#she was so focused on her job at the beginning of the book I don’t even know if she had wanted to have kids

[daydreamerdrew]

Captain America (2005) #36

[thoughtfulfiction]

Operation: Den Prep

Author’s note: I feel like Joe is very dramatic about things he can’t control and impending parenthood is definitely chaotic. Hope you enjoy this fluffy piece!

All you wanted to do was take a nap. You weren't asking for much. Just an hour, maybe an hour and a half of uninterrupted sleep.

But no. That would be too easy.

The cars that lined the driveway couldn't be a sign of anything good. Joe wasn't really one to throw parties, and with exactly four weeks before the baby's due date he wasn't exactly the most chill or relaxed man in America. If anything, the cars were a sign that you wouldn't be getting that nap in any time soon.

A gigantic sigh leaves your body when you walk in the door. There are people—strangers— in your home, scrubbing every square inch of the place.

"Joe?" You call out, attempting to scoot past the people dusting the vents.

"He's upstairs in his office," a woman responds kindly, in the midst of scrubbing baseboards. Your friend Nikki, who was with you all day, stares at everyone in shock before helping you up the stairs.

You caught your breath a little while running your hand over your baby bump, feeling like you climbed Everest. Nikki knocks on the door and waits for Joe's voice, telling you two to come in. Your husband was seated at his desk, highlighting sections of The Expectant Father: The Ultimate Guide for Dads-to-Be, surrounded by several other parenting books.

"Joseph..." Nikki begins since you still can't breathe. “What the hell is going on here?"

"Language," Joe says without looking up from his book, "he can hear you."

Nikki turns to look at you and you shake your head, not wanting to get in the middle of it right now. Your eyes were telling her to just focus on one problem at a time, the biggest issue at hand being the cleaning crew taking over the house. She seems to agree. "Okay, let me try that again," he nods, finally looking up, a disinterested look on his face. “Don't know if you know this but, there are people downstairs treating your home like it's a warzone on germs."

"I know. I hired them to do exactly that. Because it is." He says in a matter of fact tone. “I want everything to be perfect when the baby comes home. The house needs to be as clean as possible so he has a safe environment.”

“Joe, this isn’t prepping for the end of days. You realize babies don’t come out demanding hospital-grade cleanliness, right?” Nikki jokes, leaning against the doorframe.

Joe doesn't find it funny. “Do you even know how many germs are in the average house? I read it’s millions. Millions, Nicole. I’m not risking it.”

You sigh, walking over to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. He was adorable when he got like this—focused, determined, and completely over the top. It was endearing, but you could already tell you'd have to reel him in before he booked a hazmat team to inspect the nursery. “Joe, I appreciate what you’re doing. I really do. But we’re supposed to be relaxing these last few weeks, not running ourselves into the ground.”

“You’re the one who should be relaxing,” Joe said, standing and gently guiding you to sit in his chair. “You’re growing a human being. That’s a full-time job. I can handle everything else.”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Joe, I don’t need you to handle everything. We’re a team, remember? And besides, I don’t want you burning yourself out before he even gets here.”

“I’m fine,” Joe insisted, his tone firm but caring. "I promise. I just...want everything to be right for him. He’s going to depend on us for everything, you know?”

Nikki sat down on the couch in the corner of the office, still grinning. “I’m not gonna lie, this is kind of impressive. Most dads just install the car seat and call it a day. But you? You’re basically turning this place into a baby-friendly, germ-free utopia."

Joe shot her a look but didn’t argue as you let out a yawn. "Are you tired?" He rushes out, "they should be done in our room, you can go take a nap if you need it. I was serious about you getting some rest."

"And so was I about you getting some rest. We won't be sleeping as much when he gets here so getting a head start on sleepless nights isn't the wisest business decision."

"Okay," Joe folds the corner of the page that he's on and stands up, kissing you on the side of the head. "What if...we kick Nikki and the cleaners out and we go take a nap?"

"Um hello?" Nikki waves her hand in the air, "still here, in the room, with both of you. I can hear everything you're saying."

Joe doesn’t bother acknowledging her, his eyes focused on you as you nod with a laugh. “I love you, Nik, but he’s right. I need to lie down before I collapse.”

Nikki smirks, standing and brushing imaginary dust off her jeans. “You’re so lucky you’re carrying my baby, Y/N. Go take your little nap, I’ll see myself out.” She pokes Joe in the chest as she passes. “Joe, co-parenting with you is going to suck, but I gotta admit—you’re going to be a killer dad. You just don’t need to stress yourself into a heart attack to prove it.”

Joe rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "For the last time, it's OUR baby. Not yours. There is no co-parenting."

"Sure," Nikki smiles, patting him on the back, "sure buddy. Whatever helps you sleep at night. By the way, good luck kicking out the cleaners. I'm pretty sure one of them is power-washing your oven.”

She’s gone before Joe can reply, leaving you shaking with laughter as he mutters, “I’m changing the locks tomorrow.”

When you woke up from your nap, Joe was gone. You found him downstairs, scrolling through the notes on his iPad, intense focus that you'd really only seen when he was going over film. It was heartwarming to see that he was taking impending fatherhood as seriously as he took his job. In a way, being a dad was like taking on another job. With endless hours, no days off and no pay. But the rewards? They were going to be worth everything.

Sinking into the spot next to him, you leaned your head against his shoulder. “What are you up to?”

"Going over the checklist," he replied, his hand automatically resting on your belly, absentmindedly tracing small circles with his thumb. "We've got a bunch of deliveries coming tomorrow to get the nursery done which will probably take a couple days. Then we need to start getting the fridge stocked and pack our hospital bags. I was also thinking we do a trial run to the birth center."

"A trial run? Why?"

“I need to time it,” he said, his fingers still drumming softly against your bump. “Traffic could be bad, you’ll be in pain, and I’d rather not have to deliver a baby in the car. I mean, I can learn how to, but I’d rather not.”

You couldn’t help but smile as his focus shifted momentarily, his hand now lightly tapping your belly like he was sending a secret code. “Joe, we’ll be fine. We’ll get there when we get there. Not everything is gonna go to plan so let’s not waste time but trying to plan out every detail.”

“I hear you and I get what you’re saying but I’d rather be overprepared than caught off guard,” he muttered, flipping to a new note with his free hand. His other stayed firmly planted on your stomach, as though he could steady the world by keeping a connection to the little life inside. “Oh, and dinner with our parents tomorrow…that’s going to be something.”

"Be nice. They mean well," you reminded him, nudging his arm.

“Sure, but last week my dad said something about bourbon on baby gums helping with teething. I had to pretend to choke so I wouldn’t laugh in his face,” Joe said with a soft laugh of his own. Then, without thinking, he leaned down and whispered against your belly, “Just ignore your grandpa, buddy. We’ll do teething the right way.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture, and you reached out to thread your fingers through his hair. “Joe, you’re already such a good dad, you know that?”

His eyes softened as he looked up at you, his hand still cradling your bump. “I just want to get it right, for him… and for you.”

"You will. And you know how I know?" He shakes his head, his eyes locked in on you, searching for your answer. "Because once you put your mind to something, you don't let anything or anyone stop you."

For a moment, he’s quiet, his gaze softening before he speaks. “You’re gonna be a great mom, you know that?” He reiterates your words, his voice is barely above a whisper as he leans in, sneaking a kiss.

Your laugh is light, but your heart swells as he places his lips on yours one more time. “Kid’s pretty lucky,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours as he pulls back. “And he doesn’t even know it yet.”

The rest of the evening is spent ironing out some minor details of Joe's fool proof baby plans.

Your husband is not the handiest person in the world. He's more of a "I'll hire someone who's more qualified" kind of guy. Exhibit A? Full time chef so he doesn't have to cook. Exhibit B? Full time cleaning staff. To be honest, he probably doesn't know how to change a tire. But he also probably has access to triple A and one phone call from Joe Burrow might actually have everyone working that day rushing out to answer the call. With all that being said, you assumed that putting together furniture would not be something he'd be inclined to do. And then a few weeks ago he, Jimmy and your dad spent three hours building a custom Bellini crib. Now that he had a taste of satisfaction in knowing that he put it together with his own hands, he wanted to build everything in the baby's nursery.

Today's project consisted of your dad, Jimmy and Joe putting together a bunch of things that were delivered while you, your mom and Robin sorted through baby clothes and collected freshly washed laundry to place in his closet. Every tiny sock and little hat sent butterflies in your stomach at the thought of your own tiny person wearing these clothes in just a few short weeks. It was both daunting and exciting.

Throughout the day, more people were walking into the house, Ja'Marr came in first since he pretty much lived next door. Sam showed up 30 minutes later, a tool-kit in hand. A few high school friends even drove from Athens to help.

"Guess Joe called in the calvary." Robin says with a laugh, putting the onesies she just pulled out of the dryer in neat stacks to count and fold.

A few hours later, the three of you took a look at the inventory laid out before you. Your son probably had enough clothes to last him through four outfit changes a day for the next few months. You mentally reminded yourself to cut everyone off from buying any more articles of clothing until further notice.

The doorbell rang and Joe magically appeared downstairs to answer it, his Jeff Ruby's catering order had arrived. A few staff members carried in all the food and Joe thanked them on their way out. Before you could even ask, he said "you don't think they're all working for free do you? Had to give them a few incentives." You simply shook your head, a smile forming on your lips as he disappeared upstairs again.

When the guys were finally done, everyone gathered downstairs to eat dinner, casually chatting about life, Ja'Marr giving a recap of his offseason so far and what trips he had planned. Everything was actually normal until your mom spoke up.

"So, who are you guys gonna have in the delivery room with you?"

Joe nudged you under the table with his knee, giving you a look like "here we go."

"Um...we're still finalizing details of the birth plan. I was just thinking me and Joe for now, the less people seeing me at my worst, the better," you joke, trying to keep it light.

"Well what about visitors?" Robin chimes in. “How soon after are we going to be able to meet the little one?"

"We were thinking the next day. Gives us time to settle in, get some sleep and then have you guys meet him," Joe says casually. That seems to satisfy all parties, your parents nod in understanding and you breathe out a sigh of relief that the conversation doesn't go any further.

Pretty soon after dinner, most of the guests are gone and Joe asks if you want to see the nursery. You immediately hold out your arms and let him lift you to your feet, keeping a hand on the small of your back until you reach the room. Before he opens the door he covers your eyes with his other hand. "You ready?"

"Yes," you let out a small laugh, the anticipation eating away at you, "you've been hyping up these packages for weeks let's see what you’ve done."

"Alright," you hear him open the door and he guides you inside by the hand, still keeping your eyes covered. "3...2...1."

Some of the big things had already been put together. The walls had been painted, the closet space was set up, Joe had brought an LED starry-night ceiling projector (on top of the chandelier that was already in the room) and a sleek, modern changing table with a with several gadgets you weren’t ready to mess with. Yes it was too much. No, he wasn't going to return any of it.

Your eyes scanned the room: a plush, white rug that looked too soft to step on without socks, a glider that seemed to have more tech features than your car, and a Dyson purifier glowing faintly in the corner. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of all the hands that had come together to make it perfect. “He’s not even here yet, and he’s already so loved,” you said, your voice catching slightly.

"He definitely is," Joe says happily, knowing he and his team nailed it. "Come on, I'll give you a tour." He gestures toward the window, "blackout curtains. I read that they can help babies and toddlers sleep better. They can also help regulate the temperature and reduce noise. For temperature though, I got a Dyson obviously, it's supposed to be the best.” He walks you over to the next spot. “Over here we have the changing table."

"Does this...have a built in warming pad for wipes?"

"Yeah isn't it great?” He beams, “so his little butt is warm when we change him in the middle of the night."

You let out a soft laugh at how much of a softie he already is for someone he hasn’t met yet. "He's gonna be mad we're changing him either way, warm wipes or not. But I know you’ll be using it so it’s fine.”

He opens the top drawer of the changing table, "I put some miscellaneous stuff in here. All organic. Silk-blend crib sheets, swaddles, and burp cloths that I washed yesterday so they're ready to use. Over here is the feeding station and the mini fridge, which I'm really excited about."

"Why do we need a mini fridge in the nursery?"

"Think about this. I'm on overnight baby duty and you're catching up on sleep. Our baby is sobbing because he's hungry. Instead of making him wait while I go downstairs and grab a bottle, we just have the bottles in here. And then this little compartment on this side is a freezer so we can have milk storage bags in here too since the bottle warmer is right there. And watch this,” Joe said, pressing a button on the bottle warmer. “It’s like a Formula 1 pit stop but for babies. Two minutes tops, and he’s good to go.” You raised an eyebrow, trying not to laugh at his comparison.

"You know what? I'm not mad at it. Keep going."

"Right next to the fridge is the actual feeding station so we've got a couple pillows here next to the chair, burp clothes and then a little table in case whoever is in here needs water or to set something down. White noise machine is over here. You gotta play with the setting there's like 100 sound options and custom settings. The baby monitor is cool too, it has HD video, two-way audio, sleep analytics, the whole nine.” Joe pick up the expensive contraption. “Here, let me show you some of the noise machine settings."

He was too excited for you to decline, so you motioned for him to go ahead. "This one is ocean waves," he said, hitting a button. A soft crash of waves echoed through the room. "And this is rainforest sounds. Oh, and this one—"

"OW!" you yelped, clutching your belly and bending forward slightly.

Joe froze mid-button press, the sound of chirping birds now filling the nursery. "What? What happened? Is it happening?" His voice rose an octave as he practically leapt across the room to you.

You couldn’t help but laugh through the sharp jolt of pain, waving him off with one hand. "Relax, Joe. It’s not labor. It’s uh...lightning crotch."

"Lightning what?" His panicked expression turned to utter confusion, and he blinked at you like you’d just spoken a foreign language.

"It’s this sharp, sudden pain down there," you explained, gesturing vaguely toward your lower half. "Totally normal. Just your kid punching my nerves like one of those UFC fighters you're obsessed with."

Joe stared at you, wide-eyed. "That’s a thing? That’s allowed? Why does no one tell dads about this stuff?"

You shrugged, still giggling as you slowly straightened up. "Welcome to pregnancy. Every day’s a surprise," you reassure him, patting him on the back.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, looking genuinely rattled. "Okay, so let me get this straight. So far, there’s morning sickness, swollen ankles, back pain, weird cravings, and now lightning crotch? What’s next? Spontaneous combustion?"

"Would you calm down?" you teased, reaching for his hand to give it a reassuring squeeze. "It’s not that bad. Just part of the process."

Joe let out a dramatic sigh, muttering, "You’re making a whole person, and I can’t even keep up with the symptoms."

"You’re doing great, babe," you said with a smirk. "Now, are you gonna show me what’s in the next drawer, or should I add 'Joe having a meltdown' to my list of pregnancy side effects?"

That earned a laugh from him, and he shook his head, pulling himself together. "Fine. But I’m looking this lightning crotch thing up later," he said, giving you a playful glare before opening the next drawer.

Joe is going through the various assortment of baby blankets but what catches your eye is the bookcase. You step closer to it, running your fingers over the leather-bound spines. "Are these…first editions of Goodnight Moon and Oh the Places You’ll Go?"

"Collector's editions," Joe corrected with a sheepish shrug. "My mom used to read these to me,” Joe explained, his voice soft. “I figured…maybe I could do the same for him. Only with the fanciest versions, of course.”

"Of course,” you affirm. “You're adorable. This place is...a lot. But it's genuinely perfect Joe, you guys did an amazing job, thank you."

"You don't have to thank me, I should be thanking you. You're making us parents soon."

"I know. Being in here and seeing it finished makes it feel more real. There's gonna be an actual person using this stuff. That's insane."

He grabs your hand and leads you out of the room, "it is insane. And I can't wait. I wonder what he's gonna look like."

"I hope he looks like you, that would be so adorable. Having a tiny version of you would be a dream."

Joe chuckled, a soft, boyish sound that made your heart flutter. "You’re setting the bar pretty high for this kid," he teased, then paused, his expression turning serious for a moment. "But really, no matter what he looks like I know he'll be perfect."

The two of you stood there in the quiet of the hallway, the soft hum of the mini fridge in the nursery the only sound. For a moment, everything felt perfectly still—just the two of you, on the edge of an adventure that would change your lives forever.

You said goodbye to the last of your visitors and you turned around to Joe standing in the middle of the living room holding a notepad and a pen. "Where did you even get that, weren’t you just hugging your mom?"

"I had it on the coffee table. We’re supposed to watch the video for our prenatal class, remember?"

"Right now?" You ask, looking at your phone. It was only 9pm but it felt like at least one in the morning. You felt like Joe with his strict bedtime during the season.

He nods, already reaching for the remote. "I have big plans for us tomorrow so yeah, now is the perfect time."

"Alright, put it on." You relax into him, grabbing your blanket. "You're really gonna take notes?"

"Yeah. This is for educational purposes, I need any helpful tips I can get."

"You're sure you're gonna be able to watch and write things down? I don't want to scare you but, it might be intense."

"Babe, I get chased by grown men who want to take my head off for a living. Intense is my middle name," he places the notebook on the table and ditches the writing utensil, lazily placing his arm around you before starting the video. "You know what? I might not even take notes this time, I'll probably watch it again in my office in a few weeks when we get closer to the due date and take notes then."

You shrug, letting him do his thing. "Whatever you say, babe."

Joe's relaxed posture slowly turned a bit more tense as the video went on, the graphic image of the baby crowning was unfortunately going to be engrained in his memory for a long time. You had to stifle a laugh as his usual cool, calm, and collected demeanor cracked like a fine china plate dropped onto tile.

"Is...is that what we're gonna go through? What you're gonna go through?" His voice was shaky, as though he’d seen a ghost.

"Yup," you emphasized the ‘p’ sound. "That right there is the beauty of childbirth Joseph." You could practically feel his discomfort radiating off him.

"Oh my god." Joe muttered, his eyes wide in disbelief as he tried to mentally recover.

You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning your head against his shoulder. "You know, it’s not all that bad. It's just...well, it’s a lot. And it’s very messy.”

He blinked at the screen, still not sure how to process what he’d just witnessed. "Right, sure, a lot. Just—" He exhaled dramatically, trying to find words. "I need a drink. I don't even like alcohol. Or we should maybe just call it a night and go to sleep. I need maybe a small...break from the miracle of life."

You chuckled, wrapping yourself up in the blanket and snuggling into his side. "Welcome to parenthood, Joe. Just wait until you're actually in the room. This was just the trailer."

Joe leaned back, a hand on his forehead as he processed the visual overload. "Little man needs to stay in there a little longer. I'm not ready to watch that horror film."

After declaring that the two of you needed a break from baby stuff, you and Joe took it easy the next day, diving into a true crime marathon after he came home from his morning workout. It was the perfect distraction from all the overwhelming baby prep. But today, he was back at it—better than ever.

"Did you know that newborns don’t have kneecaps? They have cartilage where they should be. They don’t get kneecaps until later."

"Wait what?" you ask, clearly confused.

"Yeah, I read it this morning, it's crazy. He isn't gonna have knees for weeks. I could've used that trick in 2020," Joe adds nonchalantly, his tone as casual as ever as he brushes off his knee injury from years ago. The way he brings it up so easily makes you laugh.

"What else did you learn?" you ask, your curiosity piqued.

Joe glances over at you, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "I read that dads who are involved early on in caregiving—like diaper changes and feedings—bond with their babies faster and more strongly. So I’m all in on that."

"Baby?" you ask, tilting your head to the side as you look over at him.

Joe pipes up, looking away from his hospital bag, still gathering his things. "Yeah?"

"You didn't have a choice on that one. You were gonna feed him and change his diapers whether you liked it or not," you laugh and easily catch the t-shirt he tosses at you. It just happened to be your favorite one you liked to steal and it smelled just like him. That was definitely coming with you to the hospital.

You stand up from your spot on the floor, checking everything off your list. You had comfy clothes, fuzzy socks, four outfits (just in case), a phone charger, a portable charger, a water bottle and a robe which you'd never worn before but Joe insisted you bring it because what if this was the one time that you actually needed it. "What's in your bag?"

Joe opened the Nike duffel and let you take a look. "Why do you have your backup iPad in here?" you ask, a little puzzled.

"OTAs start two weeks after he's born. I need to glance through stuff and make sure I'm ready," he explains, glancing at you with a shrug.

You roll your eyes playfully. "Fine, but what are these doing in here?" You pull out his Bose noise-canceling headphones. "Are you gonna tune me out while I'm in labor?"

Joe looks at you with wide eyes, practically dropping the headphones in surprise. "What? No!" He quickly pulls out another pair, a sheepish smile on his face. "I brought some for you too, just in case you want to listen to music and, you know, maybe tune me out a little."

"You're really thinking ahead, huh?" you tease, a grin tugging at your lips.

Joe shrugs, his smile growing. "I try."

You nod, crossing your arms. "I mean, I guess we’ll see if those headphones get a workout during the labor part."

Joe gives you a playful look, his tone still light-hearted but his eyes full of genuine excitement. "I’m just saying, if you need a little escape from my endless rambling during contractions, at least you have options."

"Oh Joey, I love you."

“I love you,” he sighs, pulling you into a tight hug, feeling steady kicks against his stomach. "And I love you too, baby boy. Kid can't stand not having the attention on him," he smiles, his voice soft but filled with affection.

"Taking after his dad already?" you tease, the corners of your mouth lifting into a grin.

Joe pulls back slightly, raising an eyebrow with a mock-serious expression. "Now you know that’s just not true."

You chuckle softly, resting your head against his chest. "I guess we’ll see, huh?"

He lets you go and the two of you go through all three bags one more time before Joe announces the next task. "Are you ready for our hospital trial run?"

"I still think it's ridiculous but if it'll make you feel more comfortable then I'm in."

Joe carries all the bags down the stairs, tossing them by the door and has the stopwatch open on his phone. "Okay, here we go." He presses 'start' and grabs the keys and the bags while you stand in the kitchen, taking a sip of water as you waddle to the car.

"Babe, why are you going so slow? We're on a time crunch here."

"Well if you must know, your son is crushing all of her internal organs and grinding my hip bones together. If I walk too fast I’ll pee. And then you'll have to get me new clothes and I'll have to change. That'd be really bad for your time crunch."

He drops it immediately. "Okay you're right, take your time."

Once he helps you in the car he rushes around to the driver's side and buckles in, opening the garage door and pulling out of the driveway. You're holding the phone, watching his time as he drives carefully but efficiently, weaving through the streets like a man on a mission. "What if there's traffic that day?" You ask.

"Then I'll figure it out. I just need ballpark range how long it'll take us to get there." He checks the stopwatch again, the third time in the last five minutes.

"Joe, you don't have to treat this like you’re at the two-minute warning during the Super Bowl when you’re down one score."

His grip tightens on the steering wheel despite your words, his jaw clenching as he glances at you, "better to be safe than sorry."

You shrug, reclining in your seat to take some pressure off your back.

"You good?" He asks gently, his hand finding its way to your leg. "How’s the baby doing?" Joe asks, glancing at you between turns, a hint of concern in his voice. "Should we pull over so you can stretch?"

"No, I'm fine," you sigh, a smile tugging at your lips as you settle in more comfortably. "I could really go for some ice cream right now though."

"We'll get some on the way home," he laughs, a relieved chuckle escaping him. "Call it a reward for a successful trial run."

He pulls into the parking lot of the birth center with a sigh of relief, glancing at his phone in your hand. "13 minutes, not bad at all," he says with a sense of accomplishment.

"Yeah, that's great," you smile, a playful glint in your eyes. "I want a scoop of rocky road and a scoop of raspberry sorbet. In a bowl."

"Together?" he asks, his eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

"Yes," you reply, grinning.

Joe pulls out of the parking lot, a proud smile on his face as if he just completed an Olympic event. "Mission accomplished. Ice cream in five minutes."

A week later, Joe was going over a food list with his chef Morgan. "For quick snacks, I was thinking Greek yogurt with granola and fruit, hard-boiled eggs—she'll need the protein. Maybe some string cheese or cheese cubes, nut butter with apples or bananas. We’ll definitely need to stock up on protein bars," he lists off items, looking through the fridge and cabinets.

"What‘a going on in here?" You walk into the kitchen and spot Morgan jotting down every word Joe is saying.

Joe looks up and smiles at you but then pauses for a moment, his eyes tracking your every movement as you waddle over to the counter. He raises an eyebrow. "You alright? You're walking like you just got off a horse."

You roll your eyes playfully but feel a grin spread across your face. "Nice to see you’re paying attention."

"Seriously," Joe says, now focused on you with concern. He steps closer, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders as he watches you shuffle around. "That’s a pretty pronounced waddle. You okay?"

"Yup, just one of the perks of carrying a tiny human in there." You shrug, trying to act casual about it, but it's hard to ignore how much effort it takes to move these days.

Morgan, glancing between the two of you, stifles a laugh. "It’s the baby," he explains with a knowing look. "The weight shifts, and her body’s getting ready for the big day."

Joe doesn’t look entirely convinced. "I don’t know, babe," he says, lightly tapping your belly. "Maybe we need to get you some support or something. You shouldn’t have to waddle all over the place. Like one of those belly belt things to help take the weight off your hips.”

You smirk. "Trust me, I’ve got it covered. But thanks for noticing."

Joe looks at you, giving you a soft smile that says he’s both amused and a little concerned. "Yeah, no problem. I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable."

"Thanks, Joe," you tease, giving him a playful nudge before you turn to Morgan, who’s still scribbling on his notepad as Joe turns his away again. "So, what do you have so far?"

Morgan lists off everything he’s written, "Trail mix, chia pudding, pumpkin or sunflower seeds—"

"We never have those in the house," you note, crossing your arms. "Why now?"

"They're high in zinc and other nutrients that support lactation," Joe says simply, not looking up from the fridge.

"That's helpful but I really will probably need fruit, veggie sticks and hummus since you're interesting in me increasing my protein intake, maybe some avocado toast and smoothies too? Keep it simple, Morgan. I’ll also need the lactation cookies I sent you."

"Noted." Morgan says, catching Joe’s shake of his head as you laugh.

"Just get her whatever she wants," Joe sighs, exasperated, but with a fond smile. "I’m actually glad you brought up the cookies, Y/N, because I wanted to run something by you. Both of you, actually."

You sigh, already dreading the conversation, and the chef looks up from his list. "What’s up?"

Joe pulls out a folder from one of the kitchen drawers, showing Morgan the list of the “best” lactation cookie and energy bite recipes he could find.

"Babe," you groan, "I told you that you're overthinking the cookies. They’re just cookies."

“Lactation cookies,” he corrected, already flipping to another recipe. “These are important. They’re, like, your fuel.”

"My apologies your honor," you laugh again, "carry on."

Morgan laughs too and Joe playfully glares at him. "Yeah—yeah, laugh it up guys." He gestures toward the folder, "I highlighted the key ingredients on each recipe.”

The chef raised an eyebrow at the sheer number of recipes. “You want me to make all of these?”

You stand up and take a peak at the extensive list, "you don't have to do that Morgan, just make a few batches of chocolate chip and call it a day," you sense Joe tensing next to you and you rub his back a little, "you're doing that thing again. Where you're freaking out instead of relaxing. You need to relax," you say with a small smile, guiding him back to calm.

You take your eyes off of Joe and focus your attention back on Morgan. "Thank you for never flinching at his insane requests, but if these cookies don’t work out, you can just order some. As long as they have oats, flaxseed, and brewer’s yeast to support milk production, then I should be fine."

Morgan nods, jotting a few more things down before he leaves to head to the grocery store. Joe looks at you, his expression softening. You nod at him, offering a reassuring smile.

"Yeah, you’re not the only one who’s done their research,” you say, nodding your head as his lips twitch into a smile.

"I’m impressed.” He gives you tiny claps, the playful gesture breaking the moment of seriousness. “Speaking of research...I may have one more surprise for you."

"I don't think I can handle anymore surprises," you groan, "can you just tell me what it is?"

"I don't think you know what a surprise is," he laughs rubbing your back, "let me just show you and then I'll leave you alone for the rest of the day."

"That's a lie,” you reply flatly, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, fine. It’s definitely a lie," he admits with a sheepish grin, shrugging like he’s caught red-handed.

Joe takes you to the most unlikely place to reveal a surprise. "Joe...why are we in the bathroom?"

"This is the surprise. Do you see anything different?"

You look around, not sensing anything extremely out of place. Until you see it and tears start pooling in your eyes. "How did you—when did you do this?"

"It's just a little something I put together to make things easier for you when we're home. There's another one in the closet downstairs. I'll move it out so you have easy access when it's time." He pauses, taking a second to collect his thoughts. "I just want to make sure you’re as comfortable as you can be. I know this is going to be tough on you, and I...I want to feel like I’m helping, even if it’s in a small way."

A postpartum station, not the most glamorous gift in the world, but it was one of the most meaningful things he'd ever done for you. Imagining him sitting in his office or sitting up in bed at night doing all this research to ensure you were comfortable made you want to cry. You never thought the sight of adult diapers, nipple cream, and a portable stool could bring you to tears, but here you were, overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness behind it all.

Joe gently wipes at a tear that slips down your cheek, his expression softening as he says, ‘hey, don’t cry. I want you to have everything you need. You deserve it."

You blink back the new tears threatening to spill over, shaking your head in disbelief. ‘I can’t believe you thought of all this. Thank you, Joe.

"Pretty much," he shrugs, giving you kiss on the side of the head. "Just one more thing to check off the list."

"And what's that?"

"Bringing him home and having him here, physically with us."

You laugh, resting a hand on your lower belly, on top of Joe's hand. "Oh yeah...that one minor detail."

“Minor detail?!” Joe grins, his eyes bright with amusement. “I think that’s the main event, babe. Let’s hope I don’t need a stopwatch for that one.”

His thumb brushes over your knuckles, grounding you in the moment, “Thank you, Joe. For this…for thinking of everything. If you’re this amazing now, I can’t wait to see you as a dad.”

His expression softens, his gaze dropping to your belly as if imagining the tiny life inside. “I just want to make sure you both have everything you need,” he says quietly. He spoke with such quiet certainty that it left no room for doubt—this wasn’t just a job to him; it was everything.

The lump in your throat returns, but this time you let it linger, because this—his quiet devotion, his unwavering effort—is why you fell in love with him. “You’re already doing it,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “And you’re doing it perfectly.”

Joe smiles, brushing a kiss to your temple. “Good. Now let’s get through the rest of this list before he gets here and turns everything upside down.”

Your laugh echoes through the bathroom, the two of you standing there in the glow of anticipation, knowing your lives were about to change in the most beautiful way.

[wandascosmic]

Would you write something where Wanda and reader just have like a slow morning. They don’t have anywhere to be and reader just wakes up to see Wanda staring at her and it’s just so sweet. Feel free to add your own ideas too!

slow mornings (request)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: in which you have your first day off in a year, and you and your wife decide to spend it in the best way possible.

word count: 733

tags: unedited, fluff, meet-cute, business major history, domestic wanda and reader, soft wanda and reader, slow mornings with our favorite couple, wanda has a staring problem

Wanda must have looked crazy, staring at you, her wife, for the past 20 minutes. Just watching your chest rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic state as you slept peacefully. Devoid of all the stress that usually plagued your face at your high-stakes job working as a company’s CEO. 

Wanda never wanted to leave, she felt completely content, having been married to you for the past five years, she never wanted it to end. 

Watching your expression, she reflected on your relationship’s history. 

You had met Wanda fresh out of college, during the first week of the master’s program you two had both been accepted to, one of the most competitive in the country.

Wanda was focusing more on the management portion, while you were learning more analysis topics. 

Sprinting as fast as you could to your most important class which you were unfortunately already late for since the bus got delayed, you accidentally bumped into a redhead on your way, dropping both your books and hers in the process. 

Widening your eyes, you ran back towards the figure. “Oh, my god! I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to do that. I’m just stressed and–” 

The figure gave you a reassuring smile, causing every word that wanted to come out to die in your throat. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice silky smooth as she handed you your books back. “I’m Wanda.” 

Nodding, you wordlessly took your books back, confused as the figure gave you an expectant look. “Um, oh! I’m Y/N. Studying business analysis.” You held out your hand for her to shake. 

“Nice to meet you,” Wanda responded. “Business Administration.”

“Wow, that’s– wow.” You acknowledged, seeing as that was the best program your school had to offer. Should you even be talking to her?

Wanda laughed. “It’s nothing. My greatest accomplishment is my coffee job on the side, with my twin brother. Want one?” 

“Um– what?” you asked.

“A coffee,” Wanda smiled. “Have you heard of Sokovian Sweets? Down the street?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah, I love them. They have the best hot chocolate,” you said in recognition. 

“Thanks,” Wanda nodded. “Pietro’s working the shop today, come on!” 

Wanda grabbed your hand and began to lead you in the direction of her and her brother’s store. 

“Um I really shouldn’t–” you protest. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be worth it!” Wanda reassured, never letting go of your hand. 

And it all was, because 4 years later, she became your wife. 

Wanda smiles as you begin to stir, slowly coming to your senses. 

With your eyes still closed, you reach towards your wife, grabbing her hand and squeezing it tightly. 

“You know, it’s rude to stare,” you say, feeling a pair of green eyes watching you. 

“Can’t help it,” Wanda shrugs. “It’s called appreciating your wonderful wife.” 

Turning over to face your wife, you slowly open your eyes and greet her with a smile. “Hi,” you say softly. 

“Hey,” she responds gently, giving you a kiss on your forehead. 

“How long have you been awake?” you ask, moving to rest your head in the crook of Wanda’s neck, to which she immediately responds with her arm around your waist. 

“Not long, I spent most of it admiring you.” 

“You know, 5 years of marriage and I don’t think you’ve ever lost your ability to flirt with me in new ways every morning.” 

“It comes pretty easy when you’ve got a pretty wife in bed next to you,” Wanda responds.

You hum, closing your eyes as you feel yourself relax in Wanda’s arms. “What are we doing today?” you ask. 

“Well, Pietro wants me to drop off some cookies at the coffee shop later today, but we don’t have to, I can just get Sam to pick them up since I made them last night.” 

You laugh. “Oh, yeah, forgot Sam owes you for nearly burning down your kitchen last month.” 

Wanda groans. “How can someone mess up French onion soup that bad! He burned the broth somehow!”

 You kiss Wanda’s cheek. “Let Sam know, I have my first day off all year and I want to spend every minute of it with you.” You wrap your arms around Wanda’s waist and snuggle into her chest, dozing off once more. 

“You got it,” Wanda agrees, kissing the top of your head before texting Sam, and going back to sleep alongside her wife.

[gucciwins]

Harry is in awe of his girlfriend

A/N: something short and sweet while I work on other stories.

+

Y/N loved her students. 

It was obvious by all the care she put into her classroom. She got help every year to set it up with a new theme. The motivational posters, the reading chart decorated with her student’s doodles. Every detail in her room tells a story. It’s her second year, but Y/N knows it is something she wanted to do. The impact she is making may not be seen now, but years down the line they’ll see it started during their time in school.

Y/N was in charge of planting the seed, she knew she didn’t always get to see the flower flourish. 

This week, Y/N had students invite parents to read the children a book of their choice. Y/N had many parents come, it allowed for the student to show off their parent during this time. It reminded her of when her dad made time out of his busy schedule to come in for her. 

Today, Harry was coming in to support his niece as he loved being involved. He was eager too because Harry knew Isabela was in her class. Of course, there was no special treatment but Isabela did get to enjoy lunch with her some days.

Harry got here early, and entered the classroom quietly as to not disturb the class but Y/N noticed him. He took a seat at her back table knowing he’d have to wait until they were home to have all her undivided attention. 

“My friends, you’re all doing great. I know math is not our favorite but I appreciate the volunteers that wanted to come up. You can always come to me during for support. ” Y/N knows what it was like to be anxious in class not knowing if it was okay to ask for extra help. She goes over a few math problems, allowing the students to asks questions. 

From the back of the room, Harry sees how Y/N manages to make every student feel seen and heard. Not once does she raise her voice to get their attention, the class stays focused on her every word and Harry is in awe. He always knew Y/N was good at her job but seeing it in person was something different. 

Y/N had always been a kind soul, he knew that from the moment he met her. Yet in the classroom it seemed as if she only became more open, softer he’d like to say. 

People go in look of their true calling, some find it in dancing or art sometimes never at all but he can say that Y/N found her gift in people. More specifically students. She was helping our future genteration grow and that is something he will always be proud of. Harry decides to text her to share all the joy he’s feeling seeing Y/N flutter around teaching her students. 

Harry 

You are so pretty. 

Your room feels safe and comforting. 

You are amazing. I’m in awe of you. 

I love you.

Harry knows she won’t see it until lunch time and he’s okay with that for now he’ll remain admiring his girlfriend. 

“Now, I’ve got a special guest here today,” Y/N gestures to Harry to stand and make his way next to her. He does so while giving Isabela a small wave. “This is Mr. Styles.” 

“Hi Mr. Styles,” the class greets in unison. 

“Hello, thank you for welcoming me into your class. I’m Isabela’s uncle.”

Isabela cheers, rushing over to give her uncle a hug after Y/N gives her the okay. “Now friends, let’s remember to be respectful to Mr. Styles. While he gets settled in, why don’t we sit criss cross applesauce on the carpet.” 

The children begin to file in, careful not to push each other making sure they sit next to their friends. While Harry reads the title of the bookY/N walks over to her desk. She checks the time on her phone when she catches a glimpse of Harry’s text. Y/N turns her head to see if he’s watching her but finds him deep into the story, using a new voice for each character. The students are hanging on to his every word. Y/N knew Harry was happy to be here to support her. She felt the outpouring of his love from the moment he walked in. 

Yeah, Y/N was lucky to have him.

+

this was the inspiration behind the story

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 14

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, smut eluded to briefly, mentions of typical BAU type stuff. If any of y’all are my ao3 ppl, bless you & thank you for all the extra comments & chatting about this story! I absolutely love hearing all your thoughts/opinions/what you think is gonna happen. Like, yes please, send me your full book reports! Everybody gets an A++

After last chapter; for anyone who might want to look into more Heather Dunbar, all her works can be found here

Your eyes twitched, daring to open long before you wanted them to and you stifled a yawn, shifting slightly in the bed. As your senses came to you could feel Heather���s arm very loosely thrown over your waist, though it wasn’t an act of intimacy and definitely wasn’t cuddling. You’d accidentally fallen asleep in her bed the night prior before she could even bring you a bottle of water, exhausted from the heat and sun and thoroughly fucked. She stayed up for another couple of hours before turning in herself and sometime during her sleep had rolled over closer to you, her hand flopping across your hip.

The chirping out the window became too much and you knew you weren’t going to get anymore sleep, no matter how hard you tried. Your eyes cracked open, looking at the clock on the nightstand, at least it was already past nine, you’d gotten a little bit of a sleep in. Tossing Heather’s arm off you, you groaned softly as you sat up, stretching out your body and rolling your neck, a couple of joints cracking as you did so.

“Why the hell are you up?” She grumbled, burying her face into the pillow.

“Our flight’s at noon.” You yawned, “I’ve got to start packing.”

“I own the fucking plane. We take off when I say we take off.”

“Check out is also at noon.” You chuckled, swatting at her hip as you stood from the bed, beginning to collect your clothes that were scattered across the floor.

“You really think I didn’t already pay them off for a three p.m. checkout?” She finally opened her eyes, rubbing at them as she looked up at you and you laughed softly again.

“Then sleep. I need to shower and pack and probably get a few things ready for the week, we were so focused on the retreat I know I must’ve been missing a few things back home.” You crossed through the open door back to your room.

“God.” She huffed, dropping onto her back into the pillows as she picked up her phone, “it better not be fucking snowing back home.”

“Heather please, it barely snows in D.C.” You laughed as you hastily folded the clothes in your hands, dropping them into your open suitcase as you glanced around the room. “Hey, is Rob still off on Sundays?”

“Yeah.” She called back, “he said something about wanting to make a late dinner tonight.”

“You think you can ask him to meet us at the jet?”

“Why?” She sat up, holding the bedsheet to her chest as concern took over her face, knowing just how much a week of travel and this amount of sun exposure could affect you, “are you feeling sick? I need you for that merger meeting.”

“I’m fine.” You cast a look over your shoulder as you wrapped a towel around you, “I’ve just got a date with Prentiss on Wednesday.”

“Sweetheart, you’re in the clear.” She assured and it was your turn to chuckle.

“Heat… how many people are you currently fucking?”

“In D.C?” She asked and you nodded, “three not including Rob. But you know I don’t let them fuck me and I don’t share toys.”

“Not the point. It was in the contract I signed and Rob is far faster and more convenient than me taking time off my precious and very important job to see my gyno.”

“I will call him and tell him what time to meet us.”

“Thank you.” You shot her a smile, digging through your suitcase for classy yet comfortable clothes for the plane ride home.

“If you’re going to all that effort you may as well come back in here for one last round.”

“Go back to sleep Heather!” You called back, disappearing from the doorway and Heather heard the shower starting a moment later, letting out a sigh as she dropped back into the bedsheets.

**

Emily could not wait a second longer to get out of this hell hole and back home, preferably without a stop at the BAU first. Every case was teetering the line on rough, things that no normal human would be okay with witnessing or being around and this one was no different. This time there was the added affect that no matter how hard the team tried, they were always a second too late, never finding a living victim, an hour behind the unsub every step of the way until they’d finally baited him into it. Not only was she exhausted and not looking forward to the amount of paperwork that was going to come across her desk because of this week, but she really didn’t want to get the lecture she knew was coming from Bailey.

She stashed her bag into one of the cupboards, retreating to the back of the jet to drop down into the corner seat, letting out a weary sigh as she ran a hand over her face, pinching at the bridge of her nose. She just needed to get home and she would be able to handle this. Thankfully no one else really wanted to socialize either, finding more private spots on the jet, curling up in seats and couches until the plane was at cruising altitude and most everyone was asleep. She dozed off a bit herself, thankful for the rest though she wished it was more when she stirred in her seat, eyes cracking open to find they were still another few hours from Washington.

A fresh mug of steaming and very welcomed coffee found itself on the table in front of her as Tara hovered in the aisle beside the quad of seats.

“You okay?” She asked gently.

“Yeah.” Emily replied with a huff, picking up the mug, “that just… fucking sucked.”

“Man it really did.” The other woman groaned, dropping into the seat across from her, “but remember…we got him.” Her hand reached out, squeezing at her knee, “he won’t hurt anyone else.”

“I just really wish we’d clued in earlier, could’ve saved a lot of people a hell of a lot of hurt.”

“I know.” Tara replied, “so do I.” With another squeeze of her knee she settled back into her chair, taking a sip of her coffee, “we’ll do better next time.”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Thanks, for the extra days off by the way.” Tara commented, noting that while they were heading home on a Sunday that Emily had made the call the BAU wouldn’t be functioning until Wednesday.

“You guys need it.” She sighed, “after a case like this, everyone needs time to disassociate and pretend like there’s nothing wrong in the world.” Her gaze drifted out the window, “JJ needs to see her family, spend time with them, hug them so tight it’s like she’ll never let them go. You better be going to see Rebecca; remember why we do what we do to keep the world safe….”

“And what about you?” She asked after a quiet moment, watching the way Emily’s face twitched as she stared out the window a moment longer before turning back to her and waving her off.

“I’ll be fine. I’ve been doing this a long time.”

“I know you have, and I’m not profiling, I’m doctor-ing, so you can’t lecture me.” Tara leant in on the table between them, “deny it all you want, but you have someone right now who means something in your life. It could be a new friend and that’s it, but it also could be something more and I don’t need to know any details right now, but I want to make sure you’re not just going home alone to a bottle of wine tonight.”

Emily huffed, taking another sip of coffee, “she was out of town this week, I’m not even sure when she’s back.”

“Hey…” Tara’s hand slid across the table, squeezing at her own, “whatever change you’ve made recently? It’s been a good one. You’ve been happier, more energetic, getting out of work on time and spending your weekends actually doing something. I haven’t seen you do anything other than work since we came back, so call her please… for me?”

“I’ll think about it, but I’m not making promises. I’ve got a mountain of paperwork and god knows Bailey’s gonna be blowing up my phone once he hears about the case.” She sighed,  though her lips curved up into a soft smile and Tara relaxed into the seat across from her, giving her a knowing look before Emily’s gaze drifted out the window again.

**

Once home you began the usual post travel routine, make sure to immediately unpack, dumping clothing directly into the laundry and setting aside those that needed to go to the dry cleaners. You sorted through your work bag, filing everything correctly, stashing half away in your home office and packing the rest back up to have on the go. A quick clean out of the fridge, tossing anything that had unfortunately gone bad over the course of the week before putting in a grocery order and deciding to rely on take out for dinner. Finally, it was time for a luxurious everything shower. It didn’t matter how expensive or fancy the resort was, you always preferred your own shower, the water pressure and temperature was perfect, you had all of your own skin and hair products and didn’t have to worry about taking too much time or how many other people’s feet had touched the tub.

You wandered back downstairs just in time for your dinner to arrive, making sure to leave a hefty tip for the driver as it was much later than you’d normally order and the weather was starting to turn. Not even waiting to fully unbox everything you dug a fork into the chow mein, your stomach growling heavily already, stuffing a few forkfuls into your mouth. When you turned to grab a bottle of wine your eyes landed on the practically overflowing recycle bin and glancing over to the calendar you let out a groan, it was getting picked up in the morning, but only if it was in the alley.

With an annoyed sigh, you grabbed a sweater, shoved on a pair of slip-ons and grabbed the bin to trek through the yard and dump in the appropriate place. Back inside you locked the door behind you, a shiver moving through you at the chilly air lingering in your kitchen as you washed your hands and finally poured out a glass of wine. A sip of that and another mouthful of noodles and there was a knocking coming from the front door. A quick glance to your phone confirmed you hadn’t missed anything so you padded over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open to find Emily on the other side.

“Hey.”

Your voice broke her out of her trance of worry, fully registering that she actually had shown up at your door in practically the middle of the night. Her eyes flicked over your form, her shoulders relaxing at just how cozy and at peace you looked, leggings and loose sweater, your hair still damp and messily braided to keep it out of the way while your face was bare of any make up.

“Hey.” Emily replied, mimicking your soft smile. Her ears picked up the sound of laundry going in the distance and she spotted your work bag sitting right inside the entry, eyes flicking up to the kitchen to your barely touched take out and she suddenly put it together, wincing, “oh shit! I’m so sorry, you just got back.” She couldn’t help it, glancing over her shoulder as if it would be a better idea to retreat to her car, “this is outta line, I should’ve called. I just… man today really fucking sucked…”

You practically snorted at the out of line phrase, your hand reaching out to pinch at her elbow, waving her into your home, “it’s fine, come on in.”

You lead her into the kitchen, urging her to take a seat at the island as you stripped off the sweater, now back in the warmth of the house. “Wine?” You asked, opening the cupboard, “or something stronger?”

“Something stronger, please.” She grumbled, running a hand over her face. She glanced up at the sound of you sliding a tumbler of bourbon over to her and her eyes landed on the cotton ball stuck to the inside of your arm, “are you okay?”

“Hmm?” You asked, looking over your shoulder to her as you stashed the bottle back in the cupboard and she gestured to your arm. “Oh,” you let out a small huff of a laugh, ripping the band aid off and tossing both into the garbage, “yeah, just had some blood taken.” You slid back onto your stool, picking up the carton of noodles and gesturing to the others, “you hungry?”

“No, thank you.” She let out a weary sigh, taking a long drink of her booze.

“Emily… are you okay?”

She glanced up at you, her eyes flitting between your oh so cozy aura, the barely touched food, prime wine that you were trying to enjoy and she let out a huff, nearly pushing back from the island. “god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have just shown up like this.”

You managed to catch her hand before she had managed to actually push her stool back, “Em… I said it was fine.” You squeezed gently, urging her to sit back down and she did.

“It’s just.. I’m not exactly.. uh.. up to my normal caliber and definitely not in the headspace for our normal activities…” She nearly avoided your gaze and you let out a soft laugh.

“And that’s perfectly fine.” You reassured her, nudging her glass closer toward her, “compensation doesn’t always have to be sexual. There’s an entire other dynamic to it, companionship means support too. Contrary to what you may think, I do actually enjoy spending time with you and that will always include outside the bedroom.”

She let out a deep breath, “my brain is still trying to sort out the whole sugar baby situation and I think I’m just overcomplicating things. I kind of figured it was a sex for money but make it…morally legal.” She nearly laughed at her own words, pulling a small grin from you.

“There are plenty of sugar baby relationships that don’t even involve sex. Some people are just lonely, or scared of doing things by themselves so they have someone go with them to lunch, movies, opera, the theatre. Hell I’ve heard of a few old married couples where the wife has a passion for arts and the husband would much rather sit at home with the game on, if he doesn’t have to suffer through it himself, he has absolutely no qualms with a much younger man escorting his wife.”

“So I really am overthinking things?” She asked, looking back up to you with a soft smile and you chuckled.

“Yeah.”

“I still feel bad about intruding on your evening.”

“It’s not like I had much planned.” You shrugged, “now c’mon, help yourself to food, I’m definitely not going to finish it all.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Em..” you warned, “when was the last time you ate? Truthfully.”

“Before we got on the jet.” She winced and you cast her a glare.

“We’ve got noodles, rice, beef and broccoli or ginger chicken.” You pushed the containers toward her, “help yourself.”

She picked up a fork and the container of rice, taking a couple of bites while a comfortable silence took over the room and she was finally able to relax a bit. It was then that she started to realize more of the meaning behind your words, and why she was so drawn to showing up at your house in the first place (and why Tara had been so insistent on it). If she had just gone home she would likely be pouring over case files and attempting to get as much paperwork done as possible to get ahead before Bailey got into things with her. Sleep wouldn’t have been an option until it was all done, she definitely wouldn’t have eaten and a bottle of wine would have been her best friend. Instead being inside your kitchen felt warm, welcoming, simply having another human in the same room made her remember that there was so much else to life than just work. Things didn’t have to be so dreary and boring all the time.

“How was Florida?” She asked after a few moments.

“It was decent.” You shrugged, “secured a good amount of supporters, got some up and comers onto our ideas, reminded myself I’m not actually terrible at tennis and managed to only have my ass grabbed four times while congressmen tried to teach me how to golf.”

“Ew.” Her nose crinkled and you laughed, “I hope this doesn’t sound bad, but do you… have to like, play dumb a lot around them?”

“Oh no, I actually am completely horrible at golf. And you only get one chance to truly play dumb around them before they realize how much potential you could or do have and only certain ones feed into the dumb, some see right through it.”

“So you’ve got to know how to read them even quicker?”

“Yup.” You took a sip of your wine, “Heather always said it’s best to slide in with a hint of sensuality, let that be the bait and you have a matter of minutes to figure out whether you’re going low or high status to get them wrapped around your finger. The guys, it was go low. Do I have a very successful career with one of the highest ranked Senators in the country? Of course, but that completely slips their minds on a retreat like that when I’m wearing a cute outfit serving them drinks filling the role of cart girl.”

“Huh.” She replied, digging through the container before taking another bite and silence took over the room again. Though this time there was something lingering in the air and after a few minutes you chose to speak up.

“I take it your week wasn’t as good?”

Emily let out a heavy breath, “just a really bad case. I don’t want to drag you down with details but it was one of the worst we’ve seen in a while and in the end we barely caught the guy.”

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it? I promise I can handle the gory details; Tony never holds back; I actually think he over exaggerates to make himself sound cooler…”

“Tony?” Her brow furrowed.

“Agent friend.” You replied with a shrug.

“Ah,” she poked around at the rice again, “and no, but thanks. I think I just really didn’t want to be alone tonight.”

“Alright.” You cast her a warm smile, closing the lid on your take out as you stood from the island. You were full and Emily had done nothing but play with her food for a while now, you were sure she wasn’t going to eat anything else. “How about we take the bottle of wine upstairs then?”

“Oh, but I—” she stumbled over her words and you laughed softly, reaching out to squeeze her shoulder.

“I’m not going to pounce on you, don’t worry. The tv in the bedroom’s nicer and it’s getting late, may as well fall asleep in the bed rather than have to drag ourselves from the couch later.”

She let out an awkward laugh, closing the rice container and sliding it over to you, “oh, right.”

You looked back at her, reaching your hand out as she slipped off her stool, “C’mere.” Tugging her to you she let out a little ‘oop’ as your arms wound around her, wrapping her into a tight hug. A wave of relief crashed over you as she let out a content sigh, relaxing into the embrace and the tension in her shoulders finally began to drip away. You pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, squeezing at her once more before gently pulling away.

“Thank you.” She murmured softly, giving you a tired smile.

“Anytime.” Your hand trailed down her arm, curling around hers as you turned to the staircase, “now come on, you need some good cuddles and sleep, number one recommendation from doctors after a rough week.”

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch @dowsedwithbleach @divergentalwaysandforever-blog

[darcytaylor]

Are people mad that Luke Newton has a girlfriend? Or is it something more? A deep dive. Part 2 of 3.

In my previous blog I talked about the mistakes that Luke has made with his relationship and why fans cannot, will not, do not want to like his girlfriend. (Do you guys see what I did there?) - Most people wouldn’t care if he had a girlfriend (or they wouldn’t even know) if he didn’t make a few mistakes along the way.

Mistakes previously stated in last blog:  

Making dating life public. Befriending Antonia on Instagram. Always saying he was most like his character. His friends. Social media presence.

Now onto Part 2:

Luke should have been more active when it came to booking new jobs. He seemed to take the summer off before the Bridgerton press tour. While it does make sense that he wanted some time off before he was going on a months long press tour. He floundered in opportunities. 

I can’t say for sure if he was sending in tapes and auditioning for anything. Maybe he was and he just never booked anything. But it seemed like all he was concerned about was hanging out with friends and spending time on boats. 

I do get that he had just gotten out of a long term relationship and everybody takes that different ways. Breakups are hard and take time to get over. His way was to completely change everything about himself (and yes some of that had to do with getting into character) - from body to personality. 

(Personally I prefer when he had a bit more weight to him, he lost all of his ass!) - He was too focused on working his biceps than his glutes. 

So now because he doesn’t have jobs booked and the only time he does go do something (LA and Paris), he brings Antonia. This is another mistake! It seems like he just wants to take trips with her and not actually put in the work. Fans don’t want to see his dates, they want to see his talent. 

I think everybody and their mothers have had enough of Soho Farmhouse. 

All of the outrage could have been avoided if he had just kept everything secret from the beginning or avoided some of the key mistakes that were stated in Blog one. He should have reigned in Antonia and gotten her to stop posting about said trips/dates. People already hated them together and he was apparently content on digging himself even deeper. 

Which brings on the InStyle stunt that happened in LA (this was a cluster fuck mistake). People knew that they were together in LA. That would have been fine if Antonia didn’t then post the pictures on social media. It’s one thing to speculate, it’s another to have concrete evidence. 

It’s okay to not let people know everything. It’s okay to keep those memories to yourself. It’s okay to post these pictures (that they knew people would be mad about) on a private account. 

It’s like Luke thought that since people were already mad, it couldn’t possibly get any worse. He was wrong!

They were posted out of spite, that’s the only logical reasoning why the InStyle pictures happened. Antonia doesn’t have the comments turned on, if she was a kind person, she would delete them, like what is the point of them now? But both of them wanted to make their relationship known, they have wanted to announce their relationship for a long time and they weren't allowed.

The next thing that is completely insane is telling people in interviews how he was young and naive in his early 20s in interviews. This one is a huge mistake and a mistake that I’m not even sure Luke has picked up on. During those interviews people already knew about Antonia, and one of the issues people have, is her age. 

It seems like Luke may in fact still be naive. Because the lack of judgement to even say those words out loud is astonishing!

I think Luke has forgotten how to cater to his fans, which in turn has made them question everything about his decisions - which includes who he is dating. 

Because of the MULTIPLE mistakes and actions at every turn,  people will never accept Antonia/they weren’t ready to accept her yet. He has made her look like a ‘mean girl’, with no job, flaunting her not-so-secret relationship. 

(It sounds mean but it is what it is)

Ultimately the fans were not ready, they weren’t ready for him to go date a much younger girl. They weren’t ready for him to completely go 180 from his character of Colin. 

He should have taken a step back after New Years. He saw the backlash and should have stopped and thought about what he wanted to put out into the world/how he wanted to be perceived. Instead he went head strong into it and now I can’t see him ever being able to make Antonia a fan favourite. 

It’s like the Harry Styles and Olivia Wilde situation. People hated that relationship because of how it started out. They were never able to get the fans on board, all hope was lost when it came to that. 

But his next relationship with Taylor Russell, people loved. Because it had a good foundation. It didn't have the drama. It was brought out with care.

Luke and Antonia’s foundation to the public is non-existent. The foundation literally exploded and they kept on laying bombs. 

I don’t think people are ultimately mad that Luke has a girlfriend. I don’t even think they are mad because it’s not Nicola. They are mad because of the ongoing cluster fuck of actions that were made. 

If you have again made it this far, thank you so much for reading!

I could probably make a part 3! Hahah 

I do want to say that this isn't a hate blog on Luke. I think that he can be redeemable in the eyes of the fans he has lost today (because he has lost some fans). But all of his actions up until this point in regards to his relationship have been wild! It's just mistake after mistake after mistake.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

hello love! can i make a request for gaz x f!reader she a civilian and a florist and he keeps visiting her and they slowly fall for each other and he calls her his sunflower or something cute like that? you can make up the rest, sorry if it’s not super detailed!

Gossamer Silk Smiles

Pairing: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Florist!Reader

Synopsis: You loved your job more than anything, and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. You were focused; self-assured... Until he showed up. 

Word Count: 6.1k

Warnings: Insane amount of fluff, this is the definition of a soft fic, beginning of a relationship

A/N: I know this man would treat me right. Also changed the nickname around a bit, but sunflowers are still prominent. Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

When you opened your flower shop, you told yourself there was no going back – no distractions or second options. This was what you loved more than anything and at the end of the day, even with pricked fingers and cramped muscles, you went to bed happy. It had all been going well, insanely well. 

Until he showed up. 

It had been a shitty day, one for the record books, in your opinion. Shipments for Larkspur, Zinnias, and Sunflowers had come to the shop damaged. The boxes had been so beaten up you half-believed the mail carrier had gotten into a personal disagreement with them. All initial humor aside, you were now out of this week's product as well as a good chunk of money – the flowers couldn’t even be considered that anymore, seeing as they were really just broken stems and stray crumpled pedals. Then came the unusual amount of rude customers and the building of minor inconveniences. 

But to your credit, you didn’t let it get to you. 

Well…externally, at least. 

“Have a great rest of your day,” you force out with a strained smile to an older woman who only huffs. She stalks out of the shop with a vase full of Daylilies, Purple Cornflowers, Yarrow, and Taro leaves. “I hope your brother gets well soon–” The glass door shuts with a clatter of the small silver bell attached to the frame. 

Leaning back on your heels, your eyes close; taking down a deep breath, you hope your lungs won't explode in your chest as you hold it there. 

“Fucking hell.” The air flies from you in a weak groan. 

Your fingers tap against the countertop, and a small, humorless, chuckle later you’re walking out to change the window sign to closed instead of open. It was well past your usual shift anyways, but the previous customer had been relentless about the ‘perfect bouquet.’

“Like there’s even such a thing,” your lips twist into an annoyed frown as you speak to yourself in a grumble. “...Should have just denied her service… Didn’t even leave a tip.” 

You really wouldn’t have minded helping her that much if she had just been kinder towards you.

Grabbing the small paper sign held up by a suction-cup hook, you flip it around with little thought, already trying to plan out a way to make up for the weeks worth of ruined product. You don’t even notice the man speeding down the sidewalk until his desperate face is staring right into yours – only separated by a thin piece of glass. 

Yelping, your shoulders tense at the sudden visage. 

The man was around your age, tall, and had a handsome face inlaid with eyes reminiscent of deep amber. Light reflected off the iris in ways you can only describe as the glinting sun does off waves of water; gentle. Nearly soft, really. He was wearing a ball cap with an embroidered British flag on the front and had a panicked look set on his lips. 

Close to the door handle, his long fingers freeze mid-air and you find the prominent muscular build and set of his shoulders staining the back of your eyelids like a movie screen. Whoever this guy was, it didn’t stray from the fact that he was attractive.

You’re not happy about it, but your mind blanks as you stare with wide eyes; heart steady in your breast. 

He blinks at you, square jaw loose, also double-taking from beyond the see-through barrier. His flickering eyes flew quickly over your form just as you had ogled him moments prior. 

Silly, perhaps, and childish at best, but you felt your throat tighten with stilled breath. There was a small chunk of time that you both just gawked at each other – as if Cupid had suddenly stabbed you both with one of his blots; gazes inexplicably locked as blood dripped to the floor from copper arrowheads.

If you were more gullible, you would have called it love at first sight. But you were anything but that. 

Sighing, you rip your eyes away and take a breath. Opening the door with more questions than answers, you were praying that it didn’t get dark before you could help this man with whatever it is that he needed. 

I can see the fucking veins on his forearms. You think as the chilled air hits your face,  recalling the peek you sent to the rolled-up sleeves of this stranger’s blue button-down. 

The bell above you dings as you set the door in the crook of your shoulder, leaning out halfway. Clearing your throat, you ask steadily, “Can I help you, Sir…?” 

He sets his stubbled jaw, vision snapping to the side for a split second that was so fast you almost missed it. 

“Erm…my apologies, Ma’am, for rushing up like that.” He lets off a chuckle, and the flag on his hat is quickly explained away by the prominent accent. “Hope I didn’t worry you.” 

Fighting the uptick of your lips you feel your chest let go of a sliver of tension. He was smiling slightly at you, the khaki pants he wears creasing as his feet set themselves; his brown eyes never leave your face. 

Respectful, you think.

“Not every day you have people trying to barge into a flower shop. Trust me, Sir, I sleep well knowing no one wants to rob me.” Attempting a light joke, the stranger's chest jerks in a silky laugh. The tips of your ears heat, the blood under your skin rushing. 

His laugh was like a blanket during a storm; a cup of hot chocolate during a blizzard. Could you be attracted to a laugh? You seemed to ask yourself. Already your mind was coming up blank at this, all of a sudden, welcome intrusion. 

“Well, I’d imagine that’s a good thing, then?” He teases showing off pearly white teeth.

“Incredibly.” Opening the door wider, you beam. “You’re lucky I was still here. I’d normally be all locked up by now.”

You should be closing – telling this stranger to leave and come back tomorrow – but something inside of you told you to just open the door. It was illogical, unprofessional, and downright strenuous on your already foul mood…but this individual had such an air to him that you wondered who exactly he was. He made your skin pule with goosebumps.

“Thanks,” the man utters as he slips inside, nodding his head to you and fixing the position of his hat with one hand. “Yeah…I’m incredibly sorry about this but I’m runnin’ on a bit of a time crunch, to be honest with you. I’ve been checking every shop in town – you’re the only one with the lights still on…” He looks to you, “I really hope I’m not causing any trouble for you, Ma’am.”

Slipping your fingers into your work apron’s pockets, you let the door shut and tilt your head to the side, gaze softening at the pure candor of his words. 

“Emergency flower orders are always my favorites to work on. It’s no problem, really.” You say your name as an introduction and ask what he would like to purchase as he scratches at the back of his neck with a boyish twist to his lips. 

“Kyle Garrick.” He sticks out his hand and you shake it instantly. Kyle’s hands are warm despite the cold weather outside, and you have to stop yourself from melting into him as you pull back. But already your skin tingles. “Actually, I was wondering if you might be able to help me on that front. What flowers would be the best for an apology?…just not something too flashy, if that’s possible.” 

He trails with an awkward chuff, obviously not used to being in a flower shop before. You wondered if he even had a favorite flower. You hoped he did.

You could really tell a lot about someone based on the types of flora they surrounded themselves with.

“Apology?” You wonder, tilting your head. Quickly falling into work mode, you continue, “I can work with that. Do you have any preferences? Colors?”

“Well, she likes orange, yeah?” He speaks and your heart sputters for a moment. Smile freezing. “I don’t suppose that’ll help very much, but it’s really all I have to go off of. I’m a bit of a hopeless bastard when it comes to flowers.” Kyle lets off a huff of laughter.

She. Of course, he’s already in a relationship. 

Nodding, you swiftly walk past the man, catching the scent of fresh-tilled earth and rainy grass as your shoulders nearly brush. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed. It wasn’t every day you found yourself attracted to someone. But, oh well, life continues on.

“Well,” heading towards the wall baskets, your body feels heavy, but you quickly force it to the side. You really shouldn’t be surprised. “You said orange? I have about seven you can pick from.”

“Affirmiti–erm, yes, Ma’am.”  

“Hm.” You hear him come up behind you, following at a respectful distance. Throwing a glance over your shoulder, you watch as his eyes slide over the various types of flowers, all separated by color, with deep thought. 

A slight furrow was in his dark brow. His dedication was adorable. 

“What’s this one called?” Kyle asks, moving around you to a bushel of orange poppies and accidentally bumping into your side. 

Grunting, you lightly jerk forward until a hand swiftly grabs your shoulder. Eyelashes fluttering, you look up with shock at the embarrassed face slightly leaning over you. 

“Shit, I’m sorry. That’s my bad.” 

“N-no, you’re fine.” God, this was so awkward. Smiling shakily, you feel the press of his hand over your skin, separated only by the thin barrier of your shirt. Kyle squeezes your flesh before letting go. 

He was staring at you, though. Brown eyes set into dark skin with a soft expression like Pygmalion staring at his marble-wrought Galatea. But as quickly as it was there, the look was gone and the man was clearing his throat, snapping his neck back to the basket and shifting his feet.

Even if you couldn’t explicitly see it, you knew he was blushing – just the same as the heat in your capillaries mirrored. Swallowing to get rid of the dryness of your throat, you realize you’ve been gawking before sliding your hands into your pockets and quickly looking away. 

Why won’t my heart stop beating so fast?

“Those are Orange Poppies. Papaver orientale.” Speaking, you reach forward and grab the stem of a single bloom holding it to him as he gazes down at you from your side. “Common in ‘get well soon’ bouquets, if you were curious.” 

Holding it up to him, you watch his fingers delicately pluck it from you like the flower was made of glass. It nearly made you laugh, but you settled on a small smile instead. 

“It’s pretty…” Kyle pauses, and you read it well enough.

“...But not what you were looking for.” Settling on the answer, you giggle when he passes off a sheepish smile and a nod. “I kind of guessed. Here – how about this.” 

He ends up buying a handful of orange Tulips, Myrtle leaf for greenery, and a small gathering of Baby’s-Breath. Behind the counter, you try to stay focused on setting the flora perfectly in the clear vase as your clippers lay beside it. Frowning, you take the long stem of a Tulip and snip the end at an angle, placing it to the far left of the rest with a concentrated set of your eyebrows. 

“So,” Kyle says, breaking the silence, and your fingers twitch as your spell is shattered. Soul stilling, you look up at him as he waits on the other side of the counter with his arms comfortably crossed. He leans back on his heels, feet shoulder-length apart. “Busy day today, then? Other places around here are mostly dark by five.”

Standing straighter, you politely smile before going back to the arrangement, hand reaching for the small white tufts of Baby’s-Breath.

“Mostly, yeah.” You cock your head to the side, “I was supposed to be home two hours ago, but one lady was very adamant about getting the most ‘perfect’ flowers, as she told it.” 

Chuckling humorlessly, you step back and stare at the vase, not aware of the eyes stuck on the tired slump of your shoulders or the slight frown staining the man’s lips. 

“Two hours? Well, that’s a bit excessive.” Kyle remarks, eyelids creasing, “I’d hope she at least left a tip for you?” 

That gets a laugh out of you, lungs jerking for a moment; focus once more brought back to the present at the preposterous words that just left your customer’s mouth. Those brown eyes suck you back in to a point where you wonder if you’d ever be able to look away.

“Now that’s funny, Mr. Garrick.”

He lets the subject drop, but you notice a slight crease in-between in brows – a narrowness to his eyes that wasn't there before. You try not to think too much into it, but Kyle certainly did seem like the man to get upset when people aren’t treated respectfully. The thought warms your heart. 

Or maybe I’m just reading too much into this. 

“Is there anything you’d like me to rearrange, Sir…? Do you want a note to go with it?” Seemingly lost in thought, Kyle comes back to you with a diligent shake of his head.

“It looks perfect, Love. And, please, just Kyle’s alright. You’re makin’ me sound like an old man when you talk like that.” He chuckles, and it’s a rich, velvety sort of thing – twisted with blue satin and wrapped in a gentle breeze. Your stomach twists. 

“Then I suppose that’s it, then. I’ll get you the bill and you can be on your way.” Turning around to calculate the total price, you make a quick comment in passing, not really thinking about it as you tap on your calculator. “I hope your girlfriend and you make up.” 

A stunned silence falls, but you only focus on the numbers, jotting down the total on a sticky note and turning around after re-running the costs a last time. When your eyes lock with him, your feet stall at the dumbfounded look on Kyle’s face and the confusion ingrained in his body language. His head had pulled back slightly, hat tilted.

“What’s that?” He asks. 

“Your…girlfriend?” You say slowly, walking closer and passing him the sticky note, “you said you were getting her apology flowers?” 

The handsome man blinks at you before realization lights in his eyes like fire. Kyle laughs deeply, putting a hand on top of his head and pressing down on his cap.

“Oh, Bloody hell, no.” He takes a deep breath and you feel your lips pressed together in confusion, innocent intrigue taking place in your skull. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart, I should have told you right off. This is for my mum.” 

Blinking in surprise you pause, looking up with wide eyes. 

Sweetheart?...Mum?! Your face heats to an intense level. Oh. 

“O-oh I didn’t…” He’s reaching for his wallet with a large lop-sided smile on his face and understanding eyes, watching you as he flips it open. You settle with a single laugh and say, “sorry, I guess I just assumed.”

But you can’t help the sudden relief that sprouted out of nowhere that leaves your lips pulling back in a mirrored grin. You’d been doing that a lot, as of the last fifteen minutes. 

“It’s no problem,” Kyle admits, “Thing is, I’ve been off on deployment for a while, and I missed my return date party, unfortunately. Just got back about noon today and I decided I was going to surprise her tonight.” The man pulls out a large stack of bills, “Thought she’d like that, yeah? Can’t go wrong with flowers, can you?” 

“You’re in the military?” You ask smoothly but internally swoon at the thought of a son giving his mother flowers out of the kindness of his heart. Whoever she was, you know the woman who raised this man would be overjoyed with the prospect of simply having him home safe and sound before anything else. 

Did not Penelope, wife of Odysseus, care for her son Telemachus more than anything? Above danger and possible death? They protected each other. You supposed it was the same in this situation. 

Being able to be a part of it made your legs weak.

“Something like that, Ma’am.” Kyle’s lips flick into a smirk as he hands you the bills. “Feels like I’m surrounded by children most days, but there’s no place I’d rather be…When I’m not nearly getting my head bloody blown off, that is.”

You huff in amusement, and slight concern, taking the payment and settling it on the counter without checking the numbers; never doubting whether he gave you the right amount or not.  

“Well, it seems like you’ve got it all figured out.” Garrick looks to his feet for a moment, pocketing his wallet, and clears his throat near mutely. He tilts his head back up to you.

“Nearly,” he whispers under his breath, a delicate wrinkle on his forehead as his lips pull in a minute, closed, grin. Sheepishly, you look away from his intense brown gaze before you can make a fool of yourself as giddiness sparks in your racing heart. What was happening to you? You have to ask yourself. Where was all of this blatant scatterbrained activity stemming from? No one had ever made you act like this before. 

As you look away, your eyes unintentionally land on the wall clock across the room, and your thoughts still like water in a puddle. Eyes widening comedically, you feel your lips part. 

“I really need to be closing up.” You say apologetically, looking back to the man who touches one of the Myrtle leaves carefully, running it between his thumb and forefinger. Under you, your feet shift over the floor. “Is this all you’ll be needing?” 

“Pretty sure.” Garrick answers easily, “I won't keep you any longer, eh? I’d hate it if I made you go home by yourself after dark.” 

“That’s very thoughtful, Kyle, thank you.” Pushing the vase over the counter, he takes it up and pauses as if he wants to say something. His mouth opens before closing – looking at his feet for a moment and itching at his neck with his free hand. 

“I…don’t want to make you uncomfortable, Ma’am,” your breath hollows, watching carefully as you listen. “But, uh, I,” Kyle shifts his eyes to your face, standing a bit straighter as the corner of his lip flicks up, “You’re just about the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met – if that’s not overstepping, of course.” 

He laughs stiffly to dispel tension, and the air suddenly gets ten times hotter at the brutally honest, if not mildly stuttered, confession. You can nearly hear the blood rushing to your head like a flood of ocean water – more violent and immediate than a tsunami. In your ribcage, your bones ache at the beating organ and the swell of your lungs. Having to take a deep breath to not forget yourself entirely, your mind rages.

Did he really just say that? He…he called me beautiful. 

When was the last time you had been called that? By such a lovely and kind man nonetheless. Kyle seemed like a confident person, his profession telling you that already, but the way he was acting now he seemed hesitant; like he was appalled by the fact you would take what he was saying the wrong way and come off creepy. 

But that was so blatantly opposite of how you were reacting. 

“I-” You stutter, eyes snapping away and hands coming to hold themselves in front of your abdomen, “well, I think you’re very handsome, yourself, Kyle.” A meek expression spreads your visage as you see the breath in his chest hitch, “and I wouldn’t call that overstepping at all. Not by a long shot.” 

His eyes widen, and a second of intense eye contact later, he smiles and glances away. Garrick sneaks looks as you bite your lip, and finally, he nods firmly before his phone starts to ring in his pocket. 

As if a switch had turned, his hand snaps down and grasps the device, peeling it out of his khakis and checking the contact. Immediately he utters.

“Oh, Shit, this is her. I’ve got to run.” He walks backward a few steps before turning and lightly jogging to the front door. Following with your eyes, you’re somewhat entranced by the man. 

Before he can walk through the door, he stops in his tracks.

“Sorry, again,” Kyle turns back around, and his dark eyebrows crease, “but, uh, what days are you open?” 

The giddy smile that forms on your cheeks leaves your skin hurting.

“All of ‘em except the weekends,” you say, confidence suddenly sprouting in your veins, “but I’m sure if you told me ahead of time that you were stopping by, I’d make an exception.”

“I’d imagine for emergency flowers only?” Kyle teases, a smirk on his face. His eyes promise you, though, that this will not be the last time you see him. 

“Of course.” You reply, raising a brow. “I’m a florist, after all, Garrick. Emergency flowers are my specialty. If you’re ever in need of more, I’ll be here, waiting.”

He laughs, stares for a few seconds longer with a distant sheen, and disappears through the door. You don’t follow when his form fades from the windows entirely. You don’t ask for his number, even if you knew you should have. You don’t look at the amount he gave you as you put it in the register, knowing, even by your intuition, that it is double the amount he was due. 

You’d just tell him all about it when you saw him again.

Until Kyle Garrick showed up you had been focused; as immovable as a mountain, but then as the days drew on, you faltered. Your eyes would linger on the glass as people pass by, heart in your throat and feet tapping as you bound stems. Flowers had taken up so much of your life, but now another was trying to push its way in – slowly infecting you like a parasite in your mind as the days went on. 

And as he kept showing up, month after month, he had taken to calling you Persephone. A goddess of spring and nature; beautiful flowers of all colors and shapes growing on hills and in vibrant meadows. It was perhaps the greatest compliment someone like you could have been given. At first, it had been a nickname until it had become as common as your actual title, and Kyle used it so much even regular customers teased you with it with smirks and side-eyes. You only rolled your optics with a burning under your skin and a small smile.

“Well, look, it’s Persephone…”

“That boy of yours here, Persephone? Hiding in the back room perhaps?”

“Persephone – you have any Peonies this week?”

You didn’t mind it…really, you didn’t. If anything, you thought it was precious. A man comparing you to a goddess that danced in green fields as flowers sprouted at her feet? Yes, that was quite alright.

Quite alright, indeed.

—

The office room was cold, he thought. Nearly a meat locker. 

How in the hell can he stand to work in here, Kyle asked himself. Bloody place is like a damn winter storm just minus the snow. 

He was seated in one of the two chairs in front of the mahogany desk, hands on the armrests and feet tapping the floor. When the Sergeant had gotten the order on his radio to come to Captain Price’s office ASAP, he had expected the man to already be here, but five minutes later he was still sitting in silence. 

That wasn’t to say he was bored, though. He was thinking of you. He could never be bored when he did that. 

It brings a small smile to Garrick’s face as he relives your last interaction, lips unconsciously twitching as his eyes grow distant. 

You’d made him a flower crown, mostly as a joke, but had been left in raging fits of laughter when you’d placed it on his head. 

“Hold still,” you grunt, sitting on the front counter and keeping the weaved headpiece in your grip as it hovers above the man’s scalp, “I want to get it centered on the first go.”

“Y’know,” Kyle chuffs, “I could always do it myself – I do have working hands, Love.” 

“Shush!” Exclaiming, your breath fans his face, leaving him more still than a statue, if only to smell your scent and be content with your body so close to his. Kyle was still working out the best way to ask you out officially, but that didn’t seem to extend to his instinctual actions when it came to you. It was increasingly hard to stop his head from leaning just that tiniest bit forward and connecting his lips to yours. 

The pressure on his head brings him back, and his eyes blink as if they could force all the rogue thoughts from his mind. Kyle clears his throat when you lean back, acutely aware of the longing set of his dark brows as he had stared off at you. 

“Well, then,” The Sergeant clears his throat and smiles at your concentrated face, though he notices the hitch in your chest with a strange sense of pride. “How’s it lookin'? Is just as you imagined, eh?”

Your face scrunches, head tilting. Kyle couldn’t remember a time he’d let someone put a wreath of flowers on his head, woven with Forget-Me-Nots, Silver Dollar Eucalyptus, and Tiger Lillies. The others would make fun of him for this. 

But he found he cared little. If you kept smiling at him like that, he’d let you do anything to him in a heartbeat. 

“Perfect.” You chuckle. “You should have let me do this earlier.”

The shop was closed – it was a weekend, after all, and that was the time for restocking and number crunching. Not really the time for making crowns for a man who was totally smitten with you.  

“You sure that you don’t need these?” Kyle asks, a hand reaching up to his head to touch the flora. “I’d hate to not pay you for them, Love. Can only imagine how expensive they are to order.” 

“Eh,” rolling your eyes, your legs brush the Sergeant’s hips from where they sit around them, and the man has to remember how to breathe properly, “they’re the old product, anyway. I’d have to get rid of them by Monday. Better for such a handsome individual to have a crown of his own, with all the gallantry he practices in his job. It’s the least I could do, hm?”

You’re teasing him, a smirk taking up the frame of Kyle’s vision. He returns the action, hands coming to rest on either side of your hips; leaning forward until his nose with mere inches away. He hears your chest rattle with a slow breath.

“Are you teasin’ me, Persephone?” He asks sneakily, as you begin to giggle. “Insinuating I need a flower crown to be recognized at work? It’ll certainly get me attention, that’s for sure, yeah? Just not the kind I want. Soap’ll have a field day.” 

“He’d just make a few comments, I’m sure.” 

“You’ve never met him. The bloke would never let it go until the day I kicked the bucket.” You’re laughing, one hand coming up to cover your mouth. 

Kyle hates himself at that moment because you’ve never looked so beautiful, and he can’t quite pick up the courage to just lean in. So he watches with a matching look of happiness and an embarrassing, yet adored, flower crown on top of his close-shaven head. He watches with an ache in his chest and a violent beat to his heart as your body heat melts into him; urging him, prompting him. 

But he just smiles and watches a moment longer before taking a step back. 

“Sir,” Garrick asks, settling back down and watching the older man slink behind his desk, “What’s all this about?” 

The door opens with a firm hand. Kyle startles to his feet, tuning and about to go into an instinctual formal greeting before the Captain speaks, beating him to it.

“At ease, Sergeant. Take a seat.”  

Price sighs as he takes a seat, slapping a large file that was previously in his hand to the wood before opening his drawer with a grunt. Gaz watches with narrowed eyes as his superior ignores his question, pulling out a large cigar from a lockbox and slotting it between his lips. A lighter follows soon after, and soon the smell of burning tobacco enters the air. 

“...Captain?” Kyle was starting to get nervous now. Why was he looking at him like that? Blue eyes seem to dig deep into Gaz’s soul, trying to find something that was hidden behind layers and layers of flesh and bone. 

John pulls the stick from his lips and holds it between his fingers, smoke now entering the air and rising to perforate like mist. Feet shifting over the floor, Kyle’s heart skips a beat. 

What in the hell is going on? 

That’s when the bearded man speaks. 

“Well, who are they, then?” Price asks, tilting his head forward as his bucket hat sits where it usually does atop his brown hair. The Captain’s eyes are squinted; curious but still laced with that authority that never seemed to leave no matter how many years the two had known each other. 

“Pardon, Sir?” Gaz has to ask, confusion prominent in his expression. “They?”

John raises a thick brow as if the answer was obvious.

“You’re distracted. Been checking your phone like it’s going to explode the last few days. So,” the Captain stares at him heavily, taking another drag before placing the cigar in his ashtray and breathing out a cloud of smoke. He leans forward and places his hands on the table, as Kyle watches, perplexed, “who is it, Sergeant? No use hiding it.”

“I…” Gaz trails before blinking dumbly, lips parting, “oh, hell, was it that obvious?”

“Painfully.” The answer makes the younger man cringe and his skin pulls tight. A pause leaves the room silent, the Sergeant avoiding his Captain’s gaze as he tilts his head away for a moment. He clears his throat. 

“She’s just…” Kyle clears his throat, “someone I met in the city. A florist. Down on Main Ave.”

“A florist, eh?” Grunting, John nods his head to himself. “Asked the bird out, then?” 

“What?” Snapping his head up, Gaz says loudly with stuttering lips, “N-no, Sir. Not yet.” 

The man ahead of him hums, leaning back and flipping his file open, taking a moment to pick up the first page and skim the contents with small eyes. He looks over the top with a blank expression. 

“I’d get on that, Son.” 

—

Today was different, you knew. Something was going to happen. An unexplainable feeling was in the back of your mind, making you somewhat anxious even if you didn’t know exactly why. It was like a sheet had been thrown over your head and someone had just told you to run in circles without hitting a wall; feet tied with a rope. 

The morning had started off normal, as had everything else that followed, but there was an air of expectation wafting in front of you. 

What’s going on? You ask as you wipe down the counter with a wet rag, swiping stray leaves and petals into the garbage bin at your feet. Why am I feeling like I’m expecting something to happen? 

It was Tuesday – nothing astounding ever happens on Tuesdays. 

The front door opens with the ringing of a silver bell, and you say absentmindedly, still caught in your thoughts, “be with you in a moment!” 

A cough startles you, your hand squeezing the rag a bit tighter as your neck twists upwards. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting.” 

“Kyle,” you laugh and take a breath, “I didn’t expect you today…” 

Freezing, your lips part in a silent gasp when you see it. The man you had come to have quite the crush on was standing a few paces from the door, dressed in a nice shirt and dress pants, jacket in the crook of his arm. He holds a single Sunflower in his grasp. 

It wasn’t anything overly impressive, a bit small and dead at the tips, but nonetheless, your heart stuttered at the gift. Staring at it silently, you turn your gaze to Kyle as his feet shift over the floor nervously. A strange look had overtaken his face, but he had a confident air to him that you’d been seeing more and more of the last few visits. 

“What’s this?” You ask carefully, body going hot all over and lungs swelling. 

You’d loved flowers for most of your life; worshiped them like the people of Delphi worshiped their god-chosen Oracle. But never could you recall a moment when you had been given any out of free will. Everyone always assumed you disliked getting them because of your job, but, oh, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Flowers were like declarations of emotions – they could mean so many things to so many different people. They were the truth laid bare in nature as plainly as it could be, wrought with promises.

Your breath stills, eyelids pulling back delicately; lips parting. 

Kyle speaks softly, raising the flower in his grip.

“I remembered you saying you liked these more than roses – you called them ‘tacky’ if I’m…remembering correctly. The roses, that is.”

He was remembering correctly. But that had been just a passing comment to another customer you had been helping before him. Unimportant. A quick piece of yourself that hadn’t mattered while you were cutting stems and looping twine. 

But he remembered it. 

A giggle falls from you until your hand snaps up, trapping it behind parted fingers and an awe-filled face. 

“I wanted to give it to you,” he continued, walking forward with measured steps, “and ask you a question, if you’d let me.”

“Of course, I would.” It’s breathless, the way you say it, and suddenly you know exactly why you've been so on edge today. 

You’d been waiting for him.

And when he smiles at you, your mind runs to gossamer silk. Such a delicate thing; that smile, comparable to the millions of strands a spider spins in a lifetime. Gorgeous and so very easily missed if you weren’t looking at just the right moment. Gossamer Silk. 

Since when has his grin become so important to you? To where you craved it just as violently as water or food? That look in his amber gaze – the one that left you breathless even when you simply thought about it, that was what you wanted to witness when you woke up in the mornings. You wanted his arms around you. You wanted his lips pressed to yours. You wanted him to be in your kitchen making you dinner as the rain fell outside and the flowers in your back garden grew strong and beautiful. 

You wanted him to be yours.

Kyle stops behind the counter and hands you the flower. You reach for it without complaint instantaneously, wondering momentarily if he had just happened upon one and taken it in a moment of passion. Both of your fingers brush, and the imaginary sparks that fly make you turn slightly shy, head tilting to the side for a moment. 

But a finger hooks under your chin, moving it back as delicately as bird wings, gentle feathers tickling your flesh and nerves. 

A hum resonates in your chest, eyes crinkling as you stare into amber brown with flecks of gold. You could get lost in them if you looked too much. 

But you didn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

“Persephone, would you do me the great honor,” the two of you laugh at the wispy and teasing tone, and suddenly you wish the counter between you would disappear into thin air, “of going on a date with me tonight?” 

Tuesdays, perhaps, might have just become the best day of the week, and a small Sunflower with dead tips and fading yellow, your new favorite flower. 

Ironic, how that works. He ended up distracting you more than you could ever imagine.

—

“Don’t you have to be back on base soon, Garrick?” You mutter into a warm chest, street lights shining into the windows of the apartment. 

“Bloody hell, yes…But I’d crawl back to you, if you asked it of me.”

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[chimivx]

That one fucked you over last year, this one is fucking you over this year, you had no idea she was involved with him, someone over here has been lying to you, you didn't mean to end up in that ones bed, he told you he loved you... Does anyone even trust anyone anymore?

👫 -> college!teez x fem!reader/oc {frat/sorority} #️⃣ -> 7.5k (part FIVE of ten) ‼️ -> 18+, sexual content, drugs/alcohol, college life, all the drama, heavy angst, infidelity adjacent moments, mean boys, mean girls, mentions of anxiety/depression… IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

{ there are names & faces in here that come from NMWID <3 }

september 14th ~ saturday ~ 12:02 p.m.

[you]: i’m sorry i left so fast i didn’t mean to run

[you]: i just woke up can we talk

september 14th ~ saturday ~ 4:57 p.m.

[you]: hey just checking in, are you okay

september 15th ~ sunday ~ 10:17 p.m

A book has lived on your lap for two days now. Since you woke up Saturday late morning after your night at ATZ, you’ve been situated in the center of your bed getting a head start on assignments, setting your planner up for the semester, making sure everything was in absolute order. This was the most important part of being here.

Not the boys, not the parties, not the sisterhood drama… The grades.

Nasara offered you a spectacular scholarship because you were actually pretty booksmart. And thank god for it too, you knew your dad would never be able to send you here on his own. He had money to spend, but it didn’t necessarily go to you without a good motive.

The grades had to stick. The grades had to be almost perfect.

Or, you weren’t getting that degree.

Being in a sorority without a doubt took a toll on your wallet, and your fathers. When there were fundraisers you were working your ass off to make sure you raised enough money to both keep the place going as well as hand some of it over to the charity you were doing it for. That’s partially why coming into this year has been so nerve wracking. There were nine of you in the house. You were not prepared to see the cost come the beginning of next month.

Your dad paid for September. He took a couple jobs and was able to give it to you in full. The rest of the year was up to you. Not one part of you wanted to have to ask him for help. You were capable. You were able to do it. The rest of these girls had money, they had the fame… You’d been hustling for two years, you could make it two more.

There was always the option to move into the dorms, or better yet, move into an apartment off campus somewhere in Delo which sparked your fancy. The only issue is there would be no one to take with you, and the only acceptable way to go about it would be to do it with a roommate. Tori was off the table, she was obsessed with the ITZ house, plus it was a couple minutes away from her boyfriend. Why would she ever want to move further from that?

Flipping a page in your notebook, the door to your bedroom swung open and a flustered Tori stormed in, her brows scrunched, her eyes pointed to the floor. She bounced about the room, tossing her blankets around, dropping to her knees to file through her things under her bed, jumping to her feet to scour her drawers.

A sleepy eyed Yuna popped her head in the doorway looking equally as stressed as your roommate. “Hey, Ror,” she mumbled, her eyes darting around the floor and the shelves. “Tor, I don’t think you brought it in here.”

“Hey,” you said to her. “What are you looking for?” Focusing on Tori, you closed your notebook. The two of you haven’t discussed Friday night. Nothing’s been unpacked. She’s been busy with sorority things and hanging out with Mina and Yuna. 

It sometimes fell that way this time of year, at least it did your sophomore year. The three of them were on the board, they were more important than you and your other friends. Though, last year it was only Tori and Yuna taking some time to themselves, overwhelmed by the sudden responsibility. Now she was in on it.

“My ITZ planner,” Tori sighed, her vision tunneled on her surroundings, speaking hushed, but with power. “I had it at the meeting on Friday, I left it in the house, it didn’t come out with me. That has stuff in it that Yeji didn’t write down, if I don’t find it…”

“You’ll find it,” Yuna nodded. “I’ll go check out my room just in case I grabbed it, then I’ll check Yeji’s desk.” She was gone in a flash.

Tori drug a hand through her waves, her hair falling naturally down her back. With no makeup on, her tan skin still had the ability to glow. “Ror,” she muttered, spinning around in a circle to face you. Meeting her eyes, you tried to smile, but it didn’t come through as such. She was so frustrated anyhow, she probably didn't even notice. “Can I check your stuff?”

Hesitating, you shrugged. “You think I took it?”

Tori groaned, her hands digging through her hair once more. “God, no,” she said. “Just in case, I don’t think you took anything, I just have to check everywhere…” Her hands started flying, her brown eyes manic and panicked.

“Okay, okay,” you said, waving her along with a hand toward your bed and your things below it. “Whatever you gotta do, go for it.” She dropped to the floor and you turned back to your book, opening your notebook to copy down notes from your classes this past week.

Tori pulled baskets of clothes out, rifling through them, then she moved on when she didn’t find what she was looking for. Searching through some extra bags you had stored under there, she moved through every bin, every basket, every bag. Nothing. Then, she moved to the other side where you had more recent things shoved without any rhyme or reason. Shoes you’ve worn recently, your textbooks for class, the bag you’d use for classes- she opened that and searched through it.

She popped her head up, looking at you, you could feel it. Turning your head slowly, you found her confused. 

“What?” you asked.

“Ror,” she said quietly, holding up an opened light purple package with words on the front that made you want to be sick. She was shocked, her lips parted ever so slightly. “Is this yours?”

Swallowing hard, feeling your stomach in your throat, you couldn’t lie your way out of this one. “I… Yeah, guess I forgot to throw that out.”

Tori flipped it toward her to read it, then she shot you another crazed look. “Why the fuck did you take a Plan B?”

Hm, now this was interesting. 

You could lie.

But, at this point now there was no sense in lying.

“Seonghwa?” she whispered.

Yep, no reason to lie.

“Seonghwa,” you breathed, and she leapt to her feet, the box flying from her fingers onto the floor. She jumped onto your bed, the mattress moving beneath you.

“Aurora, what?” She almost gasped. Her knees bumped into yours as she tucked her knees up on the blankets. “When, what?”

You closed your book for good, setting it aside. Taking a breath, you looked up at her and cringed. “Last Friday?”

“Last Friday!” she shouted. Shushing her, she clamped her hands over her mouth at the same time. “I’m not sorry, what the fuck?! That’s why we lost you? You were upstairs with Seonghwa?”

“I was,” you whispered, glancing down at your lap. “We were both drunk, it happened, like, so fast.”

Tori snapped her jaw shut and sat up straight. The way she looked at you made you feel about sixteen years old. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Leaning back, you shrugged, then grabbed onto your ankles and sighed. “You got Mina,” you whispered, and she squinted.

“What?”

You cleared your throat. “You got Mi-”

Tori slapped a hand to your wrist. “No, yeah, I heard you, Ror,” she scoffed. “I mean, what?” She leaned into you, dipping her chin down to meet your eyes. After another shrug as answer from you, she shook her head and laughed. “No, no, unacceptable. I won’t take that. What do you mean that’s why you didn’t tell me you fucked Seonghwa?”

“Don’t say it,” you sneered, eyeing your open bedroom door. Tori flipped her hair back and let another laugh of disbelief. “I didn’t tell you ‘cause you’ve been so close with her, and clearly you’ve told her plenty about me. This isn’t a big deal, I didn’t want it to become a thing.”

She rolled her eyes and settled her hands into her own lap. “Fine, you’re right, I told her too much.”

“Thank you,” you said within a breath, blinking away the obnoxiousity.

“It wasn’t right,” Tori reached a hand toward you, one you took, “I’m sorry. You’re my friend first, my best friend. I shouldn’t have said what I said. She should’ve found it all out naturally.”

Squeezing her hand, you tightened your lips. “She shouldn’t have found out about it at all.”

Tori raised a brow every so slightly, the one with the piercing in it. “Do you like Mina?” Your nervous system sparked fight or flight, but in a way that made you groan aloud and half out yourself when you wanted to keep all feelings about it inside. “Wait, what’s happened, I thought everything was chill, we were helping her get Yunho, and taking her to the parties, breaking her out…”

“Yeah,” you said. “Helping her with all that.” Letting yourself collect your thoughts, Tori waiting patiently, you really didn’t know what to say. 

For starters, you haven’t spoken to Yunho since you left his house Friday night. Acquiring your phone from Seonghwa after fleeing the boys bedroom, you walked home, teetering to the side most of the way. Getting yourself up onto your balcony, sloppily, you fell onto your bed and rolled off of it, putting yourself together for bed before Tori made it back into the house.

She appeared later on. The girls told you they came in Ryujin and Isla’s window instead, not wanting to disturb you if you were asleep. Which you were.

None of them know you were there two nights ago.

“Mina’s… Alright,” you said, shrugging. “I like that she’s getting more comfortable, I want her to be comfortable… I hate what I said at dinner, no one deserves that, especially where she is in life, that’s nothing to be ashamed about.” Looking at Tori, both of your lips were pouted. They started to turn into smiles, then eventually giggles.

“Don’t ever not tell me things again,” Tori said through her grin. “Okay?”

Nodding, calming your smile, you said, “Okay.”

Lying straight to her face.

“Now,” she said, scooting closer to you if it were possible. She wanted to occupy the same space. “Tell me everything, I need to know, you slept with the Vice President of ATZ… Is it true?”

You tilted your head. “Is what true?”

Tori made a face, jutting her chin forward like she couldn’t believe you didn’t get it. “The… the thing. Did he…”

Waiting for her to finish, she didn’t. “Tori, the what?”

“He didn’t do it? I guess not if I haven’t seen it.” She dropped her eyes to your neck and you immediately slapped your hand there, your eyes going wide. “He did.” She grabbed onto your elbows and shook you. “Aurora, you have to go to the Sweethearts Formal with him.”

“What? Why?” You’d much rather go with someone else. Shaking your head you pulled the collar of your sweatshirt down and showed her the dulling spot on the base of your neck. Tori started to smile. 

“A little birdie told me that he does that,” she said, her voice suddenly acquiring the ability to quiet down.

“Mingi,” you said, flat as ever.

“Course,” she said without a beat. “But, here’s the kicker, Ror. This means no one else can touch you. Did anyone see you with it? I can’t believe I didn’t notice, I think I was so worried about Mina.” 

Dropping your hands to your lap, you took a slow breath and let your eyes shut for a few seconds. “Tori, what do you mean? That no one else can touch me?”

She sat up and glanced toward the open door, then back to you. Whispering, she said, “You’re his. He’s, like, claimed you.”

“What?!” you shouted, and she shushed you, giggling as she did.

Latching onto your hands, she said, “The boys are serious about this, too. No one’s ever broken it. Mingi told me that if any of them get close then they’re forced to absolutely humiliate themselves, or something. I’m not really sure, ‘cause I don’t think any of them have even tried. You’re Seonghwa’s, and if any ATZ boys try anything with you then they’ll be kicked out of the frat.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach.

“Oh,” you said, nodding your head. Tori narrowed her eyes and rolled her shoulders back, inspecting you.

“Didn’t Yunho say Hwa was dating somebody?”

Gulping at the mention of his name, you shook your head. “He lied.”

Tori froze. “Why would he lie?”

“I dunno,” you spewed quickly, flipping open to a random page in your book, hoping to end this conversation before it drew on any longer. “He’s been weird this whole time we’ve been back.”

Tori glanced down at your work and pursed her lips. Sliding off your bed she spun around and clasped her hands behind her back. “It’s probably just what Mina said, yanno? Coming back, feeling overwhelmed? Did you guys…” Her pause made you look at her. “Oh,” she breathed. “Right.”

Rolling your eyes you took back to your book, you said, “No, we didn’t go to Blend.”

Tori nodded, looking around your shared room. “Right,” she muttered. “We’re banned. You guys have been talking though, right? Maybe you just have to pull him out of his head, you know how he gets sometimes.” She puttered about the room, looking through more things for her planner. “When he loves something he gets crazy. Remember his report on medieval Europe, or whatever he was hyper focused on?” You lifted your chin, watching her walk around. “That boy is kind, I’ll tell you that, but Mingi’s told me he’s been a little brain fried, I think.”

“What do you mean?” you whispered, watching her flip one of her empty designer purses upside down like something would miraculously fall out of it. She sighed and slumped over, then looked at you.

“You guys really haven’t talked?” She tossed the purse to the floor and took your head shake as an answer. Resorting to your shared closet she started pushing hanging clothes aside, dropping to her knees again so her hands could skim the floor full of shoes. “I guess he and I really haven’t either, with the ban, whenever we’re there I’m all over Mingi.” She giggled. An obscure fact, of course. “But, you know Yunho, Ror. When he has his brain set on something, a project, a report, a lesson… If it’s something he loves he’s gonna be scatterbrained.”

“Classes just started,” you said, voice tiny.

Tori flipped her hair over her shoulder and groaned. “Then, I dunno, Ror, maybe he’s in love with Mina or something, it’s a person then, not his schoolwork.” She shot out of the closet, shouting loud enough to wake up the house. “I FOUND IT!” Her ITZ planner covered in cute little stickers was in her hand as she jumped to her feet. Footsteps bound into the room, Yuna whipping around the corner at lighting speed. The two voiced their relief and started out of the room. Tori stopped before she left, looking back at you staring at the floor. “You good, Ror?”

Trying to take a breath, you attempted a smile, one she believed.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said even though you couldn’t feel your legs.

With a smile, she was gone, closing the door behind her.

Blinking, you took the shakiest breath, releasing it with a sigh, you whispered, “Fuck.”

september 15th ~ sunday ~ 11:15 p.m.

[starhwa]: Thinking about you, don’t work too hard this week, need my girl to be happy.

[you]: don’t worry, she’s not freaking out about her classes

[starhwa]: But she’s freaking out?

[you]: slightly

[starhwa]: Do you want to talk about it?

[you]: not yet, i’m sorry

[starhwa]: Don’t apologize to me, when you want to tell me you will.

september 16th ~ monday ~ 8:02 a.m.

[you]: you’re making me nervous, yo

[you]: i need to talk to you, please

september 16th ~ monday ~ 11:23 a.m.

“Small iced coffee, please, with cream and a shot of caramel.”

The cafe was empty for a Monday mid-morning, Blend usually buzzing and alive around seven when students would flood the concrete floor like feins, jonesing for a sniff of the freshly roasted coffee, allowing themselves to be late because they waited in the long lines that’d pour out the door. This semester you’d be avoiding those lines on a Monday, your first class didn’t start until noon.

“Small?” The barista teased, using his ring covered fingers to push his dark hair from his eyes. It fell towards his lanky shoulders, his smaller frame swallowed by the brown apron he had to wear over his jeans and t-shirt. Turning to get started on your coffee, he raised a brow. “You’ve gone weak.” His eyes drew over your outfit, a hoodie and jeans. “Junior year means you’re watching your caffeine?” He mimicked a British accent and you both laughed.

“No,” you smiled, adjusting your bag on your shoulder, “Maybe just watching the anxiety?” Your accent was terrible, and he was quick to call you out on it.

“Darling,” he widened his eyes and crossed behind the bar, fixing your cup. “That was awful,” you both laughed, “Why are we anxious, the year has just started?”

Shrugging, you weren’t sure what to say to him.

Taeyang, with Theo written on his nametag, lowered his brows and rolled his eyes. “I don’t like that answer.” He pumped an extra shot of caramel in your cup, his subtle way of showing you that you were one of his favorites. “Choi Aurora,” he said, setting his eyes on you. Popping a lid and a purple straw into your cup, he came back toward the register and almost handed you your cup, taking it back before you could grab it. “Where’ve you and your friend been?”

“Tori?” you asked, and he shook his head.

“The boy, Yunho,” he said, stone faced. “You’re usually all up in here. Last semester I had to kick you guys out ‘cause we were closing and you two wouldn’t shut up.”

Averting your eyes to the counter, you shrugged again. “There’s been house drama, I guess,” you said. When you found his eyes, his deep, off putting, mystery filled eyes, you said, “We’ve been banned from seeing them.”

The accent was back and he lost it, sliding you your coffee, punching in numbers on the register. “Sorry to hear that, sweetums,” he said, shooting you a smile. The door to the cafe swung open behind you, the little bell that hung above it sung a little song. “Three seventy five.” Setting his hands on the counter, Theo nodded his head to whoever was behind you while you rifled through your bag for the cash. “What can I get started for you?”

“Iced Americano, large,” the familiar voice said, coming a bit closer to you.

Theo shot you a look. “One large coming up.”

“Shut up, Tae,” you grumbled. Your wallet was gone, and you couldn’t even fumble together random cash from the bottom of your bag. Tori must’ve dropped it on the floor when she was looking for her planner, but thank god she put the empty Plan B box back in here, because that was important. “Can I still send it to your number? Is that a thing?” Fumbling for your phone you slid it open and sent an urgent message to your father.

[you]: can i please have five dollars quick, just trying to buy a coffee

[choi asshole #1]: I sent you fifty last week so you’d have it for coffee. Where the fuck did that go already?

[you]: coffee

The empty box in your bag.

“Yeah, Ror, that’s fine,” Theo said with a brow scrunch, already serving the boy behind you. “Six fifty.”

“Ror?” The boy behind you stepped up the counter, leaning his elbows on it. “I got this, put us together.” Whipping your head to the right you’re greeted with blonde hair and black eyes, the tall boy giving you the smallest smile. “What’s up?”

Glancing to the coffees, you said, “You don’t have to do that.”

Soul shrugged, taking a sip of his. “It’s my pleasure.”

Theo laughed, sending you a look. “It’s his pleasure,” he whispered in the accent, making you smile. Soul’s gaze traveled from him to you, and he stood up straight, towering over you.

“Where are you headed?” he asked, slapping a twenty on the counter. Grabbing his drink he started to walk away, taking you with him.

“This is too much, Shota,” Theo said, voice low, studying him through his lashes. The freshman turned back and waved him off.

“Keep it,” he said without a thought. “Thanks, bro.”

Theo rolled his eyes and popped the cash in his drawer. “Anytime, bro.”

“Thanks, Tae,” you said, waving as you walked beside Soul, taking a sip of your coffee. “This is the best, thank you.” He didn’t look up, he only bobbed his head.

Soul held the door for you, the two of you stepping out into the September breeze. Delo stayed fairly warm until the fall months, but not like Sicuro, or Contramano. Those areas stayed hot for long. Delo was comfortable, it was perfect. Hoodies in September, sweaters in November, sundresses in March and April… You adored every bit of it.

“You didn’t answer my question,” Soul said, looking down at you. Sipping your coffee you scrunched your brow. “Where are you headed?” His hair was clean, hanging over his forehead, touching his shoulders. He wore something similar to what he was in the other night, ripped black jeans and a random t-shirt that fit his aesthetic. 

“I have business statistics at twelve,” you said. He started to smile, his lips pressed together, then his eyes scanned your being like yours did to his.

Way to be subtle, Ror.

“Business statistics,” he curled his lip. “You smart people. What’s your major?”

“Marketing,” you said, and he stared at you, not computing. “It’s basically business.”

“Coulda started with that,” he huffed a laugh, then pointed around for directions. “Lead the way.”

Raising your brows, you asked, “You’re gonna walk me there?”

Soul sipped his coffee and gave you a look of surprise. “What kind of gentlemen would I be if I bought you a coffee and made you walk to class all alone on this beautiful day and this…” he glanced around, “...very safe, very clean, very put together college campus.”

He took note of the smile that had found your lips at some point standing here with him. “Alright,” you said, starting down the street to the left, “This way, Soul.”

Falling in step with you, he seemed to find you more interesting than the commotion of other students around him. Asking you questions about when you started at Nasara, how you got into ITZ, how you became friends with the members of ATZ… He got a brief history lesson while he guzzled down his coffee.

“You’re going to join, right?” His eyes went wide while he sipped from his straw, answer enough. “You and your friends? That I met at the house?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, proud. “Me, Seob, Intak… We’ve been friends since high school, we’ve been waiting for this for three years.”

Taking a right down a street corner, Soul kept himself in time with you, though you're certain he would walk much faster if you were the one following him. His legs could stretch for miles.

“Three years? You’ve wanted to go to Nasara since you were a sophomore in high school?” 

Soul tossed his empty cup into a trash can on the street and shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know Taeyang was in ATZ, right? Theo?” Pausing at a green light while the cars passed by, you looked up at him curiously. “Tae?”

“Yes, I know who you’re talking about,” you half laughed, shaking your head.

“He’s my brother,” he said nonchalantly, moving his focus to the traffic.

Popping your jaw open, you said, “Oh my god, wait, he graduated last year. He’s your brother?”

Soul shrugged. “Step-brother,” he mumbled as if the words tasted bad. He turned to you. “My dad married his mom right before he graduated high school.”

“Interesting,” you said, grabbing his arm when the light turned red and the crosswalk sign lit up. Soul moved into you, a crowd of people coming from the opposite way forcing you together. “He’s never said anything about a brother.”

“‘Cause he hates me,” Soul scrunched his nose, again with some sort of pride, some sort of confidence. Landing on the other side of the street you both took your hands to yourselves and headed toward the end of the street where a massive building waited for you.

“Why would he hate you, he’s a grown adult who-”

“I fucked his girlfriend.”

Stopping dead in your tracks he didn’t catch on until a couple steps later. Taking in the shock on your face as he turned around, the grin that lit him up was entirely adorable, a word that shouldn't be used after what he’s just told you. Walking backwards, willing you to follow him, he laughed.

“You’re not serious,” you said.

Soul nibbled his bottom lip. “I’m so serious.” Expertly threading his feet behind him, he cocked his chin up and asked, “Am I ATZ material?”

Rolling your eyes, you said, “This year I think you fit right in.”

He allowed you to catch up to his side, then he spun around and continued forward, eyeing the building you were approaching. “Theo’s mom doesn’t think I’m smart enough,” he mumbled, a secret he didn’t seem to want to say. Either that, or he hasn’t had anyone to say it to. Giving him a look, he hung his head back, the confidence still pouring from him despite his sudden lament. “My dad could pay them off though,” he shrugged, meeting your eyes. “Another reason for Taeyang to hate me.”

“Well,” you began, pausing at the bench on the street in front of the double doors you were meant to go inside. Dropping your bag to the seat you searched for a lipgloss and pulled it out, twisting it open. “That’s not very fair.” 

Sliding the brush over your lips, Soul watched. “It’s not?” he asked, his voice almost whispering. Rubbing your lips together you shook your head.

“Not really, I mean most of those guys work really hard,” you said. Applying another layer of gloss, Soul poked the tip of his tongue between his lips. Rubbing your lips together with a smack this time, he snapped his eyes back to yours. “I think if you just applied yourself and worked hard to get your grades up this first semester, they’d consider you without the money.” He bobbed his head, hanging onto every word. Taking the last sip of your coffee, the straw sticking to your fresh gloss, Soul held out his hand.

“I’ll take care of it,” he breathed, his eyes flickering to your lips again. Slipping the cup into his hand you slung your bag over your shoulder and smiled.

“Thanks,” you said, and he nodded. “For the coffee and the walk.”

“Anytime.” His face was so pure, so seemingly innocent that one would never be able to believe he fucked his older brothers girlfriend. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Of course.” Ignoring the way he ogled your lips again, you headed toward the double glass doors, not going inside until you threw him a, “Work hard, Soul,” over your shoulder.

september 17th ~ tuesday ~ 3:30 p.m.

[choi asshole #1]: I’ll be in Contramano until Saturday Aura.

[you]: wonderful, enjoy, bring home the big bucks

[choi asshole #1]: Don’t talk like that, come on.

[you]: what else do you do in Mano

The phone screen lit up, choi asshole #1 in bright white letters across the top of it.

“Who’s calling you?” Tori asked from the seat at the table next to you. She leaned on your shoulder and gasped, the sound startling you. “Answer it, answer it, answer it.”

Disgust bled onto your face as you looked at her. “Don’t have a crush on my dad, Tor.”

“How can I not?” she whispered, staring at the bouncing text on the screen. His photo was a funny one of you two from when you were a toddler, sitting on his lap, the two of you with matching pigtails in your hair. Releasing a breath, you gave her a small headshake, then drug the arrow across the screen, answering the video call. 

“Hi, Dad,” you said, not the least bit excited to listen to what he had to say. Tori grabbed the back of your hand and twisted the phone so you were both in the frame.

“Hi, Mr. Choi,” she crooned, sitting her chin in her hand.

He appeared, his black hair parted to the side over his forehead, cut short, but long enough to reach his brows. “Tori, how many times do I have to tell you, call me Yeonjun, I don’t like the honorifics.”

She smiled and giggled. “It’s respect, Mr. Choi, I can’t not call you anything but that.”

Your father clicked his tongue and glanced over his phone, a woman's laugh sounding off camera. “Fine,” he said, then looked back at you. “Aura, I wanna be able to give you enough for next month, that’s why I’m going.”

“Okay,” you said, hardening your glare.

Yeonjun glanced over the phone once more, seeming to share a sigh with whoever was behind the screen. “It’s fast,” he said, trying to reason with you. “Your uncle’s coming with me, we’re gonna be fine.”

“And Seulgi? Or is that Lisa?” You swallowed your laugh as Tori launched herself out of the frame to lose her composure. Yeonjun laughed, letting his head bob.

“It’s Haru, but thank you for that.”

You smiled. “Of course.”

“How was your first week of classes? The second starting out okay?”

Ignoring the way Tori tapped your arm, you leaned over the table and focused on the phone. “They were just great, Dad. Same old shit.”

“And the sorority? Everything going okay?”

Now you shared a look with Tori, one that told her to keep her mouth shut.

“It’s all good,” you said, looking down at your phone. He was walking around now, the woman he was with mumbling things to him as his brows twisted. The two spoke to one another for a second before he focused on you.

“Glad to hear it, Aura,” he finally said. “You staying away from the boys down the street?”

A knife to the gut. “As much as you’re staying away from the women in Contramano.”

Yeonjun shot a glare toward the camera, the woman laughing aloud near him. “Really hope you’re not serious, Aurora. Remember what I told you, they’re trouble. They might look all nice from the outside, but they’re only thinking about one thing.”

“What if we are, too?” Tori whispered, and a laugh shot through you. Thankfully, your father didn’t hear.

“I don’t want or need any grandkids yet, okay?”

“Yeah, and I don’t want or need any siblings, okay? Wrap it before you tap it, Junie.”

Tori just about lost her shit.

Yeonjun shook his head and glanced upward, seeking some sort of help from the heavens. “You’re my child. Think I made you myself. Did your mother help at all?”

Running your tongue over your teeth you tilted your head. “If you ever find her, ask her.”

Yeonjun sighed, exasperated. “These phone calls exhaust me as much as they exhaust you, Aura. Trust me.” He paused whatever it was that he could possibly be doing at this hour on a Tuesday, and he gave you his full attention. “You are my everything. Please, be safe. You and Tori, don’t leave each other alone at those parties, okay?”

“Okay,” you said.

Tori peeped her head into the frame. “Okay, Yeonjun.”

His face lit up, his smile wide as he looked at her. “Yes! Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink. You kicked her ankle with yours.

“Aura, I love you,” your father said, raising both his brows. “I’ll let you know when I’m there, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I love you, too. Be safe.”

He gave you a soft smile. “I will.”

Before he hung up you tossed in a, “Don’t get arrested again,” that made him grin and equally groan as the screen went black. Laying your phone on the table you drug your hands through your hair and took a long breath, turning towards Tori in your chair, laughing quietly at the way she eyed you.

“Go ahead,” you muttered.

She wasted little time. “Hottest drug dealer ever.”

september 18th ~ wednesday ~ 6:47 p.m.

[you]: this is the last time i’m messaging you yunho

[you]: did i sit on your dick wrong or something, just let me know whats going on

september 20th  ~ friday ~ 9:19 p.m.

Yeji, Tori, Mina, Yuna, Chaeryeong… The three of them holed up in a meeting the second all of their last classes for the day were over. In two days you’d all be meeting the freshmen recruits out of the applicants your trustworthy sisters ran background checks on now.

ITZ had applicants. The chapter would grow, the costs would go down, the drama would lessen, and life would move on.

Neither you and Tori nor any of the other girls have attempted to sneak out of the house this week. With classes in full swing the attention had shifted and now the priority was homework and good grades. In order to be examples for the future of ITZ none of you could afford a slip in GPA.

This past week has been a strange one. Anytime you set foot into Blend for a coffee you were reminded that Theo and Soul were step brothers, though you never brought it up to your favorite barista who also in turn had been one of the safest guys you knew in ATZ last year. Seonghwa hadn’t left you alone, he asked you about your day everyday, allowing you to rant about your classes or bitch about a professor. And Soul, well, he always seemed to find you on campus day after day since Monday.

Much like right now.

The soft knock at the door seemed to embody his exact energy. Soft at first, but the second the door was opened he was entirely unpredictable.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

After unlocking the several locks on the front door you tugged it open to his smug little smile and his blonde hair pulled back in a tie. Wisps hung at his neck and his forehead.

“Come to ATZ,” he said, and you hushed him, turning backward to see if anyone was around. They’d been in the meeting for over an hour now, who knew when it’d be over.

“You’re lucky I answered the door,” you said. “If it were anyone else you’d be done for. You’re not allowed to be here.”

He perked a single brow. “The ban?”

“The rules, Soul,” you hissed, stepping out onto the porch with him, closing the door behind you. He stepped aside and folded his arms over his chest. “That’s always been an ITZ thing, it’s a sorority thing, no boys allowed without permission.”

He checked you out without shame. Taking your hands to your black shorts you tugged the cotton down a smidge. “Come for a little?”

“Look, Soul,” you sighed, stepping closer to him. He pouted his lips the slightest, his black eyes shining and wide. “I like this friendship we’re starting, and I admire your persistence.”

“But?” he asked, adding in the word himself like he knew it was coming. Dropping his chin he looked down at his feet, a frown forming on his pink lips. 

“But,” you said, watching him as he slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapped a few things, then shoved it back into his jeans. Laughing quietly, you gestured toward it. “You’re young.”

“I’m nineteen.” He screwed his face up. 

“You’re a freshman, you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, especially with ATZ, I’m dealing with a lot, especially with ATZ,” you paused for a moment, feeling half your heart crumble as he gazed at you. “If I’m picking up what I think you’re putting down… Soul, I have feelings for somebody else. What you want won’t work, it won’t happen.”

He nodded, his expression falling solemn. “Seonghwa?” he asked, looking up at you. 

Your lungs contracted in on themselves. “Yes,” you whispered, and he nodded, glancing down with his brows pulled together. “I’m sorry, Soul. You’re cool, you’ve got a lot going for you.” Taking another step closer to him, you pushed some wisps of hair from his eyes. “And you’re adorable.”

He blinked a few times, his black eyes lighting up. “I am?” He spoke in a whisper.

Smiling, you nodded once, then leaned into him, pressing your lips to his cheek. His shoulders rose and a quiet gasp shot through him. When you pulled back, he was wearing the tiniest smile.

“If you liked that Monday walk I wouldn’t mind if it became a thing,” you said. “Y’know, occasionally. Grab a coffee, walk to class?”

“I skipped my ten o’clock for you,” he whispered, then he giggled at the look you gave him.

“Soul, didn’t I say to work hard?” You nudged his shoulder and he played it up like you shot him, his hand latching on top of yours to keep it on him. “How did you even know where I was?”

He shrugged, squeezed your hand, then let it go. “Lucky guess?”

Sighing, you stepped back and waved him off the porch. “Go to your classes, Soul. Go back to ATZ, or wherever you came from.” You both shared a smile, and he obeyed, leaping off the porch with a single jump. “Don’t ruin your chance,” you shouted as he walked backward, his eyes eating you up. “You can do it here,” you pointed to your head, then moved them to where your pockets would be if you had any. “Not from here.”

“Thanks, Aurora,” he said, and when he hit the sidewalk after passing through the gate, he was gone, thankfully, because the moment you had the door locked the meeting was adjourned and Tori had a wicked grin on her face when she grabbed your arm and hauled you upstairs.

september 20th  ~ friday ~ 9:49 p.m.

On the leather couch in the back of the ATZ living room, Seonghwa sat with his legs stretched out, his entire being taking up the space of three people. With his head laid back on the armrest, he scrolled his phone, mainly Instagram, taking note of the follower counts, the comments on posts, and what people were saying about either house. 

Yeji was trending, she posted her outfit of the day this morning with the hashtag #presidentialvibes on her story. Her groupies were buzzing, dissecting the clothes, breaking down the hair, curious if it were her same routine or if she had changed it because of the new color.

Wooyoung’s name popped up somewhere, he was always posting. This time it was of the view from the window of his education and society class, the sociology major keeping up with his followers, commenting back to them whenever they’d leave him something of interest. San was actively under his posts, the boy was next in line in the amount of followers he had, but only because every single post was of him half naked. Thank god he was smart otherwise there’d be an issue there, even though he was usually the one to pull people into the house and get them hooked.

Mingi posted about his homework confusing him, saying he needed help, Jongho, like Yeji, posted a fit check, and Yeosang had a photo up in the last two days of him and this girl he’d started seeing. She wasn’t a part of ITZ, something he was keen on. They shared a major, that medical shit. Her profile was quiet, just as the other ITZ girls were.

As was Yunho.

In fact, he’d been keeping a low profile in the house since last week. The guys would see him leave for class, and then he’d come back and camp out in his bedroom.

Last Friday was curious. Seonghwa had Aurora by his side, as he should, and then she was gone. And then, Yunho was gone. The house, entirely too crowded, made it impossible to track them down anyway, until Aurora appeared and asked for her phone back. Tentative to hand it over, intrigued by how fast she was moving, Seonghwa reluctantly handed it back to her and mumbled, “You need to put a passcode on that.”

But, she didn’t hear him.

She was flustered, overwhelmed, and all the more flushed.

Seonghwa knew that face.

Seonghwa knew why Yunho was avoiding everybody.

“Hey,” Soul said, out of breath, rushing into the living room with his phone out. There was little movement around the house this evening, Hongjoong was working on plans for the recruitment dinner with Mingi, and the others were hunched over their homework scattered around the property. Yeosang was on the couch through the archway, nose deep in a textbook with the occasional break to send a text message with a smile.

“You’re back quick,” Seonghwa said, sitting up, dropping his feet to the floor. Soul, grinning wide, shoved his phone into the vice president's hand. “No way you made it happen.”

The freshman took two steps back and propped his hands on his hips, finally able to take a breath to steady his racing heart. “I did, watch that, listen to that.”

Seonghwa eyed him, then tapped the play button on the video.

Aurora’s voice filled the air.

“If I’m picking up what I think you’re putting down… Soul, I have feelings for somebody else. What you want won’t work, it won’t happen.”

“Seonghwa?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Soul. You’re cool, you’ve got a lot going for you. And you’re adorable.”

“I am?” 

Seonghwa’s eyes bugged out of his head as he stared up at Soul, the freshman laughing to himself. “She did it herself.”

Soul threw a hand toward the phone. “You were right, she’s easy.”

“Watch it,” Seonghwa sneered, and Soul planted his hands behind his back.

“She kissed my cheek,” he said. “It wasn’t an actual one, but it still counts, right?”

Seonghwa paused the video halfway through Aurora telling Soul how to live his life, like the boy would actually listen. “I’ll count it.”

“Thank you,” Soul sighed, tipping his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. Seonghwa looked him up and down.

“You tell me she’s shown interest?”

Soul looked at his domineer and nodded. “Not in her words, but…”

“In her eyes?” Seonghwa asked, and Soul continued to bob his head. “Yeah, she does that,” he breathed, handing the freshman his phone. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind ending up in bed with you.” The corners of his lips perked up, and Seonghwa glared at him. “Wipe that look off your face, are you stupid? She’s mine, you heard her say it.”

“Right,” Soul shook his face clean. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Seonghwa clenched his jaw before he said, “Go home, Soul. Come back tomorrow, I’ll have something else for you.”

“This clears senior year though, right?” Soul asked, anxiously awaiting the answer.

“Just about,” Seonghwa said, and the boy sighed in relief. “You’ve passed with San, and you’re almost through with me. Gonna need you to keep up this act with her, okay?” Soul smiled. “An act, Shota. Don’t get ballsy, do you remember what you said? She’s easy.”

“Yeah,” Soul said, quietly. “I got it.”

“Go back to the dorms. I’ll send you her location tomorrow if she goes out.”

Seonghwa watched him hurry from the house, giving Yeosang a sly goodbye as he passed him. An act. One Seonghwa knew Aurora and the freshman who moved with his dick instead of his brain wouldn’t be able to hold themselves back from.

Picking his own phone back up, he opened his messages and smirked.

[seonghwa]: Soul’s in her head now. Can’t confirm if last Friday is true or not still. Will let you know when I find out.

[hbic]: You need to recruit him.

[seonghwa]: He’s proving himself. If he can get her here, he’s an automatic in. His GPA sucks.

[hbic]: Keep her hooked. Have they been talking?

[seonghwa]: No proof. Haven’t seen Yunho in days.

[hbic]: Get Soul to find out. Otherwise we find out at the recruitment dinner.

[seonghwa]: Yes ma’am.

[hbic]: I’ll update Yeji.

NU home ✧ nice for what masterlist ✧ talk to me ✧ thank you for reading <3

you do not have permission to copy or translate my works without my consent.

[ornii]

Do you still do requests?

Can you please do Wednesday Addams X reader who has abilities, powers, and a backstory similar to John Constantine? Thank you.

Black Rum

A little short and sweet.

Nevermore really didn’t change much after the attack, and overall some things never truly did change. But what did was the relationship between (Y/n) and Wednesday, she was cold and standoffish towards him in the beginning. Slowly he melted her icy demeanor and made himself home in her heart. Whether she wanted to admit it or not; she loved him. While continuing their studies, the two participate in… extracurricular activities together.

(Y/n) stood in an old Church, dark magic swirling around him as a magic pentagram was drawn around him. He stood calmly in the tornado of darkness as from that black mist, a demon made purely of shadows reaches out, calling his name with his ethereal voice. “(Y/n)… your soul, is mine…” the ethereal voice called out to him, its arm elongated and askew of humanity. Its bony fingers ready to tear his soul apart.

“Any time now love..” he grumbled, ready for a fight to the death. Standing upon the scaffolding of the interior. Wednesday drew an arrow, dipped in Silver. Her eye focused on the demon, ready to reveal itself. Its body began to open up like a cage of bones, darkness emitting like smoke. What was there was a black heart, beating so callously.

“Dammit Wednesday..” was his final thoughts, until the arrow let loose. It flew though the air and it struck true. Nailing the monster right in the heart, Wednesday began to descend the scaffolding, the beast reels in pain. Screaming as the silver sears his heart and thematically seals him to this world temporarily. The monster collapsed down, writhing in pain. (Y/n) sighs with relief, as the monster spirals in pain. Wednesday stands next to (Y/n) as they look over the monsters body.

“I..I will have my revenge!” It calls out, (Y/n) raises his hand.

“Sure lad, you try that, back to where you came from.” He said, the monster growls.

“W-wait! Fine, perhaps we can, strike a bargain?” He said.. (Y/n) scoffs and shook his head.

“Heard that Wednesday?” He said.

“A god begging for mercy.. pitiful.” She said, the demon reaches out but (Y/n) raised his hands to seal his spell.

“Attiuaiasis Qutendo Beneesta Sulpus Accuule!” He chanted, the spell holding the demon in this world was shattered. And once more he was dragged back to the pits of hell. The two stand there and (Y/n) kicks some of the salt, breaking the spell circle and putting an end to it all. Their peace was interrupted by a priest slowly opening the door, he peers in to see the two standing there. (Y/n) casually motions the priest to follow, the middle aged man looked around to see books everywhere, paper, and the unnerving sense of evil.

“Alright Bishop, your Church is free of the vicar curse.” He said, The priest blesses them.

“May god bless you both a thousand times over. We had no way to deal with this dark energy alone.” He explains, and Wednesday wasn’t the one for chit chat.

“We take our payment in cash and check.” She said flatly. (Y/n) glares at her, before the priest nods and hands them said check.

“Of course, like the Bible says; ‘You shall not muzzle an ox when it treads out the grain,’ and, ‘The laborer deserves his wages.’” He said, Wednesday takes it and departs, (Y/n) sighs and shakes the priests hand.

“If you require any other services or know anyone who does, give us a ring.” He said and catches up to Wednesday. She looks at the check but it’s suddenly pulled away from her and flies back, she watches it fall into the hand of (Y/n). The two begin to walk together along a barren plain like trail.

“You could at least say goodbye to the old man.” He says.

“Why?”

“Because we’re in Kansas and I highly doubt we’ll come back. Plus clientele.”

“I don’t see the point of pleasantries, we came to do a job, simple as that.” She says, (Y/n) shakes his head and they reach a building, but they didn’t need the building just the wall. Reaching into his pocket the reveals chalk, he draws a door on it.

“Point is love, we want this “Black Rum: Occult Detectives” thing to work out, we have to actually be like able.. well I have to be. You just be cute dark and broody.” He said, he then turns to the chalk drawing and spoke. “Ecrumis Queeyela Various.” He then blangs on the wall and it crumbled and behind the chalk outline was a door. (Y/n) walks on as Wednesday grumbles “I’m not Broody.” She said, they walk in and suddenly appear back at Nevermores Quad, (Y/n) closes the door and it crumbed to dust.

“So, why don’t we cash this in and ..Spend some quality time together?” He said raising an eyebrow.

“Fine, I suppose your company wouldn’t be an entire bore.” She walks off as the Magician follows. Chucking to himself.

[sunflower1experiment]

Human contact

TW// Signs of Sa, suicidal thoughts, Jimmy, knifepoint

Before it happened, Anya enjoyed hugs, so did you….but now…

You stopped hugging Anya and resorted to sending coordinates from home to the military, every day in your room….when you left you got to work as the assistant, you kept watch over the cargo.

“Anya!” Jimmy calls, to which you answered and stand beside Anya. “Need anything?”

“Just need Anya for some “medical” advice, ya know since her job isn’t really that serious.” Jimmy jokes, expecting a laugh but your dead gaze causes him to stop. “……What an odd thing to say, anyway what do you need? You don’t take the psych evals seriously yet, it’s surely needed because we don’t need two people in the cockpit having mental health problems.”

Jimmy’s demeanor darkens and he looks at Anya, she just speaks up. “Whatever you need I’ll be sure to grab it…”

“This is your chance of actually doing your job and you’re hiding behind the assistant.” His words cut the air, basically ignoring whatever she said while you stare him in the eyes. “And this your chance to actually take the job as medically necessary as possible, one mistake because you wouldn’t simply take her job seriously and everything goes to hell…”

Jimmy’s whole gaze focuses on the two, while Anya remains quiet and he left. “….You shouldn’t have…”

“Anya…it was his way of keeping you silent from whatever happened…do you remember anything?” Anya shook her head as you stay quiet to hear her out, “….I’ll change yours and his schedule, and be by your door…or something..”

The assistant sits on the chair, Anya continues working. “Thank you..”

“Anya, its common knowledge to care for my best friend…” The woman nods again then wipes away a tear, holding onto her book before she lets more tears fall down.

“…..Anya.”

“You deserve better.”

She did, she truly did. They hug in silence as the world starts to clear in her mind, Curly soon walks in noting the comforting warmth between them. “You both okay?”

You stare at him with your legs crossed as if to make a remark but all that came out was Anya’s teasing. “Are you? Wanna join the hug circle?”

“I do!!” Daisuke moves by him and hugs Anya close, she giggles while you hug them both. Until Curly picks all three of you guys up and hug them. “Aw- Agh! Captain!”

Daisuke laughs as he sets everyone down, “No way he picked us up! Again!”

“Boy! Get your happy self back in here!” Swansea walks over to them, crossing his arms. “What the- who the heck said you could hug each other without me? Not cool.”

“Okay sneaker head.” You and Daisuke hug the older man while the intern wheezes, “not Sneaker head!”

Sometime passes as you suggested the schedule was changed and well, you lost some credible sleep but you were certainly trying to help Curly figure it out. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

He was uncomfortable, yet willing to work and be friends with him. Why….why would he do that? “….Curly stop trying to fix what cannot be fixed.”

Curly rubs his face when you say that and a couple of tears roll down. “….Curly talk to me.” They begin to talk as he breaks down and starts to blame himself for what Jimmy did.

“She’s pregnant…” You grip the couch, “What are we to do? We have eight months…”

“I simply told her to wait to confront him, but…I-our pay…” You sigh, “…..Curly. You have to support her more and we may have to wait…you made a mistake with the lay offs but..this, its beyond telling…I’ll continue helping Anya..”

For a while it was uncomfortable, Jimmy’s conversations with you were cut short every time and when he asked about Anya you simply replied curtly. “She’s busy.”

The pay being docked was on Jimmy, you knew that and sent coords to the military again. Looking at the panel you suddenly feel a shift, what happened?

Running out of the room then down the hallway you see Jimmy, “Jimmy!? What the hell did you do!?” You run into the cockpit, ripping it open and then grab Curly to help him but after that you shield him as the crash happens…foam surrounds your body.

You look up, and Curly’s form was…damaged, his hand was gone and right eye was badly damaged. But his body….well, your back was badly injured.

You get up as you wheeze in agony, “…..”

Sometime goes by, Curly was silent, Jimmy was tied up and Anya was relieved yet saddened.

“So, what do we do?” Swansea asks. “Our Captain here decided to let some manic loose.”

“Swansea, no….I…I didn’t consider his or Anya’s mental health.” He looks over at Anya while she sighs and starts crying weakly. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have..”

“Anya, no matter what. Human contact is simply not something that can be exchanged without the other person’s consent…” You state bluntly, “I don’t know why Jimmy did what he did, but to crash the ship simply because his consequences have actions…well I’ll be….Curly was damned either way…complicit or not…Jimmy had every intent to react…”

“But- I…” Anya looks away, “I’m sorry.” Curly shakes his head.

“Anya don’t apologize to me for anything, ever…it’s not your fault. It’s mine, and Pony Express’s fault…” Swansea grumbles when Curly blames himself, shaking his head. Daisuke merely looks at Jimmy, “Well- That simply just isn’t true Cap….you’re at fault because you were complicit but Jimmy’s actions were his own decision..” he may have been unfiltered but, jeez did his words help.

“Now I’m certain you said the military would come get us?” You nod, “I sent the coordinates and since Curly moved us in time and the system somewhat works, we could try to send more..”

As you start to work, you slowly begin to feel tears rolling down. You set the coordinate telegrams down, finally breaking down softly. “……I should have protected her…”

Days, weeks, two months!?

Curly was laying on your lap, you’d occasionally avoid eating and give it to Anya for her sake, Swansea would check on Jimmy. It was quiet between them and you, your cold gaze made him so angry…why!? Why is it that he tried to fix it….he and Curly both…

“Jimmy…you realize that this crash costed us 4000 credits….you could’ve had those credits but instead you assaulted Anya…did you simply think you doing that wouldn’t have consequences…..of course you did. Thats why you crashed this ship, Assaulting Anya, you probably silenced her or you drugged her who knows…and she found the courage after the lay off…her being pregnant…” You sigh, and stare down at him.

“It makes me sick, you forcefully took away her autonomy, impregnated her and then tried to crash the ship? Simply because you knew it’d reflect on you and that pay would be docked but let me ask you this…do you see her as human?” He looks at you, confused: what kind of question is that!? Anya is a human of course.

“Don’t ask me stupid questions-“

“Then you can answer it with your full chest! Do you see Anya as human!? Yes or no!?” He doesn’t answer, instead he remains silent.

“Thought so, like her, you be seen as subhuman.” With that the cargo door closed once more. Leaving Jimmy tied up with the never ending boxes of mouthwash…

Because that is simply how the company, saw them, how he saw Anya….as something to give them a sort of satisfaction until it affected them.

Swansea holds your arm when you begin your tear up, “Can’t lose my temper….”

They leave, the gruff mechanic was reassuring you yet it didn’t help with the fact that he truly didn’t see that what he did ruined everything. “It all started with the harassment…”

Anya looks at you and she reaches out, at first you hesitate then look at her. She nods reassuringly: You hold one another for a long time again.

Curly does the same, with Swansea and Daisuke joining in after. “This is nice….”

Anya chuckles, “Human contact is only acceptable with consent. As you said.”

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

New Beginnings

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: New city. New job. New school. New apartment,. New neighbors. New beginnings.

Square Filled: choose your own au for @spencerreidbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

This is a new start for you. New city. New apartment. New neighbors. New job. A fresh start from your old life. Growing up, you’ve always been a small-town girl with hopes of moving to a big city to chase her dreams. Back home, everyone knew everyone’s business. Like when Shelly from church was caught having an affair with the pastor. Her husband found out that day and both of them had to leave town to avoid the scrutiny of everyone else. Or like the time when your sister got pregnant and only told a small group of people only to go to work the next day and people knew.

Small-town folk aren’t for everyone which is why you left while you could. The only problem is that all your family is back home. You know no one in Quantico, Virginia. You guess that’s the best part about it. You can reinvent yourself and create a whole new life separate from what you’ve known.

Before moving to Virginia, you got yourself enrolled in night school for graphic design since you’ve always wanted to be a designer. You’ve done some work for your town like making websites for businesses and making some ads for smaller companies but you want to know more so you can do bigger and better things.

Tomorrow, you’ll scout the city and find a coffee shop to make your second home, find the nearest grocery store, etc. Right now, all you’re focused on is getting all your boxes out of the moving truck so you can return it before the deadline. You’re doing it by yourself but you don’t have a lot to do. You never had a lot when you left your hometown but it’s still a lot for one person to do.

It takes you all day to get everything inside your house, and the only thing you’re able to unpack is your bedframe and mattress. It’s going to take all week to get most everything set up which is fine because night school doesn't start for another two weeks.

You live in a building that sits in a circle of other buildings with a huge courtyard in the middle. The courtyard consists of a dog park, a pool, a volleyball set, and some outdoor furniture where people can sit and eat. Your building is right across from another so you can see into people’s apartments if their curtains are open.

Your phone rings and you answer it while admiring the other buildings.

“Hey, mom.”

“Y/N! Did you get in okay?”

“Yeah, I just set up my bed. I’ll start unpacking tomorrow.”

“I’m sad you’re so far from us but I’m happy for you. Does that make sense?” she chuckles. “Anyway, your dad and I will come visit as soon as he gets this new promotion. He’ll get some time off and we can always use the vacation.”

“Yeah, by then, I’ll have seen some places we can go to. You like history and Virginia is a history-rich state.”

“Okay, I just wanted to know if you got in safe. Your dad and I are going out with the folks from church. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Sure. I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.”

The building across from yours is close enough to where you could communicate with another resident if you shouted but you’re not going to disturb others, especially at night. The sun is still up but is quickly going down, leaving the sky with pretty colors. There is a young man sitting on his small balcony with a book in his hands minding his own business. Every apartment has a small balcony where people can sit and enjoy the fresh air, but most of them use it for storage.

The young man runs his fingers down the pages of the book and flips through the book at a shocking speed. Is he really reading that fast? He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up and makes eye contact with you. You give him a small wave to which he returns before going back to reading.

You look at the boxes inside your room and see a label on one of them that reads: ARTS AND CRAFTS. You open the box to see thick small poster boards you were using for a project back home. Next to them are your markers so you grab the black one and a handful of poster boards. You write “Hi, my name is Y/N” on one of them before going back outside.

The man looks up just as you hold up your poster board for him to see. You wrote the letters in a thick font so he is able to read them from where he’s at. He reads what you have and leaves the balcony to go back inside his apartment. The smile is lost from your face at the thought of making him uncomfortable but then he walks back out with poster boards of his own. He writes something down on his and shows it to you.

Hi. My name is Spencer.

You like reading?

I love it.

You new here?

No, been here 13 years. You new?

Yes, I came from Kansas.

Job?

Graphic Designer. You?

FBI.

Sounds exotic.

Spencer smiles at this. Some of his nighttime preparations are to read for an hour before bed, and he was at the forty-five-minute mark when you two started talking.

I have to go. Talk tomorrow?

Tomorrow.

Spencer packs up his poster boards and heads back inside, and you follow suit a few minutes later. You’re going to need to buy more poster boards if you want to continue talking to him across the courtyard. Tomorrow comes and you end up finding a grocery store, a coffee shop, and a place that sells a lot of poster boards.

Spencer must have a day job because you didn’t see him at all while you were unpacking. You started with the kitchen and barely finished with it by the time Spencer got back from his job as an FBI agent. Wow, imagine that. A real-life FBI agent. You’ve only seen them in movies and TV shows so it's kind of cool you get to say you know someone in that field.

You sit on your balcony and wait for him to come out. Ten minutes go by and you see the light in his place turn on. Five more later, he walks out on his balcony with poster boards in hand. He doesn’t look too good. Yesterday, he had a natural glow about him but today, he has a sort of sadness about him. Still, he’s out here talking to you because he enjoys your company even though you’re in separate buildings.

You okay?

Rough case.

You want to talk?

Can’t. Open investigation. Of course. Duh. He flips the poster board over and scribbles something else on it. How was your day?

Good. Just school. I graduate Fall 2027.

Field of study?

Graphic Design.

Anything I’d see of yours?

You grin and write down a website you helped design before showing it to him. He takes one look at it and types it on his phone. He admires your work and thinks it’s amazing work. You have real talent.

I like it. You’re talented.

Even from where you’re at, you can see how sad he is. You’re not sure what he’s dealt with today or what he is going through, but you hope to make it better at least a little bit. You have to use two posterboards for this to get your message across.

Don’t let your job strip you of who you are. No job is worth it if you’re losing yourself.

You got Spencer to smile.

Same to you.

As the days progress, you and Spencer make it a nightly routine of talking to each other through poster boards. During the day, you’re unpacking boxes and getting your home ready while Spencer is at work dealing with the worst of the worst. His job isn’t easy but seeing you every night lifts his spirits.

That is until he stops showing up. You gave him a couple of days without bothering him since he might be caught up in something for work, but after seeing his light every night without him coming to the balcony, you know something is wrong. You don’t know who he is fully, but you do know that he would come talk to you if he was feeling up for it.

“Any sights of your secret lover?” one of your best friends, Marcy, says over the phone.

“No, he’s still held up in his apartment,” you say and look out the window to his.

“I bet he’s not even an FBI agent. Maybe he lied to you,” Rebecca, your other friend, says.

“I don’t think so. Maybe he just needs some time alone. I don’t know a lot about him. He can only fit so much on small poster boards.”

“It’s giving You Belong With Me by Taylor Swift,” Marcy chuckles.

“I think you should go over there and talk to him face-to-face.”

“Yeah, I have to agree with Bec. It’s not like he’s your next-door neighbor. If it doesn’t work out, you don’t have to see him in passing.”

“True,” you bite your lower lip. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Let us know how it goes,” Bec smirks.

“Oh, I will. Wish me luck.”

“Luck!” both girls say at the same time before hanging up.

You turn back to Spencer’s apartment and see the light peeking through the curtains. You count the number of floors he’s off the ground and the number of apartments he’s at from the wall so you know where to start. You’re not sure what you’re going to do when you get there but you’ll think of something on the spot.

You have some cookies left over from when you made some a few days ago, so you box those up and make your way over to the building across from yours. Your keycard works for this building even though you’re not a resident in it because you’re a resident overall. Once inside his building, you make your way up to the fifth floor and the tenth apartment from the wall.

Here goes nothing.

You knock twice on the door and wait for someone to answer it. It might not even be his apartment but you’ll try all of them if you have to. A few moments later, Spencer opens the door with a confused look on his face. When he sees you, his eyes widen slightly.

“Wow,” he breathes.

“What?”

“You’re more beautiful in person.”

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment.

“I brought you some cookies. I hope you’re doing okay. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Work has just been… yeah, it’s not fun sometimes.”

“I can only imagine which is why I brought some cookies.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Yes,” you smile.

You walk inside and immediately notice all the poster boards he’s been using to communicate with you. He’s saved every single one of them and that brings a smile to your face. You never thought you’d meet someone this quickly after moving to a new city, but you’re glad you did.

x

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[tarithenurse]

Handle with care - 3

Fandom: MCU. Pairing/starring: Eventually Bucky x fem!reader, The Avengers, Pepper Potts, Happy Hogan, SHIELD. Word count: 998. Content: So much pining it’s ridiculous. A/N: This will be a small series. Let me know what you think and please reblog – it’s fuel for more! There’s a taglist too so send an ASK if you want on it.

3.

- Bucky’s PoV -

She’s asked the team to come see her one on one at their leisure now she’s fully caught up. Steve was the first to go, keen to make her feel welcome and of use and Bucky felt that he should have done that. Instead he’d been in the gym. He spends a lot of time there now. It’s close.

“Hey, Buck!” Steve’s voice snaps him back to reality. “Where’s your head at?”

The two of them have gotten pizzas and are (or were) trying to pick one of the movies from Sam’s list of recommendations.

“Right here, punk,” he grumbles in reply. Snagging the list out of Steve’s hand, he looks over the options. “What’s the difference between Star Wars and Star Trek again?”

“It’s the...uh...they’re both in space...?”

Bucky’s about to point out that that’s in fact a similarity and not a difference when he notices someone at the door, heading for the kitchen: [Y/N].

“You’re here late for a Friday night,” Steve calls out for her.

“Yeah...took longer with Doctor Banner than expected,” she smiles tiredly.

Something inside Bucky’s guts curls up at the idea that even Bruce has taken time to go see her. But he doesn’t say anything.

She steps closer, still clutching her used coffee mug in one hand and her purse in the other. “What are you up to?”

“Deciding on a movie. What’d you recommend?” Steve hands her the list and she scans it quickly.

A crooked smile catches on her soft lips and Bucky has a hard time focusing on anything else for a moment.

“Honestly?” she asks, earning two nods. “None of these but rather a story closer to your time: Lord of the Rings. If you have the time.”

“Got all night.”

“Good because you ought to see the extended version. Hang on.”

Bustling off to put her mug away, she soon returns to order FRIDAY around and the screen on the wall activates, waiting for the order to begin playing the movie.

“You’ve read the books?” Both men nod. “There are some changes to it but it’s still amazing movies.” Slipping on to the armrest next to Bucky, she smiles shyly. “I won’t bother you for long but...I’ll just make sure it’s the right version.”

With that she starts the movie and Bucky has a hard time watching the screen, rather wanting to look at her as she softly mouths the words in Elvish, eyes shining with excitement.

By the time Frodo inherits the ring, she’s seated properly on the couch right next to him, making his heart thunder in his chest.

When the party reaches Rivendel, she’s resting her head on his shoulder, softly breathing as she’s somehow managed to fall asleep to the movie despite clearly loving it. Bucky doesn’t dare move for fear of waking her up, inevitably causing her to move away. Thankfully, Steve hasn’t noticed.

He does discover the conundrum when the movie ends, though. Grinning at Buck, the blond man just whispers goodnight and leaves his friend to figure out what to do.

- Reader’s PoV -

Someone’s calling your name, softly stroking your hand. “Hey, doll?”

“Hmm?” you manage to mumble, blinking in the soft light to get a face into focus.

Whoever it is is close to you. You blink again. There are storm-coloured eyes, smiling gently at you. Bucky. You return the smile. Then freeze. He’s much too close! Suddenly everything comes rushing and you’re painfully aware that you’re leaning against him, chin on his shoulder. You must have fallen asleep somehow. Pulling back, you begin to apologize profusely.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promises, instantly calming you.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be...you’ve been working hard and it’s a new job. Makes sense you’re tired.”

You follow his gaze to your lap where his hand is still holding yours and it’s with regret you watch him pull away.

“I better...better get going...” you say tamely while getting up.

He follows you to the elevator. “Wanna watch the next movie with me? Us?”

Your heart leaps. “I’d like that. Tomorrow?” He nods “I’ll be here.”

---

Maybe it’s the nap you had at the Tower. Maybe it’s the realization of who you’d napped on. Either way, you can’t sleep once you’re lying in your bed. You just keep replaying the moment where you woke up with Bucky’s face so close to yours and the brief joy of him holding your hand, stroking your knuckles. It had felt good. More than good, actually. For a moment your mind is distracted trying to find the right word but then the image of his grey eyes appears in your thoughts and nothing else matters.

- Bucky’s PoV -

Even now as he lays in bed, his shoulder still feels warm where her head had been resting. His entire arm too because she’d leaned against it. Soft curves. Pencil skirt riding up a bit higher than it should. Blouse that did nothing to shield against the body heat seeping from her to him.

It had been a fight for her to stay awake as long as she had. Initially she had been enraptured by the movie, anticipating every line of dialogue...but she had succumbed eventually.

She was beautiful in her sleep. Peaceful. Soft lips that were gently parted and eyelashes resting like snow: delicate – sometimes they’d flutter when the noise of the movie got too much but she would sleep on regardless, exhausted from a long day’s work.

Steve had been caught up by the movie, and what little Bucky had caught of the thing it really was good. He ought to re-watch it without any distractions.

But right now...right now he just lies, trying to sleep but instead feeling all sorts of fuzzy inside in a way he hasn’t for technically...well scratch that: he’s never felt that way before. Sighing deeply, he knows what’s happening to him but he just can’t believe that he’s been smitten now. So randomly. So...profoundly.

[outsideratheart]

You're Not Funny (Lucy Bronze x reader)

A/N: Here's a little something for you @cpheath

You knew that you would have to play your best in order to beat Chelsea at Stamford bridge and that is exactly what the team did in the first half. Caro’s goal put you ahead in the 4th minute and since that moment Barcelona dominated. 

It was text book Barca, plays that you had practiced in training and everything was going great until it wasn’t. The ball had been played forward and Barcelona was on the attack once again. The goal scorer crossed the ball to where you were lurking near the back post. It wasn’t your best header but the ball did land at Frido’s feet only she wasn’t able to get a shot off. 

You were ready to reset when you saw her. Lucy was on the floor focusing on her knee. Given the amount of injures recently the dreaded three letters came to mind and panic begin to brew in your gut. Sandra is the first to her but you aren’t far behind her. 

“What’s wrong?” You kneel by her side “who was it? Tell me?” You’re ready to take on ten men. Nobody hurts Lucy and gets away with it. 

“Alright Rocky, calm down. Nobody touched me. It’s my knee” 

The calmness in her voice lets you know the pain was familiar but it didn’t easy the worry in the slightest. Lucy had surgery after the Olympics and you have seen first hand the tole the intensity she play with is taking on it. 

The team leaves to two of you be, using this time to discuss a strategy that will see them to the end of the game with a win. 

“Sub?” You ask and she nods her head. 

You make the change signal to Jonatan and call the medics over. Keira looks over from the group and you shake your head letting her know that Lucy wont be able to continue.

When you’re asked to move you flat out refuse. Your relationship well known so the medics should have known better. Once Lucy is ready she hold her hands out and you help her up. She leans on you as she tries to put weight on her right leg but it’s no use, the joint is too tender though Lucy being the stubborn mule that she is continues to try. 

“Baby that’s enough, Torre’s ready and waiting” 

Lucy puts almost all her weight on you as you help her to sidelines. 

“Carry out every check possible without taking her to the hospital. Entender?” 

“Y/N” 

“No! You see this” you point to the band on your upper arm “This means I’m the captain and you do as I say when you were that badge and they do what I say when it comes to my team” you trn your attention back to the medics “Every check, entiendes?”

“Entiendo” both medics say in unison. They would never admit it but they were scared of you especially when it came your to protective side. 

You had always been good at compartmentalising and it was moments like this when you appreciated it the most. You played the rest of the game with one thing in mind; get the win. At soon as the final whistle blew signalling the end of the game your focus has once again shifted and all you cared about was Lucy but you still had a job to do albeit a small one. The Chelsea players were quiet, of course they were you had just outplayed them in their own stadium. With quick hands shakes and small pleasantries you made you way through the blue team. 

Mapi was explaining a part in the game where you could improve when the last Chelsea player shook your hand. Truth is you wasn’t really paying attention, if you had then you might have noticed the Barcelona badge on her coat. 

“Well playe— Luce” your handshake soon turns into a reach out and hold of her hand. 

She knows what you want to do so she stands in front of you. You give her her once over, not fully believing that she is ok despite her walking and putting her weight back on her right leg. 

“See” she does a single leg squat to prove her point but she doesn’t get the reaction she hoped for “look at me go, i’m ready go play another 90 minutes”

“What are you doing! Don’t push it”

“I’m joking” 

“You’re not funny! I still want to talk to the medics. Something happened Lucy and I don’t like you joking about”

“Y/N i’m ok” you shake your head “no?” Lucy didn’t understand and you wouldn’t expect her to. 

Seeing your partner injured is tough and to see them go through surgery, well it sticks with you. Once they’re back on the pitch they don’t think about what they went though but you remember Lucy’s recovery vividly.

“You don’t get the play this off. I let you do it during and after the Australia game but no more. Your health needs to come first”

“Baby, look at me” Lucy doesn’t care about your surroundings, she cups your face forcing you to look her in the eyes “I’m ok, just a little bit sore. If you don’t believe me you can ask the physios I told them to answer all your questions honestly, we don’t have secrets” 

Lucy’s tone lets you know she’s telling the truth but you need the medics to confirm it in order to believe her. 

“Hop on” you take a few steps forwards and turn so that you back is facing her. 

“I get to ride Y/N Y/L/N”

“You do if you’re telling the truth” you say quietly so only she can hear you. It was a threat but Lucy knew she would get her reward because she was in fact telling you the truth, she was ok.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for almost killing my 8th grade english teacher? (warning: racism, sa mention)

I (M16, 14 at the time, white (this is important later)) was part of the newspaper in middle school. The teacher running the newspaper (F… 50? 60? i have no idea) was always really nice to me, and we got along really well. I was ecstatic to see that she would be my english teacher in 8th grade.

That is, until the class actually began.

This english class we mostly read books about oppression and historical atrocities and genocide because our history class wouldn’t cover that for some reason (the reason is racism). It seemed like this teacher would have done a good job of teaching this material, but well. you can see where this is going.

a week into the school year the whole class saw that she was pretty racist - not like overtly racist; she sort of said she cared about fighting oppression and then… was a part of that oppression. like she’d say “i could never be racist” and then she would be racist. it’s hard to explain. she would always be incredibly weird about disciplining the Black kids in the class, blaming one guy in particular for like. every time a guy in the class acted like and eighth grade boy would act. she was also really condescending to him; she’d constantly make comments about how he couldn’t follow rules (which obviously isn’t true). she did this to an extent to all the other Black kids in the class as well; later when some of them went to the principal to talk about what happened they said they didn’t feel safe in her class.

additionally, pretty much nobody even stood for the pledge of allegiance (we were usually busy reading cause the library in that school was really nice and had a really good collection of books), and when they did they’d never actually say it. this teacher had a problem with this, and every time she saw absolutely nobody in the class standing for the pledge of allegiance, she’d make the entire homeroom (oh yeah i was in her homeroom too, forgot to mention that) tell her why they didn’t for literally the entire class period. Every time someone mentioned systemic racism or racist history she’d butt in either saying “my parents were immigrants and they stood for the pledge” or she’d start talking about her gay son. some kids told stories of being called slurs when they were younger. some kids cried. she would always bring up her gay son as a rebuttal. and i get that being gay is hard, i’m gay myself, but that is not in any way applicable to the situation at hand here. This happened on three separate occasions - sometimes a single person would stand for the pledge just so there was at least one person doing it and so we wouldn’t have to have that conversation.

And then there was the actual teaching. oh boy. so, as i said before, almost all of our books in this class were about some sort of historical atrocity because the history class didn’t have time for it apparently. and uh. uhhhhhhh yeah. with this teacher it was not a good experience.

We had read books about racism for summer reading and we were reading the novel Chains at the beginning of the school year, and the teacher would always talk about how “resilient” the characters in the books were and how they made the best of their situations and fought back, but never about how these characters should have never had to be in these situations in the first place and WHO PUT THEM IN THESE SITUATIONS, WHAT SYSTEMS PUT THEM IN THESE SITUATIONS YOU KNOW THE KIND OF STUFF ONE WOULD NEED TO KNOW FROM A COURSE LIKE THIS TO MAKE SURE HISTORY DOESNT REPEAT ITSELF. Later in the year we read Warriors Don’t Cry and it went exactly how you’d expect. “Resiliency”. Also worse than you’d expect. The teacher victim blamed the author, a real ass person writing about real fucking events, for almost being assaulted at a young age. And though we focused more on the systems of oppression, thankfully, we also watched and interview with the little rock nine and some of the people who harassed them in school, and one of them, a white woman, said the n word and refused to apologize. and this teacher defended her???? On another occasion we had a lesson about feminism and we read some of Sojourner Truth’s writing, and she interpreted it as solely being about womanhood and not race - and when I tried to talk about how race is an important factor in the message of one of the speeches, the teacher called my parents. We also read books about the holocaust and this teacher was surprisingly respectful throughout the whole thing. No victim blaming, no talk of resilience, nothing.

I had talked to her about all of this before. We knew each other from the newspaper, and it even seemed like I was her favorite student. She would not budge. Sometimes she even made the argument that I was smarter than the other kids, that I cared more than the other kids, that I would notice these things and care about them but other kids wouldn’t and I should just shut up because nobody understands me because i’m just so smart. which made me fucking pissed. i don’t care any more than the other kids who told you stories of being harassed and ridiculed at 8:30 am on a weekday so that the whole class could excercise their freedom of speech. i’m not any smarter than the other kids who cited countless examples of the atrocities this country committed against people of color to you who you didn’t listen to. in fact, i’m not even that smart. i’d say i’m kind of an idiot. and i want to be an idiot, because then i’m not put on a pedestal to push other people down.

This happened two years ago so i don’t exactly remember the order in which these next three events happened.

Since during these talks sometimes i’d start to cry, in may my french teacher asked me if i wanted to transfer to her homeroom and i did. It was a lot better there.

Around this time about eight of the kids from my old homeroom went to the principal to talk about this teacher and how her class made them feel unsafe.

Anyway, my backpack is very heavy. I usually have a lot of books in there, until this year I used five subject notebooks, I never clean out my folders and I brought a laptop as well. Even with all this though, my backpack always ends up being heavier than I expected.

So, one day my anger toward this teacher boiled over. On my way out of english class, when she went to say goodbye to me, I shoved her to the side with my backpack. It turns out that broke her hip, and she was out of school for two weeks. When she came back she said she had almost died in the hospital. She also announced her retirement, and that she was going to go and “end racism”, ironically. She knew I was the one who hit her, but she didn’t say anything about that. I was still her favorite, apparently. It left a bad taste in my mouth that she still thought of me like this. Eventually I graduated from that school and I haven’t seen her since.

tldr: A teacher of mine was racist and making a lot of the kids in the class feel unsafe, and she tried to keep me from arguing with her about it, so I hit her with my backpack and broke her hip, almost killing her.

AITA???

What are these acronyms?

[dtriad]

《早安！三国打工人》 Good Morning! Workers of the Three Kingdoms, written by 蒿里茫茫

here to shout into the void with a cnovel rec!

The world is boiling, the people are suffering. In truth, Lu Xuanyu didn't quite understand the meaning of those eight words. Ever since she had landed face down in the dirt of the sixth year of the Zhongping era, the fleeting dream she'd once held had scattered like ashes and vanished into thin air. She had a plain face, low EQ, no family background, and a baffling debuff that made everyone mislike her—but it didn't matter that she wasn't treated as the white moonlight of whatever duke or prince. She could work hand and foot, balance the books, butcher hogs, and even had a sword that was enough for her to walk alone in a chaotic world. Her goal was also very simple: a small house, some close friends and neighbors, a room full of food, and a courtyard where she could enjoy the cool breeze at night. So—in the end, just what had gone so wrong for her path to turn entirely in another direction? "I am ready to die here." She held the Black Blade, fully focused as she stood amid the flames, and looked arrogantly at the tide of Danyang soldiers pouring in. "If you want to seize Xuzhou, be ready to do the same."

I have a weakness for the sub-genre of cnovels that's about the main character transmigrating into a historical setting, preferably stories set in an actual historical dynasty (tagged 古色古香) instead of an invented historical setup (tagged 架空历史) or in-universe fictional storyline. And even more specifically, the kind that deals in infrastructure building or military conflict. Conveniently, JJWXC has tags for specific periods, e.g. Qin, Han, Tang, Song, Ming, and Qing dynasties—and of course the Three Kingdoms period, which is how I came across 早安！三国打工人 aka Good Morning! Workers of the Three Kingdoms while on a historical transmigration reading spree, and consequently fell down a very, very, very deep hole orz

Among the stories that I’ve read in this sub-genre, 3K Workers really stands out to me as one of the best (imo!). The MC Lu Xuanyu doesn’t transmigrate into someone native to the Three Kingdoms period, but as her own DnD character with high combat and terribly low charm per the debuff from the summary. 😂 There is no System, only her sentient sword—the Black Blade—that may be as much of a hidden existential poison to her as it is her one “friend” in the beginning. Slowly, she makes an ordinary life for herself in the capital city of Luoyang, with sufficient food and necessities, a decent-paying job, friendly and nosy neighbors, a small home of her own… But none of it can last, because these are the deathbed years of the Eastern Han dynasty according to history—and the people are suffering.

Over the course of more than a decade, from a lone hunter to a butcher, from a handyman to a refugee, from a night watchman to a general—who’s responsible for the lives of many thousands, both soldiers and civilians (the line blurring as ever between them)—Lu Xuanyu never forgets why she decided to step up and fight: to save people. And her struggles in the attempt, both internal and external, comprise the propelling force of the story, as we can see from the author's notes in which they say up front that Lu Xuanyu will join Liu Bei’s team, and then add:

The heroine is an idealist unto death; don’t think about using reality to change her.

(no way!!!! I love her as she is.)

Some things I really like in 3K Workers:

Lu Xuanyu starts out as a true no-name, rather than someone with an established and/or influential family background (b/c lbr that is quite common for this sub-genre). When she appears through an outsider's POV in Ch. 1, she’s been living alone in the wilderness for several months and is a little desperate for some kind of positive human interaction (the low charm debuff does her no favors, which makes the instances people overcome it more notable—it either says something about the impact her behavior has on them, or their ability to disregard inexplicable annoyance). She doesn’t have power or influence to leverage; she doesn’t have the ambition to do something great or world-changing. She simply wants to live a normal life. It’s just unfortunate that “normal” in the 3K period easily leads to death. Her abilities make her abnormal—she is, quite literally, something like an android according to Word of God, a superhuman who’s a wrinkle in the fabric of this timeline’s reality—but she feels and thinks as a 21st century human, with the assumption of a common humanity that makes her a fish out of water.

There's a strong focus on the consequences of war for the common people, and the PTSD that is a simple fact of existence for those exposed to the conflicts; it consistently turns its lens back to look at the farmers, the soldiers, the people who are treated like trampled grass, and shares their perspectives as well. I recall seeing this done in a few other novels, but iirc the framing in those cases was set up more as a way to show people reacting to the changes wrought by the MC, whereas here the framing allows the MC to better understand the attitudes & status quo of the period.

A lot of stories in the sub-genre have the MCs quickly adjusting to the past on the outside and leveraging the power of their position (again, typically based on preexisting family clout) to proactively push for changes, whether it’s to protect themselves or drive swift societal/technological change. In contrast, Lu Xuanyu doesn’t ever truly adapt to the values of the past, is clearly an oddball to others in her behavior and actions, and has enough on her hands with battles without any time or attention to initiate some golden-finger-boosted upheaval of norms. But the ripple effect of her existence is such that other characters, native to the period, are the ones who see clearly what changes they can make and want to make, and pursue those goals of their own accord: reducing the power of the gentry, sharing knowledge more widely, establishing a strong foundation to support better opportunities for women… They come self-motivated to their own enlightenment, which I feel really enriches the story—Lu Xuanyu is the match that lit the fire, but they keep the fire burning. A special shout-out to Lu Bai, who proposes and leads the women-only Jianfu Battalion; her character has some fantastic development throughout the book ♥

I consider this novel very anti-war in attitude—even though we want Lu Xuanyu to win her battles, by the end there’s only bitter weariness rather than delight in victory.

It’s the Three Kingdoms period, so if you like loyalty kink then this naturally caters 300% to that!!!

Ft. great content about battle strategy, tactics, and logistics that makes my inner history geek super happy, and it's combined very effectively with character portrayal and development shown via battle; outside of battle, it gives attention to rebuilding during the rare periods of temporary peace in a historically grounded way.

Plus the tension in the (im)balance of power—there’s the imperial court, the various warlords, appointed officials, aristocratic families—and how the norms of society slowly, slowly start to change...

Despite the subject matter, it is also incredibly funny 😆 Lu Xuanyu's 21st-century-shaped outlook does not jive with period attitudes, and the resulting disconnects in communication are hilarious if you enjoy dry humor; the low EQ squad, ft. founding members Lu Xuanyu and Lü Bu lololol, are an absolute riot, whether they’re interacting with each other or anyone else, and outside their low EQ sphere of immediate influence the story doesn’t shortchange readers on everyday absurdities either, whether it’s the internal squabbling within Yuan Shao’s harem of strategists/advisors or the 3K period take on “lying flat” among certain scholars (paging Zhuge Liang’s uncle…)

The events and historical characters are based on actual historical records rather than fictionalized Romance of the Three Kingdoms, but you don’t have to be knowledgeable about 3K history at all! Lu Xuanyu certainly isn’t! (And if you are, you’ll enjoy all the references to 3K memes & whatnot… actual lol at the “burning of the thatched cottage” in 3K Workers @ 2010 Three Kingdoms drama do you see that!!! do you see what proper plot logic is!!!)

Technically it falls under JJWXC’s m/f category, but I consider this story essentially gen with background UST at most. Lu Xuanyu is very shippable, in the sense that she has lots of interesting relationships with characters in roles ranging from loyal subordinates to tsundere colleagues to ideologically opposed enemies. (And I was pretty satisfied with the endgame ship, though it really isn’t the focus at all during the main story.) She passes as a man for the first ~20% of the cnovel before revealing she’s a woman, and while the f/f potential is limited (alas!), I do love the supporting female characters.

The bad news: … it’s long… and untranslated… /cries/ I want to translate some excerpts as I reread it, but I gotta be realistic—despite my love for this cnovel I just can’t sign myself up rn to translate 2.7 million Chinese characters over 700+ chapters. If you can read Chinese or if you’re ok with reading via mtl, then you can find it at:

JJWXC [how-to guide]

OR here, Ch. 1-601 (Parts 1-5) and Ch. 602-757 (Part 6+extras)

OR you can message me for a formatted ereader-friendly file >_>

Additional links (potential spoilers)—

Reviews on Weibo & Lofter (one) (two) (three)

Review - Peking University Online Literature 2022-23 Biennial List

Interview with the author 蒿里茫茫

Lu Xuanyu's Pathfinder character sheet

Meta re: Lü Bu

Maps of Luoyang; army movements in the years 193, 195, & 199 CE (+zoom in on Puyang); Emperor Xian's journey 195-199 CE

Translated excerpts—

Ch. 13: LXY defending the neighborhood

Ch. 23: Mei-niang invites LXY over

Ch. 66/73: "you cannot retreat, you cannot lose, and you cannot die!"

Ch. 99: funerals for the dead

Ch. 210: Lü Bu's innate taunt skill

Ch. 679/687: the two sides of Sima Yi

Audiobook adaption (in progress)—

Ximalaya homepage

Bilibili playlist (eps 1-1110+, updating)

Youtube playlist (ep. 1-550)

[last updated 1/17/2025]

[mischievouslittlecreature]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Summary: Lucy's usefulness to the company is called into question.

Word Count: 3,587

Warnings: Slut shaming (sort of).

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 11: Useful

Her fingers twitched, thumb rubbing idly at her rings while she listened to Isiah brief them on what their boys had found during their stakeouts of the flat where Clara had told them some of the Italians were hiding out.

“It’s Alessio. We’ve seen him come in and out a couple of times. From what we can gather, it looks like he has two guards with him. His wife stays there too, but on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, she leaves from eleven in the morning to three in the afternoon to have lunch with friends, go to the salon, and help facilitate this book and knitting club she’s a part of. That’s when Alessio and the boys will call on Elizabeth or other whores and have them come over to the flat.”

“Are there any children?” Lucy asked, gaze focused on the opposite wall of the office. Today was a Wednesday. It was a little past noon. 

“No. Alessio and his wife don’t have any. Not so sure about the guards, but if they do, they aren’t staying with them.”

“And the wife leaves at those same times? Every day?” Tommy prompted. 

“Yes.”

“Good,” Lucy could already feel the beginnings of a plan forming in her mind. “Well done, Isiah, you’ve done a good job here.”

Tommy jerked his chin towards the door. “You can go.”

Isiah nodded to them both. “Family meeting in ten minutes, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll be gathering in the kitchen. Feel free to put some tea on, while you wait,” Lucy stood from where she’d been leaning with her back propped up against her desk, arms crossed over her chest.

“Thanks.”

“And don’t mention this to anyone else yet!” Tommy called after him. 

She watched the kid duck out the door, weaving around the desks in the betting shop to make his way towards the kitchen. When she was sure that he was out of earshot, she turned to Tommy, and was promptly met with stern eyes and pursed lips. 

“No.”

“You haven’t even heard what I’ve got to say yet!” she protested. He sighed, pulling off his glasses and tossing them onto the pile of papers atop his desk, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Tommy,” she strode towards him, placing both palms flat on the smooth wood surface, leaning forward across it. With her standing and him still seated in his chair, she was actually taller than him for once. “This is part of what you hired me for in the first place.”

“That was before we had others who can do the killings for us. Besides,” he folded his hands together. “I usually only sent you after ordinary people, not trained soldiers of the Sicilian mafia.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think that I can’t handle them?”

“It’s not a problem of if you can handle them or not, love,” he said quietly, and when he looked up, she was struck by the look in his eyes, teetering on pleading. “I can’t lose you.”

She took a deep breath, trying hard to remember Grace’s words from her dream:

The idea of losing you is probably terrifying.

“I know,” she said, gently as she could, reaching across the desk to take his face in her hands. “I know you worry, but I will be fine. I promise. I’ll take some of our boys with me, if that’ll make you feel better, just please…please let me do this, Tommy. There’s only three of them. If I leave now, I could be done with all of them maybe even before the family meeting is over.”

“Why?” Tommy asked, voice hoarse, staring up at her destitutely. “There’s no reason that it has to be you. The Golds can deal with them just as easily.”

Her lips parted, stuttering slightly at the realization that she did not actually have a good answer for him. She couldn’t say why it was so important that she be the one to go after Alessio. Or who it was exactly she was trying to prove something too. Maybe herself. Maybe the rest of the family. Maybe it was just her fucking pride getting in the way of things; insisting that she was still top-dog when it came to this kind of work, even though she hardly actually partook in it anymore. An insistence to prove that she wasn’t rusty–which she wasn’t, by the way. She still kept up with sparring and shooting and throwing knives. She was just as tough and capable as all the rest of them. Even Aberama Gold and his far-reaching reputation for savagery. 

Before she could even begin to think of an answer, she heard the doors bang open and then the loud hum of boisterous discussion as people started to arrive. She pulled back, away from the desk, looking over her shoulder to see Aberama and Bonnie walking side by side towards the kitchen, chatting to each other while Polly and Ada trailed in behind them. She looked back at Tommy.

“We’ll talk about it later.”

He must have heard the dejection in her voice, because he looked up sharpy, brows drawing together. “Lucy…”

But she was already making for the door, yanking it open with perhaps a little more force than necessary. Behind her, she heard him sigh, chair scraping against the floorboards as he pushed it back to stand and follow her. 

She went directly to the kitchen, giving a small nod to Polly and Ada as a hello. Isiah and Bonnie were talking by the window, and she had to sidestep around Aberama to grab a teacup to fill from the kettle Isiah had already made up. 

“Miss. Winters,” Aberama greeted in that slow drawl of his, watching her as she poured the tea, swirling it idly in her cup and blowing on it before taking a sip. 

“Mr. Gold,” she acknowledged politely.

He shifted, leaning an arm against the counter. Turning, she spotted Tommy talking with Polly and Ada near the door to his office, hands shoved deep into his pockets. When his eyes darted to hers, she looked hastily away. 

She wasn’t mad at him, not really. Just…put out. 

Okay, fine. She was mad at him. But only a little. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be related to Miri and Mercy Lovell, would you?” Aberama asked, pulling her from her musings. She started at the names. It had been a long time since she’d heard either of them. He smiled at her kindly, cocking his head. “I ask because you look like them. Similar shade of hair, petite…”

“Miri is my aunt.”

He nodded. “I thought as much. You’re Genevieve’s daughter, aren’t you?”

Lucy frowned, putting down her teacup. “You knew my mother?”

“Not really. Her family and mine would often bump into each other at the fairs when we were in Wales. And then she left, off into the city with your father. I still see Miri every once in a while.”

“How is she?”

“She’s alright. Mercy’s become quite impressive. She’s got to be one of the best marksmen I’ve ever seen. Does a whole show around it at the fairs.”

“Good aim runs in the family,” she murmured, suddenly swept up in memories of summers spent with Miri and her cousins in the countryside, Mercy teaching her to shoot a revolver and throw knives with near-flawless accuracy. Her and Mercy teaming up in boxing matches against their other cousins. It was always her favorite time of the year. A time spent finally free from her father’s abuse, where she was able to fully be herself. 

An ache pinched deeply in her chest, not quite homesickness–the caravans had never been her home, after all–but close.

“Did you ever work in the fairs?” Aberama asked curiously. A few more people were starting to filter in, Jeremiah stepped inside, moving to talk with Isiah where Finn had already joined him and Bonnie. Johnny Dogs’s voice boomed from the doorway as he greeted Tommy enthusiastically. 

“Sometimes. Fortune telling, mostly. I wanted to be a contortionist, was practicing for a whole damn year to be one, actually, but Mum said no after I almost broke my neck.”

He chuckled. “Pity. I hear from Miri that the contortionists are some of the most popular acts at the moment.”

She shrugged. “It wasn’t all a waste. I’m still quite flexible. It’s come in handy from time to time.”

Aberama chuckled. “I’m sure it does,” he eyed her for a moment. “You look so much like her, in the right light.”

“Who?”

“Your mother.”

She looked down. It hadn’t been an uncommon statement, when she was younger. All the women in her family on her mother’s side looked the same: dark red, curly hair, big eyes, and petite, curvy figures. Her mother had been prettier than her, though. For one, she hadn’t been covered neck to toe in faded scars, and for another, she had a mane of deep red curls that fell to the small of her back, and big, doe brown eyes. She didn’t smile often, but when she did, dimples appeared in her cheeks.

Aberama took a step towards her. “There’s something you ought to know…”

“Right!” Tommy’s voice booming throughout the kitchen had everyone, even Aberama, silencing and turning their attention to him. Polly, Ada, Linda, and Arthur all took seats at the table while everyone else gathered in close in the cramped space. Glasses of whiskey were passed around. Lucy took the one Ada offered her thankfully, shooting one last curious look at Aberama, making a mental note to enquire further about what he had been meaning to tell her after the meeting was over.

 Tommy’s eyes swooped across everyone, taking mental tally and ensuring that all were present. “Lizzie’s not here; Ada tells me that she’s dealing with some sort of paperwork disaster over at the other office and won’t be making it, so we’ll continue without her. First off, a commendation, for Arthur. He killed two Changretta men who broke into one of our factories. Every life taken by us from the enemy side should be considered a victory. So I propose, to start off this meeting, that we drink a toast, to Arthur and his good fortune.”

Everyone raised their glass while Arthur mumbled bashfully. Tommy stared at him intensely, the entire operation clearly an attempt to extend an olive branch regarding the recent conflict over opening up the hit on Luca. It certainly seemed to achieve its goal in getting him at least partially back in Arthur’s good graces, based on the way he smiled slightly at him.

“Next item of business, after a vote taken during a meeting of the board members, we have agreed to put out an official bounty for Luca Changretta. I want word to go out today. This bounty would be up for collection for you as well, Mr. Gold,” he addressed Aberama directly, reaching into his pocket. “Should you or your son deliver Luca dead or alive to us, you will be rewarded,” he passed to Aberama the enlarged photograph of Luca from Alessio’s wedding pictures. Lucy watched Arthur from the corner of her eye; he was looking down at the table and scowling, Linda’s hand curling around his shoulder. Her self-righteous face was tight with anger, though Lucy couldn’t imagine what she had to be upset about regarding the bounty being extended to Bonnie and Aberama.

“Item number three: the betting shop needs–”

“Fuck the betting shop!” Linda cut him off, and the whole room went dead silent. Arthur’s head snapped up from where it had been bowed, eyes staring at his wife in wide shock. 

“I want to know what you’re planning to do about the man who gave Arthur up at the factory,” she demanded, back straight, head tilted up in that stuck-up way that pointed her nose at an angle towards the ceiling. She met Tommy’s icy-cold gaze straight on, fearless. 

She had balls, Lucy could at least give her that. 

Tommy wetted his lips, taking his time in answering Linda’s question. Lucy suspected that the delay in him speaking was half out of pettiness, and half because her outburst had genuinely surprised him.

“We are still conducting an investigation into who may have been responsible for letting the Italians into the factory. We’ve eliminated a number of suspects, so far, but until we are sure who it was–”

“Nothing!” Linda flung her hands up into the air, looking around as if expecting others to back her up. “You mean that you are going to do nothing about the man who set my husband up to die–”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “That is not what I said, Linda.”

“But it’s what’s happening, isn’t it!?” she screeched, yanking her arm away from Arthur when he tried to grab it in an attempt to get her to calm down, rising to her feet. “Too busy chasing after the big prize of Luca Changretta’s head on a fucking platter, too busy making sure that your precious company doesn’t lose a single pound in profits to worry all too much about the fact that the man who set up your brother to be murdered is still walking around and could come for him again at any moment!” Her lips curled back from her teeth in a snarl. “But I suppose it doesn’t matter, right? You’ve already gotten one brother killed, so what’s another one to add to the pile, right?”

Tommy flinched, a movement so small Lucy doubted that it was noticed by anyone but her; and yet it was there, as was the flicker of deep grief, guilt, and hurt that swirled up past the layers of his armor in his eyes. It was only there for but a microsecond, but she saw it. And its presence caused protectiveness to flare within her. 

“Linda, sit down,” Lucy ordered, taking a step forward.

Linda rounded on her, eyes alight with fury. The cross on the chain around her neck swayed against her chest with the movement, light reflecting off of it, and Lucy fought back the urge to cringe away and hiss at the sight of it. 

“Nobody asked for your opinion, you…you slut!”

Lucy’s brows flew up at the insult. Not that she didn’t already know what Linda thought about her, but she hadn’t exactly expected her to verbalize it at a meeting with everyone present. But then again, she hadn’t expected her to start in on a verbal attack of Tommy, either. 

“Hey!” Tommy barked, voice so loud it made Ada cringe uncomfortably in her seat. But not Linda. No, Linda kept her eyes focused solely on Lucy, her attention diverted momentarily away from Tommy and onto her. 

“I mean, what do you even do for this company, anyway? Other than follow Thomas around like a lost little puppy all day.”

“Linda, that’s enough,” Tommy growled, voice low and dangerous. 

“Linda, please,” Arthur said gruffly, still trying to pull her back down into her seat.   

Lucy stared into her challenging eyes, fighting back the sudden urge to slap her. Stupid woman; she’d spent, what? One day in the betting shop, and now thought that she understood how everything was run? Fucking hell. 

With a shake of her head, she slammed her glass of whiskey down onto the counter and made for the door, the others that were in her way shuffling hastily to let her shoulder past them. She heard Tommy call her name, but ignored him. She had promised him that she would try her best to play nice, and if she stayed there much longer, she was more and more likely to break that promise. 

Her footsteps thundered down the street, boots clicking audibly against the cobblestones while she walked. A particularly dark look must have found its way onto her face, because several people hurried to get out of her way as she passed. 

Her foul mood was not helped by the acknowledgement that at least a large chunk of her anger stemmed from the fact that Linda wasn’t entirely wrong. 

Sometimes it did feel like all she did was follow Tommy around. Yes, she helped to keep track of things, helped with paperwork, took notes on all his meetings–which, by the way, they didn’t use all that often because Tommy had the memory of a fucking elephant–and offered insight and ideas, but there were times when she couldn’t help but think that, at least without factoring in Tommy’s emotions towards her, the company would be fully capable of functioning just fine without her. 

Sighing, she pulled her cap out of her pocket, pulling it on over her hair. Stuffing her hands deep into her pockets, she kept her head lowered as she walked, so it wouldn’t be too obvious to anyone that passed her by that she was sulking. 

When she got to her destination, she hesitated momentarily. Tommy would be upset with her, if she stepped past the threshold of the doors she was currently staring at. After all, she had said they’d talk about it more later. He’d probably be agitated that she just went off without any backup and not even the go-ahead from him. 

What do you even do for this company, anyway?

“Fuck it,” she mumbled under her breath, and started to climb the steps of the Midland hotel. 

“Can I help you?” the receptionist smiled sweetly, when she approached the counter. 

“I need to speak with Billy. Immediately,” Lucy kept her voice low, pulling out a cigarette while she waited. He came bustling down hastily but a few moments after the receptionist called for him, a little out of breath.

“Miss. Winters, my apologies, we weren’t expecting you–”

“I need to speak with Clara,” she said, pulling her watch from her pocket to check the time. Almost one. 

“She just got in, but I was about to send her off to work…”

“This won’t take long.”

“Alright, I’ll send her up to your room–”

“No, I won’t be staying. Take me down to where the girls get ready.”

Billy’s face went a little ashen. “We don’t normally allow clients into that part of the hotel.”

“Billy, you are testing my fucking patience,” she snapped, and he winced, looking around the lobby anxiously. 

“Very well. This way.”

She followed him through a side door and down a winding set of stairs, suppressing a chill as they traveled lower and lower into the bowels of the hotel. When they finally got to the end of the stairs, they were greeted by a narrow hallway. Billy took her to a door labeled with a placard reading: Dressing Room. Shooting her a nervous glance over his shoulder, he knocked once. 

“Ladies?” he called. There was movement on the other side of the door, and then it opened with a creak of complaint. 

“Yes, Billy?” Maria poked her dark head of hair out, brow raised curiously. She had a forever enduring sparkle of mischief in her eyes, and lips that seemed to always be settled into a small, knowing smile. 

“Maria, is Clara still there?”

Maria opened her mouth to answer, but a softer voice spoke up behind her.

“Yes?” a moment later, Clara had appeared behind Maria’s shoulder, a tube of lipstick clutched in her hands. Billy looked at Lucy. 

“Leave us.”

He hesitated, and she rolled her eyes, reaching into her coat and holding out a roll of bills to him. He took it tentatively, pocketing it with a small nod.

“Girls,” he said to Clara and Maria. “Miss. Winters,” he smiled at her uncomfortably. She waited until he was climbing the stairs, and then turned to the girls.

“Can I come in?” 

They looked at each other, then Maria stepped aside, holding the door open for her. She stepped in, glancing around while Maria shut the door behind her. 

Small vanities were lined against the right and left walls. Some were neat and spotless in their organization, while others were messy and chaotic, nearly spilling over onto the vanities next to it. Makeup and hair-styling products were stored on most of them, and several racks, nearly bursting with clothing, were pushed up against the wall opposite the door. 

“Which one is Elizabeth’s?” Lucy asked. Clara pointed to one of the messier vanities. Lucy went over to it, picking up a palette of makeup that rested atop the general chaos of items tossed upon the vanity. She set it back down, checking her watch again. 

One-thirty.

“Is Elizabeth working today?”

“Yes. She’s upstairs with a client now,” Maria said.

“You’re sure she’s upstairs?”

They both nodded.

Turning back to Elizabeth’s vanity, Lucy touched the coat hanging off the back of the chair lightly. It would be a little big on her, but that would be to her advantage. Her eyes skimmed around the dressing room, taking in the wigs stored on mannequin heads on a shelf. She reached into her coat pocket, drawing out another wad of bills, counting them out and then splitting them between Maria and Clara. 

“I’m going to need you two to help me with some things. And then I’m going to need you to keep Elizabeth away from that flat for the rest of the day. Alright?”

Clara’s eyes widened a small fraction. They nodded. Lucy turned back to the vanity, pulling off her cap and brushing a few locks of her distinctive red hair off of her forehead. 

“Okay. Grab me that wig, over there.” 

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