Rocket: “We’re from the union.” Kraglin: “The union?” Rocket: “We represent workers in all intergalactic industries, both legal and illegal.” Kraglin: “Oh, of course.” Rocket: “Are you feeling at all degraded or oppressed?” Kraglin: “A little. We don’t even have dental.” Rocket, turning to Groot: “They don’t even have dental…”
a routine visit to the local bakery, you stumble upon an intriguing business
card and figure, what the hell. The business arrangement becomes…mutually
beneficial. Y’all know where this is going.
Word Count: 2,061
Warning: Tantric!Hoseok, therapist/client relationship, discussion
of BDSM, sex work, profanity.
A/N: This work is a byproduct of about
6 months of insomnia and 60-hour work weeks, which resulted in a series of
recurring dreams about Jung Hoseok which were…*fans self*
Genre: Smut - Inspired by a fic written by Admin JP + Say It by Tory Lanez.
Author: Admin Kaycie
Summary: Honesty was a trait you had always prided yourself in being strong in possession of, something your friends and fans all admired you for; so the day you announced you did not like Jeon Jungkook, they knew your words were true.
Tags: Dance room rendezvous, slow and sensual sex against the dance studio mirror wall, etc.
On mobile, sorry for any wonky formatting or overzealous autocorrect.
So this one happened a while ago at my video game store. We buy games people are done with, but such a transaction actually falls under my government’s pawn shop laws. To complete the transaction, we need a piece of photo ID - preferably a driver’s license - from someone over the age of eighteen. Now, I’ve seen some people try and get around this in creative ways, from using their government health cards (which we can’t accept, because they’re tied to confidential health information) to student ID cards. When we tell them no, the customer usually is pretty cool about it, and will come back later with proper ID, or mooch some off a friend.
Except for this guy. This happened probably in my second week of working at this store. We’ll call him “TG” for “Trade Guy”. MG is my manager.
TG: “Yeah, I wanna sell these games.”
Me: “Sure. I’ll need some photo ID to complete the transaction.”
TG: “I don’t have any. Can you take the games anyway?”
Because “need” clearly defines something as optional, right?
Me: “No, sir, it’s Canadian law. I need a piece of government-issued photo ID to complete the transaction.”
TG did not like this at all.
TG: “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, I NEED ID?! I DON’T HAVE ANY ID, THAT’S BULLSH!T YOU JUST DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO YOUR JOB. THE MANAGER LETS ME SELL GAMES TO YOU WITHOUT ID ALL THE TIME. I DROVE FORTY-FIVE MINUTES TO GET HERE TO SELL THESE GAMES AND YOU ARE GOING TO TAKE THEM.”
All in one breath. It would have been impressive, had it not been my second week on the job and I wasn’t scared out of my mind. Manager had my back though.
MG: “First of all, don’t talk to my associate that way, or I’ll have you escorted out. Second, it’s the law and she’s doing her job just fine. Third, I’ve never seen you before, and I am the manager. And lastly… if you drove forty-five minutes to get here, how can you not have ID on you? Don’t you need some kind of… I don’t know, a license to operate a motor vehicle?”
TG sputtered for a second, went very quiet, and left the store.
Dany looked at Khal Drogo. His face was hard and cruel, his eyes as cold and dark as an onyx. Her brother hurt her sometimes, when she woke the dragon, but he did not frighten her the way this man frightened her. “I don’t want to be his queen,” she heard herself say in a small, thin voice. “Please, please, Viserys, I don’t want to, I want to go home.” “Home!” He kept his voice low, but she could hear the fury in his tone. “How are we to go home, sweet sister? They took our home from us!” He drew her into the shadows, out of sight, his fingers digging into her skin. “How are we to go home?” he repeated, meaning King’s Landing, and Dragonstone, and all the realm they had lost. Dany had only meant their rooms in Illyrio’s estate, no true home, surely, though all they had, but her brother did not want to hear that. There was no home there for him. Even the big house with the red door had not been home for him. His fingers dug hard into her arm, demanding an answer. “I don’t know…” she said at last, her voice breaking. Tears welled in her eyes. “I do,” he said sharply. “We go home with an army, sweet sister. With Khal Drogo’s army, that is how we go home. And if you must wed him him and bed him for that, you will.” He smiled at her. “I’d let his whole khalasar fuck you if need be, sweet sister, all forty thousand men, and their horses too if that was what it took to get my army. Be grateful it is only Drogo. In time you may learn to like him. Now dry your eyes. Illyrio is bringing him over, and he will not see you crying.” Dany turned and saw that it was true. Magister Illyrio, all smiles and bows, was escorting Khal Drogo over to where they stood. She brushed away unfallen tears with the back of her hand. “Smile,” Viserys whispered nervously, his hand falling to the hilt of his sword. “And stand up straight. Let him see that you have breasts. Gods know, you have little enough as it is.” Daenerys smiled, and stood up straight.
A/N:…I don’t know why I keep writing smut. I- I can’t control myself.
Warnings: Cheating, Rough(ish) sex, Thigh riding, (Light)Choking, Dirty talk, Orgasm Denial, Cumplay, ya know, the typical stuff
“Two forty-nine,” was all you said under your breath when you realized that Sehun hadn’t come home. You just knew he was with her, the person he called his business partner. But it was so obvious that she was more than that. The way they exchanged smirks over business dinners or greeted one another “unexpectedly” while you two were on a date always seemed so off. You would have given Sehun props if he had managed to keep it on the low, but he managed to think that you were actually that fucking dumb.
You picked up your phone and dialed her number. He had the nerve to tell you that you should become friends with her. The closer you got to her, the more she smelled like a homewrecker that was out for the man you no longer claimed for yourself.
Request from anon: Can you do a story where you (a muggle-born Hufflepuff) go to dinner with the Malfoys, but they’re a little rude and snarky and Draco defends you?
Thanks for requesting anon, may I please note to you all that requests are in fact closed and I am writing requests from the queue. I hope you all enjoy:)
It was one of those summer nights, the ones where it doesn’t get dark until 9pm and everything feels light and happy and infinite. You were smiling as you were walking with Draco hand in hand; you didn’t think anything could ruin the light feeling of the soft wind rustling your hair as the gentle sun glittered down. That was, until you stepped inside the manor.
To say you weren’t what Draco’s parents were expecting would be an understatement. You’d finally convinced Draco to let you meet his parents after nearly a year and a half of dating; he said he didn’t want you to get hurt and over the course of the dinner you understood.
My tribute to our lord and savior, Mr Gerard Arthur Way, who finally made it to his forties! From one seventies child to another, welcome, sir!
You like fatherhood, comfy clothes, meditation, going for walks, and cats. You still can’t swim, you still can’t dance (much) and you still don’t know karate. Face it, you’re not getting any younger.
I don’t wanna be younger, I just wanna…
Well if you wanted youthfulness, that’s all you had to say. Cause I got genes to make you cry or make you go, how does he look this way? For all the Britpop looks, the photographs that Kerrang! took, Remember when I broke my foot from Frankie jumping onto me?
I’m not thirty I’m not thirty I’m not thirty You wear me out
What will it take to show you that MyChem is really dead? (I’m not thirty) I’ve told you time and time again but you can’t seem to get it in your head (I’m not thirty) You think Frerard was real, you loved it when my roots were teal But that was then and anyhow for the last time, I write comics now!
Forget about the Revenge looks The photographs my boyfriend that Frankie took You said you read me like a book, but the pages all are Doom Patrol
I’m forty I’m forty! I’m forty, now (I’m forty, now)
But you really need to listen to me Because I’m telling you the truth I mean this, I’m forty! (Trust Me)
I’m not thirty I’m not thirty Well, I’m not thirty I’m not thir-fucking-ty I’m not thirty I’m not thirty (Forty)
“I’ve heard of your methods before now, Mr.Holmes,” said he, tartly. “You are ready enough to use all the information that the police can lay at your disposal, and then you try to finish the case yourself and bring discredit on them “On the contrary,” said Holmes, “out of my last fifty-three cases my name has only appeared in four, and the police have had all the credit in forty-nine. I don’t blame you for not knowing this,for you are young and inexperienced, but if you wish to get on in your new duties you will work with me and not against me.”
Summary: daddy!Chris Evans x Reader where the reader is pregnant with Chris’s daughter, but she’s born prematurely and has to stay in the NICU for a while (as requested by @chanelzs) Word count: 1264 Warnings: birth, feels, fluff
Prompt: Tony has made a bet to see who could end up with the most fans, out of the Avengers, by the end of the month. Bucky takes it just to piss Sam off and Reader really wants to prove that she isn’t the least popular. Bucky and Reader team up to be a fake couple in order to beat the other Avengers, agreeing to split the prize at the end. Will it all work out?
A/N: The second part out in probably record time! I’m very thankful for the positive reception so far so hopefully, I don’t let you guys down. Thank you all again so much for reading.
Warnings: Not approved by Captain Rogers’ Potty Mouth Prevention Unit
“When was the last time you went on a date, Barnes?” You hissed. You and Bucky walked down the sidewalk, hand in hand. When Bucky told you his great idea for a first ‘date’, you were convinced he had it down to the very last detail. Dates, wardrobe, lines. Like it was some sort of reality TV show.
Right now, he was nervous. He tried to keep a cool face, but he was holding onto your hand a bit too tightly.
“A successful date or just date in general?” Bucky asked. You wanted to facepalm so badly, but you didn’t want to make him feel worse. Pretending was fun as children, but now it just felt like work. Fake smiling for this long already had your cheeks starting to hurt. It didn’t help that every time Bucky whispered in your ear, you had to force out an appropriate giggle. Half the stuff he said were bad jokes that made you want to groan, and the other half was trying to stay sane while proceeding with the mission.
As fake as you felt, the plan was clearly working. You knew that more than just a few people have taken snapshots of you two strolling down the busy boulevards of Manhattan all cute and couple-like. Not to mention the whispers on the street. The city’s street lamps weren’t the best lighting, but you were certain that the city lights reflecting on your long dress would be a great cover for US Weekly.
Your date didn’t look bad either. He was less Bucky and more James Buchanan Barnes. His hair was neatly tied and combed back, with a full tux and everything. “It’s gonna be okay.” You go to wrap your arm around his and lean in closer.
You cup your hands around Bucky’s ear. “I bet by this time tomorrow we’ll be on the front page of every tabloid.”
He let out a small rumble of laughter. Sometime about the sound made you want to smile as well. It was strange seeing him so happy, even if it wasn’t really genuine. You felt the tension leave his arm and the stiffness disappears from his walk.
“I know being carefree isn’t exactly your thing, but if it makes it easier just think about how great it’ll feel to win the contest,” you suggest. Bucky looks over to you with a smile and a sly twinkle in his eye. You were starting to see what all the ladies in the forties must have been chattering about. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“For one, gotta give the people some good angles,” Bucky said. You rolled your eyes and playfully slapped his chest. “Two, you have a leaf in your hair.”
Your hands dropped his, flying to your hair to comb it through. Lo and behold, a single ivy green leaf got caught by your fingers. “You didn’t think to tell me this before the lenses started clicking?” Your face blossomed in pink.
Bucky chuckled again, only to take you by the shoulders and turn you around. “We’re here.” This must have been the playful side of Bucky you always heard Steve reminiscing about. You stared at the name of the restaurant Bucky brought you to. “Bucky, this is like a three star Michelin restaurant. How did you-”
Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky held your hand and led you in. “I have my ways, doll, but I think you’re blocking the entrance.” You turned behind to see a small line of people all dressed in silks and formal wear impatiently tapping their leather shoes. “I may have done a lot of research on the computer. Having a billionaire’s worth of knowledge and stuff doesn’t hurt either.”
“Why did you pick this place anyway? Not that it isn’t amazing, but I think this venue is a bit upscale and stuffy for both our liking,” you said.
A single glance around the place and you already felt like a fake. Giant crystal chandeliers hung over each table, which itself was decorated in gleaming white cloth and golden embellishments. Each chair sat someone who looked of high society and money. “And now I feel ever faker than before,” you mutter.
Bucky didn’t seem phased, instead putting his arm around you and giving your shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Following the waiter, you were escorted to a semi-private table for two.
“Did I pick the perfect spot or what?” Bucky gloated.
“I’ll say, it’s going to be so easy to spy on us. Even more so than whenever Steve tries to leave with just a baseball hat on,” you observe.
“That hat trick worked more than a few times, I’ll have you know,” Bucky informed you as-a-matter-of-fact-ly. “But that’s not why this spot is so great. Look over there.” He tilted his head toward another table. There sat a bunch of people in white shirts, ties, and some sort of ID hanging from their necks. Cameras and similar equipment were scattered on chairs and the tables around the area as well.
“Journalists?” You gasp.
“Not just any old journalists. Rumor has it that every year the best of the news world meet here to plan out their award ceremonies and whatnot.” Bucky said. “And what a coincidence that we’re right in their field of view.”
You look away to gape at Bucky. He wore a proud smirk on his lips. “Bucky Barnes, you are a genius.”
“Nah,” he reaches across the table for your hand. You gladly take it. “Just what any old guy who wants to win a bet would do.”
“Trust me, you may be old but you’re not just any guy,” you muse. He looked up at you in surprise and a few mixed emotions, but you were already flipping through the menu and gawking at the kinds of food and their prices. “Jeez Bucky, I hope you managed to find the end of a rainbow in time because I can’t pay for this with my salary.”
“I feel like you’re starting to doubt my abilities to pull this off,” Bucky said. The two of you continued to laugh and joke around until the waiter came by again.
He looked up from his notepad, eyes widened. For a few seconds, his eyes went from Bucky to you to him again. You and Bucky shared a knowing look. “P-pardon me Madame, what would you like to order?”
Bucky gave you a final nod, signaling for you to get the snowball rolling. “It looks like you caught us!” You held your hands up jokingly. “Yes, it is I, H/N with Bucky Barnes. Don’t worry, we’re not here on a mission,” you say loudly. Already, a few people turned to look, including the table of journalists.
“What an honor, Miss H/N, m-might I offer you a list of our specials?” The waiter started to stammer.
As the wait staff walked away, you and Bucky couldn’t help but burst into small fits of laughter. “My goodness, do you think the entire restaurant heard?” You ask between breaths.
“I’m almost positive they did. You seem to have a natural talent for ruining the classy ambiance with your loud voice. Not that it isn’t charming,” Bucky winked.
You two continued the conversation, ever so slowly inching towards one another. It wasn’t long before your face was right in front of his. You stared into his blue eyes, as mischievous as ever. Bucky glanced to the left once. Tucking a stray hair behind your ear, he came even closer. “Are they watching?”
You try to sneakily glance at the reporters’ table as well. “Almost for certain, yeah,” you said. In an instant, he pressed into you lips first. You sucked in a breath, nearly forgetting to kiss back. It was quick, sweet, and eye-catching. You hoped you were correct in hearing a camera shutter go off. Pulling away, Bucky seemed breathless. He continued to look at you in that strange way. Not exactly romantic or infatuated. More like…genuine amusement.
“Well, Mr. Barnes?” You raise your eyebrows at him. He looked confused. “How would you say our first kiss went?”
He groaned, making you laugh. “Don’t get cocky on me now.”
“No promises,” you shrug. “Don’t look now, but I think our plan is being executed quite smoothly. Journalist coming in on your left.”
You both turned and saw a woman in a red skirt with a pen and paper in her hands. She stopped right in front of your table with an excited smile. “How are you? Janet Howards, Entertainment Weekly. It is such an honor to meet you both.” She shook both of your hands firmly. “My colleagues and I couldn’t help but notice you guys. Mind if we ask some questions?”
Without even looking, you knew that Bucky was beaming. “Of course not, although we’d like to keep it low-profile,” you lied. You and Janet Howards both knew that this was going to blow up by the end of the day.
The quickfire questions came a bit faster than you had thought they would, although you and Bucky still answered like you practiced. Were you really dating? Any plans for the future? What warranted such a special night out? Do any of the other Avengers know about your romance? The questions were handled like clockwork. You remembered to look at Bucky with a fond gaze every now and then, which he gladly returned.
The answers were simple. After a lot of reality-tv binge watching with Bucky and YouTube searches about celebrity couple interviews, the whole media industry became as predictable as snow in the mountains. You gave every ounce of juicy ‘gossip’ over, from a secret romance to helping each other heal to hiding it all away from the public eye until now.
Janet bit her lip, trying to contain the excitement as she furiously scribbled down every last detail you and Bucky fed to her. There were a lot of “you guys are so great together"s and “sorry if this is too personal, but"s. The entire act felt just like that. An act. A beautifully rehearsed, made-to-sell act.
As Janet finally left you two alone, you let out a deep breath. "So, how do you think it went?”
“You were perfect, doll,” Bucky complimented.
“Not so bad yourself, Buck,” you smile back. As the two of you finished your meals and walked back to the car, still holding hands, you couldn’t help but marvel and how smoothly tonight went. “You know, tonight was a lot easier than I thought it would be, thanks to you.”
“What do you mean?” Bucky asked. He opened the car door for you.
You sat inside and finally let yourself relax into the chair. “Well, I guess this fake dating thing couldn’t have possibly worked out well with just anyone. I guess I’m trying to say that I’m glad you’re my fake boyfriend.”
Bucky laughed again. Unlike on the streets or in the restaurant, this felt real. “And you’re the best fake girlfriend I could have asked for.” A bit hesitantly, he kissed you on the forehead. You smiled and stared out the passenger window. Even though the entire night felt plastic, the wind in your hair and Bucky’s lingering kiss made you feel a little more alright.
They say there is no greater pain in life, no greater loss one can feel, than that of a child. To lose a parent is eventual and inevitable. To lose a loved one is tragic, but tolerable. To lose a friend is heartbreaking, but the ability to move on is still there.
But not with a child.
Parents always presume their children will be the ones burying them, not the other way around. Children are brought into this world as a blank slate, a new face, a continuation of their parents’ legacy. And when that new fire of life is snuffed out far before its time, there’s no coming back from that. Marriages seldom stay together. Husbands and wives find themselves unable to be around each other. If they couldn’t even protect their child, what business did they have pretending they could still be happy together?
Forty-seven minutes. That’s how long it had been. For forty-seven minutes, you held her in your arms, feeling her skin growing colder, hearing her tiny heartbeat growing fainter, listening as her short breaths slowly faded away. For forty-seven minutes, you were the perfect family: you, your husband, your child. For forty-seven minutes, you’d been everything you’d ever wanted to be in life: a mother.
And when that forty-seven minutes was up, they took her away from you. They wrenched her from your arms, apologizing over and over again, saying that continuing to see her like that would only make things worse. What did they know? How dare they speak to you like they even knew? How dare they take your child away from you before you even had a chance to truly appreciate her beauty? You didn’t care that she had been gone almost from the moment she came out of you. You didn’t care about the psychological damage that could occur from continuing to hold her lifeless body in your arms. She was your daughter. And all you wanted was time with her. Because now she was gone forever. And you would never get that time back.
In the days following your return from the hospital, you had been like a ghost in your own house. Not eating. Not sleeping. Not engaging in conversation with your husband. Not even really existing. You were just…there. On the days when you actually found the strength to get out of bed, you wandered aimlessly from room to room, each one bringing more pain than the last.
First there was the living room, where you had sat nearly nine months ago, anxious but excited, as you waited for Spencer to come home from work, the positive pregnancy test in your hands. Or the kitchen, where your crazy food cravings refused to let you sleep, and you and Spencer had stayed up all night eating ice cream and coming up with the most ridiculous-sounding names for your little nugget (Makierity Sixty-Four was your personal favorite). Or your bedroom, where you had felt the baby kick for the first time, and Spencer had actually started crying as he proclaimed that he’d never been so happy in his entire life. Or the nursery, where the two of you had spent hours trying to put together the impossible-to-build crib only to have Morgan come by and assemble the damn thing in less than twenty minutes.
All of it, all of those beautiful memories, all of the good and the pure associated with those rooms, all of it was gone now.
But that wasn’t as heart-wrenching as the guilt that piled up in the pit of your stomach any time you looked into Spencer’s eyes. You had always hoped that your child would get his eyes. So bright and beautiful. They always had made you feel like you were the only person in a crowded room when he looked at you with them. They were gentle eyes full of love and compassion, both traits that Spencer had in abundance. You had always loved how they would soften when he would talk to the baby at night, filling its head with all kinds of wonderful stories and mind-blowing statistics. If he wasn’t careful, you would have another little genius on your hands.
But now, those eyes appeared lost and dazed. The hope in them had burned out. Now when you looked into them (something you found yourself doing less and less of as of late), you couldn’t help but feel that there was something else lurking behind the dark irises. Something past the pain and the heartache. And it was with this observation that you began to question: Does he blame me for what happened?
Now you knew Spencer would never say anything of the sort to you. After all, he’d been doing everything in his power to try to bring you out of your slump, even though you could tell it was taking everything in him not to fall apart completely. He’d had members of his team come by to try and cheer you up. JJ informed you that she, too, had suffered a miscarriage, and Hotch you knew had lost his wife to a serial killer. And while both of those were tragic in and of themselves, neither of them could truly understand the pain you experienced carrying someone inside of you for nine months only to lose them moments after bringing them into this world.
Forty-seven minutes. That’s all the protection you could provide her. Forty-seven fucking minutes.
He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve to be stuck in a house with someone who had taken away the one thing he wanted most. You knew early on that Spencer wanted to be a dad. You saw how much he loved and adored his godson Henry, and you wanted nothing more than the chance to give that to him. He deserved some bit of happiness to counteract with all the trauma he had endured in his life (you didn’t know all of it, but you knew enough to know that boy had suffered enough sadness to last him a lifetime).
But you couldn’t even do that. And that’s why you had to leave.
You waited until Spencer had left for work. He only recently started going back, and you were glad that he would have something to help distract him from everything that had been going on. Maybe with luck, he’d have a case which would permit him to be gone for a few days, giving you both time to clear your heads. Maybe when he came home and found you weren’t there, maybe you would both realize this was for the better. After all, why keep around someone who’s only going to cause you grief?
Leaving behind nothing but a hastily scribbled note stating that you were fine and that it would be in his best interest not to come looking for you, you set out. Where were you going? What was your plan? If you ever did plan to return, when would that be? All these were questions you hoped to answer while you were gone.
However, that was three days ago. And now you were currently sitting in a motel about twenty miles out of DC with no plans of where to go and what your endgame was. Your phone had been ringing so much that you finally turned the damn thing off, unable to listen to it anymore. Maybe thirty missed calls would give Spencer the hint that you didn’t want to talk to anyone. You just wanted to be alone. Alone to stew in your thoughts.
But after three days of drinking yourself nearly into a coma in this stuffy, ratty motel room, you couldn’t stand the isolation anymore. You needed to get out and go somewhere. Anywhere. Anyplace that had people. People who didn’t know you. People who would look at you with something other than sadness and pity. A place where you could start over and forget about the pain you had caused back home in Virginia.
As you loaded your bags into the back of the car and debated for a moment whether or not you should bother turning your phone back on, you heard a sudden beep coming from the glove box. There was only one thing in there that would be beeping like that, but there’s no way it was activated. You never gave that number out. There’s no way anyone would have called it…
You slowly reached over and opened the glove box, pulling out the old flip phone nestled underneath old receipts, insurance papers, and other random brochures you and Spencer had accumulated over the years. For the past few years, you had kept a separate phone in your car in case of emergencies only. You’d heard enough horror stories from Spencer about bad things happening to people stuck on the side of the road with a dead car battery and, even worse, a dead phone battery. Not wanting to ever find yourself in that situation, you always made sure to have your back up phone charged just in case the time called for it.
But you never gave the number out. You doubted Spencer even knew you had it. Not that you didn’t trust him, but you felt that the less people knew about it, the less chance there was of it ever going missing or being stolen. And yet, here it was, beeping up at you, flashing the message “1 New Voicemail.”
Probably just a wrong number, you thought to yourself. Someone calling looking for someone else. Or a telemarketer trying to sell me something. It’s nothing. I should just delete it.
But as your finger hovered over the ‘Delete’ button, curiosity got the best of you. Might as well see what this mystery caller wanted right? You’d had barely any human contact for the past three days. Might be nice to hear another voice.
However, as you hit the play button and brought the phone to your ear, your jaw instantly dropped and tears formed in your eyes as you heard your husband’s voice come through the speaker, sounding pained and choked with emotion.
“Y/N? I…I hope this is you. I had Garcia do some digging and she found this number registered in your name. Your maiden name. I take it you’ve had it for a while then. I figured it must be for emergencies or something, but that doesn’t matter right now. I just need you to hear me. I just need to tell you that…I miss you. I miss you so much. And also to tell you that…I understand why you left.
“I know everyone can say that they understand your pain and that they know what you’re going through, but they don’t. No one truly understands your pain like you do. Even I don’t, and I hate that I don’t. I saw the hurt in your eyes every time you looked at me. And I hated that I couldn’t take it away. I hated that you were in so much pain, and that I couldn’t fix it. Believe me, I wish that our lives had turned out the way we wanted. You, me, our daughter. One happy family.
“But maybe that wasn’t what our life was meant to be. I know it’s hard to hear it, sweetheart, but sometimes that’s how things go. What’s most important to know is that this wasn’t your fault. No part of this was your fault. And if that’s what you’re afraid of, I want to assure you that I don’t blame you, Y/N. I never blamed you, and I never will blame you. What you gave me was the most beautiful thing anyone could ever ask for. It may have been brief, but it was perfect. That moment…those few minutes with our daughter…they were perfect.
“And maybe one day we’ll get that moment back. Maybe one day we’ll get to try again. But even if we don’t, that’s okay too. Because if this whole situation has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t want to spend another minute of my life without you. All I really need to be truly happy is you. And though it may seem like this ache will never go away, I promise you it will. I promise that I will never stop loving you, and I promise that we can get through this. Together.
“Please, Y/N. If this is you and you’re out there, come home. Please. Come back home to me. I have nothing in my life if I don’t have you. I love you so much, and I want to help make this right. If you get this, if you’re listening…remember that I love you. Always have, always will.”
The message ended, but you hardly noticed as you sunk forward in your seat, your face buried in your hands, as sobs wracked your body. You always knew that Spencer had loved you unconditionally, but to hear it all laid out there like that…you couldn’t understand why you even left in the first place. How could you have left someone like that? How could you have believed a man like that would ever blame you for something you both knew deep down wasn’t truly your fault? How could you even be considering leaving behind the best thing to ever happen to you?
When you had lost your daughter, you thought your life was over. You thought there was no way either of you could ever come back from this. But you had evidently severely underestimated your husband and all the good he truly had to offer you. He didn’t blame you. He wasn’t angry about what happened. All he wanted was you, back in his arms, safely. Who were you to deny him that? Who were you to walk away from a love like that?
You glanced down at the glittering band on your left hand. You’d always said that you would never give your heart away to just anyone. It had to be someone truly special. Someone who would never hurt you like you’d been hurt in the past. And you knew, five years ago, when Spencer had slipped that band over your finger, when he had made that promise to love you for better or for worse, you always assumed he would mean it. And now this was it. This was the proof you needed. For better or for worse. That’s what you had told each other.
It took some time to calm yourself down, but once your crying had stopped, you found your mind to be clear. You knew what you had to do now. This self-destruction was getting nowhere. You knew the healing process was going to be long and it was going to be hard. But you also knew that with your sweet, loving husband by your side, there was nothing you two couldn’t overcome, so long as you overcame it together.
It was late when you finally pulled into the driveway. You half-expected Spencer to be asleep, or maybe even still at work. You knew how he had a tendency to stay late when his head was too full and he wasn’t ready to face home. However, to your surprise, as you got out of the car, the porch light suddenly flicked on. Seconds later, the front door creaked open, and there he stood, looking about as disheveled as you (clearly neither of you had been doing a lot of sleeping lately). But as you stepped closer, you saw it: for the first time since this all happened, his eyes lit up at the sight of you. As if nothing brought him more joy than the sight of you right here, right now.
“Y/N…” he whispered, as if he couldn’t believe you were really here. You opened your mouth to respond, but found yourself unable, and instead fell gratefully into his welcoming arms. And as he held you tightly, nuzzling his head into your neck, as you sobbed on his shoulder, clinging to him for dear life, you realized that this was truly where you belonged. Things would get better in the end, so long as you had Spencer.
It may have taken forty-seven minutes for you to lose your child, but it only took about forty-seven seconds for you to realize that not all had been truly lost in the world.
This is a follow on from ‘Biscuit | Alfie Solomons’
“What about ‘im, pet?”
“Look at him.”
“I am, yeah.”
“No, you’ve got your eyes closed. Look at him, Alf.”
You’d been sat up in bed for a good thirty minutes whilst Alfie snored beside you. His arm flopped over your lap and Biscuit lay across both of your legs. His head rested between them as he looked up to you. He was sad and every time he sighed you swore to God he broke your heart.
He eventually started to move with a grumble as he turned to sit up beside you. His hand wiped at his face trying to brush away sleep before he folded his arms across his chest.
“Right, I’m looking at ‘im, yeah?”
When Alfie spoke Biscuit turned his head ever so slightly, the folds of skin around his eyes lifted and creased at his forehead.
“Something’s the matter, Alf.”
You turned to look up to Alfie and even he looked a little concerned as you both sat in silence for a long moment.
We were burning out bright
And I had to stop the flames
So I did what I always do-
What I do best
From all of it
Those frightening feelings
And the weight and depth they carried within me
I escaped all of it
But I missed you for forty days
And then I did what I never do
I asked for you to come back
And I want to write out my feelings on every planet and star and
Light up the sky for you
So glad you are back I am
So happy to have you here again.
Okay, So I guess this will be a series if you want?
Given by anon. Not gonna put it all cuz it’ll spoil it all ;) Just know, baby Liam and daddy Derek <3
This made me really happy while writing.
Rating: Do you really care? There’s cussing, that’s it =)
You were out hanging with Scott and Stiles, eating at some restaurant near the high school. You were asking normal questions. How is school? Are your grades good? Any new werewolves? Y’know the normal stuff. You stuffed your face with some waffles. Breakfast just seemed like a good idea at the moment, even if it was six at night.
It was nice, until you got a call from the house phone, of course. If someone called from there, it was important. Stiles’ head shot up as he recognized the ringtone of Stewie’s voices yelling mom. Scott looked up slightly before continuing to eat.
“Momma Hale speaking.”
“Y/N, that’s how you answer the phone? Nevermind, you need to come over like right now. It’s like code fucking red.“
Scott’s eyebrows rose at the sound of Derek’s urgent voice.
"Uh, okay, I’ll be there in like five minutes.” You said before he hung up. You sighed and looked up at the boys. “Looks like I’m going to have to leave. Take forty, that should be enough for all this,” you said as you dropped two twenties on the table. “Um, Don’t do drugs, be safe, see you guys later.”
- Jack and Y/N don’t get along at all and are forced to sped the day together-
-Sorry I haven’t been writing much lately, Ive been drowning in schoolwork.-
You were at your apartment with your group of friends. You were in your bedroom looking around for the two tickets you had bought a couple days ago. You were supposed to take your boyfriend but he decided to dump you two weeks before hand.
They were for a play and you were sure you could go on your own if worse came to worse. Maybe you could take one of the boys. When you find them you hold them up and say, “victory” proud of yourself.
You walk out of your bedroom and find Caspar, Joe, Josh, and Mikey all sitting on their phones. Oli was out of town on a book tour and Conor was on his way over with Jack.
“Do any of you want to go to a play?” you ask anxious to get a yes from someone.
No-one jumps up from excitement and you instantly felt rejected. After a minute of silent Joe finally gives in with a groan.
“I can’t today I’m too busy with editing” Joe gives you a small pout and you look to the other three.
“Josh and I have lunch plans and Mikey has that Tinder date” they all nod to you and you groan.
“Conor is coming over with Jack soon so maybe take one of them” Joe gives you the option and your eyes twitched as he said Jack’s name.
“I’ll ask Conor” you say walking away into your bedroom.
Out of all of the boys, Jack was your least favourite. Everything about him made you fire up inside and you wanted to smack him for most things he said. You knew he was definitely not fond of you either and the two of you both always tried to not be alone together. You always had to go out in groups so the two of you didn’t argue. When there was no other choice, the two of you would talk and one thing would lead to another and you’d be yelling.
You change into a cute dress which was cropped in the front but attached in the back. It was dark blue and looked great on you. You let your hair fall and you brush it out so it sat nicely.
You hear your apartment door close and you were excited to see if Conor could come.
“Hey Con” you smile brightly as you walk up and hug him, ignoring his younger brother.
“Wow you look great” Conor says, looking to the guys with a confused face, “Did you and i have plans?” he turns his head back to you.
“No but would you like to?” you ask pulling the tickets out magically.
“Ohh, Y/N I wish I could but I was gonna take Jack home in a bit and then make a video with Alex” Conor gives you a small frown and you sigh, “maybe Jack-“
Before Conor could continue his sentence you bluntly said no. Conor was taken by surprise and you look to Jack to see his face fire up. “Good cause i didn’t want to go, not if its with you” Jack fires back and you had to stop yourself from yelling at him.
“You guys have to go together” Conor says angrily and you and Jack were both confused at his anger, “I’m sick and tired of you two not getting along, you’re going, Jack I’m leaving so you cant get home until you go with her” Conor gives you a quick hug and then leaves.
You look to Jack and frown.
“Looks like you got yourself a date Y/N” Joe laughs, stopping when you glare at him. There was still an hour before you had to leave and the boys all hung out for about forty minutes before they left too.
Eventually you were stuck in a room with only Jack and it was silent. You were both on your phones.
“Are you really gonna wear that?” Jack teases your dress.
“Yes i am and you’re gonna be seen with me” you angrily say, not removing your eyes from your phone. You became a little insecure about your choice during the silence which followed that conversation and you decided to get up and change.
You hear Jack chuckle when you get up but you ignored him. You search through your wardrobe once again for an outfit and struggle. You didn’t know how you would look in anything. You didn’t know why you wanted to impress Jack, but you did.
Finally you find yourself a short black dress which was loose at the bottom but tight fitting around the top. You throw it on and head out to see Jack in the same position you left him in. He looks up from his phone briefly and lets out a small grin at your outfit before quickly hiding it.
“Is something wrong?” you ask crossing your arms.
“Didn’t think you’d actually change” Jack laughs.
“Because I didn’t think id be able to distract you from the time” Jack nods his head towards a clock and you turn your head to look at it.
“Shit Jack, we were supposed to me there 10 minutes ago!” you yell. Jack did a pretty damned good job at distracting you, considering you thought you had way more time.
You quickly call a cab and grab your purse to wait outside with Jack. The entire cab ride there was silent besides your foot tapping angrily. When you get there you run up to the front desk and show them your tickets. Jack followed shortly behind you.
The lady stared at your tickets and glared at the two of you huffing from rushing to the play.
“Sorry, no access for people who are late” she points to the sign behind her and you could feel the hatred in her eyes.
With out throwing a fit, you simply walk out of the building silently with Jack right next to you.
“I didn’t know they could do that” Jack says to you to break the silence.
You felt tears starting to form, you didn’t know why, but they were there, “Jack Maynard, you’re a dick” you say as tears begin to fall lightly.
“I’m a dick? I didn’t mean for you not to see the play!” he yells and you jump back from him.
His face lightens when you jump and you could tell he felt bad. Before he could say any more, you turned away from him and started walking. You didn’t want to get in a cab with him. It was only a play but you’ve been planning to see it for a while and you were excited.
On your walk home, you dried your eyes and just walked silently when a cab rolled up beside you. The door opens and you see Jack inside, he hands the driver money and then jogs to catch up to you.
“Y/N, look I’m really sorry” Jack says with a sincere look in his eyes.
“It’s whatever” you say angrily, not looking at him.
He stops you from walking and pulls you over to the side of the side walk. He looks you in the eye and you look away from him.
“Look, I’m really fucking sorry I’m such a dick to you” he apologizes again.
“You can say sorry but that doesn’t mean anything will change!” you yell, tears forming again.
“Well maybe we can just start over and try to be friends, I don’t think you’re that bad sometimes” he says giving you a half hearted smile. You laugh and he smiles wider, “see it is possible to get along”.
You shrug your shoulder in response, “I guess it wont hurt to try”.
“Exactly, now can i take you to a movie to make up for the play?” he asks trying to make up for what happened.
“Sure, but it’s not a date” you lay down the rules.
“C’mon, it wouldn’t be that bad if it was, would it?” Jack asks with a cheeky smirk.
“No it wouldn’t, but its not what i want right now” you laugh pushing his shoulder.
He nods his head and the two of you call another cab and go to the movies. You and Jack started to get along and you were surprisingly happy in his company.