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penmansparadise · 25 days

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Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

Y/N was no stranger to death. It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake. Death practically ran in the water. Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer. She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living. She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie. Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral. But this time, it was different. She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else. There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her. The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend. The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price. No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move. She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be. If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground. It had only been a few days. It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed. The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten. She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her. Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people. She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter. It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done. If only her aching heart would catch the memo. Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon. “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance. Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head. She was supposed to be happy. She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy. She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl. But she wasn’t. Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn. One day. That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result. Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman. A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin. That day had started like any other. Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room. The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy. Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother. She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss. The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her.

“I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench. Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father. She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

“You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

“Of course I will be, Mommy. I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.” He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height. “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas. How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower.

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.” She told her son. The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks.

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery. It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room. She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm. The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them. She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child. A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.” She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles. “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much. And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too? I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.” Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up. He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there. Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said. Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her. He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body. Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers. When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face. She was beaming. She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real. Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery. Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls. It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?” Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband. “I just love you. That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin. Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk. The rest of the day went by like any day usually went. She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading. Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office. She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house. It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen. When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler. “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.” She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach. “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement. Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak. “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?” His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face.

“Resting? I rest all day. Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing. I actually miss being in the kitchen. It’ll be nice. Therapeutic.” She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them. When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen.

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine. Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner. It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle. She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again. She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator. About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips. The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms. It’s just the baby getting comfortable. The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix. She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room. Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it. She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat. That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat. She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together. She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile. Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her.

“How do you like the meal?” She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth. “I love it, Mommy! This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food.

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side. “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay? Should I have Frances phone the doctor?”

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband. “I’m fine, darling. I promise. Let’s just finish dinner.” She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again. He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat. She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed. The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous. She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs. She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes. She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps. It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy. He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her. She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart. Something is wrong. She thought. This shouldn’t be happening. I’m too early. Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room. His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada. She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs. Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed. What about the sheets? I’m going to ruin the bed.

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love. We’ll get another one if we have to.” The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping. She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway. When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan. She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben. Something is wrong. Something is not right. Those words chanted in her head like a mantra. Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here. We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase. She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her. Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks. She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push. But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan.

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears. Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans. She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late. The pressure was building. Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief. Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came. She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada. They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right.

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew. The silence was deafening. She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing. Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail. The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in. He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?” He asked.

It was a girl. I had a baby girl. Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?” Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song. She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair. He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her. His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking. His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words. “I love you, Y/N.” She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt. “You know that, ey? I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon. She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them. When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held. Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone. Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling. Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away. Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest. It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal. It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite. It was something Y/N had never felt before. She was usually understanding, calm, and collected. She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked. But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage. Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her. She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened. 1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now. She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too. He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with. No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself.

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N. He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested. If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself. She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben. When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something. She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work. She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.” She needed a distraction. Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances. But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking. She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk.

“Ada’s handling the Communists. She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated. “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket. “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off. “I already know.” That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly. Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room. There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers.

“So, what’s your plan, brother?” Arthur asked like a good soldier. Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable. He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag.

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation. Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement. None of them moved. It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war. Tommy cleared his throat.

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way. I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help. He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke. She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders. Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face. It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do. Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her. She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier. Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable. Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy. She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights. Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried. But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke.

“Excuse me?” Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word. There was no going back now. Y/N had to double down on her commitment. So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk.

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick. She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air. She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground. She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to. Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway. Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N. Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare. She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past. But now, she didn’t care. She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss. Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides. His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?” He finally asked, his voice level. Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly. But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!” He shouted, causing her to startle. “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red. In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that. Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy. “Is that not what you did? Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter? You threw yourself into your work. Why can’t I do the same thing?” Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes. She hated that she was a frustrated crier. Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed. She was ready for a fight. She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her. In fact, she wanted him to yell at her. She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind. She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling. Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby. She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife. But he didn’t yell. The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened. The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape. She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile. The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her. He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch. It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him. She couldn’t lie, she missed him. But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on.

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes.

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper. “Let me help you. Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear. He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts. She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes. I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago. I’m a failure as a woman and a mother. I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive. I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become. Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before. She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless. But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it.

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut. She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury. It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting. Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately. Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished. Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy. She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left. But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood. There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy.

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers. “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?” He said, his breath fanning over her face. He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego. She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body. All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking. She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down. Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something. With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband. She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared. Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat. “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.” She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest. Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong.

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door. Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity. She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace. Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will. You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh. “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas. It’s a promise.” Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out.

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home. She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore. This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur. “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words. Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles. She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help. The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind. She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

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penmansparadise · 9 months

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Eddie Munson ~ The Yuletide Bluff

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Mild language

a/n: Well, it has definitely been a while since I've written anything. I really hope you all enjoy this, and I'm sure you will notice that I gave myself some room to either write another part or leave it where it ended. Let me know what you all think!

Sunday evenings used to be your favorite thing in the world. You loved having your family gather for dinner at your house. Your mom and aunts would be busy in the kitchen, hands at work creating a delicious meal while your uncles and dad sat in the living room watching ESPN, beers in hand. Your baby cousins would be running around squealing as they played, and your older cousins would just sit and watch before being elicited to help in the kitchen. It was totally and wonderfully normal and something you could never get enough of. That is until you started your senior year of high school.

It wasn’t bad in the beginning. Your mom and aunts would ask if you had a crush on anyone here and there, and that would be it. But the farther into your senior year you got, those innocent questions turned into badgering from every female member of your family.

“You’re graduating soon,” your aunt would say, giving you a pitiful look. “Don’t you want to begin adulthood with that special someone?”

“Your cousin Adriana has had a boyfriend since sophomore year, you know?” Another Aunt would say as if it were some sort of backhanded comment.

It was now the first week of December, nearly halfway through your senior year, and they hadn’t let up. So, when the hordes of your family began to file into your house while you were perched on one of the bar stools in your kitchen, you couldn’t help the way your molars ground down. You gave everyone a halfhearted smile and kiss on the cheek as they made their way to their usual places.

For the first hour or so, no one bothered you. You were able to comfortably sit at the bar, listening to the radio lull over the conversation filling the kitchen. It wasn’t until your cousin plopped into the seat next to yours that your bubble of solitude popped.

“Hey, Y/N,” she said, her lips curling upward into a devious grin.

You gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Adriana.”

She toyed with one of the bangles on her wrist and crossed her legs. You knew what was coming before her eyes landed back on yours.

“My mom tells me you’re still unlucky in love.”

God, you wanted to smack the smug look right off her face. But you didn’t. Instead, you fisted your hands in your lap and hummed.

“Has she now?”

Adriana sighed, “Yeah, we’re all worried about you, hon. I mean, I know not everyone can get as lucky as Carlo and me, but still.”

You knew all too well how “lucky” your cousin and her longtime boyfriend were. They had a chance meeting in the library in the 10th grade, and the rest was history. Now, you had to watch her and Carlo walk around Hawkins High like they were a teenage version of Tommy Lee and Heather Locklear.

Adriana placed a hand on your knee and gave a pout.

“I just feel terrible watching you all by yourself all the time,” she said, giving your knee a little squeeze.

Typically, you contained your emotions when faced with adversity. Usually, the constant harassment from your family about still being single didn’t get under your skin. You could brush it off. But when Adriana poked her bottom lip out in an overdramatic pout and said, “And with Christmas just around the corner, I can’t even imagine how lonely you must feel right now,” you snapped.

Your fists balled in your lap, and before you could even think of the ramifications, you blurted out, “I’m not alone. I have a boyfriend.”

It was as if a record scratched at your statement. The hustle and bustle of the house came to a screeching halt, and all eyes fell on you. The weight of your words landed on you, but it was too late. Your mom and aunts had already started swarming you, smiles spread across their faces. Their rapid-fire questions flooded your head, but you could only focus on one person: Adriana. Her brows furrowed, and her eyes narrowed as she slowly removed her hand from your leg and crossed her arms.

“Who is it?” She asked, not even trying to cover her skepticism.

Your heart was racing as you began to babble.

“Oh, um, I don’t think that’s really important.”

“I think it is,” Adriana began looking at the other women in the room. “Don’t you?”

They all agreed in unison before silencing and waiting for you to speak. You coughed.

“You probably don’t even know him, so…”

Adriana ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and began tapping her fingers against her arm.

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

You swallowed. The thought of confessing crossed your mind. You could tell everyone you were just joking, and they would just laugh and not think you were completely pathetic. But you knew that wouldn’t be the case. You dropped your gaze to your lap and sighed, seconds away from admitting defeat, when your eyes landed on the shirt you had forgotten you were wearing. The crimson red of the horned devil sitting stark against the white fabric covering your body and the telltale die of your favorite game floating next to it. You raised your eyes to meet Adriana’s again, mustered as much fake confidence as possible, put on your most believable smile, and said, “Eddie.”

His name came out more like a prayer than a statement. Your mom and aunts began cooing in your ear again, but Adriana reared back slightly, and her lips curled up into a grimace.

“Eddie?” She asked. “Like Eddie Munson? That kid you play that stupid board game with?”

The insult slapped you in the face, and you ground your teeth together again.

“First of all,” you said through gritted teeth, “DnD is not a stupid board game. Secondly, yes, that Eddie Munson.”

The squeals of excitement from behind Adriana filled the room, but you ignored them. You could tell that Adriana didn’t believe you, which didn’t surprise you. You barely knew Eddie. He had only recently taken you into Hellfire after you heard they needed a stand-in for Lucas one night and offered to do it. The two of you never hung out aside from Hellfire and lunch. You didn’t go out of your way to be around him; the same went for him. When you thought about it, you wouldn’t even really consider yourselves friends. If anything, you were acquaintances that barely said more than a few words to each other. Adriana had no reason to believe that you were dating Eddie, and she made it blatantly clear.

“How long has this been going on?” Adriana asked.

“Oh, you know,” you said, waving your hand around, “about a month or so.”

The joy that spread across your mom’s face was unmistakable, and the guilt of what you created began to claw at your stomach.

“Why haven’t you brought him home yet?” Your mom asked, taking your hands into hers.

You stared into her excited eyes and, without even a second thought, said, “I was planning on bringing him home for Christmas dinner.”

Everyone in the kitchen burst into joyous cheers. You gave them a weak smile, but all you could think was that you were going to need a bigger shovel to help dig the hole you were putting yourself into. You feigned excitement for the rest of the evening, barely getting through dinner without vomiting from the guilt and nerves wrestling in your gut. When everyone finally left, you showed yourself to your room and plopped down onto your bed, only beginning to process the shit show you just created.

The next day, you felt like you had cinder blocks tied to your ankles. You had barely been able to sleep the night before as the thought of what you said bounced around in your brain. All night you tried to think of a way to get around the situation you created, but you came up with nothing. By the time the sun started rising, it was very clear what needed to be done. You had to convince Eddie to go along with your plan.

You couldn’t focus on any of your classes as you stared at the clock, watching the seconds tick by, trying to muster up as much confidence as possible before you faced Eddie. You played a million scenarios in your head, and every one of them ended with him laughing in your face and you walking away with absolutely none of your dignity intact. The thought made you sick.

Each period passed by slower than the next until you were finally released for lunch when you reluctantly carried yourself through the halls toward the cafeteria. You knew what you had to do, and you were going to do it. You were going to ask Eddie to pretend to be your boyfriend, and it was going to be okay. At least that’s what you told yourself all the way up until you stood at the doors of the cafeteria. When you saw Eddie sitting at his usual lunch table with the rest of the Hellfire Club, all the courage you had vanished. In its place was a hollow void slowly filling with the dread of having to face the consequences of your reckless statements.

You stood in the entryway for another moment before carrying yourself to the table and sitting with the rest of the club. After giving a halfhearted wave to everyone, you retreated into your thoughts. Your mind was racing, and your stomach churned as you sat nibbling on your bottom lip. You had no idea what you were going to do. Maybe you could tell everyone Eddie wasn’t the one, and you broke up…after only one month…and so conveniently before the Christmas dinner, you said you would bring him to. You shook your head and let out a sigh just before a hand landed on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality. When you looked up and saw Eddie staring down at you, you almost choked.

“You okay?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing just slightly.

Your mouth opened and shut a few times, but nothing came out. The cafeteria was almost empty, and the rest of the Hellfire boys had already left. You were so caught up in your panic-ridden thoughts you didn’t even hear the bell ring. When you looked back to Eddie, the concern that was etched on his face only deepened, and he shifted on his feet a little, his hand never leaving your shoulder. The warmth from his palm and coolness from the rings on his fingers seeped through your shirt as he waited patiently. Your breathing grew shallow as your anxiety swelled in your chest. Eddie’s soft brown eyes held your gaze until you finally swallowed and took a shaky breath.

“I need to talk to you,” you said, your voice tinny compared to your normal vibrato. “In private.”

Eddie’s troubled look never left his face as he removed his hand from your shoulder and used his head to motion toward the door.

“Come with me,” he said, and you didn’t waste any time, grabbing your bag and following him out the door.

When you said you needed to talk to Eddie in private, you were thinking maybe in your car or under the bleachers. What you didn’t expect was to trudge behind him as he made his way through the woods surrounding the football field. Your heart was racing, and it wasn’t only because you were unfamiliar with where Eddie was taking you. But before you had time to even dwell on your emotions, a beat-up wooden picnic table sitting by itself in the middle of a clearing came into view. It looked like something out of a horror movie. You couldn’t help but look around and make sure there wasn’t some sort of sacrificial altar Eddie was about to pin you to.

“Are you going to kill me out here?” The question fell from your lips before you could stop it.

Eddie chuckled as he made his way toward the table.

“Calm down, Y/N. I have more reason to be scared of you.”

The compliment landed somewhere in the center of your chest, but you felt it all over your body. Eddie took a seat and then motioned for you to do the same. Your cheeks felt like they were on fire as you slid onto the bench across from Eddie.

“So,” he began, folding his hands on the table, “what’s on your mind? What do you need to talk about?

Oh, don’t tell me,” his back stiffened a little, and his calm demeanor shifted. “Did that little shithead Henderson come onto you again? Because I don’t have any problem putting him in his place again.”

You reared back a little and shut your eyes, shaking your head.

“What? No, no. And trust me, if Henderson ever tried that shit again, I’d be able to handle it on my own.”

Eddie’s lips pulled upward on one side, revealing a crater of a dimple on his cheek.

“I don’t doubt that at all, Y/N.”

Your body buzzed under his stare as his words blanketed you in an electric current you were unfamiliar with. It was nice, and you found yourself wondering why this was the first time you had ever spoken to this boy alone. You shook your head.

“Anyway,” you said, swatting your thoughts away, “um, I actually have a favor to ask you.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. You wrung your hands together in your lap, doing everything you could to avoid looking at Eddie directly. You felt like your insides were going to implode as sweat beaded on your forehead. This was a mistake. There was absolutely no way you were going to be able to do this. But when you finally brought your eyes to meet Eddie’s, that same worried look from before was planted on his face.

“Y/N, is everything okay?”

You gulped the bile that was steadily crawling up your throat and said, “I’ve gotten myself into a bit of a situation, and I need your help.”

His stare softened.

“What is it?”

You don’t know what made you say it. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he would do anything for you; all you had to do was ask. Or the way he gave you his full and undivided attention, even though you were being so cryptic. Or maybe there was still a small part of you that thought he might sacrifice you out in the middle of those woods and so why not throw caution to the wind. Whatever it was, you rolled your shoulders back, looked Eddie Munson straight in the eye, and said, “I need you to be my fake boyfriend.”

His eyes grew to the size of saucers, and his mouth fell slightly agape. When he didn’t say anything at first, you immediately stood up and began to pace.

“I know that is a really weird favor to ask, but I’ve been dealing with my family constantly on my ass about not having a boyfriend for years now. And I didn’t care, really, I didn’t, until my stupid cousin had to get under my damn skin last night. She started going on about how she and her boyfriend Carlo are so happy and lucky and how I must feel so alone, especially with Christmas right around the corner. So, what did I do? Instead of giving her a ‘fuck you’ smile, I blurted out that I actually do have a boyfriend. And unfortunately for me, my whole family heard. They were happy, but Adriana had to start sticking her nose in my business…again and asked who it was. Well, I didn’t know what else to do or who else to say. I tried to tell her she didn’t know the guy, but she insisted, and so I just,” you paused, sucking in a deep breath and looking back at Eddie, “I said it was you, and I said that I was going to bring you home for Christmas dinner and now they’re all expecting to meet you.”

You stood across from Eddie, who was frozen in his seat. The utter surprise was plain as day on his face.

“Wow,” was all he said before the silence of the secluded woods surrounded the two of you.

You waited another moment, hoping that Eddie would say something. Anything. But he didn’t, so you continued.

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I don’t expect you to do it for free.”

Eddie’s face went from surprised to mortified within a matter of seconds.

“What?”

You shook your head.

“Not like that. I heard you say you’re struggling in Ms. O’Donnell’s class the other day. I know you need to pass her final to graduate.”

The panic that was once present on his face vanished as you continued.

“I can help you. I’ll be your tutor for the rest of the year and make sure you pass and graduate. All I need you to do is pretend to be my boyfriend for the next few weeks, put on a good show for Christmas dinner, and then we can fake breakup and act like this whole transaction never took place.”

Eddie stared at you, his fingers idly spinning one of his many rings. You couldn’t help the way your eyes traveled down to his hands and watched, mesmerized. How had you never noticed how big his hands were? The thought sent a surge through your body, and you had to bury the unholy thoughts that started to emerge in your brain.

“I just have to pretend to date you for the rest of the month, and you’ll help me graduate?”

Your eyes flicked back up to meet his, and you nodded.

“Yes.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” you parroted.

Eddie sat still for a second before smacking his hands against the wooden table and slowly standing up. He rounded the table until he was standing directly in front of you. You swallowed your nerves down.

“Well?”

His lips tugged upward on one side again, putting that dimple on full display before he gave a dramatic bow. His hair fell over his face, but he still managed to look up at you through hooded eyes, sending your insides into a whirl of spasms.

“Consider me your knight in shining armor,” he said before standing back up with a flourish.

You could feel your shoulders relax as a small laugh bubbled out of you. A part of you was kicking yourself for not getting to know Eddie before now. Sure, you had always thought he was cute, but you never really gave your friendship, or lack thereof, much thought. That was until you thrust the two of you into this weird business transaction.

Your lips spread into a wide grin as you held back the urge to hug Eddie.

“Thank you so much. You won’t regret this. I promise.”

He let out a chuckle that seemed to vibrate through you.

“I wouldn’t have agreed if I thought I might regret it, Y/N. Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together, “when do we start?”

You paused for a minute, not having thought the logistics through since you didn’t even think, you would get this far. But eventually, you let out a huff, gave Eddie a nervous smile, and said, “Right after we create some ground rules.”

Then, you proceeded to dig a pen and paper out of your bag, sat down at that dilapidated table, and looked up at Eddie.

“Shall we?”

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader

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penmansparadise · 1 year

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Want You Back [L.H.] // Youngblood Song Fic Series

Disclaimer: Second installation of my Youngblood Song Fic Series. No parts have anything to do with each other, they can all be read individually ((though I’d love for you to read them all!)).

All Installations: Youngblood [C.H.] | Lie To Me [L.H.] | Better Man [C.H.] | Monster Among Men [C.H.] | Ghost Of You [L.H.]

Want You Back [L.H.]—I remember the roses on your shirt when you told me this would never work // You know even when I say I moved on, yeah I still dream for you.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

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Skating Coach with Adrian Kempe

A/N: Kempe fan club, unite!!! I am so happy there are so many of us. I love writing for players that don’t get a ton of love in the hockey writing community ( along with Nico who we are all disgustingly obsessed with, its fine). As someone who has loved more obscure players over the years, I know the joy it brings 😘 This idea came form this request.

Next up on that list of players is: Trevor Moore !!!!

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Swearing, hinting at smut

It’s L.A. family skate day at the end of another early, ending season. My boyfriend, Adrian, and I have been taking things at a slower pace, but he wanted to introduce me to the team before everyone scattered around the world for the off-season.

“Ow.” I mutter as I try to tighten the laces on the new Bauer skates Adrian handed to me. They slide against the skin of my pinkies and it hurts. Adrian is quickly pulling his laces together, glancing over at me as he does.

“Need help?” He asks. I do, but I can’t actually admit that. Because on our first date, which was now 4 months ago, I lied and told him that I knew how to skate. In fact, I’ve been skating since I could walk. News to me and him. I think someone who does that would know how to tighten their own laces. I had to discreetly look at Adrian for insight into how to even get started.

“Ah. Maybe.” I say, trying to think on the fly. “I’m… used to different laces.” He pauses, looking down at mine. “You know the hot pink ones.” I gesture to where Navy Arvidsson is with Viktor at the end of the bench.

“Oh so like waxed ones?” He asks. That sounds legit.

“Yep.”

“Okay, give me a second.” He quickly works on tightening the rest of his and then pulls my left foot up into his knees to work on mine. I grimace at how tight the boot gets on my feet. Hockey skates are not comfortable.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah!” I lie. It feels awful and too tight. When I stand, my ankles curl inward a bit. It’s all a little unnatural with sharp knives attached to boots.

He begins to walk in front of me, pushing along the rubber mats to the entrance of the bench. My stomach flip flops as he gets ready to step onto the ice without his hand in mine. I am going to fall immediately if I don’t have support. So, it’s time to go to confession.

“Um.” I pause, tugging on his hand as he goes to step onto the ice quickly from the bench. “I have a confession.” He turns towards me, looking into my blue eyes. I laugh sheepishly. “I can’t actually skate.”

He raises his eyebrows, scanning along my body, when he gets to my ankles.

“I know.” He chuckles.

“What?”

“It’s obvious.” He points to my ankles. I look down, seeing how much they are caving in and how awkward I’m standing on the mats. I can’t imagine that will transfer well to a slippery surface.

“Were you going to just let me get on the ice and fall?”

“No, I was hoping you would fess up before then.”

“I’m sorry I lied.. I just wanted to seem interesting.” I cringe, looking down. His sweet laughter wraps around my embarrassed cheeks, making them flame for a different reason.

“You don’t have to lie to do that. Come on. Let’s teach you a thing or two, eh?” His hands connect with mine and he leads me onto the ice. I’m so unstable on the blades, gripping his fingers like I’d float off if he weren’t holding me. He pauses there. “Just get comfortable for a second. Bend your knees.” I squat down and he laughs. “Probably not that much.” I adjust to somewhere in the middle. “Just like that.” My eyes meet his and we both laugh at the memory of last night.

“Not helping.” I respond with a huge grin.

“You work hard on the ice now and I’ll work hard off later.”

“You’ll probably have to. My legs already hurt! I see why you have such strong thighs.” Adrian pulls me against his body to laugh into my hair. “Talented too.”

“Stop it.”

“No.” I giggle, kissing along his jaw.

“I’m going to let go then.” He threatens, skating backwards away from me.

“No! No! I’ll be good!” I shout, reaching out for him, swaying slightly forward. He catches me.

“Gotta keep you knees bent, babe. You’re standing too straight and all your momentum is going to tip you forward.”

“Don’t let go.” I whine. “I’ll be good.” I adjust my position back into a lower position. He’s right. I settle better on my blades and begin to shuffle my feet. I can see him purse his lips, trying not to laugh. I deserve it, but huff at him just to keep him in line.

“Born on skates.” He snickers, skating backwards with his hands on me. “Did you think you’d never see me again after our first date?

“No. I thought the opposite. I blame the tequila. It makes me into a different person.”

“Me too. Usually don’t let girls come back to my condo on date one.” My eyes meet his, knowing he’s talking about me and us and all the things we did both above and below our clothes that night.

“No regrets.”

“Absolutely not. Push out a bit more to the side. That will help you move forward easier.” I look at him, confused. “Watch.” He leads me to the boards, letting me grip the top for balance. “Right now you’re doing this.” He demonstrates a straight forward shuffle. “Try this.” He pushes out to the side at a an angle. I hold the boards, trying with my left foot. I push forward much faster.

“Oh.” I exclaim, trying it again. “Look!” I shout, moving forward faster and therefore, farther away form him. A few of the Kings players have kids who play hockey. They dash in front of me and I squeak. “Adrian!” There is his laughter at me again as I clutch the boards dramatically after hitting into them to not crash into the kids. “Hockey is hard.” I huff.

“Honey, this is only skating. Not hockey.”

“You’re really impressive.” I tell him honestly as he wraps his arms around my waist. He smashes his lips against mine, pinning me between the boards and his body.

Everyone continues skating around us. The sounds of skates cutting the ice, kids laughing, and adults talking slowly disappear. The only thing I can focus on is Adrian’s tongue against mine. My fingers play with the ends of his hair curling around his black beanie.

“Gross.” Rasmus Kupari calls, slapping his hockey stick on the boards next to us. We break apart in surprise. I slip, but Adrian tightens his hands to keep me up.

“Fuck you, Kup.” Adrian snaps as the young forward skates away, snickering. “He’s just jealous cause his girlfriend is home in Finland.”

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there… see the northern lights.” I say, moving my hands from gripping his forearms to his fingers instead.

“They’re better in Sweden.” He says, bringing my hand up to his lips to brush along my knuckles.

“Maybe I’ll get to see them there soon.”

“How about you come visit me this summer? I’ll take you up North.” He questions raising his eyebrows.

“I’d really like that.” I admit. I’ve been hoping he would ask.

“You might be a better skater there. Something in the water.” He jokes.

Taking in his beautiful blue eyes, glorious locks, and sweet lips, I have to agree.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

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Soft Moments with Adrian Kempe

A/N: In love with all the Kempe requests I have been getting. Kempe as a dad content was what we all need on this writing Saturday. As always, happy to provide. Original request is from this ask.

Word count: 709

No warnings in this one. Just sweetness 🥰

Soft, pink cheeks puff out with a sigh as our two year old daughter snuggles deeper into her father’s chest. Adrian’s fingers trail over her back, eyes not leaving the hockey game playing on the TV. My feet are next to his side so his other hand can dig into the ball of my foot.

“Mmm.” I sigh, grabbing his attention from the game for a minute. His sweet smile wraps around my body, warming my chest and cheeks.

“Think I can bring her to bed?”

“Yeah.” I nod. She’s been fast asleep for about 40 minutes, meaning the transition from his body to her bed should be okay. She’s sleeping in a bed with mesh sides now because we had a scary Sunday morning when Adrian was out of town where she tried to get out of her crib.

Thank God for baby monitors.

Adrian carefully sits up, holding her close to him with each movement to prevent any sudden jostling. He stands, delicately walking down the dark hallway to her room. I watch him on the monitor as he enters, double checking the camera is online after an earlier issue during nap time. Adrian sets our baby in her bed, kneeling down to her level. A soft kiss is pressed to her cheek before he smooths her white blonde hair back.

“Jag älskar dig, prinsessan.” He murmurs. She stirs a bit and Adrian backs his hand away from her. He pauses, both of us holding our breath in separate rooms. Her breathing settles back into a steady rhythm. Adrian turns to the camera with wide eyes. “That was close.” He mouths at me.

He reappears in the living room. Sitting closer to me on the couch, he gathers both my feet in his lap to give me a longer, more attentive massage.

“Keep that up and you’re going to get lucky.” His eyes drift to me, smirk on his lips telling me that is exactly what he is hoping for.

As the hockey game winds down, Adrian’s fingers work more into my skin, then higher up my leg until he’s massaging his thumbs into the outside of my right thigh. He hits a point that is especially tight and holds his pressure, releasing the knot there. I moan in appreciation. Adrian reaches for the remote, clicking the game off and crawling on top of me.

“You and your pretty noises.” He says against my lips.

I smile. Gotchya.

My hands weave around his shoulders, gripping his neck. His tongue glides against mine as I hook my finger into the binder holding his hair in a bun. The strands fall down, brushing against my fingers holding his head. One of his hands runs down my side, pushing my thigh to spread my legs further apart to accommodate his body.

“Daddy.” A small voice floats in from the doorway. Adrian slowly drags his mouth from mine. Our eyes meet in disappointment knowing we are not getting what we both pulse for. He stokes his thumb along my jaw before looking over his shoulder at our daughter.

“Hi baby. You okay?” She shakes her head vigorously in the negative. A small pout extends my bottom lip as I watch her small feet carry her quickly to her protector.

Adrian wraps her up, engulfing her in his body until her face disappears into his shoulder. He gives me a frustrated wrinkle of his nose. I smile back, nudging him with my foot that it’s okay. I reach for the remote, turning the hockey game back on. We are quiet together. Our daughter threads her fingers through his hair like I just was, stroking the strands for comfort. Her little, blue eyes struggle to stay open until she seemingly surrenders again. Just when we think she’s done, little steady puffs of air moving her body, her eyes pop open again.

We both sigh heavily. Adrian opens his arm for me to crawl over to them, both of us giving up on any chance of getting naked tonight. I settle into his chest on the opposite side of our daughter, running my nails through her soft curls. Adrian’s steady heartbeat has my eyes unwillingly closing.

Nothing in the world feels better than this.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

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40- Adrian Kempe

A/N: The people want Kempe. and I am the people pleaser of this story. Congrats to 🧃 IRL on 40! Can't wait for the playoffs.

Also, yes I had to mention Kevin, okay. I MISS HIM. But this is about Juice. Promise.

And can we please appreciate this GIF that literally made my heart skip when I saw it. Good GAWDDDDDDD.

Word Count: 967

Warnings: drinking, implied smut, fluffffffff, swearing (always with me)

40 goals, I think to myself as I wait with a few other girls for our boys to join us after their season closing win against the Anaheim Ducks. I smile against my straw, pausing from slurping up more of my margarita.

What a year Adrian has had. I can’t wait for him to get here so I can squeeze him.

“They’re coming!” Ines Kopitar squeals, placing her drink back on the bar and rushing forward. I turn to watch, seeing her and the captain meet with a sloppy kiss. She’s a few drinks in and Anze has to catch her as she sways to the left.

Adrian is right behind them. His eyes meet mine. We grin at each other, maneuvering around the people between us to come together.

“Hi!” I squeal at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. He collapses me into him, strong hands pressing into my middle back.

“Hi.” He murmurs close to my ear, pressing his nose into my temple.

“You are incredible. I’m so, so proud of you, baby.” I pull back so we can share a kiss. Our lips meld perfectly in sync. “Mmm. Been wanting to do that all night.” His beard tickles my face as he nuzzles our noses.

“Me too.” He reaches into the pocket of his dark jacket. “Brought you something.”

“Ah!” I squeal excitedly, grabbing the white, Kings bucket hat from his hands. “My hat!” I squeal, speaking of the Kings bucket hat I had bought in an emergency circumstance after forgetting a hat to lay out on Hermosa Beach. This fashionable hat lead to our meeting and our eventual friendship turning into love.

“I had to.” He insists, biting his bottom lip as I put it on. “Just as good as that first day.” He hooks his pointer finger under my chin, bringing our lips together again. This time, his tongue slides against mine in a hotter kiss.

“You deserve a drink.” I murmur against his lips as we peck at each other.

“I think so.” He chuckles, wrapping an arm around my neck to keep me close. I link my fingers loosely with his, gliding my thumbs across his rings. As we wait for the bartender to come back, Adrian presses his nose into my hair.

“Anyone give you trouble?” He wonders. The King were at Honda Center tonight and with the fierce, freeway rivalry, it can get a little tense sitting amongst opposing fans.

“No.” I shrug. “We were surrounded by Kings fans. It was actually really fun.”

“That’s good. I was a bit worried about you.”

“Is that why you kept looking at me?” I raise an eyebrow. His constant glances were uncharacteristic tonight.

“You noticed?”

“Yeah. The girls in front of me thought you were looking at them though.” I adjust my voice higher. “OhmyGOD. He looked at us AGAIN!” I squeal, stomping my feet excitedly. His laughter wraps round us, making my chest warm from where it settles.

“Did you break their hearts?”

“No. It was kinda cute.”

“She’s beautiful and sweet.” He whispers, leaning in for another smooch.

“Fuck, I am so single.” Quinton mutters from behind me.

“Keep your head up, QB.” Adrian murmurs, without looking away from me. “You’ll find this.”

“You’re so sappy now.” I laugh at him, flicking my tongue against his lips.

“I’m just having a great fucking night.” He unwraps himself from me as the bartender puts his shot down.

“Juice for juice is on the house tonight. Congrats!”

“Thanks, man.” Adrian tosses the shot of tequila back, then sets the empty glass back on the bar. “That is good shit.” He moans as the Clase Azul slides down his throat. “You want one?”

“No.”

Adrian motions to the bartender who gives a thumbs up in acknowledgement. The shots are flowing around the team, everyone taking an opportunity to cheers to Adrian and the Kings incredible year. We all acknowledge Kevin Fiala, who is tucked at home with his wife after an injury. By the time we get to the last shot, I’m pushing mine towards Ines, knowing I’m going to be the one driving us home. Adrian is loose, laughing with our friends, while his hands drift around my body like we are in private.

I pull away from him and he snaps his gaze to me in annoyance.

“Why.”

“I have to pee.” I whine, holding him back from pulling me in again.

“Hurry.”

“Okay.” I roll my eyes and work my way to the back of the restaurant.

It’s a quick in and out trip before my heels lead me back along the tiled floor to my superstar.

“Let’s get out of here.” Adrian intercepts me at the corner of the bar.

“Okay.” I shrug, not caring if we stick around. “I’m just going to say goodbye.”

“Nah. We’ll get caught up longer.” He steps forward, making me take a step back towards the exit.

“Kinda rude when everyone showed up for you.” I wrap my arms around his neck, giving him a look.

“The boys understand.” He drags his eyes down my body. “Half of them congratulated me on getting you in bed tonight.” I toss my head back. My hair swings down my jacket, brushing against his hands around me. He gathers it in his hand to hold me like that. He leans forward, pressing his lips against the front of my throat. I swallow in anticipation. He sucks my skin into his mouth making me whine.

“You’re the only one I want to keep celebrating with…. All… night… long.” He says between suckles.

“Say less.” I breathe out to him, tugging him with me as I walk backwards. We stumble into someone, giggling an apology then fly out the door before we can be stopped.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

Note

Can you do a kempe fic with a lot of angst please.

A/N: Yes! Always yes. Thank you again for requesting this. I've already expressed this, but I am SO happy! I hope you enjoy!

Greener Side of That Fence- Adrian Kempe

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: Angsty... like I was anxious writing this, there is a smidge of 18+ Content cause I can't help myself, multiple character points of view, swearing.

(Adrian)

It’s a hot summer day in Southern California. The temperature is above 90 degrees with no ocean breeze to offer reprieve. The heat is stifling and the black tux I’m wearing doesn’t offer any support.

A bead of sweat rolls down my hair line and collects in the stiff collar of my designer shirt. I shove my sunglasses over my eyes, buttoning my suit jacket together before shutting the door to my Audi. I turn, taking in the white church in front of me.

I shouldn’t be here.

But I can’t be anywhere else.

Tucked inside that church is the love of my life preparing to marry someone else.

My stomach tightens at the realization of how close I am to losing her for good. I push out a heavy breath, wishing I had knocked back that shot of tequila I poured myself earlier. The courage I felt on the drive here has dissipated watching Kailey’s wedding guests filter into the church.

“Damn it.” I mutter to myself, leaning against the back of my trunk. I run a rough hand over my face, scratching at the trimmed beard on my chin. My eyes scan the front of the church, working to the window overlooking the parking lot. Shock daggers through my body when I see Kailey standing at it. Her head is tilted as she secures an earring into place. I can see the white dress from here, filled with sparkles and lace. She looks so damn beautiful it hurts.

Her lips form an O as her shoulders raise indicating a big inhale. She places a hand on her stomach, shoulders deflating back into place. I can feel her nerves from here. Her fingers come up, settling in the corners of her eyes. She pulls them back, waving both her hands at her face.

Don’t be nervous, baby. I’m coming.

As I begin to cross the parking lot, I rehearse the words I want to say to her, thinking about when our story started four years ago.

To be honest, the meeting wasn’t too exciting. We were introduced by my teammate Trevor Moore. His wife, Monique, and Kailey were best friends growing up. Kailey moved out to California for a year long internship focusing on supply chain in the Fashion industry. It took 2 weeks before we were inseparable. We spent the whole year together, eating tacos, drinking mezcal margaritas, and soaking up the sun at the beach.

We fell in love quickly. Then life happened.

Her internship ended and her dream job called from New York. We tried to make it work but with the time difference, it was impossible to stay connected. Once she left L.A., we didn’t even make it a year. We mutually decided to go our separate ways, both convinced it was temporary and we would find our way back to each other in the future. I think that’s the hardest part of all this- nobody did anything wrong. We did the right thing by allowing each other to chase our dreams. When we broke up, we hugged at the airport and said we loved each other.

It would be so much easier if we had hurt each other.

We stayed good friends despite the distance between us. I’ve wasted the time dating a few others, but none of them compared to Kailey. She felt the same- at least I thought. We would joke back and forth over the next couple of years, through COVID even, that we were just biding time until she could transfer to the L.A. office within her company. We’d get married quickly and spend the off-season traveling all over Europe to soak in the Fashion scene. But after lockdown lifted, something changed. My texts and FaceTime calls were left unanswered or put off until days later. I chalked it up to her being busy with work after her promotion.

Then, Kailey moved back to L.A. without even telling me. I found out when I saw her at a game a few months back, sitting next to Monique like she used to. Except this time she wasn’t in my jersey. I remember flipping a puck at her to get her attention. She gave a head nod at me with sparkling blue eyes. I came out flying in the first, wanting her to see how much better I’d gotten since she was away. Then, as I was getting off for the first intermission, I saw him. His arm was around her while he wore the jersey I gave her. After the game, it was just Kailey waiting for me. She told me they were getting married in June while nervously spinning her engagement ring around her finger.

Despite the agony I felt in my chest, I lied and told her I was happy for her.

The problem is I’m not, and the regret I already feel about not telling her so then keeps me awake at night.

After we lost in the playoffs, I packed my shit and booked a one-way flight to Sweden to join my family. I had been waiting for the moment that I could escape L.A. and Kailey’s new future. But the day of my flight, I couldn’t get on the plane. Nor could I the next day or the full two weeks after that. Mario has been calling, wondering when I’m coming home. My niece misses me. So do my parents. All I say is I have unfinished business in L.A.

Trevor and I met up for lunch last week after a run along the beach. I told him I was considering renting a charter for deep sea fishing this weekend and asked if he wanted to come.

“Can’t. Mo’s in a wedding.” He told me around a bite of chips and guacamole.

“Oh.” I say, taking a sip of my margarita. I lick my lips, squinting out across the glittering ocean to my right. “Kails?” I ask, trying to seem nonchalant. Trevor looks like he doesn’t want to answer, but he eventually nods. “In Hermosa?”

“Yeah, at that church off Monterey.” I nod in understanding, sitting back in my chair. “You’re not going to show up, right?”

“No, I’m not going to show up.”

This agreement is probably why my teammate isn’t happy to see me walking up the steps right now.

“Shit, Adrian. You can’t be here.” Trevor snaps at me, halting me from entering the church.

“I can’t let her marry him without telling her I’m still in love with her.”

I have to tell Kailey how I feel before it’s too late. Maybe she’ll tell me to fuck off. Maybe she’ll tell me she feels the same. I don’t know. I just know I have to try.

“Dude, I should have never told you about it. Monique is going to kill me.” He groans, stopping my pursuit again with a firmer hand in the middle of my chest.

“Trev, I’m going in. Let me pass or I’m going to drop you on these steps.”

For a moment, fear grips the back of my neck. Trevor stands firmly in front of me. His gaze is unrelenting from beneath his sunglasses. Finally, he relaxes, dropping his hand from my chest.

“The only reason I’m letting you in is because it’s obvious Kailey still loves you.” My stomach drops to my feet at his admission.

“How do you know?”

“Because despite the multiple offers from my wife to come with her, she can’t walk back into our arena knowing she’s not yours. Go through the door and to the left.” He pats my shoulder and walks away. I’m frozen on the steps as various guests move around me to enter the church.

I came here not sure if I had a chance. Now, I have the most crushing feeling in existence: hope.

I get to the bridal suite without being stopped or interrupted again. My knock is hesitant and I resist the urge to sprint back down the hall when it’s done. Kailey is alone when she opens the door. She startles backwards, then glances quickly in both directions before focusing back on my face.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Now? It can’t wait?”

“No, baby.” I shake my head at her. Her eyebrows tug together in distress at the pet name. She senses what I’ve come here to do. I prepare for her to shut the door in my face. Instead, she opens the door wider. She bites her lip, gripping my forearm to pull me in. My skin is electrified at her touch. I grip her arm back, allowing myself to get a little lost in her softness. She let’s go first, crossing the room to provide distance. For her or me, I’m not sure.

“You look… amazing.” I finish, truly lacking the words in both English and Swedish to describe her. Her blue eyes fill with uncertainty. I can see her breathing increase, her breasts pressing tighter against the cups of her dress. “The only thing I’d change is who you’re marrying.”

“You don’t even know him.”

“I know he’s not me.” I stuff my hands in the pockets of my dress pants, leaning back against the door. I want to be considerate of her personal space with how conflicted she seems by my presence.

“You were right. This suit is better than the tan one I was considering.” I try to lighten the mood, gesturing to my blue suit. I was so adamant about the other one, but she made the clerk ring me up before I could protest further.

“Blue is your color. Brings out your eyes.” She smiles at me, tilting her head to the side and trialing her gaze along me. I’m feeling less like an unwanted visitor.

“Yeah. I know you like me in blue.”

“Used to.”

“Still do.” I insist, watching as she rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “What do you need to tell me?” She changes the subject, crossing her arms over her chest.

“A story. Once upon a time…” I trail off cheekily. Her gaze remains unwavering on my face. I drop my nervous smile and get serious. “There was this hockey player who fell in love with a girl on their second date.” Her eyes close as she listens. “And he loved her so much that when New York called, he knew she had to go. He helped her pack. He drove her across the country. He even convinced himself that letting her go was better than fighting for the love he believed in with her.” Her beautiful eyes open and she has visible tears. “But he never stopped loving her. Not when she moved back to L.A. without telling him. Not when she brought her new fiancé with her. And definitely not when she was dressed in white, about to marry someone else.”

“Adrian.” She whispers painfully.

“I love you, Kails. I never stopped loving you for one moment of the last few years. And I just.. need you to know that before you do this.”

“A, it’s been over for years.” She tells me.

“Bullshit.” I scoff at her, crossing the room. Fuck, her personal space, this is my moment. I reach for her, expecting her to pull away but instead she steps closer. “There is no way you and I are over.” I lean our foreheads together. “It wasn’t over when we broke up in New York and it still isn’t over just because you’re about to marry someone else. You didn’t tell me you moved back for a reason. You want to pretend you don’t love me anymore? Go through with this and live the rest of your life settling? Come on, Kails. That’s not you.”

“Adrian.” She’s gritting her teeth through the tears now, gutting me with the way her voice shudders. “I love him.”

“That’s okay.” I tell her honestly, feeling my hands shake. I know I can’t actually stop her from going through with this, but maybe if I keep my hands on her face, she’ll cave. She’ll lean into my touch instead of resisting the pull of me. “I understand you love him. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. But, you’re it for me, baby. You’re it.” She licks her lips in distress, sighing heavily. “If you tell me you don’t feel anything anymore, I’ll leave.” I whisper to her, giving her an out I know she won’t take.

Her silence soothes the twisting knife in my chest for a moment.

“Of course I do.” She finally admits to me. Relief rushes through my body and renews my pursuit.

“If you need me to say it, I will. Don’t marry him.” She shakes her head no at me, soft hands coming to grip my wrists holding her face. She stares at her hand wrapped around the tattoo I got with her last time I was in New York. Her thumb brushes my skin as her eyes close, a tear sliding down her face.

“It’s not that simple.”

“I love you, Kails. You love me. It is that simple.”

The door opens after a fast knock.

“Don’t come in!” Kailey yells out, but it’s too late. Her mom and dad step in, shocked at seeing me with my hands on their daughter’s face.

“Kailey.” Her mom snaps, clearly displeased. Her steely gaze rests on me and I know I better go. Kailey will need time to consider. I don’t need her to walk out of this church with me right now. That’s too much to ask.

“I’m going to the beach, baby. Our spot right by the lifeguard tower, where we planned out the rest of our lives together. If you’re not there by sunset, I’ll know your answer. If you don’t show, you’ll never hear from me again. I promise.” She stares back at me with tear tracks down her beautiful face. She says nothing. But she won’t stop looking at me. “I hope you’ll meet me there when you’re ready.”

It takes everything I have inside of me to release my grip on her and step back. She seems to crumble within herself without my touch. She looks out the window. I nod in understanding, stepping back and walking towards her parents.

“I’m sorry for showing up uninvited. But I love your daughter and I had to tell her.”

“Did you?” Her mom squints at me. “Seems selfish.”

“Yeah maybe. But at least now I’ll be able to look myself in the mirror the rest of my life knowing I tried.” I hear Kailey sniff and gasp in breath from behind me. “I love you, baby.” I call to her before I step around her parents.

As I get back into my Audi, I know the easy part is over. The hard part will be what I’m about to do.

Wait.

^ ^ ^

(Kailey)

With my arms holding me together, I stare out the window to the parking lot. I watch as Adrian slides into his Audi. It’s an upgrade from the one he had when we were together. When my eyes close, I can remember loudly singing songs as we drove down the coast together. The salty wind blowing my hair around my face as the demands of the world disappeared. The last time I truly felt alive was sitting in that passenger seat with his hand on my thigh, his silver rings sparkling in the California sun.

“He is absolutely unhinged.” My mom balks, fluffing her hair in anger. “Coming here and attempting to ruin your day after everything he’s done.”

“What he’s done?” I snap at my mom. “It was a mutual decision, mom.”

“Well, it didn’t feel very mutual when you were crying on the phone to me every weekend. And don’t even get me started about that pregnancy scare he couldn’t show up for.”

“He doesn’t know about that.” I say, using the tissue she handed to me to blot at the tears rimming my lashes.

“Regardless, Matt knew you were the one and did something about it before the last possible second. He’s the one, not some summer fling.”

“Hun, let’s give her some space.” My dad breaks in, leading my mom to the door. “I’ll be waiting for you outside when you’re ready, honey.” I nod my head at him, turning my back to them as I attempt to hold another sob back.

I fall onto the couch, not caring about the bunching of my dress or the pressing of my shoulders into the perfect curls I had. My mind is back in New York sobbing at the thought of being pregnant with Adrian’s baby. The two different sides of me: the one that yearned for a reason to reach out and the other that knew the regrets I would have for not pursuing this dream. When it turned out to be negative, I felt so empty and alone. I should be happy, I remember thinking. I called my mom, knowing her words would give me the grounding I needed. She told me I might be best of Adrian didn’t know. “Don’t reopen the wound.”

I still wonder what our lives would have been. If that test had been positive, I would have told him. I would have left New York and flew back to L.A. He would have taken care of us. But it wasn’t. Instead, the reality was that we lived on opposite coasts and slowly drifted into long-distance friends who joked about ending up together like it didn’t hurt. After lockdown, I met Matt at a social-distance bar where he soothed the aches in me I’d felt since Adrian left on that western bound redeye.

Until three months ago when I moved back to L.A. for Matt’s job. Monique begged me to go to a Kings game for old time sake. I saw Adrian, purposefully waiting after the game without Matt. Adrian had hugged me, congratulating me on our upcoming nuptials. He seemed sincere. It mattered to me that he was happy for me. But It was a mistake seeing him. Adrian was right. I didn’t tell him about coming back because I was hiding from what I still feel from him. Now, every time Matt touches me, I feel nothing.

I can’t shake the feeling that this is the real mistake.

Marry Matt and he’ll give you the entire world. That’s what my mom said after our engagement party when I felt unsure. That’s what my brain has said every morning leading up to today. But right now, my heart yearns for tattooed arms soothing the ache within my chest. I press my left hand there and my large engagement ring catches the light ahead.

“Matt deserves better than this.” I say out loud to myself. “He’s the one who takes care of you. He cooks and cleans and is home every night to comfort you after a long day of work. Adrian can’t be that safe space for you every night. He’s always gone.” I press my flattened palm to my head. “Follow through on your commitment.” I suck in a deep breath, shoving it out forcefully, then stand.

I’m going to marry Matt. That’s what I came here to do.

The resolution seems final and gets me through the last few minutes of preparation. The procession song begins. I step outside of the suite with the large bouquet of light pink tulips in my hands. I glance down at them, admiring their beauty. I love pink tulips because of Adrian. He bought them for me at the farmer’s market on the second date he talked about earlier. He showed up every week to my apartment with a replacement bouquet until I moved to New York in the Spring.

I loop my hand through my dad’s arm, biting down hard on my lip as unwanted tears fill my eyes. The wedding planner tells us we can begin walking whenever we are ready. Out of seemingly nowhere, my throat beings to close up. My chest collapses in on it’s self as I contemplate taking a step forward, going through with this, and not showing up at our spot on the beach. I cry out at the thought of Adrian waiting there all night for me while I share a first dance with my second choice because I’m just too damn scared.

“Dad.” I whimper, large tears blurring his face. “I don’t know…” I trail off, thinking of the thousands of dollars both our parents have invested into this day.

“It’s your choice, sweetheart.”

All there is left to do is decide.

^ ^ ^

On the same date, five years later, I awaken to sunshine streaming into my bedroom. When I see my husband’s bare back, a coy grin stretches my lips. Faint, red claw marks line his skin from last night. He is barely at arm’s reach, so I maneuver a few inches closer. I reach my pointer finger out, tracing the lines I made and the divots of his muscular back. He begins to shift slightly, leaning into my touch. I can get all my fingers on him now. I trail my nails, gently, along his back, watching as goosebumps pebble along his tan skin.

“Feels good.” He mumbles to me.

“I got you good last night.” I confess to him, biting my lip.

“Worth it. You always are.”

I inch forward again, placing my lips on the angriest red line. I ghost my mouth over it, loving the way he softly hums at my touch. I reach a hand around, gliding it beneath his shorts to grip his hard shaft. I stroke him as his head falls back.

“Kails.” He moans. I press my smile to his shoulder, increasing my tempo. My thumb dips into the slit of his head.

Tap. Tap.

We both pause when we hear the sound of feet on the wood floor from the hallway.

“No.” He whines as I remove my hand from his shorts to prepare for our guest.

“She’s coming.” I whisper, hiding my face behind his shoulder as we both look towards the door.

Little feet patter their way to the entrance of our bedroom. Our daughter, with wild blonde hair like her dad, grins behind her purple blanket.

“Pannkakor?” Pancakes. She asks her dad in his native tongue.

Adrian, who hasn’t told her no since the day she was born, sighs happily.

“Okey, sweets. Does mommy want pancakes too?”

“Yeah.”

“Chocolate chip sound good, love?”

“Yes!!!!!!” Our daughter cheers, rushing into our room and tossing herself onto our bed. Adrian swoops her into his arms, smooching her cheeks loudly and tickling her sides. Her legs flail towards me and I rush backwards to avoid a kick to my belly where her little brother grows. The baby kicks back in response. I place a hand on him to soothe his motions. Adrian watches, turning our daughter.

“The price of pancakes is kisses for mommy and baby brother.” Adrian tells her. She puckers her little lips at me. I press mine gently on hers, placing a hand on her back to tug her into a hug too.

“He’s right here.” I point to where I felt his kicks last. She leans forward and gives a loud kiss to my swollen skin.

“Now pancakes?” She turns to her dad hopefully. He laughs at her impatience, which she also gets from him.

“Yes. Go brush your teeth first. And no TV.” He calls after her as she rushes out. Her giggles tell me she’s purposefully not going to hear that last part. Adrian’s hand comes to our baby boy. His blue gaze works up my body to my eyes.

“Thank you.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing comforting lines along my skin.

“For?”

“Showing up at the beach in your white dress, late enough that I thought you had chosen to live the rest of your life without me.”

“I told you there was traffic. I wasn’t late on purpose.” I shove at his shoulder, rolling my eyes.

“It’s okay. It was my fault. Should of never let you go.”

“I should of stayed in L.A.” He shakes his head at me, leaning down to kiss our son.

“No, you absolutely should have gone to New York."

“Why are we doing this?” I groan playfully at him, wrapping my hand around the back of his neck. “Just kiss me and go make your girls pancakes.”

“We are talking about this because I know you could have chosen something different.” He presses his lips into mine and we share a deep kiss. He relaxes into me, lips tightening to prevent a smile.

“A, I’ve never thought about the other road I could have taken. Not one second since I fell into your arms on the beach.”

“Mmm, when you were in labor there was a moment.” He jokes with me.

“Oh my god.” I giggle before rolling out of bed to follow him. “Well, your daughter came too fast for me to get the good drugs.” I press my nose into his back, wrapping my arms around his waist and bumping us forward with my belly. “I think some sass was warranted.”

“Sure, baby.” He muses. We walk into the open concept kitchen and living room space, finding our daughter perched silently in front of the TV. “This looks like the opposite of what I said. Dd you brush your teeth?” He asks her, tilting his head at the giggles she lets loose.

“Yeah.” She doesn’t take her eyes from the TV.

“Okay, we can watch TV but we are going to watch mommy’s show.” I tell her. “Come snuggle with me.” I slowly lower myself to the couch, arranging the pillows along my back so I can feel supported. She crawls onto the couch next to me, burying her face into the side of my chest. I change the channel to the Food Network, smiling as the opening of The Kitchen begins.

I can hear Adrian behind me, grabbing the ingredients and the skillet for pancakes. I turn to watch him over my shoulder, admiring the way his back muscles tighten with each movement. He catches my eye when he turns, lips tilting up at me.

I can’t believe I almost married someone else, believing it was right, when all along, this was the greener side of that fence.

22 notes · View notes

penmansparadise · 1 year

Note

more kempe😩

A/N: Bless you. Yes. Always gonna be a yes for me. This is a blurb of continuation from the Friends to Lovers I posted last week.

New Girlfriend- Adrian Kempe

Word Count: 951

Warnings: swearing, sexual content if you squint.

“Hey.” I tug at my boyfriend’s fingers as we are leaving our date night spot. He’s trying to head back towards the car, but the ice cream he promised me earlier today is in the other direction. “Don’t make promises and not keep them.” I jokingly narrow my gaze at him. He pauses, adjusting the collar of his jacket as he shimmies it into place.

“It’s that way?” He points.

“No.” I point the other way to where the cone is lit up in neon blue, purple and pink.

“Oh, you want that ice cream?” He cringes, sucking air in quickly between his teeth. “I don’t know if I can afford that.” I snort, eyes widening as I slap at his arm.

“Rich people jokes.”

“I’m not rich.” He chuckles, weaving our fingers together to head towards the “expensive” ice cream.

“That is exactly what rich people say as they wander around L.A. in $900 sneakers.”

“These were more than that.” He says, looking down at his Dior shoes.

“You’re not helping yourself here.” I giggle against his arm, pressing my lips to his bicep. “What even is expensive to you?”

“This $10 ice cream.”

“Oh my god. I’ll make it worth your while later. Maybe suck on something else.”

“In that case, you can have two.”

“Two!? I’m worth 20 dollars?” We are both laughing hard, bumping into shoulders as our bodies shake with joy.

Our laughter catches attention from other patrons on the sidewalk. A group of girls is hovering outside a popular sushi spot. One of them, a brunette, locks eyes on Adrian and visible lights up. She must be a fan, I think. Adrian being stopped is common for us when we are out.

“Adrian!” The brunette squeals when she steps out to stop him. She rushes forward with her arms stretched out. His hand drops from mine as she wraps her hands behind his neck. Her nails are so long they look like claws against his neck. By the way she touches him, I imagine she’s dragged those along his back before. The thought makes me step further to the side.

She’s beautiful- stunning really with her shimmery dress, expensive high heels and perfect face. I feel painfully plain.

“Hey Becca.” He says, hands shoved in his pockets. He glances to me on his right but I’m still looking at her.

“How are you? Haven’t heard from you lately.” She drawls and sweeps a hand along his tattooed forearm. My skin begins to crawl, getting hot and sensitive at her hands on him.

“Ah, good. Been busy with my girlfriend.”

“Oh.” Her face falls flat. She glances me over quickly then kind of snorts like it couldn’t be me. Like we weren’t just holding hands.

Adrian sees her dismissal and doesn’t like it. He steps away from her to sling an arm around my waist. He pulls me into his body, kissing my hair. He leaves his mouth there, speaking to her through my hair as red dusts my cheeks at his affection.

“Yeah. Anyway, we have places to be. Enjoy your night.” He nudges me to walk forward, not even sparing her another glance. I turn my face into his rib cage, grinning against his jacket.

“She was so disappointed by us.” I say as we stop at a crosswalk, waiting for the light to change. “I don’t think I ever met her.”

“No.” He coughs awkwardly.

“One night?”

“Eh.” He shrugs. Ah, shorter then.

“Wham bam thank you ma’am?”

“Babe.”

“I’m not mad, A. I sat across the table from you and your girlfriends over the years.”

“Yeah, it’s just.. I don’t want to look back. I’d rather forget about everyone before you.”

“Poor Becca.” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around his neck. The light changes and other people begin to cross the street. I keep our bodies flush together, watching intently as his face moves closer to mine.

“Lucky us.” He murmurs against my lips. Soft pecks connect us until our tongues lightly flick together. I sigh into his mouth as his hand drops lower on my back, pressing me tighter into what’s building between us. “I have a better idea for dessert.”

“You’re gonna be better than ice cream? Tall task.” I whisper, feathering kisses along his beard until I get to the smoother skin of his upper jaw. Sweet lips follow a path along my collar bone. His mouth opens along my warm skin, letting his tongue dig a wet circle. His teeth scrape against the same spot until I soften into him.

“I think we both know the answer to that is yes.”

“Let’s go.” I moan as he sucks my skin into his mouth, nibbling, stroking, igniting a million embers in my soul. “Adrian.” I whine when he continues, making my core flutter with each nip at me.

“What? I want people to see me marking you as mine. Everyone should know.”

“I’d rather you take me home and mark me where only you and I can see.” His kisses pause. He gradually pulls back to meet my eyes.

“Might need you to show me.” His voice is rough with desire. “Have those pretty fingers touch prettier parts of you.” I let out a light chuckle as he drowns in each flicker of my devious eyes. I step forward, my foot going between his legs, feeling him thick against me.

“Sure, baby. Might even teach you a thing or two.”

“Fuuuuck.” He breaks eye contact, tilting his head back at the sky to laugh. “Let’s go!”

His fingers slide between mine and he pulls us down the street, our excited chuckles trailing along the avenue as we run.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

Note

no smut but how about a kinda friends to lovers kempe fic

A/N: Thank you for your request! We know how excited I get about Kempe love! I wrote this when I was feeling yucky, but it actually took my mind off that, which was much appreciated. Because of that I'm going to post now rather than this weekend. Why wait ya know?

Warnings: She is sick- mentions of vomit and puking, swearing, otherwise fluffffffffy, probably typos cause I'm awful at editing under feeling well conditions

Word counts: 2.7k

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

My phone vibrates next to my hand on the bathroom floor where I am bracing my body. I gag, opening my mouth as the vomit spews out. I lurch forward again, dry heaving as my stomach twists in pain. Groping for my phone, I silence the vibration.

Buzz, Buzz, Buzz.

I know it’s my best friend, Adrian Kempe. I also know he is at my apartment door because I have heard him knocking for the past ten minutes. He is here to pick me up for the Kings Foundation Gala. He originally had planned to bring his girlfriend, but now that she’s an ex, he needed a little arm candy- his words.

I’m fine with their break up. She was not the one.

I hit ignore on my phone again, then muster every ounce of strength to lift my weak body off the bathroom floor. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and tears form in my eyes. Everything had been fine. I had gotten most of the way ready, just needed to finish with lipstick, then I was set. But my stomach suddenly turned against me. I hadn’t even had time to turn towards the toilet. Instead, the first round filled the sink. That should be fun to clean.

I work my way towards where Adrian is still knocking on my door.

“Hey, you’re scaring me… Look if you’ve changed your mind, that’s fine. Just let me know you’re okay.”

“I am not okay.” I say as I swing the door open. His eyebrows jump up in surprise when he sees me.

“Holy shit.” He lets out a chuckle. “You look-”

“Like shit?” I finish for him.

“Well, beautiful in that dress.” He murmurs to me. Despite my sloshing stomach, I feel warmth settle in my body.

“At least someone got to see it.” I respond, leaning against the door for support. I close my eyes against a wave of nausea that has chills rushing down my arms. “I can’t go. I’m puking my entire digestive system out. I’m sorry.”

“That’s fine. I didn’t really want to go anyway.” He steps forward to enter my place. I straighten, shaking my head and placing my palms on his shirt. I take in his gray suit and crisp white shirt. He trimmed his beard and his hair is tucked behind his ears, fanning out in blonde Cs to the side. He looks so good. And I can’t let him see me like this.

“No way. This is a war zone. Just go.” His tongue smacks against the roof of his mouth as a dismissal.

“I’m not leaving until I know you’re going to be okay.”

I open my mouth to protest further, but a heavy wave of nausea crashes into me. I turn, trying to run back towards the bathroom. I don’t make it. I can feel Adrian come behind me, gathering my hair into his hands while I puke on my entryway tile. I stare down at the pile, contemplating if you can actually die from embarrassment.

“Oh my god.” I whisper, eyes closed in distress.

“It’s okay.” Adrian soothes me. “Go to the bathroom.” He hands me a bowl from my kitchen counter that I usually have candy in to munch on throughout the week. I put the bowl under my mouth and make my way delicately to my bedroom. The front closet opens and Adrian begins gathering cleaning supplies.

A half hour passes along with several toilet flushes. A soft knock sounds on the bathroom door before Adrian pushes it open. He sees me curled in the fetal position on the tile. My dress is all sorts of wrinkled and bunched. I had ripped the zipper down to ease the pressure of the fabric against my stomach, exposing my back to the air.

“How ya doing?” He murmurs, kneeling down to smooth my hair back from my face. I can’t speak, so I just shake my head in the negative. His hand continues to pet my hair as he looks at me. My lips are cracking and dry from my puking episodes. My mouth feels and smells completely coated in bile. I close my eyes again as he steps away, leaving the room again. When he returns, he has my pillow in his hands. He slides it under my head, gently laying me rest on it. “Blanket?” He asks as I shiver. I shake my head no.

“I’m so hot.” He nods in understanding. “What is happening to me.”

“I think you have food poisoning.” He grimaces. “Told you to stop buying grocery store sushi.” He jokes, making me laugh then groan at the twisting of my insides. “Sorry, shouldn’t make you laugh.” He reaches out again, rubbing his finger tips through my hair then against my scalp. I relax my head back into his hand, letting him comfort my spent body.

I can imagine how we look now from above. Like two lovers who are sharing in the ache of life, committed to sickness and health, no matter the circumstances.

But that’s not what we really are.

Instead, it’s the typical, girl loves boy. Boy loves anyone else. So girl settles for what she can have because life without him doesn’t feel like a bearable choice.

Adrian’s hand works down from my hair to my bare shoulder blade peeking out from my unzipped dress. He feathers his finger tips along the bone then moves to glide the tips down my spine. I’m not wearing a bra allowing his fingerprints to stroke every bump of my vertebrae. My eyes slowly open, finding him staring at my bare skin with an expression I’ve never seen before. There is obvious interest in his blue gaze, shocking with how utterly pale and disgusting I am.

“Um,” I start to speak, causing him to jump and take his hand off me. “I think I want to change. Could you get me some clothes.”

“Yeah.” He clears his throat and stands. “I’ll be right back.” I cringe at how awkward that felt. When he returns, he makes an excuse of getting me some water so I can change alone. I am aching as I pull the sweatpants and t-shirt on. I discard my dress in the corner, trying not to cry at how disappointed I am that I couldn’t make it to the gala.

While Adrian is gone, I decide I feel well enough to move into my bed. I bring my bathroom trash can with me to the side of the bed, just in case I can’t make it again. Adrian comes in, smiling in relief at seeing me in bed. He moves to my walk-in closet, coming back out in different clothes.

“Can I have these back?” He gestures to both articles of Kings clothing that are his.

“For now.” I sigh. “I’m too weak to fight you.”

“I’ll bring them back. They look better on you.” He says while walking towards me. “Do you need anything else?” He asks as he brushes my hair off my forehead. It’s a little damp from the constant temperature changes I’ve been going through.

“Please stay.” I ask him feebly.

“I’m not going anywhere. Just don’t want to wear my suit anymore.” I nod in understanding. I am utterly exhausted and his touch could easily lull me to sleep. I’m craving comfort and not too shy to ask for it tonight.

“Will you… hold me. Please?” I whisper. My eyes are closed and I miss the relieved flutter of his lashes at my words.

“Yes.” He sighs, carefully moving me over to make space. He opens his arms wide so I can wiggle back into him. His fingers spread along my back, rubbing comforting strokes over my t-shirt. He sets his head against mine, our legs entwining together until every part of our bodies touch. The comfort of this skin eases the ick coursing through my body. I moan as my stomach clenches again.

“I’m going to apologize in advance if I puke on you.” He lengthens his strokes on my back, rubbing in just the right way that has goosebumps spreading across my skin. “That feels so good.”

“Good. Try to sleep.” He encourages me, keeping perfect pressure on my body.

His touch is everything I need. I fall into a sweaty, deep sleep until the next morning.

I awaken as weak sunlight drifts into my room through a crack in the curtains. I am laying with my face towards the bathroom. I can see light on in there. Adrian is missing, but noise from behind the door tells me he’s in there. It’s another few moments of the toilet flushing, drawers opening and closing, before he appears. From behind him, I can see that he’s cleaned the entire room, including my make up spread all over the counter from last night. He registers my open eyes, coming to the bed. He kneels on it, reaching out to stroke my shoulder.

“You okay?” He whispers. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“I’m still not feeling well.” I admit. The pangs in my stomach have weakened, but there is a definite off feeling still consuming my body.

“Okay. Stay in bed and rest.”

“Are you leaving?” I whisper to him, reaching for his hand on the comforter. I enclose it with mine. I want him to stay, but understand that he probably has practice.

“No. Just going to make some coffee.” His thumb brushes along mine, squeezing as he release it.

“Okay.” I murmur, nestling myself deeper into my pillow. “Thank you for taking care of me.” I whisper to him as my eyes close.

“Not much I wouldn’t do for you.” He murmurs. My breath catches in my chest when I feel his lips ghost over my hair. I keep my eyes closed until I register the soft click of the door shutting.

What was that?

I drift in and out of sleep for the next few hours. Adrian doesn’t return. Eventually, the smell of bread wafts down to me. I perk up a bit in bed, feeling my stomach bubble and groan. This feels like hunger more than anything else. I ease my way out of bed, padding out to the main area of my apartment. I pause, taking in the spotless living room and kitchen. It did not look like that last night. Adrian’s back is to me. I can hear the dishwasher running and eggs sizzling on the stove.

Adrian turns to toss the egg shells in the trash can, smiling when he sees me.

“Hey.” I swear to God, I fall in love with him all over again, right there in my kitchen that he cleaned after scrubbing my vomit off the bathroom floor.

“Hi.” I whimper out, walking around the island to give him an appreciative hug. “You cleaned my whole apartment.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal.

“How are you single?” I joke. He chuckles, then ends our hug after a shrug.

“You tell me.”

I don’t know. She is fucking crazy to have let you go.

“Sit down. I have some toast for you if you’re up for it.”

“I think I am.” I say to him, going to the counter and waiting for him to present me with a plate of perfectly toasted white bread. “Do you think I can I have jam?”

“That’s probably too much.” He murmurs, scraping his scrambles eggs onto a separate plate. I ponder that, then decide he’s probably right.

Once his meal is done, eggs and toast with jam, he comes to is next to me with a cup of coffee. I want that, but know that will probably start my issues all over again. Our first few bites are in silence. His thigh keeps brushing against mine with how close he is sitting to me. I steal a glance at him, watching as his fork disappears between his lips. It takes all my restraint to not moan. Then, I remember the discreet kiss he dropped on me earlier this morning.

“Um, in the bedroom earlier…” I start, chewing softly on my toast. “What was that?” He puckers his lips in confusion, shaking his head. “You kissed me.” I murmur. “After saying you’d do anything for me.” He opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, then he closes it. He looks across the room, looking at the leaves on the trees outside as they dance in the wind.

“Do you know why Katie and I broke up?” He turns his head quickly back to me after he asks. I resist the urge to wrinkle my nose at her name.

“She wanted to get married and you didn’t?”

“Yeah, that’s part of it.” I pause with the toast by my mouth. Something is shifting between us. Anticipation tingles in my limbs as I wait for what he says next.

“I never thought you two were right for each other.” I shrug, chomping on my toast and avoiding his gaze.

“Why?” He wonders, leaning forward in his chair, just a little closer to me. I lick my lips, shrugging. “Maybe it’s because you and I love each other?”

The silence between us is so thick it could be icing on a cake. I set my toast back down on the plate, swallowing the last bite I had in my mouth. My stomach sloshes for a completely different reason than an illness. He reaches out to hold my hand. Our fingers slide together, grasping at each other.

“I’ll never forget the moment that I realized I love you.” He’s speaking so softly. I tilt my head, watching his mouth as he speaks. Is this really happening? Or am I hallucinating from a lack of fluids. “It was at that country festival on the beach we go to at the beginning of the season. You were drunk and dancing and complaining about being dizzy. You fell into my arms, completely surrendering yourself to me. I almost dropped you and you joked about my quick hands. It was the first time I saw you as more than a friend. You reached up to brush the hair out of my eyes. I’ve never felt anything close to that with anyone else before or since then. One touch and I was done.”

“That was two years ago.” I respond, feeling my mouth go dry.

“Yeah, and I’ve loved you every day since.”

I lean forward and place our lips together. My arms fall around his shoulders as I pull him closer to me. His hands dash into the hair at the back of my head, cradling it as our tongues touch. Soon, his hands trail down my back, coming under my butt to lift me from my chair to straddle his lap. I settle there easily, like I was made for him. Slowly, I pull away for air. My gaze drinks him in beneath me, lips shining from our kiss, blue eyes drunk on the look of me above him.

“You and Katie weren’t right for each other because you and I are.” I confess to him. He grins back at me. “I’m so in love with you.”

“We should be together then.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, baby.”

So many nights, alone in my bed, I dreamed of this. Now, his hands stroke my thighs, igniting a fire in me that only he can calm.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” It’s a soft whisper as I lean down to press my lips back to his. “I’ll have to find a way to repay you.” Adrian stills beneath me. I take his bottom lip between my teeth.

“We’re just gonna dive right in, eh?” He chuckles.

“Oh, if you wanna take it slow-“

“We’ve waited long enough.” He whispers against my lips.

My teeth connect with them because of my grin.

Turns out, Adrian Kempe is worth the wait.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

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Write and Create for Yourself First | thoughts on fanfiction, art and external validation

When it comes to fanfiction, or any creation for that matter, so many people judge their own fics, art and talent by the amount of interaction with it.

I only know because I recently used to be one of them.

For people who seek external validation, if they have a story that has a thousand kudos or notes, they consider it worthy.

But if it has only 2, or god forbid none, then they feel like it wasn’t good or they “wasted their time” writing it. But that’s just not true, and it’s such a hurtful way of thinking about yourself and your own work. It’s only human to feel drawn towards external validation, but it’s your choice whether or not to chase it.

I implore you to think about it a different way, and hopefully make you feel a little better if you are the kind of person who thinks this way. Because in most cases, kudos, likes, comments, interaction—it’s a reflection of exposure, your current following, the luck of an algorithm, the traffic to that specific corner of the internet, or just how niche of a genre you’re creating in.

Not talent.

Think about this: imagine someone you idolize, respect or even envy the talent and success of. It could be a famous musician, author, a fellow fic writer—anyone who is successful and talented.

Now ask yourself: if no one in the world, not one single soul, ever saw any creation this person ever made…

Would it make that person any less talented?

If that famous musician never shared their music with anyone, are they no longer talented? Are they any less worthy of feeling confident in themselves and their work? Should they feel any less about themselves because they don’t have anyone validating their talent and ability?

If your favorite book writer kept their stories to themselves and never shared them, are they any less brilliant?

No.

But society makes it seem like it.

Think about your favorite books or movies or fanfics—(not your own, but someone else’s work that you love)—that don’t have a lot of kudos or likes or engagement. You love this story/creation. It touched you and you can see how incredible it is. Does it matter that the rest of the world doesn’t? Does it make you love it any less? Do you look at the kudos count and then say “Oh, wait, now it isn’t good anymore.” How many times are you commenting on something saying “I can’t believe this doesn’t have more comments/likes/etc!”

Do you realize how many people say that about the fics you’ve written that have little engagement? Even if they don’t tell you, there are people who are thinking it. There are countless posts and comments on tumblr from people who admit they don't comment because they simply are shy or don't know what to say.

External validation is a dangerous hole to fall into. Because the more you reach for it, the more you rely on it, the deeper you fall.

The easiest way to avoid falling into that hole is to look at your creation the moment you’ve created it, and capture the feeling you have right then and there. What does it make you feel? Did it help you cope? Did it make you smile or laugh? Did it make you cry and ease some of your emotional weight? Did you just feel that you created an incredible thing, and that you love it so much?

Someone liking it or not liking it doesn’t change what you feel in that moment.

Sometimes, you just have to wait for your time. Maybe your creation needs a few years and then it’ll get noticed and you’ll be rolling in success.

Does that mean you’re supposed to feel sad and invalidated until that happens?

If you currently have a creation that’s seen some external validation already, what would you tell your past-self who just posted it, and is waiting for engagement, thinking it isn’t good enough until they get some?

Think of all the time you spent sad, waiting for everyone else to change your mind. Think about how much power you’re giving them! Imagine that person whose underappreciated fic you love. If they were sad about it, what would you tell them?

Because sometimes, there are just things that won’t get exposure. There are just tv shows that won’t get picked up or movie deals that fall through and never get made, books that never get published and fics that never get read.

And if that is devastating to you, I ask you why you’re writing them in the first place.

Of course we all want to share our creations and get comments and positive reviews. And they are wonderful and fulfilling and inspiring and motivating! But if they are the only reason you are creating, if you always feel you wasted your time on a story that receives little interaction, you will feel empty so much of the time. You will always be wanting more, because you are focused on the quantity of them. When you are in this mindset, the moment after you finish reading the most heartfelt review you’ve ever gotten... you’re already waiting to get the next one.

But instead, if you create for yourself, if you sit in that moment of creation and you feel incredible about it, just between you and yourself… and you remember that feeling and that fact even after posting it publicly, everything else is just extra. It’s just the cherry on top. If you wrote that story because you needed to get something off your chest and you did, it doesn’t matter what someone else thinks of it.

If you felt incredible when creating art, then that art is incredible.

Hopefully, you are sharing your work with people, rather than writing it for them. Or, more accurately, for their positive feedback and compliments. Comments are sweeter when they aren’t viewed as payment to you or validation, and are instead like a gift to you.

You are always happy with your work if you view it this way.

You are sometimes happy with your work, depending on the actions of other people, if you rely on external validation.

Obviously you can do whatever you want! It’s your life and it’s your creations. But I can at least tell you that you will be a lot happier if you create for yourself first and take everything else as a wonderful surprise addition.

Because as someone who has climbed back out of that external validation hole and saw the sun for the first time in a long time, I can at least tell you that it has been so much happier for me.

I wrote an addition to this post to answer this question: How do you write for yourself first when you are making writing a professional career? That post is here!

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penmansparadise · 1 year

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Hey everyone! I’ve got this assignment for school, and for one of the parts I need to get some statistics.

It’s about character building, and if any writers seeing this could fill out this form, I would very much appreciate it. It shouldn’t take too long.

If you’re not a writer, please don’t fill this out.

And like with polls, please share for a bigger sample size.

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penmansparadise · 1 year

Text

Ed Nygma ~ The Set Up

Pairing: Ed Nygma x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Mild language

A/N: Hello! It's been quite some time since I've posted and written. I have been recently watching Gotham, and I'm obsessed. This is the first time I've ever dabbled in the DC realm, so please go easy on me. This will hopefully be the first of several one shots for the show Gotham. Please do not be afraid to send in a request but do know that I am only at the beginning of Season 3, so who I write for may be limited. But if you like this one, please send in a request for another! I hope you all enjoy

The sound of your shoes against the tile floor mixed with the hustle and bustle of the GCPD. You moved around officers hauling in criminals screaming for justice as you made your way to your little corner of the building. You hadn’t been working at the GCPD for long. In fact, you were happy where you were previously employed. You would have stayed there forever had a former employee, who was now caged up in Arkham, not decided to torch the place. So, when you found yourself out of a job, you did what any ordinary distraught adult would do. You called your best friend and scheduled a date for some much-needed wine therapy. Unfortunately for you, your best friend was hanging out with her close buddy, Kristen Kringle, when said call was made.

You had only met Kristen a handful of times and were not a fan. She always struck you as shallow. Every time you spent time with her, she would only ever talk about how much she hated her job but enjoyed all the male attention from the officers. So, naturally, when your best friend told you that Kristen could get you a job as her assistant at the GCPD, you were a little skeptical. But, since your options were limited, you reluctantly accepted and eventually found yourself being Kristen’s own personal servant.

You hurried through the building until you came upon the Record’s Room door. Just as you were about to enter, the trill of Kristen’s giggle filled your ears, causing you to pause. You peeked around the corner to find Officer Dougherty trailing his fingers up and down Kristen’s arm. His head was angled down as he whispered something into her ear, earning another laugh. You rolled your eyes before turning on your heel with a huff and headed toward the M.E.’s office. When you entered the room, it was empty. Lee always ran a bit late, but you knew she wouldn’t mind if you hid in her office. She was used to it by now.

You dropped your bag onto the floor and began aimlessly walking around the room. Vials of odd-colored liquids were chilling in a refrigerator, and several medical tools were lined on the table in the middle of the room. You meandered over to the lone skeleton in the corner and began lifting up its limp arms. You gave them a light shake causing the whole thing to rattle when the door opened.

“Making friends over there?” Lee asked.

You dropped the arms and let out a little chuckle.

“I couldn’t help myself. He looked a little bonely.”

“Not a pun this early in the morning, Y/N” Lee groaned.

You just smiled as you moved to plop down into her roller chair. As you watched Lee set up for the day, you began slowly spinning the chair. She sent you a glance over her shoulder.

“Kristen has company again?”

You scoffed and said, “Officer Dougherty, now.”

“She sure moved on quickly from Flass.”

With every spin, you briefly looked at Lee and said, “Don’t even get me started.”

Lee let out a breathy laugh and then continued to move around the room. You were spinning in silence when the door opened again, and none other than Ed Nygma entered. You slammed your feet down in an attempt to stop the spinning and nearly sent yourself flying from the chair. A bright smile spread across Ed’s face the second your eyes locked with his.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Hi, Ed,” you said, his name coming out like a secret you didn’t want anyone else to know.

“I thought I might find you here.”

You and Ed hit it off immediately, which inevitably meant that your crush for him blossomed rather quickly. You remember it like it was yesterday. It was your first day on the job, and Kristen had delegated sorting to you. So, you were crouched behind the filing cabinets going through shelves of folders, when Ed walked into the Record’s Room. You didn’t see him right away. You could only hear was his chipper and smooth voice as he greeted Kristen.

“Though my beauty is becoming,” he said, his smile seeping into every word, “I can hurt you just the same; I come in many colors; I am what I am by any other name. What am I?”

Kristen groaned.

“Mr. Nygma, I’m really not in the mood for one of your little riddles.”

“Do you give up?” Ed had asked, not even caring about Kristen’s hostile tone.

You could hear her huff before she said, “Yeah, I give up.”

You didn’t even know him yet, but for some reason, the way Kristen was treating him was pissing you off. Maybe that’s what possessed you to answer his riddle when he began to give the answer.

“I’m a–”

“Rose,” you said as you stood up, revealing yourself.

His eyes snapped to you, and you took a sharp breath. He was cuter than he sounded. Tall with hair combed almost systematically and eyes the color of a warm cup of coffee. And when he directed his smile toward you, it felt like you were struck by lightning. He pulled a rose you didn’t see him holding from behind his back and handed it to you.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

You took the rose from him, your fingers just barely grazing his velvety skin. His eyes traveled over every inch of your face, from the arch of your brow to the curve of your lips.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began, extending his hand to you. “I’m Ed Nygma.”

You placed your hand in his large palm and couldn’t help the butterflies that erupted in your stomach.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

The corners of his lips curled upward as he shook your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.”

He held onto your hand for a moment longer than necessary before finally taking his exit. You were frozen in time as your body reacted to him even though he was no longer in the room. You could barely hear when Kristen began to whine about how Ed was the guy she told your best friend about who wouldn’t leave her alone. Her voice became a hum as you stared at the rose Ed gave you, and all you could think was that you were glad Kristen didn’t like him because you did. A lot.

That was six months ago. And ever since that first meeting, Ed would visit you every morning and give you a riddle. His daily ritual only furthered your feelings for him. As the months rolled on, you did your best to conceal your emotions, but it seemed that everyone knew of your ever-growing crush. Of course, that was everyone but Ed.

You sat up a little straighter in your chair as you waited for Ed to deliver his daily riddle.

“When you stop to look, you can always see me. But,” he said, sticking a finger in the air, “if you try to touch me, you can never feel me. Although you walk towards me, I remain the same distance from you. What am I?”

You began nibbling on your lower lip as you tried to work through the riddle, whispering to yourself. Your eyebrows furrowed as you brought your hand to your chin.

“Do you give up?” He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

You waved your hands at him as you let out a string of “no’s,” but after a few more minutes of nothing, you finally let out a defeated huff.

“I give up. What is it?”

Ed’s grin grew, then he said, “The horizon.”

You threw your head back and groaned earning a laugh from Ed.

“I should’ve gotten that one!” You shouted. “That was a good riddle. Right, Lee?”

Lee hummed in response.

“Yeah, it was.”

Ed gave her a nod and said, “Good morning, Dr. Thompkins.”

“Ed,” Lee began with a gentle smile, “please just call me Lee.”

“Right. My apologies, Lee.”

He turned back to you, and your heart jumped in your chest. Even after all these months, you were still unable to figure out how he had such an effect on you. Ed just existing made you melt. You couldn’t help but think what would happen if he ever got his hands on you. Your bottom lip slid between your teeth at the thought.

“Well,” Ed said, pulling you back to reality, “I better head out. I’ll, um, I’ll see you later, Miss Y/L/N.”

You nodded and let out a weak “Okay,” before Ed turned and began walking toward the door. As he went to leave, you looked at Lee, who mouthed, “Say something,” to which you quickly shook your head. Lee rolled her eyes, and just before the door shut behind Ed, she called out to him. At first, the door remained shut, but when it slowly opened again, your heart sank. You tried to control the way your eyes grew to the size of saucers as you watched Lee, but you knew how you were feeling was written all over your face. Ed reentered the room and looked between the two of you.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, his innocence doing something to your insides.

“No, of course not!” Lee said, moving toward him. “No, um, I was just thinking about our conversation we had a while back about cooking. Do you remember that?”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you sent Lee a look, but she ignored you. Ed nodded.

“Y-yes, I do.”

Lee smiled, and to the normal eye, it may have looked endearing. But to you, a close friend, you knew she was scheming.

“I remember you mentioned how you loved to cook and would like to have a double date with Jim and me.”

Your spine straightened, and you began to stand from your chair.

“Lee…”

“I was just wondering if you were free tonight?” Lee asked, ignoring your protest.

Ed’s eyes flitted from Lee’s to yours and back. His cheeks began to redden as he dropped his head and absentmindedly fixed his glasses.

“Oh,” he began, “um, I-I am free, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold up my end of the whole double date thing. I, uh, I don’t have a date.”

Lee’s gaze snapped to yours briefly before saying, “Just bring Y/N!”

Your whole body was tense, and you clenched your fists at your side.

“Lee,” you said, but it was as if you weren’t even in the room.

“I’m sure she has no plans.”

“Lee!” You barked, finally gaining her attention.

You gave her a look, but when Ed turned to face you, you did your best to look as if you weren’t about to pass out or commit murder. He began to fidget with his glasses again and avoided your stare as he said, “I, uh, if you’re free, um, would you like to maybe join us for dinner, Miss Y/L/N?”

When his stare finally met yours, you could see the vulnerability deep in his eyes. You looked at Lee briefly before nodding.

“I’d love to, Ed,” you said, a small smile pulling at your lips.

You could almost see the tension leave his body as he relaxed his shoulders.

“Fantastic. How does seven sound?”

Lee clapped a hand on Ed’s shoulder and said, “That sounds perfect. We’ll see you later.”

A grin spread across Ed’s face before he gave a curt nod and exited once more. And as soon as the door shut behind him, you turned to Lee, who looked smug.

“What the hell was that?” You asked, but Lee didn’t care. She just looked at you and crossed her arms.

“You’re welcome,” she said, causing your jaw to drop, but before you could argue, she held her hand up to stop you. “I don’t want to hear why you think what I did was wrong. Now, you better head to records before someone starts looking for you.”

You stood frozen with your mouth agape for another moment before finally letting out a groan and grabbing your bag from the floor.

“This isn’t over!” You shouted as you showed yourself out, and just as the door was shutting, you could hear Lee’s chuckle.

The rest of the day went by in a blur. No matter how hard you tried to focus on work, your mind was elsewhere. A thousand scenarios were running through your head. What if Ed called you and told you that he actually found a date and didn’t want you to show up? What if he didn’t call and you got to his place only to see some other woman? Your stomach rolled at the thought. Even though you were excited to finally have an unofficial date with Ed, you couldn’t help the way your heart was trying to run away from you.

By the time your shift ended, it felt like you had aged fifteen years. You had been stressing for eight hours, and the evening hadn’t even begun yet. Kristen had already left by the time you gathered your things and began to make your way to the exit. You were digging through your bag when you ran into someone. When you looked up to apologize, you saw Lee and Jim.

“Oh! I’m so glad I ran into you,” Lee said with that same sneaky smile from earlier.

The hairs on the back of your neck stuck up as you asked, “Why?”

Lee let out a sigh.

“We won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight.” She placed a hand on Jim’s back and gave a small pout. “Poor Jim here has come down with a stomach bug.”

You looked at Jim, who was avoiding your stare, and your eyes narrowed.

“He looks fine.”

Lee elbowed him in the side, and Jim slowly brought his closed fist up to his mouth before giving a cough. You furrowed your eyebrows and let out a dry laugh.

“Did you just fake cough?”

Jim shuffled his feet a bit then, in the most monotonous tone, said, “I have been instructed to get bed rest…doctor’s orders.”

Your eyes grew as you looked back at Lee.

“Is he being serious?”

Lee just gave a bashful grin and a shrug before turning to usher Jim out of the precinct.

“Hey!” You shouted after them, but they didn’t turn around, and soon you were standing alone in the bullpen.

“Son of a bitch,” you whispered through gritted teeth as you exited the building and made your way to your vehicle.

It was as if you were on autopilot as you drove home. And when you finally arrived at your apartment, you could barely focus on getting ready for the evening. Your thoughts were a whirlwind. You and Ed had never been alone together before. In fact, you never spent any time together outside of work. Here and there, you would talk on the phone, sometimes even late into the evening, but you had never been on a date. You weren’t sure what to expect, especially now that Lee and Jim wouldn’t be there as a buffer. But even though Lee had set you up and you were nervous, maybe even scared, you still drove to Ed’s apartment at seven. You hiked up the stairs until you were staring at his cold metal front door. Your hands were shaking, and you turned to look at the steps that would lead you right back to the comfort of your car. You could have easily just gone back home and blamed your absence on a headache or your nonexistent sick goldfish. But you didn’t. Instead, you raised your shaky hand and knocked on Ed’s door.

It took him a moment to get to the door, but when it slid open, and you saw him, your heart fluttered in your chest. His normally well-manicured hair was a little disheveled, only making him even more attractive. A bright smile split across his face.

“You came,” he said as he opened the door even further to allow you to enter.

You walked in and were immediately blanketed with a decadent smell emanating from the kitchen, and something that reminded you of clean linen. Your eyes shut for a minute as you took a deep breath. You only opened them again when you heard Ed shut the door and ask, “Do you know when Dr. Thompkins and Detective Gordon will be joining us?”

You let out a sigh and made a mental note to maim Lee when you saw her at work again.

“Um,” you cleared your throat and turned to face Ed,” they’re actually not coming.”

“Oh?”

With that simple sentence, you could see the anxiety seep into Ed’s demeanor.

“Yeah,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck, “Jim wasn’t feeling well.”

It was quiet between the two of you for a moment as Ed stared and processed what you said. His stare was glued to the floor, and you were starting to think this was a bad idea until he lifted his chocolate brown eyes to meet yours and gave you his award-winning smile.

“Well, I guess it’ll just be the two of us then.”

Before you could say anything in return, he hustled past you and entered the kitchen, resuming his work on setting the plates.

“Please, make yourself at home. Dinner is almost ready.”

You took in the apartment as you leisurely made your way toward the table. It was rather small, but everything about it screamed “Ed.” His decor was modern and simple, and there wasn’t one thing out of place. From the books sitting on his bookshelf to the vinyl he had stacked next to his record player, everything had its own spot.

When you finally made it to the table, Ed had just placed two perfectly crafted plates of food down. He pulled your chair out for you, and when you were seated, he took his place across from you. The food looked just as good as it smelt. You honestly weren’t expecting anything special but were pleasantly surprised when you took your first bite. Several flavors danced on your tongue, and you had to hold back a moan.

“Ed,” you said a little too breathy, “this tastes amazing. Where did you learn to cook like this?”

A pleased grin pulled at Ed’s lips, and he shrugged.

“Cooking is like a science, is it not?”

You gave a small chuckle before diving back into your plate. The rest of the meal went by in silence. You were too immersed in your food to even bother starting a conversation. But the way Ed’s foot tapped incessantly under the table did not go unnoticed. And when you both finished, Ed nearly jumped from his seat to gather all the dishes and begin cleaning. You followed him into the kitchen and grabbed a dish towel. Neither of you spoke as you worked. But you could see a slight shake in Ed’s typically steady hands as he washed the plates. You noticed how every few seconds, he pushed his glasses a little further up the bridge of his nose, despite them not needing to be adjusted. You saw how his shoulders were just slightly more tense than usual. How could you not notice? For six months, you had cataloged everything about Ed and stowed it away in your mind. You knew everything about him, even if you tried to deny it. And as badly as you wanted to convince yourself that the evening was going well, you knew that Ed had been acting different since you had arrived.

When the kitchen was cleaned, you hung the dish towel to dry and leaned against the counter opposite Ed. His eyes never met yours, but your gaze was trained on his fidgeting figure. His hair was even more tousled than before, showcasing the beginnings of a few curls. Your fingers itched to brush them back off his forehead, but you didn’t dare move. And you knew the easy thing to do would be to just grab your things and say goodnight, but you couldn’t bring yourself to leave. Instead, you took a deep breath and said, “Ed, is everything alright?”

His eyes flicked up from the floor to meet yours, and his forehead creased at your question.

“W-what do you mean?”

You threw your hands in the air and let out a small grunt.

“I mean, you’ve been acting weird all night.”

You watched as Ed swallowed as you continued.

“Usually, things aren’t so…tense between us,” you said to your shoes. Then you raised your eyes to meet his again. “Did I do something wrong?”

Ed’s face immediately softened at your question, and he closed the distance between the two of you. He took your hands in his as he shook his head.

“No, no, you didn’t do anything. It’s, uh,” he dropped his hold on you and began to pace.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he whispered more to himself than you.

You furrowed your brow at him and tried to place your hand on his arm, but he was moving too erratically for you to touch him.

“Do what?” You asked, causing him to stop in front of you.

Ed took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, focusing his stare on you.

“Miss Y/L/N.”

“Ed,” you said, “just call me Y/N.”

He shook his head and readjusted his glasses once more.

“Right. Y/N.”

He looked at you again.

“I, uh, for a long time, um, oh geez.”

You watched as his mouth opened and closed several times before he balled up his fists, pressed them to his eyes, and let out a high-pitched whine.

“Ed,” you began, taking a step closer to him, “are you o–”

Suddenly, Ed’s hands dropped, and his eyes pierced into yours.

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express but the easiest to ignore.”

He took a deep breath and slowly inched toward you as he continued.

“I can be given to many or just one.”

His shaky and slender fingers traced down your arm sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

“What am I?” He asked, voice so low it was barely above a whisper.

Your mind was a muddle. There was no way you could think of an answer with his fingers brushing against yours and his heart clearly exposed. You shook your head, and Ed asked, “Do you give up?”

You gave a weak nod. Ed dropped your gaze for a brief moment before looking back at you and saying, “Love.”

Your stomach did a somersault at his answer, and your heart pounded against your chest. Ed laced his fingers together with yours.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N. I have been since the first time I met you.”

Every part of you was buzzing from his admission. You had been waiting months for him to show you any sign that he felt the same way you did. When he didn’t, you began to think your feelings were one-sided. But here he was, standing in the middle of his kitchen, holding your hand, professing his love for you. Your knees felt like they were about to give out, and all the oxygen escaped your lungs. When you didn’t say anything right away, Ed started fidgeting again. He released your hand and began tapping his glasses.

“Oh, great,” he said to the floor, “Now you’re uncomfortable, and I just ruined the only real friendship I have. Way to go, Ed. You–“

You didn’t give him a chance to finish his sentence. Instead, you took his face between your hands and slammed your lips to his. He was stiff at first, but it only took a moment before his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His large hands gripped the fabric against your back, and you didn’t waste any time letting your hands thread through his hair. It was as if everything was moving in slow motion. The way Ed’s lips moved in sync with yours felt unhurried. The way the heat bubbling in your gut slowly seeped throughout the rest of your body felt like drinking a cup of hot cocoa after being out in a winter storm all day. It was everything you had imagined and more.

When you finally pulled back for air, you brought your eyes up to meet Ed’s and whispered, “I’m in love with you too, Ed.”

“Really?” He asked, incredulous.

You just nodded, earning a small laugh from Ed before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the evening, you and Ed sat cuddled up on his couch, listening to his array of records while you made a mental note to not maim Lee but rather figure out how you could ever thank her for setting you and Ed up.

*I do not own gif* *Credit to gif owner*

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