to get him to look directly at their camera. Others were calling out directions. “Turn to the left! Look up!” An assistant gently guided us to the first of several marks on the carpet, predetermined places where the photographers could get good shots. I’d been practicing poses in the mirror, trying to keep my chin up so my neck looked longer, turning my body slightly so they would get a three-quarter angle, smiling until my cheeks ached.

“Look at me!,” one photographer shouted.

“Look at her!,” another demanded. 

“Look at him!”

“Look at each other!”

I was confused and Dieter laughed. “Just do whatever the hell you want, they’ll figure it out,” he said. He ducked his head down and kissed me, very lightly so as not to mess up my lipstick too much, and I heard a barrage of shutter clicks. “That’ll make ‘em happy,” he said.

We finally made our way past the gantlet of photographers and into the lobby of the theatre, where everyone was gathering to wait for the doors to the auditorium to open. Dieter dragged me over to meet the director, and one of the producers. “Always talk to the big shots first,” he’d told me earlier. “You have to do a fair amount of sucking up in this business, even with people who don’t like suck ups.”

We exchanged pleasantries, Dieter’s arm comfortably around my waist. I knew I was just there for decoration.  This was part of his job, and my job was to smile and nod and shake hands and make him look good.

Then we walked over to Erica and her husband. Erica was wearing a gorgeous beaded dress that skimmed over her curves and shimmered when she moved. Her husband was in a navy blue suit with a spotless white shirt and a navy tie.

“Hey!” Dieter said, hugging Erica and shaking hands with her husband. He introduced me and I shook hands with both of them. It was a bit awkward for a moment, but then Erica took over.

“It is so good to finally meet you,” she said to me. “He would literally not stop talking about you the entire press tour.” She tucked her arm through the crook of my elbow and leaned in. “I’m sorry about the interviews,” she whispered. 

“It’s okay,” I told her. “I overreacted. I’m new to all this.”

“You’ll get used to it,” she said. “He really is crazy about you, you know. You have nothing to worry about.” 

She let me go and Dieter and I moved on to chat with some of the other cast members. Finally the auditorium doors opened and we were ushered inside to our seats, then the rest of the audience was let in. Friends and family and others with sometimes extremely vague connections to the studio and the cast filled out the audience. Dieter and I both put on our glasses as the lights dimmed and he pulled my hand into his lap, playing with my fingers as the movie started.

I really couldn’t pay attention to the film, between my aching feet, the Spanx that made it difficult to take a deep breath, and Dieter doing things to my hand that made me look forward to the weekend.

After the movie ended, Dieter and the other cast members had to go up on the stage, while the director, producers, and several studio execs gave speeches.  Finally, we were free to go, but only to drive a few blocks down the street to the party venue. As I predicted, once we were in the car, Dieter undid his tie and unbuttoned the top three buttons on his shirt.

“Not fair,” I said. “I don’t have anything to undo.” I squirmed as my Spanx started to ride up and give me a wedgie.

“We could skip the party and go home,” he said.

“You know we can’t,” I said. There would be more photographers at the party and more people to schmooze with. 

He sighed. “Yeah, I know, but we don’t have to stay too long, I promise.”

The party was loud and without my glasses on, I quickly developed a headache, but I gallantly followed Dieter around and smiled at everyone while I sipped on a weak drink. I couldn’t blame them for watering down the drinks, because these people were hard drinkers. I watched one studio exec down seven drinks in the space of an hour.

Finally, Dieter whispered, “Ready to go?”

“I’ve been ready,” I whispered back. He smiled, and pulled out his phone to text our driver. We slipped out and dodged a few die-hard photographers before piling into the back seat of the town car for the ride home. The car had barely pulled away from the curb before Dieter was shrugging out of his suit coat and I had my shoes off.

“Oh, that helps,” I said, rubbing at the blisters and pressure spots on my feet. Dieter pulled my feet into his lap and started massaging them. It was sweet but also an excuse to slide my dress up so he could run his hand up my thigh. It didn’t take long before I was in his lap and half my lipstick was on his face and throat.

When the car pulled up in his driveway, we stumbled out and into the house. 

“Get me out of these Spanx,” I said, throwing my shoes into a corner. I never wanted to wear them again. Dieter obliged, helping me carefully take off the dress. I wrestled myself out of the shape wear and unfastened my bra. They joined the shoes in the corner of shame.

We left a trail of discarded clothing from the front door to the bedroom until we finally collapsed onto the bed. “Can we just run around naked for a few days?,” I asked, as I stretched, exhilarating in the freedom to just breathe and move without the constriction of foundation garments.

“Sounds good to me,” Dieter said. He started to pull me close but I shook my head. 

“I’ve got to get this makeup off before we go to bed or I’m going to ruin your pillowcases and my face will be a mess,” I said. I staggered into the bathroom and scrubbed at my face with cotton pads and makeup remover. By the time I got back to the bedroom, Dieter was asleep, sprawled on top of the comforter. 

I pulled the pins out of my hair, laid them on the nightstand, and crawled into the bed. I tugged at the covers and shoved Dieter around until I had him under the covers as best I could. I didn’t want him to get cold during the night. It was still warm during the day but the nights were starting to get chilly this close to the ocean. Finally, I gave up when he was mostly covered up and let my own head drop onto the pillow. There would be plenty of time to fool around during the next three days. Right now, what we both needed most was sleep.

[tippedbykreider]

it's all coming back to me | c. kreider (part viii)

(Part VII ICYMI)

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: slow burn, exes to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol, 18+

Author’s Note: This feels like progress. Doesn't this feel like progress to you?

Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten?

Tagging: @laurenairay; @thebookofmags; @whatishockey; @robindrake13

~

It had been over a week.

It had been over a week since Chris had heard from you and over a week since you’d shared you were going on a second date with Sam and his disposition could only be described as sour. Chris had few smiles for his teammates, even Mika, and his temperament when it came to reporters was uncharacteristically surly. Perhaps the worst part of it all was that he’d once again found himself in a slump and despite him trying his utmost to drown out the background noise that was the internet, it was hard to ignore comments that called for his immediate trade. He wondered if you’d noticed. He wondered if you even cared.

The Rangers’ latest win against the visiting Capitals hadn’t hit the way that it should and despite the jovial atmosphere in the locker room, Chris felt anything but.

“You comin’ out for a few, Kreids?” Lindy asked as he took off his pads.

“Nah,” Chris shook his head. “Not tonight.”

“Awww, c’mon,” Trouba piped up. “Not even for one drink? If this is about the turnover in the neutral zone-”

“It’s not,” Chris snapped before exhaling to collect himself, a forced evenness in his voice as he spoke again. “It’s not about the turnover. I’m just not feeling up to it tonight.”

Mika gave Trouba a look that told him not to push.

“A’ight,” Jacob shrugged as he turned away.

Chris wordlessly removed the rest of his pads, pulling at the velcro with more force than was necessary, all the while Mika watched him with furrowed brows.

“Hey, how about we grab a quiet drink somewhere, just the two of us?” he offered, quiet enough for Chris’ ears only.

“Mika-”

“One drink,” Mika pressed gently. “One drink and I swear I’ll let you go home to mope.”

“‘m not moping,” Chris groused as he stood and grabbed his towel.

“Sulk, then.”

Chris went to protest but stopped himself at the good-natured smile his best friend was giving him and simply sighed instead.

“Fine,” Chris conceded. “One drink.”

Chris didn’t see Mika’s triumphant little smile as he turned away to head to the showers but he knew Mika well enough to know that he’d be feeling rather pleased with himself right about now. He also knew that Mika would coax out the truth about what was truly bothering him, one way or another and he knew that would mean having to talk about you, which he truthfully didn’t know how he felt about. Perhaps it would be good to get it all out, to get a third party perspective on it all, but it still didn’t change what happened and it certainly didn’t change the fact that you were clearly moving on with your life. 

The walk from Madison Square Garden was mostly silent but not uncomfortably so. Mika had found a quiet little piano bar in Chelsea that wasn’t too far and there was little chance of them running into any teammates. The pair slid into a booth near the back of the bar and shrugged out of their jackets, Chris picking up the menu and studying it intently as if that would stop Mika from pursuing whatever line of questioning he knew was imminent. Mika watched him, his usually soft eyes uncharacteristically keen while he waited. Chris could feel Mika’s gaze on him, steady and unwavering and after a few more breaths he put down the menu with a soft exhale. Better to rip the band aid off and get this over with.

“So what’s going on with you?” Mika asked.

“Wow, cutting right to the chase,” Chris remarked. “We’ve not even ordered our drinks yet.”

“Figured I’d get ahead,” Mika shrugged in reply, eyes still keen on Chris.

Chris paused for a moment and glanced around the bar, giving himself time to gather and order his thoughts. He supposed he didn’t need to start from the very beginning, given that Mika knew about you, at least in part.

“Remember when we met up after summer break and you asked me if there was a girl?”

“Yeah, which you denied pretty enthusiastically,” Mika replied, a little smile playing on his lips. “There was, wasn’t there? I knew you were bullshitting us.”

“It’s not as simple as that,” Chris shook his head.

“Sure it is. There either was a girl or there wasn’t.”

Chris exhaled.

“Remember that girl from college I told you about?”

“The one you lived with, right?” Mika asked.

“Yeah,” Chris answered, his eyes sad. “She was the only person I’ve ever loved, like truly loved.”

Mika nodded in wordless encouragement.

“And I messed up pretty bad,” Chris continued, his voice rougher than Mika had ever heard it. “I hurt her.”

“C’mon, Chris,” Mika said gently. “I know you and I know that you’d never hurt anyone intentionally.”

“Doesn’t matter if it was intentional or not,” Chris countered. “My actions hurt her. I thought in some stupid way that by doing what I did, I was protecting her but it wasn’t my decision to make. I left her behind in Boston because I thought I was doing right by her but I never even asked her what she wanted.”

“You were young, Chris,” Mika reasoned. “You made the decision you thought was right at the time.”

“Doesn’t mean it was truly the right one though, does it?”

Mika watched as Chris’ shoulders rose and fell with his sigh, giving him a moment before speaking again.

“So what happened?”

“I bumped into her,” Chris answered plainly. “In Rowayton of all places.”

“No shit,” Mika exhaled. “Did she recognise you?”

“I recognised her first.”

Mika chewed his lip for a moment while he processed Chris’ revelation.

“That’s… huge,” Mika said eventually, Chris merely nodding in response. “What happened? Did you talk to her?”

“Yeah,” Chris replied. “And we got talking and it was rough and she bolted, which is fair, y’know? But then I bumped into her again in Stamford.”

“Fuck,” Mika breathed. “Like bumping into her once? That’s nothing to really pay attention to, but twice?”

“Feels like some sort of shitty joke on the universe’s part, right?”

“Or divine intervention,” Mika offered. “If Irma were here she’d say that was a sign that the two of you weren’t done.”

“Oh, I think we’re pretty done,” Chris grimaced. “She’s been moving on.”

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because she told me,” Chris said matter of factly.

“So you guys have been talking, then?”

“We met up again in person and talked more about stuff, y’know, about what happened with us. Since then we’ve exchanged a few texts here and there,” Chris confirmed. “And it kind of felt like things were going somewhere, I don’t know where exactly but… I dunno, it just felt less strained and maybe like something resembling friendship, and then she told me that she’d been on a date with a guy and that went well so they arranged a second one.”

“And how do you feel about that?” Mika asked.

“Like shit,” Chris replied bluntly. “And I know I have no right to because I’m not anything to her anymore, but…”

“It still hurts,” Mika nodded. “And it’s gonna. She was your girl, Chris. You loved her, that sort of stuff doesn’t just go away.”

“It has for her,” Chris countered. 

“You don’t really know that,” Mika offered. “You don’t know what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling.”

“No,” Chris conceded. “But it’s been a decade and she’s dating and that’s enough of a sign. I couldn’t have expected her to still be waiting on me after all this time, not after what I did. So I told her I was happy for her but she’s left me on ‘read’.”

“Shit, Chris. I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is,” Chris shrugged, relieved at the sight of the waitress coming over to take their order and giving him a much needed reprieve.

To Chris’ surprise, Mika didn’t push the subject further once their drinks were ordered and conversation turned to Mika and Irma’s upcoming wedding. True to his word, Mika didn’t press Chris to stay for a second drink and the two parted ways with a hug and a goodnight, Chris taking the short walk home to his apartment while Mika grabbed an Uber. 

Somehow the apartment felt emptier tonight, hollow even. Perhaps it was simply reflecting Chris’ energy right back at him, perhaps not, but as Chris hung up his jacket and kicked off his shoes he couldn’t help but pay attention to the ache that sat deep within his chest. It had been years since he’d come home to you, so long that, truthfully, he wasn’t even sure if he could really remember just what that was like. Your apartment together always smelled so good, Chris remembered that much, always a vanilla candle burning whenever you were home, and you would always call out ‘Marco’ to him whenever he stepped through the door, eagerly awaiting his ‘Polo’ in reply. You would repeat this until you finally got eyes on him, greeting him with a “hello, Marco” and a big smile. He never truly understood why you did it, but he would indulge you every single time without question.

The hurt washed over him again, like a rogue wave and he couldn’t help the quiet sniffle that escaped him. You’d never been in this apartment, he’d never experienced the grace of your presence in this space he called ‘home’ and yet tonight it seemed so barren without you, completely devoid of any vibrancy. He wondered how that was possible, how a space could miss something it never had, how his apartment felt as if it had a you shaped hole in it when it had never known anything other than Chris. Perhaps this place had never been whole and that it was only now, in the swirling waters of his hurt and grief, that Chris was realising it. Maybe it wasn’t the apartment at all that wasn’t whole, maybe it was Chris and he was beginning to wonder if he’d ever truly been whole since the day he closed the door on your shared home in Boston for the last time.

*

It took you three days to reply to Sam.

You’d picked up your phone to do it multiple times over the 72 hour period, even getting as far as opening the text conversation on a few occasions, but each time something stopped you right in your tracks. You couldn’t deny the fact that Chris had been on your mind more often than not over the last couple of days and that in itself was equal parts maddening and confusing. You were angry with yourself for allowing your mind to wander the way that it had, angry that you had let yourself slip but you continued to tell yourself that thinking about Chris subconsciously while you touched yourself meant nothing. It was the wine. It had to be the wine.

And yet despite this, you still hadn’t rushed to reach out to Sam either and perhaps that spoke even more volumes. You’d very quickly chased away the idea that you were hesitating because of Chris, it simply being too ludicrous to give any sort of meaningful acknowledgement, but you also couldn’t think of any other tangible reason for it either. Even as you finally text Sam back, there was the distinct sense that it was forced, something you hoped wouldn’t come across in your message, and even as you found yourself agreeing to date number three, it all just felt a little contrived. A little insincere. You hoped as the days passed that the feeling would dissipate, that the thoughts of Chris would recede like fog being chased away by the mid-morning sun and you would rekindle those feelings of initial excitement at the prospect of new romance, but as you stood in front of your closet ahead of your date trying to decide what dress to wear, you felt nothing.

The kiss Sam gave you as he picked you up didn’t flutter the butterflies in your stomach like it had done before and the feeling of your hand in his as you walked from the car to the restaurant felt foreign, wrong even. You’d suggested doing something different this time, like a movie or bowling, but Sam had insisted on taking you to dinner with the promise that you could choose the date activity next time. You couldn’t help but think back to your dates with Chris, the pasta making class he’d booked where you both left absolutely covered in flour, the time he took you ice skating, the time you made a Christmas wreath together for your apartment door. All the concerts, the plays, trips to bookstores and record shops, walks in the park with kisses that tasted of coffee and cake. Those dates in each other’s dorms where Chris would somehow manage to eat a 16 inch pizza to himself and still finish strong with a pint of ice cream. You smiled involuntarily at the memory before it quickly faded at the sound of the restaurant door closing behind you, bringing you back down to Earth.

You forced a smile through dinner, socially aware enough to know when to nod and laugh in all the right places, but you couldn’t deny the overwhelming relief in your chest when the check came. You’d hoped that Sam hadn’t noticed; he hadn’t seemed to but you then questioned whether he was simply being polite. He certainly seemed like that kind of guy. You cursed yourself. You cursed yourself for living inside of your own head, for thinking about Chris, for being a bad date. After all, this was what you wanted, right?

This was you, once again, trying to move on and move forward with your life, leaving the past in the past and all you seemed to get for your trouble was a ‘nearly but not quite’ version of the man you were trying to leave behind. There was nothing wrong with Sam, of course and in any other timeline, where your path never crossed Chris’, you were certain you could have had a fourth date with him, maybe even a fifth, to see where this would lead. But if this whole evening, this whole week, had achieved anything, it had simply reaffirmed what you already knew to be true in your heart, that you’d never really let Chris go and while some men might come close, there was nothing quite like the real thing.

It was too easy to let your mind drift during dinner, the conversation that had initially been scintillating suddenly feeling a little lacklustre through no fault of the man in your company and the bottle of Sangiovese he’d ordered for the table, a wine that Chris would order every single time, had you crawling back into those corners of your mind where you’d stored away every memory of every single date you ever had with Chris Kreider for the second time that night.

The evening ended with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a vague promise to do this again sometime, but instead of the disappointment you’d expected to feel, there was instead a strange and unexpected feeling that was akin to relief. No, clarity.

You weren’t over Chris, that much was clear as day to you now and for better or worse your heart still clung to the man who had both given you so many happy memories, so much joy, and had shattered your world. It was the reason why you’d accepted and reciprocated contact after a decade, why you hadn’t brushed him off, why you’d let him back into your life, even if you had been keeping him at arm’s length for the most part. Your reckless heart still called out to his, even if your cautious head was screaming at you to stay away, to be careful, to protect yourself. You couldn’t help but let him back in, because even if you couldn’t say that you truly forgave him for what he did, you could never say that you ever stopped loving him. Not really.

All you had to do now was to decide just what exactly you were going to do next.

*

The last thing Chris expected on a Tuesday night after a game at home to the Predators was a phone call from you and he found himself hesitating for a number of reasons, not least because of the late hour. This was the first time hearing from you since you’d left him on ‘read’ and if he was being truthful, he still wasn’t over the knock to his pride. But it was late and Chris knew that he would never forgive himself if you were in some sort of trouble and he ignored your call. It was that thought that had him reaching for his phone, a forced calmness in his voice as he answered.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” you answered, a slight edge to your voice that Chris couldn’t quite place. “I just… I saw the game and I wanted to check in, make sure you were okay.”

Chris’ face flushed in embarrassment and he was thankful that you couldn’t see him at that moment. The game you referenced was nothing short of a shit show and Chris hadn’t seen much of the ice in the third period, the benching he received completely justified in his own opinion, but still stung nonetheless.

“I’m fine,” Chris lied. “Just have to correct the mistakes, learn from it and move on to the next one.”

It was such a PR friendly response, one he’d throw out during a postgame interview and he was so tired that he hadn’t even tried to mask the overly rehearsed delivery with something a little more sincere. He’d half hoped you wouldn’t notice but, of course, you’d prove him wrong. You always could cut right through all the smoke and the mirrors to get to the very heart. It was one of the things he’d always loved about you.

“I’m not a reporter, Chris,” you gently scolded. “Please don’t treat me like one.”

Chris had to swallow down a scoff at that. You were right, of course, you weren’t a reporter, but Chris also wasn’t sure just what the hell you were anymore. One thing he was certain of though was that he absolutely wasn’t about to take a lecture from you, not when he’d not heard from you for so long. Not with how things were left between you both. But Chris was tired. His body was tired, his mind was tired and his heart was tired. He didn’t have it in him to get into it with you. Not tonight.

“It was just a bad night,” Chris offered lamely. “I’ve gotta be better. No two ways about it.”

“I know you will be,” you replied, a genuine softness in your voice that Chris picked up on immediately. “You’ll make it right.”

Chris sat up at that, unsure if he’d imagined the veiled message behind your words, whether it was merely a trick of the mind or if there truly was so much more that you were saying.

“I hope so,” he managed after a breath or two. “I mean, I’m trying.”

“I know.”

Chris exhaled at that, his free hand coming up to rub his face. He was exhausted and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to play this perceived game of emotional chess with you. He figured he’d cut right to the chase.

“Why are you really calling, Pickle?” he asked, voice rough. “You just… ghosted me.”

“I know,” you replied quietly. “I’m sorry, Chris. I… I don’t know why I did that.”

“I meant it, y’know. I’m happy for you, I’m happy to see you finding happiness and someone who is good to you.” The sniffle on the other end of the line was barely inaudible and had you said something, anything, Chris would have missed it. “Pickle?”

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out, fighting hard to suppress the waver in your voice and taking a few breaths to compose yourself. “I should let you go to bed. You must be exhausted.”

“I’m alright,” Chris assured, not prepared to let this drop so easily. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing-”

“Please,” he cut you off firmly. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Lie to me,” he gritted. “Don’t lie to me.”

The silence through the phone was deafening and were it not for your tiny exhale on the other end of the line, Chris would have thought you’d gone completely. He wasn’t about to let this lie. You’d been the one to call him, after all and that meant something. It had to mean something.

“I just,” you started, after what felt like an eternity of silence and choosing your next words carefully. “It just didn’t work out between Sam and I.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

There was another pause.

“I’m sorry,” Chris said quietly after a moment.

“It’s… It’s just the way it goes sometimes.”

“Yeah,” he replied. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

Chris paused for a few breaths, caught between wanting to push further and not wanting to seem intrusive. It wasn’t really any of his business why it didn’t work out between you and Sam, not really and yet he knew there was more to it. More that you weren’t saying for reasons he wasn’t entirely sure of but felt like he needed to know.

“What happened?” he asked eventually.

“We didn’t work out.”

“So you said,” Chris replied sceptically. “Okay, let me rephrase my question. Why didn’t you work out?”

You cursed him internally, both in knowing that he wasn’t about to let you deflect and because the nature of his question meant that you were really going to have to think about the way you would answer him.

“Because,” you started on the exhale of a breath, unsure even as the word came out of your mouth where you were going to go with this. What could you say? Tell Chris that you weren’t over him? That you called time on things with Sam because he simply wasn’t Chris? Sure, it was the truth, but it wasn’t something you were certain you were ready to share, not least because you knew you weren’t ready for the consequences of that, whatever they happened to be. “Because it just didn’t feel right with him. I don’t know how else to say it other than that.”

Chris knew that he wasn’t going to get anything more out of you and he wasn’t going to rock the boat by pressing the issue further and so, with reluctance, he dropped it.

“Well, if it doesn’t feel right then it doesn’t feel right,” he replied simply. “You can’t force that kind of thing.”

“No,” you agreed. “No, you can’t.”

There was a brief silence that descended between you, filled with all the words neither of you could say and weighted with feelings that you weren’t ready to openly express.

“I am sorry, though,” Chris said finally. “Truly.”

“Yeah,” you replied hoarsely. “Me too.” You hesitated a moment more before wishing Chris goodnight. “You really should get some rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he acknowledged, the hint of a smile in his voice. “I’m goin’.”

“Goodnight, Christopher.”

“G’night, Pickle,” he replied softly. “And please don’t be a stranger.”

You smiled at that, for the first time in days.

“I won’t. I promise.”

*

The next few weeks for Chris passed in what could only be described as a complete blur. The schedule somehow seemed more unforgiving than usual and Chris was desperately looking forward to the All Star Break where he could pause and finally catch his breath. He’d made no firm plans which, while not like him, he was content with. He’d toyed with the idea of booking a vacation somewhere warm, where he could bask in the feeling of the sun on his skin and sand between his toes, but the thought of travelling seemed like too much effort, even if St Barts was lovely at that time of the year. Perhaps he’d venture as far as Rowayton and blow the cobwebs away with fresh sea air, or perhaps he would stay in Manhattan and get lost in a good book. The latter sounded mighty tempting, especially as it had been a while since he’d spent a day wandering the city, going from bookstore to bookstore with plenty of coffee stops in between.

There might have been something else keeping him in the city, although Chris would never admit to it. He didn’t want to be that guy, the one waiting on you. He also didn’t want to just let you back in so easily. You’d ghosted him once, you could do it again. But even so, the frequency of texts seemed to increase with each day that passed and soon he found himself calling you on the way back from practice or on drives home from the airport, just as you called him on your commute home or while you were cooking dinner. It was nice, Chris thought. Nice to have you back in his life and nice to have something that could very easily fit the definition of friendship, especially after everything that had happened. Those calls soon became FaceTimes and before long it was a normal occurrence for Chris to catch up with you that way before turning in for the night.

It was the final away trip before the All Star break and he’d found himself in a hotel room in Pittsburgh. It was getting on for 9:30 and while some of the younger guys had taken themselves out into the city for drinks after dinner, Chris had been content to come back to the room, take as hot a bath as he could stand and catch an earlyish night. His book was already on the nightstand and he’d not long changed into a pair of loose cotton pyjama pants. He settled himself on the bed, propped up with every pillow at his disposal, and called you.

*

You groaned as you climbed into bed, your body aching in a way that it hadn’t for a very long time, although you supposed that’s what you got for leaving it so long to go back to the gym. The bath you’d taken had worked wonders for your muscles, that is, until it was time for you to get out and then it was as if your legs had completely forgotten how to do the whole standing thing. You’d made something akin to a nest with your pillows and scatter cushions, with your book and herbal tea sitting on the nightstand ready and waiting for you. Your phone vibrated beside the mug and you couldn’t help the smile on your face at the sight of Chris’ name on the screen, his call unexpected but welcome all the same.

You were still wearing your smile as you answered, Chris’ face soft and sleepy on your screen.

“Hey, you.”

“Hey, Pickle,” he said, voice a little tired. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I mean, I think I’ve broken my legs but that’s what I get for going to the gym.”

Chris laughed softly at that, a little smirk on his face as he spoke.

“You think they’re sore now, just you wait ‘til the morning.”

“Ugh, don’t,” you groaned. “The lift is out at work too so I’ve got like two flights of stairs to go up.”

“Yikes.”

“Eh, serves me right. How’re you anyway? How’s Pittsburgh?”

“I’m good,” Chris replied with a gentle smile. “Pittsburgh is cold. The guys went out for a beer after dinner but I came back, got a bath and figured I’d get a chapter in before turnin’ in for the night.”

“You old man,” you teased. “You shoulda got yourself out.”

“Nah,” Chris shook his head. “Just didn’t feel up to it tonight, besides, it means I get to catch up with you.”

You couldn’t help the flush in your cheeks at that and you hoped that Chris couldn’t read the bashful little smile that played on your lips. Your eyes flitted to Chris’ bare chest, somehow only just noticing that he was sans shirt and the heat in face seemed to burn hotter as your thighs pressed together of their own volition

“I wish I could say I had more news for you but I lead a very boring life,” you said, trying to keep your eyes fixed firmly on Chris’ face in the hopes that it would restore some kind of order to your body.

“How’s your mom?”

“She’s good,” you replied, swallowing thickly. “She’s uh taken up knitting so there’s just yarn everywhere.”

“Yeah?” Chris smiled. “She taking any requests? I could use a hat.”

“Not planning on shaving your head again are you?”

“You saw that?” Chris grinned.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Yeah, I did.”

A weighted silence fell between you both, not uncomfortable but tinged with a sadness at the reference to your years apart. You winced internally at it, wishing you could take back your words. Chris spoke first, his voice soft and laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Well, I promise I’ve no plans to shave my head.”

“Good,” you replied, voice almost a whisper. “I mean, you can do what you want. It’s your head.”

Chris laughed then and it seemed to cut through the weird tension that had started to form, causing you to exhale a breath of relief. You smiled back at him.

“I’ll ask mom if she can make you a hat,” you added.

“I appreciate that, thank you.”

“Don’t come crying to me when she knits you some sort of beret.”

“Bold of you to assume that I didn’t want a beret,” he grinned. “I’m a very cultured guy.”

“Eating everything at a world buffet doesn’t make you a cultured guy, Chris,” you teased.

“Uhhhh, yes it does.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the silly little expression on Chris’ face and it was easy to let yourself get lost in how familiar this all felt. You’d always talk like this. Before you lived together you’d talk on the phone for hours in bed, Chris staying on the line with you until you’d fallen asleep because you refused to hang up, insisting that you weren’t tired. You wondered if he’d still stay on the line with you if you asked him to. You wouldn’t, of course, but you’d like to think he would.

“So what are your plans for next week?” you asked. “It’s the break, right? You jetting off somewhere exotic?”

“Nah,” Chris shook his head. “I thought about going away somewhere but I think I’m just gonna chill at home.”

“Sometimes that’s what you need,” you agreed.

“Yeah,” Chris nodded. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a good poke around a book store so I think I’ll take myself over to the Upper West Side and see what I can find.”

“That sounds like a really good plan, Chris,” you smiled. “It seems like the season’s been a rough one so far, I think it’ll do you good to recharge at home. Do the things you enjoy, y’know?”

“Would you um…”

Chris paused and you couldn’t help but notice the conflicted expression that had settled on his brow.

“Yeah?”

Chris exhaled.

“Would you like to maybe meet up for coffee sometime next week?”

“In Manhattan?” you asked, hoping you didn’t sound too taken aback.

“Or Hartford,” Chris rushed. “I could come to you. I mean, you’ll be working and I’ve got the time to spare so…”

“I could take some time off that I’m owed,” you offered.

“I- really?” Chris replied, a little stunned that you’d not rebuffed him.

“Yeah, then we’re not having to rush for me to get back to work” you nodded. “I mean, it’s been a minute since I’ve driven into New York so god knows how that’ll go.”

“I’ll come to Hartford,” Chris suggested. “It’ll be quieter anyways.”

“You sure? I don’t wanna put you out.”

“You’re not,” he assured. “I’m offering. New York traffic is bad enough, but when you’re not used to it it’s even worse. I’ll come to you, no trouble at all.”

“Okay,” you conceded. “Okay, yeah. That’d be great.”

“I’ll reach out when I’m back in the city and we can sort something out?”

“Yeah that sounds perfect, Chris,” you smiled softly.

There was a pause then, you both somehow managing to hold each other’s gaze through the screen. That warmth that had been in your face earlier had migrated to your chest and you couldn’t help but think how soft he looked propped up in bed. You were glad when Chris spoke again, his words stopping your thoughts from pushing the boundaries of appropriateness and straying into a territory you were trying your best to stay away from.

“I’ll let you get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“Gee, thanks,” you chuckled.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do,” you smiled softly. “You get some rest too.”

Chris wished you goodnight and ended the call, leaving you laid in bed with your heart racing as your mind wandered to all the coffee dates with Chris that had come before and you began to wonder just what this all was and how it would feel to see him again.

[omgkatsudonplease]

my duty to you both (on equal love)!

Versailles, 1779

“You know, I’m quite impressed that you’ve managed to stay on your horse for so long,” said the Duke after a couple hours of slow and easy riding at the back of the company. “Your predecessor didn’t have as much luck in the saddle as you seem to have.” 

“Lord Tureis wasn’t one for hunting, then?” asked Uncty. 

“Oh, he had quite a spirited go at it, at first,” said the Duke cheerily, “but unfortunately for Thierry le Petit Chevalier, all his aspirations for hunting glory went tumbling right off the back of this horse here,” he nodded at the gelding that Uncty was currently riding, “alongside his person, when the flutter of his wife’s skirts startled the poor thing into bucking him off, nearly trampling Madame la Précieuse in the process.”

Uncty frowned. “What was Lady Virginia even doing out in the park?” 

“God only knows.” They were now approaching a cluster of nobles, Muggle and magical alike; the laughter of some of the court ladies were pealing out as clear as bells. “Despite the whole thing having played out in front of several witnesses, those two insist to this day that the injuries they’d sustained from their little misadventure stemmed from a run-in with a werewolf. As if there were any werewolves at Versailles—we haven’t seen one here since François Antoine brought us the pelt of the Beast of Gévaudan!” 

Uncty hummed. “It seems to me that Lord Tureis and Lady Virginia were not as popular at the court as they have led me to believe,” he remarked.

“In their first couple months here, the two of them kept a modest pair of rooms in the Couloir de Sorcellerie, alongside the rest of the magical courtiers, and immediately began to swan about like they were the ones who owned the place.” The Duke shook his head with a wry little smile. “Perhaps it was a happy misfortune that le Petit Chevalier’s inadvertent injury to his wife gave them the excuse they needed to fall back to Paris. Her Majesty the Queen had been most upset about Madame la Précieuse’s insinuations regarding Her Majesty’s behaviour towards her friends.” 

Uncty had yet to see the Queen. He couldn’t help but fear the possibility that his predecessor might have completely killed the Queen’s interest in receiving visits from Avalonian envoys. Perhaps Lord Black, Lord Tureis’ father, had simply been pulling strings in the Department of International Magical Cooperation to give his third son a plum posting abroad, where he and his young wife could be exposed to the world beyond the shores of New Avalon.

((Basically, it's part three of a prologue triptych to Heirs of Avalon! It covers the rise of Unctuous Osbert to the post of Minister for Magic. Osbert, per Pottermore, was believed to be a puppet of Septimus Malfoy, so this fic also covers the span of their relationship:))

With a sigh, the Duke extended a hand towards the sylph. “Monsieur Osbert, might I introduce to you my second cousin, the Comte de Landerneau?”

“My friends call me Septimus,” added the Count, with a playful little grin.

“And do your lovers call you Septy?” teased Gabrielle. “It’s what they’re saying in the latest libelles, you know.”

“And whatever is printed in the libelles must be the truth,” rejoined the Count with a wink.

“Oh dear. I had no idea our little get-togethers in the Petit Trianon were such scandalous orgies,” mused Gabrielle in mock-horrified tones. She then reached out and grabbed the Count by the hand, pulling him back from Uncty. “Come, come, Septy, the Queen’s tired of dancing with that clod Lafayette and needs a better partner!” 

“Until our next intersection, Monsieur Osbert,” trilled the Count before he was led away by Gabrielle into the crowd. Uncty watched him go with his heart in his throat.

((Thanks for the ask <3))

[thebreakfastgenie]

WIP Game: By Any Other Name and Strawberry Fields!

I talked about by any other name here! here's another snippet:

“Thomas W. Gillis.”  Sidney looks at him again, but Hawkeye avoids his gaze.  “Born the same year as you,” he observes. “Friend of yours?” “We grew up together.”  It sounds forced, clipped, even to him. It’s not even half the story, and he senses that Sidney knows just how much he’s leaving out, if not exactly what.  Sidney glances at the headstone again.  “1951.” He raises his eyebrows. “Did he die in Korea?” he asks in that way he has—gentle, but matter-of-fact.  “Yeah, uh,” Hawkeye pauses. “I guess I never told you.”  He looks at the headstone. Nestled just behind it are Tommy’s parents, who died within four months of each other, a couple of years before Daniel. They can’t hide from time any more than the Pierces can; the faded granite betrays the grave with the latest birthdate as the oldest.  “He died at the 4077th.”  Sidney conceals his surprise well, but not well enough.  “Why do you suppose you never did?” “You remember what it was like over there,” he shrugs. “There was always something else.”  Sidney waits. Sidney always waits. Sidney can sense when Hawkeye wants to say more, even before Hawkeye can.  “I saw it happen,” Hawkeye adds carefully.  “That must have been very painful.”  It’s an honest assessment, not patronizing. He's always been able to count on Sidney for that.  “It was almost thirty years ago,” Hawkeye says, like that makes it better instead of worse. 

Unlike with Hawkeye's parents' graves, which he kind of does want to show Sidney, he just won't admit it, Hawkeye really does not plan on stopping at Tommy's grave. It's not in this excerpt, but on their way out of the cemetery, Sidney sees the same flowers from Hawkeye's parents' graves and the front of the house and makes the connection. W is a middle initial I gave Tommy because I thought he deserved one. That last line is very personal; it's weird to talk about your dead childhood best friend, and people will say they're sorry because there just isn't anything else to say, but it's weird to hear about something that happened so long ago so you say well, it was a long time ago, like that makes it better, but when you think about it it just means they died so young it's been that long and here you still are. Anyway. I hope you enjoy!

I am so happy you asked about Strawberry Fields because it's been on my mind! Strawberry Fields is very much a working title, but strawberries do figure. This fic is basically the night of the Rosslyn shooting from Josh's mom's perspective. One of the reasons I took a break was I couldn't figure out what the end point was, but I think it's going to be when she finally gets to DC, just before she sees him. I made some OCs to be her friends and neighbors and it was really fun! There's this one particular Moment I haven't been able to get right yet but I'm very excited for when I pull it off.

She took a third spoonful of filling. She never measured, it was always instinct. She always overfilled the spoon just slightly, so she could get it done in one go. Her hands were steady; she never spilled a drop. Jim had complimented her technique. She crimped the third tart, then went back for the fourth.  There was a sharp knock at the door.  The sound startled her. She dropped the spoon. It caught the side of the bowl with a splash, before clattering to the floor. There was a second knock. She turned in the direction of the front door, and her eye caught the television.  The letters scrolled across the screen in red.  Special Report Shots Fired President Bartlet She picked up the remote. She found the mute button without tearing her eyes away from the screen. The sound roared to life.  “—and we can now confirm that President Bartlet’s motorcade has arrived at George Washington University Hospital—” Oh, God, she thinks. Let that be all.  “—we are also receiving reports of several other injuries, but these victims have yet to be identified. The injury count is believed to be low—”  Someone would call. If it was— someone would have called her.  Someone was still knocking on the door. She stood, transfixed, in front of the TV. A shrill sound cut the kitchen in half, drowning out both the news report and the continued knocking.  The telephone.  She glanced toward the door, then turned her back on it.  She picked up the phone. 

[j-graysonlibrary]

Fort Heaven Chapter 8

Title: Fort Heaven

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 69K

Genres: Suspense, investigative, drama, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Some call it a hoax. Others claim it’s a cult. But, to Evon and his friend Yasmine, two online journalists, Fort Heaven is the subject of their latest story. Along for the assignment is cameraman and not-so-secret crush of Evon’s: Russet. With a drunken, murky night in their recent history, things are especially tense between them but, of course, personal matters take a backseat when the interviews start. The trio speaks to ex-members of Fort Heaven and, while some of the accounts are shocking, the job remains just that: A job. That is until one of the women they interviewed, along with her daughter, goes missing. It soon becomes clear that not only is Fort Heaven a real threat but Evon and his friends are being watched. And what started as a simple cash-grab article is now a matter of life and death.

Full Chapter 8 under the cut

Chapter 8

While Yasmine divided up the takeout between the three of them and Russet started to edit his footage from earlier in the day, Evon checked his emails. He took the paper plate from his friend but his eyes didn’t move from his phone.

“Do you think we need more?” Russet asked as he worked.

“It’s just two stories,” Yasmine pointed out and handed him his plate. She then took her own and sat on the edge of the bed closest to the door.

“But it is pretty hefty,” he responded.

“We’ve got another woman willing to talk to us,” Evon said, catching the attention of the both of them.

He scanned over his and Yasmine’s work email and focused on one email in particular. Cindy Oswell was a middle aged woman who only had a daughter living with her. She didn’t describe much else in the letter other than that and the fact she was in Fort Heaven for quite some time.

“It’s not far, is it?” Russet asked and finally started to eat.

“A few towns over, actually,” Evon answered as he checked over the details.

Yasmine looked between the two of them before shrugging. “I’ll take it.”

“How long was she in for?” Russet turned in his chair to face the other two better.

“Doesn’t say.”

“Hmm,” Yasmine mumbled and looked to the side. “A mystery then.”

Evon nodded and typed back. “I’ll let her know we’re interested. See if we can’t set something up in the next couple of days.”

As he watched the email send, he started to wonder what the outcome of everything would look like. So far, they had two good, telling stories about the inner workings of Fort Heaven. With a third source confirming and—more than likely—adding to the picture, he couldn’t see how their story could fail.

A nice paycheck and job security was a good future to look forward to.

His phone started to vibrate and the screen lit up. It wasn’t Cindy to confirm any plans—it wasTrinity.

With no hesitation, Evon accepted the call. “Hey, Trin.”

“Trinity?” Russet asked and rolled his chair over toward the side of the bed.

“Hey, Russ!” Trinity responded enthusiastically, “how’s it going?”

“Hello again my dear sister,” Evon reiterated with a grin. He wasn’t about to let her be completely distracted by her friend.

“Oh, hi little bro.” She laughed and continued, “How’s it going?”

“Interesting,” Russet answered and leaned a little closer. His shoulder pushed against Evon’s but he wasn’t about to move it out of concern of drawing any awkward attention to the situation. 

“We’re working on our third story. Then we’ll probably be headed home,” Evon went on to say. He glanced for a second over at the man beside him but refocused on the phone.

“That was fast,” she said.

“We’ve got a good team,” Yasmine spoke up.

“True,” Trinity agreed with a chuckle. “Um, I also wanted to tell you that I got a job. Part time and online—nothing much but…I want to help pay my own bills.”

“Well as long as it’s something you want to do,” Evon responded on instinct. He was happy for her assuming that she actually wanted to work but, if she had done it out of some sense of obligation or guilt, then he was bound to feel terrible. It wasn’t as though he could control everything in her life but he did wish to make things as easy for her as possible.

But perhaps his pampering had been doing more harm than good?

“What are you doing?” Yasmine asked before she scooted over on the bed.

“Boring customer service stuff,” she said then laughed. “I had a shift today and it was actually kind of fun. I can be completely nude and helping a customer and they’re none the wiser.”

“You’re walking around naked in my house?!” Evon asked with a dramatically dropped jaw.

His sister cackled on the other side before managing to respond. “No…at least not anywhere near your room.”

“She has to shower, man,” Russet said and managed to keep a straight face despite the desire to laugh welling within him.

“Seriously, Evon, don’t be such a prude,” Yasmine added.

He rolled his eyes and was playfully jabbed on both sides. “Trinity, help me, I’m being bullied.”

“Russ, are you being mean to my baby brother again?” she immediately scolded.

At the same exact time both Russet and Evon turned to look at each other, far closer that either realized. Coming almost nose to nose made both of them jump back which only sent Yasmine into a fit of laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Trinity asked.

“Yasmine’s a dick,” Russet answered. “And no I am not being mean to your precious baby brother.”

“Is that right, Evon?” Trinity sounded disbelieving.

“It’s right,” he responded and shook his head. “He hasn’t done anything too terrible.”

“Things might get tense when we go to bed though,” Yasmine brought up.

Both Evon and Russet glared over at her. It would be something of an issue but the more she blew it out of proportion, the worse it would feel.

“Ummm….?” Trinity laughed.

“There’s two bed,” Russet explained, “and apparently Yasmine won’t take any company.”

“I am a lady.”

“We’ve slept on each other before,” Evon pointed out.

“Still.” It wasn’t an argument but she seemed to think it was sufficient. “I want my own bed.”

“You two should be considerate of Yasmine’s feelings,” Trinity spoke, taking sides for some reason.

“What about my feelings?” Evon asked.

“You have a problem with it?” his sister asked back.

“Well…” He started to say that—yes, he did—but then he realized how that would come off to Russet. There wasn’t much he could say to save himself though.

“What?” The man in question gave him a stern look. “I figured you would be more okay with it than me.”

“I am!” Evon defended…a tad more irritated than intended.

Silence fell over them for a few seconds until Yasmine and Trinity started laughing simultaneously.

Russet rolled his eyes. “Children.”

“What?” Trinity asked through giggles. “You two are so cute.”

“I am not cute,” He defended immediately.

“Thanks,” Evon said though didn’t exactly mean it.

“Well…” his sister stalled for a few seconds before finishing, “I guess I should let you go. It’s getting late.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “Talk to you soon.”

“Okay. Bye Evon—Russet and Yasmine too.”

“Bye Trin,” the three said back in almost perfect unison.

When he placed his phone on the bedside table, Evon felt the eyes on him. He was sure Russet wanted him to say something to diffuse the awkward air between them and, on conversely, Yasmine probably wanted more attention drawn to it.

She really needed to get a boyfriend or girlfriend—part of the reason Evon suspected she was so interested in his dating life was because she had none. Though, if asked, he knew that she would tell him that wasn’t true—his just happened to be more interesting.

“Bed time?” The woman asked as she picked up everyone’s discarded plates.

“If you’re tired,” Evon answered in the simplest way he could think to.

She shrugged and tossed the trash into the can close to the door. “I’m a little tired. I could use the sleep—especially if we get a reply back in the morning.”

“Personally, my back is pretty stiff,” Russet said and stood up from the computer chair. He rolled it back over to the desk at the opposite end of the room and shut down all of his equipment. “Evon?”

He jolted slightly at the mention of his name but looked up and kept a straight face. “Yeah? I mean…I don’t care either way but if you both go to bed then I’ll kind of have nothing to do.”

Yasmine chuckled but said nothing. She grabbed her pajamas from her suitcase and disappeared into the bathroom.

That left only Evon and Russet in the room. The bathroom fan hummed so both assumed Yasmine could no longer hear them.

“You sure you’re okay with…?” Evon asked cautiously.

The older man raised an eyebrow at him as if he’d asked some ridiculously strange question. “Yeah? You were the one who seemed bothered.”

“I’m not I just assumed you would be because it’s me…”

“It’s no big deal,” Russet said and even laughed a little. He played any nervousness off as confidence—a trick he’d learned long ago to cope with intense stress though this particular situation didn’t necessarily call for it.

Since Yasmine was hogging the bathroom, Russet started to change in the room. He brought with him a shirt and pajama pants since it was bound to be cold during the night as he assumed everyone would.

Evon looked away when the man took his shirt off. It had been years since the surgery but he still felt he wasn’t allowed to look for some reason—even if the man wanted to show off his chest to everyone right after the fact. There were still scars but they were too faint to see from a distance. You would have to be close to him and probably already aware of their presence to really notice them.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed,” he finished his statement after he pulled his shirt over his head. He pulled his hair tie out and let his hair down where it rested a few inches past his shoulders.

“…Right…” Evon could hardly get any kind of response out. He swallowed hard. “Not an issue.”

The bathroom door opened and Yasmine walked out in a long sleeved shirt and flannel pants, already shivering. “Why in the holy hell is it always so cold in hotel rooms?”

Russet shrugged and Evon let out a small laugh. “Who knows.” He used the moment to slip into the bathroom next and change.

It was a little ironic that the transgender man was comfortable changing in front of him but he was borderline petrified of doing the same. He didn’t understand it but he wasn’t about to try.

Once he was dressed, his face was washed, and his teeth were brushed, he rejoined the other two. Yasmine was already in her bed, curled up and facing away from them. Russet, on the other hand, was sitting underneath the covers—almost like he was just waiting for Evon to come out.

“Need anything before I turn the light out?” Evon asked as his hand went to the switch beside the bed.

“Nope.”

He flipped it, shrouding the entire room in darkness save the window where a single streetlamp light peered in. It didn’t help Evon maneuver into bed at all though and he accidently kicked the other man underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” he whispered and tightened his jaw.

“Watch your long ass legs,” Russet responded.

“Sorry,” Evon said again.

“Whatever. Go to sleep.” The man mumbled and then turned away from him as well.

Evon let out a quiet sigh and laid down on his back. The bed was definitely big enough to where they didn’t have to touch so he wasn’t worried about having any issues with that. As much as he would enjoy the body heat, he rather enjoyed his current and fragile peace with Russet more.

[knowseverythingaboutyou]

@withoutawar asked:  ❝ i don’t think that’s sexy moaning. ❞ 

Well, this was definitely not the way that Maria had hoped her morning would go. She’d been promised breakfast at the firehouse if everything was quiet, so of course she and Steve had been running all over opposite corners of the ciry all morning. She’d caught a glimpse of Bucky blowing her a raspberry from the truck the last time they’d crossed paths with each other. She wasn’t happy that someone might be in trouble, but it was hard to not be a little pleased when she’d pulled up at her latest call and noticed that it was her house meeting her there. “Good thing you brought your axe, then.” Maria rolled her eyes at Steve, her hand hovering over the radio. She banged her hand against the front door, listening intently as it went quiet inside. “Sir, this is the police. If no one comes to the door in the next fifteen seconds, I’ll be breaking it down. We’ve had reports of someone in distress from multiple neighbours.” Steve smirked at her, holding his free hand up and slowly folding his fingers down, counting down for her. “Sir, this is your last warning,” Maria tried again. “We don’t want to break this door down if we don’t have to.” Steve folded his last finger down for a third time, shrugging one shoulder. Well. If they weren’t coming to the door, Maria and Steve would have to go to them. “Making entry,” Maria said into her radio, taking a step back and waving Steve towards the door.�� “After you.”

[lotties-ashwagandha]

NEVER HAVE I BEEN A BLUE CALM SEA (part 3 of ?)

pairing: alice macray x fem!reader

word count: 1871

notes and warnings: we’re pretending that the end of daylight savings in 1976 wasnt on halloween <3 also ive never cooked a fucking quiche before and idek rlly what it is so be nice im no chef

summary: from the moment you saw her, you swore to give her everything... or at least give her a Woody Guthrie album. 

You woke to the ringing of the telephone, and in an instant you’d sat up, sprinting into the hallway. Though you tripped over yourself in your hurry, you were able to fling yourself at the phone before its third ring.

You did not process the woman’s name on the other end of the telephone – it took you only a moment to forget it, for the way she’d claimed to work for Ms Magazine was ringing in your ears.

“Miss Steinem was quite impressed by your entry regarding gender-based violence and its relation to a lack of women in the workforce. If the opportunity is still available, we’d be interested in publishing it in our latest issue.”

You felt lightheaded in your excitement, the room spinning upside down so you were walking on the ceiling, your surroundings distorted by pride. “Yes,” you almost shouted into the phone, centering yourself with a deep breath, “that sounds wonderful.”

“Are you available on the 15th of the month at three in the afternoon?”

It wouldn’t have mattered even if you weren’t available. “Yes, of course.”

“We look forward to meeting you, have a lovely day.”

The line went dead, and you were so deep in your excitement that you merely dropped the phone, not bothering to hang it back on the wall.

You could hardly move, could hardly form coherent thoughts, for all you could sense was the way your future opened up before you, an endless expanse, a sea of opportunity.

You’d found where you belonged, and this was unchanging.

Squealing, surprised that you even could make such a sound, you rushed back to the phone, calling anyone you could think of to tell them of your success.

–

It took eight tries, but you finally found the house you were looking for. Every single house looked the same for three blocks, all of the cars in relatively similar style. It felt like you were in a horror film of some sort, or a game of spot the difference, for every single property looked exactly alike.

You pulled into the driveway of what you were sure was Alice Macray’s residence. She lived in a quite wealthy area, and it intimidated you a bit.

Chewing the inside of your lip, you paused before getting out. You had become unexpectedly nervous, exceedingly aware of everything around you, analyzing your outfit, your hair, your makeup. Had you forgotten anything from your apartment? You were wearing your shoes – you were always afraid of forgetting to put on your shoes when you went out.

Fuck.

Part of you wished to pull right back out of the driveway and ride all the way to Canada, for at least you knew that all the way in Canada there would be no chance of running into the woman you adored.

Yet then again – you wanted nothing more than to run into the house as fast as you could, just to take in the sight of her.

Fuck it. Canada would always be waiting for you if things went awry.

You forced yourself out of the car, traipsing up to the front door as if the driveway were a minefield.

You knocked on the door and counted the seconds until it was opened. Alice stood before you, wearing a confused expression and checking her watch, though she soon seemed to brush off whatever had troubled her and invited you inside. “Y/N… it’s nice to see you, come in.”

“Is everything alright?” all of a sudden you felt unspeakably awkward and all you wished to do was leave.

“Of course, you’re just a bit early.”

“You said two o’clock, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but it’s only one,” she replied airily, leading you further into the horse.

“No…” you checked your watch, which read two o’clock. “How?”

Suddenly, she laughed, as if she had just caught onto the meaning of a joke’s catchline. “Did you set your clocks back?”

“My what?”

“Daylight savings ended yesterday, darling.”

“Oh,” you breathed. You swallowed, wishing she wasn’t watching you.

Suddenly you remembered the bouquet of flowers in your hand, and you held them out for her. “I thought I should bring something…” god, how you fucking hated going to people’s houses.

“They’re beautiful,” she gasped, examining them. “Thank you.”

It was all becoming okay again. As you followed her into the kitchen, you felt your worries start to dissipate, feeling lighter with every passing moment.

If you’d made it this far, perhaps you were doing something right, and even if you weren’t, you had gas money to get to Canada.

You fought back a laugh, amused that a prospect as extreme as fleeing the country had crossed your mind four times since walking into the house.

Her kitchen, while a bit cluttered since she’d been preparing to cook, was pristinely clean. The light turquoise walls had started to fade, having taken in sun from one of the open windows day after day, and Alice had left the sink running.

You wondered briefly if you should turn off the water, but decided to let it run to see if she noticed.

“Since you’re early,” Alice gestured to the countertops, upon which she’d placed various pots and pans. “Would you mind helping?”

“No,” you jumped at the opportunity, “not at all.”

She handed you a tube full of frozen pie crust, instructing you to unravel it and place it all around the pan.

“What are we making?”

“Quiche.”

You chuckled. “A what?”

She eyed you with a curious expression, not sure if you were joking or not. “A quiche…”

“What the hell is that?”

Alice began to laugh airily, shaking her head and gathering ingredients from the fridge.

“No, I’m serious!” You insisted.

“I suppose you’ll just have to find out,” she smiled.

You playfully rolled your eyes. “Ooh, so mysterious. Did you get the recipe from a spellbook?”

“I got it from the neighbors,” she contemplated her words for a moment before continuing. “You know, maybe I did get it from a spellbook.”

The pie crust had been distributed evenly along the inside of the pan, and Alice had begun to slice tomatoes.

“I love your house,” you said abruptly, to which she thanked you, telling you of how her husband had selected it, how she would rather live on the other side of town despite his distaste of any other neighborhood but this one.

“Everyone he works with lives in this area,” she explained. “The Shlafly family lives just up the way.”

You attempted to hide your grimace. “Oh.”

She stopped for a moment, watching you carefully. “I bet they have lots to say about the Shlaflys in that magazine you read.”

You had no idea of how to respond – you were not willing to set aside your personal views, yet you knew that there was a great chance of Alice never speaking to you again depending on how you answered.

“I’m getting published soon in that magazine. In Ms.”

Her expression lifted, and from what you could read of her expression she was genuinely surprised. “Really? Good for you, you should be proud.”

You battled back a grin. You still felt that you were walking on thin ice. “But I take it you don’t much like Ms, do you?”

She piled the tomatoes into the pan, nervously averting her eyes.

“Alice, does my being published by Ms make you think differently of me?”

“No,” she said immediately.

You exhaled, your nerves fading once again. “Alright… I couldn’t care less about where you stand either… just so you’re aware.”

She nodded, finally meeting your gaze, and she too seemed relieved. But then her expression faded, and she seemed unbearably troubled. “There’s just one thing…”

Before you could respond, she’d thrown a handful of shredded cheese at you.

“Alice! No, not the cheese! You’re wasting it!” you cried with a grin as you attempted to find something to throw back, eventually settling upon shredded lettuce.

The sound of her laughter engulfed you, her joy almost tangible, the room beginning to glow.

And it was all okay again.

Nothing existed outside of that moment in the kitchen, the two of you throwing food at each other and ducking behind cabinet doors.

Covered in quiche ingredients, the two of you soon tired, out of breath.

“Do you have any alcohol?” you asked suddenly.

Alice contemplated your words for a moment, deciding. “I shouldn’t drink, my kids will be home soon.”

“I’m not asking them to get wasted, just you.”

She lightly shoved you, shaking her head as she attempted not to burst in laughter again. “Invite me over to your place, and I might take you up on that.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Me too… we should put this in the oven soon.” she finished mixing the ingredients and poured them into the pie pan, which she then handed to you. “Would you like to do the honors.”

“I’d be flattered,” you teased, taking the pan and moving to place it in the oven.

Yet you slipped on a pile of food left on the floor, tumbling down, the quiche spilling all over the counters and the oven and the floor.

You were a bit jarred from the whole experience. The surprise of the fall combined with the guilt of spilling all over the kitchen had left you speechless, and you were sure Alice would be infuriated.

Yet when you looked up, she was doubled over, her face red from laughing so hard at your fall.

And it was all okay again.

You climbed up to a stand, attempting to apologize.

“No, no, that’s the best thing I’ve ever seen,” Alice assured you. “We probably shouldn’t eat the quiche, though…”

“Probably not.”

“Sandwiches?”

“That sounds perfect,” you agreed.

Soon, the two of you were feasting on sandwiches in the destroyed kitchen, acting as if you were oblivious to the mess you had created.

It was all so perfect. Nothing else existed.

“I enjoy being around you,” she said abruptly, pausing for a moment as if what she would say next was made of dynamite. “I think about you quite often.”

“I think about you, too.” you confessed, waiting for her reply, waiting to see what she would do next.

Yet, in the spirit of recklessness, the door opened before she answered. Four children waltzed into the kitchen, speaking as loud as they could.

You were still watching Alice. Your eyes connected with hers for the briefest of moments over the chaos.

“It was nice of you to come today,” Alice said quickly, in a completely different tone, implying that your absence would be best now that her kids were home.

Feeling a bit guilty, you chewed the inside of your lip. “I should help you clean all of this up.”

“No, really, I’ve got it.”

With her assurance and the smile she gave you, you exited the kitchen, making your way back to your car.

She’d set the world on fire, every bit of it.

And it was marvelous.

-

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chapters: four five six

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Taglist: @traumatisedfangirl @cordeliass

if you want to be added to my taglist,, send me an ask and i’ll add u!!

[lipstickstainz]

mismatched socks - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Request: Spencer's girlfriend (reader, FBI agent too) always wears mismatched socks and when they have their first night together at his apartment he notices, and his brain goes to mush, and falls in love with her even more

Warnings: fluff, some talk about Spencer being insecure Word Count: 2.2k A/N: thanks for the request, love! I really enjoyed writing it! requests are open guys! hope you enjoy. gif not mine.

Spencer had always known he was different. He had always been the smartest in school, which could be attributed to his eidetic memory. He wasn't invited to birthday parties because he liked to tell facts that were funny to him, but that no one else found funny. And he had been rather an oddball in other ways, too.

All his life this fact had made him insecure. He thought of himself as too skinny, too unathletic-especially when he compared himself to Derek, which was pretty stupid, of course-and his hair always lay funny, no matter how hard he tried to tame it. He wore cardigans over shirts-the watch over the cardigan, of course-which was pretty weird, but he wore Converse with them and two different socks every day. He loved magic and physics jokes. Spencer couldn't talk about the latest episode of Greys Anatomy, and he wasn't sure what Team Stefan and Team Damon were. Spencer didn't fit in perfectly anywhere and it had taken him time to accept that. He also never imagined anyone would find in attractive, or even want to be with him.

Until you came along.

On your first day at BAU, he immediately noticed three things about you. First, you walked incredibly fast, actually too fast to just walk from one office to the next. It seemed to her as if you were flying. Second, you tucked your hair behind your ears every few minutes, even when it wasn't falling in your face. He wondered why you didn't use a pin or a scrunchie. But it was a habit that didn't bother him in the least. From the moment he first saw you, he found you irresistibly pretty, and he was glad your hair didn't cover your face. And third, you could write ambidextrously. As the team sat in the conference room and you scribbled something in your case file - also something he noticed, you seemed to prefer paper as much as he did - you reached for your coffee cup with your right hand and continued to write undisturbed with your left, until the entire team looked at you as if you were from another star. It was a look Spencer knew all too well.

He had never met anyone like you.

Spencer liked you from the first moment he saw you. He liked that you took your backpack on both shoulders and that you preferred cocoa to coffee. He liked the way you smiled at him when he brought you one from the office kitchen and set it on your desk. And he liked the way your skin felt on his when you reached under the desk for his hand when you noticed a change in his demeanor. You then squeezed his hand twice. Once for "It's all right" and once for "I'm here, with you."

In your presence, everything seemed as easy as breathing. You listened to him when he blathered on about a subject you didn't understand, because you liked his intelligence and the way he explained things without looking down on others. You even asked when he had to explain something to you, which had surprised him so much the first few times that he had completely forgotten what your conversation was about. He had stared at you and the blush had come to his face. One feature that didn't escape you, but made him even more attractive to you.

When you went to his table one morning and told him that you had seen Star Trek for the first time the previous night, and now wondered how realistic the physics in the movie were, he could hardly stand it. You were beautiful and intelligent and interested in Star Trek? And when you asked him if he could explain something from the movie to you, he was sure his dream girl was standing right in front of him.

"I need your help", he told Derek that very day as they stood together in the kitchen. "How do I ask a girl out?"

Derek nearly choked on his coffee before turning to Spencer. "Since when do you want to date?" He noticed Spencer's gaze, which wasn't on him, but slid past him and lingered on you.You sat at your desk and tucked your hair behind your ears before looking up and over at Spencer's desk.  Derek could see your gaze wander around the office and then linger on Spencer before you smiled and got back to work. With a grin, Derek looked at Spencer. "You're going to ask Y/N out on a date? Oh boy, it's about time you finally do. I already said to Penelope that -"

"Please, Morgan. I just want to know how to ask her out”, Spencer interrupted him, looking at his friend.

Derek's grin gave way to an honest, friendly smile. "Don't make a big deal out of it. Just ask her directly."

"And if she says no?", asked Spencer uncertainly, his mouth twisting into a thin line. He couldn't imagine you going on a date with him, but he couldn't stay in the dark any longer either. He had to at least try.

"She won't”, Derek assured him. The whole team felt that Spencer and you would be perfect for each other, but he didn't tell him that. Spencer should learn to walk before he starts running. "I can see the way she looks at you. And if she does say no, she's not as smart as I thought."

Spencer trusted Derek's words and took it upon himself to ask you out on a date that very day. He had phrased the question countless times in his head, even encouraging himself in the mirror in the men's room, but every time he stood in front of you and looked at your beautiful face, he couldn't get a single word out. They got stuck in his throat and he was so embarrassed that he fled from you several times. By the third time, he had red marks on his neck, which you noticed immediately, and you wondered how you had made him so uncomfortable without having really done anything. When he said nothing again, you put your hand on his forearm.

"Are you okay, Spencer?", you asked, and he just nodded. It's now or never.

"Wouldyougooutwithme?" He almost mumbled, but you had understood him perfectly. "If you don't want to, that's fine, and we'll pretend I never asked. We'll just keep being friends and -"

"Spencer," you interrupted, smiling up at him, "I'd love to go out with you," you replied, and he was able to breathe deeply again. The marks on his neck faded as you tucked your hair behind your ear.

He had done it. Spencer had asked you and you had agreed, but where was he going to take you? Nothing seemed good enough for him. Going out to eat was nice, but you didn't seem like someone who needed to talk the whole time. He thought movie theaters were dumb because you couldn't talk there at all. After two days he had thought of something and he wouldn't have minded if you thought the idea was stupid, but when he presented his idea to you, you smiled at him excitedly.

"I can't wait."

You spent your first date in Spencer's favorite library, surrounded by knowledge and stories. You walked the aisles together, telling stories of books you had read and found to be good, and books you had abandoned because they were so bad you couldn't finish them. As you walked through each aisle, which had actually taken an entire afternoon, Spencer didn't want the date to end. He was going to suggest something else, but you beat him to it.

"There's a couch over there. Shall we sit there? Then you can read me something from your favorite book."

You would be the death of him.

A few weeks later, you had arranged to go for a walk. The weather was nice, not too hot and not too cool, so you strolled hand in hand along the paths. He liked the fact that you worked together but couldn't just talk about the job. You were explaining to him why a certain Matt Donavan from a vampire series was incredibly annoying when someone stopped in front of you.

"Y/N! How nice to see you!", the young woman said, unceremoniously wrapping her arms around you. When she broke away from you, you looked at Spencer.

"Spencer, this is Lisa, my college roommate. Lisa, this is Spencer, my boyfriend”, you explained before you could think about what you had just said. You chatted briefly before going your separate ways again. You noticed a change in Spencer's behavior and feared you had misinterpreted everything. When you couldn't take it anymore, you stopped.

"Look, I'm sorry I called you my boyfriend”, you said, looking down at the ground in shame. "We've never talked about what exactly we are, but it feels like you're my boyfriend and I wish you were, so I -"

"Y/N”, he interrupted you and tenderly reached for your hand. A smile spread across his face. He couldn't believe himself that he would ask you that. "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

The bar was crowded and the later it got, the more crowded you felt. The team had been in the mood to celebrate after a difficult case, so everyone had gathered in the regular bar. Penelope was putting on some dance moves on the dance floor while Emily and JJ were bawling out the song, which neither Spencer nor you knew. He had his arm around your waist and pulled you tightly to his side, which you enjoyed very much. He didn't fit in here with his shirt and cardigan, but he fit you, you were one hundred percent sure of that.

As you stifled a yawn, he looked down at you. "Shall we go? You seem tired and I'm getting ready to go to bed too”, he suggested and you nodded. Outside, he hailed you a cab and as you got in, you gave the driver Spencer's address.

"We're going to my place?", asked Spencer, looking at you in confusion as you nestled into his side.

"Yeah, I hope that's okay”, you replied, "If it's too soon for you for us to sleep together, then you just have to say so. I won't be mad at you."

How could he be mad at you? You wanted to spend the night with him. You wanted to fall asleep next to him and wake up next to him. He had hit the jackpot.

"Would you like to drink something?", he asked as you sat down on the couch and kicked off your shoes. It wasn't the first time you'd been in his apartment, but you'd never entered his bedroom before and you didn't want to take the step without him. It was still his apartment and his privacy and you respected that.

"Just water, please”, you replied, pulling your legs up so he could sit next to you. He handed you the glass and you took a big gulp.

In your presence, Spencer had never felt like an oddball. You never made him feel like he was different or weird. You didn't laugh at him, you laughed with him, and you had assured him many times how incredibly attractive he was to you, even if he couldn't see it. He wasn't too skinny or too unathletic for you. He dressed askew, but it suited him like a glove and you had imagined more than once what he would look like without clothes. It didn't bother you in the least that he wasn't interested in the technology of today. For you, he was just right. For you, he was perfect.

Even though you often assured him how much you liked him and how happy you were with him, he was still insecure from time to time. But as you sat there together on the couch and you put your legs on his thighs, he was one hundred percent sure that he didn't need to be insecure. On your left foot was a green sock, while on your right dangled an orange sock.

You wore the socks like he did. Two different ones. Had you seen this on him and copied it or had you always worn socks like this? A question that could be answered later. His heart stopped for a second, his brain turned to mush, which is why he couldn't control his following words either. "I think I love you."

Surprised, you looked to him and noticed that his gaze lingered on your socks. "You see my socks and then say you love me? Maybe something isn't going right in that clever head of yours”, you grinned and leaned towards him. Blushes shot up his face. "I love you too, Spencer."

Gently, you placed your lips on his. The kiss was tender, hesitant, but Spencer saw his chance and gently pulled you onto his lap before wrapping his arms around you and holding you close. His heart threatened to overflow with love. As he placed his hands on your butt, you moaned softly into his mouth. He smiled.

In your presence, he didn't feel like he was different.

[tooweirdforyou]

Maybe » Aomine Daiki

Aomine Daiki x Chubby! Fem! Reader

A/N : hi! My second non one piece fic so yay, I’m happy it’s for KnB and Aomine! Please enjoy! :3

note : I had soooo many ideas for thisssss but instead of my original idea, I went for something a little more Cliché ;-;

Summary : after being friends with Aomine for so long and developing feelings, you keep shut about them and protect your friendship. And then, Aomine finds out about what’s been happening.

-

“Daiki, would you get up already?”

No response came from dark blue haired athlete other than the gentle snores that escaped his lips.

You roll your eyes and went to pick up the women’s magazine that was opened across his face, just as the tan one sighs heavily and grunts out.

“Oi.. [Name]? Where’s Satsuki?” He groans, turning onto his side and pulls off the magazine from his face.

He takes a look to see the page he was looking at to be one of those thicker, curvy models.

You sigh and walk around to face him, kneeling in front of him once again, your thick thighs exposing itself from your skirt.

“She’s managing the boys at practice. She asked me to come get you.”

Aomine grunts out in annoyance at your words and looks up to see your face, staring down at him. He moved onto his back and continues looking at you.

“...”

His silence makes you smile a bit in defeat and exhale. “Come on, sleeping beauty, you need to get to practice. Otherwise, Satsuki will have my ass.”

“I’m too tired.” Aomine mutters, turning back onto his side, turning so he faced you this time and stares up at you lazily.

Examining your features in silence, Aomine took in your appearance at the moment.

There wasn’t a readable expression on his face so you couldn’t guess what he was thinking. His staring did cause your cheeks to pinken as his eyes shifted down.

He eyes your legs for a moment, the staring hard enough to make you shift to ignore it, as you poked him.

“Come on, just get up, please?” You plead making Aomine pout and close his eyes to avoid your expression. “I don’t care, I don’t wanna..” he sulks quietly.

You heave a heavy sigh and pat your skirt down and hum, leaning close to his face, his eyes still shut.

“I’ll buy you the latest issue of the swimsuit catalog for you~” you sang, in hopes of convincing him to get you.

The blue haired athlete opens an eye to come face to face with you, inches away, and seeing how close you were to him causes him to swallow and turn away, covering his eyes with his arms.

Fortunately, it seems it worked.

“...hmph, idiot.. I want the latest issue of the swimsuit catalog, the lingerie catalog, and I want bread..” He announces, pulling up his hand and bringing down a finger for each one he counted.

You roll your eyes playfully at him, and you held your pinky out for him. “Stupid pervert, it’s a deal.”

Aomine merely grins and moves his arm to face you again, connecting his pinky with yours and you both kissed your thumbs. Something you two did together since you were kids.

“I’ll be waiting.” Aomine grunts as he forces himself up and dusts his clothes, holding his hand out for you to take. “You better remember.”

You lift your hand to take his and helped yourself up, dusting your skirt. “Don’t worry, I won’t. I don’t think I could forget my best friend’s perverted desires.”

“You think too low of me.” Aomine furrows his brows as he began headed to the ladder.

“Do I?”

“Idiot.”

Shrugging, you head down after him, being sure to threaten him if he even dared look up at you as you climbed down, and headed to the gymnasium together.

—

Gently setting down your things on the ground by the door, jacket and cellphone, you went over to greet the coach and players.

“[Name]! Daiki!”

The pink haired manager runs over excitedly, practically bouncing with joy and stars in her eyes at the sight of them.

“You managed to convince him! Thanks so much!”

“Tch, you can’t even get me yourself, making [Name] do all the work.” Aomine scoffs and Satsuki pouts. “I’m busy doing my job and managing the others boys! Besides, only [Name] knows best how to get you to come.”

The pinkette widens her eyes and turns to you. “How did you manage to get him anyways?”

You gave a side glance to Aomine, who was too busy yawning and looking away to notice and you simply shrug. “He knows better.”

Satsuki just giggles a bit and grabs your hands, her clipboard tucked under her arm. “Thanks so much again, [Name]. I owe you one.”

“No problem, Satsuki.” You smile softly at her and watch her pull away to begin pushing Aomine to change.

“Alright, alright, stop pushing me.” Aomine grumbles as he walks forward, stumbling every few steps. He then turns back to give a smirk to you. “Keep your promise, you!”

“Of course I will!” You scoff, waving at him and smiling nonetheless, and began to head out after bidding goodbye to the other players and the coach.

Passing the viewers from up top, you hear particular comments.

“What promise could that fat girl make with Aomine?”

“Can’t be to spread her legs for him.. no guy would want a big girl like that.”

“Obviously. How does Aomine even know a piggy like her anyways?”

Their hushed voices and obvious stares only make you smile forcefully and walk out silently, ignoring their comments.

It wasn’t like it was the first time you heard something like that.

-

As soon as you open your locker, you find a couple notes slipping out from being held in place. You glance down before crouching and picked each one up, reading them as you did so.

‘Get some exercise, piggy!’

‘Lay off the foods for a while already.’

‘How can you stand to be so big? How does anything fit you?’

The bitter smile that formed from the sight made your heart heavy but you didn’t say a word.

It was a regular occurrence anyways.

It didn’t make you feel any better, considering your walk over to your locker, other students in the halls were pointing and staring over at you, as if you were a display.

As if it was strange to see someone like you there, someone big, where everyone else was thin.

You rip them up in two and set the pieces aside in your locker, grabbing your bag. About to shut your locker, you find the printed sheets Satsuki asked you to do and sigh.

“Better now before I forget..” you mumble to yourself, taking the ripped pieces and the printed sheets into your separate hands and closed your locker.

Slinging the strap of the bag over your shoulder, you begin heading back to the gymnasium so you could finally get home afterwards.

The gossiping whispers didn’t stop. Didn’t they have somewhere to be instead of loitering the halls?

Choosing to distract yourself, you thought about Aomine. The tall, tan, dark blue-haired athlete. It still made you surprised at your friendship but it was one of the best things that happened to you.

It was genuine, Satsuki and Aomine truly appreciated you and you appreciated them, there wasn’t anything you wouldn’t do for them.

The only you could regret was your developing feelings for the athlete. An athlete dating a chubby girl? Even you could laugh thinking about it.

However, you figured Satsuki had the same, so you could only suppress them.

Plus, you didn’t want to ruin Aomine’s image.

It seems you distracted yourself too much, because as soon as you turned the corner, you bumped into someone, causing the two of you to stumble back, the both of you falling.

“O-Oh, I’m so so-“ despite you also falling, you look to the opposite person to apologize, but you were cut off by her scream.

“Oh my gosh! She touched me! Oh my gosh, get away from me, fat girl! You could’ve crushed me!”

The other girl, seemingly her friend, quickly helped her up and both glared hard down at me.

“W-What? I-“

“Are you seriously talking to me? Oh my gosh, Sera, let’s go to the locker rooms so I can wash this filth off me.” The other girl nods as they begin to walk off, but a third voice cuts in.

“Let me help you with that.”

Before any of you could react, the rude girl was suddenly soaked with water, emitting a surprised shriek from her once again.

“What the fuck?! What the fuck are you-!” The three of you turned to see a particular tanned male and your eyes widen.

“Daiki?!”

“Aomine!”

His ignorance towards you made you furrow your eyebrows, his attention kept on the two girls.

“There, all cleaned, now get the hell out of here.”

It was clear the girls were stunned at Aomine’s attitude and overall appearance, but even worse, was his piercing, sharp glare sent to them that sent shivers down their spine, and even you could feel a bit of goosebumps.

“Aomine.. we were just—“

“I don’t really care. Get lost already, it’s a bother to hear your voice.” His glare immediately disappears and he rolls his eyes, turning away with disinterest.

The girls gaped at that and quickly scurried off, you barely noticing her tears from her wet skin.

Once the girls were gone for good, Aomine immediately turns to you, making you startled. His gaze down at you makes you a bit uncomfortable but you continued to stare at him.

“Daiki.. what are you doing-?..”

His stride towards you makes you stop your words and watch him grab your wrist and help you up to your feet.

And then suddenly, he pins you to the wall, hand still gripping your wrist and other placing itself beside your head.

His lazy, unreadable expression is plastered as he leans close. His eyes flick back and forth between yours, as if it’s searching for something.

His peripherals then catch sight of the ripped papers and he snatches them away, pulling away to read the writing.

“H-Hey! Daiki!”

The athlete doesn’t say anything and you can’t reach for it back because he’s so tall.

Aomine silently connects the papers together and reads the full text, and you can’t see his expression since he turns away, but you find his hands clenched tightly into fists, muscles tensed and veins forming as he crushed the papers.

It scares you a little bit to see, so you try to calm him down, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, it’s fine, okay? It doesn’t bother me anymore, so just-“

“Anymore?.. so it has before?” Aomine scoffs. You flinch and sigh. “Maybe, but look, I don’t care about it so let’s drop it, okay?”

Aomine clicks his tongue and turns around to look at you, an irritated yet pained expression taking over. You could actually read it.

“You know... you really are an idiot.”

You pout at that and frown. “The nickname really is unnecessary. You’ve been calling me that since I tripped over my own to feet and spilled my ice cream on myself when we were like, twelve.”

“Because you really were an idiot then! You tripped over nothing.”

“I tripped over some rocks, you jerk!” You scowl, shoving him which caused a small smile to form despite his pained expression seconds prior. His heart still ached knowing you were being bullied like this.

Aomine just shrugs and walks off, making you surprised. “W-Wait, why’d you even come here anyways? You should be at practice.” You began jogging after him.

He stops suddenly, lifting something off his shoulder. It was your jacket and your phone was in his hand, having taken it out from his pocket just now.

“You left it in the gym earlier. I didn’t want you to freak out and forget, and then not text me when you got home safe.”

Your eyes widen at you recall placing it down by the door. “Oh..” you must’ve forgotten when you were ignoring those girls from before. “Thanks..”

You reach up to take it from his hands and think back on his words, tightening your grip on your belongings. Aomine gives a long glance to you before taking your hand.

He holds it up and pressed his palm against yours quietly, you watching silently as he slowly intertwined your fingers and wraps his arm around your body. The action was enough to cause your cheeks to warm but you didn’t protest.

Pulling you close, he tightens his embrace, afraid to let go. “Hey, I..” he pauses for a moment, leaning down more so he was by your ear.

He thought for a few seconds before deciding to change his mind. Aomine shuts his eyes and relaxed himself.

“Nevermind.. just get home safe.. and promise to tell me if something like this happens again. Okay?”

His voice is a whisper, and you can’t see his face but you can hear his weak tone.

“I will.. I promise.”

You slowly pull away and held out your pinky again, smiling softly when he connects his with yours and kissed his thumb.

You thought about confessing to him. Now is the perfect time, isn’t it?.. but, the small fraction of you that’s scared, overpowers your confidence and you just smile at your friend.

“I’ll text you when I get home. Thanks again, and give this to Satsuki when you get back.” Handing the printed sheets to him, you take a step back and wave, slowly turning.

“See you tomorrow, Daiki.”

“..Yeah.. See you.”

You both turn away from each other in the hall, both wearing a somewhat pained expression for similar reasons and shared the same thoughts.

‘Maybe one day... one day I’ll confess to him/her..’

—

A/N : this is all over the place and not really meshing well together but look, I’m tired. I literally got the vaccine recently and I’m so freaking sore.

Also, is it normal to have chills? The next day, I was FREEZING all day.

[hawks-supremacy]

could i get an imagine w iwa where he bugs you about going on a date w him and you always say no (for some reason idk) and one day you finally say yes just for him to stand you up (you can pick the reason why) sort of like a angst to fluff! thank you smmmm

yes but oh my god who hurt you guys, are you okay? this was fun to write though. i didn't want to make it too long so i shortened it? i just didn't go into a lot of detail. i might rewrite this at some point.

word count: 1.1k

Iwaizumi Hajime did not back down from a challenge, if he did he’d probably have different friends. His latest challenge though was proving to be difficult when you kept turning him down. No matter how he asked you out you always said no. Whether he got you flowers, chocolates, or just asked; you always said no. He was determined to get you to say yes and you just couldn’t figure out why. No matter how hard you tried to figure out why he was so interested in you, you couldn’t come up with an answer. The first time he asked you out you told him you’d think about it, and then your friend pointed out that it was probably a bet. So you said no, since then he hadn’t left you alone. You were sitting outside eating lunch when Iwaizumi approached you and your group of friends, “Here he comes again. What is this? The third time this week?” One of your friends asked and you shrugged in response. You packed up your lunch and went the opposite direction, you were honestly tired of this. If he ever gave you a reason why you might say yes, but every time you ask why he said, “I just want to”. That’s what made you hesitant in the first place, you’ve been through this before. Where you were just the punchline to someone’s cruel twisted version of a joke.

You were rounding the corner to the back of the school when a hand grabbed your wrist, “Y/n wait.” You sighed and turned around, “What Iwaizumi? What do you want? Because you have to be tired of getting rejected all the time.” You took your wrist back and you both stepped away from each other. “Please just let me take you out on one date. That’s all I’m asking and if you don’t like it I’ll leave you alone and you won’t see me again.” He proposed. You thought for a second, it would be easy to avoid him since you have different classes.

“Fine. One date, that’s it.” You sighed. He looked surprised, thinking you would say no for the hundredth time. He gave you his number and told you a date, time and place. After your encounter with Iwaizumi you headed back to your friends to tell them the details of the situation. They told you that it was probably a terrible idea but to have fun anyway. You didn’t have a good feeling about it, but you were still hopeful. If it was a joke or part of a bet he would have surely given up by now, right?

It was time for you to meet Iwaizumi at the restaurant you were eating at and you were actually kind of excited for tonight. Everyday since you agreed to go on the date Iwaizumi sat and talked with you at lunch. You had gotten to know each other pretty well in the past few days and he was actually a pretty nice person. If he hadn’t been so persistent about the date you probably would’ve never talked again. You’re actually glad he was so persistent, even if you decided that you weren’t a good match you’d still consider him a friend.

You got to the restaurant and ordered something to drink as the waitress sat you down at a table for two. Five minutes later she came back and asked if you were ready, “I’m waiting for someone.” You said and she walked away. You sighed, texting Iwaizumi asking where he is, not getting a response back after five minutes. Twenty minutes later and you were starting to get sad looks from the other people at the restaurant.

You finally left after forty-five minutes of sitting there with no texts from Iwaizumi. You didn’t even want to go on this date and yet here you were walking home crying. You don’t understand why this keeps happening. This is the second time someone’s asked you out because of a dare or as a joke. It’s really boosting your self-esteem. You texted your friend about the disaster and she just said I told you so and stopped texting back. You turned off your phone when Iwaizumi kept trying to call you and watched netflix all night instead.

It was the Monday after what was supposed to be your date and you were currently listening to your friends make jokes about it after school. You really need to find new friends. They were in the middle of talking about how he probably got money out of the bet when they suddenly got quiet. You furrowed your eyebrows at their silence and noticed they were looking above you. You looked up and saw Iwaizumi looking at you apologetically. You rolled your eyes and got up. “I don’t want to talk to you Iwaizumi.” You said walking away.

“Please just hear me out Y/n.” He said following you. “Why? So you can tell me it was all just a joke? Haha very funny, you’re hilarious. We should do this again sometime. Bye now.” You turned and waved, going to walk away again. He grabbed your arm keeping you in place. “Will you quit grabbing me?” You said yanking your arm back. “Fine, just let me talk please.” He pleaded. You sighed crossing your arms, “Fine make it quick.”

“Thank you. I was excited you finally said yes, it wasn’t a joke or a bet. I genuinely like you Y/n.” He said trying to look in your eyes but you kept avoiding his gaze. “Before you say anything, I didn’t mean to stand you up, Oikawa kept us all at the gym late. If I didn’t stay with him he would’ve hurt himself more than he already has. Please just give me one more chance. I’ll pick you up myself or you can stay after school for practice today and we can go after.” He seemed like he was telling the truth and he would be walking with you so you wouldn’t be sitting alone for an hour again.

“Fine, but if you do it again there’s no second chances. Getting stood up like that hurts more than you know. Everyone stares at you with looks of pity because they know exactly what happened.” He looked at you sorrily as you agreed to give him a second chance. “I promise it won’t happen again, I’m really sorry. You won’t regret this, promise.” You gave a silent laugh at his promise, “That’s funny because I kinda regretted the last one.” He rolled his eyes at you and took your hand pulling you to the gym. “I didn’t think that was very funny, come one you’re coming to practice with me.” You mumbled that you thought it was kinda funny as you guys walked into the gym, Oikawa shouting about how you gave Iwaizumi a second chance.