#another first chance by robbie couch

[heysmalltownboy]

another first chance by robbie couch

LETS MAKE THIS FANDOM HAPPEN, EVERYONE. THIS AUDIOBOOK WRECKED ME

[metalandmagi]

Ugh not me reading two books in a row with terrible endings and one that didn't get interesting until the ending. Why can't every book I read be Captive Prince? 😭

[jamie-fanfan118]

Extremely random post, but I finished “Another first chance” by Robbie Couch and for literally the whole time I thought that the twist was going to be ghosts. Lik I guess that is sort of similar to what actually happened, but I thought it would be a bit different. Instead of River looking at the photo of him and Nash and noticing that Nash was gone, I thought he was going to look at the first photo he accidentally made of his empty bed and suddenly see Dylan sitting there. Lol, I guess I get carried away with theories a bit sometime (=

[palmtreesx3]

GET OFF - The V-Card

The V-Card

<- Prologue || Next ->

Series Masterlist

Get in the mood for this installment:

Series Playlist

The V-Card Mood Board

Summary: (3.7k) Everyone is nervous for their first time, right? Steve and Robin are busy tackling a lot of their firsts - first day in the shop, first week in the city, first friends (or something) in the city. It’s all a little intimidating and both quickly find that old habits die hard - particularly for Steve. It’s going to take more than just a new city to really give these two a new life. Be sure to read the Prologue before reading! 

Warnings: it's a sex shop, guys - so it's generally just NSFW 18+. In this AU Hawkins is weird and cannon events happen to some extent, but not to all familiar characters. If they are present in Chicago for this AU, they have no ties to Hawkins. Absent parents, excessive drinking, poor coping mechanisms, M/F hookups and implied/light smut, mentions of female oral, our boy on his King Steve shit, one night stands, careless hookups, and a coming out. 

Shout out to @loveshotzz for the blatant Whatta Man nod in this chapter. IYKYK. 

Chicago: That Saturday, 1993

The sun was beating in through the front apartment window as Steve sat on the couch with a can of High Life, taking a breather from all of the unpacking. He has been hyper-focused all weekend on getting settled and unpacked - a complete 180° from Robin's settling in approach, which looked more like making sure her sheets were on her bed and simply ignoring the rest of the boxes stacked up inside her doorway than anything else. 

For a split second Steve considered picking up the phone and calling home just to check in, let his parents know they've got their bearings and are all safe in the city, but as that thought settled, he realized how absolutely ridiculous it was. They never cared where he was and what he was doing before, so there's no reason for them to actually start caring now that he's finally gone. Worming it's way deep in his brain another thought occurs to him - if he just would have packed up and left, it probably would have taken them months to even realize it. 

Plus, the second he talks to either one of them he knows they're going to ask about a job, and he's not quite ready for how that conversation might go. Yeah Dad, we're all set, start at the sex shop 10am on Monday!  He shakes his head and laughs to himself at the thought before throwing his head back letting the beer, just starting to warm and lose its crispness, run down his throat. It's tasting a bit bitter now…and Steve can relate. 

Pulling him from his self-deprecating thoughts, Robin swings open the door with the sound of jangling key chains being shaken like maracas, the soundtrack to her grand entrance. 

"Got your keeeeys, Dingus! It's officially official now!" She tosses the key ring over to Steve, who has his eyebrows raised as they land about 5 ft to his left on the other side of the couch. 

"Nice one, Robs. Maybe one day we'll find you some aim."

"Long shot, buddy. Better chance of me confidently shooting my shot with Stevie Nicks than that ever happening. But good on you for thinking I have any potential whatsoever."

"S'wat friends are for, Robbie." He grins at her sideways before leaning over to pick up his new set of keys. "The hell is this?" He asks, dangling the keys up in the air. 

Hopping up and down with incredibly youthful glee, Robin beams at the boy and exclaims "A TAMAGOTCHI. I got one too. Orange for you. Blue for me. Pretty sure even if we could have a pet in this building it wouldn't end well, so I got us these!" 

"This is ridiculous. I can't believe you got us a toy." Robin slips on the couch nestled up close to Steve, pressing the button on both to initiate their hatching as she presses her shoulder into his side. A beat of silence goes by before he throws his arm over her shoulders and says, "Show me how to do it, Robs. Can't wait for mine to outlive yours." He smiles down at her. 

"Eat shit. Whoever kills theirs first buys the other a drink."

The twinkling sound signaling the hatching of each of their eggs echoes through the apartment as they eye up their pets and glare back at one another.

"Oh, it's on. Never been more confident about a deal before in my life."

"Speaking of drinks … " Robin muses. " Whaddya wanna do tonight? "

Steve's not quite sure how long it's going to take for him to get used to the sheer quantity of people here in Chicago. He's pretty sure there's as many people in this club right now than there is in the whole of Hawkins. 

When they arrived, Steve was feeling a lot. It was overwhelming and nothing in Hawkins flashed so bright and shook so loud… except maybe the 4th of July Carnival and their fireworks on the outskirts of town, but that was nothing compared to this. 

One drink in and finding a place to hunker down near the bar at a table, he felt more comfortable. He was enjoying Robin's running commentary while she spent the better part of an hour people-watching, still passively feeling the heat radiating off of the dance floor, when he decided to switch over from the lukewarm beers to a sweet and sharp whiskey and soda. 

Three drinks in and sufficiently loose, Robin is fluttering around the edges of the bar and the dance floor - now making friends with some of the people she's been eying up all night with her inhibitions down as far as Steve has ever seen them. He's drunkenly grinning at his friend, happy to see a kind of social side of her that feels new, even though he knows the roots of it have been buried deep inside her for her whole life, interwoven through her heart and her brain stem, just waiting for permission to come out and untangle itself. 

"Steve! STEVE!" She shouts over the thumping bass of the music, wildly gesturing for him to come over to where she now stands, in the center of a group of people who look friendly enough for him to oblige. 

Four drinks in and now the group is laughing, hollering and leaning in hard to catch an ounce of what the others are saying. Steve's eyes are squinting trying hard to read their new friends lips as they try and converse over shots and the loud music in the dark. Turns out Robin found a whole group of people that live in the same building as they do and, as one does when they're absolutely shit faced, they all immediately began talking about how they're all new best friends, curling arms around one another's necks and slurring "I love you guys" over drinks number five and six. 

Steve is feeling a familiar twinge. It's not his fault that he has no idea that there are ways to make friends other than people pleasing or trauma bonding. Now relishing in the ease of finding city-friends over an open drink and the immediacy of acceptance that comes with puffing out his peacock feathers and playing the delicate social hierarchy game he mastered in his teens, he barely even notices that he's dusting off his King Steve party tricks. The stress of the last few years that have him wound up tighter than a watch melt away as the coy and flirty remarks start flowing like a waterfall and the locker room talk comes back like riding a bike. 

Six drinks down the hatch and Robin can't find Steve. Any other time, and Robin would be absolutely losing all the marbles in her basket worrying over Steve. Especially in this new city. She'd assume he was dead. That someone finally came to whisk him away and lock him up for all the things that he's not supposed to know. Sure, Steve can handle things. He's definitely the most capable person she knows and he quite literally raised himself, and saved himself more than once, but none of that even matters right now because she's just swaying to the beat of Janet Jackson pumping through the club speakers with her new soulmates who live on the top floor. 

Instead Steve is at the bar, queuing up drink number seven for him and drink number who-knows-what for the absolutely smoking girl at his side named Melissa, who apparently lives just up the staircase, too. She's reminded him three times so far that he can just call her Missy, but not without leaning in close, just next to his ear to make sure he hears just how sweet she sounds. And boy does he want to know more about how sweet she sounds. 

Steve's eager hands are hooked in her belt loops, the girl's bright red tube top riding up her stomach as she pushes herself into him. Her fingers are tangling through his sweaty hair and his are ghosting over her collarbone and down her arm. His lips are on hers before drink seven is even delivered, so he caps off his night with her tongue down his throat instead. 

He has no clue what time it is as they tumble through the apartment door, Melissa Missy still giggling at his orange Tamagotchi keychain as his lips chase hers once again and the door slams shut. Perfect. Robin's not home, he thinks. Completely forgetting he was there at the club with her in the first place, he tugs at the girls long blond hair at the roots, runs his hands over her glistening and glittered shoulders and shoves her down into his plush comforter the second they reach his bedroom. 

He's so caught up in this big-city hottie he managed to get into his bed on his first weekend in town, he doesn't hear Robin come in the door, nor does he notice her clanging around the kitchen to chug down a few huge glasses of water in hopes of being at least a little conscious tomorrow morning. Robin, however, does notice Steve clanging around the bedroom, especially after she hears a deep and throaty moan that is unmistakably female. 

"Ha. Fuck yeah, Stevie. Losing that Windy City V-Card." She says quietly while wobbling to her room. Meanwhile, Steve's got his head buried deep under the sheets, blindly grasping at the girl's perky tits while he lavishes at the thought of this being the kind of opportunities that present themselves here in Chicago. His first time in this big sprawling city made him feel like he was on top of the world. 

The confident bubble he found himself in all night popped when he later woke to feel the warm summer breeze from the open window tickling his now exposed back, comforter slipping down and exposing his hips along with a peek of his ass to the girl who was accidentally pulling it off as she stood up from the bed. Unabashedly naked, she stretches her arms in a yawn, Steve rolls to peek at the clock. 4:36am. "Where are you off to?" his raspy, sleep laden voice cuts the silence as she finds herself caught gathering her things. "Are you try'n't sneak out on me?" He mumbles with a smile, thinking he's being flirty and cute. 

"That's exactly what I'm doing, hon." She winks, as she snags her cheeky hot pink thong off the back of his desk chair and shoves it in her pocket on the way out the bedroom door. "I'll be quiet on my way out. Don't worry. Maybe I'll see ya around. Maybe I won't. It was fun though. You were a KING with that tongue so I wouldn't be opposed…but it's honestly unlikely." 

And Steve is there, left tangled and alone and feeling stone cold sober after that dose of honesty from Melissa, left wondering if this is how all the girls back in Hawkins felt after he dipped out on them. Having his fun but knowing it wouldn't go any further than that. Getting off under Skull Rock, in the back of his BMW, atop their pink frilly pillows with their parents in the room next door - all hanging on to the hope of just a little more - the potential of being needed and wanted and good enough for the likes of King Steve, but waking up empty and disposable instead. If he didn't already hate himself before, he definitely does now. 

"Sooooo." Robin sings out, while twirling her spoon through her milky cereal. "We gonna talk about that little Bedroom Rodeo last night or what?" 

"Robin. Please. It's too early for this." He presses his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off the pulsing just beyond his sinuses. "and did you just say Bedroom Rodeo? The fuck?"

"Well, yeah. Bedroom Rodeo… ya know. Crushing the buns? Two person pushups? Horizontal Tango? Please tell me with all that racket you at least got off?" 

"Ew Rob, where the fuck are you coming up with these?" He looks at her as she shrugs, slurping the last of her sweet cereal milk straight from the bowl as she did it. "This may be shocking, but… probably the most annoying thing you've ever said. Crushing the buns? Are you serious?" he says as he walks over and face plants dramatically onto the couch. 

Rolling over to his back and sliding on the wire rims of the glasses he never lets anyone but Robin see him in, the apartment comes into focus and so does his best friend, sitting at the counter grinning from ear to ear while tugging up her eyebrows to him in a taunt, chomping on her cereal and looking far to comfortable in his own goddamn yellow sweatshirt. His hand jutting out abruptly and gesturing to her morning attire with a furrowed brow and a questioning look, she says absolutely nothing in response. "Are you serious? Get your own clothes!"

"Eh, yours was already unpacked and my box of cozy stuff is on the bottom. I didn't get to it yet." She says casually. 

“Yeah okay. The box pile huh? Well don’t think we’re going to be sharing everything around here.” 

To which he watches her lips curl up in a Cheshire cat grin as she responds “Aw man, not even the ladies?” 

He hates this already. 

"Need some coffee, tiger? Probably a little sluggish after testing out that mattress."

His groan was loud at that one. "ROBIN! "

"Fine, I'll leave you alone…for now. But we're gonna talk about some rules for when we're Jamming the Clam later over a smoke, ya got me? Roommate ground rules at all." She winked as she sauntered down the hallway to her room. 

"Sure Robbie. Whatever you want. But do me a favor… if you're so goddamn chipper this morning maybe you can unpack a freaking box from that mega-pile. Won't be bringing back some hot piece to your room to Jam the Clam in that fuckin' disaster zone!" He shouts at her back. 

Throwing up a peace sign and swaying her hips a little more (albeit awkwardly) she makes a show of acknowledging her friends request before shutting her bedroom door behind her. 

"Robin, right? And… " Murray looks at him up and down.

"Steve" the boy scowls. 

"Wow. Okay then. Cheer up Rico Suave. Robin! You didn't tell me your friend had this much charisma when you stopped by last week."

Murray Bauman is the manager of The Hideout. Maybe he owns the place, it's not entirely clear, but what is immediately crystal is that Murray is always ready to dish it out. "Alright then, welcome to The Hideout. I wanted to name it Murray's Pleasure Emporium but that got shot down pretty fuckin fast by my partner, so it is what it is."

With his salt-and-pepper hair, neatly groomed yet slightly disheveled, and a well-maintained beard framing his jawline, Murray's appearance hints at a man who has seen his fair share of adventures. Despite his brash exterior it's quickly clear that Murray effortlessly creates a comfortable atmosphere, so it's no wonder he finds himself successful in an environment where he can push boundaries and help others to explore their fantasies and fulfill their desires.

"So here's how this is gonna work. You two are gonna work retail. You'll need to run the register, oversee the displays, manage the inventory and help the customers. Peace-a cake, right?" He spurts off while simultaneously counting the money in the register for the day. 

Robin and Steve spit out a garbled acknowledgement while Murray looks back and forth between the two. "Red, did you say you two were... roommates?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

Eyes knocking back and forth to look between the two friends, Steve can already see where this is going. Been there a thousand times. So he cuts off Murray's silent analysis and offers up the information needed to satisfy his curiosity. "No, we aren't dating. And .. ah ah. Wait." He cuts him off as Murray starts to open his mouth, ready to counter back "...and NO, before you go there, we aren't fucking either. Didn't happen. Won't happen. Platonic."

"With a capital P." Robin finishes the end of Steve's sentence. "We can't promise we won't be weird, but we can one hundred percent promise there will not be any lovers quarreling with us."

"Well alright then. Loud and clear." Murray says in response. He claps his hands loudly and rubs them together before continuing on with his sex shop monologue. 

"Back to business, then. Covered the retail bits - Ah, yeah here we go. As you can see, the shop offers an extensive selection of adult toys, lingerie for the ladies…or the men, sensual massage oils - a personal favorite - and other products that cater to a wide range of tastes and sexual preferences. I like the good stuff, because I have taste. So that's what I sell. I also like to have all the latest shit because I'm progressive. Call me sexually innovative, if you will. If it's new, we're gonna have it."

Steve and Robin follow dutifully behind him taking it all in. Robin's eyes are as wide as saucers and she's distracted by all of the things she does not yet understand as Murray continues to spout out information on products, business and his own personal sexual philosophies. Steve poked her shoulder and she grimaces, and returns to planet earth to hear the rest of Murray's great new hire speech. 

"The people who come in here are not sex freaks. You got that? They're normal people. Don't gotta be some pervert to want to get off and feel good, so if you can't be open-minded and nonjudgmental then you might as well not even clock in after this. Got it?"

Both nod in agreement and the edges of Murray's lips curl up in a smirk. "Perfect. Come." He directs as he walks to the register and it's adjoining display case where a wide array of colorful dildos stand spread out for selection. 

"Not that it's a job requirement or anything but, I'm assuming if you're wanting to work here and my pleasure palace your… ahem.. sufficiently experienced. Cause you're gonna need to sell the product if you get my drift. People have way more questions than you could imagine. Just yesterday I had to tell a kid that Anal Beads are, in fact, for your anus..."

Robin's mouth is aghast. Steve looks around again taking it all in and he finally laughs at Murray, who is looking them over as if he can't believe these two kids standing here in front of him know anything about the kind of sex he sells. "Listen, Murray. I didn't set out to move here to this city and work in a shop full of dildos. Surprisingly, my incredibly inexperienced friend here signed me up against my will to hawk condoms like morning coffee. Robin doesn't know shit - sorry Robs, but you don't." She shrugs her shoulders, looking at Murray and nods in agreement at her friends words. "And while I'm gonna go out on a limb and say that I'm not what you might consider all that adventurous, I've got more notches than I'm proud of and unlike most guys I can find a girl's clit. SO… I'd appreciate it if you stopped talking to me like this is 6th grade health class and let us get to work."

"I have very little to add." Robin says, "and after what I heard the other night, I'll attest to what Steve says. He sure can make 'em moan." 

Murray stands behind the counter looking Steve up and down. He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh into the still air of the shop before he starts again "Well then, Steve. I can respect that. I think you both are going to be a mess, but I can work with it... So let's hop to it."

Beyond the merchandise, the pair learn that Murray hosts educational workshops and events at The Hideout for its patrons and the community and often has specials and promos going inside for shoppers. After the first half of their day, it's clear that Murray runs a business that he is proud of and his customers are loyal. Steve decides that when people ask, he's just going to tell them he works retail. Because he in fact… does. 

As their training winds down, Murray comes out of his back office carrying a giant tray and welding some embarrassing dance moves as he delivers it delicately to the counter. "Hey, hey, hey assholes! Before we head out, we have to set up this display for tomorrow. Let's rock and roll my friends!" Robin scans the contents of the tray curiously, not so sure how all of the items fit together to make anything that resembles a display. "Uh, okay but like… what is it?" She says. 

Steve snickers as he takes in the tray full of cupcakes, bananas and condoms. "Well Robbie, despite what it looks like I don't think Murray is letting us set up snack time. I'm not sure what the cupcakes are for, but these here look like they're to practice getting the condoms on the banana."

"Bingo! Rico Suave gets the points! We're doing a condom demo tomorrow, so he's right on that. What he's wrong about though, is that the cupcakes ARE for a snack." Murray fist bumps Steve and turns to see Robin's gears turning at maximum speed. 

“What’s the matter, first time, Red?” Murray spits out, through a wide gleaming smile that Steve swears sparkles in the light, like some goddamn cartoon. 

"Actually.. ." She draws out "while I don't have the clit-finding prowess of my friend Steve here, I only strive to one day be able to eat pussy as well as he apparently can. So yes, this is my first time sliding on a condom, thank you very much." 

Murray nods and his grin never ceases, although now there's a bit more approval and admiration than taunt behind it. "C'mon then, lemme show you how to slide these on like a fuckin pro." 

Steve is beaming watching his friend speak so casually about it. Murray really is good at what he does and making people feel comfortable, or this city really is just what Robin needs, either way, the way Murray doesn't skip a beat and starts teaching Robin the art of rolling on a condom like it's just any old day makes Steve think about how many wild things they're going to get into here. And honestly it's all fine, because there’s a first time for everything.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

🏷️ TAGLIST: @livsters @katie-tibo @johnricharddeacy @angywritesstuff @k-k0129 @tisthedamnseason69 @middle-of-the-earth @thebrazilianatheist   @mochminnie @micheledawn1975 @falling-throughthe-hourglass @rafaaoli @ash5monster01 @gabessock @onyxslayss

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

Young Adult Book Releases: May 2024

🦇 Good morning, my bookish bats. I hope you have a good book, hit cuppa, and sweet snack within reach! No TBR is complete without a few young adult novels, and plenty were released in May! Here are a few YA releases to consider adding to your shelves.

🩷 May 7 🩷 ✨ The Summer Love Strategy by Ray Stoeve ✨ Hot Boy Summer by Joe Jiménez ✨ The Ballad of Darcy & Russell - Morgan Matson ✨ Pulled Under - Michelle Dalton ✨ Bite Me, Royce Taslim - Lauren Ho ✨ The Unboxing of a Black Girl - Angela Shanté ✨ Dispatches from Parts Unknown - Bryan Bliss ✨ Beastly Beauty - Jennifer Donnelly ✨ This Book Won't Burn - Samira Ahmed ✨ Perfect Little Monsters - Cindy R.X. He ✨ Sunhead - Alex Assan ✨ Lie Until It's True - Jessie Weaver ✨ Malicia by Steven dos Santos ✨ Blood at the Root - LaDarrion Williams ✨ Spin of Fate - A.A. Vora ✨ Death's Country - R. M. Romero ✨ Queerceañera by Alex Crespo ✨ Eyes Open - Lyn Miller-Lachmann ✨ Breathe: Journeys to Healthy Binding - Maia Kobabe, Dr. Sarah Peitzmeier

🩷 May 14 🩷 ✨ The Girl in Question by Tess Sharpe ✨ A Crane Among Wolves - June Hur ✨ 10 Things I Hate About Prom - Elle Gonzalez Rose ✨ Blood & Fury - Tessa Gratton & Justina Ireland ✨ The Dangerous Ones - Lauren Blackwood ✨ Beach Cute - Beth Reekles ✨ The Worst Perfect Moment by Shivaun Plozza ✨ True Love and Other Impossible Odds by Christina Li ✨ Flyboy by Kasey Leblanc ✨ Thirsty by Jas Hammonds ✨ It Waits in the Forest - Sarah Dass

🩷 May 21 🩷 ✨ Keeper of the Stones and Stars by Michael Barakiva ✨ We Mostly Come Out at Night ed. by Rob Costello ✨ Attached at the Hip - Christine Riccio ✨ The Quince Project - Jessica Parra ✨ I Wish You Would - Eva Des Lauriers ✨ Have You Seen This Girl by Nita Tyndall ✨ In the Shallows by Tanya Byrne ✨ Liar's Test - Ambelin Kwaymullina ✨ The Worst Ronin - Maggie Tokuda-Hall, Faith Schaffer ✨ Wild About You - Kaitlyn Hill ✨ Summer Nights and Meteorites - Hannah Reynolds ✨ The Word - Mary G. Thompson

🩷 May 28 🩷 ✨ Flawless Girls by Anna-Marie McLemore ✨ Another First Chance by Robbie Couch ✨ Don’t Be a Drag by Skye Quinlan ✨ Stay Dead - April Henry ✨ The Redemption of Daya Keane by Gia Gordon ✨ The Only Light Left Burning by Erik J. Brown

[progfessor-dyke]

First page of An American Odyssey

Hope you guys like it!

Los Angeles, the city of angels. The only angels there, however, are the long-forgotten, long-dead dreams. Of course, there's the random success story of a young person going out West, seeking fame and fortune, and actually stumbling upon it. Other times, people make it through connections, either from relatives, friends, or sex work. Both of these cases are far and few between. Most of the time, people go out there, expecting success to come to them due to a mythologized perception of Hollywood being a magical place, a myth that Hollywood perpetuates, and some grandiose feeling that they are somehow the lucky one. Instead, they end up doing endless openings at bars, performing on street corners, or doing commercials for products that end up being a sham. By the time their dreams are dead, they’ve been chewed up and spit out. Many end up becoming addicted to various substances, offing themselves, penniless, or some combination of the three. Some, if they’re still young enough, might attempt to make their way back to their hometown, or somewhere like it, to settle for comparative mediocrity. Octavian James, frontman of a psychedelic rock band that has long faded into obscurity, is one of the latter. 

The band, Bad Bodies, had spent ten years chasing fame out in Los Angeles, after Octavian dropped out of high school. They spent ten years opening for slightly less obscure bands at shady, seedy bars and clubs. Tens years packing in the backs of cars, along with the piles of heavy equipment, the smell of stale beer, stale sweat, and stale vomit, and the heavy miasma of disappointment, trying to cough up enough gas money to trek to their next gig. Ten years of trying to get record companies to notice them, of sucking up to older, blading producers, smoking Cubans, with the same old tired phrase: “Sorry, kids, you’re not what we’re looking for.” Ten years, with nothing to show for it except their worn-out instruments, the clothes on their back, and some new gray hairs. Octavian, his bassist Walter, and their drummer Rick, had finally gotten that little yellow eviction notice on their apartment door,  after missing rent and allowing their guitarists, Robby and Jack, to sleep on their couch after they had been kicked out a month prior. Octavian had long been sick of the L.A. heat, anyhow. He had been just waiting for a reason to get out of that town, to finally lay to rest his fly-by-night teenage dream, and that yellow, slightly greasy piece of paper might as well have been gold. He wouldn’t be leaving much behind this time, just a dingy, overcrowded apartment with a slight rat infestation (as if a rat infestation could be “slight”), some cheap furniture from Sears, and his dreams, washed away with time and sunken deep in the waters of the grand Pacific. 

The last time he left was quite different. The memories of afternoon sunlight, filtered through trees in the late summer, a creaky wooden porch, the sticky humidity of that last day in Ithaca… No, not the island of Ithaca in Greece, Octavian had never so much as had the chance to leave the United States, but of its namesake in western New York. That was his hometown, and despite ten years and roughly three thousand miles of distance, he could instantly transport himself there with a thought. What he had left behind then was two loving, supportive, albeit confused parents, a steady part-time job and another job lined up for him at his parents’ store, and a beautiful young lady, his high school sweetheart. Chasing the highs of Ashbury in 1967, he left that all behind, now sentenced to mere memory. Since the reality of his decision had hit him, he consistently chided himself on making such a foolish gamble. He found himself stuck with a druggie, a restless vagabond, a jester, and an emotional outcast. He was spent, and in some form or another, his compatriots were too. 

“Alright, buckle up you fucks, we’re going home,” he said, after ripping off the piece of paper and crumpling it in his hand. His voice was passionless yet firm. He was not to be swayed nor argued with.

[so-many-crushes]

Tomato Soup For The Soul

Hello hello! I decided to do @rhiatargoed-selfships's SafeShiptember!

Prompt: Day 25- Taking care of one another if one of you happens to catch a cold. Summary: After Robin’s girlfriend comes down with a cold, it’s up to her to take care of Alice (if she’ll let her) Word count: ~1.4k

Alice felt like she had been hit by a bus. She hadn’t left her house in two days- the most movement she had done recently was walking from her bed to the living room couch. Alice truly hated being sick and would often try to power through it, but when her dad saw the thermometer read 103°F she knew there was no way she’d make it to work that day. So Alice was spread out on the couch for another day, blanket covering her body, and tissues on the coffee table. She finally began to doze off when a sudden knock at the door made her jolt awake. Wrapping her blanket over her shoulders like a cape, the redhead trudged to the window to peek out and see who was interrupting her nap. 

“Robin?” Alice said as she opened the front door, “What are you doing here?”

“Hi babe,” Robin said, brushing past Alice and into the cabin. “I heard you’re still sick.” She frowned before adding, “You look like shit.”

“Gee thanks.” Alice sneezed, “What’re you doing here?” She asked again.

“I heard you’re still sick.” Robin repeated, “I’m here to make you feel better.” She held up the paper grocery bags she was holding before placing them on the kitchen counter and heading back over to Alice, “Because I’m the best girlfriend in the world.” She leaned in for a kiss.

“Are you kidding me?” Alice dodged out of the way.

Robin raised an eyebrow, “Uh? Yeah? I’m the best girlfriend in the world.” She leaned in for a kiss again.

This time Alice held up her blanket in front of her lips. “I’m sick, Rob. You’re not staying with me, let alone kissing me. Besides-” Alice looked at the clock “Shouldn’t you be in class? How did you even get here? Did Steve drop you off?”

Robin simply shrugged, “I think I’ll be fine missing Mr. Mundy’s class and band practice, and no- Steve did not drive me, he’s too busy working. I rode my bike.”

“You rode your bike all the way here?” Alice groaned, why did her girlfriend have to be such a sweetheart? “Robbie…”

“Not my fault you basically live in the middle of the woods, and like I said,” Robin pointed to herself, “Best girlfriend in the world.”

“Ugh, fine, you can stay since you biked all the way here, but!” Alice narrowed her eyes, “You’re not getting a kiss because I’ll be damned if I get you sick.”

Robin stuck out her bottom lip, “Even though I got you a gift?” She reached into her backpack and pulled something out.

“Robin…” Alice's narrow eyes softened as she looked at the comic book in the taller girl’s hands. “You didn’t have to-”

“Aaaand,” she slid a second book out from the first one, “This one too.”

“Baby, you really didn’t have to do that. It’s a double issue.”

“But I got the right ones, right?” Robin grinned as she handed Alice the comic books, Uncanny X-Men Volume 200 and Crisis on Infinite Earths Volume 6.

“Yes, baby, I haven’t had a chance to get these yet.”

“Thank god, I had to ask one of your coworkers for help, there are too many comics in that store.”

Alice chuckled, “I’m paying you back, you know that right?”

“Sweetheart, it was like two bucks total. I’ll take two kisses instead.”

“You’re getting your two dollars, Buckley.” Alice said as she placed the new comics next to her tissues on the table.

“Yes, ma’am.” Robin saluted. “Are you hungry?” She moved back over to the grocery bags she placed on the counter.

Robin blushed, not used to someone caring for her like this in a long time, “A little bit, I guess.”

“Good,” Robin beamed as she took ingredients from the bags, “Lay down and go back to whatever you were watching, while I take care of my girlfriend.” Her gaze wandered to the television and back to Alice, “What are you watching?”

Alice glanced at the tv and tried to remember which VHS she put in to fall asleep to. “‘Revenge of the Cybermen.’” Alice held up the empty Doctor Who VHS case.

The brunette’s eyes flickered from the sci-fi show to the Marvel and DC comic books to Alice in her faded Star Wars shirt before she began to cackle, “I always forget how big of a nerd you are! How were you not bullied in high school?”

Alice’s face flushed, “First of all, I’m not a nerd! Second, I was with Steve most of the time, so no one bothered me.” Alice lied, she was bullied- just not for being a nerd.

“Ah, popular by proxy.” Robin made her way to Alice before sweeping her up into a hug and spinning her around. “My totally cool, totally popular, totally not a geek girlfriend.”

“Robin, I’m gonna throw up if you keep spinning me!” Alice laughed despite feeling more lightheaded from spinning than the cold.

“Fine, fine.” Robin placed Alice back on the ground and kissed her forehead before the girl could protest. Robin pulled back and frowned, “I was going to make you soup but you’re burning up.” Robin rested the back of her hand on Alice’s forehead, cold metal rings against warm skin.

“Ugh, I feel like I’m freezing.” Alice said as she wrapped her blanket around her, as if on queue Robin saw a chill run through Alice’s body. “I think soup is the only thing that’ll cure me.” She batted her eyes.

“Then soup it is.” Robin turned Alice around and smacked her ass towards the couch. Alice huffed as she sat down and took a sip of her water.

The couple chatted idly as Robin made a mess in the kitchen, after about forty five minutes Robin told her partner to sit at the kitchen table and close her eyes.

“Alright,” Alice heard Robin say as she placed dishes and silverware on the table, “You can open them.” Alice opened her eyes and looked at her girlfriend, “Ta-da!” Robin grinned and did jazz hands, “Homemade tomato soup and grilled cheese!” 

“Rob, really, you didn’t have to do all this; I would’ve been fine with a can of Campbell’s-” Alice looked at the food in front of her before bursting out in laughter. “You cut the-?” Alice’s laughter quickly turned into a coughing fit, as if her cold wanted to remind her she was still sick.

Robin patted Alice on the back as her coughing finally died down, “You don’t like it?” Robin looked at the bowl of soup and the grilled cheese that she did in fact cut into the shape of a heart.

Alice took a gasp of air and regained her composure, “No, no, baby, I love it so much.” She stood up and pulled the other girl in for a hug, “I love you so much.”

Robin blushed, “You haven’t even had any of it yet.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Alice looked up into Robin’s eyes, “You made it, so I love it and it must taste good.” She pulled her girlfriend down and kissed her on the lips.

“I thought you weren’t kissing me?” Robin blushed even more once the pair pulled apart.

“I guess I’ll just have to take care of you.”

The couple sat at the table and Robin watched carefully as Alice took her first bite of soup. The redhead sighed as she felt the warm soup flow through her aching body.

“It’s good?” Robin asked, “It’s my mom’s new recipe, this is my first time making it.”

“It’s delicious, baby.” Alice smiled as Robin took a bite from her own bowl.

The two continued their conversation from earlier, Robin complaining that Gabby in the flute section in the band couldn’t handle a four count. Alice listened to Robin’s ramblings, a lovesick expression on her face as she dipped her heart-shaped sandwich into her soup and took a bite.

Eventually, Alice and Robin finished their meals and made their way to the couch, Robin stretched her legs out onto the coffee table. Alice laid down and rested her head in her girlfriend’s lap, slowly falling asleep to the sound of the television and the feeling of Robin running her fingers through her hair. It was the best Alice had felt in a while.

[dominoren]

Do you have book recommendations?

idk about so many romance books, but i could recommend to you “how to end a love story” by yulin kuang, “the boy you always wanted” & “not here to be liked” by michelle quach, any book by tashie bhuiyan, “xoxo” & “asap” by axie oh, “rules for rule breaking” by talia tucker, the whole “loveboat, taipei” trilogy abigail hing wen, “boys i know” by anna gracia, “another first chance” by robbie couch and ig you’d love ali hazelwood if you haven’t read any of her books

[cjaralore]

Check out my #queerbookreview of Another First Chance by Robbie Couch, a psychological sci-fi mystery paired with a YA friendship and love story dealing with grief:

[our-friendship-goes-beyong]

BENNET PACK HEADCANONS

Part 3 of ?

Green creek series spoilers

Remember that scene where original human team was with Gordo hanging out at the Lighthouse and writing down what Gordo likes in a man?

Imagine if Mark found the list.

“Elizabeth?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think im fat?”

“… Excuse me, what?”

Since he found it, he continuously stares at Carter, trying to erase the disturbing image of him and Gordo dating.

But… he checks almost all the boxes in Gordo’s type’s list. He isn’t even jealous, just curious.

“Gordo, do you think you could date anyone much younger than you?”

Gordo’s sitting on the couch with his head on Mark’s lap “What the fuck? What kind of question is that? I’m not into children Mark.”

“No, I mean… someone that has around… idk, 30 years?”

“Huh… maybe?”

“Would you ever date Carter then?”

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK MARK”

“Is not that weird if you think about it, also your brother looks a lot like you so he wouldn’t be that-”

“Wait, WAIT. Rico showed you the list, right? Oh that fucking asshole, Im going to murder him.”

Robbie enters the room drinking apple juice, he heard everything.

“…”

“…”

“…”

“You know, it kinda makes sense, Carter and Gavin are like a much younger, inexperienced and softer version of you two-”

*Lamp explodes*

One day Robbie was scrolling through social media feeds and a video about benefits of yoga appeared.

“It relaxes and perfects body posture?”

He sends it to Gordo, Carter and Gavin. They all reply: no. Except for Gavin.

So once a week they go to the forest and try it out.

Jessie joins Robbie and Gavin after she founds them following the instructions of a Youtube video and failing miserably.

She is probably the most flexible of them all, so she is able to teach them. Also, she likes it.

Dominique and Elizabeth join too after a while.

In the end, most of the pack is bonding through yoga and Carter and Gordo try it out. They get bored after a while, and Gordo keeps saying things like “im too old for this” or “should have left the town when i had the chance”

But he likes the look on Marks face when they are doing exercises in pairs, he seems happy and calm.

This lead us to another thing. And is that Mark feels a lot more calm when Gordo’s around.

Elizabeth was the first one to notice.

I like to think this two are as close as siblings. Sometimes when they are alone they get comfortable on the couch and drink tea while they talk about their past, Thomas, their pack, how glad they are they all found their soulmates…

Everyone knows Elizabeth will never be the same, her heart has been shattered to many times. But she is still able to smile and be a good mother and a good person.

Part of that is thanks to Mark, sometimes she feels worst than usual, and looks for Mark. Of course they all notice, but they know Mark is the only one that is able to take it all out. Since he’s been with her all the time.

They sit in the forest and talk. And laugh. And cry.

When they are done they just lay there for hours until the pack arrives and make sure they already finished talking.

One by one they sit near them, or lay their heads on their chest of stomach. And just… exist.

Sometimes they talk. About what they did that day. Others Elizabeth tells stories about Thomas or the old pack.

When she does that they all listen quietly, letting her voice and the forest’s sounds cuddle them.

[baubabble]

“Diamonds and Dances” Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You and Spencer used to date at the Academy. When you graduated, you broke it off. Later, when you are assigned to the BAU, old feelings resurface. When Hotch assigns the two of you to go undercover together at an event, how will those feelings evolve?

Word Count: 5258

Warning: None

Song I Wrote To: “Cherry” by Harry Styles

Note: My first attempt at writing Spencer! Thank you for all the love on my Hotch series!

-------

“If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. If they don't, they never were.”― Kahlil Gibran

The case had finally hit a dead end.

You and the rest of the team were sitting in the Los Angeles FBI Field Office, staring at the ceiling. Four couples had been brutally murdered at local events over the past sixth months and so far, the local agents had nothing. When Garcia was given the request for assistance, Hotch had taken the case immediately.

You had been at the BAU for more than a year now and you had never been this frustrated. You could tell that the more seasoned agents such as Morgan and Rossi were just as annoyed that no leads were surfacing as well.

Spinning lazily in your chair, your eyes fell on Reid as they usually did. Spencer Reid was the one that got away in more ways than one. You and the doctor had met at the Academy and instantly hit it off. The two of you had dated for almost a year before you had broken it off. Spencer was going to the BAU and you were going to sex crimes. It was just the way it had to be. You were happy to make a clean break rather than trying to tackle a complicated relationship.

That is until Strauss had requested you to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. You had been hesitant at first for many reasons. Then, Aaron Hotchner had called you personally and encouraged you to take the position. He was aware of your history with Reid and said he would do his best to make sure the environment was as professional as possible.

Which is how you found yourself at a crossroads with your current case. “I’m about to shove pencils in my eyes,” Garcia said from beside you. Penelope had been asked to join the team on this case due to the unsub’s signature at hacking into security systems and traffic cams.

“You too?” you asked, turning to her.

“My brain has never felt tired before,” Garcia said. “Is this normal?”

“I think we all need some rest, Baby Girl,” Derek said as he rolled over to Penelope and began massaging her shoulders. You watched the action with a hint of envy. There was too much going on inside your head for anything right now. Pushing back from the table, you stood up.

“I need some air,” you announced and headed out of the conference room. The team watched after you for a moment before returning to their work, except one member’s eyes remained fixed on your exit.

------

Spencer Reid was the best problem solver the team had.

He never had problems with finding the missing puzzle piece in the case or analyzing a criminal’s motives. However, there was one problem, he couldn’t quite crack.

You.

Reid had never gotten over your breakup. He sat awake for nights after you had broken it off trying to figure out what he had done wrong. He had confided in everyone he knew. His mother said that you just weren’t the right person for him, but Spencer disagreed. You were perfect for him, perfect for each other. He didn’t know what went wrong. One day the two of you had been smiling, laughing, and then it was like a switch had flipped and you just ended it.

Then when you had joined the BAU, hope reentered Spencer’s mind. Perhaps this was a chance to tell you how he felt and maybe even rekindle something from years before. However, those thoughts were quickly dismissed when he overheard a conversation you were having with Penelope about a man named Robbie, your new boyfriend.

Watching the way your face lit up when you spoke about the new man in your life felt like ice to his heart. He remembered when you used to look like that when you spoke about him and now it was reserved for someone else. Shortly after this, he had confided in JJ about the issue, finally expressing his thoughts to another member of the team.

“It’s been years, Spence,” JJ had told him, rubbing his back affectionately as he sat on her couch watching Henry play with a new toy Will had bought him. “It’s normal for people to move on.”

“But I haven’t,” Spencer had said. “I haven’t, JJ, and I don’t know if I can handle seeing her every day and knowing she’s with someone else.”

“Who knows,” JJ had said, “maybe the universe will be in your favor.”

“You know I don’t believe in any of that.”

“Maybe just this once you can,” JJ had said before squeezing his arm and then dropping the subject altogether.

------

You stood out on the terrace of the field office, listening to the bustling city around you.

You never liked Los Angeles. It wasn’t like DC, there were too many people, too many skyscrapers, and the grating sound of traffic always made you want to scream. When you were working in sex crimes, you would head to the roof when things got too complicated to try and clear your mind. Most of the time it would work, other times, such as now, would just make you more irritated.

“You know, I’m not sure the air in this city is the best for clearing your head,” Hotch said as he exited out onto the terrace. You smiled to yourself as you stared out at the City of Angels.

“Did Penelope tell you to check on me?” you asked as he joined you at the railing.

“Maybe,” Hotch said with a shrug. “Are you okay?”

“Just frustrated,” you explained. “It’s been a while since we’ve been at such a big roadblock.”

“I wasn’t referring to the case, (Y/N),” Hotch said with a knowing look. You sighed, turning to look at him. “I’ve noticed you’ve seemed out of sorts for the past couple of weeks.”

“Which means the rest of the team has too,” you figured.

“Maybe, but they won’t confront you about it.”

“But you will?” you asked, amused.

“I’m your boss, it’s my job,” Hotch said. You smiled at that. “I’ve just seen a change in you and I’m assuming it is to do with your personal life.”

“Isn’t it always?” you asked with a chuckle. “I’m okay, Hotch. Just going through the awkward phase that happens after a breakup.” Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Ah, you and your boyfriend ended things,” he realized.

“Yeah, but I don’t want to make a big deal about it. Especially at work,” you said with a look that conveyed more than the words you were saying.

“I completely understand,” said Hotch. “On the brighter side, I think we may have an idea on how to draw the unsub out.”

“Am I going to like it?” you asked. Hotch grimaced. “I’ll take that as a no.”

-------

You were right, you definitely didn’t like it.

“Undercover?” you asked as you leaned against the wall of the conference room. Spencer sat in his chair across the room from you, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s the best idea we’ve been able to come up with,” Rossi said, “plus, with your work in sex crimes, you have the most undercover hours next to Emily.” You held your tongue before you could suggest why Emily just couldn’t do it. “You are the unsub’s type and so is Reid. If we are correct about the profile and where he is hitting next, the two of you should be the perfect lure.”

When Hotch and Rossi explained that you and Spencer would be going undercover as a married couple to the next charity event in hopes of finally catching Daniel Hill, the unsub, you were less than thrilled. This would not be your first time going undercover, that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that you would have to pretend to be married to Spencer and by the looks of it, he seemed even less than thrilled about the situation.

“Is this going to be a problem?” Hotch asked, glancing between you and Reid.

“No, Sir,” you said and Spencer shook his head.

“It may be a little bit awkward with (Y/N)’s boo,” Morgan joked and Penelope kicked him under the table. When you didn’t laugh, Derek realized what the look on your face meant. “Oh…(Y/L/N), I didn’t realize…”

“It’s fine,” you said, pushing off the wall. “Robbie and I are done. It’s been done for a bit now and I’m fine. Let’s just get this over with so none of us have to stay in this city any longer.”

“Amen to that,” Emily said.

“I’m going to send debrief packets to your hotel rooms,” Hotch said. “The event is tonight so I need you to be ready.”

“Yes, Sir,” you and Spencer said at the same time. Hotch then dismissed the rest of you and you headed for the door, needing to get back to the hotel and start preparing for the evening. Spencer caught up to you as you walked through the office.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you to a stop, “are you going to be okay with this?”

“Yes, Spencer,” you said. “It’s our job and we’ll get it done.”

“I know, but we haven’t really worked closely together since you joined and to put on an undercover operation like this…” he trailed off, but you could tell what he was thinking. You always could.

“Spencer,” you said softly, “do me a favor, okay?”

“Anything.”

“For the next ten hours or so, let’s not be (Y/N) and Spencer. I agree that we have never truly talked about what happened between us since I joined the team, but tonight is not the time. I want to, I do, but we need to get through this night. So, until we get this son of a bitch, we are just two agents on a mission. No baggage. Deal?” Spencer let out a breath, his eyes narrowing slightly as he mulled over your words. Eventually, he nodded.

“Deal.”

-----

The undercover packet had arrived just as you stepped out of the shower.

It was a basic cover. You and Spencer would be attending the event as Mr. and Mrs. Kelling, a wealthy couple from Maine. Your alias, Miranda Kelling, was nothing like you and that was how you preferred it. The more you could distance yourself from an undercover mission, the better. Spencer was playing Anderson Kelling and he was the president of a tech conglomerate that Garcia was writing up now. At least he would be able to cover for the both of you if anyone asked any questions.

A little bit later, a knock came at your door, and you were met with a smiling Penelope. In her hands was a white garment bag. “Please tell me it’s not pink,” you said as you let her in.”

“Oh, please,” Garcia scoffed. “You act as if I don’t know you at all. Undercover or not, I know you would never wear pink.” You laughed quietly as Garcia laid the bag out on the bed and unzipped it.

The dress was simple. A dark eggplant color that was low in the back and high at the neck. The slit was tasteful and knowing Garcia, it would fit you perfectly. However, while it was beautiful, your heart jumped just looking at it. The color of the gown was the same color as the dress you had worn on your first date with Spencer when he had taken you to a film festival. Whether Penelope knew that or not, didn’t matter. You knew it would matter to him.

“Do you like it?” Garcia asked. You nodded, unable to speak. “I can get something else if you don’t.”

“Penelope, it’s great,” you said, “really. Please tell me you have shoes to go with it.” Garcia then smiled and held up the other bag in her hands.

“Strappy or pumps?” she asked, shaking the bag before you. You gave in and laughed along with your friend as you let her accessorize you for the gala.

It was another hour before Garcia left to meet up with Morgan and JJ who were outfitting their security van that would be parked in the loading zone of the venue. The next time someone knocked on your door. You knew who it would be.

Pulling the door open, Spencer stood there with his hands in his pockets and his signature smile. You stepped aside and he entered, looking around the room awkwardly. “Did you read through the packet?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

“Twice,” you assured him. “Is that why you’re here? To make sure I did my homework?” you asked, amusement in your eyes. He rolled his eyes and you could tell he was starting to loosen up a bit more.

“I just wanted to make sure we were on the same side for the cover,” he explained “And to give you this,” he said as he dug into his pocket and produced a small velvet box.

“Ah,” you said, realizing what it was. He handed it to you and you took it quickly, placing it down next to the necklace Garcia had brought for you to wear. You didn’t want to open it in front of Reid. Everything was already awkward enough. “So, Mr. Kelling,” you began, “tell me about your company.”

The two of you went back and forth asking questions about each other’s covers. Pretending to be other people was actually helping you talk to him. Thinking of him as this imaginary husband was much easier than staring into those warm brown eyes and seeing the man who once held you like you were the most important thing in the universe.

“You know,” Spencer said as he lay on his back on your bed, “Morgan was supposed to do this with you.”

“Derek? Undercover as a tech guy?” you asked with a laugh. Reid sat up and looked at you as you sat at the small table, your file in your hands. He smiled softly as you chuckled. “That would have been something to see.”

“Maybe next time,” Spencer said. “You know, once he’s had more time to prepare. Hotch asked me because I didn’t have to do any additional research. I would have said no, but we need to find this guy and since we’ve already gotten his accomplice, I just thought—”

“Spencer,” you said, cutting him off, “you’re running on fumes.” He took a breath. That was something you always said when he started rambling when he got nervous. It was also something he did when he was avoiding what he was actually saying.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, “but just for the record, I’m not upset you were assigned to do this mission with me.”

“You’re not?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Nope,” you said and it was the truth. In fact, you were just incredibly nervous about being this close to him for the first time in years. “So stop stressing. Everything is going to work out fine.” You got up and approached him. You gripped him by the shoulders and looked at him in the eye. “Now, go put on your tux so we can get this bastard.”

------

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror as you fussed with the gown.

Garcia sure did know how to pick ballgowns. The deep purple dress fit you perfectly. Paired with the nude heels and the light jewelry, you looked as expensive as Miranda Kelling was supposed to be. The large diamond sat on your left hand felt way too heavy. You lifted your hand to your face, tilting it so the diamond glittered in the low light.

When you had first lifted the lid to the box, your eyes had widened at the sheer size of the diamond. Apparently Rossi knew someone in LA with ties to a jeweler and you were renting the piece for the evening. Just placing it on your finger felt...wrong. And not just because of the price,  but because you imagined the first time you wore a wedding ring it would on your actual wedding day and not for a sting.

The thought of Spencer having a matching band on his left hand sent a thrill through you that you weren’t expecting. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t thought about it in the past. When the two of you were together at the academy, the subject of marriage had come up frequently. It was always said with a bout of laughter afterward. Neither of you had ever said anything to make the other think that you were being serious, but at times, you definitely were. Snapping out of your thoughts, you finished your look with a swipe of lipstick and then headed for the door.

Stepping out into the lobby of the garish hotel, you spotted Rossi immediately. He was dressed as a chauffeur as he would be the one to take you and Reid to the event to keep up appearances. Walking around the corner, you finally saw your date for the evening. Spencer wore a perfectly tailored tuxedo. His hair was combed and his shoes shined in the glittering light of the chandelier that swung above him. Hearing the clicks of your heels, he turned towards you and his mouth fell open.

He quickly controlled his expression, but you had seen it. The look in his eyes as he beheld you strolling towards him. It was a familiar look, one he had given you in the past and everything began flooding back. You tried to ignore it as you joined him and Rossi. “This is all very ‘James Bond’,” you said, looking at the three of you.

“Well, just go easy on the martinis you two,” Rossi said with a small smile. Then from his pocket, he produced a white rose. “Morgan got the partner to talk and he agreed to help if we offered him a deal. He made the call and told Hill that the target this evening will be with a beautiful woman and wearing this on his jacket,” Rossi said as he tucked the rose into Spencer’s lapel.

“Great, nothing says ‘murder me’ like a rose,” Spencer muttered as he adjusted the flower. You smiled to yourself at his attempt at a joke. Rossi was watching both you, his eyes flickering back and forth.

“Just stick to the plan and this will all be over before you know it,” Rossi said as he gestured you out to the car. You and Reid followed him, neither of you saying anything. You had expected it to be awkward, but this felt...alien. It was also starting to become clear why Hotch had assigned you to this mission with Spencer. He most likely figured you wouldn’t have to do much acting, but seeing him dressed up and with that wedding band on his finger, you felt as if you were looking at a stranger. You had no idea how you were going to make it through the evening.

-----

Arriving at the venue, Rossi helped you from the car, giving your arm a final squeeze before leaving you in Spencer’s capable hands.

As Rossi drove away, Reid held out his arm to you. Slipping into the character of Miranda Kelling, you took his arm and smiled at him warmly. Spencer, or rather, Anderson, smiled back and led you into the venue.

The party was fit for Los Angeles. The garish decorations were shiny metallic and smartly dressed waiters milled around with flutes of champagne. The other patrons were dressed just as well as the two of you and as they laughed, more champagne was poured and more money was spent. You weren’t even sure what charity they were supporting at the event.

Your eyes scanned the surroundings, trying to pick up on any agents, but Hotch had said nobody was going to be on the floor except for the two of you. Hill was too smart and would pick them out in a heartbeat.

You and Spencer walked around the room, keeping close to one another. As a waiter passed by, you grabbed a flute off the tray and drank half in one go. The liquid courage did nothing to satiate the nerves that bubbled in your stomach. As you finished your drink, you looked for another, but Spencer had stepped in front of you, giving you a concerned look.

“What?” you asked, keeping your face pleasant in case the unsub or others were watching.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “I know you aren’t thrilled to be with me tonight, but I can also tell that something else is bothering you.”

“Very perceptive,” you said, avoiding eye contact. “Look, I can’t talk to you about this right now.” He sighed and then took your hand. To anyone else, it would just look like a husband holding his wife’s hand, but you knew he was feeling for your pulse point. Something he always did when he wanted you to tell him the truth. It was both charming and infuriating.

“Is this about Robbie?” Spencer asked and your hand froze in his grip. He nodded to himself as he realized he had finally guessed right. “He never deserved you.” You took your hand back and tried to walk away. However, Spencer had another idea. Gently taking your wrist, Reid pulled you to the dance floor, spinning you into his arms.

Not wanting to cause a scene, you played along, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his right hand. The two of you swayed back and forth in silence for a moment before he finally spoke again. “You look so beautiful,” he said softly.

“Spencer,” you sighed, dropping your gaze to the buttons on his shirt, “please don’t.”

“Why?” he asked.

“You know why,” you said, your eyes meeting his. He looked down at you as if you were the only person in the room and it took you back to the first time you had danced with him.

It was at an event the Academy hosted for the new recruits. The two of you had just met during orientation and he had been bold enough to ask you to dance when he noticed you sitting by yourself at a lone table. Both of you had been very awkward on your feet, but you had managed to get a rhythm going and among all the laughter and stepping on toes, it had been the first step in developing feelings for the man before you.

“I noticed the color of your dress as soon as you walked into the lobby,” Spencer said, his fingers curling tighter around your own. “I always did love you in purple.” Ducking your head, you rested your forehead against his chest, just trying not to think about his hand on your waist or the fact that he was wearing the same cologne he always did. The one that smelled like wood and parchment. Reid pulled you in closer, his hand moving to the small of your back.

“Why are you doing this?” you whispered.

“I don’t want you to think about him,” Reid said, turning you both in a slow circle, “because I can’t do it anymore.” Pulling back, you looked up at him with curious eyes.

“Do what?” you asked.

“All those months when you were with him… seeing you smile when you and Garcia spoke about him or when he would drop flowers off for you at the office,” Spencer sighed. “I couldn’t handle it, (Y/N).” Hearing that confession slip from his lips made you stumble in your heels. He kept his hands tight on you, keeping you steady. Just as he always had. “I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Your eyes fell closed at his words and every emotion you had tried to shove down since the day the two of you had parted ways came surging back into the forefront of your mind. Spencer Reid was looking at you as if you hung the moon and while he would probably say something along the lines of ‘that’s impossible, a human wouldn’t be able to hang the moon’, that was what you saw in his eyes.

“Don’t you remember?” he continued.

“Spencer…” you said, but he couldn’t stop.

“My mom, (Y/N),” he said. “Don’t you remember how much she loves you? You were one of the only people who could keep her calm and she loved to tell you stories about the things she’s learned over the years. I remember everything about our time together.”

“You have an eidetic memory,” you reminded him.

“That’s not the reason I remember,” he said, placing his hand under your chin. You couldn’t help the tears that pricked your eyes at his words. At that moment, the mission was forgotten and everything was moving in slow motion. “Tell me, (Y/N),” he said, “tell me that you don’t love me, Tell me and I’ll stop.”

“I can’t do that,” you whispered. A small gasp escaped him at your confession and it was as if his entire body relaxed at your words. Spencer leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours, drinking you in. The orchestra in the background played a score fit for the moment and if you weren’t supposed to be on duty, you would have stayed in that moment forever. Spencer pulled back and glanced down at your lips, but before either of you could move in closer, you spotted a man watching the two of you.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked.

“Hill,” you whispered, plastering a fake smile on your face as you looked up at your fake husband. “He’s dressed as a caterer. The long scar on his cheek is just as the partner said. Looks like Morgan’s interrogation techniques are getting better.” Spencer took you and spun you around so he could get a visual, glancing briefly before grinning down at you. He then lifted your left hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

“Shall we go somewhere more private, Mrs. Kelling?” he asked and you nodded, taking him by the hand and dragging him towards the service hall. Everything in you was fighting to stay focused as you slipped back into your FBI persona. With Spencer’s confession, work was the last thing you wanted to do, but this man had killed enough people and the two of you were the last chance to take him down.

You and Reid pushed into the hallway, giggling like drunk teenagers.

You stumbled on your dress and he held you up, pulling on his bow tie. It didn’t take long for the killer to follow. You and Spencer were pressed against a wall, Reid’s hands going into your hair. He smiled down at you and slinked away as if you were playing a game. When he went to follow you, that’s when you were grabbed from behind.

“Move and she dies,” Hill said, waving his gun around. Spencer raised his hands in mock surrender and then he looked at you. “On your knees!” Hill yelled, but Spencer didn’t move. With a quick nod to you, you slammed your stiletto into the top of his foot. A shot rang out as the bullet pierced the ceiling, but you both moved faster. Spencer grabbed hold of the unsub as you took the gun from his grasp. Reid spun Hill around and slammed him into the floor.

“FBI,” Spencer said, “Daniel Hill, you are under arrest for the murders of Caitlin and Adam Dever, Brooke and Ryan Wood, Joanne and James Black, and Greta and Lewis Joy…” as Spencer continued to read him his rights, you disabled the gun and let out a deep breath. From your right, Hotch and Prentiss came running down the hall, their guns were drawn. JJ and Morgan weren’t far behind.

As Spencer got Hill to his feet, you turned and walked away. There was too much going on inside your mind and you had to get air. Walking past, Morgan, you placed the confiscated gun into his hands as you continued to move past your team. You could hear Reid calling out to you, but you couldn’t stop moving. You just needed to think.

-----

Once everything had calmed down, you all went back to your respective hotel rooms.

As soon as your door closed behind you, your heels were off and you headed right for the balcony. Garcia had texted you earlier and told you Hill would be processed and that Rossi and Emily had gotten a full confession out of him and his partner. That was enough for you to relax a little bit further, but there was still the issue of what happened before.

Then, as if the universe was listening there was a knock on your door. Pulling the sliding door behind you, you went to your door. You didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. Unlocking the chain, you pulled open the door and were met with Spencer. He was still wearing his disheveled tuxedo, but his hair was no longer neat. It was how he always wore, the way you loved it. In his hand was a single yellow lily, your favourite flower.

You stepped aside and invited him in, closing the door quietly behind you. “You just left,” he said as you turned to face him. His long fingers were holding the flower by its stem, twirling it around.

“I just needed time, Spencer.”

“I know,” he said with a soft smile and then offered you the flower. You took it, pressing its petals to your nose. “I know how you think (Y/N), which is why I waited a bit before showing up here.”

“You always did know me best,” you said as you lay the lily on the stand by the door.

“I still like to think I do,” he said, reaching for your hand. You let him take it as you had earlier on the dance floor. He dragged you towards him, placing his hands on your hips gently. “You are so incredible,” he whispered.

“I never cared about him as much as I cared for you, Spencer,” you admitted. “When I broke things off after we graduated from the Academy, I thought I was doing us a favor. I thought it would be too complicated, that we would struggle with the time apart. I was so wrong. I am so sorry that I didn’t believe in us enough to stay.” Tears were rolling down your cheeks at this point and Spencer was shaking his head.

“Don’t apologize, (Y/N),” he said. “I understand. I think I always did, but I meant what I said earlier: I never stopped loving you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

“And you think I did?” you asked. “God, Spencer, I love you so much and I should have told you the moment I walked into the BAU.” Spencer’s face split into a grin and he didn’t even hesitate to pull you into him. His lips met yours and your hands wound into his unruly hair. Light burst behind your eyes as the two of you finally said hello once again. Spencer Reid was the one for you and you would never doubt that ever again.

“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.”― Paulo Coelho

[usaonetwothree]

First of all thank you thank you thank you so much for the johnny whump!!!

Also wondering if there's any chance you will be writing any johnny whump featuring more johnny/Carmen? Maybe an extension of that part of The Agreement where she's examining his injuries? The thought just gives me total whumperflies!

Thank you so much for the message, Anon!! And you're most welcome! The show is just teeing it up so nicely. I'm really just continuing what they started :)

I hadn't thought about an interlude to The Agreement, but now my plot bunnies are going. Give me a few weeks to see what I come up with! I'll post it here for sure, and if it's long enough, I'll copy it over to ao3 as a second chapter.

In the interim, I have the start of a whumpy two-chapter fic that I don't know if I'm going to finish. Working summary is "Johnny doesn't have time to get sick. Besides, it's just food poisoning... right?" I'll post the completed first chapter below, and the plan for chapter two would be from Carmen's point-of-view from the ambulance ride through surgery and Johnny finally waking up. I wrote a lot of the ideas I had for her part into Conflict, which is why I think I'm stalled on it here in coming up with something different. I don't know how long it'll take me to figure that out (if ever) but at least you'll have the first chapter. Hope you enjoy!

Thank you again for the kind message!

Pain exploded in his side, worse than he’d ever felt before. He had reference for this: he’d torn, strained, bruised, strained, dislocated and broken many things in the past. This pain blew them all away. It was he’d been stabbed with a hot knife up to the hilt, and someone was twisting it around in his guts.

His hand went to the area, came away warm, but he wasn’t bleeding. Felt like it. Felt oozing and wet and raw.

Somehow, above the nausea, above the stabbing ache in his head, he knew this was serious. And he needed help.

He couldn’t remember where his phone was. Didn’t have time to stop and think.

With every inch of his skin on fire, he leveraged himself off the couch and almost screamed as utter agony raced up his side. His knees buckled but he didn’t let himself fall. If he did, he knew he wouldn’t get back up.

Partially hunched over, he stumbled forward, careful not to jar his torso. He caught the door before the handle, barely cracking it open before he almost fell through. He jabbed his right elbow into the stucco wall, used that as a guide.

Elbow on the wall, left hand on his abdomen, trying to hold whatever was wrong in. One foot in front of the other.

It was the only thing going through his head.

Left.

Right.

Left.

A chill tore up his spine. His brain went fuzzy for a second and his elbow came away from the wall.

He almost went down again, caught himself at the last second. Leaned so far right he almost bashed his head into the stucco.

But he was vertical again.

He kept going until he hit another door.

The door that could help him.

Everything hurt now. He was sweating, burning up. His eyes felt like they were bulging out of his head, and his limbs were trembling.

He tried to knock, lost his balance. Went down in a heap of limbs.

His side crashed into the ground and fire tore through his abdomen, pain so sharp and intense he couldn’t speak—couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think.

He thought he smelled something familiar. Heard something close. Felt something against his forehead.

But it was lost in a wave of blackness.

A * A

Twelve hours earlier…

Daniel LaRusso walked into Miyagi-Fang to hear a sound he was uncomfortably familiar with. As his own stomach churned in sympathy, he stepped closer to the small wood door leading to the bathroom and rapped on it.

“Everything okay?” he asked, scrunching up his nose as the stench filtered out into the dojo.

“Fine,” a thin voice gasped.

“Johnny?” Daniel rapped harder on the door. “Let me in.”

“‘m fine.”

Daniel then heard the toilet flush and someone heave themself upright, before the faucet was turned on.

“Johnny, what’s wrong?” The worst-case scenarios were flashing through Daniel’s head: Johnny had gone after Kreese and gotten his ass kicked, he was drunk and trying to sober up before class…

But when the door slid open and a pale-faced and miserable Johnny stepped out, Daniel knew both were wrong.

“Are you sick?”

Johnny shook his head, then winced. “Don’t think so,” he said as he shuffled to the inlaid bench and sat down, propping his head against his hands with his elbows braced against his knees. “Bologna might have turned."

“I told you you should stop buying that stuff,” Daniel said as he fetched a water bottle from the small fridge and sat down beside Johnny, sliding it between his side and forearms.

“Then what am I going to have for breakfast?” he groaned, ignoring the bottle of water.

Daniel lightly wiggled it so it tapped Johnny’s arm and side. Groaning, the other man straightened up so his head was leaning against the paneling and took the water. “Cereal.”

Johnny took a small sip of the water and grimaced. “Milk goes bad,” he said faster but in a much steadier tone.

“Drink it faster. Or have eggs and bacon.”

Johnny groaned and clenched his jaw as his chest heaved painfully. “No more… food talk,” he ground out.

“Duly noted.” Daniel stood again and grabbed a towel, wetting it in the sink and laying it over Johnny’s forehead as he sat back down.

At first, Johnny pulled back in surprise, the towel slipping, but then he caught it and visibly relaxed.

“Thanks,” he muttered, closing his eyes and resituating the towel.

“How are you going to teach like this?”

“It’ll pass.”

“Uh huh.”

“Weren’t supposed to... be here this early,” Johnny mumbled as he shifted in his seat. He winced again then slowly lowered himself so he was lying on the bench, bringing his socked feet to rest on the wood as well. Daniel, who had originally been in the way, just shifted so Johnny could lie down unimpeded.

“That’s not making me feel a whole lot better.”

“’ll be fine by four,” Johnny replied. “Got like... an hour right?”

“Thirty minutes at best, and you know Miguel is always early.”

“’ll be fine by then,” Johnny repeated, somehow sounding so sure that Daniel found himself believing him.

He stood, then lowered the singular shade over the window. “I’ll come get you before class starts.”

Johnny just shook his head, though Daniel had yet to see his posture actually relax.

And yet, twenty minutes later, Johnny was standing in the backyard, dressed in his gi, looking… surprisingly normal. He was still a little paler than usual, but had clearly tried to push some color back into his face, judging by a few fading streaks on his cheeks.

“How?” was all Daniel could ask. The last time he’d had food poisoning, it had taken him four days and a trip to urgent care before he could leave his bedroom without puking.

“Mind over matter,” Johnny mumbled, straightening up as the kids began to stream in through the door.

That was… bullshit? Unbelievable? Incredible? But at the core of it, so very Johnny.

The kids were so caught up in the latest non-karate drama at the high school that none of them shot Johnny another glance. He did look at Daniel, grinning genuinely, and mouthed, “Thanks.”

Daniel just nodded, then set out doing the last bit of preparations for class.

A * A

If Johnny was being honest with himself, he should have known something else was wrong. His stomach had been hurting all day, even though he’d barely eaten anything since dinner yesterday: fried bologna, ketchup and some leftover rice Carmen had brought a few days ago.

But there was too much going on for him to be sick. There was getting the kids ready for the All-Valley, so they could once and for all remove Kreese from Cobra Kai—not that Johnny would be reinstating that name anytime soon anyway; his budding relationship with Carmen—which Miguel still did not know about; and the knowledge that Robby and a handful of his other students were doing who-knew-what under Kreese’s command.

There wasn’t any time for his problems.

So he’d taken a Tums last night, not really understanding how that had shown up in his medicine cabinet, and tried to sleep it off.

He’d shot awake somewhere around two, tangled in a thin sheet, sweating so badly it felt like he’d just come in from a run. But something else was wrong. His face felt too hot, the skin too tight, and his stomach continued to flip lazily, despite him begging it to stay where it was.

He’d cranked up the fan, and sipped some water, which was a mistake.

His stomach had rolled and he was puking up his meager dinner not long after. He sat there for a long time, head leaning against the cool seat, until he’d fallen asleep. He’d woken again when his forehead slid off the toilet and thudded into the vanity.

He was cool this time, freezing, and shit, that was signs of a fever. That much he knew.

He did not have time for this.

Still on his knees, he managed to reach the shower dial and turn it on. Then he crawled into the tub, clothes still on, and sat there, letting the cool water beat on him while he shivered uncontrollably.

He could not get sick. This had to be a twenty-four hour thing. The kids all came in with their runny noses, who knew what they got into at school. Maybe it was time he caved to LaRusso wanting hand sanitizer stations on the way out for those germ-minded kids.

Eventually the freezing water had become unbearable and he barely managed to reach back high enough to turn it off. Then came the more difficult task of stripping off his wet clothes, which he ended up doing still sitting in the tub, because the act of fighting with his clothes while standing seemed rather exhausting.

But then, he did have to get up, and it took everything he had to stay that way. His head swam and his stomach lurched.

That was when he felt a stabbing pain in his stomach around his navel.

No way this was some sort of flu.

He was reminded of Miguel pulling the package of bologna out of the fridge and frowning at the date. “This is over a week old, Sensei.”

“It’s fine,” Johnny had said.

Miguel had looked a split second away from pitching it, but had put it back in the fridge and chosen the bag of pretzels on the counter instead.

So this was food poisoning. It had to be.

He’d be in for a rough night, but it should be over by tomorrow, when he needed to be at the dojo, when he needed to be on.

The knowledge didn’t make his illness any easier, but it had made it manageable. He’d thrown up a few more times; felt his stomach cramp so severely, it doubled him over; and had eventually fallen asleep on the bathroom floor, ankles bracing the toilet, head leaning back against the far wall.

He didn’t feel better, per say, when he woke, but good enough to haul himself out of the bathroom, change into a loose shirt and sweats, and into the kitchen where he sipped at some OJ, literally the only thing in his entire kitchen that didn’t send his stomach rolling again.

At some point, he’d passed out on the couch watching TV and had jarred awake two hours before class.

He had to be there.

So he’d dry swallowed some aspirin and chewed another Tums, begged whoever was up there to keep them down, and headed out with the OJ tucked under his arm.

He’d barely made it to the dojo when his stomach began to cramp again, induced by the shifting horizons while he was driving. LaRusso found him and his once-nemesis had been surprisingly gentle. When he was better, Johnny owed him more than just a quick thanks for being decent about it, instead of leaving him to suffer on his own.

He’d had to pull over on the way home to puke again. Though he didn’t know what he was bringing up at this point. It was all acid and gunk from what he could see.

He was less than a mile from his apartment complex and he sure as hell wasn’t walking, so he slid back into the car, focused with all his remaining energy and went approximately ten miles an hour in the righthand lane the remaining way.

His fever was kicking up again as he parked, and his stomach began to ache with new intensity. He barely made it to the couch before he was retching again into the bowl he’d so left there earlier for just that purpose.

His head was pounding, his ears ringing, and the pain in his stomach had shifted so it was on his lower right side. He’d bruised a kidney before and it’d hurt in its own way, but it had been nothing like this. He hadn’t even fought anyone since Kreese. Couldn’t risk injuring himself and getting benched. Not with everything that was at stake.

It felt like he was getting the massage from hell, but inside, down in his guts. They were churning, dancing, twisting, oblivious to the pain they were causing. His actual organs hurt, however that was possible.

He sipped at the water, and immediately retched it back up.

Somewhere deep down he knew that was bad. Knew he needed to stay hydrated. Knew he hadn’t drunk enough the past eighteen hours. Knew he could replenish some of it from the shower, but it was so far away.

He just leaned his head against the arm rest, shifting until he found an angle that didn’t make him violently nauseous, and must have passed out.

It was only when he woke up that he knew something was seriously wrong, and that he had to get some help, and ended up passing out again in front of Carmen’s door.

Only it hadn’t been Carmen who answered.

“Sensei!” Miguel shouted, trying and failing to catch the older man. “Mama! Yaya!” he shouted as he dropped to his knees beside his Sensei, whose face was red and flushed but otherwise seemed uninjured.

“Sensei, please.” Miguel begged, tapping Sensei’s face and feeling the heat radiating off it. “MAMA!” he yelled again as he jabbed his fingers into Sensei’s neck, finding a thin pulse.

Then arms were on his shoulders, pulling him away, as his mom replaced him.

“¡Llame una ambulancia!”

Yaya was telling him to back up, was shoving her phone into his hands.

He didn’t remember making the call, but he must have. His mom was trying to rouse Sensei, had unbuttoned his shirt, and was swearing.

“Qué pasa?” Miguel demanded, but she didn’t answer.

“Ice, Miguel,” his mom was ordering, still bent over Sensei. “Quick!”

His feet were moving, grabbing whatever frozen vegetables they had in the freezer and handing them to his mom, who was placing them around Sensei’s neck, under his arms, around his groin.

Sensei groaned, flinched, but didn’t rouse.

“What’s wrong?” Miguel heard himself ask, but his mom was telling Yaya to take him in the apartment instead of responding.

“No!” he shouted, planting his feet. “I'm not leaving.”

His mom turned to look at him, a bit of panic in her eyes before she could hide it. “Go inside, Miggy. Please,” she said very carefully.

As much as Miguel didn’t want to, he did. Until he heard the sirens. Then he was outside the door again, watching as the paramedics swarmed Sensei.

They were asking his mom a bunch of questions and she was rattling off the answers. Then Sensei was on a gurney and they were rolling away and his mother was climbing into the ambulance with him, and then they were gone.

Miguel felt Yaya’s arm wrap around his upper back, not tall enough to reach his shoulders, and he turned and buried her head into her shoulder, letting the tears fall.

[blueskrugs]

Let Me Count the Ways | Robert Thomas

this has been on my list since like July and I could just never get around to it. I finally sat down today and came up with something short and sweet.

for @stl-boys55​ for helping me come up with this idea ages ago, and for that one anon who asked for Robby fic recs. there’s some description of an injury, but no Robbys were harmed in the making of this fic. 

length: 1.8k words

How soon was too soon to fall in love? How did you even know you were in love? You’d always thought that you were too young to know the answers, that it would take a few more years and a few more breakups, but from the day you met Robert Thomas, you were sure you were going to fall hard and fast. It wouldn’t take much, really, with that damn giggle and his habit of sticking his tongue out whenever he was focused on something (which was often). More than that though, Robby was sweet, and funny, and would blush and roll his eyes when you teased him before chirping you right back.

Yeah, you never stood a chance.

It wasn’t until about six months into your relationship that you realized just how in deep you were. 

You weren’t sure you would ever get tired of the energy of the Enterprise Center on a Blues gameday. It was crowded and loud, filled with people wearing jerseys of players old and new. Each game was new and exciting, but familiar just the same. You went to games when you could, but it had taken you a while to get used to sitting with the rest of the Better Halves. You were younger than all of them, still in school while they had kids or were on their way to that, and you had felt like you could never belong. The other girls had been unfailingly nice to you, though, so now you looked forward to seeing everyone at games, holding the little ones or standing with them at the glass during warmups, happily playing babysitter for the night. So that’s where you were on a nondescript Tuesday night, Blake Bozak sitting on your lap as the second period started. You were only half paying attention to the game, to be honest, with the Blues already up by three goals as the minutes ticked by. You’re talking to Cris about your plans for the summer, but you’re watching Robby as he clambers over the boards and onto the ice for a shift. It had become habit to keep an eye on him whenever he’s on the ice, which is why you see everything that happens next. 

It feels like it happens in slow motion. Robby chases the puck to the boards, but he trips over a divot in the ice before he gets there and starts falling. A Jets player was already coming up to check Robby into the boards, and he doesn’t have time to stop, crashing into his back. Robby hits the boards with his head first, and then his shoulder, before laying there, crumpled, dazed, not moving.

A hush falls over the arena as a trainer rushes out onto the ice. A scrum has broken out, players yelling and whistles blowing, but you don’t really hear any of it. You’re distantly aware that you’re clutching Cris’s hand, and that you’re hardly breathing, eyes still trained on Robby.

He’s rolled onto his back, talking to the trainer, which is good, you know, but you can’t quite quiet the anxiety that’s tightening around your chest like a vise, a heavy weight that settles on your heart. His stick lays abandoned, forgotten, a couple feet away on the ice. 

Minutes pass; you’re not sure how long. Eventually someone helps him to his feet, and he makes his way, slowly, off the ice. He’s favoring his entire right side, and they have to stop more than once, though they hadn’t started very far from the door to the bench. You watch as Robby disappears down the tunnel, are still watching even as the puck drops and play resumes like nothing ever happened. You don’t look away until Blake tugs on your shirt, and you tear your eyes away with a smile, but it’s forced.

The Blues hold on to win, someone even scores another goal, but it’s all a blur to you. Robby had come back to the bench early in the third, had even taken a short shift or two, but he mostly had just sat stiffly at the end of the bench and watched.

You make your way down to the tunnels with everyone else after the final buzzer. There are conversations happening around you, but you’re caught up in your thoughts, still seeing Robby lying motionless on the ice. 

You’re startled, then, when Robby appears in front of you, showered, but in sweatpants and a hoodie instead of his gameday suit. You stop yourself from launching yourself at him, but just barely, settling instead for wrapping your arms around his neck. He hugs you back, but you can tell that he’s sore all over by the way his shoulders are tense, how he’s holding himself too tightly. 

“Can you drive me home?” he murmurs, holding his keys up.

You take them with a smile before taking Robby’s hand and walking with him to the parking garage. You’re both quiet in the car, radio on but turned down low. Robby isn’t on his phone, just looking out the window, and you can’t stop yourself from casting worried glances his way as you drive. He looks pale, washed out by the highway lights coming through the windshield. 

He catches you looking his way at one point, mumbles out a, “Stop it,” before turning and looking firmly out his window. 

You keep your eyes on the road until you pull into the parking garage. It’s still silent between you as you make your way upstairs and to Robby’s apartment. You’re a step behind him as you step inside and close the door behind you. You watch as he drops his keys in the bowl by the door, and you notice that he’s still moving stiffly. 

“How’re you feeling, babe?” you blurt out, taking a step closer and resting your hand on the shoulder that didn’t slam into the boards. “Can I do anything, get you anything?”

“I’m fine,” Robby says shortly, shrugging off your hand and walking towards the bedroom. You’re still standing in the same spot when he comes back, and some of your hurt and confusion must show on your face, because Robby lets out a frustrated sigh. “Look, nothing’s broken, no concussion, I’m just tired and sore. So can you stop looking at me like that?” he snaps.

“I was really worried,” you say softly. “Thought about running down onto the ice myself,” you admit, but Robby doesn’t laugh.

“What good would that have done?” 

You sigh, running your hands through your hair. Briefly, you’re glad Robby finally moved out of the Tkachuks’ basement, that no one else is around to listen to this stupid fight.

“I don’t know, Rob! I was scared. You went down hard, and you weren’t moving, and I just-”

“I get hit all the time,” Robby interrupts.

“This was different, and you know it.”

“Is it, though? It would’ve been a perfectly fine hit if I hadn’t been falling, and I’m fine.” Robby pauses. “I don’t get why you care so much about this, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Because I love you, dammit, Robby!” you burst out.

Robby freezes, his mouth half open. It’s dark in the apartment, just a single lamp and the light from the bedroom spilling down the hallway, and you’re still standing near the door, Robby sitting on the couch in the living room.

It’s the first time either of you have said those words. You hadn’t realized they were true, either, until they were out of your mouth and hanging in the space between you. It might not have been the best time to say it for the first time, but that didn’t mean you regretted it. Robby still hasn’t said anything, though, hasn’t even moved, and you start to think you’ve made a mistake. 

Six months isn’t a long time, not really. You’re both still young, and maybe Robby doesn’t feel the same way. You take a step back, turn towards the door, trying to decide if it would be easier to call an Uber or to call Schwartzy to come get you, but your movement snaps Robby out of whatever daze he was in. He jumps to his feet, stumbling across the apartment towards you. Before you know it, your back is pressed to the wall next to the door, Robby’s hands resting on your hips. He winces, though, and you run your hand up his bruised side over his T-shirt. 

“Rob,” you breathe.

“Say it again,” he says, but he brushes a kiss across your lips before you can reply. 

“I love you, Robert Thomas,” you say against his mouth before he’s kissing you for real, deep and sweet and slow. 

He pulls back after a moment, just enough to bite his lip and look you in the eyes. You grin and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“You scared me,” you whisper back, and you’re talking about more than watching him get injured. 

“I’m sorry,” Robby says back, and he’s talking about more than just the fight. One of his hands slips from your hip and into yours. “Come cuddle?” he asks, and you’re treated to that gap-toothed smile you love so much.

Later, you’re curled up against Robby’s non-injured side while some movie is playing on the TV. Neither of you are really watching, both half-asleep and cozy. Robby has been absently playing with your fingers for the last fifteen minutes, and you’re not sure he’s even aware he’s doing it. 

“Thanks for worrying about me,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

You tilt your head to grin at him. “What was that, couldn’t hear ya, babe.”

Robby sticks his tongue out at you, but he leans down to kiss you again. “I love you,” is what he says. 

“I love you, too, you dork.” You smirk. “I was thinking about calling Jaden to come rescue me for a moment there.” 

Robby groans. “Schwartzy would literally have killed me.”

“Can’t have that, now can we?” you laugh, and Robby tugs you closer, trying to give you a noogie, but your elbow lands in his ribs, and he lets go of you with a gasp. You just laugh harder as he glares at you and rubs his side.

“I take it back,” he says, but he betrays himself with a giggle. 

You fall asleep like that, sprawled out and tangled together, as the credits roll, and there’s a smile on your face. Robby will probably be even more sore in the morning from spending the night on the couch, but you think it’ll have been worth it.

[sillyfeathers]

Fight Scene (Jade West x Reader)

Fight Scene Prompt: "I'm not going to say this!" / "Oh, I see now. You're just ticklish." Characters: Jade West, reader (romantic) Summary: When you are partnered with Jade for a drama project, things were always bound to get interesting – and it doesn’t help that you’re definitely probably crushing on her. Warnings: fluff, mentions of breakup Words: 1946

A/N: for the gays :’) I have been binge watching victorious in quarantine and falling back in love with jade west so welcome to my very first romantic fic! I really enjoyed writing this and there will probably be a part 2. I hope you enjoy!

“I’m not going to say this!”

You glared at Jade, the script you two were supposed to be working on scrunched up in your right hand. 

“Boring,” she replied, indifferent. You scoffed, straightening out the piece of paper.

“Maia says, ‘Look, Valerie, it's Trek Boliver, that horrible criminal that ruined my life!’ –”

“I don’t see what’s so bad about it!” Jade cut you off.

You gave her a pointed look, continuing, “And then Valerie says, ‘Wow, Maia, we should kill him!’” You crushed the paper back up.

Jade hesitated, then shrugged. “What’s the problem?”

You knew she was just trying to get on your nerves, but you had an entire scene performance due tomorrow, and you were getting frustrated.

“Come on, West, you’re obviously trying to get back at Beck.” Jade let out a loud, sarcastic laugh.

“I dumped him, Y/L/N, why would I be trying to get back at him?” 

“Because you miss him? You guys were together for years – you know you’re allowed to miss him, right?”

For the first time since you’d started this project, Jade fell silent. Her eyes were locked on the ground in front of her.

After almost a minute of silence, you decided to speak.

“I know you’re a great writer, Jade, and I’m not so bad myself. If you actually put some effort in, we would totally get a higher grade than Beck and Robbie.”

You saw her head tilt slightly, and she raised her eyes to meet your gaze.

“Instead of making him feel bad by killing a metaphorical version of him, we could outsmart him.” She spoke slowly, musing over what you said.

You nodded along, afraid to say anything that could jeopardize the somewhat-amicable conversation you two were having right now.

“Alright!” she exclaimed suddenly, making you jump. “You’ve convinced me! Let’s make this the best damn scene Sikowitz has ever seen.” 

Almost 4 hours later, the two of you had successfully put together and rehearsed a scene that had just about everything, and you were damn proud of it. It had a plot twist, a fight, a moment of potent pathos, while still keeping in a tiny bit of shade towards Beck – you couldn’t fully convince Jade. There was pretty much no doubt in either of your minds that this would beat Beck and Robbie. Hey, they didn’t stay up until 2am writing theirs!

“We did it!” you yawned, half-heartedly punching the air. Jade grinned as you collapsed onto the couch, scrolling through the script on her laptop.

“Actually, Y/N – Y/L/N,” she corrected herself, shaking her head. “Can we go over that fight scene again?”

You groaned, throwing your arms over your face. “Whyyyy?”

“Because, as funny as it would be, I don’t want to actually hurt you.” She started to pull you off the couch as she spoke, and you felt your heart skip a beat when her hands closed around your wrist.

“Fine,” you grumbled, yawning again. “From, what, two lines beforehand?”

She nodded, and you couldn’t help but smile slightly as you watched her morph into character.

You cleared your throat. “Valerie, this isn’t you!”

“Oh, Maia.” As per the blocking, she began to slowly walk towards you, and you had to force yourself to stay in character.

“This has always been me.” She finished the line, and so the fight scene started.

It was well choreographed, Jade’s intensity pairing nicely with your more placid style. You went through the steps as if it were a dance: swing, catch, turn, kick, duck –

“Wait, hold on.” Jade stopped, and you kicked out at nothing, stumbling. She chuckled as you regained your balance, rolling her eyes. “Can we change that part? It’s awkward to grab you by the shoulder.”

You shrugged, nodding. “What would be better?”

She paused, her hands moving slightly as she gestured out the motions of the fight.

“Okay, like –” She reached forward and grabbed at your waist, surprising you. You jumped backwards, gasping slightly.

She squinted at you. “What was that?”

You tried to keep your cool. “Nothing, sorry, you surprised me.”

Jade seemed doubtful, but let it go as you returned to her. She demonstrated the move again, only making it a couple of seconds longer before she felt you flinch.

She had her arm locked around your waist for the next move now, pulling you close to her, and she glanced down, her eyebrows raised.

“Seriously, am I hurting you or something?” She would never have admitted it, but there was a hint of concern in her voice.

You shook your head, pressing your lips together. “No, no, it’s fine.”

She let out a light laugh. “Alright then – we just have to figure out how to get from here to the end.” Her brow furrowed in thought. Just like before, she began to gesture the motions with her hands, her fingers gently flicking against your skin as she puzzled it out in her head.

You froze, looking down at her hand that was still firmly secured around your waist. Her fingers were in constant, absentminded motion, her nails tapping along your side and hip. A tiny squeak escaped your lips. “W-West!”

“Huh? Is something wrong?” She looked down at you again, her fingers still moving. You tried to splutter out a coherent response, but all that you could get out was a mumbled, “No…”

For the first time, Jade seemed to notice what she was doing with her hands. She shifted her gaze to her fingers, which were still marking out patterns on your skin. Your head was pressed to your chest, and you were squirming almost imperceptibly in her grip, not wanting to alarm her. But, alas, it wasn’t enough.

“Oh, I see now.” She spoke slowly, drawing out the words, and to your dismay you felt the tickling at your side become more deliberate. “You’re just ticklish.”

Before you could speak, she’d spun you out of the hold and had reached both hands down to scribble at your sides. You let out a surprised shriek, biting back laughter.

“Jahahade!” You batted at her exploring hands, refusing to meet her gaze. “We need to figure out the scene!”

She was grinning now, finding it all too easy to pin you down onto the couch and straddle your waist.

“Yeah, but that was before I discovered this.”

Despite your valiant efforts to stop her, she managed to wrestle both of your wrists into one hand, pulling your arms above your head.

“Wait!” you squealed, shaking your head madly. “This – don’t – I swear – please –”

You were cut off by a determined scratching between your ribs, and the giggles finally spilled out. 

“WEHEHEST, LET ME GO!” you shrieked, squirming around as much as you could.

“West? I don’t know a West, I’m Valerie Sinclair, and I just love to tickle my dear friend Maia Lahey!” She had put on that stupid southern accent you loved so much, and as she tickled down to your stomach you felt your face heat up.

“That’s not how Valerie speaks!” you managed to squeal amidst your laughter.

“Well, that sure as hell ain’t how Maia laughs but look at you go!” She released your wrists, but you were so weakened by the tickling and teasing that you didn’t get a chance to fight your way free before she started to knead her thumbs up your sides. You threw your head back in mirth, and even though you couldn’t see her, you could hear the smirk in Jade’s voice.

“My oh my, I do declare we’re discoverin’ a tickle spot,” she teased, fluttering her torturous nails under your arms. You squealed again, clamping your arms to your sides.

“I’M GOHOHONNA KILL VALERIE!”

Jade gasped, wiggling her trapped fingers at a frightening speed.

“My goodness, that’s not how I remember this scene goin’!” she exclaimed. You were beginning to lose your breath, and you could only let out a half-whine, half-hysterical-giggle as she relentlessly tickled you, nails scribbling across your stomach and sides with no indication of stopping. 

After a few more unbearable minutes, your laughter began to turn silent, and she decided to let you go. You kicked her off the couch, curling onto your side, giggles still streaming from your lips as you tried to get rid of the lingering sensation. When you finally worked up the courage to look up, you were met with a very smug Jade West, the corners of her lips upturned and her eyes crinkled.

“Well that was fun,” she remarked, tilting her head at you. You glared back at her – and if looks could kill, this one probably wouldn’t have been that effective, what with your small smile and red face.

“You sounded like Tori,” you eventually grumbled, pushing yourself up off the couch. You were startled by a loud clap, followed by an even louder cheer.

“Because you said that, Y/N, and only because you said that, I will not exploit your weakness for the rest of the night!”

You raised your eyebrows at her.

“What?” she defended herself. “She doesn’t think it sounds like her.”

“Just the rest of the night? That’s it?”

“Don’t push it, Y/L/N.” She wiggled her fingers menacingly, and you blanched, shooting her another glare.

“So, um –” you cleared your throat – “Where were we?”

“Valerie, this isn’t you!”

“Oh, Maia. This has always been me.”

As the fight scene began, you could see Cat in your peripheral vision on the edge of her seat – just the reaction you and Jade were hoping for. It had only taken one more hour to perfect the scene last night, and it had ended with the two of you sleeping at awkward angles on the couch, so now your neck was sore and your arm hurt if you bent it the wrong way – but it was worth it.

You felt Jade grab your waist as she pulled you into the next move (you were prepared this time) and you made eye contact. She tilted her head ever so slightly, and you felt the slightest twitch at your side before she let go, and the scene continued.

By the time you were on the last few lines, you could see your entire class clearly engrossed in the story. 

“Maia, I’m sorry, you were right. I let all of this get under my skin. I should never have hurt you.”

“No, I’m – I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have rushed you like that.”

And, finally, the end was upon you. You took Jade’s wrist and went to pull her into a hug (her idea, it mirrored the opening tableau), but suddenly, you felt her stop, her hand on your shoulder.

Before you could register what was going on, she was moving even closer, and her hands were cupping your face, and your eyes were closed, and she was kissing you – and you were kissing her back.

You were pulled from the moment – the so, incredibly perfect moment – by the sound of applause, and Cat’s cooing. You both pulled back, smiling at your classmates as if everything was normal, but she squeezed your hand as you took your bows.

The rest of the class was a blur, and you couldn’t remember anything that Sikowitz said, or if Beck gave you an odd look as you left the stage. All that mattered to you that was by the time you left school that day, Jade West had her arm around your waist, and as she gave your side a pinch, her lips were pressed against your forehead.

[harley-sunday]

Encore [epilogue]

Summary: The new Disney+ show ‘Encore’ brings together former castmates of a high school musical, tasking them with re-creating their original performance in a high school reunion like no other. Emotions run high as you face faded friendships, long-forgotten controversies, killer choreography, and an ex-boyfriend you haven’t seen in eighteen years.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader [unnamed OFC, nicknamed ‘Ace’)

Warnings: Language. NSFW

Word count: 3.1k

AN: This is it... The epilogue of Encore’s Encore. What a ride, huh? I had so much fun writing this, diving into this backstory, and making sure these two knuckleheads found their way to each other in the end :) Hope you’ll enjoy the last part, but please let me know what you think! ♥

eL, I owe you something chocolate for all the hours you’ve spend in this daydream world with me. Thank you so, SO much, sweets! 

Masterlist

“Nic,” you answer with a smile, putting your phone on speaker, “we’re almost there.” 

“Ok, good,” she says, “cause these potatoes are done.” 

Chris chuckles beside you, “Two minutes, Nicole.”

“Step on it, Evans,” Nicole groans, “I’ve got two very impatient kids here who, I’m sure, aren’t above killing their mother if we don’t start eating soon.”

“Nicole,” you laugh.

“What? I’m serious,” she protests. “Please tell me you remembered to bring the-”

“It’s in the trunk, Nicole,” Chris reassures her with a smile. “We’re pulling up now, so you’re good.” 

“Oh thank God,” Nicole says as she hangs up.

“I’ll leave the door open for you,” you tell him, before you give a kiss. “See you soon.” 

He winks and sits back, trying to hide from view as you make your way to the front door.

The door opens before you even have a chance to ring the doorbell and you are greeted by two very excited boys who both run up to you and throw their arms around your waist. You run your hands through their hair, “Hi guys,” 

“We’re gonna watch you and mommy on TV!” Robby exclaims, while he takes your hand and leads you inside. Leo’s still wrapped around your waist, his feet on yours, and so you penguin walk through the hall and into the kitchen, where you find Nicole and Keith.

“Hi,” Nicole says with a smile, planting a kiss on your cheek, “you had a good flight?”

“Not too bad,” you tell her as you give Keith a hug.

“How’s the apartment?” She tells Leo to let go of you then, and when he doesn’t listen right away she throws him one of those mom-looks that makes him do exactly what she wants.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, taking the glass of wine she’s offered you, “I’m not sure all my stuff’s gonna fit, but-” 

“I still don’t understand why you don’t just move in with him, I mean-”

“Nicole,” you berate her, one eyebrow raised. “Have you met me and my commitment issues?”

“Yes, I know, taking it slow, blah blah blah,” she says while she pulls a face. “You know you’re just gonna be at his place all the time, right?”

“I know,” you agree with a nod, “but it’s nice to have, like, my own place, at least until he gets back from filming Knives Out, you know? I don’t- It would be weird to stay at his house when we’re not technically back-”

“Oh, come on!” She throws her hands in the air then, “You know what, I give up. Just let me know if you need help decorating the new place or whatever.”

“I love you,” you tell her, making a kissing face.

“Uhu,” she says, trying to keep a straight face but failing. She pulls you in for a hug, “It’s good to have you back, babe.” 

“MOM!” 

“Oh shit,” Nicole curses quietly and lets go of you. “Here we go.”

You pulls up your texting app and hit <send> on the draft you typed earlier, which simply says:

Now.

“Mom, Leo hit me!” 

You follow Nicole into the dining room where you find Robby, a red spot on his cheek that confirms his story, and a very guilty-looking Leo. Before Nicole has a chance to say anything there’s a knock on the front door and you see the confusion on Leo and Robby’s faces when they quickly realize an unexpected guest has shown up.

It’s then the door to the dining room opens and you see the boys’ eyes widen in shock when they see who has just stepped into their house. You throw Nicole a wink and step back, letting your back rest against the wall as you watch the scene in front of you unfold with a smile.

“Hi boys,” Chris says, using the deeper voice Steve Rogers is known for. Holding Captain America’s shield in front of him he salutes them, before he sets the shield down and walks over to where they’re seated, kneeling in between them. 

Leo finally seems to have found his voice again and looks from Chris to Nicole, “Momma! Cap’ain America is here!”

“He sure is, baby,” Nicole says with a smile. 

As if on cue, both boys jump out of their seats and throw their arms around Chris’ neck, giggling when he stands up, carrying them to the living room with ease. 

“Come on,” you nudge Nicole before you set your glass down, “Chris can handle those two, I’ll help you get everything on the table.”

She tells Keith to go take some pictures, maybe even a video so that, when necessary, they can help Leo and Robby remember about the deal they made with Captain America about being kind to each other. Once you’re in the kitchen she lets out a staggered breath, “I really hope this will help with all the fighting.”

“It will,” you assure her, gently patting her arm. “Captain America shows up, you listen, right? Those kids, oh Nic,” you let out a laugh, “they’ll be on their best behaviour from now on, because Captain America will find out if they’re not.” 

After a dinner filled with stories from Leo and Robby, trying to impress Captain America with whatever they can think of, you settle down in the living room, your episode of ‘Encore’ just minutes from airing. 

You and Chris sit down on the couch, Robby on his lap, while Leo snuggles up on yours, but only after both boys agree that Leo gets to sit on Cap’s lap after the second commercial break. Keith and Nicole are snuggled up on the love seat and you watch them out of the corner of your eye, smiling when you see Keith tickle Nicole which earns him a gentle slap on the wrist, followed by a kiss.

The episode starts then, the boys clapping and cheering loudly whenever they catch a glimpse of their mom. You can’t help but cringe when you see the footage of that first day, the awkward hug you gave Chris of course shown in its entirety. That’s the only time there’s any focus on you and Chris, which you’re thankful for, glad that whatever was going between you two didn’t transpire in rehearsals enough to make it into the final cut.

You smile when you see parts of the performance on screen and look away in embarrassment when they show the scene between you and Chris, making out in Kenickie’s car. Keith wolf whistles and Nicole winks at you, while the boys look up at you and Chris, confusion written all over their faces.

Robby, now in your lap, takes the lead, “You kissed Captain America.” It’s not so much a question as it is a statement and you’re not sure how to reply.

Chris steps in, “She did, but it’s super secret, so you can’t tell anyone that you know, ok?”

Robby and Leo nod fervently, excited to share another secret with Captain America.

“So, am I dropping you off at your place, or-” he says with a grin.

You shake your head and laugh, “You can, but then you’d have to drop yourself off there as well and I don’t think Dodger would be too excited to spend the night alone.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he says as he drives past your apartment, speeding up a little to make his point, a cheeky grin playing on his lips. 

You turn towards him in your seat and stare at him for a few seconds, memories starting to flood your mind now that you’re driving through Sudbury again together for the first time in eighteen years. You let your bottom lip roll between your teeth while an idea starts to form.

He looks over at you, “What?” 

You shrug, “Remember that time you took me for a drive and we ended up at Great Meadows?”

“Yeah-”

“Yeah.” You reach out your hand and let it rest on the top of his thigh, “Wanna take me there again?”

He swallows hard, the double entendre not lost on him, and he just nods, gripping the steering wheel just a little tighter. 

You let your hand travel further up his thigh and cup him through his jeans, drawing a sharp breath from him when you squeeze ever so slightly. It’s about five more minutes to the parking you were referring to and you keep your hand in place for every second of them, your thumb rubbing back and forth in languid strokes.

His breathing picks up and you can tell he’s trying to keep his cool, but the way he grows harder under your touch betrays his efforts. He curses quietly, “Fuck, Ace.”

“Uhu,” you reply with a sly smile and another squeeze. 

He pulls up to the parking then, and you’re relieved to find it empty, not sure what you would have done if there’d been other people around. Before you have time to say anything he’s unbuckled his seatbelt and puts his hand over yours, keeping you in place, grinding against your hand.

You take your hand out from underneath his and unbuckle your seatbelt, while you tell him to slide his seat back. He does and watches you intently, no doubt curious to see what you’ll do next. You throw him a wink and move around in your seat, your ass now hitting the dashboard. Planting one feet firmly on the ground, you throw the other over his leg and slide onto his lap. It takes some effort, but finally you find yourself straddling his thigh.  

Your skirt has ridden up and you can feel your soaked panties press against his jeans, a shiver running through you when you feel him flex his muscles. You cup his face and pull him in for a kiss and as you do you buck your hips, sliding over his leg, a moan escaping you from the friction it creates.

“Ace,” he breathes against your lips, his hands on your hips to keep you in place.

You give him another kiss and let your hands fall to his jeans then, your fingers unbuckling his belt with ease before you undo his button and zipper. One hand finds its way into his boxers and takes him out, and you press yourself against his leg when you see he’s completely hard. 

Your thumb runs over the tip, coating it in precum. Pulling back you look at him and you feel the heat rise to your cheeks when you let a bit of spit fall onto your hand, your eyes never leaving his. Both hands are on his cock then, working in tandem, while he grabs onto your hips and helps you ride his thigh in earnest.

It isn’t long before his head falls back against the headrest, his breathing more ragged now, and you can tell he’s getting close from the way he thrusts into your hands. 

“I’m right there with you,” you whisper, feeling your orgasm starting to build. 

He flexes the muscles in leg again and pushes you down harder as he slides you from his knee to his hip and back. 

You keep running your hands up and down his shaft, faster than before, and then you lean forward and put your mouth to his ear, “Come for me, Chris.”

He shakes his head while he tightens his grip on your hips, lifting you up, and you whimper at the loss of contact. He kisses you, hard, and then puts one hand on your lower back, pushing you against him, while the other takes his cock from your hands. “Wanna come inside of you,” he growls, his voice low and dangerous, and you almost come right then and there.

You put your hands on his shoulders and slowly lower yourself onto him, a moan escaping your when he fills you up effortlessly. His hands are back on your hips then, helping you ride him, setting a pace that you know will get both of you there quickly. 

Burying your face in his neck, closer now than you were before, you sneak one hand in between you to play with your clit. You want to tell him you’re about to come, but then he bucks his hips at the same time he pushes you down and the words get stuck in your throat because your orgasm washes over you instantly. 

You feel him come inside of you not much later and he wraps his arms around you, cradling you against his chest and whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you both come down from your high. 

When you wake up the next morning Chris’ side of the bed is already empty and you figure he must have gone out for an early morning run. That is until you hear Dodger bark somewhere on the other end of the house, which is weird, because Chris told you he usually takes his dog along on his runs. You decide you might as well get up, feeling well-rested after your early night yesterday, but still longing for some coffee. 

You start to make your way to the kitchen, but halfway there you are greeted by an excited Dodger, who you give some well-deserved scratches before continuing your mission to get some coffee. Your brows knit together when you see a bouquet of red tulips on the kitchen counter, which you are sure weren’t there yesterday. 

“I was just gonna get you,” Chris says as hands you a plate with two Danish, and a cup of coffee while he pulls a face, “I hate to rush you, but we have an hour before we need to leave, so you kind need to haul-”

“What?” You look at him, shaking your head, “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t- It’s a surprise,” he says with a wicked grin. “So just- Eat your breakfast, and I’ll go take a shower, ok?”

“Ok,” you draw out, even more confused. You watch him walk out of the kitchen and turn towards Dodger, who’s at your feet hoping you’ll drop a bit of Danish, or maybe just both. “You in on this?”

Dodger barks quietly, which doesn’t really help. Still, you sneak him a bit of your Danish before you sit down at the breakfast bar and try to figure out what the hell is going on.

You’re in the car about an hour later and Chris still won’t tell you where you’re headed, but when he turns onto the I90 after twenty minutes or so, you are fairly certain you’ll end up in Boston, even though that leaves about a thousand places he could take you to. 

He’s unusually quiet and so you figure it must be something important but there’s just no way of telling what is happening right now. When he pulls up on Salem Street about thirty minutes later you’re even more confused, almost certain that you’ve never been here before.

When you round the car to join him on the sidewalk, he takes your hand and leads the way down the street until you get to what looks like a barber shop. It confuses you even more, because are you here to watch him get a haircut, or? 

You follow him inside and you’re surprised when the guy behind the counter greets him as if they’re old friends, telling him Dave will be with you guys in a second.

“Chris,” you whisper, gently tugging on his hand.

Before he has the chance to respond a guy walks through the curtains behind the counter and walks up to you and it takes everything you have not to stare at him, because he’s almost twice the size of Chris. This must be Dave, you figure, and you watch as he gives Chris a hug.

“How you doin’, kid?”

“Good,” Chris smiles. He nods towards you then, “This is Ace.” 

You throw him a look because why would he use your nickname, but it’s then Dave gives you a hug and you find yourself a little stunned at how gentle he is for such a big guy. Before you have the chance to ask any questions, Dave beckons you and Chris to follow him through the curtains and it’s there things get even more confusing.

There’s a chair set up, but it isn’t a barber’s chair, and you glance at Chris, hoping to finally get some answers.

“I’ll just eh-,” Dave says then, “I’ll just go grab something from the back,” and disappears through another curtain, leaving you and Chris alone.

Chris takes your hands in his and gives them a gentle squeeze, “Remember when I told you that I got that ace of hearts tattooed on what was supposed to be our ten-year anniversary?”

You nod, slowly starting to maybe connect the dots, but it isn’t until you realize what today’s date is that you let out a gasp, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nods and smiles, “Happy twenty-year anniversary, Ace.” He tugs on your hands, pulling you close before he wraps his arms around you, his mouth close to your ear when he says, “It’s time to start fixing things.” 

Dave reappears then and asks Chris if he’s ready. Chris nods and takes his sweater off, before he sits down in the chair and Dave starts prepping his skin. Chris holds out his hand to you and you’re quick to take it, standing next to him and watching in awe as Dave starts to fill in the broken line of Chris’ tattoo, the colour red he’s using matching that of the existing heart perfectly. You give his hand a gentle squeeze to let him know that Dave’s done not much later and let go then, so Chris can get up out of the chair and admire his tattoo in the mirror that’s hanging on the wall.

Dave throws you a wink, “Everything as it should be.” 

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile, for some reason feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, as if the enormity of what Chris has just done only now hits you. You watch as Dave places what looks like saran wrap on Chris’ chest before he hands him a tube of cream and some instructions on how to take care of it the next couple of days.

Walking out of the shop not much later Chris looks at you, a tender look in his eyes, “You ok?”

“Yeah,” you nod, a moment of clarity suddenly hitting you. 

“So,” Chris asks, hesitating a little, “am I dropping you off at your place or-?”

“No,” you say as you let go of his hand and turn towards him. You cup his face ih your hands and push yourself up so your lips ghost against his, “You’re taking me home.”

[evening-starlight]

Chances {Chapter 3}

I have a problem and his name is Tom Hiddleston... midnight BABY

Master List

Edited in Grammarly

Not A Bot

Word Count: 1180

    This is the chapter you've all been waiting for, Tom FUCKING Hiddleston asking me out on a date through Instagram. If you follow me on any social platform, you know I bring this up a lot. It's my favorite love story of all time. I might be a little biased because it is my love story, but you all seem to enjoy it.

    Tom has also asked me to stop calling him Tom FUCKING Hiddleston in my book, so we all know that's the only name he will be known as now when I narrate.

    A couple of weeks had passed since I bumped into Tom on the streets. Maybe a month or two? We were making significant progress on our album, the single we were stuck on was in production, and we were all high spirits in the studio the day it happened.

    I laid with my feet in Naomi’s lap, head propped up on the arm of the couch we had in the studio, scrolling through Instagram mindlessly as Robbie recorded the melody to our third album song. We finished four songs, two of which are singles, off of our eight-track album. The last couple of weeks have been a blessing to us after our severe three-month block, and we had a lot of recording to do to make up for the time we lost.

    A notification pops up on my phone that some Tom Hiddleston fan account had followed me and was now requesting a message. I chuckle lightly. These Instagram bots were fast; I liked a photo of Tom maybe three pictures ago. Naomi taps my legs and gives me the questioning eyes she's known to do. "Nothing really, just an Instagram bot saying they're Tom Hiddleston."

    "Didn't you meet him like, last week?" Heather asks from her laying position on the floor.

    "That was longer than last week, Socks." She rolls her eyes at me. "I'll bet you they're saying they're using their 'other account' and need my money to fly me out to meet him," I say sarcastically. I open it up anyway, just for a good laugh.

    I can feel my entire body freeze at the message. It was not, in fact, a bot. I squeal, launching my phone across the studio floor, causing both girls to look at me in confusion. I can't bring myself to say anything. Instead, I stare at the phone on the floor.

    Robbie comes out of the booth, looks at my phone, and picks it up. "I swear to god if this is another dick pic, I'm submerging your phone in acid." He jokes, cautiously looking down at the screen. I can see his eyes go over the words again and again. Just like I did. "No. Fucking. Way." Both girls sit up quickly, looking at Robbie to tell them what has me in a silent panic.

    "Well, what is it, Dick Head? Stella won't tell us." Heather asks, getting irritated no one is talking to her. Instead of answering her directly, Robbie reads the text aloud.

    "'Hi Stella, I know this may be a tab bit crazy, but I haven't been able to keep you off my mind for more than a few hours, at most. I feel horrendous that I spilled your coffee and would love to make it up to you. Much Love, Thomas.'"

    The studio falls silent. Deafeningly quiet. Heather is the first to speak, "At least it's not a bot asking for your bank account information." She jokes. Naomi chuckles, slowly building into a full-blown belly laugh.

    "What?" I snap. She holds her hands up in defense, knowing I'm not truly angry, just overwhelmed with the thought that Tom Hiddleston wanted to go on a date with me.

    "Stella, you have to take this chance. It's not every day a god of a man asks you out on a date. It's Tom Fucking Hiddleston, for God's sake. That's not even once in a lifetime type stuff, that's," She pauses. "Once in a hundred lifetimes, type stuff." Robbie returns my phone to me. I stare at the message and the blue tick next to his name as Heather pipes up.

    "I think it would be good for you. Obviously, you made an impact on Tom when he spilled your coffee. So he's asking you out." I shake my head.

    "No, he's probably just being polite; that's who he is. It's not a date," I try to convince myself. Heather steals my phone, dashing into the booth with it before I can get my bearings.

    "Only one way to find out," She yells, typing furiously on my phone. I leap off the couch to chase after her when I understand what she's doing.

    "Heather, don't you fucking dare," I yell, yanking open the booth door. "You can't text for me, you use too many emojis, and he'll think it's weird." She giggles maniacally as she sidesteps me.

    "Too late," She singsongs, handing me the phone. I look over the message. 'Like a date?' followed by numerous pleading eye emojis. I go to delete it before he sees it but get the dreaded 'seen' at the bottom.

    "I'm going to murder you, Heather Long. Swear to God." I hiss, staring her down. She giggles and walks off, laying back in her position on the floor. She knows I'm all bark and no bite. But that doesn't mean she won't wake up with a dick on her forehead in permanent ink soon. My phone dings, telling me he replied. Everyone looks up when I gasp. Robbie chants, 'what did he say,' trying to get me to tell them what he said. "He said, 'that's exactly what I was hoping for, yes.'" The band cheers around me, Robbie shaking my shoulders in congratulations.

    "Say yes," Naomi cheers. "Say yes for me, Please." Robbie looks over his shoulder at her, faking a hurt expression.

    "Am I not enough for you, Naomi Bear?" He sniffles, making Naomi rolls her eyes.

    "You're more than enough, Pudding Cup. But, it's Tom Hiddleston. Even you said you were a little gay for him." Robbie shrugs his shoulders with a head nod. Of course, we've all heard his drunken tangents about how hot the entire Marvel cast is.

    My fingers shake as I type out the answer, taking my chance with this once in a hundred lifetimes type of guy.

    And that's the end. I'm kidding; no, that's not even close to the end. We're just getting started. Heather did wake up with the permanent dick the following week after she slept over at my apartment. I will never feel sorry for that part. But I have thanked her numerous times for helping me take that step with Tom that I needed.

    We still have lots of drama and toxic exes to talk about, so don't put the book down just yet. Unless it's past your bedtime, then go ahead. Or you're tired. Take care of you, Boo. But we have lots of pot-stirring coming up. And Tea piping hot from the kettle.