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borahaerhy · 2 years

Note

Hey. This is my first time requesting an imagine from anyone really. I saw that your requests were open and I REALLY enjoyed the mine|jjk one you wrote. If I could, could I request an enemies to lovers jjk imagine with a possesive jungkook. I’ll leave the warnings to your own digression but can I request screaming at each other and praise links 💀😂

:))))

You're Pretty When You're Mad - jjk

Genre: SMUT, angst, fluff, Lawyer!Jungkook

Warnings: Jungkook's a hotshot lawyer that takes credit for his female coworkers work and that's kinda infuriating, they're also defending someone who probably literally unalived their wife, Y/n's kinda mean, possessive!Jungkook, Jungkook's kinda mean, drinking, cursing, clothed sex, unprotected sex (no), multiple orgasms, Praise kink, slight Dom JK, he calls her princess, lmk if I missed something bc I'm sure I did lol

Word count: 3.9K

Ugh

Monday

It’s easily the worst day of the week. You just spent the past few days off and relaxing, spending time with family and friends; going out or staying in with a good movie or book to occupy your mind.

But Monday started the week, the first day back and with no ending in sight. The misery that accompanies waking up at 5:30 on a Monday morning rivaled nothing.

Except for maybe the hatred you had accumulated for Jeon Jungkook.

You hadn’t always hated Monday’s to this extreme. I mean sure, like everyone else, you didn’t enjoy them or look forward to them, but they were just another day before.

Not until you started working at your new job, an internship at the most reputable local law firm in the area; where Jungkook had been a partner, and a damn good one at that.

He was good at his job, sure, but god was he cocky. Anyone that hired him had to pay big money, but they knew they were walking away with whatever they wanted.

And you, the pretty little intern fresh out of law school, just happened to fall victim to the man's ego.

Most interns aren’t taken too seriously, they get coffee and make runs, sometimes they’ll be assigned with a bigger lawyer to help organize cases, and only after they’ve proven themselves will they get a case of their own.

You, however, managed to prove yourself pretty quickly, or so you thought, whenever you’d been assigned to assist Jungkook in a case.

You read through everything while helping him get everything organized one night, and noticed something that he hadn’t; the alibi for one of the suspects didn’t check out, as a time-stamped video proved he was not only not where he said he was, but on the complete other side of the country.

When you told Jungkook, he took all the credit. He said you helped, of course, but he was the one that obviously found the error, and won that case.

And then it happened a second time. And a third, until Jungkook just insisted that you needed to be his little assistant, since you were so good at helping him stay organized so that he could focus on what was actually important.

There was nothing you could do, really. The highest paid lawyer with the most cases won in the state, and you, someone who’s less than a year out of college and barely old enough to be taken seriously. There’s only one person they’d believe; and it’s your word against his.

Not to mention he was just an asshole.

“Goodmorning, Y/n. Have a good weekend?” Jungkook’s voice had a teasing tone to it, knowing just how much you hated having to work with him at this point; something he seemed to really enjoy.

You glared over at him before you set your stuff down at your desk, which was now pushed into the corner of his office, per his request. He chuckled as you looked away from him, your exasperated sigh music to his ears as you plopped down in your seat.

“I had a great weekend, thanks for asking. Well, I assume I did. I got drunk on Friday and woke up this morning, not remembering a goddamn thing the whole time. Did wake up with a few hickies though, so someone had fun,” Asshole.

While he had plenty reason to be cocky because of his career, he was also cocky because of his looks, and because of the women they earned him. If you didn’t work for him, you in all honesty probably would have thrown yourself at him by now. You even remember being nervous the first time you were appointed to work with him because he was just so attractive.

That really wore off fast, though.

He was still hot, sure, but he was also the most infuriating person ever.

“So I’m assuming you didn’t have time to go over the case you have this afternoon?” You didn’t bother looking at him as you took some papers out of your briefcase, something your family had gotten you as a graduation present to help you look more official.

“No, but I’m lucky my lovely assistant no doubt already has everything organized and ready for me,” You stood up from your desk, a folder with his copy of everything he needed to walk into the courtroom in a few hours, barring his own personal notes about arguments he needs to make and points to drive his argument home.

“I’m not your assistant,” You dropped the folder on his desk before you marched your way back to yours, arms crossed over your chest.

The trial Jungkook had to attend today was for the defense of a man accused of killing his wife. It was obvious he did it; and even if he didn’t, it really looked like he did. His alibi was that he was camping in the woods with his brother, who testified for him, but that doesn’t offer much to the court seeing as family is never a reputable source when it comes to an alibi.

He also already had a record, petty theft and a few DUI’s. All non-violent crimes, but it still doesn’t play very well in his favor. There’s also a history of affairs according to friend and family testimony from both the victim and accused.

At his bail hearing, he practically fucked himself when we regretfully put him on the stand. He showed no emotion, and forgot his cover story half-way through.

“Oh yeah, this guy. What argument should I use?” You sighed, hating to give him the answers, but knowing that when applying to other firms, a history of wins, even if while partnered with a more experienced lawyer, could only be a bonus.

“Someone else’s fingerprints were on the murder weapon, but his weren’t, and there was no evidence that he, or anyone, cleaned it off. He’s been having an affair with a woman named Joan Roberts. She’s going to be there today, and I’ve already asked her, she’s willing to testify that she was with him the night of the murder; you just need to convince him before we go in to break down on the stand and confess the truth: he lied previously because he felt so bad about cheating on his wife during her murder,” You paused to take a sip of your coffee, before you turned your attention back to the papers in front of you.

“Drive home the murder weapon and act surprised when he breaks down on the stand; question him just thoroughly enough that it’s believable that you drilling him while also getting him out of there before he fucks himself into a life sentence, then call his mistress up. She seems a lot smarter than him but I’d be cautious of asking her too much. There’s a list of questions I have written out for both of them, along with questions to ask his brother if he bitches out of admitting to the affair,”

Even Jungkook seemed impressed, an emotion he rarely showed while working with you. Most of the time, you just came to the same conclusions he would’ve; he’s still an amazing lawyer, he just found a way to not have to work as hard: and that’s you.

He stood up from his desk and walked over to you, the case folder still in his hand.

“Thanks babe,” He leaned down and swiftly kissed the top of your head, moving away quickly so as to avoid your clenched fist flying toward his face.

“Not guilty.”

The courtroom filled with chatter as the jury read their verdict, the judge hammering her gavel while the defense team all stood and celebrated with sweaty hugs and swift handshakes. You simply stood and exited, taking your things with you.

It was the end of a long day, and you were looking forward to going home.

“Y/n, wait!” You turned around after you were already halfway down the courthouses front steps; maybe 30 feet away from your car that could take you home, to your stand-offish cat and extremely comfortable bed. “Why don’t you come out with us tonight?” You looked at him suspiciously, his lip clutched between his teeth as he teetered back and forth from his heels to his toes. Why does he look like that?

“Why would I want to do that?” You turned fully to face him, arms crossed over your chest and your hip cocked out to the side.

“Because we just won what looked like an impossible case, and you definitely helped with that,”

“Helped?” He smiled lightly at your aggravated tone, before he descended the steps so he could stand closer to you.

“Okay, okay, you did all the work, but that’s why I think you should come celebrate with us. Just tonight, I’ll even pay for your drinks,” You thought for a moment, never really having been a person to turn down free drinks - well, free anything, actually.

“Fine, only for an hour though; then I’m going home,” You turned back around and continued down the steps, making a b-line for your car.

You stepped into the moderately crowded bar wearing the shortest black dress you owned, the plunging neckline really making sure everyone had their eyes on you.

“Damn, Y/n. You know you look really good outside of a pantsuit?” You plastered on a sarcastic smile, turning to see Jungkook; who you hated to admit looked damn good.

“Where’s my free drink?” The smirk on his face only grew wider as he raised his hands in defense, slowly backing up towards the bar.

“Hey, Kev, get my friend one of your finest alcohol beverages, please,” You rolled your eyes.

“A beer please, whatever you have on tap,” He nodded and walked away, only staying gone for a few short moments before reappearing with a full drink in his hands. “Thanks.”

“What do you even do in your free time? You never come out with us, and you showed up alone, which tells me you don’t have a man-”

“I prefer to spend my time being productive rather than getting shitfaced on a Monday night,” He smirked, taking a sip of his drink.

“So no boyfriend, then?” You sighed before taking a drink, probably a bit more than you needed for having just gotten there.

“Why do you want to know, Jeon?” He raised his hands in defense again, not doing a very good job at hiding his attraction to you from his face.

“Hey, I’m just making small talk,” He shook his head lightly, his cheeks tinted pink from the alcohol he’d already consumed. He leaned against the side of the bar you were now sitting at, his eyes moving all over your face, taking in each of your features carefully before moving on to the next. He’d always known you were pretty, but here, dressed like that and with a few drinks in his system, he could swear he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Why don’t you go away and come back in 5 minutes when I need a new drink,” He chuckled, letting his head fall slightly in defeat before he pushed himself from the counter and did what you asked.

“Oh wow, didn’t think they made lawyers this hot,” You chuckled at his response, his hand drawing patterns into your thigh as he stood in front of you, you sitting backwards of the stool to face him, drink in hand.

He wasn’t relationship material, by any means, but he’d do for the night. You had a lot of pent-up stress, and he could probably help out with that. Not to mention, Jungkook watching you leave with some random guy would probably knock him down a few pegs.

“Mmm, and I didn’t know they made people as pretty as you this bad at flirting,” He feigned hurt, hand not slowly moving up the outside of your leg moved to clutch his chest before his smirk resumed, and his hand moved to the bar, effectively pinning you between it and him.

“I might be bad at flirting, but let me show you something I’m good at,” his face was centimeters from yours, his fingers moving under your dress before they were abruptly ripped away from you, along with the rest of him. “What the hell, man?”

Jungkook was in the man's face, both taller and bigger than him as he stared him down.

“She’s not interested, go find someone else to hump,” His voice was so low you barely heard him, his eyes dark and muscles flexed as anger coursed through him.

“Uh, she seemed pretty interested to me,” Jungkook pushed him, he pushed him hard. He stumbled back into a table, knocking over everything on it and causing a few people to jump up.

You stood from your seat, no longer amused by the show in front of you.

“What the fuck, Jungkook? What are you trying to do?” Jungkook turned back to look at you as you pulled on his arm, trying to get him to focus on anything other than the guy that he seemed about ready to beat the shit out of.

“Hey, all of you, out.”

You glared over at Jungkook as you grabbed your bag. You shot down the rest of your drink before you turned to walk out of the building along with the two men who seemed to be fighting over you, the security making sure you all get out.

You opened your phone as soon as you were outside, opening the uber app as you were not about to drive home in your state.

“I’ll drive you home,” You looked up to see Jungkook, a lot calmer than just minutes before with his hands in his pockets and his hair blowing around in the wind.

“No thanks,”

“Y/n-”

“Aren’t you drunk?” He sighed, looking you up and down.

“I stopped drinking after you got here,” you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“Do you want the ride or not?” You looked at him for a moment before you sighed and straightened yourself out, turning toward him, accepting his offer.

You stopped outside of your building, Jungkook’s car shutting off as you unbuckled your seatbelt. You looked over at him as he clicked his off too, and opened his door.

“What are you doing?”

“You live in a shitty neighborhood, I’m making sure you don’t get murdered on the way up.”

“That’s fine, I literally do this everyday,” Jungkook rolled his eyes and got out of the car before he leaned back down to look at you.

“Just get out of the car,” You huffed but obliged, not really wanting to stay in it anyway.

You walked into the building and got into the elevator, which had a ways up to go before you got to your floor.

“Is there a reason you decided to fight people?” You asked, the bravery from the alcohol still coursing through your veins, even now as you felt mostly sober. He sighed heavily, leaning his back against the wall.

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you scoffed, turning your body to face him fully.

“Well that matters not at all, why the fuck did you feel the need to do that?”

“I just didn’t like that guy, all right? He seemed sketchy,” His voice was raised as he answered, hands moving around with no real rhyme or reason.

“He wasn’t, and even if he was, so are most guys you meet in bars on a Monday at 8pm,”

“Yeah, no shit, that’s why I didn’t want that guy knowing where you lived or you going back to his place, that just has bad idea written all over it, Y/n,”

“And? What gives you the right to make my decisions for me? You spend most of your time making my life a living hell and bragging about all the women you take home but I’m not allowed to go home with someone?” You were definitely yelling at this point, and the elevator doors were definitely open and on your floor.

“No, you’re not!” He yelled back, and it honestly had you taken back a little bit. You scoffed before you stepped out of the elevator and started walking back to your apartment.

“Y/n!” He followed you out of the elevator, walking just as briskly and angrily as you.

“Why the fuck not?” You yelled, spinning around just in front of your door before you were pushed against it, strong arms closing you in and lips smothering yours in a way that you’d never experienced before.

You were pissed, sure, but there was something that turned you on about being pressed up against your front door by the extremely hot man that regularly pissed you off to no end.

You were quickly tangled together, one of your legs hiked up as he gripped your ass, his hips pushing you back into the door as he bit your lip, his tongue soothing it after before it quickly entered between your parted lips.

“Keys,” He muttered against you after trying to open your locked door, his lips glued to your neck as you rummaged through your purse to find them.

You quickly unlocked your door and rushed in, Jungkook quickly shoving you back against it to close it. You kicked your shoes off before he pulled your thighs up to wrap around his waist, your arms wrapped around his neck to hold you steady as he unbuckled his belt and pushed your panties to the side.

Less than sixty seconds ago you were screaming at each other in an elevator, now he was sliding his admittedly massive dick into you while biting down on the base of your neck.

“Fuck, princess, you’re so fucking wet,” You moaned lightly into his ear, his words and dick filling you perfectly as he fucked into you at a steady pace. His hands gripped your ass as his mouth left sloppy wet kisses on any exposed skin he could reach. “If fighting with me turns you on this much, I can only imagine the state you're in at work.”

His thrusts speed up as your pussy swallows him whole, your fingers tangling in his hair and pulling it back, bringing his gaze to meet yours.

“Do you want to fuck me or piss me off?” His smirk returns as he watches you hold back moans as he hits your g-spot roughly, the door shaking behind you so hard anyone in the hallway would definitely know what’s going on.

“Both,” He pushed you further into the door, re-adjust himself to have a better grip on you before he pulled you away from it, legs still wrapped around him and his dick still in you. He turned around and walked straight over to your couch still fucking into you.

You fall back onto your couch, Jungkook on top on you, dick thrusting furiously as his fingers wrapped snugly around your throat.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you’re mad,” His free hand moved up your dress and cupped your breast, pinching your nipple and pulling it just as roughly as he fucks you. “Jesus christ, I don’t know how I’ve gone this long without bending you over my desk,” you moaned loudly, both hands gripping to the arm that held your throat as your eyes rolled back into your head.

He pounded into you relentlessly, your pussy clenched around him as his dick begged you to cum. His fingers moved to be around your clit, pinching and circling it as he felt you nearing your orgasm.

“You’re so good when you’re getting fucked, y’know that, baby?” You moaned as he thrust harder, his skilled fingers taking care of you easily, your orgasm overtaking you before he could even finish his thought. His pace slowed down considerably as he rode you through your high, fingers still moving for a few seconds before they moved to his mouth to be cleaned off, then to cup your cheek.

“Just lay there and look pretty while I make you feel good,” Jungkook’s thrusts stopped as your orgasm subsided, your pussy still clenching around his dick that was still buried inside you. His lips were on yours with sloppy kisses, much slower than before; this time they almost felt as if they had depth to them, like they had feelings aside from desire and loathing. ��Want me to make you feel good again, princess?”

His hand rested on your chin, his thumb rubbing it as he looked back and forth between your eyes. You nodded softly, a soft ‘yeah’ escaping your lips as you looked at him the same way.

“Yeah?” His voice soft as he mimicked you, making sure you wanted him to. You did.

“Yeah,” though your words were inaudible to you, he must’ve heard them as his lips found yours again before he pulled out, and thrust back in hard and deep, deeper than he had been before.

He fucked you differently this time. With less desperation and more compassion, his hands dancing across your skin delicately as he stripped you of your dress; his lips gently gliding across your burning skin as it became exposed to him before meeting yours again. He kissed you with passion, taking time to really drink you in as his hands caressed every part of you he could reach, as if he had to replicate you completely from memory later on.

His hips moved with purpose, gliding in and out with rhythm and at a deliciously deep angle that he could feel how much you liked.

“So beautiful,” the words whispered in your ear, his hot breath tingled against you, sending shivers everywhere. “So good for me,” he moaned before kissing the skin below your ear, soft whimpers embedded in the back of his throat as he sent you over the edge for a second time, this orgasm much more powerful than the last; and his followed soon after.

Your bodies collapsed into each other, no longer having the strength to hold yourselves up anymore. His head laid on your chest as you gently brushed your fingers through his hair. Sleep soon came over you, the heat from Jungkook’s body covering you accompanied with the overwhelming sense of peace that followed your orgasm had no problem in knocking you out.

Your soft snores only made Jungkook smile before he reluctantly pushed himself off of you. He moved the hair from your face, seeing you look so peaceful was something he wasn’t very used to seeing, but something he definitely wouldn’t mind becoming acquainted with.

He got up and redressed himself, before scooping you up in his arms and carrying you back to your bedroom. As he laid you down and pulled the blankets over you, he wanted nothing more than to crawl in with you and drift off the peaceful land you’d already found yourself to be a part of, but he decided against it.

He knew that if you’d wake up with him in your bed, it’d make you weird. You wouldn’t insult him, call him an idiot and tell him off. You’d be awkward, which he had to admit, he definitely missed from your early days at the firm, but it wasn’t the you he’d grown to respect and admire.

So he left, knowing that the next day you’d walk into the office as if nothing happened. He’d be cocky, you’d get mad, and he could finally bend you over that desk like he’s always wanted.

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haruka-norikoyo · 3 months

Text

Monoma x reader who is Mirio’s sibling Part 5

Wow, I can’t believe I already have this much parts.

Other parts:

Part 5/?

~~~~~~~~~~

You had the movie set up by the time Neito returns to the room. He was only supposed to get ice cream and soda so…

“Why do you have all that with you?!” you laugh. With him is a whole cart of food that the two of you would not be able to finish. He didn’t forget the ice cream. It was in one giant bowl topped with a myriad of sprinkles and syrup, as well as some slices of fruit as if that would make it healthy. On the second level of the cart are a bunch of cream puffs and small cake slices, and on the bottom level are chips and popcorn. Behind him, he is dragging along a wagon stacked high with blankets and clothes pins.

Neito shrugs, smiling at your amused expression. “They all got nosy and decided to chip in.” He sets down the blankets beside you on the bed, taking out a mini projector. “Aw, they’re so sweet.”

He nudges you while he connects the projector with his computer. “Hey, pay attention to me, not my classmates.”

You nudge back teasingly, “I dunno, you seem pretty out done.”

Neito rolls his eyes. “Are you gonna set up the base or what?” he asks, gesturing to the blankets and pillows.

You gasp, unfolding the blankets with glee. “A pillow fort..! That’s what it’s for..!”

He chuckles at your childish excitement. Though, he had to admit that the pillow fort was a good idea from Honenuki… he’ll have to thank him later.

Once he was done setting the projector up, he helps you with the fort. You pin the blankets onto his unused ceiling fan and his curtain rod, and some at the edges of his bed. Next you stack the pillows around you as a wall, using one of them to prop the projector up to properly face the wall. Now that the fort is done, you sit inside, waiting for Neito to join you after shutting the lights off. You hear them click. The blankets part as Neito crawls in with faintly lit electric candles. The extravagance of this one final touch has you rolling with laughter. He raises a brow at you with a smirk, setting the candles down around the fort. “What? Don’t like it?”

“No, I love it,” you giggle.

Neito smiles, finally sitting with his arm around your shoulder. He’s silent for a while, so you look back at him. You tilt your head, “What’re you staring for, hm?”

“Wow, so I can’t even look at you?”

You shake your head, leaning against him. “Just don’t ask me about what you missed in the movie.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll pay attention to it,” and so he presses his keyboard, and the movie begins.

***

There is a knock in the 1-B dorm.

Kendo is quick to open it, finding her homeroom teacher standing there. He doesn’t usually have to check on them, so she figures why he’s there. “Oh, Vlad-sensei. Togata-san’s over at Monoma’s room.”

“Ah,” he says. He had gotten a call from Aizawa saying that some students from class 1-A were worried about (y/n) Togata not coming back to the dorm when they said they’d be back before curfew. Both teachers knew where you’d probably be without saying anything, which leads him here. “Tell them it’s past curfew and time to call it a day.”

“Well… we tried, but we figured it would be fine for Togata-san to stay?”

“What do you mean you tried?”

Kaibara peeks his head out of the door. “Just look at them.” He holds out his phone, which is on video chat with Tsubaraba over at Neito’s room along with Fukudashi, Shishida, Rin, Awase, and Kodai. The camera settles on Fukudashi as he draws on Neito’s face with a marker, which already has a few doodles. The unsuspecting boy is fast asleep, curled up against you, whose face is untouched… for now. Fukudashi’s face is in a mischievous “fufufu” speech bubble.

The other four are aiding him by holding up the blankets while he draws. In the background, the credits of a movie is projected on the wall. Several trays of the remnants of snacks sprawl across the floor.

Technically, the curfew only specifies that students must be in the dorms, but not which dorm so… Vlad sighs. “Alright. Just remind them not to be late for class.”

Besides, Aizawa probably won’t give a damn either. It’s hero school. Let the kids be kids every now and then.

***

You are gently shaken awake as a soft voice calls out your name. “(Y/n)… (y/n), I’m leaving soon.”

“Hm?” you rub your eyes, opening them to see Neito now dressed in his P.E. uniform. Curiously, he has a few dark smudges on his face. Ah, you must’ve fallen asleep. “Morning Neito… where are you going?”

“I’m going to Gym Gamma. You should head back to your dorm before your classmates get worried. Maybe get a little more sleep in your room.”

Sitting up, you notice that the fort is still up, just parted to make room for you to move. Most of the mess from last night have been stacked neatly to the side, ready to be cleaned up later. As he’s setting his gym bag up, he adds, “By the way, they drew on our faces on our sleep.”

Now that wakes you up. Quickly, you take your phone out and look at the camera and see that there, in fact, are doodles on your face from permanent marker. Well that explains the ink remnants on Neito’s face…

He hands you a wipe, saying that you can use the one of the 1-B sinks as well as their soap before you leave for your dorm. “Thanks. Why so early though? You training?”

Neito rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, well, your brother visited yesterday while I was getting snacks.” Seeing the scowl on your face, he quickly adds. “He didn’t try scaring me this time. In fact, he offered to help train me.”

You did, staring incredulously at him, “He did?” “Yeah,” Neito sits down on the edge of his bed. “And considering he’s one of the big three of UA, how could I refuse? Besides, it’s a good chance to see his quirk in action.”

Fearing that he’d accidentally go too hard on Neito, Mirio had Hado take over in the demonstration with 1-B. She kicked their asses. No remorse, I fear.

———

“I’m here because I’d like to make an offer to you. Think of it as an olive branch being extended,” Mirio, whose head is peaking out from the 1-B dorm’s floor says.

Neito raises a brow. A peace offering? “I’m listening…”

“I’ve heard of your quirk Copy. You’re able to copy other’s quirks if you’ve made physical contact with them for a certain amount of time, correct?”

“I’m a little concerned about how you know that, but you’re right. I’ve been training to extend that time limit.”

“Ah, sounds great! Ah—” Mirio sinks into the floor. Neito furrows his brows in confusion. After a few seconds, his voice returns. “Anyway, since we’ve started out on the wrong foot…”

Neito looks up as Mirio’s head now pokes out of the ceiling.

“…I would like to get to know you better. As both a person and as the hero you’re aspiring to be. So I came here to offer to train you on using my quirk. It’ll help you improve your duration too right?”

Neito puts his finger on his chin, looking straight ahead, “That’s… an interesting offer…” His mind weighs his options. He doesn’t exactly fully trust this guy even when he’s your brother so…

Mirio sticks his hand out from the ceiling to make a thumbs up. “It is, isn’t it? You see, my quirk isn’t what you’d think is hero like, is it?”

At this, Neito looks up again, eyes bigger with interest. “Not hero like? Even though you’re top of the school?” “My quirk makes me untouchable to everything. That includes any surface and even air. A simple movement such as taking a step through a wall would require me to turn it on for all except one leg, stepping through, turning it off in that leg that stepped through, and then turning it on in that previous leg.” “It took me a lot of time and dedication to make it a hero like quirk. I want to see if you’re the type who can persevere. I think that’s fair considering you claim you’ll spend the rest of your life with (y/n).”

Neito smiles wryly as Mirio quotes him. But that smiles soon fades, his expression going serious. “I do intend to make good on my words. They’re not simply hopes and wishes, they’re promises. I accept your offer.”

Mirio smiles a little wider. It’s subtle, but Neito picks up on it. “Alright! Lets meet tomorrow at Gym Gamma. Two hours before class.”

Neito nods. “Understood, onii-san!”

Mirio narrows his eyes at the boy, “…Fine, I’ll let you call me that.”

#my hero academia #monoma neito #monoma x reader #bnha monoma #mha monoma #mirio togata #bnha mirio #x reader #class 1b #class 1a #mha #bnha #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #y/n #Fluff

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keep-the-wolves-close · 6 months

Text

Steady Heart

Chapter 32: Destiny

* Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

* Rating: M

* Warnings: language, despair, angst, dealing with first time killing, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

* Word count: 4,604ish

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot and @deanscroissant for being sounding boards for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, being cheerleaders, and allowing me to screech at them about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn't have gotten this far without y'all

Author's note: All I have to say is finally. Good lord. You’ll all understand when we get there lol. I hope everyone is enjoying so far! I hope you love this chapter as well! One more before I take a break to get some actual writing done.

The sound of the door being opened woke Stella with a jump. When it was daylight and she teetered on the edge of consciousness, it had been fine that she was by herself. She hadn’t thought about what it would be like after dark. She quietly sat up. She tried to listen for any recognizable sound.

The boot falls she would recognize anywhere. They belonged to Kayce. Her heart rate started to slow again. He opened the door a crack, just enough that he was able to see into where she was on the bed. She looked back at him and blinked sleepily.

“Hey cowboy.” Her voice was quiet, scratchy.

He smiled softly at her, “Hey Stellfire,” he opened the door a bit more and leaned against the door frame. “How’re you doin’?”

“I mean, isn’t that kind of a loaded question after… Wait, what day is it?”

“It’s the same day. It’s late though.”

She groaned and threw herself back onto Kayce’s pillows. “It couldn’t have at least been the next day before I woke up?”

“No, you know how our luck runs, but your brother also wanted you to be checked on. He was about to come up here himself, but I figured I would spare you.”

“My hero, thank you. Seriously. I don’t know if I can talk to him just yet.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s somehow going to turn into a lecture and I really don’t feel like being lectured right now.”

“Oh you mean how he and Colby tried to interrogate me as to why I answered your phone?”

“What do you mean they tried to interrogate you? About what?” Stella swept the sheets off and stood. “That you’re probably the main reason I made it out of that bullshit alive?”

“Hold on there, spitfire.” Kayce put his arm across the door frame to keep her from going out the bedroom door. He looked down at her. She was shorter without her boots. He wasn’t sure he’d ever stopped to think about it before. He had to clear his throat to keep from laughing at the cute scrunch of her face, her eyes squinted hard trying to focus in the dark without her glasses. “He just cares. Which you should be worrying about yourself right now. Not me. I can handle your brother.”

She crossed her arms, and squinted at him in the dim lighting.

“You should also probably get your glasses if you’re gonna be awake with me for a while.” She shoved him, silently telling him to fuck off.

“I guess I’ll stay up for a little whil—,” she realized she didn’t have pants on as the comforter brushed against her leg when she reached for her glasses. Kayce seemed to be ignoring her lack of pants, or it truly went unnoticed. “I’ll meet you out there in a second.”

After Stella heard him wander off, she searched for her black sweatpants. They had to be here somewhere. She had them on when she got back to the ranch. She looked on the bed. They weren’t there. They weren’t on the arm chair, the dresser or the floor. Anywhere on the floor.

“Where the fu—,”

“Lookin’ for these?” Kayce said in an amused tone. His arm was outstretched through the door, her black sweats dangled from his hand.

“Kayce John give me those!” She reached out and snatched them while he laughed and walked away.

His voice sounded far away in the living room. “What are they doing out here anyway?”

Stella walked through the door and into the kitchen, “I wish I could tell you, but I came in here and after I opened the door, I don’t remember anything else.”

She padded her way into the little living room. She sat down cross legged and faced Kayce on the couch. The quiet enveloped them both. She uncrossed her arms and looked at her hands. They started to shake as reality started to set in again. She killed someone with those hands. Two someones. She had snuffed the life out of them and couldn’t take it back. Yes, she had witnessed death more times than she should have at this point in her life. But she’d never been responsible for it.

“Kayce, what the fuck.” She leaned forward as a wave of nausea overtook her stomach, her face nearly touched the couch. He leaned over and rubbed her back. He chewed on his bottom lip as he tried to find the words. There was nothing he could say to make it any better. It definitely wouldn’t change the course of action she had taken.

“I know, sugar. You did what you had to do. To stay here. Alive, and with us. Like you said, they were coming for you and they weren’t stopping.”

“But I should have shot their knees or something. I didn’t have to go for their heads, Kayce. Fuck!” She moaned as she sat up. She ran her hands down her face. She started to hyperventilate.

“Stella,” he scooted closer and grabbed her hands bringing them down to her lap, “Stella, look at me,” he grabbed her full round cheeks. She stopped all forms of movement. She almost stopped breathing.

“Yeah?” Her voice was small.

“You did what you had to do. And if I’m right, he was a bad man—,” Stella interrupted and pulled back from his hands.

“— that doesn’t make it fucking better Kayce.”

“Yes it does actually.”

“What the actual fuck?!” Her temper raised her voice to a higher octave. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“You’re here with me and I don’t have to do this alone!”

Everything went silent. Both of them breathed heavier than normal as their blood pressure came back down. Stella blinked at Kayce, but he wouldn’t look at her. It wasn’t very often that you would find him raising his voice to her. She wasn’t sure what to do with the admission. Especially since the talk they had a few weeks ago. She hadn’t taken into account how important she was to him before. How crucial she still was, apparently.

“Look at me.” Her tone was soft. She didn’t want to scare him into leaving. She realized that he had been just as scared about her dying as she was. He took his time, but finally looked at her.

“I’ve always been your Huckleberry, Kayce. Why do you think Lee joked about us being attached at the hip?” Stella fidgeted with her hands and tried to keep her mind busy. “I made a promise to your brother that I would do almost anything for you and the family. You’re all Ryan and I have. You’ve done everything for us. I’m glad I’m still here. With you.” She reached out and grabbed his hand.

“The point I’m trying to make is that regardless of whether or not they were bad men, there’s still blood on my hands. How do I come back from that? I just—,” the lump in her throat cut her off. She puffed out air. She tried to catch her breath, but the thoughts stole it from her.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. He cupped her full cheeks to make her bring her eyes to his. He could see her starting to calm down.

“Baby, it’s okay. Whatever it is, we're gonna get through it together, alright?” He used the words she’d used for him time and time again.

Stella nodded, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course Stella. You know you can always ask me anything.”

She hesitated. She felt childish asking this, but she really didn’t want to be alone. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” Kayce smiled at her affectionately. The small way she asked was endearing.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.” He stood from the couch and grabbed her hand to lead her back to the bedroom. Stella felt her stomach tighten. She had been in and around Kayce in a bedroom plenty of times. They’d slept together for crying out loud. Something felt different now, and she wasn’t sure if she was overthinking it this time, or if something had actually shifted. She was torn, wanting to forgive him because he had saved her life, but also not wanting to because that shit had really hurt.

He walked in before her and pulled the covers down. He placed his hat off to the side and started to take off his boots. Stella was nervous and didn’t want to move more than she had too. He gazed over at her and could see the anxious look in her eyes.

Kayce assured her. “It’ll be okay. I promise. I’ll be in the house all night.”

Stella broke out of her daze and busied herself. She made her way to the bedside as Kayce took off his jeans. She sat down and watched him grab a pair of his own sweatpants. She bit her lip and looked away.

“How can you be sure? There’s so many places people can sneak onto the property and we all would be none the wiser.” Stella thought of all the different ways people could sneak in. She took her glasses off and set them on the nightstand on her side of the bed.

“Well, even if they do find a way in, we’ve got an entire group of people that will stop them.”

“I would rather it didn’t come to that though.” She didn’t want to endanger anyone else, more than she already had.

Kayce breathed out as he placed himself on the full size bed next to her. Stella scooted back toward the edge of her side.

He grinned. “I promise I won’t bite, Stell.”

“I know, I know. I just don’t wanna be all up in your grill.”

“At least make yourself comfortable. You don’t have to squeeze all the way over there.” He pulled the covers up over his lower half. Kayce placed his arm back against the headboard as if leaving a space for her to slide in. Stella squinted at him, unsure of what was happening.

Kayce reassured her. “Well c’mon.” She gnawed on her lip for an extra second and contemplated. She couldn’t help but feel like a line was being crossed somewhere. The exhaustion creeped in. ‘Whatever, I’ll deal with this later.’ She dismissed the idea. ‘That’s a later me problem.’

Stella shuffled underneath the blankets. She moved a fraction closer to Kayce, to which he huffed. He pulled her into his side.

“Since when did you become scared of me, huh?” He framed his arm around her shoulders giving her a gentle squeeze.

“I’m not scared of you. I just don’t want to be vulnerable again. We know how that ended up last time.”

Stella focused on whatever she could in front of her. There had been a lot that happened within the last 24 to 48 hours. She felt like the only thing she could do was be quiet. Some of the thoughts that ran through her mind still made her feel physically sick. Some of them left her uncertain. Her head was all over the map. How could she be thinking that something had changed between Kayce and she, when she had killed two people not long ago? Where did that make sense?

“I just think I’m tired, Kace.” Stella migrated farther into the blankets, but remained encircled in Kayce’s arm. “Can you turn the light off please?” The full weight of his arm dropped against her. He didn’t want her to clam up on him. He wasn’t sure what to do. He kissed the top of her head and leaned over to turn out the light.

It had only been a few hours since they had wandered into the bedroom. Kayce’s full intention had been to head out to the couch once she fell asleep. He woke up as he felt her rutch around. She was making small noises. Even faced away from him, he could tell she was troubled. She flopped back over and faced him again. She reached out and grasped his tank top.

He reached out for her. “Stella, honey.” One hand grabbed hers on his chest, the other touched her face lightly. He rubbed her rosy cheek and tried to pull her out of the nightmare.

“Stella.” Kayce said more firmly. Her eyes flew open as she breathed in a gulp of air. Her arms flailed as she grappled to get her hands on anything she could to keep herself from falling.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, Stella. I’m right here. You’re safe. You’re in the foreman’s house. Everything is alright.” Kayce told her quickly. He brushed the stray hairs from her face. She heaved trying to catch her breath making high pitched wheezes come out. She pushed his hands away, and kicked at his legs.

Kayce tucked his leg over top of hers, grabbed both of her wrists in one hand and brought them close to his chest. He laid himself over on top of her to weigh her down some. He leaned into her, as close to her face as he could get. He had to get her to stop struggling.

“Stella!” She drew back into the pillows. Her eyes fully locked in on Kayce, and she realized was safe. They both puffed and panted. Her short bursts of breath moved the hair in Kayce’s face. Their eyes locked and Stella froze. Time appeared to stand still.

“Come back to me, Stell.” He let go of her wrists and she touched his face. She had to make sure this was real, and wasn’t about to transition into a horrible scene.

“Oh my god, Kayce.” Her arms shot out and hugged him tight. As he dropped, he moved to his side. He rolled her with him and kept her in his grasp. She buried her face as far into his neck as she could and started to cry. “I’m a horrible person. I killed someone. I can’t take it back. I should be arrested, or in jail! But no, I had to call you, and now all of you are wrapped up in my fuckin’ mess too.”

He placed his hand on the back of her head. “Shh shh, it’s okay baby. It’s okay.” His heart broke all over again for her. He wished he would have gotten to that last man before she had to kill him. He would have gladly placed that on his shoulders, so she didn’t have to bear it.

“No! It’s not okay! I put everyone in danger—,” she hiccuped with tears.

“Baby, I came for you. I got you safe, and you did what you had to. You didn’t force any of us to do anything we wouldn’t.”

Stella got frustrated. She pushed back and away from Kayce. “Why do you keep calling me that! You made your feelings very evident when you ripped me apart!” She sat up and swiped angrily at her face. “You don’t get to call me that!”

“I don’t know!” He sat up and fixed his gaze on her. She glared at him. “I can’t do this anymore. You know we’re more than friends at this point.”

“No. No. I’m not doing this right now.” She started to panic. She clambered from underneath the tangled sheets on her legs.

“Stella, where are you going?” Kayce scrambled to get out of the bed behind her.

“Away from you!” She hurried and snagged her boots. She could hear his footsteps behind her. Her hand landed on the door knob and she started to swing the door open. It slipped from her hand violently as it was pushed shut by Kayce’s much larger hand. She gaped at Kayce’s arm and spun around and scowled up at him while dropping her boots.

He towered above her. With his hand on the door, his presence felt so much bigger. Their eyes finally met. They both huffed wildly. Stella felt warm. The whole room felt like it was on fire. She rammed her hands into his chest and tried to shove him backward. He moved, but swung back forward, keeping her surrounded.

“Kayce let me go!”

“No Stella. Not until you simmer down.”

“That’s not gonna happen with you in my face!” She shoved at him again. He grappled with her hands. Kayce yanked on them and straightened her back against the wall. He pressed himself against Stella’s body as close as he could get, then maneuvered his leg in between hers. That caused her to hike up, almost on her tiptoes. It made her lose her breath. She was taken over by a memory of that first time in her house.

Kayce gripped her chin in his hand. “Stella, stop. Focus.” She glowered at him. “I will let you go, but I need you to calm down. I don’t want you leaving here in a huff and getting hurt because you left unprepared.”

“Oh my god. I don’t need you to fuckin’ baby me.”

“I’m not babying you! I’m trying to make sure you don’t die!”

“Why?!” She screeched. “No one signed you up for that!”

“Because I fucking love you okay!” He let her go and she dropped back onto her feet. Kayce retreated and turned away from Stella. His shoulders dropped and he wiped his face with his hands.

The silence that enveloped the room was deafening. Stella sagged back against the door while she tried to catch her breath. She stared at his back, her mouth hung open, unsure of what to say. In a small voice, she asked simply, “Why?”

Kayce picked his head up, but he didn’t turn around. “Because after everything that’s happened in my life in the last 13 years, good, bad, horrible… you’ve never run.” Stella looked down at the floor. She went to adjust her glasses, but realized she had never grabbed them in her hurried temper tantrum. “Hell, even when I told you what I had done after Lee… you still, never ran.”

“I know I can always count on looking up and seeing you somewhere ready to fight anyone coming for me, or die trying.” She heard his feet move on the floor, but refused to look up. He placed his hand gently under her chin to bring her eyes up to meet his. Once she did, he released her face.

“I couldn’t breathe when I heard you scream and those gunshots, Stella. I thought I was gonna run to you, and you would be gone. My heart stopped.” He opened his arms in an offered hug. Stella sniffled and moved forward into the embrace. “I’m happy it was him and not you. I’ll say that every time. No matter if we got the chance to change it, or not.” Kayce said softly into her ear.

Muffled from his chest came the hushed admission. “I’m really glad it was you who came and had my back.” He softly smiled and put his chin on her head.

Stella stared at his chest. All the thoughts rushed through her mind at once. She leaned back to take a good look at him. When his eyes met hers, everything ceased. She threaded her hand through his hair and stood on her tiptoes to meet his lips halfway. Kayce wrapped his arms tighter around her, pulling her closer like she was his source of air. Their tongues danced along one another and Kayce let out a quiet hum.

She pulled back, leaning her arms on his shoulders. Kayce gazed down at her as if she held the universe in her palm. She timidly looked up at him in contemplation. The last time they allowed this to happen had been a whirlwind. Kayce watched her mind work.

Was she ready to forgive him? Of course she forgave him. She would probably always forgive him. They were both human and when all of that went down they were both vulnerable in different ways. They sought out comfort and safety with each other. Did it make it right that they both took advantage of each other? Absolutely not. But did coming to the realization they both weren’t perfect make it easier to swallow? Did she think they could work things out? Yes.

Amidst all the weirdness, he had put that aside when she needed someone the most. He’d saved her. She wouldn’t be here if he hadn’t rushed out to her. Was she ready to let him back in for real this time, was the question. His hand on her cheek brought her back to reality.

“You okay, Stell?”

A tiny grin settled on her cheeks. She placed her hand on his chest and with a hushed tone said, “come to bed with me.” Gently she grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom.

Her heartbeat pounded in her chest so hard she could barely catch her breath. “Keep me safe.” She whispered. It was about more than just the act they were about to engage in. She wanted him to be careful with not only her body, but her mind. Her heart.

Kayce stepped forward, and kissed her softly. He reached down and wrapped the bottom of her plain white t-shirt in his fingers. Tugging upward, Stella instinctively lifted her arms to let the garment slide up and off. When it slipped over her head, her breasts dropped free of the shirt. They bobbed with her heavy breaths from her nerves.

Kayce took off his shirt to join her and tossed both to the side. The duo grabbed the waistband of their pants and quickly dropped them to the floor. They stood there taking each other in. He closed the gap between them and took her mouth with his. Stella met him with open arms. Kayce turned them about face and laid back on the bed, bringing her with him.

Neither of them came up for air as they slowly descended onto the mattress. Stella’s hand trailed its way from his chest, along his stomach. The muscles tightened as her fingers flitted along closer to their goal. Her soft fingers wrapped around his dick. Kayce broke their kiss to groan.

Stella placed soft kisses along his jaw and shoulder. She stroked his cock with a soft grip and loose wrist. With every pass of her hand she swore it hardened even more. He looked beautiful in this moment to her. His head was back against the pillows, lips parted, eyes closed. She gave him gentle direction. “Hey look at me.”

Kayce’s eyes shot open, searching for hers. When he found her, she was watching herself jerking his dick with her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth. She released her lip and looked back at him. The desire he saw in her almost stopped his heart. His penis throbbed and jumped in her hand.

She lazily sat up and pulled her hair free from the messy bun that sat atop her head. Kayce propped himself up on his elbows and groaned at the lack of contact, but her hand on his shoulder stopped him. Stella threw her leg over his hips and straddled him. He placed his hands on her thighs and gave them a squeeze.

Posting up, he reached between them and grabbed himself to help her aim. He pumped his cock a few times and he slid himself between her slick folds. Stella tossed her hair to the side and sunk down onto him. She watched him disappear into her waiting pussy. The sound she made was almost a purr when he was fully sheathed. Her head fell back and her eyes fluttered shut at the sensation of being full.

Kayce grabbed her arms and pulled her down to his chest. He propped his legs up on flat feet, pulling her in to kiss her. His tongue found its way into her mouth and she responded with a moan. Gradually he thrusted his hips upward. Stella’s waist came to life and ground down on his cock in time with his thrusts.

It was lazy and it was slow. There was no rush, and every feeling built upon the last one. Stella pushed back and sat up straight. She wound her pelvis against his. There was a particular angle he noticed she hitched at. When she came around again Kayce snapped his cock up into her dripping cunt. She buckled forward, catching herself on his chest. She kept winding her center against him. The electricity from him hitting that angle ran through to her toes. She whispered breathelessly, “fuck, Kayce.”

“I know, sugar. Lay down.” He helped her up off him. When she was settled he got comfortable on top of her. She subconsciously surrounded his waist with her legs. He angled his cock at the entrance to her pussy and dove back in. Stella embraced him, burying her face in his neck. Kayce’s hand trailed back along her side, and up her leg to lend her support.

He drove his cock into her slow and deep. Each time he hit her cervix she huffed out a moan. Stella was so overwhelmed with how deep he was she scratched at his back. “Kayce,” she mewled. “Shit.” She wasn’t sure how much more she could handle.

Kayce rolled his hips in a circle and felt Stella clench around him. “Fuck, Stella,” he sighed shakily. “You gonna cum for me?” He thrusted sharply when she squeezed him again.

“Yes, yes!” She cried out. “Please,” she begged. Her arms left his neck and she grabbed his midsection, spurring him into action.

He rose up on his hands and Stella grabbed her legs behind the knees to keep herself spread for him. He almost came at the sight. Kayce locked his elbows and pounded into her from the close angle, pushing deep into her. Small grunts left him from the effort. He felt his release rising.

Stella felt as tears lined her eyes. The pleasure absorbed her. “Kayce, cum in me,” she requested soberly.

Kayce’s thrusts stuttered, “oh fuck,” he groaned at her invitation.

She reached up to touch any part of him she could reach. “That’s it cowboy, come on. Cum in me.” Kayce dropped overtop of her and hammered into her. He growled louder with every push. Their keening grew in volume and he felt his cum shoot out into her begging cunt. He shook and stuttered. Stella sobbed with her orgasm.

They laid there intertwined with each other, trying to come back down from the high. Stella came to sooner and brushed Kayce’s hair back from his face. His eyes slowly opened and he smiled up at her.

“I’ll be right back.” He tenderly pulled out of her and shuddered at the loss of contact. He quickly went to the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink. While he waited for it to heat up, he cleaned himself up, and grabbed a separate rag to run under the water.

Stepping back into the room, he gazed at Stella laying there, knees bent and feet flat in the bed. “Come to the edge baby.” She slid herself to the end of the bed and he took the wet rag and softly wiped his cum off of her.

“We made a mess, didn’t we?” She asked shyly.

He chuckled. “Nothin’ a washer won’t fix.” He finished cleaning her up and threw the washcloth into the hamper.

“Can we go back to bed, and deal with this during normal hours?” Stella asked as she placed her hand on his chest when he came back to her.

Kayce breathed a chuckle. “Yeah, c’mon, Stellfire.”

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #yellowstonetv #luke grimes #ian bohen #ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfic #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfic

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elisfashionn · 4 months

Text

𝐀𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : bobby skeetz x fem!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Your brother is Ryan Mcmahon, drummer of the upcoming band Inhaler. What happens when you sneak around with the Irish bassist…

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : cigarettes and alcohol (oasis).

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

I was awoken to a knock at my bedroom door. Not long after the knock appeared my brother Ryan.

“Get up, we need to leave soon.”

“Do i have to come with you?”

“Yes. You promised me last week that you’d come to the show”

“That was last week. I’ve changed my mind”

“No. You’re coming”

And with that Ryan closed my door in annoyance which led me to groan knowing i had to stick to my word of leaving the house tonight.

It wasn’t long before i hopped in the shower getting ready for the day. Frank Ocean blasted through the speaker on the counter as i washed my hair. When all of a sudden i got a text message. I turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around my body checking my phone to see who interrupted me.

Bobby - Bobert 🤘

You - Y/N🖕

Bobert 🤘

You coming to the gig tonite? x

Y/N 🖕

Unfortunately. I promised Ryan i’d come to this one x

Bobert 🤘

Um excuse me this isn’t an unfortunately moment. x

Y/N 🖕

It is when i’m gonna be stuck with 4 boys and one of them tries to convince others to play bird bingo for an hour. x

Bobert 🤘

I wonder who that could be cause it isn’t me. Maybe Josh? We should really have a word with him about that cause that’s out of order x

Y/N 🖕

Whatever helps you sleep at night babes x

Bobert 🤘

Babes? Okay Babes. Let’s have a talk Babes. x

Y/N 🖕

Bye. Gotta get ready see you soon. x

Bobert 🤘

See you soon babes x

I didn’t realise I was smiling at my phone until the last message. I’d say Bobby and I have a close relationship. I’ve known him for a while and i’ve always had a crush on him. I mean who couldn’t. He’s 6ft with a mullet and plays bass in a band. And also my brother’s bestfriend and bandmate but we all have a secrets don’t we. I walked into my bedroom and shut my phone throwing it onto my bed getting ready for the night ahead of me. I threw on a black midi dress that flowed in the wind at the bottom and paired with my fur jacket, black boots and black bag and topped it off with jewellery. I then started applying the finishing touches to my makeup before Ryan called up saying that we are leaving in 5. I opened my bag and threw in my packet of cigarettes, a small bottle of alcohol, charger, lip liner and lip stick and other necessities i’ll need for the night before quickly making my way downstairs.

liked by ryanmcmahon_15, elijahhewson and 1,300 others

y/nusername : dressing up > down

📷 : ryanmcmahon_15

ryanmcmahon_15 : finally got photo credits for once.

➥ y/nusername : be grateful

user : where is the jacket from?

➥ y/nusername : it’s thrifted x

bobbyskeetz : this jacket looks like a bird meaning you have to bird bingo.

➥ y/nusername : … can i not get a nice compliment without it including birds.

➥ bobbyskeetz : no sorry xxxxx

bobbyskeetz : 😫🖕

➥ y/nusername : no. damage is already done 💔

user : UR HOT.

➥ bobbyskeetz : thanks x

➥ y/nusername : fuck off.

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We arrived at the venue and entered through the back door. There were a group already queuing even though it was only 2pm. It was so crazy to me how people would spend their whole day waiting in a queue for a show that will only go on for a few hours (i am guilty of this). They all screamed when they saw Ryan enter the venue which i still need to get used to. We get led into the green room which was already filled with the other 3 irish lads.

It wasn’t long before Ryan announced our presence ‘Hey! We made it’

‘Hey guys!’ Eli stood up and started hugging the both of us followed Josh and Bobby.

Bobby’s hug lasted a little longer than i wanted it to but at the same time i could stay with him forever. He’s such an easy person to be around. You could either talk for hours upon hours about random ass shit. You could tell him about girl drama and he would make small comments like ‘She’s a Bitch’ or You could both sit in the same room together in comfortable silence. You’ve never gotten on with anyone so well in your life. It was relaxing to know that someone understood you in that way.

‘We have soundcheck in about 2 hours so if anyone’s up for a round of bird-‘

‘Bobby… Don’t even mention the words Bird or Bingo today please’ He just laughed at my comment sitting down on the velvet couch placed in the middle of the room. He patted the seat next to him inviting me to sit down beside him which is happily accepted. The other boys were talking about god knows what when suddenly Bobby leaned over and spoke so only I could hear ‘Are you looking forward for tonight… babes’ I lightly slapped his arm telling him to behave. ‘You know i really was up for it until i remembered you were in the band again. What happened to them finding a new bass player?’ ‘You should be grateful i’m stuck to bass, I was gonna be the lead’ ‘Now you say it i am grateful you’d do anything but sing.’

‘Hey guys are going to go get food you coming with?’ Josh stood up and asked the both of us

‘No we’re good’ I looked at Bobby because i was really hungry and wanted food but i knew if id asked ryan he’d get me something ‘I’ll stay here, Can you get me something Ryan?’ ‘Yeah course, be back in an hour’

And with that the other boys left and it was just Bobby and I. Earlier I mentioned how it was always a comfortable silence with Bobby however this silence felt different. It felt like there was something needed to be said or something needing to happen. And I feel like he sensed the same. He looked over at me opening his mouth like he was going to say something. That was until I looked over in his direction. He shut his mouth and looked the other way scratching the back of his neck. Strange.

We sat on our phones for about 5 minutes until I broke the silence.

‘Bird bingo?’ ‘I thought you’d never ask!’ I rolled my eyes but there was really nothing else to do.

Both of us sat either side of the small coffee table places on the floor as he set up the game. I sat opposite him waiting for him to finish. ‘Let’s make this game different’ He looked up and hummed in response confused. ‘Let’s do some forfeits, everytime one of us loose a round we do something the other person wants’ in reply he just smirked at me laughing a bit. ‘Don’t smirk at me Robert I’m winning’ ‘We’ll see’

With that the first round started. It started off with shots being taken to us telling eachother random secrets and doing a small Q&A. It didn’t take long for it to get more heated and serious. ‘Next one i win…’ he lent in a bit till i could feel his breath. ‘We kiss’. ‘Okay’ i just smiled not knowing what else to say in response. I really wanted to but Ryan would be so pissed off if he knew.

And he won that round. That’s how it all started a silly game of bird bingo. That night when no one else was around we couldn’t keep our hands off of eachother sharing kisses whenever we could and having small makeout sessions in secret places. The boys were performing on stage and Bobby couldn’t take his eyes off of me when all of a sudden ‘Who’s your money on (plastic house)’ started playing.

‘Who’s your money on Dublin?’ Eli announced to the crowd as they started yelling out names of the band. I looked over at Bobby and i saw him mouth to me ‘Who’s your money on??’ I yelled ‘BOBBY!’ which caused him to laugh and walk towards Ryan at the back who was playing the drums. I took my phone out and started recording them for a little bit of the ending since this was one of my favourite Inhaler songs. It wasn’t long until the show ended and i was making my way back towards the green room when all of a sudden i got pulled through a door outside by the tour buses. Bobby stood there with the same look on his face he’s had all night pulling out a cigarette lighting it and then holding it out to me. ‘I don’t want this to be a one night thing’ he said taking a puff and blowing it out making deep eye contact with me. ‘Neither’ I said taking the cigarette back into my lips this time he was holding it which led him to pull me against him as we smoked together. We both stood in silence until it was stumped out sharing a quick kiss which tasted nicotine before heading back inside before the fans started coming out or even one of the others.

liked by bobbyskeetz, graciebrns and 4,829 others

y/nusername : who the feck are inhaler? (and if anyone can tell me who this man is staring at me lmk so i can block him xx)

user : who are inhaler?

➥ y/nusername : idk. u tell me x

bobbyskeetz : that might be me? i’m not sure though. just a thought.

➥ y/nusername : yeah it doesn’t look like you x

user : damn 2 pics of bobby we are being fed.

➥ user : and im eating them all up

elijahhewson : the best band ever

➥ y/nusername : dream on.

graciebrns : my wife

➥ bobbyskeetz : back off shes mine.

➥ y/nusername : bobby.

➥ ryanmcmahon_15 : what.

➥ bobbyskeetz : oops.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Now here we are. Bobby and I secretly dating. Ever since that night we’ve been inseparable. Ryan has been questioning why i’ve wanted to come to the shows so much now recently or why i always want to be around him and boys but he couldn’t know. You recently moved into your own apartment in Dublin still close enough to Ryan but also further enough to feel like you have your own space. Bobby has been round all the time even sleeping over. We’ve had a few close calls but now it’s just our little secret.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Author : This one is a little bit better but still bad. Gimme prompts 🙏🙏 (with anyone, if ik who they r) - Matilda xx

#bobby skeetz #inhaler #inhalerdublin #inhalerband #bobbyskeetz x reader #robert keating x reader #fanfic #rockstar #story #elijah hewson x reader #eli hewson x reader #josh jenkinson x reader #ryan mcmahon x reader

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wyattjohnston · 2 years

Text

until the light shines through - quinn hughes

summary: it didn’t take very long at all for laurel to realise that the world of hockey was well beyond what she could handle. there was just something about quinn that made it impossible to stay away.

note: this is set in the 2021-2022 season because i started it almost exactly 12 months ago. i’m eternally grateful to @hock-ee & @farbutnevergone for being the sounding board in the beginning of this fic, and as always to @matthewtkachuk & @laurenairay for coming in clutch and making me feel like it was worth finishing. shelb gets extra credit for reading it all multiple times and helping me fill in some gaps and catch the times my sentences ended halfway through.

word count: 17,690

playlist: good love - shawn hook | i know places - taylor swift | closer - sleeping with sirens | feel like shit - tate mcrae | you're in love - betty who

“Your Uber is here. Don’t make him wait too long or your rating will drop.”

Laurel lifted her head at the sound of the new voice and the tattoo gun being pulled away from her skin.

“The Uber driver should be a bit more patient, or his rating will drop,” Annie, the tattoo artist said, lifting her head. “You aren’t even the Uber I ordered.”

The man who had walked in shrugged, taking a seat at the front of the shop. Laurel looked between him and Annie, waiting for something more than a joke about Uber drivers. Before Annie even offered an explanation, she was telling Laurel that she was going to start the gun again—the machine, that was something Annie had stressed when they were setting up.

Laurel couldn’t help but track the movement of the machine as it got to the final parts of the black cat outline being tattooed on the inside of her wrist. It was her first tattoo and she’d always been interested in the process and despite the sting of the needle she knew exactly why people spoke about it being addictive.

“Where’d you park?” Annie asked as she was covering the finished tattoo, having already taken a photo of it to post to Instagram. Laurel watched it disappear beneath the black wrap.

“A couple streets away; parking is shit.”

“If you can wait for me to sterilise the machine and everything and lock up, we’ll walk you,” Annie offered. “Won’t we, Huggy Bear?”

Huggy Bear agreed, then trailed off grumbling about the Huggy nickname.

Even while Laurel was waiting to leave, Annie and Huggy were happily chatting away. Most of the conversation went far over her head, despite their efforts to include her or provide context, so she stood beside the counter at the front of the shop and checked her phone until it was time to leave.

She laughed politely when it was appropriate for the conversation, although she wasn’t quite sure what she was laughing at, but the least she could do was pretend to be interested when they were helping to keep her safe.

“Have a great weekend,” Annie said when they reached Laurel’s car. “Just hit me up on Insta if you forget the aftercare stuff or have any questions. I’ll post the photo tomorrow.”

“Thank you, I really do love it. And thank you both for walking me to my car.”

Huggy raised his hand awkwardly and said something that Laurel didn’t quite hear so she just waved back before getting into her car.

“He really keeps staring at us,” Karina said, her face contorting in discomfort after she did another subtle glance around the restaurant to see if said guy had stopped staring. The wave he’d given her earlier hadn’t done much to assuage their unease, though it had led to lengthy conversations about which one of them might have known who he was.

“I don’t know if it’d be better or worse if he actually came over,” Laurel said, frowning down at her empty plate. “I just want him to stop staring.”

Karina waved the waiter down to get the cheque, saying that they’d be out of there soon. Laurel huffed at the audacity of men who didn’t understand what common decency was. She didn’t look back over at him and his friend, though she desperately wanted to, because she didn’t want to give him the impression that she was interested and risk him following them out of the restaurant to their next stop.

Their next step was just a bar, nothing special or interesting, just a quiet-ish place they could continue their drinking. A few other people from work were meeting them; Friday night drinks to end the week were never something Laurel would pass up.

“That’s the guy from the restaurant, isn’t it?” Karina asked, not even being casual in how she was pointing him out.

Laurel sighed, finished her cocktail, and stood up in a rush, only regretting it slightly when she felt the alcohol had gone to her head. She didn’t say a single word to Karina, who tried to catch her arm before she could get too far away and walked directly over to the guy that had been staring at her all night.

He was sitting with the man he’d eaten dinner with, and it was incredibly stupid for Laurel to confront him by herself when he wasn’t alone but Laurel’s pride often got the best of her.

“You’ve been staring at me all night,” she said, not even waiting until they were looking at her. “What do you want?”

“I—uh—” the man stuttered. Laurel had to give him credit for maintaining eye contact even if he was sinking down into his seat.

“Can you stop? I have no idea who you are and it’s freaking me the fuck out.”

“We met—you were—Annie—the tattoo.”

“Oh, Teddy Bear,” Laurel said, amused by the memory, but mostly the nickname, as his face merged with the vague memory of the man who had shown up when she was getting the tattoo on her forearm.

The man sitting with him snorted.

“Huggy Bear but it’s just Quinn. Please call me Quinn,” he begged, sitting up a little straighter knowing that she at least had some recollection of him.

“Alright, Quinn, is there a reason you’ve been staring at me beyond recognising me?”

Quinn opened his mouth to answer, though nothing came out.

The man across the table, lanky and blond, stood up before Quinn could speak, and was already walking away when he announced, “I’m out of here before this gets awkward.”

Laurel watched him briefly as he left and when she turned back to Quinn his face was redder than before—though it wasn’t all that noticeable in the bar’s poor lighting.

He said, mumbled and incoherent, something that ended in pretty and Laurel had to fight the twinge that threatened to lift the corners of her mouth.

“You think I’m pretty?” she pressed, her hand resting on the back of the vacated chair so that she could lean forward just a little.

“Yeah, I—I wanted to send you a message on Insta after we met but I chickened out.”

It was reckless, probably, to say what she said next, but Laurel was a sucker for a compliment, “Would you like to buy me a drink, Quinn?”

He stood so suddenly that the table rocked, and Laurel had to catch it before the glasses toppled over. He took four steps towards the bar before hastily walking back to her to ask what she wanted to drink.

She followed him to the bar, too smart and too weary to let him just bring a drink back to her. She ordered a Tom Collins, Quinn ordered a beer, and as the bartender was making her cocktail, she leaned lightly against the bar and asked, “How did you know I was here? At the restaurant?”

Quinn’s eyes bugged and his shoulders squared, as he rushed to say, “I didn’t. I promise. I’m not stalking you—so many people would actually cut off my dick if I was.”

Laurel’s lip quirked up, wondering if it was the tattoo artist who made that threat. There was still a little part of her that didn’t trust that he hadn’t known where she was going to be but it was overridden by her interest in his awkward nature.

They weaved through the crowd of people back to their table, which was luckily still free despite their trip to the bar. Laurel sat down, leaning back in her seat and letting him lead the conversation wherever he saw fit while she enjoyed her drink.

“I’ve never had to try this hard to get a girl’s attention before,” he said, his hand running through his hair and messing up the careful mess it had already been.

Laurel tilted her head, saying, “That’s… a surprise to me.”

Quinn goes silent, instantly looking even more insecure than he already did. He coughed and said, “I suppose there are meaner ways to tell me I’m not attractive.”

“I actually thought you weren’t confident enough,” Laurel clarified, resting her elbows on the table so he knew how serious she was when she added, “I think you’re plenty attractive.”

The compliment did exactly what Laurel had been hoping it would, increasing his confidence tenfold. His chin lifting, his shoulders squaring and a smirk crossing his mouth. Laurel smirked back at him, making direct eye contact as she pulled her straw into her mouth.

Giving Quinn her phone number was an easy decision.

After waking up on a mattress comfier than she ever thought possible and smiling at Quinn who was already dressed and walking around the bedroom, Laurel enjoyed the water pressure in the walk-in shower.

When she’d walked into the apartment the night before (see: earlier that morning) she hadn’t paid any attention to where they were or what the apartment looked like. A long time had passed since she inspected apartments when she walked in; one too many had turned her off immediately and she’d rather not know until she’d had her fun. Quinn’s apartment however… she would not have had that problem based on his bathroom alone. The bathroom was always the worst.

She wrapped a towel around herself, delighted by its fluffiness, and walked back through Quinn’s bedroom so she could find him. The size baffled her, too, because the location was enough to cost a small fortune in rent each month—the thought of paying for multiple bedrooms, multiple bathrooms and a separate kitchen and dining area made her feel lightheaded. And he lived alone.

“Do you drink coffee?” Quinn asked when she found him in the kitchen.

“How often do you get a ‘no’ to that question?”

“It happens enough that I have to ask.”

Laurel’s lip twitched up in a smirk, waiting for Quinn to realise that he’d just admitted to bringing home women often enough that he had a decent sample size of those who drink coffee vs those who don’t—he was oblivious, though, just standing near the coffee machine awkwardly holding out an empty mug waiting for an answer.

She tightened the towel over her breasts and Quinn’s eyes flickered down before shooting right back up as if he hadn’t seen it all a matter of hours prior.

“I was hoping I could grab a shirt or something to wear first.”

He was startled by the question, taking a few seconds to put the mug down and nod at her. He led her to his bedroom and pulled out the second drawer in the chest.

“You can help yourself to whatever…” he said slowly. “Or anything else in here, I guess. I don’t know what you’d want.”

The twitching smirk was back, as Laurel pulled out what she expected to be a plain black shirt saying “Just a t-shirt is fine. Do you have something a bit less… colourful?”

The shirt she pulled out unfolded to show a black and yellow logo on it that very much looked like it belonged in the 80s.

“You don’t like the flying skate logo?” Quinn asked, taking it from her to stare at it in a way Laurel could only describe as longingly.

“The what now?”

“The flying skate?”

“Am I supposed to know what that is just because you’ve said it a second time?” she asked, bemused.

Quinn held the shirt to his chest, scandalised. “The Canucks logo? Hockey?”

“Oh, I’m from Florida,” Laurel revealed with a shake of her head. “I don’t know anything about hockey.”

She turned back to the chest of drawers and went about finding a plain black shirt. Hockey was something she heard about on a near daily basis but the people she spent time with regularly had long since stopped trying to convince her to give it a chance.

“I was born in Florida and I know a lot about hockey.”

Apparently, Quinn wasn’t going to let it go, though.

Laurel found a shirt, checked it for logos, and only moved back to the bed when she was certain it was in fact plain black so that she could drop the towel and go about putting on more clothes than just her underwear.

“Semantics are important here,” she said, trying to sort out of her bra on still slightly damp skin. “You were born in Florida, I’m from Florida. Where would you say you’re from?”

Quinn didn’t respond to her, just stared at her with his mouth not completely shut. Laurel cleared her throat because he was, much like when she’d walked into the kitchen, staring at her chest.

He cleared his own throat, focusing his eyes on her face, “Michigan, probably. Toronto, maybe.”

Laurel hummed as she pulled the shirt over her head, adding, when she could see him, “Both really into hockey, I thought.”

“Yeah, you could say that.” Quinn twitched. “I could teach you about hockey. If you want.”

Laurel shrugged, tilting her head from side to side as she thought about it, before settling on saying, “I’ve never really been interested? Seems a bit barbaric.”

“It’s not,” Quinn said, firmly. He then hesitated and added, “Anymore.”

Laurel couldn’t help but smirk at his change of mind. She asked, partially because didn’t know but mostly because she didn’t believe him, “So, they don’t fight for the sake of fighting?”

“No,” he said, forcefully enough that Laurel’s mouth pulled shut, “there’s always a reason.”

“You’re, like, really invested in me liking hockey. Does this not go anywhere if I don’t?”

The beat of silence that followed probably only lasted three seconds but it was enough time that Laurel was working out how best to get her clothes and get out as quickly as possible. She was looking around for her top, aiming for surreptitious, when Quinn spoke.

“I play. For them. The Canucks. I’m on the team. My job is hockey.”

“Oh, no shit,” Laurel said, her laugh breathy and disbelieving. “And I just called it barbaric.”

“Does this not go anywhere because I play?”

Laurel rolled her eyes, closing the space between them. She cupped his cheeks, smiling up at him and shaking her head. She pressed up on her toes, touching her lips to his lightning fast.

“No. It doesn’t change that I was going to stay for breakfast and then give you my number.”

Karina would be so disappointed.

Christmas was finally over, another successful year of pretending it hadn’t happened, and Laurel was back to work after a lovely long weekend of ignoring the outside world. She hoped on Boxing Day that she could call Quinn for some fun, only to be told that he’d gone to Michigan to see his family.

And, honestly, what was the point in having each other’s numbers if he wasn’t going to be home?

Laurel wasn’t expecting to spend New Year’s Even with him either, she did have plans of her own, but she’d been hopeful she could leave just after midnight and be back in Quinn’s bed before the night was truly over.

He was in Seattle, apparently.

Two weeks after she left his apartment, Laurel was finally able to get back there.

“I thought, maybe, you were just really bad at ghosting,” she joked as she walked through his door, kissing him briefly and then leaning back in for a second one.

“My schedule has been kind of insane,” he said apologetically.

Laurel laughed as she shrugged off her coat, “Perils of being a professional athlete?”

“One of, I guess.”

“Did you win at least?” she asked, wrapping her arms around Quinn’s waist and looking up at him hopefully. She didn’t have any real interest in the games themselves, but she could get on board with being interested in their success at the very least.

They did win, he told her excitedly. 5-2 was the score; Laurel kept it to herself that she thought the score was quite low. She’d had a passing interest at most in basketball but that was her frame of reference for how high sports scores should be.

It was early enough in the evening that they organised dinner to be delivered and Laurel was eager to agree because she was on the second day of a New Years’ hangover and knew that bruschetta and pasta would do wonders to get her over what was lingering.

They sat down to eat at Quinn’s dining table—Laurel was positive that he’d not used it in months because of the things he had to move to clear space for them.

She was loudly enjoying her bruschetta when Quinn’s face twisted just enough that she knew he was going to say something but second guessing himself. She, not wanting to talk with her mouth full, raised an eyebrow and nodded so that he would speak.

“You’re really from Florida?”

“Orlando,” Laurel answered with a smile. “I’ve only been here since I started college in 2017.”

“I started college in 2017.”

Laurel perked up, “At UBC?”

“No, UMich. Michigan.”

“That’s why you’d say you’re from there?” she asked, thinking it was a tad odd that he’d say he was from there just because he’d been to college there. She wouldn’t say she was from Vancouver after four and a half years.

“One of the reasons, yeah. I moved to Michigan when I was 15.”

“So, you were born in Florida, you’ve lived in Toronto and also Michigan and now you’re in Vancouver?” She tried to track the movement around North America in her head. “Lot of moves for a kid.”

“Boston and New Hampshire, too. I don’t remember anything about Florida or Boston, only have a few memories of New Hampshire—mostly my brother being born and my other brother being really upset about it.”

“What are their names? Your brothers?”

“Jack is the middle child and Luke is the youngest. Two years between each of us.”

“I have a brother, Artie. He’s like 16 years older than me, though, so I don’t know him that well. Are you close with yours?”

“Yeah, real close.”

Laurel smiled at him, happy for him, even as she wondered what it would be like to have a close relationship with her family.

“Luke probably won’t be around any time soon, but we play Jack at some point—he plays hockey for New Jersey—so you might get to meet him soon. I think you’ll like him.”

A light panic threatened to break her smile but Laurel was able to keep the smile on her face well enough that Quinn didn’t react.

The tension in Laurel’s jaw was causing her a headache. It had been hours since it set in—the tension and the headache—and the only thing Laurel wanted was the cheap vodka in her apartment. Her job was stressful on a good day, and she’d known that it would be when she started her Social Work course years prior. There were some days, though, where the planets aligned and the patients were inconsolable, the families were assholes and the hospital was letting everybody down. They were the days she could do without.

She had barely stepped foot into her apartment when her phone rang and she had to resist the urge to throw her entire bag at the wall. After a few deep breaths and letting the phone ring out, Laurel took out her phone and dropped her bag onto the kitchen counter as she passed it.

It started ringing again in her hand; Laurel inhaled for a count of five and then exhaled for a count of five just to stop herself from following through on throwing it into the wall. That was a sure-fire way to get on Hayley’s shitlist and Laurel had been pretty solidly off it for long enough that she had no intentions of ruining that.

Quinn’s name was on the screen and conflict bloomed through her entire body. It wasn’t immediately clear in her mind whether she’d be calmed by talking to him or if she’d take out her anger on him. The call rang out before she could think it over.

It buzzed again, a text coming through, and she lifted her phone to read it.

From Quinn: Call me when you’re home. Come for dinner 😊

Telling him she was home and ready at any moment was easy and did relieve the tension in her jaw just a little.

Changing out of her clothes felt like far too much of an effort; she’d put enough effort into her outfit that morning anyway. It was Friday after all and there was always the possibility that Friday could turn into Friday night so she liked to look a little more put together.

From Quinn: Stay the night at mine?

And then there was that.

She’d stayed the night at Quinn’s before, though it had just been the night they met and most definitely not planned in advance. Being essentially asked to pack an overnight bag was more preparation than Laurel had been expecting this soon into their… whatever.

Hayley walked into the apartment as Laurel walked out, her eyes immediately drifting to the bag slung over Laurel’s shoulder.

“I don’t even know,” Laurel said as she hitched it further up her shoulder.

“Be safe. Call me if you need me.”

They parted with a nod at each other, their relationship with each other existing almost solely on Girl Code more so than friendship.

If it had been any other day, Laurel’s walk to Quinn’s would have been fraught with overthinking about why he was explicitly asking her to stay the night—her day had been awful enough that she was still thinking about the father of one of her patients who looked her in the eye and told her that he wasn’t ever going to take direction from a little girl.

The frigid breeze was glorious for clearing her mind.

Her headache still lingered despite the tension releasing in her jaw; it didn’t stop the big smile that grew on her face when Quinn opened the door to let her in. His smiled matched hers and she let herself be swept into a hug before she was corralled into his apartment.

The smell of food was permeating the apartment, eliciting another smile from Laurel and an expression of confused delight. Quinn bashfully led her towards the kitchen and pointed to the stove where there was a pot of Napoli sauce simmering away.

“You can cook?”

She stepped into his space, her arms around his waist as she looked up at him, surprise and awe filling her body, and Quinn was standing a little taller than normal. A little prouder.

“I have a couple things up my sleeve.”

Laurel kissed him swiftly before hoisting up the bag that was falling down her arm; Quinn wasted no time in taking it from her and disappearing into his bedroom with it. Standing in his kitchen, watching him take her bag with no weirdness or second thoughts, Laurel wondered again just what she was getting into.

They ate on the couch, Quinn switching away from the hockey game that was playing—it was unclear if that decision was made before or after her face screwed up in disinterest—and Laurel singing his praises for the pasta with Napoli sauce.

“I leave for a road trip on Monday,” Quinn said when they’d cleared the dishes and were back on the couch, sitting right next to each other. “Don’t get back until the 19th.”

“That’s a long one. Where are you going?”

Quinn opened his mouth—the only thing that came out was a long ‘uhhh’—and pulled out his phone to bring up the schedule. He said, shamelessly, “I only know when I have to be at the airport because they told us at practice today.”

Laurel cuddled up to him so that they could look at the schedule together, asking a few questions about the vagueness of going to teams named after the entire state—“You’re just going to Florida, Carolina and Washington? As if that makes sense?”

“There’s a few of them,” Quinn said, his body shaking against Laurel’s while he laughed at her incredulity. She scrutinised the list of teams he brought up and finished the conversation mostly curious about the Florida team existing in a state with a second hockey team.

“They couldn’t just call them the Miami Panthers?”

“Their arena’s in Sunrise.”

Laurel scoffed, her eyes rolling, “Of course it is. Posers.”

Quinn’s body began to shake again, his laughter so manic that he wasn’t making any noise. Laurel contorted her body to get a better look at Quinn and was enraptured by the joy on his face at her silly joke.

Kissing him is the easiest decision she’s ever made, caught with an overwhelming need to just be pressed against him. He didn’t put up any protests, not that she’d expected him to, and within seconds Laurel was in Quinn’s lap, straddling his thigh. Her skirt fanned out around their legs and she revelled in the pressure of his fingers as he pressed his fingers into the meat of her thighs. She wished she hadn’t worn tights just so she could feel his skin against hers.

Nothing felt as easy as leaning further into him, getting as close as she could physically manage and rolling her hips just to get that little bit closer. Hearing the eager noises leave his mouth—the ones mirroring those leaving hers—made Laurel even more desperate.

“Take me to bed, Q,” she breathed into his ear, rolling her hips again for good measure and gasping when his bucked up to meet them.

He did as he was told, herding her towards his bedroom with his body pressed close against hers, making her giggle as he nipped at the parts of her neck he could reach. He didn’t let up when they made it to his bed, touching parts of Laurel’s body that she couldn’t remember being touched, kissing her skin and setting every nerve on fire.

Laurel tried to return the favour, though she was distracted by the way her body was reacting to Quinn and his touches so the best she could hope for was that he was getting pleasure just by giving pleasure to her.

Her legs were weak after multiple orgasms but she was able to make her way into the bathroom, Quinn following her in soon after. He didn’t take as long as she did, happy to just rinse off, kiss her lazily, and disappear back to bed with half-lidded eyes.

All of her toiletries looked strange sitting on his counter, taking up more space than anything else on there, but she was too sated and too tired to think about it any further.

Laurel slipped under the covers, rolling her eyes a little at how quickly Quinn had started to fall asleep; he was laying on his back with his eyes closed and the duvet pulled up to his chest. Laurel lied beside him, facing him and taking him in.

“What made you ask me to stay over?”

“Long road trip,” Quinn said, mumbled and half asleep. “Was gonna miss you.”

She didn’t know whether that statement was surprising or not, or if it was the honesty it was said with that made her heart squeeze in her chest. Laurel wormed her way under Quinn’s arm and into his side, raising her head just enough to kiss the underside of his jaw before she snuggled into him.

“You can call me. While you’re gone.”

He squeezed her.

“I will."

Laurel walked from her place to Quinn’s straight from work. He’d called during her lunch break to ask if she wanted to have dinner with him—maybe even stay over again—and Laurel hadn’t been able to refuse. They’d talked through his road trip mostly via text except for a phone call when he was in Florida to confirm that he was in fact not in Miami.

None of it really made sense to Laurel. Never had she been the type of person to be in constant contact with her… with the person she was seeing, but Quinn seemed to have no concerns about taking things too quickly or seriously.

She’d asked Karina for help after the phone call, desperately trying to figure out what it all meant, whether she needed to be thinking further ahead than the next day if Quinn was going to keep things the way they were.

“You’re worrying that he likes you too much?” Karina had asked, her disbelief playful but prominent. “I wish I had that problem at your age—hell, even five years ago I would have killed for that problem.”

“It’s too serious for being twenty-two.”

Karina’s laugh shocked Laurel, who truly had not been expecting it. “Laurel, sweetheart, none of this has anything to do with age.”

That didn’t help her at all.

There was no surprise home cooking waiting for her when she arrived at his door which she was quick to tease him for mostly because he had a very nice kitchen that it definitely was being wasted with him being away so often.

“I was thinking burgers and I can’t make them half as nice as the place around the corner,” Quinn said, watching Laurel from the opposite side of the kitchen counter.

She placed both her hands on the cool marble and narrowed her eyes playfully, “Are we eating here or are you taking me out, Huggy Bear?”

“I thought you’d forgotten about that,” he said with an eyeroll, his cheeks turning a nice shade of red.

“I’ve been thinking about it since that night at the bar. I don’t—why?”

“Hughes, the first three letters. It’s actually one of the more unique nicknames in hockey.”

“Are they all surname based?”

“Mostly, yeah. I should probably be Hughesy or something.”

“Not Quinny?” she teased, leaning further across the table.

“So,” Quinn said, taking a deep breath. “Quinn is technically a nickname—it’s short for Quintin.”

Laurel’s eyes widened, her head tilting ever-so-slightly as the corner of her mouth tilted up, and she said, “Is that a family name?”

“Yes,” he said, also around a smile. He then added, walking back towards his front door, “We’re going out for dinner.”

He extended his hand and Laurel didn’t think twice before she took it and let Quinn lead her out onto the street. He didn’t let her hand go when they made it onto the street like Laurel expected. She couldn’t put into words why she expected him to let go, just flexed her fingers around his and delighted in the way he swung their hands back and forth a few times.

Quinn didn’t let go until he found them a seat inside the restaurant but they sat beside each other on a bench seat, their legs pressed together tightly from knee to hip.

“Did you declare a major?” Laurel asked, midway through a story Quinn was telling about his college experience, when she realised that she hadn’t ever asked.

“Sports Management.”

Laurel hummed, “What does that let you do?”

“Become an agent, mostly, but it’d get you on the path to managing a team, too.”

“That’s what you want to do?”

His shoulders lifted in a shrug, Laurel watched him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. It took a while, a few fries being pushed into his mouth, before he finally answered, “I just want to play hockey.”

The conversation fell off there, Laurel just nodding even as her brain ticked over. Athletes and their short careers—their lack of preparation for life after sports—were a topic that fascinated her despite her general disinterest in sports. She recognised that if it was a conversation they were going to have, it needed to come much later in their relationship. Mostly for her own sanity.

Their otherwise quiet meal was interrupted by a birthday in the restaurant, and a raucous rendition of Happy Birthday was being sung to some poor man named Nathan who looked very much like he’d rather be anywhere else but sitting in front of a birthday cake.

“When’s your birthday?” Quinn asked when the noise settled.

“The third.”

A range of emotions crossed his face in a matter of seconds, and his voice was tighter than she’d heard it when he asked, “Of January?”

She smiled softly, placing her hand on his thigh reassuringly as she said, “Feb. It’s in like two weeks.”

The panic on Quinn’s face didn’t disappear, despite Laurel’s best efforts. “I don’t know if I’m going to be here.”

“I’m not worried about it. I don’t really do birthdays, so, if you aren’t here, it’s fine.”

Quinn checked his schedule, then, despite Laurel’s insistence that she didn’t care about her birthday, and radiated happiness and relief when it showed he’d be in Vancouver. She smiled at him, less sincerely than before, but at least happy that he was happy.

Quinn was home for her birthday.

It wasn’t something she’d given much thought to, really, because he’d been talking to her about plans for the Thursday evening—her actual birthday—and then for the weekend pretty consistently since he found out that her birthday was so soon.

It wasn’t until the week before her birthday, when he disappeared on a long road trip, that she realised that she was lucky he’d be around at all let alone be around for an entire weekend. If she had been born one week earlier, he would have been playing in Winnipeg.

When they’d spoken about it for the first time, Laurel had been telling the truth when she told him she wouldn’t have been bothered if he was away—that had changed when she realised that there was every possibility that he might have missed it. He’d made her excited for something she hadn’t cared about in years.

Laurel was dressed up nicely in her most expensive dress pants and a top that was probably too low cut—but it showed off the body chain she rarely got the chance to wear—and sitting on the bench in her building’s lobby as she waited for Quinn. Wherever they were headed to was within walking distance according to Quinn, but Laurel had no measure for how far he considered walking distance. She laid her winter coat over her lap and tapped her heels against the tiled floor.

Quinn waved at her through the glass door and she could see that his cheeks were slightly red from the cold despite the beanie on his head and the scarf around his neck.

“Happy birthday,” he said sweetly when she walked outside, and Laurel kissed him immediately, then tapped his nose because it was so cold against hers.

She tugged the scarf tighter around his neck, then lifted it up so it covered the bottom half of his face—resulting in a laugh as he spluttered bits of fluff—before she rushed to put her coat on before she lost all feeling in her upper body.

They started walking back in the direction Quinn came from, their hands linked, and Laurel bit back her comment about how she could have met him wherever they were going if he’d gone out his way, only because he’d insisted that it was a surprise.

And a surprise it was.

They arrived at Elisa and Laurel’s jaw dropped. Quinn noticed but only smiled at her as he led them inside.

It took a lot to make Laurel speechless, and Elisa could definitely be described as a lot. While it didn’t look overly fancy, not in the try hard way Laurel usually associated with fine dining, she still felt out of place as they were walked through the restaurant to a relatively secluded table.

“Have you ever been here before?” Quinn asked one they were seated and the waiter had disappeared to fetch a bottle of wine.

“No,” Laurel said, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve never been here.”

Quinn was quite pleased with himself, judging by the way his lips turned upwards.

When the wine arrived, Laurel wished she had any appreciation for it. It was undoubtedly better—smoother, at least—than the various bottles she’d bought over the years, but she could see other people in the room swirling it in the glass before drinking it slowly. She took an inappropriately large mouthful and hoped nobody but Quinn saw.

Staring at the menu made her uncomfortable. The price tags next to them made her skin itch and her purse hurt at the thought of what the bill would be at the end of the night. Maybe Quinn would just let her pay for her meal and not expect her to split it evenly down the middle.

“Anything you like?” Quinn asked, his foot tapping the side of hers under the table to get her full attention.

“The cauliflower sounds nice,” Laurel said, trying to keep her voice steady but she was also trying to remember to breathe so it wasn’t very convincing.

“Are you a vegetarian?” Quinn asked, his eyes wide. “I should probably know that by now.”

“No, Quinn, we had burgers together the last time we saw each other.”

“Then you can be a bit more adventurous than a crispy cauliflower starter.”

“Quinn,” Laurel whispered, leaning forward so that nobody else would hear her, “this is the exact restaurant my college friends and I would joke about only being able to afford if we became sugar babies or gold diggers. I can’t afford anything else on this menu.”

“But I can,” he said, as if that wasn’t already abundantly clear to Laurel. “I’m not gonna make you pay for a date anyway, definitely not on your birthday.”

Still leaning forward, she frowned, “You’re just going to ignore the gold digger bit.”

“If you were with me for my money, I think I’d know it by now.”

Laurel wasn’t going to debate with him in the middle of Elise that six weeks was not enough time for him to know—it certainly wasn’t enough time for him to take her to Elise for her birthday. But they were there. It would be rude to walk out.

“Next time we go out we can get tacos or something,” Quinn suggested, sounding a little worried. “But I want you to order what you really want. Live your sugar daddy dream, or whatever.”

Relaxing back into her seat, she couldn’t help but laugh at Quinn’s statement, at the serious expression on his face as he said it. She clarified with him that he was sure that he could take back what he’d said up until she told the waiter her order. Quinn assured her that he wasn’t going to do such a thing, especially not on her birthday.

The weekend following Laurel’s birthday was the All-Star Game, and Laurel was resigned to watching more hockey than she ever had in her life. It wasn’t real hockey, Quinn explained, and she didn’t really watch but it was on in the background at Quinn’s place so it was unavoidable.

When it was finally over, they were cuddled on the couch watching Black Summer when Quinn’s phone interrupted them. Laurel pulled away from him enough to let him take it off the coffee table. At first it appeared that he was going to silence it, but as he leant back into the couch Laurel noticed the furrow of his brow when it became clear it was a FaceTime call.

“Can I—” he cut himself off and his brow got even tighter, the worry so evident on his face that Laurel felt worry well up inside her.

“Yeah, go ahead,” she said softly, pausing the show and putting her hand on his thigh and squeezing just to remind him that he was there.

He answered the call, holding his breath, and answered it with, “Should I be worried?”

The man on the other end was smiling, everything around him so loud that his greeting was barely intelligible. “I don’t know how to tell you this, bud, but I think Jack and Daisy are getting married.”

“They wouldn’t.”

The camera switched around on Quinn’s friend’s side, revealing what was undoubtedly a Vegas wedding chapel with a young couple standing at the altar staring into each other’s eyes so dreamily Laurel flinched. Jack and Daisy, presumably.

“You got any other ideas about what’s happening here?”

Quinn quickly started a screen recording, even if his fingers fumbled through it and accidentally turned low battery mode on and his flashlight in the control centre first.

“Did you know about this? Before today?”

“Yeah, I knew about it and didn’t even ask you if you were showing up for it. Of course, I didn’t fucking know,” Brady argued, only to promptly get shushed by someone sitting next to him.

Laurel reached over to mute Quinn’s microphone, so that she could say, “That’s Daisy? She’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, she’s always been pretty,” Quinn agreed, readily. Easily. “Still don’t know how Jack managed to land her, let alone keep her, let alone marry her. Mom’s gonna actually murder him. I might.”

Laurel—who had never been close to her family and always imagined that one day she would just see her family again with a wedding ring and a spouse—didn’t totally understand why Quinn was so upset. She’d heard him talk about his family enough to know that they were incredibly important to him but she still couldn’t wrap her head around it.

They watched in silence as the ceremony continued. It was generic and, truthfully, lacklustre as far as weddings went until Jack admitted that it wasn’t real, just a joke, and then landed on one knee. Laurel couldn’t hear anything from the phone that wasn’t just loud noises and the video itself was a nauseating combination of colours and movement.

“Fucking little shit,” Quinn mumbled under his breath, clearly relieved.

“Did you know he was going to propose?” Laurel asked. “Obviously not right now.”

“He got the ring about a week ago. Started planning it before Christmas but only picked it up last week. He told me he didn’t know when he was going to propose.”

Laurel hummed, leaning back into the couch as Quinn turned his microphone back on just as Jack and Daisy very much looked like they were seconds away from a full-on sex show in front of all their friends.

“I’m gonna send this to my mom,” Quinn said—Laurel wasn’t sure he could even be heard over the insanity on the other end. “I’ll call you later.”

With the call ended and the video sent to his mother, Quinn sat on the couch and stared blankly at the frozen zombie on the television.

“Are you happy, sad or mad?” she asked tentatively, giving his thigh another squeeze.

“Don’t know. I always knew that they’d probably get there before I did but didn’t really think it’d be before Jack was even 21.”

Laurel moved closer to him, pressing herself closer to Quinn; she had no idea what to say about him, about Jack, about marriage in general.

She was truly out of her depth.

Laurel was halfway out the door when Hayley stepped out of the elevator. Laurel waited at the door, holding it open so that Hayley wouldn’t have to get her key out.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, I guess,” Laurel laughed, noting the flowers Hayley was carrying.

Hayley’s eyes fell to the bag hanging from Laurel’s hand. She said, cold and emotionless, “You have to give me notice if you’re moving out. You can’t just stop paying rent.”

“Did the money not go through?” Laurel asked, immediately reaching into her pocket for her phone to check her bank account. “I swear I saw it worked.”

“It did—calm down,” Hayley said, sweeter than she’s been speaking before. “Just—you’ve been spending a lot of time at your boyfriend’s—”

Laurel, hyper aware that she was heading over to Quinn’s yet again, hastily denied the accusation. “We haven’t been together that long. We haven’t even had the exclusive talk yet.”

“Just give me some time to find someone to move in,” Hayley said, slowly, and Laurel knew for certain that she wasn’t believed.

“Yeah, of course,” Laurel said, just as slowly, but more concerned. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

With a simple nod, and an instruction to have fun, Hayley disappeared inside and Laurel was left to walk to Quinn’s—left to overthink the specifics of her relationship with him and the possibility of those specifics being defined when she arrived at his place.

The bouquet of roses lying on the kitchen counter shouldn’t have surprised her as much as they did.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he said, his smile proud.

Laurel picked up the bouquet as she passed it, her heart beating so rapidly and thunderously that she could hear it in her ears. She hadn’t expected anything at all—which she realised was silly after Quinn had gone all out for her birthday—after receiving nothing of the sort from any relationship she’d been in.

“Thank you, Quinn,” whispered, stepping into his arms with the bouquet carefully tucked between them. “Is it a stupid question if I ask if we’re exclusive?��

“I—” Quinn paused before he started laughing, the vibration running through Laurel. “I’ve been telling people you’re my girlfriend.”

“You forgot to tell me, though.” She added, a little petulantly but mostly in a longing whisper, “You didn’t even ask me.”

Quinn asked, with all the seriousness of a fifteen-year-old asking their crush to prom in front of their entire class, “Will you be my girlfriend?”

Warmth filled Laurel’s cheeks and she buried her face into his chest, unsure if she was embarrassed that she didn’t know or embarrassed by how giddy it made her feel.

It was late, much later than Laurel usually slept in even after a big night. She could tell it was late without even looking at her phone because her body always had a visceral reaction to waking any later than 8am.

Quinn was saying her name softly and Laurel hummed before her eyes opened—she was always instantly awake.

“You let me sleep in,” she mumbled unhappily.

“You need it,” he said softly. “I have to go to practice. You can stay here.”

“Practice?” Laurel asked, her eyes screwing shut in confusion. “It’s a Saturday.”

Quinn’s laugh was gentle and Laurel looked up to see his face soft; he didn’t have to say anything for her to know that she’d said something wrong.

“No weekends in hockey.”

“They should give you weekends.”

“I’ll give you the commissioner’s number and you can lodge a direct complaint.”

Laurel smiled at him, reeled him in by the hand and kissed him—he didn’t seem to have any complaints about morning breath but the hint of mint on his lips was a nice little zing to wake up to.

He left shortly after, unswayed by her attempts to lure him back into bed, and Laurel stared up at his ceiling wondering exactly how long he spent at practice.

She showered and then tried not to feel weird about raiding his kitchen while he wasn’t home; tried not to feel weird about being in his apartment while he wasn’t home.

Nothing in the apartment had been kept secret from her, so she didn’t think she’d get any major insight into Quinn’s life by snooping through the chest of drawers he’d been letting her pull shirts out of since the first day.

Laurel made a bagel with cream cheese, afraid to do much more lest she damage Quinn’s very nice kitchen and sat down in front of the television. As she ate, she opened her phone and noticed overnight she’d picked up a few more Instagram followers which she attributed to the photo of her birthday outfit.

Weirder were the random comments she’d gotten on a few of her older photos, all of which were the same person commenting on how chubby Laurel’s cheeks were. Prominent buccal fat ran in the family; there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Her attention was immediately drawn away, though, by a comment she saw on a new post of Daisy’s—Jack’s girlfriend who she’d followed after Quinn wouldn’t stop talking about her in stories from his life in Michigan.

She pondered it, forgot about it as she turned her attention to re-watching Desperate Housewives, and only remembered when Quinn walked through the door after practice, his hair still wet.

“Why is Elena Rubio commenting on Daisy’s Insta posts?” she asked, not even greeting Quinn properly. “Why are people acting like it’s normal? She’s really famous.”

Quinn leant down to kiss her, hovering above her where she was tucked up onto the couch.

He shrugged. “Jack played half a season with Elena’s boyfriend. She and Daisy kept in touch.”

Kneeling up on the couch cushion and leaning over the back of the couch, Laurel watched Quinn potter around for a few moments before her thoughts won out and she asked, “Do you know how insane that is? Elena Rubio has won Oscars. Plural.”

His head tilted. “Okay?”

“Is knowing famous people common? You don’t seem to think that’s a big deal.”

“Not really? People know people, and if they’re hockey fans then they’re easier to become friends with. Hockey players are sort of famous.”

“Well, yeah, in very specific circles but Elena Rubio is a household name worldwide. She’s like Angelina Jolie or Sandra Bullock.”

“Carrie Underwood married a guy who played in Nashville but I don’t pay attention to it—you could probably google it.”

Laurel did just that, sitting back down on the couch and opening her phone. The results were middling—Vanessa from the original incarnation of Gossip Girl was dating a player, there was something about a WWE Diva once being married to a player, a moderately famous model named Lola Faraday, and a bunch of other women who only loosely fit Laurel’s definition of ‘celebrity’.

The couch dipped beside her; Quinn peaked over her shoulder to see what she was looking at.

“What makes it so interesting?”

“I don’t know,” Laurel said truthfully. “You’re hot professional athletes in your physical prime, it wouldn’t have surprised me if there was a never ending list of players dating singers or models or actresses—the lists seem to be quite old, though, and filled with a bunch of celebrities I haven’t heard of.”

“Do you think I should go shoot my shot with a celebrity?” Quinn asked, tongue in cheek.

The panic that flared inside Laurel was unusual, a jealousy she couldn’t ever remember experiencing before. She hoped the panic wasn’t audible in her voice, “I can’t compete with a celebrity, so no.”

“You can compete.”

“Sure,” Laurel said with an unconvinced hum.

Quinn’s arm wrapped around her shoulder and he pulled her closer, kissing the side of her head instead of arguing against her. Laurel didn’t doubt that he believed what he was saying, even if she didn’t think it was the truth.

“Some people aren’t very nice to Daisy,” Laurel said, frowning as she scrolled deeper down the comments left on Daisy’s post. “They’re actually kind of awful. She’s not even remotely fat but they’re talking about her as if she’s literally a beached whale—that’s an actual whale emoji. Oh my god. She knows how to deal with this?”

“Uh,” Quinn hesitated. “Depends what day it is? Some days she fights back, other days she ignores it and Jack’s told me there are some days that are full of tears.”

“God, people are so awful,” Laurel sighed, turning off her phone and throwing it on the other couch so she would stop looking at it.

Settling into Quinn’s side was the only thing she could think to do, hung up on the idea of anyone going to the effort to be so unashamedly horrible.

“Do you want to come to a game next week?”

Laurel paused, putting down the knife in her hand, and turned to face Quinn. He looked as awkward as ever standing in her kitchen, his hands buried deep in his pockets and his shoulders up around his ears.

“Do you want me to come?” she asked carefully. “I’m not interested in hockey so if given the choice I will say no, but, if you want me there, I want to support you and I will go.”

Quinn’s face shuttered, his shoulders somehow raising even higher. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“Quinn,” Laurel said firmly, “do you want me to watch you play hockey?”

“Well, yeah,” he said, resigned. “Course I do.”

With her most convincing nod and her kindest smile, despite her intense disinterest, Laurel assured him, “Tell me when and what I have to do and I’ll be there.”

It was enough to relax Quinn’s shoulders, bringing them back to their normal position. “It’s against Jack on the 15th; you can sit with my mom and Daisy.”

Laurel’s shoulders ended up around her ears, instead, any pleasure she’d gained from making Quinn happy disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. He was still watching her, no apprehension, completely unaware that his request was far outside of Laurel’s comfort zone.

“Your mom, Quinn?” She hesitated. “I don’t—do I have to?”

His discomfort returned, tenfold it looked like to Laurel though she didn’t have much time to read his expression before he was turning his back to her and walking towards his bedroom.

“I—I guess not,” he said, though it was muffled. With his back to her, she was only able to hear it because the otherwise silent apartment was suffocating. “I just thought it’d be nice.”

With careful footsteps, Laurel followed Quinn into the bedroom but stopped in the door and watched as he moved aimlessly. She couldn’t find a single intention to anything he was doing, just opening and closing drawers, moving things around on his nightstand and tidying the bed they’d already made.

“Quinn?” Laurel asked after a few minutes of stifling silence.

“Yeah?” He lifted his head; the false nonchalance he was projecting made her uncomfortable.

“I just think it’s a bit soon,” she explained in a whisper. “Is that okay?”

“Sure.”

There was no sign that it actually was okay just as there was no sign that he was going to engage in a conversation that might get it there, so Laurel sighed and left him to fiddle.

It was too early for her to head to work and she wanted some sort of resolution before she disappeared. There was a realisation that it might have been their first ‘fight’ but that didn’t concern her half as much as the thought that it might have been her first ever fight in a relationship—that, despite the short length of it, nothing had ever come close to what she had with Quinn. None of that was anything she wanted to deal with inside a hospital. The self-realisations and growth inside those walls were best left to the patients she was discharging.

Not that there was anything she could do about it when finishing up the fruit salad she’d been making for her lunch—she was already planning the conversation she would have with Karina while eating it.

Quinn didn’t reappear until the salad was packed away and the dishes were washed but he didn’t say a single word as he started moving around in the kitchen in much the same way he’d done in his bedroom.

“Are you going to be in a mood for the rest of the day?” Laurel asked, trying to keep the accusatory edge out of her voice. “I said I’d go to the game.”

“I don’t know any other guy who’s had to beg their girlfriend to come to a game.”

“You didn’t beg, you asked. You know I’m not into hockey.”

“And you won’t meet my mom.”

A burst of panic in her chest caused Laurel to freeze and she barely managed to ask, “Can I do one thing at a time?”

“I don’t know when she’s going to be back in town.”

“I’m not ready for that.”

“Okay,” Quinn said shortly.

His phone started to ring and he didn’t hesitate to leave her standing in the kitchen. He mumbled something along the lines of Jack’s got it so fucking easy as he retreated back to his bedroom.

Laurel, at a total loss and about two minutes away from just leaving for the day, decided to drop down onto the couch heavily and check the notification she’d gotten on her phone when she was starting her cooking. It was another random comment from someone she’d never heard of, who she couldn’t see had any followers in common—this one wasn’t an attack on her cheeks but on the birthday post that people seemed to be most drawn to, on the outfit she’d felt very good about.

The comment didn’t make her feel as good.

Quinn returned much more sombre than he had been when he left. Laurel had expected a frosty remainder of the morning with minimal communication and even less physical contact before she left for work, but he sat down right beside her on the couch.

“I’m happy you’re coming to a game,” he whispered. “Thank you.”

“Is everything alright?” Laurel asked, not even sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

He sighed, though it didn’t sound particularly sad, “Yeah. Everything’s fine. Just didn’t expect to hear from Jack today.”

Rogers Place was daunting and Laurel wasn’t prepared.

She was late, to start with, rushing from work and through a sea of people wearing Canucks jerseys, and incredibly flustered by the time she reached the security guard and had to scramble through her purse for her ID while he stared at her, just waiting for the moment he could tell her to turn around.

The crowd was raucous by the time she was standing outside the box she’d been led to—she’d shirked the security guard when they arrived, refusing to let him open the door before she was ready. That didn’t end up mattering, though, because as she was taking a deep breath and reaching forward to open the door, someone appeared beside her.

That someone she recognised as the woman who had tattooed the cat onto her forearm. Annie, who Quinn had told her would be waiting.

“Hey! Laurel, right? I didn’t think you’d make it,” Annie said, moving past Laurel to open the door and reveal the box, and the ice.

“Hi, yeah. Annie?” Laurel clarified, even though she’d be hard pressed to mistake the tattoos and lavender pixie cut. “I got held up at work.”

“Don’t worry about it; we’ve all been there. Come in and meet the gang.”

‘The gang’ was an assortment of partners whose names Laurel immediately forgot, and a few small children Laurel did her best to avoid. They were all very welcoming, at least, and yet she got the distinct feeling that they were putting on a show for her as the New WAG.

“Have you been to many hockey games?” Annie asked when they were sitting.

“No,” Laurel answered, probably too stiffly, and she forced her hands under her thighs. The wool tights she was wearing were too hot for the suite. “This is actually my first one. I have no idea what’s going on.”

“Good first game to come to; you get to watch Quinn play against his brother,” said someone who wasn’t Annie—the captain’s wife, potentially. That as a name Laurel would definitely need to learn about later.

Annie added, “I even think Jack’s girlfriend is here.”

“Yeah,” Laurel said, focusing very hard on not sounding bitter. “She’s sitting with their mother.”

“You didn’t want to sit with them?”

The focus on trying not to sound bitter shifted to not gritting her teeth. The suite really was too hot, and the attention on her was only making it worse. Laurel wished that everyone would just turn around and watch the game that had started, but every eye was focused on her, waiting for an answer.

It bothered her enough that she rushed out her answer without really thinking about it, “It’s way too early to meet his mother, and I don’t quite know how to broach the topic of Daisy.”

“What do you mean?” Annie asked, looking out over the ice presumably to where Daisy and Quinn’s mom might have been.

The captain’s wife was leaning in closer, too, as if it was something she would need to deal with—or something she would need to report back to the captain. Laurel didn’t know; she could assume, though.

“I don’t know,” Laurel sighed. The flood gates of her annoyance were opened. “Sometimes it just feels like there’s more than one Hughes brother who’s in love with her.”

Annie scoffed, loudly, in horror, “Quinn would never. She’s basically his little sister.”

“That’s what he says but sometimes it’s just… I don’t know.” Laurel tried to shrug, not only was it hindered by her hands being shoved under her legs but it was just weak in general, her attempt at playing it off falling flat.

“You have to ask him direct questions about it. Hockey players aren’t that bright.”

“That’s a gross overgeneralisation,” Laurel said, her annoyance swiftly moving on. She didn’t take her eyes off the game, even if she lost track of the puck every other second and had no idea where Quinn was or if he was even on the ice.

“They’re not; they’ll tell you that,” Annie said, laughter in her voice. “Too many hits to the head.”

“Quinn went to college and he’s not the only one.” Laurel finally looked at Annie and didn’t want to think about the fire in her own eyes. “You shouldn’t just label them all as dumb like that. It’s really harmful.”

“It’s just a joke,” Annie said slowly—the fire in Laurel’s eyes clearly worse than even she’d expected. “One that they’re in on.”

“I think they deserve more credit. I’m going to use the bathroom.”

Laurel stared at herself in the mirror and let the faucet run with cold water she wished she could splash on her face. It wasn’t the first impression she’d been hoping for. All she wanted was to meet a couple of people, learn one thing about hockey and leave without any other fuss—it had been nothing but optimistic.

In lieu of using the water to cool down her cheeks, Laurel ripped off some paper towel, held it under the faucet before ringing it out and pressing it to the back of her neck. Goosebumps ran down her arms but the relief was incredible.

The very last thing she wanted to do was re-enter the suite and if she hadn’t promised Quinn she’d stay until the end of the game she would have made her way home. As it were, she had made that promise so she put on her bravest face, opened the door and found a seat at the back from which she could still see the ice.

She remained in that same seat until the end of the third period, not even moving for the intermissions. The final buzzer went, though, and Laurel was on her feet and out the door. Navigating the crowd on the way out was worse than on the way in.

Quinn had given her a key to his apartment after Laurel reiterated that she was not ready to meet his mother and would under no circumstances be doing that outside the locker room after the game. The key felt out of place in her bag and it was a relief to leave it on the counter as she passed through the kitchen.

By the time he got home Laurel was showered, changed into her pyjamas and once again reading strange Instagram comments. He wasn’t acting any weirder than when she left for work that morning, so she assumed nobody had told him about her Ice Queen routine. Or the comment she made about him maybe being in love with Daisy.

She was more willing to share one than the other.

“How’d it go? We won for you.”

“I noticed.” That was a little heartwarming, she had to admit. “Thank you.”

In next to no time, Quinn was undressed and laying beside her. He was nothing but sincere as he asked, “How was it?”

“I don’t think I made many friends.” She stared up at the ceiling, her phone left to fall somewhere beside her.

“Why’s that?”

“Annie made a comment about hockey players being stupid and I told her she shouldn’t make sweeping generalisations.”

Entirely unexpectedly, Quinn laughed. “To be fair, we are pretty dumb.”

Laurel sat up, already feeling the annoyance of earlier that evening returning. Quinn watched her with wide, confused eyes.

“You went to college.”

“For two years. I didn’t even graduate.”

“Graduating isn’t the only metric of intelligence,” Laurel said pointedly. She turned her body so that she was directly facing him, not just craning her neck.

“Going to college isn’t either. I didn’t go to college because I was smart, I went because UMich has a great hockey program.”

He reached out for her, to take her hand across the duvet, but she moved away to hold it against her chest.

Her heart had no reason to be thumping as hard as it was, yet she couldn’t deny the stress in her voice when she asked,“So you’re just happy to let people think you’re stupid? No debating it?”

“What does it matter if a few people think I’m stupid?”

“Isn’t Annie your friend?” Laurel questioned, baffled. If any of her friends had taken to belittling her intelligence behind her back, whether it was true or not, reconsidering their friendship would be instantaneous.

“Why is it so important to you?” Quinn’s voice was filled with a simmering rage that she hadn’t heard since their fight about her going to the game. “It sounds like being smart is the only important thing in the world.”

“I’ve watched really bright kids be pushed to the side because their parents decided that all their kids were dumb,” Laurel pressed, her own voice strained, “maybe because the parents themselves aren’t very intelligent. Maybe none of them were ever given the opportunity. I’m not saying that everyone is or needs to be the smartest in the room; I’m saying it’s harmful to just say that all hockey players are dumb because guys aren’t even going to try.”

Quinn’s brows pulled together, what he said next clearly very obvious to him, “They don’t have to try. As long as they’re good at hockey.”

The ire in Laurel’s body collapsed into sadness—disappointment, maybe—and she tried to convey her desperation to him with just a look. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

“Quinn, you know that this has to end. Some players will be out of hockey before they’re twenty-five, right? If they truly think they’re stupid because that’s what they’ve been told their entire life then what hope do they have of being successful in anything else? All they’re good at is hockey, right? What’s Jack going to do?”

“I don’t—” Quinn sighed. “This isn’t a fight I want to have, Laurel.”

Laurel shuffled down the bed, turning her back to him and pulling herself to the edge of the mattress.

“Okay.”

Laurel had, in a fit of guilt, agreed to spend time with Daisy while Quinn took his mother to breakfast. Jack was well on his way to the next city and Laurel didn’t want to be the reason that Daisy spent the morning alone, so she said yes to cooking them breakfast.

It was the only time Laurel could remember being ungrateful for the extra days off afforded to her at work.

Quinn didn’t even stick around to wait for Daisy to arrive so he could introduce them—though Laurel did expect that if he had, Daisy would have arrived with Quinn’s mom and defeated the whole purpose of the separate breakfast.

So, Daisy arrived shortly after Quinn left, and Laurel just stood to one side in the kitchen as Daisy talked a mile a minute, introducing herself and depositing a grocery bag of pancake ingredients and topping onto the counter.

She beamed at Laurel when it was all out and neatly organised: “Pancakes?”

“Pancakes,” Laurel agreed, much more subdued.

“I know Quinn tried to get you to sit with us last night,” Daisy said as she opened some drawers to find bowls and measuring cups that Laurel didn’t even know Quinn owned. “He shouldn’t have tried to put you in the middle of all that.”

“All what? Do you and his mother not get along?” Laurel asked, stunned at how casual Daisy was. “I don’t mean to pry, sorry.”

Daisy shook her head, “We get along great, emotions have just been really high since I—oh wow, this still isn’t easy to talk about. The—you know. Planned Parenthood and all that.”

Laurel paused. “I didn’t know. He didn’t say.”

“Oh,” Daisy said, though it didn’t seem that her own pause was because she’d revealed something she hadn’t meant to. “Jack said you were together when they spoke last week so I figured.”

“No but I guess that explains why his mood shifted so suddenly that morning. Are you—are you okay?”

“Yeah. I just feel stupid that we let it happen in the first place.”

“That’s the word of the day apparently. It probably doesn’t mean much coming from me, but you aren’t stupid. Shit happens and sometimes it’s not fucking fun. You’ve just gotta do what you gotta do.”

“Thanks, Laurel,” Daisy said with a smile so sincere Laurel inwardly flinched. “It does mean a lot.”

Needing something to do with her hands and distract herself from the entirely unexpected seriousness of the conversation, grabbed at the lemons to cut them up and juice them.

Thankfully the conversation was kept light while they cooked—even lighter when the first pancake came out burnt in a phenomenon that upset them both because they agreed the test pancake is most definitely the best pancake.

Daisy was fine, Laurel decided. That did little to assuage her worries that Quinn was in love with Daisy, of course, but it was hardly Daisy’s fault if he was. The way she spoke about Jack made it clear that she wasn’t leaving him for anyone, though, which did ease some of the concerns.

They sat down at the dining table to eat, setting it with way too many toppings for the two of them, and Laurel got whiplash when Daisy jumped back into the heavy conversation without any preamble.

“Ellen doesn’t know yet—or she might now but she definitely didn’t last night. I just thought you didn’t want to sit with us in case you accidentally spilled the beans.”

“I’m not ready to meet his parents yet. We’ve only been official since Valentine’s Day—it’s been a month.” Laurel pushed a piece of pancake through the lemon juice on her plate without looking up.

“Oh, yeah, I didn’t really think about that. Jack and I were in high school, so parents were kind of unavoidable. I’ve never had to deal with it being too soon. They’re good people, Ellen and Jim. Helped me through a lot even when Jack and I were brand new.”

Laurel nodded, still not looking up from her plate. She didn’t have anything else to say; she couldn’t argue that they were bad people when she’d never met them. She also didn’t feel like spilling her life story to Daisy.

It wasn’t a problem Daisy had, though. She wasn’t at all bothered by Laurel’s silence, just filled it easily with the revelation that her mother had passed away when she was in elementary school. Until Ellen came along, Daisy said with the most well-adjusted ease Laurel had ever come across, she didn’t have a maternal figure to help her through the day-to-day aspects of growing up.

Laurel sat in place, stewing over her own mother being physically present but emotionally distant, and wondered, not for the first time, if it wouldn’t have been easier to run away to live with her father. Maybe his third wife would have been a better mother.

Things had calmed down quite considerably after Quinn was able to spend time with Ellen. Laurel decided that the pressure he’d put on her about them meeting stemmed more from him missing Ellen more than it did from being desperate for them to meet.

Laurel hadn’t been to any more games. Quinn didn’t put any pressure on her for the other games that week—taking her comments that she hadn’t made any friends in stride, saying that they could try again whenever Laurel wanted—and then he’d disappeared on a weeklong road trip.

She was really hating road trips, and not just because she had to return to the tiny apartment she shared with someone she only liked half the time.

Missing Quinn as much as she did hadn’t become normal yet, in fact it was getting worse every time he left.

She spent a lot of time on Instagram while he was gone—the influx in followers and comments was getting increasingly more aggressive, steadily rising each and every day. For someone who had never put too much stock into what other people did or said on social media, Laurel was taking them all very seriously.

Quinn caught on when he got home and his eyes had flickered to her screen more than a couple times. There was nothing for her to try and hide, so she hadn’t thought twice about him seeing what she was doing, or even telling him about the sudden uptick.

That was a mistake, though, she soon realised, when he immediately tensed up and said, “I’m calling Annie.”

“Why would you call Annie?” Laurel asked, turning off the screen and hiding the phone behind her leg as if he’d change his mind.

“Because they’ve found you and I don’t—I need—How long?”

Laurel hesitated to answer, and settled on a not-entirely-truthful, “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“Right. We’ll get them to stop.”

And so, Laurel ended up sitting in a very nice living of a very nice house, opposite Annie and her lavender hair, her tattoos and a resting bitch face that Laurel was actually quite jealous of. It was enough to put her on the back foot immediately.

“I know that I wasn’t the nicest or whatever, at the game. I’m sorry. I get preachy and a lot of people don’t like being preached at,” she conceded, her head hanging low.

“If it was a little less preachy,” Annie said, her voice much lighter than Laurel had expected, “we’d probably agree about most stuff.”

Laurel wasn’t actually sure if Quinn had briefed Annie on why he’d brought her over; he hadn’t said a whole lot while they were driving away from downtown and into the suburbs of Vancouver. The silence left her pondering exactly what Quinn had found so serious about it all, so serious that he couldn’t even tell her why he wanted her to talk to Annie.

“I kind of need help, though? If I’m not pushing my luck. I’m gaining Insta followers like crazy and I don’t know these people. They’re commenting on my photos and my stories and sending me messages. Quinn seems to think it’s a big deal.”

Annie bristled, her back straightening so immediately that Laurel flinched. Her question was filled with exasperation and defeat, “You have a public account?”

“Uh, yeah? Don’t most people?”

Annie sighed.

“First things first—make it private. Once it’s private, you block everybody you don’t know so that they unfollow you. The photos currently on the account are already out in the world but we can at least stop new ones from getting out.”

Laurel let the words sink in, trying to make sense of them as well as trying to make sense of how serious Annie looked—the resting bitch face had shifted to determined and a little frightened.

It frightened Laurel that she squeaked out, “Getting out?”

“Fuck, you really don’t get it. You’re a WAG now, so there’s a subset of fans who care about you and they care too much. Sometimes they’re just really nice and respect that you’re human and have feelings and then there’s the psychos who send you hate mail.”

As she was speaking, Annie opened up her own phone and Googled her name—the first results, predictably were related to her tattoo artist career but as she scrolled a little further she put her phone down on the table so that Laurel could see every link that followed that was slightly off-kilter.

It was all disjointed but exactly as Annie had said. Various photos of Annie were splashed across Twitter or Tumblr, with or without Brock, and the accompanying comments that moved between complimentary and taking cheap shots at how little Annie weighed, or the ever-changing colour of her hair, or the state of her tattoos.

It wasn’t dissimilar to some of the comments Laurel had seen on Daisy’s Instagram—or the one she’d seen on her own.

With her heart in her stomach, Laurel said, “They like to go for my cheeks.”

“Your cheeks?” Annie asked, her voice and face softening.

“They won’t shut up about how chubby they are, as if I don’t know exactly how much fat is sitting in my cheekbones.”

Annie laughed, humourlessly, “They always find the insecurity. They’re real fucking good at it.”

Together they went through the long process of clearing out Laurel’s followers, blocking them all one by one. The number had crept up a lot higher than she thought it had.

Rogers Arena was no less daunting the second time.

It was a very different daunting, though, despite Karina being by her side. She wasn’t making a beeline to the suites because nobody knew she was even at the game, but trying to get to their seats moments before the puck was set to drop was a stress Laurel didn’t need.

“You can teach me what’s going on, right?” Laurel turned to Karina in a panic while still halfway down the stairs

“Yes, Laurel,” Karina sighed, fond but exasperated, turning Laurel back around and guiding her to their seats. “Just like I told you I could when you asked me to come.”

“I know, I just—I want to surprise Quinn.”

Karina reminded her, again, that there was no way Laurel was going to learn all the ins and outs of hockey from one game—“definitely not when the Canucks are playing the Coyotes.”—as they sat down in their seats. The seats that cost far more money than Laurel had anticipated; good thing she was ready to fully commit to being a WAG who knew the sport.

Despite Karina’s insistence that the game was going to be lacklustre and nothing to learn from, the Canucks came out swinging.

Laurel knew enough from what Quinn had told her that multiple goal games weren’t all that common so seeing the Canucks score two goals in the first period was exciting enough. When they scored another four in the second, with only one minor interruption from the Coyotes she was ready to truly lose her mind.

The atmosphere was infectious. Not even her constant leaning in to check something with Karina was ruining her night—like when the Coyotes were penalised for ‘too many men on the ice’ or when Quinn was sent to the penalty box was ‘cross-checking’. Watching him on the box on the big screen above the ice was funny, Laurel couldn’t deny that even if the fans around her vehemently disagreed with the call.

“He definitely fucked up, right?” she clarified with Karina after the protesting had died down.

“Definitely. He’s just our guy, so obviously the refs are wrong.”

Laurel just hummed, bemused.

By the end of the game—when the Canucks had managed to score another goal for a 7-1 victory—Laurel had to admit that she was hooked. It would be different to sit down in front of a television and watch, even sitting in the suite wouldn’t cut it, because sitting amongst so many people who were utterly invested in the outcome was addictive.

Adrenaline was still coursing through every part of her body when she let herself into Quinn’s apartment. He wasn’t home, yet, and wouldn’t be for a little while longer she knew and had given her his spare key yet again. He knew she was spending the evening with Karina but, as had become increasingly common, wanted her to be there when he got home.

She wondered frequently when the key would be handed over for good.

With so much excitement in her veins, Laurel was still wide awake when he got home. Part of her wanted to reveal the secret right then and there, that she was at the game, that she saw him get numerous ‘assists’ and the two-minute penalty, but she managed to calm herself down just enough to keep it together.

Quinn stood in the doorway to his bedroom, his tie nowhere to be seen and a few buttons undone on his shirt. Laurel watched him closely from where she was sitting up against the headboard.

“I heard there was a big win,” she said, putting her phone down and letting the duvet covers pool in her lap.

Quinn smirked, the confidence rolling off his body not something Laurel saw everyday but it was definitely something she liked.

“Big, big win,” he agreed, stepping slowly closer.

Laurel’s heart rate picked up, not that she thought it possible, and she froze in anticipation while he walked closer.

“Jack’s boys lost, though.”

Truthfully, he may as well have thrown her into the Arctic Ocean with the speed his words ruined any sort of arousal.

She gathered the duvet and slowly slumped down into the mattress. She still tracked him as he walked around the room and changed out of his suit and mourned the mood he’d so sufficiently killed.

“That’s a shame.”

He continued to talk about Jack—about hockey, mostly, but sometimes veering into random pieces of their childhood that she tried to piece into what she’d been told previously. His family’s closeness would never cease to fascinate her.

She felt herself falling asleep, suddenly drained after the realisation that they weren’t heading towards orgasms of any kind and buried herself into the covers pulled up around her chin.

“We bought a house in Michigan so we can spend the summers together.”

Laurel blinked, taking a moment to determine that she’d heard him correctly. She asked, “the whole summer?”

“That’s the plan. It’ll be so good. We’ve got so many buddies from there or who spent enough time in Michigan that they can’t wait to go back—”

Nothing else he said mattered, not even to slot anything into his backstory, because all Laurel could think about was him spending the entire summer so far across the continent.

Any interest Laurel had in learning the game of hockey or the life that came with it disappeared with the knowledge that Quinn wasn’t wasting any time in leaving Vancouver when his season was over. And it would be over soon.

She didn’t know much but she did know that they weren’t making playoffs.

The plan as she knew it was for Quinn to fly to Michigan a week after their final game but she’d purposely been avoiding learning much about it because it only made her angry.

If Quinn had noticed the distance she was keeping, he hadn’t said anything.

Her visits to his place had been limited and it wasn’t even intentional. The final games of the season, some on the road, along with some team bonding meant that Quinn’s schedule didn’t have much time for Laurel.

That wasn’t helping matters.

Laurel stood outside his apartment buildings for a few moments, trying to compose herself before she buzzed the intercom to be let up. She had to talk to him about it because the internal speculation was driving her crazy, and she’d watched her mother ruin too many relationships due to lack of communication.

When she stepped into his apartment, it was clear Quinn felt the tension between them. He didn’t lean in to kiss like he normally would, just stood to the side and let her in; she moved far enough into the apartment to hover in the kitchen but didn’t go much further.

“Why are things weird?” he asked, so direct and abrupt that Laurel was caught off guard. “I haven’t seen you in like two weeks and you’re weird on the phone. What did I do?”

“I don’t know, Quinn,” Laurel said with a huff. “This feels like a really crucial time in our relationship and you’re just going to fuck off for the whole summer. More than the summer? Leave now and not come back until, what? September?”

The immediate attack was the wrong decision, it became immediately clear, when Quinn tensed up and his face closed off completely. It was the meanest she’d ever seen him.

“I was going to be back in about two weeks,” he said, devoid of any emotion. It made it hurt so much worse to hear the detachment in his voice when he added, “To see you.”

Laurel cowered, “Why are you going at all? Do you need a break from me?”

“It’s my brother’s 21st birthday, Laurel, and I’m not going to miss it. I was thinking about asking if you wanted to come but I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“No,” Laurel agreed, clenching her fists at her sides, “I don’t think it is a good idea. I don’t think we’re a good idea.”

The tension defused ever so slightly, Quinn’s mask slipping just enough to show shock and a little bit of hurt before he recovered. His voice was still quiet as he asked, “Do you really mean that?”

Laurel deflated, too; every insecurity she had about relationships came to the forefront of her brain. “Yeah, I mean, what do we have in common, Quinn? We’re Americans living in Vancouver? I don’t get what you do for a living but it’s also not even just what you do for a living, is it? It’s your whole life.”

Quinn took half a step forward, then froze. Laurel wanted him to be closer but didn’t make any effort to close the gap.

“I have a life outside of hockey and I thought it included you.”

“You don’t exist without hockey, Quinn,” Laurel sighed, her voice small, “and you don’t even see it. You’re here from September to May because of the hockey season, but you’re also on the road a lot and not really here, and I’m expected to just… accept and understand that and wait for you all the time. And then when the season’s done, you want to disappear for like four months and you expected me to just follow you when you asked at the last minute. I don’t have the luxury, Quinn.”

“I know that.”

“Why did you only give me two weeks’ notice? Why didn’t you talk to me about it at all? I get that your mom dropped a hell of a lot for your dad’s work and then your hockey careers and Daisy seems to be doing the same for Jack, but I didn’t grow up in hockey or even sports—I don’t get any of this and you’ve never really explained it to me. The life, not whatever happens on the ice.”

“That’s why I wanted you to sit with my mom and Daisy—they can explain it all to you.”

“But it’s not their job, is it, Quinn?”

“Laurel, they know what it’s like to be a WAG. I have no fucking clue what it’s like. The best people to help you are the girls who live the life you know nothing about but you just refuse to talk to them.”

“I—I spoke to Annie,” Laurel countered, knowing that it was weak.

“Once. I have tried so hard to bring you into my world and you fight me at every turn.”

“What about my world?” Her question came with a renewed fire, thinking of all the parts of her life Quinn didn’t know about; all the things he hadn’t taken the time to learn.

“You won’t let me in there, either. So, I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Maybe he couldn’t learn without her teaching him. Maybe he hadn’t asked.

Laurel didn’t know. All she did know was that her heart was slowly crumbling in her chest as she tried to put on a brave face and pretend it was the outcome she’d wanted by showing up in the first place.

She ducked her head so she could walk past him, saying coolly that she was going to collect some things from his room. There was no way she’d be able to remove everything of hers in one trip when she hadn’t even brought her overnight bag but if she could at least grab her expensive skin care items and her favourite clothes that would be something.

Quinn followed her, his footsteps dull and heavy, and she felt his eyes watching her as she moved around. She didn’t snap at him, didn’t ask him what he was worried she’d steal, just focused on fitting what she could into her purse.

“I went to a game, you know?” she asked as she carefully took a shirt from one of the hangers she’d co-opted and folded it into her purse.

Quinn huffed a disbelieving laugh. “The one I begged you to come to.”

“The night up told me you were going back to Michigan, actually,” she corrected. “Sat in the crowd with Karina from work and she tried to teach me what was going on. I was going to surprise you by learning how the game worked without you having to teach me.”

“Too late for that, isn’t it? You’re the one who thinks we should break up.”

“I guess I am,” she said, a sad smile stretched across her face. “I don’t know how this is where it ended, Quinn.”

“I wish you’d told me two weeks ago that you were mad at me. Probably could have avoided this.”

Laurel shrugged, half-heartedly, “I don’t know. This shit’s always inevitable for me.”

“It doesn’t have to be, you know that.”

“Bye, Quinn.”

She left him standing in the doorway of his bedroom and didn’t turn back around once as she left, fearing that she’d beg him for anything that made it better.

There wasn’t anything that could make it better.

Laurel knew the minute she accepted that the date was a bad idea. The one piece of advice her mother gave her for getting over relationships was that “a week for every month you were together” was the proper timeframe for getting over someone.

If Laurel counted from the day she officially became Quinn’s girlfriend, three weeks was plenty of time. Half a week too long, even.

If only that had assuaged her guilt enough to not ruin the night out Brooke had organised for them. Even if the night was drinks and dancing at the same dive bar where she’d met Quinn.

Drinks and dancing were easier than any other alternative that wasn’t just sex; it was clearly just a prelude to sex, regardless, and not even a very vague one.

Laurel could handle the pretence, though, because Brooke was proving to be enough of a difference from what she’d realised was her ‘type’ that Laurel had no issues pressing up against her on the dance floor or sitting in her lap when they stopped for drinks.

By the time a lovely haze was settling over Laurel—Tom Collins had leant his name to a very nice drink—it all came crashing down.

“Why do the Vancouver Canucks keep staring at us?”

She hadn’t noticed them, had been far too wrapped up in getting Brooke to take her home, before they were pointed out to her but, sure enough, Quinn was standing across the room huddled with more than a few guys from the team.

“I dated one of them,” Laurel said with a sigh, averting her gaze before she could accidentally make eye contact with any of them. If Quinn caught her, she would die in the spot.

“Yeah?” Brooke pushed. “Recently enough that they’re still staring?”

17 days.

But she wasn’t counting.

“It wasn’t a great breakup.”

“Damn.” Brooke paused. “Does he know you also date women?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then I can do this—”

At first, Laurel melted into Brooke’s mouth—the softness was something she didn’t realise she’d missed and Brooke’s fingers had crept under her top and were applying just enough pressure to really curl the heat in Laurel’s stomach.

The beat that followed replaced the heat with led, and Laurel pushed herself out of Brooke’s lap. She had enough of a mind to fix her top and then no mind at all when she turned to where Quinn had been and made the eye contact she’d dreaded.

17 days wasn’t enough.

Quinn was moving, then, weaving his way through his teammates and towards the entrance to the bar; Laurel didn’t even feel Brooke’s hand on her wrist as she rushed to follow him.

Laurel hated dive bars and all the people in them, each and every one stepping in and out of her path as she desperately tried to stay on her feet.

A cool breeze hit her like a wall when she stepped onto Water Street, enough of a shock that she flinched and stopped in her tracks. Someone was following close enough behind her that she was forcibly moved onto the sidewalk.

She locked eyes on Quinn, standing at the gutter with his phone in his hand. He looked up from it, presumably hearing her shoes on the contact, and sighed so deeply she saw his shoulders rise and fall.

“Quinn—I—”

“It’s fine, Laurel,” he mumbled, looking away from her and down Water Street, “we’re broken up.”

“I didn’t want her to do that,” Laurel stressed, reaching out to touch his arm. Quinn took a tiny little step and her hand fell away. She whispered; then, “Especially not in front of you. I’m sorry.”

“We’re not together. You can do what you want. I’m getting out of here.”

A car pulled up in front of them; Quinn was quick to open the door.

She touched his arm again, her fingers digging into the jacket he was wearing so he couldn’t shake her off, and she pleaded, “I didn’t know you were coming back so soon.”

Laurel felt the ire pouring off him even though he barely looked at her over his shoulder, when he said, “You never let me tell you, so how could you?”

“Quinn—”

He shook his arm, forcibly dislodging Laurel’s hand. She teetered backwards as she stepped out of the way of the car door so it didn’t close on her—it really didn’t feel like that would have been a bad thing.

Instagram was a much quieter place after The Purge at Annie’s House and after months of not being with Quinn. The requests to follow her died down around July, she guessed because nobody could say they’d seen them together so she was no longer interesting.

Laurel couldn’t deny that she’d googled her own name a few times since Quinn left her on Water Street, curious to know what any of the ‘puck bunny' blogs had been saying about her—most updates post August were that she and Quinn were done. Quinn was officially back on the market.

Too many people were poking fun at her Instagram handle—‘looks like @l0nelylaurel is l0nelier than ever’ and it was all hitting too close to home.

Truth be told, 153 days was no easier than 17.

A lot of that could be contributed to the angst of waiting for Quinn to show any sign that he was even coming back to Vancouver. The season was ten days from officially starting and he hadn’t even re-signed with the Canucks.

He was still in Michigan.

Or that’s what she thought—what she expected—until his post appeared on her feed.

6 more years.

The newly christened hockey fan in her was ecstatic.

The pining ex-girlfriend was… desperate. Maybe.

To Quinn: is it too late to apologise and tell you i’ve been learning about hockey?

The lack of context bothered her and she sent a follow up text soon after.

To Quinn: congratulations on the contract. i’m proud of you

She didn’t think that context helped her case, either, but at least it was a reason to be texting him behind just missing him.

Laurel wasn’t expecting a text back with any speed. Returning to her job after a week of vacation time was hard enough; having to sign a whole new contract and join the team after they’d already been through the bulk of their training and bonding wasn’t something she could comprehend.

That was mostly because she’d heard from various Canucks fans at work about how damaging it was to the team for him and Petey to hold out so long.

She brought up YouTube to mindlessly watch something so that she didn’t dwell on her texts to Quinn, but she hadn’t even picked something when her phone buzzed and his name showed at the top of her screen.

From Quinn: Maybe there’s a table free at Elise. Heard about someone who’s big trophy wife fantasy was getting dinner there 🤔

Her heart sank.

It was a reasonable leap for him to make, she couldn’t fault him for it even if it made her want to claw at her skin and disappear into her couch for the rest of her life—but not before she made sure he knew it wasn’t like that.

To Quinn: it’s not about the contract. just didn’t know when you were back in town

From Quinn: Bad joke. Come over tomorrow after work?

The relief that overcame her was almost painful in how good it felt. Her heart was no longer sinking but instead racing faster and stronger than she knew how to deal with.

To Quinn: 💕

There was a pleasant, refreshing chill in the air as Laurel made the walk from her apartment to Quinn’s.

Haley had questioned where she was going for no other reason than Laurel didn’t change out of the clothes she’d worn to work—almost every time she’d left the house since May she’d changed into something more appropriate for a bar because, well, she was headed to a bar. They still weren’t friends but Haley worried enough that Laurel had to assure her it wasn’t self-destructive.

The bars had been pretty self-destructive. Seeing Quinn was the opposite.

She hoped, anyway.

He must have been sitting at the buzzer with how fast he let her into the building, and he was standing in his open door when she stepped out of the elevator.

“Welcome home?” she said, tilting it into a question when it crossed her mind that she didn’t actually know where he considered home. Maybe he’d just left home.

He smiled, “It’s good to be back. Come on, I pulled a few strings and have some food from Elise coming.

“Quinn…” Laurel trailed off, concerned that she’d been invited over as a joke.

“It’s really nice food and I know you like it. I really would have taken you there but I know my joke didn’t land.”

Laurel nodded, short and still uncertain. He carried on, though, guiding her into his apartment. He was acting like nothing had happened, like the last two times they’d seen each other hadn’t been disasters.

She washed her hands, taking a little extra time in the bathroom to recompose herself. He was being far nicer than he should have. She hadn’t expected him to be horrible to her—even if she’d been half concerned it was all an elaborately cruel joke—she just hadn’t expected him to welcome her in with open arms.

They ate peacefully, Laurel rather overwhelmed by how good the food was, by how Quinn had remembered what she’d ordered on her birthday. Quinn interspersed their eating with some stories from Michigan, so tentatively that he was obviously testing the waters.

She listened, grateful to have him back in front of her, delighted by the familiar awkwardness with which he carried himself.

She tried to fill him in on what she’d been up to while he was away, coming up short as she’d had no time off.

Quinn, seemingly realising she was floundering, turned the conversation in an entirely different direction on a hair pin.

“I didn’t do enough to help you get used to hockey and the life it comes with.”

Laurel blinked, stopping her wine glass as it was halfway to her mouth and putting it carefully back on the table. She said, measured, “You weren’t the problem, Quinn.”

“Maybe we share the blame but I—everyone I know goes from zero to sixty in like three weeks,” he explained, his hands twitching around his knife and fork. “Jack and Daisy have been virtually married since high school and I need to stop comparing my life to his but it’s a bit depressing when my go-to example of a relationship is my younger brother.”

“At least it’s a happy one. Mine are every relationship my mom ever blew up. I do a pretty good job replicating them.”

A sympathetic look crossed Quinn’s face, one Laurel didn’t feel entitled to, but he didn’t continue the conversation. He let go of his knife and reached his hand across the table to hold hers. He simply squeezed it comfortingly and smiled.

It lit up her entire body.

By the time they were washing up, Laurel was settling into his apartment as if she’d never left. Nothing changed since May, almost definitely because Quinn hadn’t been home, and she found her ice cream in the freezer where she’d left it and pulled two spoons from the drawer. Quinn followed her easily to the couch.

She turned sideways on the couch, crossing her legs so that she was facing him and he sat at the opposite end and also turned to face her. The ice cream container was settled onto the cushion between them, teetering precariously.

“Did you really go to a game without telling me?”

She startled, “You remember that?”

“Pretty sure I remember the entire convo word for word.”

It was a pretty quick way to bring down the mood, even if it looked like Quinn hadn’t intended it to be, the flinch that followed his words clue her into his regret.

“I did, yeah,” Laurel powered on. “You won and I had fun.”

He smiled and she smiled back, caught up in the immediate happiness that replaced the regret. Despite the happiness, he was hesitant when he asked, “Do you think you’ll want to go again?”

“I’d like to,” Laurel admitted, still smiling. “I should probably know the game, right?”

“The Devils are in town next month. Daisy might come. Mom won’t make it this time.”

“I can handle Daisy,” she assured him. “That’d be really great, Quinn. I don’t have the equivalent for social work in a hospital, but if we plan drinks any time soon I’ll make sure it’s a day you’re free. You can meet Haley if you want.”

She moved the ice-cream from between them and leant sideways to put it on the coffee table. The only thing keeping her from falling off the couch completely were Quinn’s quick reflexes and his hand shooting out to press against her rib cage.

She held her breath at the contact, at the easy way he helped her back onto the couch, and then at the sincerity in his voice as he said, “I’ll meet whoever you’ll let me meet, Laurel.”

“Letting people in is hard for me but I really want it to be you who changes that.”

He’d barely gotten out “Me, too” before Laurel was moving across the now empty space between them to capture his mouth in a kiss.

The morning after the game against the Devils—a 5-2 defeat that almost wished she hadn’t been present for—Laurel and Quinn squeezed in breakfast with Jack and Daisy before Jack got on a flight to Edmonton.

Jack was… Not what Laurel expected.

His arrival was so loud and energetic that she glanced sideways at Quinn to see how he was going to handle their breakfast being interrupted by a fan, and she took a couple of steps back just to be out of the way. Her confusion grew when Daisy walked in behind him, rolling her eyes as Jack launched himself at Quinn.

“They literally saw each other last night,” Daisy said, hugging Laurel. “It’s like this every time.”

“He’s not what I was expecting,” Laurel admitted. “Quinn’s so quiet and you are, too, that—”

“Daisy? Quiet? You pull your body double in for the game?” Jack asked, stepping away from Quinn. “I’m Jack—Daisy’s conned you.”

“I know how to read a room.”

“I’m Laurel.”

Given Jack’s entrance, the hug wasn’t entirely unexpected. She made eye contact with Quinn over Jack’s shoulder, saw the pleased smile on his face and knew that everything was really going to work out fine.

tag list: @fallinallincurls @spine-buster @2manytabsopen @xcicix @sorryjustafangirl @senditcolton @shinyfalcon4 @guesswhoispathetic @laurenairay @ripepeach @jarmorie @p1nkbarbi3

add yourself to the tag list

#quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fic #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #fic: canucks #until the light shines through fic

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deathofpeaceofmiiind · 9 months

Text

high infidelity | five

It only feels this raw right now, lost in the labyrinth of my mind. *Elliots POV* After a couple of anxiety ridden hours we had finally made it to Seattle. The anticipation of seeing Noah again was consuming me to the point that I could hardly sit still. Danielle kept reassuring me that everything was going to work out but it didn’t help whatsoever. I just had to ride this feeling out until I saw Noah again. Seattle was so beautiful but Noah was right, it’s not Canada. I only ever came down here for sporting events or concerts so I’ve never had a chance to really sightsee. Our hotel room was right around the corner from the venue so we walked down the road to find somewhere to eat since we couldn’t check in for another hour. We were talking about our game plan for tonight and not paying attention cause as soon as we turned the corner we ran into Matt and Bryan. “Oh fuck.” Danielle cursed. “What are you two doing here?”

“Ok you can’t say a fucking thing to Noah but little miss over here wanted to surprise him.” Danielle piped back as she pointed at me. “How romantic.” Matt sarcastically replied as he put his hand over his heart. “If you guys want we get you in to watch from the side stage but I don’t want any credit cause the idea of love makes me want to puke. Especially the idea of Noah being in love.” “Yeah, it’s super nauseating.” Bryan chimed in.

“So fucking thoughtful Matthew, thank you!” I mocked as I put my hand over my heart. “Or I could just tell Noah.” he replies shrugging his shoulders at us. “Not one word, Dierkes, you got it?” I got right in his face and he just winked at me before promising me he would stay silent. We exchanged numbers so we could meet up later to sneak in. They walked back into the venue and I just shook my head. Danielle even looked over at me with a concerning look on her face. “What?” “You know if things don’t work out with you and Noah. You and Matt have some weird ass chemistry going on here.” “He is not my type.” I scoffed. “True, but he was totally flirting with you.” “If that was him flirting he has a lot of work to do.” I laughed as we walked down the road to find a restaurant. *Noahs POV* The last time I was this nervous for a show was opening night of our first headliner two years ago. I felt like I had lived 10 different lives since then and thanks to Covid I’m pretty sure I had. I was still in denial that I would get to talk to Elliot after the show and it was making it hard for me to stay focused. A part of me was scared she was just going to tell me to fuck off and I’d never hear from her again, but then again maybe she’ll give me a second chance. The crowd in Seattle was one of the best we had all tour. There was no altercations and everyone looked like they were having an incredible time. Some nights I still got flashbacks of our Warped Tour days where people would watch our sets just to tell us we sounded like shit or to start fights with our fans or even us sometimes. This tour was really showing me people cared about our band, which was something I was having a hard time wrapping around my head still.

“So before I start this next song I uh, I wanted to dedicate this to someone, even though she’s not here to hear me out. I hope you guys can help me out, this is ‘Just Pretend.’”

“We’ll try again when we’re not so different. We’ll make amends, till then I’ll just pretend.“

I was on my knees belting this song out with every emotion I had. I know I wrote this song as a joke to show how easy it was to write a popular song but it hit different after everything that’s happened since last night. I could feel tears wanting to form but they stopped when saw Elliot and Danielle on the side of the stage with Bryan. I froze and my heart was pounding so fucking hard that I could feel it in my ears. I looked over at Nick and he was just as surprised when he saw them. I brought my attention back to her and she smiled at me through her tears. If I wasn’t already on my knees that goddamn smile of hers would’ve buckled me right over. I stayed on my knees and didn’t break our eye contact while we finished the song.

“Weigh down on me, stay till morning, way down…would you say I’m worthy?”

We finished our set a couple songs later and I ran to the side of the stage but she was already gone. I was confused at first and wondered if I hallucinated her being here but when I turned the corner she was waiting for me in the hallway. I couldn’t help but smirk as the guys walked by and said hi to her, exposing how short she really was. It was adorable. I couldn’t get enough. As she high-fived Nick she saw me from the corner of her eye and met my stare. I forgot how bright her eyes were and it sent a shock wave through my body. “What are you doing here?” “I-“ I didn’t even let her answer, the anticipation was killing me. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and kissed her with no hesitation. I wanted to fully blame the adrenaline from the show on this but I couldn’t wait any longer. I pressed her against the wall as the kiss deepened. She was standing on her tallest tip toes and it caused me to smile against her lips. “I thought a grand gesture was needed.” She said as we broke apart.

“Elliot, I am so sorry about last night. I know once we figure this out it will all make sense.” “Ellie.” “What?” “You can call me Ellie. I think you’ve earned that privilege now that you’ve dedicated a song to me.” she joked before kissing my cheek. “Also, you guys were amazing tonight.” She adds as she wraps me into a hug. I guess my sweat didn’t seem to bother her as she held onto to me tighter. “So it’s kind of tradition after Seattle shows that we play some kind of game, with drinking rules obviously.” Folio said rudely interrupting us. “I’m thinking we play Uno.” “I’m gonna mop the floor with your tears Folio.” Ellie shot back at him as she gave him the middle finger. “You’re so on.” He says as gives us both the finger before walking away. She laughs before turning her attention back to me. I kissed her again, this time I was little more gentle since my adrenaline was wearing off. I never wanted to stop kissing her, it felt like seeing the closing fireworks at Disneyworld for the first time. We broke apart and I planted a soft kiss on her nose and forehead as I caught my breath. Yeah, I’m falling in love and I’m fucking terrified.

#bad omens #noah sebastian #fanfic

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fruitcoops · 2 years

Text

Snow Day

Hehe, Coops floof because it's snowing here and I'm finally free of finals! SW character credit goes to @lumosinlove <3 (and don't worry, the final day of nutmas just needs a beta read because Reasons)

Sirius did his best to sit gently at the edge of the bed. Judging by Remus’ immediate scrunch-face and everything but his forehead disappearing beneath the covers, he failed. “Re?”

“Mmm.”

“Are you awake?”

Remus made another disgruntled noise. Sirius should know better by now.

He tugged the edge of the blanket down to expose the peak of a rosy cheek. “Re, wake up.”

“ ‘S Saturday.”

“Ouais.” Remus whined softly when he slid beneath the comforter, but went without protest into Sirius’ arms. The hands fumbling with the hem of his shirt before slipping underneath with a satisfied hum were sleep-warm and rough, and something in Sirius’ chest felt too big, suddenly. He ducked his head to kiss Remus’ temple, letting his lips linger there as his breathing began to even out once more. “Re, it’s snowing.”

Remus’ breath caught. Sirius felt every stage of drowsy understanding roll over him, from the pause of his burrowing to one hazel eye peeking out from a mess of bedhead and blankets. “Snowing?”

“Oui.”

“Real snow?”

“Three inches, maybe.” Sirius grinned when Remus’ face lit up. “Saw it when I went to make coffee.”

“Didn’t have that in the forecast.” Remus propped himself up on one elbow with obvious effort and turned to check his phone, then hesitated and turned back around to snuggle into Sirius and leave a chaste peck at the corner of his mouth. “G’morning.”

Sirius caught him when he went to turn again and drew him in for a slow kiss, relishing every pliable, sleepy bit of him. Remus nuzzled into his jaw when they parted and Sirius’ heart fluttered at the scratch of his stubble. “Bon matin. Sleep well?”

“Mm. Very.” A sigh warmed his collarbone. “I want to get up and look at the snow.”

“It’s very pretty,” Sirius agreed.

“I’m so warm in here. You’re warm. Stay with me.”

“Happily.”

Remus groaned and wrapped both arms around his waist. “I wanna see the snow.”

“Viens ici,” Sirius said into the cowlick near the back of Remus’ hair, rubbing a hand along the notches of his spine. “I’ll still kiss you in the snow.”

“Worth it?”

“Worth it.”

Snowflakes caught on Remus’ pale lashes; he was close enough that Sirius could pick out each one, if he squinted. It seemed fitting that someone who belonged so wholly in an icy wonderland would be adorned like that. Or perhaps not an icy wonderland—Remus was rarely anything but warm and inviting, like a lamppost in a winter storm. His eyes were the color of fresh caramel against the charcoal gray of his beanie when he glanced over at Sirius with a smile.

“What’re you thinking about?”

Sirius kissed just beneath his beanie. “You.”

“Oh, jeez, what did I do this time?”

“I love you in the winter.”

Remus made a pleased sound, though it was muffled as he ducked his chin into his coat and shuffled closer. Laying in a snowbank might not be the most common way to spend a Saturday morning, but Sirius couldn’t find a single thing to complain about. “I love how you look in the fall,” Remus said after a moment of comfortable quiet. “All cute and cozy, stealing my hoodies. But yeah, something about this is very…you. You were built for snow days, baby.”

“The weatherman said we’d get a foot today.”

“Sounds like soup and casserole weather to me.”

The snow was cold against Sirius’ cheek, but he could feel the warmth of Remus pressed all along his side even through their many layers. Their breath fogged between them in frozen clouds; he raised a hand to trace the redness of Remus’ cheek and got a kiss to the meat of his palm in return. “I love you in every season,” he said quietly.

The smile lines at the corners of Remus’ eyes crinkled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Sirius let his fingertips slide down until he was cupping Remus’ jaw and kissed him slow. “I’m going to marry you so hard, loup.”

“Not if I marry you first,” Remus whispered.

“Race you there.”

“Winner gets a husband.”

Sirius smiled as their lips met again, both half-numb, a slender hand twining with his own until the world was just winter chill and Remus. The snow was coming down heavier, now; the flakes prickled any section of bare skin with nips of cold. Sirius swiped his tongue over the seam of Remus’ lips and felt heat flash through every vein. He drew him close with a hand on his lower back, humming when Remus slung a leg over his hips and settled more comfortably on the small snowbank. It was lumpy and half ice, but the sheer joy of kicking it together while they basked in the first February snow day was worth every sore muscle to come. Maybe he could even talk Remus into a massage later.

The air was bitterly cold on his lips when he pulled back. “We should probably go inside.”

“Five more minutes.”

“Coach will actually kill us if we get sick—”

“Five minutes,” Remus interrupted, taking Sirius’ chin between his thumb and forefinger to bring him back in. Snow crunched under Sirius’ shoulder as he turned on his side until their knees touched. The left side of his face was numbing fast; he would freeze down to his bones before separating from Remus for even a second. Kissing the love of his life under falling snow with all the time in the world…well, it felt just like magic.

#sirius black #remus lupin #coops #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #snow day #sleepy #kisses #engaged coops

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acourtofthought · 1 year

Text

It's All Canon Baby

Sure this happened:

Never, Rhys said from where he finished buckling on his own weapons against the side of the wagon. I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife.

But so did this:

But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back.

And this:

Azriel leaned against the wall by the lone door, Truth-Teller bloody in his hand.

But Feyre, Cassian knew, had been aware of what she’d see before entering. And well aware that these ten minutes had only been the opening movements in a symphony of pain that Azriel could conduct with brutal efficiency.

And this:

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

Sure this happened:

Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

But so did this:

Cassian bared his teeth. “What the hell can we do against that?” “I’m going in,” Azriel said. “No,” Rhys snapped. But Azriel was spreading his wings, the sunlight so stark on the new, slashing scars down the membrane. “Chain me to a tree, Rhys,” Azriel said softly. “Go ahead.” He began checking the buckles on his weapons. “I’ll rip it out of the ground and fly with it on my damned back.”

And this:

“I want to confirm that Briallyn has the Crown,” Azriel said. “I’ll travel to the human lands tomorrow.” “No,” Feyre and Rhys said at the same time, in the same breath. Azriel’s eyes shuttered. “I wasn’t asking for permission.” Rhys smirked. “Doesn’t matter.” Az opened his mouth to object, but Feyre said, “You’re not going, Azriel. If Briallyn has the Crown and catches you, even if she just suspects you’re nearby, who knows what she could do to you?” “Give me some credit, Feyre,” Az said. “I can keep hidden well enough.” “We take no risks,” Feyre said, voice flat with command. “Pull all your spies out.” “Like hell I will.”

Sure this happened:

“Why not make them mates?” I mused. “Why Lucien?”

But so did this:

“No.” I blinked. “But he is a good male.” Despite our harsh words. Despite this Band of Exiles bullshit. “He cares for you.” “He doesn’t know me.” “You don’t give him the chance to even try to do so.”

And this:

“Stay out of it. She’s not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings.” I lifted a brow. “Snoop.” Mor leaned back against the steps, utterly unrepentant. “Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her.”

Sure this happened:

she breathed, “Beautiful.”

But so did this:

I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath

Sure this happened:

Color bloomed high on Azriel’s golden-brown cheeks

But so did this:

“Thank you,” Nesta said, quickly pulling away to marvel at the device. “It’s brilliant.” Azriel blushed and stepped back, shadows swirling.

And this:

Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel

Sure this happened:

And I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet.”

But so did this:

I think she and Amren would be fast friends.

Which led to this:

Only Amren ignored her, and Nesta ignored Amren. The tension between them was a living band of lightning. But no one said anything, and they seemed content to pretend the other didn’t exist.

And though they eventually made up to some degree, Nesta's truest friendships ended up being with Emerie and Gwyn.

Sure this happened:

Elain had squared her shoulders and declared that she was a part of this court—and would do whatever was needed.

But so did this:

He’d never once in the two years he’d known her found Elain to be plain, but wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court … It sucked the life from her.

Sure this happened:

“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at it for longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.

But so did this:

"I didn't dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all".

Sure this happened:

“We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

But so did this:

“It would seem so,” Rhys mused, then said to Lucien, “The flame in her eyes was not of your usual sort, I take it.” Lucien shook his head. “No. It spoke to nothing in my own arsenal. That was … Ice so cold it burned. Ice and yet … fluid like flame. Or flame made of ice.”. I held Rhys’s gaze, as if it were again the tether that had kept me in this world. “I think the power is death—death made flesh. Or whatever power the Cauldron holds over such things. That’s why the Carver heard it—heard about her.”

Sure this happened:

He was still happy to be Mor’s buffer with Azriel, but there’d been a change lately. In both of them. Mor no longer sat beside Cassian, draped herself over him, and Azriel … those longing glances toward her had become few and far between. As if he’d given up. After five hundred years, he’d somehow given up. Cassian couldn’t think why.

But so did this:

“I’ve spent weeks in that blasted court,” Mor said.

And this:

The High Lord of Day considered Cassian and Azriel, then frowned. “Where’s my beautiful Mor?” Az said tightly, “Away.”

And this:

Nesta said to Feyre, “Did you tell Elain?” Before Feyre could reply, Azriel said, “What about Mor?”

And this:

"What of Mor, Az?" Azriel ignored the question.

Sure this happened:

She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head.

But so did this:

I nudged Elain, who blinked at me, then blurted, “You could come to Velaris.”

Sure this happened:

Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened.

But so did this:

Vassa rolled her eyes, then looked to Lucien, who sank onto the sofa beside Jurian. Like the Fae male had settled similar arguments between them before. But Lucien’s attention was upon Cassian.

And this:

Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. (Lucien looking at Elain).

Sure this happened:

He glanced at Elain, who was again studying her lap. “I’m not needed here.

But so did this:

Their gazes locked and held. But Elain said nothing. Did not so much as take one step downward. Lucien inclined his head in a bow, the movement hiding the gleam in his eye—the longing and sadness. And when Lucien turned to signal to Rhys to go … He did not glance back at Elain. Did not see the half step she took toward the stairs—as if she’d speak to him. Stop him.

Sure this happened:

"She hadn't bought her Mate a present.". "She'd gotten Azriel one last year"

But so did this:

Elain gave him a specially designed ceramic mug with a lid that he could travel with, bespelled against breaking, to keep tea warm for hours. (Cassian's gift)

And most likely this from the last Solstice:

"The others passed around their gifts"

(possible proof that Elain got Cassian something the year before too, just like Az. If anything, it cannot be proven that Elain only got Az a gift the year before).

Sure this happened:

"a headache powder he'd kept on his nightstand at the HOW. Not to use, just to look at."

But so did this:

I’m fairly certain Azriel has a drawer full of all the daggers I’ve bought him throughout the centuries that he’s too polite to throw away, but won’t ever use.”

Sure this happened:

"he wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend"

But so did this:

Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it. But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly.

A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

Sure this happened:

No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

But so did this:

"They'd always been prone to vanish when she was around".

Sure this happened:

“And you?” I made myself say. “Are you—all right?”. Elain looked over a shoulder at me as we entered the foyer, then turned left—to the dining room. In the sitting room across the way, all conversation halted at the smell of food. “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” she asked, a smile lighting up her face.

But so did this:

I’d seen those smiles before. On my own damn face.

Sure this happened:

"What if the Cauldron was wrong?"

But so did this'

Azriel said nothing. He hadn't gotten that far with his planning, certainly not beyond the fantasies he pleasured himself to.

Canon isn't the argument some think it is, it doesn't prove Endgame anything.

Whatever a reader thinks is going on based on canon alone is purposely ignoring that SJM doesn't always come right out and tell us the direction she's heading, she leaves subtle hints. She has literally told us in interviews about all the "breadcrumbs" she sprinkles so what good is it doing to act like these big, bold, obvious moments have to be the only possible outcome while conveniently pretending like those other breadcrumbs don't matter?

"Elain and Az nearly kissed! They want each other!"

"Elain belongs in the NC, she said so herself!"

"Elain has friends and hobbies so she's got no more healing to do!"

"Az is over Mor! Cassian said so!"

"Az doesn't even consider Gwyn a friend a few months after officially meeting her, they could never end up together!"

"Elain won't look at Lucien so it must remain that way for all of eternity!"

The truth is, SJM has put enough in there to support Elucien, E/riel, or Gwynriel. I think based on her style, she's setting E/riel up to have only been an emotional / near physical rebound for all the wrong reasons (which came to an end in the POV Chapter), but I cannot deny she hinted at something between them in the other books. I'm also not going to deny that all those hints were followed by hints for other ships or proof that neither Az or Elain were over Mor and Graysen. But I'm still not here pretending there weren't things that led us to what happened on Solstice. I just think regardless, E/riel was always set up as being doomed to fail.

I'm not sure why E/riels refuse to admit that E/riel might not have the endgame setup they think they've had, and that there are canon moments that could hint at an Elucien / Gwynriel future too. That the characters and their feelings for one another can still change in the next books.

Do they think stubbornly refusing to admit any other outcome is a possibility will somehow guarantee their ship? I'm sure Team Jacobs and Team Gale's did the same thing yet they still ended up having to accept defeat.

At this point it all comes down to hoping those hints lead us to the outcome we want. Because canon currently supports the possibility of every single pairing and if SJM wants, canon up until now doesn't even have to matter because she has created a brand new ship in a single book despite the Canon that came before.

Make your posts, defend your ship, but seriously, stop sending threats, stop acting like other people are stupid or lack reading comprehension for believing in theirs. You just make yourself look like the idiot considering they can provide just as many canon moments and the fact that you don't realize or ignore that those canon moments exist means you are the one lacking in reading comprehension and are guilty of selective reading.

#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #lucien and elain #elain and lucien #gwynriel #azriel acotar #gwyneth berdara #acotar ships

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lexisecretaccx · 2 months

Text

A+ Student FINALE

Masterlist!

(Femreader, pretty long, drama, fluff, I didn’t rlly know how to end this bro, not proofread!)

Summary: Y/n is a great student in her college, always getting good grades. Her college professor Matt, thinks she can get even higher ones with some “extra credit.” That is until she meets her new gym teacher..

Y/n POV

I get woken up by my phone buzzing, it’s 2am who’s calling me? I sit up and grab it off my bedside table. Chris? I answer it, “hello?” I ask sleepily. “I’m so sorry I woke you up,” he spoke softly, “it’s okay, what’s wrong?”

“Please don’t drop Matts class, I had a talk with him everything’s okay he just doesn’t want you to throw away something you’re good at.” Chris replies. “Everything’s good with you and him? And me?” I need to make sure, “yeah he said he wants you to be happy and he’s not going to mess with your feelings, he knows how much I like you.” I can’t see it but I know he’s smiling.

“Really? That’s great!” I sit up further, “Fine, I won’t drop his class then, I do enjoy the subject I just didn’t wanna be in the same class as him but if it’s all good then okay!” I say enthusiastically.

“Can we meet up tomorrow? After college?” He asks me, “Yeah sure,” I groan as I stretch. “Go back to sleep y/n, I’ll see you tomorrow.” He chuckles, “Goodnight.” I mumble as I fall further into my pillow. He hangs up as I instantly fall back to sleep peacefully.

I’m glad everything is good between them, I feel bad for being mad at Matt but.. I did have a right to, but him and Chris also had a right to be mad at me.. I won’t dwell on the past.

My alarm chimes, “Fuck..” I sit up and shut it off, I go to shower and get dressed before applying makeup and getting my bag ready. I walk downstairs, toast a waffle and eat it up to my table.

“Hey sweetie.” my dad walks down the stairs, “Morning dad, you sleep well.” I ask him as he makes a coffee, “Eh, same as usual.” He groans, he sits down opposite me, “No syrup or anything with that?” He points at the waffle on my plate, “No I didn’t want any.” I smile, “Weirdo.” He laughs sipping his coffee.

I check my phone, and he checks his and then it’s time for me to leave. “I’m gonna head off, see you later dad!” I stand up, “See ya Pumpkin.” He waves from the table, “Wait dad I forgot,” I turn around, “I’m going out with a friend after college so I’ll be back late.” He smiles, “That’s okay I’ll be in work anyway, but stay safe!”

I leave and start to walk, I make it to college early and walk in and sit in the library. “You’re here early.” Matt spoke, my head flicked up from the book I was reading, “I underestimated my walking speed.” I chuckle quietly. “Can I sit?” He points opposite me, I nod.

“Chris talked to you yesterday right?” I whispered, we’re in a library even though literally nobody is in here. “Yeah, I just want you to know that there’s no hard feelings, I liked you but not the same way you liked me whereas Chris.. you’re one of the only things he talks about.” Matt chuckles.

It hurt hearing him say he didn’t like me the same way I liked him but, I don’t have those feelings for him anymore so it doesn’t matter. “Really?” I smile, “Yeah it’s always, y/n this.. y/n that.. and in between he talks about some bullshit nobody really understands.” He grins, “I really like him Matt.”

“I told him I didn’t wanna get in the way of you both, I mean.. he literally quit his job for you, that’s something I couldn’t do for anyone.” Matt sighs, “And I apologise.. for messing with your head and lying and everything. Just know I won’t do that again, you and Chris can be happy and I won’t ruin that.” He smiles softly, “Thank you.” I nod.

“Thank you, for not dropping the class, you’re the top student.. You’re an A+ Student.. even without ‘extra credit’ and you will pass the course easily.” He spoke quietly. “It’s okay, I’m sorry for being rude to you yesterday, I was just upset.” I added.

“It’s alright it’s understandable-” he goes to speak but he gets cut off by his phone pinging. “Oh shit I gotta go to set up class, I’ll see you in a bit.” He gets up and walks out the library.

After 10 minutes I leave the library and turn down the hallway, I see Lizzy, Mason, Ethan, Myla, and Kelly all talking and laughing. I walk over to them, “Hi.” I smile, they instantly stop talking and turn to face me, “Oh hey.” Lizzy spoke awkwardly. Kelly is staring into my soul, why have they all stopped talking when I show up?

“What are you guys talking about?” I try to break the awkwardness, “Oh nothing much.” Mason nods, “You can continue talking, don’t let me stop you.” I chuckle nervously, “Uh.. Mason and Kelly how did your date go yesterday?” Ethan changes the subject, I look to Mason and Kelly who are both blushing.

I guess she has a type.. anyone who shows interest in me. I’m joking but still, “It went well.. we’re sorta dating now.” Kelly giggles, “Yeah.” Mason looks directly at me for a response, “Congrats.” I smile. I’m not jealous at all, I’ve got Chris.

“Did you know Mr Sturniolo quit his job?” Ethan says to Mason, “What why?” He replies, I fiddle with my hand’s anxiously. “He had ‘more important things to focus on’,” Ethan scoffs, “My mom is the headmasters assistant so she told me, but if you ask me.. I think he was fucking a student.”

I look to him instantly, “What made you think that?” I ask him, “Apparently he had Hickeys on his neck, but here’s the thing.. he didn’t have them when he got here.. he must’ve got them from someone here.” He chuckles, “Are you sure he wasn’t dating one of the staff here?” I tried to hide my nervousness.

“Why are you defending him,” Ethan laughs, “Are you the student he was sneaking around with.” He crosses his arms, “What no! I wouldn’t date a teacher.” I try and defend myself, “I never said date, plus he quit his job so he’s not a teacher anymore.” He snarks.

“Can you just stop, I’m too tired to deal with bullshit.” I sigh, “Tired from fucking Mr Sturniolo is it?” Lizzy joins in, “Liz what?” I scoff, “I was joking.” She awkwardly chuckles. Kelly doesn’t say a word, “You okay?” Mason wraps an arm around her, I know what she’s thinking, she’s fucked Matt and is nervous anyone might find out.

“Yeah, great.” She replies. “You a teacher fucker Y/n? Hm?” Ethan leans down to my ear, I shake my head. “Ethan I said stop.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Everything okay here?” A familiar voice, Matt. Kelly turns around so quickly you would think someone was offering a million bucks for free.

“Yep professor, everything’s peachy.” Ethan fake smiles and places his hand on my shoulder. “Ethan’s being a dick.” I spoke out, his expression shifts to betrayal or some shit. “Yeah well y/n is a teacher fu-” Ethan goes to speak and cuts himself off as Matt is Chris’ brother.

“Kelly you didn’t do your homework that was due Friday.” He spoke to her, her face so sheepish you woulda thought she saw a ghost. “Sorry Mat- Professor.” She stutters, I try not to laugh because of how nervous she is. “It’s fine but get it done by tomorrow.” He nods going to walk away until he stops and turns on his heels.

“And Ethan?” He calls, Ethan looks up.. “Don’t spread rumours about my brother, I could get your mother in trouble for telling you confidential information.” He tilts his head, “Sorry sir.” He looks down at his feet. Matt walks away.

“What was that about Kels?” Liz asks Kelly, Kels? Since when were they that close friends, “What?” Kelly stutters, “Your little nervous moment then.” Liz chuckles, “You gotta crush on Professor Sturniolo?” She smiles, “No!” Kelly shakes her head, Mason looks down at Kelly confused.

“It’s fine, I know someone else who does.” Liz looks at me and smirks, “Nope, not anymore.” I look at her, “Mhm sure.. what about Mr Sturniolo, you told me you liked him.” She teases, “Whatever.” I roll my eyes I’m sick of this what is she doing?

“I’m gonna go to class.” I push past Mason and Ethan, “You got another 20 mins, do you just wanna see Professor Sturniolo?” Ethan teases, “No, I just wanna get away from you all. The only one who isn’t being an asshole is Kelly.” I nod at her, “I’ll go to class with you, so you aren’t alone.” She smiles and walks next to me.

“Yeah okay.” I nod, and we walk to class. I knock the door, before walking in with Kelly. Matt turns to us, “Everything good?” He asks me, “No they pissed me off so I came to class early, Kelly came aswell.” She walks in next to me, “Hi.” She waves nervously, “Hey you okay?” He smiles, she nods.

I never thought I’d be friends with the girl who Matt fucked without me knowing, but she’s nice. We sit down next to each-other in my row, just until class starts. “I feel bad that they were teasing you.” Kelly whispers so Matt doesn’t hear, “Yeah it’s fine.” I sigh, I pull out my notes. “If I’m being honest, I also had a crush on him.” She points at Matt who is sat at his desk writing stuff down.

“I know.” I chuckle a bit, “How did you know?” She tilts her head, “I could just tell by your body language whenever he would talk to you.” I smile at her, “Oh that’s so embarrassing.” She covers her face, “It’s fine don’t worry.” I start to write down some notes.

“Ethan said he saw your insta story the other day.” Kelly whispers, my head turns to her, “The car one?” She leans closer to me so she can speak quieter. “Don’t ask me how I know but, that was his car right?” She points at Matt again, “yeah but.. not him.” I sigh, “Oh shit.” I speak again as I realise what I was talking about.

I don’t even know her enough and I basically just admitted to the thing that Ethan was accusing me of, “It’s fine, wanna know a secret?” She smirks, “What?” I reply and she sighs “don’t tell anyone please?” She looks at me, “As long as you don’t tell anyone what we’re talking about in general here.” I nod.

“I promise not to,” she puts her pinky out and we pinky promise on it. “I fucked him..” she signals to Matt, “I feel super guilty about it too because I shouldn’t have but.. it was in the moment and you know.. but I called things off almost instantly. I still feel awkward though but he said it’s okay.” She sighs.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone.” I smile at her, I’m glad I’m making a new friend because Lizzy has changed. Little does Kelly know, both of us have fucked Matt but I’m not gonna tell her that. “So you and Mr Sturniolo did.. fuck?” She whispers, I nod, “So Ethan was right?” She sighs.

“Yeah.” I scribble on the plain paper infront of me, “Your secret is safe with me I promise, I fucking hate Ethan in general and he made me so annoyed when he was pressing you about it.” She scoffs, “He usually tells his mom everything.” She rolls her eyes, “Ugh.” I groan.

We talk for a bit and class starts, Kelly returns to her seat and people come in, Matt starts the lesson.

Halfway through the class Ethan and his mom walk in, my heart sinks. What are they doing here, I pretend to continue doing my work and Matt walks up to them. I look up and see Ethan pointing at me, Matt walks up next to me and leans down “They want you to go with them, I think Ethan said something about what he was talking to you about earlier.” Matt pulls an awkward face.

“Oh shit.” I stand up and walk down to them, Ethan grins and I roll my eyes, “Y/n we have to talk to you, Ethan go back to class.” His mom dismissed him and walks to the principals office with me, my heart is beating so quickly.

She lets me in and instantly I’m greeted by the principal. “Sit down.” He’s a tall man, like super tall. 6ft 4 at least. He looks down at me as he demands me to sit. I do exactly that and sit in the seat across from his desk. “We’ve had a very serious accusation..” he sits down opposite me.

“Mrs Winters’ son has told her some information you need to clear up.” He signals her to come closer, “Ethan has revealed to me that he has suspicions that you had a physical relationship with a teacher here. Is that true?” She stands infront of me, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ethan was accusing me of it earlier and stuff but it’s not true.”

“He also told me that you had told him some information, but that was confidential information so that’s not good.” I turn the tables and start accusing her, her eyes widen. “Do not switch the topic.” She demands, “Oh no I’m not, it’s very much on the same topic.” I lean back in my chair. The principal looks at her, “Is that true?” He asks.

“I had only told him about the situation with Mr Sturniolo and the hickeys on his neck, and the reason he quit his job and I told him I thought it was suspicious!” She defends herself, “That was private between Mr Sturniolo and us, you shouldn’t spread that. But on the topic of Mr Sturniolo.” He directs his attention to me.

“Did you, or did you not.. have a sexual relationship with Christopher Sturniolo during his time teaching here?” He spoke more sternly. “I did not.” I lie, “Why was there footage of you and him in a car together, not long ago? Also an instagram story that shows different.”

Fuck.. my own actions coming back on me, something I did just to make Matt jealous is coming back at me. “Well..” I try to defend myself but get interrupted. “The car you had on the instagram story is the same one that Professor Sturniolo drives, and if I’m correct, he shares that car with his brother Christopher Sturniolo.. right?”

I nod, “So you’re admitting it?” He tilts his head, “He’s not a teacher anymore so there’s no problem with it.” I cross my arms, “So you do have some sort of relationship with him?” Mrs Winters asks me, I shrug. “It wasn’t bad. We didn’t do anything until he quit his job.” I lie but it was a good lie.

“But the hickeys on his neck?” He looks at me, “It was just a make out session, I didn’t know I did that.” I pretend to feel guilty but I don’t, I meant every single one of those marks I left on his neck. “Y/n you know what this means?” He leans forward and sighs, “If your grades weren’t A’s and A+’s you would have to be expelled.”

“But, since you’re a good student, you’re good for our public scores so selfishly of the school we will keep you here, but if we catch any suspicious activity we will not refrain from taking immediate action.” He spoke sternly. I nod, “okay thank you, I’m sorry.” I sigh, I can feel Mrs Winters’ eyes burning into me.

“What happens now?” I ask quietly, “We will have to send you home until tomorrow.” He looks at me with disappointment. I get out of the chair and walk to the door, “I’m sorry again.” I look back, he nods before signalling for Mrs Winters to sit down. She was telling personal information to her son that’s gotta get her in trouble.. right?

I walk past the English classroom and remember that I left my jacket in there. “Shit..” I mutter under my breath. I knock the door timidly and walk in, the class still full of students learning. “I need my jacket.” I mumble, “Are you not staying?” Matt tilts his head and I shake mine, “I got sent home.” I turn away from the class and widen my eyes at him.

He gets the idea of what I mean and nods quickly, “Oh.. okay.” He goes back to his desk, I walk to my seat next to Kelly and grab my jacket off the seat. “What’s happening?” She whispers to me, “You know what I told you?” I whisper back to her, “Yeah..” she leans to hear me better, “They had evidence or something, I’m not expelled but just suspended for a day.” I sigh, “Oh no.. I’ll see you tomorrow though.” She smiles gently.

I walk out the English classroom, giving a small wave to Matt and walking down the hall and out the school door. I grab my phone out and text Chris, he can pick me up now. “We can meet up now. I’ll explain, can u pick me up? xx” I text him. Not even 5 minutes pass before his typing bubble pops up.

“Ok ma On my way! x” I chuckle, his text was followed by an “omw dk why it auto corrected x” I smile to myself and wait outside the school gates until I see the minivan pull up. The window rolled down he leans over to me, “Matt took the Porsche.” He rolls his eyes and I hop into the passenger seat.

“Why are you out early?” He looks at me, “I got kicked out, just for today but they found out about us.” I put my seatbelt on, his eyes widen, “Oh shit, how?” He starts to drive and rests his hand on my thigh, “Mrs Winters was telling Ethan about your personal meeting with the Principal and Ethan borough up the insta story and everything and you know..” I sigh.

“I’m sorry ma.” He gives a gentle squeeze to my thigh, “No it’s okay, if I wasn’t an A+ Student I would’ve gotten expelled according to the Principal, they need me for their publicity purposes.” I laugh, he chuckles too. “Selfish fuckers, but it’s good for you.” We stop at a stop light and he looks at me, “Wanna go for food?” He smiles.

“Yes please, I’m starving.” I pretend to rub my stomach. “What does your stomach crave my dear?” He puts a fake posh English accent on and leans closer to me, “McDonald’s.” I nod grinning. “What fine cuisine.” He jokes still in the awful English accent. “You’re bad at the accent.” I smirk.

“We aren’t going to McDonald’s if you hate on my accent.” He huffs before smiling lightly. “It’s really bad though.” I snark, “don’t be bratty.” He scoffs at me and squeezes my thigh tightly. “I’m sorry, I love the accent.” I lie. “Okay we can get McDonald’s now.”

“What do you want, in advance?” He asks as he drives towards the McDonalds sign in the distance, “Hm, McNuggets please.” I ask in an overly polite tone, “Alright.” He replies, “We can get a share box if you want.” He pulls into the drive thru, “Yeah sure.”

He orders the nuggets, fries and drinks and we pick it up after he pays. We pull into the parking lot to eat the food, “You should’ve had a large fry like I did.” He spoke, stuffing his mouth full of fries. I laugh, “What?” He asks me, “Swallow your food before talking.” I continue laughing.

He finishes his fries before talking, “Y/n I have something I want to ask you, a serious-ish question.” He turns to face me fully, “Yeah? Ask me anything I smile at him admiring his features. “Would you.. do you think you- will you be my girlfriend?” He whispers slightly, my eyes widen and I smile at him. “Really?” I smile widely.

“No I’m just joking,” he sarcastically spoke, “Yes really? Will you?” He smiles, I nod quickly, “Yes! Of course.” I lean to him and grab his face before pushing my lips against his. His hand makes its way behind my neck to deepen the kiss. We part our lips and sit back down normally, “I’m glad it’s official now.” He eats some chicken McNuggets.

‘Yeah.” I smile, my cheeks flushed. I look down to eat the nuggets, “Chris!” I raise my voice, “What?” He asks. “You’ve eaten almost all of them! We said 10 each, you’ve eaten 14.” I pretend to cry, “I’ll go buy you more if you want? Sorry baby.” He goes to get out, “No it’s okay,” I laugh, “just let me eat the rest of them.

I snatch the box out of his hand and eat the rest of the 6 nuggets that are left. “Can I have some of your drink?” He asks me, “Drink your own.” I chuckle, “I did, it’s empty now.” He sighs, I scoff. “Fine have a sip.” I look at him to make sure he is, he gulps twice. “That was two sips.” I joke, “Don’t boss me around or I’ll chug it.”

“I’m breaking up with you if you chug my drink.” I laugh, he instantly puts it back down. “Also.. what you said yesterday?” I bring up the conversation we had yesterday, “Yeah?” He hesitates probably trying to remember what he said, I speak again..

“I think I love you too.”

A/n: Omg u guys it’s finisheddddd, I hope the ending is okay, I couldn’t be bothered to explain like any more of the school stuff in the story bc I felt like it was taking too much time but I hope y’all liked this series I loved writing it. New series at some point but I might take a slight break for a bit and only put out one shots for a bit js bc I need a break for a bit❤️❤️ love y’all!

@blahbel668 @mattsleftnipple03 @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @hysteria-things @mattybslover @jakevwebber @braindead4l @mattybearnard @st7rnioioss @junnniiieee07 @bueckerslover @fratbrochrisgf @sturniol0s @alwayssublimedelusion @certifiednatelover @freshsturns @riasturns @sturniololvrrr @maryx2xx @whicked-hazlatwhore @cammie4298 @sturnsjtop @sturnzblog @chr1sgirl4life @evie-sturns @milasturniolo @jaxyy219 @mattsturniolosbae @h3arts4harry @littlebookworm803 @realqueenofpepsi @elsxz1 @jnkvivi @nayveetbhh @sturnsmadl @mattspleasure @m0r94n @raysmayhem-72 @flamethrower313 @carolinalikesthings @itssophiasstuff @joemamaaa42069 @creamoncreamoncream2 @conspiracy-ash

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #matt #chris

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bi-wizard-queen · 11 months

Text

My personal experience with Lily Orchard (as a viewer, I have never actually spoken to her)

I was a fan of Lily Orchard from 2014 until 2020 (an on-off fan I guess, like I watched her casually but I have, y’know, other things going on).

I was 17 when I started watching her (I was really into MLP: FiM at the time and she was one of many Brony Analysts I watched) but I will admit she was engaging in a way the others weren’t for me so I kept watching her. I even followed her on Tumblr

I remember back in 2016/17 I stopped watching/following her for a while because I was upset with her very blasé opinion on Palestine and her general liberal politics (I’m a socialist btw) but I came back (most people I like to watch don’t have political views as left wing as mine, that’s something I just accept) but stayed off her Tumblr.

That changed when the ToonKritic stuff happened in 2018 (TL:DR a Brony Analyst was exposed as a sex predator) and I was drawn to Lily’s very angry and cathartic video on it and so I followed her on Tumblr again for more of her takes.

Since I followed HER I took her side in any of her fallouts even if I was initially surprised by them. I also adopted some of her views (not on everything but I was massively on the “Queer should never be used by LGBT+ people” and “Rebecca Sugar is a Nazi sympathiser” views back in 2018/19) despite still being more left wing than her.

I never agreed with her disdain for Bernie Sanders for example even when I was a big fan - ironically I now don’t really like Sanders but that’s due to him not being left wing ENOUGH

I remember when Lizzy broke up with her I was MASSIVELY on Lily’s side. She is very good at framing things in a way that makes her the most sympathetic. I believed EVERYTHING she said about Lizzy and I even retroactively made Lizzy seem worse in my head.

I really need to emphasise that I thought Lizzy was this flaky, transphobic, racist and abusive bitch who relies on daddy’s credit card. I even took Lily’s opinion that Lizzy making her OC Elethyn asexual was her actually being homophobic.

I’ll be honest at this point I sort of stopped watching her as often, that was mainly because 2019 was my final year of uni so I was sorting out moving and getting a job. I also stopped using Tumblr as often for the same reason.

But when lockdown started in March 2020 I was bored and started getting back into a bunch of YouTubers I hadn’t really watched in a while. It was mostly a pleasant experience tbh and even with Lily I enjoyed her Disney recaps that she did in 2019 (though her incest jokes made me uncomfortable)

And then I watched her 2020 update video which was basically her “I hate my fans” video. Like she spent 15 minutes talking about how much she hates her fans and I remember thinking “oh wow this is awful, I’ll go check her Tumblr to see if she’s okay”

There I found some posts about someone called “Opal”. After looking this up, I found the post about Opal’s fanart and Lily’s absolutely horrific reaction to it. This is where my eyes were opened — I’d had these little doubts over the years that I’d pushed aside but this was crystal clear. She had yelled at a minor who had done nothing wrong and refused to back down.

It made me realise, “oh wow she’s always been like this”.

It made me want to look more into her, I think the blog thassabadtake existed at that point so I looked through there and others came later. I also went on Twitter to find info on Opal and then Patch and Lizzy who I realised weren’t the cartoonish villains Lily made them out to but her victims.

(I didn’t bother with Josh since he always rubbed me the wrong way and even without Lily I would dislike him for being a conservative)

But I was always just lurking. I’ve sent some anonymous messages to some of the blogs but I never posted anything on my Tumblr. Because I didn’t want to “corrupt” it (and also people I know IRL follow me and I don’t really want them seeing anything about her).

I again sort of forgot about her for another year or so until I got curious a few months ago and found that things had gotten a LOT worse and that her sister (who I remember her shit talking in vague terms for YEARS).

But since I had a policy of not reblogging anything about her on my blog I was still just lurking so I decided to finally make a side blog just to get my thoughts out a bit

#personal #my post #lily orchard

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handsome-edvard · 1 year

Text

Well, I did finally look into my WIP folders and the Don Judy fic I started in freaking 2022 was sitting there waiting for me like 👁️👄👁️ ma’am why would you leave me here for so long.

So here’s chapter one UNEDITED and ROUGH but finally freeeee (idk if I’ll finish this fic tbh).

~~~

Love Came With All That It Brings

The sky looks different where they’ve stopped for a break, a soft iridescent blue, fading into a gradient of lavender and pink which makes the alien moons more prominent where they seem to hang. To Don, they look as though they’ll tear through the atmosphere at any moment and fall on their heads. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing to happen today, a thought which birthes a sardonic smile on his face.

The sound of footsteps approaching tear his attention away from the unsettlingly beautiful sky. Judy sidles up to him but she does not meet his gaze.

“How’s he holding up?” Don asks, a part of him still reeling from Evan’s accident earlier.

If Judy is also shaken, her face betrays nothing. “He’s stable,” she answers. “I didn’t want to scare him but I don’t think he’ll walk again.” She draws a shaky breath and it rattles past her lips. “I really thought I could save him.”

“You did,” Don says. “He wouldn’t be alive right now if it wasn’t for you. Hey—” Finally, Judy’s eyes are his, and Don can see that this whole thing is a lot for her. Sure, she kept her cool with someone’s life on the line, like a real doctor, but the pressure must have been immense. Evan is her third patient, ever. “You did great, Dr. Robinson.”

The title seems to have the intended effect and Don sees a small, grateful smile settle on her lips. Victor Dhar may not see her as a doctor yet, but after today, Don would rather be with Judy in the event of a medical emergency. He can even get past her ‘anger issues’, though to her credit, she placed his nose cleanly back into place. A precise fix for a precise break.

“We should get him back,” Judy says. “I can treat him further and his brother will want to know what happened.”

Don agrees and inclines his head for Judy to follow him back to the Chariot. Evan is asleep for most of the ride back, yet Judy hardly leaves his side, diligently checking his vitals every so often. When bumps on the road jostle the patient awake, Don hears Judy speak softly to Evan, comforting him by distracting him from the pain and the heaviness of his fate.

It seems five degrees warmer out once they reach camp. Don helps transport Evan to a supply tent that officially becomes their new medic bay. He clears out a few pieces of heavy equipment to give Judy more space to work. Aiko is there to help setup the medical supplies and once there isn’t much left for him to do, Don figures it’s best if he keeps out of the way. Yet he finds himself lingering hesitantly at the entrance of the tent. It feels like he should stay but that is foolish, as he can’t actually help with any of this stuff.

“Don?” Judy calls, breaking his idleness. “We need to tell Evan’s brother and I need to find my mom.”

The look she gives him is clear enough. It’s partly why he hasn’t left the tent yet. Smith is out there still and Don isn’t quite confident Judy should be dealing with the dangerous fraudster with everything that’s happened to Evan. Another part of him wants to deal with Smith himself.

“I’ll handle it,” Don says. “Comm me if anything.”

Judy acknowledges him with a nod and Don departs. He finds Evan’s brother after practically going in circles all around camp, but of Maureen and Smith, there is no sign. By the time hunger prompts him to give up, it’s dark out. Most people have retreated to tents, vehicles, or the odd Jupiter. Don forages for rations and heads back to the medic bay. Something tells him the doctor hasn’t left her patient. He finds Judy almost exactly where he left her.

“Didn’t find your mom and there’s no sign of Smith either,” Don declares to make himself known. “I think your folks might be on a little excursion of their own. We’re down a Chariot.”

“Alright. Evan’s doing okay,” Judy replies, her eyes glued on the vitals. “I told his brother I’ll need to keep him here a few more days, until he fully stabilizes.”

“Did you tell him about the…?”

Judy turns to look at Don. She nods somewhat sadly. “I told Evan too. He said he can still surf with prosthetics.”

Don huffs somewhat mirthlessly. “Well think fast,” he says, and tosses Judy the food ration. “Have that before you end up being your own patient.”

“Thanks.” Judy walks past Don, sitting on the crates just outside the tent. The way her head turns slightly toward him is an open invitation, so he takes the spot beside her with an exaggerated groan. “You know, you saved Evan too today. Thank you for doing that.”

Don tears into the food ration and takes a bite of the sandwich which is mostly synthetic food. The moment Judy refers to is not lost on him. In fact, this whole day and the one before have been rollercoasters. It did not take him long to accept he has more in common with the Robinson than perhaps either one of them could see.

“I know I said some things about your smuggling,” Judy goes on after a minute, and Don partly wishes she hadn’t continued with that. “I still disapprove of it and of your… deal, but… I also think you’re a good man.”

He can’t help the laugh that surfaces. It’s not forced but he can’t explain it either. There is nothing funny here but it still flows, before ending abruptly. “You don’t know anything abou me, Judy.”

“Maybe,” she answers. “But I know no one else would have moved that tanker if you hadn’t. I also know you’re a big cry baby.”

Don turns to meet her eye. She is smiling, he can see it, and a part him thinks that even though she disapproves of what he stands for, they can still be friends. So he smiles too. She knows a lot more about him than most people in this large camp of survivors, which is just as well, seeing as it wouldn’t do for so many people to be able to get him to throw away a perfectly reasonable business deal, lose fuel, yet save a life.

Somehow, only Judy can do that and he’s not quite sure what to make of this realization he most certainly does not wish to have.

“That mean we’re friends again?” Don says.

“I guess we can skip to that part.”

Her teasing smiles forces him to break eye contact and happily finish his food. His chest feels warm and it’s nice. He tells himself it’s because he hasn’t actually got any friends, though John Robinson may be a contender.

“Well, if you want the real Don West saga,” he nearly bellows, “I suppose I could spare a few hours to indulge you. It all begins with the nuns at my primary school…”

When he looks, Judy is smiling, and that makes Don proud of himself.

Chapter 2 and 3

#don west #judy robinson #don x judy #lost in space #this is the one where I said Evan lives and kinda falls for Judy #while Don also likes her #but i don’t remember where I wanted to go with it 😭#idk do you like it?#it’s kinda cute #lost in space fic

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thereforebucket · 2 years

Text

I Was Made For You

Summary: Lupe has a cat. Jess has mice. They've been dating for six months and they're definitely not trying to U-haul. But, you know, the best laid plans of mice and men...

-----

Jesslupe future au feat. Jess' dog, Lupe's Horrible Cat, and Brandi Carlile

Pairing: Lupe García/Jess McCready

Word Count: 9197

AO3

There’s a yelp from the kitchen, followed by “¡Jesucristo!” and a loud bark.

“Timber!” Jess calls, and her giant marshmallow of a Samoyed comes running into the room, then whines at her. She gets up and pats her legs. Timber comes right to her and she sinks her hands into his fur, rubbing up and down his ribs. “You ok boy?” she asks him.

“Oh sure, check on the dog.” Jess looks up to see Lupe leaning against the doorjamb, hands shoved deep in her pockets. She’s dressed in what she changed into after work, a pair of men’s jeans and a vintage Metallica that has only softened with age. She’s arranged her features into a look of annoyance, but there’s a smile peeking out.

Jess smirks. “He’s a big softy, what’s your excuse?”

Lupe raises her eyebrows. “Another mouse,” she says. “It surprised me, darted right out from underneath the oven.”

The smirk sours on Jess’ face. “Fuck,” she says.

“Yeah,” Lupe agrees. “You gotta do something about them, hon, they’re settling in.”

Jess makes a noise of disgust in the back of her throat. “Goddammit.”

There’s a pause. “You know…” Lupe starts slowly, and Jess looks at her sharply.

“No.”

“He’s a good mouser!”

“He’ll scare the dog!”

“So take him for a walk!”

“What, for like four hours?”

Lupe pauses and thinks. “Well, actually, it would probably take longer than that…”

“Lu.”

“Ok I didn’t think it through, but it’s a good idea! And you’ve got mice, sweetheart.” Lupe crosses her arms and fixes Jess with a look. And Jess knows she’s going to lose this one.

She sighs. “Well, where will Timber go if you bring Tío over to my apartment?” Tío is Lupe’s cat and he’s widely considered to be an asshole, most notably by Lupe herself. He’s an older cat that Lupe rescued off the street after he was injured in a fight, and Jess is pretty sure Lupe lives just as much in terror of him as the rest of them, though Lupe claims the relationship is both mutual and loving.

‘Tío’ is also just a nickname. His real name is Tío Beverly after the grumpy, unyielding sponsor of Jess and Lupe’s neighborhood baseball team and an offhand comment from their teammate Maybelle.

“Geez Lu, he looks like a cross between Bev and your scary uncle.” She means this generally, but Lupe does, in fact, have a scary uncle. “And, well, a cat.” And so his name became Tío Beverly and Lupe never looked back.

(Though they’ve talked about Tío at practice, everyone on the team has casually forgotten to mention his full name to Bev. Jess thinks all Bev would do is snort and chuckle a little, but the others are not convinced.)

“You could take him to mine,” Lupe suggests.

Jess frowns. “I can’t leave him alone,” she says. “He’s sensitive.” Lupe considers this.

“We could both go back to mine and leave Tío here,” she says.

“Tío is not staying at my apartment unsupervised,” Jess says firmly. Jess has never escaped the clutches of Tío without a scratch. In her drawer at Lupe’s she has two shirts, a pair of jeans, some socks, underwear, and a box of band-aids. She steals Lupe’s pajamas though.

Lupe holds her hands up. “Look,” she says, “I just think he could help.”

Jess sighs. It’s not a bad solution, honestly. “No, no, I appreciate it,” she says. She thinks for a second. “I bet Ana would take Timber for a little bit, or maybe Carson.”

Lupe purses her lips. “Mmm but would Greta?” she says. “Ana might be a better bet.”

Jess raises her eyebrows. “Greta said Timber was the best-behaved dog she’d ever met,” she says, “which I take full credit for, but I hear your point. I’ll try Ana first.”

“Great!” Lupe says, trying and failing not to look too pleased.

Jess snorts and stands up, walking towards Lupe. Timber whines, but she just shushes him before placing her hands on Lupe’s hips. “You really wanted to bring your cat here that bad?” she asks, grinning.

Lupe wraps her arms loosely around Jess’ neck. “I just like making sure you’re taken care of, querido.” She smiles her dreamy smile.

And god, how could Jess not blush at that? At that statement? At the -o instead of the -a? For Lupe, Jess would suffer even the world’s worst cat making her apartment its home for a little while. So she smiles back and pulls her a little closer. “I know,” she says, and brings their lips together.

-----

So Jess takes Timber to Ana’s for a few days and Tío moves in.

“Temporarily,” Jess reminds Lupe, because Tío is missing yet another clump of fur and looks like he got in a fight with an electrical socket. Lupe pulls him out of the carrier and he immediately wriggles out of her arms, off like a shot to the underside of Jess’ armchair.

“I know,” Lupe says, trying desperately to catch Tío and failing spectacularly. She wipes her hands on her shirt like she meant to just turn him loose. “This isn’t my backdoor into U-Hauling with you, McCready. If I wanted to do that, I’d keep about half of my clothes here and basically never spend the night at my apartment.” Lupe has approximately half her shirts and a third of her pants at Jess’ apartment. Jess cleaned out two drawers for her. She spends about two nights a week at her own place and the rest curled up in Jess’ bed. It’s casual.

Jess opens her mouth but can’t think of anything to say. Her eyes dart between Lupe’s. Her brow furrows.

Lupe frowns in concern. “Hey, hey, I’m joking,” she says, holding her hands out towards Jess to steady her. “I like my apartment just fine. It’s close to the subway and Tío likes watching the pigeons from the window.”

And. It. Well. Jess wasn’t really worried about that. Or rather, she hadn’t thought it would be soon or anything, but she had just been thinking that week about how nice it was to wake up with Lupe, how she’d have to replace Lupe’s toothbrush soon since she was wearing it out, how convenient it had been since she’d given Lupe a spare set of keys and she could just let herself in if she got to Jess’ before her. Jess isn’t sure she’s ready to offer it, but it would sort of be the dream to live with Lupe.

But she doesn’t say that. Instead, she gawps for another second before managing to get out “Well, we can’t deprive him of the pigeons, can we?”

And Lupe still looks a little concerned, but she chuckles. “Speaking of him, I’m going to try to lure him to the kitchen so he can catch these mice.”

Lupe spends about five minutes trying to lure Tío out from under the chair before giving up and going to set up his litterbox and food. She shakes out a little dry food, then pops the top on a can of wet food. “Since it’s his first night here,” she explains to Jess, “I want him to have positive—” Tío comes trotting into the room, chirping, and winds herself around Lupe’s legs. “—Associations,” Lupe finishes. “Well hello you,” she says to the cat, who is now purring. Jess didn’t know he even knew how to purr.

Lupe reaches down to pet him and Tío takes it for exactly three pets before swiping at her hand and meowing loudly. “Yeah, yeah,” Lupe says, rolling her eyes. She pulls the rest of the top off the wet food and dumps it unceremoniously into the dish. Tío tears in and Jess curls her lip in disgust at the wet smacking sounds. “Hey, he’s doing you a service,” Lupe says, catching her. “You gotta pay him somehow.”

Jess nods. “You got me there.”

-----

Tío catches zero mice that evening, but he does shatter a glass by knocking it off the counter and sharpen his claws on the side of Jess’ couch. Lupe apologizes profusely, especially about the couch, promising to learn how to upholster if she has to. Beyond the initial shock of seeing it, though, it actually isn’t that noticeable, so Jess just tells her to forget it.

That night is hell, even though they keep the cat out of the bedroom, but in the morning, Jess finds a mouse head laid neatly by the bedroom door and figures this may have been worth it. She nearly changes her mind when she finds the body floating in the cat’s water dish, but she flings both pieces off the fire escape into the alley below anyway, then washes her hands and starts to make coffee, eggs, and toast.

Once the smell of coffee starts to fill the apartment, Jess hears Lupe start to stir. “He caught one,” she tells her when she hears Lu trudge into the kitchen.

“Oh yeah?” Lupe asks. She comes up behind Jess and rests her head on Jess’ shoulder, wrapping her arms around her middle. There’s a lazy thrill up Jess’ spine and she smiles as she scrambles the eggs in the pan.

“I’ve got to reach the cheese,” she says softly to Lupe, pointing at the bag of shredded cheese on the counter just out of reach.

Lupe unspools herself from around Jess and leans over, grinning. “Do you?” she asks and slides the bag over.

Jess grins back. “I guess not,” she says. She reaches out to take it and Lupe holds it out of reach again.

“Ah ah ah, gotta pay the toll first.” This close up, the sun is catching on Lupe’s eyelashes. Her eyes are a warm, mahogany brown and she’s looking at Jess with a hooded, teasing expression that electrifies Jess in a way that fights with the way she wants to rise to Lupe’s challenge. So, in compromise, she takes Lupe’s hip in one hand and uses her body to push her against the counter. She kisses her fully, leaving nothing on the table, and doesn’t miss how Lupe’s breath hitches in her throat. Lupe steadies herself against the counter with her free hand and, at the same time, Jess snakes her hand along Lupe’s other arm and pulls the cheese from her grasp. She pulls back and smiles, poking her chin out in victory. She raises her eyebrows, once, then opens the cheese and pulls out a handful, sprinkling it on top of the eggs.

Lupe bursts into a quiet chuckle. “You’re gonna kill me one day, McCready,” she says, smiling. Then she reaches out with a thumb and brushes just beneath Jess’ bottom lip. “Got a little spit there,” she teases.

Jess shrugs. “I mean it’s yours,” she says.

Lupe just rolls her eyes.

She moves away and pulls two earthenware mugs from the mug cabinet. They’re Jess’ two favorite mugs. One is a matte, forest green with an unglazed raised square engraved with pine trees. The other is small, with seven short sides and a circular handle. It is smooth and gray, speckled with black, and very clearly handmade. You have to fill it twice to get a normal amount of coffee, but Jess loves it without equal.

Lupe pours the coffee while Jess finishes up the eggs and puts them on plates. She pulls the toast out of the second, smaller pan and inspects it on both sides. She notes, with pride, that it is perfectly toasted. Lupe likes to tease her for not having a toaster, but how can she argue when it means she gets the perfect slice of toast every time? She puts the toast on the plates as well and brings them to the table.

Lupe sets the coffees down on the table as well, one in front of each chair, and Jess notices that she’s given her the green mug. She gives Lupe a look, quirking an eyebrow and Lupe bites her lip, laughing silently.

“Just thought I’d switch things up a little,” she says, sliding her index finger through the gray mug’s handle and holding it near her chest.

Jess can’t think of anything to say other than “But that’s mine!” It comes out whiny and petulant and Lupe has to stick her tongue in between her lips to keep from laughing out loud.

“Pobrecito,” she says, stepping forward and lightly shaking Jess’ jaw with her free hand. She leans in and plants a kiss on Jess’ lips before leaning back and taking a sip of the coffee. “Plus,” she says after a particularly loud slurp, “I’ve already put my like five sugars into this, so you don’t want it.” Lupe takes her coffee black and very sweet. Jess takes hers with no sugar but a heavy amount of cream. She looks at the green mug and notes with distaste that the coffee is already a light tan.

She shakes her head. “After I made you breakfast and everything.” She catches Lupe’s wrist and pulls her in. Lupe sets the mug down so as not to spill and then comes to Jess with a patient expression, resting her hand on Jess’ waist. “And that perfect toast,” Jess continues, and threads their fingers together, pulling their bodies against each other.

Lupe closes her eyes. “Hmm,” she mumbles against Jess’ lips, “you say it’s perfect, but I don’t know how I’m supposed to try it when you’re picking fights about the coffee mugs.”

Jess ghosts her lips up Lupe’s jaw until they rest on the shell of her ear. “Picking fights,” she asks softly, “or claiming what’s mine?” She takes Lupe’s earlobe in her teeth, gently, and feels a shiver run through her.

“I’m not switching the mugs, McCready,” Lupe says, running her thumb back and forth over Jess’ middle. “Coffee’s already been poured.” Jess bites a little harder on her earlobe and feels Lupe’s hand clench on her hip. “You’re going to let it get cold,” she protests weakly.

As it turns out, the point is moot as Tío leaps up onto the table, displacing Jess’ beautiful gray mug and sending it tumbling to the floor. It breaks into three pieces, the smallest piece with the handle separated from another smaller piece of rim separated from a larger piece holding most of the base. The coffee spills over the floor in a splattering wave.

Tío startles upon hearing the noise and springs straight over the rest of the table and onto the floor, sprinting into the other room to hide.

Jess and Lupe break apart and freeze. They stare at the mug for a full ten seconds before Lupe breathes out “Shit.”

She untangles herself from Jess. “Shit.”

She kneels down and starts picking up the pieces. “Shit, Jess, I’m so sorry.”

And. And well, Jess wasn’t psyched about Tío being here in the first place. She wasn’t psyched about the swipes and the mouse in the water bowl and the meowing at her bedroom door all night. And now this. Her favorite mug on the ground, shattered.

But there’s a set to Lupe’s shoulders that tells Jess she’s feeling this too, like an imposition, and she’s looking steadily at the floor, picking up the pieces, not looking at Jess at all, and Jess…doesn’t have the heart to have a reaction. Doesn’t have the heart to break Lupe’s. So she takes a deep breath and says “It’s ok.” Another breath. “It’s ok.” She moves and puts a hand on Lupe’s shoulder, briefly, then pats it. “It’s just a mug. I’ll get a towel.”

They mop up the mess, Lupe holding the broken pieces in her hands, so gingerly, and when the dark coffee has all been soaked away, Lupe gently sets the pieces down and marches into the living room.

It takes her about 15 minutes of coaxing, chasing, and wildly leaping, but she manages to get Tío into his carrier. Jess watches it happen, unsure of what to do. She wants to be supportive of Lupe, wants to be supportive of Lupe’s cat being here, but she’s not feeling very friendly towards him right now. In the end, she helps by blocking the entrance to the kitchen, supporting Lupe by helping her catch this damn cat, and doesn’t comment about the candles and coasters scattered from her coffee table in the process. Jess doesn’t know what Lupe needs to hear right now, doesn’t know how to be there for Lupe and the cat she loves, but she’s always been good at helping with a task.

Once the carrier door slams shut, Lupe stands up and wipes her nose on her sleeve. There’s something that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle in the mix and she’s staring at the floor, not looking at Jess, and Jess is torn between wanting to respect that space and wanting to take Lupe in her arms.

“Well,” Lupes says, roughly scooping up the carrier in one hand. Tío protests. She starts towards the door, pajamas, no shoes, angry cat, and Jess doesn’t know what to say but she doesn’t want this.

“Lu,” she starts.

“I’ll be back!” Lupe calls, grabbing a jacket from the hook on the wall.

“Lupe, wait,” Jess says, moving towards the door. Lupe is hurriedly shoving her feet in her shoes, holding one jacket sleeve between her teeth and trying to shove her arm through the other one. She gets the shoes on and her arm enough in the sleeve to turn the deadbolt. “Babe,” Jess says, but she’s wrenching the door open, still not looking at Jess, and Jess throws her arm out, slamming the door shut and looking beseechingly into Lupe’s eyes.

Jess is breathing heavily, leaning on her outstretched hand, her very body pleading with Lupe to stay. She takes a deep breath and puts a free hand on Lupe’s shoulder. Lupe still isn’t looking at her, but Jess can see the guilt plain on her features, along with a touch of sadness. She’s… Jess realizes she’s misty eyed and feels a jolt of alarm.

“Lu,” she says, cupping her face. Lupe stands stock still, but her mouth pinches closed and Jess can see her shoulders go tight. Jess breathes out, empathy flooding through her, and puts her hands on both shoulders. “Babe,” she says, and Lupe’s shoulders give an involuntary shake. “Babe,” she says again, and pulls Lupe in.

Lupe’s shoulders shake and Jess can feel tears on her own shoulders. She rubs her hands up and down Lupe’s back. Lupe snakes her free arm around Jess’ waist and just lets Jess hold her.

They stay like that, this moment in the entryway, until Tío lets out another yowl and jerks the carrier in Lupe’s hand.

“I’m going to drop him down the fucking stairs,” Lupe growls from Jess’ shoulder.

“No, no, you’re not,” Jess says, and reaches back to take the carrier out of Lupe’s hand, setting it gently on the floor. She stands back up and takes Lupe’s face in her hands, leaning back far enough that she can look into her eyes. “I’m going to cover this with a blanket, and then I’m going to pour you another cup of coffee and we can talk about this, ok?”

Lupe nods wetly, looking tired and vulnerable, and Jess doesn’t want to leave her side for a minute, but she makes good on her word. She leads Lupe to the couch, pulls a blanket out of the basket, and brings it back to cover up the carrier. Tío hisses at her. She ignores him.

She checks on Lupe on her way back to the kitchen, finding her watching her silently. “I’ll be right back,” she says, and heads into the kitchen. She pulls another mug out of the cabinet, this one a standard shape and white, with an assortment of native plants of Saskatchewan printed on it, and fills it with coffee. There’s just enough left in the press to almost fill the mug. Jess puts five sugars in (Jesus, Lupe), stirs, and grabs her own mug to bring to the coffee table.

When she gets back, she finds Lupe picking up the coasters and setting them back on the table. She hands her her coffee, then sets hers on one of the coasters. “Do you want your breakfast?” she asks, and Lupe pauses, then nods.

“I can get it,” she says, standing, but Jess puts her hand firmly on her shoulder.

“No, you sit, I’ll do it.”

She’s back in seconds and hands Lupe her plate before sitting down cross-legged on the couch.

“So, what’s wrong?” she asks Lupe.

Lupe snorts and looks away. “My cat’s an asshole,” she says.

Jess laughs. “I mean, we knew that going in. I knew that going in.” She lifts her plate up so she can prod Lupe with her foot. Lupe gives a short laugh, but her brow furrows. “I’m serious, Lu, I meant it. It’s just a mug.”

Lupe takes in a breath, holds it. She’s staring at the door. “It’s not, though,” she lets out, finally.

Jess frowns. The phrase puts a little jolt through her heart, but she wracks her brains, looking for any sign that Lupe is breaking up with her, and can’t find any, so she forces herself to be calm. “Meaning?” she asks.

Lupe’s quiet for another moment, then says “I mean, I really like you. I like everything about you. I like the things we do together, I like that we do things apart, I can see us doing this for, well, a lot longer than this…” she takes another deep breath and lets it out slowly, “…and the only barrier I can see to that is this damn cat.” She looks quickly at Jess, coloring slightly. “And like the fact that we’ve only been dating for six months and I don’t know how you feel about all that and like. I don’t want to cramp your style or anything.” She takes, frankly, a huge bite of her toast and washes it down with coffee.

There is a lot Jess wants to say to this, but there’s also a smile creeping onto her face so she says what’s on her mind first. “So,” she says, “this is your backdoor into U-Hauling with me,” and she watches as Lupe splutters.

“Oh god, no! No, Jess, I promise, I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable or like rush this or anything!” Her face is so red, Jess wonders idly if she could fry an egg on it. “I just,” she reaches for Jess’s hands and Jess lets her take them, “I really like you and I don’t want to fuck this up. Or have my dumbass cat fuck this up.” She swallows and looks away. “I’m sorry about your mug.”

And god if Jess isn’t just fully in love with this person. If she doesn’t want to kiss her senseless and say yes, she wants this too. If she doesn’t want to frisbee the eggs across the room and fuck her on the couch right now. So, she takes a breath. She reaches up a hand and fiddles with Lu’s necklace, leaning her head in close. “You’re not fucking this up,” she says quietly, and it’s suddenly very hard to meet Lupe’s eyes. “Your cat isn’t either. And I loved that mug, but it was just a thing, Lu.” She does look up here and finds Lupe watching her hand on her necklace, almost transfixed, and it’s so… God, Jess doesn’t know what, but she drops the necklace and reaches up to cup her face, then draws their lips together.

It's a charged kiss. A slow, but desperate kiss. Not desperate like they’re scared they’ll lose each other, desperate in the way of wanting to tell the other something, show the other something, and fuck if Jess is going to try and tell her any other way.

A jostling on her legs reminds her of the plate in her lap and she breaks off, briefly, to move the dishes to the table, then pulls Lupe onto her lap.

The kiss that follows sears her to her core and she reaches up to fist a hand in Lupe’s curls. Lupe moans. Jess takes the opportunity to move her lips to Lupe’s neck and hears Lupe’s breath catch in her throat, hears her gasp as Jess sucks hard at her neck, then soothes the spot with her tongue.

They’re working fast now, Lupe’s hands are on her back, on her hips, in her hair, and Jess reaches her hands under Lupe’s shirt to palm a breast, feeling her nipple harden.

Lupe tries to do the same to her, is pulling on the hem of her shirt, but Jess takes a moment to gently push her hands away and pulls back slightly to shake her head. “This is all you, babe,” she says.

The look Lupe gives her…devastating. She’s all blown pupils and kiss-swollen lips and an expression like she understands exactly what Jess is trying to say. And she nods. And she lets Jess lay her down on the couch. And Jess has never seen a more beautiful woman in all her life.

Jess pulls her shirt up and Lupe has to sit up a little to take it off (poor planning on Jess’ part), but once it’s off, Lupe lays there in all her glory, hair haloing her face, and Jess holds her gaze and she leans down and takes a nipple in her mouth.

Lupe takes a shuddering breath, then shuts her eyes and fists a hand in her own hair. Jess’ tongue works at the nipple and Lupe’s breaths come faster, faster, her eyes fluttering closed, then back open to watch. Jess grins, then takes her mouth away by a few centimeters.

“What,” Lupe breathes, irate, “the fuck—”

And then Jess comes back with teeth and there are no more words out of Lupe’s mouth.

Jess’ teeth graze her nipple, then her tongue, and then her hand comes up to Lupe’s hip, her thumb stroking deep over the bone, and Lupe’s mouth opens in a silent ‘O.’

Jess watches her, drinking it in, not sure if she could ever stop watching her, relishing in her reactions as her thumb strokes her hipbone over and over.

“Jess,” Lupe gasps out, “McCready I swear to god…”

Jess pauses her tongue politely and looks up, smiling innocently. “You swear to god what?” she says.

The look Lupe gives her would kill a lesser man.

“If you don’t move your hand and do something about this,” Lupe gestures to herself, “in the next ten seconds…”

Jess grins. “Something like this?” she says, and tugs Lupe’s waistband down an inch, moving her other hand to Lupe’s other hip and repeating the same ministrations as her first hand.

“McCready!” Lupe spits out, and Jess chuckles, softly, before she begins the slow, agonizing journey of pulling Lupe’s pants off her ass, then over her thighs, then entirely off and into a heap on the ground.

“Missed something,” Lupe says irritably, snapping the waistband of her underwear, and Jess just laughs, lifting herself onto her elbow to kiss Lupe.

“So demanding,” she says, and runs one finger over the outside of Lupe’s underwear. Lupe whimpers, before hiding her face in the couch cushions.

“God, Jess, please,” she says, and Jess knows she’s frowning. “This is fucking embarrassing.” Jess just laughs and runs her finger over her underwear again, pressing harder this time. Lupe gasps. “I swear to god, you goddamn—”

Jess pushes down hard on where she knows Lupe’s clit is and Lupe moans into the couch cushions. Jess pulls her underwear aside and slides a finger down Lupe’s folds, marveling at the slickness she finds there. She brings her mouth back to the side of Lupe’s breast and runs her finger up and down the first layer, feeling Lupe’s breath hitch each time she approaches her clit and hearing her exhale each time she nears her entrance.

“I— Fuck. Holy— Jesus Jess, shit!”

As Lupe’s breaths quicken and her hips start to buck into her, Jess uses her free hand to draw Lupe’s mouth to hers, then thrusts her middle finger inside, swallowing her moan.

It’s quick after this. Jess thrusts her finger in over and over, slipping another in when Lupe clutches at her back, and just at the climax, she brings her other hand down to thumb over her clit. Lupe clenches down over her hand in waves, her breaths coming out in sighs, and she pulls Jess to her and kisses her, hard.

“You,” she breathes out. “You fucking angel. You beautiful thing.” And Jess, suddenly overwhelmed, breaks down and bursts into fucking tears.

-----

“God, who are you, Jenny from The L Word?” Jo asks over a cigarette in the alley behind Jess’ building. Jess shoves her.

“It just happened, ok?” she says, and Jo laughs, stumbling out of arm’s reach. “I just, she was being so sweet and we were, like, together, and I just.” She trails off.

“Let loose the waterworks?” Jo dances even further out of Jess’ reach as Jess rolls her eyes.

“Yeah I guess,” she says, and puts her head in her hand.

Jo slides back in and puts an arm over her shoulder. “Hey buddy, don’t get so down! It just means that you’re a little Cancer baby, this is normal!”

Jess rolls her eyes. “So you tell me, you fucking Leo,” she says, but she leans into the hug.

Jo giggles at her expression. “What, did she laugh at you or something?” She leans forward to look Jess in the eye. “I’ll fight her, Jess. Striker ain’t got nothing on the Bazooka, I’m tellin’ ya.” She flexes and kisses her bicep.

Jess laughs. “Sure, keep telling yourself that,” she tells Jo.

Jo spreads her arm in protest. “She’s a matchstick!”

Jess just laughs and stubs out her cigarette.

It’s comfortable on the elevator ride back up to the apartment. Jo is a solid presence, calming in her surety, the ease of her stance. She fills the space with chatter about her job, about Greta, about Maybelle and her girls, and Jess sinks into the chatter, absorbing it.

When they get to her floor, Jess leads Jo down the hall and unlocks her door, pausing before opening it to make sure Tío doesn’t try to escape. The door clear, she lets Jo in.

The dishes are still on the coffee table where they had left them earlier and Jess notes with sadness her untouched toast. It seems a shame to waste it, but it’s even worse to eat stale toast, so Jess scoops up the plates and brings them to the sink.

“So where is the bastard?” Jo asks, and as if on cue, Jess hears a hiss. “Whoa,” Jo says, and Jess peeks around the corner to see Jo backing away from her armchair, arms raised.

“You found him,” Jess says, as Tío, under the chair, swipes at the air.

“Jesus, he is MEAN,” Jo says, crouching down to look at him. She takes hold of a book on the coffee table, some romance Lupe left there, and slowly moves it towards Tío. He swipes at it, hisses, but the book just keeps coming. Eventually, confused, he gives a little peep and turns around, trotting quickly to the kitchen.

Jess laughs. “You outfoxed him,” she says to Jo, but Jo is frowning.

“You know he’s limping?” she asks.

Jess frowns back. “What?”

Jo points. “He’s limping,” she says, and stands up to follow him.

Jess whips her head around to watch the cat. He’s standing at the water bowl, taking a drink, so it’s impossible to tell, but she crosses the room to him and he looks up and walks away as she approaches.

“Son of a bitch,” Jess says under her breath. Jo’s right. Ever so slightly, Tío is favoring left front leg. “Holy shit…”

“Yeah, right there,” Jo says, pointing again. Now that she’s pointed it out, Jess can see it clearly. “Was he not doing that earlier?”

Jess wracks her brains and comes up empty. “No, I don’t think so,” she says. “But I don’t know! I didn’t notice it until you said something!” Her breath is coming shallowly. She prays to any god who will listen that this doesn’t get back to her Uncle Chester in Saskatchewan, who’d taken her on hunting trips since she was a child, that a wounded animal lived in her apartment and she didn’t notice it. God, Lupe probably doesn’t know either.

Jess takes a breath, then clears her throat. “Ok, well let’s catch him then.”

Jo looks at her askance. “Why?”

“We gotta take him to the vet,” she says. Jo opens her mouth to say something and Jess rolls her eyes. “I have to take him to the vet,” she says.

Jo nods. “I have to get to Greta’s by five, but I’ll help make sure this guy doesn’t kill anyone on the subway, at least for part of the ride.” Jess nods. It’s more than she would have asked from Jo, so she’ll take it. Jo wipes her hands on her pants. “So,” she says, “how do we catch him?”

Jess thinks for a minute. “I don’t know,” she admits finally. “Lupe kinda,” she mimes with her hands, “dove and caught him earlier, but I think that was mostly luck.”

Jo nods. “Does he like anything?”

No, Jess wants to say, suffering, pain, but then she remembers something from earlier. “Wet food!” she says, remembering how Tío had wound himself around Lupe, purring as she opened the can.

Jo wrinkles her nose. “Gross.”

“He’s a cat, Jo,” Jess says, then crosses to the paper bag Lupe had brought with Tío’s things. Sure enough, inside is another can of wet food. “Come on,” she says, and walks over to his carrier in the living room.

She kneels down next to it and holds the can up, then pops the lid, peeling it back. Just like before, Tío comes trotting into the room, chirping, and walks right up to the can, trying to figure out how to get it without interacting with Jess. Jess hesitates.

“What are you doing?” Jo asks. “Put the can in there!” She gestures at the carrier.

“I don’t want him to cut himself on the rim,” Jess says.

“Then you could just dump it in there.”

Jess pulls a face. “Gross,” she says.

Jo shrugs. “Do you want to catch this thing or not?”

Jess sighs, then nods. “I do, I do.” Quickly, she shoves her hand into the carrier and dumps the wet food onto the floor, tapping it a few times to get everything out. Tío is in the carrier faster than she can get her hand out and as soon as her fingers are free, she slams the door shut and latches it.

Tío yowls inside, thrashing around and, Jess notes with a twinge of guilt, getting wet food all over his fur, but he’s been caught.

“You don’t want to wait for Lupe for this?” Jo asks, eyeing the jerking carrier, and Jess shakes her head.

“No, she’s helping Esti pick up a new chair for her apartment today.” Jess had wanted to go too, but she had already made plans with Jo today when Esti asked. “The vet will be closed by the time she gets back.”

Jo cocks her head to the side, nodding. “Fair point.”

So the two of them put on their shoes, grab the cat carrier, and make their way to the closest vet.

-----

Hours later, Jess drags a drugged-up Tío back into her apartment and finds Lupe sitting on the couch, arms crossed. “So I get back from moving this chair with Esti on the subway and find that my cat is missing?” she says. Jess has learned from experience that, even though it sounds like a question, it isn’t.

Jess gingerly steps inside and closes the door before responding. “Look,” she starts, but Lupe is already up off the couch and crouching in front of the carrier.

“Oh my god, what did you do to him?” she asks, alarm spiking in her voice.

“Nothing!” Jess says. Lupe’s hands are fumbling on the latch of the carrier and before Jess can stop her, she’s got the door open and is reaching in. Jess hears a yowl from within and Lupe pulls her hand out, a bright red mark on her thumb. Jess sets the carrier down, a little unceremoniously, and holds Lupe’s shoulders to keep her from hurting herself further. “Lu,” she says, “hold on.” She looks her in the eyes. “Do you trust me?”

“With my cat? I have to say you’re on pretty thin ice with that one right now, McCready.”

Jess nods, that’s fair. “Ok, but in general?” she asks.

“What did you do to my cat, Jess?” Lupe asks, and her words are a brick wall, but Jess can hear the desperation behind them.

Jess wants to pull her into her arms, but instead, she says “I took him to the vet.”

Lupe is suddenly alarmed again, shrugging Jess’ arms off her and leaning around to see into the carrier. “Oh my god, is he ok?” She leans in close. “Tío?” she asks, as if he can answer her.

“He’s fine!” Jess says, turning to follow her. Her legs are all pretzeled up beneath her, but there’s too much going on to sort them out. “Jo noticed he was limping, so I took him in.” She swallows. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice, Lu, I’m so sorry.”

Lupe is not soothed by this news. “Did he hurt himself? Why was he limping?”

Jess shakes her head. “No, he was only limping slightly. I don’t really know how Jo even noticed it. We, um, we took him to the vet though, and got him an x-ray, and the vet said that he had an old fracture on his left front leg that hadn’t healed properly.” She looks at Lupe, softly, pointedly. “I wonder if he injured that leg in the fight. You know, when you took him in?”

Lupe’s still for a moment, then nods slowly, taking it in. “Yeah, that, or even before that fight,” she says. She rocks back on her heels, finally thinking. “You took him to the vet?” she asks.

Jess nods.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lupe says. “I could have taken him when I got back.” She snorts. “Hell, I was only gone a couple of hours.” She smiles at Jess, then her eyes widen. “Wait, shit, x-rays are expensive!” she says. “Shit, how much do I owe you?”

And here’s the thing. Here’s where the rationale breaks down. This was a big spending item for a pet that was not hers, about $400 when everything was added up, but also, Jess can’t fully bring herself to care? Tío is a pain in the ass, but Lupe cares about him and Jess feels bad that Lupe felt like Tío wasn’t welcome in her apartment.

And, well, there’s the whole “she’s is in love with her” thing, even if she hasn’t said it.

So Jess just shrugs, inspects her fingernails (bad, they need to be cleaned), and chews her lip for a moment before saying “Oh, you know, a hundred bucks.”

Lupe snorts. “Yeah, sure, McCready.”

“I know, it was weird,” Jess says, fanning her nails out. “The vet said I got a discount for being the coolest person he’d ever seen.” This doesn’t pull a laugh from Lupe and Jess finally looks up.

Lupe is looking at her with an expression Jess hasn’t seen before. She looks… Desperate, Jess realizes. Desperate and a little lost. Jess freezes. “It’s fine,” she says before Lupe can open her mouth. “Seriously, it’s fine, don’t—”

“Jess,” Lupe says, and her voice breaks a little. She clears her throat. “Jess, I can’t ask you to foot my vet bill.”

Jess studies her for a second, then goes back to checking her cuticles, though she’s sure she’s fully broken the illusion by now. “It’s fine,” she says. “Seriously, I can handle part of it.” She looks up. “I want to.” The look Lupe gives her? Devastating. She pushes past it though and says her next part. “The vet says it’s treatable too. They can’t reset the bone or anything, but you can alternate some pain meds and it’ll help with the pain.” She looks back down, unable to look at Lupe and say the next part. “Which,” she starts, “is why I want to pay for this visit, or at least part of it, because I did the math and if you want to treat him it’ll cost you about one-fifty a month.” She bites her lip and looks back up. “So, I want to help you out on this visit because like, I sprang this on you, I just took him, and it’ll cost you more in the long run so just let me get this. You can give me a hundred bucks and like get the pizza the next time or two and we’ll call it square.”

Lupe looks at her for a moment longer, then looks down and says “I…can’t decide if I’m going to kill you or marry you one day.” Heat rises in Jess’ cheeks, but before she can panic Lupe looks up and points. “I’m leaning towards kill right now, so we’re clear. You took my cat somewhere without telling me? You brought him back all fucked up like that and you didn’t even think to text me about it?” Jess looks down, cheeks pinking for an entirely different reason. “But, y’know,” Lupe continues, a little sheepish, “you also took care of him when you noticed he was in pain. Without asking. So like, I’m not entirely mad about it.”

Jess looks up a little, just meeting Lupe’s eyes. They both look at each other for a moment, searching, waiting, until Lupe closes her eyes and laughs. “God, you’re so stupid,” she says, then looks up, grinning. Jess can tell she doesn’t really mean it, but she’d take it if she did. Lupe shakes her head, then gestures towards herself. “Get over here,” she says, and sits back until she’s cross-legged on the ground. Jess finally un-pretzels her legs and, well, essentially crawls over to Lupe, who draws her into a tight hug.

The positioning is awkward, but the feeling behind the hug is genuine as Lupe buries her face in Jess’ shoulder and breathes in deep. They stay like that long enough that Jess feels her body relax and she all but melts into Lupe. She lets go of tension she didn’t know she was holding and feels, finally, at peace.

“Um” she says, releasing something she thought she was over at this point, “thanks for not, like, laughing when I cried earlier.”

And Lupe laughs at that, but it isn’t mean or cruel. She pulls back and cups her hands around Jess’ face. “Aww, babe, have you been worrying about that?” She brushes Jess’ cheeks lightly with her thumbs and Jess feels her face heat up.

“I—” she starts, then looks away. “Maybe.”

Lupe laughs again, softly, and then gently pulls Jess’ lips to hers. “Nothing to worry about. Thank you for taking care of my cat,” she says, and presses a chaste kiss there.

She pulls back and Jess looks into her eyes, then blinks and looks down at her lips. She’s…god she’s at a loss for words. All she can think is how stupidly, irrevocably in love she is and all she can say is…nothing. The words simply don’t come out. So, she pushes past her beating heart and simply leans in for another kiss, capturing Lupe’s lips with own.

It’s different from earlier, less confidence, less raw passion, but the feeling… She can’t tell Lupe how she feels, the strength of her feeling, but she can do this.

She kisses Lupe like she’s running out of air, trying to pour all she can into this moment, to say it without saying it, and she thinks it works, because Lupe, finally, pulls back and watches her, breathing heavily, her lips parted. And then Lupe smiles.

“If you’re trying to fuck me again, McCready, my only request is that we do it on a bed this time.”

And Jess just rolls her eyes and laughs.

-----

The bar is crowded when they arrive and buzzing with voices and laughter. Lupe drops Jess’ hand to open the door for her and Jess takes the opportunity to pull her guitar lengthwise against her body to avoid hitting people with it.

They make their way through the crowded first room, up the ramp, and to the second room with the stage. Jess finds the open mic sign-up table by the wall and joins the line while Lupe goes off to find them a few seats together.

Jess hears a shriek behind her and has just enough time to lean her guitar against the wall before she catches Esti in her arms, moving them just far enough away from the line to swing her around in a circle. “Hey kid!” she says, grinning.

Esti beams at her. “Hello Jess!” she says. She bounces away from her embrace and holds out a small gift bag. “This is from Lupe,” she says, then thinks better of it and takes it back. “Or, I should give to her…” she says, thinking.

Lupe walks up just then and rolls her eyes. “Great job keeping the surprise, kid,” she mutters.

Esti hands the gift bag over and says “Lo siento!” She puts her hands up and grimaces.

Jess reaches over and rubs her shoulder blade. “I’m sure it’s alright,” she tells her, then turns to Lupe. “What is it though? You didn’t have to get me anything.”

Lupe looks nervous, starts to reach into the bag, and then pulls her hand out and hands it to Jess. “You can just open it,” she says. “And I did, kinda, I— Well, you’ll see when you open it.”

Jess takes the bag curiously and reaches inside. She pulls out the tissue paper at the top and peers in and—

Oh.

Inside is a mug. It’s blue, handmade, and the glaze has melted into these little rivulets of lighter and darker blue, almost like little paisleys. The handle is slim, with a little piece on top to rest your thumb, and the form is wider in the middle and then tapered smaller near the base, almost like a vase. It’s beautiful.

She reaches in and picks it up, finding it to be light, but still solid-feeling. She looks at Lupe and sticks her tongue in her cheek to suppress the smile curling onto her face.

“I, I felt bad about breaking your mug the other day,” Lupe says, “or, well, about Tío breaking your mug, so I dragged Esti to a pottery place after we moved the chair.”

“¡Y luego lo olvidó en mi casa!” Esti says gleefully.

Jess looks to Lupe, not having caught every word and Lupe dips her head and says “She says I forgot it at her place, which I did.” She elbows Esti. “Eres muy mala guardando secretos, ¿eh?” She turns to Jess. “Bad at secrets,” she says. Esti rolls her eyes.

Lupe and Esti go off to hold down the table Lupe found and Jess grabs her guitar off the wall and moves up in line. She’d been debating what to play tonight on the way over, refusing to tell Lupe the options she was thinking about. One of the songs, The Indigo Girls’ “Galileo,” was a safe choice, classic, but it wasn’t really what she wanted to play tonight. The person at the head of the line moves on and Jess steps forward, picking up the pen and writing “Jess McCready, guitar,” on the line. She sets the pen down and picks up her guitar, heading back to the table.

Lupe’s hair catches the low light in the bar, accentuating her curls, and for a second, Jess can’t catch her breath. Yes, she’s going with the riskier choice tonight. It might be sappy, but if she can’t say it yet to Lupe, then maybe she can sing it and it would get still her message across.

She sits down in the third chair of their little table and Lupe slides a beer her way. Jess smiles. “Thanks hon,” she says, and squeezes her hand briefly before taking the beer.

The host of the open-mic gets up on stage soon after, panders to the crowd, and then introduces the first act. It’s one of the regulars at this open-mic. He pulls out a ukulele and starts strumming and Jess chuckles. He’s not Jess’ favorite act, but she appreciates his dedication.

Lu’s hand slips into hers during the third ask and Jess takes it appreciatively. She leans in. “I just realized I never thanked you for the mug.”

Lupe blushes. “You don’t have to, I’m replacing something that was broken.”

“Yeah,” Jess says, “but it’s beautiful.” She kisses Lupe’s cheek and Lupe leans into it. “Thank you,” she says.

There’s a quiet whoop from behind them and they glance back see Esti grinning at them. Lupe rolls her eyes and reaches back to bat Esti away, but Jess chuckles, reaching over Lupe to squeeze Esti’s hand.

Finally, a little while later, it’s Jess’ turn to play. The MC calls her up to the stage and vamps while she sets up. She slips the strap of her guitar over her head and plugs it into the amp, giving it an experimental strum. She’d tuned it earlier while waiting for the show to start, so now there’s nothing left to do but put the capo on and start talking.

“This song,” she begins, and has to swallow. “This song,” she tries again, “is one I haven’t played in a while. I was actually going to play some Indigo Girls tonight, but over the past few days, I…” She won’t air her laundry, clean or dirty, on the stage in a bar, won’t give too much away. “…I felt it was time to pull this one back out.” She reaches up, unclips her capo from the end of her guitar, and slides it onto the second fret, then strums it again. “So, here goes,” she says. She finds Lupe’s eyes in the crowd and her lips quirk up. “Sometimes The Indigo Girls won’t cut it and you have to play a little Brandi.”

Lupe chuckles with the rest of the crowd, but Jess sees it die on her lips as she arpeggios the opening chords. She lets the last one linger, takes a deep breath, and starts to sing.

“All of these lines across my face,” she sings, and a mild cheer goes through the audience as they recognize “The Story.” She laughs into her next line and keeps singing.

“Tell you the story of who I am,

So many stories of where I’ve been,

And how I got to where I am.”

She opens her eyes and finds Lupe watching her, a softness come over her features. She almost can’t look at her for the next part, but lets herself fall into the music, holding her gaze.

“Oh, but these stories don’t mean anything

If you’ve got no one to tell them to,

It’s true…”

Jess finds she does have to close her eyes to get the last part out, but she thinks it’s alright. She thinks Lupe will still get the message even if she can’t look at her.

“…I was made for you.”

She’s able to get through the rest of the song with no problems. She kicks it up a notch on the second verse to the cheers of the crowd, looking at Lupe for “You made me feel like a million bucks.” Lupe laughs and Esti leans forward, shaking her shoulder. Jess has to look away from the ensuing argument to keep from laughing and keeps playing.

She finishes the song, taking the energy back down, and finds that, once again, she can’t look Lupe in the eyes as she sings the last line, so she closes her eyes and lifts her head, crooning out the last “Well it’s true that I was made for you!”

The bar erupts in applause as the last notes drift through the air, but Jess only has eyes for Lupe as she opens her eyes. It’s dark, the bar dims the house lights during the show, but Jess could swear that Lupe’s cheeks are red. The feeling swells up within her and she makes herself look anywhere else as she smiles and begins unplugging her guitar.

“Thank you, thank you,” she says and slips the strap from over her head, holding it by the neck as she maneuvers her way off stage and back to her seat.

When she gets back to the table, Lupe is just looking at her, a smile on her face.

Esti leans over the table and shakes Jess’ arm. “So good!” she whisper-shouts. “You made this one,” she pulls her hands back and mimes crying, using her fingers to show tears running down her face.

Lupe gives her a look. “I did not cry!” she says. She turns to Jess. “I didn’t.”

Jess laughs. “I know, I was watching you guys,” she says.

Lupe nods, her cheeks coloring a little more. “Good, good, yeah,” she says. “Wouldn’t want my reputation to be ruined by a half-pint ball player who can’t move her own chair into her apartment.” She turns to Esti and translates into Spanish. Esti scoffs and sits back, crossing her arms. Lupe laughs, leaning her head on the back of her chair, then turns back to Jess. “You did really good up there though,” she says softly, and pulls her in by her shirt collar for a kiss.

Jess smiles into it. “Thanks,” she says when they pull back, bringing a hand up to briefly cup Lupe’s face. Then, she pulls away and points to her guitar, kneeling down and opening her case. She puts the guitar away, laying it gently back to rest, and closes her case with a snap. She smiles at Lupe as she gets back up, raising her eyebrows and slipping into her seat just as the next act begins. She hears Lupe chuckle next to her, feels her place a hand on her thigh.

And as her hand settles into place, Jess thinks about how true those words at the end of “The Story” are. It’s early, she doesn’t want to jinx anything, but she has honestly never felt so comfortable, so seen, with anyone before now. It scares her a little, but there’s also this certainty to it, this feeling of rightness. She takes her hand. Yeah, she figures, if she’s made for anyone in this world, it might as well be Lupe.

She squeezes her hand and Lupe squeezes back.

#aloto #a league of their own #jess mccready #lupe garcia #jesslupe #jelupe #apparently lol #esti gonzalez #jo deluca #my fanfiction #god this was supposed to be less than 2000 words and instead it's 9000 #*obligatory 'it's over 9000'*

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