#brady is the team dad only in the way that he's captain so they have to listen to him

[raging-violets]

Happy New Year // The Flash // BarryCade Fluff

Summary – Team Flash are ready to ring in the New Year but a meta pops up and tears Barry away. He promises he won’t be late for the ball drop but Cadence isn’t too sure.

Words: 1207

Team Flash needed some time to unwind after the year they had. So, of course they were going to have a New Year’s party. And, with Cadence’s upbringing in Metropolis, she knew how to throw a party and she especially knew how to throw a New Year’s party.

Sure, there was the Ball Drop Bash that Jitters put on every year. But they needed some time to be able to be themselves at a party and not freak out about someone drunkenly admitting what they did when most of Central City wasn’t looking.

Cisco had grumbled an apology, muttering something about “Someone had to test the liquor for Barry to get drunk”, while Caitlin smiled serenely and placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Don’t worry, it’ll just be everyone who knows our identities at this party.”

Still, to be on the safe side, Cadence decided to have the party at hers and Brady’s apartment. Of which Brady was more than excited about. Then again, she was sure it was due to being able to stay up rather than having to beg and sneak his way around to do it.

Once the plans were made, Cadence teleported into Barry’s office at the CCPD, making him look over in surprise. His eyes widened ever so slightly at her appearance next to him. “What’s going on?” He asked. “You can’t just…pop into my office like that.”

Cadence’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You run all over the city, Barry! I can blink and you’ll be in the next room and back with no thought to it.”

Barry folded his arms, leaning back in his seat. “Captain Singh was just in here; you could’ve given yourself away.” Cadence gave him a look. “Okay, I get your point. What’s up?”

“We’re having a New Year’s party at the loft—”

“—Sounds fun—”

“—And the only thing I’m asking is that you’re not going to be late.”

Barry adopted a slightly wounded expression. “What makes you think I’m going to be late?”

“Because you’re you.”

His expression became even more wounded. “It’s not like I do it on purpose!”

“I know.” Cadence held up a hand, a fireball appearing above her fingers. She bounced it back and forth over her fingertips as she continued to speak. Though Barry was sure there was a bit of an unspoken warning. “But we all need a break, you especially. And it’s one of the few times that we can all have a good time before something, inevitably, goes wrong. I just want us all to have a good time and I want you to be there.”

They were newly dating, of course she wanted him at the party.

Barry nodded, seeming to understand that. He reached across his desk and grabbed her hand. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

-

The party was going well; Caitlin, Cisco, and Harrison had all arrived on time, Brady and Conner were having a good time yelling over whatever game it was they were playing over their handheld games, even Oliver, Felicity, Roy, and Diggle had shown up on time. Iris and Joe had come by with their traditions of the West family, even Ryder had popped by to wish his ex a happy new year.

They were all mingling together and seeming to enjoy the lavish party she managed to throw in the one-bedroom apartment.

Still, the only person she really wanted there, apart from Brady, wasn’t there. Part of her understood, Barry had said he was going to stop by Iron Heights and spend some time with his dad. But then they had gotten an alert of a meta and Barry had raced off to do that, waving off Cadence’s offers to go with him to help take down the meta.

“It’s just a bank robber, I’ll be there and back before you even know it,” Barry had said confidently.

And it’s not that it was really a big deal, he was just going to be her plus one for the party. And had even made sure not to roll his eyes at Cadence’s insistence of everyone being dressed to the nines in their best suits and dresses just to stay in an apartment. Actually, Barry was the only one excited to be able to dress up.

Then the meta popped up and he had a duty to go protect the city. That was fine, she understood. Hell she could even see him from the fire escape, watching his lightning streak zip back and forth across the city as he took on…whatever it was. Still, she continued to opt to sit on the fire escape, her gown be damned. She wasn’t really enjoying the party anyway, realizing too late she hadn’t even wanted to throw one, just wanted to spend some quiet time with her son and boyfriend.

Yet, years of her mother’s influence had been so engrained in her that she couldn’t help but fall back into what was normal for her.

“Mom! Come on!” Before she knew it, Brady had wandered into their room and poked his head out the window. He clambered onto the fire escape and grabbed his mother’s hand, pulling her back inside. “We’re about to do the countdown! Come on! Come on!” As he dragged her through the window, waiting patiently as she moved her dress out of harm’s way he asked, “Do I have to go to bed as soon as it hits midnight?” He tugged at the collar of his suit, nose wrinkling in discomfort.

“We’ll see, bud,” she replied, affectionately ruffling his hair.

The two slipped back into the apartment as the countdown, led by Iris, continued.

“Ten…Nine…Eight…Seven…”

For a brief moment, Cadence wondered what would happen if she decided to teleport to New York and set the ball on fire. The thought made her smile.

“What’s so funny, mom?” Brady asked, glancing up at her.

“Nothing.”

A familiar woosh reached her ears, her hair blew around her face when Barry appeared in front of her, dressed to the nines in a tux.

“Two...One...”

“You’re la…” the words weren’t able to leave Cadence’s lips as she was silenced by Barry’s deep kiss.

“Happy New Year!”

“I’m just in time,” he murmured, making her smile before they kissed again.

-

THE END

Tag List: @foxesandmagic​  @witchofinterest​ @hogwarts-is-my-wonderland​  @darknightfrombeyond​ @saiilorstars @ocappreciationtag​ @arrowverseocs​  @the-witching-ash @arrthurpendragon @iron-parkr

[troubatrain]

the times with a little secret...

two blurbs following want you to want me

read the rest here!

You were late.

Historically, as someone who got their period at the same time every month, it was concerning. You counted on your fingers, taking yourself back to a time Matthew was awfully convincing and you slipped up. You were sitting out of the same dock you kissed him for the first time on, Matthew’s stupid smirk and overgrown curls were really all it took to make you forget all about the fact that you weren’t using protection. You sigh, holding back tears and running your hands down your face.

Matthew wanted to be a father, but talking a bunch of shit when he was in a sappy mood and actually having a baby were two very different things. You’d been together for two years, and in that time you’d grown up together, but children just seemed like something you weren’t ready for yet. He had so much to work for still, and so did you.

And when you finally got that test, the little pink plus sign broke you. You were pregnant, and you were all alone in Chicago while Matthew got a few things ready before he headed to Calgary for the season. Matthew would call soon, just like he always did on his ride home from the rink.

Matthew knew something was wrong, just by the first crack in your voice when he answered. You’d been crying and he was going to figure out why. He scratched his face, eyes staring at the road in front of him while a part of him debated how quickly he could get to Chicago, “You alright pretty girl?”

“Yeah, everything’s just, fuck, fine,” You say, wiping away your tears and knocking that test to the floor. You weren’t convincing by any means, and Matthew saw through every facade you had, “I’m fine, really I just, uh got to go-”

Matthew opened his mouth to protest, push you a little hard to tell him what’s going on but before he had a chance you hung up the phone. He hit his steering wheel, frustrated that you weren’t telling him the truth when that was the promise you both made. He wondered if he’d done something wrong, but for once in his life Matthew really thought he was innocent.

So he drove the four hours.

It took him a little longer than expected, but Matthew knew what he had to do. He turned his car in the opposite direction of your house, heading up to Chicago without a second thought. It was seven by the time he’d gotten there, opening the door to an empty apartment and a pit in his stomach he couldn’t quite explain. He searched the place, looking for something to point him in the right direction as to why you were acting so weird on the phone.

You went running, you didn’t know what else to do so you just ran. If you kept going you wouldn’t have to face the reality that there was a person growing inside of you and your entire life was going to change. It didn’t stop your mind from racing, thinking about having to tell Matthew and how you were going to tell your families. He wouldn’t leave, you were almost sure of it, but what if he did? It was all you could think about when you walked back into your place, your eyes catching a familiar tuft of curls in the living room.

Matthew was standing there, the entire apartment filled up with bouquets of flowers because he couldn’t pick just one. He was happy, eyes brimming with tears when he finally saw you because this was going to be a moment he never forgets, “Hi.”

“Hi,” You breathe out, feet planted to the floor because you just couldn’t process this fast enough.

“I knew something was up, and then I found the test in the bathroom,” Matthew explains, stepping across to the room to stand in front of you. His hands were on your cheeks, his thumbs gently grazing over the skin, “I didn’t think it was possible to love you more, but babe, I think I do.”

“I’m really scared,” You whisper, letting Matthew wipe away your tears.

“I’m sure you are,” Matthew hums, pressing his lips to your forehead. You found out alone, Matthew was miles away and he knew you were probably freaking out, “I’m here now, we’re together, and it’s going to be okay.”

You smile at his optimism, the way no matter what Matthew would tell you that he would always be there and he’d go to the ends of the earth to fix whatever made you upset, “You sound so sure about this-”

“You’re the best teammate I’ve ever had,” Matthew was sure of himself when he said it, “And I don’t want to do this life thing with anyone else.”

“We’re having a baby,” You nod, Matthew’s hands falling to your stomach and resting there gently, “I’m happy you’re on my team.”

“I’m happy too, captain,” Matthew winks, playing into that same silly joke he always made about how he was just along for the ride, “Can we keep it a secret for now? Just our little family?”

Our little family. The words felt so right when you heard them from Matthew, your arms wrapping around his waist so you could press your head against his chest.

“Brady’s going to give you so much shit for knocking me up.”

“Oh I know, it’s going to be brutal, but worth every second Mama.”

***

Daddy’s hiding something from you.

You stop, turning your attention to your three year old who was sitting at the kitchen island playing with a Cheerio that was in his bowl. Max talked a lot for his age, and it came with a bad habit of repeating his father’s colorful language. Another thing was Matthew couldn’t sneak anything past you because of Max, who was just as nosey as you were, and Max ratted out his father every chance he had.

“What’s daddy hiding from me?” You ask, watching the way Max turned his attention to something else because he was in cahoots with his father and swore he wouldn’t tell a soul, “Maxy-”

“No, daddy told me not to tell you, not even for chocolate,” Max crosses his arms, standing his ground as much as a toddler could, “He said, hide this until I tell you Maxy, but don’t tell mommy.”

You furrow your brows, turning your head and wondering what the fuck your son was hiding that you hadn’t found yet. Your attention turned to the sound of your front door opening, Matthew barreling in post practice with a smile on his face like he wasn’t turning your son into a stealth liar and it would end up biting you both in the ass when he got older. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, sneaking behind Max and kissing him too. The two of them looked like twins, the same mop of curls on their heads while Max’s dimpled smile appeared the biggest when he was with his dad. His nineteen chain hung around his neck, Matthew’s gift to his son because you both wore it and he hoped Max would too. He was Matthew’s carbon copy, down to his ability to sneak things past you and cause chaos.

“Max was just telling me you’re hiding something from me,” You smirk, leaning against the counter and looking at Matthew, “Care to explain?”

“Dude,” Matthew scoffs, looking at Max, “I thought we agreed this was a no telling mommy deal?”

“Like when we get ice cream after my skating lessons?” Max asks, turning his head to his father. Matthew threw his head back, sighing at the fact that you definitely weren’t going to say yes now.

“I knew you weren’t hitting traffic every week,” You sigh, giving Matthew a look, “No bribes for hockey, we talked about this.”

And you did. Sometime before Max was born you both had a lengthy conversation about the whole sports thing. One professional athlete for a parent would be a lot for a kid, let alone two, and you both promised you wouldn’t push your own agendas too hard. Did you cheer a little louder at Max’s soccer games? Maybe. But, at least you didn’t bribe him with ice cream on the way home.

“Hey buddy, remember that thing I told you to hide? Can you get it?” Matthew ignores your lecture, knowing fully he wasn’t listening anyways because Max was made to skate. Matthew helped him down, smiling at the toddler who was bound for the playroom you put off cleaning, that’s why you didn’t find it.

“You’re not off the hook for the ice cream, why are you looking at me like that?” You stop, remembering the way Matthew looked at you in your apartment filled with flowers after he found out you were pregnant. It was the same look, blue eyes soft and full of admiration, “Matty-”

“I know we did this a little backwards, and I wanted to wait until your parents were in town to celebrate, but Max has got a mouth like yours,” Matthew starts stepping over to you and putting his hands on your cheeks, “But that’s my point, I love that Max is just like you because you’re the best person I’ve ever met in life. You’re the most amazing mother to our son, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the way you handle parenthood with more grace than I could ever have. And to me, god, you were everything I ever wanted when we were kids Y/N, you know that? You still are, and you’re always going to be. I can’t believe I’m lucky enough to watch you shine, and take you home at the end of the night. I told my mom I’d marry you one day, I’m hoping you’ll give me the chance.”

By the time Matthew had finished his speech, in the middle of your kitchen in Calgary while Max’s cereal was thrown across the counter, your son had come back with a velvet box in his hand. He handed it to Matthew, climbing on Matthew’s leg because he had no clue while his father was down on one knee, but you knew, “Go ahead little dude, you can ask her now.”

“Mommy, will you marry daddy?” Max asks, giving you the very best smile your three year old could come up with. You could tell they practiced this, only solidifying the million reasons why you’d say yes.

“Yes,” You nod, covering your mouth while tears were brimming your eyes. You look at your two boys, who both looked at you like you put the sun in the sky just for them. Matthew let Max down, pressing a kiss to your lips like he wasn’t in the room.

“I love you,” Matthew breathes, pressing one more peck to your lips, “Wifey sounds good doesn’t it?”

“It does,” You hum, admiring the ring Matthew slipped on your left hand he left vacant for a little too long. Life was hectic for you, but he was tired of waiting for the right time when he knew he had the right girl the entire time. You pressed one more kiss to Matthew’s lips, hearing a protest from the little boy below you.

“Ew, that’s gross.”

“One day you’re gonna like a girl this much and Uncle Brady and I are going to make fun of you for it Maxy.”

[miracleonice87]

Begin Again, part two

with Mathew Barzal

a/n: in honor of @kerwritesthings’ birthday (that’s right, go wish her a happy one if you haven’t already!)… Hayden and Mat are back! part one was one of the earlier pieces I wrote, and it was a combo of a reader/oc, which I don’t really like to use in my writing now, but I’m sticking with it for consistency’s sake. title is based on T Swift's song, which I obviously don't own and all that stuff.

warnings: swearing, allusions to sex, nothing graphic

word count: 5.3K+

_____

“Hayden!” you heard from across the Coliseum concourse, just moments after you’d stepped through the doors of the main entrance. A stunning platinum blonde with a dazzling smile quickly approached, waving excitedly. Your first instinct was to look over your shoulder to try and determine who the woman was speaking to, since you didn’t recognize her, but she had called your name.

Instead, you forced a small smile and tentatively stepped toward her. As soon as she was within arm’s reach, she gathered you into a tight hug.

“Sorry, I’m a hugger!” she exclaimed, then stepped back and fanned a hand across her chest. You couldn’t help but notice the rock on her left ring finger, not to mention her perfectly manicured nails and pristine blue silk Islanders jacket, paired with a white t-shirt, black jeans, and snakeskin boots. “I’m Sydney, but you can call me Syd. It’s Sydney Esiason Martin, actually. I’m Matt Martin’s wife, but all the guys just call him Marty,” she explained, her hands gesturing animatedly all the while.

It was all coming together in your brain now, that Mat must have arranged for Sydney to be on the lookout for you, and you nodded slowly, your smile growing.

“I’m Hayden,” you offered, but of course, she already knew that, you thought as you mentally kicked yourself. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, and Marty, too.”

Sydney beamed, her eyes glittering. “Yeah, you, too!” she said. “It isn’t often Barzy brings a girl around the group. Well, honestly… it isn’t ever, actually,” she said with a lighthearted giggle. “You must be pretty special.”

You breathed a chuckle and swiped your tongue along your bottom lip, lost for words.

Sydney must have sensed your unease, because after a beat, she gave your upper arm a light squeeze and nodded her head toward the escalators leading to the suite level.

“C’mon, I’ll show ya where we’re sitting,” she said. “I’m starving. I think I want a pretzel with cheese. Are you hungry? They have the most incredible nachos up there, just wait…”

And as Sydney rambled on about the delicacies to be found in the family suite, your anxieties about meeting the people there suddenly shrunk, and you found yourself thinking that you were going to like this “Syd.”

_____

The game was a blowout.

New York beat Ottawa 6-1, and Mat had a goal and three assists, not to mention the night’s second star. You had held your own in the family box, and Sydney had been the perfect guide — introducing you to the kindest of the guys’ partners and avoiding the ones that side-eyed you standoffishly, whispering in your ear that so-and-so had dated two NHLers in the past, and so-and-so and her boyfriend were constantly on and off, and that Syd didn’t expect them to be around for long, so don’t worry about them. You mostly spent the evening nodding along politely to various conversations, giggling at Sydney’s over-the-top antics, and making small talk with some of the veterans’ wives. They all seemed relieved to know that you were familiar with the hockey world and, therefore, had at least a hint of what you were (potentially) getting yourself into.

But one thing you hadn’t expected? When Syd turned to you a few minutes after the game ended and said, “Oh! Matt just texted me. He said Barzy wants me to bring you downstairs.”

You swallowed your last sip of beer, hard.

“Downstairs?” you asked softly after a long pause.

“Uh huh!” Sydney nodded emphatically, tucking her phone into her Louis Vuitton bag and patting your knee. “He probably wants to introduce you to some of the boys. Don’t worry,” she said with a nonchalant wave of her hand, doing her best to calm your nerves.

You nodded slowly and reached for your own, much less expensive, bag. “O-okay.”

Ten minutes later, you were in the depths of the Coliseum in a lounge across from the locker room, Sydney chatting away about how when playoffs start, you’ll have to join her and the other girls for tailgating in the parking lot before the game, because it’s such a blast, and it’s a lot easier to watch your significant other knock the shit out of someone (or get the shit knocked out of him) when you’re tipsy. You stayed noncommittal, all the while questioning in your mind whether Mat would even want you around once playoffs started.

But you didn’t have long to dwell on that, because a moment later, the locker room door swung open, and two tall, broad, light brown-haired men stepped through it, Mat close on their heels. You could have sworn you heard him sharply whisper “please don’t embarrass me” before they crossed the hallway, but then again, maybe that was just in your head, because immediately after, Mat gave you a huge smile and stepped forward to pull you in for a hug.

“Hey!” he greeted warmly, then completely caught you off guard by pecking your lips, right there in front of half a dozen of his teammates and their partners.

You touched your fingertips to your lips, feeling them buzzing at the unexpected contact. You recovered as quickly as you could and smiled back at him, lost in the way he looked in his sharp grey suit and in how he smelled fresh out of the shower.

“Hi,” you said quietly.

And just as you studied Mat’s appearance, he was studying yours — taking in your royal blue blazer, the way your light-wash jeans hugged your curves perfectly, and, of course, admiring the Manolo Blahniks you’d scrimped and saved for two years to purchase.

“Nice shoes,” Mat commented, winking flirtatiously. You giggled, his words echoing the very first he had ever spoken to you back in the coffee shop. “Seriously, though, you look beautiful, Hayden,” he added.

Your cheeks warmed, and you tucked your hair behind your ear as you glanced down at your feet.

“Thanks, Maty,” you said quietly. “You look great, too.”

With an appreciative nod, he pressed his hand to your lower back and guided you nearer to the men accompanying him, who had already greeted their significant others — Syd kissing Matt, and Grace, you remembered, hugging her husband, whose name you couldn’t quite recall.

“Well, Hayd, you know Syd and Grace now, but I want to introduce you to their husbands, Marty and Anders,” Mat said, motioning toward them. “Anders is our captain, and Marty’s like my team dad.”

You giggled at that, glancing up at Mat fondly before focusing back on his teammates and extending your arm.

“It’s so nice to meet you both,” you said, shaking their hands.

“You, too,” Anders said. “I’m glad you came out tonight.”

“Yeah, Barzy won’t shut up about you, and now we see what all the fuss is about,” Marty said, laughing at his own joke as Sydney poked him in the ribs playfully.

“What’s this about Barzy not shutting up?” you heard from behind the wall of well-dressed men in front of you, before an icy blue-eyed man stepped forward. Mat rolled his eyes.

“And this is Tito,” Mat said, waving his arm toward the man you knew to be his close friend. “Don’t let him fool you — he doesn’t ever shut up, either.”

Tito smirked at that and held out his hand.

“It’s nice to meet you, Hayden,” he said kindly. “You’ll have to come back — you must’ve been our good luck charm tonight.”

You shook your head shyly. “No, no, I can’t take the credit,” you insisted. “That was all you guys. But yes, it’s so nice to meet you, too, Tito.”

Tito smiled, looking between you and Mat, and before Tito could offer a response, Mat spoke into your ear.

“I got us a reservation at this place nearby,” he said, his low tone making the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “I don’t wanna rush you, but we should probably get going. Besides, hopefully this is far from the last opportunity you’ll have to hear my friends chirp me.”

You smiled up at Mat, admiring the way his still-damp hair fell perfectly around his sculpted face, and nodded.

“Sure, let’s go,” you told him.

_____

“Okay, favoriiite... NFL team.”

“Seahawks," Mat answered. "Since Seattle’s not far from Coquitlam, you know?”

You nodded. “Plus Russell Wilson and Ciara are everything.”

“Everything,” he agreed dramatically, knocking his knuckles on the table for emphasis. “What about you?”

“Oh, Pats all the way,” you proclaimed, sitting back in your chair. “The day Brady signed with the Bucs was top five worst days of my life,” you added emphatically.

Mat clucked his tongue. “Awww, poor baby,” he said teasingly, throwing you a wink. You rolled your eyes.

“Okay, okay, your turn. Next question,” you said, reaching across the table for his hand, tracing the veins there with your fingertips as Mat beamed at you, unable to think immediately of another inquiry as he was too distracted by your soothing touch.

Finally, he cleared his throat. “Alright, uh,” he began. “How about... oh, what was your favorite movie as a kid?”

A faraway smile spread slowly across your lips as you looked just past Mat, recalling laying on the floor of your den back in Maine, Nick by your side as you watched the same VHS tape over and over again.

“You’ve probably never heard of it,” you started, shaking your head. “But, uh, it was called Brave Little Toaster.”

Mat stilled.

“Shut up,” he deadpanned.

Your brows pulled together, puzzled. “What?”

Mat chuckled in disbelief. “Brave Little Toaster was my favorite movie as a kid.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re lying,” you accused.

Mat put up his hands in innocence.

“Swear!” he insisted. “You can call my sister right now. We watched it every day for years.”

You could only grin stupidly. “Us, too,” you told him. “Sequels weren’t that good, though,” you added, taking a sip of your wine.

Mat nodded, looking pleased with that assessment, and thought not for the first time that night about how easy this all felt with you. How right. From the simplest thing to the most important.

“No, no, they were trash,” he laughed. “Brave Little Toaster Goes to Mars, and, uh... shit, what was the other one… uh, Brave Little Toaster…”

“To The Rescue,” you finished, Mat echoing the last word before you both fell into a fit of giggles.

“I cannot believe we have this much in common, Maty,” you said when you finally caught your breath.

“Yeah, pretty crazy, right?” Mat said. You nodded as he reached for his gin and tonic. “Feels like I’ve met my other half,” he said.

You pressed your lips together in an attempt to hide your shy smile, dropping your gaze to your lap. From across the table, Mat squeezed your hand. Then, a voice piped up from behind you.

“I hate to interrupt…”

You turned in your seat to find the maître d' leaning toward you, an apologetic look in his eyes.

“We’re going to be closing, so I just wanted to ask—”

“Oh, god, did we close the place down?!” you asked apprehensively, glancing around the room to discover that, indeed, you and Mat were the last two in the room.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Mat said, flustered. “I didn't even realize. We’ll get out of your hair. I’m so sorry, sir. Really.”

The man shook his head in understanding and left the table as the waiter approached with the bill.

Suddenly, your stomach dropped. You couldn’t even fathom how much two steak dinners and drinks for the both of you would cost at a place like this. You felt guilty for agreeing to come here instead of suggesting something less extravagant, and you braced yourself as you waited for Mat to make some noise of disgust at the number on the check, just like you’d been used to at the end of date nights for so long.

But, it never came. Mat simply tucked a few bills into the fold, and looked back up at you with a smile and a contented sigh.

“You ready?” he asked easily.

You nodded. “I’m ready for anything with you.”

Mat jutted out his chin proudly and came around to pull out your chair. With his hand gently resting on the small of your back, he guided you to the valet station in front of the restaurant while you waited for his car to be brought around. All the while, Mat felt his heart thudding against his ribcage as he contemplated his next move.

Unaware of his internal struggle, you turned to him with a smirk as you awaited the car’s arrival, and you slipped your hands into his jacket pockets as you leaned into his chest.

“My hands are cold,” you explained simply, while Mat nodded, thinking that there was no better feeling than you reaching out for him. He only wanted to be near to you, ever, always, which brought him to finally posing his long anticipated inquiry.

“Hey, uh…” Mat began, clearing his throat nervously. “I was thinkin’, maybe you’d wanna come over to my place, like, maybe for the night? Honestly I just… I just wanna spend as much time with you as I can, especially since we’ve got another roadie coming up. And I’d love to just curl up on the couch with you, maybe watch a movie—“

“Yes,” you answered softly, but firmly. You had never been more certain that yes, you wanted to go home with this person. Right now.

Mat was caught off guard by your confident answer, and he smiled down at you in disbelief.

“You sure?” he asked. “There’s no pressure, Hayd. I know this is moving fast and all.”

You nodded. “It is,” you concurred. “But it feels… good. It feels right. And I wanna come home with you, Maty.”

Mat grinned from ear to ear and grasped your face with both his hands, kissing you deeply just as his car pulled up to the curb. He took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Let’s go then.”

_____

You did spend the night at Mat's that night, and the next night, and the one after that. But the one after that, Mat wasn’t around, and was instead in Raleigh for the first half of a two-game road trip. So, you were surprised when, while you were watching the game, you heard your doorbell ring. Frowning, you jogged to your door and hit the intercom.

“Hello?”

“Yeah, Miss Parker?”

“This is she.”

“Got a delivery for you. Says it’s from an ‘M. Barzal’?”

You smirked, tucking your chin to your chest.

“I’ll be right down.”

Seconds later, you were bounding down the stairs to meet the delivery person, who stood on your building’s front steps holding a stout bouquet of full, white peonies. You thanked them as you took the bouquet in your hands, staring down at it wistfully as you closed the door behind you. Not bothering to wait until you were back in your apartment to read the note, you pulled the card from the envelope tucked within the bouquet.

Hayd,

Pretty flowers for my pretty girl. Be home soon. Don’t forget about me.

MB

_____

“Baby sis!”

You heard your brother’s booming voice on the other end of the line three days later, sounding a bit distant. By that and the sound of papers shuffling, you knew he had you on speaker at his office. “What’s up, Hayd?”

You smiled at his eternally effervescent tone.

“Hi, Nicky,” you greeted. “Oh, nothing much.” Lie. “Just wanted to give you a call and check in.”

“Aww, I’m flattered,” Nick replied. “But you know that I know you better than anybody else, right? I can tell by your voice that you’ve got something to say. What’s goin’ on? Lay it on me.”

You bit your bottom lip. Damn him. Even all the way from Boston, he could still read you like a book. You couldn’t help the girlish giggle that escaped you as you admitted, “Okay, okay. I wanted to tell you that I, uh... I met somebody.”

You could practically hear his eyebrows shoot up over the phone.

“Really?” Nick drawled, lengthening both syllables dramatically. You rolled your eyes at his theatrics, but still, you beamed.

“Really,” you confirmed. “Somebody you’d, uh... somebody you’d actually probably recognize.”

“What do you mean? You cop yourself an attorney or what?”

“No,” you responded, fussing with the frayed hem of your cropped sweater. “No, not quite—“

“What, a Yankee then?”

Your eyes widened at his surprisingly accurate interruption. He was more on the nose than he knew.

“Well... not a Yankee, but...”

“Shut up,” he cut you off once more. “A Met? A Jet?”

You bit at the skin around your polished plum fingernails before you spat out, “An Islander.”

Silence. Then, a bellow.

“What?!”

That was Nick. Ever the thespian.

“It’s Mat Barzal, Nicky,” you answered matter-of-factly. “Like something out of a goddamn rom-com, I met him in a coffee shop about a month ago, and we’re… we’re dating. He’s my boyfriend.” You uttered the last words of your statement with an astonished laugh. It still seemed too good to be true just in your own head — telling someone else made you sound certifiably crazy, even to your own ears.

“I- … how... Jesus! What?!” Nick sputtered. “Hayden! What the fuck! Well, ‘m happy for you, but I’m just… I think I’m in shock right now.”

You groaned with a pained chuckle.

“I know. I’ve been in shock this entire time,” you concurred. “But Mat, he’s… he’s amazing. It sounds so cliché, but he’s just such a normal guy. He’s super polite, funny, thoughtful—“

“Plus he’s an absolute man rocket,” Nick added enthusiastically.

You put a hand to your forehead, rolling your eyes once more.

“Spoken like a true former hockey player,” you commented.

Quickly moving on from your remark, Nick asked, “So, when do Annie and I get to meet him? Seen him on the ice for years but I gotta make sure he’s good enough for my baby sis.”

You smiled warmly at his often-used term of endearment and replied, “Well, yeah. That’s kinda the main reason I wanted to talk to you. He plays the B’s next weekend, on Sunday, at the Garden. The game’s at 1, I think, so… uh… he got us tickets — three tickets. He wants me and you and Annie to go to the game and then he wants us all to go out together—“

“Done,” your brother spoke up firmly before you could even finish. You beamed at his confirmation, despite the fact that he had interrupted you for what felt like the hundredth time in your three-minute call.

“Really?” you asked, scrunching your nose tentatively. “I know you guys are really busy, especially with wedding planning and stuff, and I’d totally understand—“

“Hayden, stop,” Nick spoke sternly. “Seriously. It’s no problem. Sundays are good for us. Besides, even if I did have plans, I’d cancel them for this. Meeting my sister’s new boyfriend is a big deal.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded, though he couldn’t see it.

“Well, thank you, Nicky. It means a lot. I’ll let Mat know you can make it. He’ll be so excited,” you told your brother happily.

“Awesome,” Nick replied warmly. “So what about Mom and Dad? They haven’t met the kid yet, have they?”

You snorted. “Nicky, you’re only two years older than him,” you pointed out. “You can’t call him a kid.”

“Sure I can!” he insisted. “He’s dating my kid sister — that makes him a kid to me.”

You sighed, amused.

“Whatever. But no, they have not met him yet,” you said. “That’ll happen soon enough, you know? I mean, you know how Dad can be — he can come off as kinda gruff, even though you and I know he’s a teddy bear. And Mom, she’s just gonna fall in love with him, and I’m not ready for that just yet.” You chuckled as you heard Nick offer a hum of understanding on the other end of the phone. “Besides, he has a lot of respect for you, and you guys have a lot in common. I just think it would be great for the two of you to meet first,” you said.

“What do you mean he has a lot of respect for me?” Nick asked, sounding puzzled.

One of your brows quirked of its own accord and a smirk stretched across your lips. You’d unwittingly skipped over the best part — the best part for Nick, anyway.

“Oh, I didn’t mention that?” you asked smugly. “He remembered you. The first day we met, I told him my brother played in the Q, he asked my last name… and immediately, he remembered you.”

You heard Nick suck in a breath. “You can’t tell me shit like this, sis,” he said. “Annie always says my ego is already too big as it is, and you just inflated it even more.”

You couldn’t help but burst into laughter, amused by his declaration.

“Well, that’s facts,” you replied. “He remembered the injury, but most of all, he remembered how good you were. He was really glad to hear you’re doing well now.”

“Marry him, or I will,” Nick deadpanned. You could tell he was trying to use humor to mask any emotions your statement had stirred up.

“Oh, Annie would love to hear you say that,” you scoffed, then you glanced at the clock above you. “Listen, I gotta get to the Coli, but I’ll—“

“Oh, my god, my name is Hayden, and my boyfriend is an Islanderrr! I have to get to the Coli to watch him playyy!” your brother mimicked ruthlessly.

You growled at Nick’s playful mocking of you and spat, “Hey, you want these B’s-Isles tickets next weekend or not?”

Immediately, Nick shaped up.

“Just kidding, my darling baby sister! I’ll let you go, and I’ll see you next weekend,” he said.

“Deal. I’ll call you once Mat and I go over the details and stuff,” you promised.

“Sounds good. I’ll talk to ya then. Hey — one more thing,” Nick said hurriedly.

“What’s that?” you inquired as you swung your handbag over your shoulder and grabbed your jacket from the hook in your entryway.

“Are you happy?” Nick asked, his voice more solemn than it had been throughout your entire conversation — more solemn than it almost ever was. Your lips stretched into a slow grin.

“Honestly, Nicky…” you began, a dreamy sigh leaving you as you paused pulling on your jacket. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m super happy.”

You could hear Nick smiling as he replied, “Good. I can tell. You deserve it, Hayd.”

“Thanks,” you answered softly. “It feels really good.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Nick retorted knowingly. You hummed in agreement and he added, “Alright, I’ll talk to you later. I love you, baby sis.”

“I love you, too, brother,” you replied. “Bye.”

You tapped the red button on your screen to end the call and slipped your jacket the rest of the way over your shoulders as you headed for the door. Just as you reached for the knob, your phone dinged with a text alert.

MB 😍: See you after the game, beautiful. Sushi and sleepover at my place tonight? Up to you. Just let me know 😘

You felt your cheeks warm as a smile stretched across your face, grinning like an idiot at your phone as you had every day for the last month — not that you cared. In fact, it was a welcome change from the sighs and eye rolls you used to emit when reading texts from your last significant other. You felt grateful for this new beginning, this flood of long-dormant feelings you didn’t know you’d ever feel again.

Your fingers flew easily across the keyboard as you typed your response: Sounds perfect. Count me in. Good luck, baby 💋

Within seconds, as you pulled the door closed and headed for the parking garage, his reply lit up your screen.

MB 😍: 🥰

Yeah, you couldn’t have said it better yourself.

_____

The next weekend after dinner, Nick stood with his arm wrapped around Annie’s shoulders, waving goodbye as he watched you and Mat turn and walk down the sidewalk in front of the restaurant hand in hand. Annie squeezed Nick’s waist as he sighed.

“What’s the matter?” Annie asked with a soft smile.

Nick shook his head.

“Nothin’,” he said. “Absolutely nothing is the matter. That kid is… I mean, he’s somethin’ else, huh?”

Annie chuckled thoughtfully.

“He really is,” she agreed. “I’ve known your sister since she was a kid, and I’ve never seen her so giddy as she was today with him.”

“Yeah, me either,” Nick said, his voice sounding far away. “I feel like… I dunno, I feel like this might be the real thing. I know it sounds crazy to say that already.”

Annie grinned, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I don’t think it’s crazy,” she said. “I think they’re really in love.”

Nick breathed a laugh through his nose, shaking his head. “Who woulda thought? My sister and an Islander. Shit.”

_____

“Don’t freak out,” Mat spoke, an anxious smirk on his face as his eyes glimmered.

“Maty!” you whined. “You’re scaring me. What the hell is it?” you asked, your eyes landing once more on the white box tied with a blue satin ribbon.

“Just open it,” Mat instructed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as you studied him cautiously.

You shook your head, wondering what on earth he was up to, but pulled the ribbon to loosen the bow nonetheless. You pulled the top of the box off and peeled away the tissue paper beneath to reveal a denim jacket, the name “BARZAL” and the number 13 embroidered in blue and orange on the back, along with an Isles logo, a blue heart, and plenty of gemstones.

You silently looked toward Mat, who gazed at you expectantly.

“It’s a WAG jacket,” he explained. “You’ve probably seen some of the girls wear them to games.”

You nodded slowly, unable to think of even a single-word response. You knew what it was. You just couldn’t believe it was yours.

You looked back down to the jacket, then finally back at Mat. He moved from his seat on the couch to sit beside you on the loveseat, taking your hand.

“Listen, I know it’s still really early on, but, I… it just felt like a no brainer to me, Hayd,” he said, his words rushed. “You totally don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to — there’s no pressure. But with the playoffs coming up, Syd asked me if I wanted to have one made for you, and I said I did. I didn’t know if I should clear it with you first, but I wanted to surprise you with it, so I—”

“You… you want me to wear this to games?” you interrupted, your brows furrowed.

Mat’s own face contorted with confusion.

“Y-yeah… yeah, of course I do, baby,” he said. “You’re my girlfriend. And I want people to know it.”

You tried to hide your unsureness under a tight smile as you ran your fingers along the decals adorning the jacket, trailing your touch down the seams. You weren’t sure if you would ever get used to being someone that your significant other was proud of and wanted to show off to the world. Past that, you couldn’t believe that Mat had purchased this for you on his own, with no strings attached — just by looking at the custom item, you knew it had been far from cheap. Every day, Mat made you feel like the most special person in the world, and sometimes you weren’t sure why he bothered, or why he’d chosen you when he could have literally anyone else.

But instead of voicing what your insecurities and your past traumas were screaming at you, you simply decided to take Mat at his word — something you’d been working hard on since the start of this relationship. You flashed a million dollar smile and threw your arms around his neck.

“Thank you, Maty,” you whispered into his ear. You felt his arms tighten around you, his hands gently caressing your back. “This means so much to me.”

Mat smiled over your shoulder and kissed your temple.

“It means everything that you wanna wear it,” he told you, pulling back. “I can’t wait to see you in it.”

You beamed and glanced back down at the garment.

“You want me to try it on?” you asked excitedly, like a little kid just home from a back-to-school shopping spree.

Mat nodded, smiling. “I would love for you to try it on,” he assured.

You wasted no time pulling the jacket from the box and lifting it up. You put one arm into the first sleeve, and Mat guided the other arm after it. Upon closer inspection, you could see your own name embroidered into the wrist of the left sleeve, along with a date in matching script on the other sleeve.

“What’s this?” you asked, smoothing your finger along the thread as you held out your arm to Mat.

The corners of his lips ticked upward into a smile. “The day we met,” he said simply.

You met his eyes and immediately leaned in, grasping his face in one hand as you kissed him, overwhelmed by his constant thoughtfulness.

“Thank you,” you repeated, and Mat only nodded. He took your hands and squeezed.

“Stand up, show me,” he insisted.

You giggled and obliged, doing a little spin with your arms outstretched as Mat laughed.

“Wow, baby, it looks great on you,” he said, in awe. “I absolutely love it. Do you like it?”

You nodded, biting at your bottom lip.

“It’s perfect,” you said, smoothing your hands along the fabric. “I’m definitely wearing it to the next game.”

Mathew nodded, pleased to hear your declaration, and crooked his finger, inviting you closer. You stepped forward, rested your knees on the couch on either side of his lap, and looped your arms around his neck. Mathew began to peck at your lips, jaw, and neck playfully.

“You look,” kiss, “so good,” kiss, “with my name,” kiss, “on your back,” kiss, followed by a mischievous squeeze to your butt.

You felt heat rise from your chest, up your neck, to your face, and you leaned back to rid yourself of the jacket and carefully toss it onto the back of the couch, causing Mat to pout his lips.

You shook your head, placing your index finger to his pucker.

“For what I have planned to say thank you, I’m not gonna wanna be wearing anything nice,” you told him, removing your finger to kiss his lips.

Mat raised his eyebrows and hummed his approval.

“How about not wearing anything at all?” he asked, cockiness in his tone as he tugged at your t-shirt. Following his cues, you removed it from your body and tossed it onto the floor.

“Whatever you say, Barzal,” you said, though Mat was too focused on your lacy bra to think of a response.

Instead, he hoisted you over his shoulder as you squealed with laughter, hauling you to the bedroom and leaving the denim jacket to be worn another day.

[liberty-barnes]

Done Wondering

Jock!Tom Holland x Female!Reader

Highschool AU

@danicarosaline requested: Hi pretty!! i saw your requests are open so may i please request a jock Tom x reader! Tom is a big softy and the captain of his football team and reader is a tough ‘not taking shits from anybody’ type of person? Like Tom gets in an argument with a team mate and he’s being all nice and calm about it but reader thinks his team mate deserves a good punch in the face so she punches him and it shocks the entire team and Tom himself even though he expected it!!

Warnings: F L U F F, not sure that the football talk is 100% accurate, all I know about American football is that Tom Brady's a quarterback, their jerseys are cool and apparently I'm supposed to cheer for the Pats? (yeah, that's my dad's fault), B99 references (i fucking love that show), cursing, a bit of violence ig

Word Count: 2.3k words (why can i not write short things?)

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: so sorry it took so long to get this out! also, i got waaaaaay to invested in this... oopsie

Masterlist

You ran across the field as people all around you celebrated with only one goal in mind: kiss your boyfriend.

You and Tom had been dating for almost seven months now, to many people's surprise. The entire school thought you'd be together for a week tops, but you surpassed all their expectations by becoming the longest standing couple in junior year (not that it was hard, high schoolers change partners like discardable gloves). 

Tom was one of Sunset High's best and brightest, loved by the teachers, captain of the football team, and the object of many's affection.

You, however, were nothing like that. You hated sports (everyone knows art's better anyway), social interactions were your personal little slice of hell, and everyone was too scared to approach you since you threatened to gut Charles after he accidentally forgot to give you back your pencil.

All in all, there was no way you two could stay together.

There was no way you could even make a friendship work, let alone a romantic relationship.

But then there was that fateful summer night...

Your mind ran at a thousand miles an hour as you rocked in the park's nest swing. The stars looming over you were the only thing keeping you from spiraling, and after an hour of watching them, the peace in your mind was crumbling.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

You sat up on the swing and looked to your right where stood a sheepish-looking Tom.

"It's okay, I should probably leave anyway..."

"No! I mean, it's okay, you were here first I didn't mean to disturb you."

You cast your eyes down until he spoke again.

"You go to my school, right? (Y/n)? We were in the same English class in freshman year."

"Yeah, I think so... I'm surprised you remember me, we didn't have any classes together last year..."

He huffed out a laugh and leaned against the support beam, hands in his pockets.

"It's kinda hard to forget someone like you. You stood up to the teacher on the first day after he yelled at a kid and spent the next year having actual coherent debates about the books that most of the class never even read, let alone understood. You're kind of amazing."

You ducked your head once more to try to cover the blush on your cheeks, biting your lip.

"Thanks."

He nodded and took a deep breath, then sat in front of you and pushed so the swing was rocking softly, always catching it before it hit his face.

You giggled a bit and sat criss-cross applesauce, back straight, your mother's words permanently etched into your brain.

"So, what are you doing alone in the town's most secluded park at midnight?"

"Oh, you know, questioning my life choices, freaking out because in three weeks we're going back to school while simultaneously feeling stir crazy after having nothing cool to do all summer, regretting ever being born, the usual. What about you?"

"Getting crushed by everyone's expectations, feeling constricted cause I have to set a good example for my little brothers, freaking out cause I have no idea what I want to do with my life, the usual."

A comfortable silence settled between you.

"Do our lives really suck or is it just the teenagers in us that dramatize everything?"

He huffed out a laugh.

"I don't know, tell me your story and I'll let you know."

You scooched to the side and patted the now empty spot on the too-small swing so he could lay down next to you. Looking at the stars seemed like a better idea than looking at him.

"I never really liked school, people are jerks, cafeteria food is disgusting at best, I have no friends -not that I care about that, I'm better off alone. Still, it's better than being home. When my father isn't working in his study, he's berating me about getting better grades, even though I'm a straight-A student, not that he cares enough to actually know that. My mother's usually either gossiping with her other rich friends or telling me to correct my posture, dress better, act like a lady, it's infuriating...

"My older brother, the only person in that family that I genuinely like, left for MIT today, so I guess I'm just now realizing that I'm really... alone. I'll have to suffer through my father's lectures about getting high grades and act like someone I'm not so my mother doesn't take away everything I love until I "learn to act like a respectable woman". Jake used to get them to lay off me, but now he's not here. Sometimes I wonder why they even adopted me if I'm such a bad daughter. It just sucks."

You felt his hand twitch next to yours and his eyes on your face.

"Your turn."

He took a shuddering breath before speaking.

"My parents are amazing, they really are, they only want what's best for me, but sometimes it's a little much. They constantly remind me of going to training, doing my homework, studying for tests, and even though they always say it's okay, I see the disappointment in their eyes when my grades lower even by a single point.

"My little brothers look up to me a lot, and they're always telling me how much they want to be just like me when they grow up. I know they mean it in the best possible way, but it's just that much more pressure. I just... feel the need to always be the best at everything. The best football player, the best captain, the best student, the kindest person in that school, most helpful... it's all a bit much."

This time, it was you who were looking at his profile while he gazed at the stars.

"It's okay to feel overwhelmed, Tom. It doesn't matter that they have the best intentions, they're still putting too much pressure on you and you deserve the chance to relax."

He turned towards you and for the first time that night, you realized just how close you were.

"You're not a bad daughter just because you have different interests. I, for one, think you are a strong and independent woman who doesn't need to change because of some mere peasants. You're a queen... You deserve someone that'll treat you as one."

Your breath caught in your throat as you locked eyes with him.

"Wanna make a deal?"

You nodded tentatively, though at this point you'd probably agree to murder someone as long as he kept looking at you that way.

"I'll be your friend, give you something to do whenever you need it, save you from your asshole parents and remind you of just how awesome you are every day..."

"And in return?"

"And in return, you'll say stuff like what you said before when I get too stuck in my head, save me from my so-called friends when they're being jerks, and come to every practice with me so you have something to do and I have someone to make silly faces at."

"I'm pretty sure there are a thousand girls in that school that would kill to have you make silly faces at them."

"Maybe so, but they aren't you. A lock of your hair is worth more than all of them combined."

You bit your lip and smiled.

"Okay."

"Cool."

"Cool."

He pecked you softly on the lips before he lost his nerve, quick and fleeting, feather-light but strong enough to leave fires in its wake. You pulled him back and gave him a slightly longer kiss before setting your head on his shoulder and going back to stargazing, now with someone to keep you company.

Three weeks later, you walked into school hand in hand and haven't let go since.

"Tommy!"

You jumped into his arms, ignoring the smell of sweat and how it would probably cling to your clothes.

"You did so good baby!"

He kissed you straight on the lips, not minding his teammate's wolf-whistles, having grown used to them already.

"I had a pretty good motivation."

"Oh?"

"Mm-hm, my girl told me she'd bake me cookies if I won this match, and I really like her cookies."

"Sounds like you have a great girlfriend."

"The best."

You kissed him again and he smiled when he felt the fabric of his spare jersey adorning your figure.

"Yo, Holland!"

You forced apart by Teddy's call, one of the newer players. Since you went to every single practice, you knew that Teddy was being an ass lately, always wanting the glory, never passing the ball to his teammates. If it weren't for Tom's skill as captain of the team, he would've cost them most matches, including this one.

"Why didn't you pass me the ball?"

"Pardon?"

"That last play, I was free and you passed the ball to Harrison even though he almost lost it. You should have passed it to me, we almost lost because you want to make your useless bestie feel included!"

"Johnson was closing in on you, if I'd passed it to you, we would have lost for sure. Passing it to Harrison bought me the time I needed to get out of danger. It was purely strategical, you would know that if you paid attention to your teammates instead of playing all on your own. Haz is an amazing player and I don't treat him differently just because he's my best friend. I'd like you to apologize to him, please, it's not kind to insult your teammates."

You admired the fact that he managed to remain calm and collected throughout the whole conversation, looking like the embodiment of 'I'm not mad, I'm disappointed'. You, however, were not having such an easy time keeping your cool, hands firmly clenched at your side.

"The hell it was! You just feel threatened by me because you'll never be as good as me, so you never pass me the ball, it's ridiculous!"

"Okay, buddy, you need to back the hell off and close your mouth before I punch it shut."

His eyes flickered to you and he rose a brow mockingly.

"Oh, your little slut's standing up for you know? I always knew you were a chicken, guess my theory's been pro-"

You cut him off with a punch to the nose, smiling when you heard the satisfying crack of his bones and his howls of pain.

A collective 'ooh' came from the crowd, and they took a few steps back (excluding Tom of course, who was only looking at you with wide eyes).

"What the fuck?"

"I warned you, didn't I?"

You smirked evilly as Teddy was pulled away by the coach to check his injury.

"You're a bitch!"

"Baddest of them all, sweetheart. Have a fun time at the hospital!"

The whole crowd had gone silent by the time you turned back around, seemingly satisfied with your vengeance.

"What?"

You tilted your head in confusion at the awestruck looks on the team's faces.

"You broke his nose!"

"Uh-huh."

"With just your hand."

"Uh-huh."

"Since when are you so violent?"

You were actually kind of offended at that.

"I know that I bring you guys snacks after practice, but do none of you hear when I threaten other people? It's a daily occurrence."

The rubbed their necks sheepishly.

"Well, you see..."

Haz started, seemingly measuring his words.

"You're kind of like Rosa from Brooklyn Nine-Nine. No one actually knows what you're capable of, no one thinks you'd actually kill someone, but we're also kind of too scared to test you, so we just... wonder."

"Well, when you're done wondering, go take a shower so we can go celebrate, I'm hungry."

They all scrambled away in a chorus of 'yes ma'am' before you turned back to Tom with a smile on your face.

"You didn't have to punch him, you know?"

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to for weeks now."

He huffed out a laugh and kissed your forehead.

"How're your knuckles?"

"A bit sore, but I'm pretty sure that if we put some ice it'll be good, the rings took most of the impact."

You wiggled your hand, showing off the array of rings covering your fingers in what you deemed to be an aesthetically pleasing way.

"I love you, babygirl."

You kissed him, smiling into his lips.

"I love you too. Now go, shower!"

You patted his butt and laughed at the look he threw you, standing next to the field while you waited for them to get out.

Their coach came to stand next to you and you smiled at him, having taken a liking for him. He was a good teacher and treated the team well.

"Coach Jeffords."

"(Y/n)."

"What's the verdict?"

"Nurse says it's broken but we'll only know the full extent of his injuries after he gets examined at the ER. He's on his way there as we speak."

You nodded.

"You'll be pleased to know that he's been taken off the team and suspended for a week for unruly behavior. His parents aren't going to press charges since they feel it's deserved."

You smirked evilly.

"I'd advise you to watch out for Pembroke. He's starting to become a nuisance. If he keeps it up, he might be next."

He nodded, fighting back his smile even though you knew damn well he agreed.

"I'll do my best."

"And I'll do mine."

"(Y/n)! Ready to go?"

You nodded in goodbye at the coach and walked over to a freshly showered Tom, interlacing your fingers.

"Always."

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you)

PERMA TAG 

@jeezkiddo @beananacake @yoinkyourheart @averyfosterthoughts​ @onebigolemess​ @samoney69​ @agirlwithpointlessideas​ @ddaawwssoonn @inhumanwithpowers​ @imagineshere-forall​ @stiles-banshees​ @orowit​ @spideynut​ @deathofmissjackson​ @ephemeral-limerences​ @write-from-the-heart​ @cardboard-ben​ @my-alignment-is-bisexual​ @mendes-marvel​ @shawnsnovel​ @inthecornerchair​ @lovelynerdytraveler​ @niallssweetheart22​ 

ACTORS/RPF TAG 

@bubblegumbarnes​ @sofiaconlaz​ 

TOM HOLLAND TAG 

@tomsirishgirlx​ @dreaming-lia​ @markleehee​ @juliebean247​ @gypsystuf​ @quechulitaaa​ @theoretical-theo​ @bubblegumbarnes​  @sofiaconlaz​ @underooling​ @hannahholland1811​ @bellaaa321-blog​ @parkerpetertingle​ @emily-louise-hynes @clara-licht​ @ekelly2015​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @quaksonhehe​ @danicarosaline​ @arts-ismything​ @peachyafshawn @tutuabby28​ @sovereignparker​ @tokhalaxoxo​ @cathwritestragediesnotsins​ @incorrect-things​ 

[solitvdcs]

* kathryn newton, cis female + she/her | you know adeline de-larouche, right? they’re twenty-three, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, their whole life? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to ultimate by lindsay lohan like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole awkward angles and fifty shots for the perfect instagram picture, matching your manicure to your shoes, beach day without actually going in the water thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is october 29, so they’re a scorpio, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

trigger warning for alcohol, rehab, and abortion

full name: adeline cora de-larouche

birth date: october,29, 1997

pronouns: she/her

hometown: irving, north carolina

sexuality: bisexual

height: 5′1″

eye color: blue

hair color: blonde

build: athletic

tattoos: three zelda life hearts on the back of her neck (one for each triplet)

piercings: none, it’s a pain in the ass taking piercings out for competitions

style: preppy boho, basically

favorite color: pink

favorite food: sushi

zodiac: scorpio sun, libra moon, leo rising

mbti: estj

hogwarts house: slytherin

enneagram: type 3 wing 4

temperament: choleric-sanguine

alignment: chaotic neutral

bio bullet points

so you’ve read the story twice before: well-off family, cold and absent mother, parents divorce at age 3 and dad remarries later on and they have a brady bunch esque life (i could never write it up as good as mack and tessa, so i leave it at that)

adeline, the oldest triplet, had always been the attention hog of the three — possibly of the eight total, and from a young age, she knew exactly what to do to get the attention on her. cry when you need to, kiss up when you need to, throw a tantrum when you need to… she had her claws dug into her dad and stepmom and older stepsiblings before she truly understood what she was doing, but once she did understand, she didn’t stop

ade wanted to be the best at everything, and though she had a natural talent for many things (gymnastics, singing, dancing, painting the nails on her left hand without help), she also wasn’t one to give up if she wasn’t getting it. “where there’s a will, there’s a way” was her motto, and she believed if she kept doing the right things she would always come out on top. and it kept working for her, so why fix something that’s not broken?

by high school, ade had learned how to work her way to the top of every pyramid, literally and figuratively. a flyer on the cheerleading team and starter in a couple track relays, member of any club she could physically fit into her schedule, fluent in french and learning other languages along the way; she was a walking ivy league application. she was president of most of the clubs by her senior year, cheerleading co-captain, head of the prom committee; the only thing she hadn’t nailed down was prom queen, but she had gotten homecoming queen (a lesser title, in her opinion, but she digresses). she worked extra hard for everything she had, and though half the work was kissing up and being fake, it was worth it

she was also known for being a tease, where she would flirt and kiss and make people want her, but would leave them hanging before things got too serious. it was her way of protecting herself, keeping everyone at arm’s length. plus, she didn’t really think any of the people she went to high school with were “worth it”

ALCOHOL/REHAB TW dad’s rehab stint didn’t affect her outwardly, because she’d already spent her whole life developing the image she wanted everyone to perceive. she did, however, jump into a “leadership” role in the household to help their stepmom, though she was definitely more bossy and controlling than maternal. maybe remnants of her own mother left in her, but she wouldn’t acknowledge that END TW

the only de-larouche triplet to leave home, ade got a cheerleading scholarship to usc, as well as major academic scholarships and grants. and freshman year she met a senior boy, fell in love, and gave away the thing she’d been holding onto so tightly. and her first time was all it took to result in something that could throw her perfectly curated life plan completely off track.

ABORTION TW the “love of her life” ghosted her after getting what he wanted, and she never told him about the late period. she drove herself to planned parenthood, sat by herself in the waiting room, and drove herself back to campus after. she never breathed a word of it to anyone, not even atty and drom. she closed herself off to love after that and continued what she’d always done: climbing the ladder END TW

ade graduated summa cum laude with a degree in computer science, ended her tenure as president of her sorority and cheerleading captain, learned american sign language, and had no further pregnancy scares. and while she fell in love with california, she missed her family more and moved back home for grad school. her life now revolves around her programming job at a local video game company, guesting on atty’s twitch stream, and teaching gracelynn how to get her way (much to atty’s dismay)

[tangenciales]

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[beardedchrisevans]

CHRIS EVANS IS READY TO FIGHT His success as captain america has made Chris Evans one of Hollywood's sure things, which means he can do whatever he wants with his free time. So why jump out of airplanes and get into it with David Duke?

The Canadian commandos are the first to jump. Our plane reaches an altitude of about eight thousand feet; the back door opens. Although it's a warm winter day below in rural southern California, up here, not so much. In whooshes freezing air and the cold reality that this is actually happening. Out drop the eight commandos, all in black-and-red camouflage, one after the other. For them it's a training exercise, and Jesus, these crazy bastards are stoked. The last Canuck to exit into the nothingness is a freakishly tall stud with a crew cut and a handlebar mustache; just before he leaps, he flashes a smile our way. Yeah, yeah, we get it: You're a badass.

Moments later, the plane's at ten thousand feet, and the next to go are a Middle Eastern couple in their late thirties. These two can't wait. They are ecstatic. Skydiving is clearly a thing for them. Why? I can't help thinking. Is it like foreplay? Do they rush off to the car after landing and get it on in the parking lot? They give us the thumbs-up and they're gone.

Just like that, we're at 12,500 feet and it's our turn. Me and Chris Evans, recognized throughout the universe as the star of the Marvel-comic-book-inspired Captain America and Avengers movies. The five films in the series, which began in 2011 with Captain America: The First Avenger, have grossed more than $4 billion.

The two of us, plus four crew members, are the only ones left in the back of the plane. Over the loud drone of the twin propellers, one of the crew members shouts, "Okay, who's going first?"

Evans and I are seated on benches opposite each other. Neither of us answers. I look at him; he looks at me. I feel like I've swallowed a live rat. Evans is over there, all Captain America cool, smiling away.

While we were waiting to board the plane, Evans told me that as he lay in bed the night before, "I started exploring the sensation of 'What if the chute doesn't open?'. . ."

Oh, did you now?

". . .Those last minutes where you know." As in you know you're going to fatally splat. "You're not gonna pass out; you're gonna be wide awake. So what? Do I close my eyes? Hopefully, it would be quick. Lights out. I fucking hope it would be quick. And then I was like, if you're gonna do it, let's just pretend there is no way this is going to go wrong. Just really embrace it and jump out of that plane with gusto." Evans also shared that he'd looked up the rate of skydiving fatalities. "It's, like, 0.006 fatalities per one thousand jumps. So I figure our odds are pretty good."

Again the crew member shouts, "Who's going first?"

Again I look at Evans; again he looks at me. The rat is running circles in my belly.

I look at Evans; he looks at me.

Another crew member asks, "So whose idea was this, anyway?"

That's an excellent question.

I ask Evans the same thing when we first meet, the evening before our jump, at his house. He lives atop the Hollywood Hills, in a modern-contemporary ranch in the center of a Japanese-style garden. The place has the vibe of an L.A. meditation retreat—there's even a little Buddha statue on the front step.

The dude who opens the front door is in jeans, a T-shirt, and Nikes; he has on a black ball cap with the NASA logo, and his beard is substantial enough that for a second it's hard to be sure this is the same guy who plays the baby-faced superhero. Our handshake in the doorway is interrupted when his dog rockets toward my crotch. Evans is sorry about that.

We do the small-talk thing. Evans is from a suburb of Boston, one of four kids raised by Dad, a dentist, and Mom, who ran a community theater. The point is, he's a Patriots fan, and with Super Bowl LI, between the Pats and the Falcons, just a few days away at the time, it's about the only thing on his mind. You bet your Sam Adams–guzzling ass he's going to the game in Houston. "Oh my God," he says, doing a little dance. "I can't believe it's this weekend."

Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.

Evans won't be rolling to SB LI with a posse of Beantown-to-Hollywood A-listers like Mark Wahlberg, Matt Damon, and Ben Affleck. For the record, he's never met Damon, and his only interaction with Wahlberg was a couple years ago at a Patriots event. Evans has, however, humiliated himself in front of Affleck.

Around 2006, Evans met with Affleck to talk about Gone Baby Gone, which Affleck was directing. Evans was walking down a hallway, looking for the room where they were supposed to meet. Walking by an open office, he heard Affleck, in that thick Boston accent of his, shout, "There he is!" (Evans does a perfect Affleck impersonation.)

By then, Evans had hit the big time for his turn as the Human Torch, Johnny Storm, in 2005's Fantastic Four, but he still got starstruck. As he tells it, "First thing I say to him: 'Am I going to be okay where I parked?' He was like, 'Where did you park?' I said, 'At a meter.' And he was like, 'Did you put money in the meter?' And I said, 'Yep.' And he says, 'Well, I think you'll be okay.' I was like, this is off to a great fucking start." Stating the obvious here: Evans did not get the part.

No, Evans will be heading to the Super Bowl with his brother and three of his closest buddies. Like any self-respecting Pats fan, Evans is super-wicked pissed at NFL commissioner Roger Goodell for imposing that suspension on Tom Brady for Deflategate. Grabbing two beers from a fridge that's otherwise basically empty, Evans says, "I just want to see Goodell hand the trophy to Brady. Goodell. Piece of shit."

In Evans's living room, there's not a single hint of his Captain Americaness. Earth tones, tables that appear to be made of reclaimed wood. Open. Uncluttered. Glass doors open onto a backyard with a stunning view of the Hills. Evans stretches out on one of two couches. I take the other and ask, "Just whose idea was it to jump?" Since we both know whose idea it wasn't, we both know that what I'm really asking is Why? Why, dude, do you want to jump (with me) from a goddamn airplane? "Yeah," he says, popping open his beer, "I don't know what I was thinking."

Settling in on the couch, he groans. Evans explains that he's hurting all over because he just started his workout routine the day before to get in shape for the next two Captain America films. The movies will be shot back to back beginning in April. After that, no more red- white-and-blue costume for the thirty-five-year-old. He will have fulfilled his contract.

"Yeah," he says, popping open his beer, "I don't know what I was thinking."

Back in 2010, Marvel presented Evans with a nine-picture deal. He insisted he'd sign on for no more than six. Some family members thought he was nuts to dial back such a secure and lucrative gig. Evans saw it differently.

It takes five months to shoot a Marvel movie, and when you tack on the promotional obligations for each one, well, shit, man. Evans knew that for as long as he was bound to Captain America, he would have little time to take on other projects. He wanted to direct, he wanted to play other characters—roles that were more human—like the lead in Gifted, which will hit theaters this month. The script had brought him to tears. Evans managed to squeeze the movie in between Captain America and Avengers films.

In Gifted, Evans stars as Frank Adler. You don't get much more human than Adler, a grease-under-his-nails boat-engine mechanic living the bachelor life in Florida. After a series of tragic circumstances, Adler becomes a surrogate father to his niece, Mary, a first-grader with the IQ of Einstein. He recognizes that Mary is a little genius, and he does his best to prevent anyone else from noticing. Given the aforementioned circumstances, Adler has witnessed what can happen when a kid with a brilliant mind is pushed too hard too quickly. Then along comes Mary's teacher. She discovers the child's gift, and a Kramer vs. Kramer–esque drama ensues.

During a moment in the film when things aren't going Adler's way, he sarcastically refers to himself as a "fucking hero." Evans says the line didn't lead him to make comparisons between superhero Steve Rogers (aka Captain America) and Everyman hero Frank Adler. But now that you mention it . . . 

"With Steve Rogers," Evans says, "even though you're on a giant movie with a huge budget and strange costumes, you're still on a hunt for the truth of the character." That said, "with Adler, it's nice to play someone relatable. I think Julianne Moore said, 'The audience doesn't come to see you; they come to see themselves.' Adler is someone you can hold up as a mirror for someone in the audience. They'll be able to far more easily identify with Frank Adler than Steve Rogers."

Dodger. That's the name of Evans's dog, the one who headbutted my nuts and has since done a marvelous job of making amends by nuzzling against me on the couch. Evans got him while he was filming Gifted; one of the last scenes was shot in an animal shelter in Georgia. Evans had wanted a dog ever since his last pooch died in 2012. Then he found himself walking the aisles of this pound, and there was this mixed-breed boxer, wagging his tail and looking like he belonged with Evans.

Dodger is not exactly a name you'd think a die-hard Boston sports fan would pick. His boys from back home have given him a ton of shit over it. But he has not abandoned his Red Sox for the L.A. team. As a kid, he loved the Disney animated movie Oliver & Company, and his favorite character was Dodger. Anticipating the grief he was going to get from his pals, Evans considered other names. "You could name your dog Doorknob," he says, "and in a month he's fucking Doorknob." Evans's mom convinced him to go with his gut.

Right around when Evans was wrapping Gifted and heading back to L.A. with Dodger, the 2016 presidential campaign was still in that phase when no one, including the actor—a Hillary Clinton supporter—thought Trump had a shot. He still can't believe Trump won.

"I feel rage," he says. "I feel fury. It's unbelievable. People were just so desperate to hear someone say that someone is to blame. They were just so happy to hear that someone was angry. Hear someone say that Washington sucks. They just want something new without actually understanding. I mean, guys like Steve Bannon—Steve Bannon!—this man has no place in politics."

Evans has made, and continues to make, his political views known on Twitter. He tweeted that Trump ought to "stop energizing lies," and he recently ended up in a heated Twitter debate with former KKK leader David Duke over Trump's pick of Jeff Sessions for attorney general. Duke baselessly accused Evans of being anti-Semitic; Evans encouraged Duke to try love: "It's stronger than hate. It unites us. I promise it's in you under the anger and fear." Making political statements and engaging in such public exchanges is a rather risky thing for the star of Captain America to do. Yes, advisors have said as much to him. "Look, I'm in a business where you've got to sell tickets," he says. "But, my God, I would not be able to look at myself in the mirror if I felt strongly about something and didn't speak up. I think it's about how you speak up. We're allowed to disagree. If I state my case and people don't want to go see my movies as a result, I'm okay with that."

Trump. Bannon. Politics. Now Evans is animated. He gets off the couch, walks out onto his porch, and lights a cigarette. "Some people say, 'Don't you see what's happening? It's time to yell,' " Evans says. "Yeah, I see it, and it's time for calm. Because not everyone who voted for Trump is going to be some horrible bigot. There are a lot of people in that middle; those are the people you can't lose your credibility with. If you're trying to change minds, by spewing too much rhetoric you can easily become white noise."

Evans has a pretty remarkable "How I got to Hollywood" story.

During his junior year of high school, he knew he wanted to act. He was doing it a lot. In school. At his mom's theater. He loved it. "When you're doing a play at thirteen years old and have opening night? None of my friends had opening nights. 'I can't have a sleepover, guys; I have an opening night tonight.' "

That same year, he did a two-man play. For all of the twenty-plus plays Evans had done up to that point, preparation meant going home, memorizing lines, and doing a few run-throughs with the cast. However, for this play, Fallen Star, he and his costar would rehearse by running dialogue with each other. Hour upon hour, night after night.

Fallen Star is about two friends, one of whom has just died. As the play opens, one of the characters comes home after the funeral to find his dead friend's ghost. Evans was the ghost. Waiting backstage on opening night, he knew he didn't have every line memorized, but he had the essence and emotion of the play down. Onstage, he remembers, "I was saying the lines not because they were memorized but because the play was in me. I was believing what I was saying."

He was hooked. He wanted to do more of this kind of acting—real acting. He wanted to do films, in which the camera was right on him and he could just be the character, rather than theater, in which an actor must perform to the back of the room.

A family friend who was a television actor advised Evans that if he wanted to go to Hollywood, he needed an agent. Toward the end of his junior year, he had a ballsy request for his parents: If he found an internship with a casting agent in New York City, would they allow him to live there and cover the rent? They agreed. Evans landed a gig with Bonnie Finnegan, who was then working on the television show Spin City.

"I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life." Until it wasn't.

Evans chose to intern with a casting agent because he figured he had more of a chance to interact with other agents trying to get auditions for their clients.

The kid was sixteen years old.

Finnegan put Evans on the phone; his responsibilities included setting up appointments for auditions. By the end of the summer, he picked the three agents he had the best rapport with and asked each of them to give him a five-minute audition. All three said yes. After seeing his audition, all three were interested.

Evans went with the one Finnegan recommended, Bret Adams, who told Evans to return to New York for auditions in January, television pilot season. Back home, Evans doubled up on a few classes the first semester of his senior year, graduated early, and went back to New York in January. He got the same shithole apartment in Brooklyn and the same internship with Finnegan. He landed a part on the pilot Opposite Sex. Even better, the show got picked up and would start shooting in L.A. that fall.

"I know I'm going to L.A. in August," Evans says, recalling that period. "So I go home and that spring I would wake up around noon, saunter into high school just to see my buddies, and we'd go get high in the parking lot. I just fucked off. I lost my virginity that year. 1999 was one of the best years of my life." Until it wasn't.

He wasn't in L.A. for even a month when he got a call from home. His parents were divorcing. Evans never saw it coming.

Family and love and the struggles therein are part of what attracted Evans to Gifted.

"In my own life, I have a deep connection with my family and the value of those bonds," he says. "I've always loved stories about people who put their families before themselves. It's such a noble endeavor. You can't choose your family, as opposed to friends. Especially in L.A. You really get to see how friendships are put to the test; it stirs everyone's egos. But if something goes south with a friend, you have the option to say we're not friends anymore. Your family—that's your family. Trying to make that system work and trying to make it not just functional but actually enjoyable is a really challenging endeavor, and that's certainly how it is with my family."

In the plane, a decision is made.

"I want to see you jump first," Evans shouts my way.

Of course he does.

Like any respectable and legal skydiving center, Skydive Perris, which is providing us with this "experience," doesn't just strap a chute on your back. First, you go to a room for a period of instruction. Then you go to another room, where you sign away your rights.

You may be wondering how the star of a billion-dollar franchise with two pictures to shoot gets clearance to jump from an airplane—never mind the low rate of fatalities, as Evans has presented it. So am I.

"Well, they give you all these crazy insurance policies, but even if I die, what are they going to do? Sue my family? They'd probably cast some new guy at a cheaper price and save some money."

Thinking the answer is almost certainly going to be no, I ask Evans if he's ever gone skydiving before. Turns out he has, with an ex-girlfriend. Turns out that ex-girlfriend is now married to Justin Timberlake. Evans and Jessica Biel dated off and on from 2001 to 2006. They took the leap together when Biel hatched the idea for one Valentine's Day. According to media accounts, Evans was recently dating his Gifted costar Jenny Slate, who plays the teacher. "Yeah," he says, "but I'm steering clear of those questions." You can almost feel his heart pinch.

"There's a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who's not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around."

We end up broadly discussing the unique challenges an international star like Evans faces when it comes to dating, specifically the trust factor. Evans supposes that's why so many actors date other actors: "There's a certain shared life experience that is tough for someone else who's not in this industry to kind of wrap their head around," he says. "Letting someone go to work with someone for three months and they won't see them. It really, it certainly puts the relationship to the test."

In Gifted, there's a moment when Slate's character asks Adler what his greatest fear is. Frank Adler's greatest fear is that he'll ruin his niece's life. Evans's greatest fear is having regrets.

"Like always kind of wanting to be there as opposed to here. I think I'm worried all of a sudden I'll get old and have regrets, realize that I've not cultivated enough of an appreciation for the now and surrendering to the present moment."

Evans's musings have something to do with the fact that he has been reading The Surrender Experiment. "It's about the basic notion that we are only in a good mood when things are going our way," he says. "The truth is, life is going to unfold as it's going to unfold regardless of your input. If you are an active participant in that awareness, life kind of washes over you, good or bad. You kind of become Teflon a little bit to the struggles that we self-inflict."

He continues: "Our conscious minds are very spread out. We worry about the past. We worry about the future. We label. And all of that stuff just makes us very separate. What I'm trying to do is just quiet it down. Put that brain down from time to time and hope those periods of quiet and stillness get longer. When you do that, what rises from the mist is a kind of surrendering. You're more connected as opposed to being separate. A lot of the questions about destiny or fate or purpose or any of that stuff—it's not like you get answers. You just realize you didn't need the questions."

This here—this stuff about surrendering, letting life unfold, taking the leap—this is why he wanted to go skydiving. It's why that sixteen-year-old took the leap and did the summer in New York; it's why he took the leap and turned down the nine-picture deal; it's why he got Dodger. Surrender. Take the leap.

And so I go first.

Oh, one important detail: Novice jumpers like Evans and me, we don't jump solo. Thank God. Each of us is doing a tandem jump. Each of us is strapped with our back to a professional jumper's front. I'm strapped to a forty-four-year-old dude named Paul. Considering what's about to happen, I figure I should know a little something about Paul. He tells me he used to own a bar in Chicago. Evans is strapped to a young woman named Sam, who looks to be twenty-something. She's got a purplish-pink streak in her black hair and says things like "badass." In fact, Sam introduced herself  by saying, "I'm Sam, but you can call me Badass."

At the plane's open door, my mind goes to my wife and two teenage sons, to those I love, and to the texts I just sent in case my chute fails. Then Paul and I—well, really mostly Paul—rock gently back and forth to build momentum to push away from the plane, to push away from all that seems sane.

Three.

Two.

One.

Holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK. This is what I scream as we free-fall from 12,500 feet, at more than a hundred miles an hour, toward the earth. Which I cannot take my eyes off of. I think about nothing. Not living. Not dying. Nothing. I simply feel . . . I have let go.

Suddenly, it all stops. I'm jerked up. Paul has pulled the chute, and it does indeed open. This is fantastic, because it means we have a much better chance of not dying. But it's also kind of a bummer. I had let go. Of everything. I had chosen to play those odds Evans had talked about. I had embraced jumping and letting life unfold.

Now I had been jerked back. I would land. Back on the earth I had been so high above and from which I had been so far removed. Back in all of it.

Once I'm on the ground, safe and in one piece, a staffer runs over and asks how I feel. I say, "I feel like Captain America."

The staffer runs over and asks Evans the same question. He says he feels great. Then he's asked another question: What was your favorite part?

"Jumping out," he says. "Jumping out is always a real thrill."

This article appears in the April '17 issue of Esquire.

[mvalleefootball-blog]

Trump vs The NFL

By Michael Vallee

BostonFootballBlog@yahoo.com

The tone and tenor of last Sunday’s games changed on Friday night when the President of the United States, while giving a fiery speech in Alabama, decided to take some shots at the NFL and its players, specifically those that chose not to stand during the National Anthem.  This set off a fierce reaction across the NFL amongst both players and management, much of it centered around what they would do during the Anthem week 3.  Here are some of the highlights:

-Hail to the Chief:  This latest and heated chapter in the Anthem brouhaha started Friday night with this quote from Trump:

“Wouldn’t you love to see one of these NFL owners, when somebody disrespects our flag, to say, ‘Get that son of a bitch off the field right now. Out! He’s fired. He’s fired!’”

-For starters, with President Trump currently in a dick-measuring contest with nuclear “Rocket man” Kim Jong Un and millions of Americans dealing with the devastation wrought by multiple hurricanes, I’m glad his priorities are to worry about what NFL players are doing during the National Anthem.  Of course Trump would later deny this was a distraction and, in the Trumpiest way possible, justify focusing on this issue by claiming, “I have plenty of time on my hands….all I do is work.”  Excuse me Mr. President but I believe those are mutually exclusive.  Trump then suggested a boycott of the NFL:

“When people like yourselves turn on television and you see those people taking the knee when they’re playing our great national anthem. The only thing you could do better is if you see it, even if it’s one player, leave the stadium. I guarantee things will stop. Things will stop. Just pick up and leave. Pick up and leave. Not the same game anymore, anyway.”

-The President is now drifting into unprecedented waters as it is almost unfathomable for a sitting President to suggest a boycott of a private business, particularly one as important and powerful as the NFL.  Can you imagine the reaction by Trump supporters if President Obama suggested people stop going to Walmart because he doesn’t like one of their policies.  The following day on Twitter, Trump continued to tread towards dangerous and, again, unprecedented waters when he tweeted this:

“If a player wants the privilege of making millions of dollars in the NFL or other leagues, he or she should not be allowed to disrespect our Great American Flag (or Country) and should stand for the National Anthem. If not, YOU’RE FIRED. Find something else to do!”

-While this isn’t a full-blown assault on the First Amendment, after all he’s not sending in troops to arrest kneeling football players, it is dangerously close.  It is unheard of for a sitting President to express that somebody should lose their job if they express a certain opinion, regardless of what that opinion is.  And how about the President double-dipping with his Apprentice catch-phrase, “You’re Fired!”  It’s probably not wise for a President to remind everybody that his most recent work experience consisted of vital decisions like whether or not to fire Gary Busey.  I suspect some of Trump’s staff wish they could take away his First Amendment rights.

-Flippity Floppity:  It’s worth noting that Trump hasn’t exactly been consistent on this issue.  In a 2015 appearance on the Late Show he said Letterman was “100 percent right” to defend flag-burning as an act of free-expression.

-Emperor Mnuchin:  It also doesn’t help when your Secretary of the Treasury, Steve Mnuchin says this, “Players have the right for free speech off the field. On the field, this is about respect for lots of people…”

Sorry Steve, but that’s not how it works.  Our Constitution and it’s sacred Amendments are not part-time commitments to be applied when certain members of the government see fit.  Then again what do you expect from Mnuchin who might have married the worst human being on earth.  Seriously, Google, “Louise Linton terrible person”.

-Nuclear Reaction:  Not surprisingly, the reaction to Trump’s comments from current and former players went something like this:

“It’s a shame and disgrace when you have the president of the US calling citizens of the country sons of a bitches.”  -Bishop Sankey

“It’s really sad man ... our president is an asshole.”  -LeSean McCoy

-Colin Kaepernick’s Mom might have had the funniest response:  “I guess that makes me a proud bitch.”

-Robert Kraft and Tom Brady, both of whom received some backlash for their support of Trump during the presidential campaign, criticised the President’s comments with Brady calling them “divisive” and Kraft issuing a statement lamenting the “tone” of the comments.

With much anticipation, Sunday arrived and suddenly all eyes were on the first 5 minutes of every game, and if you were looking for drama it did not disappoint.

-Pass the Crumpets Old Boy:  It started with the first game, Ravens vs Jaguars in London.  Both teams had players kneel during the Anthem, with the Ravens adding a special touch by including murder accomplice team leader Ray Lewis.  It should be noted that both teams stood for Britain’s National Anthem, “God Save the Queen”.  It’s certainly a strange look to kneel for your Anthem on foreign soil but stand for an Anthem that is basically an ode to some pretend title whose primary job description is to look fancy and wave funny.

-Pats take a Knee:  Several players from the New England Patriots took a knee for the first time all year, including Devin McCourty and Malcolm Brown.  Other players, such as Tom Brady, choose to stand and lock arms.  Belichick issued this statement then surprised nobody by going mum on the topic.  The statement was predictably safe and vague and told us little about how this guy, who once drafted a long-snapper in the 5th round just because he went to Navy, really feels.

-The Pittsburgh Steelers chose to remain in their locker room during the Anthem but because Mike Tomlin is about as good at managing his team as he is at game-planning for the Patriots, things didn’t quite go as planned.  They went something like this: Steelers decide to stay in the locker room, but their LT Alejandro Villanueva is a badass war hero and decides he wants to be outside during the Anthem, then someone takes a picture of Villanueva alone with his hand over his heart during the Anthem prompting his jersey to become the number one selling jersey in the NFL and triggering his coach to say something about team unity which causes Villanueva to apologize for breaking away from his team even though Tomlin says he wasn’t actually criticising the left tackle and thus the apology was unnecessary, particularly because Villanueva says he got permission from captain Ben Roethlisberger who later claimed he regretted the decision to stay in the locker room in the first place.  Got it.  I have a headache, let’s move on.

-Shut Up and Sing:  The Falcons/Lions game was witness to a National Anthem first when Anthem singer Rico Lavelle took a knee at the end of the song.  I attended the Roger Waters concert Wednesday night at the TD Garden and the excessively political Waters also took a knee and was loudly booed by some in attendance even though it wasn’t even during the National Anthem.  Perhaps they just wanted to hear more music but there is also a chance we have all lost our collective minds.

-Texas Two-Step:  For those players that did not take a knee many choose to stand and lock arms, like the Houston Texans, whose entire team stood arm-and-arm during the Anthem.  On Monday Night Football the Cowboys added a wrinkle with the entire team kneeling arm-and-arm before the Anthem was played or the American flag was displayed, then standing during the Anthem.  This made for some good television as there are few things more out of place and awkwardly entertaining than watching Jerry Jones attempting to do the right thing.

-Nuclear Reaction 2.0:  Of course, all of this Anthem activity led to a bevy of reactions:

-The Patriot Way:  One of the strongest initial reactions was from former Patriot LT Matt Light who watched the game from a private suite at Gillette with a Seal Team 6 member, a widow of a Seal Team 6 member and 91-year-old WW II vet.  Speaking on radio Light said, “I feel like it’s the first time I’ve ever felt disappointed in this team.  That’s not the Patriot way.”  Light continued, “We should be standing for the National Anthem…..we should honor and respect what the National Anthem stands for, and if you can’t stand for it, you’re wrong.”  Light later said that the Seal Team 6 widow cried when the players took a knee and implied that taking a knee during the Anthem was disrespectful to those that served our country.  

It’s easy to understand where Light is coming from and clearly his heart is in the right place, but I don’t understand this direct link many draw between the Anthem and our military.  I personally would never kneel during the National Anthem, for any reason, but I don’t consider such an act some sort of direct attack on our military, and it seems unfair to put that label on the protesters.  The Anthem is not a song for our military it is a song for our country and the reality is many vets have expressed support for those that are protesting.  Patriots WR Brandin Cooks, who also took a knee, appeared to be reacting to those accusations when he went out of his way to remind everyone that his Dad was a Marine, his uncle was a Marine and he has “The utmost respect for the men and women that fight for our freedom”.

-View from the Slot:  Representing the other side, ex-Patriot Troy Brown called Trump’s comments “offensive” and “outrageous” and asked the President to apologize.  He then added, “So please sir, please refrain from the insults of not just NFL football players but many people who don’t look like you.”  Good luck with that Troy but apologies aren’t exactly the President’s thing.

-You Might be a Redneck:  The strong reactions were not limited to the NFL.  NASCAR legend Richard Petty, a guy with red, white and blue blood pumping thru his veins, went full blown Toby Keith at the NH Motor Speedway when asked about the protests,  “Anybody that don’t stand up for the anthem ought to be out of the country. Period. What got ’em where they’re at? The United States.”  A little harsh, no?  Throwing people out of the country for not standing for an Anthem sounds a lot more like Berlin in the 1930s.  Kind of ironic that he would say that in the “Live Free or Die” state.

-Dale Earnhardt Jr, however, decided to remind us that not everybody in NASCAR shares the same brain, when he responded with this JFK inspired tweet, “All Americans are granted right to peaceful protests.  Those who make peaceful revolution impossible, make violent revolution inevitable.”  Now that takes balls to defend a bunch of black guys taking a knee during the National Anthem when you are a superstar in the whitest red neck sport in America.

-Burning Man:  Fan reactions also rolled in, with Swansea, Massachusetts taking the lead Thursday night, as Patriots fan Mark Shane hosted an awkward and slightly depressing jersey burning party where apparently no actual jerseys were burned.  Instead it just looked like an excuse to sit around a fire pit, wave American flags, sing Lee Greenwood and burn some old t-shirts.  Watching the video of this patriotic pop-up party I couldn’t help but wonder if any of the participants blame the man most responsible for all the NFL kneel downs that occurred last Sunday - President Trump.  Prior to Trump lashing out at NFL players for kneeling during the Anthem, roughly a dozen players had done so, but on Sunday that numbered ballooned up to an estimated 300, almost all the direct result of Trump’s comments.  Perhaps Trump should make this a permanent tactic and start telling people to do the opposite of what he really wants.   

-Ballad of the Green Beret:  If you’re wondering why sitting during the Anthem shifted to kneeling during the Anthem you can thank former long-snapper and Green Beret Nate Boyer, who had an impactful discussion with the guy that got this whole ball rolling, Colin Kaepernick.  Boyer explained to Kaepernick how soldiers take a knee in front of a fallen comrades grave as a sign of respect, and suggested Kaepernick do the same.  Kaepernick was moved by this suggestion and eventually changed tactics, from sitting to kneeling.  

-Silence is Golden:  Kaepernick has been surprisingly quiet during this week and that might be a good thing.  Even if you agree with his motivation to protest the Anthem he has always been a deeply flawed face of the movement who is prone to insulting the police, making bizarre comments like his factually inaccurate praise of Cuba and appearing to be nothing more than a mouthpiece for his outspoken girlfriend.  Kaepernick said he is done kneeling but if he is signed it would be hard to imagine him not joining the fray with how much the landscape has changed on this issue.

-Place your Bets:  Here’s something you can always count on:  If anything sports related captures the national conscience, then somebody will make sure that you can bet on it.  This week Bovada released an under/over for the number of teams that will stay in the locker room during the National Anthem Week 4 of the NFL.  The number was set at 3.  They also released this interesting prop bet:

What will happen first during the NFL season:

-Trump attends an NFL game: +150

-Colin Kaepernick signs with an NFL team: -200  

-The Anthem protests finally jumped sports this week with Oakland A’s catcher Bruce Maxwell taking a knee to provide a voice for the “voiceless”.  He also kept his hand over his heart while kneeling and made a point after the game of reaffirming his love for this country and pointed out that his father is a military vet.  With the NBA season around the corner it will be interesting to see what the players do in a league that is overwhelmingly black yet has a rule that you must stand for the National Anthem.

-I Know You Are but What Am I:  This week Trump also decided that going to war with one sports league wasn’t enough and dragged the NBA onto the cultural battlefield when he rescinded an invitation to Steph Curry to attend a White House ceremony for the NBA champion Golden State Warriors.  That’s gotta be the first disinvitation in presidential history.  Does it count as a disinvitation if the other party had zero intention of accepting your initial invitation?  What’s next, is Trump going to disinvite Kim Jong Un from his birthday party?

-Face of the league LeBron James chimed in, because LeBron literally has to inject himself into everything, calling Trump a “bum” on Twitter.  LeBron commented in earlier in the week on Trump’s feud with NFL players saying, “The people run the country, not one individual - and damn sure not him”.

-High Horse:  Perhaps no NBA personality had a more passionate reaction to this week’s events than Gregg Popovich who went on a self-righteous rant where he declared, amongst other things, that “People have to be made to feel uncomfortable; especially white people.  We still have no clue what being white means…..Because you were born white, you have advantages systemically, culturally, psychology there.”  It is unfortunate we convolute everything into race when so many so called “advantages” are often economic based.  I personally have several white friends that grew up in housing projects and had to deal with everything from poverty and welfare to drug abuse and mental illness.  One of my friends practically took care of his entire family because his father was doing life in prison.  Does he sound like somebody that was born with systemic advantages?  Yes racism is still a problem in this country but not to the degree where it should be automatically injected into all discussions of social issues, many of which transcend race.

[raging-violets]

Never A Dull Moment // KillerFlareFlashVibe

Characters: Barry Allen, Caitlin Snow, Cisco Ramon, Cadence Nash (aka KillerFlareFlashVibe)

Summary – On a slow day at STAR Labs, Team Flash blow off some steam by playing an old kid’s game.

Words: 2998

Also found here on FFN (x)

-

“I’m so bored,” Cisco murmured, resting his chin in his hands. His face, illuminated by the computer screen in front of him stayed frozen for a second. Exactly a second. Then he sat back and looked around. “Did I say that?”

“Yes, Cisco, you did.” Caitlin’s voice was tight, shoulders tense, fingers tightly gripping the pen in between her fingers. “Just like you have every minute for the last twenty minutes. We get it, you’re bored!”

Barry lifted his chin, pushing back the hood of his hoodie with a push under the brim of his forward-facing baseball cap. “Yeah, and you’re not making it any easier for the rest of us, man,” Barry added. His legs were fully extended, feet resting on the edge of the desk, legs crossed at the ankle.

“We all get that nothing’s happening,” Cadence added. She sat on Caitlin’s other side, mimicking Cisco’s stance, chin resting in her hands, elbows sitting atop the desk. “We all have eyes. We don’t need powers for you to realize that we can’t see anything happening.”

“Well excuse me,” Cisco said. He crossed his arms, sticking his hands into his armpits. “It’s just that there’s always something that’s going on. And the one day Harry puts us on meta watch and we all don’t have anything else to do, there’s nothing going on. Now, I don’t know about you, but this meta stuff actually keeps my day going. If I had a rea office job, I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

Cadence gave him a look. “I have an office job and you don’t hear me complaining.”

“You get to mess with dead people all day, that’s cool.”

“Ha! And have Captain Singh breathe down my neck all day? Have the threat of going to court to testify every day? Constantly wondering if the body is really dead and isn’t going to pop up like a Jack-in-the-Box to scare me half to death?”

Barry pointed at her. “She’s got a point.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Cisco pushed himself backwards and started to spin himself around. He made it only a few times around before having to stop, pressing his hands to the sides of his face to steady himself. “Ugh, now I feel sick.”

“Cisco, would you please stay still?” Caitlin snapped. “I can hardly think with you doing that.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Cisco defended himself.

“You’re annoying me.”

“That’s your fault, you get annoyed at every little thing.” Cisco reached up and started to flick at the ends of her hair. Barry smiled to himself, trying not to burst out laughing. Cadence was already there, giggling quietly to herself. Caitlin’s fingers tightened around her pen, fingertips all the way to her knuckles turning white. “You can’t get mad. I’m not touching you. Not touching you, can’t get mad. Not touching you, can’t get mad!”

“Cisco!” Caitlin lifted her hand and smacked Cisco’s hand away. She glared so fiercely he froze. “Do you have to act like such a baby?”

That animated him again. “I’m not a baby,” he replied. That set the two off into a little bicker-fest. Barry reached up and lowered the brim of his hat lower over his eyes, pressing his lips together. Cadence leaned back out of the way when they started to slap each other with their hands.

Finally, she placed her hands on the desk and propelled herself backwards. “Okay, Bickersons! Cool it!” She walked between Cisco and Caitlin, grabbing their shoulders to force them apart. “I already have to deal with a ten-year-old kid, I don’t need to deal with two more babies. So, we’re all bored, we need something to do.”

Barry lifted the brim of his hat once more and looked at her with an amused smile. “And you’re the one that’s going to decide for us.”

Cadence shrugged. “Of course, I’m the fun one.”

At that, Cisco whipped his head around. “I beg your pardon.”

“Compared to you three, your lives would be very dull if I weren’t around.”

“It’d be a lot quieter, that’s for sure,” Cisco mumbled. He cried out in pain when Caitlin and Cadence both whacked him on the back of the head. He brought up his hands and rubbed the lump that formed as Barry tilted his head back and laughed.

“What’d you have in mind, Cade?” Barry finally asked.

“Figures you’d take her side,” Cisco mumbled.

“I’m just trying to figure out what we can do to pass the time! I’m tired of listening to you two fight. And we all know it’d only take a minute tops for me to check the city for anything going on,” Barry pointed out. He sat up, draping his hands between his knees. “So, if there’s anything else to do anything I’m all ears.”

“Thank you, Tholly.” Cadence smiled smugly at Cisco. Then she tapped her finger against her chin, starting to pace back and forth. “Let’s see, Monopoly is only reserved for West Family Game Night. We can’t play Poker anymore after Cisco lost his rent money.”

“You cheated,” Cisco declared.

“I merely watched your face to figure out what move to make, it’s not my fault you wear your heart on your sleeve,” Cadence defended herself, not breaking stride. She continued to pace, making large circles as she went. “We can’t play Hide and Seek since Brady managed to scare nearly everyone half to death when we couldn’t find him.”

“You have to admit, he’s gotten much better with his blending powers,” Barry reminded her.

“Yes, it’s so much fun trying to find him when he’s standing directly in front of your face,” Caitlin muttered.

“You’re just mad that he scared you so badly your hair nearly turned white,” Cisco said. He shook his head. “Loudest I’ve ever heard you scream, too.” This time Cisco received a pinch on his arm. He squealed, leaning away.

Cadence snapped her fingers. “I got it, we can play the lava game.”

“The what?” Caitlin asked.

“You never played the lava game when you were a kid?” Cisco asked.

“I don’t have any brothers and sisters and I was usually with my mom visiting my dad in the hospital,” Caitlin explained. Oh yeah, right. Out of all of them, with Barry right behind, she was the one with the least of a childhood. But how could anyone not know the lava game? It was a childhood staple.

“You pretend that the floor is lava and you have to traverse from one side of a room to another without touching the ground,” Barry explained. “Iris and I used to play it all the time. Until we broke the coffee table and Joe yelled at us.”

“Joe had to deal with you two long enough, I would’ve yelled if you broke the tine of a fork,” Cisco said. He reached out and gently smacked Barry on the arm, making him laugh.

“Yeah, but the rules have changed a little,” Cadence said. She started to speak with her hands, rapidly and wildly gesticulating as she did so. “Now you have to surprise the other person with it. If you say ‘the floor is lava’ the other person only has five seconds to get onto something that’d keep you off the ground.”

“What happens if they don’t do it?” Caitlin asked.

“Then they lose,” Cadence said simply.

“Or, we could make it interesting.” Cisco stood up, rubbing his hands together gleefully. “I can see the competition in you, Miss. Nash and I’m going to make sure it’s a competition you’ll get. And the only way we can do that, of course, is with monetary gain.”

“How much were you thinking?” Barry asked.

“Not so much, I still need to pay my rent. But how about fifty bucks each?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“But you can’t use your powers.”

At that, Barry and Cadence both paused while Cisco and Caitlin smiled impishly. It would certainly be much harder for them. They went through their entire day using their powers at the slightest inconvenience. It’d be such a shame if they couldn’t use it to make sure they won the game. A shame for them anyway. He and Caitlin would have a lot fun watching them figure out how to play.

“Fine,” Cadence said. She pulled her wallet out of the pocket of her jean shorts and flipped through it. Retrieving a $50 bill, she dropped it to the counter. Barry pulled out his own wallet and did the same. Cisco was the next one and Caitlin waited a few moments, crossing her arms, thinking about it. At least, until all eyes turned her way.

“We’re supposed to be watching for any metahumans,” Caitlin said.

“Knowing our luck, nothing’s going to happen,” Cisco said. “Besides, we have all day. Just as long as our asses are back here before Harry gets back.”

“Yeah, cone on, Caitlin,” Barry agreed. “It’ll be fine.”

Caitlin sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Finally, she went to retrieve her purse, making Barry, Cadence, and Cisco all high-five.

-

The game started out before any of them realized it. They went right back to watching for any metahumans to come up. They’d waited for a half hour, all doing their own things. Caitlin was engrossed in a book she hadn’t had much time to finish, Cisco was twiddling with a prototype for a new invention he was working on, their Earth’s version of a metahuman detection watch, Cadence looked up sports scores on her phone, and Barry watched the news on the large TV screen across the Cortex.

Cadence was the first to get up, stretching her arms over her head. “I’m going to get something to eat. Does anyone want anything while I’m up?”

“Pizza Pockets,” came the unanimous replies.

“You guys are going to get fat off eating those things all the time,” Cadence remarked. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Am I going to have an avalanche of them fall out on me again?”

“Probably not,” Barry said. “I ate some more of them yesterday.”

“Barry, you only bought one box! The others were mine and Cisco’s!” Barry protested.

Barry smiled smugly at her. “Yeah, until I went and bought some more.”

“That explains why no store had them!” Cisco slapped his hands onto the side of his desk. “I thought it was a conspiracy trying to get me to stop eating them.” He glared at Caitlin when she said ‘you didn’t need cosmic intervention for that’ and said, “But to know all along it was my best friend who was cleaning me out.”

“And the refrigerator,” Caitlin added.

“Okay,” Cadence said. “I’ll get you all pizza pockets.”

“And, Cade, by the way,” Barry called towards her. The smile that came to his face mimicked that of a Cheshire Cat. “The floor is lava.”

For a moment, Cadence stared at him in confusion. Then her eyes widened and her gaze darted around the Cortex. There wasn’t much that wasn’t the floor for her to jump on. She eyed her office chair but stopped when Cisco reached out and pulled the chair away from her. All the while, Barry continued to count. “5…4…3…”

“Chairs don’t count?” She asked, voice lighting into a high-pitched shriek.

“Nope.” Cisco popped the ‘p’ on his word, smiling smugly.

“2…” Barry said.

With a low curse, Cadence sprinted across the floor of the Cortex and into the medical bay, flinging herself atop the bed with a wild leap from the doorframe. She landed haphazardly on the bed, scrambling back up to see if she got there in time.

“Almost didn’t make it,” Barry called in a sing-song voice.

“But I made it,” Cadence sang back, punching the air and wiggling in a little dance.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you,” Caitlin called.

“Can you get our pizza pockets now?” Cisco asked.

Caitlin was the next one who nearly fell for it. It was about an hour later and he was still trying to figure out how the meta-human watch worked. How were any of them supposed to know that the parts of the watch were different from theirs? As it was, he needed to get it back to Harry before he figured out he’d ‘borrowed’ the watch. And that he might’ve, accidentally destroyed it while trying to make one of his own. So that’s why they were in Harry’s office, which was really Cisco’s before the Earth-2 newcomer had taken it over, looking for any sort of blueprint to figure things out.

“We really shouldn’t be in here,” Caitlin said from the doorway.

“Oh please, your boyfriend isn’t going to find out,” Cisco shot back.

Caitlin scoffed. “That’s totally uncalled for. Just because Dr. Wells was my mentor— “

“Cait, we all know you had a thing for Dr. Wells,” Barry broke in. “It’s fine if you can’t admit it.” He leaned over Cisco’s desk, looking through a bunch of papers. Cisco and Cadence stood behind him, the two searching through some others random odds and ends strewn about. Caitlin continued to stand in the doorway.

“By the way, the floor is lava,” Cisco called. “5…”

“Cisco!”

“4…”

“This isn’t funny.”

“3…you agreed to it. 2…”

Caitlin stomped her foot on the ground like a little child, searching around the room. Finally, she pushed aside a space on the desk and quickly perched herself atop it, her feet dangling towards the ground. The tips of her toes—having had kicked off her heels—barely missed brushing against the floor. “I hate you,” she finally said.

“Join the club,” Cadence remarked. “Because that’s where we’re all going to be once Harry finds out we were in here.”

“I can’t find anything anyway,” Barry agreed.

“Bet you hate that you can’t use your powers now, huh, buddy?” Cisco teased.

“For real?”

“For real, for real,” Cadence replied, making Caitlin laugh.

Cisco slapped his hands to his sides. “But he’s right, I’m not seeing anything.” He looked over the mess they all created. Then he turned to Caitlin and rubbed his chin. “Do you think he’d be much more forgiving if we said that Caitlin was a gift for him?” He ducked out of the way before a screwdriver that Caitlin threw could impale him in the forehead.

Barry and Cisco were harder to get. They were always very close to something that would keep them up off the ground. Barry even showing his arm strength by grasping a low hanging pole that ran across the ceiling of the storage room. And Cisco had even made use of the Flash mannequin to leap atop of it like a spider when he was almost called out. But Caitlin and Cadence continued to try, coming up short each time. At one point, Cisco flung himself across the girls’ laps as they sat in their chairs and Barry had climbed atop of Cisco to stay up.

The girls started to become more difficult as well. Due to their smaller size, they could squeeze into tighter spaces, like a shelf that held medical textbooks and the tiniest space in the storage closet. Nothing within STAR Labs had been off-limits for their careening into it, knocking things over in their haste to climb up or over it. At one point, Cadence had even found herself wedged into the washing machine, nearly having to melt it to get back out.

And yet, none of them managed to get caught.

By the time the game ended, there were bruises all over their arms and legs—Barry’s healing up very quickly—badges of honor from their efforts to get away. In the end, they ultimately decided on a tie to keep from having to go through much more of it.

“Ow,” Cisco rubbed his shin, which had a nasty rug burn from landing on the Cosmic Treadmill, turning it on. “I can’t believe we decided to play this game.”

“You went along with it,” Barry pointed out.

“I was forced into it.” Caitlin glanced towards the computer screen that was flashing. “And look, we’re missing something.” Her body tensed, immediately falling back into the seriousness of the situation they had grown so accustomed to over the years.

“Let’s go,” Barry said to Cadence, jostling her arm as he did so.

Cadence winced, grabbing her arm. “Ow,” she murmured. “Well, the good news about this one is, with my powers, we can still play The Floor is Lava with them.”

“Yeah, and the loser goes to the Iron Heights,” Barry agreed before the two raced out of the Cortex.