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uponrightful · 4 years ago

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Second Chance Ch.1

Author’s Note: This is my first attempt at writing for The Mandalorian. I’m an English Major in college, and love to write but I don’t get to share what a write often. I hope you enjoy it. ♡

TW’s: Violence, Blaster Violence. (If I've missed anything let me know.)

Word Count: 9,951

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The child was gone.

The Mandalorian was left with no ship, no child and no true plan as to what was next. It was the first time in his life that there was nowhere he needed to be or someone he needed to hunt. A different man would take the opportunity and run; disappear somewhere and live the rest of his life without the smell of blaster charges and stale blood. Someplace that no one would recognize the steely image of a Mandalorian streaking across an otherwise picturesque landscape.

The Mandalorian wasn’t that man.

He knew that there was nowhere in the galaxy that would offer him a true safe place. He only knew one thing and that was the ability to hunt. He knew that hunting was the one thing that could save him again. Once he was away from Grogu, his life would be back to normal. There wasn’t an end in sight where he would once again have the child… his foundling, back where he thought he belonged. It felt like a new world had opened with its hungry mouth swallowing any sense of direction that the Mandalorian thought he once had.

He had made up his mind, before he had even set foot off of Moff Gideon’s ship where he would go first.

Nevarro.

He knew that Guild contracts were no longer an option, but despite the loss of steady quarry Nevarro was notorious for contracts. The Mandalorian knew his name carried weight, and now that Grogu was gone, it would be somewhat easier to return to his bounties. The Guild was not only steady work, but it had only been so because of his hard work. Four pucks weren’t normal, if not exceptional in most cases; but for him there was no questioning. He always returned with the bounties within a thin time constraint. He was meticulous and that level of professionalism gave him advantages.

Advantages that he no longer had.

Boba Fett was quick to offer the ride to Nevarro with the promise of not-so-stale food and a little but more comfortable stay than he assumed The Mandalorian was used to. Fett talked much more than Mando had expected however it didn’t bother him much. Fett talked briefly about some of the more exotic women he had met -some from Nevarro- and recounted the nights that he had spent under the sheets with an unfamiliar woman getting his satisfaction.

Mando listened not for interest in Fett’s bedroom habits but for information. He hoped that Fett might just slip something that would be useful. Maybe somewhere he could get resupplied, or even find a ship… but nothing of the sort happened.

Hyperspace was endless and the pure torture of watching is pass by was worse than leaving his child with the Jedi. His entire being ached from constant action and the even worse pain of a heart that had to heal. It wasn’t right that he should be forced to suffer so badly after only doing what was right. This was The Way. No matter how many times he tried to think it over, and find some sort of solace it only deepened the hole that kept growing in his chest.

“Mandalorian.” Fett barked, pointing towards the planet registering on his monitor.

Mando stepped up to check the readings and they were nearing Tatooine. Mando turned to see Fett preparing to push into airspace.

“I brought you here for a reason.” Fett continued, “You’ve been in my service and therefore I owe you repayment. I thought the child would be enough, but after everything that happened on that cruiser I can’t leave our interaction heavy on your end.”

“I don’t understand, what is it that you believe you owe me?” he asked, sitting down in the co-pilots chair and waiting for the ship to make its descent.

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The hellish landscape of Tatooine greeted Mando and Fett with a blast of sand the cut across their helmets making it almost impossible to see until the engines on the Slave 1 finally shut off completely. Fett had landed miles away from any town, and seemed quite confident was he strode off onto the barren sand flat below them. Mando wasn’t someone who liked the idea of blindly following anyone, especially when there was no real reason for him to be there anyways.

But after Fett didn’t turn around and disappeared over the dune, Mando begrudgingly followed. The sand fell around the gaps in his pants, letting the fine particles fall into his boots. The suns were blazing and by Mando’s guess it was at its highest point of the day. Heatstroke wasn’t impossible, even if he had just been in a ship moments ago.

He caught sight of Fett’s helmet glinting a bright white light toward Mando. He watched as the man knelt down and began shoving sand away from beneath his shadow that splayed downward. He shook his head, and caught up to further inspect what Fett could possibly be doing digging around in the sand.

The two men stood at the bottom of what looked like a the beginnings of a sand dune in the middle of the flat. But after watching Fett struggle to dig deeper into what seemed like endless sand Mando grew impatient.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“Dig with me. And you’ll see.” Fett’s voice was labored, proving how easy a possibility it was for the both of them to drop dead in this heat.

Mando started digging away. It took a good 15 minutes before Mando pulled out a handful of sand revealing what looked like an old piece of tan fabric. He was about to groan at how ridiculous this little job had been, but Fett began chuckling and walked away toward his ship.

“Stay there, I’ll be back.”

Fett was going insane. There was no way any of this was going anywhere good, but at this point Mando had two options. See why this piece of fabric was such a happy sight… or kill him. Fett brought the ship closer and closer towards Mando, kicking up sand and creating a small sandstorm that virtually blinded Mando to what Fett was able to see from above. Mando could barely see the shine of metal through the cloud that thickly surrounded him, choking out most of the clean air he could breathe.

After a few more seconds of fighting to get out of the Fett-made sandstorm Mando finally got a glimpse of what Fett had been so damn happy about. Under what had been a giant hill of sand, appeared an expanse of heavy canvas that took the shape of a ship’s outline. An ion turret jutted out into the blinding sun like it was proudly showing itself off for the first time in years. Mando was even able to recognize the tip of a Proton-Torpedo launcher sneaking out from underneath of the fluttering canvas shield.

Fett circled the newly unearthed ship, section by section revealing more and more of what looked like a transporter ship. Mando stood daunted, at the sight before him watching as the last corner of the cover slipped off the back entry hatch.

The Slave 1 landed right next to Mando its engines thrumming with the slight struggle of the burning temperate. He could even see the heat haze lifting up off the metal body distorting the edges of the ship like he was in a mirage. The last hour felt like it was all a dream, but the hard slap on Mando’s shoulder confirmed that he wasn’t imagining any of it.

“This is the Slave Two … it just so happened that it was my backup for quite some time.” Fett explained, walking towards the ships hatch.

“With updated blaster cannons and some damn good Deflector-Shields it wasn’t quite on par with Slave One… but still one of the best ships a man could own.” Fett nodded approvingly of his own assessment, lowering the hatch.

Mando walked up the ramp, and followed Fett through the hall and towards the cockpit. There were at least seven doors that he could count without the help of any lights on, and a streamlined floorplan that allowed Mando to navigate the ship even without Fett’s guidance. The inside of the ship looked like it hadn’t been touched for many years, with a weapons closet filled with an array of blasters and other devices that harbored a thick coating of dust and sand.

“This is yours?” Mando asked, glancing to see Fett climbing up through the floor into the cockpit above him.

“Yes, she’s mine. Come give me a hand Mandalorian.”

Mando climbed the ladder, and pulled himself to his feet to see Fett sitting calmly in the co-pilots chair looking out onto the desert that stretched ahead for miles. Fett seemed as if he was trying to find something out there, like if he looked hard enough it would just suddenly appear out of thin air.

Somehow Mando knew that he was feeling the same way.

“I’ve spent many years creating a life that has come back to punish me in ways that I’m sure you are beginning to understand Mandalorian. But when I heard that you gave that kid away… your kid. I knew that losing your Crest wasn’t the biggest thing weighing down that beskar.” Fett turned the chair for face Mando, mirroring their appearance in a way that Mando hadn’t experience in quite a while.

“You’ll take her, Slave 2.” Fett said with a satisfied tone. “If you treat her right, she’ll repay the favor just the same as I do.”

“I can’t.” Mando was willing to accept anything from Fett, well deserved or from pity. There was nothing inside himself that could allow any type of transaction like this to happen.

“You’ll do it because I said so.” Fett growled standing from his seat and closing the extra space in between them. “I didn’t bring you hear because I feel bad for you. I know what you’re after. You’re after your life before that kid.” He chuckled, turning back towards the windshield. “The only way you get do that again, is if you take her.”

Fett didn’t stay long enough to hear a response from Mando. He simply dropped back down through the floor into the hull and made his way into the hallway where the row of doors was. The ships control panel wasn’t anything unusual to Mando, but it felt strange to sit down in the chair, and begin turning on the ships controls to hopefully get the Ion engines running without any hiccups. After a few switches were set, and the efficacy level checked out, the Slave Two was hot and humming smoothly with the smallest beeps from the cockpit sounding all around him.

Mando watched as Fett came into view from the windshield, walking out away from the ship. He didn’t check to see if Mando was still sitting there until he was in the cockpit. He watched as Fett reached to press a couple buttons.

The Slave Two’s speakers crackled to life projecting Fett’s voice in the cockpit;

“I know some Hutt’s about 180 kilometers from here, they might be able to find you some… work.” He said pointing his finger towards the direction.

“Everything on this ship is-”

“Yours.” Fett snarled already knowing that Mando’s independence was going to make this difficult enough. “You’ll need it.”

“I owe you.” Mando replied.

Fett’s low chuckle sounded through the speakers “This is Your Way.”

Both men left without saying another word with destinations in mind. Mando however, was still unsure of whether or not doing business with Hutt’s would be worth it. They’re reliability was almost nonexistent, but if Fett was able to do business it might mean that so could he.

Slave Two was larger than the Razor Crest and from Mando’s judgment it was quite a well-handling ship. Not a single error button flashed, nor did the Deflector Generators need repaired. It wasn’t like Mando to pay much attention to the way a ship looked, but he knew that this ship was better suited to his work. He liked the controls, how well the ship responded to his ministrations. He even noticed the modifications that Fett had made during his flight toward the Hutt’s encampment.

Fett had wiped any memory on the ship, and there was a mock Hyperspace Tracker that could bounce signals around in hyperspace so the ships couldn’t be located easily. It was quite sneaky, and something Mando didn’t have the luxury of on the Razor Crest. Often times the worst part of the Crest was the recognition that it drew to plants like Nevarro-7 or even Tatooine. Before he could even land there were questions from ground securities wanting some type of registration information. None of that would be a problem any longer.

The Hutt’s base sat underground, buried underneath of a outcropping of rock mountains in the sand dunes outside of Mos Eisley. Mando could see the sandstone buildings, wavering from the baking heat. The door was guarded by a man, carrying a blaster with a smug look on his face. Hutt’s didn’t normally keep humans as guards, but Mando assumed he was a slave of some sort.

The guard didn’t ask for much, simply opening the door and mumbling something about ‘good business’ before pointing him in the direction of the cut-stone stairs that led down further into the ground. The stairs became damper as he descended with the smell of Hutt sneaking through his helmet. It was almost unbearable by the time he made it to the hall below.

His eyes first caught the women two women chained to the Hutt’s throne of sorts, the heavy links weighing down their wrists. They were skimpily clad, but had to have been the cleanest beings there. Four guards approached Mando, patting down his body finding his single blaster that was holstered to his hip. They made no comments but took the blaster and sat it down in front of the Hutt who laughed deeply at his first sight of Mando.

“A Mandalorian!” he boomed, using Basic language for Mando’s convenience. “What brings a fearsome man like you here, to me?” his chuckles still echoing through his question.

“I was told that I could find work here.” He replied, again darting his gaze back toward the two women who were no cowering behind the throne as far as their chains would allow. Their faces were covered with fear, but not of the Hutt… of him.

“Who told you this?” He boomed louder, rattling the sound equipment in Mando’s helmet. It made him wince at how terrible the enhanced sound felt against his ears.

“Boba Fett.”

The Hutt stopped his incessant chucking to look towards Mando was a harder stare, more serious this time. “I haven’t seen him in years… Do you have alike professions?”

“Yes.” Mando tried to keep his information limited for his own benefit. The less this Hutt knew about him the better off he would be.

“Bounty Hunting…” the Hutt said quieting his tone. “I have heard stories of your kind… yet only to this day met two.” His chuckles returned. “I have quite a few… interests that could use your level of expertise.”

He called out to one of the guards that had search him upon arrival and ordered him in Hutt nodding toward a hallway leading toward Mando’s right. The guard hastened away, trying to keep a professional tone. Mando kept quiet as his listened to the Hutt began talking again;

“I have three contracts… outer rim quarry that are needing some attention. You would be given their pucks… no tracking fobs or anything but their names and last locations.” He paused taking a labored breath, “The fourth is an exceptional job.”

“Exceptional how?” Mando pushed.

“It is a… cold job. But you would be given a fob.” The Hutt boomed with laughter.

Mando only nodded, familiar with the certainty that contractors wanted when dealing with quarry. A dead quarry wouldn’t cause problems, and Mando knew just how convenient that could be for the hunter as well.

“The other three are desired alive, and if they are not the payment would be reduced.” Hutt continued, “However, I do not pay out. I am only a middle man.”

“Where would I receive payment?”

“From a man in Mos Eisley, you would have different random contacts every time to secure… anonymity.”

The guard returned with the four pucks and one fob in hand. Sweat beading on his brow, he brought them to Mando and handed them gingerly to him before returning to his place against the wall surrounding the Hutt. Mando looked at the pucks, before returning focus to the Hutt.

“You would bring the assets to Mos Eisley, and they would be unloaded from your ship while you received payment.” He huffed, again out breath. “You would have three weeks to perform your duties… Do you accept?”

“I accept.”

***

2 Weeks Later.

“Hey man! Whatever they’re paying, I’ll double it!” the quarry yelled, struggling against the restraints Mando had put on him.

Mando stayed quiet, letting the bargaining spew out of his quarry’s mouth. It was so habitual that they tried bargaining, running or anything of their other useless attempts at escape. He never bargained… and he only let one quarry change his mind.

Grogu.

He did his best to push the child out of his mind while he shoved the quarry into the carbonite machine, quickly disposing the ship of the sounds of pleading. It became deathly quiet on the Slave Two after the carbonite had frozen his quarry into a thick slab. Only the sound Mando’s heavy footfalls signaled any life aboard as he walked back toward the cockpit.

The ship was too quiet for Mando’s true liking hyperspace was deathly silent and freezing cold. He couldn’t imagine it was any better than dying and that hyperspace was really where he would go after he was finally killed. His only solace became the beeping sounds of his ship, creating a pattern that was as close to a song as he could remember.

He only had job left, and it was the Cold Quarry. They were supposedly heading to Hoth to wait out any bounty hunters that were sent for him. Mando knew the quarry was hoping to dissuade anyone from coming to find him but Hoth’s snow and freezing weather wasn’t a problem. He had been on frozen planets before and it never distracted him from the job.

He would be on Hoth in a few days at most, and it gave him the opportunity to take a check of his low supply on food, and even lower supply of fuel and water. The Hutt had supplied him enough of both for about twelve days, not the full twenty-one. If it would have been the Guild he would have been well taken care of, and what wasn’t supplied for him was allotted in his job payments. A small part of him wished that he was able to return, simply for the respect that he had gained but he knew in his heart that he could never do so because of Grogu.

He hadn’t noticed how quickly his allegiance had changed for the support of the foundling, but after letting him go the full force of his protective nature had come crashing down on his shoulders with the weight of the galaxy. In those last few moments not only had he broken his creed, but he had felt true heartbreak for the first time. Of course, he had a moral compass, and anything that the Empire had planned wasn’t good for anyone, but it was a relationship that he was completely unprepared for. It was hard to let go, harder than any bounty he would ever have to catch.

He picked up a small can of soup turning it in his hand and inspecting his memories of eating with the child. It was one of his favorite things. He was cautious to not let Grogu to see his face, but after the first few times it was quite usual for him to sit facing the kid and eat without any issues of the kid trying to pull at his helmet.

Mando wasn’t hungry despite the churning in his stomach. He needed to get this job done.

Maybe he had forgotten just how cold Hoth could be. The wind cut through his clothes, and whipped his cape wildly in the gusts behind him. He could hear a small whistling from the gap in between his pauldron and the bottom edge of his helmet causing a ringing in his right ear. Mando didn’t spend much time hiding his ship, with the security of snow covering the visible planes from airspace. Not to mention how Hoth was almost deserted… except for the occasional bounty with a death wish.

He could easily see from airspace the most easily accessible to a man wanting somewhere to hide. And after landing down it was even easier to see the tracks made by a single set of shoes. They were undoubtedly a man’s, and from the information the Hutt gave him, these prints seemed like a dead ringer for shoe size and weight.

They were leading back into a separating in between to tall rock outcroppings that mostly likely afforded protection from the wind cutting through Mando’s layered shirts. He looked down to activate the ground security system with his vambrace, but after taking a second look, he could see a thin layer of frost covering even inch of the control section and even on the beskar surrounding it.

A cold bounty… he thought, finding no real humor in the situation.

Mando walked until daylight grew scarce. The weather had picked up, and if it hadn’t been for the two mountains he walked in between there would be no way for him to continue any further. The whistling in his ears were not helping his cause either. There would be no way for him to hear his bounty without being right on top of him. He’d had to turn off his audio enhancement so long ago due to the whistling becoming so loud.

The rock walls that surrounded Mando soared high up with ice and snow covering the jagged edges. Mando could see caves high up but the walls were too steep for anyone to climb up. He was looking for heat signatures, anything warmer than the frost covering everything, including him. There was nothing low to the ground, not even the footprints held any residual heat or memory, so his helmets enhancements were almost useless for tracking from the ground. But when he looked back up, he could finally see a little bit of heat. It was quickly disappearing, and the tell-tale red signature was barely visible, but it was still there.

A smoke trace.

It was too cold to not have some source of heat but burning a fire wasn’t smart for anyone hiding from a bounty hunter. After turning off his infrared display, the smoke was more visible in contrast with the bright white snow.

He was happy that the quarry wasn’t far, grateful his landing was well-founded in his good presumption of where the bounty could be hiding. His bounties were often well-hidden away, but this time he was truly struggling to keep a straight focus. Mando felt out of practice and it was only adding onto the feeling that this hunt was hard.

After what felt like an hour of trudging through the snow he could see the reflection of a fire licking up the side of the mountain. The flames burned high, and Mando couldn’t help but think how great it would feel to sit down at defrost his cold body. No shadow could be seen huddling around the fire or any real movement that Mando could see from his position.

His own footfalls were silent sinking into the snow as he drew upon a small cave lit up brightly by a roaring fire fueled by a small metal box that blew blue flames out into a controlled ball. A large man, laid close to the ball covered by a thick emergency blanket covering his entire body.

Mando drew his blaster, careful not to disturb the man before he was in position to wake him up.

“Wake up.” He demanded, expecting the man to shoot up out of bed.

The sleeping man stayed still. For a minute Mando debated whether or not to complete his job with the man unaware of his impending death. Killing him now would not only remove the chance of a fight, but also save Mando the risk of getting injured. He decided against it.

He leaned down, and shoved the man in the shoulder with his blaster. He watched as the mans’ body rolled over onto his back, covered in frost. The quarry’s skin was blue and the veins underneath were just as frozen as his skin. Mando’s eye widened, at the man’s brittle body, frozen in time right before his heart has finally frozen solid.

He hadn’t had to kill the bounty after all. But in the back of his mind, he knew that taking the dead man back tonight was not worth the risk. It was too cold to go back with extra weight after he experienced the cold without any slowed pace. He needed to get back quickly before the temperature dropped to low.

He employed the use of his jetpack, now that he was not at risk of spooking his quarry and cut through the blistering gales back to his ship. Before the door could shut he was stripping away the beskar covering his body. He sat it close to a small vent, watching for a second as the thick layer of frost slowly began dissipating around the edges. It was a magnet for cold, and it only accentuated how badly his core temperature had dropped outside. It wasn’t low enough for him to worry about any long-term effects however a hot shower was sounding better than even before. He even removed his helmet so the padding on the inside would vent and dry itself while he showered.

The steam rising out of the fresher welcomed Mando’s cold skin as he pulled away at the crunchy undershirt and pants he still wore. They had been soaked with sweat and frozen, leaving what was a normally comfortable shirt into a crystallized model of his body. The clothes landed with a heavy thud by his feet.

Mando sighed at the feeling of hot water soaking his hair and melting away the frigid feeling he carried in his muscles. He rested his forehead and elbows against the wall perfectly happy to let his ships remaining water supply to funnel down the drain. He stayed there for a long while, reminding himself that in the morning he would need to stop into a port and stock back up before leaving Hoth. There was an outpost not too far away that would supply everything he needed, but the price was what he occupied himself with.

His credits were uncomfortably low for his liking and if he showed any desperate need for fuel or water it would be easy enough for the normal price to become doubled. Hoth wasn’t known for crooked people, but you never knew what you were going to get when someone met a Mandalorian. Some didn’t give any protest, happy to supply Mando without any qualms… mostly driven by avoidance of conflict. But others were quite happy to make Mando’s life just a little more difficult, always staring at his beskar with a wicked look in their eyes.

He dried off, and retrieved another set of clothes from underneath his cot hastily pulling them on and retrieving his helmet from the floor to avoid losing any of the precious heat he had just regained. He eyed the cot and the heavy blanket that sat folded neatly at the foot, calling for him to actually lay down for once. He denied its pleas, and instead retreated up the ladder to the cockpit.

The pilots chair lightly groaned at his weight as he collapsed down into it. He lolled his head back, letting his helmet clink against the metal trim surrounding the headrest. He wouldn’t sleep, only sit in the darkness of Hoth’s night and listen to the howls of an ongoing snow storm rage against the sides of his ship. It rocked the Slave Two gently, back and forth creating a cradle for its inhabitants.

No sleep would come. Only the bright white reflection of sunlight casting off the continuously falling snow.

The bounty was easy enough in the height of Hoth’s sun. Giving him a small advantage in dragging the unbending weight of his bounty back to the carbonite machine. Mando almost thought the weather was comfortable until he stepped foot into a small cantina that hung on the edge of a small outpost.

The room was small, with enough seats for twenty at maximum with only five people filling those seats. It was decorated heavily with furs, and a roaring fireplace that licked high into the chimney space, like the quarry’s small metal box had. Only this one was filled with some sort of natural material. Mando had never seen anything like it before, and upon further inspection it looked like glassy black stones that gave off a sweet and smoky smell that permeated through his helmet.

It was only a light tap on his ribcage that brought his attention away from the fire. An elderly woman with deep age lines in her face, stood meekly in front of him with a small, crooked smile on her face.

“You look like you could use some heat.” Her smile grew wider as she ran a withered finger across his paulron. She inspected the gathering of frost on her finger, and watched it melt away before looking back up to him.

Underneath his helmet, the smallest smile graced Mando’s face at the woman in front of him. She looked old enough to be his ba’buir… his grandmother. Her fine white hair was pulled tightly back into a bun with small little strands staying out of the slicked back style. He couldn’t help but feel a small bit warmer with her gaze on him.

“I came for supplies, and fuel.” He said quietly, afraid of startling her with the crackling sound of his modulator.

Her wise eyes softened at his voice, and it only surprised him into silence as he waited for her response.

“Fuel is on the other end of the outpost.” She paused turning slowly to gaze toward the opposite end of town. “However, if you want supplies, I might be able to help you… Mandalorian.”

Her emphasis came with a charming glitter in her eyes, as she motioned for him to follow her. He did so silently, watching to make sure her shuffling feet didn’t catch on any of the chair legs that sat in her path. She opened a door, and let him walk through into what looked like a pantry. Shelves lined the walls, and were stocked with almost everything Mando could think of needing. Jars of unlabeled food -most likely hand filled- emergency medical supplies, and even random ship parts sat in metal crates stacked in a cobweb and dust covered corner.

He was quite speechless at the sight, but hesitated as she cleared her throat from hoarseness.

“You take whatever you need… if you can help me with my problem.” Her eyes focused right in on his, despite the black visor shading his eyes from view.

“Problem?” he asked.

The woman’s eyes that had glittered with pride, suddenly grew serious as she shuffled closer to him.

“There’s a man out at the bar who desperately wants something I have.” She whispered, glancing every so often like the door behind her would bust open at any second. “I need you to get rid of him… and if you do, I’ll give you something that’s worth more than anything you’ve ever had before.”

Mando stood before a woman who he’d never met before, not fully understanding what it was that she was so serious about protecting or what she was willing to give him. Not that he wasn’t willing to help her, but her entire demeanor was surely enticing him.

“I’ll help.” He replied shifting his gaze back up to the door.

“He’s the only man at the bar,” she repeated reverently “He carries a blaster in his waistband… behind his back.” She whispered as she walked back out into the cantina’s dining space.

Mando focused back on the fireplace on the opposite side of the room, where he could sit and watch this man without gaining any more attention than he already was. A wooden chair sat close to the flames, and Mando found himself leaning back into it with the intent of looking as inconspicuous as he could.

The man at the bar was taller than average, but a full head shorter than Mando. He had broad shoulders and a bulge at his lower back. She was right. He thought, making a mental note of how observant the old woman truly was. He also sported a shaved head with many scars littering his skin with marred sections where the hair hadn’t grown back.

Mando couldn’t see him face, for the angle that he sat at. But he could tell from the wavering of his torso in his chair that he’s had one too many of whatever the elderly woman was serving. There was no way that Mando could get the man to leave without there being a scene, but something in the back of his mind told him that the woman was more than prepare for that to happen.

He even caught her out of the corner of his display, carefully taking glasses and other breakable items and stowing them underneath of the bar. Mando let her work quietly for a few more minutes, giving her enough time to save as many of her dishes as possible before he stood up.

“Another!” the man demanded loudly, slurring as he raised his glass in attempt to gain the old woman’s attention.

Mando reached the man’s side before she could, and reached his hand out to keep her from getting any closer. “I think you’ve had enough.” He stated, keeping his gaze straightforward.

He could hear the drunk man’s stunned choke as he whipped his head around to face Mando. He chuckled loudly, and dropped his half-full glass onto the bar-top spilling its contents all over the place. “And what would you know about it, tin can?”

“Enough to know you’ve had enough.” Mando repeated, this time turning just enough that half of his visor faced the drunk.

“How about you leave shiny. Before I make a mess out of you and this wenches bar.” His threat warbled with plastered slurs as he reached into his belt and pulled out his blaster, waving it all around before finally resting it on Mando’s chest.

Even if the man had been sober, he wouldn’t have noticed that Mando had already pulled out his own blaster and statuesquely trained it on the man’s head. It was quite the standoff, and Mando was quite certain in his ideas of why the old woman wanted him gone.

“Drop it, and you can leave Hoth alive. Or… I can drop you on the floor with a blaster hole through your chest.” Mando threatened, not letting his blaster waver an inch.

“I own this bar…” the man bluffed getting redder in the face by the second. “I own her-“ he jerked pointing to the old woman, “And her prize possession.” He spat turning back to Mando.

“You can live or you can die…. Your choice.” Mando growled, his finger resting on the trigger.

His ultimatum seemed to work well enough that the man dropped his blaster to the bar with a metallic thud, before stumbling off of his stool. He mumbled incoherently, even Mando’s helmet was unable to enhance what he said as he walked through the door, rattling the hinges as he slammed it shut.

Mando turned to the elderly woman, a sparkle in her eyes as she spoke to Mando again, “I’ll send word that you need refueled, and after you rest tonight, you’ll be leaving tomorrow.” Her satisfied tone rang through Mando’s speakers.

“I can’t stay.” He protested.

“You’ll stay here, for free.” She smiled, “Please, humor an old woman for a night.”

Mando could only sigh, and allow the woman to show him to a small room upstairs where he could place his belongings and lay awake, wondering what prize possession everyone but him seemed to know about.

As he listened, he could hear music playing below and a few bursts of laughter floating through the floor boards. He wasn’t comfortable laying there, but with the happy vibrations of celebration it did soothe his overly tense body enough that he could relax his helmet against pillow and cross his ankles to listen better.

He could hear the old woman’s hoarse voice sometimes making itself stand out from the other conversations, but nothing loud enough he could make out. He could hear a man’s voice speaking to others about the almost-blaster fight in the cantina earlier, embellishing the encounter with help from some liquid encouragement.

Under his helmet, he rolled his eyes toward the ceiling listening to the man talk about the ‘grand Mandalorian’ who kicked out Yir Fearbe. So that’s his name… he thought. They talked about the Corellian, and how he had left for Hoth years ago with the idea of taking over a port and making enough credits to further control the planet. Apparently, from the loud laughter his dream of becoming Hoth’s unofficial governor was hilariously outlandish.

Mando wasn’t surprised. Corellian’s were always reckless with a huge lack of reverence for anyone else’s existence. Mando knew of bounty hunters from Corellia, but they were all untrustworthy to say the least. Personal gain was the main currency for a Corellian. They had no creed, something that Mando was half-jealous and half-detesting of.

But as the man below continued with his stories and accountings of Yir, they grew much more serious in tone. He spoke of how brutal he was toward the elderly woman, but no one was able to win a fight against him… let alone win. The man barked out a laugh after saying that Mando was lucky he was too drunk to realize what was happening… and that “he would be back after the metal man left.”

The conversations droned on through the night, and early into the morning before silence fell over the downstairs. But it wasn’t two hours later that he heard the clinking of glasses and dishes being put away. He needed to get his ship re-fueled before mid-day, and be in hyperspace before that. The sooner he was gone the better.

He picked up his belts, and slung them over his chest also placing his blasters in their holsters before ducking through the short door frame. He was met with the tired eyes of the old woman, already watching him with a close gaze. Mando sat down at the same chair he had last night, letting the fire warm his back and neck, careful not to let his cloak get too close.

“Something to eat?” she asked absentmindedly, like a mother would.

“No, thank you.” He nodded his head, watching her slowly wipe down the bar top.

“Something to drink?” she queried again. Dank Farrik she was persistent.

He only shook his head this time, waving his hand dismissively at the offer. She only gave him a smile that creased the deep lines near her eyes and created heavy contours around the corners of her mouth.

“I expect as much… from a man like you.” She murmured.

“How do you know what I am?” he asked, leaning to rest his arms on his thigh plates.

“I have only heard stories of your kind,” she said looking fondly somewhere off in her memories. “But I expect that before you leave, you’ll show me just how good you are.” She pointed at him, her wrinkly fingers shaking.

Good.

Mando knew that wasn’t true. Even if she heard real stories she would know better than to think of him with any high regards to his goodness. Loyalty... sure. Maybe even a small sense of what justice was, but goodness wasn’t anywhere close to something he deserved. He was not only a warrior, but a contract killer. He made his living at the cost of others lives. Mandalorian’s were taught with weapons, not prayers to any gods. Children were trained not taught.

He thought of himself as a weapon.

They sat in silence, him watching her work and her consistently asking him for something to eat or drink. If she had been watching closely enough, the old woman might have seen his shoulders rise in the slightest when he huffed an amused chuckle at her progressively worrying tone.

“You do eat, don’t you?” she blustered, seemingly upset at his continuous declinations.

“Yes.” He tilted his head, trying to figure out just what it was she was upset about. “This isn’t about me eating is it?” he questioned back.

Her eyes drifted down towards her feet, suddenly looking more tired than she had after he came downstairs. She tottered across the room, and sat in down in a chair across from Mando, looking him up and down slowly before settling back on his visor.

“That was my husband’s chair,” she murmured. Mando made an attempt to get up, wanting to appease her, but she quickly stopped him. “No, no. You don’t have to do that. Hardly anybody likes sitting in that old thing, but if you like it… then you sit.”

He adjusted her hips in the wooden seat, and winced before continuing on, “That man you made leave last night killed my husband, years ago when he first landed on Hoth. My husband only owned this building, but Yir wanted it for himself. And instead of doing the honorable thing, he killed my husband thinking that I wouldn’t have the wherewithal to do it myself.” She shook her head, a small bit of arrogance flashing across her features.

“I have done everything in my power -which isn’t much- to let you know the truth. Giving every last ounce of my strength into keeping everything that needed protected, protected.”

Mando shifted foreword again, narrowing his eyes in focus and trying to understand her real meaning behind all of this.

“But when I saw you walk through that door, I knew that you were my last opportunity.” She smiled, making real eye-contact through his visor.

“Who are you? And why do you trust me?” he blurted, desperate for a straight, uncryptic answer.

“Mandalorian, I’m just an old woman. Nothing more. That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I see a second chance sitting right in front of me.”

Mando was about to speak again, when the loud ring of a familiar voce began thrumming through the air, followed by incessant blaster fire. The old woman gasped, grabbing at her chest and hurriedly standing up with her gaze locked on the door.

“Maker…” she whispered. “He’s coming.”

Mando thought quickly, and rushed her over to the storage room she had brought him into yesterday, carefully trying to get her there before Yir could catch him with his back turned. But before he could close the door, he frail hand reached out and touched his chest, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“You are much more than a warrior… but at this moment, that is exactly what you need to be.” She stated reverently, before shutting the door herself.

He heard the sound of a lock click on her side of the door right before the one behind him smashed open with a bright read beam of blaster fire. Mando couldn’t remember what happened, or how he found himself being thrown around the room and being smashed into tables but that’s exactly what happened.

His beskar absorbed the brunt of most of the blows he took, but the man was so belligerent that he took too punching Mando in the helmet despite the ugly angle that balled-up fingers were at. Mando tried to fight back, but without a chance to reach for his blaster there was not much he could do but grapple with the man, and find an opportunity to reach down to his hip.

Vir growled ferally screaming about taking what was rightfully his, and other nonsense that Mando could barely catch before he was thrown once again this time, his back making solid contact with the hard, stone edge of the bar. Vir lifted him up, and angrily smashed him against the wall, trapping his throat and squeezing hard, trying to push past Mando’s thick cloak wrapped tightly around his throat.

“I’ll make more money off that beskar than I would on this planet in a lifetime.” Vir growled, smiling happing at his reflection in Mando’s helmet. “I can’t wait to see what’s under all that metal.” He barked happily, not noticing Mando’s free hand struggling for purchase on his blaster.

“I told you to leave.” Mando choked out, pulling the trigger and hearing a loud scream resonate from Vir. They both dropped to their knees, but Vir kept screaming at the giant wound in his thigh, or what was left of it.

“You…. You will pay for this.” Vir threatened with a tremble, gripping at his leg with a fierce grimace on his face. “They sent me here, for her.” He smiled, delirious anger taking over. “They’ll come for you once they find out what happened he-“

Mando silence Vir’s threats with another blaster shot.

“I told you to leave.” Mando repeated, struggling to his feet. His head buzzed with the rush of oxygen flooding back.

“Mandalorian!” the old woman hissed, rushing out the door and across to him.

He pushed away her attempts to check him for injuries, knowing well enough for himself that any blaster shots that had went off ricocheted off his beskar.

“I’m fine.” He said pushing away from her. “But I need to leave. Now.” He stated, giving her a hard look.

“Take what you need. Your ship is ready, I checked this morning.” She said pointing towards the storage room she had just came from.

He nodded silently, and quickly began grabbing what he needed, throwing all of it into a canvas bag that was hanging from one of the shelves. Canned food, and two medical supply kits were only a couple of the things he shoved into the bag before exiting to see the old woman standing with a huge coat and a change of boots.

“I’ll walk you there.” She stated, not giving him much of a choice.

“My pace.”

She only nodded, and lead him out into the street where at the end of the street he could see his ship had been moved.

“Who moved my ship?” he asked impatiently.

“Someone trustworthy.” Was her answer.

“Listen, I don’t know you. And I understand we had a deal, but that’s over with now.” he retorted, glancing over at her.

“Not yet, I gave you one last thing…”

He looked to see tears spilling over her sagging cheeks, and he shoulders slumped low like she was carrying a huge weight.

“You owe me a promise Mandalorian. And I entrust you’ll keep it.”

“What is this promise?” he asked, finally reaching his ships back hatch.

The hatch hissed as it began opening, and Mando reflexively drew his blaster pointing in at the figure who stood in the hull of his ship.

“Everything looks fantastic I fixed a few loose connections on the hyperdr-” A honeyed voice filled Mando’s ears as the figure came to a sudden halt, open hands raised in submission at the blaster trained on them.

“Who are you?” he demanded, feeling quite whiplashed by his last day and a half. He was ready to start shooting without asking questions.

“She’s mine.” The old woman cut in, rising her mittened hand to push away at Mando’s blaster.

“I refueled your ship, and check to make sure that you were ready to go.” The silky voice added.

He watched, carefully as a young woman walked slowly down the ramp of his ship, hands still raised up, with wide eyes trained on his. What is with these women… he thought, feeling quite uncomfortable with how easy it was for them to find his eye behind the visor.

The old woman pushed harder at his blaster and he finally dropped it down to his side, finally getting him to release his steady aim on the girl. “You have a promise to keep.” She murmured, looking at the girl, who was staring just as puzzled at the old woman as Mando felt.

“She is yours to protect.”

The girl immediately began denying the idea, and Mando himself finally cut off that annoyingly sweet voice to put up his own protest,

“I have no reason to take her anywhere.”

The old woman’s wise eyes fell back onto Mando, and consequently silenced the surprised interjections from his ship.

“You need a second chance…” she spoke almost prophetically piercing through Mando’s resolve. “And I might be an old woman… but I have seen what you can do. And that assures me that you’re the one man that can keep her safe…” she hesitated. “Promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Mando was about to question her again when the sound of a blaster echoed up through the snow-covered pathway. He shouted a warning, and reached to cover the old woman’s back when she was already falling down into the snow, still as the quarry from the cave.

She was dead.

He heard more blaster shots, and a scream from the girl, as she attempted to run off the sloping hatch of the ship, carrying her own blaster and retuning fire. It wasn’t a good situation when Mando turned back toward the street again. A group of men masked, and carrying a lot firepower began making their way toward his ship, all pointing toward the girl who was squatting next to his ship, blaster trained down sight.

“Give us the girl!” one of them shouted, pointing a gloved hand past Mando.

He flashed back to the bounty droid, pointing its blaster at Grogu… the feeling he had now identical to that day. He tried to suppress it, but after a few more seconds hundreds of ‘what-if’s’ and what the old woman had said, he turned toward the girl;

“Get on the ship. Now!”

Blaster fire erupted, bouncing off the back hatch as it pulled up off the ground and Mando stepped back towards the hull space. He fired, eliminating the closest people in the group when he felt the ship lurch upwards into the sky.

She was flying his ship.

But, surprisingly he wasn’t as mad as he thought when the imminent threat of the men boarding became slimmer and slimmer as the distance between Hoth’s frozen ground and the Slave Two grew wider. Only after leaving air space in a hurry, did Mando make his way to the cockpit to see just who it was that was now on his ship.

She sat in the pilot’s chair focused on the dash of buttons in front of her, eyes flashing occasionally up to the interfaces showing their positioning. If it wasn’t for the red display flashing on her face he wouldn’t have noticed the tear streaks on her cheeks. Her breaths were uneven causing her chest to jerk, but she didn’t make a single sound.

Mando watched from behind her, quietly watching as the ship veered around small debris that floated in Hoth’s gravity, expertly guiding the ship out of the dangerous field. Her hand hovered over the switch that would send them into hyperspace. Her silence was a question, not just of if he was ready… but if he trusted her.

“Go.” he finally answered.

He pushed his shoulders against the wall behind her, preparing himself to feel the force press him back even tighter against the wall. Her ministrations over the controls were precise, even though the weight of force was pinning him back, she was able to smoothly operate until the streaking blue and purple lights of hyperspace lit up the cockpit.

Her chair spun around to face him, her small frame being swallowed by the chairs harness that she had pulled over her shoulders. Wisps of damp hair and sweat covered her forehead, and her eyes locked onto his with a mix of emotions that Mando couldn’t quite read.

“You’re the man my grandmother has talked about…” She searched up and down his body, carefully taking stock of his frame, lingering on the blasters that were strapped to his thigh and hip.

“I hadn’t met her before last night.” He answered, feeling like his response was inadequate.

“She told me you needed your ship refueled… but I had to move it.” She explained, pulling the harness off of her shoulders. “I didn’t expect for any of this to happen.” Her voice dropping a little. He knew what she was talking about, despite her lack of real conversation. “I wasn’t busy so I tried to clean up some of your wiring boxes…” she kept explaining herself, trying to bargain her value to him.

He let her continue, finding a similarity in her tone with the bounties that were sitting in carbonite slabs in the back of his ship. He saw her nervousness in the way she began chewing on her lip after she had run out of things to say.

“Where am I supposed to take you?” he asked, seeing a flinch of uncertainty cross over her face. He mentally chided himself for sounding so harsh. It wasn’t like intimidating her was going to benefit him at this point.

“I- I don’t know.” She frowned, still chewing on her bottom lip.

He shook his head, letting his frustration and lack of understanding in the situation show for the first time towards her. “Then why are you here, and why were those men after you?”

She huffed out a breath and ran a hand through her sweaty hair, pulling it off her forehead. “There’s a man named Vir… he came to Hoth and when he met me he tried to date me, I guess. But when I turned him down, it only made things worse.” She stood up, and leaned her back against the controls, “He killed my grandfather as a sick kind of punishment. And since then he’s been obsessed, following me around and threatening me constantly.”

Mando listened, taking in everything that the old woman -her grandmother- had said and finally put all of the pieces together. That old woman had been protecting the girl, and he was becoming more and more in awe of how fierce the old woman’s loyalty was. Even her last sentence was spent holding the him to a promise of security.

“But now everyone is dead because of me…” she admitted quietly, before looking up to Mando with more tears in welling in her eyes. “You have to get away from me, whoever you are. You don’t know me and none of this is your problem.” She nodded at her own decision, seemingly satisfied at her plan.

They stood in silence again, her waiting on him to say something and Mando just looking at her under the cover of his helmet. She wore layered shirts, with a coat -too large for her- cloaking any real idea of what her shape really looked like. Her boots were tiny, and snow still clung to them. In the back of his mind, he weighed his options but kept thinking about the old woman’s voice: “I’m giving you something special…”

He wasn’t sure what she meant by giving her to him, but what he didn’t want to admit was that he was going to keep that promise.

“I can see you fly well, and I could use a co-pilot. I’ll show you where you can put any of your things.” He said turning away toward the ladder, with a small motion for her follow him.

He passed his own room, and pushed open the next door and let her walk in. She glanced around, and sat down on the corner of the small cot. She shrugged off her huge coat, and looked to Mando with a very innocent look.

“I can’t stay here for long.” She said with a sigh, “But I appreciate you helping me.”

He nodded and left without another word.

Mando retreated back to the cockpit, only to review everything the woman had said, and the story that the girl had told him. All of it raced around, especially the girls sweet voice that gave him a dizzying head rush. It sounded so pretty. He thought rubbing the forehead of his helmet like it would help subside the feeling of drinking too much spotchka. She looked so young, but the way she carried herself added to his confusion about her true age.

The old woman was her grandmother, but that didn’t help him get a better idea either. The dead man on Hoth had been after the girl for a at least a couple years so she was most likely in her early twenties. But one thing stuck in Mando’s head above all the images of her and her sugary voice in his head.

Seeing her silhouette framed by hyperspace, and the silky sound of her voice contrasted to his own was exceptionally difficult to ignore. She hadn’t been on his ship two hours and the idea of getting another glimpse at her was already pushing itself into the forefront of his mind. Mando always thought about anything ten different ways before proceeding. But for the second time in his life his gut had overridden his judgement. The second time.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t know when I see a second chance sitting right in front of me.” The old woman had said.

A second chance.

His second chance.

If anything it only made his head spin more. What was it about himself that had given the old woman a sense of him needing a ‘second chance’? Not only that, but why did he need one? His only thought was Grogu, and how difficult it was to let his foundling go despite his knowledge that there was somewhere better for the child. He had fought desperately to return the child to his own people, but when the time came, he could barely let go.

Was he really supposed to take care of her?

If he was a different man, he would let her off on a safe planet before heading back to drop off his bounties. Leave her with a enough supplies and credits to settle herself somewhere far enough away from those men… and himself. But as he sat down in the pilots chair, and looked out at space flying past him, he acknowledged that he wasn’t that man. The idea of an old woman with wise eyes telling him that the girl on his ship was his second chance, was not only wildly dangerous, but something that he was already preparing himself for.

#the mandalorian #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #secondchance

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ahockeywrites · 4 years ago

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Chapter 2 - Edmonton, Alberta

“I cannot believe it’s our first day in Edmonton and we’re already at a hockey game,” Addison laughed. The department Addison and Simone were contracted to work at regularly attended hockey games as a group to encourage socialising outside of the workplace and had invited the girls along to meet their new colleagues.

It just so happened that one of the other girls in the department was good friends with the Oilers roster and was able to get some good seats occasionally, and this happened to be one of those nights. They had seats right next to the ice for the Senators @ Oilers match and seeing as Addison had barely paid attention to the Blues hockey lineup, she had no idea that the brother of the boy she had been ignoring for years was about to take to the ice for warm ups.

A puck hit the glass in front of Addison and she looked up to see who hit it. Standing in front of her was Brady Tkachuk. She shot him a confused look, she had no idea he even played hockey anymore let alone in the NHL. He gave her a quick smile and shouted “gimme a text, number hasn’t changed,” then he skated off.

“Wait, you know Tkachuk?” one of her new colleagues asked? This was not how Addison wanted her first day in Edmonton to go. All she wanted was an easy introduction to her new colleagues not to be bombarded with questions.

“Yeah, grew up in St Louis a few doors down from them,” Addison explained, trying to go into as little detail as possible. There was no way she could let the people she was going to be spending a lot of time with know that she used to be friends with the devil of Calgary. Her co-workers just nodded, trying to understand how she hadn’t shared this information before. To the majority of people, growing up around NHL players was the most amazing thing ever but to Addison it was the most difficult thing. She wished she didn’t block Matthew out that summer, but she knew it was best for her at that time.

The rest of the game went surprisingly well, even if Brady was on the losing end of the game. No one asked Addison anymore questions about the Tkachuk’s, which she was very thankful for but Simone had started putting the pieces together and had pretty much figured out who it was that Addison was avoiding in St Louis.

Addison did text Brady, but she waited until she had settled in to Edmonton first. Naturally, Brady had already let the entire family know who he had seen in the stands as soon as he was able to. Keith and Chantal already knew because of their closeness to Addison’s parents, Taryn was excited to know that Addison had moved and was using her degree to her advantage and Matthew said nothing. He didn’t want to believe that they now lived in the same country, let alone the same province.

Ever since that day in St Louis, Matthew had vowed never to love another woman. He couldn’t, Addison was always the only one for him. It wasn’t like he couldn’t find someone else, he always had women falling over him almost anywhere he went, but none of them lived up to Addison. Instead of trying to settle down in Calgary, he had a different woman in his bed most nights to satisfy his desires.

Simone gave it a few days too before asking about the interaction at the Rogers Place. She was almost certain that the man who Addison refused to keep in contact with was the eldest Tkachuk child but she didn’t know the whole story. She didn’t want to reopen old wounds for Addison which could be especially painful. The safest space to bring up the topic was likely to be their shared apartment and she did one night with SportsNet’s NHL coverage in the background.

“Ads,” Simone started, she was unsure of how to approach the topic so decided to stay safe to begin with, “how do you actually know Brady Tkachuk?” Addison sighed, she knew this would eventually come up and was much happier that her best friend asked her rather than any of her other colleagues because it could have made the entire graduate program very awkward.

“I wasn’t lying at the rink, he did grow up a few doors down from me in St Louis,” Addison explained, “but I spent a lot of time at their house with Chantal because mom often worked late nights and dad used to, and still does, travel with the Blues for games. I’m the same age as Matt, so it just worked well.” She hoped that she hadn’t given too much away, it was the truth, just missing a lot of detail.

“But, is there anything else that I should know? You know, you’re probably gonna see the entire family next time you’re home and if I’m with you, the whole story is appreciated?” Simone tried to get as much information out as she could without hinting that she knew who Addison was refusing to mention.

“Matt was my first kiss and then I’ve ignored him ever since,” Addison said at such speed, she wasn’t even sure she took a breath between the words. It was the first time she had admitted it to anyone aside from her parents. “And I don’t think I ever stopped liking him.”

“Babe,” Simone exclaimed, “why didn’t you say something earlier?”

“Because he’s a professional hockey hot shot and I’m me! Plus, I was going to MIT and he really doesn’t give me vibes of someone that could do long distance,” Addison said, letting a tear fall. “I thought focussing on my studies would get rid of this silly crush, but seeing him in Calgary has just made things worse.”

Addison was shocked with herself, she had never vocalised her feelings of inadequacy when compared to Matthew before. Everything that she had just said was something she had internalised for years and the only way she knew to respond to the word vomit that had come out of her mouth was to cry. Simone came over to her and just held her. She had seen Addison like this before and knew she just needed to know that someone was there for her.

The room was silent bar the commentator for the Stars v Kings game and the two were thankful that it wasn’t a Flames game. “How about, we order some Chinese food, eat ice cream and watch some terrible movies?” Simone asked, this was how Addison solved all of the boy issues that anyone encountered at college so hoped it would help. The two spent the evening watching crappy rom coms wishing they were the main character in all of them and this was able to take Matthew off of her mind at least for a day.

Work seemed to drag along for the rest of the week and Addison let it. She was spending the majority of her time in her office, which she shared with the other graduates, and kept her head down working on a new project she had been assigned. She was designing a new ball bearing and it was the most tedious thing she had ever done. College could not have prepared her to spend 40 hours a week in front of a computer designing such an essential part of a manufactured product in such detail. All Addison wanted was to finish the design and go out to the bars because it was a Friday night and she needed a beer. Eventually, Simone and Addison were able to head home and get ready for a little night out in Edmonton.

It took a few hours for them to get showered, changed and eat something because they knew that drinking on an empty stomach was a bad idea. Addison chose to pair a deep green bodysuit with black jeans and heeled boots whilst Simone chose a flowery jumpsuit with small heels. They both knew they looked good and that gave them the confidence to head out with a smile. The Uber they had called arrived and they quickly threw back a vodka shot each. The night was cold but the bars calling their names were warm as hell.

The number of bars showing Calgary games was low, but apparently not zero because the first one they arrived at showed the Flames thrashing the Bruins and as soon as Addison looked up at the screen, she saw the baby blue eyed, curly haired boy she had been trying to ignore the life of for years.

“He’s everywhere,” Addison complained, “even in a city that supposedly hates him. I can’t seem to get away from him.” Simone shot her a look of sympathy, knowing that everything Addison had done was protect herself from getting hurt by a boy who meant so much to her. “I just want drinks.” And drinks Addison did get.

5 shots and two beers in two hours at the first bar took her to a state she rarely reached, very drunk. Seeing Matthew on tv had done it for her, he was living his life to the best so she was going to do the exact same, even if she was working 9-5, 5 days a week. Simone knew better than to let Addison go anywhere alone and made sure that she had drunk water and got home safely. However, Simone didn’t expect to wake up only an hour after falling asleep to hear Addison talking to someone on the phone.

“BRAAADDDYYYYYYYY!!!!” Addison shouted down the phone with a giggle.

“Heya Addie,” Brady replied, trying to control himself and not laugh too much but it was too hard. Here, well in Edmonton, in front of him was the exact opposite of the girl he had grown up with. Normally Addison was well kept and smartly dressed, today he saw her in a massive Blues t-shirt and hair forming a birds nest. “Has someone been drinking?” he asked playfully.

“Yeaaaaaaaaaa, I saw Matty on tv and decided I didn’t want him being the only one having fun tonight,” she said, trying not to hiccup. The alcohol she had consumed had kicked in suddenly and she had no idea what to do. As Brady was the most recent person she had texted, somehow she had called him.

“You saw a flames game in Edmonton? They must really hate their own team eh?” He laughed.

“I did! I think it’s because they’re coming for a game here next week, ooohhhh, maybe I’ll see Matty, I miss Matty, I was silly,” Addison explained, even if the drinks had gone to her head, she was trying to form coherent sentences.

“Hey, Addie, I know Matt misses you too. But, the best thing you can do is head to bed and get some sleep. It’s gotta be like 5am in Alberta, so go to bed, yeah?” Brady was really trying to help the girl, no matter what happened between Addison and Matthew, Brady didn’t want to lose the potential of a friendship with her again.

“Okaay Brady,” Addison yawned, “I’ve made it to bed, it’s sooooo soft, like Matty’s hair.” Addison couldn’t help but smile as she thought back to the time they had kissed, it was one of the happiest moments of her life along with graduating college.

“I’ll text you when you wake up,” Brady said, “now sleep Addie.” She had fallen asleep before he had even finished speaking and the sound of her softly breathing was the only thing that either Brady or Simone could hear.

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#ahockeywrites #the girl next door #Matthew Tkachuk #flames19 #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

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amandaoftherosemire · 5 years ago

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A Lost Hour

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff X Reader

Characters: Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers

Author: @amandaoftherosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 2,807

Format: One-shot

Warning: Language, fluff, implied smut

Summary: On a mission alone with Natasha Romanoff, you try to keep from annoying her as you hide how much you adore her.

A/N: Written for @buckysforeverprincess’ Hop Into Spring 3K Challenge. Congratulations on 3000, darling!! You’re amazing and you deserve all the love and adoration! My prompt was “Don’t forget daylight savings.” Writing reader inserts is like exercising my brain (second person is not second nature, that’s for damn sure) because I like to make them as neutral as I can. Except, since I’m female, I tend to write from that perspective, which means that all of my reader inserts have been fem!reader. This time, I wanted to stretch my brain in a new direction, so I wrote as neutral as possible, including gender. Please feel free to let me know what you think, including ways I failed. I’m always trying to do better and learn more, so I’m absolutely open to criticism.

A Lost Hour

Natasha watched you out of her peripheral vision from across the motel room. You were standing at the other queen bed unpacking, laying out everything you’d need for the mission the next day, your movements brisk, economical, and lethally efficient for all you were humming what sounded like ‘Hollaback Girl’. Nat appreciated that when it came to the work, you were a silent, stone-cold professional. She would put you at her back any day of the week, her highest compliment.

That said, when you weren’t actively on a mission, you never seemed to stop making noise. If you weren’t talking, and somehow you never ran out of things to talk about, you were humming, singing, muttering, laughing, or just making weird noises with your mouth. If she was the sort who gave in to such things, you could have her literally climbing the walls like the spider for which she was named.

To be fair, it wasn’t that the noises were in reality all that irritating. No one else seemed to notice, for instance. If she was being honest, she wouldn't classify the sounds you made as irritating at all, really. What drove her crazy was that they made it impossible for Natasha to ignore you, though she'd never had that problem before.

She couldn’t quite put her finger on what made you so compelling to her. It wasn’t your looks, though she thought you incredibly attractive. That would never have been enough to capture her attention on its own, however. She’d used her own for both good and evil often enough to know how little beauty truly counted. The fair of face couldn’t catch her eye.

Though she most often pretended to ignore you, sometimes she put on that she found you annoying in order to insist that you be quiet. As a matter of fact, she found your voice, the sounds you made, too appealing. She had to concentrate to tune you out, her ear seeming to naturally tune itself to the timbre of your voice.

She also found your little rants funny, though she groaned as loudly as anyone when you started in on one. You had any number of random little pet peeves and there was no way to know when someone might inadvertently step into one in the course of normal conversation. When you got going, however, was when she found it most difficult to resist the urge to kiss that chattering mouth. Lately, it had only gotten worse.

Because though she could see that you found her physically attractive, she was almost certain you didn't really like her. She was painfully attuned to the tone of your voice and could hear it was often a touch colder when you spoke to her than when you spoke to any other member of the team. You were warm and pleasant with everyone, so it wasn't as though you were mean or rude even then; only Natasha would ever notice the difference.

She refused to let it bother her, but it made it easy to pretend she didn't like you right back.

Once she'd finished the double-check that she had what she needed for the mission in the morning, she repacked everything as it had gone in except for her night clothes and her toiletries bag. You had long since moved on to flipping through the channels, your preparations for the mission less meticulous than hers, though you were hardly sloppy or haphazard. You were still humming under your breath, but you were unusually quiet and she was having a hard time placing the melody.

You were watching Natasha out of the corner of your eye, trying to keep the humming to a minimum. You knew it drove her crazy and you were trying not to irritate her on this mission. You'd been half in love with her almost since you met her. You hated that you annoyed her, but you also couldn't change who you were, so you tried to stay as quiet as possible when she was around.

You'd hotly anticipated and deeply dreaded this mission. Any time you spent with Natasha was nerve-wracking, but an overnight mission, just the two of you sharing a motel room seemed like a recipe for disaster. Disaster for you, at least. You doubted Natasha would even notice you unless you irritated her by talking or humming too much, or if you fucked up your part of the plan.

You, on the other hand, were going to spend the next 24 hours on pins and needles, trying not to give away how absolutely magnificent you thought she was. Sometimes you went too far in the opposite direction, but it was better than her knowing you spent most of your time in her presence internally sighing dreamily

Obviously, she was beautiful. You had eyes; you could see she was gorgeous. You were no more immune to her appeal than the next person. That said, it was her strength that you found most captivating. In addition, you respected her competence and efficiency and you had a nice healthy fear of her lethality. You weren't frightened of her, but like a razor-sharp blade, you didn't take her bite lightly. Her capacity for loyalty had surprised you, but only until you got to know her. Her humor charmed you, made you wish you didn't annoy her because you found her hilarious.

Of all the things about her that made you wish you could at least be friends, however, it was the sweetness laying close to her bones. She hid it well but, where she cared, she was kind and deeply loving in her own quiet way. On more than one occasion, you'd had to start ranting about something stupid to cover for the puppy-dog-eyes you'd been giving her.

When she settled onto her bed with her tablet and a bottle of water, you spoke softly. "Do you want to pick?" you asked as you offered her the remote. "If you leave it up to me, I'll end up watching the crokinole championships on ESPN Twelve like a lunatic."

Natasha frowned a little and lifted puzzled eyes to yours. "What in the world is crokinole?"

You laughed and flipped back to the channel airing the niche game's championship. "Fuck if I know," you replied and settled back against the pillows with a grin, "but in about twenty minutes I bet I'm going to have a whole lot of opinions on technique and strategy."

A half an hour later, both you and Natasha were watching the classic dexterity game with rapt attention, discussing the ongoing bracket as though you'd been following the game for years. You'd looked up the rules on your phone, not that you really needed to. The point of the game was absolutely clear once you'd watched for even just a few minutes, but the Wikipedia page clarified some scoring questions the two of you had.

"Oops, he left a hanger," you were saying as Natasha's phone rang, Steve's number lighting up the screen. You snickered when you saw the picture she'd used for him; it was some promotional shot from the 40s when he was being used to sell war bonds and he had the dumbest cheesy grin on his face.

You loved that she teased Steve in this way, taking potshots at the public persona, the piece of propaganda rather than the private man or the real symbolism of the shield. Steve was one of those she cared about; you always enjoyed watching their dynamic at play.

“If he can pick up the twenty and knock the other guy’s puck into the gutter, I think he’s won it,” she replied as she swiped the screen. She’d gotten as into the game as you had, the two of you finally bonding a little. She didn't notice because she was answering the phone, but you were caught in full-blown puppy-dog-eyes mode.

You sat in silence, watching her smirk at Steve and assure him that she had things well in hand while you grinned at her like exactly what you were, a moron with a desperate crush.

“You’re on speaker if you’ve got anything to tell us both,” Natasha turned to focus on you as she hit the button on the screen. Her eyes met yours, warm and full of fun, then rounded ever so slightly in surprise at the lovesick smile on your face. For the first time, she wasn’t seeing any coolness or reserve in your eyes and she wanted it to never stop. She smiled timidly back at you.

“Just stay safe, watch each other’s backs, and don’t forget about daylight savings.” Steve’s voice snapped you out of it, made you aware you were being stupidly obvious in the way you were staring at Natasha. The smile on her face was almost shy and sweet and was making your heart gallop like a thoroughbred. You latched on to the last thing Steve said like a lifeline.

“Ugh! I hate daylight savings!” You fell backward onto the bed with a groan of annoyance, partly to be dramatic, but mostly to stop looking at Natasha. “Especially Spring forward. You know the whole thing’s pointless, right? It doesn’t even do what it’s supposed to, and some think it’s actively detrimental. But no, we keep doing it because we’re stup—"

“I’m on it, Cap,” Natasha cut you off with a good-natured chuckle as she got up to sit next to you on your bed. She patted your knee affectionately as she finished the phone call and hung up. You propped yourself up on your elbows and watched her, nervous but oddly excited.

Natasha had never been this friendly before.

“I thought you didn’t like me,” she said quietly. This evening with you, learning the intricacies of a game neither of you had heard of before, had seduced her in ways she’d never thought to expect, let alone guard against. The uncomplicated adoration she’d seen on your face as you looked at her gave her the confidence to speak bluntly.

“No!" you cried, distressed that you'd made her think so when you thought so highly of her. You gave her a sheepish smile and ducked your head. "I know I can be annoying,” you said, wrinkling your nose. “I don’t want to irritate you by scampering after you.”

Her mouth curved and her eyelids lowered in an expression both earthy and ethereal. Your heart skipped and you knew you were in way over your head. “You’re not irritating or annoying,” she said. When doubt flickered across your face, she felt a pang of remorse. “You’re distracting,” she murmured.

“Distracting?" You frowned a little, not sure if that was a compliment or not. "Is that good or bad?” you asked, a little breathless. The look on her face was making your heart race.

“Well," she said softly, and leaned in ever so slightly. You were painfully aware of every movement she made, and your breath caught in response. "That depends." You had seen her flirt for work; this was nothing like that. Her eyes were direct, her body language straightforward, and you would swear that she was trying to be as honest as she could.

"On?" you prompted and sat up. You and she were face to face now, but neither of you moved, though you were both practically holding your breath in anticipation.

The corner of her mouth lifted in the slightest of smiles, your eyes following the movement with meticulous care as you waited for her next words with a heart pounding in desperate hope. "On if I'm trying to ignore you," she replied, her smile spreading and her eyes turning surprisingly shy. "I tend to ignore that which I don't think I can have. Or whom."

Her eyes seemed to sear into yours, the dreamy green going sharp as jade. You shifted forward a fraction of an inch, your hand twitching towards hers before you stopped it, terrified to overstep and fuck up this exhilarating conversation. "And I don't know how to shut up, especially when I'm nervous."

Natasha wasn't smiling now, but you had absolutely no idea what she was thinking, her expression inscrutable. "I make you nervous?"

You gave a quick, disbelieving laugh. "Have you met you?" You didn't know why, because she hadn't moved, but you started to feel like she was leaning away from you. You kept talking, because you were terrified you were fucking this up, and you always talked too much when freaked out. "Between your strength and skill, oof, and your mind, you'd be the most intimidating woman on the planet. Add in the humor on top of everything else and you're spectacular. I'm astonished whenever I manage not to babble."

By the time you managed to shut yourself up, she was smiling again. You didn't know it, but she had thought you were going to start yammering on about her physical appearance and nothing was more likely to make her dismiss someone as not worth her time. Marks underestimated her because of her looks; she didn't waste her real self on marks. Instead, you were charming her with your chattering about how intimidating you found her, not her face. "So, you're telling me I don't need to ignore you."

"Not if you don't want to," you said, making her smile wider with your earnestness. You went on, shy yourself this time. "And if you don't mind if I babble."

Wasn't this a pleasant surprise? she thought. The discovery that you found her as appealing as she found you was the best thing she'd learned in a while. She decided to live a little and tell you the whole truth. "When you babble, it makes me want to kiss you."

Your eyes popped open and your mouth spread in a wide smile. You didn't know what had led to your good fortune, but you weren't going to question it. You licked your lips and your heart kicked when her eyes followed the movement. "Even when I babble about something stupid, like daylight savings?" you asked, audibly breathless.

She smirked a little. This time it was she who eased forward a little, causing you to sway toward her without thinking. She was close enough now that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes and her mouth was close enough that you imagined you could feel her breath on your skin. That tempting mouth curved in amusement. "Especially when you babble about something stupid like daylight savings.”

"People think it's for farmers," you immediately launched into anything you could remember about why daylight savings sucks and is stupid, but you were barely thinking about the words coming out of your mouth, "but that doesn't make sense in a modern era with electric ligh--"

Natasha laughed, which had you slowing down, delighted to make her laugh out loud for the first time. She'd tell you later that she laughed internally at the things you said all the time. For now, you were simply enthralled at the sound of her laugh when you inspired it.

You didn't stop talking, however, until she took your face in her hands and stopped your words with a soft, almost tentative kiss. Slowly, gently, you slid your arms around her, pulling her close as she melted against you. She slid her arms around you in turn, enchanted by the soft generosity she found in your mouth, in your arms.

A long time later, she pulled away reluctantly, only to sink back in with a chuckle at the misty-eyed look of awed adoration you gave her. Silent and smiling, you'd been struck speechless and so opted to let her have her way, happy to follow where she led.

The next morning at 5:00 AM, according to the phone buzzing next to the bed, and 4:00 AM according to your body, Natasha leaned across you to turn off the alarm. When it was quiet in the impersonal dark of the motel room once more, she snuggled back down under the covers, her arm sliding around your waist as she rested her head on your shoulder. You smiled at the ceiling, delighted by the sunset cloud currently tickling your nose.

"You're right. I hate daylight savings," she murmured.

"See!" you whispered hotly as you cuddled close, delirious at the feel of her satin skin sliding against yours and incensed that you were going to have to give it up soon. "If not for daylight savings I’d get to spend another hour in bed with you. It's fucking stupid." That was as far as you got before Nat was rising over you in the dark to press her mouth against yours again.

For the first time in either of your careers, you nearly missed a mission because of daylight savings.

The End

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ginsburg-sam · 5 years ago

Text

DRUNK IN THE MORNING | SPUCK

WHO: Noah Puckerman & Sam Evans

WHAT: After Sam’s tattoo adventure at a party, he finds himself at Puck’s apartment, needing his best friend to be there for him

WHEN: Backdated to November 19th, morning

WHERE: Puck’s apartment

WARNING: Mentions of alcohol

SAM: It had been a long night. Sam hadn't slept yet. Surprise surprise - that had been a given for the past couple of days that Sam hadn't been able to get any rest, his mind constantly thinking about ways that he could improve himself, ways that he could make up for the fact that he'd hurt all of those different people. It hadn't only been a long night, it had been a long week, and Sam just wanted to spend his time with someone. Ideally, it would've been Tina. But even in his drunken state, he knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to show up at her room, at 5 in the morning, on a Tuesday. He knew he'd get in trouble for that, and he knew he'd just make things worse if that was what he decided to do. He knew that much.

It was cold as he walked across campus. He'd left his jacket...somewhere. He couldn't really remember where he'd put it. Maybe it was at Tina's? Sam stopped walking as he thought about it. Maybe it was at Tina's. He turned around and started walking towards the dorms that she lived in. Maybe he'd left his jacket at Tina's, just like his heart and his values in life, and everything good in the world - it was at Tina's place. Right? No...it couldn't be. He'd worn it after seeing her the other day. Stopping up again, Sam's eyebrows furrowed and instead, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. That must be Tina, responding to my text! His drunken self thought and he pulled it out to see who it was.

While it wasn't Tina, Sam's face still lit up. "PUCK!" He screamed, his voice echoing all over the empty campus. He didn't even read the messages that Puck had sent him, his thumbs immediately started typing. His eyes were squinting, trying to see what he was doing, but being dyslexic and drunk was a bad mix, and after several times of typing something up, deleting it, and typing it again, the outcome was a "Cna I chrahs at yours?" He didn't wait for a reply and instead started marching towards Puck's apartment.

He tried to be quiet as he made his way into the building, not wanting to wake the residents up. Knocking on the door softly, Sam shushed it. "You're being loud," He whispered to the door, waiting for it to open up. Sam leaned forward, his head hitting the door and using it to knock a few more times.

PUCK: Texting late at night was Puck's usual. He had a lifestyle that meant he would be and could be up at all hours of the day. He had gone to bed at one point, only to wake up at another point in the night, and then at another point simply decided he would stay up. It usually wasn't too hard to find somewhere for him to nap around campus if he needed to, or a bed to stay in. Plus he had his truck. Deciding he would be fine figuring it out as he went along about his day meant he was up at 3:30 am, showered by 4:45 am, and making some Eggo waffles and checking his phone by 5:00 am.

Had he expected to get a reply from people? Yeah, that was pretty normal. There were the health nuts who would be up already and horny for a workout of some sort, the people still rolling from the night before, people wanting to buy weed, some actually just up for normal reasons... but still, of all the names to flash on his screen, having Sam Evans be one wasn't expected. Especially with the request to crash at his place. That didn't sound like he was waking up and getting an early start to his day. The dude was fucked up, and Puck wasn't going to let him deal with that alone.

However, he wasn't getting replies, and as it got to be 5:30 with no answer back, Puck was getting ready to go to campus and see if he could find the blonde. All he'd have to do is yell about free comic books or say that hottie Sigourney Weaver was on signing autographs. He knew his friend well enough-- that was why Puck also knew he was hurting. Things were a little jumbled for Sam at the moment when it came to the affairs of his heart, yet Puck was certainly aware that he had a good one underneath it all. If guys like Sam couldn't rise above their actions, then that meant there was certainly no hope for Puck to ever do the same.

Perhaps that played a part in Puck's ability to retain a fierce loyalty regardless of circumstance. Why he would do anything for his friends-- such as risk opening his front door to a mostly unexpected thudding. His reasoning? He was almost positive he heard Sam's voice faintly on the other side of his silent apartment.

"Evans?" Puck asked as he swung the door open, eyes quickly assessing if he was going to need to pick Sam up or if he could still walk on his own two feet. He wanted to hope so considering he made it to Puck's apartment, but he had seen drunk people both manage and mess up plently of things. It was just usually himself doing it. Glad to see his friend standing and there, Puck greeted in the only warm way he knew how, "There you fucking are dude, I was getting ready to go call out the hounds to find your ass." Despite the words, he had a smile break out on his face, only for it to quickly falter as he noticed Sam's face. He had a black eye it looked like, and it wasn't even a fresh one, along with the rest of him looking no better. His instinctive need to care made Puck reach out, brushing Sam's bangs aside and tilting his head to try and get a better look at his friend's wounds, "Jesus, the hell you've been up to tonight? And why wasn't I invited?" Mostly he had said it because he wished he had been there to maybe of prevented some of the mess in front of his doorway.

SAM: It felt like an eternity before the door opened. Sam's eyes were closing, as he felt himself get more tired, leaning his head against the door. If Puck didn't open up, Sam would just sleep right then and there, he decided. Fuck it, he didn't care who saw him. He didn't care at all anymore. Puck was one of the most reliable people that Sam had in his life, he knew he'd defend him in whatever way he could, to the neighbors in the building, if they started talking. Besides, Sam also knew that Puck didn't give a shit about what they thought, and that was why the Evans boy felt that he'd be fine with just sleeping out there. It wouldn't embarrass Puck, he knew it.

But then the door swung open, and Sam almost came falling through, before his hand landed on the doorframe, and he stopped himself. "Lucy," He called out, turning up his best Desi Arnaz impression. "You've got some 'splaining to do," Looking up, Sam's eyes landed on Puck's and he grinned. He stood up straight, swaying slightly on his feet as he felt the other man's hand almost ghost his forehead. It felt nice, and the grin transformed into almost a pout. "I went to a party, this dude..." Sam started, rolling his eyes. "I think his name was Mag- Micha- Messiah something threw this party for all of the seniors," He shrugged his shoulders and moved to put his hands on either side of Puck's face. "Thanks for taking me in, it feels just like my high school days when my family was homeless."

Sam hadn't meant to say that, but Puck knew all about what had happened during the last two years of Sam being in high school. During a drunken night in Freshman year, Sam had spilled everything to him, feeling like he could trust him enough with the information. He'd known at that point that Puck was going to stay in his life, and that they were friends; Sam considered Puck to be one of his best friends. And so during that one night, after too many shots of tequila, Sam had told Puck all about his dyslexia, and how much he was bullied for it, and how his parents had lost their jobs and Sam had needed to provide for the family, taking up three jobs whilst still trying to maintain some good grades in high school. It was a lot, and tears had been shed during that night, and even though a lot of alcohol had been involved, Sam still remembered every single thing about it. Because Puck had been there for him. He'd shown how much he cared, he showed respect and sympathy, and it was everything that Sam needed in a best friend.

"Can I come in?" Sam asked, not wanting to be rude. It hadn't been the first time that he'd stayed over at Puck's, but it had been for completely different reasons. They usually involved weed and video games. "Why are you up? Have you been to a party too?" Puck was always a mystery to Sam; what he spent his time doing. "Oh, I've got to show you somethin'," Sam lifted up his t-shirt, covering his face with it, so he couldn't see. "Can you see it?" He asked, pointing to the fresh ink that was on his chest, right above his left nipple. 'Temporary'. It was still bleeding, but less so now than before. "I'm a bad boy now, right?"

PUCK: From the I Love Lucy impression to the innocent way Sam asked to come in, Puck could say with certainty that even with all the wear and tear that this creature was Sam Evans. He might have been beaten, battered, and bruised, but there was hope for him to come out of all this. Puck was certain of that much, even if Sam might have not.

"Yeah Evans, course you can come in." Puck assured, stepping aside and leaving the door open for Sam to follow through. Letting Sam Evans in hadn't ever been hard for Puck do, which was actually saying something. He was unashamedly himself, sure, but that didn't mean he was up for talking about the things that troubled him. He wasn't like Sam, who wasn't open about his past but also wasn't as shy about admitting his feelings. However, Sam had been there when Puck had a few bad trips while they lived together and he learned what it was like to have someone actually sit with him through a storm. Waking up the next day and having what happened the night before actually bring them closer was one the reasons that Sam had quickly landed the role of best friend. Not just a party friend, but a true, genuine best friend. So of course Puck wasn't against having him come over despite the time and despite Sam's state.

Puck made his way over to the fridge to grab themselves each a beer, as it was as natural to drink for Puck as water was meant to be for the human body. That was why he didn't bother to ask Sam if he wanted one before doing so. Grabbing the handle, Puck was about to give Sam his answer on what had him up only to be presented with something he didn't expect. Not even remotely.

Sam showing off his physique wasn't exactly out of the ordinary-- the guy took care of himself so he had a right to show it off. It had just been awhile since Puck had seen him outside of the locker room, so the sight had him linger for a moment. The dude looked like shit but his body... well, it sure didn't. And then Puck realized there was something he was supposed to be looking for specifically, and it stuck out as soon as his brain made the connection, "Holy shit, dude... is that what I think it is?" Puck couldn't help but exclaim, eyes squinting. He was trying to sort how he felt about the sight while also reading it the Temporary etched on pale skin, "I can't believe you actually got fucking ink..." Of course Puck could see the badassery of tattoos, but his religion also banned getting them, which had been a bigger hang up than he ever let on. And the one he did have was the prison tat he had to get in order to have protection. Yet despite his limited experience with the practice, even Puck could tell the tattoo needed a little TLC.

"Hey bad boy, how about you do me a favor," Puck announced as he started to pull the fridge open to locate drinks. He didn't want to continue to stare at Sam's chest and tattoo. At least not from across the room like this, "Take your shirt off and sit on the couch. I'll be over there in a sec," He directed, grabbing the beers and setting them out. He needed to take a few moments to go through his cabniets for the medical supplies he kept. Given his major, Puck had become even more versed in actual, physical self care and various supplies. Having shitty health insurance contributed to it, too, of course, "How'd that even happen dude? Most tattoo places around here are closed by like 8 on weekdays. That looks fresh as shit."

SAM: Puck’s apartment reminded Sam of his own. The layout of it seemed to be a Ginsburg thing, because the two places shared a certain rustic feeling to it, but it was the decor that Sam thought of. While there was way more weed-smoking options in Puck’s apartment than Sam’s, the walls had the movie posters in common, and it felt lived in. The stacks of video games piled high and while it wasn’t the cleanest, it was nice. It was a home. And a place that felt this secure was exactly what Sam needed now; without being alone. He hadn’t hesitated to type his message out and ask if he could stay there that night because he knew exactly what he was getting with Puck. Despite their friendship only being a year old, it felt like the two had known each other since they were kids, and Sam knew that he could rely on the guy. More than he could rely on himself.

It was stinging like all hell. It felt tight on his skin. And Sam wasn’t the biggest fan of it. He wasn’t the type of guy to do something like this. Sam Evans was born and raised in a nice and caring household that went to church every Sunday, said grace at the table, didn’t swear unless it was completely necessary, and treated most people with kindness and compassion. This was completely out of the ordinary for him, and he knew that Puck knew that.

Puck’s reaction wasn’t a surprise to him then. The swear, the shock in his tone - the craziest thing that Sam had done during college was take molly that one time, and it was one time too many for him. Puck had been the one to introduce this lifestyle of partying to him, and Sam loved the freedom. But he was also very new to it, and he still had certain boundaries. Weed, he could get down with. It made him relax in a way that sex made him. And again, sex was also only a thing because Puck had introduced him to it. Something that Sam was forever grateful for.

Pulling his shirt over his head and off, the grin on Sam’s face had disappeared. It was replaced instead with a light furrow to his eyebrows as he sat down on the couch, as instructed by his friend. He was all of a sudden regretting it. This was not ‘temporary’ - this was staying on his body forever. “Puck,” Sam called out, before he saw the man come back into the room with bottles of something; they didn’t look drinkable that was for sure. “Someone at the party brought one of those cheap kits,” he hiccuped at the end of the sentence. “I don’t think he knew what he was doing.”

Sam watched Puck, his eyes going from his hands to his face, looking up at him, finding his deep brown eyes. His own had turned sadder than the happy expression he had on earlier when he’d seen his best friend. Realization kicked in. “Do you think Tina’s going to hate it?” He asked, his voice quiet now. “Do you think I’ve lost all chances with her now?” Looking down at his hands, Sam felt the tears sting his eyes. He sniffed and quickly wiped them away, clearing his throat. His voice came out in a whisper. “I’ve disappointed her.”

PUCK: So many parts to the story at hand just didn't add up to being anything remotely Sam Evans-like. The guy who Puck had known his freshman year was the definition of a bright eyed and bushy tailed kid coming to the big city-- and they weren't even in a big city. Sam had just simply not experienced many joys that life had to offer that didn't have to do with country living or loving thy family and neighbor. Did Puck have to make Sam be his passion project when found any of that information out their freshman year? No, but someone needed to show the guy a good Friday night could mean more than being able to have Chinese and order a pay per view movie that wasn't even a porn. But seeing Sam now, knowing the kind of escape he was going for when attending a party to run from troubles, well Puck couldn't help but wonder if maybe he wasn't as good of an influence as he thought. Sam could make his own decisions, sure, it was just hard to see someone Puck cared about deeply be struggling so much.

"Anyone who brings shit like that to a party usually doesn't know what they're doing. Same goes for the guys who bring guitars to em, and that's why we don't do it." Puck reminded, his tone suggesting that he was actually handing out sage advice to Sam despite it being nothing of true value. Unless you asked Puck, of course. He took a seat beside Sam, setting the water he had warmed up, a few clothes, gauze, tape, and the beers on the table. It wasn't exactly the first time Puck's coffee table had seen such a display of items riddled on its surface, though it was one of the first times he was being done for Sam Evans' sake. Hopefully it would be the last, "Are you really gonna sit there and defile the good name of Chez Puckerman by getting emo over a girl at 6am? C'mon Evans, major party foul."

Leaning forward, Puck soaked a cloth in the water, wringing it out a few times, "Look... listen dude," Puck blurted out in a gentle way, not wanting his friend to get too inside of his own head. It seemed he had done that enough tonight. Putting one hand on Sam's shoulder, Puck used his other to start cleaning off Sam's swollen, bloodied tattoo, "When people care, like really care, you don't just 'lose chances' with 'em. They'll see through the bullshit." Speaking from experience, it was really the only way he could justify his mother still loving him the way that she did, "But that doesn't mean you can keep pullin it, either 'cause at some point that's just walking all over 'em and they'll realize it. No one's gonna be happy then." Puck kept his eyes focused on tending to the self-chosen wound on Sam's chest, doing his best to ignore the fact he did have a hot guy shirtless in front of him. As it turned out, Puck's libido did have an off button-- or maybe his genuine care for Sam outweighed it.

"You're gonna disappoint people, Sammy boy. That's just facts. So you can either man up and accept that or you can be a sad sack for the rest of your life." Satisfied with his work, both in words and cleaning, Puck's eyes flicked up to meet with Sam's, "And just so we're clear, that second option ain't actually an option. Especially not for your pretty lookin face," Puck deemed,, offering Sam the signature smirk that seemed always at the ready on his lips, all while he had a hand lightly pat his cheek as if to emphasize his point.

SAM: Chuckling, Sam nodded. “I only brought mine that one time, because Rachel had asked me to accompany her on it. And we all know how that went,” That was a dreadful night that he didn’t remember much of, except for being in Lauren Zizes’ lap - that felt like the beginning to this whole thing that had just had a domino effect. He wasn’t even sure if he had been with the girl that Tina had overheard talking about a make-out session. Mainly because he wasn’t actually the type of guy to do something like this. Throughout Freshman year, Sam had only had one-night stands and they were with girls who hadn’t seemed interested in dating him anyway, so to see the same people again and again, and actually have something going on with one, let alone five was so unlike Sam Evans. That was Puck’s style. It was his way of doing things; making it very clear that he was only in it for sex from the beginning, and not getting emotionally attached. And while some people might have seen it as sleazy, Sam admired the fact that he was able to make it so clear to people from the beginning. It took huge balls to be so up-front with everyone about it.

This was a situation that the young man had never been in. He’d never gotten so attached to a girl before, and he’d never felt so guilty about something, ever. He knew he’d hurt her; not only because he was compassionate, but because someone liked to remind him, every single day. And he was getting sick of hearing it. It already tore him apart, knowing what he’d done, and how it wasn’t just Tina who’d gotten hurt, but four other people. He didn’t need to be reminded of his actions. But he was also getting tired of not being allowed to be sad either. He was getting annoyed that he couldn’t feel things. Sam was all about making other people, but he couldn’t help but feel like his happiness was being forgotten at the same time.

Looking up, Sam had quickly wiped away the tears that had been close to spilling over, sucking in a deep breath, as he listened to Puck. He agreed, 100% with him. And he knew that he was going to end up just repeating what he said, because how else could Sam prove to him, and several other people that he agreed and he understood, and he was aware of the fact that he’d hurt them? He was doing his best to be better, but it was getting difficult with everyone shoving the same information down his throat. “What bullshit am I pulling now, Puck?” Sam asked, his jaw clenching slightly as he felt himself getting more annoyed. It was probably down to the alcohol and no sleep, but he was getting pissed off. What people didn’t seem to understand was that Sam had never intended to do any of this, and that his feelings had caught up with him too late.

The stinging of Puck cleansing Sam’s newly acquired tattoo was nowhere near the pain that he felt in his heart. He was appreciative of the help that he was getting, he knew that he owed the guy big time. But he really didn’t want to sit there and be told that he should “man up” when he felt lonely. Standing up after Puck had patted his cheek, Sam put his t-shirt back on. There seemed to only be one option left for him, if he didn’t have to be lectured about what he’d done wrong. “It’s fine. It’s all good.” He lied, and took a long swig of his beer.

PUCK: It wouldn't of taken someone who lived with Sam for a year to be able to tell a nerve had been struck by the end of Puck's words. As happy go luck as Sam was, and as good at hiding deep, personal things as he was, something he seemed not so good at was hiding emotions. Maybe it was the puppy dog face, maybe it was the pouty lips, or maybe it was the normally trusting eyes, but whatever it was, Puck could notice it as soon as it happened. Leaning back, Puck watched as Sam stood up and put his shirt back on. For a moment Puck just sat there, watching and waiing for Sam to keep talking or bring up another subject. When he didn't, Puck could tell his friend was much more emotionally compromised than he thought. One of the few rare pieces of advice that Puck had ever gotten in life was to man up, and it was unfortunate how it had stuck. Especially now. Especially for Sam.

"Evans, c'mon dude. Don't be like that. I didn't mean you're pulling bullshit in some bad way," Puck coaxed, turning his attention towards his own beer so he could snatch it off the table. He was trying to act as casual about Sam's attitude change as he could. He didn't want Sam to leave, but Puck wasn't the type to beg someone to stay. Sure his friend had been reckless, but he hadn't been doing anything outright batshit. On a scale of one to ten a tattoo at a party was like a five in terms of things to be concerned about. Still, Sam being alone didn't sound like a good idea, and truthfully, Puck preferred not being alone either. He didn't want his inability to know what to say be the thing to make Sam believe no one was on his side, "Where're you even gonna go? It's late. Just sit back down and chillax. Seriously. I'll roll us something if you're this on edge."

SAM: The long sip turned into Sam finishing the beer right then and there. He didn't realize how thirsty he'd become. Maybe it was the walk over. Maybe it was the tattoo and how he'd fainted right after he'd gotten it; or maybe it was subconscious and needing it to be able to deal with all of this. Being sober meant that the thoughts were constantly in his head. He was constantly worrying about Tina, worrying about everyone else, wondering if they still hated him, when it would be a good time to text them, and how long they needed their space for. It wasn't easy, going from speaking to everyone, almost every day, to just nothing. And not having them in his life anymore. His heart was aching for their company.

What Sam didn't understand was how it felt like he wasn't allowed to go through these emotions of guilt and sadness and hurt. He knew he was the one who'd screwed it all up, but as he'd said a million times beforehand to almost everyone, he'd never intended to do anything like it. So it was slowly getting to him that everyone was dismissing his feelings.

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Sam looked up to see Puck's expression from across the room. He knew that Puck meant well. He knew that he was the type of guy to be up-front about the truth, and that he wouldn't sugar-coat anything; and that wasn't what Sam was talking about here. He just wanted people to get off of his back for a bit, so he would stop feeling so miserable and guilty over being told something that he already knew. "I know you didn't mean it like that, I'm sorry for snapping," Sam said gently, sighing as he calmed down a bit. "I haven't slept in four days, I don't know how," He voice cracked at the end of the sentence and he sucked in a deep breath. "I'm sorry for putting all of this on you, man. I just don't know who to turn to anymore, because I'm getting shit from everyone. I can't deal with it all. I'm not that horrible." He made his way back to the couch and just leaned back, his head falling onto the backrest. Whispering, he repeated it. "I'm not that horrible."

PUCK: Hearing the drunken, sleep deprived confessions of Sam Evans wasn't something Puck was built for. It wasn't something people did with him. It wasn't as if Puck wasn't trustworthy, he was, but he wasn't the kind where people let walls down that involved sincere struggles. The ones that couldn't be aided by simple sex, drugs, alcohol, or even video games. Not on their own anyway. Even in the past Puck was usually just listening to Sam talk about what he went through and what had been hard. This was stuff that was happening now which meant Sam needed than another beer, and Puck knew what it was.

A soft "Hey," Left his lips before he knew it was happening, and it was due to the fact he needed to try the thing his friend always did-- speak from the heart, "What you're saying right now? That's bullshit..." Puck paused, waiting a beat to hope and ensure his words caught Sam's attention. He knew it sounded like he was about to hit him with more of his harsh truths, but he wanted to give Sam more than that, "You're not horrible at all. Plain and simple, Evans. You hear me?"

With a lick of his lips, Puck switched the beer in his hand so he could make it possible for his palm to lay gently on Sam's chest. Not on his tattoo, but anatomically to his heart. He didn't want to hurt Sam, however, he wanted to make a point as he pressed his hand there with a more soft, sincere touch, "You're a good guy with a good heart, okay? That shit's about as permanent as your tattoo." He assured with a smile almost as empathic as his touch seemed to be, "So whatever you do man, no matter what happens... don't let tonight or any other night make you think otherwise. I don't."

It was most obvious then than it was in most cases why Puck was good at his major. It wasn't due being an expert in touch-- it was him putting a piece of himself in every genuine caress he did. Including now with his best friend in he hopes he could show he had always meant well. And that he cared.

SAM: Sam couldn't help but be in his feelings about all of this. It was so hard to shake the guilt of hurting not only Tina, but everyone else. He felt like he was suddenly all alone in his world. He knew that he still had Puck and Jake in his life, and he cherished them more than ever. It was times like this that Sam knew that he could count on those guys, because they didn't run away or abandon him when he had these problems. They were there to tackle them head on. But what surprised Sam was when Puck got really personal and sweet. He'd gone from 'man up' to all of a sudden saying all these nice things that almost made Sam choke up.

Raising his head from the backrest, Sam pouted slightly. He didn't deserve to hear such nice words from his best friend. He knew he deserved the smoke that he'd been given, about the bullshit that he'd pulled people through, but whatever Puck was saying? It was getting to him. He felt his throat close up slightly as he took in the words, believing them.

His eyes were filling up, he could feel it, and he cursed under his breath because he knew that he shouldn't be getting this emotional, but the lack of sleep and affection, and the amount of alcohol consumed over the last couple of days, meant that the words that Puck were saying to him meant more than he could even fathom. Sam moved, his arms reaching out to grab the other guy and he clung himself to him. His arms locked him into a tight embrace. He was so thankful to have someone like Puck in his life still. He didn't want that to ever get messed up.

"Thank you," Sam whispered as he closed his eyes tightly to keep the tears from spilling out. "You're my best friend, man. I can always count on you," He needed Puck to know just happy he was to have him as a friend.

PUCK: As Sam's arms wrapped around him, Puck's own arms lifted and remained unsure of what to do, "Whoa there, Evans, you're acting like we're about to face the First Order," Puck lightly teased with a distant chuckle. No it wasn't his first hug ever, but it was unexpected. Though given it was Sam Evans, it wasn't hard to figure an embrace was ever really far away from happening. Puck didn't even mind the intimacy behind it, his body and soul opening up to feel the warmth as he started to hug Sam back. A part of his own heart seemed to swell, finding a solace he didn't even know he needed in the early morning hours. Without thought, the words "You're my best friend, too, dude," slipped out. While it was already a known fact, there was an extra weight behind it given the moment. Puck could tell that much.

Pulling back, Puck locked eyes with Sam and gave him an encouraging smile as his hands remained on Sam's shoulders. There was a deeper sense of trust, appreciation, and even understanding that seemed to exist between them. He was glad to have Sam as a friend, and it was nice to feel that the feeling was truly mutual. Patting his shoulder, Puck reassured once more, "You're gonna be alright, buddy, and even if you're not, you're always gonna have me." Only to nod confidently. Then his eyes glanced down at Sam's shirt and remembered what they were doing moments prior. Puck's chin directed towards Sam's chest to bring attention back to it.

"And before we play Super Mario Bros, you're gonna let me finish wrapping your tat back up. I don't want it to blur or anything, you wanna be able to show that sucker off." Puck instructed, one of his hands dropping down over Sam's collarbones and onto his chest. It was a light touch as to not harm his friend but to give a gentle reminder of what his drunken state had already likely put on the backburner, "We wear our battle scars with pride around here. Remember that, bad ass." And by how earnest Puck's words were, it was clear he meant it more than just about some ink permanently etched on to Sam's skin. Including calling him bad ass.

#para #para: 005 #para: puck #puck #alcohol tw

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doomedhowell · 6 years ago

Text

It’s All Fun And Games (Until You Get Blackmailed)

Summary: Dan and Phil are in a relationship, but everybody at school thinks they hate each other. In order to have a fun date night, Dan and Phil travel out of town so nobody recognizes them. They think they’re safe, but are they?

Genre: AU

Word Count: 3,385

Trigger Warnings: swearing (from both Dan and Phil)

A/N: Thank you so much @waitforiiiiiiiiiiiit for being kind enough to beta this! :D

“Hi Dan!”

“Hey,” Dan smiles at the group of girls, chuckling to himself when they all squeal with excitement. Honestly, Dan thinks it’s hilarious that he can speak just one single word to the girls around this school, and they all lose their minds. Dan will never date any of them of course, but why not have a little fun?

Dan gasps as soon as he bumps into someone. “Shit-!” He looks up and his eyes widen slightly when he sees that it’s none other than Phil Lester. Dan glares at him. “Watch where you’re fucking going, Lester…”

Phil chuckles. “Easy, tiger. Might want to watch that language of yours,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Dan snaps. “Are you always a dick? I’m just curious.”

“That’s funny, Howell. Are you always a slut?” Phil retorts quickly, surprising Dan by his choice of words. They’ve always bickered with each other during school, but Phil has never gone that far. “I’m just curious. Next time, why don’t you watch where you’re fucking going?” He smirks, and then he turns around and walks away without saying another word to Dan, leaving Dan speechless.

Dan takes a deep breath as he stands there, ignoring the stares that he’s getting from the other students. He quickly continues on his way, heading straight to his locker so he can get to class.

“Howell!”

Dan stops what he’s doing and looks over, seeing one of his soccer teammates run up to him. “Yeah?”

“You coming to the party this weekend?”

“Party?” Dan asks, raising his eyebrows at Alex. “What party?”

“Adam is throwing a party on Saturday, and everybody’s invited. You coming?”

“Dude, the coach is going to fucking kill us if he finds out we were all at a party on Saturday. We’ve got a game after school on Monday,” Dan says, shutting his locker.

“Since when did you start caring about what the coach says?” Alex asks, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t. I just don’t want to get kicked off the team for doing something stupid,” Dan sighs. “Look, I can’t. But, maybe next time. I’ve got plans this weekend.”

“Whatever, dude, wanna skip class? I could really use a smoke right now.”

Dan bites his lip, debating on whether or not he should skip. “Well, we’re only watching a movie today. So, hell yeah. Let’s skip. Let me put my books away first,” he says, re-opening his locker.

“Wait a minute… you were actually going to go to class?” Alex laughs.

“Shut up,” Dan reaches over and pushes him playfully, and then puts his books back into his locker.

While Dan is hanging outside behind a building with Alex, smoking, he receives a text.

“Someone’s popular,” Alex jokes when Dan’s phone dings.

Dan rolls his eyes and pulls his phone out. He looks down and bites his lip nervously when he sees that he’s got a text from Phil. He’s still upset about Phil calling him a slut earlier.

What most people don’t know is that Dan and Phil are actually dating. They have been for nine months, nobody knows because they decided to keep it a secret to protect their school reputations.

Dan and Phil are the bad boys of the school. In reality, they are quite similar to each other, but people think that they hate each other. They’re constantly trying to one-up each other and trying to impress the other students and even some of the teachers. Whether it be with the clothes they wear, skipping classes, or seeing who can make the other jealous by flirting with other students. That’s how it’s always been between the two of them, and they wanted it to keep it that way. For now, anyways.

Dan opens the text, and sighs when he sees that it’s an apology from Phil.

From Phil: i’m sorry baby, i didn’t mean to call you a slut earlier. i took it too far. i hope you’re not mad at me

From Dan: ur lucky i love u, come over after school?

From Phil: i’ll be there love u

Dan smiles as he reads the texts. He’s glad Phil apologized, otherwise it would have bothered Dan.

“Who the hell are you texting that’s got you giggling like a little girl over there?”

Dan jumps and looks over at Alex, sighing. “Christ, Al. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Alex smirks, proud of himself. “Maybe. Are you going to answer my question or not?”

Dan sighs. “I was not giggling like a little girl. I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was a crime to smile these days,”

“Well, it’s not. But, seeing you be all smiley and shit because of someone texting you is something that you don’t really see very often. So, are you going to spill the beans on who this person is?” Alex asks.

“It was just my mom,” Dan lies quickly. “It’s about something we have planned this weekend. I’m excited.”

“Hm,” Alex says before sticking his cigarette back into his mouth.

Dan sighs and leans back against the building, wishing this school day would just be over now.

After school, Dan says goodbye to his friends before getting into his car and heading home to see Phil.

Phil is already waiting for him on his porch when Dan gets home.

“Hey,” Dan smiles as he walks up onto the porch, and is immediately engulfed into a hug. “Phil!”

“God, I’m so fucking sorry Dan. I know I already sent you a text but I need to apologize again. I shouldn’t have said that earlier and I wish I could take it back. I don’t think you’re a slut,” Phil rambles.

“Phil,” Dan laughs and then he pulls away from the hug. “It’s okay. I’m not mad. I promise I’m not mad.”

“I’m just worried someone heard me say that and they’re going to make it worse,” Phil mumbles.

“Whatever. If it happens, then I’ll deal with it. I’m not worried,” Dan says. He reaches up and kisses Phil. “Come on, let’s go inside.” He grabs Phil’s hand and leads the way inside. “I’m home!” He shouts loudly, before running up the stairs with Phil to his bedroom. He quickly shuts the door, and then he turns around and kisses roughly Phil. “You owe me for what you said earlier.”

“You said you weren’t mad at me,” Phil pouts.

“I’m not mad at you. I promise I’m not. But, you still owe me,” Dan smirks.

“And, what would you like from me?” Phil asks, raising his eyebrows.

“You know exactly what I want-” Dan grabs Phil and leads him over to the bed.

Later on, Dan and Phil decide they want to do something outside of the house instead of the normal ‘making popcorn and try to find a movie on Netflix to watch’ which usually ends with them giving up.

It’s risky, but they decide to go somewhere where hopefully no one from school will recognize them.

Dan and Phil decide on going to an arcade that’s about an hour away from where they live. Unfortunately, they only have a couple of hours to spend with each other due to their curfew set by their parents, so they’re taking advantage of every second they have.

“I hope you’re ready to lose at air hockey,” Phil smirks as he looks at Dan as they walk through arcade.

“Bitch, yeah right-” Dan rolls his eyes. “I kick your ass every time we play air hockey. Today’s no different!”

Phil laughs, knowing how competitive Dan is. Dan hates losing no matter what the competition is; whether it’s playing games at the arcade or simply playing Mario Kart, and does whatever he can to prev Phil from not winning. Phil doesn’t even care if he loses. He just finds Dan’s competitiveness so entertaining.

“Wanna make this more interesting?” Dan asks as he and Phil stand at the air hockey table.

“Go on?” Phil raises his eyebrows as he looks up at Dan curiously.

“Okay, it’s not that interesting. But, how about a challenge? Loser buys dinner,” Dan grins.

Phil laughs. “Okay, you’re so on, buddy,” he says, grabbing a hockey puck and placing it in the middle.

Much to Dan’s surprise, Phil ends up winning air hockey overall.

“What the hell?” Dan throws his arms up angrily after the game is over. “You cheated!”

“Whatever. You’re pissed that I won and now you have to pay for dinner. So, what are you buying me?”

“Ugh, you’re so annoying. I can’t believe I put up with you-” Dan mumbles, shoving Phil away.

“Aw, come on, baby-” Phil quickly pulls Dan back to him and he quickly wraps his arms around Dan, which gives Dan no room to escape. Dan can’t help but allow himself to melt into Phil’s arms. Phil smiles, and leans down to kiss Dan gently a few times.

“You’re lucky I love you so much that I don’t actually mind buying dinner for you.”

“But the fact that you lost?” Phil asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh, I’m furious,” Dan laughs, escaping from Phil’s hold. “Come on, we gotta go find somewhere to eat.”

Dan and Phil end up having an amazing date night together, despite Dan losing at air hockey, but Dan honestly just loves being able to spend time with Phil without worrying about one of their classmates seeing them together. It’s rare when they get to act like this in public.

However, the fun doesn’t last very long.

It’s the next morning when Dan wakes up to a horrifying anonymous text, which consists of a picture of him and Phil kissing at the arcade last night. Dan has no idea who took this picture or sent the text.

The picture also comes with a text: I knew there was something going on with you two, and now I have proof. Meet me after school tomorrow and we’ll talk. Say anything to anyone, especially Lester, and I won’t hesitate leaking the picture.

Dan closes his eyes when he finishes reading the text.

“Fuck!” Dan cries before burying his face in his hands, unable to stop the tears from pouring out.

The worst part is, he can’t even tell Phil about this, otherwise the picture will be leaked. Dan doesn’t even know who this person is. It could be anyone. Someone he knows personally, or a stranger. Dan’s terrified.

Dan tries his best acting normal the next day at school, but it’s obvious that he’s distracted and jumpy. Dan’s been avoiding Phil all morning which isn’t that weird to the other students in school considering they all think Dan and Phil hate each other. But Dan can tell that Phil’s getting annoyed with him, as Dan’s not answering any of his text messages, so Phil knows that something is wrong.

From Phil: love u baby, did I do something wrong? pls answer asap i’m worried about u … are u still coming over tonight?

Dan groans and closes his eyes after he reads Phil’s latest text messages, making him feel even more terrible about ignoring him. Dan feels terrible about this whole thing, but he can’t risk talking to Phil because the pictures will be leaked and that’s not how Dan wants his and Phil’s relationship to be known.

“Something got you feeling down, Howell?”

Dan’s head instantly snaps up at the familiar voice. He looks over and his eyes widen when he sees Alex walking into view. He’s been waiting outside of school for about ten minutes for the anonymous texter.

“A-Alex?” Dan asks, taking a deep breath. “Y-You were the one who texted me last night?”

“That’s right,” Alex replies with a smirk, before he walks over to him. “I’m honestly surprised that you didn’t figure it out right away it was me when I told you to come meet me at this exact spot. I mean, we always meet here when we skip. You’re cute, Dan, but you aren’t very bright, are you?”

“Hey, shut up! A lot of people meet here,” Dan quickly defends himself. “Alright, Alex. I haven’t told Phil, in fact, I’ve been completely avoiding him all day, so talk. How did you get that picture of me and Phil?”

“I was visiting a friend last night in that area and we were at the arcade,” Alex tells him.

Dan silently curses. “I thought we were safe,”

“Guess not. I knew you were gay. But, really… Phil Lester?” Alex asks.

“What’s wrong with Phil?” Dan asks, ready to defend his boyfriend.

“Nothing’s wrong with him. I’m just surprised you chose him. You could have anyone you want. Like... me,”

Dan frowns, and looks up at Alex. “What are you trying to say here, Alex?” He asks nervously.

“Dammit, I’m in love with you, Dan!” Alex yells, making Dan jump. “Shit, we’ve been friends for years, and I’ve had a crush on you since we met, but you’ve been completely oblivious this whole time.”

“Alex,” Dan whispers with shock, and then he shakes his head. “You should have said something, Al!”

“Yeah, and what the hell was I supposed to say?” Alex asks. “I didn’t know you were gay back then. I was just figuring out that I was gay and I was worried that I would lose you as a friend.”

“I would have never judged you for being gay. I don’t judge you for being gay now,” Dan says. “So, what? What are we doing here? You’re not going to tell anyone about our relationship, are you?”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Alex shakes his head.

Dan sighs in relief. “Thank God. I knew you wouldn’t actually tell anyone,” he smiles.

“Not unless I get what I want,” Alex adds quickly.

Dan blinks a few times. “And, what is it exactly that you want?” He asks.

“You,” Alex says simply. “I thought I made it clear what I wanted?”

“What? No. I’m sorry, Al. But, I’m with Phil. I love him,” Dan says. “I thought I made that clear.”

“I know that, Dan. I’m not a fucking idiot,” Alex snaps before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I-I just… fuck, I’ve always wanted to feel what it’s like to be with the Dan Howell.”

“So, you think blackmailing me is going to achieve that? You’re sick, Al. I thought you were my friend,”

“Well, I want you as more than a friend!” Alex yells, before grabbing Dan and kissing him harshly.

Dan’s eyes widen with shock, and then he quickly pushes Alex away before the kiss goes further. “Enough!” He cries as he takes deep breaths. “I’m really sorry, Alex. I’m sorry that it has to end this way but we can’t be together. The only person I want to be with right now is Phil and nothing will change that, so I don’t care if you post that picture. I really hope you decide to do the right thing because no one should be outed that way. But do what you have to do, I guess. I-I have to go,” Dan shakes his head, and then he runs away from Alex as fast as his feet can possibly take him.

Dan gasps when he bumps into someone.

“Dan?”

Dan looks up and his eyes widen when he sees that it’s Phil who he’s run into.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

Dan doesn’t realize he’s crying until Phil wipes away his tears.

Dan sobs and falls into Phil’s arms. “I’m sorry, Phil! It’s my fault! I should have been more careful…”

Phil frowns as Dan rambles on, though he still keeps the smaller boy close to his chest. “Dan, what…?” He bites his lip, and then he pulls away from Dan. “Come on, let’s go sit in the car and calm down.”

Phil quickly leads Dan over to his car, and the two get in.

Phil looks over at Dan once they’re both settled into the car. “Dan, talk to me. What happened?”

Dan takes a deep breath before looking up at Phil. “I should have told you as soon as I got the text, but… I was too scared. I couldn’t risk it,” he says.

“What text are you talking about?” Phil asks softly.

“I got an anonymous text last night after I got home. It was a picture of me and you kissing at the arcade. They told me not to tell anyone until we talk because they would leak the picture otherwise, so I met up with the person after school just now,” Dan explains, hoping that Phil won’t be upset.

“Dan,” Phil’s eyes widen after Dan finishes. “Jesus Christ, Dan. I’ve been fucking worrying about you all damn day! I thought I did something wrong, or that you were going to break up with me.”

“No,” Dan shakes his head. “I-I just wanted to talk to this person first.”

“So, who sent you the text?” Phil asks curiously.

“Alex,” Dan mumbles. “Alex sent me the picture. He was going to blackmail me. He’s in love with me, Phil. He wanted me to be with him, not you.”

“That son of bitch!” Phil yells, clenching his fists angrily. “I’ll kill him. Did he do anything to you?”

“Phil, can we talk at home please?” Dan begs. “All I know is that there’s a chance Alex is going to leak that picture and the whole school will find out about us. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

“Dan, no-” Phil reaches over and grabs Dan’s hand. “It’s not your fault.”

“Yes, it is!” Dan snaps. “I’m the one who suggested that we go out of town for our date.”

“Dan, listen to me. We both thought it was safe. There’s absolutely no way that you or I could have known that Alex was going to be there on the same day as us. It is not your fault,” Phil warns softly.

Dan closes his eyes. “I just didn’t want our relationship to come out like this,” he whispers.

“I know, and I wish there was something I could do to change it,” Phil whispers before pulling Dan into a comforting hug. “We just have to wait and see what happens. That’s all I can say.”

Dan pulls away from the hug. “It’s all fun and games until your best friend decides to blackmail you,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

So when Dan walks into school on Friday morning, he expects to be hit with stares and whispers from the other students. But, he’s shocked when he walks in without a single look from anybody.

This is not what he expected. Did Alex not leak the picture of him and Phil together?

Maybe Alex actually did have a change of heart.

Dan nervously walks to his locker by himself. He and Phil decide not to walk into school together tomorrow in case a miracle happened. If Alex doesn’t end up posting the picture, then they still want to come out on their own terms. And, right now… they just aren’t ready to come out yet as a couple.

Dan opens his locker, his hands shaking slightly. He looks around. Still nothing.

Then, he surprisingly spots Alex down at the end of the hallway. Dan stares at him with wide eyes, and he can actually see the guilty look on Alex’s face. Alex gives him a small smile before turning around and walking away. This surprises Dan. Alex had been acting totally different yesterday, after admitting that he’d been in love with Dan this whole time. But now, it seems that he has had a change of heart.

Dan’s unsure of what this means for his and Alex’s friendship, but right now, he’s just happy and relieved that his and Phil’s relationship still remains a secret, and hopefully they’ll be able to come out soon.

Dan quickly pulls out his phone and then sends a text to Phil.

From Dan: I just saw Alex. I don’t think he posted the picture. I think we’re in the clear.

From Phil: that’s such a relief. keep me updated. love u have a good day baby

Dan can’t help but smile at Phil’s second message. He turns around and leans against his locker, and can’t help but sigh in relief. Maybe things will be okay after all.

#phanfiction #phanfic #phan #au #fluff #badboy #badboy!dan #badboy!phil #establishedrelationship #highschool #secretrelationship #100

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nowitsdarkfic · 5 years ago

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chapter fifteen (visiting hours)

December 1, 1988. Syracuse, New York.

“Okay, so tell me what happened now.”

We're inside of the hospital I was in before when I first visited Brick. The whole place is still absurdly clean and I still wonder about all the lights and things that surround us on the way up to the intensive care unit. Spence stops me right in front of the elevator doors as they close and leave us under the veil of that new car smell. I guess visiting hours are just now opening up for the day: I figure we'll be here all day with Lars and Sonia if we must.

“You know, Barney and Billy took Brick home with them,” he starts, reaching into his pocket for something.

“Right.” I untie my scarf because it's nice and warm in here.

“And he was laying on the couch and he had those feathers growing out from his head and his neck—” He takes out a little zipped bag of pink and white candy. “—Good and Plenties?”

“Nah. You and those stupid things, I swear.” I stick my thumbs into my jeans pockets.

“They're so tasty, though. I've like these for years, Joe. These and Jujyfruit.”

“Oh, right?”

“Anyways—the feathers were getting bigger and longer with time and I guess it was aching him like crazy.” He slips a couple of those candies into his mouth. “Like while it made our skin itch, those of us on the outside looking in, I guess it was agonizing for him because whenever he woke up he'd shudder and shake from pain.”

“Shit. While I can't believe I wasn't there to help you guys out, I'm—kinda glad I wasn't there.”

“No, it was—it was hard to watch him. I'm glad you weren't there, either, because it would've wrecked you. He wasn't eating anything worth jack shit, either. And so at one point, Barney was like 'dude, Brick, you gotta eat something.' But he wouldn't.” He sticks a couple of white ones which stuck together into his mouth: that smell of licorice overtakes the new car smell pervading the floor.

“The light would hurt him, too,” he adds with his mouth full.

“Hurt him?”

“Yeah, like he'd—” He swallows it down. “—he'd totally wince and make these painful whimpers whenever either Barney or Bill turned the light on. They soon found out more feathers would grow all along his arms and his legs. It was like he was turning into a bird. It got so bad that they called me up the other day and told me to tell you, Lars, and Sonia that they were taking him to the hospital. You weren't home so I told the two of them. Sonia's been on Thanksgiving break but she's been working overtime at the upholstery place with Marcia and Lars had just gotten out of the hospital himself, which kinda scared me.”

“Yeah, we were—kinda in a car accident,” I fill in for him. And he gapes at me.

“What—the fuck, why didn't you say anything?”

“Haven't been able to—wait. I thought you knew about it?”

“No! No one said anything to me about that!”

“What the hell? I thought Dominique called Sonia and then she called everyone I knew after it happened. That's what Lars told me.”

He shakes his head. “Nah, man, I didn't hear a thing about that. I thought you were at your parents' house.”

“I was in the City seeing Soundgarden again. And then I went out to dinner with Lars, Nancy, and Dominique. I fell asleep at the wheel and we totaled the car in the Bronx. Fucked up my back for a few days, hit my head, and everything.”

He runs his hand through his hair and gapes at me as his face turns as white as a sheet.

“Holy—shit!”

“You're telling me no one told you what happened that night?” I demand to him, feeling my stomach turn.

“Yes,” he sputters out. I'm at as much of a loss for words as he is because I swear—I swear—Lars told me as we were laying in our hospital beds to not worry about calling everyone I know on what happened. I feel sick.

The third door on the right side of the hall opens and Sonia pokes her head out from the doorway. I point my finger at her.

“Hey!” I call out to her. “Why didn't you tell Spence Lars and I were both in a car accident and the two of us could've been killed?”

“You were in a car accident?” she asks me, bewildered.

“We were,” Lars' voice floats out from behind her.

“You mean—Dominique didn't call you?” I lower my hand.

“No…” She almost looks hurt.

I glance back at Spence, whose mouth is full of Good and Plenties again.

Okay, now I'm really confused.

“I'll bring it up to Dominique when I see her,” I assure the both of them, adjusting the lapels of my coat. “But right now—”

I stride down the hall towards her; Spence follows suit. Sonia fixes her hair as I meet up with her there at the doorway: the room has a bright white floor and bold bright white lights upon the ceiling. To the right is a plain white panel, one that resembles to a sound board in a recording studio, but it's all so clean and crisp. Too clean.

I turn my head to find a sheet of darkened glass stretched from the wall behind me to the one on the other side of the room. On the other side of the glass, laying in his hospital bed with tubes and wires sticking into parts of his arms and legs, bathed in rich indigo light, his arms laying out from his body like the arms on a rag doll, is Brick.

They had removed the feathers from his face and his shoulders, and smeared on some kind of cream as a result. His eyes are closed shut and he's got a little mask over his mouth: the mask is linked up to a plastic tube and the tube is snaking behind his bed to what I presume is a tank of some kind. I can see some of the shafts of the feathers remaining behind in the skin on his forearms.

Spence was right: this is hard to look at. The whole sight of it makes my stomach turn even more. In the reflection of the glass, I see Lars striding up next to me with something in his hand. I turn my head to find him walking with a black wooden cane. He rubs one eye after the other with his free hand.

“Yeah,” he remarks to me. “No one has any idea what's happening with him.”

“Billy told me they stuck the tube down his throat,” Sonia starts again, “and they found a bunch of fine trimmed wires and glimmers of neon on the inside of his mouth, right near his gullet. It's like the feathers were tearing him apart from the inside and eating him alive.”

“Neon?” I repeat that, scowling at my own faint reflection in the glass.

“Yeah. Like bright blue neon.”

“Like the neon lights we see in Seattle,” Lars adds, putting his free arm over the top of his head so as to stretch his back.

“And the same ones across the lake,” I mutter under my breath as Spence himself stands beside me.

“And they don't know if they stopped the feathers, either,” he continues. “You know, you can see the shafts growing out of his arms. They also have no idea how to rid of the wires and the neon inside of his mouth, either. It's like they're part of his body now.”

I look on at Brick, at the marks of the shafts over his forearms. There's something on his left wrist. Something that's a little more white than the rest of his skin, and it stands out because of the black lights in the ceiling over him. A little slit, like a scar I don't recognize.

Brick's my best friend: of all the hockey games we've played in, where I've had a tooth partially knocked out, he never managed to get a worse injury than a pelting in the head with a puck. If he ever got that bad of a cut anywhere on his body, I would've known about it. But this looks new, like it just happened.

I flash on the scar on Maya's forehead. But that's on her head: this is on his arm.

I also examine all the tubes and things flooding into his body.

Neon. Wires. Cybernetics. The robotic work in the house back in Boston.

This has got me thinking.

“What you thinking, Joe?” Spence asks me, tucking the Good and Plenties back into his coat pocket.

“I'm thinking,” I begin, choosing my words with caution, “we should play in Seattle.”

“We?”

“Yeah.” I turn my head to look at Spence, who's got one eyebrow raised up a little bit. “You, me, Barney, and Billy.”

“Why?” He's not sure where I'm going with this, but I know.

“I have an idea. It's not a plan per se, more of an excuse to get our asses back over there.”

“Where are you going with this?” Sonia asks me, folding her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, I mean, your buddy's here in the intensive care unit and literally the most you can do is suggest a round of hockey?” Lars just sounds borderline disgusted.

“You're gonna be goalie,” I tell him, wagging a finger at him.

“Me?” He recoils at the very suggestion. “Dude, I can barely walk at a normal pace right now much less stand on skates.”

“Never said you would have to stand on skates,” I point out. “What am I suggesting is a way into the heart of Seattle. Into the heart of all the neon and all the cybernetic shit. I want us to have a closer look at it.”

“You think—” Spence cuts himself off. And Lars gasps at me.

“You don't think—” He stops himself, too. “Maxwell Industries,” he says in a hushed voice.

“Walter 'Brick' Maxwell. Tell me that's not a coincidence. Also—” I shift my weight right there as I stuff my hands into my coat pockets. “—the other night Nancy—Chris' girlfriend—swung by my place the other night. I guess she's seen Maya in the heart of town. The least I can do right now, not just for Brick but for Maya, too, is to at least have a look around while putting on a little round of hockey.”

“Joey Belladonna, you are brilliant,” Spence declares, setting a hand on my back.

“The only issue of course is—do I go by Dominique's word on this especially since—as far as I know anyways—she didn't even call Sonia after the accident.”

“Well, take this from me, Joey,” Lars tells me, “sometimes you have to listen to your own judgment instead of going by the game of telephone. That's how I got my apartment in New Orleans.”

I nibble on my bottom lip at that as I gaze on at Brick one last time. I did say I would figure this whole thing with him out even if it kills me after all.

#after the watershed #who cares wins #now it's dark #chapter 15 #new chapter #fanfic #fanfiction #heavy metal fanfiction #thrash metal #anthrax fanfics #metallica fanfics #joey belladonna #lars ulrich #anthrax #metallica #noir au #cyberpunk #amwriting #text

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andrewuttaro · 6 years ago

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New Look Sabres: GM 36 - WSH - Frustration in Washington

Perhaps the strangest thing about this Buffalo Sabres season isn’t how high the club sits in the standings entering the Christmas holiday. Maybe it’s the upside down way the team is inconsistent with some matchups versus others. We have plenty of time to celebrate, especially during this holiday season, and we’ll continue to do that. The strange thing is playing neck and neck, shot for shot, taking the defending Stanley Cup Champion Washington Capitals to a shootout while that team is on an unreal point streak and three nights later losing to the worst team in the Atlantic Division. While the Sabres continue to bank points this way some may say don’t get too high or low: as strange as the way they’re playing is now you always got to look at the big picture in those standings. I am a big picture kind of guy and trust me, I look at those standings religiously, but the roller coaster ride that we’re on right now: I am screaming up every incline, down every hill and through every loop. I took a bet naming this blog “New Look Sabres” hoping they wouldn’t have another trash season or worse. That bet having paid off with a top ten team in this league only made me commit to this crazy train harder. This ain’t the blog for reasoned postgame as it sometimes charades around being: this blog is the roller coaster SabreWagon! Some ask: are you in? I ask: Are you holding on? Real roller coasters don’t have rest stops! So get ready because tonight the ride goes through America’s Capital!

The first period was about as much a roller coaster ride as a scoreless period could be. On one hand the Sabres turned in defensive effort that I found very Sabs-like. It certainly isn’t easy containing the offense of the Capitals and a top line of Ovechkin-Backstrom-Oshie but by the sounds of it Carter Hutton was left out to dry a little bit too much. Each team got their powerplay opportunity but didn’t cash in yatta yatta yatta. On the other hand, the Sabres had their chances in period Washington did not score. Conor Sheary had at least two gorgeous opportunities. Tage Thompson made his presence known and you know that top line fired on all cylinders including a Jack Eichel shot that went off the post. Braden Holtby was in net this time so the Sabres didn’t have the benefit of facing a goalie who hasn’t won a Veznia Trophy. I was wrapping up some Christmas stuff, quite literally at one point, during this game so I listened to most of it. I count my lucky stars about that because apparently Washington DC is one of their markets where they have their own NBC Sports affiliate therefore the NBCSN national broadcasts are done by the homers. That was annoying when I did get to it. The first period ended 0-0 and you may have thought the Sabres deserved a goal after that period. Seeing the replays it’s pretty hard to disagree with that thought.

The Second period was more or less the same story only this time the frustration got a shorthanded goal by the opposition injected into its veins! Chandler Stephenson got sprung by the Caps defenders onto a breakaway and Rasmus Ristolainen just couldn’t quite get him as he wired it around Hutton. That goal may have been a little suspect for those with refined tastes as you can see Hutton is somewhat out of position moving to his right as Stephenson fires the puck left. Nonetheless the visiting Sabres looked to make up for his lack of stop and the shots from both sides continued until 11:50 of the middle frame when a Caps shot leaked in on Hutton and well… it crossed the line, let’s all just be honest here. There are plenty of freeze frames we can see that one fully crossed the line but even after further review the referees in this game called in no goal. The period went on and Kuznetsov got a chance along with a couple of Russian rockets from Ovechkin that miraculously did not go. As the period neared its end Rasmus Ristolainen got in past the Capitals defenders and his breakaway was only broken up by a Brendan Holtby sliding that puck off his stick. Holtby must have come out almost all the way to the blue line to kill this play. The home crowd loved it but I always get a kick in a more humorous way watching those heavily padded goalies wade around on ice like newborn doe. This period ends with the Caps up 1-0.

The final period of this game is where the rollercoaster finally got thrilling high up in the air instead of several loops and spins on the ground. After his line crashed the Caps net like you’d think this team is going to get an award for, Johan Larsson pulled off another goal where he was in the right place at the right time, not even looking at Holtby redirecting the Thompson shot up high on Holtby and in for the equalizer. Still listening to the radio at this point I smashed my dashboard and gave my wife a little Yuletide fright. I thought it was the beginning of a little comeback. Turns out when your only goal scorer is Johan Larsson, in spite of however many shots better players take, your score sheet is going to make you feel a little sad. So the rollercoaster goes back down, with 7 minutes left in regulation Tom Wilson of all people capitalizes on Hutton overplaying the puck behind his own net and puts the Caps up 2-1 where it would remain until the horn blew giving the Sabres their second straight regulation loss. There was a late Sabres powerplay that of course did nothing and a little squabble in front of the Caps net which got Dahlin’s helmet pulled off. That was fun as I finally reached a screen to watch this. But yea, if you blamed the first goal on Hutton then there is no way you’re not blaming the second on him. I struggle to not blame the first on him but hey, when your goal scorers don’t score you’re probably going to lose, no matter how much you think you deserve it. There is a surplus of frustration in Washington DC right now so evidently we were given some to take with us. Still holding on?

The Anaheim Ducks are performing better and as you read this today it’s probably no comfort knowing they have been sitting in Buffalo for a few days as the Sabres got out to Washington for this game. Do you think they sat around and watched this game as team? I got to imagine that interferes with team dinnertime. The Sabres put down the Ducks in their last matchup and in spite of how the Ducks have leaned on a great goalie all the way to third in the Pacific Division since then I wouldn’t think he’s an unsolvable wall. Ryan Miller is out injured unfortunately so we won’t be enjoying that reunion again today. The other goalie not named the impenetrable John Gibson is another former Sabre Chad Johnson who Buffalonians miss the same way one misses taxes or the doctor’s office. They’re on a two game losing streak as well coming into tonight’s game. So who’s going to be dealt their third regulation loss in a row? Let’s hop on that rollercoaster and hope it’s the Ducks!

I will be posting a piece called something like “Midseason Thoughts” at some point before the Sabres’ 41st game on January 3rd. If you read this far I have to imagine you read this far somewhat normally so leave a comment. I want to have that post have some kind of self-reflection not entirely rooted in my own tire-pumping, if you don’t want to be identified that’s fine too, just let me know. Drop a like and share this blog as you travel to your Christmas destinations this weekend. This next game tonight is Buffalo’s last game before the very Merry Holiday and I would love a win to think back on for Christmas!

Thanks for reading.

P.S. I don’t know why I described each Ducks goalie there. It’s worth noting the beloved former Sabres goalie Ryan Miller is one win away from becoming the winningest American-born goalie ever. Wow, I feel multiple different levels of pride at that stat.

#buffalo sabres #hockey #NHL #blog

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nerdiests · 7 years ago

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cookies and cute boys

so i wrote a fic for my pal @kanonavi and i thought i’d advertise it here.

check it out on ao3 here!

For Shouto, Sunday was his relaxation day. He visited his mother on Sunday mornings and spent his afternoons reading or taking a nap. Sometimes he would talk with his friends about something, or participate in the class movie night‍. He found he particularly liked The Little Mermaid. But back to the point. Shouto never really did anything on Sundays that took up much energy, since he saved all his homework-doing for the afternoon on Saturday. So the knock on his dorm room’s door was a surprise.

“Todoroki? Are you busy?” Shouto dropped his copy of Lord of the Rings cover-up on his desk, crossing his room to answer the door. Why was Midoriya knocking on his door at… 3:47 in the afternoon?

“No, only reading the book Iida bought me for my birthday,” Shouto replied as he opened the door. Midoriya’s relieved face was the first thing he saw, and he tilted his head to the side slightly.

“Why do you ask?” Shouto noticed a slight pink in Midoriya’s cheeks when he asked. He wondered why.

“Oh. Um. I wanted to bake something with you and Iida and Uraraka and I already asked the two of them but they’re both busy so it would just be the two of us if you say yes so wouldyouliketobakecookieswithme?” Shouto froze. Baking? He could barely make a grilled cheese without scorching read: burning it, so he’d likely ruin anything they tried to bake.

“Do you… Not Want to? If you don’t that’s totally fine I understand,” Midoriya rushed out. Oh. Right. Shouto needed to talk. He could figure out a way to subtly let Midoriya know he wouldn’t be the best person to do anything involving a stove or oven or microwave with.

“I don’t know how to bake.” Well, there goes subtlety, Shouto thought to himself as Midoriya’s mouth fell open.

“R-really?” Midoriya asked, and Shouto nodded. Why was it so odd that he couldn’t cook? A lot of people can’t cook, right?

“Oh, it could be because of your quirk dealing with cold and heat and hat might have messed with conceptions of hot and cold, maybe telling the difference is more difficult since the effects of one side could spread to the other, preventing temperature fluctuation…” Midoriya’s musing grew even quieter, and Shouto looked fondly as Midoriya continued to mutter and twiddle his thumbs - wait, fondly? Well, it made sense for him to be fond of his friends, especially since Midoriya looked so cute when he… Oh no.

“You’re muttering,” Shouto said quietly, snapping Midoriya out of his thoughts. He jumped, blinking a few times, cheeks going pink.

“Oh, sorry Todoroki. But um, yes. Baking?” Midoriya asked, and before Shouto could even have the chance to think, the words were out of his mouth.

“Of course, I’d love to.” Fuck. He wanted to, yes, but he didn’t need to be so obvious about it. He really needed to think things through more.

“Oh! Well, I think there’s already the ingredients for baking cookies in the dorms’ kitchen, do you like chocolate Todoroki?” Midoriya asked, turning to walk away from Shouto’s door and towards the stairs. Shouto quickly made to follow after him.

“I… From what little I’ve had, yes,” Shouto replied, and Midoriya stopped in his tracks.

“You’ve never had chocolate?” Midoriya asked incredulously. Shouto shook his head as he stopped next to Midoriya.

“I have, just not often. My old man frowned upon it,” Shouto replied, lacing his words with disdain. Midoriya nodded once, before continuing to walk.

“That settles it then. We’re gonna bake chocolate chip cookies,” Midoriya said with finality, marching towards the staircase. Shouto followed after, listening as Midoriya listed off quantities that they would need. Had he memorized the recipe? Probably. Wow, his list of talents only went on. The muttering was still cute, though.

The common room was mostly empty, save Kaminari perched on the couch playing a game on his phone and swearing under his breath in English. Shouto gave the other boy a nod when Kaminari looked up from his game.

“Oh, hey Todoroki, Midoriya! What’re you two doing?” he asked, tossing his phone onto the couch. Midoriya looked in Kaminari’s direction and smiled.

“Oh, Kaminari! Todoroki and I are going to bake some chocolate chip cookies!” Midoriya said enthusiastically, and Kaminari began to grin.

“Oh cool! Can I have a few when they’re done?” Kaminari asked, and Midoriya nodded.

“Of course! The recipe I have in mind makes a lot of cookies, so there should be enough for everyone,” Midoriya said in reply, resulting in a fist pump from Kaminari.

“Rad. Now. Time to get back to kicking ass at Geometry Dash,” Kaminari said, before falling back into the couch and picking his phone up. Shouto and Midoriya walked into the kitchen as another quiet mutter came from the common room, followed by a loud swear in English.

“So. Todoroki. You said you can’t bake,” Midoriya said as he walked over to the pantry. Shouto nodded, before realizing Midoriya probably couldn’t see it. There was a bit of rustling as Shouto began to talk.

“I’ve never tried, and I can’t cook all that well, so I assumed any baking attempts would go just as horribly,” Shouto said, as Midoriya walked out of the pantry with an armful of bags. He spotted ‘Sugar’ and ‘All-purpose flour’ before Midoriya set them down on the counter and began to rummage through the fridge. Midoriya nodded once as he pulled out a milk carton.

“Ah. Well, good thing I’m good at baking, heh,” Midoriya said, grabbing the eggs and setting both the milk and eggs on the counter next to the fridge, before reaching over and grabbing something from the cabinets.

“So, since I know what I’m doing, I’ll help you make your own batch, and I can half the recipe if you want me to,” Midoriya said. Shouto nodded, having less to manage would be better.

“Okay. Let’s get down to business,” Midoriya said, before chuckling to himself and grabbing two bowls from the void of the cabinets. And so began the process of making chocolate chip cookies.

If Shouto thought that making a grilled cheese was hard to do, then chocolate chip cookies were downright impossible to make. All you had to do when making a grilled cheese was butter some bread and put it on a pan with cheese and meat in between. Chocolate chip cookies involved mixing things with different things in different bowls and specific heats that Shouto didn’t really understand. Why not bake something at a higher temperature for less time? Midoriya explained to him that, no, Todoroki that’ll burn them! It still didn’t make any sense, though. Plus the chemical reactions with the different materials made little to no sense. What even was the difference between baking powder and baking soda? In the end, Shouto’s halved recipe ended up extremely lumpy even without the chocolate chips, while Midoriya’s looked actually appetizing. And that was before the two put the cookies in the oven.

“I… It doesn’t look… Bad?” Midoriya said hesitantly, and Shouto squinted, looking from his smaller bowl to Midoriya’s and back again.

“No. I know it’s bad, there’s no need to make me feel better about it. I know I’m bad at this,” Shouto said bluntly, and Midoriya blinked once.

“Well. We should probably get these in the oven,” Midoriya said, going to grab two spoons from a drawer and the cookie sheets. He passed one of each to Shouto, before proceeding to put spoonfuls of cookie dough on one of his cookie sheets with a precision Shouto hadn’t thought Midoriya would apply to something that wasn’t heroics or schoolwork. Shouto attempted to follow Midoriya’s example, but ended up making his cookie dough lumps on the cookie sheet lumpier, magically. Not to mention that the cookies were uneven.

He managed to fit all his cookies on one sheet, with seventeen haphazard cookies staring back up at him. Midoriya had filled two and a half cookie sheets with 40 some-odd cookies. And there was still dough left! Not much but. Still.

“Those are… Proportioned interestingly,” Midoriya said, scraping the last of the cookie dough off the bottom of his bowl and put the final cookie on the sheet.

“I tried. I said I was bad at cooking, Midoriya,” Shouto replied. Midoriya shook his head once, before grabbing Shouto’s bowl and his own and putting them in the sink.

“I’m trusting that you can start cleaning off the dishes while I get your sheet in the oven?” Midoriya asked. Shouto looked at the small pile of dishes in the sink, before nodding once. He’d cleaned off dishes before.

Midoriya joined Shouto at the sink after a minute or so and immediately relegated him to drying the washed dishes. He was going about it all wrong, apparently. Shouto hadn’t known that washing dishes required a certain method. Yet again, he didn’t know a lot about housekeeping. He would’ve turned his whole load of white shirts pink by throwing in all his other shirts if Iida hadn’t walked into the laundry room and corrected his faux pas in time. At least Shouto could clean dishes effectively. Just evaporate the water off. The dishes were done fairly quickly.

“If everything goes well, we should have cookies in an hour at most,” Midoriya said as Shouto dried off the last piece of silverware. He nodded, before sniffing the air. Something smelled off.

“Hey, did y’all burn something?” Kaminari called from the living room, and Midoriya jolted, before running over to the oven.

“Oh no oh no oh no I didn’t turn on the timer oh noo,” Midoriya muttered, grabbing an oven mitt and yanking open the oven. The burning smell was only worse. And those… Could Shouto even rightfully call them cookies? They looked like hockey pucks.

“Those don’t look like cookies,” Shouto said, and Midoriya put the tray on the counter.

“I would normally say don’t knock it until you try it but. In this case… Don’t. The taste of burnt cookie is horrible,” Midoriya said. Shouto nodded. The both of them turned towards the door when they heard someone speak.

“Oh that smells awful,” Kirishima said as he walked into the kitchen, Kaminari trailing behind him.

“Wow those look bad,” Kaminari blurted out, turning Kirishima’s attention towards the cookies.

“Whoa, you guys made cookies? Awesome! Those don’t really look like cookies, though…” Kirishima trailed off, and Midoriya looked to the left sheepishly.

“That’s my bad. Forgot to put on the timer on the oven.” Shouto shook his head once.

“You didn’t make them, I did. And I made them horribly, despite you helping. So don’t beat yourself up,” Shouto said. Midoriya’s face went red, and he waved his hands around for a moment, before turning to the other cookie sheets.

“I-I should p-probably put these in t-the oven,” Midoriya stammered, grabbing two of the cookie sheets and putting them in the oven and turning on the oven timer. Kirishima and Kaminari looked happy, and Shouto turned towards the hockey pucks that were posing as cookies sitting on the countertop.

“We’ll go wait in the common room,” Kirishima said, before heading back out of the room. Kaminari pulled his phone out of his pocket as he trailed behind. Probably Geometry Dash again.

“Now we wait,” Midoriya said. Shouto nodded, leaning on the counter. Midoriya bustled around, passing Shouto a rag with the instructions to clean off the countertop while he put up the ingredients. Shouto was in the middle of wiping off the counter when the oven went off, and Midoriya raced back in and yanked both cookie sheets out of the oven after grabbing two oven mitts. They smelled a lot better than the hockey pucks. And looked better too.

“Aha!” Midoriya exclaimed, a little glimmer of excitement in his eye. So cute, Shouto thought, his lips quirking up slightly.

“Want to try one, Todoroki?” Blinking, Shouto looked at Midoriya, who had a cookie in his hand. Must be offering it to him.

“Yeah,” he replied, taking the cookie from Midoriya and taking a bite. Oh wow this is really good.

“Oh, uh. Thank you!” Shit did he say that out loud. Shouto finished off his cookie as Midoriya slid the other cookie sheet into the oven. Not much longer.

The kitchen was quiet as the next set of cookies baked. Midoriya finished up cleaning the counter from where Shouto had left the rag, and Shouto himself stood around awkwardly for ten minutes. He ended up staring off into space, not focusing on anything until Midoriya spoke up.

“Did you have fun, Todoroki?” Snapping out of his lack of focus, Todoroki blinked a few times, before nodding once.

“I didn’t think that messing up so thoroughly at something could turn out so well,” Shouto said, causing Midoriya to laugh. And oh, that laugh was so adorable wow.

“We should do it more often, if you found it fun,” Midoriya said. Shouto nodded again, and opened his mouth to speak when the oven timer went off again. The other cookies looked just as appetizing, and Midoriya smiled.

“Oh, they turned out just as good. That’s great,” Midoriya said to himself, before turning to Shouto.

“Well. I’ll go get everyone.”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Shouto looked at Midoriya, who seemed to be torn with indecision over something. When he was about to speak up about it, Midoriya darted forward, pecked his cheek, and dashed out of the kitchen with a hasty, “Bye Todoroki I’ll see you later!” tossed over his shoulder. A few seconds passed. Then Kirishima poked his head in the kitchen door and balked at Shouto.

“Todoroki… Your hair is smoking!” Midoriya had kissed his cheek. Okay. Wait he was what now.

“Cookies are done,” he said faintly, patting at his hair to attempt to get the possible flames on his hair to go out. Midoriya. He. This was a new development. A good new development. If only his hair would stop trying to catch fire then everything would be just fine.

#nerdiwrites #todoroki shouto #midoriya izuku #tododeku #enjoy my trash fic about two good and pure boys

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saphylee · 7 years ago

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Here is the angst ficlet that I promised @leothelionsaysgrrrr staring our ME:A characters, Puck and Thelrand.

Word count: 1632 with most under the cut :’)

Puck shoved through the door into Kralla’s Song. No one barely gave her a glance as she stomped around. “That bastard better be here, or I swear to God, I’ll fuckin’-“ She cut herself short with a growl as she spotted Reyes nursing a drink in the corner of the room.

“Where the fuck is he, Reyes?”

The man glanced up, his eyes vacant. As if to dismiss her, he closed them, and raised his glass to drink. “I have many men who work for me; you’ll have to be more specific.”

Puck snatched the glass from his hand and slammed it down on the table, whiskey splashing out onto the table. “You know damn well who I’m talking about!” She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him, glaring at him through the helmet. “Now answer me!”

Reyes hardly reacted to the outburst, looking to the glass with a forlorn expression, as if more bothered that it was empty over than what Puck was upset about. He flagged the bartender for another, sighing deeply. “He’s gone,” he finally whispered. He took a long sip when his drink arrived. “Gone back to Sloan.”

For a moment, Puck saw red and clenched both of her fists in her lap. “You’re telling me that he willingly went back to her? That after everything he’s been through with the Outcasts, Thelrand would just go back to her? Jesus Christ, Reyes, she’ll kill him.” She flung her hands up. “Or worse, make him spill the beans about who you are and who works for you, then kill him. You’ve painted a target on our backs, Reyes!”

“He won’t say anything.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because,” Reyes started, polishing the rest of his drink and again waived for another one. “He didn’t go back willingly. You know he would rather die than work for Sloan. He doesn’t want to spill more blood under her name.”

“That doesn’t make any fucking sense.” Puck grabbed the drink out of his hand, keeping it out of reach. “Why send him back if you knew all that?”

Reyes finally looked to her with some form of expression other than pathetic. There was sadness, regret, a flash of anger and… love. “He’s a dead man, either way. At least I could spare his life for a while longer.”

Stunned into silence, she handed him back his drink. “Someone was watching him.”

He slowly nodded. “And she loved him, too. Didn’t want to kill him, but would as one of Sloan’s bitches.” He chuckled bitterly. “At any rate, Thel and I both knew that our dalliance wouldn’t last. It’s better for both of us this way.”

Puck scoffed to hide the utter disappointment she felt towards Reyes. She saw how Thelrand looked at him, like Reyes was the best damned thing in Andromeda when he was far from it. “You really believe that? That’s all he meant to you?”

Reyes chuckled, a rather detached and off-putting sound. “Does it matter what he means to me now?” He downs his glass and transferred the due credits with a swipe of his hand. “Just know our secrets are safe with him and be done with this whole affair.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought you would be more relieved to be rid of him. Didn’t you always complain about him?”

“Fuck you, Reyes,” she hissed without hesitation and stood up to leave before she blurted out more about how she really felt. It was odd to know that goofy dumbass wouldn’t be trailing behind her, filling her precious silence with mindless chatter, trying to get in her brain and worm his way into her heart. And she hated that it took Thelrand to be gone for good to realize how normal and wanted the daily frustrations with him turned out to be, how much she was going to miss him.

He should have stayed in the Milky Way. He didn’t belong in Andromeda. He was too good for Andromeda. Just promise me that you’ll stay alive and not die on me.

Puck never saw Thelrand Keller again after that day. Most days he never crossed her mind save for those moments where the smallest and most insignificant things would remind her of him. She would reach for the last clean cup to find it was his cup: a bright blue tumbler that he brought from the Milky Way because the color reminded him of his days in C-Sec. This happened many occasions and each time she would grumble to Reyes to throw it away, but would never actually do it herself.

Or she would come across his well-read copy of A Christmas Carol, the spine broken, and pages creased and stained. The one Christmas they spent together, Thelrand had spent days trying to find a gift for her, but came up with nothing. Kadara had little to offer for such an occasion, but he had that silly Christmas tale that was older than dirt. He made her sit down with him and listen to him read the first chapter. When he unknowingly read beyond it, she didn’t stop him, and just listened to him read (though made many lewd gestures the entire time).

And don’t get her started on the Christmas songs he would sing. Constantly. For the entire month.

Sometimes, looking at Reyes would bring up memories. Most of the time, he and Thelrand were so sickeningly sweet together, she actively avoided them to have some peace. As of late, however, it bothered her more than she’d like that Reyes was so willingly to not only throw away what they had, but the man himself. If he truly regretted it, he didn’t show it after that one day.

She couldn’t believe that she actually missed the dumbass.

The bodies strewn about the badlands wasn’t a new sight. If anything, it was utterly predictable. Might as well have been driving by rocks. Reyes wanted Puck to check out a location where a supposed fight between the Collectors and the remaining Outcasts had taken place. The outcasts intercepted a weapons shipment and hijacked the modded weapons. The results weren’t pretty.

“Sucks to be them,” she muttered to herself, surveying the area for the missing cargo. Corpses clutching weapons to their chest showed the weapons were used. She noted that most of the containers were missing or destroyed. She sighed. Reyes wasn’t going to like this. She collected whatever weapons she could salvage.

When she thought she collected everything, she spotted a body laying facedown some distance away from what seemed to be the heart of the fight. Upon further inspection, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach before hammering violently in her chest. The back of their head was shattered, exposed and bloody, but that wasn’t what terrified her the most: it was the silvery white hair that was stained a deep crimson.

For the first time, she prayed despite already knowing how useless it was, that it wouldn’t change the outcome, that it wouldn’t fill the sudden hole in her chest… but it gave her the courage she needed to flip the man onto his back, and the harsh truth slapped her as Thelrand’s vacant eyes stared back at her.

“Damn you!” she screamed, prying the rifle out of his hands and chucked it away. “Why’d you have to go and get yourself killed, you fucking useless dumbasss—motherfucker—dipshit – aauuughhh!” Her suit felt suffocating, gasping for breath even though her suit’s oxygen levels were normal. Fumbling fingers unclasped the helmet and dropped it beside her. The first time she ever took her helmet off her helmet in front of him and the bastard was dead.

Looking at him without the helmet was jarring, perhaps because now he was lifeless, the color drained from his face. She couldn’t look at the desperation in his eyes which used to sparkle with mischief, like lightning in a storm cloud. It didn’t match the slight curl of his lips like he knew he was going to die and accepted it, welcomed it even.

Reyes’ words echoed in her mind: You know he would rather die than work for Sloan. She found him lying on his stomach with a hole in the back of his head, and she bet if she looked at his weapon, she would see that very few shots were fired from it, if at all. It seemed he tried to take advantage of the chaos and run while he still could. Whether friend or foe shot him, she couldn’t tell. Just knowing that he wanted to be free and that Reyes forced him back, goddamnit, it wasn’t fair. That it took his life ending to be free wasn’t fair.

She sniffed and wiped her tears with haste. She couldn’t mourn like this in the open especially when trouble could be lurking around the corner. A thought occurred that someone could be watching the scene. She wished perhaps that bitch who claimed to love him was watching the tragedy she and Reyes had wrought.

She shook the thought with a quick shake of her head, clasping her helmet back on. She needed to finish up and leave though she wished she could give him a proper burial. He deserved that much, but perhaps a memento would do. After loosening the armor around his neck, she grabbed the thin chain of his dog tags and yanked it off his neck. It would be enough to show Reyes without having to explain what happened.

Before she left, she closed his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Thelrand looked more at peace that way, as if he was simply asleep. “You really were too good for this godforsaken galaxy.”

#mass effect #mass effect andromeda #puck #thelrand keller #saphy writes #leothelionsaysgrrrr #this makes me so sad to think about #i am so sorry #(not really)#but I really enjoy writing puck #she's a softie that tries to act all tough

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mapleleafstrash · 7 years ago

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Offbeat - Auston Matthews

Annonymous said: maybe an auston matthews imagine where you somehow ended up being apart of ‘the guys’ with them showing up at your house randomly to pick you up to hangout and go to parties. and puckbunnies both are intimidated by you because youre always around and rude to you because you arent the typical super thin blonde, and get even more jealous of how close you are with auston in particular and then things happen and you n auston finally get together (surprise me with the how?) please and thank you :)

A/N: Hello everyone! Now I know everyone has been patiently waiting for Mason (Part 6), but I have other requests pending, and I find when I write other prompts or stories, it helps me write about other storylines I have going on as well. Creative juices, right?

This was reqested a while ago and I appologize for the wait! I hope it’s similar to your request, and I do believe this will be another multi-part imagine. Let me know what you think!

Requested: Yes/No

Characters: Auston Matthews (Feat. Connor Brown, Morgan Rielly, William Nylander, and Zach Hyman)

Words: 4,691

Warnings: Language and Alcohol Consumption

[Part One] [Part Two] [Part Three] [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven]

Different.

Unconventional.

Contrasting.

Distinct.

Peculiar.

Offbeat.

In your particular situation, those were the words that most described you best. Well, those were the nicer ones anyways.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

Your thoughts were interrupted by the sound of your best friend Connor. He, along with his girlfriend Madison, and your other close friend Morgan, were currently hanging out in your condo’s living room.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile, “Just school,”

He nodded, but pursed his lips.

Connor knew you better than anyone.

The two of you had met when you were six years old. By luck of the draw, you had both been placed onto the same house-league minor hockey team in Etobicoke. You had been given a hard time from the get-go that season, as you were playing with both six, seven, and eight-year old’s due to your division being branched out. It also didn’t help that you were the only girl on the team. Other teams you faced usually had two or three girls but not yours. You were the only one who’d been singled out by the league, forcing you to fend for yourself.

Even though Connor was a year older than you, with age being a usual dividing factor in youth dressing rooms, the two of you had become fast friends, and had been glued to the hip for much of your childhood.

As time went on, you switched to girl’s hockey as it had become more prominent a few years later, and Connor had made the jump to rep. Despite this, you both still went to each other’s games like nothing had changed, and made sure to still have your weekly hangouts at the Brown family’s home. Dan and Anne had even given you a key, that’s how close you were to Connor and his family.

When Connor was drafted by Erie when you were fifteen years old, you were ecstatic. Several times during the season you’d take a Friday off from school and drive down to Erie with the Brown’s to go visit and watch the Otters, and whenever he was around up near the Toronto area, you had to go see him play. And now, just a few short years later, he had just finished his rookie season as a Toronto Maple Leaf, and you couldn’t be more proud.

Through Connor, you’d become close to many of the guys on the team because you frequented games and social events, as requested by your best friend. Madison and him had been off and on until just recently, so when she hadn’t been around, you came to Maple Leaf activities instead in her place.

Inevitably, people, well more like fans of the team or puck bunnies as Connor called them, had discovered you. Thankfully, before the storm became to grave, you made all your social media private, but Connor and even some of the others had tagged you in photos multiple times. You were often seen in the background of multiple Leafs PR photographs or from other Leaf girlfriends Instagram’s. People knew who you were, and unfortunately some of them weren’t afraid to voice their own opinions.

“She’s so fat,”

“How do any of the guys even like her?”

“She just using them for attention,”

“I feel bad for Connor,”

Each comment was like a repeated stab in your gut. You were the first to admit that you weren’t the smallest girl around. Standing at five foot ten, and being a size sixteen, you were a bit bigger than the typical female that professional hockey players were often associated with. But you’d always been bigger. You were curvy, and when you were younger you were teased because of your larger hips but as you’d gotten taller you’d slimmed out. But since you weren’t a buck ten, and you weren’t the model type, people, mainly girls, ate you alive.

Sure, you’d talked to Connor a bit about it, but he was your best friend, not your boyfriend. As much as you loved him, you didn’t want to talk about your insecurities with him. You knew he’d just worry so you held it in. But you knew he was aware of the comments, and he often hovered over you when you’d all go out, just to make sure you were okay and to make sure no one was giving you a hard time.

All his teammates were great though. They all immediately warmed up to you during the season, and you were already particularly close with Zach, William and Kasperi because you’d known them from when Connor was on the Marlies. Of all the Leafs though, Morgan and you had become the closest. You guys clicked right away and you almost hanged out just as much with him then you did with Connor. He was your wing-man and you were his wing-woman as he put it. You almost had a sibling type relationship.

You went out almost once a week during the summer months with a group of the guys. Whoever was still around the GTA often came along and your condo was the meeting spot. Bars and clubs were the main places you went to, and occasionally a few of you would head to a baseball game. It was refreshing to be able to have some fun with everyone, especially when they weren’t as stressed as they normally would be during the season. But by going out, you just got more exposure, and that had led to an increase of hateful comments.

You couldn’t help but notice however, that these comments had skyrocketed after Auston Matthews and you were snapped a few times together one night when you had all headed to one of Toronto’s more popular summer clubs.

He had posted a photo of you, Zach, and William, and had dubbed you an honorary ‘liney.’ Even though he meant no harm by it, the photo had stirred up a lot of interest into who you were and Auston actually had to delete some of the comments and block several people due to their harsh words.

Trying to make it better, he then posted just a nice photo of the both of you, but it had honestly just made it worse. Jealous girls from every angle sought to attack you, so Auston was forced to disable the comments. He had apologized thoroughly but you had just shrugged it off. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, your thick skin was slowly beginning to taper off, and Connor had taken notice.

The part that had hurt the worst about the situation with the Arizona Native though, was the fact that you had been harbouring a massive crush on Auston for the better part of the past season. I mean, who wasn’t crushing on Auston Matthews? The only one who really knew one hundred percent about your feelings was Connor, and Morgan suspected at first, but he later gained confirmation. Thankfully he only teased you about it when it was just the two of you. William was well aware and Zach had clued in as well. It scared you sometimes, realizing any one of them could potentially let the cat out of the bag.

But the world had already decided you had no chance with Auston Matthews, before you could even try.

“Auston’s way out of her league,”

“He looks so uncomfortable,”

“Auston’s weekly bout of charity work I suppose,”

“Who does she think she is?”

When you had read those comments underneath the photo Auston had posted of the two of you, your heart ached. Who did you think you were? I mean, you even knew he was way out of your league.

Lately, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to the girls Auston typically took home with him. You’d been there several times to witness Auston pick his nightly hookup, and each time you watched, your heart sunk more and more. Blonde, average height, larger breasts, but most of all; stick thin. Everything you weren’t.

So later that night, you found yourself sipping on your fizzy vodka cranberry, with a pink umbrella because apparently, it wasn’t complete without one according to Mo. You sat rigid in the groups booth while you watched Auston survey the large crowd around you, obviously on the hunt.

“Cheer up pouty,” Morgan suddenly knocked into you, causing you to jerk forward as he took out your elbow that had been holding you up.

Sending him a quick glare in warning, Zach and William chuckled while they sat across from you. The four of you were currently on your own as Connor and Madison had gone up to the bar, and you had no clue where Mitch and his girlfriend Steph had ran off to.

Auston turned towards you from Zach’s left due to the sound of Morgan’s voice, “you good, Y/N?” He asked, looked towards you concerned.

You gulped, but nodded, looking away, “just peachy,”

Morgan howled in laughter, elbowing you in the side, causing you to yelp. Morgan suddenly winced immediately there after as Zach had kicked him in the shins, defending you. You sent him a grateful smile.

Auston had raised his eyebrows in confusion, “uh, okay,”

William chuckled low, and shook his head. Looking ahead of you, William sent you a wink, and you flushed. Your boys knew you way too well.

“Hey,”

Your eyes flickered up as you watched a tan, leggy blonde, wearing a barely-there type outfit approach the booth, well Auston specifically. You rolled your eyes and promptly looked away when you saw Auston look the girl up and down hungrily, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Sighing, you caught William’s blue eyes dart towards you, a sympathetic look crossing over his features. You heard the unknown blonde giggle and you knew it, right then and there. Auston was taking her home.

Your thoughts were confirmed when Auston promptly stood from his seat and walked away with his new conquest.

“Does he even try?” I heard Morgan ask incredulously, and I bit my lip.

No, but he didn’t have to.

“Y/N!”

Looking over due to the shrill voice, you watched Madison wobble her way back to the booth, and a concerned looking Connor hot on her heels.

“Madison, slow down!” He called after her, the two drinks in his hands splashing around violently.

“Come dance with me!” Madison slurred, placing both her hands down flat onto the table, causing it to wiggle from her weight.

“You’re drunk Maddie,” you sighed, and she grinned, “no shit, so come have some fun!”

“Madison,” Connor warned, as he took a seat next to Morgan.

His brunette girlfriend then pouted, “please Y/N, Connie won’t come dance with me either,”

Morgan snorted, and Zach laughed, “Connie huh?”

“Shut it,” Connor spat, sending his teammate a glare.

“I’ll come dance with you,” William then piped up, and Connor whipped around towards the blonde, “absolutely not,”

“Oh c'mon Connie, your girlfriend just wants to have some fun,” William snickered and you groaned, knowing where this was going. Everyone was usually fine with William’s flirty personality, except for when another guys’ girlfriend was involved. Not wanting the two to get into it, you sighed, “fine, I’ll go,”

Morgan turned to look at you, and three other pairs of eyes zeroed in at the exact same time. They all looked shocked you had actually agreed, since you’d never once actually gone dancing when you’d been out with the boys.

“Great! Let’s go!” Madison chimed, clapping her hands together and Connor sent you an uneasy glance. Motioning for the boys to scoot, you stood from your seat and were essentially dragged out onto the dance floor by the very intoxicated Madison.

You weren’t concerned by her behaviour due to the fact you knew that not only Connor, but the others guys would be keeping a close eye on the both of you. It was almost nice knowing you had a big group of guys awaiting at your beckon call. It almost felt like you had more freedom since you knew if trouble came about, you’d have lots of backup.

As a new up-beat song played over the speakers of the club, Madison held your hands and began to bounce around. Moving with her, you smiled as she grinned at you, “There you go! Have some fun for once!”

As the alcohol you’d consumed finally started taking its affect, you began to feel warmth spread throughout your body. For a moment, you’d forgotten about your insecurities. You weren’t the bigger girl. You weren’t some leech that many people made you out to be. You were just having fun with your friends. No jealous puck bunnies. No asshole guys. And most of all, you’d forgotten about Auston going off with some girl. Well you had, until you spotted him.

There, about thirty feet away, he was swaying back and forth with the blonde who’d approached your table just a short while ago. With their bodies pressed tight up against one another, and Auston’s large hands gripping her hips tight, the girl was looking towards your friend with a lustful gaze. What irked you more, was the fact that Auston wore the same expression.

“Y/N?”

Flicking your eyes towards Madison, you’d then realized you’d stopped moving. You were standing stiff while bodies all around you continued moving in their alcohol driven motions. Taking a deep breath, and shaking your head free of all your thoughts, you slowly began bopping your head again and swaying your hips. It took every bit of strength within you not to stare back towards Auston.

“I need another drink,” you sighed, and Madison’s eyes brightened from your words, clearly agreeing as she nodded her head enthusiastically.

Walking up to the bar, you both took a seat and waited for the bartender to approach you. Once he got there, Madison ordered two tequila shots, while you ordered four. You downed them all one after the other, causing your best friend’s girlfriend to cheer. When the bartender came back for payment, you sneered out towards Auston, who was still getting up close and personal to his flavour of the night, and you just said to put it on his tab.

Now you were feeling fuzzy. You weren’t thinking clearly, and you were bitter. You were a hot, hazy, jealous mess.

As you turned to head back out onto the dance floor, you bumped into a hard chest. “Hey, hey, Y/N are you okay?”

Looking up, you met Connor’s eyes and you snorted, “what do you think?”

“Don’t do this just because of him, he’s not worth it Y/N,” Connor sighed, placing his hand onto your arm and rubbing it soothingly.

“Yeah well, clearly I’m not worth it either,” you bit out, before you pushed past your friend, and beelined to the washroom, trying to escape him and anyone else’s judgmental eyes.

“Y/N!”

You pushed on, ignoring Connor’s voice. As you travelled by your home booth, you could feel the others staring at you. But none of them dared to chase after you. It wasn’t that they didn’t care, they’d just never dealt with you when you were being over emotional. The only two guys besides Connor that would normally attempt to check in on you would be either Morgan, who honestly wasn’t sure what to do in this particular situation, or Auston, but he was a little preoccupied at the moment.

As you pushed the washroom door open, you walked up to the long sink and slammed your hands down onto the counter. Looking up into the mirror, you wanted to cry. Your face was flushed red, and your once decent makeup had begun flaking due to your sweat. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes had heavy looking bags beneath them. As your eyes trailed down towards your hips you bit your lip as you stared towards your body. You looked awful. Your drunken mind was playing tricks on you, and you were beginning to believe the words the jealous girls would always throw at you.

It was no wonder Auston had never looked at you any other way besides being Connor Brown’s best friend. You were nothing like the other girls.

“Oh no! Is Connor Brown’s little whore upset?”

You turned to your right to see a pair of scantily-clad girls, both of them giving you a devilish smirk. “I bet your fat ass is just upset because Connor finally realized how shitty of a friend you are for using him.”

You took a deep breath, your hands turning into fists as you tried to ignore them.

“Did one of the boys finally tell you no?“

You looked away, not wanting to interact with the two and give them the satisfaction of having an outburst, and you were about to walk away when one of them spoke again, “That or you finally realized you don’t have a chance in hell with any of them.”

“I mean look at you! You’re such a pig! Why would any of them want you!”

Stopping dead on your feet, the anger you were feeling suddenly began bubbling within you. You had finally reached your breaking point.

“Go fuck yourself,” you bit back, feeing your throat turn scratchy. Tears formed tiny beads in the corner of your eyes as you stood your ground. You sent them both a heavy glare, and whipped around on your feet, heading back towards the door. You didn’t want to hear it. They didn’t know what they were talking about.

As you exited the bathroom, you spotted Madison across the room. Walking briskly towards her, she gave you a sympathetic look.

“Y/N,”

“I’m leaving,” you stated, moving past her and towards the front doors of the club.

“Y/N!” Connor’s voice shouted.

Turning your head slightly, you watched your ginger haired friend bound his way up to you. Sighing, you stopped, and crossed your arms.

“Are you okay?”

You snorted, “No, I am not okay Connor,”

“Well, don’t leave alone, let me take you home,” he begged, reaching out to take your hand.

You moved back a bit, keeping him from touching you. He flashed you a look of hurt, “Stay with Madison, you’re here with her, remember?”

“No, I’m here with the both of you, and I’m more concerned about you right now Y/N, you’re not thinking straight.” Connor explained, “please, just come sit down for a bit and we’ll all leave,”

You shook your head, “I just need to be alone Connor, and I don’t need everyone pitying me. I’ll be fine,”

“Y/N,” Connor pleaded, “if this is about Auston,”

“It’s not!” you spat, your anger and insecurity bubbling over, “it’s not just about him, it’s about me! I just, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending that I’m okay Connor.” You cried out, tears now leaking down your cheeks.

“Y/N, I love you, you know that,” Connor sighed, before pulling you into his arms. “I don’t know what I’d do without you,”

You nodded, before wrapping your arms around his torso, and embracing him back. “You’re such a beautiful girl Y/N, and one day, some unworthy idiot is going to realize that too. Those girls, they’re just jealous because they can’t understand why we all love you so much. And I know the boys love you because you’re yourself, your gorgeous, funny, and truthful self. And I love you because you’ve been with me through thick and thin and because you’ve always supported me. Now please, don’t let the people that don’t know you make you destroy yourself.”

You sniffled, and hugged your best friend tighter. Connor always knew how to make you feel better.

“Are you two okay?”

Looking up, you met brown eyes. Connor turned towards his teammate and nodded, “We’re probably going to head out, Y/N’s had a rough night,”

“I can take her home if you want,” Auston said, “it’s no problem,”

The girl on Auston’s arms grimaced before sending you an unimpressed look. You looked down towards your feet, as Connor’s hand remained on your lower back protectively.

“We don’t want to spoil your night Matts,” Connor then replied, but Auston shook his head, “you’re not spoiling anything, I wasn’t getting a good vibe tonight honestly. I was just going to head out by myself anyways,”

You couldn’t help the smirk that appeared on your lips as the leggy blonde from earlier stood back from Auston, her eyes wide in shock, before she rolled her eyes and walked away.

“Uh, alright,” Connor said, “is that okay Y/N?”

You shrugged, “doesn’t matter,”

Connor sighed, before pulling you in for another hug and pressing his lips against your forehead. “Text me when you get home, please,”

“I will,” you promised, before pulling away and walking towards the doors, with Auston following you right behind.

As you pushed the doors open and began waking to your left, you immediately placed your hands in front of your face as several bright flashes blinded you.

Auston muttered something incoherently before you felt him place his hand down onto your back. As he led you away from the group of photographers, who were obviously waiting for someone high-profile to leave the venue, Auston was bombarded by several questions, including his upcoming season, his training regime, and surprisingly, you.

“New girlfriend Auston?” A male’s voice questioned, just as you were about to reach an awaiting taxi.

Deciding not to answer, Auston instead opened the car’s rear door and ushered you inside, his larger body following you behind. As the taxi took off, Auston gave the driver his address, rather than yours, causing you to give him a questioning look.

He sent you a reassuring smile, “it’s fine, some of those guys might follow after us, and I don’t want them knowing where you live,”

You nodded, and turned back to look out the window. You were honestly surprised Auston had even thought of that, and it made you feel warm inside due to him seeming to care about you and your privacy.

As you watched the lit up, downtown core pass you by, you couldn’t help the nervous feeling in your gut as you felt Auston’s hand rest on your thigh. You weren’t sure if he had even noticed he had placed it there when you had gotten into the taxi, but it almost felt like his touch was burning you.

“I just texted Connor, to let him know you’re just coming back with me,” Auston then voiced, and you nodded, “thanks Auston,”

As you reached Auston’s condo complex, you stepped out of the taxi and waited for Auston to pay the driver. He flashed you a small smile when he joined you and led you into his building. Pressing the elevator button, you rode in silence until you reached Auston’s floor.

“I’m just gonna use the washroom and get changed,” the younger boy told you, when you finally walked into his bachelor pad.

You nodded in understanding, and made your way into his living room. Taking a seat onto his long, plush, sofa, you stared out his condo’s window, and stared down at the city below. Even though it was well into the early hours of the morning, the city was still as bright as ever. You had always enjoyed Auston’s condo’s view. He easily had the best view of the city out of any of the other guys’ condo’s.

Your head had begun throbbing due to the alcohol you’d consumed slowly dying down. Sighing, you stood and walked into his kitchen, and began looking for his aspirin. You knew he kept his medication in the cupboard above his fridge, and you honestly didn’t think he’d mind. Grabbing a cold-water bottle from Auston’s fridge, you took a sip before you looked up towards the cupboard. Even though you were quite tall for a girl, you still couldn’t quite reach the handle’s on the twin doors.

Pursing your lips, you placed your hands onto your hips and looked around the room for anything to help you extend your reach. You considered using the broom that was in the crook between the fridge and the kitchen’s wall, but then you spotted one of the bar stools that sat against Auston’s kitchen’s island.

Even though they weren’t the most stable seats, they were tall enough for you to reach the cupboard, so you carried the stool into the kitchen and placed it up against the fridge. At first, you just hopped up onto your knee’s but your height hadn’t increased enough. Sighing, you gripped the top of Auston’s fridge, and shakily stood up onto one leg. Taking a breath, you then shifted your weight and brought your other leg up, leaving you fully standing on the rickety bar stool.

Reaching over, you grinned once you could finally open the cupboard. Spotting Auston’s aspirin, you grabbed the box of tablets and closed the doors promptly. Turning, you crouched down and placed the medicine onto Auston’s counter top. Moving one leg down to rest onto the steel step underneath the stools seat, you gasped when the seat teetered. Your shift in weight had caused the unstable chair to wobble violently. As it came out from underneath you, you suddenly felt another body grab onto you, and pull you into their chest while the seat clattered down onto the tiled floor.

“Are you okay?” Auston asked concerned, his eyes wide.

You flushed once you realized how close the two of you were. With your chests pressed together and Auston’s muscular arms wrapped around you securely, your heart thumped fiercely.

“Uh yeah,” you then got out, and Auston sighed in relief.

“You could’ve gotten hurt Y/N,” Auston then spoke, “why didn’t you come get me?”

You shrugged, pulling away, “I didn’t want to bother you,”

Auston rolled his eyes, “you never bother me Y/N,”

“Sorry about the stool,” you then said, looking down towards the piece of furniture. Auston sighed, “I don’t care about that, I care about you. If I hadn’t come out just now, you could’ve really hurt yourself.”

“Well I’m fine,” you declared, reaching out to grab the aspirin and walking over to lift the bar stool up right. Taking your water, you then made your way back into the living room.

“So what happened tonight?” Auston asked, when he finally joined you on the opposite side of the couch.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you returned, before taking another sip of the cool water.

Auston smirked at your words, and you looked towards him. “I just had a bad night, nothing really went my way,”

Auston nodded, “I can relate to that,”

You cocked your head, “blondie was no good?”

He laughed, “something like that,”

“Well, for the record, I didn’t like her from the second I saw her,” you explained, and Auston chuckled, “you never like them though Y/N,”

“Because they’re never good enough, you deserve way more than some slutty floozy from a bar or club Auston,” you explained.

“Really? Is that so?” Auston questioned, sending you a small smirk.

You rolled your eyes, “yes, any of you boys deserve more, and until you realize it, you’re not going to find what you’re looking for,”

Auston shifted in his seat, turning more towards you, “and what exactly am I looking for Y/N?”

You sighed, and pulled your left leg up into your chest to rest on, “I can’t answer that for you Auston, especially when you don’t even understand the question,”

Auston narrowed his eyes slightly, taking your words in. When realization finally dawned on him, his lips then curved upwards, “you’re good, you know that?”

You smiled towards him, and brought your water bottle back to your lips. Too bad you felt like you weren’t good enough for him.

“What are you looking for then Y/N?”

Blinking in surprise, you placed the bottle back down onto the coffee table beside you and thought before speaking, “I’m not really looking anymore Auston, I think, I think I’m just waiting,”

Auston nodded, “well, I hope you won’t wait for too long,”

You nodded, and looked away,

“me either,”

#my writing #auston matthews imagines #hockey imagines #nhl imagines #Toronto maple leafs imagines #maple leafs imagines #leafs imagines

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alphacrone · 7 years ago

Text

and i'll use you as a focal point [bittyrans vampire au]

[Read on AO3]

There was something off about Bitty.

At first, Ransom thought it was the gay thing—but not in a bad way! Ransom was, like, 90% sure he was bi, so the idea of Bitty being gay didn't make him uncomfortable, per se. It was just, they'd never had a guy as small or as feminine on the team before. Things were weird because a lot of the guys clearly didn't know how to act around Bitty. But no one was an outright dick to Bits, except Jack, but he was a dick to everyone in the pre-season, and soon Bitty was just another teammate.

Even then, Ransom couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about Bitty.

Most of the time, the kid was a sackful of sunshine and puppies and rainbows, bustling around the Haus kitchen and making the best fucking pies appear out of thin air. But sometimes...sometimes there was something sharp in his smile, something harder in his gaze.

Bitty let slip in a conversation once that he'd been bullied growing up, and for a while Ransom believed that was the secret he'd come to believe Bitty was hiding. After all, no one as kind and bright as Bitty could harbor anything more sinister than that in his heart, could he?

The thing was, when you were best friends with Adam Birkholtz, you tended to live half your life in fantasy.

And not in a fun, sexual way. Hell, not even in a regular fun way most of the time. Holster consumed media the way most people consumed oxygen: constantly and effortlessly. And he exhaled commentary on it like it was carbon dioxide. Ransom knew far more about Netflix shows and web comics and sci fi novels he'd never even seen than he felt was appropriate or even possible.

So it was really all Holster’s fault when he started noticing the signs.

The first was the most concerning, in the beginning. After a year of team meals and literal buffets of pie in the kitchen, Ransom looked across the dining hall table one morning to realize he had never seen Bitty eat. Bitty baked and cooked constantly, attended every team meal, even made himself plates of food, but he never, ever put anything in his mouth. Ever .

Ignoring his own dirty joke setup, Ransom continued to spiral down this path. Bitty was super thin, he already knew that. Jack was always harping on Bits to eat more protein, to Bitty’s annoyance. But Ransom had met Mrs. Bittle and she was tiny too; he'd just assumed Bits was naturally... bitty.

Now, Ransom wasn't Holster. His first thought wasn't some grand conspiracy theory. Instead, he approached Bitty on a sunny September day, a baggy of kolaches from Svoboda’s in hand. No one could resist Svo’s jalapeño-cheese kolaches. No one.

Except Bitty, apparently. Ransom found him lounging on a blanket by the pond, textbooks open but blatantly tweeting instead of studying. Bitty was stretched out like a cat, languid, and his tank top was rucked up a little to show off the thin, blonde happy trail running down his stomach and disappearing beneath the band of his shorts.

“Bits, bro,” Ransom said, plopping down next to him, shoving one of the books away. “Have some kolaches with me, man. They're fresh.”

Bitty grinned up at him, wide and amused. “Those are klobasneks, you heathen.”

Ransom, who already had one shoved into his mouth, barely managed to say, “But the sign-”

“It's not uncommon to lump the two together,” Bitty continued, tucking his phone back into his pocket and turning to better look at Ransom. “Especially since the Svobodas are from Texas and it's a whole, complicated thing there. But kolaches have fruit filling; klobasneks have sausage or cheese or eggs.”

Ransom was a bit taken aback. Swallowing the half-chewed pastry roughly, he asked, “How did you know these were cheese and not fruit?”

Bitty shrugged. “I could smell them. Plus you and Holtzy love the jalapeño ones.”

Ransom couldn't argue with that. He held out the bag to Bitty, shaking it a little. “Eat me, Bitty!”

Bitty laughed and shook his head. “I'm good, thanks.”

Ransom frowned. Maybe Bitty’s food issue were worse than he thought. “Dude, I don't wanna sound, like, intrusive, but honestly...I have never seen you eat. Is it…? Do you need to talk to someone? You can always talk to me.”

Bitty’s smile turned endeared, and he shook his head. “I can smell garlic in those.”

“Huh?”

“I'm allergic,” Bitty clarified. “I have quite a few food allergies. It's why I have a mini fridge in my room, it's stocked with things that are safe. I really can't eat most of what I bake, but I love baking so much I do it anyway. And I go to team meals to socialize, not eat. I promise I don't have an eating disorder,” he said, touching Ransom’s arm gently. “But thank you for being concerned.”

“Oh.” Ransom frowned, then gasped and tossed the bag of kolaches away from Bitty. “Shit, dude, I'm so sorry-”

“Ransom, it's okay.” Bitty laughed again. “There isn't a whole lotta garlic in there, being near it won't kill me.”

“You've really got a strong nose, eh?” Ransom asked, leaning back on his elbows. Bitty shifted onto his side, and Ransom couldn't help but note the sharp lines of his silhouette, the stark brushstrokes of muscle in his shoulders and arms, the thickness of his thighs in contrast to his small waist. When they were on ice, Ransom was guilty of thinking of Bits as small and fragile; it made him a more ardent d-man, for sure, being on Bitty’s line, always looking out for his bittiest bro. But here, in the reddish sun of early Fall, Bitty was nothing if not a perfect specimen of raw, compact power. It unsettled Ransom, mostly in a totally gay way, but also, a little, in a way that made something small and primal at the back of his mind cower in fear.

“Ha, yeah,” Bitty said, in response to the question Ransom had forgotten he'd asked. “Survival instinct, I guess. You know, because of my allergies,” he added quickly.

“Right,” Ransom said, feeling hot and awkward under the gaze of Bitty’s dark brown eyes. “Allergies.”

When he eventually excused himself to go to class, Ransom didn't even remember to grab the bag of kolaches from the ground. It wasn't as if he had much of an appetite anymore.

After that, it was little things that made Ransom wonder just what Bitty was hiding behind his sunny, southern facade. Though he wasn't proud to admit it, Ransom had started an Excel doc just to keep track of everything, titled ERB and hidden deep in his pirated comics folder on his laptop (labeled PORN, of course, just in case).

Bitty wore sunscreen constantly. He tried to claim it was a southern thing, but Holster had family in Texarkana and claimed that they all had nasty, leathery skin because they literally never wore sunscreen ever and that Bits was full of shit. And he didn't just wear it in the summer—Bitty showed up to morning practices in January smelling like Coppertone. It was one of those quirky things about him. Absolutely no cause for alarm.

But then there was the way he was always cold. Bitty’s hands could rival ice cubes, even in the heat of August or after working out. “Poor circulation,” he'd explained once while drunk. “What can you do?”

Except, it wasn't just his hands. Bitty didn't let people touch him often, but Ransom had held his legs for kegstands and clapped his shoulders and even, once, slapped his bare back in the locker room and every time it had felt like Bitty had just stepped out of an ice bath. That couldn't be normal, could it?

And there were other things: his freakishly good sense of hearing and smell; how silent and still he was when he slept on roadies, barely seeming to breathe; the way he went on and on about his church back home but didn't attend at Samwell. Ransom had them all marked down in his spreadsheet, and on nights when Holster was dead to the world and Ransom sad supposed to be studying, he'd make whole charts of possible ailments, disorders, and lifestyle choices that could add up to the enigma that was Eric Bittle.

A small part of him—the part that had been forced to binge-watch those godawful Twilight movies with Holster and Shitty—whispered that there was another answer, one far simpler than the impossibly rare diseases he’d researched.

But that was the same part of him who believed he was being haunted by two dead sororities girls, the same part of him that got scared when Lardo and Nursey exchanged their favorite urban legends, late at night. There was no fucking way Bitty was a v-

He couldn't even think the word, it was so ridiculous. Bits was just a quirky dude with health problems; there was nothing paranormal about it.

Still, there were times Ransom felt Bitty’s gaze on him, and a chill would involuntarily run down his spine. And only a little in a gay way.

Everything came to a head when Ollie got decked in the face by a puck.

The dipshit had removed his helmet in the middle of drills, so Ransom didn't have that much sympathy for him, but it still looked like it hurt like a bitch. His nose broke with an audible crunch and Ransom saw the blood on the ice before he even realized what had happened.

“Shit, fuck, man, I'm so sorry!” Wicks called, skating over as fast as he could. “Bro, are you okay?”

But Ransom didn't hear Ollie’s answer; he was too distracted by Bitty.

Bitty was staring at Ollie with his mouth agape, eyes large and- not scared, or angry. Shocked seemed a closer description, but didn't feel quite right. Determined, maybe. His hands were shaking in his gloves, and his knees were bent, like he was poised to rush over to Ollie at any second. What was most unsettling, however, was the fact that Bitty didn't appear to be breathing at all.

Before anyone could blink, Bitty was in front of Ollie, half-crouched, eyes black in the weird light of the rink. He opened his mouth, but said nothing, and everyone fell deathly silent in their confusion.

Then Bitty was gone, sprinting from the rink faster than anyone on skates should be capable of. Ransom stared after him, unsure of how to process what he just saw.

“That was weird,” Holster said as Wicks moved to get Ollie off the ice. “Li’l dude can't handle the sight of blood?”

“I guess,” Ransom murmured. “Weird.”

As soon as practice ended, Ransom rushed to the Haus. Normally he hung out at Founders until class in the mornings, but today he was on a mission. One way or another, Ransom was going to figure out what Bitty was hiding from them, from him.

Without even bothering to check the kitchen, Ransom sprinted up to the second floor, throwing his bag to the side of the hall and knocking on Bitty’s door. “Bits, bro, you okay?” He called. When there was no reply, he pushed open the door.

Nothing could have prepared Ransom for the sight in front of him.

Bitty’s room was a mess. Books had been knocked off his desk and the chair was overturned. His mini fridge was wide open and empty, cool air drifting to brush past Ransom’s shins. Several IV bags and plastic tubs were scattered across the floor, empty but stained pink by something . And Bitty-

Bitty was curled into a ball in the corner, half hidden by the bed, face pressed into his knees. His whole body was shaking like a leaf in the wind. He hadn't even changed out of his under armor.

“Bits?” Ransom moved around the bed slowly, lowering himself to his knees in front of Bitty. “Hey, are you okay?”

Bitty raised his head from his arms slowly, and Ransom almost screamed. Bitty’s lips were stained red, and protruding over them, just slightly, were two fangs, clear as day. But the fear in Bitty’s eyes kept Ransom from running. He'd never seen Bitty look so small.

“I nearly attacked Ollie,” Bitty whispered, not meeting Ransom’s gaze. “I...I thought I was getting better. I thought I could handle things like that.”

“But you didn't attack him,” Ransom said, trying desperately not to let any hysteria seep into his voice. “You ran away. That's…that's good, isn't it?”

Bitty groaned and covered his face in his hands. “Not good enough. I can't just run away every time there's blood…”

“Is it-?” Ransom paused, grimacing. “Are you-?”

“It’s a rare disorder,” Bitty said quickly, voice monotone. “Porphyria. It’s why I wear sunscreen all the time, why I don’t eat with the team-”

“You don’t have any of the other symptoms though,” Ransom interrupted. “Pain, seizures, vomiting. And it doesn’t make you crave human blood . Bits.”

Bitty looked up at his name, shaking a little with...fear?

“It’s okay if you’re a vampire,” Ransom continued, not missing the way Bitty flinched at the word. “I mean, as long as you’re not killing anyone.”

“Ransom,” Bitty said glibly. “You’re pre-med, you don’t believe in- in monsters .”

Ransom shot him an unimpressed look. “I live with Holster. I’ve seen Twilight. And, like, weird shit happens to me all the time.”

“The ghosts?” Bitty asked softly.

“Yeah, them,” Ransom huffed. “Pretty sure my neighbor growing up was a werewolf. Or maybe just a hairy alcoholic.” At Bitty’s confused and horrified look, he added, “Dude woke up naked in our backyard, like, a hundred times.”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Bitty pleaded. “Please.”

“Of course,” Ransom said, sitting back on his heels. “Not that anyone would believe me…”

“I need to clean up,” Bitty said after a moment, looking around the room. “If MooMaw hears about this…”

“She won’t, because nothing happened,” Ransom said, standing and holding out a hand to Bitty. He took it and rose, slowly. “You just got nauseated at the sight of blood and left practice early. Tomorrow you’ll take a pie down to the coaches and apologize. Bits, it’ll be okay.”

Bitty sighed and began picking up plastic tubs. “If I end up killing someone again, the Council is gonna make me go back home to Georgia and live in the compound. I can’t be out there, or bake for anyone, or even listen to my music. There’s no skating, no hockey, nothing .” He sighed and sat down on the bed, face distraught. “If I go back there I’ll die .”

“Then, we’ll...work on it,” Ransom said with a shrug, feeling a little too much like Jack in this moment. “Somehow.”

Bitty’s lip quirked up at one corner. “Sure. We’ll just run some drills, learn not to murder people. Easy.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ransom said, clapping Bitty on the back. Bitty flinched involuntarily, then let his shoulders droop.

“You’re a good friend,” he said quietly, picking at some dirt under his nail to avoid looking up at Ransom. “And weirdly okay with... all of this .”

Ransom shrugged and picked up a few scattered IV bags. “Got your back, bro.”

Bitty laughed and Ransom’s heart skipped a beat. Definitely in a gay way.

[My writing tag]

#bittyrans #bittyransom #omgcp rare pair #anna writes things #check please!#vampire au #a different one lol #omgcp fic

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footballfinns · 7 years ago

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Talking It Out

Summary: Finn and Rachel work out their relationship some more.

Finn knew the more he talked the bigger the whole he would dig, but as usual when emotions ran high he couldn't stop himself until he just flat out didn't want to go home to her. He had been miserable living at Kurt’s house, but there was a part of him that wondered if he would have gone home so soon if he had really had a place to go. Especially when things still felt this way with his wife. He hung out at Puck’s apartment for as long as he could before he decided he had enough of sitting in the marijuana fumes and watching Puck play video games. He hadn't been in the mood to do anything but sit there and think. After leaving Puck’s, he took his time getting to the apartment and sighed as he stepped in and quietly shed his shoes and jacket at the door.

Rachel wanted to throw the dinner she'd made specially for Finn out the window. Instead, she wrapped it up and put it in the refrigerator and laid down on the sofa. Her feet froze because of the drafty window but she didn't bother with the blanket. The whole conversation with her husband had left her drained and feeling… stupid? Low? All of the above. Every problem in their marriage felt like it was her fault and she was never going to be able to make it right. Sighing, she turned herself so her back was to the room. She cried quietly until she heard a key in the door, swiping at her eyes quickly.

Finn started to walk back to the bedroom, but stopped when he noticed her on the couch. “Hey. Thought you'd be in bed or something.” He leaned against the back of the couch.

Rachel wasn’t sure how to respond. That she didn’t go to bed because she didn’t want to force him to sleep next to her? Or she didn’t want to be anywhere she wasn’t wanted but had no place else to go? Nothing she could say wouldn’t sound pathetic. “I just didn’t make it that far.”

“Okay..” He stayed next to her for a moment before accepting that she wasn't interested in talking to him at all. “Okay, well I'm going to go to bed… if you're planning on doing that anytime soon.” he walked to the bedroom and stripped down to his boxers before climbing into bed.

Rachel was about to turn over and attempt a conversation but he was out of the room before she had the chance. Her cheek pressed against the small throw pillow she’d been laying on, Rachel knowing full well her neck would be sore from it by the morning. The tears were quiet - she’d already upset Finn enough for one day - and she thought about what it would be like to have him gone again. How quiet the apartment would be, how lonely. Everything would remind her of him because everything was ‘theirs’ instead of ‘hers.’ The only thing worse than him actually going was the idea that he wanted to, Rachel having to bite the inside of her mouth to keep her sobs inside.

Finn sighed as he lay in bed by himself. He hated it when one of them refused to sleep in bed. If there was anything worse than sleeping apart, it was doing it and only being feet away from each other. He got up and walked out to the living room, peeking over the couch to see if she was still awake. “Are you going to come sleep with me?” He asked softly.

Though it was dark in the living room, Rachel still wondered if he could see her how badly she felt, how bruised her heart was. Had she no self control, she would have jumped into his arms and let him carry her to bed where she would cuddle into him and sleep soundly through the night. Her reserve had to be greater than that, so she sat up and fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt instead. “I want to but I don’t want you to lose sleep because I’m there and we’re not… getting along.”

“I mean, yeah it sucks but I'm not too much happier with you on the couch… so we might as well just go to bed like normal.”

Rachel had mistaken something in his original question as kindness, or the want to have her near him like she wanted him to her. Hearing his ‘we might as well’ attitude caused a sharp pain in her throat. “You’re right.” Standing from the couch, she buckled slightly because of her numb feet.

Finn reached out to help her “You okay?” He asked her as he kept his arm around her.

Rachel’s eyes began to water again. She was absolutely not okay and, without thinking, she turned into Finn and put both arms around him. “I’m sorry.”

It took him a moment to catch up but he wrapped his arm around her slowly. “I am too.” He said quietly.

Rachel held on tighter, unsure of what to say next. It was how she imagined he’d felt when he told her he had been careful not to tip the balance in their relationship lately. Avoiding a fight was key. But if they couldn’t talk candidly to one another… then what? “This was all I wanted.” Even if it made her the most boring wife on the planet, it was true.

“You were being kind of mean… I thought you didn't want me around at all.”

“I want you around constantly. It’s likely part of the reason I got upset about spending quiet time at home being less exciting than other things.” Rachel finally managed to look at him, her eyes still glistening. “I am not a fun, party girl. I’m just me. And there’s always going to be a part of me that wants you to be happy with a wife that’s like that.”

“I'm fine with it. I mean, yeah.. Sometimes it would be cool if you liked to go do things that I like to do but I do like being home with you too. I don't expect you to change.”

“I’d like to do things you like to do with you, mostly because I like being with you.” Her eyes dropped and her nerves jumped to life. “I just want to be a good wife and a good best friend. Maybe that’s silly and old fashioned but it’s important to me.”

“It's not silly… We are supposed to want that. You are a good wife and best friend.”

Rachel wanted to cry again, her sensitivity feeling like the greatest detriment that their marriage faced at the moment. “I'm trying to be. It just felt like you were bored and would rather be out with friends and having fun than indulging my clinginess.”

“I don't know why you would think that. I chose you over Puck like three times when he first got here. I choose you every time.”

“I don't think it's me versus him and I don't want you to have to choose.” Her hair tickled her neck as she shook her head. “You're not the only one in this marriage who feels less than sometimes. And after everything we went through recently, I'm just a little unsure of myself.”

Finn frowned “Well I'm sorry that you're feeling that way because of me..”

“It's more complex than that. I think I try too hard then I feel like I overdo things which means I have to pull back but I end up doing that too much. I know that makes no sense. I don't know how to explain myself any other way.” Her hands covered her face, the frustration she was feeling with herself getting the best of her. “I'm kind of a mess.”

Finn had to admit that it was kind of nice not being the only one who was insecure. He hated the feeling it brought to see her like that, but he did not feel so alone. “I'm just not that hard to please, I don't think. I'm happy as long as we are getting time together and being close.”

Even though Finn may not have seen it, Rachel smiled a little. It was the first time in awhile that she’d felt the burden of having to be everything rise off her shoulders and it made her feel like they were them again. “You aren’t. Like I said, I get ahead of myself sometimes and I can’t seem to keep myself under control.” Her hand found his as she laid her head to his chest. “I love you. And I don’t want to fight or for everything to be weird. I really am sorry when I make that happen. It’s the last thing I want.”

“I love you too. I hate fighting with you more than anything.” He gave her a kiss on the forehead.

The kiss was pure relief, Rachel wishing it was a real one. Baby steps, she told herself. “Can we forgive and make up then?”

“I would like that.” He smiled.

“Good.” Rachel's arms were around his neck, her legs stretched as far as they could go, when she kissed him. Her hope was that he'd accept the affection like he had the apology.

Finn wrapped both arms around her and gave her a soft kiss, his forehead resting against hers when it was over.

A shiver moved along her spine, the whole of her tingling as they kissed. It almost made her sad that their lips had to part. “I should change into pajamas but I don't want to be anywhere but here right now.”

“Well I will cuddle with you after if that helps.”

“You know my true weaknesses.” Finally, she let go of all but his hand, an indication that she wanted him to come to their room with her. “Since we're forgiving, does that mean I can wear one your shirts?”

He followed after her and shrugged “Sure you can. You know I love it when you do.”

“I do. But they're still yours and it's good to ask.” She parted from him in the doorway and plucked the first t-shirt she could find from the drawer. Eying the bathroom, she decided the effort was beyond her so she started changing where she was.

Finn sat on the bed, his eyes on her as she changed. He wanted to be blatant about his sharing but he looked away, deciding that maybe it was too soon after fighting to be too intimate.

Rachel wanted to peek over her shoulder and know if he was watching her. She liked the way his gaze normally followed the lines of her body as she moved and even though it might've been inappropriate to want at the moment, she wished she could see that familiar expression. But she didn't turn until she was covered and he was looking away at that point.

Finn scoot back on the bed and got comfortable and ready for her to join him. “I really do love it when you wear my shirts.” He commented.

Rachel smiled as she climbed on the bed and moved in close to her husband. “I know. I'm the only woman on earth who doesn't need lingerie to seduce my husband. Just one of his old football t-shirts.”

“You're making me sound like I'm weird.” He joked. “Are you seducing me?” He asked with a teasing smirk.

“Not weird at all. It's like you said, you're not difficult to please.” Turning into him, his expression made her skin prick with heat. “What if I were?”

“Speaking of lingerie… you bought something that you wouldn't let me see when Puck was here… I wanna know.” He bit his lip, a little surprised because Rachel had set the standard of waiting after fights to have sex. “Then…. I would have to let you.” He said with a laugh.

“That was suppose to be for a very special follow-up striptease. All I'm going to say is that I think you'll like it when you see it.” Rachel normally was more reserved in their intimacy when things had been strained between them. But they were technically making up, and sex was usually part of that. “Which could be now, if you think something like that is seductive?” Her breath teased the skin of his neck before her lips moved there, Rachel giving him a chance to weigh his options though she was sure it wouldn't be clearly.

Finn smiled as she offered to show him “You know I can't say no to that.” His eyes closed as she kissed his neck.

Rachel didn't make the move to stop right away. First she bruised his skin ever so slightly, leaving him with her tease at the forefront of his thoughts. “Don't start without me.” Grabbing the small bag from one of her drawers, Rachel ducked into the bathroom. Changing was as simple as tossing his shirt on the counter and slipping into the skant lingerie set. It left little to the imagination, the deep amethyst of the lace trimming her breasts and the barest bit between her thighs. Rachel couldn't believe she was actually wearing it, much less that he'd see her in it. Taking a deep breath, she teased her hair before leaning with her back to the door frame. “Well?”

Finn hadn't expected things to take this turn at all. He moved to sit against the headboard, anticipating her walking back out. When she did, he was not disappointed at all. “So sexy.” He bit his lip. “I love it.”

Rachel turned fully toward him, the sway of her hips emphasized as she walked to the edge of the bed. “You should come a little closer. I have something for you.”

Finn crawled to the edge of the bed and sat down. He was trying hard not to be hands as he looked up at her.

Rachel leaned forward, palms on his knees, and let a kiss build between them slowly. Her hands inched apart his legs and she moved between them as she faced away. She didn't know if what she planned would be considered an actual lap dance since she was unsure of what that entailed. But she slid her body against his, her nearly bare back against his chest as she angled her hips so the curve of her ass pressed into him.

Finn couldn't believe she was actually doing this. He hadn't ever had a lapdance before so he didn't have much if a reference or a want to judge hers. He let his hand move up to her waist, needing to touch her a little bit.

Rachel smiled at the feel of his hands - she had to be doing something right if he couldn't keep them to himself. Her hips rolled as she reached to unhook her top, the grind of her body to his growing in intensity. Her hands covered his, bringing them up her sides then leaving them to rest on her breasts. She moaned at the feeling, Rachel wanting Finn to know how much he turned her on.

He was in heaven feeling Rachel move against him this way, watching her shed the already minimal clothing on her. His fingers toyed with her nipples as she placed his hands on her breasts and his mouth left kisses on her now bare back.

A shot of heat coursed through Rachel, Finn’s touch and his kiss making her whole body shiver with desire. This was what she needed - the distraction from their problems and woes, to be lost in this inexplicable thing he always made her feel. They didn’t have to be adults or worry about jobs or bills or… anything. They could be together, no burdens to bear. “You’re… breaking all the rules. And I like it.”

“I didn't know there were rules.” He said with a soft chuckle. “But I can't help it. You're so fucking hot. I can't believe you're mine and I get to touch you.”

Rachel couldn’t resist turning her head, her lips reaching for a real kiss. It was but a taste of what she really wanted but she would happily take it, especially when it was accompanied by him talking her up. “All yours, baby. To touch how and wherever you want.”

Finn kissed her back heatedly “You're not done putting on a show yet, are you?” He asked with a teasing smile.

Rachel’s lip caught between her teeth, contemplating his question. “Not just yet.” Moving away from him, she turned to face him, her body on display. “Maybe I should lose these?” Her thumbs slid under the band of her panties.

Finn looked up at her, sure his excitement was showing. He couldn't understand the psychology behind being so turned on by her taking clothes off of a body he had seen a million times, but it was working for him. “You should.” He nodded his head.

The material was soft against her hip as she slid it down. She stepped away from the garment, a smile shaping her lips as her eyes met Finn’s. “Better?”

Finn couldn't help but run his hands up her torso “so good.” He kissed along her stomach.

Rachel's fingers combed at his hair as he kissed her. She loved the way it felt and the tenderness he was exhibiting. “I'm glad to see you enjoyed it.”

“Of course I did. You're so sexy. I love it when you do things like this for me.” He tugged on her arm hoping to get her to move back to the bed with him.

Finn needed no insistence when it came to get Rachel into bed with him, especially when he was complimenting her. “Well, I am crazy about you so little something special once in awhile is a given.” Sitting down in his lap, she kissed his lips before moving to his neck. “But you've got me naked and turned on. You should probably use that to your advantage.”

“Oh, I plan to baby. You've got me so hard.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her so he could safely roll her onto her back and pepper kisses along her neck.

Finally on her back, underneath her husband, she sighed happily. Nothing felt more right, his lips on her skin the one exception. “I could feel that, baby.” Rachel shifted her thigh so it rubbed against Finn's erection and gave him friction he likely needed. “You're so big, it's impossible to miss.”

He groaned against her skin before sitting up so he could take his boxers off, which were the only clothing he had on. He moved between her legs as he kissed her again, his hips teasingly pushing against her.

The momentary separation would have caused Rachel to pout had watching not been so enticing. It always baffled her that he couldn't see how sexy he was, especially when something as simple as him moving could make her practically touch herself. He was back before she got to that point, though she was sure she appreciated his teasing. “Don't be mean.” Rachel pushed up a little so her body was flush against his. “You know how bad I want you right now.” Her leg pulled him snugly against her as she ran her nails down his back. Her lips worked on his neck before her teeth nibbled on his ear. “Please, baby. I need you to fuck me.”

He had been prepared for more foreplay, but her words were the end of that for him. Reaching between them, he guided his member into her, a low groan leaving him as he pushed his hips into her.

Rachel moaned into his neck, the feeling of him inside her stirring so many emotions. Everything was good, and right, and she couldn't think of anything better than being with him after the difficulties their relationship had recently faced. Here, she was safe and assured. She kissed him as he began to move against her, the words forming so easily. “I love you.”

He knew it may have been wrong, but this was the point where he always felt validated that they had made up and things were better. When they could be together completely like is. “I love you so much.” he replied before focusing more on making her feel good. His lips moved to her neck as he thrust into her.

Rachel held tight to Finn, her whole body wrapped around his. She held nothing back, Finn’s body eliciting a reaction that she knew he enjoyed as much as she did.

Hearing Rachel's moans urged Finn to move harder into her, wanting to hear more and more of that. “You've got me close baby.” He warned her.

Rachel smiled, at least as much as she could, and let her head fall back about against the bed as he continued to push her toward release. “You’re the good one. Just touch me, baby. That’s all I need.”

Finn reached between them to press his finger against her clit as he moved into her. His body tightened as he released, a small groan leaving him as he finished.

The feeling of his fingers and his orgasm pushed Rachel over the edge, her body coming completely undone just after his. She slumped against the bed, inhaling slowly through her nose before making a satisfied sound.

Finn peppered kisses along the top of her chest and her neck for a moment before rolling to lay on the bed beside her. “I think we needed that.”

Rachel didn't like the fact that he moved away from her but she let him, knowing he needed a minute or two to recover as well. “It always feels right when I'm close to you, no doubt about it.”

He looked over at her with a smile “I'm glad we made up. It makes everything stressful when things are bad between us.”

“It does. And it's hard because I don't think either of us knows when or what to say at times.” She smiled back at him, reaching for his hand. “Is it bad that this makes it better without words sometimes?”

“i don't think that's bad.. It's like the best way to show our feelings.” He shrugged.

Rachel turned onto her stomach and looked down at him. “It's no surprise that you think that. But you aren't wrong. It definitely has its benefits.” She kissed him softly. “Especially being close to you. That's my favorite part.”

“It is the best part to me too. It has emotional aspects for me too, you know.” He gave her a playful smile.

“I know. If I thought any differently, we wouldn't be married.” Rachel twisted a lock of his hair around her finger. “But you also like the naked breasts aspect, which is fine.”

“Well yeah, I have a super hot wife. Being attracted to you is like an awesome perk.”

“True, especially when your husband is sexy and knows his way around the bedroom.”

“Well good thing we find each other so hot.” He gave her a kiss.

“We never really have.” Which was true. If nothing else, the attraction had always existed between the two of them. It was a prominent part of the intimacy they shared and, like they’d both just expressed, that helped them get through the times when words seemed to fail. For a long time, she felt that was somehow a detriment - that communication should be more functional than sex and how could they ever survive without being able to talk? Time was gradually changing her mind. Not on the importance of being able to communicate but that being ‘good’ at the sex part didn’t make them worse at talking. If anything, it added a necessary layer to their relationship. As long as sex wasn’t all they had, she would be satisfied with the state of things. “I’m just glad we have more than one way of working towards a better place.”

“Me too. I hope that we stay in a good place now.” He said as he rest his head beside her.

“All we can do is try and take it day by day.” Rachel's gaze fell on his face. “Right now, I'm feeling quite in love with you.”

“I'm feeling very in love with you too.” He smiled. “I always do.”

Rachel sighed and bumped his nose with her own, the warmth of his breath against her skin making her feel cozy. “I would make a joke about the lingerie being the culprit, but I like very much when you’re in love with me for no reason at all.” She moved a little closer, both of them having had the time to fully come down from their excursion.

“Well.. The lingerie helped.” He teased, giving her a kiss. “But you know that I just love you more than anything.”

“I do. Just like I love you the same.” Which was what made the fighting so hard for her, and she assumed him as well. She could never reconcile two people loving one another as much as they seemed to making attacks one another. Butting heads and differences of opinion, those she understood. The fights, though… they were, like he said, hated more than anything. “And I’m glad we got to share a night like this, even if it started out rough.”

“i am too. The rest of my week should be a lot better than it has been. It always works that way when things are good here.”

Rachel nodded. “At least when thing are good between us, the other stuff seems a little less daunting when it comes up. I can deal with school and work and stress if we’re good.”

“Yeah, me too. I'm not so annoyed all the time.” He said with a laugh.

“No one wants that.” Her fingers stroked his cheek as she kissed him. “Especially since you smile more when you're not and your smile gives me butteflies.”

He tried not to smile but failed, shaking his head “Cheesy.” He nudged her. “I like that you still feel that way about me.”

“I am but I'm kind of cute too.” His nudge made her blush in that ridiculous way only she could, even though she'd been grinding on him like a stripper not long ago. “I always want to feel that way about you. The one of my favorite things about being in love with you. It feels the same in so many ways as it did in the beginning.”

Finn often worried that their fighting would end in them losing their feelings, so hearing that she still felt the way she did in the beginning made Finn feel relief and happiness. He didn't want to start too emotional of a conversation though, so he just kissed her. “I feel the same, baby.”

Without much invitation, Rachel politely curled herself under his arm. The space was basically ‘her spot’ at this point in their relationship so she was sure he didn't mind. “Oh yeah? Do I give you butterflies?” Her smile turned mischievous as she poked a bit of fun to lighten the mood. “Am I going to find an old notebook with ‘Finn + Rachel = TLA’ in it?”

Finn laughed as his arm moved around her shoulder. “What does TLA mean?!” He shook his head. “I only stalked you a little bit, okay? You're not gonna find any proof.”

Rachel giggled right along with him, the idea that he’d ever ‘stalked’ her truly amusing seeing as Finn wasn’t made to be stealthy. He was much too tall and noticeably attractive for that. “It means true love always. And you’re not creepy enough to stalk anyone.”

“I don't think I ever got that into someone to stalk them.” He said with a laugh. “I'm glad I'm not creepy… enough.”

“You aren’t creepy at all, baby.” Rachel gave him a kiss, assuring him of her words. “Protective and sweet is more your style. Smart and funny too.”

He smiled at her words “You love me.” He gave her another kiss.

“More than anything in the whole world.” Moving slightly, she stretched her back before settling next to her husband. “I settled on the fact that you were the very best and most important thing in my life long ago. I can live without lots of things. You, however… well, I don’t ever want to find out what it’s like having to.”

“I feel the same way. I mean, even just that week away from you was the worst. I hated it.”

Not wanting to think about any of that experience, Rachel kissed her husband. “We're here now. That's what matters most.”

“Yeah, that's true. Hopefully we will never experience that again.”

The thought of a fight that led to Finn moving out gave Rachel anxiety and turned her stomach in knots. All she could do was settle back next to him. “Hopefully.”

He turned to give her a kiss “I'm getting tired.”

Rachel gave him a small smile. “Me too. Tomorrow is an early morning.”

“Can we plan a weekend off together soon?” he asked her as he snuggled close with a yawn.

“That sounds good. I'll double check the schedule at work and we'll firm things up tomorrow night. Okay?”

“Okay, that works for me.” He gave her another kiss. “Goodnight baby. I love you.”

“I love you too. Goodnight.”

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chargenovasmash · 7 years ago

Text

Thicker than Blood, Pt. I [Cousins AU]

FINALLY. This one hurt, folks. 3775 words of pain. Thank my love @pathfindersemail for not letting me give up on this.

Puck goes home to her brother after dropping Sarianna’s drunk ass back at the Tempest, and things start to fall apart.

Read on AO3.

Nights like this, when a hushed vidcall whisked his sister away unceremoniously at some ridiculous hour, left Oliver Park with plenty of time to think.

Too much. Too much time to wonder if keeping to his silent memorization of her antics was enough; whether the face she showed him or the one she showed the rest of Kadara was the true mask, and whether her lies, old as she was and proliferating as they were the more she worked for Reyes, would catch up to them sooner or later.

The sky was already a few shades lighter by the time the soft whirring of the shack’s door announced her return. His sister, the formidable outlaw known as ‘Puck’, dragged her feet across the threshold, wrenched off her grisly helmet, and let it fall irreverently on an empty crate next to her. Oliver watched silently as she stared at the floor for a moment after the door shut behind her, heaving exhausted breaths in and out before realizing she wasn’t quite safe from all scrutiny just yet.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

A classic Reggie response. No explanations, no excuses, and certainly no apologies.

“I didn’t say anything,” Oliver replied with a shrug as she shed piece after piece of her armor, like she couldn’t get it off of her quickly enough. The tension in his neck and shoulders released bit by bit with each hard clank on the floor. Little by little, she left ‘Puck’ and everything her alias entailed behind. Soon, it was just Reggie standing in front of him again, desperately trying to counter the ever-present nuisance of helmet hair as she secured the top half of her undersuit around her waist and let the skin exposed by her fraying tank top breathe real air once more.

“I know, that's why I said ‘don't look at me like that’.”

An emerging trend in this routine was a stab of bittersweet melancholy once his sister’s face was wholly hers again. It hadn't changed much over the years, although she’d lightened her hair from the same deep black as his to a warm chestnut brown and went from a tight ponytail to cut short and shaggy once helmet hair became a daily inevitability. Years weren't what wore on her, though. He was, his burdens that she'd been fighting him to carry since they were kids. Four years her senior, he’d always been her hero, her Superman; the last thing Oliver ever wanted was to be to his sister the reason she looked so damn tired.

The heaviness in that idea wouldn’t let him laugh at her joke like he knew she wanted. Instead, he gathered her into a tight hug, the fraternal sort that ended with a healthy rake of his knuckles across the top of her head. The screech inlaid with rolling, high-pitched laughter as she tore out of his arms drew out a chuckle, and things felt okay again. This was normal. This...this, he would let be his fault.

“You okay, assmaster?” she taunted, and threw a light shove at his shoulder. “Anything happen while I was gone?”

Oliver plucked a wrench off of the shelf next to him and waved it back and forth between two fingers.

“Well, buttface, I dropped this, and it made a loud noise.”

Whether from his facetious answer or his low effort contribution of ‘buttface’ he couldn’t say, but Reggie’s entire body groaned.

“Chodefarmer,” she muttered, a smile teasing at her face as she opened her omni-tool. Starting that medical scanning software she’d stolen from the Nexus before they left, no doubt. “How’s your head? Any better?”

It was his turn to let his entire body groan. Not a day had gone by since he woke on this evil-smelling rock that he hadn’t spent at least a few minutes awash in the orange glow of that fucking scanner.

“Just fine, dicksocket,” he replied, giving it a bit more thought this time. Predictably, she grinned her approval behind the omni-tool screen, but she didn’t reply. Data from her scans raced in between them and held her attention, interrupting the succor he’d found in the flow of banter between them. Brows furrowed, Oliver waved a hand in front of her, hoping to break her concentration. “Come on, put that thing away.”

“Shh,” she hissed, swatting his hand away while keeping her eyes glued on the screen. “I’ve gotta-”

“Hey, Reg…” Momentarily abandoning their game, Oliver set a firm but gentle hand on her arm and slowly lowered it. He met her protesting eyes with raised brows he hoped would drive the point home.

“I’m fine, kiddo.”

When she was younger, Reggie would pop her hips out to one side, plant her hands on them, sneer exactly the way she was now and defiantly insist she was absolutely not a ‘kiddo’. Now, it was all she could do not to let him know just how endearing the nickname had become. He leaned in a little closer, eyes still locked on hers, and waggled his eyebrows as if to say, you know I’m right.

She did, but she didn’t want to. Stubborn as she was, a tacit understanding existed between them: no secrets, and no lies, including whether or not Oliver was, indeed, fine. Her face softened for a moment with a reluctant exhale, and, in true Reggie form, hid immediately behind a smirk rather than say the words out loud.

“We’re on ‘E’,” she huffed, closing her omni-tool and struggling to keep the smirk from widening any further, “and it’s my turn, elcor breath.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I’m fine,” he retorted, plastering a smug grin across his face, “fart factory.”

Reggie shook her head between snickers, and brushed past him in search of the large crate in the next room that held their stash of food. That one always made her laugh, whether she wanted to or not, and this time was no exception. For everything about Reggie that changed, there were a precious few that never would, and Oliver was content for the moment knowing that was one of them.

“So, what was it?”

“What was what?” she called through a mouthful of some sort of jerky. He wasn’t sure he really wanted to know what she made it from. He was, however, sure that she knew what he meant; when Reggie asked for clarification like that, it only meant he wouldn’t like the answer.

“What was so important you had to rush out of here in the middle of the night without saying where you were going?”

The rummaging stopped, and the crate lid fell shut. Reggie appeared in the doorway a moment later, still vigorously chewing, eyeing him with a rancor that didn’t match her nonchalant shrug.

“It wasn’t.”

Or, it meant he really wouldn’t like the answer.

Typical Reggie evasiveness, skirting around the temptation to lie by avoiding the subject altogether. Between the racket she made when she left waking him and the anxiety of waiting for her to come back, Oliver wasn’t in the mood for games.

“You’re not Puck here, you know.”

Her face scrunched into the exaggerated look she always gave when she was playing dumb.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Oliver couldn’t have asked for a better demonstration of what he’d just told her.

“It means when you make that face here, I can actually see it.”

Her face leveled into a scowl, and Oliver couldn't resist a hushed chuckle at how her protest only reinforced his point. He walked to the crate by the door and lifted her helmet off of it, giving it a soft toss upwards and catching it just next to his head with a taunting shake. “It means this…this is…”

He saw it out of the corner of his eye, and grasped the helmet with two hands in front of him for closer inspection. At first, he thought it might have been a seam in the plating he'd never noticed before, but instead of a smooth, straight line, it was crooked, bent inward and dented around it. Some of the circuitry inside was visible. Not seamed. Broken.

“Shit, this...this had to be one hell of a blow, Reg.” He raised his head slowly to look at her, only blinking when the sting in his eyes reminded him of the necessity. “What happened?”

Reggie snatched it from him with the same wide-eyed consternation as if it were some private thing, like she’d caught him going through her holos or her extranet browser history.

“Nothing. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Oliver folded his arms across his chest and quirked one eyebrow.

“Okay, except yes, I do.” He gestured towards the helmet cradled in her arms with a flat, open hand. “That could easily have been way worse. You said this one would be easy, and you should’ve been back hours ago.”

Reggie relegated the helmet to the floor with the rest of her armor and folded her arms in front of her, her face set in the sort of indignant look mothers gave their children when they need to wordlessly emphasized what they’d just fucking said.

Oliver sighed, and shook his head.

“I know...I know you’re helping him to help me. I get it. But...is all this really worth it just to keep me from getting headaches?”

“It’s not just headaches, Ollie, and you know it.”

He did. The Initiative disqualified most L2 biotics from participating, and for good reason. Cryostasis was risky, and the revival process for an L2, especially one as finicky and troublesome as his, required time and the utmost care and precision. None of which, of course, were afforded him when Kett shot their shuttle out of the sky and it was either burning to death in his stasis pod, or being dragged out to risk severe stasis sickness and, well, his own brain killing him. Out of the frying pan, he supposed. The seizures, at least, had stopped for the most part, and the migraines were starting to retreat back to their somewhat bearable pre-cryo level. He shot a begrudging glance at the old white cane leaning in a corner; it had gleefully been abandoned there for a week now, but he tasted a lingering bitterness in his mouth at having ever relied on it at all.

“And what do you mean, ‘all this’?”

“This!” Unable to focus on a single thing to point out, he threw his hands into the air, the haphazard flailing motions encompassing everything a simple explanation could not. The armor littering the floor, the few things they owned or inherited from the shack’s previous owner in perfect order yet somehow in complete disarray, the busted helmet that should never have been his sister’s face to begin with.

“I hate that you have to stick your neck out and do shit like this because of me. That’s not your job, Reggie, it’s mine.”

Her face fell in a deadpan straightness as she cocked her head to one side. Oliver felt like a petulant child in a history vid, wailing that, in running herself ragged to keep him alive, his sister had stolen his birthright. What jabbed at him the most, though, wasn’t that it was his little sister instead of himself who hid her face and played sidekick to a smuggler for his sake; it was the fact that, if necessary, she’d do far worse.

“You and Reyes...this arrangement you have with him has done a lot for us, and I appreciate it, I do,” he began, in a half-assed attempt to be reassuring, “but...it’s not worth sitting up wondering if tonight’s the night he gets my baby sister killed.”

She knit her brows together, and her chest and shoulders rose in unison as she inhaled sharply through her nose and growled through her teeth. “Seriously, Ollie?”

“Yes, Regina, seriously! What if you’re not so lucky next time? What if next time it’s your skull and not your helmet?”

Thanks to a cursedly vivid imagination, his hypothetical scenario felt very, very real. Too real. It was lucky. Any time he saw her could easily be the last, and her huff of haughty dismissal did little to ease his mind.

“You’re all I have left, kiddo. I can’t lose you too.”

His hands came to rest on her shoulders. She stared piquedly up at him before she relaxed, and curled one hand around his. That was Reggie, though, wasn’t it? Laughing in the face of things that could kill her on a whim and charging headlong into things she couldn’t be sure she could charge away from? Well, she would be sure, at least. ‘I can’t’, in that context, didn’t exist in her vocabulary.

“I promise, Ollie. It was nothing,” she replied, a hint of a fond smile pulling over her face. “Reyes wanted me to go get some drunk out of his room at Tartarus, and they got a little feisty.”

She puffed out a half-assed giggle as she spoke. Oliver bit at his lip; pain in the ass kid never took anything seriously.

“I’d call that more than ‘a little feisty’.”

If the stony frown that fell over Reggie’s face was any indication, his flippant tone failed miserably to convince her it was anything other than a smokescreen.

“Okay, look. I can fucking handle this shit, okay?” she spat, stepping backwards out of his hands and leaning indignantly against the crate. “Stop acting like it’s the end of the goddamned universe because Reyes asked me to go drag beans out of a fucking bar.”

With a roll of her eyes, she shoved off of the crate and paced around the room, head down and hands on her hips. Oliver rubbed at the back of his neck; the headaches never really went away, but they sure as hell spread down to his neck and shoulders when Reggie said stupid shit like that. A practical amount of caution was prudent, if anything, given their situation, and if dragging beans out of a bar for Reyes meant she came home with a gigantic dent in her helmet, it was more than…

Wait…

Something about that phrase was...familiar. It poked blindly at his memory, like someone trying to find a keyhole in a dark room. Irritating, to be sure, but resolute, sure he’d figure it out if he just kept trying. His eyes found her once more, narrowed into slits and staring beams through her skull.

“...what did you just say?”

Reggie made a face. “What?”

“Just now, what did you say?”

“‘What’?” she replied, mocking him by waving her hands next to her head. Oliver only rolled his eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious. You said you had to drag ‘beans’ out of a bar.”

“Yeah, a dead-weighted person? A sack of beans?”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow, and cleared his throat with a gruff hack. “Yeah, Reg, you’ve never used that analogy in your life. In fact, the only person you’ve ever referred to as ‘Beans’ is...is…”

No. It couldn’t be.

He raised his head, eyes round, simultaneously hoping for and dreading confirmation.

“Sara.”

And there it was, in the minute tics at the corners of Reggie’s eyes and mouth, and the way the words hung in her mouth. His heart started to race, and he clenched a fist, symbolically grasping the revelation.

Shit...she’s here. Sara’s here. They made it.

“It’s been over a year, Ollie. Sara’s dead. They’re all dead. The ark’s gone.”

Oliver’s breath caught in his throat, and heat flushed through his cheeks. He'd seen that look on his sister’s face a thousand-no, thousands of times before. Well, he'd observed it. It was a look she gave everyone else to puppy-eye them into believing every word she said, and it always melted away the moment she was alone with him again. Now that he was the look’s recipient, however, he wondered at just how she’d managed to avoid getting her ass knocked out for it.

She lied, right to his fucking face.

There had to be some reason, some explanation. Sara didn't get drunk enough to need dragged away from anywhere without cause, so something must've happened. Was she marooned here? A fight with her dad? Exiled herself, perhaps?

No, no way. Internally, Sara was as much at odds with her father as Reggie was, but where Reggie made no secret of it and could barely be in the same room with the man without trying to bite his head off over one thing or another, Sara kept it to herself. She played by the rules. Besides, if she was exiled from the Initiative, there's no reason Reggie would've dragged her anywhere other than back here. She was in Reyes’s room at Tartarus, so maybe...no, definitely not that. Even then, Reggie would think it was too funny not to tell him about it.

No, there was only one reason he could think of that she'd want him to think Sara was dead, a stupid and infuriatingly selfish reason that only made his lip curl harder.

She was happy playing outlaw on Kadara, and if Sara was alive, there’d be no reason to stay.

Oliver remained silent long enough that Reggie’s shoulders started to relax, and she adopted a kind half-smile that served as an apologetic gesture of sorts. That the Hyperion was lost, all of the Initiative’s plans had gone to shit, and no one else was coming was an unspoken consensus between them, accepted as fact but never uttered out loud. In truth, he said nothing not because of what she said, but because there was too much he wanted to say. The words stuck in a gaggle in his mind, too frantic to organize themselves enough to be manageable.

A dull throbbing manifested at the base of his skull, and he could feel the hairs there start to stand on end with the threat of rising biotic energy. Great. He wasn't glowing yet, at least, but he drew out his next inhale in hopes it wouldn't get to that point. Glowing would hurt. Anything more than that might kill him.

When she reached forward to place a reassuring hand on his arm, he scoffed, and heaved the only word he could get past his lips:

“Wow…”

Reggie sighed and pursed her lips to one side.

“Hey, I know it’s bullshit, but-”

‘Bullshit’ was a vast oversimplification. Oliver closed his eyes and threw one hand up in front of her face, the other clenched into a fist at his hip. This ended now.

“See, this is exactly what I’m talking about,” he interrupted, centering his eyes on hers so there could be no doubt in her mind how painfully serious he was. “I know every lie you’ve ever told, but not one of them has ever, ever been to me.”

His skin was bathed in pins and needles. The thought raced through his mind like a gremlin, grabbing and nagging and clawing through every attempt he made to block it.

She lied, she lied, she lied, she fucking lied...

“This work, these people you’re dealing with...it’s changing you.”

Blood pounded through his neck and in his wrists, both of his fists clenched now, desperately holding on to the last bits of control he had. Despite the spearing pain at the realization that he’d never, ever had to preface a question to her this way, he had to ask. He had to know. He had to hear her say it.

“Tell me the truth, Reggie. Sara’s alive, isn’t she?”

She wouldn’t even say the word. She just stood there, twitching her head up and down in the tiniest nod she could possibly have managed.

God damn it, Reggie. God damn it.

“How long?” he muttered under his breath, despite knowing full well he wouldn’t be able to keep his biotics at bay if he did.

She shifted on her feet a little, too stubborn to break eye contact but too...what, ashamed? To maintain it. It came out in a look that was both sinister, angry at him for figuring her out, and infuriatingly sheepish. She should be sheepish. Embarrassed. Of all her answers in this conversation, he was going to like this one the least. This one was going to hurt.

“A month, maybe.”

Fuck.

The pins and needles became tiny stings, steadily intensifying and radiating in all directions, setting his skin ablaze while leaving his insides impossibly cold, as if all the heat was being sucked out of him through the dark purple corona that erupted around him as the last of his control slipped away.

“Hey, wh…” Reggie gasped, throwing her arms towards him in a near panic, “Stop, okay? You'll hurt yourself!”

It did hurt.

It burned. It stung. It coursed through him, sped up his heart and breathing while seeming to slowly rip the very fibers of his muscles apart, pressing outward in excruciating throbs inside his skull, tearing his skin to pieces as if he’d explode if he let it go on much longer.

And that was only the biotics. The chorus in his mind continued, prodding and squeezing, crushing him to dust with every refrain.

She lied. She lied. She lied.

“Hey!”

Reggie managed to roar louder than his thoughts, and it jarred him enough to dissipate much of the energy, leaving him with only the familiar pins and needles again. Things were bearable, for now. She grabbed him by the arms and looked him over, seemingly relieved and satisfied he wouldn’t be in a coma anytime soon.

The chorus remained. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough, and he couldn’t let it slide. Not this time.

He tore backwards out of her arms and to the footlocker next to his bed. Inside was a rucksack, and a piecemeal set of armor scavenged from dead outlaws. He filled the rucksack with what little was left, and set about strapping the armor over his clothes.

“Ollie, what the fuck?” Reggie protested. He stormed past her, heaving the rucksack over one shoulder, and opened his omni-tool to access the door. She feigned disinterest at first, but her voice trembled in desperation a little more with each press of a button.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Oliver closed his omni-tool to the tune of the lock mechanism whirring open. As the panels separated and the blue-tinged landscape of early morning Kadara coalesced between them, he turned towards his sister once more, shifted the rucksack again, and straightened his back with a resolute stare.

“The port. I’m going to find her.”

#cousins au #charge nova drabble #oc: reggie park #oc: oliver park #this fucking sucked to write #seriously #UGH

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medea10 · 7 years ago

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My Review of Berserk (2016 - 2017)

THIS NEW STORY: It has been approximately two years since that fateful day when Guts nearly escaped a bloody hell-hole. Since that time, he roams the countryside. With one eye missing and an arm made of metal, he continues on a solo journey. But because of a brand on his neck, he has become a roaming target for demons that lurk in the night. This story of Berserk takes Guts into a whole new set-up with new allies, new enemies, but his attitude remains. Most of the first season is dedicated to finding Casca (who ends up missing), while the second season adds more characters that travel with Guts as they slay random demons. BETWEEN THE SUB AND THE DUB: First the sub. Unfortunately, it’s the same cast from the movie trilogy instead of the original cast from the television series. I’ve already made my views pretty clear that I liked the TV series cast better than the movie cast (with the exception of Takahiro Sakurai playing Griffith). For new character purposes, there are many voices I can recognize within seconds (including Mitsuki Saiga and Satomi Arai). Now for licensing purposes, this anime is being streamed by Crunchyroll and will eventually be released by Crunchyroll on Blu-ray and DVD with an English dub. So now Berserk has three licensors for the franchise. The original series is with Media Blasters, the movies are with Viz, and now Crunchyroll has the new series. Never mind…I think FUNimation has its hands in this as well. And with that said, let's talk about the new dub. I didn’t think it was possible, but they just made this shit worse than it possibly could be by replacing the remaining 3 voices with other people. I don’t want to pass judgment on the new voice actors. I honestly think Kaji Tang is okay as Guts. But it’s just a definite kick in the ears when they replaced Guts, Griffith, and Casca’s English voice actors. And seeing as the dubbing company is in L.A. and two of these voice actors are stationed in L.A., this seems really fishy. Especially since they’ve been doing these characters for almost 20 years and just recently did the movie trilogy. With that said, here’s the NEW English cast to Berserk 2016/2017. *Guts is played by Kaji Tang (known for Archer on Fate/stay night: UBW, Tsumugu on Kill la Kill, Kizakura on Danganronpa 3, Kouen on Magi, and Derflinger on Familiar of Zero) *Griffith is played by Steve Staley (known for Hitsugaya on Bleach, Neji on Naruto, Inumuta on Kill la Kill, Moondoggie on Eureka Seven, and Senri on Vampire Knight) *Casca is played by Karen Strassman (known for Takano on Higurashi, Suigintou on Rozen Maiden, Kallen on Code Geass, Anna on Monster, Miyuki on Lucky Star, Sawako on K-ON, and Yasuko on Toradora) OLD CHARACTERS: So it’s been two years since the events of the original series/story. So aside from Guts, where are the other memorable characters? Let’s start with the Band of the Hawk…oh…that’s right, they’re all dead. Except for little Ricket! Little Ricket grew up in 2 years and spends his time as an apprentice for a blacksmith. Princess Charlotte is still missing Griffith and her father is dead. Casca has no memories of her past left and literally has the mind of a child since the day she escaped from the blood-soaked, corpse-filled hell-hole. Griffith…is still a fucking demon! But somehow has acquired his human form back. NEW CHARACTERS: In a tough new world Guts is in with demons and evil spirits looming around, why don’t we add fairies, witches, and Christians? Yeah, why not?! First we have Puck, a fairy that’s there…He’s just there. Isidro is a young boy who takes a shine to Guts after he saved him. But I honestly think he’s just the comic relief of the show. Farnese in the first season was a leader of a prominent group of knights and was heavily religious. But after being saved by Guts on several occasions, Farnese and her right-hand man Serpico wound up traveling with Guts. Schierke is a witch-in-training who ends up helping Guts. And Sonia…I want to say this bitch has some sort of Stockholm Syndrome. She ends up following, helping, and praising Griffith. She's just a complete mystery! With that said, here’s what you might recognize these new characters from. JAPANESE CAST: *Puck is played by Kaoru Mizuhara (known for Misao on Lucky Star, Rea Amano on Mirai Nikki, and Satoshi on Anohana) *Isidro is played by Hiro Shimono (known for Hiro on ef – a tale of memories, Hiro on Soul Eater, Aoba on Durarara x2, Akihisa on Baka and Test, Connie on Attack on Titan, and Shou on Uta no Prince-sama) *Farnese is played by Yoko Hikasa (known for Mio on K-ON, Rias on High School DxD, Izumi on Working!!, Satan on Umineko, Yukinokouji on Inu x Boku SS, Young Rei on Free!, and singer to songs on Attack on Titan, K-ON, and Hayate) *Serpico is played by Kazuyuki Okitsu (known for Madarame on Genshiken Nidaime, Seishin on Shiki and Vincent Phantomhive on Black Butler) *Schierke is played by Chiwa Saito (known for Senjogahara on Monogatari, Natsumi on Sgt Frog, Aika on Aria the Animation, and Homura on Madoka Magica) *Sonia is played by Yoshino Nanjo (known for Eli on Love Live and Akio on Baka and Test) ENGLISH CAST: *Puck is played by Sarah Williams (known for Sayaka on Madoka Magica, Nonon on Kill la Kill, and Rika on SAO) *Isidro is played by Erik Krimerer (known for Takeshi on Your Lie in April, Sonic on One Punch Man, Ryuuji on Toradora and Alibaba on Magi) *Farnese is played by Erica Lindbeck (known for Kaori on Your Lie in April, Eli on Love Live, Anaru on Anohana, Moko on Skip Beat, and Gyokuen on Magi) *Serpico is played by Max Littleman (known for Saitama on One Punch Man, Kousei on Your Lie in April, [older] Konohamaru on Naruto/Boruto, and Yunan on Magi) *Schierke is played by Mela Lee (known for Rena on Higurashi, Erika on Durarara, Shinku on Rozen Maiden, Rin on Fate/stay night, Yuuki on Vampire Knight, and Darry on Gurren Lagann) *Sonia has not been announced yet. NEW FAVORITE CHARACTER: So in the old Berserk series, I enjoyed Casca very much. But in this series, unfortunately Casca’s memories and mind are just…well, let’s not go there. This time, I found myself liking Luca from the 2016 season. I don’t care that she’s a literal whore. She was faithful to her friends and did what she had to in order to survive. And did her best to protect Casca and even help out Guts. She’s one of the nicest characters out there in a world of uncertainty, demons, and God-fearing dick-wads. SHIPPING: Sighs...Someday dammit! Someday! Schierke x Guts is still cute though... MUSIC: As you know, the original Berserk had one of the best OST’s in anime history (excluding the opening and ending themes). And even those themes were pretty awesome in their own way. Now if there was one thing I was satisfied with watching this abomination, the music was decent. The background music was fitting and definitely a step up from the movie trilogy. As for the opening and ending, I really loved the first opening. The music I mean, the animation can suck it. The first opening shows a 1:30 condensed story to Guts’s time with the Band of the Hawk, while the second opening shows more action with the new cast. The two ending themes were softer than the openings. But if I had to choose my favorite songs, I would pick the 2016 opening, Inferno by 9mm Parabellum Bullet and the 2017 ending, Issai wa Monogatari by Yoshino Nanjo. ANIMATION: So did the animation improve after the movies? Hell no! I don’t condone the animation being so CGI. A lot of the character designs feel very sloppy and lazy to a point where I’d almost compare it to the first season of Sailor Moon Crystal. The animation to this series is somehow WORSE than the movie trilogy (I didn’t think it was possible). It almost makes the series unwatchable. Me personally, I like to see things through to the end, but the animation is just so atrocious that it bugs me how some of the character designs and movements can set off my eyes. For God’s sake, the Playstation games for Berserk have better character design than this fucking anime and that’s a fucking shame! ENDING TO SEASON ONE: For half of the season, Guts has been searching for Casca and every episode he gets close but no girl! Casca has been literally wandering around where she’s cared for by a band of whores, groped by creepies, revered by more creepies, praised, condemned, and eventually captured by bad guys. And let’s not forget that her brain has been reduced to that of an infant's! Casca ends up being kidnapped and is about to be sacrificed because she has a mark (just like Guts) and is somehow immune to being eaten by these demons that consume regular humans. Isidro and Puck were able to save Casca before she could be burned at the stake. And Guts was able to slay his way to where Casca is and take down a few angels. But during this night of hell, demons of all shapes and sizes were coming towards anything remotely human. But thanks to Guts, he was able to take care of them all. And then morning came and there’s one more giant monster to take care of. But that monster has… ...wait...is that Griffith in human form? Well seeing as this is the last episode of the season and the last 5 minutes of the episode, we're not getting any questions answered. Thought so. Okay, onto season two. SEASON TWO: The animation is still giving me eye-cancer. Come on guys, if Sailor Moon Crystal could improve tenfold within nine months, you guys could have improved to a point where the characters don’t look like dead-eyed bowel movements! But I digress! Guts and Casca return back to Ricket and the swordsmith (or lack there of). The old swordsmith died sometime after Guts left. But that moment has passed because guess who returned? Bastard betrayer and dude looks like a lady himself, Griffith! Because Ricket doesn’t know, he’s optimistic of a revival for the Band of the Hawk. But Guts is all, “HELL NO, GRIFFITH MUST DIE!” Griffith even has one of the old monsters (Zod) that Guts fought in the very first season go after and fight Guts. It wasn’t until Griffith and Zod left that Guts told Ricket everything about why he hates Griffith now. That he was the reason all of his comrades are dead and that Casca is in a state of…let’s just call it confusion. And so it’s decided that Guts and Casca will take a trip to wherever the hell Puck (the fairy) came from. Because fairies for whatever reason this story has to continue! However, certain bad things happen at night that cause Guts to act beastly around Casca. A possible side-effect to the brand on his neck, who knows? END OF SEASON TWO: So this 2017 version seemed a little better compared to the previous season in the action department. Guts does get another upgrade in the weaponry department thanks to the Skull Knight (the same one that saved him at the end of the third movie), though this upgrade does come at a price as it does shorten Guts's life-span. But Guts does get the job done when protecting his group from uncertain doom. Well, Guts now has the Berserker…and now part of his hair has a silver streak. And this group got a hot tip that this next town may help Casca regain her brains and she can go back to normal. YAY, my favorite character could go back to normal! How many more episodes to this season? One. But…there could be another season next year, right? Manga author puts Berserk on hiatus until further notice. OH, FUCK ME! And I suppose we’re not going to see any interactions between Guts and Griffith! Didn't think so. So the last episode has them in a new town filled with humans. There’s a meeting between Schierke and Sonia. Then another meeting between Isidro and Wolflame (that turned into a brawl)! So Gut’s comrades meet Griffith’s comrades. And the final episode is just Schierke getting upset at Isidro for saying something but then he apologizes to her by the end. And for a second, we had to worry about Schierke joining Sonia, which would lead her to work with Griffith. But she’s sticking to Guts. And we end with Schierke getting a wardrobe update (since she gets looked down a lot for dressing like a witch). And a promise of this journey continuing! This anime is a fucking mess. While the original Berserk anime left off on a WTF ending, the two seasons that followed were just a mess to sit through. And at the top of the list of complaints, it was the damn animation. I think many of us long for the days of the hand-drawn animes of the 1990s, especially when we get this CGI dump. But I think another thing that set me off was setting us up for something that might be amazing only for the last episode to just give us a middle finger. I think it’s too late to ask for a reboot to this since the reboot to Berserk has shit animation too. But as long as we’re waiting for a continuation, you think the animation could improve…just a bit? I don’t urge anyone to sit through this eye cancer. But if you were a big fan of Berserk, original Berserk and were truly curious of what happens to Guts next, go for it. If you want to watch Berserk…I urge you to find the original series. Please, see it if you can find it. But if you can’t, the movie trilogy is available for purchase from your video retailer and even Youtube has it available for purchase/rent. As for this series in particular, as usual Crunchyroll has all the episodes available (including the two recap episodes). And FUNimation has the dub available for paying subscribers.

#anime review #guts #Griffith #Casca #berserk #schierke

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thrashermaxey · 6 years ago

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Ramblings: Updates on Karlsson, Schultz, Zajac; Lineup Shuffling; Trade Bait – February 5

We had a big shake-up in Buffalo as Jeff Skinner was moved down to the second line to play with Casey Mittelstadt and Jason Pominville. The top line now looks like Sheary-Eichel-Okposo. How long will this last? No telling, but the panic button has been smashed.

Mittelstadt is now also on the top PP unit with Rasmus Ristolainen being booted to the second unit.

They also called up C.J. Smith, a 24-year old collegiate signing with 85 points in 98 AHL games. You can read his Dobber profile here.

Speaking of shake-ups, John Tortorella has bumped Artemi Panarin down to the second line with Nick Foligno on the top line with Cam Atkinson and Pierre-Luc Dubois. I assume the idea is to spread out the scoring but this could hurt Panarin’s trade value should they decide to go this route.

Erik Karlsson was back in practice with the Sharks, though his time on the ice was brief. The team starts a four-game road trip on Tuesday in Winnipeg but the fact he’s with the team indicates he should return before the road trip wraps up next Monday night.

As far as the line changes for both Buffalo and Columbus go, I wouldn’t expect either to last very long. Call it a hunch. Like with Colorado now going back to their old top line after just one game.

Still no Evgeni Malkin at practice for the Penguins.

In more optimistic Penguins news, Justin Schultz was in a regular jersey at practice for Pittsburgh on Monday. He’s steadily making his way back, but fantasy owners will need patience as he might need some time to get up to speed. Though he was practicing on the second PP unit so maybe his return will be quicker than I anticipated.

Travis Zajac did not practice with the Devils after missing the team’s weekend game, and Marcus Johansson left said practice after talking to the trainers. Tough times for New Jersey right now.

Sven Baertschi was out of the lineup on Monday night with an illness. Tim Schaller took his spot on Bo Horvat’s line. It’s not expected that Baertschi should miss much time.

Pheonix Copley signed a three-year deal with the Washington Capitals, carrying an average annual value of $1.1-million. He’s going to look good in a Seattle uniform in a couple years.

It appeared Alex Edler hit his face on the ice during the third period of Monday night’s game after getting tangled up in front of his net with Flyers forward Jakub Voracek. There was a lot of blood on the ice and he stayed down for a while, with the stretcher being summoned. He left on the stretcher but was sitting upright and apparently coherent. Let’s hope there is no long-term injury out of this.

Jakub Voracek and Sean Couturier each scored a goal in the 2-1 win with Carter Hart stopping 41 of 42 shots. That makes back-to-back 40-plus save wins for Hart, his seventh consecutive victory. This kid might have a future!

John Gibson was pulled in Toronto’s 6-1 win over Anaheim. This was the subsequent performance after their thrashing via the Jets. He didn’t seem very happy about the circumstances, either.

Andreas Johnsson had two goals and two assists from the fourth line while William Nylander had one of each. That makes six points in his last five games for young Nylander. Is he starting to finally heat up? Also, put Johnsson on that third line please.

The story was Jake Muzzin, though, with a goal and two assists in just his third game from the Leafs. He also had an awesome sequence where he crunched Corey Perry, drew a penalty, and scored on the subsequent power play. I think Leafs fans are going to like him.

Jeff Carter left Los Angeles’s game in the second period with a lower-body injury (per the broadcast) and he did not return. We will post an update when there is one.

Adrian Kempe had a three-point night as the Kings beat the Rangers 4-3 in overtime with Tyler Toffoli marking the overtime winner. It’ll be interesting to see if Toffoli lands in a new locale within the next month.

With the Super Bowl behind us (hopefully the hangover wasn’t too bad on Monday morning), the race to the NHL playoffs is on, especially in the Western Conference where there are five teams within Vancouver’s 54 points for the final playoff spot (as of Monday afternoon). It means we’re also just a few weeks away from the trade deadline, a very important time of the year for fantasy owners. Sometimes your player gets traded to a new team and does almost nothing (think of Rick Nash or Tomas Tatar last year), and sometimes it changes their season’s fortunes (think of J.T. Miller or Evander Kane).

I wanted to look at TSN’s trade bait board and go through a few players that are hopefully going to land more on the Miller/Kane side of things than the Nash/Tatar side.

Wayne Simmonds

It seems all but certain that Simmonds is gone, given his age, pending UFA status, and the team’s unlikelihood of reaching playoffs.

The 2017-18 season was a poor one for Simmonds, though he had a plethora of injuries that started from the very beginning of the year right through to the end. The hope was that he’d be healthy and back to his usual production in 2018-19, but that hasn’t been the case as his goals per game this year (0.31) is actually lower than it was last season (0.32). We know that he’s in the decline phase of his career and as a power forward, could age even worse (think of guys like Ryan Kesler, Corey Perry, or Milan Lucic). The problem isn’t actually his five-on-five scoring – his 0.8 goals/60 minutes is a three-year high – but rather it’s the power play, where his shooting percentage (14.29 percent) has been cut nearly in half compared to 2016-17 (27.45 percent). This won’t come as a shock to most, but his conversion rate has been cut nearly in half despite his role not changing too much. Here are his shot locations at five-on-four in 2016-17 (from Hockey Viz):

And here are his shot locations at five-on-four this year:

It should be noted that his PP shot rate this year is consistent with his normal output, so his PP goal total (or lack thereof) is largely a function of shooting percentage and not shot volume.

Simmonds has never been known as a play driver, he’s always been known as a specialist; a power forward who can be a monster with the man advantage. I have to think that he can regain something resembling his form in another locale. The question is which playoff (or Cup) contender needs depth on the right wing in the form of a PP specialist? Two teams come to mind in San Jose and Montreal.

The Sharks are loaded on the left side. They have Evander Kane and Timo Meier (who can play both sides but has been on the left lately while lining up with Joe Pavelski), as well as Tomas Hertl when they don’t have him lined up as a centre (which has been often this year). The right side is a little more barren with only Pavelski to speak of. Joonas Donskoi is a fine play driver but I’m still unsure of his scoring upside. Simmonds would give them a guy to play in their middle-six as well as clean up the garbage around the net on the power play given Brent Burns’s shooting proclivity.

As for Montreal, they have the same issue as after Brendan Gallagher, things get a little thin on the right side. Right now, they have Paul Byron (who is injured), Joel Armia (who should be on the fourth line), and Nicolas Deslauriers (???). They also have one of the worst power plays in the NHL. The Habs are a very good five-on-five team and Carey Price is looking more like the old Carey Price over the last couple of months. If Price can maintain this level of play (which is a big IF), the power play is the glaring weak spot, and Simmonds can help. I wasn’t expecting the Habs to be this good this year but they are a top-5 team in the East and Simmonds shouldn’t be too expensive to acquire. In other words, they won’t have to mortgage their future to get some help this year.

Gustav Nyquist

It’s been quite the fascinating season for Nyquist. There were absolutely no expectations for him this year in Detroit, coming off three straight seasons producing under 50 points and never more than 21 goals. He’s currently on a 70-point pace, though, and has been dynamic on the top line with Dylan Larkin. With Larkin injured now, though, there isn’t much at centre for Nyquist to play with besides (perhaps) Andreas Athanasiou.

Teams looking for Nyquist wouldn’t necessarily be looking for a goal scorer, they’d be looking for someone to facilitate other goal scorers. A guy who can get out of his zone, and into the offensive zone, with possession of the puck to look for trailers, seam passes, or to start the cycle. Who fits that bill? Two teams from the Central.

It’s no big secret that Nashville needs more secondary scoring. Kevin Fiala hasn’t taken the next step as expected, especially in the goals department, Kyle Turris has been injured, Craig Smith hasn’t scored in a month, and so on. Being able to put Nyquist on the second line with Fiala and Turris (when he’s healthy, which may be very soon) could help them both going as playoffs start to roll around.

Winnipeg has really struggled since the Nikolaj Ehlers injury and Patrik Laine has been mired in a brutal slump. Adding a rental like Nyquist would allow for one of Ehlers or Kyle Connor to slide to the third line and play with Mathieu Perreault, it would give Laine a legitimate playmaker at five-on-five and provide insurance in case of another injury like the one Ehlers suffered.

Brayden Schenn

One name that really stuck out to me is Brayden Schenn. He was acquired before the 2017-18 campaign and had a very good year with 28 goals and 70 points. His 2018-19 season hasn’t been a good one, but the same could be said for most of the Blues. But this team has really turned around its fortunes over the last month or so and Schenn has six points in his last four games.

Seeing as Schenn has another year left, a trade would have to come from a team that expects to contend both this year and next, and may need some insurance in case of free agents. One of these teams is San Jose (Pavelski is a pending UFA). Two others seem obvious: Dallas and Carolina.

It’s no secret that Dallas, like Nashville, needs more depth scoring (though the former is in a much worse position depth-wise than the latter). What Dallas also needs is players to take advantage of whatever remains of Tyler Seguin’s and Jamie Benn’s peak years. Next season will be Benn’s age-30 campaign, so the clock is ticking. I assume, however, that the Blues wouldn’t trade a player of Schenn’s calibre to a division opponent.

We’re left with Carolina. At time of writing, they’re tied for the final playoff spot in the East and the addition of Nino Niederreiter has provided the team with a much-needed boost. The long-awaited shooting regression has begun, and the team is winning while playing excellent hockey. They also have Jordan Staal hopefully recovering from his concussion. Schenn would give the team another scoring boost, and give them some added depth for next year. It also gives them some cover in case Martin Necas isn’t ready for a regular centre role in 2019-20.

from All About Sports https://dobberhockey.com/hockey-rambling/ramblings-updates-on-karlsson-schultz-zajac-lineup-shuffling-trade-bait-february-5/

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