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drabbles-mc · 4 years ago

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Fifty Bucks

Bishop Losa x Reader

Request from the babe @masterlistforimagines: Reader and Angel made a bet that she couldn’t last without having sex with Bishop for a week so she keeps “running” away every time her and Bishop get close to having sex. In the end, she lasts a week, collects her money from Angel and Bishop then finds out and takes her to Templo and has sex with her then. Oooh but I want Bishop to literally pick the reader up and bring her into templo and also the crew to hear them going at it

Warnings: language, (unprotected) sex, dominant Bishop giving all of us life

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: Sometimes you have to write Bishop smut at midnight on a Sunday and that’s totally valid. This was incredibly fun to write so I hope y’all enjoy it!

Bish Tag: @sincerelyasomebody @sadeyesgf @thesandbeneathmytoes @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @multiyfandomgirl40 @sillygoose6969 @queenbeered @louisianalady

“No way you could do it,” Angel laughed as he leaned back in his chair.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “I could totally do it. One week? Easy.”

He took a sip of his beer but you could still see the smirk on his face, “Alright then. What’s the bet? Twenty bucks?”

You rolled your eyes, “If I’m gonna go a whole week without having sex with my boyfriend you gotta at least make it worth my while. A hundred.”

He immediately shook his head, “No fuckin’ way.”

“If you’re so sure you’re going to win it shouldn’t matter, right?”

“Fifty,” he paused, “And no getting yourself off either.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst. But you’re about to make me fifty dollars richer so fine,” you held your hand out to shake on it.

He grasped your hand tight in his, “Oh, and you can’t tell Bish. Don’t want him taking it easy on you to help you win a bet.”

It wasn’t going to be a fun week for you, but you figured it was going to be a manageable one. You and Bishop had a healthy sex life, and you immediately started brainstorming ways to get out of sexual situations with him, which was something that you never thought that you would have to be doing. For most of the time that you’d known him, you were trying to figure out how to get in to sexual situations with him. This all felt foreign and also wrong.

Monday evening rolled around and you were in the kitchen making dinner for the two of you. You felt his chest press up against your back as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pressing his lips against your neck. Your legs went a little weak as you gave in slightly to his touch.

“How long ‘til it’s all ready?” he mumbled, his scruff tickling the sensitive skin of your neck.

You smiled, shaking your head, “Not too long.”

“Long enough?” his hands slid down into your shorts, his fingers pulling your panties off to the side.

Ordinarily you would have said, “Fuck it, let dinner burn and we can order in when we’re done,” but you had fifty bucks on the line. And also your pride. You spun around so that you were facing him and you repositioned his hands so they were no longer on the inside of your shorts, “Not this time. Can you grab some plates and cups from the cabinet, please?” you smiled at him.

Confusion crossed over his face for a moment but he did as you asked. You let out a quiet sigh of relief at one avoided situation. You knew how persistent he could be, though, and you had the feeling that you were in for a very long week.

You figured that Bishop assumed that you weren’t in the mood, because for the rest of the night he didn’t push it. The two of you were cuddled up on the couch after dinner and for the first time in a long time he didn’t try to get handsy with you. Part of you hoped that he would keep this up for most of the week so you wouldn’t have to try and dodge him.

Too bad you hardly ever get what you hope for. The next morning you woke up to Bishop’s fingers lightly trailing along your sides and thighs, his lips pressing against your neck. You giggled, still feeling heavy with sleep. He pulled you back against him and pressed a firm kiss onto your jaw.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

You turned so that you were facing him, forcing your eyes open all the way, “Good morning.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, one hand snaking up behind your neck to keep you pressed against him. You moaned lightly into your kiss as your hands came to rest against his chest. He attempted to pull you on top so that you were straddling him and you caught yourself right before you let him. You peeled yourself away from him, hating everything about the stupid bet that you had made with Angel.

“I gotta get ready, I have an early meeting today,” you kissed him on the lips and cupped his face for a moment, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he placed his hand over yours. You could see it in his eyes that he wanted to say something but he stopped himself.

After work, you ran home to throw on a more comfortable set of clothes and then head over to the clubhouse. You knew that the guys would all be there, and you figured that if you were out of the house, the less likely it would be that you would end up in a sexual situation with your boyfriend. It wasn’t completely out of the question, but it definitely put the odds in your favor a little bit more.

You were sitting at the bar, scrolling absently through your phone when you felt a pair of hands press down hard on your shoulders. Angel’s laugh filled your ears, “You owe me fifty bucks yet?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “Not yet. Only two days in and I feel like it’s been two weeks,” you glared at him as he sat down on the stool next to you, “You’re the fucking worst by the way.”

He laughed as he took a beer off the surface of the bar, “You could just pay up now and be done with it. Go home with Bish and get your back blown out. Fine by me.”

You laughed and gave him a firm but playful shove, “No fucking way. I’m not gonna let you win this.”

“You two all good over here?” Bishop appeared, gently resting his hands on your hips.

You looked up at him with a smile, “We’re fine.”

He leaned down and gave you a quick peck on the lips, “No beating up my new secretario. I need him…for now.”

“Damn, Pres, that’s cold,” Angel chuckled. He waited for Bishop to walk away and pick up a conversation with someone else before he turned back to you, a smug grin on his face, “Not as cold as you’re gonna have to be for the next five days, though.”

“Again, I say, you’re the worst.”

Wednesday night you were in the shower, lip-syncing to your playlist and rinsing off what had been an incredibly long day. You heard the door creak as it was slowly pushed open. You smiled to yourself and stuck your head outside the curtain. Bishop was standing there, a grin plastered on his face as he watched water drip down the sides of your face. He walked over and pressed a kiss to your dripping forehead.

“Got room in there for one more?”

Your entire face got hot. You desperately wanted to say yes, but you knew that it would, most likely, lead to the two of you having sex. But you also knew that saying no was going to set off some type of alarm bell in Bishop’s head.

“I was actually just about to hop out. Water’s starting to get cold,” you hated lying but it was the only way you could think to say no without having to actually say no. If he was annoyed, he was very good at hiding it. He placed one extra kiss on the tip of your nose before leaving you to get out and dry off. You let out a sigh of relief when he shut the door behind him.

Thursday was your only day of rest because you and Bishop hardly saw each other at all. You had to leave early for work, and by the time he got home from dealing with the club, you were passed out and he was too exhausted to try and wake you. You stirred slightly when he got into bed but didn’t stay awake for long after you felt his arms wrap around your waist. Within seconds he was snoring and you happily drifted back to sleep.

Bishop walked into the bedroom on Friday night and whistled when he saw you standing in front of the mirror, checking your hair and makeup. “Where are you going,” he walked up and snaked his arms around your waist, “dressed like this?” he kissed your shoulder, “And can I go with you?”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Girl’s night, remember?” you rested your hands on top of his, “I told you about it last week. Some of my college girlfriends are in town so we’re all going out tonight,” you gave him a look through the reflection of the mirror, “No boys allowed.”

He smiled, squeezing you lightly, “What about men?”

You chuckled, “Still a no from me, Obispo. Sorry.”

“Fine. I’ll be here waiting when you get home, though,” he kissed your neck.

The contact made your whole body ache, absolutely hating that you haven’t been touched by your boyfriend in five days. “I’ll text you and keep you updated, okay?”

He nodded, “Have fun.”

It was around 2AM when you called Bishop from your friend’s hotel room, telling him that you were staying the night with them and that you would be home in the morning. He offered to come and pick you up, he offered to get you an Uber, but you told him that it’d just be easier to crash with the girls and come home in the morning. He didn’t like it but it accepted it, asking you to please text him first thing in the morning so he knew that you were alright.

You stumbled through the door early Saturday afternoon. Your hair was a mess and your head was pounding. Bishop was nowhere to be found, and his bike hadn’t been in the driveway either. You grabbed some comfy clothes to change into and made your way to the bathroom to shower. There was a note on the counter next to a bottle of aspirin and you smiled as you read it.

“Sorry I can’t be there when you get back. I’ll be home tonight. Hopefully your hangover will be done by then. I love you.”

You were sprawled out on the bed on your stomach, half asleep with the television on in the background when you heard the sound of Bishop’s boots in the hallway. You turned so that you were facing the doorway and he smiled at the sight of you. He stripped down to his boxers and crawled onto the bed. He positioned himself so that he was straddling you, situated right above your hips. He pushed up the fabric of your shirt (his shirt) and started to rub gentle circles into your back. You smiled, humming in approval as you all but melted into the mattress at his touch.

“I’m assuming from the volume of the television that your head still isn’t feeling great?” he chuckled as his hands worked their way up to your shoulders.

You smiled, “I’m alright. I’m not that old yet.”

Somewhere along the way the massage became a lot more than just a massage. For a moment you were wondering if just oral would break the bet with Angel. But you had less than twenty-four hours and you were so close to winning. You were a terrible liar so if you caved you wouldn’t be able to hide it from Angel.

Bishop had your panties pushed halfway down your legs when you pulled your lips off of his, placing a hand on his chest. His hands stilled as he looked down at you, concern all over his face when he saw your expression, “Everything okay, sweetheart?”

You nodded, “Yea. I just, you know,” you paused, trying to string together the right words to safely derail this situation, “you think you could just hold me for a little bit?”

He repositioned himself so that he was lying on his side facing you, “Of course,” he pulled you up against him, “You feeling okay? You’ve felt far away lately.”

You smiled up at him, nodding, “Yea, I’m okay. Just in a cuddly mood…is that okay?”

He laughed, nodding, “Of course. Can I still kiss you?”

You chuckled, “Of course.”

Sunday night rolled around and you all but kicked the doors in to the clubhouse. The MC was already there—Bishop had left the house a few hours earlier for Templo. The meeting had since adjourned because all of the guys were milling about the expanse of the clubhouse with the usual hang-arounds.

You went up to Angel, who was sitting with his brother at the bar. You held out your hand, “Pay up, Reyes.”

EZ looked back and forth between the two of you with confusion all over his face. Angel chuckled, “Damn, you really did it, didn’t you? No wonder Bish was so uptight in Templo tonight,” he laughed as he dug his wallet out and slapped the money into your hand.

Before you could come up with a smart remark, Bishop materialized next to you, wondering why you hadn’t come over to say hello but instead came over to Angel. Bishop was always your first stop when you arrived at the clubhouse.

“What’s going on over here?” he asked with a curious smile.

You wrapped your arm around Bishop’s waist, “Your secretario just made me fifty bucks richer. That’s what’s going on.”

“Oh? How’d that happen?”

You looked at Angel, “Go on. Tell him. I’m getting a fucking drink,” you laughed as you walked over to the bartender.

“So?” Bishop looked at Angel.

It was written all over his face that he didn’t want to tell the MC president that he had made a bet about the man’s sex life. But you hadn’t left him with much of a choice. Angel chuckled nervously and shrugged his shoulders, “I made a bet with Y/N that she couldn’t, y’know, that she couldn’t go a week without—”

“A week without fucking you,” you interrupted your way back into the conversation when you saw that the discomfort was about to kill Angel on the spot. The look on his face was almost worth more than the fifty dollars.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Bishop was looking at Angel when he asked. When he saw that Angel wasn’t going to be able to come up with an answer, he turned to you, “Why did you agree?”

You held up the fifty-dollar bill that was in your hand, “Fifty bucks is fifty bucks, baby.”

He shook his head and without another word he crouched down, wrapped his arms around your thighs, and threw you over his shoulder. You let you a scream that turned into a laugh as he carried you across the expanse of the clubhouse. You awkwardly tried to tuck the money back into your back pocket as he carried you. The most impressive part of the whole thing was that he hefted you off the ground like he had done it a million times before, and you were content to just let him.

He walked into Templo and slid the door shut hard behind him. You giggled to yourself as he set you on the end of the table. He spread your legs and stood between them, looking down into your eyes.

“You think this is funny?” his tone was serious.

“A little,” you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling at the absurdity of the entire situation. How you had successfully dodged every sexual situation with him that week was beyond you.

He gripped your hips, “It’s been a long fuckin’ week, sweetheart.”

The playful smile disappeared from your face as a shiver went through your whole body. He grabbed the bottom hem of your shirt and pulled it off over your head, tossing it to the side. You pulled him in close to you and kissed him hard on the lips, melting into him as his hands roamed all over your body. He bit down on your bottom lip and you moaned, pressing your fingertips harder into his shoulder blades.

His hands wandered down to the button on your jeans and you smiled into your kiss as he deftly undid both the button and the zipper without missing a beat. You braced yourself against him and lifted your hips up slightly, allowing him to pull down your jeans and underwear in one smooth motion. You gasped as you sat back down on the table, the cold sensation against your freshly-exposed skin shocking you for a moment.

Bishop attached his lips to your neck and you moaned as you blindly reached for his belt. You tried to stay focused enough to undo it, which was proving difficult as you felt him sucking a dark mark into the side of your neck. A wave of heat washed over your entire body, reveling in the fact that he was touching you and you didn’t have to come up with a reason to make him stop. You finally yanked down on his jeans and you felt him chuckle against your neck.

He pulled you closer to the edge of the table and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him as close to you as you could. Seven days felt like an eternity, and as you felt him pressing against your entrance, you wondered how the hell you managed it.

“You been this wet waiting for me all week, querida?” his nipped at your bottom lip.

You nodded, letting out an unsteady breath, “Yes.”

There was a smug grin on his face as he slowly pushed into you. He let out a low groan as he did and you dropped your head back, a loud moan escaping you before you could try to censor yourself.

“Fuck, Obispo,” you dug your nails into his shoulders as you pressed yourself tight to him, “You feel so good.”

He pressed kisses all over your neck and jawline as he started to slowly thrust into you, “You miss this?”

You nodded, hardly able to form a coherent thought, “Fuck, yes.”

He quickly pulled out of you, peeling your body off of his. You whimpered at the loss of contact. Before you could say anything, he pulled you completely off the table and bent you over it, causing you to gasp. He spread your legs and slid back inside you. You gripped the edges of the table to try and steady yourself.

He wrapped one hand around your throat and gripped slightly, pulling you upwards just a bit as he thrust into you. “Was it worth it?” he grunted, “Going all week without this, without me?” his applied more pressure to your throat, letting you know that it was not a question he wanted you to actually respond to.

He let go of you and you sucked in a breath, bracing yourself against the tabletop. His hands dropped down to your hips and pulled you back hard against him. You moaned as his hand came down hard against your ass. You bit down on your lip to try and quiet yourself but Bishop wasn’t having it.

“Moan louder for me, sweetheart,” one hand slid up your back and gripped the back of your neck.

“Obispo,” you panted, “they’ll hear—”

“You made it their fuckin’ business already, Y/N, don’t get shy now.”

The statement made your whole face get hot, but you didn’t have much time to think about being embarrassed. His fingertips dug back in to your hips as he slammed into you, making you let out a yelp. He reached one hand around and started rubbing circles onto your clit and you couldn’t fight back the moans that escaped you. Your entire body started to shake and you knew that you weren’t going to be able to hold out any longer, not after a week of no real contact with him.

“Fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum,” you gripped the table.

He pushed farther into you, “Cum for me.”

That was all you needed to hear. You were completely depending on him and the table to keep you somewhat upright as your orgasm rolled through you. You felt his pace speed up as he started to get close as well. He gripped one of your shoulders hard as he came inside you, moaning as he pressed his face into your back. You let out a shaky breath, soaking up the feeling of him leaning into you, keeping you held tight to him.

Once he caught his breath, he slowly pulled out of you. He gently lifted you and set you back on the table, knowing it was going to be difficult for you to stand. There was a small smile on his face as he pulled up his jeans and redid his belt. He stepped in close to you again, leaving a trail of soft kisses from your chest up your neck and to your lips. You laughed lightly, your hands reaching out to gently cup his face.

You rested your forehead against his, “I wanna go home, Obispo.”

He chuckled, “There gonna be enough hot water for both of us to shower this time?”

You laughed, your face getting hot, “Yea, I think so.”

You got dressed, instantly ready to get your clothes off and get clean the second you got home. You wished that you didn’t need to drive back. You tried to fix and adjust your clothing, not that it would really matter—the guys knew what the two of you had been doing.

Bishop slid the door open and let you walk out first. Everyone was making an effort to look anywhere but at the two of you. You placed a light kiss on Bishop’s lips and headed right out to your car, not bothering to say goodbye to anyone. They were all expected Bishop to follow right after you but instead he walked up to Angel, who was staring very intently at his beer bottle.

“Get all that sorted out, Pres?” Angel chuckled, trying to pretend that there wasn’t fear shooting up and down his spine.

“I find out you’re making any other stupid fucking bets like that again I’ll take your flash,” his face was serious for a moment before he allowed himself to smile. He clapped Angel on the back and walked away, leaving the man sitting there wondering just how serious that threat was.

#mayans mc imagine #mayans mc #mayans fx #mayansmc #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa #bishop x reader #bishop losa fanfiction #bishop losa smut #obispo losa imagine #obispo losa x reader #obispo losa #my writing #drabblesmc #fanfiction

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aspenroman · 3 years ago

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and i saw sparks (jaque x mc)

Summary: MC struggles to pick up the pieces after her catastrophic fight with Jaque.

Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2515

A/N: I caved and bought VIP and binged Ms. Match. I adored it, it was so fucking funny but I wish there was more angst. This is my continuation of Chapter 12 and 13 but with more sadness. Inspired by the song “sparks” by coldplay. bold and italicized words are lyrics from the song

did i drive you away? i know what you’ll say

MC can’t focus on anything besides the rushing of blood in her ears. Her entire nervous system is overwhelmed by everything going on, especially the betrayal by Jaque. Her dad has disappeared, run off somewhere and instead of being able to chase after him, she’s stuck here with her, in a dumb argument.

“You threw Veronica, my dad, me, and your own integrity under the bus tonight, Jaque. You can’t talk your way out of this one,” MC screams.

Jaque rolls her eyes, “You backed me into a corner! I had no choice! No good choice! Veronica likes your dad! A lot! Richard was the only one who might be able to win against that connection.”

you’ll say, “sing one we know”

“Veronica could be happy with my dad. That’s what she asked us to find her. Love. I can’t believe you forgot what this is all about.”

Jaque laughs, her annoyingly beautiful face contorting into a sneer, “No, you forgot what this is all about.”

She began to pace as she spoke, practically spinning in place as she huffs. MC watches on, her fists clenched.

“When does what I want get to matter? When do I get to live my dreams? Why do I have to fight you for the position of my dreams?” Jaque shouts, her voice cracking at the end with emotion.

i promise you this, i’ll always look out for you

Deep down, MC feels sympathy for her. But the twinge of sympathy is buried by overflowing anger and hurt. She pushes any kind feelings aside, focusing instead on her rage.

“You’re insane,” MC breathes.

i say “oh”, i say “oh”

Jaque turns on her, laughing bitterly, “Insane? I’m insane? What’s insane is that you managed to blunder your way to the finale. I spent a decade earning my position, you’re lucky I brought you to the gala. I’m the only reason you’re here.”

“Lucky? I don’t feel very lucky to have met you right now,” MC shakes her head, “I really thought you were more than...more than this. I thought you were more than the woman I met forever ago. I thought you had morals, I thought you had a heart, I thought...”

“You thought what?” Jaque’s voice lowers from a shout, but her tone is still strained with frustration.

my heart is yours, it’s you that i hold on to

“I thought you loved me, the same way I love you,” MC smiles weakly, but her eyes water.

Jaque doesn’t meet her eyes. MC takes a step forward and Jaque steps back.

“Well, you thought wrong. It was always about the competition, love was never in the equation,” Jaque says tersely, “what we had wasn’t love. It was lust.”

yeah that’s what i do

“You’re telling me you took me to meet your mom just so Richard could get those flowers? You’re telling me all those times you showed up unannounced, all those secret glances and touches were fake? All a part of some elaborate plan?” MC questions.

“Yeah,” Jaque still doesn’t meet her eyes, “and you played right into my plans. I barely had to lift a finger, you were too busy falling to realize I was never going to catch you.”

MC freezes, the words finally sinking in. She can feel the gazes of hundreds of people on her, watching her heart shatter into billions of pieces. Some sadistic part of her hopes that the fragments manage to hurt Jaque, but MC knows that’s not really how this works. She knows she gave her heart to someone who was never really hers.

It makes sense now. All the dancing around labels, all the sneaking around in favor of “not breaking the rules”. All the things Jaque spew about her family, in an effort to get MC to trust her. Jaque was right about one thing, she had more experience professionally. And in that moment, it seemed to MC that Jaque used every technique to get MC to think they were perfect matches.

i say “oh”, i cry “oh”

MC can’t get her brain to form words, all she can concentrate on is not falling completely apart. Her eyes sting, but she doesn’t look up, she can’t. Instead, she trains her gaze on the road a few feet away. She doesn’t say anything as she goes, she just starts in one direction.

Jaque yells after her, but the words don’t even phase her. In fact, MC can’t even remember what she said. She walks for miles, away from the gaudy life of the rich Upstate New Yorkers and back toward where she thinks the city is. It takes almost an hour before she spots a cab and manages to flag it down. It’s a miracle she even finds one, and she gets in and mumbles her address.

She hugs herself in the back of the cab, eyes staring unseeingly out the window. Soon enough, the bright lights of the city that never sleeps come into view. She thinks it should be a comfort, but it doesn’t help. When MC finally gets to her place, she pays the fare and stumbles up into her apartment.

As soon as the door is unlocked, she walks inside and slams it behind her. MC barely manages to lock it before her legs give out and she crumbles to the ground. Her chest heaves for breath, her throat closing up as she panics. Tears stream down her cheeks, unable to control herself anymore. Her nails dig into her palms, trying desperately to calm herself down.

yeah, i saw sparks

She’s had panic attacks before, more so in the past few months because of the matchmaking business. Although then she had Jaque to call up and now she has no one. She can’t rationalize how Jaque would be willing to call her at 2am, to hold her through breakdowns, and not care an ounce about her.

yeah, i saw sparks

MC tries to intellectualize her feelings, tries to calm herself down the way Jaque taught her to, but nothing works. Nothing works because everything reminds her of Jaque and Jaque is the one causing her this pain. Her heart aches and for a second, she thinks she might be dying as her chest tightens. A pain from behind her sternum makes it hard to breathe and she loses her breath, before it releases in a big sob.

She’s not okay.

---

Maggie tries to come over the next day, but MC can’t face her. She ignores Maggie’s desperate knocking, pretending that she’s asleep and turns her phone off completely. The rest of the weekend passes in a daze, MC unable to do anything but stare at the ceiling and dwell in her feelings.

When Monday rolls around, MC knows it’s time to pull herself together. She doesn’t know how she will, but she has to.

“No competition is worth this,” she murmurs to herself as she pulls on her favorite blouse and a pair of dress pants. She fixes her hair in the bathroom mirror, putting on makeup to cover the bags underneath her eyes. Her eyes are still swollen and a bit red, but she tries not to draw attention to them.

She finally turns her phone on as she enters the building, her phone vibrating with a billion messages. Most are from Maggie, while some are surprisingly from Jaque. MC doesn’t even bother reading them as she sees the text from Veronica, summoning her to her office.

and i saw sparks

MC knocks on the office door and after a second, she enters. Unsurprisingly, Jaque is already there, engaged in deep conversation with Veronica. They both turn to her as she enters.

“Where have you been?” Veronica speaks, “I’ve been trying to contact you all weekend.”

“Family stuff, won’t happen again,” MC lies, forcing on a smile.

“Good,” Veronica pinches the bridge of her nose, “onto more pressing matters, we’ve had an unexpected request from-”

Veronica keeps talking, but MC tunes her out. Instead, she keeps her eyes glued to the space behind Veronica’s head. MC can feel Jaque’s intense gaze on her, but she refuses to look at her. She doesn’t think she can bear it right now.

“Dismissed,” Veronica finishes and MC nods, swiftly leaving the room. She walks briskly down the hall and into her office.

Sunlight streams through her windows. Without hesitation, MC slams the blinds closed, plunging the room into darkness. She closes and locks her office door before settling into her chair. The room feels colder somehow, without the presence of either Maggie or Jaque.

MC takes a shaky breath, resting her elbows on the table. She closes her eyes, putting her head between her hands. The darkness of the room brings her comfort. She doesn’t know how much time she spends like that, before she finally pulls herself together.

Turning on her computer, she searches the database for the person Veronica was talking about. MC missed most of the debriefing, but luckily the system had already assigned the client to her and Jaque. She spends some time going through the man’s profile, making notes in a separate document.

Hours pass like that, MC hunched over her computer and trying to make sense of this “unmatchable” person and finding people who might like him. She has spreadsheet after spreadsheet, trying to do things the analytical way. Jaque’s way, her brain reminds her and it stirs up a bitter feeling.

“I can’t fucking do this,” MC mumbles, standing up from her chair. She can’t matchmake when her own love life is in shambles, when every piece of advice she used and gave to other people made her blind. How can she give advice out, when no one loves her? She has no prospects anymore, it’s pathetic.

MC paces back and forth, trying to decide what to do. Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door and she freezes.

yeah, i saw sparks

“I know you’re in there,” Jaque’s voice rings out, “everyone else already went home. It’s almost seven.”

MC glances at her phone, to see Jaque’s words are true. She doesn’t even feel hungry, even though she hasn’t eaten today. She just feels empty. Without saying anything, MC sits down in front of the door, resting her back against it.

“Can you unlock the door? Can we talk, please?” Jaque pleads.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” MC says plainly, her voice hoarse still from their screaming match.

“I get it,” Jaque’s voice is softer and MC can hear her sit down on the other side of the door, “just give me five minutes, that’s all I ask.”

“Okay,” MC concedes, closing her eyes.

“I lied on Friday, okay? I was angry and I took it out on you. Veronica’s been like...like family to me. I thought that maybe if her and Richard could get back together, it would be like fixing my parents’ divorce. And I... I was jealous. You’re a really good matchmaker, like really good. And, it’s scary,” Jaque tells her.

“This competition isn’t worth it,” MC ignores most of her statement, “you can have the CEO spot. I’m quitting anyways.”

“What?” Jaque says.

“If I can’t even keep my personal life from falling apart, I shouldn’t be a matchmaker,” MC’s voice cracks, “everything I’ve told my clients, I followed and it didn’t work out. I shouldn’t be here.”

“You should be here, you deserve to be here, are you...are you crying?” Jaque’s voice is surprisingly gentle.

“No,” MC sniffles, tears running down her cheeks.

“Please, just open the door MC, let me explain,” Jaque murmurs, “please baby.”

MC rubs at her eyes, taking in a shaky breath as she stands up and reluctantly unlocks the door. She takes a step back. The door gently swings open, light from the hall flooding into the room.

Jaque is silhouetted by the light, and MC hates how effortlessly put together she seems. Still, when Jaque takes a step forward, MC sees the tears in her eyes.

sing it out

Jaque takes one look at her and then breaks out into sobs. Alarmed, MC’s eyes widen as Jaque’s shoulders shake. She takes a hesitant step forward before wrapping her arms around her. Jaque leans into the embrace.

“I lied, okay? I lied,” Jaque says through sobs, “I love you, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life and I thought that if I just pushed you away I could win. But I can’t, I can’t deny what you make me feel. This competition isn’t worth losing you, nothing is worth losing you. You’re...you’re my match, MC. As soon as you left on Friday, I ran after you. I got into the first cab and made my way to your apartment. But I couldn’t even take a step inside, I’m a coward, okay? I...I thought pushing you away would solve my problems. But that’s not how this work, love isn’t something you can hide. Fuck the competition, fuck the CEO role, fuck everything. None of that means anything to me, if I can’t have you.”

Jaque clings to her, her fingertips digging into MC’s shoulder blades. MC is content with letting Jaque hurt her, if only to feel her in her arms one last time.

“You really hurt me, Jaque, one apology won’t fix that,” MC says.

“I know, but would it help if we have makeup sex?” Jaque jokes before sniffling.

“You’re on thin ice,” MC rolls her eyes.

“...That wasn’t a no,” Jaque tells her.

MC pulls back, hitting her on the arm. Jaque yelps before a soft smile breaks out on her face.

“Just please stay here, even if you don’t want to take me back, that’s okay. Just please stay with the company, with Veronica, with-, with me,” Jaque says to her, eyes sparkling.

MC mulls it over before she nods, “Okay.”

“Can I kiss you, please?” Jaque says desperately.

MC rolls her eyes again before grabbing onto Jaque’s collar and pulling her close. Their lips meet, the taste of mint toothpaste mixing with the salt from their tears. It’s a slow, gentle kiss and MC is the first one to break it.

“Did you just brush your teeth?” MC murmurs.

Jaque grins, “Maybe.”

MC lets out a quiet laugh, “You’re a dork.”

“But I’m your dork,” Jaque says.

“You act like I forgive you already, one kiss won’t change that,” MC tells her honestly.

“I know, but it doesn’t hurt,” Jaque smiles before kissing her again.

When they finally pull away to breathe, Jaque grins at her. MC smiles up at her, a half-smile but it’s the most she can muster. The hurt from Jaque’s words won’t fade overnight and they’re far from being official, but MC feels a little less shaky about where they’re at. Maybe it would be good to take things slow, try and approach things like a normal couple would-

“Is it time for makeup sex?” Jaque whispers.

Or not.

#ms match #playchoices #choices: stories you play #choices #jack x mc #angst #my writing #mine #hurt/comfort #wlw #jaque x mc #jaqueline monroe #jaqueline x mc

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jobean12-blog · 4 years ago

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Top Shelf: Chapter 12-Bookaholics

Pairing: Bucky x reader (Bookshop/Bartender AU)

Word Count: 1,515

Summary: You and Bucky try to get the ball rolling and explain your idea to Sam and Nat all while having a little fun :)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! Happy Monday! Thank you for all your continued amazingness! Love you all! If anyone hasn’t been to the High Line you can check out the website here It’s one of my favorite places in the city and really is that beautiful! I like taking you on a little tour of NYC through this story, it helps with how badly I miss my city (we are doing well though so one thing at a time right!) All the pictures I use in my moodboards are real photos of these places. Here is the link for attaboy again in case you want to see that too. Thank you all for reading! Much love to you always ❤❤❤

Warnings: Fluff, some super light smut (mostly implied), flirting, romantic fluff :)

Previous Chapters

Chapter 1: Enchantment

Chapter 2: Cookie Crumble

Chapter 3: Sweet Anticipation

Chapter 4: Read Between the Limes

Chapter 5: Secrets on the Shelf

Chapter 6: Love Between the Covers *

Chapter 7: Love Lines & Soul Finds

Chapter 8: Drunk in Love *

Chapter 9: Pour it onto the Page

Chapter 10: Recipe for Love *

Chapter 11: The Pages in Between

When you awake the next morning it’s to the sound of more rain hitting the sky light, Bucky’s even breathing warm against your neck. You slowly shift and stretch to grab your phone. Seeing that it’s not even 6am you unlock the device and lazily search through your Pinterest, saving recipes that look worth trying.

“Looking up some new stuff to bake, sweetheart?” His voice is low and raspy from sleep and you love the sound, turning and smiling as he rubs his eyes. “I hope I didn’t wake you?” He curls his arms around your middle and pulls you against his chest, “nope.” You rest your head under his chin, closing your eyes and listening to the rain.

“How about we just stay up here forever. Forget work, read books, eat pizza…” You continue, your breath hitching as Bucky’s hand creeps under your shirt. “Listen to the rain…Bucky.” He rolls on top of you, gently pulling your shirt above your head. “What else?” he asks between kisses. “This. Lots and lots of this,” you whisper, shimming out of your shorts.

“How long do we have before you have to leave for work?” His fingers inch below the waistband of your underwear, easily slipping inside you. “Enough time,” is the last thing you say before his lips capture yours, swallowing your moans.

You find if hard to concentrate at work, every free minute your mind wanders to thoughts of the bookshop and your idea and to Bucky. It’s hard to shake the feeling of wanting to dive in headfirst and just do it, go all in. But you know you can’t. You must do this right. You shoot Bucky a quick text, ‘hey babe, want to talk to Sam this weekend? Maybe we can hang at the bar after closing and go over our idea?❤❤’

His reply seems enthusiastic and you smile. ‘Definitely!❤ I can’t stop thinking about it, especially being in the bookshop now. I keep imagining where we could put things and how to move things around and all that.😁😍’ Letting out a breath you let him know you’re excited and try to get back to work. The rest of the day is boring, and the work week drags, however, your nights with Bucky are anything but.

Saturday night rolls around and you and Nat stroll into the bar late. You wade through the crowd of already drunk people, searching for Bucky behind the bar. You spot him leaning against the back counter, his button down open at the front and his sleeves rolled up, the buttons looking like they may pop off any moment. His jeans do little to hide his thick thighs and perfect ass. Sam slides up next to him and you follow their line of sight over the bar to find two girls giggling at something they said.

“Hey Nat, I think our boys caught some attention,” you snicker, pointing their way. Nat raises her brow, whispering in your ear before heading to the other end of the bar. She makes her way to the bar, getting the attention of Peter. “Hey Pete, could you get y/n and I some shots please,” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

He nearly falls over, grinning wide at you both before looking nervously over at Bucky and Sam. “Uh, yea, sure of course ladies. What’ll it be?” You pretend to think it over for a second, “you know what, why don’t you pick for us? Whatever you think we’ll like. And make one for yourself so you can join us!” He simply nods, rushing off to make your shots. “Could he be any more adorable,” Nat whispers, giggling. “No. But could he be any more afraid of the boys?”

You both let out a laugh, having way too much fun and looking over at them. They’re staring, Sam with his arms crossed over his chest and Bucky with his hand on his hip, all four eyebrows raised in your direction. You smirk at Bucky just as Peter appears with the shots. “Thanks Pete, can’t wait to try these.” He lifts his shot up, clinking the small glasses with yours and Nat’s. You keep your eyes on Bucky while you down the cold liquid, slamming the glass down on the bar and licking your lips. “That was great, good choice, thanks.” Nat heartily agrees, sliding the glasses back and smiling at Sam.

“You’re welcome, can I get you anything else?” A large hand lands on Peter’s shoulder, Sam’s deep voice answering his question. “No, thanks Pete, we’ll take care of the girls from here on out.” You watch him visibly stiffen, shaking his head vigorously before practically running off in the other direction.

“No need to scare the pants off the kid, baby,” Nat coos, her smirk reappearing. “And it looks like you were handling those girls on the other side of the bar just fine from here.” Bucky and Sam look at each other and scoff before they start laughing. “So, that’s what this is about!? They’re Steve’s cousins that are visiting from out of town,” Sam says, eyeing Bucky before laughing again. “You were jealous!” Bucky adds, his eyes bright. “I love it.”

His smile is so wide you want to punch him and for a moment you and Nat are silent. “Well, how were we supposed to know! And we were only having a bit of fun! AND might I add, I was not jealous!” Nat chimes in, “but clearly you two were! Coming over here and scaring Peter half to death!” They start laughing again and Bucky leans over the bar to whisper in your ear, “I love you.” Sam throws Nat a wink and waves over the two girls who quickly head toward you. After introductions are made and everyone laughs over your misunderstanding you spend the rest of the night enjoying your new friends and having some drinks.

By the time 2am arrives and the bar closes you’re all tired but still willing to talk things over. Sam cleans off a back table and grabs some waters. “Ok. Let’s hear this plan of yours,” he says, smiling brightly despite the time and fact that he’s been at work for almost 12 hours. Your heart swells. You love them all so much.

Before you start you reach into your bag, pulling out a small Tupperware. “Ok, but first, some cookies!” Sam whoops along with Bucky, two large hands grabbing for the container. Bucky looks to you, his mouth full of cookie, “go for it baby.” You hold his hand the whole time, laying out what you’ve come up with so far.

Nat’s smile never falters, and Sam’s excitement is clear as they listen to all you have to say. When you’re finally done, they naturally have questions which you and Bucky do your best to answer. “Listen, I think it could really work if you do it right. People love books. They love food. They love coffee. You just need to bring it all together,” Sam says, suggesting you set up a meeting with his friend Tony who owns several businesses and has a really good head for this stuff.

“He sounds like he could be a huge help,” you say excitedly. Sam nods, chewing his last cookie. “Oh definitely. He’s brilliant and honest and if anyone can help you navigate through this it’s him. And of course, us!” he adds, putting his arm around Nat. “Of course, guys! Did you tell Steve yet?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “He and Peggy couldn’t make it tonight so they are going to stop by tomorrow, actually later today, so we can fill them in.”

When you finally leave the bar, it looks as if the sun is about to come up. “Summer is really here! I love how early the sun comes up these days. And how long it stays out,” you say, leaning into Bucky. He has his arm around your waist as the two of you walk slowly down the quiet street. Suddenly, he stops. “Hey, I have an idea. You wanna go on a little adventure before we head home?”

With a little squeeze to his middle you happily exclaim, “yes,” not needing to ask any questions as you follow him into the subway. About twenty minutes later you emerge back to the surface and see you’re at the High Line. “Oh, Bucky! I love it here!” He smiles down at you, walking up the steps. “I hope we can see what I want to see,” he whispers, holding your hand as you head down the path.

You reach a spot where you have a clear view of the water and Bucky sits on a bench, pulling you into his lap. It’s close to 6am and the sun is starting to peek over the horizon, the bright orange and pink hues dancing across the calm water. “Good morning,” he says against your ear, his eyes fixed on you instead of the rising sun. Turning your head, you kiss him softly. “It’s the most perfect morning.”

@aesthetical-bucky @auro-ora @azurika-writes @book-dragon-13 @buckys-broody-muffin @bucky-on-my-mind @bugsbucky @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @hailmary-yramliah @hawksmagnolia @ikaris-whore @imgaril-lindru @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewels2876 @loricameback @littledarlinhavefaithinme @littleredstarfish @mushyjellybeans @marvelandotherfandomimagines @marvelgirl7 @nano--raptor @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @scarletsoldierrr @softpeachbarnes @the-wayward-robot @throwmyheartawayagain @flyawaybay @amandatar-06 @nd1998sc @yansi1923 @captainchrisstan @vherriepie @godofplumsandthunder @when-the-hell-is-bucky @fire-flv @jamesbarnesappreciationclub @irishflutiegirl @rinthehufflepuff @moonybarnes @nordlysinthewoods @inflxmes @lauratang @my-favorite-fics-and-imagines @buchanansebba @emilylyoness @curlyred2020 @kaosera @breezy1415 @metal-armed-cuddly-dork @devynsdiary

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secretkeeper13 · 4 years ago

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Declaration

I started this little ficlet about the first time Harry and Ginny say “I love you” to each other last month. It sat around unfinished in my phone until last night, when I woke up at 2am and couldn’t fall back to sleep. The end is a complete product of my sleep deprived brain ;) I hope it brightens someone’s Monday. Some slightly NSFW moments below the break, but nothing explicit.

Also on AO3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591689

He lay awake in bed, his mind racing as thoughts of death and destruction began to consume him. At once, the silence of the night was punctuated by the sound of squeaking door hinges, followed by creaking stairs. The room was nearly pitch black, save for a patch of moonlight shining through the window shade.

Instinctively, he grabbed his wand and his glasses from the bedside table. It had been only two weeks since the war ended, and he was still on edge. It didn’t help that sleep had been difficult to come by. The faces of the dead seemed to float in front of him every time he closed his eyes, and when he finally fell asleep, it was fitful, and too often interrupted by nightmares.

A shadowy figure stepped through the doorway. The cool blue glow of wand light illuminated her face. He breathed a sigh of relief and released his wand.

Ginny crouched by Ron’s side, and gently shook his shoulder. “Ron,” she whispered.

Ron’s tall frame sat bolt upright in bed. He was already holding his wand. Harry wondered if he’d fallen asleep with it in his hand, like he did when they were in the tent.

“Ginny,” Ron said, looking down at her and lowering his arm. “What’s wrong?”

Ginny’s brow was furrowed and her face was etched with concern.

“It’s Hermione.” Ginny spoke in a hushed tone. “She had a nightmare, and she’s asking for you.”

“Shit,” Ron swore, and he stood up, grabbing his discarded t-shirt and throwing it on over his pajama bottoms.

“She’s really upset,” Ginny said, the worry in her voice apparent. Harry’s stomach twisted at her words. “I tried to calm her down, but she wants you.”

Ron swore again as he hurried out the door. It was a testament to Ron’s concern, and of all that had happened in the past year, that he didn’t make a joke or comment about leaving them alone together in his bedroom, Harry thought.

Ginny sighed as she moved to sit on the edge of the camp bed. Harry could tell she was shaken. He took her hand in his. He’d tried to be there for her, even in the chaos of the last two weeks.

“How bad was it?” Harry asked quietly.

“Awful,” said Ginny, in a whisper. “She was nearly hysterical when I was able to wake her. I tried to calm her down, but she just kept saying she wanted Ron. I didn’t want to ask her what it was about and upset her more.”

Harry’s stomach twisted with guilt as he thought of the horrible things Hermione had faced in the past year, all because she was helping him.

“I think it’s getting worse because they’ll be leaving in a few days. She’s really worried about finding her parents and reversing the charm,” Ginny continued, her tone still hushed.

The weight of the guilt in Harry’s stomach increased. He ran his hand that wasn’t holding Ginny’s through his hair as he sighed. “I told her I’d go with them. I don’t feel right not helping her after all she’s done for me this year. But she won’t let me. She says there’s too much that needs to be done here.”

As Harry’s eyes began to adjust to the darkness, he could see the ghost of a smile cross Ginny’s face. “That’s true... but I think she wants to have some time alone with Ron too. Which I do not want to think about,” Ginny shuddered.

Harry chuckled. Ginny looked down at him and smiled. She always knew, instinctively, how to make him feel better.

He stroked his thumb across her hand, and he realized that she felt cooler than usual.

“Come here,” he said, shifting over in the camp bed and pulling back the quilt to make room for her, “You’re cold.”

She brought her legs up onto the bed and snuggled under the quilt next to him. He lay on his back, with one arm underneath her as she turned towards him and nestled into his side, her head resting on his shoulder, her palm pressed flat against his chest, her leg resting atop his. He wrapped his other arm across her.

Suddenly, it struck him that this was the first time they’d ever laid in a bed together. Of course, they’d only ever been alone in a bedroom together once, on his birthday last year, and Ron had interrupted them. Their position was familiar- they’d laid together like this many times by the lake, and even once on a sofa in the common room after everyone else had gone to bed. But there was something so much more intimate about laying with her in a bed, the two of them alone in the still and quiet darkness.

His heart began to race. He’d imagined he and Ginny in bed together too many times to count over the past nearly two years. The images from his many dreams began to flit across his mind, and he felt his cock stir. But he felt ashamed. That can’t happen now, he told himself sternly. Fred had just died. Everything was still fucked up, despite the war being over. And he couldn’t shake the feeling that lives could’ve been saved if he had done things differently.

“What are you thinking about,” Ginny said, her soft voice breaking the stillness.

“I just wish...” Harry broke off. He couldn’t put into words how he felt. The “what if’s” had tormented him since the end of the battle. He couldn’t stop his mind from replaying the past year, and thinking of how things could have been different, how Fred, Lupin, Tonks, and the others could’ve all been alive if only he’d figured things out sooner. It didn’t help that he’d had to keep retelling what happened that year- first to Ginny, then to the rest of the Weasleys, and to Kingsley, not to mention the whitewashed version for the public. Each time he recounted what happened, he saw the chances he missed to end it sooner.

The opportunities were there. The diadem haunted him. He’d held it in his fucking hands. He was so busy trying to hide that stupid book that he hadn’t even noticed what was right in front of him. He should have realized. He’d known about the Horcruxes by then. But he’d missed it, in his self-absorption. And for what? A better Potions grade?

Ginny moved her hand from his chest to his bicep and lightly stroked it, snapping him out of his spiraling thoughts. Even in the darkness, he could feel her piercing look.

“Harry, you can’t blame yourself for any of this. He wouldn’t be gone if not for you. Many more people would be dead. You hardly had anything to go on, but you managed to do it.”

As usual, she knew what he was thinking, and she knew exactly what to say. Her words unknotted the twisting in his stomach, lessened the weight on his chest. He felt that familiar, tender ache inside that he got whenever he thought of Ginny. He’d felt it when he’d stare at her dot on the Map. He’d felt it when they’d kissed after the battle. And now, as he lay with her, holding her.

He realized that he hadn’t even asked her how she was. He pulled her closer to him and gently stroked her back, his fingers slipping across her long, lovely hair.

“What about you,” he asked softly, “How are you feeling?”

She sighed, and he held her tighter. “It’s still... surreal,” she whispered. “I don’t think any of us are ok right now.” She looked up at Harry. “But we will be in time. And we’ve got time now.”

They did have time. That was perhaps the strangest thing of all to him. Since Voldemort’s return, his life had felt like an egg timer winding down, and after Dumbledore died, it felt like it was down to the last minutes. He’d known Voldemort would be at the end, and his own death seemed inevitable and ever approaching. Now, his future stretched wide and unencumbered in front of him. The possibilities for what the rest of his life could be were seemingly endless. As someone who never had a choice before, it was overwhelming. But, with absolute certainty, the one thing that he knew that he wanted in his future was her.

He stroked the side of her face, down her jaw line to her chin, and kissed her softly. He pulled away before he could deepen the kiss, not trusting himself, knowing how easy it would be to get carried away, and there were things he needed to say to her.

“I wasn’t sure sure of anything this past year,” he began, his voice low. “I didn’t know how to do what Dumbledore tasked me with. I didn’t have a clue at times what he really wanted. Or whether I’d ever be able to accomplish it. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

He felt her stiffen against his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her tighter as he continued. “The only thing I was certain of was... that if I somehow made it through, I wanted to be with you.”

She leaned up and kissed him. He felt a swell of emotion as she deepened the kiss, and he held her tightly as her small body pressed into his. Her hands slid into his hair as he stroked her side. His mind went blank as the only thing he could focus on was Ginny, and the feel of her lips on his.

“I love you,” she breathed as she broke away. For a moment, he was stunned. He couldn’t remember anyone ever saying those words to him before. Then, a feeling of elation swelled inside him.

“I love you.” The words tumbled easily, unbidden, from his lips, despite that he’d never said them to anyone before, because he did. He loved her. And he knew that he always would.

He stared at her for a second. Her eyes were shining in the semi-darkness. He cupped her face and brought his lips back to hers. All of the thoughts that had plagued him since the end of the war were gone, wiped away, and replaced by Ginny. He felt joy coursing through him, a feeling he hadn't felt in so long. She loved him.

His body seemed to move on its own accord as his fingers twined in her hair. He deepened the kiss, and as her tongue brushed against his, they both moaned. In an instant, he was hard. They’d kissed since the war ended, of course, but nothing like this since that kiss they’d shared on his birthday last year.

His hand left her hair and traveled down to her waist, and moved underneath the hem of her oversized t-shirt. She let out a small gasp as he stroked the smooth skin of her back. He rolled her gently on top of him, and he shuddered as she pressed against him and rolled her hips.

It was as if they were back by the lake at Hogwarts. Ginny kissed down his neck, hot, open mouthed kisses that sent electricity coursing down his spine. She sucked on his pulse point, and he let out a ragged groan. How could he have forgotten how good this felt?

His hand slid under the front of her shirt and reached the swell of her breast. He cupped it gently, and as his thumb caressed across, she made that breathy “oh,” that had haunted his dreams for the past year.

Suddenly, he heard the unmistakable creak of heavy feet on the stairs. Ginny’s head dropped to his shoulder at the sound. They froze. It took every bit of self control that he had to pull his hand away from her chest.

“Fuck,” he groaned.

“Not tonight,” she said, smirking, as she rolled off him and sat back up, her hand lightly caressing down his arm and leaving a trail of goosebumps. “Ron’s timing is shit. Twice in a row he’s interrupted that, actually.”

Harry stared at her, his mouth agape, as the meaning of her words clicked into place. His brain was clouded with a mixture of arousal and elation. Twice? Did she really mean....

“Wait,” he said slowly, “Do you mean that on my birthday last year, you wanted to….”

The door flung open, and Ron, bleary eyed and illuminated by his wand, entered. Harry had never been less pleased to see him.

“How’s Hermione?” Ginny asked, “And nice of you to knock, by the way,” she added sarcastically.

“Better. She’s asleep now,” Ron said. “And why the hell would I knock? It’s my room.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Well you see Ron,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “It’s common courtesy when you know a couple is in a bedroom together to knock before entering. Something that you should learn, you prat.”

Ron snorted, “Stop being dramatic. It isn’t like you were doing anything. And if you’re referring to last year, you weren’t technically a couple at the time, which was the reason for it in the first place,” he retorted.

Ginny glared at Ron and shot him the two finger salute. Harry, not for the first time, was struck by his best mate’s inability to read the room.

Harry, sensing Ginny’s anger, and eager to prevent a sibling row in which what they were actually doing before Ron interrupted was revealed, took her hand in his and stroked it with his thumb.

At his touch, Ginny sighed. “I should go back down. Mum will have kittens if she finds me out of bed.”

She leaned down and kissed Harry, and she let the kiss linger much longer than a typical peck, despite Ron’s noise of disgust from across the room.

Her lips grazed his ear as they broke apart. “I love you,” she murmured, quietly, so that only he could hear her.

Harry beamed at her, and he pulled her back down to him and kissed her again, ignoring Ron’s “ugh.”

“I love you too,” he breathed into her ear as they pulled apart.

Ron’s voice sounded from across the room, “I hope you’re done,” he said, “because I really don’t want to watch this.” He made a vague gesture between the two of them.

“Oh, we’re far from done,” Ginny said sweetly, “But you’re killing the mood, so we’ll reconvene without you later.”

Ron snorted.

Ginny stood and walked to the door. “Goodnight,” she said. “Oh and Harry,” she added, turning around as she reached the door. “About your birthday, the answer is yes. Definitely.”

Ginny winked at him, flipped her hair over her shoulder, opened the door, and was gone, leaving Harry stunned (not to mention incredibly turned on) in her wake.

“What about your birthday, mate?” Ron asked.

“Oh, erm, nothing,” Harry said hastily, trying desperately to think of anything aside from the fact that Ginny wanted to have sex with him, and had since last year. “We were just discussing, um, plans.”

“Yeah, I reckon we should have a big party for you this year, since last year’s was shit owing to Voldemort and all,” Ron mused.

“Er, yeah,” said Harry, trying to keep his lips from twitching, “Voldemort ruined my birthday last year for sure.”

“Well, it’ll be better this year.”

“Definitely,” Harry said, thinking only about Ginny.

“Night mate,” said Ron as he laid down in bed.

“Night Ron,” Harry replied, exhaling a deep breath.

The sound of Ron’s snores soon filled the room. Harry still couldn’t sleep, but this time, it was for an entirely different (and far more pleasant reason) than usual.

#hinny #first time harry and ginny say I love you #hinny fanfic #hinny fluff #Harry realizes Ginny wants to have sex with him

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millieg-03 · 4 years ago

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4.20am Sunday, 21/03/2021

I’m pretty restless tonight. The morphine helps me sleep a little, but my arm movement keeps blocking my cannula, resulting in the constant beep on the infusion pump.

My pain levels are tolerable. My tummy is pretty full though, and still no stoma output. I can feel the start of the cramps building up as the morphine is wearing off, but my dose is keeping me consistently comfortable.

Yesterday was a good day. I managed to ‘eat’ two serves of chicken broth, two instant coffees and two apple juices. There hasn’t been a lot of food this week. There has been a lot of craziness though!

My stomal therapy nurse (STN) visited my house on Monday afternoon to insert a catheter into the distal opening of my stoma. As I watched the colonoscopy prep be inserted via catheter into my system, I didn’t envy the missed opportunity to taste it. Gotta take the wins where they come!

7am Tuesday morning, my STN visited again for round two. Inquisitive me watched carefully throughout this process, and helped where I could - I found it quite fascinating.

Round three happened at 9.30am, then for the first time in 9 months I was able to sit on the toilet and ‘go’ like a normal person.

In the day surgery prep room my Dad fielded a message from my beautiful Peter - our home loan had been approved. WooHoo! So excited for our future! Dad stayed by me for a few hours while I waited for my turn in theatre. It’s a routine procedure, but there was this bogey hanging about that gave this unspoken feeling that things were more than just routine. The gravity of the situation was cemented when my surgeon visited me in recovery. He could see tumour recurrence through the scope. His tone gave insight that I will have a long road ahead. This news did not surprise nor shock me.

I grabbed my property bag, got changed & checked my voicemail “I have the paperwork in front of me, I just need to know what your start date will be. We can’t wait for you to join our team” - I tabled that one for the day, called my beautiful Peter & delivered the minimal information provided to me in recovery. Off we went home to grab the cake & present & headed out to dinner for my 5yr old nieces birthday. It was lovely being around family. The genuine joy as she opened her presents & squealed in excitement. All the little kids lining up for a piece of their Snow White birthday cake. And the food! I enjoyed garlic bread, chicken parmy & a piece of Peter’s delicious chocolate cake. Absolutely de-lish.

I was coaxed into slumber that night by sound of waves through my belly. There were wooshes & grumbles, and I soon found sleep.

I got up to empty half my stoma bag at 2am & sought some strong pain relief. The wooshes and grumbles were no longer playing nice. My bag wasn’t as full as normal. The pain relief kicked in, and I went back to sleep.

Peter dropped me at work that next morning. I was quite keen to be back. I enjoy what I do. I enjoy working hard. I enjoy problem solving, and challenging myself to get better outcomes. It was good to be back at work after a few days off. Team meeting went off without a hitch, but concentration became increasingly difficult thereafter. I took an early lunch just to lay down. Not long after returning to the desk I was unable to manage the pain enough to continue working. 12.44pm text to Peter “I think I might need to go to hospital. My stoma hasn’t worked since dinner, my abdo pain is bad & I just threw up”. I laid in the foetal position while my beautiful colleague sat and comforted me. 10 minutes later I was escorted to Peter’s car.

I’m definitely more rascal than refined elegance. I’ve had my fair share of nights out over the years where I’ve ended up a sickly mess. It’s almost a right of passage through your early twenties, right? Well I don’t think I have ever been this messy, and any fibres of decorum I held, I’m pretty sure I left them in the gutter outside the hospital emergency room. Peter dropped me at the door while he found a park. I didn’t make it to the door. The complete contents of my previous night’s dinner was exited into the gutter, and Peter found me in a ball on the ground rocking back & forward. I had a 10/10 pain, even with targin in my system (a slow-release opiate pain relief).

Here I sit, four days later (now 5.15am), still in hospital. I’m restless because I’m on patient transport today to go to Royal Prince Albert Hospital in Sydney. My Thursday MRI scan showed tumour recurrence & spread to surrounding organs. It’s in my ovaries, uterus and small bowel (hence bowel obstruction & excruciating pain). My current understanding is that a kick-arse surgical team from RPAH will remove anything containing tumours. They will take my uterus and ovaries out. They will take some of my small bowel out. My stoma (I’ve named her Betty) looks like becoming a permanent fixture. If there is any activity near my bladder, then some of that will be removed & probably result in a Urostomy (bladder stoma). Mum thinks I should call her Bertha if this does eventuate. I like that. Bertha and Betty.... there’s also one deposit just hanging about a bit higher. I was told it’s not near the lungs, but more sitting in some fatty tissue near my large bowel somewhere. The true extent of things won’t be known until they actually get in there and have a look!

In terms of looking toward our future, I withdrew from the new job. We are still selling our house, but will move in with Mum & Dad and rent our new one out until I’ve recovered enough to return to work.

Transport is tentatively booked for 9.50am, so I’ll get up & do some laps of the ward, then get myself ready for the trip.

(I did 2x 1km walks of the hallway yesterday!).

For now? Over and out - MandyG Xoxox

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justasparkwritings · 4 years ago

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 9

Previous: Another Shot at Love Pt. 3

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook X OFC

Genre: Fluff, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Government Agent AU, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Swearing, Kissing, Mentions of Consensual Sex,

Summary: The P.I.(Y/N) wakes up in the arms of the man from the bar, Jungkook, and goes on another quest to find the first man who broke Lee Euna’s heart.

Searching for Seokjin Pt. 2

Present Day

�� I awoke the following day to untangle myself from Jungkook, whose arms and legs ensnared my own. His warmth radiated through me, lingering as I step out of bed, my bed, and am grateful to be fully clothed. Somewhere between making out and drinking a gallon of water, we had found ourselves snuggled under my duvet, and sometime after midnight, nearing 2AM, we had fallen asleep. If I wasn’t careful, this was going to turn into a whole sleeping together twice and having sex once or whatever nonsense Cameron Diaz spewed in The Holiday.

It’s not often that I sleep through the night or sleep well. It’s rare that I find the silence of my apartment comforting in the slightest, which is evident by the industrial locks on my door and windows, coupled with the registered gun in my nightstand – never loaded – or the countless surveillance measures I’ve put in place to guarantee my safety. The countless hours I’ve accumulated listening to meditation, ASMR videos, are all signs that my line of work brings little to no peace of mind.

I will never admit to sleeping well in a man’s arms, but damnit if I didn’t sleep like I’d rubbed CBD oil all over my body and cocooned myself in Egyptian cotton. Jungkook’s arms are nothing like anything I’ve experienced before. They’re strong, assuming, muscular yet lean. His right, decorated in a tight sleeve of tattoos, expressing the deepest parts of his life, flexes lightly, holding me to him. I could spend days, weeks, months, tracing the lines on his skin, asking him questions, wondering aloud the meaning behind the ink. Jungkook’s body is strong, impenetrable, washboard abs that I could easily wash my dirtiest of laundry on, but it’s his eyes and smile that give him away. He’s soft, he’s cozy, he’s inviting and he’s respectful and sexy and mysterious and all-consuming at the same time. He’s all I want to think about, and I know he’s all that’s going to be occupying my mind until I see him again.

I turn the coffee maker on and open the fridge to see what I can scrounge up for breakfast. Miraculously, the hangover is non-existent, most likely because I drank so much water before falling asleep, in an attempt to stare into his eyes, like a galaxy, ever expanding as they pulled me in.

“Morning beautiful,” Jungkook says, a tattooed hand running through his raven hair. His bare chest confronts me, the wide expanse I had spent the better part of 8 hours pressed upon, staring unapologetically.

“Hi,” My voice is a soft whisper. “You sleep okay?”

“Mm, best night sleep I’ve had in a while. Your mattress is insanely comfortable,” His smile is light, bright and glowing.

“Oh, so it wasn’t snuggling with me?” I question.

He tilts his head, unsure, “Snuggling?”

“Yes?” My confidence is wavering.

“Cuddling,” He says.

“Snuggling,” I reply.

“Cuddling,” Jungkook’s smile grows.

“They’re the same thing,” I inform him.

“Are they? Snuggling sounds like, like leaning,” He takes a step towards me. I’m very aware that I remain pantless.

“Oh god, how many times have you seen While You Were Sleeping?” I allow him to cage me in against the fridge, his forearm resting against the cool stainless steel.

“Enough to know that leaning is a sign of mutual want, it’s about desire, craving, needing,” He recites.

“Leaning,” I whisper, my breath a ghost across his lips.

“Wanting,” He closes the space between us, his gentle and velvet lips press delicately against mine, the dull roar of heat building as he slips has hand up my thigh to rest on my hip, under my shirt. He licks my bottom lip gingerly before parting them and welcoming my tongue into his mouth. The pressure of my tongue on his releases a low moan as my hands rest on his pecks. I am fully aware that I could do this forever.

Jungkook pulls away first, slowly disentangling his lips from mine.

“Are you saying you want me?” I ask, eyes still closed.

“Do you want me?” He retorts.

“I asked you first,” I tease.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” His eyes are unwavering as they stare into mine, the authenticity and kindness washes over me, a blush coating my cheeks.

“Like a first date?” My teeth pull the inside of my lip into their grasp. I haven’t gone on a first date in a while, let alone with a man like Jungkook.

“I’d like to think last night was our first date,” He says, hands still on my hip, thumb drawing circles on my skin. The sensation is calming, a trance coming over me as my body responds gently to his.

“I’m cool with that,” I say. “Do you want to shower or anything before we go? I know I don’t have anything for you to borrow…”

“A shower would be great,” Jungkook nods.

“Without me,” I clarify.

“Oh?” He quirks an eyebrow, a trait I’m already starting to find sensual.

I smile, “But maybe after you buy me breakfast, we’ll see.”

“Maybe after I buy you breakfast, I can take you on a traditional date, dinner and a movie? Earn my keep?” He counters, leaning in again to press an adoring kiss on my lips.

“You don’t have to earn anything,” I say.

“That’s good to know,” He responds. I can tell in his eyes that he’s had to pay a price before, someone down the line made his love a commodity, not something worth freely giving or receiving, but earning. He was worth something, and its sinister ramifications still remained in the darkness of his irises.

“I’m not a prude, I just, your eyes,” I clarify.

He opens his eyes wider, “My eyes?”

“Yeah, I want to know what I’m going to be drowning in before I take the dive,” I tell him. My hands, still on his forearms, move up and down gently, an offer of comfort in this moment of vulnerability.

“You’re so poetic,” He earnestly responds.

“I minored in English,” I tell him.

“Mm, what do you think about dinner?” Jungkook asks again.

“How do you know you won’t be sick of me?” The question, flying out of my lips before I can stop it, insecurity flinches across my face.

Jungkook, though, laughs, his nose scrunching softly. “How about Monday, you free Monday say 6:30?”

“I can do Monday at 6:30,” I tell him, “You’ll pick me up?”

“Absolutely,” He nods.

Inhaling, I ask again, “You won’t be sick of me?”

“I’m not sure I’m ever going to be sick of you, but ask me again in a few months,” Raven eyes, wide like saucers, sincerity abounding, bring calm to my intense, laser focused, unwaveringly anxious orbs.

“You’re really sexy,” Deflecting, I speak again. Anything would be better than a conversation about my vulnerabilities. “I’m not so sure we’re going to make it to break-

His lips are on mine before I finish the sentence. His hands, once drawing tantalizing shapes on my skin, have now pulled me to him, his hips grinding into mine. His gorgeous digits sprawl against my ass, anything to get me closer to him. I in turn have wrapped my arms around his neck, hands entangling in his locks. I can’t stop the moans that escape my lips as he grinds into me again.

“We’re never going to make it to breakfast,” My voice comes out between a moan and a breathy whisper, Jungkook’s lips leaving wet open-mouthed kisses down my neck, teeth nipping my collarbone. “J-Jungkook,”

“Y/N,” He responds, eyes tracing my clothed figure before meeting mine.

“I’m starving,” I whine, a smile cracking through my lust.

Jungkook laughs, doubles over laughing hysterically. “I’m sorry, yes, I’ll shower quick, yeah? Ten minutes? Do you know where you want to go?”

“Yeah, I know a place,” I tell him. “Let me brush my teeth and get you what you need to shower.”

“Perfect,” He’s still recovering, the dulcet ring of his laugh hitting me straight in the heart.

“On a constructive note?” I stop at the door to my bedroom, pausing.

“Hmm?”

“I slept really well too, and that’s not normal… But I’m not sure, in this moment, if normal is ever anything I have ever wanted?” I tilt my head to the side, feeling my pulse quicken.

“It’s overrated,” He nods, his voice mimicking mine, cautiously fielding the hidden meaning in my words.

“Yeah, totally,” I nod.

I am positive I have said too much, what guy wants to hear their supposed one-night stand say that they slept better with the other person there? We didn’t even have sex! He’s going to think I’m clingy, oh god, that’s the worst. He’s going to think I’m clingy and then when he discovers that I am actually a relationship-phobic asshole, who can barely hang onto the relationships with her blood relatives, not to mention the fraying connections between friends, a romantic relationship is impossible.

But what if he’s different? Oh, hope, you fickle bitch. What if he’s considerate and thoughtful and listens when I rant and is okay that I own a gun? What if he likes the way I cling to him in my sleep, or how I brush my teeth a minimum of 2.5 minutes, often 3, morning and night, and never skip flossing? Will he like my cooking? Or how I sing to every single song that plays through my speakers, and listen to the same ones over and over until they’ve become a part of my psyche?

You cannot tell me Taylor Swift didn’t write Out of the Woods about me.

Maybe he’ll be all of these things… or none of them… maybe this isn’t the start of something new, as Zac Efron would say, but just… a moment?

~~~~~

That evening, after Jungkook has left, I venture to my favorite grocery store. Not only do I not have anything for breakfast, but there is nothing to make any semblance of a meal, let alone alcohol to wash it down with. I don’t hate cooking. But I hate cooking, in the way that most millennials do. The prep, the planning, the shopping, the chopping, then the actual cooking and cleaning? Why is it so difficult? Why so many steps? Why does it matter if I use oil or butter in the bottom of a pan? How come my banana bread turns out soggy in the middle if I use a square pan instead of a rectangle? Why is it a science?

I digress. The point is, I’m going to the store. AirPod in one ear, podcast playing at a low roar, list in my phone, I grab a mini cart and head straight for produce. Why I go to produce first when I always bruise what I put in first, I do not know. Some deep masochistic tendencies within me. Nevertheless, I walk towards the oranges, trying not to laugh uproariously at the joke being told and grab a bag of Cuties. Gathering a variety of items that will soon be left to rot in my fridge, I stop dead in my tracks. Standing in front of me, a sight I have been searching for, well, my search has truly just begun, but still, in his full glory, reaching for Braeburn apples, a bold and incorrect choice, he stands.

“Kim Seokjin,” I whisper, eyes narrowing on him. He’s unbelievably handsome, pouty lips, dark eyes and a baseball cap protecting his face from the harsh lights of the grocery store. A cream t-shirt covered by a black bomber jacket with a wide collar, he’s a sight to behold. I don’t know what to do. I have none of my PI tools, but then again, I have a cell phone. I quickly switch to camera and try to covertly take a few photos of him before he’s turning around and walking away from me. Tossing a few items into my cart, I follow, but he’s gone. Not in the chips aisle or frozen section, nowhere to be found in the bakery, in the millisecond it took me to blink, he’s disappeared.

Making my way out to my car, I find a note sitting on my seat. Freezing, I inspect my surroundings. No shattered glass, no misplaced seats, no smudges or fingerprints on the door handle. I feel the taste of bile in the back of my throat before I realize the sensation overcoming me, and as if in slow motion, I turn my head and vomit. Fear does crazy things to you, and it’s been a while since I’ve been this scared. Trembling hands and shaky breath, I reach for the handle to the backseat, locked. I check the driver’s door, a cold sweat soaking through my sweatshirt, locked.

Who the fuck broke into my car and locked it on the way out?

I quickly place the groceries in the backseat and grabbing a pair of gloves from the extra box I keep, daintily pick up the envelope. Opening it, a single piece of paper is folded in thirds.

“Stop looking, Y/N,” I read. I read it again, turning it over and over.

Stop looking? Looking for who? For what? I’m always fucking looking, don’t tell me to stop and not be specific about it. Tilting the paper, catching the evening light, I see a watermark, two trapezoids meeting at their shortest, parallel side before branching out. Who is classy enough to stalk me, leave a note in my car, and have a watermark on what feels like silk cardstock? This is not normal, not even for the highest-level criminal.

My phone rings, and the jolt of fear cascades through me again.

“Hello?”

“Hey – I found that guy you’re looking for,” C says.

“I thought you said you weren’t looking,”

“I wasn’t, at work,” The condescension is clear in her tone.

Exhaling, I ask, “What did you find?”

“He’s in the area, he dated some heiress to a huge conglomerate, but other than that, he’s pretty low key. Works a day job in an office doing accounting,”

“Who was the heiress?”

“It doesn’t say, literally anywhere, whoever it was scrubbed the web clean of it,” C takes a sip of what I’m guessing is Merlot.

“Is there anything unusual about his profile?” I question.

“No, he pays his taxes, never had a ticket, lives a pretty average life,”

“Okay, okay, can you send me the –

“You know the deal,” C reminds me. Ah yes, the “I’ll tell you what you want to know, but no paper copies or digital trail” deal, an unspoken agreement.

“Fine. Tell me this, what’s the mile radius of where he lives?”

“I’m surprised you haven’t run into him before. He seems to operate around where you live,” C tells me. “Look, I gotta go, that was my one good deed for the year. Don’t call me, I’ll call you,”

“Sure, love you,” I say.

“Love you more,” She responds before hanging up.

If he frequents the mile around my apartment, that greatly increases the likelihood of me running into him again. Realizing I haven’t put the cart back, I exit my car, careful not to step in the pool of vomit, and start to wheel the cart to its resting place.

I, very kindly, push it through another cart and as I turn to leave, find myself nose-to-chest with a baseball cap wearing, broad shouldered, pouty lipped stunner.

“Sorry,” He says, eyeing me. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I’m sorry, I truly wasn’t paying attention either,” I tell him, shaking my head in faux embarrassment.

“Are you okay? You look a little, sick,” Seokjin worries.

“Oh yeah, totally, just a little … evening sickness,” I lie.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever heard of that,” He smiles politely.

“Yeah, sometimes I just you know, get sick,” I say, trying to buy time. This is easily the worst conversation I’ve ever had, and I once asked an A-Lister if he could take a photo of me and his wife… at an award show, where he was nominated.

“Hmm,” He nods, “Well, have a good night.” Seokjin turns and walks back to his car. Hastily moving into mine, I wait with bated breath for him to pull out before I start to follow him, sugar free tropical popsicles be damned.

Next: Tailing Taehyung

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crewhonk · 5 years ago

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The Great Build Up

Summary: Bucky just wants to tell YN that he loves her but this week has another thing in mind for them both

Warnings: fluff, sick puppies, fluff, naughty NSFW (face-fucking, interrupted sex), and then fluff and then firefighter angst (detailed description of injuries) and then more fluff

Songs: 400 Lux- Lorde / All I Want- Kodaline / people- the 1975 / ashes- Celine dion / Listen Before I Go- Billie Eillish / Saturn- Sleeping at Last / Breathe (2AM) - Anna Nalick

_____________________________

MONDAY

She had brought him lunch— his favourite meal from his favourite diner up the street just because she wanted to say him. She showed up to the department with her hair loose and long and white summer dress floating around her knees. She had finally started dressing for the weather once she noticed how much he loved seeing her do so. His hands never wandered far from her, playing with the hem of her dress during dates or sticking his hand in her back pocket as they walked down the sweltering streets fo New York.

But, she was here in front of him, greasy paper bag in her fist and smile stretched across her face.

“Hey, beautiful.” He mumbled, hands cradling her face as he kissed her gently. “Let’s eat in the truck— you know how nosy some people can get around here.” He smirked as Sam cried out an offended protest from the workbench.

She nodded sheepishly and grabbed his hand, letting him pull her to the truck and helping her climb in. She sat in the passenger seat, and they chatted and giggled and laughed together as they ate. She reached forward and wiped some sauce from the corner of his mouth almost absently with her thumb and sucked it into her mouth as she paused her story.

His heart rate picked up as she continued to talk as if she hadn’t just wholly seduced him. He dropped the bag onto the floor of the truck and reached towards her, cutting her off with a solid kiss and making her squeak.

She returned the kiss in earnest, never one to say no to her hot piece of firefighter ass, and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer and sighing blissfully as his tongue darted out to taste her lips.

“C’mere, Doll. Too far away.” He grumbled, and she let him guide her to sit straddling his lap. Her hands found his hair and thread themselves in his locks as their lips met once more, hungry and gentle and everything you could read about in a good romantic story.

He pulled away from her and before she could complain much, his lips met her jaw. She leaned her head back and let his mouth leave hot, wet marks over her skin.

“Thank you for the visit, doll face. This is just what I needed.” He whispered against her skin and she wriggled in his lap in an attempt to just get closer.

“It’s my pleasure, Buck.” She said, just as quiet and he looked up at her, hands hot and heavy and rough on her thighs as his fingers traced gentle circles on her skin. She was looking down at him, hair messy and skin glowing and thick feelings of something resembling warm honey filled his lungs and throat.

“I lov—“ Before he could /finally/ tell her what he had been putting off for so long, she had leaned back in surprise and put enough pressure on the horn, and pulling a loud laugh from her chest at the loud sound.

Sam had run to the door, climbed up on the step and poked his head in, amusement and faux disgust on his face.

“Are y’all really serious right now? In my firetruck?” He shrieked and YN pulled her skirt over her thighs, blushing madly.

“Get out of here, Wilson. And it’s not your truck— at best, it's the cities truck.” Bucky defended, resting his hand on YN’s hips and pulling her closer just to spite his best friend. There was a bubble of annoyance in Bucky’s throat and he wanted nothing but to actually hit the smile on Sam's face right off. He was so damn close.

“At least wipe down the seat when you’re finished, okay. Ya nasty, and ya need Jesus.” He mumbled, winking at YN who was doing her best to hide behind her curtain of hair.

“Get outta here, Wilson. Don’t you have something else to do?” Bucky growled half-heartedly and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Actually no, but apparently you’re busy so I’ll just show myself out.” He teased and jumped off of the truck. YN, bright red, looked down at Bucky who had realized what he was just about to say before they had been interrupted. His skin heat up, and his gaze dropped to the sparking necklace on her chest— a gift he had given her for their three-month anniversary date.

“I should go.” She hummed, brushing his hair back from his face, and he pouted up at her. She chuckled and kissed his pouched lip and then his nose and his forehead. “I’ll probably be needed back at the clinic— we have a group of puppies that were found on the side of a highway and oh, Bucky! They’re so sick and small but they’re all so perfect.” She cooed, her eyes bright and shining.

“Well, as much as I would like to, I can’t stop you from being a hero.” He smirked and she rolled her eyes, kissing him again and climbing off his lap as gracefully as she could.

“Says the real hero here.” She praised and he shifted happily in his seat at her praise. “Will you be over tonight?” She asked hopefully and he gave her a soft smile.

“I have to be here tonight, but if you’ll have me, I’ll be over tomorrow night?” He asked, taking her hand in his own and bringing it to his lips, not breaking eye contact as he kissed each of her knuckles.

“I’ll have you every night if you keep that up, Barnes.” She chided, pulling her hand away and leaning in to kiss him sweetly.

“Go be a hero, YLN.” He mumbled against her lips and she smiled against him. Kissing him twice more before pulling away.

“Right back at ya, handsome.”

___________________________

TUESDAY

The next day, Bucky walked into the clinic which YN worked at and put to the front desk, where a young man sat, reading something from a thick textbook and looking back at the screen with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Hey, Pete.” Bucky smiled and Peter Parker's head shot up from the screen, a wide smile appearing on his face almost immediately.

“Hey, Mr. Barnes! You here for YN?” He asked, picking up the phone and dialing your office number. Bucky nodded and smiled a close-lipped smile. He tucked his hair behind his ear and waited for Peter to put the phone back down.

“I think she’s probably in with the puppies. Wanna go see ‘em?” He asked and stood. Bucky nodded and grinned, heart leaping at the idea of seeing a herd of puppies all over his best girl.

“Also,” Bucky started, as he followed Peter into the back. “You don’t need to call me Mr. Barnes. Bucky’s fine.” He held out his hands for the sanitizer Peter offered him. Peter smiled sheepishly.

“Alright, then. Just in here… Bucky?” Peter opened the door and poked his head in and Bucky smiled at him fondly. He had always been nervous around Bucky, and Bucky thought he had been afraid of him until YN told him one night that it was because he borderline-idolized Bucky. He had been greatly fond of the kid ever since.

“Hey, YN? You’ve got a visitor.” Peter said quietly, and Bucky noticed the lights in the room were dimmed to a warm orange. There was a soft voice from the other side, an Peter stepped back, pushing the door open and motioning for Bucky to walk in.

YN was sitting on the ground in her printed scrubs with a pile of very small, very skinny bloodhound puppies in her lap and on her legs. She looked tired, worn, but the fondness fo her face as he looked down at the litter make Bucky’s knees go weak. How had she managed to have him wrapped so damn tightly around her finger without him snapping in two, he would never know.

She looked up at him and he watched as a range of emotions crossed her face. First, excitement at seeing him, then, realization and guilt flooding her face before her expression finally settled on great sadness.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t waiting for you, Bucky.” She whispered, petting the top of one of the puppies heads gently. “I just— I can’t leave these guys.”

Bucky’s heart broke as he heard her voice crack. He nodded, and walked over to her, sliding down the wall next to her and pulling two puppies over to sit on his lap. They were light, and frail and seemed as if they couldn’t be bothered to hold their heads up themselves, their ears drooping sadly by the sides of their heads.

“I don’t know if they’ll last the night— we’ve run all of the tests we could on them and we can’t—“ She sniffed, pulling the three puppies on her thighs closer to her. They huddled into her stomach and shivered. “We can’t find anything wrong with them. I don’t know what to do.” She whimpered and hid her face in his shoulder. She let herself cry for a minute before sniffing and sitting upright.

“Well, I’ll order some food, and we can camp out here for the night.” He suggested, and she looked at him with shining eyes.

“You’d do that for me? Don’t you work in the morning?” YN looked up at him and he kissed her forehead gently, lingering for a few seconds longer and resting his forehead against her own.

“I think you should know by now that I’d do anything for you, Sugar.” He mumbled and she jut her chin forward to kiss him gently.

“Buck, I love—“ Just as she was about to say the words he’d want to hear since he laid eyes on her, one of the pups in her arms squeaked quietly, and her head whipped down to her. YN watched as the pup snorted and weakly lifted her head, looking up at YN and Bucky and squeaking once more before licking YN’s scrubs and settling back down.

YN began to shake, holding all of her puppies closer and burying her face in their mangy fur and letting out another dry sob.

“Good girl, baby.” She cooed, and the puppy’s tail wagged weakly at the praise she was given. She looked up to Bucky and he offered her the softest smile.

“Maybe they’re going to be just fine. They just needed to be shown some love, huh?” He mumbled, and she gave him a watery smile.

“Yeah, maybe.” She whispered, huffing a laugh through her nose when the same puppy who kissed YN wormed her way under her scrub top. YN lifted her shirt and let the puppy crawl under, leaning on Bucky and letting her eyes flutter shut.

“I’ll order food in half an hour. Close your eyes, Doll. We have the whole night.” He mumbled, leaning his head on hers and scratching the puppies who seemed to be keen on wiggling their way closer to him. Bucky, fully content in his situation of soft lighting and warm puppies and sleepy girlfriends stayed awake, lingering on the words that she had almost said and feeling his heart fill so full of adoration for her that it should have exploded.

__________________________

WEDNESDAY

Bucky had stayed until four with YN at the clinic, waking up to three of the five puppies wiggling their way across the floor to the bowls of water and food she had laid out in hopes of them finding their way to health. YN, tired and worn and full of relief at the three pups having the strength to find their way in the world had cried on his shoulder. He had stroked her hair and shushed her gently as they curled themselves around the remaining puppies in their arms.

The boy in Bucky’s arms had turned over in his sleep and was now laying belly up and snoring softly while the girl in YN’s shirt had decided to remain there for the night. YN had scratched her bum softly and giggled when the puppy wagged her tail lazily.

Tony Stark, the head veterinarian had shown up at four in the morning to the sight of his favourite assistant crying on her boyfriend and had immediately ordered Bucky to take her home. He did so, struggling slightly when YN seemed to be less than eager to leave her girl, but did so when Tony promised that Cassandra Lang would be coming in at six to supervise them.

“Okay. Cassie will make sure they’re okay.” She murmured, rubbing her eyes and leaning into Bucky as he lead her to his work truck. He helped her into the passenger seat and buckled her up before kissing her nose and shutting the door. By the time that he had walked around to the other side of the truck, YN had fallen asleep.

The drive to her apartment was quiet and lit by the rising pink of the sun. He helped her out of the car and pulled her to the elevator and down the hall, unlocking the door with his spare key and pushing her immediately to the shower.

He pulled her scrub op fro her torso, kissing her shoulders and collar bones as he rolled her sports bra off of her. His kisses trailed down her torso, and over her stomach and hips as he pulled her pants and underwear off of her and throwing them into the clothes hamper.

He undressed as well, helping her over the edge of the tub once the water was hot enough for her and scrubbing her down as she leaned into him, planting lazy kisses over his collar bones as his fingers massaged the soap into her hair.

Finally, he squirt some of her face wash on his fingertips and watched fondly as she giggled as his fingers trailed over her face. She turned and rinsed her face and he kissed her three times quickly before pinching her butt cheekily.

“Go get dressed for bed. Tony’s given you the day off. You’re using today to sleep.” He demanded and she gave him a lazy salute before stumbling out of the shower and wrapping a towel around her body. He made sure she had left before he started washing with her soaps, relishing in the idea he’d be able to smell like her for the rest of the day. He couldn’t care less about the ribbing he was sure he was going to get from Steve and Sam because he smelled like roses and his girl.

He turned off the water once he finished, stepping out and walking over to his drawer in her dresser, pulling out some jeans and a t-shirt and pulling his hair into a low bun. He looked up at YN who was buried under her blankets, watching him through half-lidded eyes.

“I won’t be here tonight, but as long as the world doesn’t set fire, you got me all day tomorrow, okay?” He mumbled, pushing her hair back from her face and kissing her softly. She hummed and nodded and buried herself in deeper to her covers.

He watched as her eyes closed, and he kissed the crown of her head one last time before pulling back.

“I love y— and you’re asleep, aren’t you?” He asked, and he repressed a laugh as a snore sounded from her. He only shook his head and pulled another blanket over her.

“Good thing you’re cute, YLN. Good thing.”

___________________________

THURSDAY EVENING

“YN? Babe?” Bucky walked into her house the next evening and inhaled deeply as her entire house smelled of spices and vanilla and warmth. He wandered to the kitchen, saw that the timer was on, and popping open the oven to see their favourite roast baking. He moaned as he closed it and stood up fully, noticing the timer was still an hour and a half from going off and smirking to himself.

“Princess?” He called out, his voice huskier and deeper than it was seconds ago. There was a sound fo shuffling from the bedroom and then,

“In the bedroom!” YN called out and he felt his cock twitch excitedly in his pants. He hurried as casually as he could to the room at the end of the hall and groaned loudly at the sight he was met with.

YN was waiting for him on her knees at the edge of the bed dressed his a matching lingerie set of his favourite colour. Her hair and makeup was done neatly and simply, but it looked as if she had mussed her hair in a way that cried ‘sex’.

“Whas’ this for, baby?” His voice was weak and sounded as if he was this close to dropping to his knees and crawling over to her. Maybe he was.

“You’ve been so good to me these past few days, and I wanted to show you how much I appreciate it.” She shifted on her heels and held her hand out for him to walk over to her. He did so, stumbling slightly as he came to stand up against her, a hand on her face and the other on the back of her neck. Her fingers wrapped in his belt loops and pulled him closer so that his jean-clad erection settled snugly between her tits.

“Yeah? What d’you got in mind, huh?” He groaned, flexing his hips and watching as her bra shifted against his movements. She leaned forward and his clothes stomach and he bit his lip as she looked up at him.

“How about I suck your cock until you’re ready to come and then you fuck me into the mattress.” She suggested and his hands that had woven into her hair tightened, pulling a moan from her throat.

“You are so good to me, baby girl, fuck me.” He murmured and she nuzzled her nose against the spot just above the waistband of his underwear that was peeking over his jeans and belt.

“That’s the plan,” YN smirked and began to undo his belt, pulling his jeans over his ass and pulling his hard cock out of his underwear. She didn’t even feel the need to pull his pants all the way off before capturing his head between his lips, tongue swirling around the head and soaking up his salty, musky pre-cum.

“Fuck, baby. Your mouth is fuckin’ magical.” He swore and she hummed appreciably as she pulled away and liked up the bottom of his member, tongue tracing the pulsing veins and nerves at the base of his head. Her hand snuck into his underwear and cupped his balls just the way he liked, and he leaned into her, cursing under his breath and tightening his fists. She moaned around him and he choked, hips rutting just the slightest and making her cough. When his eyes widened at the sound, he tried to pull away, but before he could, her hands were snaking around his waist and pulling him closer, deeper.

“Oh, fuck, baby. You want me to fuck your pretty little throat, huh?” He shifted his hips, and she laid down on her stomach, resting on her elbows and pulling away.

“Yes, please.” She answered her voice light and airy and eyes peering ups t him through her lashes.

“Tongue.” He demanded, and she stuck it out, smiling like a little minx when he tapped his cock on her tongue three times. He held her face as he put his dick in her mouth, pushing in until the head was constricted by her warm throat, making his thighs twitch. Fuck, how did he get do damn lucky?

He moved slowly, thrusting into her mouth and relishing in the utterly disgusting noises coming from her. She was so hot and wet, and it had been such a long day that feeling her around him was nothing short of heaven.

It wasn’t long until he could feel his balls begin to twitch and his hips jerked on every other thrust. He pulled out and grunted at the sight of her makeup smeared with tears and spit still connecting his cock to her lips.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me cum huh? Such a good girl for me, takin’ me all in your mouth. You’re so fucking good, baby.” He grunted, hand wrapping around her chin and pulling her up to her knees so he could take his sleeve and wipe her mouth before kissing it soundly. His rock hard length twitched painfully as he tasted himself on her tongue and teeth and lips.

“Lay back, pretty thing. ‘M gonna take real good care fo you, okay?” He mumbled, and she grinned, laying on her back and stretching up to touch her palms o her headboard, exposing herself for him. He crawled on the bed and situated himself between her thighs, grinding his length against her soaking core. His hand reached between them and he slipped his fingers under her waistband, moaning at the feeling of her soaking core.

“Who gets you this wet, huh?” He asked, thrusting two fingers into her and thumbing her clit just the way she liked. Her back arched off the bed and she gasped. When she didn’t reply, he ducked his head to her throat and bit down, making her choke in pleasure.

“Answer me, YN.” He licked at the bite mark on her back and she shuddered a gasp.

“You. It’s always you, Bucky.” She whimpered as he pulled his fingers from her and pressed his soaked digits to her lips which opened and sucked his fingers into his mouth, sucking on them and swirling her tongue around him like she had his dick only seven minutes before.

“Pretty girl.” He hummed, pulling her underwear to the side once she had let his hand go. He brushed the tip of his cock against her slit and pressed his mouth against hers as he slipped in. She moaned loudly into his mouth and he thrust once before pulling away and grunting.

“Jesus, fuck, YN. You were fuckin’ made for me, weren’t you.” He grunted, his hips snapping into hers and making her jolt.

“Yes, Bucky. Yes, please more.” She begged and he grinned, lifting his hand to pin her wrists to the bed above them.

“Anything for my girl.” He growled and used his free hand to pull her leg on his shoulder and rutting into her like a feral beast. It wasn’t long until the heat of the room and the pleasure from the other was making them squeal and grunt and moan their approaching release.

“Fuck, baby. ‘M close.” He slowed his thrusts, hoping to draw out his release as long as possible. She had broken free of his grip on her and was now gripping his biceps hard enough for her nails to draw blood.

“Come for me, James. Gimme it.” She gasped, and he stopped his thrusts, looking down with shining eyes and a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah?” He asked, and she shifted her hips impatiently.

“Please, Buck.” She almost cried and he kissed her soundly.

“I fucking love y—“ His declaration was cut off from his phone buzzing from his back pocket of the jeans he had pooled around his thighs. He furrowed his brows and reached for it, swearing that he had turned it on silent and YN watched his eyes widen to the size of dinner plates at the text he saw.

“Fuck.” He cursed, pulling out of her and slapping the bed. “FUCK.”

“James, what’s going on?” She asked, half miffed he had gotten up from the bed when they were both so close tot heir orgasms. He looked back at her wrecked state and his face crumpled.

“The Manhattan Mall is on fire, and every department is being called out. Baby, I’m so sorry but I—“

“Gotta go save the world.” She finished, sitting up and trying her best to ignore the tightness in her stomach and the sensitivity of her clit as she pulled a robe from her bedpost, wrapping it around herself and standing. She handed him his shirt and as he reached for it, she pulled it closer, pursing her lips and humming when he kissed her softly.

“I owe you.” He whispered, kissing her again and pulling her into a hug. She snorted and nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“Yeah, you do. Like four orgasms.” She mumbled.

“I’ll give you all the orgasms you want when I come home, okay? Promise.” He said, pulling away from her and pulling his shirt over his head. She pouted as she followed him to the door. He toed his boots on and cupped her face in his hands.

“Come home to me, you got it, Barnes?” She glared and he saluted at her, backing through the door with his leather jacket thrown over his arm.

“Always and forever, Ma’am.”

“You got that right.” She watched as he shut the door behind her and huffed, leaning against the wall and rubbing her eyes.

“I can’t believe I just got cucked by the department.”

___________________________

FRIDAY MORNING, 3 AM

YN woke up to the sound of someone trying to break her door down. She had planted herself on the couch to watch the Deadpool series after taking care of herself with her always trusty rabbit vibrator. She had showered and then tied her hair into a ponytail and curled under three blankets with a glass of wine and the intention of a good my-boyfriend-is-a-hero-and-that's-why-i-cant-come-or-tell-him-i-love-him pity party.

She woke from her nap in front of the TV with a start at the sound, and stood, shuffling over to the door and opening it to find a sight that made her stomach drop to her feet.

Sam Wilson was leaning against her doorframe, sans smile or sparkle in his eye. His eyes were puffy and his face was scratched and his shoulders and neck were heavily bruised.

“What— Sam are you okay? Come in, good Lord!” She exclaimed panic evident on her face and her face fell when he wouldn’t budge despite her hand trying to pull him over the threshold.

“What?” She asked, and Sam looked at his feet, seemingly collecting himself. “Sam. Where’s James?”

He looked up at her, then. And he coughed to clear the lump in his throat.

“The fire was bad, YN. By the time we got there, half of the north food court was collapsed in on itself and five other departments were there.” He started and she raised a hand to her mouth.

“Where is my boyfriend, Sam Wilson.” She shook and he rubbed his eyes, stepping forward and holding YN’s arms.

“We got a report that there was someone trapped in there, and Bucky was the first in there. Steve went in after him and there was an accident. A gas line, we think.” He said, and YN’s knees went weak.

“Where. Is. Bucky.” She growled.

“He and Steve are in the hospital, along with Carol, Maria, Thor, and Hope. They just got out of surgery—“

“Surgery?!” YN cried, backing up and stumbling over some shoes in the foyer of her apartment. Sam surged forward and caught her, pulling her to his chest as she shook against him.

“He’s alive, YN. That’s— that’s what you have to keep in mind, okay?” He asked, and she looked up, shaking but nodding her head.

“He’s alive.”

____________________________

FRIDAY MORNING, 4 AM

They entered the hospital together, YN tucked under Sam’s arm and looking around the waiting room numbly. The waiting room seemed full of anxious families— smoke covered men sitting with them and reassuring them as best as they could while they waited for news on their loved ones. The waiting room seemed to be filled with at least 50 people, and YN prayed to whichever God was listening that her best guy was safe and breathing on his own.

A man named Tony escorted them through the halls— she hadn’t even realized what was happening until Sam stepped in front of her. She looked up at him, gaze unfocussed and bleary.

“YN.” He whispered and YN looked at him, shaking her head a little to clear the fog.

“Mmm.” She could only grunt for fear of a scream tearing from her chest.

“Remember. Bucky’s alive, okay? He’s still your Bucky.” He reaffirmed and she nodded, looking up at the number of the room. 789. She hated the number 789.

“He’s alive.” She spoke, voice surprisingly firm. He looked at her expression for a few seconds more and moved out of her way. She reached for the doorknob with a shaking hand, opening the door and walking in.

The sight that greeted her was less graphic than she pictures. There was an oxygen mask over his face, and his hair was fanned out over the pillow. His arm was bare but was full of needles and IV’s that were filling him with fluids and nutrients and medications. Her eyes softened at the sight of him, and she swore he could very well be sleeping.

The ease of her nerves didn’t last long, however, as she moved closer. She moved slowly, horror dawning over her face as she saw more of his body. The left side of his face was red and lightly burnt, his eyebrow and eyelashes singed slightly. The Left side of his hair was shortened, the ends charred an unhealthy black, and his ear was exposed, revealing pus-filled boils from the tip of his ear down to his neck. The extent of the burns were covered by several layers of gauze, but YN’s heart shriveled in her chest when she saw that his fingertips were purple and red with exposed flesh.

“He’ll be moved to the burn ward for the next few weeks after he wakes up.” Piped up a small, lightly accented voice from behind her. She turned to see a skinny red-headed young lady, looking at her sadly.

“How bad is it?” YN asked, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to know.

“Our surgeons did their best getting the dead flesh from his body, and cleaning the wounds—“

“Cut the crap. This is the love of my life. Tell me how bad it is.” She growled, spinning away from her boyfriend and staring down the girl. Wanda, her name tag read out.

“I’m not supposed to—“ She began, shifting her feet nervously. The intern was saved swiftly by a gorgeous red-head doctor wearing dark blue scrubs and carrying a chart in her hands. She extended her arm and shook YN’s clammy hand.

“Natasha Romanoff. Head of Trauma.” She introduced, and YN nodded.

“Since she won’t, tell me how bad my boyfriend is.” She demanded and Natasha nodded.

"Our surgeons did their best getting—“

“—the dead flesh from his body, and cleaning the wounds. I heard that shit. Tell me.” She snarled, stepping forward with tears in her eyes. Natasha nodded, dropping the chart from her chest to her stomach and staring YN right in her eyes.

“There is still a huge risk of James losing his arm. Most fo the muscle and nerves have been burned and killed, so it would be a miracle if he even gained the full function of it. I’m sorry.” She said, and YN nodded numbly. She turned back to Bucky before coughing and walking from the room. Natasha and Wanda followed her, expecting her to fully leave the hospital, but stopping when YN hunched over a garbage can and heaved her dinner and wine and soul into the trash.

Sam, waiting outside the room rushed forward, pulling her hair from her face and rubbing her back, mumbling apologies to YN.

“I’m sorry, YN. I’m so sorry it should have been me—“ He started and she rose from her garbage can, pointing one shaking finger at him.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Sam Wilson. I’d be in this same state if it were you too—“ She punched his chest and glared. Her tears were streaming down her face, and she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

“But he’s—“

“Stop talking, Sam Wilson.”

“Okay.” He said. “Okay.” And he wrapped her in his arms and held her as she sobbed into his hoodie. Great heaving sobs that shattered his god damned heart.

_________________________

FRIDAY MORNING, 11 AM

YN had stayed the whole night, holding Bucky’s right hand and whispering prayers Ito his fists, ricking back and forth. She had stayed the whole night as several of his crew drifted in and out, giving her their condolences and rubbing her back and talking to her as if she would respond. Her mind screamed at her yet it seemed so far away and quiet and hushed. Her thoughts were a constant stream of,

BuckyBuckyBuckyBuckyArmBuckyArmBuckyAliveBuckyBUCKYBUCKYAlive

She had drifted off at some point around nine, and when her eyes flitted open, she was greeted with her favourite baby blues staring right back at her.

“Buck?” She slurred, lifting her head and looking at him. He smiled weakly behind the oxygen mask and he took a deep breath of the pure oxygen before pulling the mask back and opening his mouth to speak.

Instead of letting him speak, she pushed the mask back.

“Breathe, Bucky. You need clean air, and I need to talk.” She said, trying to keep her voice soft for him. He sat back and nodded, chapped lips disappearing behind the mask again.

“I love you, Bucky Barnes. I love you so much and I need to have you in my life until the day we die. I love you and I want to have your children and marry you and meet your parents and move in with you. Maybe not in that order, but—“ He huffed out an airy laugh, and coughed, hacking up tar and smoke and phlegm which was all gathered in his lungs. She pulled the mask away from his face and wiped his mouth and the mask before placing it back on his face.

“I love you, James. I love you so much, and I thought my world was going to stop when I opened the door to find Sam standing there. I love you. I love you. I love you.” She finished, and she hadn’t even noticed how fast his heart rate had increased until she finished, and her eyes widened. She stood up, pressing the red button by his head and turning to leave and find a nurse. Instead of being able to leave, Bucky’s right hand darted out to grab her hand.

She turned to see his eyes watering, and a smile under the mask. He pulled her back shakily and pulled her down to his face. He lifted the mask from his face and them pulled her lips down to his. He tasted of smoke and morning breath and medicine but damn, if it wasn’t the best kiss she had ever had in her life.

“I love you,” He gasped, lungs heaving for air. He pulled the oxygen mask to his face again and breathed a few deep breaths before pulling the mask away.

“I love you, YN YLN, and I’m not leaving this Earth until I give you everything you’ve ever wanted. You can’t get rid of me that easy, okay?” He smirked, and his chapped lips cracked at the motion, making red blood rise to the skin. She kissed him once more, tasting the copper on her lips before digging in her purse Sam had brought for the small tub of vaseline she carried around. She dipped her finger into the tub and moved his mask, swiping the vaseline over his lips and smiling softly.

“I guess we’re stuck with each other then, huh?” She whispered as a nurse entered the room.

Bucky smiled back, gripping her hand tightly and squeezing once.

“Guess so.”

__________________________

@nomadsgrogers

#Bucky Barnes #Bucky Barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes soulmate au #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x ofc #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes blurb #firefighter!bucky #modern!bucky

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pixiegrl · 4 years ago

Note

For the prompts, 29 and 15 with Lashton? Love your writing!

Hello anon! This was for a prompt on tumblr for Lashton, in a waiting room with “Is there anything I can do to help?” It ended up being goofier and fluffier than intended but @calumsclifford gave me the idea and I ran with it. Enjoy!

As always it is also on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26431231

Calum hiccups and immediately starts crying again, loud broken sobs. Luke tips his head, counting to 10 and willing himself to not just, get up and leave Calum. Regrettably, Luke is the only one with a car and he can’t just leave Michael at a hospital. He also can’t just abandon Calum here because then Michael will have to deal with an upset Calum on top of the injury and Luke will never hear the end of the whining.

Calum’s sprawled over Luke’s lap wailing at the top of his lungs. Everyone in the ER waiting room is shooting them concerned looks, but it’s 2am on a Monday so no one is actually coming over to check on them.

Luke’s counting to another set of 10 because Calum won’t stop whimpering about Michael’s “never going to recover” and “it’s all my fault,” when Luke hears someone clear their throat next to him. Luke glances over, immediately embarrassed that there’s an attractive guy with light brown curls, hazel eyes, and an old All Time Low shirt with his hands shoved into his pockets staring at the two of them. The one time Luke’s got a snotty Calum in his lap, his curls look flat and greasy, and he’s exhausted would be the time that a hot guy with good music taste comes over.

“I couldn’t help noticing that your friend seems very, uh, upset. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Michael is dying!” Calum wails, flinging himself further into Luke’s lap. The guy looks alarmed, taking a step back.

“He’s exaggerating! Michael is fine! He fell off a skateboard trying to do a “cool trick” and landed on his wrist funny. He thought it might be broken, but he’s going to be fine Cal! I’ve been trying to tell you that for the last 3 hours,” Luke huffs, trying to smack Calum upside the head. At any other time, Calum would have latched on to the fact that a hot guy is talking to Luke and tried to drop hints that Luke is very single and very bisexual and would love a boyfriend. Now, Calum’s too worried that Michael’s at death’s door over a small enough injury.

“He’ll never be able to play guitar again!”

“In 6 weeks, he’ll be perfectly able to play guitar Calum.”

The guy snorts and tries to hastily cover it up with a cough, when Luke looks over at him.

“What are you even doing in an ER at 2am on a Monday?”

“Oddly enough, something similar. My brother Harry tripped off his skateboard and landed on his face. Thinks he might have broken his nose, so here we are,” Ashton says, waving his hand around the waiting room. He pauses before sitting down a few seats away from Luke.

Luke feels a spike of heat in his chest. The cute guy is sitting near him! Calum is not scaring him away. Maybe he’s Luke’s soulmate. Wait, now Luke sounds like Michael and Calum and he refuses to be them.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“This isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened. Michael got burned once, totally got half his face and his eyebrows and Calum was inconsolable. I think Michael ended up having to hold him while the doctor was trying to bandage him up. Whenever Michael gets an injury, Calum acts like Michael’s on death’s door.”

“Because he is Luke! How can you say you’re his best friend and then just disrespect him like this?” Calum yells, muffled by the fact that his face is pressed into Luke’s jeans. Luke rolls his eyes. The guy smiles and Luke feels his heart skip a beat. Is he sharing a moment with a stranger in a waiting room? Is he in a rom-com?

“Ashton.”

“Hm?”

“My name. It’s Ashton. Since Calum here said your name, I figured it was only fair that you know mine too.”

“Well nice to meet you Ashton. What do you do when you’re not taking care of brothers with broken noses?”

“Taking care of little sisters who are just the right age where the wrong nail polish color is the end of the world, working at a coffee shop, playing drums.”

Luke perks up, “We’re a band. The three of us. Michael’s guitar, Cal’s bass, and I sing. Play guitar too, but not as good as Michael. We’re looking for a drummer.”

“You guys any good?”

“You could come see us practice for yourself.”

Ashton hums. He gives Luke a once over. Luke goes a little red, ducking his head to stare intensely at the back of Calum’s head. God, he needs Michael here to handle this Calum’s a terrible wingman. Next time, Luke’s going to break Calum’s wrist so he has Michael with him as a wingman.

“I don’t just give out my services for free you know. Drumming is alot of work and I deserve something in payment.”

“Oh? I mean, I work in a bookstore, Michael’s in a music shop, and Calum teaches football we don’t have like alot of money to go around. It’s why we don’t have a drummer yet.”

“You’re in luck because I’m a cheap drummer. All I ask for is a date with a very cute, blonde singer.”

Luke’s startled. Luke’s so startled he’s not sure he’s still breathing and he considers asking the nurse at reception if he’s still alive. There’s no way Ashton’s asking Luke out on a date. This is not happening at 2am on a Monday in an ER waiting room.

“Uhhhh, I would have to check my work schedule. I'm very busy selling books to bored teenagers and very excited children,” Luke says. He’s staring at a point over Ashton’s left shoulder, hoping that if he doesn’t make full eye contact with Ashton he won’t do or say something embarrassing.

“Well, I’m also busy selling coffee to angry businessmen and stressed college students. I think the best thing we could do is exchange our phone numbers so that way we could text each other about our schedules and set up a band practice day. Or a date. Whichever comes first. But just so you know, I know a really nice pizza place around here that I love to take a certain singer to.”

Luke’s too shocked to argue with Ashton. He simply nods, taking his phone out of his pocket and handing it over to Ashton, unlocked and everything. Ashton smiles, entering his information and texting his own phone before handing it back. Luke notices that he saved his name with a little drum next to it. As if Luke has more than one Ashton in his phone that he wants to text on the regular.

They chat for a bit about music, their jobs. Luke tells Ashton about Michael and Calum, that they’ve been friends for close to 5 years now, that Michael and Luke didn’t get along at first until music became involved. Luke shares that Michael and Calum have been dating for just as long, that Luke’s painful single (not for lack of Michael’s trying to find Luke someone). Ashton tells Luke about his siblings, his mother, that he’s just broken up with his boyfriend (he looks at Luke shyly when he says it and Luke grins at the idea that Ashton wants to go on a date with him already).

Luke loses track of time until the doors leading to the hospital wing swings open and Michael comes out, all pink hair and disheveled clothing, brace on his left wrist and a lollipop sticks out of his mouth, grinning around it. Calum lets out a cry that Luke can only imagine wives make when their husbands return from war and runs towards Michael flinging himself into Michael’s arms crying. Michael looks startled, but unsurprised, patting Calum on the shoulder, leading him back to Luke.

“The doctor said it’s just a sprain. I gotta keep it in the brace for a few weeks and come back for a check-up, but it’s nothing serious,” Michael says.

“But it could have been!” Calum wails again. Michael rolls his eyes, fond, pressing a kiss to Calum’s forehead.

“Considering the crying your boyfriends doing, I thought you were on death's door,” Ashton says. Michael looks over at Ashton confused.

“Who are you?”

“The man Luke abandoned me for in your time of need,” Calum says, glaring at Luke. Luke throws his hands up in mock surrender. Michael looks like he’s fighting back the urge to laugh.

“Ashton. Apparently, I’m Luke’s new boyfriend.”

“He’s our new drummer! We’re not dating! We haven’t even been on a date yet,” Luke rushes out, leaning over to smack Ashton. Ashton lets out a delighted laugh. Michael’s grinning maniacally now. Luke needs new friends.

“I would call this a first date.”

“You’re not allowed to call Michael’s trauma a date,” Calum protests.

“If it gets Luke a first boyfriend, it could be my funeral and they could call it a date,” Michael says. Calum lets out another wail and collapses onto Michael’s shoulder.

“I feel like you missed the part where I said he was our new drummer.”

“Oh I heard that but it’s not nearly as important as you getting a boyfriend.”

Luke jumps up starting to usher Michael and Calum out of the waiting room, “Well it’s 3am on a Monday and we have to go now because you are very injured and we should all sleep,”

“You should call Luke he’s very free all the time for dates!” Michael calls over his shoulder. Luke really needs new friends.

(Ashton still texts him at 5am, letting him know that Ashton’s brother is fine and that Ashton is also very free any time for both band practice and dates.

“You should send him a dick pic.”

“I’m not sending him a dick pic, Michael.”

“How else will he know you’re interested?”

“Are you breaking up with me for the waiting room guy Luke abandoned me for?”

“Not when I don’t know what his dick looks like and I’ve seen yours...on second thought, Luke send Ashton a pic of Calum’s dick instead.”

“I’m quitting this band,” Luke moans, flopping face first into the couch.

“Hey, if I hadn’t injured myself you wouldn’t have a boyfriend,” Michael protests.

His phone beeps. Ashton’s sent him a little heart emoji. Okay fine, maybe Michael and Calum aren’t terrible friends. It did get Luke a date with a cute guy.)

#5 seconds of summer #lashton #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #was almost an angst one but maggie gave me the idea and it sounded funnier so big shout out to her #love her very much #please enjoy #my writing #Anonymous

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eddiesasspbrak · 5 years ago

Text

Forever and Always Ch. 4

Eddie is the only one of his friends to stay behind in Derry after high school, causing him to lose touch with some of them. Now 24, Eddie has heard rumors that his now famous, former best friend (aka love of his life) may be coming back to town. That won’t be too awkward, right?

nsfw content to follow

Ch. 1

Ch. 5

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5k+ words

When Eddie arrived at work bright and early on Monday morning, the first thought he had was of his dream. He saw himself bent over the counter where he’d have to spend the rest of the day, Richie grinding into his ass and getting ready to rail him. It sent a shiver through him and he had to try to focus on anything else to keep from getting hard right there in the store. He went about opening up the store and found that focusing on different types of spices helped keep the dream and Richie out of his mind. The day was fairly normal. Old people coming and going, shopping and buying groceries. Monday’s were typically pretty busy, people stocking up for the week.

By the time Gerard came in for his shift after school, Eddie was ready for a nap. He was in the middle of checking out Mrs. Sanford when Gerard came in slouching, dragging his feet, his bag hanging almost completely off his arms. He greeted Eddie with a yawn on his way back to the break room. When he emerged minutes later with his apron on crooked, he came behind the counter to open the second register. Half Eddie’s line moved over to the other side and with the both working, the line disappeared quickly.

When they were finally free for a moment, Gerard turned to Eddie with a loud sigh.

“I fucking hate Mondays.” He said.

“Language. We still have customers.”

“Do you know how exhausting it is getting up at 7am?” He asked, ignoring Eddie.

“I’m up at six every morning.”

“But you’re not human so that doesn’t count.”

“Maybe don’t spend Friday through Sunday staying up till 4am.”

“Hey, I only do that on Friday and Saturday. Sundays I only stay up until 2am.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Oh, my mistake. You shouldn’t be tired at all then. That’s plenty of sleep.”

“Fuck you.”

“Language.” He warned again as another customer came to his register.

“What did you do yesterday then? Polish your attendance trophies?”

“I don’t have any trophies.”

“You just said you get up at 6am every morning.”

“So? When I was in high school, I ditched at least once a week to go to the quarry with my friends.”

“Seriously? You mean you used to be fun?”

“I’m still fun. I just have responsibilities now.”

“No, you’re boring now. So, what did you do yesterday oh lord of the dull?”

“I went for a jog, did some cleaning...had lunch with Richie.”

Gerard crossed over to Eddie’s side and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing to tell. We talked about friends.”

“Did you fuck him?”

“What? No! We just had lunch and then parted ways. His dad had his surgery yesterday and he went to the hospital after his mom called.”

“Ok so if he hadn’t left would you have fucked him?”

“It’s not like that with us.”

“Who cares? It could be!”

“I thought you wanted to be with him.”

“I do but you have the upper hand being childhood friends. So, if he chooses you, I will be heartbroken, but I’ll have no choice but to cheer you on. I expect you would do the same for me.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but Richie is straight. Not into guys at all.”

“Bullshit.”

“Don’t believe me if you want but you’ll just end up heartbroken.”

Eddie’s phone chimed and he pulled it from his pocket with a speed that Gerard definitely noticed. He eyed him while Eddie smiled down at the screen and then typed out a message.

Richie: Are you working today?

Eddie: Until 6 like most days.

Richie: I thought we could go out tonight. Hit up a bar or something.

Eddie: On a Monday?

Richie: I figured they won’t be too crowded tonight so we should be left alone.

Eddie: Alright, yea I think I can make it

Richie: Have you had your break yet?

Eddie: No. Gerard just got here and we’re pretty busy

“Who are you texting?” Gerard asked, sure he already knew the answer.

“A friend.”

“Richie?”

“No. It’s...Beverly.” Eddie didn’t really know why he was lying. He just wasn’t sure he wanted Gerard to speculate about his true feelings for Richie. He wasn’t known for keeping his mouth shut and the odds of him blurting something out in front of Richie was a danger Eddie wanted to avoid.

“Oh yea? What’s she saying?” Gerard leaned on the counter with his elbow on the countertop and his head propped up on his fist.

“She’s saying to mind your own damn business.”

“Language, Edward. There are customers.”

“You’re so annoying.” Eddie sighed.

“Excuse me, if it weren’t for me, you’d have no one to talk to in this shitty town. You love me.”

“Do you really want to brag that I’m only friends with you because I have no other option?” Eddie asked with a laugh.

Gerard grumbled in annoyance and said nothing more when and older woman came to the counter to ask Eddie for help with something. Eddie left the counter in Gerard’s hands while he led the woman to an aisle near the back of the store. A second later, Richie was coming through the doors. He smiled and waved at Gerard as he approached the counter. Gerard let out a weird breathy laugh as he awkwardly waved back.

“You’re back! I guess you really liked that peppercorn!” Gerard said, immediately hating himself for his choice of greeting.

“It was great. I’m here for Eddie this time.”

“Sorry, but he’s not for sale.”

Richie laughed. “I’m not sure I could afford him if he was.”

Gerard snorted and immediately covered his nose and mouth with his hands in embarrassment. Eddie emerged from the aisles and paused when he saw Richie at the counter laughing with Gerard. Seeing him there brough his dream back to his mind for a second before he pushed it away with nutmeg, paprika, cardamom, turmeric. He approached slowly, still not used to talking to Richie after such a long time apart.

“What’s so funny?” He asked as he grew near.

“We’re discussing how expensive you would be.” Richie said, turning to smile at him.

“Ok…well, what are you doing here? Aren’t we seeing each other tonight?”

“Tonight? What’s tonight?” Gerard asked, leaning forward.

“We’re going drinking.” Richie answered when it was clear Eddie wouldn’t.

“On a Monday?”

“Oh, absolutely. It’s the best night to go out. Plenty of attractive people to take home after you’ve had a few. Just make sure you’re drunk enough to think it’s a good idea in the moment and then regret it the next morning when you wake up next to a stranger.”

“Beep beep Richie. He’s only sixteen and he doesn’t need you giving him advice and getting drunk and picking someone up at a bar.” Eddie said.

“I already do that.” Gerard said to Eddie before looking back to Richie. “So, people actually say the ‘beep beep’ thing? I thought that was just a bit for your shows.”

“It’s definitely a real thing people say. It’s the only way to get him to shut up.” Eddie rolled his eyes with a smile.

“My dear friends just don’t like hearing what I have to say because they know I speak the truth.” Richie said, nudging Eddie’s arm with his elbow.

“No, it’s because you aren’t funny, and you never know when to shut up.”

“Please, you definitely think he’s funny. You’ve watched like all his shows online.” Gerard said, outing Eddie for being a secret fan and mortifying him in one breath.

Richie’s grin widened as he looked at Eddie, amused. “Oh really? You watch my shows? Are you a fan, Eds?”

“No…I just thought I should support you.” Eddie said.

“He’s definitely a fan. We spend most days talking about you.”

“Shut the fuck up, Gerard!” Eddie said, giving him a look that said he might kill him if he kept talking.

“Aw, my sweet Spaghetti in a fan of his very best friend.” Richie said, ruffling Eddie’s hair.

Eddie smacked his hand away and glared at him. “I’m ten seconds from kicking you out of the store. You never even told me why you’re here.”

“Oh, right. I wanted to give you something.”

“It couldn’t wait until tonight?”

“I didn’t want to take it to the bar.”

Richie reached into the inner pocket on his jacket and provided a pile of notebook paper, stapled together. The pages were wrinkled and folded, some rips on the edges from years of being handled. He held it out for Eddie to take, whose eyes widened as soon as he realized what it was.

“No fucking way. You still have this?” He asked, his smile returning.

“I found it in my old room last night when I was going through some things.”

“What is it?” Gerard asked, standing on his toes to try and see from his spot behind the counter.

“It’s a comic we made with our friend Bill when we were kids.” Eddie explained, admiring the roughly drawn cover art.

All seven characters based on themselves and their friends were present in pencil and it brought back some good memories for Eddie. The three would write and draw different scenarios while in class and pass them back and forth. Sleepovers were spent huddled over a table plotting and drawing. Bill did the illustrations as he was the best artist out of the three of them. They’d imagined them all as superheroes and had designed outfits for all seven of them. One Halloween they’d convinced the others to dress up as their super selves. Somewhere Eddie was sure he still had the photo from that night.

“I can’t believe this still exists. Maybe we should post it online so people can see where up and coming author Bill Denbrough got his start.” Eddie chuckled.

“Hold up. Your friend Bill that you talk about is that Bill? Holy shit dude. How many famous people do you know?” Gerard asked.

“I don’t know…our fiend Ben is making a name for himself as an architect already and Beverly is definitely going to be a famous fashion icon one day.”

“She dresses me for most of my shows.” Richie added.

“Shit dude. Why are you still in Derry then if all your friends are so successful? Shouldn’t you be out there making a name for yourself too?” Gerard asked, wide eyed.

Eddie didn’t answer. It was a sore spot and he really didn’t want to talk about it in front of Richie. They’d already briefly discussed over lunch why he’d stayed in Derry and he didn’t want to open that wound again so soon. He kept his eyes on the comic as he flipped through the pages. His super self was definitely more impressive than he was. He wouldn’t have stayed in Derry. He would have left to save the world with his friends. Eddie tried not to let it show how sad he was when he looked back up at Richie.

“Thanks for this. It brings back a lot of memories.” He said with a forced smile.

“Yea, I thought you’d like it. I should probably split before someone sees me and posts on twitter where I am. I’ll see you tonight though, yea?” Richie said, backing toward the door slowly.

“Yea. I’ll see you.”

With that, Richie waved one last time before leaving the store and disappearing from sight. Eddie sighed, his smile falling away as he looked down at the pages in his hands again. He was reminded against how much he truly missed his friends. He survived on old memories, text conversations and occasional phone calls. It didn’t compare to the seven of them spending summer nights down by the quarry, drinking cheap booze and talking about their lives and their futures. Eddie longed to feel that way again. To feel unconditional love from the six people he held dearest.

Eddie had never cared what he wore in front of his friends in the past. Now, as he stared at his fifth outfit choice so far, he felt like he looked ridiculous. It’s not like this was a date. It was just getting drinks with an old friend and catching up. It wasn’t a big deal at all. He could show up in pajamas and Richie wouldn’t care. Actually, he’d probably give him grief for it but only because Richie didn’t know when to shut up and had to make everything a joke.

Eddie sighed as he stared at himself in the mirror. The jeans were ok, but the button-down shirt was definitely too much. He looked like he was going to a job interview. He stripped that off and traded it for a light blue t-shirt with the Golden Girls on it. It was stupid shirt that was a size too big he’d found at a thrift store outside of town. He thought Richie would appreciate it though.

Throwing a hoodie overtop that was thick enough for the cold spring night, he double checked for his phone, wallet and keys before heading downstairs. He tried to be quiet as he sat on the bottom stair to put his shoes on, but of course his mother was sat in her recliner in front of the TV. He knew she arranged the furniture that way so she could see him coming and going. A little bit of control from his childhood that she hadn’t let go of.

“Eddie bear, where are you going?” She asked.

“I joined a book club.” Eddie had thought of the lie earlier just in case. It wasn’t like she could stop him from leaving the house if he told the truth. He was an adult. But if he’d told her he was going to drink on a Monday night with Richie Tozier, she would have argued and tried to guilt him into staying home. Lying was easier. That’s what he kept telling himself.

“Really? What book are you reading?”

“I don’t know. It’s my first meeting. I’ll find out when I get there.”

“Well, be safe and make sure you don’t stay out too late.”

“Yea, sure.” Eddie said as he made his hasty escape out the front door.

Eddie shivered as the night air hit him. It was officially spring, but nights were still chilly. He zipped up his hoodie and tucked his hands into his pockets as he started his trek into town. Richie had texted him about an hour before to agree on a meeting spot. Eddie suggested the closest bar to their houses since he was walking. He’d briefly thought about taking his bike but decided that was probably a bad idea in case he got drunk. Not only was it dangerous, it counted as drunk driving if he rode his bike under the influence.

It wasn’t a long walk and by the time he made it to the bar, Richie was already standing outside waiting for him. Eddie stopped and stared at him for a moment before he noticed he’d arrived. He was standing with his shoulders up to his ears, his hands stuffed in his pockets, his breath visible with every exhale. For a second Eddie wondered if he was dreaming. So many times, he’d dreamt of reconnecting with Richie, of being with him again. And there he was, standing in the cold waiting for Eddie. It made him smile and for a second he could pretend that no time had passed at all. He could pretend he had followed Richie to New York all those years ago and they were meeting after work for a drink before going home. Together.

Richie finally noticed him, and his face lit up with a grin as he pulled one hand from his pocket and waved. Eddie crossed the street to join him and suddenly he didn’t feel the cold anymore. They greeted one another and headed into the warm bar. Richie was right about it not being crowded given that it was a Monday. There were a few people sitting at one end of the bar, watching whatever sports game was on the TV. Two tables were occupied and appeared to be friends blowing off steam after a long day of work. Eddie figured they must look the same. They opted to take two empty bar stools and made themselves comfortable while they waited for the bartender to come over and take their drink orders.

Richie looked over at Eddie and stared for a long moment before chuckling and looking away again.

“What?” Eddie asked with a smile, wondering if he should get defensive or not.

“I never thought I’d see you in a bar.” Richie said.

“Why not?”

Richie shrugged. “Just didn’t figure it was your scene. Bars are dirty, right?”

“Man, you don’t know me at all anymore. You’d be surprised how often I frequent bars.”

“Really? Eddie Spaghetti is a regular here, huh?”

The bartender made her way over and took their orders, setting two beers down in front of them a second later. They both took a swig, the unfamiliar tension between them creeping its way back in. This used to be so easy, now they felt like strangers. Eddie searched this mind for anything to say, anything he could talk about to break the ice and help them fall back into their old ways. Part of him remembered what it was like to joke around with Richie and speak freely about anything. He wanted that back more than he wanted his next breath.

“So…which bar is your favorite then?” Richie asked, finally breaking the awkward, drawn out silence.

“Uh…it’s outside of Derry a little way. In the city.”

“What’s it called.”

“Why? Planning to head into the city for a drink while you’re in Derry?” Eddie was worried if he told him the name, he’d look it up and realize it was a gay bar. He wasn’t sure he was ready to mess up their reunion by coming out unexpectedly. He didn’t know how Richie would react. None of them had really batted an eye when Stan and Bill announced that they were dating. Still, it was scary telling a new person. Especially when only two people actually knew. Aside from the few guys he’d met at the bar and had killed time with.

“Why not? You can’t expect me to hang around the local bars the whole time I’m here, right?” Richie chuckled.

“Aren’t you out of here in a few weeks anyway?”

“Is there a reason you don’t want to tell me the name of this bar? Worried I’ll show up and embarrass you in front of your city friends?”

Eddie took a long swig from his beer. “It’s, uh, Over the Rainbow.”

“That sounds like a gay bar.”

“Can I get a shot of Jamison please.” Eddie called out to the bartender, not responding to what Richie had just said.

She nodded and poured the shot agonizingly slow while Eddie could feel Richie’s eyes burning holes in the side of his face. She brought it over and set it in front of Eddie and he tipped it back without a second thought. Telling him the name was definitely a mistake. Why didn’t he just make something up? He definitely knew now, and Eddie’s heart was beating so fast he thought it might leap out of his chest and land on the bar in front of him.

“Eds, are you…?” Richie’s question was unfinished. It didn’t need to be finished. They both knew what he meant.

“Another please.” Eddie said, setting the shot glass aside.

She handed him a second and he tossed it back just as quickly as the first. He’d probably regret it later, but for now he needed to get out of his head a little. When he made plans to hang out with Richie, he hadn’t planned on coming out. Especially in such a public place. The music was low and who knew who was listening to them. Richie was still looking at him, but he was too afraid to meet his eyes, to see what expression he was sending his way.

“Hey, Eds, it’s cool. Relax. I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me before given…” Richie said, finally looking away from him.

“Given what? That we used to be best friends?”

“We’re still best friends. We have a lot to make up for, but you mean more to me than anyone and we’re going to get passed all this bullshit, ok? As for…” Richie glanced around the room to see if anyone was obviously listening. “…that. It doesn’t matter to me. I’m not exactly straight either.”

Eddie finally looked at him, his eyes wide. So, maybe Gerard had been right. “Wait, really?”

“I figured you’d know that.”

“How? You only ever talked about girls back in the day.”

“Jesus, you make us sound old. And I wasn’t exactly eager to broadcast it in this shitty town, you should get that. With how close we were, I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.”

They fell silent again, but this time it weirdly felt like a wall had disappeared from between them. Maybe speaking honestly was what they needed. Neither one was well known for sharing their feelings easily. Still, they used to tell each other everything so maybe they could get to that point again. The point of blind trust and unconditional love. Eddie was so starved for that kind of intimacy with someone and he was ready to cling onto anything that Richie had to offer at this point.

“So, you watch my stuff.” Richie said, breaking the silence for the second time.

“Yea. On YouTube. I look up clips people have uploaded.”

“You should come out for a live show. I’ll save you a front row seat.” Richie grinned.

“That’s tempting. Getting the Netflix special must be pretty exciting.”

“More like overwhelming. Getting paid to tell jokes is awesome, but there’s a lot of pressure. If something flops, it’s so…public. They want me to get a writing partner.”

“Are people getting tired of the jokes about Derry and your friends?” Eddie asked, taking another long swig of his beer and flagging down the bartender to order a second.

“I guess so.”

“Well, you were never very funny so why should it be any different now?”

Richie laughed and pointed a finger at him. “This coming from my number one fan? I used to have you in stitches when we were young, and you wouldn’t watch my stuff if it didn’t make you laugh.”

“Yea, well a lot of the jokes you tell about your childhood are bullshit.” Eddie chuckled.

“Like what?”

“Ben having a shrine to Beverly in his closet. That was definitely not a thing.”

“I said it might as well have been a thing, not that it was. Ben thought it was funny.”

The bartender brought over their second round and Eddie was already feeling that lightheaded buzzed feeling that spread warmth through his limbs. He hadn’t set out to get drunk, but now here he was, one beer and two shots in and feeling like he could keep going if it let him loosen up around Richie. He wanted to badly to go back to that feeling they used to have and if liquid encouragement was needed, so be it!

“Ok, what about Stan pissing himself in the middle of the pep rally? We all know that he dropped his water on his lap.” Eddie said with a smile.

“It’s funnier if I say he pissed himself.”

“And your first love? Who the fuck is that? You never showed real interest in anyone.”

“Totally made up.” Richie said, putting the bottle to his lips and taking a long drink. He wasn’t looking at Eddie and that made him think he was lying. He wondered who it really was but decided not to press him any further.

They continued to drink and talk, loosening up further as they became more intoxicated. They joked about old times and Richie suggested calling up the other Losers to convince them to come to Derry to see them. They could go for a late-night swim at the quarry like they used to and sleep on one of their floors all huddled together under blankets and sleeping bags. Their parents couldn’t tell them that Bev couldn’t come anymore. They wouldn’t have to sneak her in through the window for once. Richie sent her a text explaining their great plan, but they didn’t receive a response. She was probably sleeping, something they both should have been doing as well.

They closed out the bar, Richie picking up their tab. They entered into the cold night air once more, this time together. Richie draped his arm around Eddie’s shoulders while they walked. It was warm and comfortable, and Eddie forgot about everything he’d been worried about. All he could think about now was the feel of Richie’s fingers tightening on his shoulder. It wasn’t until they were a block away from Eddie’s house that he realized he couldn’t go home.

“Shit, my mom is going to kill me.” He laughed, stopping in his tracks.

“Why? Did you break curfew?” Richie asked with a grin.

“She’s never seen me drunk.”

“So what? You’re a legal adult.”

“Have you met my mother? She’ll definitely wake up when she hears me come in and she will give me shit for the next three weeks if she sees me this shit faced.”

“I guess you’re coming home with me then.”

“What? No. I can’t.”

“You gonna sleep on the lawn? Cause I think that will get you in more trouble.”

“Shit.” Eddie thought for a second. “Still got the couch in your basement?”

“Yep.”

Without another word, the two turned at the next corner and headed to Richie’s house instead. The last time Eddie had been there he’d only seen the outside. Walking inside was almost like stepping into the past. It weirdly still smelled the way he remembered and nothing much had changed. They’d replaced the couch in the living room and the TV was bigger, but everything else was the same. The same pictures hanging on the walls, the same wallpaper and carpet, the same kitchen with the same table and chairs. If Eddie closed his eyes, he could pretend he was sixteen and hanging out at Richie’s after sneaking out of his house.

Eddie followed Richie down into the basement and the nostalgia hit him even harder. So many weekend nights spread out on that floor with their friends, reading comics and watching movies on the shitty box TV with the attached VCR. The time Bill broke his finger messing with Wentworth’s weights in the corner. The old bookshelf full of old dusty novels that hadn’t been touched in ages. The old computer against the wall, that had been replaced by a newer model finally. He remembered the first time Richie had convinced him and the other boys to look up pictures of breasts on that computer when they were twelve. Eddie had thought it was gross and at the time he didn’t understand why. Now he did.

When he turned back from examining the things that were the same and different, he saw Richie setting a blanket and pillow out on the old plaid couch. His cheeks were flushed from a combination of the walk in the cold air and the alcohol. He plopped down on the cushion, which creaked in protest, and patted the spot next to him. Eddie joined him, enjoying the feel of Richie’s arm stretched out behind his head. They’d shared many talks spread out on that couch together. Heart to hearts between two best friends that felt so long ago.

“I lied.” Richie said, tilting his head back and closing his eyes.

“About what?” Eddie smiled. “The cat on the skateboard you said you saw going down the street on its own?”

“No. That definitely happened. I mean about my first love.”

“Oh.” His smile fell away and his gut twisted sickeningly. Maybe he’d had too much to drink, or maybe he just wasn’t prepared to hear who had stolen Richie’s heart. “Who was it then?”

“One of the Losers.”

Eddie felt like he could double over in pain from the stab that just landed in his heart. That was worse than some random classmate.

“Beverly?” He was sure all the other guys had had a crush on her at some point. He was sure he had a crush on her before he realized he was 100% gay.

“Nope.”

If he’d said yes, that would have been easier. Richie still liked girls and somehow losing to a girl was easier than to another guy. Especially one of their best friends. What if he still had feelings for him? At one point Eddie had a small thing for Bill and his heart had skipped a beat whenever Mike would easily lift him up as if he weighed no more than a feather. Stan and Ben were the only ones he’d never really felt an attraction to. Not that they weren’t both good looking in their own right.

“Bill?”

Richie smiled. “No not Bill.”

“Mike?”

“No.”

“Ben.”

“Ben’s hot as hell. But no.”

“Then Stan.”

Eddie could feel the vibrations from Richie’s laughter through the couch. “Stan would kick my ass if I said he was my first love.”

“So, it was him.”

Richie finally lifted his head and opened his eyes, looking at Eddie. Despite his best efforts, Eddie couldn’t help looking back at him. His heart was racing and breaking all in the same breath and it was painful.

“It wasn’t Stan.”

Eddie ran through their friends one more time in his head and he was sure he’d been through them all. The only one left was Eddie, unless Richie was going to say he was in love with his own reflection. Which was a possible joke he’d make but Eddie prayed he wouldn’t. He had too many emotions rushing through him at once and he was too drunk to deal with something like that right now.

“Me?” Eddie was breathless and wasn’t sure if Richie had even heard him. But he did and instead of responding, he leaned forward and kissed Eddie. It was soft and chaste, making Eddie’s lips tingle. It was over so fast, he wondered if he had made contact at all.

“It’s always been you, Eds. I thought you hated me for so long after I left. I wanted to bring you with me so badly. Letting you go was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

Eddie heard the tremble in Richie’s voice before he saw the tears in the corners of his eyes. Instinctively, Eddie reached out and cupped Richie’s face between his hands, swiping at the tears with his thumbs as they fell. Not giving in and touching him had been so hard, but now there he was with his hands on his face and wanting nothing more than to crush their lips together. So, he did. He was drunk and in love and overwhelmed and he just needed Richie so badly. Part of him worried this was another dream, but when Richie grabbed his ass and pulled him into his lap, he knew it was real. His dreams never felt like this.

Straddling Richie’s lap, he parted his lips and traced patterns on the inside of Richie’s mouth. He tasted different than he’d expected. Not the beer or the Jamison or the pretzels they’d eaten at the bar, just completely Richie. His hands were in his hair while Richie’s hands were on his hips, pulling him close with every grind down against him. Years of want and need were coming to fruition and neither could stop themselves as they moaned against the others’ lips. Richie reached for the zipper of Eddie’s hoodie as he pulled it down, pushing the sleeves down his arms and letting it fall to the floor. His hand traveled to Eddie’s jeans next, hesitating over the button.

“Can I?” Richie asked, briefly breaking the kiss.

“Yes.” Eddie’s response was breathy as he dove back in to devour Richie’s mouth.

Richie made quick work of the button and zipper and Eddie all but whined when his hand slid beneath the fabric of his jeans and boxers. He bucked his hips against his hand as his cool fingers wrapped around his semi-hard dick. His hand was dry, but Eddie didn’t care because it was Richie and he was far too gone for it to feel uncomfortable. Richie left his lips to trail kisses down his jawline to his neck. Eddie tilted his head back, allowing for better access.

“Fuck! Richie…” Eddie groaned when Richie nipped at the tender flesh of his neck. “You too. Can I touch you?”

Richie nodded against his throat, lapping over the hurt he’d left behind with his teeth. Eddie fumbled with shaky fingers to unzip Richie’s pants to get his hands on him. Richie moaned against his skin as he wrapped his fingers around him. He was bigger than he’d been expecting. The thought of it being inside him made a shiver ripple throughout his body, but he’d have to wait for a later date to experience that. Eddie lost himself in the feel of Richie’s hot fingers, his lips and teeth and tongue peppering his neck in markings he was too gone to care about right now, his own hands working quick to get Richie off. To drag more of those growls from Richie’s throat that made him weak.

He felt the tension building in his gut, his toes curling against the couch cushion as Richie brought him closer to the edge. Richie bit hard just above his collar bone and that was it for him as he spilled into Richie’s waiting hands with a string of his name and curses and on his lips. Richie didn’t stop until he started to come down, chasing his orgasm to the end. Eddie’s hand had momentarily stopped when he came, but as he slowly came back to earth, he began to pump again. Richie buried his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck, a strangled “fuck” falling from his lips.

“God, Chee I’ve dreamt of this for so long. Touching you, coming apart in your hands. Tell me you feel good too.” He whispered into his ear, planting a kiss against his temple.

Richie’s jaw was clenched tight, his clean hand squeezing Eddie’s thigh hard enough to hurt. “Eddie…Eds…I fucking love you.” Richie seemed incoherent, lost in the pleasure. A second later he was moaning from deep in his throat as he tensed against Eddie.

The room fell silent, save for their joint heavy breathing as they both came down from the high. Richie held Eddie close to him, afraid he might run if he let him go. But Eddie didn’t want to run. Just the opposite. He never wanted to leave. He wanted to stay in this moment of bliss with Richie until the end of time. He didn’t care that their hands, and probably pants, were a mess. He didn’t want to move. As long as they sat there in that moment, everything was ok.

#Reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #it (2017)#it (2019)#Ro writes

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monolid-monologues · 5 years ago

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Time, are you on my side or nah?

Take your time

for quality decisions, quality process, quality relationships.

Taking my time has been good to my book, to the anna jack tess process, to the people i talk to-- and i want to say Yes, It’s been good to Myself, too, but after taking my time on all those things..er....i actually feel like i have no time left.

* * *

I used to hate waiting for anything.

Call the mistakes “grunge”, and call it a day.

The cost of Now was so high and i would pay it a million times over. Sacrifice quality. Sacrifice forethought or foresight. Who needs longevity??? We prefer Instantlyyy. Priorities = Faster. Sooner. ASAP. NOW.

WHY?

LMAO. FOR WHAT?

Because you hate waiting??????? That’s it???? WOW!

Now all I do is give myself enough time.

Now, the problem is, i’m giving myself a lot of things that i’d like to give a lot of time and AS i make sure all those things get enough time...

Huh. Ha. The sum is still Not Enough Time..................

* * *

Don’t ask me how I did it

but Sunday night i worked on the last stretch of my book, the last edits, from 5pm (after rehearsal 11-3pm) all the way up til 7am the next morning. I took a personal day from work that Monday.

12am, 1am, 2am, 3am.. Time keeps ripping by.

No drugs, not even an extra cup of coffee.... i just worked on this shit for 14-hours straight. i shit you not. barring meal breaks and bathroom breaks, i was sitting at the computer making this book better, and better.

contacts shriveling on my eyeballs

the Monday work day getting closer and closer.

I’m delirious, I know I’m not finished, it’s bright as fuck outside and I can’t control any longer the fact that i’m about to pass out--

I send the revised draft to Myah and fell asleep late into the afternoon.

When I wake up to her notes and my own re-read, there are indeed more edits to be made.

After rehearsal, i work on it again.

This time, i stop myself at 4am.

i get 3-hours of sleep and go to my day job.

Again, after rehearsal (after my day job), i’m making more edits.

I was supposed to submit all the files by Sunday night.

Instead it’s my “last” day for three days.

IT’S SUBMITTED NOW!

But there were all these little things that.....could’ve made the book better. So I did. I worked more. Spent more time. I made the book better.

* * *

i’m nearly a husk lol

i’ve worked myself intensely these past few months

i’m looking forward to taking it easy come June

except, will i be?

there’s another passion project yonder.

And this one hits my heart just as deeply, but way differently.

I don’t know what i’ma do.

I guess i’ll just keep taking my time.

I’m just afraid of spending it all.

I miss my friends

I miss having a clean room

I miss working out

I miss my solo rehearsal sessions on the weekends

i miss making more patreon content

i miss longer baths

I don’t know what i’ma do about it

but i get it. it’s the start.

it’s the start of something new.

all my work in the last couple months is reaching an apex

and we are gaining speed and distance on a new sharp turn

and it’s also okay to give myself time to “know what to do about it”

cus at least i can see the turn from here

let me start pressing the breaks now

cautiously, with enough time,

let’s turn.

let’s see how this turns.

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camillemontespan · 6 years ago

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skinny cappuccino with an extra shot [AU: drake walker x mc]

Was feeling down today so wrote this when I got home to feel better and I guess it worked. Fluffy AU, Cake style!

@jovialyouthmusic @pug-bitch @sirbeepsalot @moonlightgem7 @drakesensworld @dcbbw @notoriouscs @ifyouseekheart @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore @be-still-my-aching-heart @katedrakeohd @iplaydrake

Oh, also I was taught this technique for making cappuccino and lattes when I was working as a waitress when I was 18 (you’ll see what I mean). Thanks for that, Jason. Creep (thought it did actually make me really good at making coffee?!)

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

Monday

'So, the trick to remembering how to make the right foam for a latte and foam for a cappuccino is basically, treat it like a blowjob. If it's a latte, you really want to heat up the whole of the milk so put the spout right in the jug and do your thing, kinda like a deep throat. For cappuccino, focus just on the tip of the spout, which on my opinion, is the best way to do it.'

Drake groaned and rested his head on the counter as he listened to Leo 'train' the new girl at making coffee. If he could rip his ears off so he couldn't hear any more of Leo's shit, he would do it.

Monday morning, 8.00am, and already Drake wanted to go home. He worked two jobs, this day job as a barista and a bartender at night. He was exhausted from working non stop recently but he needed the cash to pay for his crappy apartment.

'Um, excuse me?'

Drake quickly pulled his head up from the counter and saw the girl was stood in front of him.

Well, the girl was called Camille. They had never actually talked but she had started coming into the coffee shop every morning for the past three days and gave her name whenever she ordered her skinny cappuccino with an extra shot.

So no, despite the fact he knew her name coffee order and that she was one of the first people he saw each morning, he didn't know her.

Drake kind of wanted to change that but he wasn't sure how. She probably had a boyfriend.

'Uh hey, sorry!' he said, blushing. She smiled. 'Early start huh?'

He blushed harder. Smooth. 'Yeah, two jobs you know, I can barely function.. Uh, you want to order?'

'Yeah, skinny cappuccino -'

'With an extra shot,' Drake finished for her. She blinked and Drake wanted the ground to swallow him up. I am such a creep.

'Yes please,' she answered after a moment, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and smiled shyly. Drake gave her a thumbs up -really man?- and got to work making her coffee order. Even though he knew her name by writing it on the takeaway cup the past three times she had come in, he didn’t want to completely freak her out so he asked her.

‘It’s Camille,’ she told him. Drake smiled at her and wrote her name on the cup. Camille rummaged around in her handbag and Drake took the moment to watch her. He could make great coffee without having to concentrate.

He wondered what she worked as. Clearly a corporate job from the clothes she always wore. She always looked polished and elegant; today, she was wearing a white trench coat which hung open over a white silk shirt, black cigarette trousers and black high heels. Delicate chains of gold necklaces were draped around her neck.

‘Dude, you’re so into her,’ Leo whispered in Drake’s ear. Drake reddened and looked down at the coffee machine. Camille’s phone began to ring and she answered the call. ‘Morning Maxwell.’

Drake’s heart sank. She definitely had a boyfriend then.

He concentrated on foaming the milk, not Leo’s way, but he still caught snippets of her conversation. ‘Yeah, I’m going to the Beaumont Bash, obviously. I do work for your brother.’

She began to circle around slowly, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. ‘Yup, Hana’s coming too, and Liv. Don’t worry, it’s going to be a great party.’

Drake began to sprinkle chocolate powder on top of her coffee. She hadn’t asked for it but he guessed she liked chocolate powder; just a feeling.

‘Oh my God, no llamas! Remember last time when the sheep got out?’ Camille laughed. Drake popped the lid onto the takeaway cup and his eyes met hers. She smiled and gave him a wink. Drake did a double take - he never took her for a winker. Also, he really wanted to ask about the sheep but that would be creepy.

He raised a hand in goodbye and she mouthed, ‘see you later.’ He watched her leave the coffee shop, the scent of perfume trailing in her wake.

Tuesday

‘That’s too much foam.. very enthusiastic technique you have, Penelope!’ Leo joked to the trainee. Penelope blushed and started again.

Drake was leaning against the counter with a cup of black coffee. He had worked till 2am at the bar and had only had five hours sleep; he looked like shit. His hair was dishevelled, he hadn’t showered and he felt really, really grubby.

‘So, Liam’s actually not staying late at work tonight, can we stop by the bar for a few drinks?’ Leo asked. Drake shrugged. ‘Sure. Doubt he’d like my dive bar though. He’s classy.’

Leo chuckled. ‘He is but he can get down in the dirt with the rest of ‘em if needed!’

The door opened and Drake reluctantly turned around to serve the new customer. He stopped. It was Camille with a friend.

He wished he had grabbed a quick shower, even if just meant dunking his head under the tap in the sink. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.

‘Morning,’ he greeted her. Camille grinned. ‘Hey there. Skinny cappuccino-’

‘With an extra shot,’ he interrupted. ‘Sure thing. You?’

He looked at the girl beside her. She was tall with dark tousled hair. ‘Ooooh.. decisions.. um, matcha tea, please,’ she said.

Drake nodded. ‘Cool. Name?’

‘Hana.’

Leo turned away from Penelope. ‘Hana, what a pretty name. You like matcha? The green goddess of teas!’

Hana stared at him, clearly trying to think of something to say to that. Camille pressed her lips together, clearly holding in laughter. Drake wrote Camille and Hana’s names on the takeaway cups and started to work at the coffee machine. His eyes met Camille’s. ‘So, busy day ahead?’ he asked.

She rolled her eyes. ‘Sadly. My firm’s throwing a party on Saturday and my boss’ brother is begging me to find ‘fun’ people to go.’

‘It’s an office party, it won’t be fun,’ Drake said dryly. Camille’s mouth quirked up at the corner. ‘It’s a Beaumont Bash, it’ll be epic.’

‘Beaumont Bash?’

‘Beaumont LLP? The biggest law firm in New York?’ she suggested. Drake shrugged. Camille smiled. ‘I’m a paralegal. The firm is notorious for throwing huge parties, it’s the highlight of the working year.’

Drake handed her the coffee. ‘You’re a paralegal? That’s awesome.’

Camille looked bashful as she took her cup. Drake handed her the matcha tea and their fingers brushed. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said, raising her cup at him. Drake grinned then tried to balance it into a smile. He had looked too eager. Camille handed Hana her matcha tea and the two friends wandered out of the shop, laughing at a video Hana was showing Camille on her phone.

Wednesday

‘Fuck, foam, everywhere!’ Leo shouted, jumping backward as the milk foamed up and poured down to the floor.

‘Sorry, sorry!’ Penelope squealed, grabbing paper towels and trying to clean the mess up. Drake bent down to help her, ignoring Leo who was complaining that he ‘was sticky now and not the good kind of sticky.’

‘Sticky? Really?’ a voice drawled.

Drake and Leo looked at the counter to see a redheaded woman standing there, an expression of distaste on her face. Leo shot her his best flirty grin; it crooked up in the corner and looked somewhat lazy. Women loved it.

‘What can I getcha?’ Leo asked. The woman rolled her eyes and turned to Drake. ‘I’ll have a black coffee with one sugar.. a matcha tea, disgusting.. and a skinny cappuccino with an extra shot.’

Drake felt his heart skip. Only one customer at this time of day had that order. Sure enough, the door opened and in rushed Camille and Hana.

‘Sorry we’re late Liv! Hana forgot her folders so we had to run back to hers!’ Camille said, out of breath. The redhead waved her hand, impatient. ‘Whatever. I’ve ordered your drinks, bitches.’

Drake cleared his throat. ‘Uh, your name?’

The redhead barely looked at him. ‘Olivia.’

Camille waved at him shyly. ‘Morning.’

Drake smiled at her, pleased that she was acknowledging him. ‘Hey. How’s party planning?’

‘I was in the office till 10pm last night. Apparently my boss’ assistant can’t plan parties, so they had to ask a paralegal for help. Oh well, I got to order pizza straight to my desk!’ She looked genuinely pleased about this.

‘Liv, are you going to the bash?’ Hana asked. Olivia sighed. ‘I guess. I am part of the Marketing department. Just keep that walking sweater vest Bertrand away from me, okay? He gets more annoying than usual after a few drinks.’

‘You can’t talk about the Managing Partner that way..’ Hana whispered. Olivia shrugged and examined her fingernail.

Drake handed Camille her cappuccino. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thank you. Drake.’

He started when she said his name. ‘Whaa?’

She giggled. ‘Your name tag. You know my name, it’s about time I knew yours. Drake.’

The way she said his name sounded delicious.

Drake blushed and ran a hand through his hair. He heard Leo snort.

The rest of the drinks were made. ‘See you tomorrow,’ Camille said to him and Drake nodded, tongue tied. She knew his name now.

Thursday

‘Right, let’s get this right, okay? Latte- deep throat. Cappuccino- tip. Got it?’

Penelope nodded, terrified, as Leo kept discussing blowjobs. Drake chuckled and continued setting up the breakfast items at the counter. He had showered this morning, felt much fresher and he had made an effort today and wore his cologne. No specific reason, just...

Well, she hadn’t come in this morning. Her usual time of 8.00am had passed by 30 minutes ago and she hadn’t gotten her morning coffee. Drake felt disappointed and then felt pathetic that he actually missed her. He barely knew the woman.

He arranged the croissants, trying to work out if they were laid out nicely.

Ugh. This is my life.

The door burst open. ‘Aaaah I’m soooo late!’

It was Camille. Drake’s heart leapt and he abandoned the croissants to watch as she ran over to the counter. Her dark hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her face was free of makeup but still flawless. ‘Hey Drake. You know the order. Fuck, I slept in, I’m never late, ever!’

Drake laughed and began to make the cappuccino. ‘If you’re so late, why are you taking the time to get a coffee?’

Her face turned red and she began to trip over her words. ‘Uhh.. I love coffee that much, you know? Need it to function. Plus the coffee at work is shit,’ she babbled. Drake shook his head, smirking, and handed her the cappuccino. ‘Here. I’ve put in extra chocolate sprinkles. You need it.’

Camille grinned. ‘I love chocolate sprinkles. Right, I’m away! Have a good day! Pray I don’t get fired for being late!’

The door slammed behind her and Drake sighed, going back to the croissants.

‘Dude,’ Leo said. ‘She is so into you.’

‘Shurrup Leo..’

‘She is late to work and still made time to get a coffee. Which means she got to see you. Drake, get on it! She’s hot! She’s sweet! Do it!’

Drake ignored him but the thought did stick in his mind for the rest of the day as he made more coffee. Stop it. She has a boyfriend; a girl like her always does.

Friday

‘Okay, I practised making foam all night!’ Penelope said excitedly as she rushed into the shop. Drake and Leo were sipping their coffees and planning an upcoming boys trip to Amsterdam, if Drake could save up for the funds. He had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to.

‘All night, Penelope?’ Leo replied. ‘I’m sure you did.’

Penelope frowned, confused, and Drake held in a laugh. That poor girl being constantly teased by Leo.

‘Oh, Drake, here’s your girlfriend!’ Leo stage whispered, eyeing the door. Drake looked up and sure enough, Camille was coming into the shop. Today, she was dressed in a purple bodycon dress and nude heels; Drake tried to ignore the fact that her dress hugged her body in all the right places.

‘Hey, Drake!’ she greeted him. Drake smiled. ‘Hey. So, how late were you yesterday?’

‘Twenty minutes. Worth it for the coffee though.’

Leo let out a laugh and Camille looked at him, to which Leo tried to cover his laughter by fake coughing. Drake started to make her cappuccino. ‘Glad you didn’t get fired anyway,’ he said, smiling gently, looking at her from under his hair.

Camille blushed and bit her lip, studying him. ‘What are you doing tonight?’ she asked him. Drake shrugged. ‘Working, serving drunk people, loving life, living the Walker dream.’

‘Walker?’

‘Drake Walker,’ he told her. ‘Pleased to meet you.’

She raised a hand. ‘Camille Montespan.’

Drake raised an eyebrow. ‘Montespan?’

She sighed. ‘I know. It’s French. So you’re working tonight?’

‘Sadly, yes.’

‘Which bar?’

‘Black Fox, Williamsburg.’

‘Awesome. See you at 9. You can serve me all the drinks I want.’

Camille gave him a wink and took her cappuccino. Drake blushed and said softly, ‘Happy to.’

She waved her fingers and left the coffee shop. Drake wanted it to be his shift at the bar already, just so he could see her.

#drake walker #drake walker x mc #trr fanfic #au

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milatherese · 5 years ago

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Update No. 5 (*cue Mambo No. 5*) – 90 Days, School, Discernment (just a lil bit)

Note #1: This update is long. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Note #2: If you don’t know Mambo No. 5, you need to listen to it (even though the lyrics may be morally wrong, it is quite catchy).

“How was the 90 day journey of a tiny bit of asceticism?” you ask. (nobody cares but I’m pretending you do haha)

That’s a question I still ask myself several days later. 90 days is a lot to process. Therefore, I have included my short answer to this question here: – It was a bit hard in the beginning but got easier as the days went by – I especially enjoyed the no social media / limited communication – I hated cold showers, actually gave it up by the end of the first month or so because it did more harm than good (imo)

The beginning was a little rough, but about as good as sacrifice gets. (you can read my thoughts on that here, here, and here) About a month in, I couldn’t cope, at least physically. I ended up just doing what I felt I was strong enough to do.

January was a little rough. Ever since school started, I had headaches every day (including non-school days). (If you’re wondering why I never shared this with you and why I hid my pain, it was because I didn’t want you to worry.)

At first the headaches were tolerable. I could get through a 12-hour day with minimal pain. They got increasingly worse. I began taking Tylenol according to the recommended dosage (1-2 tablets every 4-6 hours). I didn’t take Tylenol every other day (I try to avoid medicine, if possible) but I eventually “graduated” to taking the extra strength Tylenol, also according to the recommended dosage. Eventually, the headaches began to impact my studying. I had limited time to study (I had to time my studying during the lesser painful waves of my headaches). I was so worried for one class that I spent all my time studying for that one class during lecture of another difficult class (I figured I could bring up my grade in the second class later). Despite my high of level of unpreparedness, I was looking forward to taking the exams for both classes. I thought my headaches were the result of stressing over those two classes. Unfortunately, taking the exams for those classes didn’t end the headaches. In fact, they may have increased the pain.

My headaches soon became unbearable. I couldn’t hide the pain any longer. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t eat out of fear that I would only make the pain worse. I was in tears from the pain. Massaging my head and using an ice pack didn’t reduce the pain. I wanted to rip my head off to get rid of the pain once and for all.

At this time, I decided it was time to begin thinking about seeing the doctor about this. (Yes, I should have already gone to the doctor but my pain isn’t really a concern to me.) I decided that I would go to the doctor if the headaches persist for another week.

The pain was at its absolute worst one Saturday. I had to call in sick for work (we had an event – which I was really looking forward to, btw). I spent the day crying from the pain (at this point, my body wasn’t really responding to Tylenol). Finally, the physical pain began to affect my mental health. I was trying to figure out the root cause of the pain. I began questioning all my decisions – transferring high schools, transferring universities, not applying to a certain community, leaving relationships, etc. I was wondering if this was some sort of a punishment for making the “wrong” decision (which I later learned is no such thing, more on this another day). I felt so lost and alone. I was wondering if this was a taste of what Mother St. Teresa described as a “long dark night.” (I referenced this before in my last update but I just can’t get her long dark night out of my head.) I eventually cried myself to sleep and slept the rest of the day until 2am the next day.

When I woke, I noticed the pain had disappeared and, with it, the emotional rollercoaster I was going through earlier. I was able to get some rest from the physical and emotional pain and my mind was finally functioning as it normally would – quiet and able to think logically. It was clear that my pain was not for torment but for me to focus on something more important than the pain itself. I decided to pray the Rosary for it had been several weeks since I had been able to pray the Rosary without distractions (I would either fall asleep or be distracted by the headache or my studies). I prayed God would help me discern what He wanted me to tend to. I felt that I should prayerfully consider my career path now that I was away from outside influences.

I began reflecting on my semester thus far. There was one day that my mom visited campus and overheard some girls complimenting and encouraging each other. She told me, “I want you to be in whatever major they’re in. They seem happy. You don’t.” At the time, I was too stubborn to see that my happiness was just a mask I put on to “be strong.” I remembered writing pre-labs and post-labs but barely understanding the material, only understanding the grammar necessary to produce acceptable scholarly work. I recalled being so stressed that I was rude to the whole world (except for work) to the point that my mom exclaimed, “Who are you? You’re not human anymore!” She was right – I wasn’t myself. That woke me up. I thought, “What good is my major if it only brings out the worst in me?” In prayer, felt called to pursue another career instead of MD/DO. I still don’t know what career exactly, but I’m trusting that my time studying and preparing for MD/DO will help me in my calling.

That Sunday, I informed my parents and one trusted relative of my decision to change majors and they were overjoyed. (My uncle seemed to have already known in the beginning that I would leave the MD/DO path, but wanted me to come to that decision myself.)

So, I changed majors back to Allied Health, B.S.

I met with my academic advisor (not the one who screwed me over, for any of those who know the story) and we came up with a school plan. Estimated graduation date was Fall 2021.

I dealt with this change as best I could and things were on the up and up…until it wasn’t.

Early February, I learned that a close priest friend had passed away, just 3 days shy of his birthday. I had been looking forward to his birthday (not that I would be with celebrating with him, just happy he would be celebrating another year) so hearing the news was devastating. He was like an uncle to me. To quote what I said at a memorial, he was “a great friend, a big brother, a father figure, a very holy man, a man for others.” (There’s so much I can say on him but I’ll leave that for another post) The first day, I seemed okay. Minimal feelings of sadness. It hadn’t hit me yet. It hit me the very next day. And it hit hard and long. I was crying everywhere I went whenever I was away from family and friends. Some days were harder than others (my supervisor sent me home early to give me time to grieve). I was going through so many emotions. I was frustrated that I was taking so long to grieve (I later learned that grief has no time limit) and annoyed that I did not feel comfortable talking to my family or friends about it. I had faced loss before (when Bro. Morgan passed away), but never anything as devastating as this. I did not know how to cope with grief. I struggled to stay focused during class (actually broke down in tears at least during one class each day) and to finish my work (skipped out on a staff meeting due to waterworks). I cancelled a couple meetings and called in sick to group therapy twice. I distanced myself from the world and those who love[d] me. Unfortunately, all this affected my studies once again. Despite my lighter load, I could not concentrate. I did not think of sharing all this with my professors as I felt like they wouldn’t understand (or maybe I was just being stubborn again?)

It came time for RECongress and I held it together (somewhat…more on that on another post). It was that Friday that I was able to study without getting distracted by grief. I had an exam the following Monday. But one day of studying 3+ weeks of material was not enough to pass the exam. So there went that.

February went by with each day bleeding into the next. Each day was a blur until one blessed night.

My brother had arrived home late from school one day and as he was pulling into our driveway (why do we park on driveways and drive on parkways) a beautiful dog approached him. I won’t go into details but the dog is now ours and has been the biggest blessing this semester, especially in helping our family cope with grief. We believe (as do others) that Father Suarez sent her to us.

Come March and April, things were finally on the up and up again. I was studying every day and keeping up with work. But then quarantine hit and things went downhill yet again. I did become more active on this blog since March 16th but inside I was deteriorating. However, it wasn’t as detrimental as January and February. Let’s just say that I learned the house is not conducive to studying, I may need a new prescription for glasses, and we need to find better internet (or move to a place with better cell signal). I failed a final due to failed internet connection (thanks be to God I got another shot at it). I took my two other finals in the car in the parking lot in front of Starbucks.

Quarantine has been the best and the worst for me. I realized that spiritually, I was thirsty. Thirsty for God. I live-streamed Mass and adoration daily and at odd hours, even doing homework and studying “with God.” The more things I had to do, the more I felt the need to “hang” with God (which, in retrospect, may have been a bad decision because I ended up procrastinating and losing a lot of sleep). I learned to value receiving the sacraments in-person now. I’m more aware of when I sin or am near sin. It has also reignited the flame of faith. I’ve been doing a lot more spiritual reading, especially now that APU semester is over (still have one class at a JC).

Despite this, discernment got a bit murky. I began questioning my vocation and doing a lot more “reality checks” (and a lot more second-guessing). Frankly, I don’t think I would survive living in a community of all women since all my close friends are men. (Or is that an excuse I am making for myself?) I don’t think I would make a great mother either so perhaps I’m meant to be single? (Or am I just a harsh critic of myself and I would actually be a great mother?) I had not really spoken to my spiritual director in months (transportation and schedule issues, both on my part).

A priest I met at RECongress learned I was discerning religious life (if you didn’t know this, I hope this isn’t a surprise) and asked me to email him as soon as possible in case I need guidance. I didn’t email him until April 1st so that may have contributed to my overthinking. He replied a couple weeks later (and I replied a couple days after that and am still awaiting a response). I asked God for “another sign, for some clarity” and He gave me another. However, everything still looks murky to me. I feel both consolation and desolation at the same time. I might be facing another identity crisis like last semester. Aye.

Ok this is way longer than I had planned so I’m just gonna stop right here.

If you read this far, thank you for reading. If you relate to anything I shared, I hope you know that you’re not alone and that if you ever need anything (even if it’s just a listening ear), I’ll do my best to help. Just ask. (And if you need something but I haven’t replied in a long time, just reach out again. I forget to reply to messages quite often.)

#milamusings

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