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spine-buster · 4 years ago

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The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 21

A/N: I’ve always wanted to write a super-tropey scene like the bar scene in this so I went ahead and did it and I LOVE IT, OKAY?! Also, if you haven’t seen, I posted Part 3 of my Elias story last Thursday. It’s linked on my Masterlist!

Also, just a quick note that I will be returning to a full-time job after Labour Day today. I have enough chapters written out that I don’t think I will have to skip a week of posting, and I organize my time wisely so that I still give myself time to write, but this is just a PSA/FYI that I may not get to your asks/canon questions super quickly like I have been over quarantine. They will still ALL be answered, though, so don’t worry about that!

Anyways, enjoy this!

February 18th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was dejected.

The Leafs had lost their last two games, but these felt different. They’d lost to Buffalo on Sunday 5-2, and Buffalo was one of the worst teams in the league. It didn’t even matter that there were a majority of Leaf fans in the building. Now, tonight, they’d just lost 5-2 again, but this time to Pittsburgh. She couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone, with tweet upon tweet upon tweet calling this the worst game of the season for the team. Just an absolutely awful game. No effort. No heart. No soul. One that they would have to answer for at home, since they faced them again on Thursday, but this time at home. She didn’t even like hockey and she was taking everything to heart because, well – she was part of the team now. Everybody had told her that since day one. And now, at one of the lowest points in the season, she felt that.

She couldn’t stop scrolling. Couldn’t stop reading what everybody was saying.

It was Tyson who had volunteered to drive her home tonight. Ever since Morgan broke his ankle, it was a rotation of Tyson or John. When Emma picked up Tyson, she was just as nice, but she missed Bee. She missed seeing the way Morgan looked at Bee when they were in the car, because it reminded her of how William looked at her when they were alone.

Aberdeen shuffled into the backseat of Tyson’s SUV. Tyson was in the driver’s seat, and Emma was the passenger. Everyone was silent as Tyson began driving into the city – she and Emma could tell he was dejected and mad at the game that had transpired just a few hours ago. The short flight did nothing to quell his emotions. And as Emma laid her hand on his on the gearshift, Aberdeen watched as she moved her thumb back and forth, trying to tell him that it was all okay.

“Tys…it’s not your fault,” Emma said softly, finally, after what felt like a lifetime of silence.

“Em—”

“Tyson, listen to me.”

“—Emma, please, not right now—”

His eyes flashed to hers through the rear view mirror, but Emma wouldn’t listen to him. “I know it and you know it too. The whole defence is flawed. Plus, you guys are missing Mo. It’s not just you and you know that—”

“—Emma, I really don’t want to talk about it right now—”

“—and besides, if – or should I say when – you’re traded at the deadline, none of this will matter,” she dropped a bombshell. “Everyone knows you’re unhappy and it’s not working out and that you’re much better suited to play somewhere else.”

Aberdeen felt her body stiffen at the revelation. So Tyson was unhappy. Unhappy with playing on the Leafs. She knew he wasn’t having the best season, especially considering how successful he’d been in Colorado, but she didn’t think it was that bad. He’d gotten better when Sheldon came in, but apparently that wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make him happy. And in Aberdeen’s life, happiness was important. It was almost paramount. What you did and who you surrounded yourself with and your work should, ultimately, make you happy. Was it the same in hockey? Were hockey players allowed to be happy? Were hockey players on the Toronto Maple Leafs allowed to be happy? Or was everything just a business transaction? A long road to the ultimate success of lifting the Stanley Cup, regardless of who got hurt along the way?

Tyson let out a long sigh as he continued to drive, choosing not to answer his girlfriend or say anything else. When they got off the Gardiner and into downtown, Aberdeen was almost desperate to get out. She felt very awkward. Clearly Emma and Tyson wanted, needed to have a conversation, and she was stopping that from happening. Just by being in the backseat. She almost wanted to just tuck and roll out of the car. Tyson could return her suitcase later. She really didn’t care at this point.

When he pulled up outside her condo building, Aberdeen almost didn’t want until he stopped the car and put it in park to click her seatbelt off. “Hey Aberdeen,” Tyson looked at her through the rear view mirror. She paused all her movements to stare back at him through the mirror. “I uh…I’d appreciate it if you don’t mention to Brendan, uh, you know…what you heard…” he trailed off.

Aberdeen stared back at him doe-eyed. She shook her head slightly. “I don’t…I don’t tell Brendan about anything I find out about you guys. I mean I would never…” she said softly, trailing off too.

Tyson nodded, smiling slightly. “Thanks, Aberdeen.”

“Yeah, it’s no problem.”

When she got out of the car, Tyson popped the trunk so she could get her bag. After one last thank you, a polite wave, and a push of the button to get it to close, she walked into her condo building. She nodded towards the security guard before walking towards the elevators.

She wondered if William felt that same way when he played last year.

***

February 20th, 2020

“Get ‘em!” Aberdeen growled as she looked down onto the ice. “Get ‘em!!!”

Brendan chuckled as he watched Aberdeen, her hands balled up in fists as she practically hung over the box. He’d never seen her so into a hockey game before, and he didn’t know what had gotten into her. “You alright, Aberdeen?”

“Get ‘em!”

He got a kick out of it. Kyle, too, was doing one of those silent chuckles and getting redder by the second. “Aberdeen, you’re going to blow your heart out. We’re gonna need to put you on meds,” Brendan commented. “You gotta remember that you’re staying until the proofs get here. You can’t waste all your energy now.”

Aberdeen calmed down a bit, but she was still on the edge of her seat. “Sorry,” she said. She knew she was maybe taking it a bit overboard, but she couldn’t help it. After the awful game against the Penguins on Tuesday, the Leafs were dominating them right now. Freddie was playing phenomenally, Jake Muzzin had just scored to put them up 1-0, and they were getting really good chances. It’s like the team did a complete 180 from what they were. She also knew, though, that she needed to stay at the arena later tonight, because the final proofs for the St. Pats jerseys were coming and she was the one who had to sign for them and place them safely and securely in Brendan’s office to see tomorrow. She didn’t know how long she’d be up tonight, and she’d need to conserve energy.

“Don’t apologize. I just don’t want you to have a heart attack,” Brendan smiled.

With the Leafs on a powerplay, Aberdeen was like a hawk following the puck. With Tavares, Matthews, and Nylander on the ice, she was praying for a goal. And then—

“YES!!!!!” she screamed as William scored a beautiful goal, jumping up in her seat and throwing her fist in the air like she was Bender at the end of The Breakfast Club. From beside her, Brendan and Kyle stayed unnaturally calm. Aberdeen looked over at them and tried to settle back into her seat calmly. “Sorry. Again,” she said, gripping the armrests of her chair. “But how can you guys be so calm?!”

“You get used to it,” Brendan smiled.

“Well, maybe you do, Mr. Hockey Player,” Aberdeen joked.

“Especially when the camera is on you,” Kyle added.

Aberdeen’s face dropped. “Oh my God, I’m not on camera, am I?!”

Kyle shook his head, his smile spreading from ear to ear. “We’ll have to see, Aberdeen, but I don’t think so.”

The Leafs dominated the rest of game. Kasperi scored another goal only three minutes after William, and Zach scored in the third to make it 4-0. Freddie got the shutout. She knew he’d be happy about that, despite his stoic reserve. As she, Brendan, and Kyle made their way to the locker room, Aberdeen saw the media already speaking to Jake Muzzin. She knew they’d want to speak with the goal scorers too, and so when she saw William and Kasperi heading to the media room, along with John, Freddie, and Sheldon, she wasn’t surprised. It was a good game. Hopefully the media would back down a bit.

She congratulated the guys and stood on the sidelines as Brendan and Kyle spoke to some of them once the media left. By that point, some of them were dressed and ready to head home. “Hey, you want a ride?” Jason offered as he approached her, tightening his tie around his neck.

“Oh, I’m staying back, actually,” Aberdeen informed him. He looked at her skeptically. “The final proofs are coming in for your St. Pats jerseys in March and I have to receive them and put them in Brendan’s office under lock and key.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “Well, I can wait with you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Aberdeen, it’s fine. We can grab a bite to eat afterwards.”

“Jason, I might be here until, like, eleven.”

“So we’ll have an authentic Italian-style dinner then. All the more reason since I miss my motherland.”

“Jason—”

“Aberdeen, are you really going to say no me?”

She glared at him. It was like St. John’s all over again. Before she could open her mouth and say something else, another voice interrupted her. “Why’re you giving Jason the stink eye?” William asked as he approached them.

“I’m gonna wait with Aberdeen until the proofs come and then we’re gonna grab dinner. You in?” he asked William, but everybody already knew the answer.

William shrugged his shoulders casually, like Jason hadn’t just invited him to dinner with his own girlfriend. “I’m in.”

Aberdeen rolled her eyes. “You two are insufferable.”

“I like to think it’s part of our charm,” Jason smiled. “Let me call Jen and then we can go trash Brendan’s office.”

*** It was about 10:45 when Aberdeen, Jason, and William ended up at a small bar none of them had ever been to that served small pub-style plates. It was crowded, for some reason, even though it was a Thursday. Aberdeen quickly learned, judging by the drink specials, that it was their grand opening weekend, and tonight was their first official night open. Opening on a Thursday meant pandering to the university crowd for sure (whose pub nights usually took place on Thursdays), but this place was pretty full with an older, gruffier clientele that were seated at the bar and congregated in small groups around the open space in the centre of the room, away from the few booths against the wall. She wondered if they marketed the place wrongly, or if they just wanted to fill the place so they could say they had a successful opening.

It was a bit loud, but she, Jason, and William ate their late dinner in relative peace. They spoke about the game only for a little bit before they moved on to other topics, making it abundantly clear to Aberdeen that they didn’t want to discuss hockey at all. The food was fine, and so, too, were the beers William and Jason had, but Aberdeen’s Long Island Iced Tea had way too much rum in it so she couldn’t finish.

By the time they finished, it was almost midnight and Aberdeen was starting to feel her fatigue. They were told to pay at the bar, so they gathered their jackets. Aberdeen insisted on paying for her meal, ever going so far as to run up to the bar herself, inching between some patrons in order to pay, before William or Jason could even get out of the booth. William, however, was right behind her, ready to Jason’s meal on his card.

“H—Hey! Hey! Look what we have here! Y-You’re Wiiiilliam Nylander,” a guy, older and very clearly inebriated, slurred out as he laid his eyes on them.

“That’s me,” William gave a tight-lipped smile, standing just slight behind Aberdeen, waiting his turn to pay.

The drunk guy focused his attention on Jason now. “You. Spezza.”

“Yup.”

He turned back towards William, shaking his head. “Teams like this can’t win the Cup. Esp-p-ecially not with this guy around.”

That caught Aberdeen’s attention. She furrowed her brows as the friend of the guy, obviously just as drunk, nodded his head in agreement. “Don’t have the heart like Dougie or Wendel. All a bunch of pussies now. Especially you.”

Aberdeen pulled her card out of the reader dramatically, turning her body so she could face them head on. “What the hell is your problem? There’s no need to be rude,” she said, her voice loud and firm.

“Aberdeen, stop it,” William said loud enough for her to hear.

“Y-Y-Yyyyou shoulda just sssigned the contract, man,” the drunk man grumbled out.

Aberdeen tried again, ignoring William’s plea. “Sir, this isn’t the time or place,” she intervened, but William’s hands went straight to her waist to move her out of his way so she wasn’t standing in between them anymore.

Suddenly, it was William closer to the drunk man that Aberdeen. The drunk guy apparently didn’t like that very much. “You’re damn – you’re damn selfish! Ssssselfish and greedyyyy,” the man continued to slur drunkenly. “Seeeelfish, no good—”

“Sir—” Aberdeen showed up beside William, refusing to stand behind him.

“I oughta hurt you like you hurt the fffranchise.”

Aberdeen’s eyes widened. That was a threat if she ever heard one, and even though he was drunk, Aberdeen didn’t like the tone of his voice. “Okay sir,” she chastised. “You need to stop overreacting. We’re just here trying to pay for our meal. This is no time to be a dick.”

“You know what? Let’s just pay at the other end of the bar,” Jason said, trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. He even started to herd William and Aberdeen away from the drunk man and down the opposite end of the bar. “You have fun with whatever whiskey you’re drinking,” he gave one last look to the man before walking away himself.

“Fuckin’ pussy!” the friend yelled loudly at William, already half way down the bar now.

Aberdeen looked back. William had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her through the crowd so she’d get to the other side with him. She watched as one of them slammed his glass down on the bar dramatically. “Willy—”

“Ignore them, Aberdeen.”

“Yeeeeeah, fuckin’ pussy! Fuckin’ lowlife! Worst Leaf on the team! Shoulda traded you back to Sweden, ya Swedish piece of shit!”

The men continued to yell obscenities and taunt William as they stood at the other end of the bar. Aberdeen stared at William as he stuck his credit card into the machine, quickly punching in his pin. “Does that happen often?” Aberdeen asked him.

“Aberdeen, don’t,” he shook his head, refusing to answer her as he pulled his card out of the machine and stuffed it back into his wallet. It was as if he didn’t want her to know; as if he wanted to protect her from learning just how awful some “fans” could be – at least to him.

“Did you pay?” Jason showed up beside them. William nodded. “Alright, then let’s get the hell out of here,” he ordered, herding them again to lead them out.

It all happened so fast that Aberdeen didn’t really know exactly that – what happened. All she knew was that she heard the guy yell from down the bar. Then she heard the breaking of glass (commonplace in bars, really) and someone else yell “Put it down!” as she, Jason, and William continued towards the door. Then another voice screamed “Watch out!” and she, Jason, and William turned their heads to look behind them.

Then it hit her.

Literally.

A glass had been thrown – obviously by one of the drunk men who had been harassing them – intended for William, but it hit Aberdeen right on the forehead instead. She staggered backwards but didn’t fall. As she brought her hand up to assess the damage, she could almost immediately feel blood dripping down the side of her eye.

“Aberdeen!” Jason screamed.

William looked over and saw the blood on Aberdeen’s hand and it dripping down the side of her face. His eyes filled with anger. Jason, who was still looking at Aberdeen, saw the look she was giving William. He whipped his head towards William, who appeared ready to murder everybody in the room. “Will—William—” Jason tried to get his attention, but to no avail.

“Ohmygodareoyouokaaaaay?!” voices began to ask as they huddled around Aberdeen, William, and Jason worriedly, forming a protective circle around them. There were so many people, so concerned and so loud asking if she was okay that Aberdeen couldn’t even respond – she was too overwhelmed and too confused to even comprehend what was going on.

That’s when the two men ran out. When most of the people in the bar were distracted trying to see if Aberdeen was okay, the men had the wherewithal to completely book it out of the bar with nobody stopping them. It was only William who noticed, screaming out a loud “HEY!” to try and get somebody’s attention to stop them, but nobody moved enough for him to get out of the scrum around Aberdeen to chase him. William focused his attention back on Aberdeen even though he could feel his cheeks flush red with anger and tears forming in his eyes. She was still holding the area above her eyebrow cautiously as the bartender waved her over. Jason and William led her towards the bar, making sure she didn’t step on any of the shattered glass that now littered the floor. The bartender was already opening the first aid kit. William heard Jason tell everyone “It’s fine, it’s fine, we don’t need your help, it’s alright, we’ll handle it, we’ll handle it.”

Aberdeen was offered a bar stool to sit on, but she turned it down. She didn’t want to be on display for everyone to see; she was already embarrassed enough as is. “You wanna go into a washroom?” the bartender asked, and Aberdeen nodded her head. He led them to the wheelchair bathroom, since there would be space for all of them, and ushered them in. “The emergency rooms are just up the street. They’ll do stitches.”

William glared at the bartender. “Aren’t you even gonna call a paramedic or something? What about the cops?” he demanded, his voice shaking from the anger he was still feeling. “Can we look at security cameras to get a face?”

“Bro, we don’t want cops or paramedics here opening night. That would kill us,” the bartender said. William couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “We don’t have cameras installed yet, either. Just clean it up and take it to emerge. It’s, like, two blocks north.”

William felt like punching the bartender square in the jaw. And he would have, too, for being so insensitive about it, if it wasn’t for Jason opening the first aid box loudly against the counter. Jason, for his part, glared at the bartender too. “You can leave now,” he growled, focusing his attention back on finding what he needed within the kit. “Useless piece of shit,” he mumbled under his breath.

Aberdeen sat on the toilet, trying to collect her thoughts and emotions. She’d gotten hit with a fucking flying glass in the middle of a bar. A glass seemingly intended for Willy, thrown by a drunk guy, but it had hit her. She couldn’t believe what had just happened. She was sure her hand was covered in blood at this point; she didn’t even want to know what her face looked like. “Did I get busted open?” she asked, even though she was well aware of the answer. She needed someone else to confirm it so this all felt real and not like a nightmare.

“Yeah,” Jason said softly. “Listen, if that dipshit isn’t gonna call the cops or paramedics, I want to clean it before we go to the walk-in. Your face has a lot of blood on it.”

Aberdeen nodded her head slightly. There was nothing else she could do, really. It wasn’t like she was going to reject any medical attention, from Jason or otherwise. “Is it gonna hurt?” she asked.

“Of course it’ll hurt, but I don’t want any of the blood to crust and dry,” he said.

“Am I gonna need stitches? I’ve never gotten stitches before.”

“Move your hand a bit and let me see,” Jason said. She moved her hand the slightest bit, too scared to move it anymore out of fear that blood would gush out like some Halloween decoration, and Jason looked up close. “Yeah, probably,” he deadpanned. William winced at the thought.

“Oh, Jesus. Is it gonna scar?”

“No. Not deep enough to scar. At least not to me,” he said. She trusted him, if only because he was a father of four and had been around the block a few times. He cleaned her face as much as he could of the blood that had streamed down. She watched as he got some alcohol and put it onto a pad, prepped a sterile gauze, and whatever else he needed. Now, are you ready?” he asked.

“I guess so,” Aberdeen braced herself. She took her hand off the injury, relieved that no blood gushed onto Jason’s shirt. “On three, okay?” she asked. Jason nodded his head. She began to count. “One…two—”

She let out a guttural scream as Jason put the rubbing alcohol on her early so she wouldn’t wince away. It fucking stung. The sound that escaped her made Will’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach. He never wanted to hear it again. When he looked over, she was writhing on the toilet seat. Even Jason’s face was pained at her screams, but he was doing what he needed to do. After doing as much as he could, he took one last look at it before putting the sterile gauze on it, grabbing Aberdeen’s hand to hold it against the cut.

“You ready to go to emerge?” Jason asked.

Tears had streamed down her face at this point. She didn’t have a good tolerance for pain. She nodded her head. “Let’s go.”

***

It was just past two in the morning before an emergency room doctor saw Aberdeen. Jason had called Jen to let her know what happened and let her know that he was going to be extra late, and William…well, William was silent. He was still red with rage as they sat in the emergency room, with Jason and Aberdeen making conversation, but he was silent. Truthfully, all Aberdeen wanted to do was hug him, hold his hand, and nestle into him, but she couldn’t. It would have made things a hundred times better, but Jason being there meant that it was impossible. She noticed William’s silence from the moment they were in the washroom at the awful place and Jason had cleaned the wound. She was hoping that he wasn’t blaming himself.

“So, Miss Bloom, what happened here?” Dr. Behari asked as she sat on the gurney, Jason and William standing near her with their arms crossed.

“Some guy at a bar threw a glass and it hit me,” Aberdeen explained simply. “I think I’m going to need stitches.”

The doctor nodded, then looked towards Jason and William. “And you’re her bodyguards?” he joked.

Jason smiled, but William didn’t. “Friends,” Jason said. “I cleaned it up a bit with rubbing alcohol at the bar, doctor. I – It was the only thing I could think to do.”

The doctor nodded, stepping closer towards Aberdeen. “Let me take a look, Miss Bloom, and I can clean it and see if you need stitches.” Aberdeen took her hand and the gauze off the cut and the doctor put on his gloves. “Aallllllright…” he mumbled as he checked it, Aberdeen wincing in pain slightly as he pressed down on it. “You’ve got no residual glass in it, which is great. All we have to do is clean it up and give you some stitches.”

The thought of stitches made Aberdeen a bit woozy. She tried not to think about what they’d have to do. “Is it a deep cut? Like is it gonna scar?” she asked.

“Not a deep cut at all,” the doctor shook his head. “I’m only putting it one layer of stitches. You’ll probably have the slightest scar once it’s all healed but it’s easily covered with makeup, and due to placement, it won’t be too noticeable.” Suddenly, the curtain that blocked off the room opened, and some supplies and medical equipment were ushered in. Jason and William looked to see everything that Dr. Behari would need laid out on the tray. “Ah! Here we go. Have you ever received stitches before, Miss Bloom?”

“No sir.”

“Think of it as me putting this beautiful masterpiece of a face back together,” he joked, causing Aberdeen and Jason to laugh. William still wasn’t laughing, and Jason took notice.

“You’re great, Doctor Behari,” Aberdeen giggled. “I’m gonna get a scar like a real hockey player now.”

“Ahhhhh, so you guys are hockey players, huh?” he gestured towards Jason and William. “I’ve stitched up a bad hockey injury once or twice in my day.”

Dr. Behari continued with what he needed to do, cleaning up the wound and making sure everything was well and prepped for the stitches. The second he picked up the needle filled with lidocaine though, to numb the area so Aberdeen wouldn’t feel the stitches as much, William became more visibly upset. For the last two hours he looked like he was about to cry, and now he just looked extremely pained, distressed at the thought of what Aberdeen had to go through.

It took Jason intervening for William to stop thinking over and over about when the glass met Aberdeen’s head; the look in her eyes and the blood on her face as she tried to stop the bleeding with her hand. “Will, can you breathe for me?” he mumbled, Aberdeen and Dr. Behari too deep in a conversation to hear them.

William started shaking his head. “He needs to be arrested. He needs to be charged with assault. We need to find him,” his voice was still trembling.

“Will, we’re not gonna find him. He ran off,” Jason tried to reason with him. “There aren’t even any cameras we can check – the manager said. We just have to let it go.”

“No. That’s not good enough,” William was persistent. “We need to—”

“Listen to me,” Jason said in a low voice, grabbing William’s forearm and turning him away from Aberdeen and the doctor. They stood right in between the hallway and the curtain sectioning off the room. “I understand this is personal for you because it’s Aberdeen, but you need to be level-headed right now, because as much as the doctor is making her laugh, she’s gonna see the stitches and probably get scared. And she’s going to be looking at you to help calm her down and tell her it will be alright.”

William stopped breathing during the first part of Jason’s sentence. He furrowed his brows, trying to brush it off, and brush off what Jason was implying. “I don’t know what you mean about this being personal for me—”

“Will, come on,” Jason interrupted him. “I’m too old to be fucked with. We all see the way that you look at her and we know you have the biggest crush imaginable on her. It’s not like it’s a fucking secret.”

“H—How do I look at her?”

“She’s the only person you ever see, Will,” Jason deadpanned. “But…beyond that. You have to remember Brendan’s gonna be asking questions tomorrow at the office. I’ll handle a majority of that but he’s going to want the story from you too and you better be on your best behaviour or else he’ll figure out your little crush and Aberdeen will be fucked. Do you understand?”

William couldn’t look Jason in the eye anymore. He bit down on his bottom lip nervously, knowing that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. “I think he already knows…” he mumbled.

“Excuse me?”

“I think…Brendan already knows about the crush. At the Christmas party out on the ice I guess he caught me looking and he told me she can’t do anything with me until she leaves, and more importantly, I can’t do anything with her.”

Jason looked like he’d seen a ghost. “And?”

“And what?”

“Are you doing anything with her?”

Here it was. William’s first opportunity to lie outright to a teammate, a friend, a colleague, a guy that he looked up to immensely. Aberdeen had had to do it with Siena, now he’d have to do it with Jason. His girlfriend was a mere fifteen feet away and he had to deny that anything was going on. “What?! Of course not!” he said angrily.

“William I swear to fucking God—"

“Nothing is happening,” he stressed. “Jesus, Jason. How awful do you think I am? I wouldn’t do something like that to her.”

“Don’t fuck with me Willy. She’s got too bright a future for you to—”

“I know that,” William stressed. “I. Know. That. That’s why nothing has happened. That’s why it’s stayed a crush.”

“You promise me right here, right now, in the middle of this hospital while she’s getting stitches, that there’s nothing going on between you two, or so help me God, Willy—”

“There’s nothing going on between us,” William said bluntly. He saw Jason’s face relax slightly, meaning that he was buying it. “I’ve got my crush and that’s it. But there’s nothing going on between us. Nothing.”

“Woohoo! Boys!” Dr. Behari called out, interrupting their conversation. “Miss Bloom wants to hold one of your big strong hands just in case she feels anything. Any takers?”

Jason raised his eyebrows at William and gave him a look. William gave Jason one last look before walked over, stood next to Aberdeen, and offered his hand. She grabbed it without hesitation.

Jason watched.

***

February 22nd, 2020

“What in God’s name happened to your eye?” Brendan demanded as he got his first look at Aberdeen Saturday morning. In the town car, Lou had already commented on it. Now Brendan got to see it, bright and early in the morning before heading towards the office.

“It’s a long story,” Aberdeen mumbled.

“Well we’ve got a long drive to the office.”

She sighed. She recounted the events of the previous night to Brendan, from Jason and William agreeing to stay back with her, to them going to dinner, to the rude men, to the bottle throwing. Brendan looked more and more horrified as time went on, and especially angry when she got to the part with the rude men. They were essentially targeting one of his players, one of his star players, with assault; instead, that assault ended up hurting his executive assistant. And when she mentioned the no cameras and the clueless bartender, he got really angry, because there was nothing he could do either.

“And so, here we are,” Aberdeen finished. “I’m three days out from my 22nd birthday and one week out from my party and I have a giant scar on my face.”

Brendan could tell by her tone that she wasn’t necessarily upset about it, per se, but that she was more so a bit self-conscious about how it looked. “It’s not that big,” he said, trying to not make it a big deal. “The stitches will be out soon anyway. You don’t want to see some of the scars I’ve gotten. I mean…” he trailed off, pointing to the one on his top lip and the one on his chin, “yours won’t look as bad as these. Won’t end up as bad as these either.”

“You don’t think so?”

Brendan shook his head. “No chance. It’s only three stitches. Did you tell your parents?”

“Yeah, we FaceTimed so I could show them. They don’t want me in bars past sundown now,” she giggled slightly. “I’m going to have to go to my doctor before we leave for Tampa Bay to see if they can get taken out though. By then it will have been four days. The emergency room doctor said it should be okay by then.”

“I’ll call Noah and have him take a look at it once we get to the arena,” he said, referring to Dr. Noah Forman, the team’s head physician. “I’ll call Jason and Will in, too. To let me know what happened.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. It was only logical to talk to them about it to. William had been the one targeted, after all. “Are you excited for tonight?” she asked, trying to change the subject.

Brendan shrugged. “Last time we faced Carolina it was an…interesting game,” he said. “How much more interesting can it get?”

***

Aberdeen was absolutely horrified. Just absolutely fucking horrified at what was transpiring in front of her very eyes. A complete and utter collapse. Something that couldn’t be real. Something she didn’t want to be real. Something that was affecting her more than she ever thought hockey would. If Aberdeen thought that Penguins game on Tuesday was bad, this was a hundred times worse. A thousand. A million. A billion times worse.

The Leafs were losing to the Hurricanes. 6-3. And who was in net for the Carolina Hurricanes? Their emergency backup goalie, who was, somehow, also the Toronto Marlies’ Zamboni driver. Yes. The Toronto Maple Leafs were losing to a Zamboni driver. Their own Zamboni driver.

She wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Brendan had already left the box. He’d asked her not to follow him. That made her incredibly nervous, because usually when he was upset or disappointed about games, she was still following him like a little puppy. That wasn’t the case now; he clearly wanted to be alone and alone he would be, wherever he happened to be.

When the final buzzer rang, Aberdeen felt her heart rate go up even more, because it now meant that she did have to go find him. She didn’t want to be in the locker room right now. The team needed to be with their coach, and she didn’t exactly want to hear whatever was going to go down in there. She wanted to remain willfully ignorant. So instead, she began walking towards the offices, where a part of her knew Brendan would be.

She was quiet as she walked down the hallway and towards her desk. She saw Brendan’s door almost closed, and knew he was inside his office. She gathered her things, grabbed her jacket, and took a deep breath.

She knocked lightly on his office door. “Come in,” she heard him say absent-mindedly.

She pushed the door open slowly. When she revealed herself in the doorway, Brendan’s eyebrows rose slightly. He was surprised she’d come and find him. But he didn’t want her to know that. Most other personal assistants he’d had usually let him be when he did something like this. But Aberdeen was different. “Oh, there you are,” he said, his voice low as he cleared his throat. There were a few moments of silence as he thought of something to say. “We need to go over the, uh…the proofs for the St. Pats jerseys,” he held out his hand.

Aberdeen was nervous. He was a bit too calm for her liking, considering what had just happened. She knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it exactly, but still. “Okay. Um, yeah, sure. I have it right here,” she said as she began digging through her bag with all the files in it. There were so many to sort through, and she knew she was taking a while.

“By all means, move at a glacial pace. You know how that thrills me,” Brendan said.

She pulled the proofs out of her bag and handed them to him. He took them, a bit dramatically she thought, and opened them up. “Okay, so…they’re done. They can be sent,” he said dismissively, putting his signature at the bottom of every page of proofs.

Aberdeen was shocked, slightly. There was so much back and forth on them because they had to be perfect and now he’d just signed off on them? “They…they’re done? So I don’t need to bring them back to the artist and fetch them back tomorrow?” she began to pull out her iPad so she could change her schedule.

“Well, if you think the team is worthy of even wearing these jerseys and want to convince me to not just scrap the whole damn idea…then yes, fetch away. You’re very fetching, so go fetch,” he grumbled out with a resolute emotion of nothingness in his voice.

Aberdeen stopped her movements. Okay, so he was affected by what had just happened. And he was going to let it all out now, in front of her, with no-one else around. No Kyle. No Sheldon. No team. Nobody but her. As she continued to stare at him, he couldn’t look her in the eye; he was looking everywhere in his office but her, even though she stood right across his desk from him. “You’ll need to contact PR, um…Leslie, to see what she can do to minimize the press on all this,” he continued, pursing his lips together, looking out into a void. “Another humiliating loss splashed across the Toronto Sun. I can just imagine what they’re going to write about us. The Toronto Maple Leafs lose to a Zamboni driver who works for them. The most embarrassing loss yet, and it’s under my watch. Every newspaper in this city should cut me a check for all the papers I sell for them.” He shook his head, pausing for a few moments to collect himself, and finally looked at Aberdeen. “Anyway, I don’t…I don’t really care what anybody writes about me. But the team. I just…the team. It’s just another disappointment…another let down. Another bad game. Horrible game.”

Aberdeen didn’t know what to say. She knew this was Brendan’s version of spilling his guts out to her. This loss had taken its toll on him – was going to take its toll on everyone in the organization, and he was the guy heading the entire operation. It all fell on his shoulders. And Kyle’s. But he was the overseer of it all. He put the brunt of the blame on himself – not on the players or the general manager. “Anyway, the point is…the point is…” he cleared his throat. Aberdeen could see him visually recollect himself. “The point is, we really need to get these proofs sent first thing tomorrow morning, because I’d like to see the jerseys before they get sent to the players.”

It was weird to Aberdeen how he could just switch like that – from experiencing the lowest of the low to going back to normal again. She wondered if it was a hockey thing, because Willy did it too – he would be upset after losses, especially bad ones, but it would quickly become dirt off his shoulder. She held on to her emotions and feelings much longer than them. “I’m so sorry, Brendan,” she offered. She knew there was nothing else she could say to him. “If you want me to cancel your morning tomorrow, I can.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would we do that?” he asked.

Aberdeen offered a tight-lipped smile. “Is there anything else I can do?” she asked.

Brendan nodded quickly. “Your job.”

***

Aberdeen called Siena the moment she was out of the office and walking home. She’d been okayed to go home by Brendan. She’d texted Will, but he wasn’t answering, so God knows what was going on in the locker room right now. She didn’t want to stay at Scotiabank Arena for that very reason. She just knew it was too much for her to handle.

She knew it was too much because she was already crying. Silent tears, but tears nonetheless. She prayed to God that Siena picked up.

“Hey,” Aberdeen finally heard her voice. “What’s up?”

“Siena…” Aberdeen’s voice was shaky. “Siena did you watch the game?”

“No, why? What’s wrong?”

Aberdeen sniffled. “I never thought I’d be crying about sports but here I am crying about the Leafs!” she blubbered out.

“Why? What happened?”

“We just had the most God awful game,” Aberdeen huffed out. “We lost to our own Zamboni driver.”

There was a pause on Siena’s end. “Aberdeen, are you drunk?”

“NO!!!” she exclaimed. “Go check the highlights or whatever. Go turn on TSN. It was humiliating. We’re going to get absolutely roasted. It’s going to be so bad and—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen you need to calm down,” Siena urged on the other end of the phone. “It’s not your fault, Aberdeen. And it’s not your problem. Why are you so upset about it? It’s not like you’re a part of the team.”

Aberdeen felt a punch to her heart at Siena’s words. But she was. Everyone had told her that she was – Brendan, Kyle, the guys, everyone – and she had no reason to think otherwise. It was hammered into her since the beginning. For all intents and purposes, she was a member of the team, which is why it hurt her so badly. Siena didn’t understand that. Siena didn’t understand how all the traveling together made them closer; how all the guys looked out for her – not in a patronizing way, just…in their own way – like they were her older brothers, especially after what happened at Christmas; how the word family was tossed around so often that Aberdeen really felt that this was a family in its own way, with a bunch of moving parts, often dysfunctional, but a family nonetheless. Siena didn’t understand any of it. “Yes I am,” Aberdeen said meekly, offering nothing. She couldn’t put into words what she’d just thought, and even if she could, Siena, with all her smarts, wouldn’t understand them. “I am a part of the team.”

“Just sleep on it, alright? I’m sure everybody is going to forget about it by tomorrow morning,” Siena offered, showing truly just how much she didn’t understand. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

At that exact moment, a car pulled up on the curb alongside Aberdeen. When she looked over, she saw William in the driver��s seat. He was already looking at her. “Okay, bye,” she ended the call abruptly, stuffing her phone into her coat pocket before approaching and opening the door, slipping into the passenger’s seat easily.

When Aberdeen looked over at William, he immediately noticed her red eyes. His heart tightened in his chest. “Why are you crying, minskatt?” he asked.

“How could you not be?” she asked back.

He leaned over the centre console to kiss her. “Please stop, minskatt. I can’t stand to see you cry.”

“I don’t know what to feel – what to do – I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better about this,” she lamented.

“Shhhh shhh shhh,” William kissed her again, bringing his of his hands up to cup her face. “You don’t need to say anything.”

“Don’t I?”

William shook his head slightly. “You’re here, aren’t you?” he asked, as if that was enough. As if that’s all he needed, when really, Aberdeen knew he’d need so much more. That she would need so much more. “D’you want to come back to my place?”

Aberdeen looked William in the eye. He wasn’t asking politely. He was begging. She nodded. “Okay.”

***

Aberdeen was getting scared at how good she was getting at lying. She’d made up a stupid story about needing to stay late at the arena again for the trade deadline so Kasha would go to bed and not wait up for her. Kasha bought it. Aberdeen didn’t even know if she was staying at William’s tonight or if she’d walk into her apartment at three o’clock in the morning again, for the second time in two days.

(As if William would bring her to his apartment and then tell her to leave in the middle of the night.)

He took her to a tall, glass condo building, only about a ten minute walk from hers but closer to the south core that made him possible to practically walk to all the games if he wanted to. He held her hand firmly in his once they got out of the car and walked through the parking garage, getting on the elevator. William pushed the button for one of the top floors. Of course he’d have a penthouse.

Aberdeen was still too caught up in her own emotions to realize how big this was – every other encounter had been at her place, and now she was finally seeing his space. When he opened the door, she was pleasantly surprised at what she was greeted with. She knew it was rented, and so she half expected it to be kind of dull with no personality, but that wasn’t the case. There were touches of William everywhere in the apartment – the slight, boyish messiness just adding to it. Expensive shoes scattered at the entryway. A few plants that weren’t dead, so she figured they were fake. A giant, comfy looking couch in the main area with a massive TV that was hooked up to every gaming console known to man. And pictures. Lots and lots and lots of pictures everywhere. All of his family.

She could tell that there was a spare bedroom on one side of the apartment, and she saw a door leading to the master. William put his keys in the bowl in the middle of the kitchen island, watching her as she looked around his apartment. “So what do you think?” he asked.

“Do you miss your family on nights like this? When it’s a really bad game and really embarrassing?” Aberdeen asked, staring at a picture he had of him and him sisters together, holding them all in a giant bear hug as their smiles stretched from ear to ear.

The question caught him completely off guard. “Of course I do. I miss them all the time,” he said.

“What do you do on nights like tonight?”

“I sit on my couch and watch TV until I’m not thinking about it anymore,” William admitted. “Lately I’ve really been meaning to do it with my girlfriend.”

Aberdeen couldn’t help but smile. Even after a night like tonight, he was still flirting with her. “Do you have a change of clothes?”

They went into his bedroom – bed messy, but huge; closet overflowing, but orderly; giant floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the other skyscrapers around them – and she changed into a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt that looked Supreme-branded but instead said ‘spaghetti’. It smelled like him, thoroughly, and the second she put it on she felt like she was being hugged, even though it was about six sizes too big. They changed together, and when they were done, they made their way back to the living room and William turned on the TV, pulling her towards the big couch. He made her sit down first before kneeling down between her legs, resting his head on her stomach just beneath her breasts before wrapping his arms around her.

It was calm. It was nice. It was mindless. William was mindless as he laid there, his arms wrapped around his girlfriend in his clothes, watching TV but not really watching TV. Aberdeen was mindless as she laid there, running her fingers through William’s hair soothingly, watching TV but not really watching TV. It was a while before Aberdeen decided to speak again. “You know, it’s not healthy to not talk about it,” she said.

She felt William sigh. “You know I’m not good with words, minskatt.”

“Oh, I think that’s a lie. You’re great with words,” she said.

“No I’m not.”

“William, every author in the English language wishes they came up with the words, ‘I think about you when I’m not even thinking’, including me,” she countered.

William couldn’t help but smile. “Those words are only for you,” he said.

“I know,” she said, “but can you please give me some other words so I know that you’re okay? Because I’m worried.”

The fact that he was making her worried made him compelled to talk. That was the last thing he wanted. “I just…I just know that we’re never going to hear the end of it. And I hate that. I hate that it’s gonna be the big joke now. Because hockey isn’t a joke to me. Neither is the Leafs.” He paused and Aberdeen was silent, and he knew that silence was urging him to continue. “It happened because…it happened because they rallied around their goalie. They protected him. They had his back. And we didn’t. We just…we didn’t. And I hate it when we do that. Because I have…I have every guy in that locker room’s back. I do. But sometimes it just…” he sighed, shaking his head. “Sometimes it just doesn’t work out how I want it to.”

Aberdeen had continued to run her fingers through his hair. She nodded at the end of his speech. “I’m not going to pretend that I know what it feels like, because I don’t,” she said. “I haven’t been a fan of hockey and I don’t understand it like you do but I know how much a game like this can affect the group, especially with the media in this city. But I got emotional about it because I know how much it affects you. Even if you won’t tell me about it.”

“I don’t mean to not tell you,” William said. “I just…” he paused again, thinking if he should even say anything. “It’s that besides my dad and brother, nobody’s ever really…you know, listened. So I just stopped talking.”

Aberdeen’s heart broke. At that point, she stopped running her fingers through his hair and forced him to sit up, even though her legs were still wrapped around him, so she could look him in the eye. She thought about Mike Babcock and what he’d done to Will. She thought about all the other hockey coaches he had and wondered if they were just as bad. “Willy…” she said softly, running her thumb along his jawline and lips. “Willy, I want you to talk to me more. About hockey. About your family. About your feelings. About everything. Please. Please.”

William nodded. He understood completely what she was asking him to do, and he was going to make a concerted effort to do so, because he loved her. He loved her so much and he didn’t want to see her worrying about him. “I will, minskatt. I will, for you,” he said, kissing her quickly. He shifted them so she was straddling his body. “I just have to get used to somebody listening.”

“Willy, I’m always going to listen to you. Don’t forget that, okay?” she asked, cradling his face in her hands.

He nodded, quickly kissing her again. The words were coming now, and he couldn’t stop them. Aberdeen had that power over him. “What happened the other night at the bar was my fault,” he said.

“What?” Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out of her head dramatically. “Willy, that was not your fault at all—”

“Yes it was—”

“No it wasn’t—”

“Yes, yes it was,” he said sternly. “And I couldn’t take it. I was so mad, minskatt. I was shaking. I wasn’t able to stop it or to protect you or—”

“Willy—Willy, stop. Willy, it wasn’t your fault at all,” she repeated. “Those stupid guys were drunk.”

“But they were aiming for me. They hated me. I wish that glass would’ve hit me instead,” he said, bringing his hand up to her scar and touching it lightly.

“Don’t you dare say something like that. It was a freak accident, Willy. There was nothing either of us could do,” she said, hoping he would soon realize it.

William paused for a moment. “You’d talk to me too, right? Like you want me to talk to you?” he asked. Aberdeen nodded her head confidently. “Were you scared that night?”

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “Just a little bit. But you were there. And Jason. And when I realized that, I wasn’t so scared anymore. I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.”

William nodded. “Are you listening?”

“Yes…”

“I love you.”

Aberdeen smiled. “I love you too.”

They began kissing. Lightly, at first, and then Aberdeen couldn’t help but stick her tongue down his throat, and William couldn’t help but squeeze at the flesh of her thighs. As they made out like teenagers on his couch, Aberdeen placed her hands over his and guided them to her ass.

William giggled slightly into the kiss. “Aberdeen…” he said in a playfully accusing tone.

“I only want to remember feeling your hands there instead,” she mumbled against his lips.

William froze. Suddenly and all at once, her words hit him like shards of glass, cutting him to his very core. “I’ve been scared before in my life much worse and with less blood.” Ethan. She still thought about what happened with Ethan – she still thought about it and it affected her and it made her scared, something she hadn’t admitted to before. William felt like killing Ethan all over again right then and there, with Aberdeen sitting on his lap. What affected her wasn’t a physical wound; what affected her was something much deeper.

“Listen to me,” he said, his hand cradling her chin, thumb gliding over her lips softly as she’d done to him earlier. “Nobody is going to do that to you again, okay? Not while I’m here.”

Aberdeen nodded her head. She believed him completely.

“I mean it, Aberdeen,” he pressed.

“I know.”

“If I ever saw him on the street, I’d fucking kill him for what he did to you. For how he made you feel. And I want you to know that, like…you’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more. He was a pig who couldn’t see that but I can,” William said.

Aberdeen almost burst out into tears at his words. You’re not what happened to you. You’re so much more. She could have cried right then and there. But instead, she nodded her head before kissing William again, even more eager this time, wanting to show him just how much she appreciated him, just how much she believed him, just how much she loved him.

197 notes · View notes

llendrinall · 4 years ago

Note

Here's a prompt for you.

Draco and Harry are dating and taking it slow (no one is aware & they started dating after the both of them had begun to go to therapy and heal a bit) and while they've together for a year (now its not somethin that either of them hide but they also dont go out and pronounce anything) they find an orphanage in the muggle world and they hang out with the kids and end up falling inlove with between 1-4 of the kids over time and both the Weasley's and Malfoy's find out about their relationship when they show up with their newly adopted child/ren.

"I thought you knew we were together"

"We thought you were becoming friends Harry!"

Draco saw the kid first. Not that it matters, but Harry claims that it was all his idea when, in truth, Draco saw the kid first and immediately knew what was going to happen. This is Harry, after all. Draco could have distracted Harry, insist they took the other exit of the restaurant, anything. But he did none of that because (don’t tell anyone this) Draco Malfoy might have a heart of his own and he was curious about the kid sitting under a lamppost with a book.

His names is Liam and he was doing homework. There is a lounge in the orphanage where, theoretically, children can do their homework. But the place is very noisy and there are some older kids who pick on Liam. Unless it’s raining heavily, Liam prefers to be outside where he can have some peace. He could go to the library and he usually takes refuge there, but it closes early on Fridays.

They had just had dinner, but they go back to the restaurant so Liam can work at a table where is warm and well lighted. The waitress gets Liam extra bacon in his sandwich and doesn’t charge them for it.

Harry surprises Draco because he doesn’t immediately take Liam with him, even though it’s clear that’s what he wants to do. He does say he would like to visit Roberta Clark’s Children Home and looks softly pleased when Draco says he will go with him.

They have been together for almost a year now, soft and tentative and careful because they both want this and are afraid to ruin it with a false step. They have just started to talk about living arrangements, although in a very vague way. Tonight, however, Draco begins a ruthless campaign against Harry’s house which is well located in London, yes, but it doesn’t have a garden unlike Draco’s house in Virginia Water, and it has one less room than Draco’s (not accounting for the music room), and it’s very dark. Draco can’t imagine children growing up happy here. Poor Sirius. And poor Regulus.

Harry is pissed, which is further proof that he needs Draco in his life because, Morgana, is he easy to read and manipulate.

That Thursday the two of them visit Roberta Clark’s Children Home where they are welcomed by the rudest social worker to ever plague the Earth. The deputy Director isn’t much better. She doesn’t like it when Harry points they have mold on the walls, all twenty-three times.

(This is one of the many reasons Draco loves him. For a hero of the light, Harry is a terror).

Draco walked in there knowing fully well they were going to adopt Liam, hence his campaign for the Virginia Water’s house because no child of his will grow up in Grimmauld Place. Children who grow up in Grimmauld Place become unhappy adults who die before their time. Draco thought that maaaaybe Harry still believed he was only going to show an interest in the institution and hand them money to improve the living conditions; but Draco knew there was no way Harry would leave Liam in there. The kid is eleven! An orphan! Harry can lie to himself all he wants. He will be Liam’s legal father inside a month.

What Draco didn’t expect was to get a child of his own.

Her name is Jamie, JamieTheGirl. There is a boy named Jamie and simply Jamie, not JamieTheBoy, because Jamie is a boy’s name. This is explained to Draco in a rush, with a mixture of pain and bratty attitude that speaks to him directly. JamieTheGirl hates her name, her haircut, the horrible dress she is forced to wear and Mister Gladwell, who is the rude social worker. JamieTheGirl wanted to know if Liam is lying, because Liam said he knew them (them being Draco and Harry) but Liam is eleven and everybody knows that nobody wants kids older than ten. Seven is best. JamietheGirl is nine so she could still be adopted, but she has been informed by multiple sources that nobody will ever want her because a) she has a bad attitude, b) she has a boy’s name and c) she is not cute enough.

“My name is Draco,” is all Draco can say. He is already vowing to hunt down those multiple sources who told Jamie she was less than perfect. “It’s not a bad name but it’s not a good one either.”

JamieTheGirl agrees.

Now that they are going to adopt two children it’s all the more reason to live in the Virginia Water’s house, which has more room and a very nice garden. They can always apparate the kids to their school in London. If Harry refuses to apparate (sometimes Harry exhibits some very weird ideas about magic and luxury) Draco will get a car. Not even a magical car, and actual muggle car. He will buy one and take the kids to school. Actually, they should go tomorrow to check the house and start the arrangements.

Harry stares at Draco. He is sitting on the kitchen counter in his stupid house in Grimmauld Place, eating Chinese food from the box as if he weren’t a filthy rich man, hero of the wizarding world. Draco loves him so much.

“What do you mean adopt?” Harry says.

“Oh, like this was going to go any other way.” Draco says, rolling his eyes. If the place had merely been overcrowded and noisy Harry would have contented himself to play the benefactor role and pay for renovations. But there was mold in twenty-three spots, the social worker made Snape look charming and evidently none of the adults in charge had any idea of what the children were going through and, even worse, what they were getting up to.

Draco knows Harry. It is a mere question of how quickly they can get the paperwork ready.

“I’m still going to do something about the place.” Harry argues, of course he does. He won’t simply take a kid and forget about the rest. But he is already thinking of all the wonderful things he will teach Liam. Draco can see it in his eyes.

They get married two weeks later, for the paperwork, but in essence they got married that night when Draco laid the rest of their lives before them and Harry realized that Draco knew him better than himself and that he still wanted to be with him.

They move to the Virginia Water’s house in early January. Liam can’t believe that he has been adopted, so he takes the fact that they are both wizards in stride. The adoption is much harder to believe than the fact that people can do actual magic. Also, he has his own room. His. With a door that he can close. The fact that he doesn’t have to hide his books so they won’t be stolen takes enough of Liam’s attention that he can’t worry about such unimportant things as magic.

JamieTheGirl is both easier and harder. She is easier because she desperately wanted to be out of the Children’s Home, and harder because she is naturally distrustful and very intelligent. Not to say that Liam is not distrustful or smart, but he is old enough to be jaded. Liam expects something bad to happen and he is willing to take it. He, like Harry, is stupid enough to believe that he can take new abuse if he also gets some comfort in exchange.

(note: Draco is going to piss on Dumbledore’s grave).

The first month is difficult, but once both Liam and JamieTheGirl act out and see there are no bad consequences, that they are not beaten or returned to the Children’s Home, they settle happily. JamieTheGirl asks to have her name changed, please, she will take a constellation name if they want to, just let her have a different name. They are enrolled in a new school and Draco buys a car and hires a chauffeur who happens to be a squib and there is no need for Harry to look at him that way.

Things are good.

It’s cold outside, the garden is dry and ugly, it rains nonstop for two weeks… but everything is good and nice. If Sean were here he would have something interesting to say about it. Everything in Sean is ugly, but he knows how to take the painful things and make them sweet, and he would know how to put into words that the world outside the house is ugly right now, but it’s also nice.

Draco feels Harry go rigid at the same time as him. “Who?” Draco says calmly just as Harry asks “What?”.

Sean is an ugly case. He was adopted when he was eight but he was returned a few months later. Nobody knows why although there is a lot of speculation. He often got himself beaten in school and once by Mister Murphy (“Who?”, “It doesn’t matter, he doesn’t work there anymore”, “Give me a detailed description of Mister Murphy, please”.) He is fifteen now so nobody will adopt him and Mister Gladwell says he will amount to nothing. Despite what Mrs Oxley says (Mrs Oxley is the deputy Director) Sean is not a criminal. He goes with bad people, sure, but he never stole Liam’s books and he even showed him a couple of hiding places. He is not bad at all.

On Friday they welcome Sean home. Just at the same time Mr Gladwell, Mrs Oxley, Mr Murphy and a criminal gang from the South Bank all suffer completely coincidental and unrelated accidents.

Sean is a young criminal. He is tough and hard, actively cultivating a mean strike and horrifyingly traumatized.

He is also deeply protective of Liam and Jamie. It’s heartbreaking.

Fortunately, Harry was also deeply traumatized at his age. It’s a horrible thought to have, but for once Harry is grateful for all that pain because he knows how Sean feels, he understands, and he can help.

No, Sean can’t have a wand or try magic. Yes, he still has to go to school. No, he can’t take the car. No, no smoking and no drinking either. Come along, you are going to take fighting classes.

Which might seem counter-productive. Do not teach the young delinquent to fight, yadda, yadda. Harry spent all of his fifteen year wanting to punch someone and Sean has this freaked-out look in the eyes that says he doesn’t trust Harry or Draco and that he wants to protect Jamie and Liam. The fighting classes make him feel more in control and they mellow him. Also, by the third time Draco has a tiff and demands to talk to the headmaster about Liam’s class placement, his math grades, Jamie’s English grades, and just-what-did-that-woman-insinuate-I-swear; something visibly relaxes in Sean.

(Not even Liam knows what his Biology teacher said that upset Draco. The next week they have the lovely Miss Quintrell instead and the whole class is happy so Liam doesn’t question it).

And suddenly it’s March and Ron’s birthday and there is a celebration at the Burrow. Harry arrives with his family and a well-structured explanation of how he is now the legal father of Sean, Liam and Possibly-Berenice (they are still trying names). He is really good at it. He gives a simple step by step account of the process, with helpful asides and clarifying details, everything. There is just this one thing. A small detail, really. An assumption that is not supported by reality.

“Mate, I’m very happy for you,” Ron says. “We all are. But, you never mentioned you were dating Malfoy and I believe I speak for everyone when I say it’s a shock.”

And, to be fair, nobody can say they are actually surprised that Harry showed up with three orphans. But Malfoy, well… Malfoy is something else. They thought Harry was merely befriending him, or possibly adopting him like he tried to do with Neville. The dating thing is a big mental shift.

“We are married,” Draco says, and then, at their stares, more quietly, “it was more convenient? For the paperwork?”.

There is a lot of “Harry Potter you did not get married without telling us” and “Harry Potter how could you just get married without a ceremony” and “you know we have been developing these party fireworks how could you do this to us” and Molly red-faced, waving a finger, “did you tell your parents, young man?” and it takes everyone, everyone, thirty seconds to realize she is not addressing Harry, but Draco, and Merlin’s pants, he did not, he didn’t tell them. Draco married Harry, moved with him and adopted three kids and his father doesn’t know, which goes a long way to ingratiate Draco with everyone, because Lucius Malfoy has not heard of this.

It also has the unexpected but very welcome benefit of making Sean laugh. Liam says Sean hasn’t laughed in years.

(And of course less than a month later the three kids have a hand-knit sweater, of course they do. Possibly-Berenice’s has a pattern of stars, pending her choosing a permanent name).

#asks #harry potter #draco malfoy #verse: Harry adopting left and right #Anonymous #textpost

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poptod · 4 years ago

Note

hey again! i was wondering if u could do an elliot x reader, kinda like an enemies to lovers, where he thinks they’re an average person until they outsmart him which both impresses and pisses him off? but like sweet at the end? also from his pov so that we can hear his little monologues? i’m a sucker for happy endings. thanks and love ur writing

notes: sorry this is a tad late again. had a rough morning. i know nothing about cyber security and absolutely nothing about mr robot. i tried my best thank u for requesting :) hope you like it

Be it the end of days, Elliot would not call upon you. Of course he wouldn't – he barely knew you, only your name and face and the position you held relative to him. Another worker much like himself, just far more normal than him, and far less intelligent than him. That fact didn't stem from any specific dislike for you; just the truth. Among your coworkers you did not stand out, a tactic he often wished he had.

You were barely on his radar, at least not until the question of method came up during a meeting. Some hellhole business had hired them for cyber protection, and out of all those gathered at the tables, Gideon called upon you and him for answers. Elliot suggested the method they usually used – application security. You did not. Instead, with the tip of a pen pressed delicately against your chin, you told Gideon and those present that it'd be a better idea to use network security. Not a massive difference, but a big enough one that your suggestion irked him. The way you said it, too – "I think network would be better," so kind and sweet, a facade so heavy Elliot was surprised you still had a job.

For some strange reason your boss agreed with you.

And you ended up being right.

And suddenly, you became a lot more of an important person in his life, in the definition that he hated you. He payed more attention, and with that he noticed something he should've known all along. You were smart. Like him.

You were smart – so what? Confusion persisted when he tried to think of why that irritated him so terribly. Maybe it was because you remained normal. The two of you were equals, so why did he have issues? Where were yours? From everything he'd noted of you, and as of recent that was quite a lot, you were perfectly fine. No anxiety, no nightmarish mental disturbances, no addictions, no loneliness – kindness was your 'thing'.

Maybe he was just jealous.

The thought stewed like sick in his head as you laughed, the soft sound coming from the break room to his desk, just to make his fist curl and his jaw grind. This feeling, it felt... less than normal. Just like every single fucking thing about him, and he dug his nails further into his palm.

Be it the end of days, Elliot would not trust you. It couldn't be real – you never cried, you never looked stressed, and though you weren't always smiling you were certainly never frowning. Of course, he only noticed this while at work. After hours he found your various online accounts, and what starts as pure curiosity turns into a search for your records, wondering if there's anything that's ever been wrong with you.

Beautiful hair, soft skin, shining eyes, and a smile that could melt ice away from even his heart. No, nothing wrong there. Happy parents, no sign of disability, financial security. Nothing wrong there either. Good friends, useful hobbies, beautiful eyes. Beautiful eyes, saccharine like warm honey and sweet mints. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and waving away the people in his head, redirecting his attention to trying to get your medical records. Just out of curiosity. He doesn't get it – at least not that night, but he knows he'll get it eventually. Just a matter of time, and it's better than simply asking you, an act he would never find approachable.

On Thursday, despite his own leanings, he does actually talk to you. For the first time, and it's quite a lot harder to hate you when you smile and listen carefully to the words he says like they're the most important thing in the world. He'd expected your upfront kindness to be rude and subtle, that passive aggressive thing rich people loved to use. It's still polite, of course it is – you don't know him, although he'd bet he knows you. Nonetheless you act like you don't know him, and while most people would consider it a hindrance to conversation, you use it to your advantage.

You ask him if he's comfortable as though it's a normal question. You make sure you aren't bothering him, you ask if he wants to talk about the project, you respect every boundary he sets, you wait for him to respond as he talks to himself in his head, but the most surprising part is that somehow it feels normal. Like these are normal questions to ask, like you do this with everyone, and by the end of it he's wondering if you actually do do it for everyone.

Later you ask him if he wants to go out with some of your coworkers for a drink. He says no, you don't try to get him to come, and you give him the option of coming later if he wants to. You also tell him he's welcome on any other evening out. Over the next couple weeks you stay true to your word – you ask him if he wants to come, and one evening he says yes. Not out of any pressure from you, just simple curiosity to your behavior outside the workplace.

Turns out you aren't all that different. You keep up that rule of comfort, and as you meet multiple people in the crowded bar he wonders how the hell you keep up with it without bursting out in irritation. Even he can't keep up, and he's one of those specific people, the kind that need alterations to interactions to be comfortable. You hold open the door for those behind you, you bring drinks to those who ask you to carry them, you listen to the stories of strangers and friends alike. You smile almost the entire evening.

And he catches you in that smile, your eyes meeting his. Recognizing him you smile even wider, waving at him as a pleasant blush covers over your cheeks, a genuine happiness to simply be near him in a way that might mean you're friends.

No one smiles when they see him. He's a bit of a horror story in the office, but you smile.

It's a nice feeling.

Be it the end of days, he would not join your life. He's too much of an embarrassment, too much of a fuck-up to exist without guilt in your story, too terrified of hindering your potential. You're perfect, and while at first he didn't believe it to be true it's clear now.

He avoids you for the most part. Ducking out of rooms and meetings, staying right at his desk, leaving work early or late relative to your schedule. At first when you pass by him (rarely with his efforts), you still smiled and waved silently. After a while, you stop smiling, and a little while later you avert your eyes at his presence. He feels horrid for what he does, seeing how you're even now trying to make him comfortable through recognizing his disinterest in you and accordingly growing a faux disinterest in him.

It's not like that unhappiness is always visible – in fact, it rarely shows, only in the moments where your eyes mistakenly meet. However most other hours of the day you're working with that tapping of your foot and the soft humming that he can only hear if he strains. That or talking to your coworkers, helping them through difficult issues and scanning through data.

Even with his special steps made to rid you of his unpleasant life, there are moments where it's unavoidable to in the very least be near each other. Mandatory meetings and office parties that he's roped into, unwillingly of course, but as his coworkers drink you join him on the faraway couch looking over the bustling, tipsy crowd.

"I know you don't like me all that much," you say, words soft and not meeting his eye. You remembered he doesn't like eye contact all that much. "I just want to apologize if I ever said or did anything to offend you. I didn't mean to, you seem like a very kind person."

He scoffs, and in confusion you look to him.

"You know I'm not nice," he mutters almost under his breath, but as always you pay close attention and decipher his words.

"Not to people you don't trust, no. Sometimes people find it hard to trust others and that's perfectly okay," you say with a smile, one that he quickly looks away from. "But you're not cruel. You're actually rather polite when people respect you in return. It's not an uncommon trait at all."

You think he hates you and you're still trying to make him feel better.

"How the hell do you do it?" He finally asks, the words blurting out before he can fully process what they mean. When he hears what he says his heart stops, shivering in the silence of your reply, anxious to see if you'll even answer at all.

"Do what?"

"Be nice. To everyone," he explains himself, growing quiet with each passing second.

Again you pause, thinking on his question before you answer.

"I do get annoyed with people a lot. I don't want to do things for people sometimes, but when people ask of me something I ask myself, 'what do I lose from doing this?' and 'what does this person gain from me doing this?', and usually it doesn't cost me anything, and most times it relieves stress off a lot of people," you say, using small hand gestures as you speak. "That, and it takes very little effort to make sure people are comfortable. Also helps you to get to know the person better, you know? You get a lot information about people when you know what makes them comfortable."

He doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything. Instead he scoffs, stands, and leaves.

Be it the end of days, he would not ask anything of you. You're perfectly happy, and he's mostly satisfied knowing that you're more human than he previously thought. Not fully satisfied – a part of him wants to be close to you, yearns for that warmth you could so easily give him, that kindness in you that he finds so rarely. But he does fine on his own, and so do you, and he finds he doesn't know how to go about becoming friends with you. He doesn't know how, so he doesn't try.

Time passes and he tries to think of you less often, only successful once every two full moons. The rest of the time he looks across the clean-cut cubicles for you, over the grey wasteland for your glow, aching to hear that distant humming again. You come to him in dreams and hallucinations alike, and sometimes he even falls for it. He lets himself believe it, that you'd somehow find your way to his apartment, that you'd be willing to offer familiarity and kindness – even to someone like him.

Fortunately the two of you are on good terms, relatively. Better than they were when he was avoiding you entirely. Now he's just not interacting with you. He's fine being in the same room, hell, he's fine standing next to you, but he doesn't strike up a conversation. Neither do you, and the polite but work-centered relationship continues.

On a rainy evening his boss catches him before he can leave, asking if he could put in a few hours off the clock, and everyone knows bosses never ask. So he sits back down at his desk, thinking bitterly on what he could be doing instead of stuck inside lifeless walls as rain and hail batters hell against the skyscraper windows. Outside, there aren't any lights – he's too high up in the sky to easily see the lights of cars and restaurants on the streets. All he can see is a powered out building's dark windows, so he doesn't linger on the view long.

Slowly most other people file out, but he's not quite done with the assignment. It's not quite right, something's out of place, hidden from his searching eyes that scan the bright screen so ferociously. A burning sensation begins to grow in his head, begging him to return to his home computers where the pixels aren't quite so large. His tie holds a tight rope around his neck, his breathing growing harsh, and the trance of discomfort only broken when the sound of a curse, followed by the slap of a hand against a counter and a choked sob, reaches him.

Peeking over the walls he looks to the break room, the source of the noise, and in the seemingly empty office (completely empty to you), you're curled up on the floor with your hands over your eyes. His breathing halts when another sob wracks through your body, your shoulders shivering with the intensity that holds him in place, unable to look away or to move closer. A screech comes from your shoe when it slides across the linoleum floor, curling your legs tight against your chest.

You're muttering something – something he can't quite hear, but he's spoken the words himself enough times that he thinks he knows what you're saying.

Shut up.

Please be quiet.

Go away.

He knows what that means to him. Breakdowns, unrelenting voices, pushing him and criticizing his every move, but that's him. That's normal for him, he's broken in that way and a dozen others. You're not.

You're not broken at all, and for that a new curiosity blooms in his chest. It's a little sick, but it pushes him to approach you, slow footsteps making themselves clear to ensure you wouldn't jump.

"Hey," he says rather lamely, his voice low and cracking with his insecurity. He's not usually on the giving end of comfort, and to be fair, he's not usually on the receiving end, either.

"I'm sorry," you get out, your tone like the creaking of a rotted door, tired and broken. You keep your face hidden in your hands. "I didn't know you were here."

"It's... I don't mind," he says, this time much more even, and with that clarity you recognize him.

"What are you doing here so late, Elliot?" You ask softly, your breathing beginning to even.

"Gideon asked me to," he answers. "You?"

"Needed to look over some coding," you mumble, finally raising your head from your hands. Strands of hair stick to your skin, wet from tears and blushing from the heat of your hands.

Shifting slightly, he moves from a knelt position to a sitting one, his legs crossed as he sat in front of you, using that patience you so often had and this time using it to your advantage. He can wait – it doesn't cost him anything, and it would mean the world to you.

"Do you want to talk about it?" He asks quietly when you fully get your breathing under control.

"Thank you," you murmur, staring at the ground beside him. "You ever have.. these thoughts, they... bad thoughts, that just keep on telling you to do bad things?"

"... yes," he answers hesitantly.

"You can't tell anyone this," you add quietly, to which he fully agrees. He's giving a part of himself here, too. "... but it's worse than that. They can put these visions in my eyes, it's usually manageable. Bugs that aren't there. Ghost fingers on my face and back. Sometimes it gets bad though, and it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to keep it secret. I could get fired, you know."

"I know," he says almost automatically, but he does know what it's like. To question what's real, never knowing if those words in your head are your own, unable to see past the charade of a reality. "I get them too," he says, and immediately he knows he's chosen the right words for once.

"Thank you for telling me," you say, always a mediator between the worlds people make up in their minds. "It really does make me feel better that I'm not alone."

You're emotional. He knows that, he knows you're interested in the emotions of yourself and others, but only now does he realize it's actually clinical kindness. Respect above all, thank you for the littlest things, and a plain explanation of your own emotions. Maybe it makes it easier for you – he knows he certainly appreciates it. Sometimes it's hard to decipher facial emotions, and having you tell him straight lets him skip past that uncertainty and into a place he knows he can help from.

Be it the end of days, he would protect you. You're like him, and he's like you, and while the differences are too clear to those viewing your friendship, there's actually more similarities than differences. Sure, you're wonderful with social interactions, but you also hear voices, like him. You have breakdowns, like him, you handle your emotions with very specific preferences.

Somehow you become part of him – the innocent part, the part worth saving, and that's why he would protect you. You're a part of him in a way that makes him think maybe I'm not all bad, as long as the part that isn't bad is you. He lets you in bit by bit, inviting you to his apartment on a whim, even letting you cook dinner for the two of you.

You stay over one night. Not on purpose, but you fall asleep on the floor, facing the buzzing television with your dirty plate beside you. Keeping quiet he takes both your plates, leaving them in the kitchen before joining you on the floor. Hesitantly he raises his hand, reaching for you with delicate fingers aiming to brush the stray hairs falling upon your sleeping face. He does just so, taking in a moment where he can touch you without fear. Where it's just you, no crying thoughts on how you might despise this time spent with him, how you hate the way he moves and speaks – it's just you.

And you've turned into everything.

The flowers growing in the cracks of cement. The rain that patters against the forest canopy, slipping past the leaves, mist creeping up through the mountain's valley. The sun that shines warm against his clothes and melts sweet ice cream. The bird song in a city park. The mother with her child. The poetry of old and new poets, the bubbles in soda, handwritten words on rough parchment. You are the paint on the hands of budding artists, the soft pillowcases of a bed loved by a decades-old couple, the posters hanging in a teenager's room, every lovely thing in the world, every action, scent, feeling, and taste imbued with a life given by those who adore their worlds so dearly.

Be it the end of days, he would love you, and nothing more.

#elliot alderson x reader #Elliot Alderson #mr. robot

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jung-snoopy-woo · 4 years ago

Text

How I Met Your Grandfather

~Chapter 5~

(I feel like Seungmin also deserves to be in a gif for this chapter 😂🙈 gif credit: @ lottawijma via weheartit)

Other Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 (coming soon!!)

Pairing: Bang Chan × Fem! reader, twin brother! Felix

Genre: fluff, a bit angsty.

Word count: 1.8k+

Warnings: mentions of insecurities? (The reader being unhappy with her body/the way she looks etc.)

Summary: Felix decides to finally tell Y/N about Chan’s feelings for her and asks her if she feels the same. When she says she does, Felix lets his friend know, so Chan finally finds the courage to ask Y/N out :)

Special thanks to @vernonvsblog and the anon from this post for encouraging me to keep writing and for making me feel motivated!! ❤️❤️

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You didn’t know when was the last time you saw Felix’s eyes worried like this.

Maybe it was when you fell down the stairs a few years ago… Your whole thigh had bruises in every possible color, and you couldn’t walk properly for a whole week. He couldn’t bare seeing you getting hurt (and of course- you felt the same).

“Lix… What’s going on?”, You finally asked, looking at him. His eyes met yours, still troubled. What is it that’s bothering him so much?

You giggled, jokingly hitting him, trying to light up the mood. “It’s because of practice, huh? You can’t stop thinking about work even during the last days of break? Come on, just go to sleep and don’t think about it”.

He sighed.

Oh no, you thought. The smile leaving your face, changing to a worried look. It’s important.

“Y/N..”, he started. “What do you think of Chris hyung?”

Chris, your heart skipped a bit from the mentioning of his name. You weren’t prepared for this question. What do you think about Chris? Well, in short, you liked him. You liked how nice he was to you, you liked his voice and his smile, and so many more things about him. You had a big crush on this boy.

But this was before Felix told you that Chris wants to date someone. You thought you were over these feelings for him, but after hearing his name again… and this question… What even is this question? You thought, your brows now furrowed. Felix’s worried look and this weird question, so out of the blue… They had a fight, didn’t they?

As much as you liked Chris, if they actually did fight, you were ready to take your twin’s side no matter what. The sweet guy with the cute dimpled smile can go to hell.

“Well, he’s nice.. I guess?”, You finally said, avoiding eye contact with your brother. You hated the thought of Chris, who was always there for your brother, hurting him in any way. “But if he did something to you, I swear–”

“No no…”, He assured. “It’s just that… I really want to hear your honest opinion because.. well…”, he tried, his eyes now looking at the floor.

“Felix…”

“He likes you”, he said, finally letting the words out. “Chris hyung likes you, Y/N”. He sighed again, then turned to look at you, trying to read your now surprised face.

You didn’t know how to react. You were screaming inside, but you weren’t sure if it was from the happiness of being liked back by your crush for the first time, or the relief you felt knowing Felix’s friendship isn’t ruined, as you knew how important Chris is to him.

“So now I’m asking you, Y/N”, he started again, his eyes now meeting yours. “What do you think of Chris hyung? Do you.. do you think of him this way too?”

You were quiet. A little too quiet for Felix’s liking.

So many thoughts were racing through your head. You knew there could be consequences, and you didn’t want Felix to get hurt because of it. You were also 100% sure the same thoughts were on your twin’s mind too, as the look in his eyes just said it all. Chris has been his best friend for so long, being there for him from the very first moment, he was like a brother to him.

Felix could see you were deep in thought. He felt sorry for overwhelming you with this information now, as you all had such a great night together, after so long. He was about to tell you that it’s okay, and that he was against the whole idea anyways.

But then, you started nodding, a smile starting to form on your lips again.

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(a/n: I thought this photo can make it more clear, and easier to imagine what’s going on lol… Also, Chan used to be on the top bunk of Minho’s bed so that’s why in previous chapters Seungmin was the one to see him struggling, but from what I know, these days Chan sleeps with Changbin and Felix 😅😅)

(The next day)

“Now what?”, Seungmin asked excitedly as Chan hung up the phone.

Chan and Minho were sitting on Minho’s bed, in the dorm room, along with Seungmin and Hyunjin who were sitting on Hyunjin’s. They decided to get back to the dorms 2 days before break was over, as it was their turn to clean up the place and they thought doing it beforehand would leave them some time to work on other stuff too.

They all heard Chan’s phone call. It was Felix, who told him that he talked to his twin sister, Y/N, and asked her about her feelings for him.

At first, they were all tensed, worried about the answer. They knew Felix didn’t approve of this relationship, and they already thought of every single scenario and every way this could go wrong… But when they heard Felix’s deep voice saying that you actually like their hyung back (and semi-jokingly threatening to kill him if he ever hurts you), despite the worry they could sense in his voice, they almost let out their screamings of joy.

“Gosh, I don’t even know what to do”, he put his phone down on the bed, ran his hands through his hair with a smile, as he got up and started walking around the room, stopping himself from jumping around like an idiot.

Now that Felix couldn’t hear, Hyunjin finally started showing his excitement, as Seungmin tried to calm him down but ended up laughing, just as excited. They wanted the best for their leader, who also happened to be their best friend. He always cares for them that he sometimes forgets about himself. Thinking of the idea of him being happy, made them even happier.

“You can take her to the movies..”, Minho started, but after seeing the others’ faces, changed his mind. “Or you don’t?”

“It’s a bit traumatic”, Seungmin said and scratched the back of his head, then faced Chan. “Hyung, what do you have in mind?”

“Well…”, Chan said. “You guys know how much I love going to the beach, right? so I thought maybe it could be a pretty cute place for a date…?”.

The boys nodded and Hyunjin smiled. “I think that’s a great idea”.

“Okay, so now I should think of what I am going to do”, Chan started walking around again. “I have to think of something, I have to prepare something, I have to–”

“This can wait”, Minho said, handing Chan his phone back. “Go call her first, before she changes her mind!”.

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A date on the beach??, You thought. Now that’s not the best idea…

You were standing in the middle of your room, after hanging up a phone call with Chris.

You loved going to the beach, of course. But on a date? With someone you liked? Him seeing you in a swimsuit??

No no no.

But you couldn’t tell him “no” because he sounded so excited, nervous and cute on the phone, and the way you could hear how happy he was when you said “I’d love to”, imagining his smiling looks, you just couldn’t do anything about it. You too got so excited, that you didn’t even think about your insecurities at that moment.

All your life you felt like this- seeing models on tv or the magazines, you always wished to have a body like theirs, but no matter what you did- you just couldn’t change the way your body looked. That’s why you hated swimsuits so much and tried avoiding going to the beach when there were a lot of people.

A knock on the door shook you out of you thoughts.

“Can I come in now?”, You heard Felix’s voice from behind the door. When you saw Chris’s number on your phone screen, you asked Felix to wait outside so you could talk to him in private (”Faster, Felix!! Before he hangs up!”, to which he could only giggle and quickly leave the room).

“YES!!”, you said, and he opened the door and made his way to sit on the bed. He saw your troubled eyes, and wondered whether or not he should plan his friend’s murder.

“Did it go badly? Did he say something that hurt you?”, He asked. “Because I can–”

“NO! No, no, it was great, actually. And he asked me out!”, you said, trying to smile.You’re going out with such an amazing guy, you told yourself.

“But…?”, He asked. “I can sense something’s wrong, Y/N”.

You let out a sigh. “It’s a beach date”, you finally said and looked at him.

“Oh”, Felix said. He knew you better than anyone, and you both knew each other’s worries, fears, your likes and dislikes and basically almost everything. He knew how ashamed and insecure you felt about your body. He never understood why though, but never questioned it, hoping someday you’d understand how amazing you are. “And you couldn’t tell him ‘no’, right?”

You nodded.

“But I guess I’ll just do what I always do”, you said after a thought, now showing him a small smile. “So… everything will be okay”.

He nodded. “So when is it?”

“Thursday, at 5pm…”, you said, now more excited as you thought of it. It was 3 days away from today. So close.

Felix gave you the best smile he could pull. As long as you’re happy, he can save his disapproval and his worries to himself. “Okay, cool”, He said as he got up. “Good luck, sis!”, he added as he left the room.

Everything will be okay, he told himself on the way to his room, repeating your words in his head over and over again.

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4am. Chan read from his phone screen.

After his phone call with you, he got really nervous, so he tried looking for things you can do on a beach date, and tried planning how it’s going to be etc. The boys made fun of him for doing that, of course, and tried assuring him that he’s going to do great. “When you’ll be with her you’ll know what to do”, Hyunjin said, and the others agreed. “She’s really nice and fun, there’s no need to read these stupid articles and plan so much… just let it be”, Minho added. He knew they must be right, but he just couldn’t stop thinking about it, and every new picture or article brought new thoughts and worries.

“Hyung…”, Seungmin’s sleepy voice made Chan jump a little. He forgot he was sleeping in their room tonight, so he doesn’t sleep alone. “Please, just go to sleep”.

Chan turned to look at Seungmin. “How can I? I’m so nervous, I think I’m going crazy…”

“She likes you back, hyung! She’s probably just as excited as you are”, Seungmin said tiredly, and added, “You’re such a great guy and she seems to be really nice, you have nothing to worry about”.

Chan sighed. Seungmin’s right, he thought. “Thank you..”, he said, but when he turned to look at Seungmin, he saw his friend was already fast asleep.

He smiled.

Everything will be okay, He thought, and finally let his eyes close.

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A/N: because it’s a bit long, I decided to write this at the end 😅😅

I wanted to say I’m really sorry for taking so long to write this chapter. I was so busy with university stuff at first, and then I had so many things to do djsbsidjsi but now I’m backkk 🥰🥰 and I’m so glad I could finally post this!!

I really hope you enjoyed this chapter! From this one forward, it has nothing to do with my grandparents’ story, as they got married pretty fast so… 🙈

Big thanks to anyone who actually reads the series, I love you all so much, it really makes me feel so warm and happy ♥️♥️

Have a good day/night! :))

P. S. I thought of maybe making the next chapter more angsty? soooo yeah haha stay tuned!!

#stray kids #skz #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids au #bang chan #lee know #lee minho #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #han jisung #felix lee #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #bang chan fluff #bang chan angst #felix brother au #felix twin au #how i met your grandfather

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kn1feinthec0ffee · 5 years ago

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only angel - roman godfrey

roman godfrey x reader

title from the harry styles song of the same name

disclaimer: i’m not trying to distract from what’s going on by posting my work. that would never be my intent. times are trying, and i’m simply trying to provide some sort of entertainment or something to do with your time. i’m not fishing for any praise of any kind, i’m just putting my work out like i usually do. i love you all and please stay safe.

notes: in other news, if you haven’t noticed, i have a posting schedule now. it used to be every friday somewhere around midday, but that wasn’t really doing much with the algorithm, so i changed it to midday thursday. and i’ll be taking a week off next week bc i’m getting my wisdom teeth removed then. (which i’m incredibly anxious about) so if i go awol for a little while, that’s why.

also, i have almost no knowledge of alcohol! and i don’t drink! so if i don’t have some commonly known drink or bartender knowledge, please forgive me.

***********

“i’ll take an old fashioned, please.” a woman asked politely, flashing her pearly whites.

“one apple martini with no olive,” a man requested.

“can i get a scotch on the rocks?” a man with a gruff voice asked.

you were new to this job, but you had a bit of experience, both on the bartender end and the bar attender end. you quite liked this job; the customers were fairly friendly, and you were in a much less seedy part of town than the last dive bar you worked at. you didn’t mind it, though, it gave you your thick skin, something you need in a profession like this.

you also liked this job better because you weren’t alone. this joint in particular had more bar space than seating space, so they commissioned two bartenders to work instead of just the one. the first few days you were a little rusty, not having worked in a while, but the two of you quickly got into the swing of things.

his name was roman godfrey, heir to the godfrey fortune, who had a much different story on how he became a bartender. coming from such a wealthy family, he of course inherited the highest position at godfrey tower, which he quickly realized was way too much work for him to handle. roman had transformed from a spoiled rich brat to someone who had more respect for people who actually had to work to keep themselves afloat, and you’d say it changed him for the better.

somewhere along the line he’d developed a respect for women, too, probably coming from some prior bartending experience. you admired him for that, mostly because you’d hate to work with the man he used to be.

another reason you enjoyed working with him so much was the fact that his name was so well known across the entire state of pennsylvania that nobody really liked to fuck with him. they’d much rather stay on his peaceful side, because some, more than others, had seen his aggravated side before and were not too terribly inclined to see it again. this came in handy for you when a situation similar to tonight’s had arose.

it was a stormy night, much like many spring evenings. the bar was packed tighter than usual since it was raining much too hard for anyone to leave. it was nearing last call, and you and roman were trying to close up, much to the dismay of the customers. as you were starting to stack some glasses, a greasy older man sauntered up to the bar, plopping right down on the barstool you’d just cleaned.

“i’ll take a gin and tonic, and make it snappy, i’ve gotta get home,” the man demanded, tone devoid of any politeness. “and it’d do you some good to button that up a few more times.” he gestured to your uniform that had the first couple buttons undone to show some cleavage.

“excuse me?” you stammered, flabbergasted at his frankness. you paused what you were doing, frozen in shock.

“you heard me. now make me that drink, bitch, or i’ll climb over this fucking bar and make it myself.” the man insisted.

“you have no right to say that to me.” you defended. “this is my uniform, and if it makes me more comfortable to unbutton it, then i will. i don’t need input from people like you, and you certainly don’t deserve a drink for acting like that. we’re closing anyway, it’s too late.”

you’d handled customers like this before, but they tended to be much less blatant about their sexism and disrespect than this man was. you had started drying the glasses and putting them away at a much faster pace just to get this insistent man off your ass.

“come on, no ones over here, what’s it gotta take for a guy to get a drink?” the man’s inebriation became much more obvious now as he grabbed your forearm as you reached for another glass.

“let go of me!” you shrieked, much louder than you intended. this caught the attention of quite a few other customers and, of course, roman, who quickly made his way over to you.

“exactly what the fuck do you think you’re doing here, huh?” he growled, setting his piercing gaze on the man, who quickly unhanded you.

“i asked her very kindly if she would please make me a drink, and she said no.” he swallowed nervously, the mere presence and power seeping off of roman intimidating him.

“it didn’t sound very kind to me, man. i didn’t hear any fucking ‘please and thank you’s over here.” roman replied, trying to keep his calm with the man that he wanted to hypnotize into slamming his head on the bar.

the man stayed silent, his cocky asshole persona fading into fear at the hands of mr godfrey. roman nodded at his compliance and subtly placed a hand on top of yours on the glass you were holding.

“alright sir, if you would please kindly,” he put a strong emphasis on the word. “stop bothering my friend, get the fuck out of our bar, and head the fuck home, it would be much appreciated.”

as if entranced, the man pulled his jacket back up on his shoulders, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking straight into the rainstorm.

roman looked down at you and smiled his signature grin. usually that’d have your heart melting like a popsicle on a hot summer day, but you weren’t in the mood for it. the scowl on your face told him everything he needed to know.

“why the face? what did i do?” he asked genuinely. he had learned not to skip straight to defending his actions, finding that asking what his mistake was and how to fix it was a method much more popular with the ladies.

“you should’ve let me handle that myself.” you frowned, unhappy with the situation at hand.

“what? why would i do that?” he asked incredulously. “i’m not just gonna stand by and watch that cretin of a man treat you like that!”

“i know, and i thank you for that. your heart was in the right place, but you shouldn’t have stepped in.” you began. “for the longest time, almost every profession has been male-dominated, so us women get the short end of the stick when it comes to how we’re treated in the workplace.

“men have some sort of hero complex, thinking they can insert themselves into a situation they had nothing to do with and earn praise and thanks for their help that wasn’t asked for. men think that they can start confrontations with us and expect us to be silent and complient, to just sit there and take it because we’re not going to stand up for ourselves.” you watched the expression on his face morph to one of interest. “it was my situation, my job to deal with it, and my job to handle the repercussions, should there be any.

“men are accustomed to getting whatever they want, whenever they want it, and that’s got to change, and it starts with small things. small things like me, reprimanding that man for his actions and the way he spoke to me.” you took a breath. “i’m glad you recognized something was happening, but you should’ve only stepped in had things gotten more violent.”

roman looked stunned, almost like he’d gotten a slap across the face. you shouldn’t be surprised, this was usually the reaction you got from men when you tried to educate them on the trials and tribulations of women, but something was different. rather than shocked and confused as to why you would think that, he seemed more understanding of your struggles. sympathetic, even.

he stood still for a moment, as if he was a sponge absorbing all the information you’d dumped on him. “wow, i had no idea there was so much behind that. thank you for letting me know.”

“can i..?” his question trailed off as he leaned down towards you, lips meeting yours. you melted into his embrace, the weeks of yearning for this exact moment finally catching up to you. he started to pull away, but you stood on your tiptoes and chased his lips. you both pulled away breathlessly, lips wet and pink.

“wow, that was,” the rest of your thoughts fell short, but as you looked at roman it was apparent he had the same idea, whatever that may be.

“can i walk you home?” he asked, gathering his things. you nodded up to him, smiling sheepishly as he gently placed your jacket on your shoulders.

the two of you managed to close the bar for the night and fortunately, the rain had died down enough for you to head home. roman held his umbrella above both of you as you curled into his side to escape the cold chill of the rain.

he dropped you off at your place, turning to leave before you spun him around. you hopped up the first two steps and leaned down to kiss him again, easier this time since you were at his level. he smiled against you and kissed back fervently, placing a hand on the area between your neck and shoulder for some leverage.

you said your goodbyes, heading into your house, still feeling the tingling sensation where his hand was as you smiled giddily.

**********

ignore the ending i cant write endings it’s a problem

the feminist jumped out a bit sorry not sorry

i wrote almost all of this last night bc inspiration suddenly struck and i had to take advantage of it and this turned out waayyy longer than intended oopsie

tags: @emmyrosee @jadelynlace @copper-boom @babyboy-cody @goblincxnt @hecohansen31 @skrsgardspam @bill-skarsgard-owns-my-ass @little-grunge-flowerz @manicpixiedreamguurl

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey oneshot #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey fanfiction #roman godfrey hemlock grove #hemlock grove #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård character #my writing

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youarejesting · 4 years ago

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Actions Speak Louder Than Words.2 (JK x JM)

Rating: All Pairing: Deaf!Jungkook x Dancer!Jimin Genre: Friends, admirition, trials, hurt and comfort, angst. Words: 1.6k

Summary: Jungkook was born unable to hear the world around him. He likes his silent solitude and can’t understand why he is being forced to go on outings with his support worker Hoseok. Did he not understand Jungkook can’t hear? So dance lessons aren’t exactly it. Or are they?

[Part 1]

Hoseok pulled up in the designated parking space five inside Jungkook’s apartment block. Jungkook grabbed his bag and followed Hoseok up the single flight of stairs and to his door with the same number. Hoseok put in the code, he hadn’t let any other support worker know his passcode for the door, but, Hoseok was the exception, he was more like a friend albeit annoying sometimes.

Hoseok didn’t seem put out by Jungkooks quiet demeanor, it seemed the boisterous carer was used to and understood his unhappy ways after forced outings. Jungkook slumped onto the couch which seemed to have a permanent dip and mold of Jungkook’s posterior from years of sitting.

Hoseok placed down his bag and keys and made Jungkook a nice cold glass of juice. There were little things that Jungkook enjoyed, he liked comic books, he liked working out and he liked eating delicious food. He did not enjoy music, movies, dancing, or anything he couldn’t understand because he couldn’t hear.

Hoseok turned to him and Jungkook knew there was something he wanted to ask. With an inaudible sigh, Jungkook placed down the cup and began talking with his hands.

‘What is it?’ Jungkook tried to show as little irritation in his movements as he could, but the cautious atmosphere was not making him at ease.

‘Did you enjoy today?’ Hoseok asked curiously, Jungkook could see his shoulders were squared up ready for Jungkook’s nonverbal argument. Perhaps Jungkook had been too hard on the poor guy, all he ever wanted was to help Jungkook live a good and happy life.

Jungkook could admit he was a bit of a pain in the neck, he didn’t make Hoseok’s job easy. Jungkook thought about the day trying to think of something that wasn’t telling Hoseok he was an idiot for taking him to a dance class knowing he can’t dance or hear the music.

‘The dancer was really good.’ He thought he might as well talk about a part of the day he liked, ‘It was a bit stupid to take me to a place where I can’t participate or succeed in, so maybe next time we can think about something else to do.’

Hoseok was shocked Jungkook had barely shared more than a sentence with Hoseok since they had met. It was kind of comical how all the new support workers try their hardest to talk to him and when they realize he isn’t exactly nice they usually change to another client.

‘What is something you would like to do?’ Hoseok signed enthusiastically and Jungkook let out a small exhale of amusement.

‘We could work out, or box’ Jungkook grinned and Hoseok nodded getting up and heading across the room to Jungkook’s spare room turned gym.

Jungkook looked at Hoseok’s back for a moment, the older gentleman had cared for him for three years now and refused to let Jungkook get his way all the time. He had an athletic build and was a formidable opponent to Jungkook. Maybe that’s why Jungkook kept him around, he didn’t try to force Jungkook to be happy. He just didn’t let him be miserable.

Hoseok turned to steal Jungkook's attention once more and signed the next few words with a grin. ‘If you beat me in a boxing match, you get to choose the next outing?’

Jungkook felt his eyes light up. There was nothing Jungkook loved more than a challenge. He had no care for choosing an outing or going out in general. But, Jungkook was pumped up and ready to win.

The smell of sweat was unbearable. For someone who couldn’t hear, his sense of smell was surely working overtime in the small makeshift gym. Hoseok laughed but the sound was lost on Jungkook who watched with a smile, he thought people looked absolutely idiotic when they laughed just open mouths and sometimes shaking shoulders.

As he peeled off his shirt Jungkook stared at his muscles in the mirror, he didn’t feel lesser than anyone when he was this strong. He felt like he could take on the world but others thought he was in need of assistance. This may be because his parents were rich and worried about him not leaving the house called for support workers to take care of him.

Hoseok prepared dinner and served Jungkook before picking up his bag and keys and signing his goodbye. ‘I can’t remember if it’s me again tomorrow, or if it’s Namjoon, I will have to check but either way, have a good night’

Jungkook rolled his eyes and Hoseok laughed again clapping his hands, ‘Don’t be like that, I know you like hanging out with Namjoon. He is your favorite.’

‘Yeah, but the man needs a carer himself, he is the reason I own plastic dinnerware.’ Jungkook's smile broke through and Hoseok pointed at him and spoke.

“Good night Jungkook,” Jungkook shut the door behind him and sighed, he didn’t really like seeing people speak, it frustrated him that he couldn’t have it that easy an almost universal language and he was reduced to flailing his arms to communicate and only select few could understand what he was saying.

After dinner Jungkook went for a long shower, he washed his hair enjoying the feeling of the warm water falling onto his aching muscles. Relaxation spread like a sheet over his bare skin, bringing with it waves of tiredness. It was time for Jungkook to go to bed, he took out his phone and tried to read himself into a deep sleep.

It was three pages in that Jungkook realized he hadn’t obtained any of the information in the book. He had instead been thoroughly invested in the memories replaying in his head, the dancer known as Park Jimin spinning and leaping behind his eyelids and it became impossible to forget about him.

Jungkook decided to search for the name ‘PARK JIMIN’. He did just that, scolding his phone for all caps but even when he changed it he scolded the dancer for having a common unisex name. It would be impossible to find him like this. Standing from the bed he found the pamphlet from his jacket and opened it flipping it to the back and copying the website address into his search engine. He found nothing about the dancer but, he found the street address, it was only ten minutes from his apartment. He was unable to think more on the matter as he fell into a heavy sleep.

Jungkook woke with a sudden urge to pee, he quickly rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He washed his hands and headed back to bed seeing the flash on his phone signaling he had received a message.

It was sent from Namjoon at eight saying he was running late and would be there in half an hour. Jungkook sighed, the man lost more than time, how someone like Namjoon was in charge of someone, Jungkook would never know.

He swiped out of the message and saw the address for the dance studio and underneath was their hours. On Thursdays, they opened early at eight and finished late.

There was a brief pause before Jungkook was fully dressed and scrambling out the door before Namjoon could stop him. He followed the directions on his map and waited at the stoplights until he was allowed to go. He followed all precautions, proving himself capable to walk a few blocks down the road.

When he arrived, Jungkook walked in, he walked past the receptionist and down the hall until he arrived at the same room the young man had been in the day before, but when he opened the door, the room was empty.

Jungkook felt a bit foolish, coming here just expecting a man he saw once to be there again. He felt a hand on his shoulder and he turned a little startled, a bright smile greeting him. It was the man, it was Park Jimin the dancer he had been truly awestruck by.

He was saying something but Jungkook was distracted by the young man's plump lips and pretty eyes, the way his hair was pulled back in a tiny ponytail showing off the clean undercut. Jungkook shuffled and signed his confusion and Jimin smiled writing on his phone.

You are back again? Would you like to join my class?

Jungkook nodded and followed him inside, he sat at the back of the classroom as Jimin took off his jacket and track pants revealing black tight pants with a lace wrap around his waist Jungkook had only seen female dancers wear and a flowy pink shirt.

Jimin stretched himself across the floor and Jungkook felt lost in his movements. He laced up some pink ballet shoes with ribbons and grinned, throwing Jungkook a wink, before turning to the door.

Flushing Jungkook followed Jimin’s gaze and watched about eight young girls flutter into the room, they were wearing pretty pink leotards with tutu’s and they all sat on the floor waiting. A few more young girls entered their mothers slowly sauntered afterward chatting amongst themselves and sitting on the chairs next to Jungkook.

Jungkook’s lip reading was very good, he watched Jimin greet the young girls and smiled handing them each a wand and a pair of wings which he adorned himself and he went through each step slowly.

While the girls were practicing, Jimin pulled Jungkook to his feet and began showing him the correct positions of his feet and Jungkook blushed as Jimin tilted Jungkook’s chin up telling him to look straight ahead.

One of the ladies must have said something because Jimin looked behind Jungkook and said “He is a friend of mine, he is interested in dancing but I don’t think he can hear” he explained, “He is cute isn’t he?”

Jungkook’s lip-reading must have been wrong, Jimin wouldn’t have said that.

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doof-doofblog · 4 years ago

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"I Think That's It!"

Thursday 14th January 2021

Hello again everyone! Hope your week is going well so far, I'm really looking forward to reviewing today's episode! I feel there's a lot of emotion and drama going on in the soap right now, still so many secrets and lies to be exposed! I do believe that a new EastEnders trailer has gone out, I have say it looks absolutely brilliant, very exciting with confrontations between Frankie and Mick and then Ash and Suki!! Ooooo it's all going to kick off!! I'm really looking forward to seeing what's due to happen within the next couple of episodes! But back to this episode, I won't waste anymore of your time and jump straight into it!

Okay, so there's a few things I want to talk about. The first thing I'll mention first is Iqra! I do get the feeling that her relationship with Ash is kind of on the rocks, they seem to be disagreeing on things a lot. Plus Ash seems to have a big interest in Peter all of a sudden! During the scene where Iqra and Ash are sat alone in the Cafe, Peter enters and no surprise, Suki follows after a while. However as Iqra and Ash make themselves scares after Suki makes a comment on them staying up too late the night before, did anyone notice that she implied that she and Peter had slept together?! Peter orders himself a drink, to which to interrupts and offers to pay for it, telling him to enjoy his drink - to which she made a disgusting comment that she "Enjoyed" her time with him the previous night! Firstly - Ewwwww! - I don't know what your opinion is on Peter and Suki, but personally, I really don't like it! But I do have a feeling that Iqra is going to have another love interest soon! - The new girl at the Prince Albert - Mila! If she is going to become a regular character and we're going to see more of her, I think it would be nice to give her a storyline. We've already seen her beat Kim to win a job at the Albert, also seen her chatting up Frankie, and now she's been introduced to Iqra. What's not to say that Iqra and Mila begin get grow a close bond and eventually fall for one another? It would be nice to see Iqra in a happy relationship, as I feel right now, she's not happy with Ash. What do you guys think? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this possible theory?!

The second thing I want to talk about is the Carter's. Shirley is determined to find her little sister, much to Gray's frustration and panic. Before Mick arrives to accompany her to the police station regarding her attack on Katy, Shirley makes a call, which is later to be revealed as one of Tina's friends, as she desperately tries to search for her sister. As she does so, Gray is looking even more worried, for his own sake. He tries to convince her not to make any calls to Tina as it will makes things look bad on Tina as well as Shirley herself! Later when Shirley and Mick arrive back from the police station, they both inform Linda that Katy isn't going to press charges on Shirley for her attack. (Deep down I'm thinking it's because she doesn't want her own crimes being revealed!) But it's during this moment, when Mick and Linda begin to fret that Tina still hasn't been in touch with any of them, Shirley reveals to them that she actually received a text from Tina, informing them that she actually had attacked Ian. Instantly, things don't make sense to the Carter family, they believe that what the message is saying isn't true. But Mick makes the valid point that even if they don't believe it, they have no proof to show that she actually is innocent. It's then that Linda takes a huge gamble and requests to speak to Max. Since Linda ended their fling, Max has been down in the dumps and moping ever since. So when he gets a message from Linda asking that they talk, he goes round to her apartment when no one else is around. She informs Max that she's sorry for the way she treated him, but regardless of sticking by her husband, she does still care for him and treasures his friendship. But she then turns the subject onto more important matters and informs him that she's worried about Tina, even though that Tina has sent them a message almost admitting to attacking Ian, the only way to prove that it wasn't her was to give the police the weapon. Now we all know that the weapon used to attack Ian was the blue Lucy Beale Award, which Max ended up stealing and burying in an attempt to save Linda. The big thing here is, is that Linda is basically asking him to give up the weapon to put Tina out of the frame, but I don't think she realises that it could make Max look guilty of attacking Ian instead, and Max makes a very valid point here, even though he cares deeply for Linda, he refuses to go back to prison for anyone! Why should he also help her family after what's happened between him and Linda? I get Linda is just trying to help her family, but honestly - I think she needs to find another way, approaching Max is the wrong way to go about it.

Thirdly, let's talk about Martin and Ruby, shall we?! When we first see them, Martin appears to have gotten off the phone to, I'm assuming, Sonia or Bex, and he happily informs his wife that he's going to be going away to see his daughter. Ruby has a face like thunder, she is clearly unhappy and as soon as Martin tells her his plans, she has the audacity lie once again to him to reminding him that she's pregnant. I hate to say it but I loved the way Martin responded with "I didn't think I'd have to ask your permission to see my daughter!". Ruby states that since she's told her husband about her pregnancy, he hasn't shown her the slightest bit of interest, however Martin puts on a front saying that he's happy that she's carrying his child, but as he leaves the room, we can see that he still doesn't feel right about it. However, later on Martin bumps into Sharon with little Albie in the park. As they begin talking, Martin reveals to her that Ruby is pregnant, even though it wasn't planned. As she congratulates him, he questions how show manages to cope, knowing that her son Albie was born on the same day she lost her other son, and also happens to mention that he never thought he'd see the day when she and Ian would be married. It's at this point when Sharon has to put on a front and basically lies to Martin, informing that even though it wasn't the future or family that she had planned, somehow it works for her. Her words must play on Martin's mind though, as later, returning to Ruby, she's alone in the house and reaches for a bottle of wine from the shelf, only to be interrupted by the front door opening, she quickly puts it back. Martin enters and comes with a peace offering, he reveals he has bought some baby items such as a baby grow, little boots and a teddy and informs his wife that she'll make an incredible Mum. Ruby seems completely overwhelmed by his surprise baby gifts, but the realisation sinks in when she realises she has to pregnant fast, before Martin becomes suspicious! What on Earth will she do? Could she convince Martin to sleep with her? Or would she have to take extreme measures and get pregnant by somebody else?!

The next thing I want to talk about is Sheree and Patrick. Trying to avoid the situation which is happening with her husband, Sheree is keeping herself busy at the salon. Cleaning things making everything look absolutely spotless, regardless of the fact that her first client isn't due for a long while. Suddenly Stacey and Jean enter, announcing that it's Jean's birthday and she's eager to get rid of the dark eyebrows that Mo has applied for her. Sheree takes it upon herself to help Jean out and stating that she has all the time in the world to help her. During Jean's time in the salon, Kim steps in and confronts Sheree about not visiting Patrick in the hospital after his stroke, she states that if she doesn't step up she'll be disowned by family. Jean witnesses this confrontation and sees the devastating look in Sheree's eyes, she takes it upon herself to console the poor woman and informs her that families can be hard to talk to if they don't understand the upset and hurt you're feeling. It's then that Jean begins to tell Sheree all about Daniel and his aspect of life, regardless of knowing he was dying from cancer, he lived every day to the full and didn't let it get him down, he was strong and was right up until the very end. I believe it's these words which really hit home for Sheree, after Jean's wise words, she rushes to the hospital to be at her husbands bedside. Meanwhile poor Patrick has been asking Isaac for his wife, even questioning why he's there when she should be at school - however what Isaac says really moves me, "I have to be here for my Dad!" - Is this the first time he ever called Patrick "Dad"? Even so, it was so moving, the look in both of their eyes was so warm. Eventually Sheree arrives at the hospital, Patrick is happy to see her but also informs her that he doesn't want her to be his carer, as that was not what she signed up for when they got married - however, Sheree informs her husband that she won't be going anywhere, she's going to remain at his side during this knock back in his health, but informs him that he will be taking all the medication he needs and following the doctors instructions.

Now, I've mentioned her already but I need to talk about Jean, we need to talk about Jean. I've said it before and I've said it again, what an absolutely inspirational woman! Regardless of coming to terms with her own personal situation, she's still wanting to help out everyone around her, previously it was Dotty and Iqra, today it was Sheree. I have to be honest, I absolutely LOVED the fact that she talked about Daniel again, even though he was such a small part of the soap, his role was very very important and he plays such a huge part in Jean's life, we need to make sure he's not forgotten, and Jean continuing to talk about him is just perfect, even if it is quite sad. After getting her eyebrows fixed and getting dressed up in another gorgeous dress (She's been wearing some stunning dresses recently!) she begins to record a video of herself. At first, I know it sounds silly, but I genuinely thought she was doing a video for Daniel, even though he wouldn't be able to see it, I just thought it would've been a way for her to still kind of talk to him, if you get what I mean? But as she continued the video and talking to the camera, I think it became clear that the video she was recording is actually intended for Stacey and the rest of the family. In the video, she announces that devastatingly that she feels in herself that the cancer has returned, even though she hasn't had it confirmed, she can feel it. Not only does she announce this but she also states that she's taken the drastic decision not to have treatment this time around, she wants to live the rest of her life to the full and be just like Daniel. She doesn't want the family to worry and to accept her decision. I did find this very emotional to watch, I mentioned this in my previous post but I can't applaud Gillian Wright enough for her performance as Jean, she is absolutely incredible actress. The only thing that plays on my mind though however is that, I would be incredibly devastated if they were to kill her off. Jean has been such a breath of fresh air in EastEnders, even during her absolute lowest moments, everyone loves her and wants her to fight through the toughest times. I truly believe that the Slater family will be lost without her, the whole Square would be lost without Jean - Oh I love her so much!

I know there are plenty of storylines happening at the moment, and with the recent trailer which has been released, I can't wait to see it all unfold. But Jean's storyline is the one that really going to keep me guessing the most I think, I hope to God that her cancer hasn't returned, or maybe it's something completely different and not cancer - (I don't know?) - But either way, I just hope Jean will be okay and EastEnders don't kill her off! What do you guys think? How do you feel about Jean's current story? Are there any storylines that are keeping you gripped at this moment in time, how do you feel about them all and what are your thoughts and theories?! I'd love to hear what you have to say, please feel free to leave me a message or a comment, I'll always respond! Thanks again folks! Enjoy the rest of your weekend and I'll be back very soon! Love you all xXx

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timelordthirteen · 5 years ago

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Killing Time 22/35

Detective Weaver/Belle French, Explicit

Summary: A Woven Beauty Law & Order-ish AU. Written for Writer’s Month 2019.

Chapter Summary: Belle is frustrated, tense, and annoyed with the case and with life, but Weaver once again knows how to get her to relax. .

Notes: So this chapter was not just an excuse to write some more hot smut between these two, I swear. Also the plotty bits that I intended for this chapter are now moved to the next one. The number of planned chapters is not changing however. Please note the additional smut tags for light spanking and a little anal play, which I am very nervous about. It just happened and I hope it doesn't turn anyone off. Sorry.

Warnings: Mention of miscarriage, light spanking, anal fingering

[AO3] Previous: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19] [20] [21]

Weaver sighed and pushed the folder away from him, shoving it across the conference table.

Belle sat at her desk across the room, her shoulders hunched as she typed and her eyes moving back and forth between a printout of Nevada adoption law and the laptop screen. She was, what Weaver would call, cranky. Of course, getting the information on Molly Macreedy’s adoption wasn’t as simple as calling up and asking for a favor, one ADA to another. First papers had to be filed locally and approved by a judge, then a request had to be processed through the Washington State AG’s office, which then came back to Belle to be filled with the Clark County District Attorney’s office, requesting, very nicely, one state to another, for them to open a sealed adoption record.

That had necessitated another call to Molly’s adoptive parents to get their signoff on opening a potential can of worms. They were very accommodating, though Weaver felt like every time he reached out, it was ripping the bandage off the wound again, one that he knew would never heal.

Since her meeting with Dr. Hopper, she’d been out of sorts. It was more than the tedious paperwork or the weight of serial murder case. Weaver got the sense that something had happened at her appointment, but he was hesitant to ask. He didn’t have a right to question her about her therapy, especially when he could see that she needed to talk to someone. He only wished she would talk to him as well, let him know what she was thinking and feeling, both about the case, about her own trauma, and about him.

She’d said she loved him.

Yet since that moment, it had felt like there was a ‘but’ waiting, a shoe that hadn’t dropped, and when it did would put them right back where they started. They hadn’t talked about where they stood, about what this continuing period of living together really was in the long run. He knew what he wanted, but it seemed like Belle did not. She’d been through a lot in the last few weeks, they both had, and perhaps she just needed time, though the more time that went by the less sure of that he felt.

He was tired of walking on eggshells, but loathed to stir the pot too much for fear it would push her away.

Belle muttered a curse, drawing Weaver out of his thoughts. He twisted his chair and met her annoyed gaze over the screen of her laptop.

“Interstate legal wrangling not going well?” he asked.

She rolled her eyes and then sat back in her chair, her body sagging against the leather. “It’s going fine, just at the same rate of speed as a glacier.”

“Did they say when they might get back to you?”

She made a face and shrugged. “Records that far back aren’t digital yet, only 2010 and after. Which means some poor county worker gets to dig through boxes in a warehouse. So...if they can find them yet this week, they’ll be reviewed Monday or Tuesday, scanned, and emailed to me by maybe Thursday? If we’re lucky.”

She sighed, heavily, and leaned forward again, closing the email she’d been glaring at. Weaver pushed to his feet and crossed the room, meeting her tired look of annoyance with what he hoped was sympathy. He came around behind her chair as she braced her elbows on the desk and put her head in her hands, her fingers sliding into her hair to hold it back from her face.

“I hate waiting,” she groused.

“I know,” he replied, fighting a smile.

Belle and patience were not things that went together, and that saying something coming from a cop who had been known to bend some rules in the past in order to speed up an investigation. He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

“There’s plenty to do in the meantime,” he continued, gently pressing at the lump of muscle connecting her neck and back. “We should find out if any of the other victims were adopted, besides Molly and Nick, just in case that’s the connection we’ve been missing.”

She exhaled and bent her head further forward, encouraging his hands to work their way further up the tension in her neck. “Yeah.”

They stayed like that for a few minutes, with her leaning on the desk and him kneading at her sore muscles, until he abruptly stopped. She made an unhappy sound and threw a look at him as he stepped away.

“I’ll happily keep going,” he said, smirking, “but at home. It’s half six already.”

Belle frowned and glanced down at her laptop screen, noting the time in the bottom corner. “Shit.”

He picked up his leather jacket from its customary spot, draped over the arm of her sofa, and turned back to her. “Frank’s tonight?” She tilted her head, already imagining the satisfying taste of the bacon chicken burger that was her usual order. “Split some mozz sticks?”

Weaver’s eyebrows lifted. “Split? Or I get two, and you get the remaining eight?”

She crumpled an extraneous piece of paper and tossed the wad at him before pushing back from her desk. He caught the paper easily, laughing, and shoved it in his pocket, to be deposited in the trash can on their way out.

Belle blew out a breath and closed the lid of her laptop.

They ate dinner at the counter in the kitchen while she searched county and state foster records for the names of the victims, but found nothing. Adoption records would take more effort, paperwork, and time. While it didn’t mean that wasn’t the connection between the victims, it was nonetheless another disappointment. It felt like the case was stalling, that the momentum they had after capturing Jack Branson was losing the battle with friction.

After dinner, she moved to the living room, and sat on the floor in front of the sofa with her laptop on the coffee table and papers spread out around her. She rolled her head to the side, frowning when it didn’t crack as she had hoped, and leaned back against the front of the sofa. Sitting on the floor had done her no favors. Ever since her appointment with Dr. Hopper there had been a vague tension in her body that if she just moved or twisted the right way would pop and bring sweet relief. Unfortunately, she knew that wasn’t the case.

Talking to Archie had been both cathartic and nerve wracking. She was glad she had told him about the miscarriage, and that someone other than Ian and her knew, but at the same time she wasn’t sure what kind of rabbit hole that would lead her down. There was no doubt that Archie would bring it up at her next session, which she hadn’t actually confirmed yet, and she wasn’t sure she was ready for it. Revisiting that old wound, even in a small way, had taken a toll on her. She wanted to tell Weaver about it, yet held back. If she brought it up, he would want to talk about it, the same as Archie did, and all she wanted was to shove it down deep and pretend it never happened.

Obviously, that had been working well for her the last two years.

Weaver finished cleaning up in the kitchen, and sat down on the couch behind Belle.

“Still no luck, huh.”

“Nope.” She sighed, ignoring his question, and tipped her head back, resting it on the sofa cushion. “So about keeping that shoulder rub going...?”

He smiled and waited until she scooted forward before he moved over and settled behind her. Belle turned off the TV, which had been left on after the six o’clock news was over, and let her head fall forward as he laid his hands over the tops of her shoulders. His thumbs ran along the line of her neck, pressing harder on the way up than on the way back down, fanning out over muscles that feel as though they’ve been cramped for hours. He felt an unnatural hardness at the junction of her neck and shoulders, and worked his fingers into it in slow circles with steady pressure.

She breathed out and her head bobbed forward in relaxation when his fingers slid through her hair, nails scraping deliciously over her scalp, before trailing back down her neck.

"You're too good at this," she said as he eased her further forward, kneading the inside edge of her trapezius muscle.

His palms pushed gently, rubbing at the hidden tension. "And you're too tense.”

She exhaled again. “Yeah, must have slept wrong or something.”

He let out a grunting sound that was somehow both disbelief and agreement, in that order. It made her chastise herself that she still hadn’t brought up what she’d told Archie, and that she hadn’t called to make another appointment.

Weaver reached down, trying to find the spot at the base of her shoulder blade that always seemed to knot up, but the angle from the couch was awkward and there wasn’t enough space between her and the sofa to make it work.

He pulled his hands away and sat back. “Up.”

She frowned over her shoulder at him, and he repeated the command as he pushed to his feet.

“Where are you going?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

He paused and turned around in the doorway of the bedroom, smirking, and she rolled her eyes even as she stood and followed after him. He coaxed her out of the t-shirt she’d changed into after they arrived home, pulling up over her head to reveal the lace bralette underneath. His tongue pushed at his bottom lip when she undid the clasp and let it fall to the floor, followed by shoving her yoga pants down over her hips.

“You want me on the bed?” she asked with a cheeky quirk of her lips.

Weaver rolled his eyes, which made her giggle as she stretched out over the duvet, and moved to open the bedside table where a small bottle of her preferred body lotion was stashed. He popped it open, catching a whiff of vanilla and jasmine, and applied some to his palms, rubbing them together to warm it up before he touched her.

He knelt with one knee on the bed and began to slowly rub her back from shoulders to waist, up and down, slicking up her skin until it was soft and slippery. She groaned as his thumbs ran up her spine in a steady, even pressure that rolled over the muscles along her vertebrae. His fingers pressed against the prominent cliffs of her shoulder blades, jutting out as she rested her head on her bent elbows. Finally, he found the knot he’d been seeking earlier and kneaded it carefully, feeling the cramp in the tissue eventually give way and push a deep sigh from her lips.

His hands glided along her curves, easing away the tension in long, slow strokes, drawing out more little sounds. She shifted as he moved over the outside of her hips, massaging down the back of her thighs and calves, spanning them with both of his hands at the same time. She let out another low moan as he worked his way back up from her feet, and shifted her legs apart to work his thumbs into the muscles of her inner thighs.

He swept his fingers over her skin again and again, inching closer to the edge of her panties, and she let out a small whimper. The sound made his cock twitch, and he bit back a groan.

"So do I pay extra for you to keep going?" Belle asked, grinning as she stretched her legs against the bed, spreading them slightly.

Weaver’s hands moved slowly up the backs of her thighs, kneading the flesh gently and rubbing the last of the lotion in as she lifted her head and looked over her shoulder at him. He stopped below the curve of her backside, feeling the heat emanating from between her legs as she raised her hips.

He licked his lips. “Maybe, but I have some very flexible terms.”

His fingers slowly trailed up between her legs, lightly rubbing her there, her folds already swollen and wet beneath her underwear. She parted her legs a little more, and he pressed and teased her opening with his fingertips. Slipping under the inner elastic, he pushed a finger into her, sliding all the way into the knuckle, loving the way she squirmed and moaned, her eyes squeezing shut.

"This part of the massage too?” She tried to push back against him, but he pulled his fingers away to start tugging her panties off.

He tossed them aside with a grin, and leaned over her, pressing kisses up along her spine as his hand worked its way back between her legs. “I’m very thorough.”

Her eyebrow arched as she clenched around his finger, her hips pitching up off the bed. "Yes you are, Detect - oh -”

A second finger pushed inside her, and she heard the shuffling sound of his belt being undone, followed by the rasp of his zipper.

"You’re pretty tense here too, Counselor," he says, his voice low.

She can sense the smirk on his face just from the low, teasing tone of his voice, and she shivers with pleasure. Shifting up to her knees, she backed up against him, her bare ass rubbing against the front of his boxers and the hard ridge of his cock.

"Think you can rub that out too?" She smiled and turned her face to the side as he shook his head.

His hips jutted forward as she pressed against him, and he let out a light chuckle as he stopped touching her just long enough to remove his clothes. “Naughty.”

She hummed in agreement, smiling into the pillow as he returned to stroke her slowly. His cock slid between her legs, bumping against her clit and drawing out a shudder and a soft sound. Her legs spread further, her hips rocking back as he teased her. Her back and shoulders felt much better, the tension in them eased, but a new ache was building elsewhere each time he hit her swollen nub.

Weaver’s hands grabbed her roughly, holding her by the hips to still her movement. She let out a frustrated growl which slipped into a sharp gasp as he brought his palm down on her backside. He rubbed the spot, flushed pink and warm, and then continued up her back, tracing the same paths he had earlier when he soothed her muscles. She groaned and arched her back as she tried to push back against him at the same time, the contrast between the looseness of where he touched her and the burn inside where she wanted him made her head spin.

He drew his hands back, her skin silky from the lotion, and gave her another light spank. Her fingers curled against the sheets, nails scraping lightly as she bit her lip. The sting was a pleasant, prickly heat, a sensation she had felt in a long time. A part of her wanted to urge him to keep going, until she was shaking and crying out for him, but there was so much still between them that held her back even now.

He seemed to know that was all she could handle, and a moment later her legs were pushed apart by his knee, spreading her wide. She tensed at the first push of his cock, the head just breaching her entrance, teasing her with the idea of being stretched and fucked.

"Ian..."

A spark ran through him at the sound of his name, and he inched forward, thrusting into her in one long, slow stroke. She gasped when he hit the end of her and started to draw back, her breath catching on another gasp before he pushed back into her hard. Everything was tight and hot, and he groaned as she started rocking her hips back against him, begging him to move.

His thumbs rubbed little soothing circles on her lower back as he started a slow, steady rhythm, filling the air with the wet sound of their bodies moving together with the backdrop of the music from the other room. He drew his fingers down, brushing over the cleft of her buttocks, and she squirmed, flexing her pussy around his cock. She claws at the sheets as his does it again, panting and pushing back against him.

"I could..." he started to say, circling her ring with his fingertip. "If you want..."

He couldn’t complete the thought, the feeling of her fluttering around his length almost too much to bear.

"Yeah," she squeaked, with a thrust of her hips against his hand, against his cock. "Please."

He pulled out of her and leaned to the side, fumbling with the drawer on the nightstand to retrieve a small bottle of lube. She tried to slow her breathing, but even the sound of the lid snapping open had her pulse thrumming as she stayed there, bent over on the bed with her arse in the air. The bed shifted as he moved, and then there was a warm slickness between her cheeks, and his fingertip spreading it over her. She tried not to move, to fight the urge to force her hips back as he worked his finger inside with achingly slowness. Pressure gave way to pain which gave way to a fullness she hadn’t experienced in so long, and she let out a long, low moan.

Weaver was being as gentle as possible, waiting after each small bit of his finger slipped inside her arse for the little impatient wiggle that told him she was ready for more. Finally, when it was fully in, he turned it carefully, pulling back and stretching her before he pulled it back part way.

"Okay?" His voice was strained and he clenched his jaw at the tight, warm feeling of her flexing around his finger.

"Yeah," she whispered.

He took his cock in his free hand and eased himself back inside her pussy, groaning as his hips met hers.

"Fuck," he groaned, thrusting once to test the waters. “Tell me."

Belle took a breath, exhaling it slowly as he started to move, the rhythm between his finger and his cock just disparate enough that she couldn’t do anything except let herself feel everything that was happening.

“Belle -”

"Yeah,” she answered quickly. “Good, really good."

She started working her hips harder, encouraging him as he slid his finger almost all the way out of her ass, and his cock out of her pussy, only to push them back in, a little bit harder each time. He held onto her hip with his other hand trying to steady himself as his eyes rolled back, feeling his finger press through her inner walls, creating another sensation along his length.

Belle pushed up on her hands, and gasped out a shaky curse. She pushed her hips up against him, and he thrust harder into her, a warm rush of pleasure washing over her from head to toe. She tightened around him, crying out with each movement, her legs and arms beginning to quiver as the tension grew in her core.

"Oh fuck..."

The sound of her voice was louder than expected, and she bit her lip as she slammed her hips back against him. The pressure of his finger amplified the friction from his cock, letting her feel every inch of him, and every time he bottomed out inside her, a little squealing gasp was forced out of her. Full and stretched, she tried to keep up with his movements, but then her arms gave, and she turned her head to the side, resting it on her folded arms as he fucked her to the threshold of a blinding orgasm.

The twinges along his cock was driving him spare, and through gritted teeth he managed to slip his free hand around her hip and press two fingers against her clit. She came with some kind of groan and a bit of a squeal, a delicious sound he’d never heard her make before, but knew he’d love to hear again. Bracing on the bed, he pulled his finger out of her arse as he thrust one more time and came buried inside her, his thrusts slowing along with the twitch of her inner muscles.

They collapsed together on the bed, quiet save for hasty breaths and the lingering thrum of his heart in his ears.

"Damn," she sighed.

He smiled and kissed her shoulder. “Yeah.”

They cleaned themselves up, and then moved back to the bed in silence. He sensed there was something Belle wasn’t saying. She stretched out on her side, facing away from him, and he slipped into the bed, shifting until he was right behind her without touching her body with his. It felt much the same as it had that first night, when she’d woken up in a fit, scared of every shadow. She’d needed him close then, but he didn’t know what she wanted now.

“I told Archie,” she said quietly, “about the miscarriage.”

He felt the breath rush out of him and his throat tense, but at the same time there was relief in knowing what had been bothering her for the last few days. She moved, inching back towards him, and he reached out to pull her against his chest. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head and felt her squeeze his arm where it lay around her torso.

“Okay,” was all he could manage.

Belle swallowed. “Yeah?”

He nodded, his face rubbing against her hair. “S’good. Right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.”

Weaver’s arm tightened around her, and she felt his lips against her neck and then her bare shoulder. She’d managed to say the words twice in one week, and, strangely, it seemed to help. Perhaps tomorrow she’d call Archie and see if he was available on Tuesday. Maybe it was the intensity of the sex or the fact that she’d finally told Weaver what had been bothering her, but her body felt more relaxed than it had in months. As she breathed out, it felt like something more than just air left with it, something that maybe she didn't need to keep inside anymore.

#rumbelle #rumbelle fic #woven beauty #woven beauty fic #my woven beauty fic #fic #killing time

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cobaltcaster · 4 years ago

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Controlling Anger

Allow extra time for this particular spell as it takes some writing time.

Necessary Enchantments and Magickal Tools

The tools necessary for this spell include any tools you have chosen for your formation as described below.

You will need:

paper

a pen or pencil

matches or lighter

fire burning container

Candles You will need a black candle, or you can use three candles: black, blue, and silver \ gray. Set the candle(s) in front of you, either just he black candle centered or three in a row with the blue to the left, black in the middle, and silver \ gray to the right.

Formation All spells should begin with casting a circle, which is your shield of protection. If you're using a triangle or square, you can cast a circle first as then cast your formation within it. Best formation to cast this spell is the circle. Cast your formation ( using methods described here ) using a wand, a knife, an extended arm with fingers pointed, salt, or other material items you may have chosen.

Direction to Face The spell is most effective if you are west. Arrange your candles as stated above and any tools or enchantments that will be in your formation so they will be in front of you when you are sitting facing west.

Moon Phase This spell works best if cast during the waning or dark phase of the Moon because we are hoping to decrease anger just as the Moon is decreasing as it wanes.

Day of the week Cast this spell on any day of the week with the exceptions of Wednesday and Thursday, when it would be less favorable

Optional Magickal Enchantments

The following items will add a deeper dimension to your spell and help you focus yourself more fully, but they are not necessary and the spell can be cast even if you don't have these items available.

Gemstones The best gemstone to use for the spell is tiger’s eye and obsidian. If using additional gemstones other than those recommended in your formation, placed them in front of you. Incense Incense that will enhance the spell would be pine or bay. Place incense in a safe place within your formation if you like; however, start the incense outside of your formation.

Music If you like music and will not find it distracting, you might want to play something New Age, meditative or classical; think soothing and harmonious for calming inner turmoil.

Before You Start Your Spell

Make sure you have no distractions. Turn off phones if possible. Play soothing music. Keep the lights dim. Wash your hands or shower before you begin. Light incense if you are using it. Gather everything you need and have it close at hand. Draw your formation. Ask your higher power to allow the information to flow through you.

Affirmation

Affirmation to be read within your formation before you actually begin your spell. I release the anger about ( name of person or event ). Anger does not benefit me. My anger is a choice that I will not choose anymore. Anger poisons my system. I recognize when I get angry it's caused by frustration and not understanding why someone does not think or act like I do. I now realize it is not fair to choose anger because someone does not think like me. Give me the insight to accept that I cannot own someone else's behavior. I will not allow someone else's behavior to make me unhappy.

The next time I become angry, bring forth the reminder to me that anger is a choice. I will then try breathing deeply for a few seconds and postpone my anger. The time after that, I will postpone it even longer, lengthening the time. Eventually, I will realize I can control this anger. I will feel a sense of accomplishment and pride. I will be stronger; and with this new self-control, I will be able to accomplish anything. Surround me with this vibration.

AND SO IT IS

How to Perform the Spell

First, light your candles, then take your paper and pen and write a brief letter to the person or situation you're angry with. If you are angry with yourself ... right to yourself.

If you are angry with someone who is dead ... still write. If you are angry with an event that happened that caused you pain, write to that event. If you are angry about an object that hurt you or someone ... write to it.

If you do not care to write letters, simply write a few words to get the point across. Example: Rick, I am angry that you left me for a job in Boston. Illness, I am angry you made me have surgery when I had no medical insurance.

You have no problem writing a lengthier letter, tell him, her, or it how you feel and why you are angry with them. Be very honest and go into detail. No one will ever actually see the letter; it is your secret letter. In fact, if you are going to really expound, you may want to sit at a table or desk and type it or write it before you go into your spell area. The reasoning behind this letter writing is that it puts your thoughts into physical form, removing them from your subconscious.

Next, take your letter or note and burn it in your container. If a little bit is left, that is okay, as long as you cannot make out any special words or people's names.

For some reason you do not want to burn it, you can always tear it into the smallest pieces of paper you can and set in water so it is really destroyed. Then throw it away later. A great many people have felt new beginnings after this ritual, as this is a freeing release.

After you have burned your notes, say the following incantation:

Today I made a forceful voice, To start to live, hence I rejoice. My anger leaving, blessings be, I am revived, I am set free.

Conclude with any statement that signifies closure of the ceremony in your mind such as “And so it is,” “Blessed be,” or “Amen.” Now extinguish your candles and release your formation.

#Controlling Anger #Health #Health Spell #Health Spells #Wicca #Wiccan #Witchcraft #Moon Spell #Moon Spells #Diane Ahlquist

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phungiphotography · 4 years ago

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June 28 2020

MAKING MULTIPLE INSTAGRAM ACCOUNTS OR GROWING THE ONE I HAVE?

Trying to grow your instagram account is not an easy thing to do. I’ve found the usual advice with promises of expanded following, farther reach, more interaction, and all that fun stuff. I’m going to compare what I’ve been doing to the things I’ve leaned this week and then overview what I’m going to change about how I use instagram. But, before we do, let’s backtrack a little bit and quickly go over the things I’ve leaned this week: the basic stages of instagram and what you should be doing in each one.

Starting

Establishing

Growing and maintaining

Starting.

It’s exactly what it sounds like. You’re new to instagram and photography and you should be taking photos of everything and posting a little of everything until you find something you like.

Hashtags ## are another things you should be looking at in this stage: What tags work for you and different subject matter (e.g., nature, street, birds, food, etc.). I’m not going to get into hashtags in this because from what I know and have learned, Instagram’s algorithm seems to change every four months, making tagging information dated quite quickly. The only thing I will say is that you should split your tags between General and Specific tags. Basically, General tags are tags that have a hit count of over one million and Specific tags have a hit count of under one million.

Yes, there is a lot more to hashtags than just this, but to be honest, I’m still learning them myself. Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t. The results vary and it can all be confusing. (If you want to read about my experience with tagging photos, let me know and I’ll make another post about it).

Establishing.

When you should start to establish yourself is up to you. I’ve been doing this for two years now and I think I’m just starting this phase. There are a few things professionals recommend to start doing during this time:

Make a posting schedule. This is the time and day you consistently post content (e.g., Monday at 10 a.m. and Thursday at 9 p.m.)

Theme and Style. This is the subject matter you post and how you colour grade it (e.g., Birds, nature, city streets, food etc.)

Branding. What do you do? What are you selling? Show your followers why they should be following you and why they should use your service.

Only post your best images. I think this one is a bit vague and kind of overused. If you’re selling yourself, you should always put your best foot forward. But keep it to what you’re selling! Your posts should relate to what you do. Anything else like personal posts should be put in your story and later in a highlight.

Engage with your audience. Before you post, let your audience know that you’re active and again after you post so when they comment and ask questions on your latest post, you’re right there to answer them.

Before and After shots & Behind the Scenes. This one isn’t for everyone, but if you do a lot of Photoshop work, you may want to have the finished image in front and then a swipe to see the raw/unedited file(s). Same with studio shots; consider a phone snap to show what your set up is like.

Be personal. If you’re trying to sell yourself, the client wants to know what kind of person they are hiring. So post some personal stuff to your Instagram stories. E.g., You with clients, social life, and pets. But don’t overdo it. Most people don’t want to go though fifty story photos of your life just to find today’s art post

Growing and Maintaining

What’s working and not working for you? If you are consistently posting twice a week and you’re finding that one day is not getting as much reach as the other day, then try changing it up. Instagram has a bunch of analytic tools for business and creative accounts including Audience View so you see what day your followers are most active and at what time (this does change all the time, so take it for what you will).

Trends & Mass Media. Giving the people what they want doesn’t mean you should be catering everything to your audience. Well, I mean yes, you should be, but you should also be posting what you like. If there’s a big news story or something is trending, try to post something that relates to it (e.g., sports, if your home team is doing well then post something about them)

Are you happy with what you're doing? If you answer yes, then continue to. If no, then you should take some time and reflect on what kind of content you are posting, and why you started taking photos and posting them to Instagram in the first place. If the answer is that you are unhappy because your following is small and you believe you are doing everything you can to increase it, then unfortunately this might be as big as your following gets. If you’re not happy with this, then you should once again reflect on why you started this journey in the first place. To express your self, promote your business, or just to get followers.

Now that I’ve summarized what I’ve learned form this week let’s compare it to what I actually do.

I consider myself to be in the establishing phase right now, but from the looks of it, I may still be a starter.

Schedule for posting. Not really. Right now I’m experimenting with sets of three posts that go along with my most recent YouTube video, but my following is also under 200 people right now so I’m not sure this is super important to me

Theme and Style. This is hard for me and why I’m considering making a second account. I don’t want to limit myself to just posting one thing and keeping a consistent style seams hard for someone that one day will shoot the city and shoot nature the next, and I know what you’re going to say “just colour grade it the same.” Again, personal problem: I like dark moody city posts and bright colourful nature posts and now I’m playing around with product photography and a lot of those are solid background colours (mostly white or black).

Only Your Best (Or the “bangers” if you’re hip on Instagram lingo). This is probably one I can start following more. Recently, I do feel like I have been posting only a few good photos out of the sets (remember I’m experimenting with sets of 3, and often with multiple images per post) so I could either make fewer posts with more images or at least make sure there is a great image in front of the other ones.

Before and After. This is something I’ve played around with in both posts and stories. Swipe to see before and again to see half edited and half raw, as well as trying a tap to edit for story highlights

Be personal. This is not something I’ve done very well, partly because my phone plan doesn’t have data so I can’t just post while I’m out and about taking photos and also because my day job is working on theatre and film props, which is not photography related at all and also full of NDAs (Non-Disclosure Agreements). I also have another account for this kind of stuff, so if anyone is really interested they can follow that.

I’m not even going to go into growing and maintaining because I don’t think I’m there yet. The only thing I can do right now is tailer some posts to the masses.

So what am I going to be doing? I still want to shoot everything because I like creating and I don’t want to limit myself to just one or two things. I will pick two days that I will post to my feed and if I want to share photos that I like but don’t have a place in my feed at that moment, they will just go in a story and maybe a highlight.

I’m also going to start keeping a consistent colour theme. It’s summer right now, so orange and yellow would be the proper colour to use.

I’m going to try this for four to six months and see what happens and after that, I may start a second account just for nature photos and the only reason I’m not starting one right now is because I feel like if I do, all I would be doing is mass postings or bombarding feeds with random quality posts since I don’t feel like I take enough great photos to be consistent. I’m also not travelling and you can only post so many photos of the same species of birds that live in your city, the few green spaces surrounded by tall buildings, or of the same local beaches.

Anyways if you made it this far thank you so much. You are awesome.

If you want to check out my work links below.

INSTAGRAM YOUTUBE

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magewriter · 5 years ago

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Awkward is Relative

Kalex Week Day Five: Awkward Situations

Thursday, 11/21 - Supertrope - Awkward Situations - Examples from nominated prompts: Discovers kink, sees naked, bedsharing, cultural misunderstanding)

I own nothing. I also don’t think I do awkward very well…

Words: 1,321

$%^$%^$%^

There was only one bed.

It was a tiny bed. How was a bed that size meant to fit two grown adults?

Especially when one was a walking space heater.

“Alex, are you okay?” Kara entered the room. She was carrying their small duffels. “Alex?”

“There’s only one bed.” Alex said numbly.

Kara cocked her head to the side. “Is that a problem?” They normally shared a bed. Were they fighting? They usually only slept separately when they were fighting. Or hurt.

Was Alex hurt and she hadn’t noticed? She quickly scanned the other woman. No, Alex was fine. A little bruised from where the seatbelt had tightened when the car had skidded on a patch of black ice, but fine nonetheless.

“Kara, it’s tiny. Like, I think our beds back in Midvale are bigger.” Alex moved aside, revealing the bed.

“Oh,” Kara sighed in relief. “I thought it was something serious.”

“I’m going to see if there’s another room. One with a larger bed.” Alex moved to leave, but Kara stopped her.

“Alex, it’s fine.” She set the duffels down. “You regularly sleep on top of me anyway.”

“Not the point,” Alex scowled.

Kara just blinked at her. Part of her wanted to point out that if Alex had simply allowed her to fly them home they would not be having this discussion. They would be inside their apartment, with their bed waiting for them.

“Are we fighting and I’m just now finding out about it?” Kara asked, a bit bewildered by her girlfriend’s attitude.

Alex sighed and took a seat on the bed. “No, we’re not fighting. I’m just tired, and cold, and please remind me to throttle the boys who suggested this stupid trip in the first place.”

“Right, remind you to beat up Winn and James for backing out at the last minute after we had already left.” Kara nodded. “I can do that. Want me to remind you to do the same to Lucy for turning our trip into a mission?”

“Yes, you and Vas can watch.” Alex thumped down on the bed, throwing on arm over her eyes. “This is a terrible bed.”

Kara chuckled. With the door shut behind her, she joined Alex in the bed after removing her shoes and coat.

“Come on, take you coat and boots off. We’ll change into pjs and see if anyone is still delivering in this storm. It’ll be over in the morning and then we’ll get to the airport. Before you know it, we’ll be back home in our own space and you can beat up as many fellow agents as you wish.”

“I should have just let you fly us,” Alex grumbled. She went to move aside and only Kara’s quick reflexes saved her from falling off the bed.

Kara giggled. “This bed is really small.”

“Told you.”

Alex left to try and get them another room. There wasn’t one to be had. Apparently, the storm had driven more than their car off the road. The motel was filled and so were the rest in the area. When she asked about other options, she was informed that the storm had closed many of the roads.

She returned to the room carrying food from the one place still open. It was all junk even for them, but at least they had food. She doubted the gas station would stay open for much longer. She had barely made it there and back.

“Alex!” Kara relieved her of the food, dumping it on the desk before returning to help brush the snow off her human. “You should have let me do that. You’re frozen!”

“I’m fine,” she shivered. “Next time, beach. Somewhere warm. No snow. No fucking ice unless it’s in a drink.”

“Will do,” Kara agreed. Knowing their luck, they’d be dealing with a hurricane. She was not going to voice that thought aloud. She winched.

“What is it?” Alex tugged on the sweatshirt Kara had dug out of her bag. She was warm and dry now, but the look on Kara’s face did not bode well.

“I can hear…” she wrinkled her nose.

“Ugg,” Alex winched in sympathy. Then it was her turn to groan as thuds came through the walls. It appeared that both their neighbors had decided the best way to pass the time was loud, obnoxious sexcapades.

Kara whimpered. Nothing turned her off more than hearing things like that.

“Come on, we can cuddle.” Alex tugged her to the bed. “Help me move this away from the wall.” Kara moved the bed.

They squeezed themselves into the narrow space. Alex brought Kara’s head to her chest, kissing the top of her head. “Just focus on me.” She then launched into every silly story she could think of in order to distract both of them.

Alex fell asleep mid-story. Kara rearranged them so that Alex was stretched out mostly on her with the blanket covering mostly her. At least most everyone had stopped their activities and gone to sleep as well.

For a while, Kara watched the storm rage through the window. Living in California, they rarely saw snow unless they went up north. They certainly had never been caught out in a storm such as this before.

Thankfully the Yetnizasian family that had needed help relocating was safely tucked away in their new home. Alex was just unhappy because they were meant to be on leave, not having their trip turned into a mission mid-flight. Alex also hated the cold.

She joined her human in slumber, curling around Alex to keep her as warm as she could.

Next time she was just going to fly them home.

Somebody else could retrieve the car.

“Hey, have Kara and Alex returned yet?” James was leaning against the back of Winn’s chair, looking over the map on screen with him.

“Not that I’ve heard,” he replied. “Hey Vas,” he got his fellow tech’s attention, “have Supergirl and Agent Danvers come back?”

“Two hours ago,” Vasquez replied. They turned back to their computer. “You’re both supposed to meet Agent Danvers in the training room in five minutes.”

“What?” Winn gulped. “Why?”

Vasquez ignored the questions. They would have been upset as well if they had been canceled on last minute. Ms. Luther had had a valid reason, and then the mini-vacation had turned into a mission. They and Lucy had never even gotten a chance to get off the ground before they had had to return to base because of it.

They didn’t even know why James and Winn had pulled out, just that the two had.

“You’re going to be late.” They told them.

The men went, although James could be heard muttering that Alex technically couldn’t order him around as he wasn’t officially a part of the DEO.

Supergirl wondered into the command center, taking Winn’s abandoned chair. She scooted over to Vasquez, setting down a fresh cup of coffee and a bag of their favorite jelly donuts.

“Alex is still in her lab.” Kara commented idly.

“I know. Lucy wanted to have some fun with them.” Vasquez replied. “They failed to report and apparently she found out why.”

Kara nodded. “Alex is still going to want revenge. She hates the cold, and I think she has an idea of why they waited until we were already boarding to say they weren’t going.” Kara hummed absently. “Video?”

“Video,” a few keystrokes and they had a visual of the training room.

Honestly, neither knew which was more awkward: watching Winn actually try despite his honest fear of Lucy or James’ attempt at using his size to get the advantage.

“I should go save Winn before she actually traumatizes him.” Kara had no idea what James had done to piss off the tiny powerhouse that was Lucy Lane, but she wasn’t going to get involved in that.

She had enough of her own awkwardness to deal with.

#kalex #kalex week #kalex fanfic #kalex week 2019 #day 5

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plumbing-heating567-blog · 5 years ago

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viktor-ravencrest · 6 years ago

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RED ICE - Ch 11

Characters: Connor x Reader, Gavin

Warnings: Swearing

Words: 2,767

RED ICE Masterlist

“I think I’ll be disowned once mom and dad meet Connor,” you replied.

“So that’s his name?” Colt asked. “Connor?”

You looked over at the android with a smile, all the love in the world behind your eyes. “Yeah…” you replied softly. “His name is Connor.”

Chapter Eleven - Androids Don’t Feel Doubt... But Deviants Do

Thursday, January 27, 2039 //

Connor cracked Viselli’s tablet the night after the hospital while you were sleeping. You were upset that he hadn’t woken you, but glad that you finally had access to the device. You’d been browsing through the files kept within over the last couple of days, unlocking all of Viselli’s secrets - the location of his manufacturing facility, storage warehouses, and Red Ice dens among those.

You and Connor were currently sitting in a park - your escorts in strategic locations should anything bad happen - waiting for Gavin. You and Connor had been hesitant to accept your partner’s offer to help, he could be the DPD’s leak after all, but had agreed to at least meet him to talk about it. In reality, this was a test of sorts. You’d told Gavin that you and Connor were going to be at X park at lunch time and that Gavin should meet you there. If Gavin shows up, he’s not the leak - if you were attacked, he is the leak. Simple.

“He’s late,” Connor observed, readying himself for some sort of ambush.

“Just play it easy,” you tried to reassure him.

The android was constantly scanning his surroundings. He wouldn’t let you get hurt again. Luckily, Reed’s car pulled into the parking lot of the convenience store adjacent the park just as Connor was starting to get twitchy.

It was a warm sunny day, in stark contrast to Detroit’s normal gloom, and Gavin had ditched his signature leather jacket for a grey tee and dark shades perched atop his nose. He sauntered over to you, grinning when he reached the halfway point. He broke into a little jog and slid onto the bench next to you, across from Connor.

“Hey!” he greeted enthusiastically.

He gave you a nudge and you offered a little smile in return before he reached over the table to offer Connor his hand. The android reluctantly shook it.

“So…” Gavin continued, wiggling like an excited puppy.

“So what?” you asked, utterly unphased by your partner’s excitement.

“So can I help?” Gavin asked, raising his brows as he looked to you for an answer.

“Connor, do me a favor and give Gavin here a quick scan, would ya?” you asked and the android obliged.

It took him only a fraction of a second.

“He’s not wearing a wire and there doesn’t seem to be a tracker anywhere on his person,” Connor concluded.

“Hey, wait, hold on a second,” Reed said, his face falling. “What do you mean? You think I came here to spy on you?” he asked, and he looked genuinely offended.

You shrugged. “There’s a leak in the DPD. Had to make sure it wasn’t you.”

He shuffled in his seat, brows creased together. “So this wasn’t really a lunch date. It was just a way for you two to find out if I’m a rat.”

You nodded as Connor said, “Correct.”

Gavin scoffed. “Un-fucking-believable.”

You nudged him with your shoulder, much like he’d done to you upon his arrival. “Don’t take it personally. We assume everyone is the leak. Even Mulder and Scully over there,” you said, gesturing with your head to where your escorts were ‘hiding’.

A moment of peaceful silence passed and Connor took the opportunity to appreciate the warm sun on his skin and the cool breeze that blew through the park. There was still a chill in the air that threatened more snow and the ground was still covered in a thin blanket of white, but the day was otherwise warm and pleasant.

“So are we getting lunch or no?” Gavin asked. “Cause you guys might’a thought this was just a clever ruse to see if I’m a rat, but I’m starving.”

You chuckled and clapped Gavin on the back. “Don’t worry, big guy. We’ll get you something to eat,” you said as you slid from the bench.

“Great!” Reed said, rising from the bench and Connor did the same. “I’m paying. Whatever you want.”

You walked next to Gavin, ahead of Connor, to the circle of food trucks and carts. You laughed and joked with him the whole way - play fighting, elbowing each other, making inside jokes that Connor didn’t understand.

Reed had been acting very un-Reed like since Connor had saved his life and the android wasn’t entirely sure what to do with the change of pace. He knew that the detective hadn’t always been the way Connor knew him to be. Was he finally getting to see the Reed that you knew? The happy jokester - the Reed that you’d had relations with?

Not once on the way to the food trucks did you turn around to invite Connor to come forward and walk with you or ask him if he was okay. You and he were in a relationship, weren’t you? Hadn’t that been established, even if it wasn’t in as many words? Or perhaps… perhaps you had simply needed someone to hold on to while Gavin was dealing with his own problems. Maybe now that Reed seemed to be his old self, you wouldn’t need Connor anymore. Maybe you’d want to be with Reed now.

And maybe that would be for the best. You’d known Gavin for over two years, a hell of a lot longer than Connor’s two months. He seemed to know you better than Connor did, though the android thought he knew you quite well. You two had inside jokes, memories to share, and a chemistry that couldn’t be denied.

Connor wasn’t even human. He could feel, that much had been established, but it wasn’t certain whether deviants could feel the same way humans could. Maybe Connor could never truly love you, not like Reed could - and it was evident that he did. The way he looked at you like you were the stars when you weren’t paying attention, the way he grinned when you got excited about something you’re enthusiastic about. These were things Connor noticed in only the short walk to the food trucks.

Gavin did love you and Connor at least thought that he loved you… but could he be sure? Was there any certainty that he could truly love you the way a human could?

There was more joking and laughing and sharing fond memories with Reed while you two ate your lunch in the park. After that, you gave each other a big hug and you warned Reed not to tell anyone anything about the Viselli case before you climbed into the passenger seat of your car. Luckily, the repairs it required didn’t take long, so you hadn’t had to use a car from the DPD’s impound lot for more than a day.

Connor quickly did a scan of the entire vehicle to check for trackers or any other foreign objects before hopping in behind the wheel. The engine roared to life, he put the car in drive, and off he headed, back to your apartment.

The android was quiet the whole way, unhappy thoughts clogging up his processors.

He would do everything in his power to keep you safe - you were still his mission - but he couldn’t help but feel… inferior... to Reed. He couldn’t help but feel that you deserved someone who knew exactly what they felt for you, someone who knew you, someone that could joke with you and share fond memories.

Reed. He couldn’t help but feel that you deserved Reed… and that he - Connor - didn’t deserve you. After all, what could he give you - analyses, statistics, useless information about the nutrition facts of the food you were eating? Connor didn’t know how to joke, he didn’t know how to create fond memories… he didn’t know how to properly love you.

You were sitting on the couch with Hopkins, Ives in the chair beside the sofa, and Connor leaning back against the island in the kitchen while you watched a movie. Your voice brought him out of his thoughts and he cocked an eyebrow at you. “Come sit with me?” you asked, patting the seat beside you. Your couch had room for three, so Connor wordlessly stepped around Ives’ chair and took his place beside you, sitting upright and rigid.

You curled into him and his arm was forced around your shoulders as yours found their way around his waist. He let his arm go limp instead of holding you close like he normally did. He could regulate his temperature, set it to be anything you wanted it, hot or cold, and CyberLife made their androids’ skin very lifelike... but Connor knew that his touch couldn’t compare to that of a living human’s. He didn’t even have fingerprints. He could trace lazy circles on the bare skin of your arms or trail his fingers up under your shirt, but it would feel artificial… because he is artificial.

You seemed to notice how Connor was distancing himself from you, as you pulled away and sat up straight, a disappointed look on your face, your soft lips angled down into a frown. He removed his arm from around your shoulders and rested both hands in his lap. You regarded him a moment before your focus returned to the movie on the television before you.

After dinner, you tried to convince him to join you in the shower. He informed you that androids didn’t require showers, prompting a chuckle from you.

“I know…” you had said. “I was hoping we could do a bit more than just shower.” You bit your bottom lip and offered your hand, but Connor didn’t take it, as much as he wanted to.

“I think my time would be better spent going through Viselli’s tablet,” he responded, heart hitching when your face fell.

You didn’t pressure him, simply offering a solemn nod before you closed the bathroom door.

Later that night, you and he were lying in your bed together. He stared up at the artificial stars on the ceiling as you played with Viselli’s tablet.

He had brought over Cole’s star machine from Hank’s house, with the Lieutenant’s permission of course, and now he watched the constellations twinkle softly, trying to think of anything but you and Reed.

Finally, he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“You and Gavin are getting along again, I see,” he said, not taking his eyes off of the stars.

You didn’t look over from the tablet, its glow illuminating your face with a soft blue light.

“Yeah. He’s been in better spirits since his hospital visit. I think he’s actively trying to be nice to you, too, so that’s cool,” you smiled, tapping at the screen.

“You enjoy his company?” the android asked.

“When he’s being pleasant, yeah.”

Connor let the conversation lull there before he spoke up once again. “May I ask you a personal question?”

You stopped your tapping on the tablet and looked over to Connor, who was lying still, staring calmly up at the ceiling. You deposited the device on your dresser before you turned onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow with your head rested in your hand, giving Connor your full attention.

The android didn’t look at you. He was picking at a loose thread on the bedspread that was pulled up under his arms.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked quietly, urging him to talk to you.

“Are you… I mean, do you…” he was struggling to find the right words, something that rarely happened. The stars continued to twinkle above him, offering a slight calming effect. How could he ask you this? He wasn’t even sure he wanted an answer…

“Hey,” you said, kicking him gently. “Talk to me, Love.”

Love. You said you loved him and he knew you meant it, which is why he was having such a hard time with this.

He cleared his throat. “I know you and Detective Reed have had relations in the past… and I know that your falling-out was caused by my introduction into the DPD...”

Silence, so he continued. “I was simply wondering if you felt anything toward him. Anything romantic or… or sexual…”

He didn’t look at you as the silence of the room seemed to suffocate him. You shuffled closer and caressed his cheek with your hand, angling his face to look at you.

Your soft smile and sad eyes nearly cracked Connor’s thirium pump.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so strange lately? You think I’m going to leave you for Gavin?”

Connor didn’t respond.

“I never felt anything but friendship for Gavin,” you stated softly but firmly. “Reed was my partner, we were both single and found each other attractive, and we spent nearly every second of every day together and sometimes whole nights as well when we had work that needed to be done. It was too easy for us to have sex because we both wanted it; we both wanted someone to be intimate with. I just didn’t realize that Gavin felt more for me than I felt for him.”

“So you don’t love him?” Connor asked, gazing into your eyes, trying to find any hint of dishonesty or deceit. He found none.

You chuckled and leaned forward, kissing Connor softly on the mouth. “The only person in this whole world that I truly love is you, Connor,” you tried to reassure him. Resting your hand on his bare chest over his heart, you continued. “What Gavin and I had was strictly a friends-with-benefits situation. We had sex two or three times, and I never cared about him as anything more than a friend.”

Connor thought a moment. “You and I haven’t had sex,” he observed.

You smirked and cocked an eyebrow. “Would you like to?”

“Of course I’d like to,” the android replied. “But that’s not the point-”

You cut him off. “You provide me with enough intimacy that I don’t feel the need to have sex with you like I did with Reed. With him, sex was all the intimacy we had. With you, I get kisses and hugs and cuddles. You play with my hair, you make me breakfast, you make sure I get enough sleep. You love me, Connor. I know you do, not only because you’ve said it, but because you show it every day.”

The android’s LED spun yellow. “But… surely you’d be happier with him. You two have a history and it’s clear that he loves you. I can’t love you like he can,” he said quietly.

“You make me happier than I’ve ever felt, Connor. And what do you mean you can’t love me like Reed can?” you asked, a crease forming between your brows.

“There’s no way to know for sure that the love I feel for you is the same love that a human would feel for you. What if I can never really love you? What if I’m not capable of truly loving you? Maybe we rushed into this...”

You bit down on your lip and Connor could see that you were trying hard to fight back the tears prickling behind your eyes.

“Connor, you listen to me right now, and listen closely.” You leaned over him, chest to chest, pinning him against the bed.

“Love is love, whether it’s chemicals in the human brain or a string of code in an android brain. You love me and I love you. Do you hear me?”

Connor swallowed hard and nodded.

“I love you,” you said firmly, staring straight into his eyes, unblinking, unwavering, searching.

“I-” Connor’s hands slipped under the covers and wrapped around you, hugging you tight. You let your head fall forward and you buried your faces in the crook of each others’ necks. “I love you too,” he responded, truly trying to believe it. “I love you. I love you so much. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I doubted.” He was squeezing you tight, afraid to let go. “I’m sorry. I love you. I do. I love you.” He repeated it over and over, trying to convince himself.

“You are mine and I am yours,” you said, nuzzling into his neck before you peppered kisses all over his face. “Don’t you ever forget that.”

I am hers, he thought. She’s chosen me… and I choose her. Everything will be okay. I love her. I do. I love her.

You fell asleep on his chest, the vibrations of your own lulling him into his rest state as you hummed “Hold On”, a song that you’d come to adore since hearing Markus and the last of the rebellion sing it when their backs were against the wall.

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