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pastanest · 2 years ago

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if you’re wondering why I’m having to repost this, or why you were perhaps previously following me but no longer are, please refer to this post. I was able to retrieve this thanks to @dreatine - thanks so much!! ♡

Eleven Minutes

7:20…

Spencer’s phone dings, snapping his vision away from scrutinising his reflection in the mirror.

“Ok, Im now leaving, see you there!”

A text. That’s how it all started, a single text from you. He remembers it like it was yesterday, but he remembers every single one of the 14 days since, even clearer. After 7 months of no communication, you appeared on his phone.

“Just saw the cutest dog in existence”

Of course he hadnt deleted your number, and your text proved you hadnt deleted his either, or maybe you had, but you’d memorised it. He’d replied with a single perplexed question mark, and you sent him another text in seconds.

“Seriously, look, you wont believe it”

With that one, you attached a picture of the dog you’d seen, and he realised what you were doing. Breaking the ice in the least awkward way possible. And you succeeded. Everyday since, you and Spencer have been exchanging casual texts, picking up right where you left off but in a way he’d never expected.

7:22…

He checks his reflection one more time in the mirror, fixing his hair and your favourite tie of his, before texting you a reply.

“Im on my way!”

It was like you’d never broken up. Spencer coped with not having an explanation for 7 days, then he couldnt take it. The curiosity was eating at him until he finally caved and called you.

7:24…

Spencer remembered the way his heart leapt, hearing your voice for the first time in so long. It brings a smile to his face as he locks his front door and begins walking down the street.

“Spence…it’s 2am, what in the world couldnt wait just a few more hours?” He could tell he’d woken you from a deep sleep, and he felt terrible, but he couldnt put this off any longer.

“This cant wait. Please.”

You cleared your throat, sensing the seriousness of his reasoning without even knowing what it was. “Okay, okay, what’s up?”

The question fell from his lips in a hurried jumble. “Why did you start talking to me again?”

Silence.

7:24…

The streetlights guide him, and he cant help seeing the coincidence within them. Spencer only ever notices how bright the world he is when you’re around.

That night, he took a breath, about to speak, but you finally answered.

“I missed you.”

And that was all he needed. He didnt question any further, and the two of you talked on the phone until the sun came up. He knew enough, and you could always read him like a book; he knew that you knew without even asking, your feelings were reciprocated, always.

7:26…

It was light night that Spencer suggested the two of you meet up for the first time in what felt like an eternity, and it was you who asked if it would be a date. That, he said, was up to you. Well then, I guess it’s a date, he recalls you chirping, his mind replaying your excitement, causing him to light up. Spencer looks down at the ground as he walks, to hide his expression in case anyone saw him walking alone and wondered why he was smiling so widely to himself.

7:28…

Round the corner is the bar you suggested meeting at, because it’s so close to where Spencer lives, so it’s one the two of you used to visit regularly. Like old times, he thinks blissfully. You arranged to meet at half past 7, and he’s close by, he doesnt want to arrive early or before you, he doesnt want to seem overly eager, so he stops.

7:30…

Leaning against the brick wall of the building behind the bar, Spencer lets his head roll back to look up at the night sky. He’s mere seconds away from being where you want him to be, where he’ll finally get to see you again. He wonders how this will work, is he supposed to greet you with a kiss on the cheek, or a hug? And at the end of the date, what happens in this scenario? Is kissing you too forward? Too soon? Spencer knows you better than anyone, but in this situation, when the two of you havent been in each other’s presence for so long, he doesnt know how much of you still responds to him in the same way. He doesnt want his excitement to be replaced by nervousness, he shakes his head and tries to focus on the positives. Like seeing your smile, hearing your voice and your laugh in person, looking into your eyes, making you blush, performing his cheesiest pickup lines so that you dramatically swoon before the two of you collapse into fits of laughter.

Scenes play out in Spencer’s head, making him dizzy in the best way, opening the door of the butterfly cage in his stomach. It’s time. His hands begin to shake lightly at his sides as he takes a deep breath and steps away from the wall, turning in the direction of the bar. But Spencer only manages to take a single step before the sound of a gunshot pierces the air, and his blood runs cold.

…7:21

Your eyes flick down from the street in front of you every few seconds as you await his reply. He might cancel, right now, he could get cold feet or realise this is a bad idea, he could-

A gentle smile overtakes your features as you read the text from Spencer. He’s going to be there, you’re really going to see each other again. Your cheeks flush pink at the thought of him just smiling at you, you feel like a high school girl with a crush, not an adult woman going on a date with her ex. That phrasing is so bitter, you shake your head, this is a good thing! It’s going to work itself out. You two will be fine, like you always are.

…7:23

Tucking your phone into your bag and zipping it shut, you nod to yourself as a mantra of positive thoughts towards this situation flood your mind, reassuring you that this is the right thing to you.

Last night you booked a hotel room down the street so that you could walk to the bar rather than have to rely on public transport. You want to arrive on time, early even, so that you dont miss a minute of tonight.

…7:25

You clutch the strap of your bag with one hand, your other hand flattening your dress against the gentle breeze. The material of the dress is soft, it’s technically a summer dress, not entirely weather appropriate for a colder-than-average night, but it doesnt matter. Spencer’s eyes used to fall out of his skull whenever he saw you in this dress. On the summer nights when he was working late and you’d show up at his desk, gifting him with food you’d prepared for him yourself. You’d keep him company until he was done with his work, keeping the smile on his face that he couldnt find the words to thank you for. Lost in thought, you tuck your hair behind your ears shyly, as though he’s smiling at you and calling you beautiful now, rather than in a memory.

…7:27

Another cool wind caresses you, and you’re quick to wrap your leather jacket further around yourself. A summer dress and a leather jacket, the best combination to reassure Spencer that you’re still the same badass who’s very obviously wholesome too. Exactly what you’re hoping he misses, even if he didnt verbally confirm that on the night you told him you missed him. Doubting is pointless and will only make you insecure, you remind yourself, Spencer suggested to meet, he replied to all your texts, he called you at 2am because you were on his mind. Everything is going to be fine, this is right.

…7:29

The warm glow from the lights beyond the bar windows greet you as you reach the building, and you lean against the wall. Looking over your shoulder, you peak in the windows, knowing Spencer wont be there since you arranged to meet outside, but wanting to check regardless. Just in case. You take your phone out of your bag to check the time. He only lives down the street, he’ll be here any second. You turn to face the direction you know he’ll be walking from, along the same street the two of you laughed down countless times, tipsy and serenading each other with whatever song you’d favoured on the bar playlist that night. Tucking your phone back in your bag, you let yourself relax. This will bring the two of you back together, where you belong.

“Hey there pretty girl, what’re you doing all by yourself?”

You roll your eyes at the voice behind you.

“Try to flirt with me again and I’ll rip your midget dick off.” You say without bothering to turn around, still waiting for Spencer to round the corner.

The voice behind you laughs. “I dont think it’s you that should be making threats here, sweetheart.”

The click of a gun takes you out of your badass state of mind. You slowly turn around, clutching the strap of your bag, annoyed at yourself for putting your phone away. Back when you and Spencer were together, he helped teach you how to call him with your phone behind your back. But that’s useless now.

“What do you want?” You ask, your voice less sharp, more negotiable.

The man tilts his gun towards your hip. “Your bag, it looks pretty expensive, and I need a ticket out of here, fast.”

You shake your head and take a step back. “No, I cant. There’s nothing of value in there, just sentimental stuff. Please, go, I wont tell anyone I saw-“

He cuts you off. “BULLSHIT! Give me your fucking bag!”

You nod and hold your hands up. “Okay, okay, calm down, let’s do this slowly. Im going to pass you my bag, but please lower your gun so you dont accidentally shoot me.”

He scoffs, but lowers his gun as you hold your bag out to him.

…7:31

He reaches for your bag, the moment seeming to pass in slow motion, until you take your chance. You yank your bag back to your side and make a run for it, knowing Spencer cant be far, he’ll protect you. A gunshot sounds before you make it round the corner, and before you have time to process it, you’re lying on the sidewalk.

Spencer runs down the street, reaching you in a few steps. He sees the man running down the street, the way your hands are still clinging to your bag as you lie on your side, and he puts the pieces together in less than a second. Crouching at your side, he gently takes ahold of your face with shaking hands. He’s always been so careful with you, but now so more than ever. Your eyes are closed, but you smile in recognition.

“(Y/N), stay with me, please!” Spencer pleads desperately, tears already cascading down his face at a rapid rate.

His hands make quick work of taking both of yours in one of his, which he then presses to the bullet wound in your side, while his other hand reaches for his phone and holds it to his ear. His report to emergency services is brief but informative, done in less than 20 seconds, before his full attention is back on you.

“I-I cant lose you again, not like this! Please, dont go!” Spencer sobs, using his now free hand to carefully move your hair out of your face.

“There’s something for you…in my bag.” Your voice is so quiet, so weak, as the pool of blood grows beneath you.

Spencer’s free hand digs through your bag, ignoring the feeling of things he expects to be there, like your house keys, until he finds a small piece of paper that’s folded in half.

“Open it.” You whisper, opening your eyes as much as you can, an exhausted squint watching him as he unfolds the paper.

Just in case I didnt have the balls to tell you tonight-

Spencer shakes his head. “I dont need to read this, you can tell me once we’re at the hospital, after a nap, okay?” His voice is as soft as yours, weak in an entirely different sense.

You smile up at him. “Even if that’s what happens next…I want you to read it. Didnt think I’d get to see your reaction to it, so I’ll take this chance. Please read it.”

Spencer sniffles and nods, reflecting your smile. “For you? Anything.”

He unfolds the paper again.

Just in case I didnt have the balls to tell you tonight, I still love you, Spence. I always have, and always will.

Spencer’s chin wobbles as fresh tears with an entirely different meaning fill his eyes. He doesnt waste another opportunity to verbally reciprocate feelings, and he clears his throat.

“I love you too, (Y/N). Always have, always will.” His voice is hoarse and shaky.

You grin up at him with everything you have, moving one of your hands away from your wound, Spencer having to loosen his hold on your hands in order to let you go. You lift your bloody hand to his cheek and he holds it there, nuzzling into your palm, neither of you caring about getting your blood on his face.

“Nice tie.”

Spencer parts his lips to reply, to tell you that you look beautiful in the dress he’d noticed you wearing as soon as he saw you, but your eyes flutter closed. He hadnt noticed just how big the pool of blood had gotten, it’s soaked through the knees of his suit trousers. His shaking hand goes to your neck, his fingers checking your pulse, desperate to detect any sign of life. But he doesnt feel anything. Except he does, he feels every aspect of his very being shatter, leaving him a shaking, sobbing mess. The gentle smile stays on your face, blue lights from the ambulance casting a glow on your beautiful face that makes you look even less alive. But Spencer doesnt hear the sirens, not over his own agonising screams. You are gone. If he had just walked around that corner, if he hadnt been so caught up in making a good impression on someone he already knew, he could have saved you. Or he could have taken your place. He’s without you, again, but this time in the worst way possible.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #imagine #imagines #x reader #criminal minds #fanfic #fanfiction #headcannon #Spotify

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thefreakunderthemask · 2 years ago

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Smoky Rose (Hanahaki Disease Fic)

Fan Fic Reader X Larry Johnson

Tw: slight use of drugs (mainly weed), lil salliva

Larry was having one of those days again. The day was moving by slower than it was supposed to, drifting in and out to sleepness as he attempts to complete the semester's midterm before spring break. As time ticked and ticked, the pissed he got looking at the numbers on his paper til he couldn't take it anymore.

"Can I go to the nurse I'm not feeling the best," the said quickly raising his hand.

The teacher, who was as ready to leave for the break as everyone else shook his head.

Larry quickly got up from his seat and nearly speed-walking out of the silent room into the halls of the school. With this, he could take a painful sigh of relief. He couldn't focus with his mind in a panic. He needed to calm his mind for a brief moment. Hopefully, the teacher wouldn't notice he was gone for too long. He made his way down the halls to the janitor's closet. Just as he opens the door he's shocked to see a small figure curled up in the corner next to the paper toilets, rolling a blunt.

The figure looked up at Larry, shareing his shock but soon sighing in relef as he closes the door behind him.

"That better not be my secret stash," his wisper was harsh but playful

"Of course not~," dragging your words as you pull out ur lighter "What a puff?"

"Your going to ask me if I want a puff of my own stuff in my secret hiding spot?"

"Well if you put it that way-"

"Just hand me the stupid blunt," he laughs as he sit down next to the dirty mop and playfully snatchs the blunt and lighter from you. "I recon your haveing a shitty day too?"

"Oh, boy don't I have a story to tell you!" You stood up in the cramped little closet telling the story about how you've been going through a runt with your art teacher about your art group project and how Travis, one of your group partners, was making a problem. Larry sat and listened to it all, nodding his head as smoke filled the cramped room.

He always thought it was funny how you always had to stand up and move around to tell a story, the way you pouted when you were upset, everything about you was amazing to him. Maybe it was the smoke, he thought so many times. But the more he spent time with you the more that funny thought turned into something more, something stronger, something that for the past few months he has finally realized. At that moment in time, he wondered what you both could be.

...

"-LARRY!"

"Huh," he was quickly snapped out of his thoughts, soon realizing that you was leaning infrount of him snapping your fingers in his face.

"Were you even listening?" You frowned

"Oh yeah ofcourse! Yeah Travis, total dickhead-" Larry stoped as you giggled, and lightly grabbed the blunt between his lips.

"I think you've had enough of this," you giggled as you slipped the blunt between you your own lips. "So why you here, don't you have a midterm today?" You say as you try to flip your light struggleing.

And at that moment something happened. Larry didn't know what, but he felt something. That weird itchy feeling in his chest grew stronger and it wasn't from the smoke. He knew. He always knew. But the words never slipped out his mouth the right way.

"Oh umm... just... math test, yeah math test."

"Guessing you couldn't focuse?"

"Yep"

"Well that's understandable," Take one more puff before standing up and handing it back to Larry. "Just don't stay in here for too long."

"Wait your leaving already."

"Yeah I have to head back before the are teacher begins to wonder where I am."

"Oh," he sighs as you reach and twist the handle of the door.

"Awwwww, is lil Lar-Bare gonna miss me," you mimic in a baby-like tone

"Fuck you," he yells as he grabs a dirt cloth and throwing it at you but not before you close the door, leaveling the damp cloth slide down the door. Leaving him with himself and himself alone.

He sighed looking down at the blunt he had given back to you. The itchy feeling was getting worster by the day. Everyday that he saw you the feeling always got worst. And knowing that information scared the shit out of him.

He liked. Liked really, really liked you. Yet every time that those words came to mind, he pushed them away not giving them a second thought. But now the slightest thought of you drove him crazy, nuts even.

Before those thoughts took over again he quickly took another puff hoping the smoke would help with his over riding mind. Yet as he took his puff the quickly began coughing, from such a strong inhale. He coughed and coughed hoping that the sting would go away in his chest but it only got worse. So caused something to come up from his throat in sharp pain. Quickly spitting it out on the tile floor of the closet. Catching his breath he looked over to what he had and regurgitated, to his shock he found something unusual.

Two red rose petals covered in saliva on the floor

"What tha-"

I hoped u guys enjoyed this quick lil writing session. Might turn tis into a longer fic , who knows

#larry johnson x reader #larry fic #xreader #oneshot #angst #hanahaki disease #hanahaki #roses #smoking #sallyface #sallyface fanfic #simp #xy/n #pining #one sided love

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sl-newsie · 11 months ago

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New York At Christmas (Peter Parker x OC) *Christmas Special*

Summary: A newcomer visits the Rockefeller Center during Christmas time and meets a certain spider nerd. Is it just the magic of Christmas, or is there another warm feeling in the air? (Takes place after NWH)

“Ey, I’m walk’n here!” The angry man next to me continues to shout at the cab across the street.

“Cool!” I chuckle to myself. “He said the thing! I guess I really am in New York now!”

I’ve only been here half a week and I’m already taken back by the unfamiliar hustle and bustle of New York. The only reason I’m in town is to start at a nearby photography school next month, so obviously being from the country I’m certainly not used to the crowd.

“Watch it, lady!” Another taxi speeds past.

Although the gorgeous and grand Christmas ambiance has been magical, I can’t say the same for the people. It’s a miracle I haven’t run into trouble with gangs or muggers yet. I know it’s dangerous to walk at night, but how else am I supposed to enjoy the Christmas lights?

“I’ll never be able to hail a taxi,” I mutter to myself. “Guess I’ll take the long way to the park.”

Since I’m still new to the subway maps I’ve been having trouble navigating my way throughout the boroughs. My apartment is in Queens, but my destination is located in Midtown Manhattan.

I try to slink through the crowd without bumping into anyone, but am quick to fail. After I nearly run into a rugged, ferocious-looking brute, he grabs my arm and yanks me to face him.

“Watch where you’re going!” He barks. “Next time I won’t be so gentle.”

“Let her go, Travis. She won’t hurt anyone.” A voice speaks up from behind. It’s calm, but also firm.

The man called Travis huffs in annoyance and shoves me forward, almost making me lose my balance as I grip my purse. Thankfully the one who spoke on my behalf catches me, and I come face-to-face with a pair of soft brown eyes.

“H-Hi,” I stutter.

“Hello,” the man says kindly. “That’s just Travis, he doesn’t bite. And where are you off to?”

“Oh- right!” I catch my breath. “The Rockefeller Center!”

He laughs. “Ah, another tourist!”

“Actually, no,” I correct him. “I live here now and I’ve always wanted to see the Rockefeller Christmas tree, so I figured I’d take advantage of my new lodgings.”

“Oh! That’s gotta be tough. Do you… want me to take you there? So you don’t get lost?” The man holds out a hand in friendship. “I’m Peter, by the way. Peter Parker.”

My instincts say this man is trustworthy, so I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Peter Parker. I’m Sarah. Sarah Williams. And yes, I’d love it if you showed me the way before I end up in a ditch.”

We both laugh and Peter gestures for me to follow him. Now that I’ve calmed down I can get a better look at him as we make our way through the concrete jungle. He’s almost a foot taller than me. Soft eyes, a few strands of brown hair poking out from under a winter knit cap, navy coat, jeans, and sneakers. I wanna say he’s around my age, but don’t want to assume anything.

“So it’s true what they say? ‘If I can make it here, I can make it anywhere?’”

Peter chuckles. “In a way, I guess. So Sarah, how are you liking New York?” He asks with genuine curiosity.

“Too loud,” I immediately answer, at which Peter laughs. “I’m serious! It was loud in the country, but with birds and the sound of rushing water. Not honking horns and screaming people. How can you stand it?”

Peter thinks for a minute. By now we’ve turned multiple corners, leading me to wonder how much longer we need to keep walking. I always forget just how big the city is.

“I can’t explain it, but there’s hidden gems throughout this place that I love. Certain restaurants, news stands, heck even the harbor has a great view.”

“View?” His comment sticks in my head. “What, do you climb the Williamsburg Bridge or something?”

I could be bonkers, but I swear I hear Peter mutter “You could say that” under his breath.

The TV blares overhead, outlining the top story about the latest sighting of the hero known as Spider-Man.

“Oh, I forgot all about him! Does he ever swing through Queens? That’s where my apartment is, and I was hoping to maybe snap a few practice pictures.

Peter looks at me as if I’ve just offered him a million bucks. “Are you kidding? I’m into photography too!”

“Seriously? That’s awesome!” My brain starts whizzing with ecstatic thoughts. “Could you maybe give me some pointers? Or maybe… Do you know where to find Spider-Man?”

He seems to be contemplating an argument in his head, and it makes me wonder if I said something upsetting.

“Is that wrong of me? I’m sorry if I-”

“No, no, it’s fine!” Peter reassures me. “I… actually might be able to set up something with him.”

My jaw drops. “Really? Are you guys, like, best buds or something?” I tease.

Peter suddenly gets a panicked look and gives a nervous chuckle. “Hehe… Oh! Here we are!” Peter quickly changes the subject.

My eyes look up to see-

“Oh my God!” My jaw drops.

TV and Instagram can never show the amount of wonder and majesty that this scene gives off. The giant tree alone is enough to make me feel my childhood Christmas memories glowing inside me, and looking down at the gorgeous skating rink makes my giddy heart skip.

“Peter, this is- is…”

“Indescribable?” In my dazed state I hardly notice the kind man take my hand and help lead me down the stairs. “Most people say that. There’s something about New York at Christmas that has a certain feeling to it, like something out of an old Christmas card.”

My eyes feel like they’re about to pop out. “Exactly! Like there’s a piece of vintage Christmas magic! I- Wait. Where are we going?”

Peter’s led me to the skating rink, which I’m surprised to find is not very busy.

“You’re gonna have the full experience!” Before I can get a word in, Peter walks over to the stand and pays for two sets of ice skates. “I’m guessing you’re a size 6, right?”

“Yeah… But I don’t know how to skate,” I say glumly and avoid looking up. “I was only planning on seeing the tree.”

I expect Peter to laugh, but he surprises me by instead giving me a kind smile and offering a hand.

“I could teach you, if you want? And if you don’t like it, um… We could go for hot chocolate?”

“I’m just going to look like an idiot, that’s-” I stop myself and rethink Peter’s sentence. “Wait a minute, are you asking me out?”

His brown eyes turn wild and nervous, helping me determine his intentions through obvious body language. At first I’dve said absolutely not, but… Call me crazy, but talking with Peter for twenty minutes has made me feel like I've known him my whole life. He’s not crazy or angry like other people I’ve met here, he’s… smart, quirky, and absolutely adorable. I’d be stupid not to say yes!

“Because if you are, I would say yes.”

My words seem to spark a whole new wave of emotions in Peter, flashing from excited, to troubled, to nostalgic. Now I’ve got to rethink everything. Is he asking me out, or am I making a complete idiot of myself?

“Sarah, I- Yes, I’d like to ask you out. The only thing is that… I have a very scattered schedule, and can’t always make concrete plans. And…” Peter gets a cloudy and distant look. “Sometimes I need to stay cautious about the people I care about, meaning I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Peter’s confession leaves me a bit confused, but still grateful for his honesty. To show comfort, I take his hand to give it a squeeze.

“I can look after myself, Peter. I don’t need a babysitter. I’d love to go out with you because of how funny and charming you are, not because of making plans. I can’t always make plans either, so I try to go on a play-it-by-ear basis.”

Peter is delighted by my reaction, and shows it by sweeping me in for a sudden hug.

“Oh- right, sorry.” He pushes away with a sheepish grin. “I’m a hugger, just a forewarning.”

“I don’t mind at all!” I laugh. “So does that offer to get hot chocolate still stand?”

Peter’s eyes sparkle as he takes my hand and starts leading me towards the skating rink. “Yeah. As soon as I’ve taught you how to skate!”

My mind starts panicking and I try to tug him away. “Uh, haha. How ‘bout no? I can’t skate, remember?”

“You wanted to see the Rockefeller Center,” Peter recollects as he helps me lace up my skates. “So you will, up close and personal!”

You are indeed a unique individual, Peter Parker.

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #tom holland spiderman #spider man x reader #spider man fanfiction #spider man #spiderman #tom holland #christmas time #christmas lights #new york #new york christmas #rockefeller center #marvel #marvel x reader

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blogger360ncislarules · 3 months ago

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Rescue: HI-Surf (Sept. 22, Fox)

Surf’s up — and dangerous — in Fox’s newest first responder drama, Rescue: HI-Surf. Set on the idyllic beaches of Oahu’s North Shore, the series follows a team of hardworking lifeguards — from veteran Em (Arielle Kebbel) all the way to new recruits Kainalu (Alex Aiono) and Hina (Zoe Cipres) — as they dive headfirst into the deep end to save tourists and locals who get swept up in the island’s ever-changing tides. “I really wanted to make a show that wasn't just set in Hawaii, but that was actually about Hawaii. It's about the people who call that place home,” creator Matt Kester explains. “It's an exciting show with all the rescues, but there's also a lot of great drama and really great character relationships that we’ll be playing out over the first season.” —Emlyn Travis

Sullivan's Crossing (Oct. 2, The CW)

Back to Sullivan's Crossing we go. Season 1 of the CW drama series left off on a cliffhanger with viewers wondering whether Maggie (Morgan Kohan) is pregnant and if a romance with Cal (Chad Michael Murray) is in her future. Murray says that season 2 delivers more about Cal’s dark past ... and his future. “Cal is starting to realize that Sullivan’s is his home,” Murray says. “Just when you think you have the entire world figured out, we turn over another stone and you realize that these characters' pasts are far darker than we ever assumed that they might have been.” But have no fear, this season has some light too. Murray teases a scene later in the season where the boys of the Crossing compete in a friendly game of ax throwing. “It was just fun to step aside from the heavy weighted drama at the Crossing.” —Calie Schepp

Tracker (Oct. 13, CBS)

The Shaw siblings aren't messing around when Tracker returns. Although the mystery of what Dory (Melissa Roxburgh) is up to with her father’s files will be explored a little later on, Russell Shaw (Jensen Ackles) will make an appearance early in season 2. “He comes in at the highest point,” showrunner Elwood Reid teases. And it isn't a proper Shaw brother reunion without at least one family secret. “There’s a secret that is revealed about their father in the first episode that lands with both brothers,” Reid says, “There’s a memory you’ll see that Colter doesn’t have that his brother does about Colter and their father.” Now that the brothers are on better terms, perhaps they can actually compare notes about their childhoods? —A.Y.

Georgie & Mandy's First Marriage (Oct. 17, CBS)

Spinoff series Georgie & Mandy’s First Marriage picks up a few months after the events of the Young Sheldon finale, which saw the death of Georgie’s dad. Georgie (Montana Jordan) and Mandy (Emily Osment) are still grappling with the loss, and living with her parents and their baby all while trying to navigate inner-family politics and figure out their future. And while fans of its predecessor can expect lots of familiar faces — such as Will Sasso, Rachel Bay Jones, Zoe Perry, Annie Potts, and Raegan Revord — executive producer Steve Holland says he hopes audiences are just as excited as he was to dig into a different part of the Big Bang Theory television universe. “This is the first time in 18 years that we're not writing for Sheldon, and Sheldon's a great character and I'm so proud to have been a part of writing that character, but this is a different show,” Holland says. “I don't have to keep Googling science facts anymore or trying to pretend that I know what I'm talking about. This is a much more, I think, relatable family show. These are different characters. It's the same world, but the slice of this world they inhabit has a different flavor to it.” —L.H.

Ghosts (Oct. 17, CBS) Three seasons in, Ghosts has a big paranormal sandbox and in season 4, they’ve invited the hilarious Mary Holland to play. In last season’s finale, a vengeful spirit kidnapped Brandon Scott Jones’ Isaac, moments after he left his fiancé jilted at the altar. Holland is that vengeful spirit, the most puritanical Puritan, Patience, who “was actually kicked out of her village for being a bit too much, so even by their standards, she's a lot to deal with,” says co-showrunner Joe Wiseman. Patience has it out for Isaac since he abandoned her to the dirt by letting go of her hand so that he could sneeze. “She's been wandering for 130 years or something like that, so she's a little upset,” Wiseman reveals, “but she's going to spend a few episodes at Woodstone and is going to mix things up there.” —L.F.B.

#rescue hi surf #tracker #sullivan's crossing #georgie and mandy's first marriage

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manslaught · 4 months ago

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she's not wrong, but mikayla doesn't appreciate hearing tai judge nat and travis when they're the only two who have been there for her over the last few years. no, maybe she doesn't agree with most of their coping methods, but it's not as if she has any place to judge when she's just hardly getting by herself. “ don't do that with me, ” she frowns. “ don't talk shit about them just because you're better at moving on than the rest of us. ” she doesn't fully believe that, almost certain that there's no possible way tai is doing as well as she pretends she is.

it's hard to believe her when that feels like the most plausible explanation for why tai abandoned her— it makes sense, and it's a lot less heartless than some of the excuses mikayla's been forced to question on her own the past few months. it might sting, but it's easier to accept that tai just didn't want to be reminded of everything they went through than to accept that she just meant nothing to her at all. “ oh, ” she mumbles, having to resist the urge to ask tai to explain, to tell her what she does see— but mikayla would only sound desperate for validation, and while she is after everything she's been told by others since her arrest, she's not sure if she could even trust anything tai says in this state. so i was just temporary, she wants to say, but for the sake of her own feelings, she holds back, just scowling down at the counter instead. “ well— who do you want to be? ” a question she doesn't get the privilege of being able to answer, because it can't ever matter, not with so much standing in her way, holding her back, but it's not the same for tai. “ i mean... you got everything you wanted, right? ” selfishly, she hopes that tai says no, because maybe that leaves her some hope that she might be talking about her— even if she shouldn't be thinking that way.

it doesn't make sense to mikayla, because she doesn't know shauna, so she stays quiet, brows furrowed in confusion. but when tai says something mikayla can't just let go, she breaks that silence, leaning her head back slightly. “ what do you mean see right through you? ” maybe she was wrong; maybe tai doesn't love her fiancee, and that's why shauna marrying jeff is relevant, but mikayla's not sure if that's what's actually happening here or if she's just trying to convince herself because it's better for her that way. “ does it matter? it's not like i knew how to have a conversation with her, either. ” even when they had things in common, when mikayla thought she might actually be able to understand some of the things shauna was feeling, she didn't know how to talk to her— but that was hardly an issue back then.

again, she's confused, because tai doesn't sound like she's even excited about the wedding— it sounds like she's dreading it, almost, and it makes her wonder if tai felt the same way about their wedding. she doesn't remember it being like that for them, but it's not as if they had anything better to do out there than just pretend to get married, so maybe she shouldn't compare. “ isn't it supposed to be, like— the happiest day of your life or whatever? ” why doesn't it feel that way? she's almost brave enough to ask, but she's afraid of being wrong, of realizing that she's just completely misreading tai because they're strangers now. “ what? no— people like me don't get to have that. ” because she's hurt too many people, killed someone, and the entire world's aware of it, refusing to ever let it go. “ but not you. you... should. after everything. ” mikayla wishes she could, too, but she's already accepted that it's not possible.

her mother's been a part of her life for years now, but mikayla still finds it strange to talk about her, even with nat and travis— not because she doesn't want to, but simply because she doesn't know how. “ like... to convince her? no. ” she frowns, staring down into her drink, hating to think about the days after her release from prison, when she was desperate enough to go to her of all people. “ she... she told me sorry. she blamed herself for everything. said she didn't know my dad was a piece of shit, that she thought i'd be better off with him, and— she sent me shit as a kid? supposedly. but i never got it. ” her dad must have taken all of it, assuming it's even true, but mikayla doesn't feel the need to explain that, letting out a sigh. “ she said she didn't talk to me in prison because she thought i didn't want her to. ” mikayla glances up at tai for just a moment, because she can't be the only one who sees how similar that excuse feels, how annoying it is to have to hear it from two people who were supposed to care about her. “ i don't know if i believe any of it. i think she was just trying to... make herself look better. but she said she'd help me with whatever, so— ” so here she is, making a mistake by taking a job opportunity from her mother that she never actually wanted, and for what? to watch her ex be with someone else?

“ it was the only job i could get. ” a part of her suspected that the bar owner liked the attention that her reputation brought, even if most of it was bad, but at the time, mikayla had no other choice, so she went with it anyway. she's nervous, waiting for tai's reaction, wondering if she made a mistake, if it's too early to just blame it on the alcohol that's just barely entered her system, but it's not bad, which is a relief. the whine draws a small giggle from mikayla, raising her glass for another drink in an attempt to muffle it, managing to get it down without wrinkling her nose this time. “ mm, no, ” she admits, even if a part of her's tempted to try to make tai jealous by lying. “ that was for us. when there was an us. ” before there was an us, technically, because mikayla felt the same way back then as she does now: wanting tai, but hating herself for it, because she can't have her. the thought tempts her to take another drink, but she sets her own glass down, nodding toward tai's drink instead. “ can i try that? ” since that's the closest she can get to tasting her now.f

her face scrunches up in disgust as she reminds her that there was a man hitting on her, and she quickly shakes her head. ❝ don’t you have plenty at home, anyway? ❞ she mumbles, the judgment obvious in her tone— but it’s not directed at mikayla this time, and mostly, she’s just trying to deflect from whatever happened in that store. she frowns again when mikayla says she knows what it’s like, but she also knows it’s different for her, too. she has enough tact to not say it out loud, that she’s glad that nat was there for her all those years tai refused to be— but she never really had a doubt she would be, given what mikayla had told her about their past together. and she knows she means that more than that, too, because she can’t imagine how strange it is for her to feel like she’s living an entirely different life than the one she was living before the plane crashed and even out there. the guilt sinks in again, and tai takes a another long drink.

her shoulders slump at mikayla’s words, because she’s not exactly wrong, but she’s not right, either ( half wrong about everything, like tai said— but that’s her own fault for not even giving her clarity, isn’t it? ) she looks down, her fingers sliding against the counter awkwardly as she considers what to really say, but her mind is so cloudy that it’s difficult to come up with the right words — not that she had them in the first place. ❝ no, ❞ she mumbles, her face scrunching up after a moment as she looks up at her— really looks at her, like she’s studying her, trying to prove some point to herself and mikayla. ❝ i see a lot more than that when i look at you, ❞ she says simply, turning away slightly as she takes another bite of pizza, suddenly worried that she may be making a mess, afraid of how mikayla’s perceiving her now. even when she has gotten drunk before, she’s always careful about not being around people, afraid of the lack of control it’d come with. it’s making her braver with mikayla now— but is that a good thing? i see my wife, she almost has the audacity to say, but even the thought makes her flinch, because she imagines the face mikayla would make in response, and it hurts. ❝ but, um— fuck, okay, if you’re asking, i used to think that. that if i held onto anything out there, i’d never get back to myself, ❞ she winces at the way it comes out, but it’s how she’s justified it to herself for years. ❝ maybe i don’t even know who the fuck i am, though, ❞ she mumbles, a statement that was only ever supposed to remain in her own head, but she distracts herself with another drink, because she misses talking to mikayla about her deepest insecurities— but now, revealing them makes her feel so small.

tai scoffs instantly as mikayla asks why shauna doesn’t like her, because it feels obvious. maybe it is, if mikayla wasn’t already hurt by it all enough for her to see it for herself. ❝ because she’s fucking shauna, ❞ she says, like that’s supposed to make any sense to mikayla. ❝ she married her best friend’s boyfriend because she didn’t know how the fuck to move on— ❞ she scoffs, going on, saying something she shouldn’t say. ❝ she can probably see right through me, too, ❞ she grumbles, avoiding mikayla’s eyes now. ❝ and simone is too . . . i don’t know. ❞ she's perfect. but tai can’t say those words out loud, not to mikayla, and not when that doesn’t mean she’s perfect for her. ❝ i just know shauna, okay? and i don’t think she’d even know how the fuck to have a conversation with her. ❞ and that’s true. they’re nothing alike. but she knows it’s more than that, too— for the same reason tai doesn’t know how to talk to jeff. jeff and simone are both some kind of distraction from dealing with what they really want. she wonders if it’s easier for shauna.

tai’s eyes roll and she shakes her head. ❝ trust me, people are going to need it at this wedding, ❞ she mumbles, again like it’s obvious, still providing her no real context. between in-laws who don’t like or approve of her, and other survivors attending, and this entire wedding feeling like a fucking sham, she can’t imagine anyone getting through it sober— especially not her, and for what mikayla’s suggested, especially not nat. her eyes lock with hers as mikayla tells her she deserves to be happy. it stings, because tai doesn’t even know what happiness is anymore. she’s not sure if she ever truly did. she was happy with mikayla, but their circumstances were so horrendous it was hard to ever be fully content, always wanting more for them. and then, afterwards, she could find fake-happiness in succeeding in her goals just to feel something, but it meant sacrificing that taste of genuine happiness. too often she wonders if there was a way to combine the two, if she could've had success and happiness all at once— but even considering the possibility of both failing makes her heart ache. her eyes linger, a look of longing in her gaze as she wishes she could just tell her all of that in a way that doesn’t hurt them both. ❝ happiness—- ❞ can’t get her what she wants. ❝ i don’t think people like me get to have that, ❞ she finishes, but she shrugs her shoulders, as if she’s long accepted that. she’s not even sure if she could truly explain that.

she starts to feel a sense of relief when mikayla actually starts talking about her mom— she’d been desperate to know anything about her since mikayla told her about her, and now she seems to be offering something up willingly, and it’s like they maybe have hope at — what? tai meant it when she said they weren’t capable of being friends, but she still wants to be a part of her life. she just doesn’t know what that actually means, or even what it can mean. ❝ i gathered that, ❞ she says quietly, her head tilting to the side as she keeps looking at her. ❝ was it hard? to— get her to help you? ❞ she asks curiously, something genuine in her tone because she does care.

her nose crinkles in disgust, the idea of anyone talking to her in a bar making her uncomfortable— especially knowing the way strangers talked about mikayla to tai. ❝ i can imagine. i was never a fan of bars, ❞ she says, her body shaking lightly. but her eyes perk up as mikayla goes on, brow raising, unfortunately immediately thinking of the sight. before she can stop herself, a smile tugs at her lips, her teeth just barely biting on her bottom lip. she’s about to tell her that— that she was always hot, especially in a cheerleading outfit, but she’s caught off guard when she blows her a kiss, her eyes widening and an accidental, small wine falling from her lips. if she’d been taking a drink, she might’ve choked, but that doesn’t stop her from immediately trying to clear her throat to cover up whatever sound just came out of her mouth. ❝ did you— ❞ she starts, but she pauses, unsure if she wants an answer. ❝ do that for them too? ❞ it’s not spoken as an accusation— she’s begging mikayla to say no, to tell her that she’s the only one she’d ever done anything like that for. it was special to her, it’s what made her keep falling for mikayla even when she thought she shouldn’t, and finding out why she did it only made it better. she just wants it to still mean something, even if she doesn’t necessarily deserve it.

#ladyintree #ladyintree: 83.#thread.#main.#yj: 2006.#verse: pick your poison‚ babe. i'm poison either way.#wanted to name it imgonnagetyouback.mp3 but. seemed unserious

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shippy-pjo-shipper · 2 years ago

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Percianca ~ Time

"And last but not least. Dessert !"

Honestly, I wasn't even surprised. At least not anymore. The world had changed, people had changed, customs had changed, heck, even language had changed ! So what was so crazy about eating blue cookies ? I didn't know. Probably nothing at all. At least that's what Percy's nonchalance let me understand.

So blue food it was. Delicious blue food, mind you. One crucial thing I had learnt during this long week was that Sally Jackson was a divine cook. Actually that she was divine at everything she did. Cooking was just another of her many ways to show how she was the kindest woman there ever was.

The kindest woman... This idea resonated in her in a way that seemed to suggest that there were memories there, once upon a time. She wasn't sure, she could probably never be again, but everytime she looked at Sally Jackson, it was like the image of another woman was mixing itself with hers. Not only her, every face felt as unknown as familiar. As friendly as frightening. Though this must be because of the whole "monsters are all around and constantly tracking you down thanks to your smell" thing that popped up in her life a few weeks ago.

That's the reason why this week had been so crazy. That and Percy, of course. The boy couldn't slow down to save his own life. How had all of this begin, again ? I wasn't quite sure, my memory still let me down from time to time since me and Nico joined Camp Half-Blood. But I was pretty sure I was responsible. One second we were talking about New-York and how little I could recognize of it, and the next Percy was dragging me around Time Square, introducing me to the wonder that were hotdogs.

"I'll show you around my city !" He had said. Of course I refused at first. What about Nico ? What if he gets lost ? What if there are monsters attacking us ? What if Camp is under attack while we're gone ? What if Travis and Connor play a prank on us and go through our things while we're gone ? What if we come back too late and get eaten by the harpies ? What if Mr. D. forgets about us while we're away and doesn't let us in again ?

I didn't voice out all of those concerns. Maybe none, actually. I think I just...turned red, and mute. Why did I do that again ? Oh ! Yes.

"But it's miles from here. And I'm pretty sure you can't go through New-York in a day. Except if that changed too."

"What about more than a day, then ? It's winter break, you can crash at home and I'll be your guide for the week."

Yeah, that was it.

"You can crash at home" She shouldn't have reacted like that. It didn't make sense to react like that. She had been sharing a cabin with dozens of kids, dozens of boys, for the past two months. Surely "crashing" at Percy's was nothing compared to it.

How wrong was she, but not how she could have ever expected.

She slept in the couch, each morning being awaken by the delicious smell of breakfast, so delicious that she knew what she'd wish to have every morning at camp from now.

The daytime was far from this comforting atmosphere but nonetheless memorable.

Parks, amusement parks, restaurants, cinema (with color, mind you), museums, libraries... (Yes the last two were from Annabeth's recommendation list, the discovery was even for Percy and I).

It was as nothing I had done before. As no fun I had ever experienced.

A half-blood's life is dangerous, stressful, hurtful, short. So it was nice to enjoy the most of it for a few days.

Percy filled me in on everything that had flew me by while I was in the Lotus Hotel. All this time I had lost caught on in a week ? Certainly not. But all my sorrow and stress washed away in the same amount of days ? Yes, definitely.

I came back in the present by the sound of a snap or two.

"Earth to Bianca. Is that the sight of blue that freezes you like that ?"

I smiled almost goofily. "Just the surprise."

"Wait till you've had a bite !" He smiled, letting me see the crumbs already at the corners of his lips.

So I did as he said, and with just a bite, I knew I had another reason to come back here and do that again soon. If I needed any.

@them-awesome-rarepairs

#pjorarepairs2022 #percianca #biancy #percy x bianca #percy jackson x bianca di angelo #percy jackson #bianca di angelo #time #fanfiction #my fanfiction #shippys

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lacharcutiere · 3 years ago

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ur my favorite drug & my worst hangover [nsfw 18+, terushima yūji]

5,9k words

✯haikyuu!! masterlist✯

winter sem break brings the new year, & a few other new developments too.

smut, tiny bit of angst, fwb, fluff // quit - lil aaron & travis barker. god this song goes so hard

the way all i talk abt is how much i love teru but have nothing to show for it— yeah we’re gonna fix that. man i love him

☾𓆙𓂻

— SOBER

the soft hum of the tv in the background slowly fades into your awareness as you blink blearily awake, almost forgetting where you are for a second.

you’re in yūji’s living room, duh. your semestral break has not been nearly as interesting as either of you’d hoped: instead, you’ve both succumbed to alternating between each other’s childhood homes, binging netflix and random youtube videos and eating chips and tubs of ice cream late into the night, as has been your custom for years.

it’s dim but for the glow of the screen, and it’s kind of chilly in here now, even with you wrapped up in a hoodie. (yours, not yūji’s. you only borrow his in emergencies.)

he’s not next to you now, but his footsteps—you know them by now: quick and kind of heavy but not overbearingly loud—are entering the room again, and you feel the sofa cushions dip a little as he retakes his seat next to you.

“hey,” he says, smiling, “you’re awake.”

“hmmph,” you mumble, sitting upright to stretch your back. “what time is it?”

“uh.” he squints at the digital clock next to the tv. “like one?”

“‘m cold.”

“me too.”

“‘nd tired.”

“you just woke up?”

“i’m tired,” you whine.

yūji groans. “you’re really gonna make me go to sleep this early?”

“you don’t have to sleep, but i will.”

“yeah,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “but who’s gonna keep me company then?”

“i dunno,” you shoot back, “text tetsu or something. he’s probably still up.”

he rolls his eyes but relents, standing from the sofa. “fine.” and he holds out a hand to help you up, which you don’t take.

“i can do shit for myself,” you joke, rolling your eyes.

“right.”

—

it’s not much warmer in his room despite the thermostat supposedly being set to an acceptable temperature, but at least the sleeping bag on the floor next to yūji’s bed is insulated, and he’s given you a couple extra blankets for which you’re grateful. the biting chill of january does not fuck around.

so you nestle yourself into a little cocoon of linens and pillows and pull your hood up, curling into a ball in an effort to conserve your body heat. you hear him laugh a little as he watches you.

“what?”

“nothing.”

there’s the light hum of a phone ringing a few times, and that little beep as tetsu picks up the facetime call.

sleep clouds your senses to the background music of stifled laughter and loud whispers and the occasional static of yūji’s phone speaker.

— BUT U PULLED ME CLOSER

the next few minutes, hour—you have no idea—pass just like that, with you drifting languidly in and out of sleep and the sounds of yūji and tetsurō’s voices audible but incomprehensible in the background.

last you remember, you’re slipping back under again, hearing tetsu through the staticky iphone speaker.

and then you wake up again because you’re fucking freezing and it’s quiet and the lights are off, except for the little reading light mounted to the headboard of yūji’s bed. you sit up on your elbows, craning your neck, and see that he’s still up, lying on his stomach with his phone dimly illuminating his face.

“what time’s it?” you mumble.

“uh... 2:38.” he pauses. “y’alright?”

“cold,” you say.

he locks his phone then, and he just looks at you kind of blankly and maybe a little mockingly? except it must not be mocking; it must be something else, because he’s just kind of... studying you.

you look back up at him expectantly. “what?” you say.

he sighs, kind of rolls his eyes, turns away from the light to hide the little smile playing on his lips. “come on up here.” he scoots over and pats the spot next to him.

thankful for an extra source of body heat and blankets and pillows, you shove yourself up off the ground and shuffle over to the bed.

it’s kind of funny, the way you’re basically adults now and yet your relationship’s still fundamentally the same as it was when you met years ago.

—

duh, yūji hates that. it’s true, that whole thing about how “every one of your guy friends has thought about fucking you at some point.” it’s true, at least for him.

and there’s something electric in how you haven’t slept next to him in months because you’ve both been busy with school, and now you’re back here. back here, where it feels like you belong.

there’s something deep in his chest that’s set aflame by the way you laugh and let him tuck the comforter over you; the way your sweatpant-covered legs brush against his own underneath it.

he wants to touch you.

he wants to wrap his hand around your thigh and pull it over his own; to run his fingertips up the length of your arm and make you shiver; to snake his around your waist and pull your head into his chest.

maybe he will once you’re asleep, he figures. once his pride can’t be hurt because you don’t have to know.

except... except he’d let it be hurt for you. without a moment’s hesitation. he would shatter it himself for you, would let you take him in your fingers and rip him to pieces too small to be puzzled back together.

because maybe he doesn’t just want you. maybe he loves you.

but even he, completely truthfully, doesn’t know.

he’s got a sneaking suspicion that he does, though, because he’s rarely confused and this is an enigma he can’t quite seem to decipher, no matter what he tries.

it’s absurd, too, he realizes laying on his back next to you, how suddenly he’s afraid to touch you. because the two of you have always been touchy, that’s just you. you’re two halves; you’re so similar. you’ve been attached at the hip since childhood—why is it different now, now that he wants that more than anything?

so here he is, spiraling in this conundrum of feelings, when it’s cut short by you, tiredly whining, “yūji.”

“what?” he sort of feigns annoyance.

“‘m cold.”

“and?”

and. and his breath catches because you roll over and latch onto him. and he brings his arms around your shoulders and holds you to his chest.

so close, and yet so far away.

and he shudders as you lay one hand flat on his chest. it belongs there forever.

you nuzzle your nose into his shoulder and inhale his scent and his brain short-circuits.

has she done this before?

and mostly unconscious, you mumble, “—warm. y’re pretty’.” his eyes go wide.

“what?”

your arms tighten around him, and he’d hate to admit it, but it’s setting him off. he’s... a little hard.

a hand settles itself on your thigh, the one that’s draped over his legs, and he pushes it downward a little, so that it’s not resting next to the rising erection in his pajama pants.

god, he wants to fuck you so badly right now, he wants for you to feel him throbbing between your legs as you whimper against his skin. but he also wants you to want him.

miraculously, a little sigh escapes your lips at the touch. so he doesn’t move his hand.

“feels nice,” you whisper.

so he decides to test the waters, and squeezes gently. you giggle sleepily.

inhibitions dissipating for a moment, his stomach leaps to his chest and he snakes that hand up over your hip, consciously avoiding your ass just in case, and rests it on your back, rubbing up and down slowly.

his chest constricts as you snuggle even closer to him. and then your leg moves back up and your thigh nudges his crotch.

your eyes snap open and he inhales sharply.

and then you’re propped up on your elbow, leaning over him.

he curses himself for forgetting to turn off the light; the flush in his cheeks is obvious.

half terrified and half excited, he watches as your face breaks into a wide, shit-eating grin.

“what?” he breathes.

your eyes narrow; a look of mischief he’s so familiar with, one that’s often mirrored on his own features. (it’s not now.)

“yūji,” you say, singsong and bright, “what’s this?”

and—oh, god, oh, fuck—you bring a hand down to rest on his dick, tenting in his pajamas.

he doesn’t know what to say to you.

“i— uhm—”

“hmm,” you hum. “y’ alright?”

he clears his throat, nods. “are— uh, are you?”

“mhm,” you laugh, wide awake now. “yūji...” you pause. he can’t stand it; he needs to know what happens next, needs to know what’s fanning the flames behind your eyes.

oh god. oh god, all he leaves is a breath in between and then you’re throwing your leg over him again and, fuck, you’re straddling him. he lets out a shaky breath, voice tight as he chokes out, “what are you doing?”

the smile is gone from your face now, replaced with something softer, something lustful. your hands move to his shoulders to balance yourself as you grind your hips down, and a low ahh slips out of him.

it’s just like that, just your clothed bodies rubbing together. he comes embarrassingly quickly in his boxers, but he lets you ride his thigh until you finish as recompense.

afterward, he excuses himself and cleans himself off in the bathroom. when he comes back, you’re sound asleep again.

that’s all that happens.

— UR GONNA FUCK ME UP

following that, everything proceeds as it had before. neither of you bother to speak of it, but nothing even seems off between you at all. it’s as if it never happened.

or maybe, yūji sometimes allows himself to think as he touches himself to the memory in the middle of nights when you’re not together, it’s like it was meant to happen.

what a wonderful illusion that is.

because he knows it won’t work, and if you ever thought about him like that, you would know, too.

the two of you have watched each other fall in love—get dumped, ghost people, whatever—several times over the past few years. he remembers your first boyfriend, your last year of middle school: the guy had been a mutual friend that you’d been crushing on for months. and yet, when you’d finally become a thing, it had taken no more than a couple of weeks for you to grow uninterested and dump him.

it’s not like he hasn’t done similar things in the past.

and it’s not like some people who’ve dated either of you haven’t had better luck; there have been several who have been the ones to break your hearts.

but both of you have yet to have maintained a long-term relationship, and neither of you have kept in contact with many of your exes.

he doesn’t want to be another one of those, and he certainly doesn’t want you to be, either.

—

it’s maybe a week after that night when you pick him up to go get takeout and ice cream.

that, in itself, is a pretty normal thing.

but then you’re sitting in your car, and between spoonfuls of mocha chip and hot caramel, you say, “so i saw this thing.”

“hm?” he responds, his mouth still full.

“your aura is striking, dude,” you quote. there’s a pause as you try to suppress a giggle. and then: “can i kiss you deeply, bro?”

he snorts and jokes, “anytime you want.” and he really hopes that you take his tone at face value, but he also knows you way better than that.

so he’s only half surprised when you actually do. half surprised, and wholly in awe.

your hands are in each other’s hair. it’s quick—feverish, but quick—and the first thing you say when you pull back is, “tastes like sugar.”

he laughs again, unsure of what move to make next. “yeah?”

and then you’re... shy? because you look away from him, back down to the cup of ice cream in your lap, and you say, “you feel good.” it’s so low that it’s almost unintelligible. but he hears you.

both your faces are burning when you look back up at him. “should we talk about that?”

“‘bout what? kissing? ‘s not the first time.”

it isn’t—he kissed you once in middle school, because there was this other girl that he’d thought was pretty, and he wanted to make her jealous. it hadn’t worked; she’d just thought the two of you were together, and a teacher had scolded you for pda. but at least it had been a fun story to laugh at for a while after.

this is obviously different, though, and you both know that. this kiss wasn’t to make anyone jealous. this one was for yourselves.

and anyway, that’s not what you meant by that.

“no,” you say. “the um... last week. at your place.”

“oh, yeah.”

“should we, um, do you wanna talk about it?”

“d’you?”

you shrug.

“alright,” he says. pauses. “so... what was that about?”

and you almost laugh incredulously. “you’re asking me?”

he stares blankly.

“you’re the one who got a boner when we were cuddling, yūji. as if we’ve never done that before.” you notice the mortified look on his face, and your expression softens and your voice lowers. “you wanna tell me what that was about? you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

and he laughs nervously and says, “no, no, ‘s fine. i was just kinda horny, that’s all. i haven’t hooked up with anyone in a while, y’know?”

you give him a sardonic grin. “and that’s why it only took you, like, three minutes to come?”

“yeah... yeah,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

a moment passes where you stop and think for a little, and then you turn back to look at him. “it was, uh, good, though. like, objectively. it was good.”

it’s his turn to flash a grin at you: “‘course it was. it’s me.”

“and me.”

“shoulda won the sex gods superlative in last year’s yearbook.”

“ha.” another thing crosses your mind: “and now look at us. too busy with school to even have time to fuck anyone.”

yūji doesn’t say anything, so you do it for him.

you start out carefully. “but...”

“but?”

“do you— i mean. we’ve got, like, what? three weeks left before we go back? and we’re stuck here. and— and we already hang out like every single day anyway, and. uh. and it was objectively good.”

“are you—”

“and i’ve known you for years. come on. there’s, like, nothing i could do to embarrass myself around you anymore.”

friends with benefits. you’re suggesting that you temporarily be friends with benefits.

“and it wasn’t weird after last time,” you add. “i think.”

“hm,” he says, “yeah, no, it wasn’t.”

his first instinct is to say no, to tell you it’s a bad idea. but as he thinks about it more, he realizes that you’re kind of right. and anyway, what is the worst that could happen? because he’s pretty sure he’s far gone enough for you that falling a little further wouldn’t change a thing. even if he weren’t, he’d never think of hurting you intentionally.

and, he figures, he’d hardly mind being hurt by you.

—

that is how you end up back in his bed an hour later—his parents are out on a date this evening; you’ve got until a few hours past sundown to fuck and clean yourselves off and make it look like you’ve been eating and talking and watching tv the whole time.

outside of the guise of midnight impulses, it is a strange—but also strangely pleasant—thing to be having sex with your best friend.

there’s no pretense, hardly any need to keep up appearances (at least, for you). you’re not strangers only concerned with your own pleasure; you know each other. despite never actually having done this before, he already knows what you like, and vice versa.

it’s nice.

it’s nice to hear him laugh when you whine for him to stop being so gentle, vanilla-ass bitch, only to have him call you a “horny little—” (to which you respond, no, you.)

and it’s nice to sleep with someone who reads all the cues you give him without you even needing to say anything.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life.

it is possibly the best sex you’ve ever had in your life, and... it might not be just because of the dynamic between you two, or the fact that you don’t have to be afraid to tell him what you like and what you don’t—the fact that you don’t even have to tell him at all.

it’s nice. for you. and it’s hell for him.

it’s hell for him to have to hold back all the sweet nothings he wants to whisper in your ear—he’s restricted to you like that, huh, baby? and fuuuck and god, you’re so fucking tight, and he knows you’re into it, but he wants to be treating you like a princess right now. he wants to call you his, wants to whisper, tell me you’re all mine against your bare shoulders, wants to tell you he loves you.

so... he does love you.

but he can’t say that. he knows he can keep you around, but you’re not his to keep.

—

it continues like that for the next several days: you fuck, it’s good sex, and he’ll touch himself to the memories if you’re not there: memories of how you taste, of the softness of your skin, of you with your legs around his waist and your bare chests pressed together, damp and warm with sweat.

it is so gratifying, and even more painful.

and then, one day, as he’s fucking you in your childhood bedroom—all white walls covered in sketches and colorful postcards you’ve accumulated over the years—something is slightly off.

there’s something about it that feels more intimate than the other times, and it goes slower than before. it’s not all lust and clothes tossed haphazardly on the floor and bodies shoved hurriedly into mattresses.

you kiss him for a long time before any clothing comes off, and you keep pulling him back to your lips as he thrusts into you. you’re not urging him faster, more, harder; you let him keep a steady pace and arch your back into the sheets as you lie underneath him.

it hits him as you come down from your orgasm and writhe in his arms, softly moaning, “god, yūji, i l—”

he stops.

“don’t say that,” he says.

still shaking and catching your breath, you respond, “what?”

“just don’t.” but his tone is casual, and so you don’t think much of it.

—

you don’t hook up every time you hang out, and yeah. you were right. it’s hardly different than before. except, isn’t it?

you’re sitting on opposite sides of your sofa one morning after your parents have left for work—he slept over the previous night, but you didn’t have sex. you’d spent it laughing over the dumbest things and blasting music as you drove around without a destination.

your’re sitting with your knees pulled against your chest, scrolling lazily on your phone while you and yūji eat handfuls of cereal straight from the box between you.

it’s mostly quiet for once; comfortably silent. neither of you have ever really been a morning person.

— BUT U KNOW I LIKE IT

the ice cracks a little when he stops shoving your hand away to grab himself another handful of cereal. you notice, and then you wonder if you always noticed little things like that, because it feels kind of weird to. not that you mind.

meanwhile, yūji watches you, studying the way your hair falls messily around your face, the way one sleeve of your sweatshirt is rolled halfway up your forearm and the other is pulled all the way over your hand.

the living room is bright, surrounded by windows, and you’re illuminated by light yellow late-morning sunlight all around and he feels safe looking at you.

the ice cracks a little more when he says your name softly.

“hm?” you say, confusedly looking up at him.

“nothing,” he answers, too quickly. “i’m just... happy right now.”

you smile, radiant. “i’m glad you are.”

—

in the afternoon, you’ve grown bored and are wandering the streets of your neighborhood, voicing thoughts and pointing out people you pass by.

it’s still early, but it’s january, so the sun is already beginning to set.

when you’re a couple minutes out from your house, yūji goes quiet, and it stays like that for the rest of the walk.

and then, as he stands next to you while you unlock the door, he blurts, “i have to tell you something.”

you freeze. “what?”

it’s silent for a bit. “never mind.”

“yūji—”

“it’s okay,” he says softly.

he wants to shrink away from your gaze as you study him. he knows you know there’s something amiss, and second thoughts have almost always been his own personal hell.

graciously, though, you don’t ask. and it’s like stepping through a portal when you’re back inside; it’s all forgotten and back to how it was before.

—

but: a little while later, you’re lying side-by-side on your bed watching netflix again, and for whatever reason you turn to look at him for a moment and it’s just—

you can’t look away. and you don’t know why.

he can feel your eyes on him and it burns, and he wonders how much longer he can keep this up before he loses his mind.

when he doesn’t turn to face you, you call his name softly.

“hm?”

after an uncomfortable moment of hesitation, you say, “something’s up.”

“what?”

“yūji,” you repeat, and he forgets to breathe for a second. “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

the mattress shifts under his weight as he sits up, resting his head in his hands. he takes a deep breath and can’t bring himself to meet your eyes.

“what’s wrong?” it sounds less like a question and more like a plea.

“i—” he starts, and then stops himself. “i can’t, i can’t do this to you.”

“can’t do what?”

there’s a painful silence, heavy with anticipation and maybe a little bit of dread.

“i don’t wanna keep hooking up with you.”

you sit up, too.

“did i...? do something wrong?”

he shakes his head and sighs, and he sounds exasperated. “it’s... no, it’s— i think...” and he seems to grow more frustrated as he fails to verbalize whatever it is, this strange cold fire stinging in the pit of his stomach.

“what do you think?” you whisper.

and he stands and walks to the door. his hand rests on the knob and he whispers back, in a voice that sounds precariously close to breaking, “you, when i... y’know. ’m sorry.”

and he’s gone.

and you have no idea what to think, both of what he just said and the fact that it sends an excited buzz through your nerves, even though it probably shouldn’t.

— IT'S HARD N IT'S HARDER TO ADMIT

his words are stuck in your head all night, have you caught somewhere in between laughing and crying.

you want to call him, ask him what the fuck is going on and why you think you kind of like it, but you don’t.

but when you look over at your alarm clock to see that it’s 2:00 a.m. and sleep refuses to let you succumb to it and you relent to the warm emptiness between your legs, it’s yūji whom you imagine is there to fill it.

you think of the way his tongue trails down the expanse of your neck, the way he feels inside you, as you whine into your pillow and desperately try to make yourself come.

it doesn’t even occur to you until later, when you’re waking up to sunlight slicing through your half-open blinds. and then it does, and you text him: i do that too.

he doesn’t text back, but ten minutes later, your phone rings. he sounds breathless.

“be here in ten,” he says.

you pause. “okay.”

and you are. he throws open the door as he hears your car pull up and jogs out to meet you, and all he gives you is a quick, “hey,” before dragging you inside.

there’s no one else home, so he motions for you to have a seat at the kitchen table and takes the one next to you.

“do what too?”

“what?”

“what you texted me.”

you look down, studying the seams of your sleeve and feeling your breathing go shallow.

“do what too?” he repeats.

and softly, you say, “want you.”

yūji stands, pulling you to your feet with him. “want me how?”

your eyes are wide and a little bit sad as you stare up at him. “i don’t know.”

then he cracks a tiny smile. “good,” he says, “i don’t either.

except he does.

he wants you every way, your presence, your time, your body, your fucking soul, all of it. but he doesn’t say that.

when you kiss him, he implodes, melts into your arms as if he’s trying to fuse your bodies together. but he says nothing of it.

the feeling of your wrist in his hand, the sound of your giddy giggles as he leads you to his bedroom—for now, that’s enough.

he takes it slow.

when he’s shut the door and ensured it’s locked, he turns to find you’ve already tossed your top on the floor.

a smile meets yours, gentle fingertips on your cheek, a soft whisper against your hair: “put it back on; i wanna do it myself.”

and you laugh and oblige, shivering at the now-familiar sensation of the warm metal bead on his tongue against your lip as his hand finds its way to your ass and squeezes gently.

“yūji,” you whisper.

“i like it when you say my name like that,” he murmurs into your shoulder, rubbing gently up and down your back underneath your shirt.

“hmm,” comes your contented response.

and then his fingers are rubbing gently against the hem of your shirt, easing it up to reveal your body inch by inch, and you shiver a little under his feather-light touch.

lifting your arms up, you allow him to slip your shirt back over your head, and then his hands are all over you again, squeezing your breasts through your bra and tracing lines up and down the center of your back. the little metal ball on his tongue presses against your lower lip. you tug at the hem of his hoodie, and he pulls it off.

the feeling of his skin on yours is nothing new now, and yet this time, there’s a certain nuance to it that he can’t place.

he wonders how you want him again; can’t stop wondering as you lead his hand down to the button on your jeans, laughing a little as he kneels at your feet to unzip them.

as he pulls them slowly down your legs he lines your thighs with little, butterfly-soft kisses, murmuring unintelligible praises.

when you’re left in only your bra and panties, he wraps his arms around your waist and falls backward onto the mattress, taking you down with him. you sit up a little, so that you’re straddling him, and he lets out a low sigh.

“you are fucking incredible,” he breathes as you suck gently at his neck, leaving light marks that will have faded by tomorrow.

your fingers trace the dips between his abs, tantalizingly, eventually making their way all the way down his stomach to the waistband of his sweats, and then a little further, palming his dick through them and feeling how fucking hard he is.

he groans a little, says, “please don’t tease me,” as you continue to do exactly that, but he doesn’t stop you.

when you shift a little so that you’re positioned right over him, soaking panties rubbing a tiny little wet spot into the tent of his erection, he sits up and gathers your body into his arms, lips and tongue moving against yours as one hand unclips your bra while the other settles itself on your hip, grinding you down against him. you press your thighs together at this feeling of pure need you’re experiencing and he pulls his mouth away and looks you in the eye.

“may i?” he whispers, and you smile and nod, laughing as he rolls you off of him to rid himself of the rest of his clothes and dig a condom out of his bedside table, which he hands to you.

you’re impatient as you tear it open but force yourself to roll it onto him slowly, studying his face as he revels in the feeling of your fingers grazing lightly against his dick.

once it’s on, he flips you over again, laughing, and exhales slowly as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them somewhere on the floor to be found later. his fingertips ghost gently down the sides of your thighs as he bends down to lick a long stripe between your legs and across your clit.

“fuck,” you breathe as he groans softly against your skin, the vibrations sending an electrifying buzz up your spine.

he presses his tongue flat against you, metal bar circling your clit teasingly, and then he pulls away and groans, “sit on my face,” his words hurried and slurred with lust.

so you let him move to lie on his back and straddle his face, giggling as he wraps his hands around your thighs to pull you closer.

“aw, don’t be shy, i thought that’s the whole point of this,” he says.

and then his mouth is back on you again, tongue flicking slowly and carefully, taking in your every response, and soon he’s got you shaking on top of him, grasping at the headboard and his shoulders and tangling your fingers in his hair.

he keeps going after you’ve already finished, making you writhe and whimper, only letting go of you once he’s satisfied.

he pushes you backward so that you’re still sitting with your knees on either side of him and he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. his lips are on yours, then, and he’s pulling your hips to his, the head of his cock nudging ever-so-lightly against your entrance.

“quit teasing me,” you whine when he grips your waist, refusing to let you sit yourself on his dick.

“i’m not.”

“yes you are!”

“‘m not,” he mumbles, smiling, as he draws his lips down the curve of your left shoulder and back up again. “i’m savoring the moment.”

you huff. “you can savor it with your cock in me.” and yūji does his best not to show it, but the high he gets from those words alone, from knowing how desperate you are for him, even if it’s just for his body, sends him straight to heaven. because regardless of how much of him you want, it’s still only him that you want in this moment, and right now that’s enough.

you allow him to move at his own pace, his movements slow, languid as he holds you to his chest, one hand around your waist and the other reaching up to tangle his fingers in your hair. he lets himself say the things he wants now.

“kiss me?” he whispers, and you oblige happily. you taste like him, and he’s so content he could lose his mind.

instead he loses himself to you, shaky breaths between “god, you’re so good,” and “you have no idea… how long i’ve waited… for you to want me like this.” there’s a single thing he holds back from saying, but he still plans on saying it. he’s just saving it for the right moment.

you’re drunk off of him, your body shuddering against him with every touch of his skin to yours, not knowing what to say and yet feeling as if you know everything you’ve ever needed to. and you say it for him.

“i love you.”

the words are barely there, just a breath against his lips as you kiss him, and it’s too much for him. he finishes with something akin to a sob, taking your face into his hands. “i love you,” he responds. and then, “say it again? please?”

you close your eyes and smile, leaning into him and brushing your lips against his. “i love you, yūji.”

his hand’s on the back of your head, then, pushing you back to his mouth, wanting you closer, wanting more. and you want more, too, fingers tracing lines down his back and arms and stomach, sending waves of light through his skin. this is it, he thinks as you press your body tight against his, this is all there is.

you are everything to him.

— SOMETHING ABT U I CAN’T QUIT

in each other’s arms later that evening, you feel yūji’s chest move slowly up and down with each inhale and exhale, contented in sharing this silent moment with you, and then you know. you know how you want him. you open your mouth to speak, and he does at the exact same time. the two of you share a laugh, just like you always have.

“you first,” you say, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you can look at him properly.

he reaches up and rests a hand flat against your face and runs his thumb lightly over your bottom lip. “i am…” the words are slow and quiet and purposeful. “i am so in love with you.”

your smile widens against his hand. “i want you. everything… about you, with you. i want it all.”

and he mirrors your grin, just like he always has. “i’m yours to take.” his eyes flit down to your lips, his thumb still pressed against them, afraid to look you in the eye as he speaks his next words. his face flushes pink; it’s adorable. “say you’re mine, too?” it’s a request, a plea—not a command.

you reach up to your face and place your hand over his. “all yours,” you say. “don’t even have to ask.”

it’s silent for a bit again, and then he sits up, going a little more serious.

“what?”

“what happens if this doesn’t last?”

you sit up, too, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and gently pulling his head to rest against yours. “after all these years?”

“hmm.”

you think for a moment: after all these years. your whole lives, spent together, maybe not as lovers but always as two halves of a whole. it’s him you always gossip to first, whom you always went to after heartbreaks and fights with your parents. he’s the first one you told when you lost your virginity, crashed your car, got into one of your top universities. he’s held your hand through everything.

so finally you say, “i don’t think that’s going to be a problem.”

he pulls away to look you in the eye. “why not?”

his nose brushes against yours as you lean your forehead against his and laugh a little. “are you dumb, yūji?”

“i don’t think so?” when you say nothing, just continuing to look at him with that shit-eating grin on your face, he goes, “am i missing something?”

you press your lips to his for a second and pull away, still smiling at him. “it’s us, yūji. always has been.”

231 notes · View notes

lilkermit14 · 3 years ago

Note

Jay is from the show Red Widow and unfortunately he's not really known 😅 At first I wanted to ask for Jack but I had no idea of the details for the story... Maybe he had to leave reader because of his job, but he loves her too much and decides to come back and find out that she is pregnant (a baby girl) I know, it's not original but i can't imagine anything else for this charming cowboy 🥺

Whole (Jack Daniels x Fem!reader)

Notes: Idk why I struggled so hard to write this fic but here she is in all her glory........yay. Not as smutty as per usual to prove I’m not a total whore but here ya go

Summary: after your life is threatened unbeknownst to you, whiskey takes it upon himself to protect you the only way he thinks he can––by leaving you. but what his cowboy brain doesn’t for see, is that he’s doing both of you more damage than good especially after a happy little accident.

warnings: brief description of smut and aftercare (like the La Croix of smut but still no minors), ANGSTTTTTTT, rOUGH, unplanned pregnancy, a slap, and a happy ending

Jack should have known the first time he wasn’t meant to have this kind of happiness—the kind where one could always have someone to return home to at the end of the day. No, he couldn’t have it with his late wife and he couldn’t have it with you either.

The human trafficker had somehow gotten access to personal statesmen information, because he had found out about you. Had your name. Had shown him pictures of you. Had shown that men were waiting at your doorstep if Jack didn’t back down now.

Thankfully, they were able to stop the man before it came to any of that—but it broke something in Jack. He couldn’t have another woman he loves die like his wife. He didn’t know if he could handle it. You didn’t even know about Jack’s real job, all you knew was that he was the CEO of a distillery and you never asked questions about that. Maybe it was easier keeping it like that, as Jack realized the only way to keep you safe was to leave you.

He had picked a night, picked a place to head out to after it was all over, and planned out the note. He had made love to you one last time before leaving—slowly savoring the way your skin felt pressed against him and the way it felt to have your walls drag against him when he thrusted, and finally stilled deep inside you. He made sure to take care of you before he left, clean with all sore muscles rubbed out and well hydrated—comfortable as you could be. You fell asleep so easily it somehow made Jack more guilty for what he thought was the right thing. He stayed longer than he should have after he wrote the note and got dressed, bag packed by the door, just staring at you, attempting to memorize the sound of your soft noises as you slept and the way your naked body looked covered by the sheets and pale moonlight. It was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen and wanted it to be the clearest memory he had of you. Tears sprung in his eyes, thinking that this is the only thing he will ever have of love—memories. He kissed your forehead one last time before walking out of your life forever.

*****************************

Jack hasn’t felt alive since, the toll of leaving you behind eating at him more than he ever thought it could. He’s changed in a way and everyone knows it—they see the way he moves or speaks now and know something has changed. He just goes through the motions of living with no actual life in his eyes to prove he is alive. He throws himself into his work working through cases and bad guys more efficiently than ever, but it doesn’t distract him from losing you—not when he lies awake at night crying and missing you.

Everyone around him changes too—Tequila doesn’t tease him anymore and walks around him like they’re threading through a room full of broken glass. Ginger does more medical evaluations—ones that are less to do with physical health and more to do with mental health. Most of all—champ acts different, “son—“

Jack pauses from exiting the debriefing room after giving Champ a status report and picking up another case, “I’m wondering if you should take a few days off from wo—“

“No,” Jack says curt and without a single space for bargaining. Champ is stiff when Jack looks at him, “I know you're wallowing over that girl.”

“I did what I had to do and I’m going to continue doing it.” Jack reminds him, staying steadfast in his decision. Champ shakes his head, “and it’s tearing you apart—statesmen get threats like that all the time Whiskey and they don’t go deserting their relatives or loved ones—“

“Well they're not me,” Jack states his stare is cold as he looks down at Champagne, “I can’t lose another person like that again.”

“You’ve lost her by leaving her,” his words cut through him and he knows it’s the truth, but it’s not something stubborn ol Jack is willing to withstand. Jack turns to leave again, “I’ll be off on the case.”

*****************************

You can’t help but pick up one of the sandwiches from the various food carts before they go out. It’s too tempting after standing for hours on your feet with a six month old pregnancy belly on your front—one you’re rubbing as you enjoy the taste of the mozzarella, pesto, and tomato together. The father of your child disappeared before you could even tell him—fitting considering you never grew up with a father in your house. So it has just been you and your baby girl, and well your best friend and business partner that was walking towards you now, joking “are the sandwiches up to your standards?”

“I needed something to eat after four hours of standing and being pregnant Travis,” you contest, taking another big bite. He shrugs with some sort of understanding, looking over the trays of food with you and approving them before they go off. Travis randomly starts, “I don’t think we should try to have this client again.”

You turn, finishing your sandwich with an eyebrow raise, “why? Did someone from the company say something to you—“

“Not that—although I was worried when the CEO invited his childhood priest—” he notes sending off the last tray, “I get bad vibes from the company itself.”

You think about it for a moment agreeing that something was fishy about the way a family-owned soap company was able to afford such a lavish event—something was a little off. You nod, “maybe not—I don’t want to get too close to a company that's a front. I doubt they would want us back because they’ve fired every event planner they’ve had before and the CEO’s wife already complained that the flower garnishes weren’t the correct shade of maroon.”

“We just have to finish the job then and we’ll be scott free” Travis mutters checking his watch, “just a couple hours left—what could go wrong?”

As though you were in a badly made comedy, right as Travis says that you hear clatter and gunshots come from the main event area, “......I spoke too soon didn’t I?”

*********************

Vincent Marsulio had tried to make a run for it once he realized his plans to run a million dollar drug business had gone to shit—I mean a soap company as a front? Really? Jack had dodged gunfire, tequila and the new agent rum covering him—allowing him to use his lasso to drag Vincent into Statesmen custody.

The scene was under control now—with agents and Ginger’s crime scene investigators gathering follow up information and evidence. Jack was just there to make sure the scene stayed secure and that no witnesses ran off that were revealed to be involved. Scanning the crowds of those being interviewed is when he saw you.

He should have known you were here—he should have seen your touches in the flower displays, the food selections, the drapery, and the table cloths. You were a party planner, he should have made note of that. You’re the same as the images in his mind—the memories that flash through his mind whenever he gets a flicker of your perfume or hears a laugh that sounds like yours. The only thing that's changed about you is your stomach—there's a sizable baby bump there, and he mumbles to himself “no…”

It had been seven months—seven months since he left you. It had to be his. He left you pregnant. As though you heard the gears turning in his head you turn and make eye contact with him—freezing in your place. He has to talk to you now, but you make efforts to move away, running towards a stairwell to get away from him as he shouts your name.

************

Despite being seven months pregnant you make a good chase, ducking down the stairwell and moving as fast as your swollen ankles will carry you while he shouts for you behind you. You can’t see him right now, he left, he doesn’t deserve this. Your condition must somewhat get the best of you as you end up stumbling on a landing—slowing down enough for him to catch up. You knew it was futile after all he ran faster than you even when you weren’t pregnant.

He grabs your wrist before you can go any farther, pulling you towards his body—only for you to wack a big slap to the side of his face, “how dare you—you asshole.”

“You're pregnant?” He asks quick as hell, and you frown still jabbing hits at him, “Why else am I so fucking big dickhead.”

He pulls you closer in an effort to restrain you from hitting him and from running away at any point, “is it mine?”

You had been avoiding looking at his face the entire portion of the ordeal—not wanting to see the face of the man that abandoned you. But you end up looking anyway and feel the tears spring up in your eyes. Despite the fact he left you you still feel love for him in your heart. You can’t lie to him, “it is.”

“Sugar, I’m—“ he breathes out, struck in the moment by every error he’s made in the past few months knowing he should have stayed, “I’m so sorry, please let me explain why I did what I did.”

You don’t respond just letting him speak at his own will as he settles you two down to sit on the steps of the stair. Jack tells you about his job, his wife, and the scare he had that just accumulated to him feeling like he had to leave to keep you safe. You had known about his late wife but none of the details about the affair and understood just why he was so afraid—but he still acted like an idiot. Head in hands, “why did you keep everything hidden from me Jack, I mean you lied to me about your job––no wonder I was able to find you after I found out, I was stuck looking for Jack Daniels brewery CEO instead of Jack Daniels statesmen.”

You got him there, “I should have––everyone told me I should have told you.” Silence emanates between the two of you, “I know sorry doesn’t make up for all I did––I don’t know if I can ever make up for what I did, but give me a chance because I want to be there for you and the kid–I love you sweet pea.”

Tears spring from your eyes, “I love you too Jack, we’ll figure it out I promise.”

Jack pulls you into his arms whispering what sounds like a thousand thank you’s for you and the girl in your belly, “it’s a girl you know.”

“A girl…” Jack trails off with a smile gleaming on his face and some unspoken joy in his eyes, that shifts into something of deep regret, “I was almost like him I don’t ever wanna be like him”

“You won’t.” you state firm and jack pulls away to cup your face and wipe away the errant tears still streaming down your face, “can I kiss you darling?”

“Please,” and with that the lips you have missed meld on to yours. After months, both alone and apart, both you and Jack feel a sense of security that everything will be alright––that your little family is finally whole.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m sorry that its bad....

taglist:

@poenariuniverse @harleyamidala @yespolkadotkitty @storiesofthefandomlovers @babybelou @legally-a-bastard @computeringturtle @clydesducktape @sixties-loser @buckysalefty @april-14-blog @prettylittlegoldfish @softpedropascal

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selfindulgentpoorlywritten · 3 years ago

Text

It’s You (Nico Hischier Imagine)

Y’all, I’ve been so busy lately! I’m sorry it’s been so long since I’ve posted, but hopefully this and the Matty imagine coming soon will make up for it :)

Rating: G

Pairing: Nico Hischier/fem!reader

Words: 3047

Warnings: minor language

Requested: yes/no

Prompt: “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Summary: “ Nico Hischier, fluff prompt 2, and the couple trope where they’re both dense af and don’t realize how cute they are together. The third wheelers that wanna smack their foreheads? Nico’s entire team. “

Knowing that you’re in love with someone is different than accepting that you’re in love with someone.

You’ve known that you love Nico for years. It wasn’t anything special that made you realize, really. It was during one of your semi-regular movie nights, when he was tossing popcorn into the air, trying to catch it in his mouth. He hit himself in the eye with a piece, and you’d laughed at him so hard that he shoved his cold feet under your leg in retaliation, and as you yelped in shock, it had hit you. You never wanted to hear anything but his laugh ever again, and you’d suffer worse than some cold feet for that.

It wasn’t until last year that you truly understood how far gone you are for him, and actually accepted what being in love with him meant. Despite being annoyingly sure that you and Nico were meant to be together, your friends had tried to set you up with someone. Their reasoning was that you hadn’t made a move, and probably never would, so they decided you needed to meet someone else to get over him. It was the second blind date when you realized that as well as you meshed with the guy, all you wanted was to be at Nico’s place watching some stupid show cuddled up on the couch. You didn’t want anyone else, and you never would.

That was the part that scared you at first. You’re never going to love anyone like you love Nico, and you didn’t have any desire to try. He’s everything you want, and the only thing you want. And he would never want you back. The prospect of a life without romantic love was terrifying, but after a month of near-constant panic, you were able to accept it. You have friends, and so much in your life that makes you happy, and that will be enough. You’re not excited to see him fall in love with someone else and get married and start a family, but having him in your life is enough. It’s enough. It’s enough.

You wonder sometimes, though. When he turns down invitations from the guys to spend time with you, when he holds you close on the couch, when he curls up next to you in bed after a bad game. The wondering is the worst part. You know he doesn’t feel the same as you, that they’re just best friend things, but sometimes you can’t help but to let yourself believe in the possibility.

The guys used to tease the two of you about “being in love”, but in the past year or so, it’s started seeming less teasing and more genuine. Frustrated, even. Between the guys and your friends, it seems like everyone thinks you should be together. That’s the second worst part.

Today, Nico has saved you a ticket for the game, since you can actually make it after work. When he’d gotten the captaincy, he’d gotten you a new jersey with the C on it, so you wear it to the game over your favorite sweater. A few of the WAGs came as well, and you’re excited to catch up with them. They’d adopted you as an honorary WAG a couple years back, considering how close you are with Nico.

The first period goes well, Nico scoring a beautiful wrister six minutes in. He looks up to where he knows you’re sitting after collecting his fist-bumps, though you’re sure he can’t really see you.

The second period is a little rougher, the Rangers scoring two goals, separated by a tip-in from Nico. He looks to your section again, and it makes you smile every time. Having him on hatty watch is exciting, and the game is dynamic enough that you’re cheering maybe a little too hard to be respectable. Luckily, the girls think it’s endearing, and know to expect it from you.

During second intermission, you chat with Nicole. She’s still beaming with pride from Travis’s thousandth game the other day, and you love to see it. She asks you about work and family and Nico, the conversation casual and comfortable. The only thing that bothers you is the way she looks at you as you talk about Nico, smile small and gentle, eyes almost pitying. The other girls still occasionally urged you to make a move on Nico, but Nicole had stopped around the time that you accepted your love for him. Now she just looks a little bittersweet when you bring him up. It’s kind of annoying, honestly. But she’s your friend, and she means well, so you don’t mind too much.

The third period is dynamic, the puck flying between zones, both teams feeling the pressure of the impending end of the game. The atmosphere in the arena is electric, everyone shouting and leaning forward in their seats, enraptured by the action. Because of the way the team has been struggling in the past few years, most of the Devils fans that are left are the die-hards, and it shows in the passion filling the Pru.

It’s looking like they’re going to go into overtime, the score still tied with only two minutes left in the game. Neither team pulls their goalie, probably trying for overtime so that they get at least one point. At 1:47, Nico gets a breakaway, and you jump out of your seat along with the rest of the crowd, throwing a fist into the air and cheering at the top of your lungs. Nico reaches Georgeiv, fakes a five-hole shot, and when Georgeiv hits the ground to block it, Nico flicks the puck up toward the top shelf. Georgeiv flings his glove up to catch it, but he’s just a moment too late. The puck hits the top left twine, coming to rest in the back corner of the goal.

The arena explodes.

Your hands are in the air as you jump around, screaming in unfettered joy. Even the WAGs are shouting, the shot beautiful and coming just in time. Nico collects his fist-bumps, then looks toward your seat yet again. But this time, he points toward your section, and you’re sure he’s pointing to you. You place a hand over your heart, the other clenched in a fist in the air. The pride is overwhelming.

The last minute and a half are a desperate rush of the Rangers trying to even the score back out, and the Devils doing all they can to keep their lead. Kreider, Zibanejad, and Buchnevich make a fantastic first line, and they’re doing a great job of bringing the puck into the Devils’ zone over and over, but Ty and Damon are on fire, clearing the puck every time it’s brought in. When the buzzer sounds, you and Nicole hug, excited to see your boys succeeding.

Nico will have to talk to the media for sure, considering his hat trick, in addition to the cool down, game debrief, and getting changed. It adds to the time you’ll have to wait before you see him, but you’re so happy for him that it doesn’t even faze you. He was amazing, and you’re looking forward to having a late dinner and cuddle session with him.

After a moment of consideration, you resolve to make him his favorite post-game meal. That means you’ll have to stop at the store, so you decide to forego meeting him outside the locker room in favor of grabbing the ingredients and getting the food started. You have a key to his apartment anyway, and the doorman knows you, so you don’t have to wait for him to let you in.

You stop at Shoprite on your way to his place, grabbing everything you need, along with some snacks to stock his pantry. He forgets to keep them in the house sometimes, so you like to make sure he has something to nosh on when he doesn’t feel like cooking. When you get to his complex, the doorman greets you happily.

“Roger!” you greet in return, giving him a quick hug, “It’s great to see you. How’s the family?” The two of you chat for a few minutes, catching up since you have a bit of time. He lets you into the building, and you take the elevator up to Nico’s floor. You unlock the door and drop your keys and bag on the table in the entryway. After dumping the grocery bags on the counter, you put on some music and start unpacking.

You stash the snacks in the upper cabinets, setting aside the things you need now. You set to work, singing along to the music as you cook. There’s a lull while you let the chicken cook, so you check your phone. You’d sent Nico a text before you left, letting him know you’d meet him at home, so you wanted to make sure he saw it. He’d sent back a thumbs-up, so you don’t have to call him. You have a couple notifications, and a text from Nicole. After checking the notifications and replying to a snapchat from your friend, you open Nicole’s message. It’s just a link, so you tap into it, and a video pops up. It’s Nico’s post-game interview. You don’t usually watch them, because he tells you about the game afterward anyway, but if Nicole sent it, there must be something special about it.

The pride on his face brings a smile to yours. You listen to him give some pretty standard answers to some pretty standard questions, waiting for whatever made Nicole see fit to send it to you. The reporter asks about his hat trick, and the flush on Nico’s face grows. He’s so damn cute.

“Well,” he begins, huffs half of a laugh, continues, “There was a special girl in the audience, so I wanted to do something special for her.”

“Oh, trying to impress somebody?” the reporter asks, the smile evident in her voice.

“Yeah,” Nico replies, clearly embarrassed, “She’s the most important person in my life, so…” He trails off at the end, but the intent is clear.

Your heart stops.

It’s unbelievable, what you’ve just heard, and it’s inconceivable that it could be about you. You try your best to think of everyone who was in the family and friends section, anyone in Nico’s life that he could be talking about. You were the only one there for him tonight, unless someone else was in a different section. You try as hard as you can, but you can’t think of anyone that Nico’s talked about lately that he could be interested in. You try to convince yourself that there’s someone he hasn’t told you about, but you tell each other everything. If there was someone, he would have told you.

Shit.

You want to call him, ask him what the hell that was, hear him tell you that it was for someone else. You’d already accepted that you’d never be together, that you’d never have love, and the possibility of your greatest desire being obtainable throws you off so hard that you have to take a moment to lean on the counter and breathe.

You manage to resist the urge to call him, knowing that he’ll be home soon anyway. If you keep focusing on the interview, you’ll have a panic attack, so you force all of your attention to finishing the food. The chicken is still cooking, and usually you’d just let it sit, but this time you’re spooning the sauce over it with very intentional focus. Anything to keep yourself stable.

Once you’re sure it’s cooked through, you turn the heat off. The broccoli is already done, but the rice takes another minute to finish. You plate the sides next to each other on the dishes, placing the chicken on the bed of rice and dousing it in the rest of the sauce. The sauce is Nico’s favorite part, so you make sure to give him extra.

Once the plates are set on the coffee table in the living room, you hear the doorknob turn. Your heart skips another beat, and you take a deep breath to settle yourself. He calls your name as he comes in, and you swallow hard so that you can tell him you’re there without your voice cracking. He rounds the corner and walks straight to you, wrapping you up in his arms. You hug him back, face buried in his neck. You know that you’re tense, and that he’ll probably notice, but you hope that he doesn’t ask about it.

Luckily, he only gives you a worried look. You smile back instead, and you can feel how fake it looks. To avoid the question, you start asking him about the game, leading him over to the couch to sit and eat. Nico stops when he sees the meal, a soft look overtaking his face. He always got soft and sentimental when you did thoughtful things for him, and his appreciation brings a real smile to your face. Your heart settles in your chest, and you remind yourself that this is Nico. At the end of the day, this is Nico, and he’s your best friend, for better or worse. There’s no reason to be afraid; there’s never a reason to be afraid around him.

You turn on the TV, navigating through until you can start the episode of The Good Place that you’d left off on. Even as you eat, you take pauses to make small comments about the show. Nico laughs at all of them, even if they’re not that funny. Once you’re both finished eating, you pause the show and take the dishes into the kitchen. Nico trails behind you, slipping between you and the sink at the last moment, close enough that you bump into him.

“You cooked, I wash,” he says on the tail end of a laugh.

“Then at least let me dry,” you reply, smile shining through your voice. He gives an over-dramatic sigh and an “I guess” before his smile returns. You bump your shoulders together and grab the towel off of the drying rack. Nico has a dishwasher, but you always wash the dishes by hand when you eat dinner together. It’s just a little tradition at this point, a way to spend a quiet moment together, to extend the time you stay. To increase the chance of you just staying over. Well, it’s not really a necessary motivation any more, but it is a handy excuse.

As Nico starts the water and soaps the sponge, you turn on the bluetooth speaker at home on the island and choose some chill music. There’s just something about this time together that always gives you a special feeling, something that you don’t get anywhere else. Something that relaxes your shoulders, softens your jaw, turns the edges of your lips up just enough that you realize your face has been resting in a frown all day. Your life is perfectly fine, but being with Nico makes you realize that it could be better. That you deserve better. That as long as he’s by your side, you have better.

Washing the dishes is calming, silent save for the clink of the silverware and the soft melody floating from the speaker. Once all the dishes are dried and back in the cabinets, Nico steps into your space, resting his hands on your waist. It takes the breath from your lungs, until he starts swaying you and you realize you’re dancing.

Your hands had landed on the curve of his shoulders without your conscious decision, thumbs gently propped along the tendons on either side of his throat. It feels too intimate that way, so you move them to join behind his neck instead. The more traditional position is less uncomfortable, both physically and emotionally.

You have no idea what song is playing now, too caught up in the weight of his hands, the baby hairs at the base of his skull running between your fingers, the unbearably fond look in his eyes. He’s looking at you like he’s just as happy to have this as you are, like there’s nowhere he’d rather be. Like he loves you.

“I saw the interview,” you say, not meaning for the words to slip out. You knew that it would ruin the mood, but you had to know. You had to know.

“Oh, um,” Nico stutters to a stop, though he doesn’t remove his hands from your hips. He tightens them, actually. No matter how much you want to cup your hand around the curve of his jaw, you leave them where they are. You don’t want to assume, just to embarrass yourself later.

Waiting patiently, you keep an eye on Nico’s face. He’s cycling through so many emotions that it’s difficult to catch them all. His face has gone pink, cheeks nearly glowing as they continue to redden while he thinks. You give him as much time as you can bear.

“Who were you talking about, Nico?” you ask, needing him to say it. You need to hear him say it. His breathing has gone a bit ragged, and he takes a gulp of air to steady himself. His cheeks are still bright red, and it somehow makes him even more beautiful.

“You,” he says simply, eyes locked on your own.

Your heart stops.

“Yeah?” you ask, the barest hint of a smile starting. Nico ducks his head for just a moment, huffing a laugh before angling back up to look at you again, eyes soft instead of determined.

“It’s you,” he replies, “It’s always been you.” Your breath catches in your throat as he says the words you’ve been dying both to hear and to say. It’s you. It’s all for you.

“Well, that’s convenient,” your smile is blooming wide, “Because it’s always been you, too.” Nico’s face springs into a bright grin, and you let your hands come to his face. Your fingertips wrap below his jaw, your thumbs resting on his cheekbones.

“You should kiss me now,” you say, pulling a dazzling laugh from him. He leans down, pressing your lips together in what you hope will be the first kiss of many.

#nico hischer imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #RI #andis coping mechanism #nhischier

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bcdaily · 3 years ago

Note

I notice that you were on the last episode of CR2 a few days ago, did you make it through? Do you have Thoughts??

Yes! I finished last weekend! But honestly think I needed the full week to just process and push past my general malaise now that I was finished, though. I did have a lot of thoughts!

(Under cut and SPOILERS in case some of you are watching/might watch Campaign 2)

Overall, I honestly adored it. I literally have zero experience with any D&D outside of this, so while I can't say much about the quality of gameplay comparatively, the storytelling was just...beyond compare. Matt and the writers are truly gifted. And the whole cast just KNOWS how to do character work. Obviously some stronger than others, but the group dynamic between them all is just so balanced, so the disparity and styles mixing really worked. It filled such a happy hole of creative juices for me for four months. I'm honestly STILL feeling a bit bereft. (I have dabbled in a few episodes of C1 and C3 to see if either of those click, but I think I'm still too close to 2 and need a bit more time before jumping into another lol)

I think Caleb won out over Jester for my favorite character in the end. But that's just because I think Liam is the best role player and character worker in the campaign. He MAKES moments for himself and the other characters. It does so much to lift up both Caleb and the story. If I didn't already just love the character, I'd love him solely for that.

As for the end...well, mixed bag there, if I'm being very honest. Which probably comes down to two things, one a me problem, the other a them problem. The "me" problem was...lol, I'm sure you'll be SHOCKED to learn of my disproportionally heavy investment in the scant romance subplots. And, alas, watching this made me grapple with the fact that it has been a LONG ASS time since I hadn't bet on a winning horse. Usually the two dummies I want to kiss end up kissing. And you'll probably be equally as unsurprised to hear that I was alllllllll in for Caleb/Jester. So basically from the moment Fjord kissed her and it looked like it was actually going to be a Thing, I have been in an active sulk lol. I was able to delude myself for a bit because I know Travis doesn't LIKE romance, so I thought maybe they'd just leave it there and I could pretend, but no damn dice. And I would be lying if I said that didn't affect my general last act disposition. Liam was still giving me bits of content to the very end, but literally every time Laura and Travis talked I was whining. I didn't hate Essek/Caleb as much as I hated Jester/Fjord (THEY WERE SO FUCKING BORING), but neither was what I wanted. So that definitely put a deep pallor in general over my overall enjoyment. XD

The "them" problem was honestly how unfinished and disjointed the last episode seemed? All throughout the Aeor plot, as the episodes were dwindling down, I was sort of wondering how they were ending the campaign so soon when there was SO MUCH STORY still left on the table. And even though the last episode was seven hours, I was like...how are they going to do this? And honestly? They just...didn't? They did the fight with Trent, but for all the build-up of that, imo, REALLY strong plot line, it just ended really abruptly. And then the sort of disjointed, slapdash roundup of various threads. I thought Yasha deserved a PROPER look into her own history. Certainly Caleb and Beau deserved more about the Assembly shit. Even Fjord and his fish problem. I did listen to the roundtable afterward, and I suppose I DO agree with Matt's point that while you could've gone another plot arc in, the CHARACTER arcs at that point were more or less complete. Like, there was no feasible way you were keeping Veth and Caduceus there unless they were arrested or something. So he's not WRONG. And I also know this campaign ran during COVID and they were probably all just ready to move on. Fair. But even WITH that, I think the conclusion was so clumsy? Like, by just going around and doing the random vingettes and check-ins, it made everything so disjointed. Some people were like "here's what my character did for the next week" and others were like "here's what they did for the rest of their lives." And maybe more importantly, bouncing around like that made it so we SKIPPED the moments in which this group actually broke apart. You had goodbyes with Cad, and Caleb and Veth got a small one, but the one thing I think I ACTUALLY wanted from a Fond Farewell episode was Fond Farewells, and you just never got that. This group was, for all intents and purposes, saying goodbye to each other. And *I* was saying goodbye too. And I just never got that. So it felt very disorienting and incomplete. I think it still had good moments and I enjoyed them, but my ending impression was honestly...unsatisfied.

Overall I still loved the show and loved the characters and I don't know what the RIGHT way to end a campaign would be, my experience being LITERALLY only this, but I was generally underwhelmed by the ending. Loved the campaign and the show, but wished I felt more full-circle and complete at the close.

I probably have more thoughts too but these are all I can think of now and this is already reaaaaaal long. So, lol, the end.

#bee talks cr #spoilers

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nugnthopkns · 4 years ago

Text

take the sadness out of saturday night

word count: 2.8k

warnings: insinuated fem!reader, a couple of curse words, alcohol consumption, vaguely described feelings of inadequacy

recommended listening: chinatown | bleachers featuring bruce springsteen

a/n: will i ever write anything more than 3k? probs not. also this baby is completely self indulgent but i don’t even care

All you want to do is sleep. Or drink an entire bottle of wine. Maybe both.

Graduate school is a lot harder than you expected it to be. You obviously weren’t naïve enough to think it be as easy as your undergrad, but you didn’t think it would be like this. It’s competitive; with people doing whatever it takes to get ahead. You’ve almost had your thesis topic stolen twice. The workload is also incredibly different. Gone are the days of small tests and assignments: everything relies on your thesis paper being of the utmost quality. You feel like you’re drowning in the middle of the ocean.

Today was the worst in a succession of terrible days. On the way to campus you dropped your coffee but didn’t have enough time to get another one. The conditions didn’t get any better once you reached school. Your lunch got left behind on the kitchen island and your advisor didn’t show up for your meeting, putting you another two weeks behind schedule. To top it off, you left campus later than usual and caught in the horrendous Philadelphia traffic. By the time you reach your apartment complex you’re thoroughly exhausted and two seconds away from crying.

How you can afford your current lodging is beyond you. Tuition is waived by the university, which certainly helps, but you’re mostly relying on loans. It will be a bitch to pay off in a few years, but you don’t have any other option. The building isn’t ridiculously flashy, with semi-outdated furnishing, but it’s in a central location that anyone in Philly would kill for. Every day you wake up grateful there isn’t an eviction notice on your door; though you’re very careful to pay rent on time. Only the small lamp in the entryway is on when you unlock the door, but you keep it that way. Kicking off your sneakers and haphazardly hanging up your jacket, you shuffle into the bedroom portion of the studio. The pyjamas tucked under the pillow are calling your name, and it feels so good to free yourself of business casual clothing.

The next stop on your mad-dash around in order to plant yourself on the couch as quickly as possible is the bathroom. You scrub your face vigorously, knowing you’ll pay for it in a few days when a breakout appears, but you can’t find it within you to care. It feels so good to be clean and in control of a situation. The kitchen is where you meander to next, filling the largest glass you can find with rosé. A bag of candy is grabbed as well, and then you’re tucking yourself into the corner of the couch and piling on the blankets. You open Netflix and briefly debate what to watch before deciding on something you’ve seen a million times before that won’t require your full attention.

Half an hour into the film you get hungry, but with no ambition to cook for yourself. Take out it is. You place an order at your favourite sushi joint and lazily return your gaze to the T.V. The scene on the screen no longer appeals to you, so you dig around the cushions to find your phone. It’s been a while since you’ve called your mom and you know she’s been missing you; truth be told you miss her a resounding amount. Philadelphia is a long ways from home and you can’t afford to travel often. Not being near your pillar of support is definitely wearing on you. She picks up on the fifth ring.

“Hello?”

A tear slips out at the sound of her voice. Yours catches in your throat slightly, and your response is garbled. “Mom,” it breaks at the end, and the tears quickly turn into a waterfall.

“Oh honey,” she sighs, chest filling with pain at your apparent despair. “What’s the matter?”

You sob for a minute or two before it subsides enough for you to actually speak. Through hiccups and sniffles you detail your horrible week, and the one before that for good measure. Your mom stays silent, listening with intent, and the one sided conversation eventually turns into you fretting about how you feel inadequate in your academic community and how you can’t picture a future. Only once you’ve ran out of words does she speak, negating the argument put in place by your imposter syndrome and doing her best to inflate your ego.

“You’ve earned your seat at the table Y/N,” she says with conviction. “I know it doesn’t feel like it, but you deserve to be there. You’re cut out for this; no one is more passionate about their work than you.”

Another hiccup slips past your lips as you respond. “Thanks Mom.”

You don’t have to see her to know she’s sporting a smile. “We’re so proud of you honey, and always will be. No matter what you decide to do. Hell, you could move to Peru to become an alpaca farmer and your dad and I would be the happiest parents on Earth.”

The comment is meant to make you laugh, citing the time you called her during your undergrad to inform her you were dropping out and moving to the Andes. It works. You can’t help it, and have to admit it feels good after days of negative feelings. She distracts you further, recounting a story about your youngest brother’s recent baseball game that ended with a trip to the hospital after an unfortunate sliding incident. You wince at the mention of the basemen’s cleat colliding with his ankle, and chuckle when she talks about Connor singing showtunes in the recovery room. The story swapping continues, and it brings comfort. If you close your eyes you can envision yourself sitting on your mom’s bed, hiding your face in a pillow when anything embarrassing happens.

A knock at your door ends your conversation, and the sadness slowly trickles back into your bones. “Mom, I’ve gotta go. The delivery person is here.”

“Okay sweetie. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Having lost track of time, you’re wildly unprepared to pay for your food. “One minute,” you yell in the direction of the front door, praying the person on the other side heard you. You root around your wallet for the appropriate amount of cash before sliding across the floor and unlocking the door handle. The person standing there is not in fact a food delivery service worker, but your neighbour from across the hall, holding what you presume to be your dinner.

“Nolan?”

To say you’re shocked is an understatement. Though you’d go as far to say the two of you are casual acquaintances, he’s never shown up unannounced on your doorstep. Most of your interactions take place in the elevator or hallway, and you’ve only been inside his apartment once when you left your keys in your advisor’s office. Being a professional hockey player means he typically isn’t around a lot, but you had learned from a friend he’s spending the season sidelined by an injury. He still hasn’t been around a lot from what you could tell.

His low rumble catches you off guard for a millisecond but it doesn’t take long to adjust. “They, uh, sent it to the wrong door,” he mumbles, holding out the bag to illustrate his point.

“Fuck,” you swear. “Sorry. How much do I owe you?” A ballpark figure is in your brain, but you aren’t above throwing in a few extra dollars for the inconvenience. No one wants to receive their neighbour’s food.

Nolan shakes his head profusely and shoves his hands in his pockets when you try to slip the money into them. “It’s on the house,” he shrugs. “Think of it as an apology for being a shit neighbour these past couple of months.”

“You’re a great neighbour Nolan. I have no complaints.” He returns your smile but doesn’t speak. An awkward tension fills the air between you, almost as if each of you is waiting for the other to talk.

“Well I’ll let you –”

“Would you like some company?”

The question stops you dead in your tracks. A look of bewilderment must appear on your face because Nolan starts blabbering. “It’s just that you looked upset when you came to the door, like you’ve been crying. I can also see the nearly empty bottle of wine on the counter and that’s never a good sign.” He pauses for a second to take a breath before blurting out a final sentence. “And there’s a game tonight and if I don’t distract myself from it I think I might die.” Ragged breathing punctuates the sudden stoppage, and when you look up to meet his eyes you feel a sense of desperation.

Without saying anything you open the door wider and retreat into the unit, hoping he gets the hint. It takes him all of two seconds to follow you, quickly darting across the hall to lock his door. You’re at the fridge when he returns, and turn around to ask him what he’d like to drink.

“It seems like an alcohol kind of night,” you chuckle. “What are you having?”

He looks at you sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck. “Could I have a glass of that rosé?”

You nod and gesture for him to pass you the bottle. “Never pegged you as a wine drinker,” you comment as you fill his cup.

“Travis teases me relentlessly so I don’t keep it at the house anymore. Can only drink it in private.”

At the mention of his teammate’s name you understand. It’s exhausting to fit into someone’s mould of you. “Your secret is safe with me.”

The two of you migrate to the couch and once again become shrouded in silence. It’s comfortable this time, as you nurse your glasses and watch the skyline. Just having someone by your side is enough to quell the upset you’ve felt all day. You wonder why you hadn’t sought Nolan out sooner. It seems he’s been in a similar situation; having terrible days and feeling alone. Conversation only comes once he realizes both your drinks are empty. Nolan opens the fridge to find one more bottle of wine; a cheap, fruity one that’s meant to taste like a cooler. It’s strawberry flavoured, which equal parts thrills and disgusts him. He’s thrown back to his first high school party, when this was the only alcohol he could get his friends’ older sisters to buy him.

“I feel like I’m sixteen again,” he laughs, not bothering to fill his glass. Instead, he swigs from the bottle before reaching over the back of the couch and placing in your lap. You follow his lead, drinking directly from the vessel.

“Don’t judge me,” you huff. “I like the way it tastes.”

Nolan gazes sideways at you before dropping his voice to a near whisper. “Your secret’s safe with me.”

In a streak of boldness that came from god knows where, you place a hand on top of his. He doesn’t retract but doesn’t push forward either. You’re too scared to do anything else, and soon retract your hand and place it in your lap. “So,” you cough. “You need a distraction?”

☀☀☀☀

One comedy special turned into three, and it’s safe to say both you and Nolan are feeling exponentially better than when he knocked on your door. The alcohol flowed until you ran out, but neither of you are drunk. Perhaps tipsy; most definitely content. It’s so nice to enjoy someone’s company without the pressure of maintaining a perfect appearance. Nolan must feel it too, because he slowly begins to open up, talking about his career and ambitions for a life after hockey. You sit quietly, much like your mother had done hours before, as he describes his frustration with the migraines and how he yearns to bond with his teammates.

“I’m just so scared this is it, that I’m done,” he hiccups.

You tentatively shuffle closer to him, looking for signs that he’s uncomfortable. Once you’re squished beside him, shoulder to shoulder, you take yet another page from your mother’s book. “If tonight is a good indicator of who you are, then you, Nolan Patrick, are going to be just fine. Seems to me that this is nothing but a bump in the road. You’re destined for greatness.”

He smiles, possibly the first completely real one he’s given you all night, and it reaches his eyes. “You really think that?”

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t believe it to be true. You see, in my line of work, truth is of the utmost importance.”

At Nolan’s incessant prodding you talk about school, your thesis, and what you hope to achieve. It doesn’t sting the way you thought it would, possibly because you’re speaking to someone who’s completely enamored with the topic. Academia clearly fascinates Nolan, though he makes it clear he has no interest in joining the community. The only way you can describe the feeling of explaining everything to him is refreshing; he asks insightful questions about your research and isn’t bogged down by the technicalities like so many of your fellow scholars. When you’ve exhausted all you can say and Nolan’s ‘poked’ holes in all of your theories, he gets a serious look and turns so your body is framed by his.

In this position there’s no denying how attractive he is. Of course you’ve always found him easy to look at when you passed in the halls, but knowing him as intimately as you now do makes you realize how much you like him. “Come to a game with me?” he asks.

Your rhythm is once again thrown off by the man in front of you. “A game?”

Nolan nods enthusiastically. “A game. I’ve been meaning to go to one for a while, but I can’t find the courage to go alone. The next home game is on Tuesday, but we can obviously go to another one when it fits your schedule. If you want to come, that is.”

He’s yet to be this excited about hockey all night, and who are you to deny your newfound friend something he wants so badly? “Tuesday’s perfect Nolan.” He pumps his fist in happiness and you giggle at his antics.

“I’m so happy I could kiss you.” It slips out before he realizes, and the shock on his face lets you know it was an accident.

“You can if you want.”

You’re surprised at your own boldness, but don’t have much time to read into what the statement could mean because Nolan’s leaning in to rest his forehead against yours.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

The moment his lips touch yours it feels like a homecoming. He’s gentle but firm, letting you know he doesn’t want this to be a one time thing without saying anything at all. Nolan brings to you a sort of warmth that settles in your chest that makes you truly content with how life is going. You lose yourself in him, letting your heart steer the ship. He never waivers from you, only pulling back slightly to card his fingers through your hair. They settle at the nape of your neck and make shivers tingle your spine. You’re impossibly close, but you wish it would never end. After what feels like a millennia you break apart, chests heaving slightly from the lack of oxygen.

You can’t find the words, but you know you never want to be without Nolan again. All the anguish you experienced earlier feels light years away after a few short hours of truly knowing him. It seems that he’s on the same page, because Nolan makes no effort to remove himself from the situation. In fact, he seems perfect content to never move again: arm comfortably around your shoulder as he places a chaste kiss to the crown of your head.

“So is Tuesday a date now?” You squeak, voice small. You’re worried you’ve ruined the moment, but he cuts off your overthinking with a squeeze your bicep.

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” he replies, and you know he means it.

You can’t help yourself and slot your lips against his once again. “I’d like that a lot. There’s one condition though: I want to meet Gritty.”

Nolan’s laugh echoes off the walls and sounds like the sweetest melody you’ve ever heard. “Think I can manage to pencil you in to the schedule. It has a soft spot for me.”

As he reaches for the remote to put on highlights of the game that’s well over, you shuffle to rest your head comfortably in his lap. Your fingers find his and lazily combine. Nolan mumbles something you don’t quite catch, something about a play Travis made, but you hum in agreement anyways. He’s most likely right. Your eyes begin to droop, and as you fall asleep you forget why you were even sad in the first place.

☀☀☀☀

taglist: @jamiedrysdales if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

#nolan patrick imagine #nolan patrick x reader #nolan patrick fic #philadelphia flyers imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #cwrites

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imagines-r-s · 4 years ago

Text

sticking it - j. farabee

chapter 6

a/n: now you’ll all see why i said be excited for ch. 6 lmao. (also, with ch. 5 not showing up in the tags for a minute, some might not have seen it, so i’ll link it here) but anyways, this chapter was difficult to write bc i’m not used to writing anything but angst lmao. and huge shoutout to my baby gracie for helping me out with this chapter. please enjoy and i’d love to hear feedback

also, like i told an anon, this is in memory of bee’s hair :(( (he still looks good with the new hair, don’t get me wrong)

taglist: @butgilinsky @barbienoturbby @sunsetholland @lovenhlboys @sortagaysortahigh @hockey-racing-fubol @oopsiedoopsie23 @iwantahockeyhimbo @dreamsndior

warnings: (2) your mom jokes, jealous!joel?, once again simp nation for the both of them, swearing (it’s a problem ngl), idiocy

sticking it masterlist

wc: 4.1k

(gif not mine)

When you told Marcus and Michelle that you had to be out for a month, they advised you to only come to the gym three times a week for two hours for the first two weeks and you’d figure out a plan for the two weeks after, that way you could take a much needed break out of the gym. The thing stressing you out the most was gym and they obviously realized it, so they were hopeful it would give you a chance to breathe.

You planned to go to the gym Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays from 6-8am and then you would spend the rest of your day at home doing whatever you needed to do that day. The first Monday you spent those two hours doing ab workouts and helping the other girls around the gym, then you went home and stayed in your room for the rest of the day. You put your phone on do not disturb, so no one heard from you, which caused Kevin to come to your apartment to make sure you were okay.

Tuesday played out the exact same way, early practice, then going home and staying in bed, and Kevin coming to make sure you were alright. Kevin even invited you to come out with him and some of the boys, which you politely declined saying they should have their time together. Wednesday, you simply stayed in bed, choosing to actually keep your phone on today, you were just tired and felt drained from everything going on right now that you couldn’t really muster up the energy to talk to anyone.

Wednesday night, as you were rewatching Marvel movies, your phone started ringing with a call from Ryanne. Quickly answering it, “hey Ry.”

“Hey babes, how’re you doing?”

“I’ve been better, I’ve also been worse, so.”

“Me and Claude were wondering if you’d want to come over and hang out with us and Gav for some of the day, we’ll provide food and such, but we miss you, babe. So, we figured we’d ask while you have a chance.”

In reality, Ryanne had heard from Claude that you wouldn’t be able to do extensive training for at least a month. She might not have known much about gymnastics, but she knew you well enough to know that you were always constantly training - she was well aware that if that ever got taken from Claude that he would be devastated if he was out for that long and with two weeks to prepare for a big game.

She had checked in to see how you were with Kevin one day after practice and when he mentioned everything that was going on, she was worried about you. She knew that she likely wouldn’t be able to help much, but she did know that there was one part of the equation she could help. Knowing that she already had a plan to have a send off party before the boys went on a roadie and also knowing that everyone on the team would be there, she somehow conveniently planned to invite you over a few hours before it started.

“Oh, yeah, I’d love to, honestly. What time do you want me over?”

“Anytime after three is fine. I’ll see you then, hun. Oh, and wear something cute.”

“Why exactly?”

“Just do it,” Ryanne said, not having time to think of an excuse, “bye.”

As you were about to say something else, the ring that told you she had hung up rang out.

…..

Joel wasn’t doing as good as he wanted to be recently and with an upcoming roadie, he knew he needed to spend more time on the ice before the game. Having asked a few of the guys to work with him during an unscheduled morning skate, he was able to work on what he needed to.

“Wait, so she’s out how long?” Joel overheard Travis ask Kevin as he made his way into the locker room.

“Like four weeks, but two weeks with the brace and basically no training, then two weeks with athletic tape on her knee and no hard landings. But she’ll only have two weeks before Championships, so she's not feeling too great about it. Plus, she has to use her brace and crutches again and she didn’t enjoy that the first time,” Kevin replied.

“Is she going to be okay?” Joel hadn’t meant to ask his question aloud, but as soon as Kevin heard his voice a smile grew on his face.

“Yeah, Lover Boy, she’ll be fine. She hasn’t really been up to do anything recently, but other than that I think she’ll be okay. She has to use her crutches again, which is honestly very entertaining,” Kevin stated before turning to leave the locker room, turning right as he got to the doorway, “random question, are you planning on going to G’s for the send off party tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Just wondering,” and with that Kevin was gone, leaving a confused Joel behind.

Kevin knew that you had a lot on your plate right now and that you wouldn’t want to go to anyone about your problems. He also knew that the both you and Joel, were simply too stubborn to fix the problem going on between you on your own, hence why he had mentioned something to Ryanne. He knew that Ryanne would jump at the chance to be able to help you feel better and as soon as she mentioned the party set-up idea, he was in. The plan was then mentioned to most of the team, knowing that the help of many was needed in order to help the two idiots.

…..

After sending Kevin a quick text that you were leaving, you left your apartment and made your way to Ryanne and Claude’s house. Gently knocking on the door, you smiled when Ryanne opened the door, “awe, babe, I’m so happy you’re here, I missed you so much.”

“I missed you, too. Not to be rude, but where is the tiny human?” you asked, looking past Ryanne to see Gavin walking towards you, “hi, bub. Oh my god, you’re getting so big.”

“Well if you came around more often, you’d get to see him more,” Ryanne mumbled, watching you play with the boy in front of you.

“I heard that,” you said, in a sing-song voice.

“You were supposed to,” she replied, mocking your tone, “anyways, Claude is on his way back from the store, so he’ll be here soon, but I haven’t talked to you in forever, how’s everything? How’s gym?”

“Oh, well. I’ve been better, this last meet definitely wasn’t all that great and not being able to train doesn’t really help my case either, but I’m making the most of it,” you said, shrugging.

“And you’re actually having to listen to Adrian this time around?” she said, pointedly, causing you to chuckle.

“Yeah, I have to actually listen to Adrian this time,” you smiled, “I hate that I have to actually wear my knee brace, though. And I have to use crutches. Can you believe that?”

“Considering it’s you, I’m more shocked that you’re actually using them.”

“Ry, shh, let’s not call me out too much today,” you replied.

It wasn’t too long before you heard the front door open, Claude walking in a few seconds later, “awe, it’s my favorite babysitter. Come on, babe, let’s leave while we can.”

“Haha, I almost forgot how funny you are, G,” you said, sarcastically.

“I’m sure, I’m sure. You know what would be nice though?”

“What?”

“Helping me put the groceries up,” he said, smiling sweetly causing you to groan.

“Are chores and babysitting all I’m good for to you?”

“Well,” he looked up to the ceiling, as if he were thinking for another answer,”hm, nothing comes to mind, y/n/n.”

“Oh, that was mean,” Ryanne said, playfully elbowing Claude.

“Thank-”

“She’ll never babysit again if we’re mean to her,” Ryanne smirked.

“Oh, wow, I see how it is, don’t worry,” you said, the three of you laughing.

As the three of you were setting out groceries - you mostly sitting on the kitchen island, taking things out of the bag - the three of you caught up. Claude talking about his hopes for these next few games, Ryanne talking about how Gavin was doing - not missing the few times Gav ran through the kitchen -, and you talking about whatever you could.

“Ok, so we haven’t brought this up yet, but I was just wondering if you had any idea what’s going on with Beezer? I know you guys had gotten closer recently and he’s just not himself, so I’m asking if you know anything,” Claude asked, closing the fridge before turning back to you. Both him and Ryanne had a pretty good idea of what happened, but if they were missing something, they wanted to know.

“Oh, um, well, about that one,” you sighed, gathering your thoughts, “me and him kinda haven’t talked since I told him I only wanted to be friends.”

“Ok, but from the looks of it, it looked like both of you wanted to be more than friends?”

“Yeah, but, there’s a lot more to it, you know.”

“No, actually, I’m a tad bit lost, y/n/n.”

“Look, I can’t have any distractions right now and I was worried about it affecting gymnastics, so I told him I only want to be friends.”

“That’s dumb,” Claude replied, quickly.

“Thank you, many people have mentioned that.”

“He has no place to talk in a situation like this,” Ryanne finally spoke up, causing you to look between the pair confused, “when his life was just hockey, hockey, and hockey, nothing could fill those spots. So, when our relationship was first starting he did the same thing to me that you’re doing to Bee.”

“This was supposed to be a philosophical moment and you messed it up,” Claude replied.

“I didn’t mess it up, you’re just mad because you basically called yourself dumb. But pushing him away isn’t a smart option and it just hurts both of you in the process,” Ryanne said before walking back to where Gavin was.

“Look, I know you said you didn’t want distractions, but this seems to be having a worse effect on you than you hoped. From the looks of it, when you started pushing him away, it affected your performance. Just pointing that out for you.”

“Yeah, I know. You didn’t have to point it out, you know.”

“Yeah, but you would have continued to ignore the obvious fact that you were just scared of a relationship in general,” he shrugged.

“I don’t even know how to talk to him about it or at least how to start the conversation.”

“Well, lucky for you,” he looked down to check his watch, “the guys are all coming over in like 10 minutes, so you’ll see him then.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah, it’s a send off party for the roadie this weekend, why do you think we got so many groceries?” and with that he left you in the kitchen by yourself.

…..

Joel sat in the backseat of Kevin’s car, Nolan in the passenger seat, as they made their way to G’s house. By the time they got there, most of the guys had already gotten there, seeing a few familiar cars in the driveway, but one stood out in particular. He knew that it was yours from some of the times he had seen you driving, “what’s y/n/n doing here?”

Nolan and Kevin both chuckled at that, “she came over here earlier to watch Gavin, I think,” Kevin said.

“Oh, cool,” Joel replied, attempting to sound nonchalant as possible

“Don’t try to act like you’re not freaking out. You aren’t slick, dude,” Nolan added, shaking his head, “you two better talk, too. Because everyone is tired of the two of you being idiots and not talking shit out.”

“We’re not idiots.”

“You are,” the other two said in unison. Joel didn’t try to argue as he followed the pair inside their captain’s house.

As soon as he entered the house, he took note that almost all the team was here, most of the team was outside, but he immediately found you sitting on one of the barstools with Gavin sitting on your lap as you talked with Ryanne. “Go talk to her,” Nolan whispered, causing him to jump.

“God, Pat. What the fuck?” Joel said turning around.

“I said what I said. You’ll have to talk at some point, might as well just do it. Plus, she’s on crutches, so like, if she wants to run away it will take her a while.”

“Um, that’s- I mean, that’s valid, but-”

“At some point today, you should talk to her. I obviously can’t make you and it’s up to you, but I think it would help fix things,” Nolan said, shrugging.

“Yeah, I know, I know. I plan on it.”

You and Ryanne had stayed inside with Gav since the boys were grilling outside, so when Nolan, Kevin, and Joel walked in, you were one of the first people to notice. Kevin made his way over to you almost as soon as he came in, “so, you enjoying the party?”

“Considering I didn’t know it was happening, sure I’m having a great time, Kev.”

“Well, I guess it’s a surprise party then,” you quickly shot him a glare, “surprise.”

As you heard the back door open, you looked up to see Joel already looking at you, shooting you a quick smile as he followed his teammate to go outside. “I swear, if all you guys do tonight is spare glances at each other and don’t talk, I’m going to lose it,” Ryanne said from beside you.

“I think everyone will, to be honest,” Kevin added, “well, I’m going outside. If you need any help, just let me know.”

The boys had a few different plans in place to get the two of you to talk; conveniently sending Joel in to help while you were inside, telling Joel to go help out inside, asking Joel to get Gavin, and as a last resort, make Joel jealous.

When everyone had been done eating, Claude asked some of the younger guys to help him clean up and bring out the cooler with drinks that was still inside. Joel had somehow conveniently avoided going inside while helping and when he did, he went straight to the kitchen and right back out. He wasn’t wanting to avoid you all night, but he didn’t know what to do. Shortly after, Claude had asked Joel to go in and get Gavin, somehow right as you had left Gavin with Ryanne, which also ruined that plan.

Ryanne knew that it would be suspicious if they kept trying those same plans. So instead, she basically forced you to go outside with her. She helped you get outside, Kevin shooting up from his chair to help you get down the stairs of the deck, “you don’t have to help me out, Kev.”

“Knowing you, you would trip and break something. You’re already hurt enough,” he said, causing you to roll your eyes. As Kevin looked up, he didn’t miss the way Joel lit up as he saw you, “hey, your boy is looking over here.”

Looking up, your eyes once again met his, to which you sent him a light smile, “yeah, he’s been watching me since I stepped out here.”

“y/n/n, you would only know that if you were looking at him, too.”

“Yeah, I never said that I wasn’t though.”

“You know, it’s obvious the two of you aren’t mad at each other or anything like that. So, why the fuck haven’t you talked yet?”

“Oh, um. Words are hard,” you said, walking away towards Travis and Nolan on your crutches.

“You’re literally on crutches, you aren’t moving that fast.”

“You know who else isn’t moving that fast?”

“y/n. I swear, if this is another your-”

“Your mom,” you yelled back to him.

“What is up with you and making your mom jokes?” Nolan asked as you got closer to them.

“They’re funny?”

“y/n/n just has the sense of humor of a middle school boy, that’s why her and Beezer got along so well,” Travis added, helping you move your crutches so you could sit down at the table they were at, “how are the crutches?”

“How’s your mom?” you laughed, causing the two of them to groan, “nah, they’re not fun. In any way shape or form.”

As you were talking to Nolan and Teeks, Kevin and Ryanne realized that none of the plans they had tried were working. Both of them knew that the only plan that would probably work was to make Joel jealous, so Kevin texted Carter, Morgan, Nolan, and Teeks to let them know that was the plan that they were going with.

“y/n looks really good today,” Carter said, causing Joel to spit out his drink.

“Better watch yourself, Hartsy,” Joel replied, shooting a glare towards his friend.

“I was just being honest, she really does. There’s nothing going on between you guys anymore, right?” Carter watched as Joel visibly tensed at the mention of what was happening between the two of you, knowing that the plan was working he continued, “I mean, if nothings going on between you two, then she’s single, right?”

“Well, I mean-” Joel stuttered out, “we haven’t talked in a while, but that doesn’t mean-”

“I’ll be right back, okay?” Carter said, making his way over to the table you were at, causing Nolan and TK to chuckle as they saw Joel’s face drop, “hey, y/n/n.”

“Hey, Hartsy, it’s been a minute. How is everything?” you smiled. You kept talking to the group around you for a while, not noticing the way Joel was becoming visibly angry. He didn’t want to seem jealous, but he assumed that Carter had been flirting with you this whole time, so he made the executive decision to talk to you now.

Since your back was facing him, you didn’t see him coming, but the three boys around you did, only trying to hide their smiles since the plan was actually working. “Hey y/n, can we talk?” he asked.

You turned around to finally face the boy you had been avoiding, “yeah, hold on a sec.” As you continued some of your conversation, Joel was getting more and more irritated, mostly because Carter was sending looks his way that he couldn’t exactly read. Joel, being the impatient person he was, pulled the chair you were sitting at away from the table, pulling you up to stand before lifting you up over his shoulder, “Bee, what the fuck?”

He simply ignored you as he carried you up the stairs and back inside his captain’s house. You tried pushing yourself off as he made his way up the stairs, but it was deemed useless when he just tightened his grip, “Farabee, I swear to god. I will hurt you.”

Eventually, he opened the door to the guest bathroom and gently set you down on the counter before locking the door, “what the fuck was that for? If you want to talk, you could have just waited a second. But no, you had to be all dramatic about it,” you said, rolling your eyes.

“Are you done?” Joel asked, crossing his arms and leaning back against the door.

“I mean, yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired of us ignoring each other and I miss you, so we need to figure stuff out.”

“Awe, you miss me? That’s cute,” you smiled.

“y/n/n, I swear, now is not the time for that one.”

“Ok, sorry. I’ll be serious now,” you said, crossing your arms to mock him.

“I just want to know what happened at the lake?”

“Oh, we’re going straight to the point, alright,” you sighed, “look, what I said at the lake wasn’t true. I got this idea in my head that if you were in my life, you were a distraction from what I wanted.”

“How’d that work out for you?” he said, smirking.

“Oh, no, see that’s what we’re not going to do. No need for the attitude. Anyways, I had this idea that if anything happened between us, that I would mess it up and it would mess everything in my life up. So, pushing you away was the safest option.”

Joel took a moment to gather his thoughts before pushing himself off the door and made his way closer to you, ending up standing between your legs with his hands on either side of you, “look, I’m saying this and I mean it. I understand where you’re coming from with the fear of distractions thing, but I want you to know that I would never intentionally keep you from your goals and dreams. I’m just extra support, you know.”

“Yeah, I realized that after you ran from the lake house. We could have had this figured out by now, if you had stayed,” you said, sarcastically. Rolling your eyes for added dramatic effect.

“Oh, shut up. You have no place to talk, babe,” he said, smiling when he heard you giggle, “what was that for?”

“I kinda missed you calling me babe, I guess. Kinda crazy, dude.”

“Awe, so you did miss me?”

“I never said I didn’t,” you said, quietly reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You saw the way that his eyes went from your eyes to your lips, “I also missed this,” and with that you pulled him closer until your lips met in a long awaited kiss.

As the two of you broke away, your foreheads were still together, “hey, Bee?”

“Yeah?”

“You know who else I missed? Your mom,” you laughed.

“Way to ruin the moment, babe,” he smiled, “That was funny though, so I respect it.”

“Dude, I’m so funny sometimes.”

“Looks aren’t everything, babe,” he said, laughing at the gasp you responded with.

“Oh, that was rude. I’ll get you back one day though,” you watched as he went to leave the bathroom, “hey, Bee. I’m not supposed to walk without crutches, hate to break it to you.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way back to you, turning around right in front of you, “here.” You leaned a little bit forward, wrapping your arms around his neck once again as he readjusted his grip on the back of your legs, so he could give you a piggyback ride on the way back outside.

“You know, they didn’t tell me there was a party,” you spoke as he made his way back towards the door.

“Oh, they said it was teammates only and then I saw your car,” he replied, pausing a moment as the two of you realized what had happened at the same time, “so, this was-”

“Yep.”

“And Hartsy saying he was going to ask you out was part of it?”

“Hartsy said he was going to do that,” you started cackling. “Wait, were you jealous of him?” you asked laughing even harder.

“It’s not funny.”

“Oh, yeah. I know, it’s hilarious.”

“I will drop you right now,” he said, as he opened the door for outside, “and you’ll stuck right here, Ms. ‘I can’t walk down stairs right now’.”

“That’s a low blow,” you said, as the two of you made your way back to the table you were at.

“Oops, sorry, babe,” he set you down close to your chair, but sat down before you could.

“Oh, so now you steal my chair, too?”

“Oh, shut up, you’re fine,” he said, pulling you to sit in his lap, “there you go.”

“So, I see the two of you made up?” Nolan asked, pointing at the two of you.

“We also made out, in case you were wondering,” Joel replied, earning an elbow to the stomach, “ow, that hurt.”

“Sucks to suck, babe,” you replied, causing the smile on his face to grow even more.

When Kevin and Ryanne watched the two of you walk back outside, they were happy to see that the plan worked. Ryanne simply laughed and shook her head as she heard the exchange between the two of you, “they are so in love and I don’t even think they realize it.”

“Ryanne, that is a big word, that I’m not prepared for. So, please, let’s not do that today,” Kevin replied, earning a laugh from Ryanne, “they’re happy though, that’s all that matters to me.”

#sticking it #joel farabee #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #philadelphia flyers #joel farabee x reader #joel farabee imagines #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #beezer #joel farabee x gymnast!reader

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beck-a-leck · 3 years ago

Note

For the AU ficlets, I come begging for more shameless indulgence: Dr. Trent x Pastor Carter 48. meeting again at a high school reunion au 🥺

I live to provide all of the shameless indulgence in tumblr prompt form!

Have a little high school reunion Trent and Carter in a slightly modern-ish AU, maybe perhaps just some pre-moving to Mineral Town AU.

Enjoy!

Ficlet AU Prompts

Trent sighed for what had probably been the tenth time in as many minutes as he carefully smoothed the adhesive nametag over his right breast pocket. The woman who had been handing out nametags at the reception table had looked vaguely familiar, but Trent hadn't recognized her last name. Then again, she had most likely gotten married over the last ten years if the ring on her finger and the swell of her belly indicated anything. On the other hand, he was at his high school reunion – the likelihood that people were lying to try and impress their former classmates or save face was higher than normal social situations. He joined the small throng of people who were shuffling into the hotel ballroom. The same place, supposedly, that had held their senior prom. He hadn't gone, he wouldn't know.

He scanned the dimly lit room, half looking for any familiar faces, half looking for the promised bar. He saw the bar at the far side, across the dance floor where a few people rocked and swayed to last decade's top hits under the lights of a disco ball, past the extensive display of posters and pictures of their high school years. Faces taken from the yearbook, group and club shots, those silly little 'elections' they'd done, most likely to succeed, prom king and queen, et cetera, and then somber in memoriam of former classmates who hadn't made it to their tenth reunion.

Trent sighed as he scanned the poster for any faces he recognized, there weren't many, fortunately, but he still felt a twinge of sadness at those who were there. With an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach, Trent recognized the name and face of a former patient, a car crash victim that had come through the ER while he had been doing his residency.

Trent pulled his eye onto the next poster; someone had kept a mint condition program from their high school graduation and had tacked it up with a collection of photos of classmates in their caps and gowns. Trent had gone to a large suburban school, his graduating class had counted nearly 500 students – by his best estimate of people in the ballroom now and nametags left on the table, less than half had deigned to come to their reunion. Actually, Trent had thought fewer people would come. With people flung far and wide across the globe in their adulthood, high school reunions weren't really the local events they had been ages past. With modern communication people who wanted to keep in touch with each other were already in touch, and life updates were easy to keep up with.

Hell, Trent hadn't even wanted to come to the reunion, not really. When he got the invitation, he half filled out the RSVP email out of curiosity, decided against it, had to go take care of a patient, and then forgot about the invitation until he opened his email again and accidentally sent off a half-finished response to the organizers. By the time they emailed him back, asking for the rest of the necessary details and if he had any desire to contribute old photographs or help organize, it felt impolite to refuse the invitation.

Trent made his way to the bar, grabbed a beer, and not feeling in any particular mood to dance by himself, wandered back over to the collage of pictures. He scanned them, looking for familiar faces. He hadn't sent in any of his own, so he didn't expect to find his face in the candid snapshots of laughing friends. But he found his yearbook photo, stiff toothless grin, unenthused and too thin and pimply and his hair cut unflatteringly in a style that was popular back then, and already too stressed out not knowing what was to come though undergrad and then med school. Trent laughed ruefully at this photo of his younger mug, looking just as awkward and ungainly as the classmates surrounding him. They'd all felt so grown back then, seventeen or eighteen, and on the cusp of true adulthood, looking back, even just ten years later, they all looked like kids. Goddess knew what Trent would think of this photo in another ten or twenty years.

He scanned the group pictures, knowing he would be in a few of the club photos. There, science club, hiding in the back row with the other taller boys, and math club, the very small Asian-American club. Enough extra curriculars to round out his resume and look impressive, but still leave him plenty of time to dedicate to his studies. No sports teams, Trent had never been very athletic. His stomach gave a weak lurch when he saw the varsity football team, the quarterback had been Trent's first crush on a boy, but then again half the school was swooning over the quarterback so he wasn’t alone. Unfortunately for Trent and most of the school, Travis had dated the same girl from freshman through senior year, so the crush had stayed a crush. Then there, in the debate club was Emily, the first girl Trent had dated. They'd been together for six whole months sophomore year.

He scanned the photos one last time, smiling despite the painfully embarrassing recollection of his most awkward years. There was a photo of his homeroom class, in matching t-shirts they'd made for their last week of school. He scanned the faces and tried to recall their names and found that he couldn't confidently place half of them. The last time he'd spoken to most of those kids was the last day of school. He wondered if any of them had also come to the reunion.

Another body stepped up to the photo board, Trent shot the newcomer a sidelong glance. He held a cup of punch in his hands, he was wearing a black suit, his sandy brown hair was cut short, he was clean shaven, and – Trent felt another swoop in his stomach – quite handsome in an everyman sort of way.

The man grinned at Trent. "Goddess look at us, we were just kids back then, weren't we?"

"Yeah." Trent took a sip of his beer. "Find yourself in any pictures?"

"Oh. I actively avoided any group activities in school, and I didn't bother with school pictures. But I think there was one I couldn't avoid; it was one of the days I actually bothered to show up. There." He pointed to Trent's homeroom group picture. There was mirth in his voice as he pointed, "There I am, the scowling one."

"That was my homeroom..." Trent did a double take between the sullen teenager with shaggy hair that had been dyed black, with a number of piercings and a couple tattoos peeking out from under his t-shirt sleeves, and the clean cut, easily smiling man with shining eyes, standing next to him sipping punch. He hadn't been wrong; he'd barely attended school enough to avoid getting held back or suspended. He'd had no friends that Trent knew of, had been, as Trent's father liked to loudly complain about, a 'no good shit kicking gutter punk.' And it was probably only because he had stood out like that in Trent's memory that the man's name came back to him.

"Carter?"

Carter's grin widened, "One and the same. Trent, right? I haven't forgotten everyone, have I?"

"No, you've got it." Trent offered his hand, and they shook. Carter’s hands were warm, slightly calloused. "How have you been? What have you been up to?"

“Oh, all kinds of things. Last ten years have been full of change for both of us, I imagine.” They stepped away from the photo boards to take a seat at a table. Carter’s eyes swept over Trent. “Let me guess, you went to med school, became a doctor, didn’t you?”

Trent’s eyes widened, why would Carter remember something so small like his projected career path from high school? “Yeah. How did you know?”

“It’s on your nametag.” Carter laughed.

“Oh, right.” Trent’s cheeks grew a little warm. He’d forgotten that nametags included professional titles, if acquired. And Trent didn’t go through eight years of medical education to not be called Doctor. He took another sip of beer before asking. “What about you? What are you up to?”

“Would you believe I’m in the seminary right now?” Carter laughed and took a drink. “I don’t think anyone who knew me back in school ever expected the angry, goth, near-dropout would end up becoming a priest, but here I am.”

The laugh lines were deeper on Carter’s face than most of their classmates. The wrinkles by his eyes were a little more pronounced. There were hints of past gauntness, a hollowness that was beginning to fill out. He’d been prematurely aged, looking older than their twenty-eight years. Trent suspected that Carter’s last decade hadn’t been as easy as it had for a lot of their peers. He’d seen a lot of faces come through the ER, aged prematurely by one substance or another.

“A priest? How did that happen?”

“Oh, a little of luck, a little divine intervention, and a lot of therapy.” He laughed again. Trent really liked the sound of that warm, easy laugh. “I didn’t exactly join up right after graduation, really it’s a recent development.”

They spent almost the entire evening sitting at that table, taking turns getting fresh rounds from the bar. They mingled with other classmates, making polite if mildly awkward small talk. Trent heard “wow, a doctor!” more times than he cared to count. But at the end of the night as he got into his car, he thought fondly that tonight wasn’t a complete waste of a Saturday. He left with Carter’s number and a plan to get lunch together on his next day off.

#becky writes things #writing prompts #friends of mineral town #sos fomt #story of seasons #i have this completely unfounded idea that high school reunions are primarily an American thing so...#threw in a couple headcanons for that in there as well #one of these days I might go and collect all my tumblr prompts into collections on ao3 but also that seems like a lot of work #not sure how deep into my blog history i want to go back fishing for prompts

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