#as in - i remember constantly going ''nah - that gear is worse than what i have'' all through stormblood

[racke7]

Buckled, bought an extra retainer.

Hit Stormblood. Arrived at and unlocked flight in the Doman-maps within a single day.

All crafting-classes and all gather-classes are now 70+, and are equipped with the highest-tier scrip-gear. (I've also bought a bunch of the gathering-books.)

I still need to buy one more set of scrip-gear for my retainers so that they can keep up, but the old one isn't at 70 yet, and the new one is still <50, so it's not a priority.

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Request from @iwannagotospaceforever​: Could u do a Fred Weasley x reader maybe with prompt 12 and 13???

12: “I’m Fine!” “Y/n, there's blood coming out of your head!”

13: “You’re cute when you want to stab me”

A/N: I love this!!! I hope you guys enjoy, feel free to leave me any feedback or requests you might have <3

Prompt: You and Fred have been friends for a while, you’ll hang out together on school grounds, pull pranks with Fred, and just seem to get along well, unless its on the quidditch pitch, where your competitive natures can get a bit out of hand.

Warnings: Reader is not in the same house as Fred (Gryffindor), Swearing, mentions of blood, Frenemies type shit, Fluff, terrible quidditch writing

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You walked onto the quidditch pitch, resting your broom against your shoulder as you swung your other arm, excited for game day. You were determined to win this round, Gryffindor having won the last couple games, and you were not going to let your house fall into the same fate. You had been getting up early the past two weeks, trying out new flying techniques, working on your stamina, and practicing chaser moves with Fred. 

You and Fred have been friends since fourth year, having met in Snape's potions class when your concoction may have blown up in Snape’s face. After that you were constantly hanging out. Fred joined in of course, pulling pranks and just talking about random things in general, but for some reason, you and the older twin just had a connection. It might have had something to do with your competitive natures constantly keeping each other on your toes.

You spotted him on the other side of the field with George, each carrying their beaters gear and walking to the Gryffindor rest area. His eyes met yours and a smile spread across his face as he waved. 

“You’re going down” He mouthed, his hand that was once waving now having a thumb pointing downwards. You smiled back.

“Fuck off” You mouthed back, going to give him the bird before you suddenly remembered Dumbledore was watching, and he probably wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

Fred made a fake sad face, making you laugh a bit before returning the gesture. Suddenly Lee Jordan's voice rang through the bleachers.

“Good afternoon everyone and welcome to the third game of the season, today we have Gryffindor against (Y/H). Lets have a good game, and may the best team win.

This signaled for you and the rest of your team to get on your brooms and fly up to the starting point, forming a circle with the other chasers on your team as well as the chasers on Gryffindor.

There was a bit of silence, before madam Hooch opened the trunk, releasing the bludgers and the golden snitch, before finally throwing the Quaffle into the air, officially starting the game.

After a few minutes you had finally gotten your hand on the quaffle, headed to the goal, and towards Fred and George. You saw George moving to block your left, and moved right, now having to face Fred. You had been practicing with him for the past few weeks, so you knew his weak spots, but he also knew yours. You faked going for the far right goal before quickly turning and going through the middle, scoring your team a point.

“That's ten points to (Y/H)!” Lee’s voice rang out, causing cheers and boos to ring through the crowd. You flew up beside Fred, having a moment before the next play started.

“You need to up your game Weasley” You said jokingly

“Please I saw you from a mile away” He joked back, suddenly making you think that he might have let you score.

“I swear to God Weasley, if you are going easy on me im going to kill you” You said, giving him a look, before starting to fly off, but not before Fred got in the last word.

“You look so cute when you want to stab me!” He said, causing you to look back at him and giving him a pose, causing the both of you to laugh, but secretly you had butterflies going insane in your stomach.

Did Fred Weasley just call you cute? You weren’t blind, you thought the twin were quite attractive, but every once in a while, you couldn’t help but think about Fred specifically, about how the sun caught his hair, or how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or how he was able to laugh every day, but also made sure that you felt heard. 

You were quickly snapped out of your thoughts however when you made it back to the starting circle, putting your focus back into the game.

A few rounds later and you were 20-20 with Gryffindor. You had just gotten the ball again and was headed towards the goal, Fred facing you, a smirk on his face which only motivated you more. You were only a few seconds to scoring the goal, when Fred's face changed from irritating smugness, to worry. You didn’t have time to make out what he was saying before the right side of your head suddenly erupted with a sharp pain, and you were spiraling towards the ground.

The fact that you were still on your broom didn’t make the fall to bad, but before you knew what had happened, you were laying on your back looking at the sky.

“Looks like one of (Y/H) chasers got a good knock by one of the bludgers, that gotta hurt” Lee Jordan said

Madam Hooch was knelt beside you, asking you about the pain when Fred suddenly landed next you, running over and kneeling by your side.

“I know you said to not go easy on you but I swear it wasn’t me” He said, quickly, causing you to laugh a little.

“Fucking coward” You mumbled suddenly realizing that the game was still going on.

“Fred what are you doing go play I’m fine!” you said, finally sitting all the way up, your head spinning a bit.

“Y/n, there is blood coming out of your head!” Fred said, making you lift your hand to poke the side of your head, only to pull it back to see blood. Before you could say anything else to get Fred back to the game, Lee Jordan's voice rang through the crowd.

“Harry Potter has captured the Golden snitch! Gryffindor wins!” Lee said, causing the crowd to cheer.

“Well that sucks” You groaned. All the practice, only for the golden boy to catch the snitch AGAIN. You reached out your hand to Fred, motioning for him to help you up, which he took. However as soon as you were on your feet your head started to spin, but Fred saw you sway and caught you.

“I want you to go straight to the medical wing to make sure you don't have a concussion, Weasley can you take them?” Madam hooch said, making you roll your eyes.

“I don’t need to-” You started, not thinking your injury was such a big deal

“I would be happy to” Fred said before smiling at you, you glaring at him in return.

A few minutes later and you were sitting cross legged on on of the bed in the hospital wing, Fred making it his job to annoy you while  Madam Pomfry to checked on you.

“Be honest doc, how long do they have” Fred said, causing you to roll your eyes and swat his arm, which caused him to laugh.

“Y/N will be living for a long while, but you do have a very mild concussion, so I don’t want you to do anything labor intensive for the next week.

“What? But quidditch!” you practically yelled, horrified at the news.

“I don’t want to hear it, now at the end of the week, I want you to come back in so we can see how you’re healing, as for the rest of the day I want you to relax” Madam Pomfry said, giving you a sympathetic look before leaving to check up on someone who had a bad encounter with the wrong Polyjuice potion.

“It could be worse” Fred said, trying to lighten the mood, causing you to glare at him.

“How could it be worse?” You asked

“Well you could not have me to keep you company!” Fred said, causing you to groan.

“Death would have been a kinder fate” You said, before quickly laughing at Fred’s shocked expression. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding” You said, moving to get up, which Fred helped you do without fully realizing it.

“Are you sure you want to stick around? I can’t do any strenuous activities so I’m basically the most boring person in the world right now” You said, causing Fred to shake his head.

“Impossible, you could never be boring, but I have an idea if you’re up to it?” Fred asked, quirking a brow which made you suspicious, but you agreed non the less, nodding your head.

“Excellent, adventure awaits!” He said, before walking off while still having his arm around you.

A while later and you were sitting outside by the black lake, underneath a tree. You had been spending the last few minutes throwing rocks in the water, just watching the ripples.

“You think the squid is mad that we keep throwing rocks in his house?” You asked, causing Fred to laugh a bit.

“Why do you think I brought you along? If he suddenly wants to kill us I know you're going to be way slower than me.” Fred laughed, laughing even louder when you shoved his shoulder.

“Typical, you only bring me places to benefit your secret agenda” You joked, leaning your back against the tree.

“Nah, you're to pretty to sacrifice” He said, suddenly tensing up realizing he just said that.

You were feeling something similar, your face heating up as you shook your head, trying to dismiss the comment as something platonic. He just felt bad because you got hit.

“Fred, I am in dirty quidditch clothes, with crazy hair and a bruise on the side of my head, I wouldn’t describe myself as pretty right now” You said, thinking he would make a joke and that would be the end of it.

“Well I disagree” He said, the sincerity in his voice surprising you, you turned to look at him to see he was already looking at you, before looking down at his hands.

“You really scared me today” He started “When I saw you get hit, and saw you falling, I was so scared. I kept thinking of how it happened, how I could have stopped it, how you were probably out cold, but then I got down there, and you were the same you always were, calling me lame for not intentionally trying to kill my friend at quidditch” He finished, his joking tone returning a bit.

“I think the term I used was coward” You said, smiling a bit.

“Yeah, that I am, not because of quidditch though” Fred said, smiling a bit, but you weren’t, stuck trying to think about what he could be talking about.

“Fred, you pull pranks on professors for fun. You stole your parents car, for fun. I don’t need to say all the crazy things you’ve done to know you’re not a coward. Why do you think that?” You asked.

“Because I never told you about how I really felt” Fred said. Suddenly the butterflies in your stomach returned, causing your face to heat up.

“What?” You asked, not quite believing what you were hearing.

“I like you Y/n, I have for a while, but I haven't said anything because I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way, and I didn’t want to ruin our friendship” He said, still not looking in your eye and instead looking out on the lake.

“Well then I guess where both cowards” You said, causing Fred’s head to suddenly snap to look at you, which made you laugh a bit.

“What?” It was now Fred’s turn to look shocked. Instead of answering, you just shake your head and put a hand on his cheek, closing the space between you two and connecting your lips. Fred took no time to respond, moving his hand to gently cup the side of your face that wasn’t bruised. We stayed like that for a moment, before finally pulling away for air.

“Well, that was unexpected” Fred said, making you laugh.

“What that I like you back or that I’m such an amazing kisser even with a head injury” You said, making him laugh in return.

“Speaking of which, maybe we should stop, Pomfry said no strenuous activity and I wouldn’t want to-” Fred started but you knew he was joking.

“Just shut it and kiss me dumb ass” You said, smiling as he reconnected your lips again, this time the kiss going a bit further, his tongue sweeping your bottom lip. You opened your mouth, your hands moving to his hair and-

“Oi no snogging with a concussion!” George suddenly yelled from a bit a ways, Oliver and some of your team mates following.

“Mind your own business” Fred said, making you laugh.

“And here we are, trying to be good friends and make sure you haven't died or something” George said, shaking his head in feign disappointment. “This couldn’t have waited a week?”

“No!” You and Fred said in unison, causing the group to laugh before making their way back to the school, wanting to give you two some privacy, but not before George gave Fred a quick thumbs up, glad that he finally made his move.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t wait to tell me” You said once everyone was out of earshot.

“Me neither, except we still have to wait a week to-” Fred started, a suggestive smirk on his face.

“Fred Weasley I swear to God!” You yelled swatting his chest, causing him to fall into a fit of laughter which you quickly followed. Maybe getting hit by a bludger isn’t the worst thing that could happen.

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Ah, to be hit in the head by a giant ball and be comforted by Fred Weasley. The Dream. TBH I know this ending is trash! But still I hope you enjoyed it, let me know if you have any recommendations or feedback! Also @iwannagotospaceforever​ I hope you liked it!

[eerythingisshaka]

Ficmas Day #24 “Christmas Ain’t Christmas Without Tre”

[Trevante Rhodes x Reader]

Word Count: 1.8k

Running out of your work building, you curse under your breath as the snow falls heavily to the ground.  You have a bad habit of not checking the weather and in the winter time that spells for a potential disaster, much like tonight.  The snow, coupled with the fact your car is in the shop, means getting home is not going to be easy.  

You blow your hand for heat as your other roots through your coat pocket for your phone.  Scrolling through a rideshare app, the little map showing your area has no cars available for picking you up.

“Fuck!  Why is everyone so scared of the fucking snow?”  You look around and see the diner down the street from you is still open and take a chance on heading for it.  You teeth chatter the whole time as you run and the wind blows flakes into your eyes.  Crossing the street you hop the curb but your heel hits a bit of ice, making you fall flat on your behind.

You wince in pain and get up slowly, walking up to the door and letting yourself in.

“Aw man, lady!  You ok?  I saw that from back here.  That was a damn nasty fall!”  The employee behind the counter shakes their head as they bring dishes back to wash.  You wave a hand signaling you’re fine.

“I just need to sit here.  Warm up and wait for a ride.”  You slide into a booth and groan in relief as you sink into comfort.

“You’re not gonna see a car in this.”

You look up and see Trevante standing by you in a camel colored coat looking suave and manicured as usual.  You can tell his eyes are a bit nervous though.

“How in the hell, of all places, are you here right now?”  you ask harshly.

Trevante looks away with a quick smile.  “I’m just here catching some late night eating.  Doesn’t mean anything with you.  I’m just about ready to head out anyway so-”

You sit up quickly.  “Wait, you drove?  Can I ride with you?”

Trevante’s eyes widened.  “Don’t you have a license?”

“Yeah, but my car is in the shop.  Plus no rides for me to call, so...please?”

Trevante’s expression gives you an instant feeling of regret.  “Wow, we say please now?  You’ve grown up, girl.”

“Ahhh whatever dude, just help me out.  We never gotta do this shit again.”

He points his hand out for you to lead the way out the door.  As you both walk through the parking lot, your mind runs some scenarios through your head: awkward conversation, awkward silence, his hand reaches for the gear but you think he wants your hand and you catch his and he looks at you funny-

“Why are you so quiet?”

You jump as he breaks your inner monologue.  “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’re kinda acting weird.  My car’s right here.”  

You go around to the passenger side as he unlocks the doors, sliding into the seat and quickly shutting the door.

“It’s cold.”

Trevante turns his motor on.  “No shit it is.”

You adjust the vents in the dashboard so that the air flows your way directly.  “I mean that’s why I’m not talking much.”

“Ok.”  

The car is silent except for the roar of the heat circulating around you.  You wriggle in your seat trying to find a comfortable position but with little progress as your knees hit the dash in front of you constantly.  Reaching under the seat, you pull the bar to slide the seat farther back.

“You changing my shit over there?”  Trevante asks 

You reach for the side of the seat to lean it back a little.  “Can I have this one time courtesy?  Ain’t my fault you let little people ride in your car now.”

“I don’t let anyone ride in my car or make any changes in my car.”

You scoff, leaning back and crossing your ankles.  “You let me do whatever I wanted in this car.”

Trevante grips the steering wheel and looks up through the windshield.  “That was before.”

“Yeah, you right.  My man has a bigger ride than this so it’s usually not an issue but…”  You don’t finish your sentence as you feel the atmosphere change in the car.  You look sideways at Trevante but he’s facing his driver’s side window.  You silently curse yourself for coming off as boasting and try to change the subject.

“You gonna drive or what?”  

Trevante leans back with his hands in his lap.  “I’m waiting for this snow to pass.”

“What do you mean?  That might take all night, I gotta go home now.”

“You meeting somebody or something?”

“Maybe, like that’s your business anyway!”

Trevante laughs in a way that isn’t funny.  “That’s crazy.”

You turn to confront him.  “What is?  I don’t have all day to be here.”

“You’re coming at me while I’m trying to help your stranded ass!”

“No one asked you to-”

Trevante leans forward waiting.  “Say again?  No one asked me...to help?  Was that what you were gonna say?”

You sit back quietly, watching the snow fall against the window in fat clumps.  You ask yourself why you’re so mad and combative but maintain a wall for the time being and hoping for the snow to stop.

Trevante fidgets with a vent that is turned to you, adjusting it to blow in his direction.  “What happened to your car?”

You clear your throat.  “It’s a transmission thing or something.”

“Damn, it’s still got that issue?”

You nod.  “Yeah but, it’s fine.  It’ll get handled.”

“Ok.  I could’ve looked at it but-”

“I don’t need the help.”

Silence overtakes you both again as the snow entrances you, filling each space of the window.  

“Remember when I got you that shelf for your TV?  And it delivered that afternoon, but I had to go to work so I said I’ll put it together when I got off.  And when I got home-”

You snort laughing at the memory.  “It look like someone broke in and destroyed a perfectly good shelf.”

Trevante laughs with you, covering his face.  “Girl, don’t nobody fuck that up like you, man I coudn’t even do nothing with it.  Half the pieces were missing and it look like you beat it with a hammer at some point.”

“It was frustrating!  I did my best!  There you go hating!”

Trevante shakes his head.  “I’m not hating.  Like you said, you did your best.  You try a LOT.”

“It’s my best quality!  Giving up is not my forte!”  

You study the fabric of Trevante’s from his bicep to his wrist.  When your eyes land on his hand, you see an old scar from the very shelf debacle.  

You lightly smack the back of his hand to get his attention.  “Let me ask you for one favor:  Come with me to get my car so I know they not tryna charge me out my ass for it.”

Trevante shrugs his shoulders with uncertainty.  “I’m not sure.  What do I get out of that?  Driving you home here, checking your car out there?  What’s in it for me?”

“Nothing but a job well done.”  You wriggle down in your seat comfortably.  As time passes, the snow seems to be getting worse.  Trevante turns off the car’s engine.

“Why you doin that?  It’s gonna get cold!”  Your complaints fall on deaf ears however as Trevante remains steadfast in conserving energy.

“If I don’t have any gas to take you home, then what will happen?”

You groan, feeling the chill of the outside seeping in within minutes.  You shiver, pulling your coat tighter around and leaning into your knees so you form a ball.

“It’s not all that!  Come on!”

“I don’t have any other choice!  You’re freezing me out!”  

Trevante sighs, placing a hand on your back to give you a shake.  “Come over.”

You peek over at him cautiously.  

“Since you’re in my care, I’m offering a heat source.  Take it or leave it.”  He waits with his coat half open to you patiently.

You lean over to him without hesitation, feeling his strength as you lay against him.  Resting your heart on his chest, you hear his heart beating loud and strong.  Its percussive hum settles your mind, relaxing you as you drift off to sleep.

When your eyes open again, you barely can tell your surroundings as the area seems darker than before.  Your hands slide from around his waist as you look up.

“The snow stopped,’ you say out loud, waking Trevante with a slight jolt.

Trevante rubs his eyes and yawns aggressively.  “Shit, how long did we sleep for?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna get up.”

Trevante squeezes your arm with sleep still in his voice.  “Nah, we’ll sleep better once we out this car.”

You sigh.  “Fine.”

Turning our face up to him, you give him a peck on his lips before thinking and freeze in place.  You and Trevante stare into each other’s eyes as your lips lock, frozen in fear.  You pull  yourself back slowly.

“I wasn’t thinking.”

Trevante doesn’t say anything.  He just continues to stare, unblinking.  “I don’t need a reason.”

Once your gaze fell from your eyes to his lips, your body catapults towards him again, snaking your way around him to let his seat back flat.

As you crawl across to straddle him, Trevante looks around worried.  “What about the man you talked about?”

“I lied.”  You swing your leg around and start undoing his pants.  “I don’t know why, I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“But-”

You pause unzipping him with a huff.  “I don’t need an explanation!  You don’t need a reason!  That works, yeah?”

His hands reach around you, pulling you in to him.  He helps you out of your bottoms, feeling your hottest outside of your clothes than in them.  You kiss the familiarity of his hands as they travel every area of you enjoying the ride in his driver’s seat.  Your body shakes from being reintroduced to him, unable to calmly enjoy the feast for fear of being hungry again.

When he drops you off at your residence a while later, you hesitate getting out of the car.  When he reaches for your hand, you squeeze it tightly.

“I’ll see you later, you know?”

He nods.  “Of course.  You know where I am.  Just text me before the car is ready though so I don’t feel used.”

You laugh quietly.  “Come in.   Just come inside.”

He looks away with restraint.  “That’s dangerous for us.”

“Walk me to the door.”

You get out of the car, waiting for him to follow you.  As you get your keys out of your pocket and in the door.

“Imma go now.”

You walk in and leave the door open for him.

[punkscowardschampions]

Joe & Ronnie

Joe: how much you got on you rn Ronnie: enough for me Ronnie: you aint piggybacking Joe: enough for me then Joe: not suggesting you send it first class Joe: 'less you know how to do that Ronnie: I do but in what world mckenna Joe: however much you reckon you'd need to do it Joe: i'll double it Ronnie: use that ingenuity for your own score Joe: yeah whatever Joe: all chat Ronnie: like ive got anything to prove to you Ronnie: least of all how well i can be your bitch when you holler at me Ronnie: cry is more accurate Joe: fuck sake Joe: forget about it Joe: it's a stupid idea Joe: you gonna give me a better one Ronnie: not one for the scrapbook was it cunt Ronnie: dry your eyes & do your own running Ronnie: you need me to hold your hand everytime now Ronnie: big enough to take it go find it Joe: ha ha Joe: like I'm running anywhere Ronnie: this where we play doctor yeah Ronnie: you tell me how bad it hurts & I make it better for you Joe: exactly Joe: now we're on the same page Ronnie: nah you think you can tear out some pages & spit ball em at me to get my attention but why should I give a shit bout these playground games boy just 'cause you heading back home to your mammy Ronnie: im sound Ronnie: dont care how loud you're crying she's the one who's gotta show up for that Joe: i don't want yor attention Joe: i want some heroin Ronnie: maybe she's still got old school connections Ronnie: find her little black book son Joe: maybe Joe: one of you could be useful like Ronnie: wounded & bleeding Ronnie: shit junkie you are house full of people to shake up & shit to steal but you coming to me Joe: just looking for that big sisterly advice Joe: obviously Ronnie: fuck you Ronnie: you sound like the littlest one what is he 4 like Joe: feel it Ronnie: trying to make my heart bleed now yeah Ronnie: grow a fucking pair before it really hurts Joe: if you wanted to scare me you shouldn't have given me the gear Joe: realistically too late anyway but who wants to hear or think about my idyllic childhood yeah Ronnie: if you couldnt hack it you shouldve cried off then Ronnie: save the tears now Joe: and i thought i was the only one with obsessive thought spirals Joe: when i get some i'll remember to feel good about how much you miss me Ronnie: like youre special baby Ronnie: please Ronnie: weve all got mad minds hows that not clicked in yours Ronnie: how many kids shes squeezed out & you reckon were the only self medicating Ronnie: hit up another sibling to fix you Joe: am though Joe: she's always told me Joe: ⭐ boy Ronnie: talk her up with that foreplay Ronnie: be good for £££s Joe: no tah Joe: not my type Joe: and it's only ever worked on you Joe: but you've given me another idea so cheers Ronnie: i dunno whats funnier that youre trying to tell me you dont wanna slip your mum one or you reckon you know what works on me Joe: lemme know when you work it out Joe: 👍 Ronnie: let me know when youve stopped playing happy families Joe: you reckon i wanna be here Ronnie: didnt see no fingernail marks on my floor or walls Ronnie: still reckon you were dragged though yeah Joe: check your thighs Joe: ain't all perks being the favourite 💔 Ronnie: [sends him pics cos that bitch haha] Ronnie: grow a pair whipping boy Ronnie: before she says jump youre on the ledge Ronnie: its pathetic mckenna Joe: see Joe: ain't been that long Joe: only feels it, babe Ronnie: you'll need all that sweet talk for the local dope dealer Ronnie: but if you wanna think of me when you're turning tricks for them it'll go easier Joe: lovely as that'd be Joe: not in progressive london now Joe: gonna have to pay like the rest, worst luck Ronnie: go beg for your pocket money then kidda Ronnie: before she picks a new fave Ronnie: younger & prettier like Joe: nah Joe: we want her to Joe: remember Joe: then me and more importantly my student loans can come back Ronnie: bullshit if you wanted her to you wouldn't have gone Ronnie: you love it Joe: can't just go way uni and never come back Joe: send out a search party Ronnie: use your ⭐ as a beacon cant they Joe: let's hope not Joe: i come here Joe: keeps 'em away rest of the time Joe: yeah Ronnie: if you want em to fuck off commit to it Ronnie: stop being such a pussy Joe: ain't that easy Ronnie: find a ditch to lie down in Ronnie: it ain't hard Ronnie: youre a junkie motherfuckers don't support that Joe: far as they know Joe: i ain't Joe: let 'em catch up Ronnie: do it yourself if you wanna slam the door Joe: see how this goes Joe: not really thinking about them right now Joe: you know Ronnie: youre on one about that lot constantly Joe: just on one constantly full stop Joe: why else would i need the shit Ronnie: dont need to go that hard playing doctor baby Joe: 💘 Joe: you always know just what to say Ronnie: not used to you talking Joe: i know i know Joe: in an ideal world neither of us would be here Ronnie: like not born yeah Ronnie: but she cant keep her legs closed Joe: such a dreamer, you Ronnie: not the one who cant get high without their hand held Joe: n'awh Joe: that's the dream Joe: so romantic too Ronnie: yeah im living it loads of gear close & you far as Ronnie: greedy prick Joe: miss you too baby Joe: in a bit tho, gotta go pick up Ronnie: fuck off soft lad Ronnie: you miss me spoon feeding you Ronnie: you cant talk to me with a dealers cock in your mouth I know Ronnie: multitasking hard enough pretending not to be junkie scum yeah Joe: sure the whole mummy kink ain't your thing Joe: i'll try and get involved but kinda a mood killer Joe: which is kinda rude, know you don't want me to score Ronnie: thats all yours but I'll try anything once Ronnie: 'cause a whinging dope sick baby is really a turn on for me like Ronnie: just gotta keep that going Joe: no judgment here Joe: gotta do what you gotta do Ronnie: you gotta Ronnie: im sound Joe: and i'm happy for you Ronnie: lie to them don't lie to me Joe: alright Joe: will be a bit when I get mine but still Joe: you don't have to be here so Ronnie: you dont Ronnie: grow up & cut the fucking apron strings Joe: you've stopped being helpful for the day? Joe: right then Ronnie: fuck you Ronnie: not flying over to fuck you cos your ma aint in the mood & thats as helpful as it gets Joe: why not Ronnie: youve got another sister Ronnie: see if shes into it Joe: but you're so special yeah Ronnie: but shes a good grooming age Joe: leave it out Ronnie: or what Joe: or what Ronnie: asked you first joseph Joe: alright veronica Ronnie: alright weak cunt Joe: probably Ronnie: pick up before you make me sick Ronnie: jesus Joe: waiting on the man Joe: as per Ronnie: if id known rattling had made you shit out your whole spine id have sucked his dick for you & sped things along Joe: so sweet Joe: one of the many things I like about you Ronnie: list just gets longer the longer youre away yeah Ronnie: dont come back & maybe you'll fall in love Joe: i know you want that less than you want me back Joe: don't lie Ronnie: you care what I want now Ronnie: 💘 Joe: only when it benefits me too, darling Joe: junkie scum 101 Joe: was on my timetable like Ronnie: theyve really done a number on you if youre on your knees for my truth Joe: who Joe: mummy dearest or my school Ronnie: take your pick Joe: ain't tryna hide it Joe: just doing my bit to be the whiny baby you want rn Ronnie: cheers then Ronnie: nailed that Ronnie: tell your ma i finally get how she feels 'cause its too late to get you scraped out Joe: 😂 Joe: on it Joe: assuming i ain't 'bout to get kneecapped Joe: or worse Joe: stood up 💔 Ronnie: i'll cross my fingers for raped & robbed Ronnie: standard Joe: you know i ain't gonna have that much of a good time without you 💘 Ronnie: stop trying to make me say I hate you so you can rub one out Ronnie: i dont do sexting Joe: worth a shot Joe: just killing time here Joe: trying not to puke Ronnie: hot Joe: mhmm Joe: like that attempt at enthusiasm Ronnie: you really know how to make a girl wet what can I say Ronnie: gotta romance my dealer out of want instead of need now Joe: thought I'd return the favour Joe: just how I roll Ronnie: course you do golden boy Joe: you ain't that mad about it Joe: i know Ronnie: i aint as fucking thick as you so again course Joe: true Joe: [time for drew to show and not deliver] Ronnie: made up about all these compliments Ronnie: who knew you could be this much on my tits from this distance Joe: just that good Joe: obviously Ronnie: you aint shit Ronnie: don't lie Joe: whatever Joe: can't touch me now Ronnie: only your ma is turned on at the sight of you Ronnie: but she will Joe: alright Joe: cba rn Ronnie: how are you still crying Ronnie: did he not show Joe: he did Joe: but he was about 12 and had no gear Joe: got enough tranqs to knock out an elephant but still Ronnie: when i told you to hit up your siblings i meant the freckled one not one of the toddlers Joe: yeah right Joe: like he knows a great smack dealer, even if we did talk Ronnie: hes a coke head Ronnie: give him 5 Joe: nah Joe: opposite direction Joe: only way is up Ronnie: whatever just get on a plane Joe: yeah Joe: i'm gonna Joe: fuck this Ronnie: ill be waiting with shit that aint a fucking joke Ronnie: you can owe me Joe: yeah? Joe: good Ronnie: don't talk me out of it Ronnie: christ you're annoying Joe: 🤐 Ronnie: only want you back on your feet so I can kick em out from under you myself Joe: hot Ronnie: like you said, it ain't been that long Ronnie: you know I am Joe: yeah Joe: where was this distraction when I really really needed it tho Ronnie: baby when have I ever been good for you Ronnie: selfish to my core Ronnie: we're here for me Joe: works for me Ronnie: just get to the airport & stop fannying about Joe: I've already taken 'em so hold on Joe: no packing now never mind going through customs Ronnie: fuck's sake Joe: i had to Ronnie: when then Joe: still today Joe: just later Ronnie: fuck you Ronnie: call me Ronnie: maybe i'll answer if it ain't too late Joe: can i call you now too Joe: i gotta stay awake Ronnie: I'm good but no guarantees I'm that good Joe: they ain't kicked in that good yet either Joe: just keep my eyes on the road yeah Ronnie: how much did you pay for baby aspirin mckenna Joe: was cheap as fuck at least Joe: just a kid Joe: barely broke a 50 for all of these so Joe: [photo] Ronnie: not as green as you feel yeah Joe: want me to bring some back Ronnie: too late to rob the boy now Ronnie: & you'll take em yourself before you see me I know you Joe: yeah Joe: i will Joe: but had good intentions, babe Ronnie: take em to church Ronnie: what use is that shit to me Ronnie: gimme bad ideas or don't come around Joe: got plenty of those come on Ronnie: like what Ronnie: come on Joe: what Joe: tryna focus here Ronnie: you wanna stay awake Ronnie: play the game Joe: alright Joe: yeah Joe: you gonna come back to mine Joe: flatmate's gone home Ronnie: are you gonna make it worth it if she's not there to kick in the teeth Joe: won't need to miss her once I'm back Ronnie: fucked her yet? Ronnie: we could do it together Ronnie: I dont normally slip one to virgins but I already made the exception for you Joe: no and funny Joe: keep me as the only exception Joe: how else will i feel special Ronnie: keep hitting up preteen dealers that'll help Joe: he was pretty Ronnie: if im ever in the area like Joe: i wish Ronnie: you & your ma both Ronnie: my turn to feel special Joe: weird ain't it Ronnie: for me Ronnie: you love it Joe: nah Ronnie: not a question Ronnie: you do Joe: don't Ronnie: liar Joe: maybe from you Joe: I'll allow it Ronnie: those pills better be kicking in Ronnie: if youre chatting this much shit sober you can stay in ireland Joe: 😂 Joe: they are Ronnie: book a flight Ronnie: i ain't your ma im not doing it Joe: lemme get home, like Joe: be more obvious you're tryna kill me Ronnie: what im trying to do Ronnie: you gonna call that your home now Joe: you know what i mean Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: i know youre full of shit, mckenna Joe: nah Joe: just bars Joe: make it up to you Ronnie: bullshit Ronnie: x it as many times as fits Joe: k Joe: prove it when i see you Ronnie: you reckon Joe: not a question Ronnie: nah just bold claims for someone who still fucks like a virgin & has to check in with his ma Ronnie: can you without her permission Joe: get the slip signed if you're so worried Joe: chill out Ronnie: fuck off Ronnie: couple of chewable vitamins & you're chill yeah Joe: you said you got loads Ronnie: I said enough Ronnie: & that was before babysitting you Ronnie: you make me need to spike every vein Joe: need Joe: want Joe: same diff we both know it Ronnie: not trying to make it matter baby Ronnie: put any words in my mouth you want Ronnie: or need Joe: here Joe: wish me luck on telling 'em i'm off Joe: or don't Ronnie: i'll do it for you Ronnie: point me at the relevant mckennas Joe: even stoned Joe: know that ain't a good idea Ronnie: pussy Joe: love u 2 Ronnie: 💋 Joe: [suitable amount of hours for the shit to wear off to a manageable level, avoid the parents and get out on the sly] Joe: [airport photo] Joe: tada Ronnie: we reckoned you'd bottled it Joe: taken a poll like Ronnie: yeah know you like to feel special Joe: warms my cold dead 💘 Joe: honest Ronnie: walk your corpse to me then Joe: and she says she don't sext Ronnie: you wanna be the only exception so bad or what Joe: you know how bad i want it Ronnie: dont leave again & maybe I'll buy it Joe: being dopesick was almost a nice distraction from thinking about you Ronnie: that warms my 🖤 Joe: thought so Joe: nothing does it quite like me being near-death yeah Ronnie: i do like you pathetic Ronnie: but don't think that any of it comes close to me yeah Joe: you saying you're better than heroin Ronnie: im saying you think you were hurting earlier Ronnie: ill show you pain Ronnie: all you have to do is fuck off again Joe: i won't Joe: i need to be there Joe: with you Ronnie: leave me & I will fucking break you Ronnie: i mean it Joe: i know Joe: i'm not gonna Ronnie: how did you get out Joe: parents weren't in but i said a uni friend was in a car accident and they couldn't get hold of his parents Joe: going hell anyway Joe: and someone on my course was hit by a car so if any of them are that concerned to go snooping Ronnie: thats beautiful Ronnie: you're not as much of a useless waster as youve sounded for most of the day like Joe: steady Joe: was almost not an insult Ronnie: who isn't turned on by a good lie Joe: only when I lie to you Joe: got it Ronnie: don't you fucking dare lie to me Joe: couldn't if i wanted to Ronnie: think about what kind of welcome back you want Ronnie: 'cause I can be nice or not nice Ronnie: its on you & what you say to me Joe: baby Joe: already told you I basically missed you more than heroin, how nice can one boy be Ronnie: you wont be saying that when I hand the gear over Joe: yeah i will Joe: been on you longer Ronnie: its fucking good though Joe: yeah Joe: ain't gonna say otherwise Ronnie: paid more & got better so you won't wanna leave Ronnie: dont have to rely on pretty preteens around here Joe: you know i didn't wanna leave in the first place Ronnie: i know you keep saying it like it makes a difference Joe: tell me what will and i'll do it Ronnie: i'll burn your passport that will Joe: burn my passport Joe: that's what you want? Ronnie: what do you have to go running to them for Ronnie: that's what I wanna know Ronnie: what the fuck is there for you Ronnie: cant even get a fix Joe: nothing, never has been Joe: it's obligation though Joe: you get it, i know you've done some shit just 'cos charlie wants to Joe: or 'cos bronson need it Ronnie: that's different Joe: why Ronnie: I ain't going round bullshitting how much i hate 'em on the one breath & in the other dropping everything for the pair of 'em Ronnie: ride or die is that Joe: okay so it is different Joe: it's more complicated Ronnie: fuck complicated its black & white Joe: nah like Joe: whatever i reckon about them Joe: i still owe 'em Joe: for now Joe: debts to pay like Ronnie: how ain't it been paid Ronnie: they ain't done you right since you were a kid Ronnie: if ever Ronnie: a roof & food that's easily totalled Joe: i dunno Joe: shit ton of interest Joe: learnt from the best debt collectors in liverpool, like Ronnie: write it off Ronnie: is when youre dead Joe: tell 'em that's my payment plan Ronnie: talking it out is your first mistake Ronnie: when the fuck has that worked on anyone who comes to collect Ronnie: dont even buy you time just makes you look a doss cunt more than you are Joe: maybe i can convince my da but you know she's biased Joe: all i have to do is get uni done and they can tick it off as a success Ronnie: i dont know jack about her Ronnie: how i want it Ronnie: if i aint read it off a file as a kid i don't need to hear it Joe: yeah Joe: but i ain't telling you i'm golden boy 'cos it seems cool am i Joe: whatever i'm gone now Ronnie: you're telling me 'cause you wanna trade wounds since I won't have your stories off you Ronnie: burn it into your arm deeper & maybe I'll pay attention Joe: you know it ain't about you, babe Joe: anyway, if we were still being nice I'd tell you none of the usual shit works to get you outta my head so thanks for that one Ronnie: ive been saying all day it's about her & I ain't competing with your fucking ma alright Ronnie: she smothered you poor baby Ronnie: you wanna try neglect its real easy Ronnie: feels better too Joe: you're the one who keeps bringing her up, yeah Joe: you want me to be that cunt Joe: easy Joe: I bet it was better, lucky you Ronnie: youre the one who ran home to have her tuck you in again Ronnie: youre that cunt Ronnie: mama's boy Joe: fuck's sake Joe: yeah alright Ronnie: you're the cunt who has the nerve to come crying to me when your mommy would shoot you up if you asked her to Joe: you reckon Joe: considering her dad was and she don't even hate yours as much i'll go with a no on that one Joe: plenty of sad stories I've heard and you ain't need to Ronnie: I reckon golden boy Ronnie: loves you as much as I love gear yeah Ronnie: & not trying to throw another baby away so you're welcome for the free pass Joe: cheers Joe: feels great Ronnie: you gonna cry again mckenna Joe: if i do i'll send you photos, don't worry Ronnie: 💘 Ronnie: send me some either way Joe: you're a headfuck you know Ronnie: yeah Ronnie: dealer said it last time I fucked him Joe: you want fresh line Joe: 👌 Ronnie: give it to me then Joe: give me the flight to think of something you ain't heard before Ronnie: it ain't long enough Joe: fair there's plenty of shit i can say that you ain't heard for real before Joe: but it'd be a copout so i'll keep trying Ronnie: like what Joe: how many of your brothers you fucked lik4 Ronnie: don't reckon freckles is interested Ronnie: leaves me the gay & the kid Ronnie: what about your sister that'd be hot like Joe: they're all kids, just so you know Ronnie: no they ain't Ronnie: i know you lost your virginity to me but don't reckon they're waiting Joe: you wish Joe: hopefully just on the first count Ronnie: you're a sick boy Ronnie: 💋🖕 Joe: you too baby Joe: 💘 Ronnie: thats not some shit I ain't heard before Joe: just truth though Joe: no lying Ronnie: feels like one Ronnie: I'm good Joe: what you want me to say to that Ronnie: say what you wanna say Ronnie: again not your ma Joe: i'm good then Ronnie: truth or lie Joe: lie but not a big one Joe: true once i'm off this plane Ronnie: you out of sweeties or they're just that sugar free Joe: i'm trying to time it just right Joe: then i can actually just a decent amount and not be in a coma for you Ronnie: alright fuck Ronnie: you win Ronnie: nobody's said that to me before Joe: i mean it Joe: i want you first Ronnie: don't say this shit when you're on the wrong side of a plane ride Ronnie: jesus mckenna Joe: gotta make sure you miss me too Ronnie: you're such a cunt Joe: yeah Joe: you still want me though Ronnie: shut the fuck up Joe: why Ronnie: what do you want me to say Joe: you don't have to say anything Joe: but I ain't gonna shut up about how I ain't been able to get you out of my head this whole time Ronnie: yeah you said im a headfuck Ronnie: more than your family & the gear Ronnie: I'll take it Joe: better though Joe: you know Joe: so I'll take it and all Ronnie: you're a headfuck Ronnie: what are you being nice to me for Joe: you said it could go one of two ways Joe: you want me to be mean Ronnie: I want you to be here Ronnie: but you ain't Joe: I'm coming Ronnie: & I'm waiting on you Ronnie: what the fuck Joe: I know Ronnie: I hate you Ronnie: I'm losing it, do you know that Joe: I'm sorry Ronnie: what am I gonna do with that Joe: I don't know Joe: what do you want me to do Ronnie: what can you do Ronnie: can't even score by yourself Ronnie: worse than a fucking kid Joe: was desperate Joe: and it was your idea Ronnie: thats how it is every time Ronnie: you don't have any fucking idea 'cause I'm here cupping your balls & wiping your arse for you Joe: you've been giving me an easy ride of it yeah Joe: alright Ronnie: youre gonna try & call bullshit on that yeah Joe: nah i just had no idea you were being so generous Joe: would've got you a keychain at least Ronnie: fuck you Joe: you too Ronnie: get one with sharp edges we can make a blood oath or some shit Ronnie: maybe after you'll grow the hell up Joe: sure Joe: it's my speciality yeah Ronnie: cutting's more mine but you can have it Ronnie: same old shit gets boring yeah Joe: we can share Joe: she'd be proud Ronnie: my aspiration in life Ronnie: cheers Joe: obvs mine too Ronnie: you brought her up then not me Joe: reckon you owed me that one so Joe: even Ronnie: 💋🖕 Joe: you're cute Ronnie: say that again & you'll be swallowing teeth Joe: don't worry, that was hot Joe: you won it back Ronnie: go to hell mckenna Joe: you wanna be with me forever Joe: 💘 Ronnie: just reckoning you'll get there quicker than you will this fucking airport Joe: just be glad I didn't try to get back in at rush hour Ronnie: be glad im still waiting Joe: ain't gonna waste words on it Joe: show you Ronnie: 💘

[halliewriteshockey]

Breakaway

Johnny realized he was in love with Liam Thibault the day Liam kissed him.

They were down by two in the final period, Johnny on the bench next to Broussard waiting for his shift on the ice, when the crowd started laughing and cheering, shouting Johnny’s name. Johnny looked up, confused, to see the Kiss Cam pointed squarely at him and Broussard.

Before he could even say anything, Broussard snorted rudely and scooted a foot away. The crowd booed. Johnny laughed to show them he wasn’t offended, and that’s when Liam pounced. He came in from the side, wrapping both big arms around Johnny’s shoulders and pressing his mouth messily to Johnny’s cheek. His lips were cold and damp, breath warm, and he was gone again before Johnny could react, straightening to wave at the crowd, which went wild.

Johnny played the rest of the game distracted, thinking about how Liam’s arms had felt around him. They lost by one, but Johnny barely noticed, too aware of Liam in the stall beside him, stripping out of his gear. Liam was the biggest player on the team, at six four and 240 pounds, almost all muscle. Next to him, Johnny felt almost small, something he wasn’t used to experiencing. Liam caught his eye and grinned at him, shoving sweat-dampened blond hair out of his face.

“We’ll get ‘em next time,” he said. He didn’t seem to notice or mind that Johnny hadn’t had anything to say.

Johnny went to shower, still in a daze. Why hadn’t he ever appreciated Liam’s green eyes before, the straight slash of his nose and the mouth that smiled so easily? Liam was his best friend. Johnny couldn’t look at him that way. But he remembered how Liam had held him when Johnny’s mother had died, a thousand miles away, and Johnny couldn’t go to the funeral. And the way Liam had half-carried him up the stairs to their place after they’d gone out drinking to numb the pain, his body warm and solid against Johnny’s.

He was a terrible roommate, always leaving his clothes out, never cooking for them, and usually playing PS4 when he was supposed to be training.

And yet… Johnny remembered the touch of Liam’s hand between his shoulder blades when Johnny leaned into his frame, seeking warmth and connection. Liam was unhesitatingly there for him in a way very few people had been in Johnny’s life. He made Johnny laugh constantly, with his reckless enthusiasm and determination to think well of everyone.

They’d played together for over a year, roomed together for eight months, and it had taken Liam kissing him in front of a thousand people to light this spark inside.

But what was he even thinking? Liam was straight. When they’d first met, Liam had had a different girl each weekend. He treated them with utmost respect, and they left happy and laughing almost every time, but none had ever been over more than once. The revolving door of women had slowed recently, as practices got harder and they geared up for the season, but the point was, Johnny thought, drying himself off, Liam had never so once as looked at another man. Not the way Johnny looked, when it was safe and appropriate.

You’re crushing on a straight man, he told himself, and sighed.

Liam was waiting when Johnny got out of the shower, looking comfortable and relaxed in street clothes, long legs stretched out in front of him. He hopped to his feet when Johnny appeared, smile crinkling his eyes.

“Wanna grab a drink with the guys or just go home?”

Johnny hesitated. “I’m pretty tired,” he finally said. “But you can go out if you want. I think I’ll just go to bed.”

Liam watched him. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” Johnny mustered a smile. “See you at home. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He went back to their apartment and settled in for a quiet evening alone with his PS4. He was halfway through a second game, beating the Red Wings quite thoroughly, when heavy footsteps sounded outside and the key scraped in the lock. Liam stepped inside, clearly making an effort to be quiet.

“What are you doing here so early?” Johnny asked.

Liam blinked. “Thought you were in bed.”

“I’m heading that way,” Johnny said. “Just needed to unwind a bit first. You okay?”

Liam nodded, but didn’t meet his eyes. He scratched the back of his neck, sidling toward the kitchen.

“Tibs,” Johnny said.

Liam grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge and drained it in several long gulps. “Going to bed,” he announced loudly.

“Tibby,” Johnny said, and Liam jerked to a stop, shifting his feet. Johnny set the controller down and crossed the room, until they were facing each other, two feet separating them. “You’re being weird,” Johnny said.

Liam crossed his arms over his chest, looking anywhere but Johnny. Johnny allowed himself a moment to appreciate the definition of muscle in his forearms before pulling himself together. Focus.

“Talk to me, Tibs,” Johnny said. “Did someone say something?” A flash of hot fury rolled through him. “Is Brewski on you about your skating again? I swear to God I’m going to—”

“No!” Liam interrupted. He coughed a laugh, rubbing his neck again. “God, Johnny, you’re like half my size, you really gonna fight my battles for me?”

Johnny bared his teeth. “It’s not about size, it’s about being willing to get dirty. Now talk to me. Why are you acting weird?”

Liam lifted one heavy shoulder. “‘M not,” he mumbled.

Johnny narrowed his eyes. “Right.”

Liam sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. “C’mon Johns, give me a break, will ya?”

“Sure,” Johnny agreed easily. “Soon as you tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s not me,” Liam said on an explosive sigh. “It’s you.”

“Me?”

Liam’s cheeks pinkened. Johnny loved how prone to blushing he was, how his fair skin went dusky with color in moments of embarrassment or stress.

Focus, goddammit, he told himself.

“You’ve been weird ever since I kissed you,” Liam mumbled, still not meeting his eyes. He looked up, face open with raw honesty. “I’m sorry, Johns, I didn’t think, I just did it—the camera was there and you looked embarrassed, and fucking Brewski, and—”

“You think I’m mad at you?” Johnny asked, startled.

Liam shrugged again. “You’re always saying I don’t think before I do shit. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You didn’t,” Johnny protested. “Tibs—” He blew out a breath. “Look, I just—”

“I know you’re not straight, which means it’s me you have a problem with,” Liam blurted. Johnny’s mouth fell open but Liam blundered on before he could speak. “I just want you to know that’s okay, I’ll stay out of your way, I never meant to make you uncomfortable. I can move out if you want, I just don’t want to lose your friendship. I—”

“Stop—” Johnny protested, half-laughing at the sheer absurdity, and then the first thing Liam had said sank in. “Wait, you… know I’m not straight?”

Liam rolled his eyes, and it was such a Liam thing to do that Johnny couldn’t help the surge of affection. He wanted to pull Liam down into a kiss, lay him out and discover his body, see what kind of noises he could wring from him, but Liam was speaking and Johnny forced himself to pay attention.

“You never bring girls home,” he said, speaking as if Johnny were a little slow and needed time to catch up. “You don’t even look at girls when we’re out. You’re friendly and a gentleman but you never bring anyone back here, and at first I thought maybe you were just being polite, but then I saw you, uh—”

“Saw me?” Panic flashed through Johnny’s chest, receding almost as fast. This was Liam. Liam would never hurt him.

“Kissing the defenseman for the Blades, I guess it was about six months ago?” Liam scratched his neck, the usual habitual nervous tic. “Brewski was right behind me, by the way—I got him out of there so he didn’t see you. I was afraid he might… say something.”

Fucking hell.

“He’s in the closet,” Johnny said, knowing it sounded lame.

“Who, Brewski?”

“No!” Johnny hesitated. “Actually, he might be too. But I meant the defenseman. He’s not ready to come out. And we’re not… together. It just sort of happened.” He eyed Liam warily. “You’re okay with this?”

“Well, yeah,” Liam said. “I just wish you could have told me, but I get it. You didn’t trust me, I guess?”

“It’s not—” Johnny broke off, swearing under his breath. “Tibby, you’re my best friend. I trust you with my life, okay? I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Why would I be uncomfortable?” Liam demanded.

Johnny stared at him. “We play in an excruciatingly heteronormative sport, where any deviance from the literal ‘straight’ and narrow is considered unmanly and could cast doubt on our ability to play, you’re practically the poster boy for that, and you want to know why I thought you might be uncomfortable with me being gay?”

“Well, when you put it like that….” Liam chewed his lip.

“And you don’t… care?” Johnny asked.

“Nah, man.” Liam tossed the Gatorade bottle in the trash. “None of my business who you kiss. Or… do other stuff with. I just want to make sure we’re cool.”

No, Johnny wanted to say. We’re not cool, because I want to kiss you. I want to know what you taste like, how you feel. If you laugh during sex because I’ll bet you do, the way you find joy in everything you do.

“Johnny?” Liam said, brows drawing together in worry.

Johnny shook himself. “Yeah, of course,” he said. He dredged up a smile and slapped Liam gently on the arm. “We’re cool, man.”

Liam’s face lightened and he smiled back. “Okay. Okay, cool. In that case, I’m gonna go to bed. See you tomorrow!”

Johnny waited until he was alone before very gently thunking his forehead against the refrigerator and groaning quietly. You idiot. You could have told him how you feel. Your chance was right there. But it wouldn’t have done any good. Liam was straight, and Johnny confessing his feelings would only make things worse.

He went to bed, crawling between the cool sheets with a sigh. The only thing to do was get over Liam as quickly as possible.

His chance was offered to him the next day, in the form of a tall, silent young man named Logan Martel.

Coach Eglanton introduced him to the team before practice. “Boys, this is Logan, your new goalie. He doesn’t speak, so if you want to communicate with him, you’ll need to learn sign language.”

“Why?” Liam wanted to know. “Is he deaf, too?”

“No, Tibs,” Johnny said quietly. “It’s so he can speak to us.”

Liam shifted, back of his neck flushing a dull red. Johnny wanted to pat his knee comfortingly—Liam never meant anything by the things he said; he just rarely thought first. Instead he focused on Logan, who was lanky and dark, with a hooked nose and watchful eyes. Johnny hopped up and crossed the room, holding out a hand.

“Johnny McLane,” he said. “You’re a goalie, huh?”

Logan accepted his hand, nodding briefly. He pointed at him, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m a first line left winger and alternate captain,” Johnny said. “Rudy’s our center, and the captain—he’s got his daughter today so he’ll be back tomorrow. This is Broussard, our right wing. Liam Thibault, the one with his foot in his mouth—” He pointed and Liam waved, still looking chagrined. “Don’t take it personally, he just doesn’t have a filter.”

He took Logan around the room, introducing him to everyone one by one, and then settled him at an empty stall.

“New to the city?” Johnny asked as Logan set his bag down and began pulling gear out.

Logan nodded.

“Want someone to show you around?” Johnny did his best not to hold his breath for the answer. Logan was sharp angles and edges, dark and intense, nothing like Liam’s sweet peaches-and-cream complexion and open expressions. He was the perfect antidote for getting over someone who couldn’t love Johnny back.

Logan shot him a measuring look, and Johnny lifted one eyebrow. After a minute, Logan’s suspicions seemed to settle and he nodded, once, a small, secret smile curving his lips. Johnny smiled back at him, and when he looked up, Liam was watching.

Liam tore his eyes away, clearing his throat, and stood. “Let’s get this show on the road!”

Practice was the usual intense affair—Coach didn’t believe in slacking off between games, and he alternated between shouting at them to dial up their moves and complaining about the subpar quality of the players.

Johnny skated by Logan, in the net. “Don’t take it personally,” he said quietly. “Rudy usually coaches us, but every once in awhile Eggy actually has to step up. He hates it.”

Logan looked thoughtful. Johnny dropped him a wink and skated away.

They went out to eat after practice. Communicating was complicated at first, a combination of gestures and yes/no questions. A sign for a drugstore across the street caught Johnny’s eye and he held up a hand.

“Be right back.”

He was back in five minutes, triumphantly depositing a small pad of paper and a pen on the table beside Logan, who smiled properly for the first time, picked up the pen, and began to write.

He was twenty-four years old, Johnny learned, from Ottawa. He’d been playing hockey since he was a kid. He’d been mute most of his life, and a shuttered expression crossed his face when Johnny asked about that. Johnny quickly changed the subject.

“Are you out?” he asked.

Logan considered him. Finally he lifted a shoulder. To those who matter, he wrote.

“Fair enough. About the same for me. So you know, most of the guys on the team should be cool with it. We’ve got a new owner pushing for equality and inclusivity. He talks about ‘diversity’ a lot, kinda gets on everyone’s nerves, but I think if any of us actually came out, he’d back us.”

Logan wrote quickly. No boyfriend, though?

“Alas, no,” Johnny sighed. “Don’t really have time for a relationship, you know? Probably have to be a teammate, and that’s always a potential timebomb.”

Logan nodded. When Johnny set his glass back on the table, Logan reached out, touching his knuckles with the tip of one finger. His gaze held heat and something like a challenge.

Johnny gulped. “You wanna get out of here?”

Logan was living in a hostel until his lodgings were ready, so Johnny took him back to his apartment. Part of him whispered what a very bad idea this was, but Johnny steadfastly ignored it. Liam brought girls home all the time. Well, Johnny amended as he unlocked the front door, not all the time. Not very often in recent months, in fact. But the fact remained he had. And they had an agreement. It was fine, he told himself, pushing the door open. Liam would be glad for him.

Liam was on the couch playing PS4. “Yo!” he hollered without looking. “Get your ass over here and help me beat the Pens, would you?”

Johnny cleared his throat. “Company, Tibs.”

Liam spun, shock rounding his eyes. “Hey, uh—Logan. Hi. Um. Hi!” He glanced between Logan and Johnny, looking confused, and then comprehension dawned. “Oh. Oh. I’ll just… um, be in my room, I guess.”

“No need,” Johnny said, taking pity on him. “We’ll go in mine. It’s cool, man, kick the Pens’ asses for me.” He gave him a smile but Liam didn’t return it, sinking back into the couch cushions but not picking up the controller. The tips of his ears were dark red, Johnny noticed as they passed him on the way to Johnny’s room.

Inside, Johnny kicked his shoes off and the door shut and shoved a pile of dirty laundry out of sight. He dove for the bed and straightened the sheets, then turned to look at Logan, still standing by the door.

Logan pointed toward the living room and held up the pad of paper. He okay?

“Sure,” Johnny said, avoiding his gaze. “Why wouldn’t he be? He’s fine. He’s just… not used to me bringing anyone home. Hey, come here.” He held out a hand, and Logan took it, still seeming hesitant, but he stepped forward willingly enough, until their bodies were flush and Johnny could reach up and bring Logan’s head down until their lips met.

Logan’s mouth was warm, his kisses tentative, and he brought his hands up to Johnny’s waist, settling them there and rubbing small circles against Johnny’s hipbones with his thumbs.

Johnny shivered, pressing closer, and didn’t think about Liam sitting alone on the couch. Instead he took a step back, pulling Logan with him toward the bed. They settled themselves on it, careful not to bump or jostle each other, until they were lying on their sides facing. Johnny scooted closer and captured Logan’s mouth again.

They spent several long, leisurely moments kissing, their mouths and hands between them on the bed the only points of contact. It was sweet and gentle and Johnny was enjoying it, he told himself, until he realized with dismay that he wasn’t hard. He broke away briefly, trying to catch his breath, and Logan’s brow knitted.

You okay?`

Johnny nodded, resettling himself. He just had to try to get into the moment. He leaned forward—and the front door slammed.

Johnny jerked upright. “Tibby?” There was no answer. Johnny threw an apologetic look at Logan and scrambled off the bed.

The living room was empty. Liam’s phone was on the couch. Johnny ran for the door, but Liam was already out of sight. Which way did he go? He was looking for his shoes when he remembered Logan.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Logan was sitting up on the bed when Johnny came in.

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said. He rubbed his face. “I’m—God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean—”

Logan stood and put a hand on Johnny’s arm. Breathe, he mouthed, demonstrating. He picked up the pad. I should go.

“No,” Johnny protested. “Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m such an asshole—”

Logan put a finger over Johnny’s lips, silencing him. His eyes were kind. Johnny didn’t deserve kindness. He hugged his own ribs as Logan wrote something else and held it out.

Tibby’s a lucky guy.

Johnny shook his head, tears stinging his eyes. “He’s straight,” he managed around the lump in his throat.

Logan’s eyebrows went up. You sure?

Johnny nodded miserably.

Logan watched him for a minute and then nodded to himself. He reached out and pulled Johnny into a hug, arms warm and strong, as if things were going to be okay. When he let go, he tapped Johnny’s chin and smiled. Then he stepped around him and left.

Liam didn’t come back for hours, until Johnny was ready to call Rudy and initiate a manhunt. But finally he showed up, fumbling with the lock with exaggerated care before stepping into the darkened apartment.

Johnny didn’t move from the corner, where he was coiled in the beanbag. When Liam flicked on the light, he caught sight of him and staggered backward with a yelp, clutching at the kitchen counter to steady himself.

“Where were you?” Johnny asked.

“Out,” Liam snapped, and that was so unlike his usual sweet demeanor that Johnny hesitated. “That okay with you?”

Johnny stood. “You left your phone. I didn’t know where you were. I was worried, Tibs.”

“I’m fine,” Liam insisted. His blond hair stood on ends, spiky like he’d been running his hands through it, the way he did when he was exhausted or extra stressed.

“Why did you leave so suddenly then?” Johnny pressed. He didn’t know why he was pushing, only that he needed to know—

“I didn’t want to hear sex noises, okay?” Liam snapped. He turned and yanked the fridge door open, grabbing a Gatorade.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Just a few beers, Mom,” Liam said. He drained the Gatorade and slung the bottle in the trash. “Your new boyfriend gone? Love ‘em and leave ‘em type, is he?”

“What is your problem?” Johnny said, pushed to breaking.

“It should be me!” Liam shouted.

Silence echoed cavernously between them as Liam covered his mouth and Johnny stared at him.

“Say that again,” Johnny whispered. Hope began to unfurl in his chest, slow and cautious and barely there.

“I said it should be me,” Liam repeated. “I just want….” He shook his head as if defeated. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t want me. It’s fine. It’s okay.” He glanced up, eyes pleading. “I can’t lose your friendship, Johnny, please tell me I didn’t fuck everything up—”

Johnny crossed the living room in two huge strides and slammed their mouths together with so much force Liam staggered backward into the fridge.

It didn’t take more than a second for him to get with the program, though, hands coming up to catch Johnny’s waist and yank him nearer, mouth opening and tongue delving inside.

Johnny was breathless with joy, tears blinding him, so he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Liam’s neck, going up on tiptoe to better devour his mouth.

“It’s—fuck—” He broke off as Liam tore away and nipped his earlobe with sharp teeth. “Fuck, Tibby, it’s always been you. Always.”

Liam groaned and kissed him again, tasting like beer and peanuts and everything Johnny hadn’t let himself want. “What about—”

“He left,” Johnny managed. “I think he saw—”

“Saw what?” Liam kissed Johnny’s throat, lips lingering.

“How I feel about you,” Johnny whispered. “But I thought—I thought you were straight, Tibs. I’ve never—”

Liam, still kissing his way up and down Johnny’s throat, shrugged. “I mostly like girls,” he said, and Johnny really liked the way his voice sounded muffled against Johnny’s skin. “But I’ve been with guys, and you—” He lifted his head, eyes worried. They were so green, Johnny thought—green like the grass after a summer thunderstorm. He never got tired of looking at them, at Liam’s beautiful face.

“I thought you just didn’t want me,” Liam confessed.

“I want you more than anything,” Johnny said, throat suddenly tight. “I want you more than the Kelly Cup.”

“Whoa now, let’s not go too far,” Liam said, and Johnny threw back his head and laughed, weightless with joy and possibilities.

---

The next morning at practice, Johnny found Logan strapping on his pads at his stall.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly.

Logan looked up at him and smiled, his eyes calm and kind.

“So listen, about yesterday,” Johnny said, and trailed off.

Logan raised his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t using you, I swear,” Johnny blurted.

Logan’s smile widened and he pulled out the pad of paper. I know, he wrote.

Johnny shifted his weight. “I was trying to get over him and I didn’t mean to put you in the middle, it was selfish and stupid and I’m sorry.”

Logan wrote for a minute. All good w/him now?

Johnny couldn’t help the smile, or the blush that fired his cheeks. Logan laughed and slapped him on the back.

Happy 4 u.

“Thanks, man,” Johnny said. “So look, if you want to come out for drinks with us—” But Logan wasn’t listening, his eyes fixed on a point over Johnny’s shoulder.

Johnny turned just as Rudy walked in the door. He glanced back. Logan’s attention was fixed on Rudy’s slim form, eyes rapt. It was Johnny’s turn to grin and slap him on the shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

[scenes-in-between]

Vienen (2/2)

Could be worse, Doggett thinks as he kicks hard to stay afloat. Could be wearing full combat gear.

Of course, he was also a good 20 years younger the last time he had to do that.

The chopper circles back around after skirting away to avoid the blast from the rig. Between the spray and the spotlight, Doggett can barely see anything, but he's pretty sure Mulder's still keeping his head above water. He hopes so, anyway. The last thing he wants is to have to tell Agent Scully that he lost Mulder in the damned Gulf of Mexico.

He wonders how exactly they’re planning on trying to do this. That’s a charter helicopter up there, same one that brought him out here this morning. Evacuating from the rig itself would have been one thing, but there���s no way it’s equipped for an open water rescue.

The pilot’s saying something over the loudspeaker again, but hell if he can make out what it is. A shadow cuts through the spotlight, and then he feels more than hears the whump of something landing in the water nearby. Looks like a duffel bag, but it’s actually a raft, he realizes. Well, that’ll work. He kicks his way over to it, adrenaline and fatigue and cold making him unsteady as he fumbles for the pull rope to inflate the damned thing. Mulder gets to his side just as he finds it.

“Heads up!” he yells, though his words are swallowed by the noise from the rotors.

In seconds, the raft inflates, and he and Mulder haul themselves aboard. There’s some relief as the chopper pilot ascends a fair bit, keeping his spotlight on them as he circles but not flying so low as to keep buffeting them constantly with wind and spray. For a while, Doggett and Mulder just lie there, catching their breath.

Hell of a day at the office.

It doesn’t take too long for the Coast Guard to arrive. Long enough for Mulder to lose his lunch a couple of times over the side of the raft though, the poor bastard. Not that he can blame the guy; the water’s more than a little choppy. When the rescue basket drops, Mulder tries to tell him to go first, but he shakes his head. No way. Mulder may have been the one to get them both into this mess, but Doggett is the one getting them out, and that means making damn sure there is absolutely zero chance of Mulder getting left behind.

Only once they’re both aboard the chopper, blankets wrapped around them like, he supposes, the trauma survivors they are, does he finally let himself comprehend the full scope of what just happened. He won’t go so far as to say Mulder was right about all of it, but he also can’t deny what he saw. Oil coming out of the foreman’s eyes. What happened to Diego Garza. The way the workers conspired to trap them and destroy the rig.

And oh, Kersh is absolutely going to blow his stack when he finds out about that last part.

If Mulder was right about one thing, it’s that Kersh sent him out here with an agenda. And that agenda was not to simply uncover the truth about what happened to Simon de la Cruz. There’s something decidedly unsavory about the political nature of Kersh’s priorities in this case; not that Doggett doesn’t understand and appreciate the stakes involved here, but his job is to find answers, not protect some oil company’s bottom line. Being given orders, implicitly or not, that run counter to that job is never going to sit right with him.

Of course, that is far from the only thing that’s not sitting right with him about this case.

He saw the black oil. Doesn’t mean he thinks it’s alien, but it sure as hell wasn’t standard crude, either. What happened to the workers was… well, “unnerving” doesn’t even begin to cover it. He honestly has no idea what the implications might be if the stuff ever gets back to shore, if Galpex doesn’t give up on trying to drill that area. Or what might have happened if he’d skipped on this case like he wanted to, if Mulder hadn’t pushed and gone behind his back to get the Bureau involved.

Mulder. Doggett shakes his head. He probably owes the guy an apology for the crack he made about being able to find a conspiracy at a church picnic. Turns out Mulder’s paranoia wasn’t so completely baseless after all. Doesn’t make his behavior any less obnoxious, of course, nor does it mean every claim he made about aliens was the gospel truth, but his instincts were still good. Doggett doesn’t have to agree with all his wild theories to recognize that much.

Then again, Mulder definitely still owes him an apology for going behind his back repeatedly in this investigation, but he’s not going to hold his breath waiting for one. Nah, he can keep his own mouth shut and just call it even. If it weren’t for Scully, he wouldn’t bother trying to get along with Mulder at all. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like that’s an option. Be nice if Mulder could at least try to meet him halfway, though.

It’s a little less than an hour back to the Texas shore, and A.D. Skinner’s there waiting when they land. Better him than Kersh, Doggett supposes. Skinner looks like he can’t decide whether to be pissed or relieved, as they climb down out of the helicopter. (“Damn it, kids, you crashed the family car, but at least you made it home alive.”) Mulder seems all too comfortable in the role of petulant teenager; after they’ve thanked the Coasties for saving their asses, he stalks over to where their boss is waiting.

“I’m betting Kersh didn’t send you down here to throw us a ticker tape parade for saving the day.”

“Actually, I’m here at Agent Scully’s insistence. You don’t need me to tell you, you’ve got almost as much to answer for to her as you do to the Deputy Director.”

“Yeah, well at least she appreciates what was at stake. What’s still at stake if Galpex Petroleum keeps trying to drill that site.”

Skinner’s frown deepens. “All the men on board were infected?”

“All but one,” Doggett answers before Mulder can. He’s not interested in being shouldered out of this conversation altogether. “I promised I’d help him get home, but…” He shakes his head, remembering the sight of Diego Garza’s burns. “I can’t even begin to explain the condition of his body, same as what happened to Simon de la Cruz.”

“I can.”

He just manages to keep from scoffing. Yeah, I’m sure you can, Agent Mulder.

“In any event,” Skinner says pointedly, “I assume based on what I heard over the radio that we're no longer dealing with a quarantine situation.”

“That's correct, sir,” Doggett tells him, while Mulder says, “We'll need to confirm that,” at the same time.

This time he does scoff. “No way did anyone survive that explosion. We only barely made it out alive, ourselves.”

“I'll agree with you that it's unlikely any human could have survived.”

“Oh, come on, you've got to be kid--”

“All right, that's enough,” Skinner cuts him off. “Fire containment efforts will include a search for survivors, as part of routine procedure. I'll make sure the FBI stays in the loop if they find anyone.”

His phone rings, then, and he turns away to answer it.

“They find anyone alive out there, it’s gonna be a miracle,” Doggett mutters.

Mulder glares at him. Really leaning into the petulant teenager thing full-bore, isn’t he? “After everything you saw out there, how can you possibly still be this dismissive?”

“What I saw, Agent Mulder, was men behaving strangely. I saw oil do stuff I’ve never seen it do before. I saw no proof whatsoever of aliens. And even if I had, why would I assume an alien could survive an explosion any better than you or I could?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you could trust that if I was right about the oil, then I’m right about this, too. Maybe you could trust that I’ve seen these things. But I guess you’d also have to believe that I’m not crazy, and I suppose that’s just a bridge too far for you.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Doggett says, and he means it. “But you told me yourself that you’ll believe just about anything. That you want to believe. Whether that’s in aliens or ghosts or monsters or what-have-you. And in my experience, if someone wants to believe in something bad enough, they tend to ignore all the evidence that might refute that belief.”

“Yeah, well the same can be said of someone who doesn’t want to believe. Only they’ll ignore all of the supporting evidence, denying even undeniable proof out of sheer bullheadedness.”

Skinner comes back before Doggett can respond, holding his phone out toward Mulder. “Agent Scully wants to talk to you. Make it quick, we’ve got a debrief with the Coast Guard in twenty minutes.”

Mulder takes the phone and walks away, and Skinner watches him go, shaking his head. “I know he sounds nuts, but there’s truth to what he says. I’ve seen enough to take his word on a lot of the things I haven’t seen first-hand.”

“All due respect, sir, I’ve seen some things in this job that I never would’ve believed a year ago. But I’m still not gonna compromise my integrity and objectivity by jumping on the alien bandwagon when there might be some other explanation we’re missing.”

“And that’s fine, just… just be careful not to spend so much time looking for another explanation that you miss the one right in front of you until it’s too late.”

Doggett nods. “I’ll do my best not to, sir.”

Mulder walks back over and hands Skinner back his phone. Skinner takes it with a curt nod. “Right. Let’s get this debrief over with so we can go grab a few hours’ sleep. We’re on the first flight back to Washington in the morning.”

“I might go stand in the shower for a few hours instead, if it’s all the same to you,” Mulder says wryly.

Despite himself, Doggett laughs. “You and I might not agree on much, Agent Mulder, but I think that sounds like a great idea.”

[blancheharlow]

Assalted || AJ & Blanche

TLDR: I guess you could say AJ and Blanche are both... salty. 

Backdate: August 13th

Blanche was freaking out. Trying to convince AJ to not come get her in this fucking terrifying situation was harder than it seemed, if only because she didn’t actually want him to not come. She was certain that stupid thing was in her house. She could feel it. Blanche was sitting on the ground, mourning the fact that she couldn’t reach the thermostat in from her circle. It was hot and sticky, and she was covered in salt—that wasn’t doing much for her knees. The kitchen was a mess, there was salt everywhere, and there was blood splatters from her knees. And palms--- the bloody hand print on the fridge was mocking her. Ten minutes—Blanche had groaned and hung up, sliding down and curling herself into a ball. Why did this have to happen? And where the hell was Granny???

Something about Blanche’s house just seemed creepier when AJ pulled up to it. Obviously it was because of the conversation he had with Blanche due to the possibility of a murdering ghost also hanging out inside with her. He couldn’t quite grasp the claim from Dustin that salt kept evil spirits away. If that was the case Mcdonald’s must never be haunted. Still, he grabbed the giant bag off the passenger seat that he had swiped from his kitchen and ran into her house. He found her in the kitchen and the sight wasn’t pretty. She was covered in a salt circle, flakes of it also coating her arms and legs and sticking to the blood caking her leg and hands. She had hurt herself at some point. He found himself constantly glancing over his shoulder. If Blanche was right that ghost was here somewhere. “You look like hell.” He said as his hello, “We need to go.”

Blanche curled in tighter when she heard AJ pull up. This was getting worse—What was going on in this town? She heard him come in, and she glanced up as he entered the room. This must look pathetic, she was covered in salt and blood… Maybe scary and not pathetic. “I hope you use that compliment with everyone.” She eyed his giant bag of salt, her eyes immediately starting to water as she started to scramble to stand. “I don’t know where she is,” Blanche said, her voice cracking. That feeling of being watched was still there, but that didn’t mean anything. “Come on.” She was at the edge of the salt circle, and Blanche was scared that the second she stepped out of it, the ghost was just going to tackle her. She grit her teeth, keeping her head down as she stepped out. “Let’s go. I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Nah, you’re special” AJ was trying to keep things as lighthearted as possible. Mostly because he didn’t know how to deal with this. This entire situation, this broken mess of a girl crumpled on the kitchen floor in front of him. He moved towards her to extend his arm and help her up, “My truck is out front, I saw we run for it.” He tucked the bag of salt under his arm and grabbed onto her hand, “Ready?” He asked her before the made a break for it. They cut the corners like a racetrack and high tailed it to the front door, AJ swinging it open and dashing through before realizing that the two weren’t outside of Blanche’s house at all. “Fuck me, not again.”

Blanche sniffed, looking at him. “Gee, thanks.” She tried to grin, but she settled with taking his arm to help him. “Right, let’s run.” She agreed, allowing him to grab her hand. She was okay with hightailing it. Blanche tightly closed her eyes, held onto AJ tightly--- she only realized something was wrong when she forced her eyes to open and they were not on her porch. “What the hell?? Again?! You mean this has happened to you too?!” Blanche looked around, letting go of his hand. But it was dark and a little hard to see. “This is how I got into this mess in the first place! Oh my god—where are we??” Blanche squinted. “And where did we just come out of— maybe it’ll be back at my house… Which isn’t that good…” Blanche turned and threw open the door they just came out of. “… Supply closet….”

This had happened to AJ one other time. That time he had ended up in an abandoned house in the middle of the woods with a complete stranger. This time he at least knew the girl he was stranded with. Wherever the hell they had just ended up. Of course, that same girl was being hunted by some killer ghost so had he actually lucked out? “About a week ago yeah” AJ watched as Blanche threw the door open and then followed her out of it. They had definitely been in a supply closet. And now they were in some dark, ancient looking room that looked as though gypsies had passed through in a hurry. “And now I have no idea where the hell we are.”

Blanche ran her hands down her face in frustration. This was so bad. This was so so so bad. They needed to get to the Parrish house immediately before that thing started chasing her again. “Why can’t this town just be normal.” Blanche whispered, shutting the supply closet door. “Do you have your phone?” She asked. “We could gps to your location, maybe.” She looked around, sniffing slightly. Her eyes were still watery and she still felt like hell, but that was regardless. Blanche frowned slightly, looking around the room as she crept forward. “I don’t… think I’ve ever been here before. Are we still in Ashkent?” She walked further into the room, examining the stuff closely and – “AJ?” Blanche glanced behind her. “I found, uh… a crystal ball?” Blanche pointed. Blanche had that feeling in her stomach that told her she was really, really, really starting to get creeped out.

AJ patted his pants pockets to double check but already knew the answer to Blanche’s question. “It was in my truck.” He had planned on being in and out of Blanche’s house in just a minute tops. Just long enough to grab her from her salt circle and make a run for it back to the truck. He should have known he would find himself going through another portal. Without either of their phones he had no idea where the two could be until they got out of this freaky 70’s throwback store and back into reality. He glanced back at Blanche and spotted the crystal ball. Suddenly all the décor started making a lot more sense. “A fortune teller” AJ stated, making his way over to her and tapping the crystal ball, “Doesn’t look like it’s still in business though. Guess not enough people fell for the scam.”

Blanche bit back a groan. Of course, but it wasn’t AJ’s fault. This was all hers... “I shouldn’t have called you.” Blanche admitted. “I… am sorry.” She was scared and afraid, and sitting in the middle of a salt circle… Calling in a friend when some psycho ghost was hunting you was selfish. Granny would have taken care of her once she got back from wherever she was—and now they were stuck here. Blanche leaned over, examining it. “This looks more expensive than most of my mom’s china we’re not allowed to touch. I wonder why they just left it—“ Blanche reached to touch it. A voice floated to them. “I’m not sure whether to scold you for calling my business a scam, or you for touching things that don’t belong to you. Or the both of you for hiding out in the broom closet.” Blanche squeaked—a literal squeak of terror—before whirling around, trying to use her body to block AJ. He didn’t deserve this shit. This ghost was relentless. Had it followed them through the portal?!

“Now isn’t really the time for this” AJ took a step closer to the crystal ball, “When we are back at my truck or at Dustin’s we can discuss how much you owe me.” The weirdest part was that it wasn’t until this exact moment that he remembered the medical records that she may just have the capabilities to get ahold of for him. She definitely owed him now. At the sound of the woman’s voice AJ spun around and rolled his eyes when Blanche practically threw herself in front of him as if she had just fired a bullet towards the two. He took a step forward, pushing her aside so that the two were standing side by side. “Relax. I doubt the glorified palm reader is gearing up to kill us.” Not that he could be sure though. “Busy place you run. Not sure how you afford the crystal ball maintenance without any customers.”

It took Blanche a bit before realizing that this was not some ghost trying to kill them. Blanche didn’t relax, and ran her hands down her face in exasperation. The woman stepped into what little light there was. “I only appeal to customers truly in need of guidance,” she said, simply. She stared at the two of them, before giving Blanche the once over. Blanche realized she was still covered with salt and dried blood and various scab wounds from where she ate it in the middle of the road earlier. “It seems, for the two of you to stow away in my supply closet, that’s exactly what you too need. My name is Katrina. I am a fortune teller.” Blanche’s eyes widened and she shook her head. “We were—Hi. I’m Blanche and this is AJ. We really didn’t mean to end up in your supply closet, it kind of just happened when… I mean we were just—“ Katrina held up her hand. “Running away from something as fast as you could?” Blanche’s mouth snapped shut. She felt like she was officially in a bad horror film.

AJ remained unconvinced. He knew that logically- or whatever the hell that even meant now- he should be keeping an open mind to anything he would have deemed insane two months ago. Even fortune tellers. But old habits die hard and his skepticism was persistent. Fortune tellers used broad statements and were well versed at reading body language. What they did was impressive, even AJ could admit that, but it was hardly magic. This fortune teller, Katrina, could obviously tell that Blanche had been in distress and was clearly out of breath so it wasn’t a stretch to claim they had been running from something. He wasn’t sure why Blanche was introducing them to her. If she could see the future she should know their names. “Actually we were mostly just looking for the door. If you could just point it out to us I’d be happy to never hide out in your supply closet again.”

Blanche stared between AJ and Katrina. It was a miracle that AJ had believed her in the first place, and she wasn’t too keen on believing fortune tellers either. Granny had always said to trust them, but Granny also was adamant that her nose piercing was going to be the death of the both of them. Blanche sniffed, nodding in agreement as she ran a hand through her hair. Katrina’s eyes were wide and piercing, staring at the two of them sternly. Her eyes suddenly snapped to Blanche’s and she wanted to dive under the table to hide--- but she didn’t. “You should be careful meeting someone’s eyes that easily.” Blanche paled slightly. “And to realize when it’s too late, dear. “ Blanche sucked in a breath, her eyebrows furrowing. “Right, well, thank you for that… enticing advice, but we really should be going. I don’t think I’ve contaminated enough McDonald’s fry stations so let’s… uh, go?”

AJ was happy to dip out of this creepy little freak show. After whatever broad vaguely threatening fortune the woman was trying to sell Blanche, AJ was happy to walk out that door and never need Katrina again. But before the two could make their escape Katrina turned her focus towards him. “Ah, Amadeo. You stand by your beliefs and you should know that you’re not wrong. But not everything is as it seems. To figure out your future you should look further into your past.” AJ could admit that her knowing his name was a little freaky. Not impossible though. Many people know his name because of his father and it made sense for a fortune teller to want to keep up on the news and events. So he just held a single thumbs up to her and smiled, “Got it. Vague and foreboding just how I like it. Blanche we need to go.”

Blanche herself went rigid at AJ’s full name. That was [i]scary[/i]—though the rational part of her brain was telling her that no it wasn’t, there was definitely some way… But Blanche shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like this woman. Her advice was vague and scary and she knew AJ was right. Blanche looked at AJ, nodding. “Yeah, I’m right with you.” She muttered. Katrina simply smiled at the two, extending an arm in the direction of the door that Blanche hadn’t noticed before. “Thank you, um, for the advice…” Blanche said, and Katrina simply stared at her. “Be careful, Blanche.” Blanche gulped slightly. “Right. AJ. Come on, let’s get out of here.” Before she told one them that they were going to die. Perhaps faster than necessary, Blanche shot forward and out of the store, barely waiting for AJ to follow her. “Christ, christ, [i]christ![/i]” Blanche ran her hands down her face fr the umpteenth time, turning to stare at the store… [i]Calling Card[/i]. “I’m leaving. The [i]second[/i] I get the chance.” She didn’t care if AJ was listening or not, but she quickly saw the address on the front of the store. “…. We got spat out on Amity Road?!” Wasn’t this where that ghost club was? The one where she picked up Nora? Blanche didn’t remember exactly, but she sighed. “We should be going that way… If we wanted to get back into town.”

Back out on the street, AJ saw that they had found themselves on Amity Road. Given how freaky the woman was he couldn’t say that he was surprised to find her shop located here. Mostly out of curiosity, AJ reached behind him and tugged at the shop doors only to find it had somehow locked right behind them. It didn’t matter. She still wasn’t a real fortune teller. “Back to town it is.” AJ sighed and hit the back of his head against the sealed doors before using pushing off of them with his back and making his way down the road. “We need to get back to Dustin’s.”

Blanche frowned slightly, following AJ. This was bad. Fear creeped up on Blanche, and she glanced behind her. “We’ll be safe there, at the very least.” Blanche agreed. “As long as we don’t get spat out somewhere else in town.” The frown on her face deepened. “I wonder why this is happening… I, uh, think I visited Ashford River again earlier too.” She had almost forgotten about that. The blonde boy who yelled at her—asked her why she couldn’t just hide herself or go away forever. She examined AJ, hoping his reaction would be too disbelieving. “I don’t think that—“ She saw something. A flash of black, out of the corner of her eye. Shit! Had it found them this quickly?? Her voice caught in her throat and she broke into a coughing fit, whipping her head around. “Did you see that?” She asked, hoping his answer was no. If he couldn’t see that that either meant her mind was playing tricks on her or there was a ghost afoot…. Most likely the bad one.

“Ashford River? Again?” AJ questioned Blanche. “I know what Ashford River is” He held up a hand because something told him that Blanche was the type that felt the need to explain her craziness away to people and AJ did not want her getting the wrong idea. “I just assumed that it was fake. Like ghosts and teleporting doors and fortune tellers.” AJ tried reasoning with himself. If all of this crazy shit was true then why the hell not also have some kind of antichton? “Still don’t believe the fortune teller for the record.” He started down the road in the general direction of Dustin’s house when Blanche started freaking out again. He sighed and turned back towards her, too exasperated to make a joke. “I think you’re being paranoid. And even if you’re not paranoid I think we should keep moving instead of standing around waiting to find whatever you saw.”

 “Oh I thought I told…. Nevermind—“ Blanche shook her head, immediately picking up the pace again. AJ wasn’t wrong, she would have explained it immediately. “There was an incident at work a few days ago, and… well, today. And I saw Ashford River with my own two eyes.” Blanche glanced over her shoulder again. “I don’t think I believed her either. But she was super creepy. I’ll have to ask Granny about her, she believes in Fortune Tellers. I don’t trust anyone in this town—“ Blanche glanced back at him, unamused. “I’m not paranoid, I’d just rather you take off if you did see it because I guarantee you’re faster than I am and it was that thing—“ she was practically speed walking, agitated. There was a flock of ghosts who looked like they were heading to that club going in the other direction. Blanche was staring at them. “—I’d want you to run.” There it was again. Blanche ripped her gaze from the ghosts going to party and glanced around, eyes narrowing. 

“But you’re back. From Ashford River I mean.” AJ still felt skeptical, regardless of how much he had seen with his own two eyes the past couple of days. Some things just seemed a little too far-fetched. He believed that Blanche believed that she saw Ashford River though. It wasn’t like he thought she was making it up. AJ caught himself glancing around with Blanche as her eyes ping-ponged across the street. Then he realized that no matter what she was seeing he wouldn’t be able to find it even if he was looking straight at it. Ghosts were real. Blanche could see them and AJ couldn’t. That meant that even if the ghost that was trying to kill Blanche did make an appearance he wouldn’t be able to see it anyways. “Do you see her?” AJ asked out loud, clutching the bag of salt just a little tighter than before. Then he saw the police cruiser coming down the street towards the two and AJ swatted at Blanche’s arm and pointed towards it. “Run for the police car.”

“Yeah, after meeting my dead promdate who wasn’t so dead there and my brother,” Blanche muttered, half under her breath. There it was again, and Blanche felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. It was as if something was looming behind them.. She knew she could be seen—or that they knew she was here. Blanche froze, her heart sinking. What would happen to AJ. “I—I think she’s behind m—“ Blanche could barely stutter it out, her eyes automatically starting to water. She almost turned her head to check., but AJ’s swat stopped her. Her eyes locked with the police car. Blanche did as she was told—sprinting towards the police car- she stumbled once or twice, and her ankle yelled but she didn’t care. He would drive them back to Dustin’s, right?

AJ was pretty sure that he wasn’t supposed to be able to see ghosts. But whatever the thing was that had suddenly appeared behind Blanche damn sure looked like a ghost. Or at least a girl in an exceptionally well made early Halloween outfit cosplaying as one of the children of the corn. So Blanche took off towards the police car and AJ followed behind her, popping the seal on the bag of salt before sending it flying towards the girl and watching in disbelief as the bag soared through her. Ghost. Definitely ghost. He followed behind Blanche and smacked against the hood of the police car once they reached it, the officer jumping out with his hand hovering over his gun. “Amadeo?” he asked, not exactly surprised but still weary. “Officer Johnson, good to see you. Think you could give us a lift?”

Blanche damn near almost slammed into the car, as if she was trying to run through it. She barely managed to stop, before AJ smacked into the hood of the car. When she looked between the officer and AJ, she was vaguely aware that AJ was no longer carrying the giant thing of salt with him. She was also aware the ghost was gone. Did he really just throw-- Blanche focused on the Officer in front of them. This… Probably wasn’t the strangest thing the cop had ever seen, but she was glad that AJ knew him. He was eyeing the two of them, and Blanche self-consciously tried to brush off some of the salt stuck to her. “Hi.” She said meekly. The group of ghosts on the corner were now watching, and chattering away. Blanche was doing her best not to rip her gaze from the officer and stare. “Please. We, uh, would really appreciate a ride.”

“Amadeo” The officer started, the discomfort apparent in his voice. AJ was lucky that they had run into an officer that didn’t hate his guts. Most of the police had been able to disassociate his father’s case with his father’s family. Most had held more empathy than hatred towards AJ and his mother after his father split. Over time as AJ kept showing up at the station demanding answers and updates and vowing to solve the case for himself the station became less and less apathetic towards the kid to the point where most would kick him out as soon as he stepped foot inside. Eventually he gave up. But he still knew a few that worked there that liked him or his father. “Bryce.” AJ started, keeping his voice levelled and calm despite the fact that he had just thrown an entire bag of salt through a girl. “When you first started out and rammed your police car into a mailbox who talked the owner down from filing a report and saved your job? He would want that same kindness returned. Preferably by giving us a lift.” Then he smiled one of those smug smiles because he knew that he was going to get what he wanted. The officer groaned and rubbed at his temples, “God damn it. Both of you get in the back.”

Blanche couldn’t stop herself from gawking between AJ and the Officer. Did he just do some type of blackmail to a cop? Blanche’s eyes were wide, but she saw the second the officer relented. Blanche let out the breath she hadn’t known she had been holding, and she squeaked out a “thank you” to the officer before scrambling to do what he said. At least it had worked. And she couldn’t believe that it had worked—ghosts existed, and she couldn’t believe that AJ had enough pull to start blackmailing a cop?? Blanche glanced again to the group of chattering ghosts, and grimaced. Things would be so much easier if she couldn’t see them. She got into the back of the cop car, trying to ignore her feeling of being arrested, before looking at AJ. She really, really owed him after this one, didn’t she?

[megaphonemonday]

only operating with half my burners

@monkshoodr: Ginny moves out of the hotel and can’t get room service, so Mike volunteers to teach her to cook.

I’m not sure how we, as a fandom, decided that Ginny’s a terrible cook, but I love it.

read it on ao3

“You’re hiring caterers for your housewarming party?”

Ginny tossed him a look and shrugged, going back to emptying out another box. This was the third, as far as Mike could tell, that was full to the brim of lycra-based work out gear. Yet, Ginny’s dresser was still only half-full. He shook his head and went back to folding her fitted sheets. 

When he’d agreed to help Ginny move into her brand new condo, he’d thought it would involve driving some stuff around, carrying a few boxes to spare her still-healing arm. What he hadn't expected was to give into her kicked puppy expression and actually help unpack her stuff. He knew he should’ve stayed away when he found out the computer geek had broken things off. It would have been so much easier to resist if he’d known someone would be around to help her out. With Blip and Ev out of town, that apparently fell on him, now.

Well, at least they’d already set up the living/dining room. They just had to tackle her bedroom and Mike could escape. 

(All he knew at this point was that he was eternally grateful that her bed had yet to be delivered. If he was going to play house with Ginny it was only self-preservation to stay far, far away from horizontal surfaces.)

“You know it’s only going to be like twenty people, right? And none of them are expecting a four-course meal.”

He wasn’t sure how, staring at the back of her head, he knew Ginny was rolling her eyes, but she definitely was. When she finally turned away from her dresser drawers, the annoyed look on her face confirmed it.

“Well, if they want to eat anything at all, then catering is probably a good idea,” she huffed, pushing her mess of curls away from her face. 

They hadn’t unpacked her kitchen yet, but Mike figured she’d already done that or they’d get around to it. But maybe there wasn’t really anything to unpack.

Following a hunch, Mike dropped the pile of linens in his arms and clattered down the stairs from Ginny’s lofted bedroom. 

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

Mike didn’t answer, just headed towards the state of the art kitchen tucked into a corner of the condo. There was a toaster and a VitaMix sitting on the counter, but the burners on the stove were spotless. He tugged open drawers and found silverware and a few wooden spoons, but not much else. Cabinets yielded dishes, and one sauce pan, but no baking sheets or roasting pans or anything that even poorly stocked kitchens had. 

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked, a hint of humor coloring her words. 

Mike looked up at her in abject horror.

“Where’s all your kitchen stuff?”

Her brow furrowed. “Did you not hear me before? Need to replace the batteries in your hearing aids?”

Ignoring the jibe, Mike just gestured vaguely around him, encompassing the whole kitchen. “You’re seriously telling me you don’t know how to cook? At all?”

“Yes.” When Mike continued to stare, Ginny’s arms crossed defensively. “I’ve been a little busy, you know. Not all women are Julia Child reincarnated.”

It was Mike’s turn to roll his eyes. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” 

Still, she frowned at him. “Just because I’m a girl doesn’t mean I automatically know how to cook,” Ginny repeated, chin tilted up at him in challenge.

“Not because you’re a girl, Baker, but because you’re an adult. You’ve been living on your own since you were eighteen, how do you feed yourself?”

“There’s this thing called take out,” she sassed, hopping up on the counter and swinging her legs casually, heels drumming against the mostly empty lowers. “Also, frozen food has really come a long way since your time, old man. There are whole meals in the freezer aisle and everything.”

At that, Mike whirled and flung open her refrigerator. Inside, she had a decently stocked crisper and more grape soda than God, but little else. The freezer, on the other hand, was full of sad frozen dinners. 

“When was the last time you cooked something that didn’t come in a box with microwave instructions on it?”

Ginny frowned in thought. Mike thought she was just pulling his leg until she replied, “When I was twelve I made chocolate chip cookies for my teacher.”

“It’s been more than a decade?”

“Well, it went really badly!” she exclaimed, shoulders hunching defensively. “They tasted horrible! Will still thinks I just mixed up the sugar and the salt, but it seemed better for everyone if I avoided the kitchen. Less chance for food poisoning.”

Mike just shook his head. “So, you’re just gonna let this beautiful kitchen go to waste? Never let it make all the home-cooked meals it was destined to?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “If I want home-cooked food, that’s what Evelyn’s for. Evelyn, who actually likes cooking and feeding people. Who likes it so much she was willing to take on my brother as a business partner to open a restaurant.” 

She said it lightly, but Mike knew the sting of her brother’s departure and dishonesty was still fresh. 

So, because he couldn’t have his rookie feeling sorry for herself and he needed a project for the off-season since things hadn’t worked out with Rachel—and, okay, maybe a little bit because he hated seeing Ginny sad—Mike said, “Well, that’s just sad, Baker. Even I have figured out how to feed myself.”

“Your housekeeper leaves you food and you know it,” she accused, a teasing smile lighting up her face. She even leaned forward, far enough that Mike tensed, ready to catch her if she lost her balance.

“Yeah,” he conceded, “but I still know how to feed myself, and I’m gonna teach you.”

That had Ginny rocking back, eyebrows creeping up her forehead. “Are you, now?”

Mike shrugged, aiming for casual, not that he was all that good at casual where Ginny was concerned. 

“You are my rookie. At least ‘til spring training. Gotta make sure you don’t starve before next season.” 

Her head tilted as she considered his offer. Mike told himself not to fidget even as the silence spun itself out around them. Finally, though, a full, dimpled smile began to spread across her face. 

“All right, old man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Honestly, Mike never thought he’d regret spending more time with Ginny. Curse himself for walking into a situation where he constantly had to remember that they’re teammates and friends and nothing else, sure, but not regret. 

And then he started giving Ginny cooking lessons. 

It shouldn’t have been a surprise that Ginny, who could barely manage to sit still in the dugouts between innings, would be even worse in the kitchen, but Mike certainly hadn’t expected her to be this bad. 

She wanted to run before she could walk, making substitutions when she didn’t have the correct ingredient and ignoring recipes in favor of doing what seemed right in the moment. Considering the fact that Ginny had no knowledge of what was right—aside from what food looked like before it disappeared into her black hole of a stomach—this led to some interesting results. 

By interesting, Mike of course meant completely inedible. 

It didn’t matter what they were making, anything Ginny touched managed to turn into some horrifying mishmash of conflicting flavors and char. Which was why Mike had practically become her personal chef. Which wasn't even what he regretted. What he regretted was not worrying about how she'd managed to survive before this. Far better to keep her fed than worry about whether she was really paying attention to the lessons. 

What? She had to eat to keep up with all her PT.

“My arm hurts,” she whined, trying to get him to take the potato masher.

Mike just snorted and kept carving. “I’m gonna remember that next time you beg me to long toss with you—against the advice of your doctors.”

Diligently, Ginny went back to mashing. Mike shook his head, but he could feel an affectionate smile tugging at his mouth. God, she made it hard to keep his distance. 

As long as she continued to be a disaster in the kitchen, Mike wouldn’t have to. 

Although, he’d seemed to have found one thing that Ginny couldn’t mess up. Setting her to mashing potatoes as he took care of roasting the chicken and asparagus had been a stroke of genius if he did say so himself. It let her take out some of her frustrations with the slow progress of her physical therapy and even build up some strength in her arm again. It also kept Ginny from getting her fingers in everything and ruining what was shaping up to be a delicious dinner. 

For which Mike was thankful when they finally sat down at the cluttered dining room table to eat. He could only take so many poorly seasoned, burnt dinners. 

Even if the company was excellent. 

So excellent, in fact, that dinner passed in a haze of laughter and a warm, contented feeling. Not that it really worried Mike. That was just par for the course for evenings with Ginny. 

As he helped her clean up, though, things took a turn. 

“Do you want to bring some home?” Ginny asked, drying off her hands and pushing herself up to sit on the counter.

“Nah,” he replied, stacking tupperware in her fridge. There was still too much grape soda in it, but at least she had real food, too. “You keep it. Who knows the next time you’ll manage to make something even close to edible.”

Ginny rolled her eyes, but her jaw still worked side to side. It was a tell. For when she was trying to decide how to say something. Mike waited her out. 

“Won’t Rachel want some?”

Mike frowned and turned to give her his full attention. Her legs swung restlessly and her fingers tapped silently next to her thighs. Maybe it was just more of her boundless energy escaping, but something made Mike think otherwise. The way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye and she chewed on her lip, maybe.

“No,” he replied slowly. “I assume she made dinner for herself.”

Ginny threw him a confused look. “You didn’t check with her?”

“No,” he repeated. “Why would I?”

“She’s your wife, Mike,” she huffed and Mike started to feel like they were having two separate conversations. 

How did she not know that things hadn’t worked out with Rachel? He’d told Blip, which meant that Evelyn knew, which meant that everyone probably knew. 

But not Ginny, apparently.

“Ex-wife.” When Ginny flapped her hand impatiently, Mike continued, “We finalized last month.”

Ginny’s eyes went wide and her legs stilled. She stared at him for a long moment before saying, “Oh,” in a small voice. “I wondered why she didn’t mind you being over here so often.”

“Oh, she minded,” he replied, finally garnering a small grin from Ginny.

“Did she have a reason to mind?” she asked, looking up at him shyly.

Mike sighed, but closed the distance between the refrigerator and where Ginny sat. He stepped close to her, her knees nearly brushing up against his hips. He itched to touch her, but knew that if he did, there’d be no turning back. While he’d tried to respect her decision, be there for her as a captain and a friend, Mike couldn’t deny that he wanted more with her. And the minute he got to touch her, gentle and deliberate, he wouldn’t be able to pretend he didn’t.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about this, Ginny,” he breathed. 

He had just enough height on her like this that she had to tilt her head back slightly to look him in the eye. She licked her lips, dragging in a ragged breath when Mike’s gaze flew to follow the movement. 

“I didn’t,” she replied hoarsely, “but I think I changed my mind.”

She tilted her chin and their mouths came even closer. Close enough that her warm breath gusted against his lips and through the beard surrounding it. Mike’s hands came down on the counter, just next to where hers curled over the edge. He could feel her heat bleeding into him, but they still didn’t touch. 

“You think, or you know?” He had to know. “Because, Ginny, if you’re not sure—”

“I know.”

Her slender pinkies stretched out just as she interrupted him, curling over his fingers and twining them together. The breath Mike hadn’t realized he’d been holding gusted out of him and he gave in to Ginny’s gravity. 

When his lips finally connected with hers, she was smiling, wide and bright. Not that Mike minded. Not when he was finally kissing Ginny Baker. His hands came up to cup her face. Hers tangled in his belt loops, dragging him closer.

He pulled away and Ginny was still smiling, so he couldn’t resist dropping one more kiss to her lips. His thumbs stroked over her cheeks gently before dropping to rest more comfortably at her waist.

“You’re really sure?” he asked, still reeling a little.

Ginny’s head tilted in amused exasperation. When it became clear Mike actually needed an answer, her fingers untwined from his belt loops to wind into his beard. Patting at his cheek fondly, she nodded. “I’m sure.”

Because he couldn’t help himself, Mike turned and pressed a kiss to her palm. 

“So, was it my excellent cooking skills that made you change your mind?” he joked. Couldn’t let Ginny think that he’d completely give up being an asshole. “You realized that there was no other way you’d keep yourself fed and had to lock me down?”

Ginny rolled her eyes again, but a flash of something—guilt?—passed over her face and she looked away. Mike rocked back, not far enough to stop touching her, but at least he could duck and look in her face. 

“Ginny?”

She peeked up at him, a flush riding high on her cheek bones. She chewed on her lip guiltily before straightening. 

Still avoiding his gaze, she quietly admitted, “I maybe over-exaggerated how much help I need in the kitchen.”

“What.” 

“Like.” Ginny ruffled her hair and Mike had to actively try to pay attention to the matter at hand and not the way her curls bounced against her slender neck. “I didn’t actually need you to show me how to make spaghetti three separate times.”

“Seriously?” 

“I’m an adult, Lawson. I know that ketchup isn’t an acceptable substitute for marinara sauce.”

In retrospect, he probably should have been suspicious, but it wasn’t as if Mike was really going to examine the reason he got to spend so much time with Ginny. 

He started laughing in disbelief, Ginny joining in after a moment. 

As he caught his breath, his hands slid down to curl around her hips. “You couldn’t have just told me you wanted me around?” he smiled.

“I thought you and Rachel were still working it out!” she defended, though her arms twining around his neck undermined the peevishness in her voice. Ginny smirked, sly and sexy as hell. “I knew you wouldn’t risk me poisoning myself, though.”

“You’ve got me there,” he conceded, giving in and kissing her again. 

“Hope I’ve got you more places, too,” she murmured cheekily against his lips.

Mike didn’t answer, not out loud, anyway. He was too busy learning her every breath and sigh as his tongue tangled against hers. Too busy reveling in the way her blunt nails scraped lightly on the back of his neck and her thighs tightened around his hips. 

Inside though, he responded, Anywhere and everywhere you want me.

[confessions-of-a-former-fat-guy]

I Got This Feelin’

It’s funny when you can feel something happening. So often in life we just end up somewhere without a whole lot of recollection of how we got there. In college we could thank super cheap vodka for that. In adulthood we really only have life itself to thank. Some still have vodka, but I digress.

Today I can feel myself falling in love with CrossFit again. I remember when I started and through my first year and a half I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I would game plan workouts up until the timer started, at which point any and all planning was out the window and I would just GO. I would do things to make sure I was recovering. I couldn’t wait to go to the gym every single day. I did the “annoying” CrossFit guy thing and talked about it constantly. Every day felt like Christmas.

I’m feeling that again. And it feels good.

It’s odd timing that I’m feeling that today because today’s WOD is going to be a soul crusher…but I can’t wait. I can’t wait to forget to breathe. I can’t wait for my quads to feel like someone has poured gas all over them, tossed a match at me, and walked away laughing. I can’t wait to collapse into a giant pool of sweat while I scratch and claw at the rubber floor around me. I can’t wait to forget my name for a solid ten minutes. I can’t wait.

I promised myself that going forward I would make the choice to have a positive attitude about fitness. I spent almost a year dreading the gym, eating garbage, and just wanting to watch Gilmore Girls on the couch. Not anymore. I’m embracing the pain. Welcoming it, really. I’m getting comfortable with being uncomfortable again. I’m enthusiastic about CrossFit again. No workout scares me because, for now, I don’t feel the stress to compete. All I feel is excitement for what’s to come. Excitement for the results, the gainzzzz, and the work.

I’m still heavier than I like to be. It’s day 5 of my turnaround, so that’s to be expected, but I have lost 5 pounds this week, so I’m feeling good about that. I have three weeks to drop a few more before the Open begins and I’m ready. I’m ready to put in the work in the gym and in the kitchen. I’m ready for the changes.

One thing I think is helping me is setting realistic goals. I think people tend to shoot for the moon after they’ve had six glasses of champagne on New Year’s Eve. “I’m gonna lose 80 pounds by March!!!”

No. You’re not. You’re going to kick it in gear for the first three weeks in January, then Karen at work is going to bring in the extra cupcakes from her daughter’s bake sale and you’re going to go HAM on those things. That’s what you’re going to do because you’ll tell yourself, “I’ve only lost 3 pounds. No way I’m losing 80 by March, so screw it.”

I’ve done it, too. This time around, though, my goals are more grounded. Set a goal. Hit it. Set another goal. That’s how I’m doing it, at least. I have weight loss goals. Strength gain goals. Cardio goals. Eating goals. The top goal for me, though, is to be consistent. Go to the gym. Eat what I should eat. And do it every day. That’s the only way to get where you want to be. Consistency is key. It’s something I’ve lacked for a while, but once you tell yourself you need to make a commitment it’s as if you flip a switch in your brain. Overnight my mindset went from, “I can eat this pizza,” to, “Nah dog. Eat the broccoli.” Cravings went away the second I told myself I NEED something else. I NEED to change. For me, that need outweighs the wants. Sure I want Karen’s cupcakes, but I need the ground turkey and veggies I brought for lunch. You feel the need start to take over.

I love CrossFit. I love eating healthy and working hard. It’s funny how much more satisfying eating some fish and crushing a workout is than wearing a t-shirt with my belly hanging out the bottom while I wreck a box of Oreos. Both get you a little high, but the high lasts a lot longer when you make the healthy choice. No one has ever looked down at an empty box of cookies and felt a sense of accomplishment. You feel shame, remorse, and the need to sprint to the toilet.

I know three weeks isn’t enough to get myself back in peak physical shape before the Open. I expect to do worse than I did last year, but that’s OK. I made choices. I’m paying for them. More importantly, though, is I’m making better choices to do better. And that feels good.