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justmeinadaze · 25 days ago

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Gunslinger (Eddie X Y/N)

A/N: So yeah this was my idea for Sam in Warfare but I didn't want to write for him just because he is a real person. Plus, I thought with Eddie there's more meat in his history. Idk but lol yeah kind of same elements in what happened to Sam happens to Eddie but this is more about the PTSD aspect of the aftermath. While writing I was listening to music and "Gunslinger" by Avenged Sevenfold came on which felt perfect for the story and the title <3

Warnings: Husband/Solider Eddie & Fem Wife Y/N, SMUT, light dirty talk, p in v, praise (good girl), aftercare always, FLUFF, these two definitely love each other and are high school sweethearts.

ANGST *plays angsty drums with angsty sticks in an angsty room*

This does primarily focus on PTSD, not just for a solider who got hurt but the partner of someone who has to experience the effects of a husband with PTSD. His injuries are mentioned but not delved into too deeply, he does have flashbacks, trouble sleeping, overstimulation with sound, etc. Reader does get the brunt of these, mentions of him accidentally choking her (brief), him trying to protect her while disassociating.

She talks about how much it hurts her to see him in pain.

They do talk about a letter he wrote to her if anything ever happened to him and he does read it to her. You will feel that because I felt it and I wrote the thing lol

My trauma isn't from the military but I utilized what I've experienced myself as well as from experience talking to friends who served. If you feel like this may trigger you I understand! Im angsty, I write angsty stuff. and sometimes I delve into certain angsty themes because it not only helps me to write it out but I know you guys experience things like this as well. You're not alone.

Please if you can, donate to any fundraisers that help vets like the Wounded Warrior Project. I worked for the VA for a few months when the pandemic started. You'd be surprised how long they wait for care.

Word Count: 4401

"Never let it show The pain I've grown to know 'Cause with all these things we do It don't matter when I'm coming home to you."

“What would you like for breakfast?”, you ask as you display both boxes of cereal you know he likes.

“You ask me that like I won’t be eating either of those as breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the occasional snack.”, Eddie teases, his grin growing when you laugh and toss both boxes into the basket.

When he got back from serving overseas, things had been incredibly rough.

Hell, even before he got back, it was hard. His COs had called to tell you he was wounded in battle but wouldn’t tell you anything more. You begged for a flight to him as soon as possible and you were thankful they were able to get you to your husband without much resistance.

He was in surgery when you landed and by the time you got to the hospital, he was asleep in a bed next to another passed out solider.

You sobbed as you took in all the bandages and cuts along his body.

The military didn’t tell you much, just that a bomb went off and Eddie got caught in the middle. They said he was a hero, trying to warn and push away as many of the others he could.

Of course he did because that was Eddie Munson.

One of his friends who survived, told you the entire story about being held down in a house and a bomb going off. Your husband saw it coming when no one else did and warned his unit to run.

When the smoke cleared, he was the one bleeding and screaming.

They said the only time he stopped was when he talked about you.

“We told him everything would be ok and to hang on so we could have a chance to embarrass him in front of you.”, the man chuckles lightly. “He told us to give you this letter and if he didn’t make it for us to look after you.”

You never opened that letter telling yourself he made it even though you knew the real reason was it would kill you to hear what your husband believed his last words would be to you.

After a month, the military discharged him from being overseas but allowed him later on to work as a mechanic for the cars and tanks on the military base. Once you were in the states, he became a part of a rigorous physical therapy routine, that got him back on his feet in no time even though now he moved a bit slower than before.

The PTSD triggers were always different, more so how he reacted to them.

The more time at passed the more jittery he became. You assumed that was because the more he got comfortable the less his guard was up. That didn’t remove the fact that for the first few months, his head was always on a swivel, checking for threats that weren’t there.

You allowed him as much space and time to process that he needed but that never erased the effect it had on you. The nightmares that had him screaming left bruises on your skin when he would jump up and hit accidently hit your body. The night terrors that had him sleep walking into the living room holding an imaginary weapon as he murmured commands and “yes, sirs” to his team that were currently asleep within their own homes.

The doctors told you not to wake him but when Eddie began shouting about a threat in the house, you couldn’t help yourself when your palm touched his shoulder and he grabbed your wrist to spin you around, smacking your back to the ground with his hands around your throat.

You managed to get him awake and he sobbed on the floor beside you as he apologized repeatedly.

The ramp up to a break down was always the hardest, not just because of how he was with you but how he was with himself. He would glare into a void while you talked during dinner or were watching a movie together in the living room.

“And my mom mentioned that house again down the street from her. I told her we’re fine where we are but…”, you trail off as he absently nods. “Eddie? Are you ok?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”, he snaps as he throws his fork down onto the table.

“I…you just…seemed distant…”

“I heard you, Y/N. Your mom for a ten thousandth time brought up how you should move closer to her because she thinks she’s being subtle about the fact that she thinks I can’t fucking take care of you!”

“Edward Munson, that’s not what I said and neither did she.”

“Oh please! Your mom has never fucking liked me and now that I’m fucking crazy she thinks she can finally convince you to—”

“You’re not crazy—”

“DON’T INTERRUPT ME WHEN I’M FUCKING—” He sees you jump causing him to blink as if realizing where he was and who he was talking to. “Sweetheart, I’m…fuck…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“I know…I know, Eddie.”

Reaching for your arms, he guides you onto his lap and wraps his strong, muscular arms around you.

“I’m sorry. I just…I’ve been in my own head these past few days, you know? I love you so much.”

His eyes follow the sway of your hips as you step forward and search for the next item on your list while he pushes the cart after you.

The first time he met you in high school, he was mesmerized by those hips and never hid how sexy he thought you were. The more you both hung out the more he learned that your beautiful personality matched your gorgeous exterior and he knew fairly quickly that he would marry you one day.

A year after you did tie the knot, he signed up for service and 6 months after was deployed. You tried to push away the pain of knowing he was leaving soon by having as much fun with him as possible.

“Ok…are you sure about this?”

“No.”, he sighed playfully as he stared at himself into the mirror.

“Oh, come on, Munson, don’t be a baby!”, Steve shouts as he takes a sip from the bottle in his hand.

“Fuck off, Harrington! Let’s see you cut off all your hair.” All your friends in the room laugh and Eddie exhales as he closes his eyes. “Ok, baby, do it.”

Everyone cheered after the first buzz of his hair was removed and by the time you were done, he had come to accept it, rising to his feet and raising his arms in victory as the younger kids in his friend group jumped up to give him a hug.

That last night you were together was one of the hardest nights of your life, not just for you but for him. Eddie held you tightly in his embrace as his thumb continuously caressed your arm and his nose would occasionally inhale your smell, committing it to memory to take with him.

“I don’t think we’ve slept alone in almost three years and before that you used to sneak into my trailer, remember?”, he smiles when you giggle. “I would hold you like this and kiss your skin… asking myself ‘Damn…what the fuck is this perfect angel doing with me?’”

“Eddie. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”, you lightly scold. “To me, you were perfect to. Except maybe the smoking…and the weed…and your sense of humor—”

“Ok, ok, calm down. Those are some of the TOP reasons you fell in love with me.” Rolling on to your back, your eyes take in his face before his lips gently press to yours. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you to, Eddie. Make sure to come back to me, ok? Don’t you dare leave me here to live my life without you.”

“I promise, pretty girl. I’ll do everything I can to come back to you.”

As you stop to stare at the cans in front of you, your husband comes around the cart and circles his arms around your waist from behind you. You can’t help but smile as you lean back against him and your arm circles his neck to run your fingers through the small bit of curls that had finally come through.

“You are so fucking sexy when you stare at a can of peas.”

Your cackle makes him laugh as he hugs you tighter.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on this new look called ‘domesticity’ and…”

Eddie chuckles harder as he lifts you off your feet and spins you around before dipping you so he could kiss your lips.

“I love you.”

“I love you to, freak.”

Another quick peck, another laugh.

You enjoy these soft moments…why does chaos always seem to follow?

A loud bang echoes through the store, most likely a clerk dropping a box or someone knocking something heavy over.

To Eddie though, it was like a bomb going off and without hesitation he shielded you with his body as he pushed you both to the ground.

Your eyes assessed everything around you.

Your husband was crouching down on one knee with one arm secured around you and the other gripping the shelf in front of him with his head tucked down.

“Eddie, baby—”

“Shhhh…shhhh…have to be quiet…”, he whispered, his eyes closed tight. “Can’t let them find us.”

“Sweetheart, everything’s ok—”

His large palm roughly clamped down on your mouth as he pulled you to his chest.

“You have to be fucking quiet!”, he hisses.

A stranger appears and places her palm delicately on his shoulder.

“It’s ok, son. The threat is over. Can you confirm?”

With that command, his eyes snap open as he looks around him and even you can see he’s still on the battlefield mentally.

“C-Confirmed. Hostiles no longer engaging. We need evac now.”

“For who, solider?”

“For…um…”

You watch as he blinks, slowly taking in the situation as his chest heaves in panic.

“For who, solider? I need to know who needs help.”, the woman repeats as her eyes comfortingly flick your way as she mouths the words it’s ok.

“Um…I think…my wife…I need to make sure she’s safe.”

“Ok, and if I may ask, when did your wife enlist?”

“She didn’t!”, Eddie snaps as if she just asked him a stupid question.

“Ok, solider, then again if I may ask, how can I get her evac when she’s not there?”

You saw the momentary doubt flash through his irises before the softness returned and he looked down to realize how he was holding you.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m…I’m so sorry. Are you ok? Did I hurt you?”, he asks as he helps you to your feet.

“Thank you for what you just did.”, you say as you extend your hand out to the older woman who helps him off the ground.

“Not a problem. My husband and I went to therapy for years and even now sometimes he still has to use what we learned to pull me out of the war.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”, Eddie murmurs as he uses both his hands to encapsulate and shake hers as well.

“Not a problem at all. You have a beautiful wife who loves you very much.”

“Yeah…I’ve known her since we were kids. I carried her with me while I was there.”, he relayed without prompting as he pulled out his wallet and showed her the now wrinkled with time photo of you he always kept within.

“Aw, look at you.”, she coos. “And you haven’t aged a day. I bet your kids look as gorgeous as their mother.”

“Oh, uh, no ma’am. No kids yet.”

“Hm.”, she nods knowingly as she shifts her gaze back to you. “Well, there’s still time. It’ll never be easy but definitely worth it should you decide to go down that route.”

#############

Eddie’s sigh filled the room before he firmly walked towards the tv in your bedroom to turn it off and placed himself in front of where you were on the mattress.

“Everything alright?” Silently, he pushed a folded-up piece of paper in your hand. “What is this?”

“My letter I wrote to you. Before they moved us anywhere, I always wrote something to you just in case something happened to me.” Nodding, you smile in a thin line as you continue to hold it in your palm. “Read it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t, Eddie.”

“Fine. Then I can read it to you.”

“Edward—“, you growl as you start to try to stand but he pushes you back down and clings to your wrist.

“I have it memorized. I read and reread it sometimes to make sure I was always conveying how I felt. I learned pretty quickly there weren’t enough words to fully express how much I love you.”

You jaw clenched as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

“Sweetheart,

Tonight, they are sending us to a little town outside of hostile territory. I’m terrified but my Captain said nothing should go down. If it does and something happens to me, pretty girl, just know I love you with all my heart.”

“Eddie…stop, ok? You don’t have to do this.”, you grumble as you try to get up again but his hand doesn’t budge. “Let me go, please.”

“From the moment I met you, baby, you changed my life. You never looked at me like I was trailer trash or ever once made me feel like a burden or a problem.”

As he spoke, you kept pulling trying to get free to no avail finally settling on punching and pushing at his chest. His voice never faltered as he continued.

“You were (are) so beautiful with that tight leather skirt and Dio shirt that had me pushing Steve’s arm telling him ‘That’s the girl I’m gonna marry!’ During band practice, you would sit on my lap and run your fingers through my hair…I would lay my head on your chest and just smell your perfume. Whenever I think of home, that’s the first thing that comes to mind.

If you’re reading this, I’m probably gone…”

The fight in you stops and his hands cup your cheeks as you sob.

“…and I’m so sorry…so fucking sorry for breaking my promise. I said I’d come home to you but I want you to know I’m always with you, honey. In the music we listened to on our road trips to different places. In the wind when you sleep with the window open because you love the smell of the flowers outside. In my clothes I know you’ll wear because even now I bet you’re sleeping in my Hellfire t-shirt!

I’ll even be there when you find someone new, maybe later down the line, and start a family.

That will be my only regret, pretty girl. Never having a family with you. I know you’ll be a wonderful mom.

You were the perfect wife to a freak like me.”

Eddie tilts your forehead against his as he grabs your thighs and lifts you till your straddling his lap with your arms circling his neck.

“Please know you’re always on my mind…even in those last moments…your face will be what I see.

I love you,

Eddie.”

“I don’t like picturing you in pain…or thinking of my life without you. I hate that your mind takes you back there.”, you whimper as your thumb caresses his cheek.

“I try to control it. Some days are a lot better than others.”

“I know, baby.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No, Eddie—”

“I wish I could fully explain it…how my brain SEES…everything when it’s happening…”

“Eddie—”

“There was that loud pop and I could swear I was back on the street but instead of me bleeding it was you.” Silence befalls you both as you let him continue. “It doesn’t make rational sense for you to be there but…it does…nothing is rational when gun fire and explosions are happening around you… That woman touched me but it felt just my captain when he lets us know he’s there…right behind. She was talking but all I heard was radio chatter…

It was loud, Y/N, and it gets so overwhelming…all your senses are overloaded… Which is kind of odd because when—when it happened, I couldn’t really hear anything. All I could do was feel the pain…”

“They, while you were in surgery, told me they distracted you by trying to talk about me.”

Eddie chuckled then as his chocolate eyes meet yours.

“Yeah, I remember that. I think I told them I would be pissed if your tattoo was gone.”

Grinning, you carefully lifted up his shirt and tossed it aside as your fingers traced over your name in ink along his chest along with the quote from the song he performed for you at the school talent show.

“Y/N Y/L/N Munson

When I see you smile, I can face the world.”

Because of his injury, part of the LD in world was lighter than the rest.

His eyes close as you tilt down and allow your lips to tenderly kiss along his skin down his scar that trailed along his side to his stomach. Falling flat against the bed, he happily sighs as he pets your head.

“I’m not afraid of you, baby. I know you’re trying and working hard with your doctor. I know you don’t mean to… Eddie, I know you would never consciously hurt me.”

His stomach deflates underneath your mouth while your fingers gradually reach up to unbuckle his belt and lower his pants with his boxers. Your palm rubs along his thighs as the pads of your fingers bump along the darker scars and indents of the numerous incisions the surgeons sewed into him to save his life.

“And you’re still as handsome as ever…with your muscles, tattoos, and the cute little pudge on your stomach—“, you tease as you poke his tummy, making him laugh before tugging you to his side and rolling on top of you.

“Ooooookay, jerk. That’s what happens when your wife is a good cook.”, he jokes back as he softly kisses your lips. “How about, um, we give you some pudge?”

“Hey, I eat my food to.”, you giggle, lightly punching his arm.

“No, I meant like filling your belly with something more than food.” It takes you a while to catch on but when you do you can’t help but blink at him as your eyebrows furrow together. “I mean, we don’t have to have a baby right now. I know with everything going on—”

Your lips cut him off as your take hold of the back of his neck to bring him to you. After flipping him onto his back, he yanks off your oversized shirt you had worn to bed and promptly attaches to your nipple as you hug his head to your chest.

“Fuck, baby.”, you moan, grinding your hips against his while his palms glides down your back.

Your husband’s expert tongue swirled around the bud as he made out with your breast and your eyes rolled as his cock pressed deliciously against the cotton blocking your core.

“Eddie, please.”

Pushing up into a sitting position, he kissed you feverishly as his fingers pulled at the waistband of your panties making him grunt in frustration before deciding to just tear them so he could slide them off you without you having to let him go.

“I’ll buy you more. Shit��come here, baby.”

You bit your bottom lip to contain the giddy giggle as he spun you around till you were underneath him once more. His arm twists between you both and the two of you mewled as he ran his mushroom tip between your folds.

“Eddie, please…I need you.”

“You need me, sweetheart?”, he panted out, kissing your cheek when you vigorously nod. “Say it again, honey.”

“I need you, Eddie. I need to feel you inside me.”

As he guides his length into your entrance, you feel his tongue run along your neck as he sucks a hickey into your skin and your pussy clenches around him.

“Fuuuuck…that’s my good girl. Always takes my dick so well.”

He finds a steady pace allowing skin to smack against skin as your legs and arms hold him as close to you as possible.

Sex was never dull with Eddie, granted you had no one to compare it to since he was your first but he was continuously careful with you, praising you and making you feel loved. When he came back home, it took a while for you both to even be intimate again and when you were he was bit rougher than he had been.

It took him a few months to notice but when he did it killed him.

“Are you ok? Why are you grabbing your…did I hurt you?”

“It’s…it’s ok, baby.”

Eddie glared into the void before powerwalking to the freezer and coming back with an ice pack that he placed between your legs.

“Did I hurt you? Tell me the truth, Y/N.”

“You…you’ve been a bit more aggressive with me than you used to be…”

“Fuck—”

“Eddie, it’s ok—”

“It’s not ok! Listen, we’re going to come up with a safe word. That way you can get my attention and I can immediately stop. I wish you had said something…”

“I didn’t want to hurt you or make you feel bad.”

“No, sweetheart, you could never…just…promise me that you’ll be more open about…everything. I’m still kind of figuring it all out again…life, you know?”

It took some time but you finally found your rhythm again. He was able to walk that line of soft and firm while making your eyes roll till you came screaming his name.

“Just like that, Eddie, fuck.”

You whimper with need, glancing beside you to notice his fist grip the sheets as he rolls his hips pushing his cock deeper into you till you practically feel him in your stomach.

“Cum, baby.”, he grunts into your ear. “Mmph—M’not gonna last much longer. You feel too good. S-So fucking tight.”

Your nails softly trail up his neck to the back of his head making him shudder in pleasure as his pant warms your skin.

“Cum inside me.”

Your head turns toward him as his eyes shoot open and his pace falters for a moment.

“Are you…are you sure?”

“More than ever, Eddie, please. Cum for me. Cum WITH me.”

You feel his face scrunch as he whines and his arms slide between you and the mattress to hold you close as his release paints your walls. Never feeling this from him before your pussy fluttered around him and his hooded eyes watched as the coil snapped within you.

His hips were still lazily thrusting, giving you all he had as you both tried desperately to catch your breaths.

“Are you ok?”, he whispered as you exhaustedly nodded. “I’ve never cum inside you before. It…it felt like heaven. Everything about you is heaven.”

It took him a moment but it was then he realized that you were trying to hold back tears.

“Hey, hey, hey. What…what’s wrong? Fuck, I was too rough again, wasn’t I? I told you to tell me!”

As he starts to push up off your body, your limbs promptly hold him still.

“No, you weren’t…weren’t too rough. I’m sorry I just…I love you so much.”, you cry. “I know you worry about how…how all this affects me but, baby, I hate how it affects you.”

You don’t see it but his eyes close as he sighs and his heart breaks.

He hates seeing you in pain.

He saw it when your parents scolded you for dating “the town freak” or when you were let go from your job in town because they needed to downsize. He saw it in your eyes when he told you he signed up for service and when he finally had to let you go to get on the plane to fly to what would be his new home overseas.

He heard it in your voice when you two would talk over the computer and it would crack when you told him how much you missed him. He read it in your writing when you would send letters begging him to stay safe and reminding him how much you loved him.

Eddie felt it when his fingers twitched, feeling something sweaty in his palm before opening his eyes to realize he was in the hospital with you clinging to his hand by his side. When you watched every wince during his physical therapy and afterward helped him with his stretches so his muscles would reawaken.

When he had his night terrors and his hands flew to your throat… a new regret he could never take back…

Silently, your husband made sure you were secure around him as he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom, whispering soft comforts in your ear as he pet your hair and started a bath.

Once the porcelain was full, he tapped your shoulder and you let him go as you climbed in before he did the same placing himself behind you. Calloused palms rub your arms and shoulders as he leaves gentle kisses along your skin.

“On Monday, I’ll talk to my doctor about what happened and about some other recommendations he may have when it comes to those triggers. I also want to talk to Wayne…tell him he’s going to be a grandpa soon.”

Eddie smiles when he hears you giggle.

“Y/N…thank you…for everything you do. I know you didn’t sign up for all this but, Jesus, I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here. I love you so much to.”

Craning your neck, you kiss his lips as his arms pull you back against his chest.

“I signed up a life with you, Eddie, and no matter what happens I’ll always be here for you…freak.”

You smile wide as he snorts out a laugh and playfully tickles your side.

These were the moments you hung on to, the moments he was at peace and happy. Anything that follows, you’d handle together because he deserved that…to live his best life with his wife and future little family.

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neysaadept · 6 months ago

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Prometheus Chapter 10

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 10 - Ladies' Night

Side note- I love how the gif is five shots 🥳

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Drinking. Smoking. Slow Burn. Murder. Depictions of Flaying. Implied Rape. Mentions of Date Rape Drugs. Strangulation. Restraints. Mental Institutions. PTSD. Childhood trauma. Psychological Trauma. Implied references to child abuse. Mentions of Arson. Religious Discussion. Mentions of Religious Extremism. Mentions of Suicide Bombings. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 2.9k (Shorter chapter but I think has a lot of meat to it)

AO3

Chapter 9

“So how long we waiting for Emily to show up?” asks Tara. “She said she’s coming, right?”

Penelope nods. “Yes! She did. Ugh, she better not be working late. She promised!”

JJ has her phone out to text her. “I’m sure she’s running late and not being an ass staying at work. If she is, I’ll personally kill her this time.”

All three of them had arrived at the Fireside Lounge roughly the same time and pushed two high top tables together with five chairs surrounding them. They had waited on ordering drinks until they were all together but after twenty minutes and Prentiss being a no show, the ladies were getting restless.

“Ah! She says she’ll be here in fifteen. Apologizes for running late and will explain why when she gets here,” JJ announces, pleased. “Won’t have to kill her.”

“JJ …” Penelope whines. “I know you’re joking, but our Emily makes such jokes almost realities so, please don’t?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry. I only say it out of love though.”

“Which I can’t really blame her,” says Tara with a grin. “We do love our Prentiss.”

“Fine, yes. Hooray! We love, Emily. Speaking of Emily,” Penelope starts looking right at JJ, “and to change the subject…” She brings her arms atop the table and her body is thrumming with gossip, “… did you totally see her eying our cutie today?”

“Eying?” Tara chuckles. “You mean ogling. But it got her off our backs for going MIA on her. I don’t think Whitlock even noticed.”

“Yeah, have to agree there. She didn’t notice a thing,” confirms JJ.

“I’m surprised you were even paying attention, Jareau. Especially with all that trash talk you were doing,” taunts Tara.

“Oh please. I’m like a bloodhound when Emily shows even the slightest interest in anyone. Which has been a long fucking time. Even before the pandemic.”

“And her last serious relationship was with that girl Goodman before she got transferred to the Dallas office. Girl wanted to U-Haul Prentiss something fierce,” Tara says with a cackle.

Melanie Goodman was an FBI special agent the team met during a local case. Her and Prentiss hit it off, but Goodman wanted a lot more very quickly. In typical fashion, Prentiss dragged her feet on what she wanted, and when Goodman got a promotion to head up the Dallas office, she wanted Emily to come along. Thus, concluding that relationship. But truthfully, the two of them were doomed from the start. Emily wasn’t ready to open her heart and just wanted a physical relationship, then maybe see how things were going. And as she was bad at communicating her needs, the relationship crashed and burned the night before Goodman’s flight out to Dallas with a huge argument.

“Well, she is looking to get some,” says JJ offhandedly that makes Penelope smack her arm. “Ow! Hey!”

“Spill!”

“It was nothing. Really!” JJ defends herself when Garcia stares her down. “Just an off the cuff comment about not getting laid. One of the few people at the office not getting any.”

“Interesting …” Garcia looks to Tara. “Anything you can add to this?”

Tara looks confused. “Like what?”

“You and Rebecca had dinner with Whitlock. Know any, I dunno, preferences?” Garcia presses.

“Preferences for what?” But then Tara realizes what Garcia was fishing for and holds up a finger. “Oh no. We are not playing matchmaker with these two.”

“So, she does like women?!” squeals Penelope.

“No, no, no, no! I did not say that,” Tara states firmly but then starts bobbing her head in thought. “Though probably, yeah.”

“What do you mean?” asks Penelope with a shrill.

“Because she’s queer considering the story they told me.”

JJ looks with interest, raising her brows. “Which was… ?”

With the two of them looking pathetically expectantly, Tara gave in. And Whitlock didn’t mind Rebecca telling the story of how the two of them met, so there’s no reason to not believe that it would have circulated already within the BAU family.

“Alright, it’s about how the two of them met. Her and Rebecca.” Tara starts to explain, and JJ and Penelope lean in closer, absorbed by the story. “They were set up on a potential date. Bunch of girls at the DOJ wanted to hang out and used that as pretense. What they were really trying to do was set up my girl and Whitlock.”

“Aaaaaaand?!” Penelope’s desire for gossip was making her impatient which made JJ snigger.

“Calm down, Pen! Give me a chance to explain the whole story!” scolds Tara. “Now, both of them didn’t know Rebecca’s friend Mandy, who’s also friends with Whitlock, was trying to get them together for awhile and the mastermind behind it all. They all show up at a bar and of course everyone is making sure there’s a chair open by Rebecca for our girl to take. Both of them play stupid as to what was really going on. But at one point, they go get some more drinks at the bar and basically end up apologizing for Mandy at the same time and laugh it off. They said they realized they’ll probably end up being good friends at that point.”

“That’s kind of adorable,” JJ says with gleam in her eyes. “No wonder they’ve kept in touch for so long.”

“Exactly. But that’s not even the best part.”

Penelope claps. “And here we go.”

“So, the next day they’re at work together, they’re pretending they hit it off and are dating.” JJ and Penelope start laughing. “They do this for a whole week just to mess with this Mandy. I guess this girl would not take no for an answer. Kept meddling getting them together for a while, or whatever. So, they give her what she wanted. Put on a whole show for her when Whitlock visited Rebecca at work. Our girl even sent her flowers! Can you believe that?”

“I already loved her and now, I love her more,” Penelope declares firmly.

JJ has to agree. “She goes all in on things, huh?”

Tara nods, “Whitlock confirmed that at dinner. She loves getting into mischief with the right people. They were wondering how far they could take it, but Mandy finally figured out she was being fucked with. She was so embarrassed and never talked to them again.”

“How’d she find out?” asks JJ.

“By overhearing us without our knowledge,” you said, sneakily coming in with Prentiss. “Poor work on my part considering I’m CIA. Utterly embarrassing.”

“AAAHHH! YOU’RE HERE!” Penelope shrieks with pure joy and jumps off her stool to squeeze you tightly. “You said you couldn’t come, but you’re here!”

You half cough and half laugh, looking to Prentiss who has to sidestep away from you since Penelope’s forceful hug almost knocked you into her. “Yeah, well …”

But you didn’t have to come up with anything to say as she did it for you. “New boss asked old boss for some leeway. I basically pulled the we used to work together card.” She offers. “And Korogoth didn’t mind at all.”

You smile with gratitude at the partial truth given by her, humbled that Prentiss was doing that for you in front of her longtime friends and coworkers. That wave of affection for the section chief came over you once more and you had to look away from her. You weren’t sure what to say but JJ saves you.

“Now I feel bad for taking your fifty, Whitlock.”

Penelope finally relinquishes her hug and wraps an arm around yours, leading you to the chair by hers. Prentiss takes a seat between you and Tara. “Well, I can always take it back …” you offer candidly but JJ just laughs.

“I’m not feeling that bad. Ah!” She threatens a finger towards you. “Don’t sit yet. Come with me to get drinks. There’s five of us now and I need help.”

“Happy to.” You slide free from between Penelope and Prentiss and walk off with JJ to get the first round.

That left Penelope and Tara staring down Emily who looks befuddled at the scrutiny. “What?”

“Lotta effort getting Whitlock here. Not that we’re minding her company,” starts Tara which only made Emily lean forward with scrutinizing eyes as to where this was going.

“Really wanted her here for girls’ night, huh?” Penelope says with a knowing look.

“Well, yeah. Of course I did.” She sits up straighter on the chair, tapping the table idly. “She’s supposed to be on vacation and ends up helping us. Last thing she needs is working double duty.”

Penelope and Tara share a look that Emily notices. “Okay, what?”

Tara decides to get her to explain further. “Is that all? Just being a concerned boss?”

“What else could it possibly be?” she asks, hoping this isn’t going where she fears it is. She didn’t forget how Penelope was looking at her yesterday during the spar.

“Uh, the cutie over there by the bar, of course!” Penelope accuses.

Damn it!

“There’s a lot of people by the bar,” she deflects.

“To clarify, the CIA operative that you found so hot yesterday, it made you forget you were mad at the entire unit and then … joined in on the betting,” Tara reminds with a haughty smile.

Emily inwardly sighs once again regretting she works with a bunch of profilers. It wouldn’t matter if she tried to deny what happened earlier. She couldn’t lie to herself about the budding attraction she had for you, especially after your conversation together on the drive here.

“How long were you a spy?” The ride had been quiet, but this question was weighing on your mind.

“You don’t know?” she says with surprise, coming to stop at a redlight.

You look at her cheekily. “I know a lot of things, but not everything. Besides, I rather hear it from you.”

She chuckles. “Fair enough. Close to nine years.”

You nod. “Long time.”

“Not as long as you,” she counters.

“True.” You didn’t even hide your vocation anymore. Prentiss had a way of disarming you and Brian gave her a bit of clearance. “How do you know Brian?”

“Pardon?”

You look at her suspiciously. “You heard me just fine, Prentiss. He doesn’t just let anyone know about me. Even with section chief cred. He trusts you.” You catch Prentiss’ gaze when she looks to you expectantly and you simply ask, “Why?”

She is forced to look away as the light turns green and starts driving again. “Our paths crossed when I worked Interpol. We collaborated on a case.”

You repeatedly nod at that while bringing your attention forward. As you are aware the ending of the Doyle case meant Prentiss being transferred to the FBI that this was a case prior to that three-year stint. “That was a while ago.”

“Yes, it was.” She says it with melancholic introspection. She shifts gears, taking a chance. “What were you up to back then?”

“Define back then. I like specifics.”

“2002.”

“Investigating suicide bombings in Israel.”

Prentiss winces, knowing it was a bad year for those bombings. “That was a really rough year.”

That year and the next were bloody. It took combined efforts of the US Department of Defense, Interpol and the Isreal government to determine Iran, Iraq and Libya were involved in those terror attacks.* You worked with the bomb units identifying materials and tracing it back to the source. Following that, you found the money trail, which led to names that were given to the respective governments involved in the investigations.

You understand the logical themes behind religion and its ability to bring individuals in. They provide community, a sense of purpose and belonging, and a truth to why you are on this planet. People that have little control in their life are easily swayed to something that has strict rules and a way of life to explain all of its uncertainties. But then you have these charismatic leaders that swoop in and promise you eternal glory by blowing yourself up and murdering others. They only cared about power and control.

You weren’t religious before your recruitment, and you certainly saw no need to be after witnessing the horrors of the world.

Prentiss looked at you quickly, wondering why you suddenly went quiet. She felt her comment was open ended and shouldn’t have tripped you up. “You okay there, Whitlock?”

You look at her and brazenly ask a personal question. “You religious?”

“Ah …” She fumbles at the complicated question. “I was raised Catholic.”

“That doesn’t tell me if you’re religious,” you point out immediately.

“Are you?”

The deflection was an unspoken admission of a tricky relationship with faith. “I believe there’s evil in the world and it’s up to people like us to stop it. Seen too much to think otherwise.”

Caused too much of it to be absolved by any fucking deity anyway … you thought regretfully.

Prentiss makes a long face as she tries to interpret that response. She didn’t want to discount your reasoning for feeling this way because there is truth to your words. “I can understand that.”

You cross your arms defensively as you allow the same vulnerability to come out like it did back at the apartment. “And … helps calm the demons inside. Helping the helpless, ya know?”

Which Prentiss did. She admitted as much on the jet and now agreed with a darkened tone. “I do.”

The ease in which she talks with you and the spoken and unspoken cues that you truly understood her without detailed explanations were astounding to her. She had deep connections with members of the BAU as close friends who were found family, JJ especially so, but not once did a romantic relationship blossom into something close to that level of transparency. Admittedly, there was that potential with you.

“I’m her boss.” She hears how lame that is as do the others.

“She’s a consultant and reports to Korogoth at the end of the day,” counters Tara. “Try again.”

“We don’t know if she’s into women.”

“Good chance she is,” says Penelope and Emily’s eyes widen in question to which she is happy to provide. “How Whitlock and Wilson met. Next!”

“Whoa, back it up.” This was genuine interest and not an attempt to sidestep around the conversation. “What do you mean that’s how they met?”

“Oh, I know what this is about,” you say while playing waitress and handing out the sunset shots with JJ. She insisted on fun fruity shots, not something boring. “This about me and Rebecca.”

“That was pretty funny.” JJ playfully scrunches her nose. “Especially when you sent her flowers.”

“Sent flowers to who?” asks a confused Emily.

Penelope and Tara answer together. “Rebecca.”

“Wait.” Emily pushes against the table so she can angle herself to look at you as you sit down beside her. “You and Rebecca dated?’

Everyone at the table begins laughing, leaving Emily put out. “Guys! Can someone please tell me what’s so funny?”

“Sorry, Emily,” you say, trying to calm your laughs, but then end up laughing harder seeing how dour the section chief’s expression is. It was cute how Emily hated being the last to understand something.

“Guys …” Emily says, gritting her teeth.

“Okay, okay!” Tara manages to control herself first. “The two of them didn’t date. But, they were set up.”

“In a bullshit way.” You sit back in a huff as you explain further. “We didn’t even know it was supposed to be a date. Just some hanging out with friends. But this girl …” You snap your fingers trying to jog your memory. “What the fuck was her name …?”

“Mandy,” supplies Penelope quite quickly, proving she still deserves being the queen of gossip recollection.

“Oh my god, yes! That’s her name. Mandy!” You chuckle. “Yeah, so she did this after I told her I wasn’t interested in dating anyone, but not listening, went behind my back. Rebecca wasn’t thrilled either, so we played pretend girlfriends.”

Emily holds her head and starts to laugh. “And knowing you …”

“I was all in. Ah …” you grin, playing with the shot glass. “Rebecca being so cool with it is why I knew we’d be good friends.”

With you wistfully looking down, Penelope looks right at Emily and mouths a silent, ‘Gay!’ which makes her blush and JJ fights a laugh seeing that exchange.

“Well, I think I can speak for all of us here, and not just because me and Rebecca are together, that we’re all happy that friendship happened. Because if not, you wouldn’t be here,” Tara says with sincerity, and then shrugs mischievously. “But I guess Emily’s got something to do with that too.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, for fuck’s safe. Are we drinking or not? Because you profilers talk too damn much.”

There was a chorus of oohs around the table at the dig, but Penelope slaps it with purpose. “She’s right. This is girls’ night out and we haven’t had one drink! Time to fix that. Ladies!”

The five of you take your shot glasses and follow Penelope’s lead by lifting them up for a toast. “To Whitlock finally having a proper night out with us.”

“Cheers!” everyone says, including you, before clinking your glasses together and knocking back the first round of drinks.

RE: Amateur Fire Start Up

KarmaKat: Gasoline. Lots. Won’t be suspicious when getting it.

Replying to KarmaKat and w@mpum@:

FlamePit23: Don’t listen to him. More isn’t better. Gas is good but need proper accelerants placed in key locations. That is what gives you the desired effect you’re looking for.

Replying to FlamePit23, KarmaKat and w@mpum@:

User45125: As always, you got solid recommendations. Good to see you back.

*You have 1 unread message

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ladylooch · 1 year ago

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Love & Fairness -[Nico Hischier]

A/N: OPE! I LIED!!!! We do have a full fic for Sunday! The Nico and Lexi angst I've been hinting at for months from that original lil blurb. Hope you all enjoy a little roller coaster for our perfect parents.

Word Count: 4.3k

Timeline wise: Nico and Lexi are married. Lucie is between 1-2. Mack and Sophie are not born.

The night is coated with cozy nostalgia in a dimly lit Hoboken restaurant. Lexi sits with her former nursing coworkers, discussing the most ridiculous patient and staff stories from the hospital since the last time they all connected. Lexi is embarrassed to admit that she hasn’t been able to attend one of these meet ups since Lucie was 3 months old. Her daughter is over a year old now. But life has been hectic with her and Nico’s new addition, plus the long stretches of hockey the Devils have been playing.

It’s all worth the sacrifice to watch Nico hoist the cup above his head. Soon, Lexi thinks. Soon he will reach his dream and then maybe the pressure can ease a bit.

With two fingers, she twirls the stem of her now empty martini glass as Gretchen whines about the limited available to take time off with how short staffed the hospital is.

“We need more people. They can’t even find nurses through the program Lexi came here on.”

“Really?” Lexi’s eye raise in surprise. “It was so competitive when I started there.”

“The pandemic has thinned the desire. Plus working conditions are awful.” Lexi nods. The circumstances weren’t great when she left either.

“Honestly, even if we could find part time people it would help alleviate the pressure.” Ashley mutters, throwing her curly red hair back over her shoulder. The table pauses. Then collectively, they all glance Lexi’s way, including Shawna, who had been relatively quiet.

“What? Me?”

“You were just talking about how boring and mundane your life has been. Maybe… coming back part time would help fulfill your sense of purpose.” Ashley shrugs.

“Lex, things haven’t been the same since you left. We could really use your sunshine right now.” Gretchen adds on.

“I am raising my daughter. That is my priority.” Lexi hears herself say the same thing her and Nico have talked about since Lexi became pregnant. But inside her body, a bubble of hope and excitement fills her chest. It starts as a tiny, translucent circle and begins to grow the more the two women encourage her to reconsider.

“Raising Lucie is incredibly important.” Shawn agrees. “This wouldn’t detract from that, especially on a part time basis. Think of your immediate impact! You haven’t been out of the industry that long. All your certifications are still relevant. You could easily slide in a few days a week, for 3-4 hours at a time. They’re even allowing part-timers to build their own schedule from week to week. It would be the perfect fit for you!”

“And they have daycare in the hospital now! You could bring Lucie there. Socialization is so important for babies. You could have it all right there rather than scheduling a million mommy and me play dates.”

Lexi stares at her three friends in front of her, a slight smile on her face. The gears turn in her head, consider, contemplating, feeling excited at the prospect of returning to a profession she spent so many hours of her life working in. But the though of Brady looms over her head. Losing him took Lexi a long time to get through. She still wakes up at night sometimes, hearing the flat line of his monitor.

“I don’t think I could go back to pediatric. Not with Lucie.” Lexi shakes her head, sighing.

“You wouldn’t have to. They are fully staffed.” Gretchen assures. She begins to dig around in her purse. “Look, just call Aly. She would be excited to hear from you. The rest could easily get worked out.” Lexi takes Ally Schneider’s card, her former boss. Ally had been the one who held Lexi after she lost Brady. She was the one who sent Lexi home and she was the one who accepted her resignation a week later, with full grace and understanding. She would be compassionate and supportive of Lexi being a mother. Maybe this could work.

In a quiet room, in the back of her mind, a part of her pauses at the thought of bringing this up to Nico. He is so proud of Lexi being a stay at home mom and wife. He shouts it to anyone who will listen about Lexi’s important role in their household. She does worthwhile work for them. He puts he on a pedestal because of it.

Lexi decides that she will talk to Ally first, before she approaches it with Nico. After all, her friends have a clear agenda here. Maybe it wouldn’t be as simple and flexible as they are portraying.

So Lexi decides, before she talks to Nico, she will talk to Ally.

- - -

Later that week, Lexi steps out of her evening shower, onto the white, memory foam mat. Nico waits outside the glass enclosure, holding up a fluffy towel for her to step into. He wraps it around her back, then lazily stuffs one corner over the other into her breasts. Lexi grips the towel closed, knowing it won’t stay up like that. That may have been her husband’s agenda.

“Thank you.” She sighs, getting on her tip toes to kiss him. He crushes her into his chest, using his tongue to trace along her lip, then dash into her mouth. Lexi melts into his sexy warmth. Nico grips the towel at her hips, pulling her flush with him.

“You’re welcome. Luc is sleeping.”

“Finally.” Lexi sighs.

They had a hard night with Lucie. She was fighting sleep from the moment dinner ended, rubbing her eyes, and saying no to bed time, even to daddy. They both took turns rocking her, putting her in her crib, but nothing was giving. Finally, Nico took her to the couch with a warmed up blanket from the dryer. Lexi disappeared upstairs at Nico’s request. Between now and then, their little girl finally succumbed. Nights like this are becoming more prevalent for Lucie. Lexi is not surprised as their little girl is more toddler than baby these days. Both her and Nico need to buckle up for the upcoming roller coaster of their daughter growing up. She smiles at the thought. There is no one else Lexi would rather do this with.

How will you going back to work effect her? An inner voice whispers like a siren.

Lexi raises her green eyes to the mirror, staring at her expression. She looks worried. And she is. Because she has a job offer expiring tomorrow that she still hasn’t talked to her husband about. She never expected to walk out of her meeting with Ally three days ago with an offer of employment. She had told Ally she needed time to talk to Nico, but then the Devils lost two back to back games and Nico’s mood has been less than desirable for the conversation.

Beside her, Nico grabs his tooth brush then dots toothpaste on the bristles. Lexi assesses his mood, seeing him relaxed although a bit tired.

“Can we talk about something?” She begins while dabbing a finger into her moisturizer. She presses three generous dots in a triangle, then begins to smooth them into her face.

“Mhm.” He says around the tooth brush oscillating against his back molars.

“I think…” Lexi starts, then swallows loudly as she stop herself. Nico continues to brush his teeth, looking at her in the mirror. She pretends to smooth out more of her moisturizer on her neck. Her heart flutters heavily against her throat. When she doesn’t continue, Nico turns fully to look at her.

“What?” He mumbles around the white foam in his mouth. Her tongue caresses the side of her mouth anxiously.

Why is this so hard to spit out?

Nico spits out his toothpaste, then wipes his mouth.

“I think I want to go back to work.” She finally sputters out. Nothing about her voice sounds confident. Nico whips his head in surprise at her. He opens his mouth and then closes it, pursing his lips. Lexi immediately sense his annoyance.

“Okay? But, we have talked about how important it is for you to stay home with Luc? You’ve always agreed to that.”

“Yeah….” She trails off, sticking her tongue into the pocket of her cheek so it juts out. “But I’ve been thinking about what I want lately, as me, and I really miss working with patients and having a place to go outside of here.” Nico’s eyes widen, and he looks away, sighing.

“Okay.” He shakes his head. “I thought you were done with nursing after Brady.” Lexi doesn’t flinch at his name, but her heartbeat patters more heavily in her body.

“I thought so too, but it’s been calling to me the last few months. And I have an opportunity to go back.”

“I don’t see how that is going to work for our family.” Nico shrugs simply, already seeming done with the conversation.

“Well, can we talk about it? Because I talked with Ally-”

“What does you talking with Ally have to do with our family? Because you and I have already discussed this, before we had Lucie. You said you would stay home because I’m gone so much. How…” Nico scoffs, looking above her head, trying to find his words. “So what, someone else is going to come here every day and watch her? Or we drop her off at some day care center where random people are raising her?”

“They have a daycare at the hospital. She could go-”

“No. Our daughter deserves better than that.” Nico shakes his head vigorously.

“So you just unilaterally decide this for me then?”

“So you unilaterally get to decide to go back to work?” He shoots back at her. Lexi stand up completely straight, rolling her shoulders back.

“You don’t own me.” She hisses out unexpectedly. Immediately, she wants to take the words back at the fire igniting in Nico’s eyes. His cheeks begin to turn red in frustration while he forces a hand through his long, brown locks.

“When did I say that?” Nico snaps. His tone and voice are reaching places Lexi has never heard from him. Her eyes narrow at him, then she turns to leave the bathroom. Nico is hot on her heels. “You’re putting me in a position to be the asshole, Lex. You and I agreed you would stay home with our kids.”

“Well I need something more!” She huffs at him. “Emma gets to go be-”

“That’s Emma and Timo. Not us.” She startles, feeling like a scolded child by their parent. Tears begin to fill her eyes at the shame of his disappointed scowl.

“I’m allowed to change my mind.” She whispers to him, hating the way her lip trembles.

“Yeah you are, but not when it ruins our kid’s life.”

“Nico, that is so unfair.” Her tone wobbles at her words. Nico’s jaw tightens at the two drops that escape her lids. He looks away, large eyebrows jumping as he tries to brush the effect of her emotions away.

“I don’t care, Lexi.” Nico shakes his head again. “The answer is no.”

Lexi shakes her head in disgust before heading into their master closet to change. She cries as she pulls on her pajamas. When she returns with tears on her face, Nico doesn’t even care.

Instead, he climbs into bed and turns his back to her like a cold, distant monster.

- - -

Nico and Lexi don’t talk the whole next day. Not even about Lucie. They move around the house, avoiding each other. She goes to the store to grab groceries; he stays home with Lucie. They sit silently, watching TV during dinner. Lucie doesn’t seem to notice, snacking on her food and playing with her toys like everything is normal.

This continues into the following morning when Nico has to head out on a five game road trip. He dotes all over their daughter as Lexi’s resentment for him breeds into an ugly, angry tyrant in her mind. She doesn’t even let him kiss her cheek when he is about to leave. She slides away from him, turning her back on him like he did to her two nights ago. His heavy sigh makes tears sting her eyes, like she is the one in the wrong here.

“Lex.”

“Nothing about this will be resolved before you leave in the next two minutes. Travel safe.” She responds without turning towards him.

He stands there for a few more moments, rubbing his hand along Lucie’s head as she munches on her oatmeal. Internally, Lexi wonders if he will try to find some middle ground regardless of her words. But then Nico leaves without apologizing, or saying I love you, or providing any comfort like he usually does. She feels herself hating him a little bit more.

She doesn’t watch the Devils games that week.

She is so angry with Nico. They do nightly FaceTime calls with Lucie, but Lexi don’t speak to her husband. Nico gets more and more frustrated with her. It begins to bleed out onto the ice against the St. Louis Blues. Nico gets two penalties in the game, including five minutes for fighting. Of course, Lexi doesn’t know this because she is watching. She knows because Emma Meier shows up at their door with a bottle of rose the next day.

“What is going on?” She asks when Lexi opens the door. Lio is on her hip, munching on an apple sauce pouch as she strolls in. Emma is in dark wash, tight designer jeans and a tan, long sleeved crop top. Her hair is straightened and perfect, not even a hint of frizz from the rainy humidity earlier in the morning. She puts the bottle of rose on the counter, then goes to put Lio next to Lucie. She’s pulling her skin tight jeans back up her waist as she looks expectantly at Lexi. “Nico wouldn’t share anything with me. Timo couldn’t get it out of him either.”

“Of course not.” Lexi snorts, then rolls her tense neck muscles out. Emma nods her head at Lexi to continue. She sighs, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want to go back to work and the dictator of this house said no.” Emma widens her eyes.

“Nico said no?” The words seemingly taste awful to her as she says them.

“Yep. He told me if I go back to work I’m ruining our daughter’s life.”

“No.” Emma’s mouth opens in shock.

“Yes!” Lexi exclaims, reaching for the bottle of wine. She twists the top open, then takes two really big glugs. The acidity burns at her esophagus as she puts the bottle back down. Emma picks it up, taking a more delicate sip. She slowly blinks and shakes her head.

“Wow, I’m surprised.”

“Me too.” Lexi responds, sighing heavily. Tears prick at her eyes as she recounts the conversation from last week. She purses her lips, looking back at Emma.

“I don’t understand why he gets to make this decision for me?”

“He doesn’t.” Emma says simply. “This is your life. You have the right to do the things you want to do with it. Your partner needs to be supportive of that.”

“Nico doesn’t seem to see it that way.” Lexi looks out into the living room, watching as Lucie coos at Lio, holding up a large, red lego block. Lio takes it from her, then puts it next to a blue one.

“Oh we can’t do that one. Rangers colors.” Lio shakes his head. “Grab a green one, LuLu.”

“I’ll talk to him.” Emma insists after pouring two glasses of rose. “He is being unreasonable.”

“Actually, I’d prefer if you didn’t.” Lexi sighs, tracing a circle onto the marble counter top, then looks up at her. “I think it would just make it worse.” Emma scans her sister-in-law, then nods in understanding.

This is one they’ll have to work through on their own.

- - -

The night Nico is due home, Lexi stares at the ceiling, replaying everything that has happened in the last two weeks. Life went from the mundane, same day over and over again, to this angsty, aching storyline of push and pull between a husband and wife. She went from having no job prospects, to receiving an offer, to turning it down. She hasn’t even told Nico. She doesn’t want to. Doesn’t feel like he deserves to know with the way he has been acting.

Her phone lights up the room as the garage camera catches Nico returning home from his late night flight from Colorado. Tears curve into the water line of Lexi’s eyes. Normally, after a road trip this long, she would gallop down the stairs excitedly to throw herself into his arms. He could catch her. They would make out like teenagers against the refrigerator, then he would carry her upstairs to make love.

Not tonight.

Her brain traces his path through the house from memory, knowing when he stops at Lucie’s room. Five minutes later, she hears him rustling with his bag outside and closes her eyes, pretending to be asleep so she can avoid an interaction with him. Her lip trembles as she shakily swallows to wet her dry throat.

Nico comes into the bedroom almost completely silent. He drops his things in the closet and presumably changes. Lexi’s chest aches when he comes to the bed and grabs his pillow afterwards. His footsteps are so silent, when his voice speaks from next to her, her heart jumped into her throat.

“Lex?” She startles at his touch. Nico grimaces. “I’m sorry… When I went in to kiss Luc, she was hot. She has a fever.” Lexi moves to get up. Lucie was fine when she checked her a few hours ago. “No, please. I’d like to take care of her myself.”

“You can bring her in here.”

“No, you deserve to sleep.” He reaches out tentatively for her cheek, cupping it briefly. “Goodnight. I love you.” It’s the first time he’s said it to her directly in a week. He moves to pull away and she grips his wrist.

“I love you too.” She earnestly looks into his deep, brown eyes. “But I am also so mad at you.”

"I know. You have every right to be.” He maintains direct eye contact when he says it. Lexi’s eyebrows furrow. “We will talk tomorrow.” He leans down tentatively and Lexi goes the other 50% until their lips meet. The kiss is sad and achey. Their lips crave the taste of the other, but can’t go all in like they want to. Lexi pulls away first, stroking her nose along Nico’s. She can feel his lashes against her forehead. Then he pulls away to go lay on the floor of their daughter’s room.

The next morning, Lexi is up first. She pokes her head into the guest room, seeing Nico and Lucie have moved there together. Lucie’s bare feet are pressed into Nico’s chest, cheeks pink, hair wild like it had been sweaty and dried sometime during the night. Lexi creeps in, pressing a hand to her toddler’s forehead. No fever. With that comfort, she tiptoes from the room again.

Downstairs, she makes herself a berry smoothie and settles into the couch with a book. She stays there for a bit, then begins to feel antsy waiting for her loves to wake up. She heads back upstairs, unpacking Nico’s bag completely and getting started on his laundry. She bring his three suits to the downstairs closet for dry cleaning to pick up tomorrow.

It’s almost lunch time when a sleepy Nico and Lucie come downstairs together. Lucie smiles at her mama around a pacifier in her mouth. Lexi arches a slender eyebrow at Nico. Lucie hasn’t had pacifiers for 6 months.

“I lost the battle.” He groggily mumbles. His long hair is flopping every which way. He hands their daughter over to Lexi, then kisses her head. “ ‘m gonna take a shower.”

Nico disappears back upstairs while Lexi gives Lucie some of her leftover smoothie. She sucks it up happily, babbling for some banana when she is done. Lexi is cutting that up when Nico returns downstairs. His hair is slicked back from his shower. He is dressed in new lounge sweats while texting on his phone.

“Do you want a smoothie?” Lexi asks him.

“No, I’m going to make myself some eggs. Do you want any?”

“No, I already ate.”

“Okay.” He wraps an arm around her waist from behind. Lexi resists the urge to tense, trying to purposefully relax her upper body. Nico rests his chin on one of her shoulders, then turns his nose into her neck.

“I was completely out of line last week.” He murmurs while staying there. Lexi scoops up the banana pieces and puts them in a small bowl for Lucie, then slides it across the counter to where she is in her highchair. Lexi puts the knife down and turns so her and Nico are facing each other. He keeps her enclosed in his arms with a palm resting on the counter, on either side her.

“Do you only love me because I’m the mother of your child?” Lexi ponders.

“No, Lex. I love you. The person. So much.” He finishes with a whisper. His eyes trace her face earnestly. Lexi nods.

“I turned them down.” She admits.

“I’m sorry.”

“And I’m sorry if I have a hard time believing that.” Lexi says pointedly.

“Fair.” Nico nods then swallows hard. “But I am.”

“Can I get an explanation?” Lexi asks. She reaches her hands out to rest on his hips, gripping the waistband of his joggers as an anchor.

“I’m having a hard time with how much I’m missing of Lucie growing up. And I put that fear into you last week. Like… I’ve been able to fall back on the idea that you’re here. And if you go back to work, what will I have to ease my failures as a father?” He touches his chest delicately. Lexi lowers her gaze to his beaded bracelets. She moves one of her hands up to hold his wrist. “If this is what you need to do… to be happy… to feel what I get to feel when I step onto the ice every day, then I am in full support of you.”

She stares at his chest, letting his words sink in. As he always is, Nico is patient. When her eyes meet his again, they stare at each other wordlessly for a moment. She is wary. He can sense it.

“I know I hurt you and I’m so sorry.” He whispers. She nods her head in recognition of his apology.

“Nico, you are an amazing dad. It makes me really sad you feel like you’re failing our daughter. That couldn’t be farther from the truth.” She shakes her head, blowing out a sigh. “And I wish you would have shared that with me before it turned into this.”

“I’m embarrassed.” He shrugs. “I’ve been good at everything my whole life. Working so hard to overcome any obstacles.. but there are things I can’t give to Lucie and it kills me, babe.” The way he says babe wrecks her. Lexi moves his hand to the side so she can slide against his chest. Her fingers clutch at his muscular back and dig into his scalp as she cradles their heads together.

“She is so lucky to have you, Neeks.” Lexi turns to kiss his stubbled cheek. He buries his nose deeper into her collar bone as she stroke along his spine. “I am too.” His large arms wrap around her waist, enclosing it completely.

“Tell me again?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me you are thinking about going back to work.”

“I’m… thinking about going back to work?”

“Okay. Whatever you want to do is what works for our family. We will figure it out.” Nico murmurs. “That’s what I should have said to you. I’m sorry I didn’t.” Lexi smiles against his cheek. Nico turns, capturing her lips.

“I accept your apology.” She murmurs. “But I really did already turn Ally down.”

“I’ll call Ally. Tell her your husband was a fucking idiot last week, but he’s done with that.” Lexi chuckles, top teeth dragging over her bottom lip.

“I would like to try it. See if we can find a balance?”

“Yes, 100% yes, baby.”

Across the counter, Lucie squeals excitedly then throws her banana bowl onto the floor.

“Oh! LuLu is in too!” Nico cheers. “Yay mommy!!!” He claps around her back. Lexi chuckles, a whole body rumbling one as her and Nico separate. Nico grabs Lexi’s phone, sliding it across the counter. “Call Ally.”

Ally extends another offer to Lexi immediately on the phone.

Within an hour, Lexi has signed an offer letter and has orientation scheduled for the following Monday. Nico brings her to her first day of work, packs her lunch, and spends the whole time Lexi is working with Lucie in the day care, spending time with the kids, signing autographs for staff members and patients alike. By the end of the Lexi’s four hour shift, he is exhausted.

“No wonder you need a break.” He mumbles, exhaustedly running a hand over his hand. “And she isn’t even tired.” He points out about a babbling Lucie in her carseat.

“Welcome to my life.” Lexi smirks, then clicks her seatbelt in place. Nico wraps her hand in his, bringing it up to kiss along her knuckles. “So what’s for dinner stay at home dad?” Nico balks at her.

“McDonalds.” He chuckles, turning out of the parking lot.

With ease, the Hischiers settled into this adjusted life, until two pink lines show up a few months later on a test in their master bathroom.

Read more Nico and Lexi here.

#what my world spins around au #Nico Hischer x OC #Nico Hischier imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fan fiction

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writingonleaves · 1 year ago

Text

were you sent by someone who wanted me dead? (did you sleep with a gun underneath our bed?) - jeremy swayman

pairing: jeremy swayman x original female character

warnings: swearing, pretty angsty. hopeful ish ending because i can't do sad endings, very personal but i think many can relate in their own way, cliche ish, barely proofread

inspired by + title: "the smallest man who ever lived" by taylor swift

word count: 5.6k

author's note: i'd argue almost every piece any author writes is personal, because it has their life interspersed through the words. but this one really is, because a majority of this is the exact same words i wrote years ago after a break-up. heard the bridge to this song and immediately knew i had to write something inspired by it. also trying a new format of sorts (maybe a bit meta??), so i hope you enjoy and lmk what you think!!

~*~*~

When Noelle Betsko walked away from Jeremy Swayman, holding back tears until the call dropped, she knew it was going to be a tough time for the foreseeable future.

It didn’t matter that the pandemic had forced them apart. She knew she would still feel him for months to come.

She did the only thing she knows how to do when trying to deal with things. The one thing she always resorts to as an aspiring novelist. Sometimes on her laptop when the words were spilling out too quickly for her brain to catch up, tears littering the keyboard. Usually in her old beat-up journal, scribbling in the cursive that Jeremy claimed he always loved (“It makes your handwriting unique”) with the pens he had gifted her just a few months prior.

At the age of 21, Noelle got her heart broken for the first time. At the age of 26, she’s about to publish her first poetry collection of sorts, all of the poems modeled after journal entries written throughout her life. So not really poetry, though her mother would say otherwise.

She swallows as she thumbs through the middle part of the first known and binded copy of “miscellaneous.” There are only eight entries in the whole collection that are taken verbatim from her past writing. These are the eight.

May 13, 2020 (three days post-breakup, crying in my childhood bedroom)

I don’t even recognize who I was and who you were in those writings before these pages filled with love and hope and happiness. I can’t even summon up those feelings anymore that I knew existed at one point. Those feelings of complete bliss and love for someone so deep you can’t explain it.

I’m mad at myself for not being able to conjure those feelings, because at one point, I did love you. How could something that was part of my daily life for over two years just disappear so quickly?

But now, I’m not mad at myself. I’m mad, but I don’t know where to direct that anger to. I feel a bit empty sometimes, but then frustrated the next. Sometimes I get sad, but not so much compared to the other feelings. I spent enough time being sad during our relationship.

When we broke up, on an annoyingly beautiful Tuesday in May — over the damn phone, mind you, which whatever, it’s COVID. Fine — You told me you felt like you had been putting more effort into us.

At the time, I didn’t react, but I’ve been thinking about how angry that statement made me. Makes me, actually. I was always very open with how much I gave to that relationship. How much it meant to me. How much it affected me. But I understand that with some people, sharing everything too much equates to things not meaning anything anymore. But you out of all people should’ve known that I mean everything I say.

I felt like I gave so much. I know I gave so much. When I told you I loved you, I always meant it. Every single time. When I told you I missed you, I always meant it. I wished you were right next to me at that moment. I mentally gave so much, because to me, I wanted to. You were always on my mind, always high up on my list of priorities. I never took us for granted.

I’ve been questioning if that was the same for you. Did you start becoming complacent?

The second thing you said that day that hasn’t left my head is that you knew me pretty well. And initially, I remember not thinking much of it. So I don’t doubt that; you always knew right when I was about to cry, even over the phone. You often knew when I was mad or upset, but when I look back now, you never pushed. Which is a good thing, to an extent. But it was a bad thing sometimes too. I knew you often wanted to give me space, but sometimes I didn’t want space. I wanted you to push. To try to understand. Maybe that’s unfair of me; it probably is. I should just say I want to talk about it more, right?

But if you genuinely knew me, you would’ve known.

After two years, seven months and 12 days, I still feel like I didn’t know you. Did I ever know you at all?

When people talked shit about you, I always defended you. And I still would defend you now. But lately, I've questioned what I’m even defending. All those good qualities that I thought you had, were they even real? Of course, I know some of them were, to a certain extent. But as I look back on us, there’s a lot of doubt about whether I even knew the person I called my boyfriend for so long. I know there was a point where you cared about me, but I can’t remember when.

I often felt like I was letting you know so much about my life, but you didn’t do the same. I get that sometimes a person just wants to forget about the bad and focus on the good with a person you like for awhile. I get that. But once that was happening every damn time? That should’ve been a red flag.

June 7, 2020 (twenty eight days post break-up, outside my childhood room on the deck)

I don’t understand how you can give so much to something or someone and have it not be recognized or appreciated or enough. If I wasn’t enough for you, how will I be enough for anyone?

I hope one day you’ll truly understand how much this hurt. Not just the breakup, but feeling like I was always being pulled in a direction I didn’t always want to be pulled in. Feeling I was stuck between a rock and a hard place and never ever being able to win. I hate that I settled so much in the last year. Because I should’ve demanded more, even though deep down I knew you were never going to be able to give it to me.

I think back to our past daily texts, and I just don’t get it. At one point, we both meant the things we said to each other.

Yet we still hurt each other.

This fucking hurts.

You’ve hurt me so much, but most of it wasn’t intentional, which I think is somewhat even worse. Because I’m not totally mad at you for causing the pain. You never did anything outright to cause me pain, but I still feel like you did.

Unintentional pain almost stings more than intentional.

When I asked you out that night after we were both on an emotional high, I took a chance. For once in my life, I took the leap, knowing that I could get humiliated or hurt or just straight up shot down.

Where did it all go wrong? Or, more realistically, how did we think that we could go through the wrong when it was there at the start?

I’m trying not to blame myself too much. Trying not to tell myself that I should’ve known better.

All those times, especially at the start, when I would ask you if you genuinely liked me, you always thought I was just trying to be annoying. But you never understood that I genuinely thought that way. My self confidence from the start was lacking, and you didn’t try to understand that, because I come across to everyone as confident and self-assured.

It hurt, when you would brush things off like that. I felt like you didn’t care.

And then, it got to the point where I stopped asking that question. Part of that is because I did become more confident and you did show that you cared, and part of that was because I knew it would piss you off.

The amount of things I was scared to talk about with you because I knew it would piss you off? I don’t wish that feeling on anybody.

I shouldn’t have been scared. I shouldn’t have been uncomfortable. But I was. And if you did notice like sometimes you claimed to, why didn’t you make it more comfortable for me? Was that too much to ask for?

So larger than life that at the end, you faded into just the smallest man who ever lived. Fuck you.

Was it too much to ask for when I just wanted to know why you were upset? You didn’t have to ever tell me the full story (lord knows there were times I didn’t), but was it too much to ask for something? You told me once that I’m the person you’ve told the most to. How? You barely told me anything. And when I wanted to talk to you, whether it was about growing up in Alaska or why you were in a bad mood last night, you always brushed it off. Always.

So I don’t feel so bad about feeling like I gave more effort. I gave so much of myself to you. If you really cared about me like you claimed you did, why couldn’t you show even just 1% of that care back? Or just meet me in the middle?

I could’ve tried harder to meet you in the middle, I’ll admit that. But you didn’t even give me a map or a clue how to.

I felt so fucking left in the dark. I felt left in the dark about my own fucking relationship, something that I should be completely sure about. If you really love someone and care about them, how can you leave them in the dark? How could you not even see that I was struggling to find a flashlight?

You did care about me. I know that. To some extent and at some point in time, you did care about me. But caring about someone and their well-being isn’t always enough.

Why couldn’t you have worked with me? When I was extending my hand out, why didn’t you reach for it? How can someone just be so blind? I mean, I’m practically always spelling it out for you.

Maybe I am being selfish. But fuck, I just wanted to be happy. At some point, you made me happy. When did I start making you feel like I wasn’t enough? Why wasn’t I enough for you?

It’s useless, in a way, to keep going about this. Because I know I deserve better. And we’ll both find people who are better for us. We just couldn’t be that person to each other.

I fucking loved you.

I wish it ended differently.

July 8, 2020 (fifty nine days post-breakup, in front of the lake)

I really really fucking miss you.

I do.

I miss being able to text you that i love you and not necessarily expecting a response until the next morning. I miss knowing that as soon as you wake up, you’ll text me back and assure me that yeah, you love me too.

I’m left feeling bittersweet as I look back on memories that are just splashes and not definite strokes on the canvas that used to be us.

I miss having you as a friend.

I’ve been having more urges lately to want to text you. And it isn’t even anything important. Just moments I experience throughout the day.

Do you get the urge to do the same?

July 19, 2020 (seventy days post-breakup, still in the same damn house)

It’s hard. It really is. And it kinda just hits you at random parts of the day. Sometimes I wake up from a dream that you were in and have to remind myself that it didn’t happen.

Sometimes it physically aches when I realize that you won’t ever help me put on my jacket again, or complain that my hair is in your face when we’re lying on the couch watching Brooklyn Nine Nine, or groan when I drag you up to dance with me (which you never improved on, no matter how many times I tried to teach you basic rhythm). I can’t view our song the same way anymore, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to.

The other day, I read some simple thing on Twitter. I don’t even remember what it was, but I do remember that for a split second, I could see your smile in my mind. But it wasn’t just any smile. It was the smile you gave me when you took me ice skating that first time. I remember asking you what you were smiling at, and you said that you just were taking in this moment. I don’t know if you took a mental picture that day, but I know I did. That day seems so long ago now.

In almost anything I do, you somehow pop into my mind or into the conversation. And it’s not even in a harmful way either. It’s because you were part of my life for so long. I see a dog on the street, and it reminds me of how you always stopped to pet every single one we’s see I write something in my messy handwriting, and I remember how you always used to complain that you couldn’t read the notes I’d occasionally leave around your place when you went away. I went to the doctor’s the other day, and they said I was 5 feet and 3 inches, which is just definitely not true, and I almost reached for my phone to text you, because you would’ve cackled and insisted that no, I’m 5 feet 2 inches and it wouldn’t even matter because I’ll always be shorter than you. It’s simple and minute things that make me miss you that much more.

I still can’t listen to some songs the same way anymore, but I can at least listen to them now, which is a feat in itself. I was unpacking from college and found the teddy bear you sent me the first extended time we had to be apart and had to immediately put that out of my sight. From those boxes also came photos that I had decorated my dorm room with, and to be honest, I’m glad now that I let you keep our best one. I deal with all my emotions, besides writing, by making Spotify playlists, and I made a new one earlier this week. I think it’s helping. It’s a slow process, this whole moving on thing, but it’s one that I’m trying to be grateful for, because like most things in life, you just don’t truly know until you go through it.

Sometimes, I find myself wondering how you are and how you’re healing. But, even though we’ve both changed since the day we met, if there’s one thing I know, it’s that you’re incredibly strong and stubborn. I hope that you’re finding some growth in this process too.

October 17, 2020 (one hundred fifty seven days post-break up, apartment in orono)

It’s been almost 5 months, and you still cross my mind everyday.

Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why didn’t you fucking tell me what you were thinking? Why was I the one who had to approach you just because I was just so done with the silent treatment?

But I’m not mad at you. Not anymore. The mad phase passed ages ago.

Closure is a fake word. Even a breakup as mutual and smooth as ours was still left me with so many questions that will probably never be answered.

Any breakup fucks you up to some extent. I knew it was going to mess me up even back when we were together. But not like this. Never like this.

But like anything in life, I guess you can never really prepare for what you think you might feel, because most of the time, you discover a whole new side of you that you never thought existed.

I don’t miss you. I don’t. I don’t feel that love in any way anymore.

But I did once.

You did too, right?

November 15, 2020 (one hundred eighty six days post break-up, fogler library)

I hate Halloween.

Though, it did bring me to you three years ago. I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you right then and there.

Three years later, you texted me on Halloween, five months after our breakup. The universe really, really wanted to fuck with me.

It was a tough night for you. I knew that. Because I know how you are after losing a game you should’ve won. But that didn’t mean that I owed you anything and had to respond.

We agreed on no contact if we ever wanted to stay friends. Clearly, friends is out of the picture now, but come on. A vulnerable text after a bad night because you know I would feel bad for you?

Fuck, you know how much I would hate that. You had to have known.

Just because we’re not dating anymore doesn’t mean that everything about you just disappears. I still know your tendencies. I still know exactly how my head burrows into your chest during a hug. I still know the actions I used to do that would be followed by you attacking me with a hug. I still could point you out in a crowd.

I looked for you in every crowd for years.

That stuff doesn’t just go away, no matter how much I want it to. But fuck. Fuck. Why did you text me?

I don’t regret how I handled it. I probably would’ve responded months ago. But just like you, I’ve grown these last couple of months.

It was comforting, for a split second, to know that maybe, just maybe, these past couple of months have been hard for you too. It makes me feel human. It makes me feel like I’m not crazy.

I’m glad you texted me. You gave me another level of closure I hadn’t known that I needed until then.

But fuck, dude. You know me better than that. You should know me better than that.

I hate Halloween.

November 26, 2020 (one hundred ninety seven days, at the coffee shop i brought you to when you came home with me two years ago)

I don’t regret loving you, but I hate you for what you did to me.

Or maybe not.

I hate knowing that even though we haven’t been in a relationship in a bit, it feels like sometimes, you’re on my mind the exact same amount when we were dating. I hate knowing that I gave so much of myself and my love to you, and it always felt unrecognized.

Fuck, will it ever stop hurting? Will I ever be able to have to stop myself from thinking about you? Will it ever stop?

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Happy birthday. I hope you enjoy it.

June 12, 2021 (three hundred ninety five days post-break up, in boston, visiting a friend)

Tonight, when a friend asked me about you and how I felt about how we ended, I was able to articulate my thoughts clearly. I’m really proud of myself for getting to a point where I can take the lessons I learned the few months after we broke up and acknowledge them in a succinct way without breaking down into tears. Just watery eyes and the occasional voice crack

I’m also proud that I can say that when we were dating, I lost a bit of myself. For months, it was really hard to admit out loud.

I’m proud of how far I’ve come. Sometimes, I wish I could call or text you about it, because I think you’d be proud too. And I know I’d be proud of you. I am, to be honest. I do break resolve once in awhile and check on you through various avenues.

I still haven’t seen you in person since the last time COVID made us say goodbye. Maybe I never will again. But day by day, I’m starting to accept that and be okay with it. I’m accepting that memories that used to be so painted in my mind are blurry or almost completely erased now. But that’s okay. Honestly, it’s probably for the best.

I wonder, when you think about it, if you think about different moments that I do. That’s the thing when something ends. You have to be okay with letting go of those moments and realizing that just because you forget them, doesn’t mean they weren’t important.

I don’t think I miss you. I hesitate in saying that. Because I’ve moved on and handled the aftermath of it better than I think both of us ever thought I could. When you hung up the phone for the last time, I proved to myself again that I’m stronger than I give myself credit for. I think we all are. But we don’t realize it until we’re thrown into a situation that we think we’ll never be able to overcome.

But we do. Whether it’s because we’re forced to because there’s no other option, it doesn’t matter. Because we get through. We move on.

I hope you're moving on.

And then it goes into other topics, graduating during a pandemic specifically and losing what’s supposed to be your last year of no responsibilities before adulthood. There are other poems in here that reference a past relationship, but not as much as these eight.

If there’s one thing that Noelle did change, it was taking out the details. Jeremy may have hurt her, but he doesn’t deserve someone possibly making a connection between these poems and their shared background. She’s not a famous author by any means, but she wanted to be careful.

Not that she makes that part of her life publicly known. People don’t need to know that her brother was Jeremy’s captain for two years at Maine and that’s how they met.

Noelle grew up going to rinks. She hasn’t gone to one since they broke up.

But also, what the fuck? It’s been five years since she’s dated the guy. She really is over it by now, even if his rise to stardom in the Bruins flittering on her social media feeds still sometimes has her swallowing a bit before she can continue with her day.

Brooklyn is far enough from Boston. But sometimes it feels like it’s right outside her door.

She’s proud of her first published work. She really is. People believed in her and after numerous notes swapped back and forth with her editor, she did it. She always knew she wanted to work in publishing. She never knew she herself would publish anything.

And here she is now, two weeks after the book release, in Boston, about to do a q&a and a signing. Apparently, “miscellaneous” has been on top of numerous lists and it’s flying off the shelves. Noelle can’t really believe it and tries not to think about it too much, trusting her agent with all of that.

She’s happy to talk about her work and process though. That she can handle. And she’s grateful for all the love.

After a signing at a local bookstore, she decides to walk the 20 minutes home in the Boston fall. It’s a bit brisk, but she doesn’t mind and she just wanders, belly filled with delicious sushi she inhaled for dinner with an old friend.

Of course it happens the one time during her walk when she doesn’t avoid eye contact with someone. The song playing in her earbuds fade out of her focus and she almost stumbles.

Jeremy’s eyes were always Noelle’s favorite thing about him. She thought she would’ve forgotten what they looked like by now. But clearly she hasn’t.

Her eyes quickly cast to the person next to him. It’s definitely a girl. They’re a bit too far away for Noelle to pick out details. But it’s enough. He’s walking on the side closest to the street. It’s a Friday Night in a bustling part of the city.

It hurts. She wishes it didn’t.

Even from far away, she sees his eyes blink in recognition. Noelle puts her head back down and walks faster.

(She cries in the shower when she gets back to the hotel. She had debated feeling super sorry for herself and going to the hotel bar but refrained)

She has a few free days in Boston before flying back to New York. When she wakes up the next morning, she debates on going home early. But no, she won’t let a three second glance at someone ruin her time here. She used to occasionally come here during her college days. She loves this city.

The city may be Jeremy’s, but she can make space for herself here too.

She takes her time at a cafe, people watching and eating some breakfast. As she takes her coffee to-go, she looks out the window at the bookstore she was in the night before for the signing. She almost drops her coffee.

Jeremy walks into the book store.

Now, Noelle is debating her options. What she should do is continue with her day and walk in the opposite direction. But she’s always been too nosy for her own good. And maybe a bit self destructive. She decides to leave the cafe and cross the street immediately, so impatient to where she’s almost tapping her foot as the pedestrian signal stays red.

As a writer, she’s no stranger to movie moments. The scenes written in books or movies where the timing is too accurate to be real. The situation too good to be true. But after a car speeds through an orange and she can finally walk, she stops in her tracks instead, feet glued down to the sidewalk.

Because Jeremy is right in front of her on the other side of the street. Her book in his hand. And he’s looking right at her.

The first feeling she can recognize in herself is anger. Anger at the way their relationship panned out. Anger at the way they ended. Anger at the radio silence the years following. Anger at him for everything. Angry at herself for everything.

The second feeling is, weirdly, shame, which she’s embarrassed by. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But she feels it anyways.

The third, and perhaps the most prominent, is emptiness. Five fucking years later, and she’s brought back to the emptiness she felt immediately after they broke up. The emptiness that the person you loved isn’t yours anymore — who maybe wasn’t ever yours to begin with.

Before she can run, he’s already crossed the street to her. He looks naturally different as someone who you haven’t seen in five years would. But he also heartbreakingly looks the same.

“We should get out of people’s way,” Noelle manages to chokes out.

Jeremy laughs a bit. Her heart lurches. “Yeah.” He starts walking and she follows him wordlessly. This is his city after all.

He leads them to a bench under a tree with beautiful fall foliage. She puts at least a foot between them as they both sit down, staring out at the people passing. She can’t take the silence.

“I see you bought my book.”

“I did,” he replies evenly. “Congratulations. I always knew you would do it.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. Maybe if she squeezes hard enough she’ll forget when she originally pitched Jeremy the bare bones idea of the exact same book that’s currently in his hand. “Thank you. Congratulations to you too. On everything.”

“You’ve been watching?”

She shakes her head. “No. But, you know Seth and…yeah. It comes up during family calls sometimes.”

“Why didn’t you say hi last night?”

She looks pointedly at a couple walking their dog. “You seemed busy.”

“She wasn’t-that-it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh. Because that makes me feel so much better,” she spits out, before taking a deep breath. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. We broke up ages ago.”

“I’m sorry,” she gives him a look and is slightly proud of how he seems to shrink into himself a bit. “I-I know it’s five years too late. I know I didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve. But for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

The thing is, Noelle always thought that maybe hearing an apology someday would make her feel better. But now that’s heard it, she’s not sure she does.

She swallows. “I appreciate that.”

“I’ve already read it, you know.”

“Read what?”

Jeremy runs a hand through his hair. “Your book. One of my teammate’s girlfriend recommended it and I asked to borrow it. It’s fantastic,” He looks down at the book in his hand. It’s like the cover is taunting her. “I wanted my own copy.”

“Oh.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For letting me off the hook with the poems I know were about me,” he scoffs, shaking his head at himself. “You could’ve written way worse.”

She can’t help but let out a chuckle. “I thought I was pretty mean.”

“Your definition of ‘pretty mean’ is tame compared to a lot of people,” he says, mindlessly flipping through the pages of the book. “You were always the kindest person, even when you shouldn’t have been..”

He puts his hand out in her direction, the hand with the book in it. She furrows her eyebrows. “What-”

“Could I get a signed copy?”

“Jeremy. What do you want from me?”

He sighs, taking his hand back. “A chance to apologize?”

“You’ve already done that.”

“Not in the way I want to and what you deserve.”

She lets out a sigh, turning to face him fully. “I don’t know if that would be worth my time or yours. I know the book just came out, but that was five years ago. I’m over it. Forgive and forget, right?”

“But do you?” Jeremy counters back. “Clearly, you don’t forget, which I deserve. But forgive?”

“We’re just going in circles now.”

“No we’re not,” he says firmly. “You’re just shutting me down because you don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had five years to prepare what I would say to you if I saw you again. You’re telling me you haven’t?”

“Of course I have,” Noelle tips her head back. “But also, what’s the point?”

“The point, is that I still love you.”

“Fuck you,” she says in a strained voice. “You can’t just-you can’t just throw that shit out there. Fuck you.”

He bites his lip, and to her annoyance, he laughs. But she listens more carefully, and it sounds very self deprecating. “I deserved that.”

“Yeah,” Noelle looks down at her feet. “So…what? You still love me?”

“I do.”

“And what are you going to do about that?”

“What are you going to let me do?”

“I live in Brooklyn.”

“I know,” she whips her head up. Jeremy looks sheepish, which she didn’t even think was something he knew how to do. “Seth mentioned it when we caught up a bit ago. I also still follow you on Instagram.”

She tries again. “It’s been five years.”

“And I’m here sitting with you and still feel the exact same way I did back then. Even more, to be honest.” He eyes her pointedly. “Any more excuses?”

Her voice softens. “You really hurt me.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, Noelle.”

“I hurt you too.”

He shrugs. “We were young and stupid.”

“And we’re still not?” Noelle says with a snort before swallowing. “I’m not the same person you fell in love with.”

“I’m sure I’m not either. But I don’t know if there’s a world where I don’t love every version of you.”

“Even after reading the book?”

“Especially after reading the book,” he sighs. “Noelle, I know this is unfair of me. All of this. And I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to reach out. But I always intended to. And then you’re here? And I see you twice in two days? I’d be an idiot to not try. More of an idiot than I am, anyways.”

“Try for what?”

“A second chance? To be friends? Whatever you want.” He suddenly deflates. “Even if you don’t want anything to do with me. At least I’ll know.”

“Why did you never text me?”

“I thought about it a lot,” he admits. “I tried once, actually, after the high of a really good win. But it didn’t go through. I got the message.”

“The message?”

“You blocked me, right?”

Oh. “Yeah,” she lies. “I did.” She reaches into her bag for a pen and gestures for the book, which he gives to her, a curious gleam in his eyes. “I’m in Boston for two more days, including today.”

He takes the hint immediately. Eagerly. “I have a game tonight, but I’m free tomorrow.”

“Who are you guys playing?”

“Toronto. And I’m starting. Should be a good one.”

She hums non-committedly, scribbling on the inside of the front cover. She hands it back to him with a small, close-lipped smile. She nods at him to read the message.

to my first fan,

i still love you too.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

yours,

noelle

He looks up, eyes shining but a bit confused.

“I never blocked you. I just changed my number.”

“Oh.”

“And even if I still love you, I’m still mad at you.”

“I know. I’d be more surprised if you weren’t.”

She stands up, adjusting the bag on her shoulder and putting her sunglasses on. “Text me?”

His mouth splits wide into a grin. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She backs away with one last attempt at a smile before turning down the street.

#k writes #hockey fanfiction #nhl #nhl fanfiction #nhl fanfic #nhl writing #hockey blurb #hockey writing #boston bruins #jeremy swayman #jeremy swayman blurb #jeremy swayman writing #jeremy swayman fic #jeremy swayman fanfiction #jeremy swayman x ofc #jeremy swayman x oc #jeremy swayman x reader

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menfenced · 6 months ago

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I've seen a lot of posts in the last 24 hours about why Kamala lost and I feel like most of them are failing to actually look at reasons voters are giving. Instead, they're putting forward what they personally didn't like about Kamala's campaign. But here's the thing to remember... You didn't like that thing about Kamala's campaign. You still voted for her. There's something else going on.

Because people didn't just vote against Kamala. They voted FOR Trump, and early polling results are showing they did it across the board in almost every demographic.

I've seen the calls for investigations into voter fraud and voter suppression because "this doesn't just happen!" and I agree with one thing. This doesn't "just" happen. There's a reason and democrats aren't listening. Because it's not just a handful of counties that got hacked or had crazy people trying to stop votes or didn't get all of their ballots counted. That's not to say that none of that stuff happened, of course. There may have been serious issues in some counties. But across the board, in nearly every state and every county, even if he didn't outright win, Trump made gains. The only two states where he didn't make gains: Washington State and Utah.

If that's due to voter fraud or hacked elections, it would have to be on a scale unlike anything we have ever seen before and honestly, we don't have any evidence of that right now.

So what happened? What do we know?

We know that since the pandemic and since the record inflation that caused, incumbent leaders all over the world have been losing elections at higher rates than usual. That crosses all political persuasions and again, has been seen across the globe.

Based on polling prior to the election, which remained fairly consistent throughout the election run, 3/4 US voters think the country is on the wrong track and 2/3 are unhappy with the economy.

Biden's approval rating when this election started was 40-41%

This is all a recipe for an incumbent losing, which to be frank, most people still saw Kamala as, even though she was running instead of Biden.

In addition to all of that, let's look at what the exit polls showed.

Kamala's approval rating in the exit polls was 48.5%

Donald Trump's approval ratings in the exit polls was 44.54%

And I know he wasn't running, but just for context Biden's approval ratings were 40%

When asked if Harris's views were too extreme, 46% said yes, 51% said no.

When asked if Trump's views were too extreme, 55% said yes, 43% said no.

So how did he win?

People like him less and think he's more extreme. Why did they vote for him?

Well, let's look at some other polling data.

45% of voters said that their family's personal financial situation was worse off than it was four years ago.

Only 25% said their financial situation was better than it was 4 years ago.

75% of people polled said that in the last year, inflation has caused them either severe or moderate hardship.

When asked who can bring needed change, 73% of voters said Trump and only 25% said Harris.

What that means is that a majority of American's don't like Trump. They don't think he's a good person. They think he's too extreme. And yet they still voted for him because the issue that was most important in this election was the economy.

Will Trump be better for the economy?

No.

But there's a perception that the current administration did not do everything they could have to fix it and people were willing to roll the dice on someone different.

Maybe we could have done more. Kamala only had 110 days to make her case and no matter what she said, the fact remained that she is the sitting VP. Maybe there was no way for her to escape the incumbent/status quo perception.

I hope we can learn something from the behavior of the American electorate this year, and I really hope Trump doesn't fuck things up too bad before we get another chance to step in, because the Republican Party is learning things too. They're learning that they can be as extreme as they want, but if they can make people believe the economy will work better under their leadership, even if it's not true, they'll still get votes.

#us politics #kamala harris #kamala 2024

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nycbaby21 · 2 years ago

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Nico Hischier Imagine

prompt: meeting Nico at a bar and the next night meeting him again after a Devil's game

word count: 4,091

“I just want to thank you guys for coming on this trip and being a part of my special day,” Marlee says passing out a shot for each of us. She is the first of our little group to get married and we couldn’t be more happy for her. She and Colby met not too long into freshmen year and have been together since. We all cheered to the beautiful bride and threw back the shots. “Okay now let’s dance,” Hannah, the maid of honor, said pulling the four of us out onto the dance floor.

After an hour of dancing and a few drinks, we left that bar and headed to the next one. Marlee wanted to do this bar crawl in New Jersey for her bachelorette party. Colby was from Jersey and she wanted to see all the places he used to love to go with his friends. I don’t know how many guys made a list of bars to go to for their fiance, but Marlee and Colby were different. They really were like two best friends with more benefits. I look at them and hope that I can get that in the future.

As the five of us walk into the next bar, my attention is drawn to the table in the corner of the bar. It was filled with several very attractive guys, like ridiculously attractive guys. We find a table not too far away from them and get settled in. “Okay, time is set for one hour. We have this one and one more and we are done,” Aria says showing the timer on her phone. She is very time-oriented and literally dragged Isla out of the first bar, even though she was talking to some guy.

After coming back from the bar, we all sat and drank our drinks enjoying the time we had together. This wasn’t only like a send-off for Marlee, it was for a lot of us. Marls was moving to Jersey with Colby this fall after the wedding, Isla got a job offer in Vancouver, Aria just got a huge promotion and was moving to her company’s London office, and Hannah and I were staying in our hometown. She was starting to really take off the online boutique she started during the pandemic for fun. I was an author so I could technically work whenever I chose to, but for the time being I was staying where I was.

“Okay c’mon guys no sad faces. We are all gonna keep in touch and we will get together when we can,” I say smiling at the group. “Y/n is right. We are gonna drink, dance, laugh, and flirt with tons of guys, well not you Marls,” Hannah laughs winking at her. We all laugh and head out to go dance. I wipe sweat off of my forehead and lean over to Aria,” I gonna go get another drink.” She gives me a thumbs up and I weave my way through the crowd to find a spot at the very crowded bar. Of all of the places Colby recommended, this was the busiest bar we had been to tonight.

I eventually find a small opening next to a tall guy with darker hair. I slid in behind him, his back was to me as he talked to a shorter guy. I couldn’t hear the conversation because of the group of drunk girls on the other side of me. I give my drink order to the bartender and she turns around to make it while taking more orders. “Oh, I love your top. It’s so cute. Where did you get it,” the blonde from the girls next to me says. I smile at her,” Thank you so much. It’s actually my friend’s clothing line. She owns an online boutique,” I lean closer towards her and tell her. She hands me her phone and I search it up for her. She may not remember why she had it pulled up in the morning, but hopefully sober her likes the clothes just as much as drunk her.

I feel someone bump into my side and I turn around to see the guys from earlier. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I didn’t mean to bump into you.” I don’t know what caught me off guard more, his face or his accent. “It’s okay really. It was barely a push,” I smile back and go to continue the conversation when my drink slides in front of me. I reach for my wallet when his hand gently rests on my upper arm. “Let me. It’s the least I can do bothering you tonight,” he says telling her to add it to his tab. I look up and finally see his gorgeous brown eyes and small dimples on his face when he smiles. “Thank you, but really you are no bother I promise,” I assure him trying to fight off the little butterflies fluttering around in my stomach.

“I’m Jack and this is Nico, the other guy says leaning over his friend to shake my hand. “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Nico and Jack,” my brain tries to come up with anything to say to keep them in a conversation with me. “Well Neeks, I am gonna go give the guys their drinks. You take your time,” Jack says to his older friend and gives me a wink as he turns around to head to the table I was staring at when we first walked in. “Sorry about him. I think he has taken one too many hits to the head,” Nico says leaning down so I can hear him better. Blush quickly creeps its way onto my cheeks. I raise my arm and pinch my other one, wondering if this was some dream because this man looked amazing, sounded amazing, and even smelled amazing.

“He has been hit in the head,” I ask trying to regain my composure. I give him a very confused face wondering what the hell he was talking about. He lets out a small laugh, dimples on display again. “Yeah more than a couple of times now. We play hockey together. I could see the confusion on your face when I said that,” he answers standing closer to me as the bar crowds again. “Wanna go find somewhere to sit,” I say standing on my tiptoes to be a closer height to his. He gives me a quick nod, puts his hand on the small of my back, and leads us to an empty table a couple down from his friends. From where are sitting I can see my friends dancing like idiots. I let out a laugh and he follows my eyes to the group

“Your friends look like they are having a good time,” he smiles taking a sip of his drink. “How do you know they were my friends,” I ask raising an eyebrow at him. He laughs and leans forward placing his elbows on the table. “Because you walked in with them and you were out there dancing with them too, he gives me a small smirk. My eyes get bigger and I choke on my drink a little. “I saw you when you walked in with them,” he smiles with a small blush starting to settle on his face. My smile gets a lot bigger and I look around trying to not meet his eyes. I felt like a middle school girl giggling and blushing over her crush.

“So you said you play hockey,” I ask trying to shift the conversation. He laughed knowing what I was doing, but he chose not to mention it. “Yeah my buddies over at the table where I was, we all play together,” he shrugs leaning back into his chair. “So are you any good,” I ask with a small smile while stirring my drink with the tiny yellow umbrella. “I don’t know. I guess I am pretty decent. If I wasn’t they might have kicked me off the team by now,” his words and smile make me feel like I am missing something, but his eyes distract me from asking what it was.

“Well I don’t know anything about hockey, so you already have one up on me,” I joke. “You’ve never played before,” he asks raising one of his thick eyebrows at me. “I have never even watched a game before let alone played. I tried skating once but that didn’t end too well,” I laugh at the memory of young me absolutely wiping out on the ice and refusing to try again. “Wait, so you have never seen a game before,” he looks at me like I have three heads or something.”Nope. My family is more of a basketball family,” I laugh at his face. “I bet you would like hockey. If you tried,” he says leaning back on the table and resting his face against his hand which was propped up on the table by his elbow. “I would watch a game way before I tried to play.” It was like my words lit a fire in him.

“Ya know,” he started,” I have been told I am an excellent teacher. I’m sure I can even help you.” I open my mouth in fake shock,” what does that mean? You could even help me.” He throws his head back laughing this time and it is a sight I miss I could engrave in my mind. “I mean exactly what you think I mean,” he says still laughing at me. I roll my eyes smiling and throw my tiny umbrella at him. I go to open my mouth to ask him more about himself when Isla rushes up to our table. “Y/n! I have been texting you for the past five minutes. We are already three behind schedule and that vein in Aria’s forehead is starting to pop out,” she rambles on and grabs my arm pulling me up.

“Okay just let me say bye and I will meet you at the door,” I say looking back to Nico who is smiling about the whole thing. “Oh no, ma’am. My conversation with my bar beauty was cut short so yours is going to be too,” she says leaning around me to look at Nico. “Sorry. Her full name is Y/n Y/ln. She is from y/town’s name, look her up.” I turn around and mouth a quick sorry as my arm is almost being pulled out of its socket. We finally meet up with the rest of the group and that’s when she lets go of my arm.

“First off ouch! And second off why,” I whine rubbing my arm. “Y/n I gave you an hour. What you did in that time is all on you,” Aria says crossing the street as we head to the next place. “And Isla’s conversation got cut short too,” Marls says slipping my arm through mine as we walk side by side. “I wouldn’t really call that a conversation. Two minutes in he had his tongue down her throat,” Hannah laughed turning around just in time for Isla to slip her the finger. “He could have been the love of my life,” she argues. “And what was his name,” Aria asks holding open the door to the last bar of the night. When Isla can’t give us a name we all burst out laughing. We finish the night out with more laughing and dancing, but I can’t help but still think about Nico. I tried to look him up but I didn’t have much to go on.

The next day after some serious rest and hangover recovery, we all get a text from Colby. “Okay Marls I love Colby I really do, but what the hell,” Isla says falling back onto the bed. “I have no idea. I got the same message you did.” Hey girls! Hope you had fun last night. Dress warm and meet us at this address. Also thank you for loving my girl just as much as I do -Colby. “I don’t like not knowing where I am going and having to get dressed appropriately. So I know you are freaking Aria,” Hannah sighs digging through her suitcase and looking for anything remotely warm. We all turn and see her face stuffed into a pillow.

After stopping at a few stores, we all finally had something warm to wear. I don’t really think Colby realized you don't pack warm layers for a bachelorette trip. We all pile out of the Uber and look up at the huge arena in front of us. “Welcome to Prudential Arena ladies,” Colby says walking up to us and giving Marlee a small kiss on the head. “What are we doing here? And why are so many people wearing red,” Isla asks looking around at the sea of red. “Last stop on the getting to know Colby tour, a New Jersey Devils game,” his smile is huge and it almost makes up for having to go buy new clothes to wear to this.

Colby leads us into the arena and to our seats. “Baby how much did this cost,” Marlee asks as we take our seats right next to the glass. A small shiver tickles down my spine, Who knew it would be this cold at a hockey game? “My family has season tickets,” he shrugs sitting down and throwing an arm around her. “Y/n. Switch seats with me,” Hannah hits my arm getting my attention. “What? Why,” I ask looking away from the ice and into her green eyes. “I don’t wanna sit next to them being a lovey and shit,” she grumbles cutting her eyes towards the engaged couple. I lean forward and see the two cuddled up and Colby pointing out different players to Marlee. I roll my eyes and switch seats with her.

“Hey is it just me or are those guys staring at us,” Isla asks the group pointing over to the bench where the Devils players were sitting. When she points they all look away acting like nothing happened. “Dibs on hot hockey guys,” Hannah screams which gets us some pretty funny stares. “Why do you get a hot hockey first,” Isla asks her eyes shifting around the ice trying to find someone with their helmet off. “You and Y/n already had your fun. It’s mine and Aria’s turn now,” Hannah responds leaning over Isla to give Aria a fist bump. “Can you believe this Y/n,” Isla asks with a small pout on her face. “I’m sorry what about the love of your life from last night,” I ask which results in her throwing a Twizzler at me. I laugh pick it up off my chest and take a bite of it.

“Of course, Y/n isn’t going to be any help. She spent all of last night trying to find her bar beauty and if I’m gonna be honest she is probably still looking now,” Aria says signaling Hannah to grab my phone. She swipes it out of my hand before I know what is happening. “Okay really funny. Give it back,” I say leaning over her to grab it. “Are you gonna stop looking for Nick,” she asks almost sitting in Isla’s lap leaning away from me. “It’s Nico and yes if you give it back I will quit,” I say. “Scout’s honor,” Hannah asks raising an eyebrow at me. I nod and she hands it back to me. “ How are you still so hung up on that guy? You talked for forty-five minutes at best in a dark crowded bar. It’s not anything to write home about,” Isla asks shoveling popcorn in her mouth.

“Real attractive Isla. And so what if it was only forty-five minutes? I had more fun in those forty-five minutes with him than I have with any other guys in weeks,” I sigh looking out onto the ice. The girls all laugh and joke about it so much while I try and zone them out. “You know my nana always said things that are meant to always find a way. Or something like that,” Hannah said smiling at me. “Is this the nana who bakes cookies or the nana who makes moonshine,” I laugh leaning my head on her shoulder. “Moonshine. But you know drunk words are sober thoughts.” We both laugh and the lights start to dim as the game starts.

It was the final period of the game and the Devils were up by three. I don’t know which hurt more, my ears from all of the screaming or my arm from Hannah hitting it every time something happened. I try keeping up with the puck but I end up losing it every time I find it again. Two players skate our way and one pushes the other into the glass right in front of us. This starts a small fight and the crowd all around us goes wild. The Devil's player who was against the glass looks at us and then turns to skate away. He quickly turns back around and points at us. I can’t make out what he looks like all I knew was his last name was Hughes. He tapped the glass and skated back to the bench.

“Those guys are looking over here again,” Hannah says fluffing up her hair. I roll my eyes and pull out my phone looking up the roster for his team. I scroll down until I see the name J. Hughes number 86. Clicking on his name I am taken to a page full of his highlights and basic information. “No fucking way,” I say looking at his picture closer. “What,” Marlee leans over to look at my phone. “That guy I talked to last night was with number 86. He said they played hockey together, but I just assumed he meant for fun,” I say going back and clicking random names trying to see if I could find Nico. “Colby is there a player on the team named Nico,” Marlee asks her fiance who is very focused on the game and not us.

I reach over and pinch his arm getting a reaction out of him. “Ow. What was that for,” he asks rubbing his arm. “That didn’t hurt. Marlee can kiss it better later. Is there a player named Nico on the Devils,” I ask because my phone wouldn’t load the roster anymore. “Yeah, Nico Hischier. He’s number 13, the captain,” he says finally looking at me. “You’re actually kidding me. That guy from last night is a hot hockey guy, No fair,” Hannah pouts. “Do you know where he is from? Like would he have an accent,” I ask ignoring my friend. I didn’t want to get my hopes up in finding him too soon. “Uhm Switzerland if I’m not mistaken. Now are one of you gonna tell me why you need to know all of this? Because I have a suspicion that it has nothing to do with the game,” Colby turns his body towards us. “We are like ninety-eight percent sure that he is the guy Y/n was talking to last night before we left the bar,” Marlee explained.

“Left isn’t the word I would use. I was drug out of the bar against my will,” I say settling back into my seat and scanning the ice for number 13. “Okay so let me get this straight. You may or may not have talked and flirted with the New Jersey Devil’s captain last night at a bar. And these yahoos made you leave,” his voice got really loud, and it just so happens the crowd got quiet as he said it. I sink down into my seat and my face matches all of the jerseys in the arena. A group of girls behind us laugh. They also were sure Jack was pointing at them.

Before we could answer his question the buzzer goes off and everyone jumps to their feet. Looking up at the scoreboard we see that the Devils won. Everyone was rushing out of their seats and trying to get outside. “Why is everyone leaving so fast,” Aria asks grabbing my hand so she doesn’t get lost in the crowd. “Oh the players shower after the game and sometimes you can see them drive out of the arena,” Colby says trying to herd all of us into one area waiting for everything to calm down. I never could find 13 again. It was a crazy idea anyway, why would a professional NHL player flirt with me in a bar?

Rapid knocking behind us scares all of us. We all quickly turn around and see Jack at the glass saying something. It was still so loud in there it was hard to hear the person right next to you. He shakes his head and holds up one finger skating away. “What the hell was that,” Isla asks. We waited until a security guard started to usher us out. “No, we can’t leave. Jack Hughes wants to talk to our friend,” Aria tries to persuade the man like three times her height. “Yeah, and I’m the queen of England. Move it along,” his deep voice sent chills down my spine. I glanced back to the ice and still saw no sign of him. We all turned to head up the stairs and once again tapping on the glass stopped us. Jack held up a puck in his hand and made the motion of throwing it. I went to the glass and nodded my head. The black piece of rubber landed in my hands. I looked at it and then at him.

He motioned for me to turn it over. When I did I saw a phone number. My eyebrows scrunched up in confusion wondering why he was giving me his number. He shook his head and mouthed Nico. Blush quickly spread to my face. It was a combination of knowing that I finally found him and the idea that a professional athlete wanted to talk to me last night. He gave us a finger salute and skated back the way he came from.

We moved making our way back up the stairs but not before Hannah said,” Excuse us, your majesty.” We all laughed at his face and slowly followed the crowd out into the parking lot. “Well what are you waiting for call him,” Colby says as we wait to exit the building. We all laugh at how invested he is now that it was a player from his favorite team that was involved. I typed in the number and listened to the ringing. “He won’t answer right now. He is probably busy,” I say not hearing the call connect. “Never too busy to talk to a pretty girl,” his thick accent flowed into my ears. I smiled and laughed. “Hi NIco,” I say ignoring all of the looks from my friends. “Hi Y/n,” I can hear a lot of background noise on his end. “Is that her? Did it work,” I hear Jack ask him. Nico shushes him and slowly the call gets quieter.

Isla put her hands on my shoulders guiding me as I talked on the phone. “So you play hockey,” I repeated the phrase gaining a loud laugh from him. "When you told me you liked to play hockey, I just thought you liked to play it for fun," I say into the phone finally making it outside. The cool air was a breath of relief. "I do like to play it for fun," he responds casually. "Obviously if you play in the nh freaking l,” I yell into the phone. “Okay I have to go and do some interviews but can I call you later,” he asks almost sounding nervous. “I would really like that. Now go do your thing, superstar,” I laugh into the phone. I hang up the phone and once I make sure it is off I let out the girliest squeal in history. “So now that you have a hot hockey boy, you can set us up with his teammates right,” Hannah laughs throwing an arm over my shoulder. “We’ll see,” I say pinching her side. I went to sleep so much better than night rather than last night. Last night I fell asleep trying to find Nico on my phone and tonight I fell asleep with Nico on the phone.

#nhl imagine #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier #nj devils #nycbaby21works #nhl

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ihearthes · 1 year ago

Text

Christmas Thyme Part 2

Author: @ihearthes

Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (1st person)

Rating: Smut (NSFW, 18+ Only)

Word Count: 3060

READ Part 1 HERE

Leaving the bank where I’ve deposited the day’s earnings, I notice Harry has his hands stuffed in his pockets as he jauntily walks beside me. “Not a fan of the cold?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“I’ve gotten better at it.” He huddles in his coat. “There was a time when being cold was the worst thing in the world. I would shiver no matter how many layers I had on.”

“That’s me to my core. I can be cold anytime, anywhere. But you chose to live in London instead of Los Angeles. Why?” Genuinely curious, I watch his face as we walk towards the closest chippy. I said I’d buy him dinner for his help, but I’m still trying to save every penny I can and sink it back into the business. So his usual elegant fare is not on the menu tonight, and he’ll just have to deal with that. Not that he seems the least bit upset or offended by the idea of fish and chips.

He glances at me.

“Oh,” I reply to his glance. “I get it. Off limits. Private. Personal.” Waving my hand, I seek to soothe him. “Don’t even worry, Harry. You don’t owe me answers to my inane questions.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “It’s not really a big secret or anything –”

“Doesn’t matter. You have the right to choose what you share with strangers.”

“True.” Hunching his shoulders, he looks away from me. “It was definitely warmer in LA which I enjoyed. And I know a lot of people there – many who are friends – close friends even. But…it just never felt like home, you know? During the pandemic, I was there at first, and it just all felt so…off. Not me, you know?”

I nod. “Same experience when I moved away from London for work. It just didn’t feel like it fit. Coming home to take care of my dad was a blessing in more ways than one.” Arriving at the chippy, I glance at my watch. “Shit. They close soon.”

“Guess we’ll have to order takeaway.”

I don’t ask where we’ll eat it. The possibilities make my stomach flip upside down. Yanking on the handle, he holds the door for me as we walk into the blast of heat. The sultry tones of “The Christmas Song” by Greg Spero, and it makes my heart happy. Grinning, my smile widens when Harry takes my hand and twirls me around as though we had been dancing the entire way here. He waltzes me to the counter where the guy looks at us wearily.

“We’re closing soon.” The attitude borders on surly but doesn’t quite make it.

“No problem,” Harry replies. “We’ll have two suppers for takeaway. Mushy peas?” He asks me, and I nod eagerly.

“We’re out of peas.” The sentence is short, and the young man who delivers it sounds bored.

“Then just the fish and chips, my good man!” Harry’s energy is the exact opposite of our order taker who simply sighs, punches some buttons on the register, and lazily shouts, “Two suppers! Takeaway!”

As Harry begins to remove his wallet, I playfully nudge him aside, withdrawing money from my back pocket and placing it on the counter. “My treat, remember?”

“I would never forget that.” His response is lighthearted and jolly. “After all, I slaved all day for my pay.”

“All day?” I scoff. “Try two hours.”

“Still…”

“Mhm.” I follow my doubtful tone with a grin, and he grins back. I swear we stand there beaming at each other until the order is ready. It’s both dorky and endearing. Which is about what I imagined meeting this man would include – if, I mean, I’d ever thought about meeting him.

Swinging the bag with our supper inside, Harry steps onto the pavement outside. “Where to?”

I bite my lip. “Well, we could go trace our steps back to the shop or…” Hesitating, I finally reveal the second choice. “...my dad’s flat is just around the corner here.” I gesture with my hand, and Harry’s eyes widen before they narrow.

“If you’re planning to kidnap me, I’ll have you know I’ve left a trail for the police to locate me.”

“Dammit,” I smile. “Foiled again.” His teasing has put me at ease, and I start leading him to my home. “Usually I would never invite a man home when we’ve just met…”

“Yeah? What’s different about me?”

“I think I would have heard if there were a trail of bodies in every town you’ve visited. Not the kind of secret you could keep for long.”

Chuckling heartily, Harry shifts to the opposite side of the sidewalk when we cross the street. It’s a gentlemanly move, and it’s one I’ve not often had the pleasure of experiencing with the men I’ve dated. Not that they’ve been oafs or criminals or horrible humans. But they haven’t been chivalrous for sure.

When we arrive, I push open the gate and lead Harry to my garden flat. The front door leads us directly into the reception room.

“I thought you’d lived here for a couple of years?” Harry asks, surveying the boxes on the floor.

“Christmas decorations,” I laugh. “I’ve not had a chance to put anything up yet since I’ve been so busy with the store.” Removing the takeaway bag from his hand, I move towards the kitchen. “Let me put this on real plates.”

“Don’t do that,” Harry interjects. “No need for you to have to tidy up dishes.”

“Special occasion! I’ve got company.” From the cupboard, I withdraw plates for us. Opening the containers, I snag a chip and take a bite quickly. “Oh wow. They didn’t have mushy peas, but they certainly have mushy chips.”

“Uh oh.”

“It’s fine. Give me a minute to heat up the air fryer. I’ll crisp them up in no time.” Opening the fridge, I remove a bottle of white wine. “Perhaps you could open this for us?” Holding out the wine and the corkscrew, I’m relieved when he takes both while I locate wine glasses. Now that he’s here in my space, I feel anxious. While liquid courage might have the side effect of blurring some memories later, it will also assist me in the midst of this bizarre Hallmark Christmas movie I’ve walked into. Or rather that Harry walked into when he entered my store.

Connecting my phone to the bluetooth speaker, I start a jazz Christmas station playing as the air fryer beeps. Adding the chips to the container, I start it for three minutes. From behind me, I hear the glug of wine being poured from the bottle.

“My lady.” His voice is husky, and I turn at his words to find Harry holding out a glass of wine to me, filled nearly to the brim. “I think there’s something wrong with your bottle.” Holding up his glass, also completely full, he shows me the empty wine bottle. “It only holds two glasses of wine.”

I can’t help it. My laughter escapes, and the glass in my hand jiggles with my giggles until I have to take a sip to keep the wine from overflowing onto my hand. My face softening when I look at him, I hold up my glass in his general direction.

“Thank you for this tonight, Harry. You’ve made me laugh, and that’s not something I’ve done often enough lately.”

“I think you should laugh every day,” he grins, moving closer to me and clinking his glass with mine. “Thank you for keeping me entertained after my sister ditched me.”

Warren Wolf’s version of “Oh Christmas Tree” starts, and Harry takes my glass and sets both on the counter before he grasps my hand and puts his other hand on my waist as he twirls me around on the kitchen floor. Throwing my head back, I laugh out loud at the continuous twirling he leads me to do until I’m out of breath and somehow against the counter with Harry plastered close to me.

We’re both giggling and breathing heavily from the dancing until I look up and catch his eyes on mine. Holy shit. He’s so fucking hot. Those eyes alone make my knickers wet, but when his tongue darts out and his eyes focus on my mouth, I’m lost. This is how it happens in movies, right? And I’m currently sleepwalking through a Hallmark Christmas movie. So when he leans forward and touches our lips together, I go with it.

The melding of our mouths leads to his hands landing on my waist as he slides up the bottom of my jumper just enough to rub his thumbs on my bare skin. A moan leaves my mouth which also has the advantage of providing access for Harry’s tongue to enter, and I cannot get enough of his flavour. He tastes like candy canes and snowflakes. When he steps closer and slides his leg between my jean-clad thighs, I whimper. There’s no other word for the sound that rips itself from my throat.

Which is when the timer on the air fryer goes off.

I see. I’m not in a Hallmark Christmas movie. I’m in a television Christmas comedy. Figures.

Feeling Harry’s smile against my lips, I am grateful when he doesn’t abruptly separate from me but rather maintains his nearness while gazing into my eyes. A sheepishness comes over him then, and I blink to bring myself back to reality. “I am so sorry. I should have asked for consent. That was…rude.”

“Really? I was thinking how incredibly pleasant it was.”

The smirk makes an appearance, and he surveys me, removing his hands from my waist and stepping back so that his leg is no longer propping me up from being a giant pool of jelly on the floor. So I’m surprised when I remain standing, although I’m not surprised that my head follows his for a brief moment before I snap to attention.

Trying to get us back on track with supper, I politely say, “I think the chips are no longer wilted.”

“They’re not the only thing no longer wilted,” Harry says, and I glance at him sharply.

“We could –”

“Skip supper?” The enthusiasm in his voice dampens my panties further, and although that hadn’t been what I was going to say at all, I simply nod and go along with the suggestion.

Food? What’s food? I’ve eaten before. I’ll eat again. But right now I have a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to do something insane that I’ll remember for the rest of my life.

With my head’s singular bob, Harry steps forward again, burying his hands in my hair as he tilts my head back to delve back into the practice we’d been doing previously. Knowing where we’re headed this time, I have no qualms about sliding my hands under his crewneck and towards the waistband of his joggers.

He removes his mouth from mine long enough to blather on, “Are you – do you have – should we –”

“I’ve not had sex with another human in months. Definitely clean of STDs, and I have condoms. Somewhere.” Shit. Where were those?

“Per-” Instead of finishing the word, he plants his lips back on my mouth, his tongue mimicking the dance we’ll soon be doing if either of us has any say. And we do.

“Bedroom!” I exclaim as I break the seal between us, having just remembered that the condoms are in my bedside table drawer. Taking control (and his hand), I guide him towards my bedroom – the one my father had insisted I take over when I moved in, relegating the older man to the former guest room. “Pretty sure they’re in –” Without finishing my sentence, I’m sorting through the items in my drawer as I feel Harry behind me, his hands sneaking around my waist to my button and zipper. With no qualms, he undoes both, sliding my jeans down my legs until I can step out of them.

“Shoes!” I squeak, and Harry chuckles before untying my shoes and gently removing them from my feet.

“Since I’m already here,” the devil grins, as he makes short work of my knickers too, removing all of my bottom half clothing so that I feel a breeze on my private parts. I have a moment of freakout when I can’t recall the last time I’d done any…um…landscaping there, but the thought disappears when I feel his breath on my thighs. “Mmmmm…I think I’ll start my meal here.” He raises my left leg and places it on the bed, exposing my entirety to his gaze. I grasp the bedside table to maintain my balance.

Good thing I’m holding onto something solid because the second his tongue touches my labia, my knees weaken. Having no idea how I’ve lost control of the situation, I have no choice but to pant wildly while he makes short work of my clit, my juices already inflamed and flowing.

“OH MY GOD!” I scream, and I can feel his stupid dimple on my skin as he smiles. How can someone feel the absence of space? No clue, but I swear that’s what I feel. My orgasm starts to build, and I grip the table more tightly as I tumble into the chasm of the mouth that belongs to one popstar named Harry Styles. Nearly collapsing, I am grateful when Harry adjusts my leg so that both are solidly on the ground to hold me up.

But then he reaches around me, snagging a condom I’d unknowingly managed to unearth in my frantic movements. Behind me, I hear the wrapper being torn, and when I move to stand, Harry places a hand on my back. “Stay there.”

There’s no sound of a zipper since he’s not wearing trousers, but I hear the latex snap just before I feel the head of his cock at my entrance. Once again, he places his hand on my back.

“Let me know if it’s too much.”

Most men who say this must be joking because I’ve often had to wonder if their member was even inside me. But not Harry. Holy fuck. His cock stretches my walls, and I have to tap his thigh once and call for a pause.

“Too much?”

“No. Just…let me adjust…” Bending forward some by crossing my arms on the night table and resting my head on my folded arms allows him to slip inside a bit further, and I can feel him all the way deep inside me.

“Woah,” he breathes, and I agree. “Can I move now?”

“Slowly at first please. I’m wet, but we might need more lubrication.” From the night table, I withdraw a bottle of lube and hand it around to him.

“Oh, good plan,” he says, and I hear the bottle opening and the squish of liquid being extracted before he withdraws slightly. This time when he plunges inside me, I gasp at the feel. “Still need me to go slow?”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I warn.

The man sets a pace that would go well with Kiwi or Only Angel. Steady. Fast. Reaching around, he teases my clit, and I groan in pleasure. After a few minutes at this pace in this position, my body starts to respond, and I feel my second orgasm building.

Which is when Harry pulls completely out. Surprised, I twist to look at him. And laugh. He raises an eyebrow, and I clarify. “We must look a sight with both of us bottomless and our tops still on.”

He grins, his cock standing up tall with the condom straining against its length and girth. “Strip show?”

“Shortest strip show in the history of the planet,” I grin as I pull my Christmas jumper with its tree and presents over my head. “Forgot I had this on.” Reaching up, I start to remove the necklace I’m wearing.

“Leave it,” Harry growls.

My mouth dry, I give in, removing only my bra. “Your turn,” and when he pulls off the crewneck, I wheeze at the sight of the butterfly and the laurels and the sparrow, never having expected to view them this close.

“How do you turn these on?” He demands, reaching for the strand of novelty Christmas lights surrounding my neck.

“Same way you turn me on,” I tease, reaching both hands behind my neck, knowing exactly how the pose pushes my breasts forward. As the lights start blinking, Harry’s eyes light up and he captures my nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirling in ways I’ve never felt before as he tweaks my other nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

I think I’m going to pass out.

Just when I get used to the feeling, he swaps breasts, humming in between. “The lights make it even more fun,” he devilishly snarls before latching onto my other breast.

When I’m close to losing my mind, I drop to my knees, planting my lips around the condom and applying suction.

“HOLY –” Harry shrieks. He’s too big for me to deep throat completely, so I add a hand to his length, using circular motions with both my tongue and my fingertips, but in opposite directions. I’m quite pleased with myself until he taps me on the head.

“I really would prefer to be inside you” is his polite comment, and who am I to deny this famous celebrity whatever he wants?

The bed covers get firmly wrinkled as we squirm together on the bed, his cock plunging into me from as many angles as we can think of, and the edging is starting to wear on me.

“I can’t…Harry…I need…”

“I got you.” And he does. With my legs in the air on his shoulders, his large gorgeous hands on my breasts, and his cock deeply embedded in me, he drives me to orgasm, and I cry out his name over and over again, forgetting everything but this moment.

And then I get the pleasure of watching as his eyes roll back in his head, his chin turns towards the ceiling, and his entire body spasms as he spills into the condom.

Merry Christmas to me!

Author’s Note: This was supposed to be a one shot, but I think there’s one more part of the story to tell if you’re interested. Let me know if you’ll read it, and I’ll write part 3.

#harry styles #my writing #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing

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lucy4242564 · 13 days ago

Text

.birds of a feather.

chapter one

a psycho holding me at arrow point

word count: 6.7k

authors note/ hi, hello! i’m going to do my very best to transfer everything from my ao3 over to here, but it may take a while! i have over 400,000 words to reformat, re-edit, and post, but i’m really wanting to add mood boards to each of my chapters! if you’d like to read this story in full (or at least up to where i have it still updating), feel free to check out my ao3 under the same name! anyways~ i really hope y’all love my original character as much as my other readers on ao3, even though i know tumblr is primarily x reader fics! i’ve worked and developed her so much, and she is such a complex character!

.i knew you in another life.

“Son of a bitch!”

I unzipped my heeled boots hurriedly, the pounding in my heart heavier than the pounding on the dressing room door. It didn’t seize for more than five minutes at a time once law enforcement raided the club after the pandemic was declared and business’ were being evacuated.

Taking off all of my clothes and redressing on a normal evening wouldn’t have been so bad if it hadn’t been a Saturday night and I didn’t work at a strip-club. There were at least fifteen girls already there and the cops were giving us no time to take a breather while we all scrambled like eggs in a frying pan to get our things, get dressed, and leave. I leaped up from the chair and started throwing everything from my locker into my bag. There was no telling how long we’d be out for and with how weird business had been lately, we may not open up for a while after the state of emergency is lifted anyways.

I wasn’t taking any chances of my things being left there for months on end.

Tossing my tank top over my head and slipping into my sweatpants finally, I bolted to the door, tipped out security when they walked me to my car, and zoomed down the interstate; out of Atlanta - which is where I’m supposed to be going due to the supposed ‘safe-zone’ there, but my uncle and aunt are important. I owe them more than I could probably put into words, and they’ll need help evacuating.

Most of my things were still at their trailer anyways, so I could make do without going by my apartment.

It didn’t take me long to get there, only about twenty minutes or so, but looking at the interstate from the opposite direction had me a little nervous. It would be dark in the next two hours - if that - and traffic was backed up worse than I’d ever seen it before. The Atlanta area stayed busy, especially on a Saturday night, but this was otherworldly. It was practically a ghost town on my side of the road while the other side was so packed, bumper to bumper would be an understatement.

Gravel churned under my tires when I hit the not-fully paved road that my aunt and uncle lived down. I could see my uncle Clyde already putting things in the bed of his truck and that couldn’t have made me any happier.

He’d been going on about how this was just a hoax that the government was trying to scare folks with again. In the very beginning I believed him, I mean— people turning other people into undead cannibals, be so for real. We lived in Atlanta of all places and I worked in a strip-club…drugs weren’t exactly uncommon or for between. That’s what I thought was causing all the craziness til I’d witnessed some real crazy shit on the side of the road while I was heading out the city.

Seeing him getting packed and ready to go was a relief - one less thing to struggle doing.

“Hey Lib,” he greeted. “I got the truck packed down with everything ya gonna need. The tent, air mattress, blankets, pillows, and loaded ya down with food.”

He was sweating up a storm and the normally warm, cheerful smile was replaced with a strained one. His greying caterpillar mustache was dripping, pieces of it looked like it had been tugged out. The glasses that typically adorned his blue eyes were missing, along with one of his suspenders and the closer I came, I could see blood on the neck of his plain white shirt.

All that looked normal about the man who was more of a father figure to me than my biological one, was the farmers hat on his head and the outer clip of his pocket knife in the chest pocket of his shirt.

“I need to grab some clothes and stuff, then we can go.” I tried being nonchalant, more for myself than for him. “You can go ahead and tell aunt Bea to get in!”

As I passed him by, he called me back to him. I think when he did that, I already knew why, I was just willing myself to ignore it. If it wasn’t addressed then it couldn’t hurt me— that was probably what got a lot of people killed thinking back now though. Ignorance was never something to cling to.

“Libby,” he sighed my name heavily and his shoulders sagged so low that they could’ve been to his ankles. “Aunt Bea came back from over at Mable’s house earlier, hollerin’ about Mable bitin’er. She got real sick not ten minutes later-“

Uncle Clyde never stuttered. Ever. He was a gentle man, but firm at the same time. When he said things, he meant them and he said them with his entire chest. I’d never not been able to depend on him.

My aunt married a good man -- the best. He loved me and my sisters, but my relationship with him was different from an early age. I was a surprise baby and the youngest by right over ten years. My parents didn’t really want either of my sisters, not much, but they really didn’t want me, especially once I was born a girl. They already had two girls, why would they want another? My mom’s sister, aunt Bea; she never had kids. She moved to Georgia with my uncle long before I was born, but they always came to visit me. My older sister thought it was weird, and it wasn’t until I was almost a teenager that I found out after an argument with my eldest sister that they only started coming to visit so often once I was born.

I figured out why a little later in life-- when I finally blew up and had it out with my uncle. It wasn’t something I ever dwelled on for a multitude of reasons, but my aunt and uncle saved me. I wished they’d saved my sisters from the horror too, but they didn’t know what was happening at the time. Hell-- my own sisters didn’t even know the extent of what happened once they both left me alone. Which is why I try hard not to hold resentment towards them, because they couldn’t have helped me even if they wanted to. My eldest especially..

Regardless though; I got out.

My uncle was the apple of my eye and everything I wanted in a dad as a kid. He took me hunting; even though I was a ‘mouth-of-the-south’, that asked entirely too many questions and was only interested in climbing funky looking trees or maneuvering through thick brush. I went fishing all the time and he never complained whenever I’d end up jumping into the water instead-- scaring all the fish away. We went to the racetrack on Thursday nights together every summer, and we’d joke about which driver would be my husband one day. He didn’t even get mad when I told him I was going to be a dancer because I wanted to pay for my own college tuition. I knew they couldn’t really afford to send me to college and they were supporting me financially so much already.

If I was ever in trouble--no matter what-- I could call him.

When I got my first speeding ticket, he paid for it, but he scolded me so harshly that I cried so hard because I had disappointed him. I’d only had my license for a month.

Still; he only ever wanted the best for me. He was why I felt very strong in my personal fundamentals. I drank, but rarely got drunk; smoked a little weed, sniffed a little coke, but not hardly enough to say I did ‘drugs’; chose to keep my work life and personal life separate. I stayed in school from the time I was nineteen, having graduated with my bachelors in childhood psychology that year, I was about to start on my masters, but the world had different plans, and like always, I looked to my uncle Clyde for the answers.

His words were the Bible to me.

To hear how his voice wavered right now though— this was something I’d never witnessed in my entire twenty-four years.

“Is she still in there?”

He nodded, but still moved in front of me before I could go up the steps again, “Libby, you don’t need ta go in our bedroom ya hear?”

“Yes sir.” I responded obediently.

Then he let me pass him.

_____________

I begged him to let me stay - not to force me out and make me do things alone.

It’s what he was there for-- it’s what I was there for. I didn’t want to be alone, but he made me.

He was bit too though. Said it happened when he was wrangling aunt Bea into the bedroom because he couldn’t put her down. They’d been married for fifty years so he just couldn’t do it.

Had I not been the one being forced into a truck and having to say goodbye to the only people that never abandoned or abused me - I might have thought the entire scenario was a little romantic. Romantic in a tragic way. The Notebook kind of thing.

To make matters worse, he wouldn’t stop telling me stupid things that I didn’t care to hear on the way out the door. ‘Reminders’ of how to take care of myself, like the easiest way to clean a fish, and not to forget to wax my bow.

I was more worried about getting back to Atlanta and to the ‘safe-zone’ than I was about quick tips on how to be a survivalist. With the traffic how it was, I would be looking at the Texas car tag in front of me for another ten years— at least. The stand-still, train of cars wouldn’t have been the worst if I could get a radio station to work, but all of them were playing the stupid repetition from the CDC, and one could only listen to the same three Johnny Cash CD’s so many times.

Then there were the strangers passing by the truck, walking up and down the backed up interstate like it was a pedestrian bridge.

A part of me wanted to stay in the truck when the bombs started shaking the ground. A twenty-four year old girl, all alone, wandering down the road at nine o’clock at night is a recipe for trouble. Normally. With how many people were out looking though— they’d be none the wiser.

_____________

People were losing their minds.

Gunshots, shouting, glass shattering. The sounds had been so close, but so far. Scattered all along the unmoving highway. I saw a couple arguing not far from my truck haven and seeing the back of his hand connecting with the flesh on her cheek had me rattled. I knew all too well what that was like— not from a lover in particular, but I knew the feeling.

He pushed her back and into a station wagon.

She didn’t cry out or attract attention. She’s used to it.

Bile churned in my gut, but nothing would actually come up. There was nothing to come up.

I’d forgotten to eat.

I was too scared to get out and get something.

I leaned the seat back as far as I can, double checking my locked doors before I tried to get some sleep instead. Sleep for dinner would be okay.

_____________

Dale Horvath introduced himself early the next morning. He reminded me of one of my old friend’s, dad. That was a good thing- her dad was always kind and understanding. I never had to explain certain things to him when I went over there.

He made me feel safe.

So did Dale Horvath.

“I’ve got a jacket if you want it,” he had been passing by again. “I can see you rubbing your arms and it’s only going to get colder.”

I smiled at him, genuinely smiled at him, but shook my head, “I’m pretty sure I have one in my bag. I just need to encourage myself more to get it from the back.”

He laughed a little at that answer, which only made me smile a tad bit brighter. There seemed to always be a smile on his lips though- no encouragement needed. Every time he strode by, there was a little smile there and his eyebrows were always raised up a bit.

Without knowing more than just his name, I hoped nothing horrible would happen to him. There was a strange kind of security about the man that the world might need one day, even if it’s just in brief ‘hello’s’ and offers of simple small talk. Maybe I was looking into it too much though. Either way, Dale was kind.

I looked forward to him coming by again and waved as he walked away, back down from wherever it was he was staying at.

_____________

Four days had passed since I’d left my home, and the people along the highway started dwindling down- less and less each morning that I woke.

I used to think my uncle had the coolest, most spacious truck- until I had to sleep in it for almost a week. The Chevy Avalanche was roomy, if it wasn’t your new makeshift apartment. In the passenger seat laid one of my- what used to be many- fleece blankets, a pillow, my backpack, and a yellow notepad that i’d been doodling my name all over at random times. The floorboard of the backseat was reserved especially for the more important items- water, food, my guns, and my bow. The entire bed was filled with other things, but there was a massive bed cover on top, so I chose to leave those things alone until I needed them direly.

Things had been okay for me thus far - nobody bothered me except Dale, but he wasn’t a bother. He’d offered to help me pull my truck up and closer to his RV, the attempts were futile though, there were still just a little too many people camped out in their cars to start shuffling them around. The promise to try again in a day or two gave me something to look forward to, which in retrospect, was kind of pitiful. I was excited to park next to a random man’s RV, on the side of the interstate, on a Thursday afternoon. With the loneliness that had started to settle in though? Sign me up again.

I’d made attempts to call both my sisters once that fifth day hit. Neither picked up. I was worried, but not overly. It’s weird actually, how I felt about it all.

It had been so long since my eldest sister even talked to me— she told me she hated me last time she saw me. She had a way with words. In her book, I was spoiled so hard by my aunt that I wouldn’t know the difference between ‘snorting weed and smoking cocaine’. There were nights though - when I was little, and still fresh - that she’d show me off to all of her friends and I thought she was the coolest person. She’d always want me to come and dance with her and her drunk friends at house parties she threw when our parents were out on benders in other towns. I was small, barely five years old before she got bored of me.

My older sister thought— I thought the world of my older sister.

She was never the caring type, but she was for me. I was the exception. Boyfriends, girlfriends, friends, in general -- my older sister never cared too deeply for many. For me though, she moved mountains. When my dad would come home drunk, she took a lot of his anger. When grown men looked at my ‘too mature’ body at thirteen, she’d always tell them off. She was my protector for so much of my childhood and when she told me she was disappointed at how weak and pathetic I was when I told her I was stripping, it broke me in a lot of ways she didn’t know. Other words were exchanged - we hadn’t talked since. She told me not to come running back to her ever again before she hung up the phone.

On nights like that night though - when there was no noise and that loneliness creeped through - I longed to feel her braiding my hair again and telling me she’d write letters when she could.

The world changed her. It changed everyone though. I wish she would’ve picked up.

I don’t blame her for being disappointed in me, and I’ve never been angry at her.

I love her.

_____________

Another three days had passed before we were able to move my truck, but instead of down the highway, he said we were going to this little quarry that blocked out a lot of noise. The way he worded it - not going to lie - made me feel nervous. Had he been a bit larger, maybe a deeper voice, I might have changed my mind. I didn’t though, and Dale didn’t lead me astray the entire way there. The drive probably would’ve only taken us about two minutes if there weren’t dozens of cars packed along the interstate, but alas, forty-five minutes later my truck was parked at the rear of Dale’s RV.

I took note of the other cars that adjoined in the little area encased by rocky hills, evergreen trees, and sparkling aqua colored water. There were probably eight vehicles in total, but a dozen or so tents pitched around the sight.

Was Dale just going around and hand-picking strangers for his own personal apocalyptic family?

It was giving drum-circle type vibes.

Then I was overwhelmed with new people introducing themselves to me, like they’d been waiting for me to come to Thanksgiving dinner because I was running late.

There was Glenn, Glenn Rhee. Glenn was my age and he was so incredibly friendly. I knew his age, where he was from, how many sisters he had, and that he used to be a pizza boy, all within our very first conversation. I also found out that he liked video games and that baseball was his favorite sport, so maybe I found my first ‘end-of-the-world’ friend, if things never went back to normal.

Theodore Douglas, or T-Dogg, was an angel. I was pretty good at pitching a tent, that’s not to say I wasn’t rusty though. T-Dogg had it done before I finished handing him the things out of my bag.

Andrea and Amy were sisters and the similar names reminded me of my sisters and I. Andrea was extremely reminiscent of my older sister. Though- more arrogant and less mature. Amy was just as fun to talk to as Glenn, that could’ve had something to do with our similarities in age.

Age has never been much to me though. Not with the kind of life I’ve lived. I actually don’t think I’ve ever had two friends in the same age group, at the same time before. Ever.

_____________

Dale was in my corner when nobody else was and it had to have been the ‘halo’ effect that he had, that made me trust him enough to leave what few weapons I had with him - - along with my food, water, and truck too. I don’t think that Shane didn’t trust me, I just don’t think he trusted me enough; like he was used to very strict gender roles and wasn’t sure how to deal with someone pushing his buttons they way that I clearly was.

It wasn’t intentional, the complete opposite actually.

I really wanted to like Shane because he seemed to have a way of getting people to listen to him; a good speaker I guess. He said things with certainty, but didn’t necessarily talk down to someone if they disagreed or had something else to say.

Then Shane was asking me about my plans for the day as I was getting my bow strapped on my back, and I almost wanted to ask him to take a guess - - just a shot in the dark, at just what it is he thought I was going to do. I didn’t though. I never thought, at the grown age of twenty-four, I’d need to explain myself in a situation like this.

Scrunching my face, I looked to the woods. Shane followed my gaze, “y’ever been out there by yourself before?”

Nope. I just carry this bow around because it makes me look kind of neat.

“Plenty.” I assured him with the cotton-candiest smile. “I’m not an awesome tracker or anything like that, but my uncle taught me some things that could get me by.”

He didn’t seem to want to immediately argue back, so I took that as an opportunity to mention to Dale about the little battery powered griddle in my truck and gave him full reign to use what he needed before I started out to the woods.

————————————

When I said I wasn’t an expert tracker or anything, I meant that I didn’t know the first lick about it. My uncle did - but I talked too much apparently and all I actually knew about hunting was higher ground was the place to be, windy days were the worst days out there, and I needed to be quiet. So, it was no surprise to me that I didn’t see a deer for the entire first week, just squirrels and a stupid rabbit that got away. Everyone else was coming back pretty empty handed too though, so at least I wasn’t the only one.

More people began joining the camp that Dale started and we were able to set up a perimeter. Things became more organized, most everyone had ‘jobs’, I was personally happy that I’d already secured one. I despised that Shane was the man handing out the chores, so I was pretty sure I’d have been put on laundry duty or cooking like every other human with a vagina. There were a few exceptions, but for the most part, women cooked, cleaned, did laundry, watched the kids; the men kept watch, killed whatever geeks wandered too close up the mountain, and hunted. Honestly, I’m not against gender roles entirely - unless they’re forced on me. It makes me spiteful.

When I was out in the woods, waiting - scratch that - hoping a deer would wander along the ravine below me, I brought my notepad out and started writing down little survivor notes that my uncle had taught me. The things I had thought were annoying were becoming more essential as the days dragged by in a seemingly unending nightmare.

A sharp knife

Box of matches

Lighter

Water bottle

Fishing line

Flashlight

3 x 3 x 3 rule

A backup knife?

Insects are edible - SPIDERS ARE NOT INSECTS

Bright things aren’t good things. Right? Maybe that’s the opposite. Ask Dale if he knows.

_____________

Three days after that is when I met him.

It was almost comical - sitting in my usual spot, waiting, hoping - when the perfect sized buck walked directly into the precipice below. Quieter than a whisper and slower than pond water, I stood, pulling back my bowstring and took steady aim before letting an arrow fly through the still Georgia air.

Then another arrow hit the same target.

Perplexed by the mystery arrow, I almost counted the arrows in my quiver to see if I’d actually been seeing things or not, but the deer lay thoroughly dead on the leaf covered floor with an unfamiliar bolt sticking out of one side, and my arrow partially broken underneath the animal. There were two other men at the camp that hunted with bows, it easily could’ve been them.

I thought for sure, it was one of them. For some reason, I’d already gotten too comfortable being around as many people as I was fortunate enough to be around. The idea of meeting a complete and total stranger in the middle of the forest had to of been the furthest thing from my mind at the time. When I climbed down from a perched out tree from the steep incline and an unknown body approached me, I was slapping myself for being so naive.

The stranger, was everything I was familiar with, but so incredibly far from it at the same time. The way he strode down the significantly shallower side of the hill, broad arms slinging, his face was knotted in just as much confusion as my own.

“Who’re you?” He spent no time speaking niceties or brief introductions with me.

His eyes were squinted, much like a cat or maybe even a snake getting ready to strike, either way -- they were scanning the area above us. I tried puffing my chest out to look at least a little bigger than I actually was, not that it did me any favors when he aimed his crossbow directly at my head.

The deer was not that important.

My hands raised instantly in submission. It was a random Wednesday and we were only maybe a month into the end of the world, so I had zero interest in dying that morning.

“Take it.” I squeaked. “I don’t care that much.”

The man eyed me from the very top of my head, all the way down to the boots on my feet in one, slow gaze. It felt like he’d been looking through me, searching for the sign of a bomb that was etched somewhere beneath my skin. I’d like to lie and say that I backed away a little bit, but I was entirely too scared to do that at the time.

“You alone?” The question was growled, a southern twang dripping out and in between the words.

In retrospect; I got lucky when I’d nodded, admitting being out in the wilderness all by my lonesome. There was a strange man, at least twenty years my senior, pointing an arrow directly between my eyeballs. I should’ve told him no, that I had a camp full of burly men only a thirty minute walk from there--it would’ve been the truth- but I didn’t. I answered out of impulse and fear, and my answer was also the truth. I was alone and it would’ve taken hours, maybe even a night, before anyone would’ve found my body if he decided to let the arrow fly.

But he didn’t.

He lowered it cautiously before letting his shoulders relax some.

“How’d you track it from over there?”

My face scrunched up and I tilted my head a little to the side while shaking it. “I didn’t, just got lucky,” his top lip pulled up in disgust as I continued, “but I’m serious. Take it. I literally do not care. We have plenty for now.”

“Thought you said you’s alone?” His eyes narrowed again.

“Out here.” I quickly retorted, not wanting him to re-threaten me, “I’m alone out here.” It was my turn to scan him before I turned that question back. “Are you alone?”

Then his scruffy jaw tightened, and I could tell he was thinking whether he should respond with a truth or a lie. Or with a mostly truth like I did.

“Just me and my brother.” It must have been me scanning over his shoulder in search of another man that caused him to add on, “he’s back at our camp.”

His voice was--something else. It almost reminded me of Shane’s, but that would’ve done it injustice. Shane had a very throaty voice, deep but a smidge nasally. This man’s was from his chest; gruff and strong. If I had to paint it, I would brush out pictures of homemade blueberry wine moonshine, in old, worn out Ball Mason Jars; a crackling bonfire on the Chattahoochee river bank; an empty log cabin with trees surrounding it on every side. There was something incredibly wrong with how much I wanted to hear him talk.

That--along with the gravitational pull of physical attractiveness, may have been why I jumped the gun and made an offer so quickly.

“I have a camp,” I said abruptly, “it’s about half an hour from here, with twenty or so others. New people join all the time.” Saying ‘all the time’ made the way the world was now feel very absolute to me for the first time, and I don’t fully think I’d expected it to hit me as hard as it did when all I was trying to do was suggest he join us.

Expeditious trust is something that only happens in movies, or you give people like Dale Horvath--not a random twenty-four year old that just shot a deer you’d been tracking for however long he’d been tracking it for; so it shouldn’t have deflated my spirit as much as it did when he told me he didn’t think his brother would be interested. A brief, chance interaction was all this was, and I should’ve been grateful that the psycho that held me at *arrow point?* wasn’t going to be an ally.

I never did forget the way he had his head tilted in wonder though-- when I looked back after I’d pulled myself skillfully up the tree i’d previously come down on and he called out to me.

“Hey!” He hollered. “What’s yer name?”

“Libby!” I replied, continuing to scale the limbs.

And once I had completed the journey to the top, I looked back down to see him crouched beside the deer. I let myself take his appearance in one last time; the short, blondish brown hair; the sleeves obviously ripped off his shirt exposing tan, robust, muscle; his crossbow now discarded onto his back.

“Hey!” I yelled down to him. “What’s yours?”

His head tilted up, and I couldn’t clearly see his eyes from where I stood now with how small they were, but I just knew they were squinted.

“Daryl!”

I flashed him a smile, waving my fingers in goodbye.

_____________

Glenn waited for me everyday by the tree line at noon like clockwork. The joke of us having a crush on each other circled through the camp; the truth is-- I loved him from one of the first few conversation we had, when we hung up cans around the camp together and talked about Halo. Glenn, in simplest words, was kind and pure. He didn’t look for much in life, nor did he live an overly exciting one either. I thought, and still think, he is one of the coolest people I’d ever met. That could’ve had something to do with the fact that I sucked at making friends, or being sociable in general. That wasn’t a huge choice with him though— Glenn talked to me like he’d known me all his life.

When I say I loved him though, it wasn’t like love at first sight. I just loved him. We clicked together almost instantly and it was a robbery that we didn’t get the chance to meet prior to the world falling apart. There were so many things we could’ve shown each other, places we might’ve gone, and yeah--maybe been romantically involved. In another lifetime, perhaps we had been, and our souls rekindled again in a different way.

How lucky I was to have met him though. He filled my days with laughter and gave me reason to talk. I worried endlessly when he was gone to the city, scavenging for supplies before others took it. He always came back safe and hardly empty handed.

I know now, that he knew it all the way back then, that we were going to be best friends. I also know now, that he was always looking for excuses to talk to me because he was scared of being alone. A lot like I was actually. His family was in Michigan and he’d just graduated college too— economics; but he never pursued a career.

Our friendship was forged deeply in the beginning days of the apocalypse. We criss-crossed our fingers tightly for each others sisters; shared manga that he found in random stores; dinged our plastic spoons together as a stupid ‘toast’ whenever we dug into food. It wasn’t much, but it was something. Glenn was the first person I told myself I’d die for if things ever came down to it.

_____________

“You’re out here a little further than normal.” I smiled gleefully as I strode closer to our oasis.

I had to call it that to convince myself that our little settlement we had going on was a lot better than it really was. The look on Glenn’s face, riddled with anticipation -- not exactly the good kind either, had me all of a sudden worried about the state of our oasis.

“Hey, Libs.” Glenn’s voice floated nervously. “You’re probably going to get grounded.”

Grounded. Only he would have insinuated such a child-like word while getting ready to break Shane’s melodramatic reaction to finding out that I’d invited two new men to our constantly growing group. I, on the other hand, was elated to hear that the man I’d met nearly a week prior, Daryl, had taken me up on my offer. Maybe if Glenn had told me Dale, or Carol had a problem with it -- I might have been more worried. But Shane?

The more I got to know him, the quicker I saw right through his playbook.

He was a smooth-talking son-of-a-gun, quick to take charge, ever so kind to most strangers. Shane wasn’t a brainless man that only got by on brute strength either; he was sharp, quick witted. He fed off of people wanting him -- needing him. I saw how he sometimes came toe to toe with Morales and Jacqui, even Dale on occasion. Anyone that challenged him too firmly or he saw as a threat to taking the leadership role that had been unintentionally bestowed upon him, he talked down. After all - he was a yapper. A good one too. I think that came with the job of being a police officer though.

So, shocked was not my reaction to hearing about Shane’s.

I mean -- I’d hoped I hadn’t accidentally brought down chaos amongst the quarry. The brothers probably would’ve stumbled onto us eventually anyways, and it wasn’t like we were turning people away - sending them packing right down the road they came from.

Flurries of butterflies whirled inside my gut as we walked back to camp, the anticipation of seeing the mysterious man again was overwhelming. I feel so silly for the giddiness that was in my belly - but after all - I was just a girl. Then heat rose in my cheeks when, as soon as we stepped our little feet back into the perimeter, Shane had pulled me to the side to scold me like a child in front of everyone -- including Daryl, who was peeking past Dale. His eyes were studying me much like they had days before.

Glenn really put things into words beautifully; boy did I feel like I was getting grounded “Liberty, let me talk to you for a second,” Shane made an attempt to usher me away from Glenn, but I hummed as a response while standing firmly in place. “I just wanna know why ya didn’t tell me, ya ran into a strange man in the middle of the woods the other day, huh?”

Up to that point, I’d bit my tongue about a lot of snide, ego-stroking comments, but I wasn’t going to do it for this one. Not when he - I felt - deliberately pulled me to the side to make me feel not only embarrassed, but ashamed about my decisions. I could’ve probably dealt with it had several other people men, had done the exact same thing.

“Sorry dad, I’ll do better next time.” I blew him off.

“Lib, I’m just trying to keep a handle on who all is coming-“

“So we’re vetting people now?”

“I’d like to.” He answered curtly.

I measured his response.

He was a faulty man weighed down with an abundance of good qualities-- looking back on that assessment of Shane, I think it’s a little ironic how the fundamentals of Daryl were Shane’s total opposite. Finding out just who the strange man I’d invited back to camp truly was, was a long haul uphill, but he would be worth it in the end. That awry hunting trip - if that’s what you’d call it - led to the discovery of the Dixon brothers. To Daryl Dixon. He was a good man weighed down with an abundance of faulty qualities.

One of which being his brother, Merle.

.next chapter.

#.birds of a feather.#lucy4242564 fics #daryl dixon x oc #daryl dixon fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #daryl dixon x original character #daryl dixon x original female character #the walking dead fanfiction #twd daryl #daryl dixon

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clonerightsagenda · 9 months ago

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Station 11 wrapup!

You all know I'm a stickler when it comes to adaptations. I just reread a whole bunch of books so I could nitpick their adaptations better. But Station 11 said fuck that. This is an adaptation. We're going to adapt.

Station 11 the book is about the power of art. Survival is insufficient! Art brings back joy in the apocalypse. The Prophet is there, yes, mostly as a generic post-apocalyptic predatory cult to move the plot along, and he's defeated after a moment of artistic connection. But the TV show says, hold up. Yes art can save us. It can allow us to speak to each other when we can't find the words. But it's not enough on its own. You can't keep telling the same story for 400 years and always have it land. You have to leave the wheel. You have to adapt. You have to ask yourself, what if it ends differently this time? If you don't - if you resist all change, if you can't handle going off course - you're going to wither and die. Frank unable to leave his house. The father dead on the sofa. Kirsten letting poison spread through her veins. Hamlet, who for four hundred years has been dead from the beginning. The finale music doesn't play at the end of the final episode of Station 11. It plays during the play, because that's the turning point, when this show's Hamlet holds a knife to Claudius's throat and doesn't stick it in. The play finally gets another ending.

It's not subtle about any of this. The metaphors, the narrative parallels, the masterfully done scene cuts, and the select quotes about Station 11 are all very blatant, but it clicks together well enough that it works and I don't care. When we get to the final episode and Miranda drops a tragic backstory that happens to connect to the problem at hand, I accept it because I'm not bought into this story as realism, I'm bought into it as a piece of well-constructed, very deliberate art.

Your art is your message. It's your last phone call. And maybe sometimes that last call saves an airport full of people. Maybe it condemns a plane full of passengers to die. Usually you don't know. Everyone's going to take it a different way. It might save someone. It might damn them. It might not do anything. Miranda starts Station 11 as her life collapses, burns it all down, and starts again, and then the world ends and two very different people find it and adapt it in two very different, disastrous ways. But you have to make it anyway. You have to talk to people even when they're not there. I don't want to live the wrong life and then die.

I love what the show did with Jeevan, turning a relatively minor character into an awkward millennial fumbling his way through the end of the world but genuinely wanting to do good. I loved the extra content we got from Miranda and the ways she touched people's lives even beyond her graphic novel. Clark's dark turn was unexpected but worked for the story. I'm still not sold on why everyone loved Arthur Leander, but I am constitutionally immune to movie stars. I liked that the show took the brief connection between Kirsten and the Prophet and turned it into two very lost people who remember damage and can't escape the stories they're telling themselves until someone else crashes into them and tells it a different way. Forget the generic Christofascist child bride cult. We've heard that before. Let's hear something else.

My one complaint is the child army thing got defused a bit mysteriously, but mostly it was tidy in the way a graphic novel is tidy. Every image is deliberate, every line counts. This is one of the rare instances where I think I actually like the adaptation better than the book, although it's very clear that they're doing different things. I probably should have saved this for last because now all the other TV shows are going to suffer for not being Station 11, but them's the breaks sometimes.

Highly recommend! Only if you can handle pandemic trauma though.

#kat watches station 11

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theunsweetenedtruth · 11 months ago

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The Marriage Pact (December 2020)

Pairing: Erik x Honey (Black!Fem!PlusSize!Reader)

Warnings: SLOW BURN. I'm stretching this out as long as I can take it.

Summary: Honey and Erik make a pact.

Word Count: 1,408

AN: I've had this in head for a while because this is a genre in fiction I like to call "delusional fact".

“Surprise!” we yelled out, only because we didn’t know what else to say. We were standing around Shelby’s living room for a birthday party she planned for herself but she had just made her grand entrance—come down the stairs an hour after the party start time—and being the best friends we were, we had to let her know she was appreciated.

I looked around as Shelby gave out hugs to party guests. For a small pandemic party, she turned it out as usual and ended up with a pretty good turn out. If only I had gotten the super casual memo. As usual, I was hella overdressed and trying to stop sweating in the leather brown dress I’d gotten my other friend to come over and zip me into. My makeup was starting to run and I’d already felt a little rusty after a year with no reasons to beat my face. The wig I’d thrown on my head was starting to nap at the nape of my neck and didn’t help with the heat emanating off my body. Everyone else was in jeans and mostly barefaced. Trina even wore a beanie on her head

“Ok everyone!” Shelby clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you so much for coming! I know this year was hard but it’s such a blessing to get to see you all and I’m grateful you came to celebrate little ole me.” Shelby was in true southern belle fashion, full of beauty and grace, confident yet humble in a way that only true southern girls could master. “Let’s pray and then we can eat.” She gestured to one of her older sisters who began to pray over the food.

As I bowed my head, I heard the alert go off letting us know that someone was coming through the front door. I glanced up to see a tall figure try to quietly slip in. I had figured I would see Erik here at Shelby’s party but I didn’t want to get my hopes up.

Erik was friends with Shelby’s sister, Shavonne, then became friends with Shelby and by association, me. He was a few years older than me, me being the oldest in my friend group, and he’d gone to our undergrad and pledged just like we did. He was a good time, but I didn’t feel like we were super close friends, though I wanted to be. He had this way of making me feel seen and comfortable to be seen by him. Even before joining Greek life, he’d always been kind to me even if it was distant. Now though, he was warm and I really enjoyed his company. If Erik was in attendance, it was a party, even if it started off as a simple get together.

I tore my eyes off of him before he noticed and closed them while Shavonne continued to pray. I added in my own prayer that I would stop fucking sweating.

After everyone was full of the delicious food that I barely tasted, we all broke off in smaller groups to mingle amongst the friends we knew. I’d had biweekly FaceTime calls with my girls so I knew what was currently going on their lives but I was still feeling self concisous so I decided to stick to the people I knew. We made small talk on the couch before we were interrupted by Erik.

“Honey, do you know what time it is?” He was behind me, his hands on my bare shoulders and I leaned my head back to look at him since he was using my old college nickname.

“I don’t know, ” I said playing coy. “What time is it?”

“It’s shot o’clock!” He was loud as ever eliciting groans from the rest of the group I was with and even few from the rest of the party goers. Everyone knew how this would go and it was a Sunday afternoon for God’s sake.

“Erik Stevens, I’m not fucking with you today,” Shelby’s oldest sister, Selena, said from across the room, standing with her husband.

“Just one!” he insisted, holding up one finger. “To celebrate Shelby” He looked at me with puppy dog eyes pleading with me. He didn’t have to do much.

I smiled at him wryly. “For Shelby? Fine. But only for that reason,” I said dishonestly. I stood to my feet to follow him to the kitchen where all the liquor was. We stood shoulder to shoulder pouring shots while everyone else with only slightly stronger wills than my own lined up on the other side of the island bar.

“To Shelby” he shouted, gesturing to the cheesing birthday girl in her all white, arm in arm with her man.

“To Shelby!” We echoed and cheered. I raised my red plastic shot glass to Shelby before turning to cheers with the person closest to me, who happened to be Erik. We looked into each other eyes as we touched shot glasses, only looking away to actually take the shots. The tequila burned in my throat, heating me on the inside when I didn’t really need it.

I found my way back to my small group of close friends, greeting Angela’s boyfriend who’d just arrived. He was cool, if not a bit standoffish. Not really my favorite out the guys my friends dated but who was I to say anything. I was the perpetually single friend in every friend group I’d ever been a part of; I didn’t need the additional moniker of “hater” just because I wouldn’t have chosen those partners for my friends.

Shelby rose from her seat next to me to check on if she needed to make more of the mixed drink for those not opting to make their own drinks. The seat was shortly occupied by Erik.

He fit into the group easily, of course, catching up with everyone and casually slinging his arm along the back of the chair behind me. I hope I didn’t stink from all the sweating I’d done earlier. I was doing my best to avoid moving too much so I wouldn’t start up again.

“If Honey and I got married, it would be pretty epic.” I turned to him quickly. How the hell did we get here?

“What do you mean?” I asked gobsmacked that I was having this conversation.

“I mean it would be really elegant, really organized, a great party. You would have an amazing dress.” I watched his eyes flicker up and down my body and on the inside I was that white lady meme with the calculations flying across my face. “We could probably get married on a boat.”

“Like a yacht,” I couldn’t help but to picture it and he was right. It was pretty dope. “My sister’s an event planner, you know. She can make it happen.”

“Perfect,” he said looking me in the eyes. I felt myself get caught up but I quickly shook it off. We weren’t alone in the conversation nor were we alone in the room and while my friends were occupied in their own conversations, I still felt nervous about what was happening. What was happening?

“So when is this happening?” I joked. “When you turn 35? I think I’ll be 32?” I felt fuzzy in the head from both the shots—he’d convinced me to take another shortly after the first—and the conversation we were having.

He thought for a second. “Yeah that works.”

“We’ll have to shake on it then.” I held out my hand formally.

He looked me in the eyes and grasped my hand. We shook once, solidifying this drunken, silly plan, that somehow brought me comfort. If he took it seriously—and this was a huge if—then at least I wouldn’t be alone for the rest of my life like I seemed destined to be.

“Honey, come get in the picture!” The birthday girl yelled from across the room where the sparkly curtain that served as a photo backdrop was setup. The rest of my friends were already there when I didn’t even realize they’d left us alone.

I quickly shook off the conversation with Erik. I was pretty sure he wasn’t serious but I could admit it was nice to be thought of in that way. I’m pretty sure by the time he turned 35 and I turned whatever age I would be, we would just laugh about this silly little pact.

#the marriage pact #unsweetimagine #x black!reader #black reader #plus size reader #fem reader #black writers #black writers of tumblr #original character #original writing #erik killmonger x poc #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger x black reader #erik killmonger fic #erik x oc #Erik x black reader #Erik x black!reader

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