#so we count it as the start of the pandemic for us :))) (even though it 'started' way earlier than that)

[diabolicjoy]

.

[transformhim]

Pose

“We good here?”

The model’s question caught him off guard as Raul looked up from from his camera, adjusting the frame and focus for his next shot while his assistant, Damien, moved onto the set to adjust the light and prop placements. The deep bass background music played throughout the apartment in the awkward silence.

The fuck does he mean, are we done?? We’ve hardly started! Raul thought with an annoyed scratch at the back of his head. The model had been a terrible subject to begin with, giving poses and taking heavy sighs at each direction Raul tried to give him, and essentially treated the shoot as though it was something he was bored doing. His payment was way more than modest and the shoot wasn’t supposed to take more than an hour, but he looked like he was ready to leave just 20 minutes in.

Raul cleared his throat, “Uhh, actually we still need a couple more shots. The client is looking for a pretty varied spread to choose from. So if we could j—..”

“Come on, man, you’re really gonna make me do this for another 40 minutes? I’m sure what you got is fine.”

Raul breathed in heavily, “Look, it’ll just take a bit more, the contract said that it wouldn’t be—..”

“Well, you can take it up with my agent, man, I got places I gotta be,” the model started stepping off the set, turning his back to Raul to start packing his things.

Raul turned his eyes towards Damien, lifting his palms up in a disbelieving gesture and shaking his head. Damien just rolled his eyes and shrugged with a dejected smirk. They’ve dealt with these kinds of divas numerous times before. Almost too many to count, actually.

But money had been tight at the studio since the pandemic hit, and even all these years later it still hadn’t recovered. they couldn’t afford to keep getting these types of dismissive twats leave shoots before they were supposed to. Clients were always very specific about what they wanted and could cut pay if they weren’t satisfied.

But Raul and Damien had their own means of dealing with these kinds of rude bastards. As they exchanged wordless looks expressing their annoyance and frustration, Damien’s eyes began to slowly drift towards the model off set, gathering his belongings. His dejected look changed to one of curiosity as he bit his lip. He looked towards Raul and narrowed his eyes with a cheeky grin.

‘Should I?’ Damien mouthed silently towards Raul.

A sly grin spread across Raul’s face as he considered Damien’s proposal. He looked back at the model—turned away from them as he texted to his agent or slam piece or gym family or whatever—and back at Damien, biting his lip mischievously and nodding.

Damien smiled wider and stretched. He took off his tank top and tossed it aside, his toned hairy torso now bare. His fingers hooked under his waistband, and his basketball shorts and boxers drop silently to the floor as he kicked them over on top of his tank top. Now naked and hardening quickly, he arched his back in a stretch, rolled his neck, and rubbed his palms together as he stepped towards Raul. He leaned in for a quick kiss with his partner as he took the bottle body oil next to Raul that the model had used and squirted a massive helping into his hand, slathering it over his chest, arms, and face. Quickly, he moved towards the model gathering his things, ducking down lower as he approached.

“When you get to it, make sure my payment goes t—UUUHHHNNGGG!!” The model was interrupted in the middle of his sentence as Damien, in one fluid motion, pulled the model’s speedo down and plunged his face between his globular asscheeks. The model groaning and grunting in mindless pain and confusion, gripping the sides of the table where his things were sitting, as Damien popped his oily face and head into model’s tight hole, sending a loud squelching *SCHLORP* echoing through the apartment.

Damien’s slick body then began to suck up into the model’s hole, his muscular tan form thinning and contorting as he slithered deeper and deeper into the model’s guts, the entire process emitting a familiar meaty, slimy, slurping sound Raul knew and loved so well. Raul licked his lips, pawing his swelling package, as he watched the model’s sculpted ass distend slightly as his tight hole widen more and more as it hungrily slurped Damien inside him, his tattooed, lubricated form and limbs compressing in on themselves as he plunged deeper. Raul couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the model—he knew full well how ecstatic and orgasmic it felt to have Damien slither up inside him… and what came next.

Just as Damien’s ass and throbbing rod sank into the model’s guts, his thighs and legs shot up into the hole at a much faster speed, whipping into the model’s hole noisily. Raul had shoved his hands into his shorts and was stroking eagerly as the Damien's feet slurped inside while the model groaned and contorted, arching his neck and back and standing on the tips of his toes, cringing at the pain and pleasure racking through his body.

Damien was gleefully readjusting his out-of-proportion frame within the squeezing, slimy, meaty confines of the model’s body, feeling different parts of the model’s sides, abs, and back twitch, flex, and contort, as his body tried to adjust to its invader. He could hear the muffled sounds of Raul’s horny, drunken laughter from the outside, thinking he for sure must have been making the model appear to have a substantially pregnant beer gut as Damien’s body centralized in his torso. After using a stretched out hand to brush his lubricated, wet hair out of his face, Damien went to work shoving his limbs into the model’s extremities.

Damien loudly moaned from within the body as he felt his arms and legs come to new life with increased strength and size while his limbs shoved through slick meat like a tight sleeve into the model’s beefy appendages. He smirked, feeling cocky and horny as he felt his arms burst into massive cannons and his heart fluttered as he felt the rest of him come to life. Damien arched in exhilarated bliss as he felt his chest, torso, and back first compress under the weight of the model’s squeezing body and then surge outward in new sensations of power and mass as Damien’s senses merged with the model’s, enticing him to give his big chest a flex to feel it bounce with new weight.

Raul nearly blew his load from an observer’s perspective. The model’s head was lolled backwards and his eyes rolled back while his body underwent what looked to be an instant pump, his muscles standing out more prominently under his skin, bit by bit, as his boyfriend filled him up like a balloon. Raul gasped as he stroked himself, watching Damien fill up the model’s lower half, making his already impressive thighs and glutes swell larger still. The thong he was wearing for the shoot looked somehow more risqué than earlier, hugging the model’s sweaty skin more tightly and accentuating his now-larger parts. The model was no longer the shredded twunk he was when he came into the apartment, but a swaggering thicc muscle stud with his and Damien’s combined mass.

Finally, Raul could see a sizable lump appear from near the model’s collarbone, stretching the model’s gold chain to its limit, as Damien began to shove his own head upwards into the model’s. He began to elicit deeper, gurgling groans as Damien wiggled and stretched his head up into the neck. Raul felt himself nearing completion as the model’s head suddenly jolted upwards with a dull crack, the lump in the model’s throat now gone. It wasn’t until Raul heard Damien utter his first satisfied groan in the model’s low voice that he blew his pent up load all over the floor in front of him.

Damien rolled his head around in his new body, stretched his shoulders and panted a few more breaths. He touched the foreign curves and angles in his face for a moment, turned on by his own handsome, sharp, smooth face. He felt sweat dripping off him from his exertion and huffed a big whiff of the new musk he emitted. Not bad!

“Alright!” He rubbed his hands off his face and down his pillowy chest.

“Let’s take some pictures.”

Damien turned to see that Raul had blown a sizable load all over the floor, some even on the set, and giggled as Raul chuckled, panting, coaxing the last of his load out of his shaft, letting it dribble down his fingers and onto the puddle below.

“Already?! Come on, man,” Damien chastised playfully.

“Sorry, babe, I just love the way you filled him out, dude. Fuck!”

“Oh? Y’like?” Damien teased walking towards him, saucily lolling his tongue out while he flexing his arms hard and tensing his pec muscles several times. He was being corny like always, but Raul was kicked into 5th gear again, instantly ready to blow another load.

“Yeah, dude, I fuckin’ do,” Raul took the liberty of feeling up Damien’s slick muscle gut, running his hands over his protruding abs. Damien could see how into this his boyfriend was and decided to move things forward a bit.

He grabbed Raul’s hand and shoved it into his thong, feeling his new hardening 7 incher steel against his boyfriend’s palm. He humped and gyrated his mammoth cock against Raul’s hand and asked, “What about the shoot?”

“Shoot can wait,” Raul moaned as he gripped onto Damien’s slick dick and stroked, lifting up Damien’s huge arm with his other hand and burying his face into Damien’s sweaty pits, licking and lapping at the moist surface while inhaling deeply.

Damien lifted up his other arm for Raul to let his boyfriend worship his other pit, bouncing his pecs a bit as Raul slathered his greedy face across his sweaty jugs on his way to the next pit. Damien grinned as he felt Raul continue to lovingly work his shaft. He was looking forward to a hedonistic, indulgent weekend with his boyfriend—he just hoped they eventually remember to finish the shoot.

[cleolinda]

I always get depressed around this time in December because I love birthdays, but my birthday (which is not the day of this writing) is pretty reliably unpleasant. Certainly in the last 10-15 years or so. I don’t know why. Things that have happened on my birthday(s):

Had a stupid fight with my mom, who I never fight with, because she thought it was funny to call me “an old woman,” and I spent all morning crying even though crying is really a last resort for me emotionally because I cry xenomorph acid tears

Had a really upsetting dream about my sister strangling me (she has never done any such thing) which made family dinner that night kind of awkward

Various disputes I won’t air in public

Sat in a Mexican restaurant fending off a nervous breakdown because I was already over deadline and my client told me to start the project over from scratch

Had carbon monoxide poisoning but I guess that was more of an ongoing thing

Family member got sent home from work with covid early in the pandemic, despite all precautions, sending all of us into a two-week quarantine (my long covid dates from this infection)

Level 10 nerve pain in a spinal surgeon’s office while writhing in a wheelchair

I’m extra pissed that a judge just blocked the Infowars sale to The Onion, I’ll put it that way

Like I’m honestly worried for the rest of y’all in addition to myself

I’m to a point where I’m not one of those people who celebrates a “birthday week” exactly, but if anything decent happens in any proximity, I count it as “something nice.” We haven’t had anything so far this week, but—well, no. I got a bag of Reese’s trees a few days ago. That was kind of a win.

Until I figure out how to unjinx my birthday, stay safe out there this weekend, y’all.

[neysaadept]

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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[writingonleaves]

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.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos (carmy berzatto x fem!reader) chapter two: covid & carbonara

summary: in a time of isolation, you and carmy find unexpected connection in unexpected places: each other. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: swearing, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language, mentions of covid-19/the pandemic, eventual smut.

word count: 4k

listen to: hot sugar - glass animals | hard to live in the city - albert hammond jr. | alone together - del water gap | foreign girls - bleachers

read: chapter one

March 2020: 

“Carmy, can you hear me now?” you ask, listening carefully for his response. 

“Yeah hold on. Wifi’s shit in this room,” he mumbles. You hear a rustle of sounds and the picture on your phone goes blurry for a second. This is just something you’ve come to accept is a part of your life now as you wait. 

Suddenly, the picture is clear again and it looks like Carmy’s in his living room now. He wears a white t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants as he tries to get comfy on the shitty sofa in his Flatiron apartment. 

“Ok there we go. I gotta-, yeah, I can hear you now,” he says, finally settling in. 

“How are you?” you ask as you grow more sure that you’re going to be able to talk now. “It’s good to see your face.”

“Yeah, no uh. It’s good to see you too,” he replies. “Shit’s so weird right now, huh?”

“Totally,” you agree. “So… what’ve you been up to? I mean… how are you spending your time?”

He sighs, shaking his head, as if to say that he barely knows how to answer that question. He thinks it over before answering with:

“I don’t know. Workin’ on some recipes. Tryin’ not to lose my fuckin’ head. You?”

“Same,” you commiserate. “Though… I don’t know. I’ve kind of been enjoying some of the down time, you know?”

He couldn’t agree less. 

Carmy tells you about the recipes he’s working on. You share with him the plot of the show you’re binge watching right now. He tells you he hasn’t really been in touch with family much and you let him know that you’ve been running errands for your parents where you can. It’s a fairly normal conversation for a very uncertain and strange time, but it brings you comfort – talking to Carmy. 

You talk about the state of the restaurant industry. The state of the world. The two of you wonder when the restaurant might open back up – if they’ll consider doing to-go’s. He’s not sure and neither are you.

It’s almost two hours later when you realize your phone is dying, and that somehow, time has flown as the two of you have been talking. 

“Shit, uh. My phone’s dying. I may have to go,” you say remorsefully. 

“Oh yeah! No problem,” Carmy replies, almost apologetically. “And I uh, if I get in touch with the people at World Central Kitchen, I’ll let you know. I’m sure they can always use more chefs and volunteers.”

“No, that’d be great. Uh… before I go,” you start, knowing that you want to tell him this. “I just wanted to say… I’m glad we did this.”

“Yeah me too,” he agrees, and you can tell he means it. 

“Maybe… we do it again? Keep each other company… you know. Virtually?” you propose, hopefully. 

“Yeah,” Carmy half smiles. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And as the pandemic drags on, you find yourself FaceTiming with Carmy more and more. Once a week turns into once a week and a consistent exchange of texts. He shares with you the recipes he’s working on. You bounce ideas around with him on dishes he feels stuck on. You send him silly memes and TikToks, even though he refuses to get an account himself. Once a week turns into twice a week, and then phone calls, and soon enough, you don’t go a day without talking to Carmy in some capacity. 

You’re not sure how you’ve done it but you think that maybe you and Carmy just might be friends. 

May 2020: 

“Thanks so much for all the help guys. It means a lot. Especially having two chefs of your caliber,” the volunteer coordinator says, addressing both you and Carmy. 

“Listen, we’re just happy to be a part of something right now. With so much going on… it’s hard to know where to begin helping,” you reply with gratitude. You’re genuinely thankful that you’ve been able to be a part of World Central Kitchen’s COVID relief efforts, and you know Carmy feels the same. 

“We’ll see you guys next Friday?” the volunteer coordinator asks. 

“Heard,” Carmy answers, thanking the coordinator one more time before the two of you leave the building. 

Around the corner, there’s a bench that the two of you find. It’s an easy choice to sit down – neither of you are quite ready to go home yet. You sit on opposite sides before removing your masks as Carmy pulls out a pack of marlboros. 

“You want one?” he asks you, holding out the pack.

“Yeah,” you agree, taking one from him at a distance. You watch him light up, before handing you the lighter he keeps in his jean jacket pocket.

It’s nice to take a moment to pause. Between the chaos of being in a kitchen again to the chaos of the world around you, it feels good to smoke a fucking cigarette on a street corner with the man that’s so unexpectedly become your friend. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the sounds of the city, each others’ company, and your fuckin’ cancer sticks. 

You break the silence between the two of you, letting out the smallest chuckle.

“What?” Carmy asks you, your laugh garnering his attention. 

“It’s just… it’s almost funny,” you say, continuing your giggle. 

“What?” he asks you again, a look of amusement on his face. He can’t imagine what must be so funny. 

“Just… seeing you here… Mr. Fine Dining…makin’ sandwiches,” you tease playfully. “Thought you were too fancy-pants for that.”

“Fuck off,” he rolls his eyes playfully, sucking on his cigarette as he inhales. You laugh again as he shakes his head, shooting you another look. 

He takes his time, exhaling the smoke out in the opposite direction, before addressing your playful remarks. 

“Nah. It uh-, actually reminds me of my family’s place a little. Back home,” he shares with you. 

It catches you off guard. Carmy rarely ever talks about home, let alone his family. 

“Yeah?” you ask curiously, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod, before placing the cigarette back in between his lips. 

To your disappointment, you realize that’s all he’s planning to share. You resign yourself, taking another drag of your cigarette as the two of you smoke to the sounds of the city. After a long shift at the volunteer kitchen, your exhaustion begins to catch up with you. It’s been a few months since you’ve had to stand for that long, and as exhilarating as it’s been, you can feel the fatigue in your back and your feet already. 

“So… I was thinkin’ about something,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you. 

You angle your body towards him before asking, “What’s that?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe it’s dumb.” 

He’s suddenly shy, and your eyes flicker over his cheeks that have turned a darker shade of red than they were before. 

“Carmy, what is it?” you ask, leaning towards him, now intrigued.

He avoids your gaze before he replies, “Nah. Nevermind. It’s stupid.” 

“No, it’s not! What is it?” you continue to press him.

You’re not going to let this go. 

“I shouldn't've said anything.” 

He sighs, taking one more drag of his cigarette before leaning forward and tossing it on the ground. His left foot hovers over the cigarette butt as he stamps it out, his forearms resting on his legs as he finally turns to you again. 

“I don’t know how you feel about it, and you can totally say no because like… shit’s still fucked, you know but-,” he starts, shyly. Was Carmy about to ask you out?

 He pauses, his eyes scanning the pavement beneath his feet before saying, “It’s just-, I’m not like, seeing anyone else in person. Except you.”

“Yeah, no me either,” you agree. 

Where was this going?

“Would you maybe wanna-?” he asks, before trailing off, his piercing blue eyes so intense it feels like he’s looking right through you. He nods towards the kitchen before continuing with, “... see each other in person. Like outside of here. As long as we’re being safe you know?” 

You nod, quick to put the poor man at ease, and only a little intrigued as to why it was so difficult for him to ask you that. 

“Yeah no. I’m not seeing anyone else in person either. And at this point if we had COVID, we’d probably already have exposed each other, right?” you reply. 

“Yeah,” he answers. 

“Yeah, I’d be down. To… you know. Maybe move some of our FaceTimes… in person, if that’s what you mean,” you agree, a smile on your face. 

You’re not sure what you expected, but you weren’t expecting for Carmy to ask you to become his quarantine buddy – even if you’d already kind of been doing it anyways. 

“Cool,” he says, taking a breath. 

You can tell that it was a big deal for him – to ask you that – even if he doesn’t want to show it. 

“Can I walk you home?” he asks. 

You smile in return, “Yeah. And if you’re feeling wild… we can… pick something up on the way there. You can come up and hang.”

“No, yeah. That uh-, that sounds great,” he replies, something softer in his eyes this time. “If you don’t mind. I mean-, if you want the company-.”

“Oh shut up, Berzatto,” you roll your eyes at him. You shoot him a look, even though you’re kind of loving this softer side of him. 

“I wouldn’t have offered, if I didn’t.”

July 2020: 

Carmen Berzatto becomes an unexpected yet pleasantly surprising part of your support system, and your COVID-pod. It’s hard to believe that less than a year ago, you thought the man absolutely hated you. He’s still the hot and cold, emotionally turbulent man you met last October, and he’s also become your friend. You’ve learned that he can be soft, that he’s terribly uncomfortable in any and all social situations, and that he’s the most single-minded, driven, obsessed motherfucker you’ve ever met. 

By now, the restaurant has pivoted and reopened for to-gos only. It’s nothing like the fine dining establishment it was before. You’re only open Thursday to Sunday and it’s a much more family style, to-go kit sort of operation these days: to-go cocktail kits, to-go curated menus, to-go assemble your own dishes at home. 

It’s strange. And it’s a strange time for all of you. 

You’re finished with your shift today, ready to head home and spend the next three days off. You’re not sure when you’ll ever get three days off in a row once all of this is over, so you’ve decided that you’re just going to embrace the slower lifestyle right now. You’ve been more creative in this chapter of your life than you can remember. 

“So you layin’ it down for Carmy or what?” a voice asks, jolting you from your thoughts. 

“Excuse me?” you snap, turning your head to a very smug looking Nate Walker, stripping off his face mask.

“What the fuck, man?” Tim exclaims, as he’s changing back into his street shoes. “Not okay to say.”

“What?” Nate defends himself. “I’m just wondering who I have to thank. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen the boss man.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “Really nice, Nate.” 

You shake your head, before slinging your backpack over your right arm, exchanging a look with Tim. 

“Not that it’s any of your business, but Carmy and I are just friends,” you correct. “Ever think that some time off has been good for all of us and that’s why Carmy’s been chill?”

“‘S not like we’re working at the same capacity we used to be. I think it’s been good for him,” Tim chimes in, trying to offer you a little backup.

“Sure,” Nate replies, unconvinced. 

“What’s it to you anyways, Walker?” Tim asks, putting the spotlight on his coworker. 

“Nothin’,” Nate replies, defensively. “Just noticed you guys spendin’ a lot of time together lately. Besides, the guy could use a good lay.”

“You’re a child,” you snap with an eye roll. You slide your left arm into the other strap of your backpack, ready to leave. “Now if we’re done with the girl talk, I’m going home.”

As you begin to walk away, you can hear Nate defending himself as Tim points out how inappropriate it was for him to say that to you. You’re grateful for people like Tim, because you’re not sure that Nate would listen to anyone else lower in the French brigade system – let alone a woman. 

“We still on for tomorrow?” Carmy asks you, as you're on your way out. He’s still in his chef whites because, as the both of you know, he’s going to be the last person to leave. A smile spreads across your face as soon as you see him. 

That’s right. You’re spending your day off tomorrow with him. 

“Yeah,” you smile with a nod. 

“Mine or yours?” he asks. 

You shoot him a look – a ‘I know you haven’t cleaned up your place’ kind of look. 

“Mine,” you reply. 

“Sweet. There’s a cool market nearby I wanted to check out. I’ll pick somethin’ up on the way,” he says back. 

“Heard.”

You wait a beat before adding, “Try not to work too hard, chef.”

He likes that you’re looking out for him. 

He smiles, “Heard.”

*

As much as you’ve tried not to let Nate Walker get to you, you can’t stop thinking about what he said the day before. Did people think you and Carmy were sleeping together? Did the whole staff think you were trying to sleep your way to the top? Your mind races, and you notice the anxious feelings you have have settled deep in your chest. Carmy moves around your kitchen, intentionally, and while you’d like to enjoy how happy he looks when he cooks for fun, you can’t seem to shut off your brain. 

“You sure I can’t help? I went to culinary school too, yknow?” you ask, trying to put on your best lighthearted tone. 

“Nah,” he dismisses, pulling together a sauce in one of the glass bowls you keep in your kitchen for prep. 

As Carmy steals a glance your way, he’s surprised to find that whatever weight it seems you were carrying when he first walked in, hasn’t gone away. He returns his focus to the stovetop, shaking the stainless clad frying pan that holds his precisely-cut lardons. 

“What’s up?” he asks you, keeping his back to you. 

“Uh… nothing,” you reply, trying your best to shake it off. 

He knows you’re lying, and he turns to look at you again, more intently this time. Your lips are pressed together in a thin line and there’s a new tension knitted between your brows that’s not normally there. As much as you’re trying not to let it get to you, your face betrays you and he knows that something’s been bothering you all day. He shoots you an unconvinced look and you sigh in defeat. 

Since when had Carmy learned what that look meant. 

“Just-, you’re gonna think it’s dumb,” you start, almost embarrassed that you have to bring this up to him. 

“What’s up?” he asks, patiently. 

You shrug, “Just something that Nate said yesterday’s been… bothering me, I guess.”

He rolls his eyes, letting out a dry laugh as he asks you, “Well Nate’s a dick. What’d he say?”

“I-, I don’t know if I should tell you,” you admit hesitantly. 

“Why?” he asks, a pang of nerves hitting him right in the gut. 

You wait a beat, trying to figure out how best to convey what Nate said without freaking Carmy out. 

“He uh… he kind of… suggested that everyone thinks we’re sleeping together?” you say cautiously, your voice going up at the end of the sentence, almost as if it were a question. 

“Oh,” is all Carmy manages to get out. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“Well, we’re not,” Carmy replies, simply. 

Right. 

“Right,” you agree. 

You’re surprised by the feeling of disappointment that wells in your chest in response to Carmy’s reply. This had been eating away at you and for him to shut it down so quickly – like it was that simple – doesn’t quite make sense to you. 

Maybe it’s because men never bear the burden of an inappropriate workplace relationship, not that you’re having one with Carmy, but you know it’d be a bigger cost to you than it’d ever be for him.

“I just…” you start, beginning to understand why it’s bothering you so much. “Do you think… like is it a problem that we’re hanging out? I mean, you are kind of my boss and… I don’t know. I guess we never really talked about the ethical implications of… you know. Us. Being friends. And also working together.”

Friends. 

Right. 

Maybe because it’s because he’s never really had friends, let alone a girlfriend, that catches Carmy off guard.

You’re just friends, motherfucker, Carmy thinks to himself. 

It’s like he’d almost forgotten. 

Perhaps it’s the isolation – the way of the world right now – but he’s never thought about what you were to him. Ever since the two of you had decided to start spending time together, it had been you and him against a very scary and uncertain world. Carmy’s surprised to find that, hearing it said aloud, friends, leaves him with a feeling of dissatisfaction – like the word friend didn’t quite describe the way he felt about you. 

But he’s terrified to think about what that could mean. That anything else would probably scare you away – push you out of his life – and there’s no way in hell he’s going to let that happen right now. 

Because he likes this too much. 

Because he likes who he is when he’s with you. 

Because you’re all he has. 

He pushes the thoughts out of his mind for another time, because right now, you’re sitting right in front of him, and he’s got a problem to solve for you. 

“As long as we’re professional in the kitchen… I don’t see why it should be a problem,” he says. 

You’re not sure how it seems so simple for him, because it doesn’t feel this simple for you. 

“Yeah, no. I-, I agree,” you lie. 

Carmy returns to what he’s doing, and you accept that that’s probably the full conversation that you’re going to have with him. At least right now. You watch as he continues to cook, pulling together the sauce as he tosses the pasta and cheese in your frying pan. You open up your phone, scrolling through a few social media posts to try your best to get your mind off of your worries as Carmy finishes up in your kitchen. 

It’s not long before he’s returned to your small dining table. You set your phone down, watching as he approaches you. 

“I remember you mentioning that it’s hard to find a good carbonara so uh… thought I’d make you one,” he says confidently. Carmy hands you bowl containing a perfectly twirled nest of spaghetti, along with a fork he’d gotten from your kitchen. 

“How do I know it’s gonna be up to my standards?” you challenge him playfully. 

He shoots you a ‘don’t play with me’ kind of look and you giggle in response. You exchange glances with Carmy before messing up the perfectly plated nest by digging your fork into it. 

“Make sure you get a little bit of everything,” he reminds you. He watches as you twirl the spaghetti around your fork, making sure to scoop up a bit of crispy guanciale. You lift the fork to your mouth before taking a bite, your eyes closing as the salty, cheesy, bite hits your tongue. 

It’s perfect.  

“Holy fuck,” you practically moan in response to your first bite. You open your eyes and he smiles back at you, proud of the response he’s earned from you. Your face twists into a look that falls somewhere between ‘this is so good I’m angry and hello, I’ve reached nirvana.’ 

“This-, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure your talents are being wasted on fine dining, my friend. This is… this is fucking unreal, dude,” you say, as you continuing processing the most perfect carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. 

“No offense taken,” he says. 

You shake your head at him, “Best carbonara ever.”

September 2020: 

“So we go upstate, and we’re searching for outdoor activities we can do, you know, safely, at a distance, with masks on. And we end up at this goat farm,” Maya says, describing her and her fiance’s last few months spent in upstate New York. 

“...Was the goat named Milo?” Carmy asks, a humorous tone to his question. 

“Carmy!” you exclaim with a laugh, shooting him a look. 

“What?” he asks back. 

Both Liz, Maya, and her fiance Patrick send you questioning looks. 

“I-, it’s an inside joke,” you explain, shaking your head once again in response to Carmy’s very silly interjection. 

“Anyways, it’s so nice to be back in the city. Seriously, Liz, thanks for organizing this,” Maya continues. 

“Oh, I’m kind of getting really into this whole cute picnic thing actually,” she replies, in reference to the picnic she’s organized for the five of you. “Plus, the to-go picnic kit has been killing at the restaurant. Thanks for letting me run with that, chef.”

“No, yeah. You’re killin’ it. It was a great idea,” Carmy compliments. 

The five of you spend time in the park, catching up and enjoying time spent in person for the first time in a long time. You, Liz, and Carmy have been back at work, pushing through, what will hopefully be, the last month or so in the to-go only business at the restaurant. As the sun begins to come down, you all agree that it’s time to pack it up and go home. You’ve begun to collect all of the trash in a brown paper bag as Carmy offers to take it. 

“You sure?” you ask him. 

“Yeah,” he answers. 

As he takes a walk, in search of the nearest trash can, your friends are immediately on you about whatever the hell it is that you and Carmy are doing. 

“So what I’m hearing is… you talk every day, you have inside jokes together, and you’re basically quarantining together. How are you trying to tell us that this man is not your boyfriend?!” Maya exclaims. Her partner shrugs in agreement. 

“I know that what Nate said was hella inappropriate, but he’s not wrong… that this is the most I’ve seen him relaxed in… maybe since we met him,” Liz adds in as your friends make their case. 

“He seems into you,” Patrick offers. 

“I-,” you start, knowing you don’t have much time before Carmy returns. “I don’t know. All I know is… I like what we have. And right now, we’re friends so.”

“God, you’re so good at it,” Maya sighs. 

“What?” you ask, looking from her to Liz as they exchange glances. 

The both turn to you, before saying in unison, “Compartmentalizing!” 

Patrick holds his hands up as he says, “I’m gonna stay out of this one.”

“You ready to go?” Carmy asks, rejoining you and your friends. 

You can practically feel Liz and Maya staring at you. 

“Yeah,” you reply to Carmy. 

You say your goodbyes before going your separate ways, and Maya swears when Carmy isn’t listening that you’re not done talking about this. It’s just been you and Carmy for so long that you hadn’t thought about what it might look like to other people. Now that things were slowly reopening… you were beginning to get more questions, and maybe, you were beginning to have more questions too. 

But the last time you’d tried to bring up any conversation about your relationship with Carmy, he’d shut it down and distracted you with the best carbonara you’ve ever had in your life. Not that you were complaining, definitely not, but you were hesitant to bring it up any time soon.  As Carmy looks at you, there’s something about the way you look against the backdrop of the city, the setting sun, and the sparkling lights, that catches him off guard. He’s not ready to part ways with you yet.

“Can I walk you home?” Carmy offers, hopefully. 

“Sure,” you nod.

read chapter three

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[ladylooch]

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.

[menfenced]

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.

[nycbaby21]

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. 

[ihearthes]

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. 

[clonerightsagenda]

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.

[worldserasingandcreatinginmymind]

Help Her | Part One

Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader (platonic) / Tess x Reader (platonic) / Ellie Williams x reader (platonic)

Summary: Since outbreak day in 2003, Y/N and her older brother Ben have survived the post-pandemic world together. But when they arrive in Boston and meet a couple of smugglers, things change. 

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: like ALL the angst, I'm sorry.. classic last of us warnings; infected, blood, violence, deaths

A/N: spelling and grammar is not my strongest skill so please be kind :) I’ve not played the games, but I've watched the show (multiple times now) and researched a lot, however some details may not match the game/show storyline... for the purpose of this story Joel and Tess were already together in the Boston QZ in 2008 :)

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

- - - - -

2003

You were nine when it started. Your parents had treated you and your brother Ben to a trip to Disney World for Ben’s 13th birthday. It was supposed to be the holiday of a lifetime. But even the ‘happiest place on earth’ can’t protect you from the end of the world.

You were on the ‘Its a Small World’ boat ride, sat on the front row with your brother on one side, your parents on the other, when you heard commotion behind you. You turned round to see a fight had broken out near the back of the boat. A woman was screaming as the man next to her was attacking her. 

Your brother put his arm around you, turning you to look away as people on the boat started shouting. The boat came to a sudden stop, the emergency alarm blaring through the ride. Your dad and a few others decided to make their way to the back to help the woman, climbing over seats and guiding any children on the ride to move to the front where you were. As your mom held out her hand to help, one particularly sick looking child suddenly screeched and bit into her hand. Your mom yelled, trying to push the kid off but he bit her again, this time on her shoulder. 

As Ben kicked the kid off the boat and tried to comfort your mom, you stood up to try to find your dad. You saw him and two other men still trying to break apart the first fight, but suddenly he’s knocked off the boat. He hit his head hard off the side and fell into the water face down. 

“DAD!” You yelled, trying to scramble over the boat seats to get to him, but your brother pulls you back.

“Y/N, we have to get out of here.” 

“We can’t leave him!” you cried, watching as the water around him started to mix with the red of his blood. 

“It’s too late, we have to go!” he climbed off the boat and up onto the side of the ride. He turned back and pulled you up with him, making you stand behind him as he reached back for your mom. You saw blood pouring out of the bite on her shoulder as she reached up for your brothers hand. The three of you made your way through the ride’s scenery towards where you see a fire exit door. 

As you burst through it, you were temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight outside but you could hear the screaming. When your eyes adjusted you saw that the whole park had turned to chaos, like something from a horror film. People running in all directions, fights broken out everywhere you look. 

You turned to your brother and saw that a few feet away a child had pinned a grown man to the floor, eating his flesh. Ben followed your horrified gaze, quickly covering your eyes and asking your mother what to do. 

“Back to the hotel.” she ordered and the three of you run. 

By the time you made it back to the room, you noticed your mother beginning to act strange. Twitching uncontrollably, her eyes starting to glass over. 

“Mom?” You asked, “Are you okay?” 

“I’m okay baby.” she replied, though her voice was shaky “I think I’m just getting sick. I’ll be alright. I need some water.” 

She stood up and walked to the bathroom, gesturing for your brother to follow. They went inside and shut the door. Quietly you snuck up and pressed your ear against it, listening to their hushed conversation. 

“No, Mom I can’t!”

“You can baby, and you have to.” She was crying “I’m so, so sorry… I can feel it. Something is wrong and I can’t risk hurting you or Y/N. I need you to do this for me.” 

“I can’t do this on my own, I don't know what to do.” 

“You're not alone. Work together, keep each other safe. You can do this.”

You heard her kiss him and quickly moved away from the door just in time for them to come back out. 

“What’s going on?” You asked and your mom pulled you in for the tightest hug you’d ever received.

“I’m going to go look for some medical supplies and food. I’ll be back as soon as possible.” She pulled away, taking your face in her hands and looking at you “I love you baby, more than you’ll ever know.” 

“I love you too” you started to cry and she kissed you on the head before moving to your brother. She embraced him tightly, and you heard her say two quiet words: “Help her.”

As soon as she left, your brother instantly locked the door and started moving anything he could in front of it to form a barricade.

“What are you doing?” You started to panic “She won’t be able to get back in.”

He ignored you, silently crying as he continued his task. 

“Ben stop!!” You tried to pull him away.

“She’s not coming back!” he pushed you away, making you stumble backwards and fall to the floor.

“Wh- why? I don't understand-”

“She’s one of them.” He gestured to the window “Whatever those people have turned into out there, she’s turning into one of them too.” He pushed the last piece of furniture in front of the door and came over to you, helping you to your feet. “I know you're scared. I am too. I don't know what’s happening, I don't know what’s going to happen. But I do know, for now, we’re safe in here.”

“What do we do?” 

“We wait. I’m sure the army will be here soon, they’ll help us.” You could tell he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

The two of you climbed into bed, wrapping yourselves up in the duvet as you tried to block out the sounds of screaming outside. Your brother pulled you tightly to himself, using his hands to cover your ears and sang songs to you until you fell asleep. 

— — — —

2008

“Just a bit further.” Ben assures you, helping you walk closer to the giant wall surrounding the Boston QZ. 

“Hands up!” A voice startles you. 

A few feet away from you a middle aged man stands pointing a gun at you, the light of his torch blinding you.

“I said, hands up” he shouts again. 

“Please, we need help!” your brother calls back.

“Don't make me ask a third time.” You hear him click his gun.

Ben raises his one hand, the other one still holding you upright. You try to muster the strength to raise yours too. 

“She sick?” A female voice calls.

“Not with the virus, but yes she’s sick.” Your brother explains. “Some sort of infection. We got caught in a storm a few days back and she’s gotten worse since then. We need medicine.”

“Then go through the main entrance, get FEDRA to help you.” the male responds dismissively.

“Are you kidding?” Ben laughs “One look at her like this and they’ll shoot her on sight.”

“Not our problem.”

“How old is she?” The female asks.

“She's 14” Ben responds, “Please! Just, help her!”

You hear a hushed argument between the two strangers before the woman finally steps forward. 

“You're not bit?” She asks you as she approaches.

“No, I promise.” you croak as she lifts your sleeves and checks you for any signs of infection.

“She’s clear” the lady calls back before moving to check your brother.

Once she’s certain neither of you are infected, she leads you towards the man who reluctantly lowers his gun but keeps it in his hand. 

“We’ll sneak you in and give you medicine but then you're on your own.” The man grumbles.

“Thank you, thank you so much” Ben sighs with relief “I’m Ben, this is my sister Y/N”

“Tess” the woman responds “and this grumpy old man is Joel”

They take you back to their apartment. Ben lays you on the couch while Tess goes to get the medicine. 

“What brings you to Boston?” Joel asks, still holding his gun close.

“We’re looking for someone. My fiancé is missing. Someone knows where she is and the last we heard, that person was heading to Boston.” 

Ben continues his story as Tess returns with a medical kit and injects you with some sort of antibiotic. Within minutes you feel yourself unable to stay awake, and you drift off into a deep sleep.

— — — — 

Tess was kind enough to let you and Ben crash on the couch for as long as you needed, much to Joel’s dismay. 

You’d become quite close with Tess surprisingly quickly. She was like the big sister you’d always wanted. The two of you would sit and chat while Joel went out to earn ration cards and Ben caught up on some much needed sleep. He found it hard to sleep at night. Partly due to watching to make sure you were still breathing, and partly due to the fear that at any moment FEDRA would come bursting through the door to arrest you both for sneaking into the QZ. 

It takes days but you're finally feeling a lot better, almost back to normal. You manage to get up off the couch and have a shower. The water pressure isn’t great, and there’s only a small amount of warm water but you don't care. It’s been so long since you had a shower, this feels like heaven on your aching skin. You get dry, put on the clean clothes Tess found for you and head back out to the living room. 

“We found her!” Ben exclaims. “Marlene. We know where she is, which means we’re one step closer to finding Anna.”

— — — — 

Tess and Joel agreed to lead you and Ben through underground tunnels to the building Marlene is rumoured to be. The tunnels are creepy. There’s fungus growing up the walls and Joel warns you to watch your step. You reach some ladders, which Joel climbs first, then gestures for you to follow. You're almost at the top when your foot slips and you almost fall, but Joel grabs your arm and hoists you up. 

“Thank you!” you sigh and you swear he almost smiles. There is kindness in him, he’s just buried it deep. 

Once Tess and Ben join you at the top, the four of you decide to split up to search the abandoned building. Tess and Joel going left. You and your brother right. You wonder through various corridors and eventually spot the woman you need.

“Marlene!” Ben shouts upon seeing her.

“Benjamin? Wh- what are you doing here? We thought you were dead. Both of you. When you didn’t show up to the meet point we presumed-” 

“Where’s Anna?” He interrupts her and she falls silent “Where is she?” 

“Ben” she takes a breath, briefly looking at you then back to Ben “Maybe we should talk somewhere privately.” 

“Marlene please, just tell me.” He almost begs, your heart breaks at the sound of his voice cracking “Where is my girl?” 

“She’s gone.” 

“Gone?” You ask, looking to her and your brother for an explanation “Gone where? Can we go find her?” 

“She’s dead.” Your brother states, slumping back against the wall. You look at Marlene in a panic, hoping she will clear things up. That your brother has just got the wrong end of the stick. She just nods solemnly. 

You look down at your feet as you take a few breaths, trying to process the news before another question pops up. 

“The baby?” You ask, looking back at Marlene who is watching Ben. The two of them lock eyes for a moment before Marlene finally shakes her head. You see the final sliver of hope disappear from your brother’s eyes as he slumps to the floor, head in his hands.

You close your eyes tight, fighting to keep the tears in. But the news of losing Anna, and your unborn nephew or niece is too much to hold inside. You don't notice Marlene has walked to you until you feel her hand gently squeeze your shoulder. 

“I’m sorry” she says quietly, sincerely.

“Its not your fault” you say with a small shrug. 

She gives you a sad smile before leaving you alone with your brother. You approach him, sliding down the wall to sit next to him and leaning your head on his shoulder. The two of you stay sat in silence for a while, quietly grieving what you’ve both lost. Eventually you have to speak. 

“What happens now?” 

“I don't know.” He sniffles.

“What are we going to do? Where do we go?” 

“I don't know Y/N.”

“But you always know what to do. You always have a plan!” 

“THEY were the plan!” He suddenly shouts “Anna and the baby, they were the only plan I had left. And now they’re gone and I- I don't know what to do.” He takes a breath, looking at you with panicked eyes “I don't know what to do”

You look at him for a moment, thinking. 

“We could have a funeral for them?” 

“Y/N” Ben sighs.

“Obviously we can’t actually bury them, but we could have a little memorial or something? Could be a nice way to honour them?” 

“Nice? Are you serious?” Ben gets up, and you follow him.

“No no I didn’t mean-”

“Nothing about this is nice Y/N! Nothing! I’ve lost my family-”

“You’ve still got me!” You argue and he rolls his eyes “Or do I not matter anymore?”

“Don't do that. Don't make this about you.” 

“I’m not making it about me! I’m just trying to figure out how to make things better!” 

“Can you bring them back? Stop them from dying?” He stares at you and all you can see on his face is overwhelming sadness “There is no making this better.” 

He turns and starts to walk away. 

“Ben?” 

“I’m sorry Y/N” he pauses “But I need to be on my own.” 

“Ben!” You call after him but he’s gone, leaving you alone. You resume your position slumped on the floor, allowing yourself to fully grieve. 

“Y/N?! What happened?” Tess calls as she runs toward you, crouching in front of you. Joel stands watch behind her. 

“They’re dead.” You sob. “Anna and the baby, they’re dead.”

“Oh darling.” Tess sits by you, putting her arm around you. 

“Where’s Ben?” Joel asks, still on high alert.

“I don't know, he walked off.”

“He just left you?” You see a brief flash of anger on Joel’s face. He won’t admit it but he does feel almost protective of you. 

“He’s grieving-” you try to defend your brother.

“So are you!” Tess squeezes you “Come on, we should get back. It’s getting late.”

“What about Ben?” You panic.

“We’ll find him. Don't worry."

— — — — 

Tess keeps her arm around you the whole walk back, Joel walking ahead slightly with his gun at the ready. You’d heard the stories of people who were out on the streets at night being attacked, robbed or worse. And although you felt safe with Joel, you couldn’t help but worry for your brother. 

You’ve never seen him like this. Sure, the two of you had lost many people over the years. Friends that you’d made on travels, even your parents back on outbreak day. But you’d always faced it together. 

As you rounded the corner near the apartment block, Joel stopped suddenly. 

“Tess, get Y/N away from here.” 

“What’s going on?” You try to see past him.

“Tess now!” He demands and as he tries to move you back you see around him. 

Your heart stops. 

Laying on the ground about 20 feet away is a body.

“Is that-?” You try to breathe “Is it-?” 

You strain your eyes in the dark and notice the body is wearing the same clothes as your brother.

“Ben?” You voice barely there. “BEN!”

You free yourself from Tess and push past Joel. They chase after you, but you get there before they can stop you, falling on your knees next to your badly beaten brother and turning his bloodied head to look at his face.

“What did you do?! What did you do?!” You repeat as you stroke your hands over his face. You notice his chest rise “He’s breathing!! Ben?! Ben, wake up you idiot!” 

“Y/N…” he coughs, wheezing as he breathes.

“We have to get him to the medical centre!” You shout to Joel and Tess, who are stood behind you. 

“There’s nothing they can do for me.” Ben says sadly. “I’m sorry Y/N.” 

“Shut up. Just shut up. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, cause you're gonna be fine.” You desperately apply pressure to the bleeding stab wound in his stomach.

“I shouldn’t have left you” he coughs “I’m sorry”

“Stop” you cry, resting your head on his chest.

“Look after her, Joel. Tess. Look after her. Please.”

“STOP IT!” you yell, panic rising. 

“Y/N look at me, look at me!” Ben manages you take your face and moves you so he can see your eyes. “I love you”

“I love you too.” you sob, the memory of saying goodbye to your mother flashes through your mind.

His hands slip from your face as his breathing stops. He’s completely still. 

“Ben?” You shake him. “Ben?! BEN!! BEN, WAKE UP! BEN!!”

“Come on darling.” Tess puts her hands on your shoulders but you shake her off. 

“BEN! PLEASE! BEN!” You fall on him, wrapping your arms around him as you sob “I need you.” 

Joel and Tess watch for a moment, allowing you this goodbye before Joel hands his gun to Tess and crouches by you.

“We really have to go now. It’s not safe out here.” Joel says, rubbing your back gently.

“I can’t leave him here!”

“He’s gone Y/N. And FEDRA patrol will be here soon. They’ll take care of his body but if they find us here, we’re in a heap of shit. We have to go!” 

He stands and lifts you up. You scream and cry as you try to fight him but he’s much stronger than you. He carries you in his arms, cradling you tightly into his chest all the way back to the apartment. 

Once you're back, Tess helps you wash your brother’s blood off your skin and leaves you to get changed into some clean clothes. You find your brother’s hoodie hanging on the back of the chair and immediately hug it to your face. It smells like him. It’s comforting. You pull it on over your head. It’s too big for you, but you don't care. 

You walk out into the living room to find Joel and Tess reading a letter. He hands it to you. It’s a note from Ben.

‘Y/N, 

By the time you read this I’ll be gone. I’m going to find the fireflies and finish what Anna always wanted to do. I’m sorry to leave without saying goodbye, but I know if I do you’ll try to talk me out of going. 

Please know, my decision to leave was nothing to do with you, you’ve done nothing wrong. I just don't know how to keep you safe. And I’m scared. Everyone I have ever cared about has died and I’m afraid I’m going to lose you too. 

But I know Tess and Joel will help you. They’ve done more for you in the last 5 days than I’ve been able to in the last 5 years. You’ll be safe with them. Safer than you could ever be with me. 

One day, when I’ve made the world a safer place for us, I’ll come back for you. But until then, I will think of you every single day. 

Forever… your loving brother,

Ben’

— — — — 

2023 

It’s been 15 years since you lost the last remaining member of your family. Joel and Tess honoured Ben’s wishes and took you in, even managing to get forged documents to make you an official citizen of the Boston QZ.

As soon as you were old enough, you started earning ration cards. The jobs were shit, but at least you could pay back Joel and Tess for looking after you all these years. You know they could have easily kicked you out once you turned 18, but they didn’t. Even when you offered to get out of their way, let them have their home back again they wouldn’t accept it. 

You were super close with both of them, but especially with Joel after he found you one day in the midst of a panic attack. He sat with you until you calmed down, helping you breathe through it. After that he’d opened up to you about his own struggles with panic attacks, and even about his suicide attempt after losing his daughter. He made you promise if you ever felt like that, you would talk to him. And while living in the QZ wasn’t particularly wonderful, you were happy with your little life routine with your little dysfunctional family. 

After an exhausting day of street sweeping, you collect your ration cards and head home. When you walk through the door, you're surprised to find you're home alone. You knew Joel would probably not be back yet, since he’s taken on extra jobs to earn extra cards, but you expected Tess to be there. Presuming she’s just popped out and would be back soon, you decide to start cooking dinner for when she returns. 

But she doesn’t. 

You wait as long as your grumbling stomach will allow before serving up a plate for yourself and putting the rest in the fridge. While you're getting ready for bed you hear the door close and Joel call out a greeting. 

“Dinner’s in the fridge.” you respond and he thanks you. 

You change into your sleep clothes and go out to the living room to see Joel.

“How was your day?” You ask.

“Shit. You?”

“Shit.” You copy and he hums with amusement.

“You make this?” He asks as he tucks into a plate of food.

“Yeah, is it that bad?” You joke and he smirks. 

“Where’s Tess?”

“I don't know, haven’t seen her since I left this morning. She wasn’t here when I got back.” You reply and he looks up at you. You feel a wave of worry. “Do you think she’s okay?” 

“She’ll be fine.” He reassures “It’s everyone else out there you should be worried about."

You both laugh.

“You're right. She’s badass, she can handle herself.”

“She learned from the best.” Joel jokes and you roll your eyes. 

“Right, I’m off to bed. Goodnight old man.” You kiss him on the head and head towards your room.

“Sleep well baby girl.”

“Joel, I’m 29. I don't think you can call me that anymore.” 

“Don't matter how old you are. You’ll always be baby girl to me.”

He smiles at you, and you return it before closing the door and getting into bed.

— — — — 

The next morning you get dressed pulling your favourite hoodie, the one that belonged to your brother, on over your head. It’s a little worse for wear now, some small holes and stains that you can’t remove, but you don't care. 

As you walk out into the living room you let out a sigh of relief to find Tess sat at the table with her back to you. Joel is sat in front of her, wiping her face with a cloth. 

“Morning” you say, gasping she turns to look at you “Shit! What happened? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, stop fussing.” 

“Tess, your face!” You exclaim, gesturing to the cuts and bruises that cover her skin “Who did this to you?” 

“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” Joel grumbles and Tess sighs. 

“I need you to take a breath.” 

“What?” 

“Joel…”

“What?!” Joel says again.

“The guys that jumped me were with Robert. He sold our battery to someone else.”

Joel kicks back in his chair and Tess grabs his hands. 

“I’ll kill him.” You say, pacing the room. 

“That won’t solve anything!” Tess states calmly. 

“No? But it will make me feel better!” you argue. 

“I need the battery Tess!” Joel gets up “Trucks no good without one and if I don't get to Tommy soon he’s gonna die out there!”

Joel had told you so much about his brother Tommy, you felt like you knew him already. From what you’d heard, he reminded you a lot of Ben. 

“Okay fuck it.” Tess stands up, following Joel across the room “We get our money back and the battery but Joel listen… Robert is terrified of you, so you march out of here all Clint Eastwood he’s gonna get wind of it and skip. I need you to take a breath.” She turns back to you as you're still pacing the room in anger “Both of you!” 

There’s a brief silence as you all pause and breath. 

“Who’d he sell it to?” Joel asks. 

“Don't know.”

“Where is he?”

“Don't know… yet. We’re gonna find out, quietly. Understand?”

Joel nods. Tess turns to you and you raise your hands in sarcastic surrender. 

“Now I promised Robert you wouldn’t hurt him. But I would very much like for you to hurt him.” Tess continues “So let’s go hunt that motherfucker down. Get our battery, and our truck, and then we’ll go find Tommy.”

— — — — 

The three of you head out to a busy communal area where people are sat eating and talking. Tess goes to speak to one of Robert’s guys, leaving you and Joel observing from a safe distance. The guy glances over every so often, clearly terrified of Joel. And rightly so. Joel had a reputation in the QZ, he is not someone you want to get on the wrong side of. 

As you watch the interaction, another guy strolls over to you. 

“Hey friend.” he says and Joel just frowns at him, moving ever so slightly to form a barrier between him and you. “Don't worry, I don't want anything. But if you're feeling lost-”

“You tell me to ‘look for the light’ and I’ll break your jaw.” Joel interrupts, staring the guy down until he backs off and leaves. 

“Fuckin’ pests.” You mutter and Joel smirks proudly. 

This was a daily occurrence in the QZ, some asshole trying to recruit you to join the fireflies. Sure you hated FEDRA but the fireflies weren’t great either, in fact they could be just as dangerous as the FEDRA soldiers.

“It cost us a couple cards but, we got him. He’s supposedly taking the battery to a red tagged building.” Tess explains when she rejoins the two of you “We could take the subway tunnel under haymarket, get into the building from below and take Robert by surprise.”

“Pay this fucker back.” Joel says, looking at you and you nod in agreement. 

The three of you begin your plan, breaking in and sneaking down to the abandoned tunnels that snake under the QZ. This isn’t your first time down here, but it’s still creepy. Dark, cold and wet. The constant sound of dripping making you feel uneasy. Tess shines her torch light along the rounded tunnel walls until she spots what she’s looking for. 

“That’s the one.” She says, and you see the symbol spray painted next to a door.

Tess climbs the steps onto the platform and forces the heavy door open. She goes inside while you climb the steps, turning around to help Joel up. Although he doesn’t like to admit it, you know he struggles with his knees. As you're helping him you hear Tess scream from inside and immediately jump into action, both ready to fire your guns at whatever in in there. Joel rushes in first, followed by you. 

“Oh shit!” You yell as you what startled Tess. Inside the room is a dead infected, fungus growing out from it’s body and up the wall behind it. It’s horrific and you have to look away. 

“This one’s done.” Joel says calmly and Tess breaths a heavy sigh. 

“Yeah… I know. I just, I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Take it he wasn’t down here last time?” 

“No.” She replies as her and Joel get closer to examine it. You on the other hand are still standing as far away as possible. “You think he came down after he was infected?”

“Maybe down here was where he was infected.” Joel says, and your blood runs cold. 

A silence fills the room as the three of you linger on Joel’s words. 

“Let’s keep moving.” Tess eventually breaks the silence, walking away. You waste no time in following her, desperate to get away from the corpse in the room. 

Tess leads you to a tall ladder and begins climbing it. You follow behind her, will Joel behind you. 

“It’s like they refrained the whole structure.” Joel says "Probably in the 80’s. Everyone was cutting down on apartment sizes to sell more condos.”

“Oh” Tess says, faking interest “This has been Construction Corner with Joel Miller.”

You laugh, and you can almost hear how hard Joel rolls his eyes behind you. 

“How far up we going?” He asks, ignoring Tess’ comment. 

“Uh…” she climbs a little further then stops “…this far.” She climbs off onto a small landing and starts pressing the door. “This opens into the hallway.” She tries to open the door but it won’t budge. “What the fuck? Did someone put a piano in front of this?”

“You smell that?” Joel questions and you sniff the air. 

“Yeah, gunpowder.” Tess steps back from the door, shining her torch around. You look down and spot blood pouring out from under the door.

“Shit.” You whisper as Joel once again draws his gun. 

“Tess!” Joel warns as she pushes the door open. You hear a soft thud on the other side, as if something has fallen. Tess goes through and you follow. 

The corridor is littered with dead bodies. Unlike the infected down in the tunnels, these ones are fresh. Whoever did this might still be here. You adjust your grip on your gun, suddenly very nervous again. 

Joel surveys the hallway while Tess walks over to a battery near one of the bodies and crouches down to examine it. 

“Well battery’s no good” she sighs and you glance over at Joel, you know how much he needs this battery “and he still tried to sell it. Twice.” Tess shines her torch on the now dead Robert who is laying next to the battery “You greedy fuck.”

Suddenly you hear a sound down the hallway, a sort of pained grunting. Joel walks past you, leading the way as you go to investigate. You hear a hushed voices, but you can’t make out what they’re saying. Joel peeks round the corner, turning back to gesture for you and Tess to stay quiet. As you carefully follow him you see where the noise is coming from. Down the corridor are two women with their backs to you, one trying to help the other one stand. Clearly injured. 

As Joel gets closer, a door to the side of him opens and a girl comes flying out. She launches herself at Joel, some sort of knife in her hand. 

“Joel!” You cry out to warn him, but his reactions are quick enough. 

He throws her to the side, she hits the wall and falls to the ground. He instantly turns his gun on her as she sits on the floor, staring up at him.

“Joel? Y/N?” One of the women says, a voice you recognise. 

“Marlene?” Joel responds and you look past him to see Marlene and another woman now stood at the other end of the hallway, their guns raised and aimed in your direction. 

“You okay?” Marlene asks the girl, but she ignores her. Instead she reaches for her weapon, but Joel puts his foot on it, kicking it back in your direction.

It lands at your feet. It’s a switchblade. The more you stare at it the more familiar it looks to you. Slowly you bend down to pick it up.

“Hey that’s mine!” Ellie shouts at you but you ignore her, turning the switchblade around in your hand to examine it. “It’s mine, leave it alone!”

“Where did you get this?” You ask her, still staring at the blade. 

“It’s mine-” 

“Where did you get it?!” You ask again, firmer as you finally look at her. 

“…my mom.” 

“Who’s your mom?” 

“I- I don't know. She’s dead.” 

Your eyes flick from Ellie, to Marlene and back to Ellie. 

“How old are you?” 

“Why?” 

“JUST-“ you shout, before taking a calming breath and continuing “-answer the question.” 

“I’m 14. Jesus, why does it matter?” 

“It matters…” you take a shaky breath “…because this switchblade belonged to my brother. You see this little mark engraved into the handle? I did that, on the same day that my brother gave this as a gift to his fiancé. The same day that she went missing. The same day that she died.”

“I- I didn’t steal it!” 

“I’m not saying you did. But you see, she was pregnant with his kid when we lost her. Like, really super fucking pregnant… And that was 14 years ago.” You can almost see the cogs turning in Ellie’s head as she processes what you're telling her. “So either this is all just some massive coincidence. Or…” you trail off, watching the penny drop as she works it out. 

“She’s your niece?” Joel asks and you shrug, turning to Marlene who has been silently watching the whole thing play out. 

“Am I right?”

“Marlene?” Ellie asks and Marlene finally nods. “What the fuck dude.”

Joel lowers his gun, watching for your reaction. He notices the way your breathing has picked up, the way your hands ball up into tight fists as your arms shake. He takes a small step towards you, calmly saying your name. 

“You lied.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper, but it is laced with anger. 

“I had to. Your brother was grieving-”

“My brother is DEAD BECAUSE OF YOU!” You launch yourself towards her, Joel just managing to catch you before you can hit her.

“I know, Y/N, and I am truly very sorry but he wouldn’t have been able to cope with a baby.”

“THAT WASN’T YOUR CHOICE TO MAKE!” You struggle against Joel’s grasp. 

“And yet I had to make it.” The calm of Marlene’s voice riles you up even more. “I had a split second to make a decision. Tell your brother the truth, give him the baby and risk him being unable to handle it. Risk both their lives.” She pauses. “Or tell a lie, and give Ellie the best chance to survive, do something with her life.”

“By shipping me off the FEDRA school? Yeah, great plan.” Ellie says sarcastically and Tess shoots her a look. 

“You didn’t even give him a chance! You just took everything away from him, and that’s what he couldn’t handle. That’s why he got himself killed.” You look her straight in the eyes. “His blood is on your hands!” 

You break free from Joel’s arms and walk away, stepping over multiple corpses until you find an empty room to shut yourself away in for a while. Some time later, when he thought you’d had enough time to cool down, Joel came to find you. He didn’t say anything, he just joined you where you sat leaning against the wall. He waited a few minutes before speaking. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really.” You say quietly, pulling the frayed edge of your hoodie sleeve.

“Okay.” He replies simply, knowing not to push you. 

You lean to the side, resting your head on his shoulder and he turns to put his chin on your head. The two of you stay like this until Tess comes in. 

“We agreed on a deal.” 

“Wait, what deal?” You sit up, looking between her and Joel. “What deal?” You repeat when neither of them talk. 

“We’re gonna smuggle the girl out the QZ and drop her off with another group of fireflies at the old state house. In exchange they’re gonna give us a car, guns, anything we want.” He turns to face you. “I know this is difficult for you. You don't have to come with us if this is too-”

“Of course I’m coming with you. You're my family, and apparently so it she so…” you sigh  “I have to help her. Ben would want me to help her.” 

Part Two

[theunsweetenedtruth]

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. 

[likeadevils]

which albums do you think took the shortest amount of time to put together? i think that evermore was very quick (only two or three months?), am i right in thinking that lover and folklore were pretty quick too?

evermore was super quick! there were about five songs written from october-december, but about 12 songs were written in about a month, between mid august and mid september. which is just crazy. like that’s more songs than the standard edition of debut like that’s insane

the bulk of folklore was written in two months, between may and june, though the jack songs were mostly written between march and april, with some pre pandemic songs (my tears in dec 2019 and trying in jan/feb 2020)

midnights was a bit more spread out— high infidelity and would’ve could’ve should’ve were written in march 2021, i believe bigger than the whole sky and snow on the beach were in early 2022– but still the bulk of it came together in november/december 2021, making it a year in total but mostly done in two months.

rep took almost exactly a year— she starts writing it in september 2016 and finishes in september 2017. the bulk of the album was likely finished by july 2017 though, so it goes was just a super last minute addition.

lover was recorded in about four months— the bulk of the album was between november 2018 and february 2019. there are some exceptions, like death by a thousand cuts in late april and likely london boy in early june, and maybe a few jack songs throughout 2018, but we don’t know for sure which. she was also probably stockpiling songs a bit before jumping into the studio, but we don’t know for sure.

1989 was another stockpiling album— she did this love in 2012, a couple songs jan 2013, and then that aforementioned stockpiling period while she’s on tour, and then a big rush in oct/nov 2013, and then another rush in jan/feb 2014. it sounds like now that we don’t talk came fairly late in the process though, possibly as late as fall 2014, which would make it a two year long writing period, but as far as the original album goes, about a year and a half.

red was also about a year and a half— we have all too well being finalized in march 2011 (after being started in dec 2010), and then 22 and i knew you were trouble in june 2012. there are probably some outliers— stay stay stay might’ve been as early as summer 2010, some stuff on the vault might’ve gone up until september 2012– but that’s at most about two years of consistent writing and recording.

if we’re counting sparks fly (halloween 2006) then it took four years to write speak now, but excluding sparks fly georg the earliest song we know for sure was if this was a movie in april 2009, and then it ended with the story of us in june 2010, which is a little over a year. she was likely writing songs for speak now earlier in 2009 though, making it her standard year and a half, but we just don’t know for sure. the recording process was also spread out throughout both years— the first session for the album was in march 2009, and the orchestra sections were the last thing recorded, in july 2010.

fearless had two big recording sessions, in december 2007 and march 2008, so recording wise the album came together super quickly. that being said, if we just take the first and last songs written for the album, fearless has a pretty big stretch— she had stuff from the vault from like 2005, and then come in with the rain in september 2006, and white horse in december 2006. and then the last song is similarly up for interpretation, with forever and always in late september 2008, and mr perfectly fine in march 2009. so even though it came together very quickly once she got in the studio, counting the vault it was four years to write it, making it one of the longest timeframes, but standard edition is still a fairly long two years.

and then debut! i’m a bit more hazy on debut’s timeline, but a perfectly good heart was written sometime in 2003, and should’ve said no was the last thing written and recorded, on august 10, 2006, making it about three years.

so it’s pretty much an exercise in counting— the earlier and album came in her career, the longer it took her to make it, until we get to post pandemic where she’s busting out almost complete albums in two month periods (ts11 looks like it’s bucking that trend though, so let’s see!!)

[chubsonthemoon]

Binderary 2023 Wrap-Up!

Binderary 2023 is over, and I come bearing some stats, thoughts, and a compiled list of my QOTD answers! :3

Stats:

Books planned: 7

Books completed: 7/7 (woohoo!)

Fandoms: 3 (Yuri on Ice, Harry Potter, and The Sandman)

Total word count: 340,654

List of books (from left to right):

Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower

Flower King by @landwriter

The Politeness of Princes by @aboxthecolourofheartache

Uncertain Results (also by Box!)

I'm caught inside every open eye (also also by Box :3)

Not pictured (on account of them being given away as gifts!):

My Immortal by Tara Gilesbie (aka xxxbloodyrists666xxx) (community typeset by @renegadepublishing)

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by @kazliin (typesetting by @ziezie13 <3)

QOTD answers under the cut (and these are copied directly from our DW post, just with added tumblr @'s!)

1. What does Renegade mean to you?

Renegade has, in all honesty, probably changed the course of my life! That's not hyperbole--it's had such a huge influence on my hobbies, my friendships, my academic trajectory, even my career. I was still in undergrad when I found ASH's post on fanbinding, and I was very lost as to what the next steps would be. And like so many others experienced, the pandemic only made things even murkier and more isolating. Then I found ASH's manifesto in June 2020, worked up the courage to join the Discord in July 2020, and found a community of like-minded weirdos who were just as passionate (if not even more so!) about their favorite stories, and a craft that I fall a little bit more in love with every day (well, most days. fuckin printers man XD). I wrote my honors thesis thanks to Renegade; I've made lifelong friends thanks to Renegade; I have my current job, in a field I love, thanks to Renegade. (My first Rocky Horror Picture show at Havencon 2022? All thanks to Renegade :D) This really feels like my forever fandom home-- even when I jump around from fandom to fandom, there's always a wonderful and supportive community to fall back on. In short, I really love it here, I'm so pleased with what we've done so far, and I can't wait to see where we go! ❤️

2. Favorite Fic

As everyone else who answered this, this question is IMPOSSIBLE. However, if you put a gun to my head and told me to answer right now, I'd have to say Tell Me About the Big Bang (my binding of it here!) It's one of the fics that has touched me most deeply and which has probably had the greatest influence on my writing. It was one of the first fics I'd ever bound, and I really wanted to rebind it to see how far I've come!

3. One thing you'd like to learn more about

GOD SO MANY THINGS. Backing! Headband techniques. Chisel trimming. Edge gilding. Tiny books. More advanced Cricut techniques. More cohesive and professional-looking graphic design. This hobby is really a dozen hobbies in a trench coat, and there's so much to explore.

4. Paper!

For my textblocks, I use 20 lb. cream Hammermill paper! I order it in 11"x 17" and get it cut in half for short grain, like a lot of other folks at Renegade. Recently I've started experimenting with quarto-sized Legal (8.5"x 14")and fell in love. I also want to try a bunch of the other paper that folks have suggested (looking at @robins-egg-bindery Mohawk Via o.o). For my endpapers, I usually use scrapbook paper from those scrapbook paper packs you can get at Michaels and Joann's (and when they're on sale...WOOF)

5. Cloth!

DUO BOOKCLOTH MY BELOVED. God I wish I'd gotten in on the Renegade group order - but ah well. Big fan of making my own though! There are just so many options to choose from, so it really expands what you can do (again: a dozen hobbies and crafts in a trench coat)

6. The Glue War

LOVE me some PVA! I know that it gives you less time to do things, but I get impatient XD. Plus it's cheap and easy to find and ready to use right out of the bottle, which is great. I've tried my hand at making starch paste + PVA with very mixed (ha!) results, although I had a wonderful time with some methyl cell that @simply-sithel gifted me at Havencon last year <3 So mayhaps will have to buy more of that for a future project!

I also love my Cricut Explore 2, Charlotte! She holds up very well, although I think she's due for a blade refill soon. I've just been setting my pressure higher and higher LOL

7. Machines

Love my Epson ecotank! I recently bought it--for the first two years I was going to my local print shop because the quality was great and I had a discount card. Unfortunately the discount card eventually expired, so I decided to bite the bullet and get my own printer. I really love it! I didn't want to have to deal with laser and printing in color can get pricey--the cartridges are just so goddamn expensive, although I do think laser prints in higher quality. Mayhaps a future purchase, because I'd really like to experiment with foiling!

8. Favorite binding technique

Ooh this one is interesting! I know which part of the process I enjoy the most, which is sewing! Kettle stitch my beloved. ALTHOUGH I am a sucker for the French link too--it's just so pretty! And we just had a wonderful workshop put on last week by @queercore-curriculum on their...embroidered binding/long-stitch binding (??? I don't know if there's an official name for it yet), which I LOVE. Glueless bindings are SO cool and I would love to experiment more with them.

9. Your best tip/trick

Ooh! Hmmm...I'd say: never bind while you're super tired/hungry LOL. I've made many a preventable mistake very late at night because I wanted to get something cased in or glued before bed when I probably should've waited till morning XD That being said, on the flip side I think you should never be afraid to experiment! Go hog wild!!! Use those glitter pens!! Try out that fancy silk for your endbands!! Try that new binding style! And if you fuck up, remember that's okay too! These are handmade objects and those mistakes are proud proof of that, and of your journey as a fanbinder. Stick 'em in the channel on the Discord, laugh and (maybe cry a little XD) about it, and then keep going. tldr; ya live and learn!

10. Favorite Detail

Ooh, this one's hard! I love leaving little Easter eggs in my designs. I'd say my favorite is putting my maker's mark on things! My imprint is Moonham Press (a fun mix of my usernames, chubsthehamster and chubsonthemoon), and the logo includes a little crescent moon. I'd actually been binding for about two years when I finally made the imprint--I used to think that it was...idk, kind of weird to put myself in the book? Like I was taking away from the story inside it. But then I got to thinking--well, hey, I'm the one who made this book, right? If nothing else, putting my mark on it tells someone who may pick it up one day that I was connected to this story. Some conversations with some folks at Renegade during Havencon 2022 also helped me embrace this. So these days I put my imprint logo in the typesetting, and I also put it on the cover somewhere! My favorite spots are either on the spine, between the title and author name, or on the back cover, in the bottom left corner :D

11. Spines

Spines are the bane of my existence. Haha, jk. They're mostly just tedious, since they're one of the only parts of the process that still require precise measurement (I've cut templates for everything else by now, and I use my guillotine to cut boards, so that goes super fast). For my thicker books I use Bristol board; I actually still use the same sheets I bought in 2020 when I first started binding--I didn't know how much I would really need so I think I ordered four massive sheets which will probably last me for ten years LOL. For my thinner books, I use Davy board, which is a pain to cut but gives the book a really nice board feel. And for my paperbacks, the spine is just the cover, which I make out of kraft paper for the backing + the decorative paper (usually scrapbook paper or something I've designed and printed)

12. Mistakes/Fails

Ooh BOY are there many. My most recent was my experiment with making a hardback quarto letter. I made the hinge waaaaay too small so when I tested the case the textblock was sticking out of it LOL. But I've been pretty lucky--this is only the second case I've had to remake in my time as fanbinder *KNOCKS ON WOOD*, but my printer fuck-ups when I was trying to figure out how to print on legal sized paper (since my printer doesn't duplex) probably make up for the luck I've had in the case department XD. Casing in, though--I think I've had maaaaaybe...two or three case-ins where I was completely happy with the results. A large part of this is because my guillotine doesn't cut completely straight, so my squares are never even LOL. But hey, I'm not getting paid for this, and I'm having fun, so eh.

13. Process

Ooh, interesting! My process has remained largely unchanged--I think the only thing that has really changed is now the frequency at which I print. I used to print at a print shop, so I'd make typesets in large batches--usually two to four books, sometimes more (I think the most I've done at a time is five?), and I'd make a day out of it. Now that I have my printer at home though, I can do things in smaller batches! I can also test print things, so I've been able to get a lot more experimental with my books sizes and my covers. Everything else has remained largely the same--the first book I did I typeset in MS Word, but everything after that I've all done in Affinity Publisher. I typeset > print > bind > take pictures! I really like how different each step is (like I said, twelve different hobbies in a trench coat), so there's always something different to do if I get bored. My favorite parts are probably designing covers and sewing the signatures!

14. Storage solutions

OUGH. I have one of those rollaway drawer thingies for all my tools, a dozen scrapbook paper containers, several large baskets for my vinyl and cloth, a hanging stand for my larger sheets of decorative paper, a standing desk which holds my Cricut and printer (a few of the aforementioned vinyl baskets are under this desk too), another rollaway basket thingy that holds my printing paper and my press (also under the standing desk), another desk which holds both my two guillotines and cutting mats (and under that desk are all my scrapbook paper containers and Cricut mats), and a final third desk where I keep all my sewing stuff and where I do my typesetting and other sitting-down parts of the process. And of course my shelves for all my books! This doesn't really give a sense of where everything is, but it's actually fairly organized, and for the most part I know where everything is (except for my FUCKING bone folder god that thing is always ending up in places I do not remember putting it XD)

15. Your Workspace

Ah, see my answer to 14! I'll probably upload a photo here later XD

16. Dust jackets and covers

Oooh, I've never made a dust jacket before--I don't think my printer could handle the wonky paper size that it requires, but they look really cool and I'd maybe be up for making one someday! And covers! Both my greatest love and my greatest enemy. They're super fun to design, but this is one part of the process that always feels like an uphill battle for me! There are so many skilled and talented folks in Renegade with GORGEOUS covers, and it's always a mix of being incredibly inspired and getting some design envy--but either way it's very motivating to keep me out of my comfort zone and to always keep trying new things. I use decorative paper and scrapbook paper mostly for the base material (although I've begun experimenting with designing things digitally and printing them out on Epson matte presentation paper), and then the rest is fuck it, we ball. I usually design the cover last, so I have an entire typeset and title page already when I begin, which makes things a little easier since I have an already established aesthetic to work with. My font selection is kind of determined by how small the text for the title/author name is, since my Cricut isn't great at cutting super small sizes (Times New Roman, funnily enough, is one of the only fonts that it can do at smaller sizes LOL so a lot of the text on my covers/spines are in TNR). I'm excited to keep improving and experimenting in this area!

17. Published inspiration

Ooh!! This one's fun--when I first began making my Master pages in Affinity publisher, I literally grabbed the first few books I saw on my shelf and said 'alright, this looks good' and haven't looked back since LOL. Those books were Vintage's editions of Toni Morrison's novels, Picador's Gilead by Marilynne Robinson, Vintage's edition of Willa Cather's The Song of the Lark, Fall River's omnibus editions of Shakespeare and Sherlock Holmes's works, Penguin Classic's Deluxe edition of Jane Austen's novels, and a few others that I can't remember. I looked at all these books, found what they had in common (for example, a simple title page before the decorative title page, the use of a single graphic or design at the beginning of each chapter, etc.) and went with that! I don't usually take inspiration from specific books, EXCEPT for a project I'm currently working on which I'm super excited about :3 More TK here eheh (ADDITION 3/7: I was talking about Maybe sprout wings here LOL)

18. Illustrations

FANART MY BELOVED. I LOVE including fanart in my books, because it's such a lovely demonstration of the communal nature of these stories and it's so fun getting to collect all the pieces. For free use graphics my favorite sites are Adobe Stock images and Heritage Library. Heritage in particular has a beautiful selection of free vintage graphics packs that I've used for years now. And very occasionally, wingdings fonts will have something I really like XD

19. Favorite tool

Despite my gripes earlier about always misplacing it, I ADORE my bone folder. It's a funky lil dude and it makes all my edges nice and crisp! I can't wait for the retreat bone folder fufu :3 Also a very big fan of my guillotine, which despite its flaws makes my life a hell of a lot easier in the long run, as well as my presses, which were handmade by my dad and do their jobs very well (squiiiiiiish)

20. Favorite part of the binding process

Oooh, this one's fun! I really like the actual construction of the book--sewing sigs is always relaxing and has been one of my fave parts since the very beginning. Recently I've started to really enjoy designing covers, especially if there are a lot of physical elements (like layering scrapbook paper or playing around with Mod Podge).

I had the absolute privilege to hold @clovenhoofbindery's copy of Away Childish Things at Havencon last year. Literally every book Space makes I fall in love with, and her designs are a HUGE inspiration for me. Everything from the typesetting to cover design to physical construction--I lose my marbles every time.

21. Inspo: The binder that inspired you!

Ohhh this one's so hard! Literally every time I check the #show-off channel in the Discord I'm struck by so many beautiful books. I'm going to cheat and name a few people here, but this list is by no means comprehensive and doesn't even begin to cover everyone I could name.

Everything @pleasantboatpress binds is just so beautiful. Their color choices are always inspired and their headbands make me want to cry! Their bind of Unconditional in particular had me foaming at the mouth.

The quality of everything @zhalfirin-binds makes, likewise, always blows me away. Her books are so polished and professional, and her photos make me feel like I'm in a museum when I'm trawling her blog for inspo!

@simply-sithel's tiny books are literally the coolest things ever! I'm still working my way through the Binderary vids and I can't wait to get to hers. Six plays with form in mind-bending and truly innovative ways, and her blog is wonderland of tiny and fantastical book creatures.

@teleportbooks's binds are the definition of classy and refined. They're so good at designing their books according to the contents of the fic--their binding of Thirty-Three Lashes in particular is just the best design centered around fic content and title I've seen. Their designs always make me melt a little when I see them!

@no-name-publishing's endbands are to DIE for. Like fr I am in awe every time!!! And Kam's cover + title page designs are a huge source of inspo for me--forever in love with this bind of theirs, with the beautiful painted cover + matching endpapers T_T

And of course!!! I (and everyone else) wouldn't be here without our beloved leader, @armoredsuperheavy. He's the first binder that ever inspired me, and he continues to do so today!

22. Inspo: The fic that inspired you!

My original answer was also my answer for 27 ("First bind"), but I'm gonna say something a little different here! I usually know pretty quickly whether I'm interested in binding something, but very rarely has a fic gotten me hook, line, and sinker the way @that-banhus's King of Infinite Space did. Like, from the first line I was like "oh god I need to hold this one." And eventually I did! :3

23. Author spotlight: Someone you've bound

AHHHHHH this one is so hard too! I've bound a good number of authors over the years, many of whom are my dear friends, and to spotlight only a single one would be impossible. So I'm just going to poke @dodici12, whose killugon fic See You Upside Down is one of the best killugon reunion fics ever in my very humble hamster opinion. Hiiiii Tessa ilysm <333

24. Author spotlight: Someone you'd like to bind

OOOOOH. Many, many fics are in my queue. I'll keep them to myself for now, since I prefer to ask for author permission via DM, but atm I have my eye on a few Good Omens authors whose work I adore!

25. Favorite bind by you!

THIS ONE IS SO HARD AJLSKDJF. I love all my babies so much and I'm proud of what I was able to accomplish and what I learned from each of them. However, if you put a gun to my head and asked me to choose right now, I'd have to go with my most recent bind of Maybe sprout wings by @moorishflower. I'm really pleased with both its construction and particularly the curation of its contents, which includes the work of nearly a dozen people. It was my attempt at capturing the communal nature of fanfiction's creation and dispersal, and it was also my Big Project this Binderary. I'm ridiculously fond and proud of it!

26. Favorite bind by someone else!

THIS ONE IS SO HARD TOO HELP. Okay this is only one of my many many favorites, but dragging Space back out here again to say that her bind of Away Childish Things permanently altered my brain chemistry. Like, the cutout!!! The patronuses!!!! The title page cutout???? THE KEY??? Again, I held this book in my hands IN PERSON last year and I'm still not over it. The quality of the work is absolutely bonkers crazy incredible and I think about it Often.

27. First bind

The very first fic I ever bound was On Stranger Tides by @theroyalsavage. It's still one of my favorite fics ever today--it has the perfect blend of action/adventure, romance, humor, and fantasy. It gives me the good ol' "roaming the high seas with found family and magic and pirates" ache. It holds a very special place in my heart!

FINAL THOUGHTS

28. Latest bind

See 22! But for funsises, I'm also ridiculously fond of the binding before that, of @aboxthecolourofheartache's fic The Politeness of Princes, because I got to do lots of fun arts and crafty things with the cover!

This was my first year doing Binderary, and I had such a blast! It's so crazy seeing how far Renegade has come, from a little Discord for book shop chatting (ASH mentioned in one of the talks how it was just called, like, "Bookbinding Discord" at the beginning LOL) to now. We're well on our way to a proper organizational structure, with several yearly events, in-person meetups, and thousands of members all over the world. And we have so much more planned! It feels truly special, and I'm so grateful to everyone who makes this possible.

Okay!! That's all from me for today, folks. If you made it this far, thanks so much for reading! <3

[lestappenforever]

Max watching tit streamers anon here (I shall sign as 🍒 anon)

During quarantine, Max broke up with his then girlfriend Dilara. And well, ig he did need to fill an need of his so he went ahead and followed a bunch of insta models and also started watching tit streamers on twitch (idk if that's the proper term for them but yk they were "gamer" girls wearing some rather suggestive clothing).

People learnt about his endeavors on Twitch because he would comment stuff on these girls' streams and even make donations (i remember him making a donation and commenting sth abt the girl using the money to buy a simulator(?)) Our boy is not that creative with usernames so everyone could more or less understand it was him.

Now it's fair to mention that at the time Max had created an account on Twitch, which he streamed on, however quickly gave up on it. Plus he didn't use this account to comment on these girls' streams. He did so from his burner (?) account

When people found out they started pointing out his comments on Twitter and tumblr and I remember there being a post where they mentioned that Max had once wrote in some girl's that was wearing glasses chat that she looks like a "sexy teacher". The next day Charles had a stream and it was one of the first times he wore his glasses on stream, so some people considered it to be a funny coincidence (or not just coincidence we may never know👀)

Part 2:

🍒 anon again

"Regarding that particular stream Charles did (where he locked his now-ex gf out of the apartment) we have no clue whether Max watched it or not.

What we do know, though, is that Max liked Charles' tweet about it.

I remember lestappies in 2020 (that I'm pretty sure could be counted on like one hand), we were having a field day with it.

It was actually rather interesting that Max liked Charles' tweet given that this was back when they didn't use to be as close and used Lando as their messenger, as well as the fact that they do not follow each other on Twitter.

So this did raise the question as to how Max found out abt this tweet, but most concluded that he found out because Lando had interacted with it.

Really, lestappen and their relationship with each other back in the 2020 quarantine period is quite an overlooked chapter of their story, and it's filled with such small moments worth mentioning"

YOU CAME BACK! Thank fuck.

Okay, so during quarantine I was working retail in a grocery store and had to work harder and longer days than I had ever done in my life (and let me tell you, being an essential worker during the pandemic was exhausting), so I must have missed the comments on women's streams altogether. But I am so glad to have you, 🍒 anon, to fill me in on little things I might have missed over the years!

The 2020 quarantine era of Lestappen is definitely overlooked because there are so many gems like this that should get more attention. And Lando being the Lestappen carrier pigeon during this time is just one of those glorious gems.

Thank you so much for this, 🍒 anon! ❤️