#he's thirsty for the leggys

[rubenesque-as-fuck]

So anyway D's been contacting me way more regularly this week. Today I woke up to a text that he had sent me about new dice he was casting ☺️

[tomorrowsdrama]

2020: A Year in Thirst

In 1985, Gabriel Garcia Marquez gave the world Love in the Time of Cholera.  In 2020 (er, I guess it’s now 2021), I give to you, Thirst in the Time of Covid-19 or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Embrace the Thirst, a brief recap of all the dramas I watched in 2020 and whether such dramas made yours truly parched..  

The list contains dramas that premiered in 2020, but also dramas from previous years.  If I watched it or attempted to watch it in 2020, it’s on the list.  

EDIT: Ok, I’m going to have to do this in multiple parts because apparently I watched more dramas in 2020 than I remembered and talking about them all in one post would just be too long.

This also serves as a sort of greeting to all the people who recently followed me.  I don’t know how or why, but thank you for being interested in my thirst, and also so sorry for everything you have/will witness here!  I started this side blog last December 2019 as a place to dump all my fangirl feels and thirst with unbridled abandon and let’s just say, the thirst REALLY ramped up in 2020 during quarantine and all the political chaos/uncertainty.  The state of the world may be uncertain, but my thirst will always be a comforting constant!  LOL. If you want to thirst or fangirl/boy together, I’m all ears.

Anyway, let’s start with the drama that was partially the inspiration for this list. 

1. The Wolf

Brief Summary: Sweet hot boy raised in the wilderness/by wolves meets sweet beautiful girl and they fall in love.  Shitty evil people do shitty evil things to them to cause a misunderstanding and they are separated for years.  Sweet hot boy is given the “Sexy Bloody Tormented Killer Makeover” TM and turns into a VERY VERY BAD HOT Wolf Man after being tortured/brainwashed by an evil asshole king who “adopted” him.  Bad Hot Wolf Man reunites with sweet beautiful girl but because of third party machinations in the past, he thinks that she betrayed him so he is suuuuuuch an ass to her (while still maintaining hotness).  But even beneath the asshattery (and sexy jerky smirks), he can’t help his love for her and it’s just *chefs kiss*. The angst, the pining, the mutual sacrifice for each other, the torment of wanting to be together but not being able to be together because of external forces/circustances, oh I am getting in a tizzy just thinking about it.  I won’t reveal anymore so as not to spoil the drama, but just know the ending may destroy you.

Is she thirsty? Am I thirsty? AM I THIRSTY?  Oh honey, if you don’t know the answer to that, then you must either be new here or you haven’t been paying attention to any of my posts in the past few weeks.  Look, from the first moment the camera panned to Darren Wang’s very well-defined and tan chest and windswept hair, all semblance of shame and dignity I ever tried to feign on this tumblr was immediately thrown out the window.  The feelings that he inspired within me were purely primal.  My cavewoman ancestor from millennia ago stopped gathering food in the harsh wilderness for a brief second to transmigrate into my body and go “me want big strong man!”

I mean, below is literally our introduction to Wolf Boy.  Am I supposed to just witness this and not feel anything?  The director knew what he/she was doing.  Anybody who worked on the drama who says they didn’t intend to exploit Darren Wang’s assets is a BOLD FACED LIAR. And this isn’t even Wolf boy in his hottest form.

That would be this:

Damn, your girl needs a moment here.  When Wolf Boy turns into Bad Hot Wolf Man, wheeeeewww.  The things that came out of my mouth and the thoughts that popped up into my head.

Examples of shameless fangirl drooling can be found here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/636986055498792960/dangermousie-this-should-be-illegal-i-mean Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637238885944033280/dangermousie-i-am-fucking-dead-the-end-this Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637793196830769152/dangermousie-wolfie-acquired-a-kid-omg Here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/635272988321775616/dangermousie-i-dont-know-about-you-guys-but and here: https://tomorrowsdrama.tumblr.com/post/637621638524977152/dangermousie-hnnnnnnnngh-i-am-beginning-to-forget

Honestly, just check out The Wolf tag on @dangermousie​ tumblr and you won’t be disappointed.  Prepare to become obsessed, horny, and heartbroken.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps? Have you ever thirsted so much that you couldn’t separate what reaction was hormonal and what was objective?  Like the guy is so hot to you that when your friends ask you what do you like about him, the first 10 things you can think of are “he’s hot!” and then you try to remind yourself that you’re not a shallow person who actually cares about things other than looks but at the same time you can’t for the life of you think of a non-hot based trait that you like about the guy  Yeah, that’s what happened here so sorry, I can’t give you an objective opinion.  It’s not that there’s nothing objectively good about The Wolf, it’s just that my judgment is too clouded by Darren Wang’s abs and big hands.  But from what I can tell by other people’s posts, even if you didn’t thirst for Darren Wang (Are you made of stone?  But also, can you please teach me your magic so I can go back to being a semi-functional working woman?), The Wolf is still a very enjoyable drama with its own non-Darren Wang related merits.

2. My Beautiful Bride

Brief Summary: A drama about a strait-laced banker who wears a dorky backpack and rides a bicycle everywhere while wearing the dorkiest looking helmet ever and his beautiful bride-to-be whom he is hopelessly devoted to.  This being a kdrama, and an OCN drama at that, things aren’t all what they appear to be.  Yes, you read that right, an OCN. ROMANCE. DRAMA.  Turns out the beautiful bride-to-be has a dangerous past that soon comes back to haunt her and she mysteriously disappears one day from strait-laced banker’s life in the typical kdrama way to protect him.  Part of the reason she leaves him is also because she doesn’t want him to know about her past because she doesn’t think she’s good enough for him.  Little does she know, he knows everything about her past and accepts it all.  The only reason why he doesn’t bring it up is because he knows she doesn’t want him to know about that part of herself and he loves her so much he’s willing to do anything to make her happy.  But also, another thing she doesn’t know is that underneath that boring but perfectly ironed suit, is a finely chiseled, super efficient fighting machine who did his mandatory military service in the special forces.  He is like the terminator meets Liam Neeson’s character in Taken.  He has a very particular set of skills and will stop at nothing to get his bride back.

Is she thirsty?  Please just watch this video and you will have your answer: https://youtu.be/Ut9MhxWadHM

Prior to The Wolf, My Beautiful Bride was probably the most thirst-inducing drama I watched in 2020.

I mean, just look

at this

at all of this

I don’t’ know how Joo Young saw that body and never questioned whether he really was just a banker.  The writers of the drama must be super heterosexual men who are blind because so many of the characters in the drama question why someone as beautiful as Joo Young would ever want to be with someone like the banker. Um..Um...aside from the fact that he is financially well off, treats her well, is loving and respectful of her, and prioritizes her over everything else, JUST LOOK AT HIM.  I was so thirsty for Kim Mu Yeol in this role that I would accidentally tag this drama as My Beautiful Banker sometimes.  The banker was on a relentless one-man mission to take back his bride and turn me on in the process and ooooooh boy was he successful on both fronts.  He is seriously sex on legs every time he beats up a baddie in his quest to find answers about Joo Young’s whereabouts.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps?  I binged the first six episodes of this drama in one afternoon partly because of my thirst, but also partly because it’s a very well made crime-action-gangster drama.  This is an OCN drama so you can expect a competently made production with well choreographed/bloody action scenes and a solid script.

3. Scarlet Heart Ryeo / Moon Lovers

Brief Summary: IU plays Hae Soo, a modern woman who is somehow transported back in time to the Goryeo period.  There, she gets entangled with a group of royal princes.  Her two main love interests are Wang So (played by Lee Jun Ki) and Wang Wook (played by Kang Ha Neul).  The princes vie for the throne and some of them for Hae Soo’s affection.  Lee Jun Ki does what he does best, which is play a sexy tortured deadly man who looks way too good with blood splattered on his face.  Kang Ha Neul is the seemingly kind prince/daddy long legs character who turns out to be not so kind or daddy long leggy.  Hae Soo is...well IU did the best she could with what she was given (which was a hot inconsistent mess).

Is she thirsty? Scarlet Heart Ryeo is like the honeypot of thirst traps.  It’s essentially a reverse harem set up with a prince for everyone.

Like them young and cute?  Then try the 10th prince, Wang Eun.

Want them big, tall, and kinda dumb?  Here’s the 14th prince Wang Jung for ya.

Want an evil bastard with an affinity for guyliner?  Try out 3rd prince Wang Yo.

Tall, slender, and scholarly? 13th prince Baek-ah will fill your needs.

Is a kind/gentle man who will ultimately disappoint you because he doesn’t show up when you need him most more your speed?  Well, let me introduce you to 8th prince, Wang Wook.

Kinda scary but oh so hot and with a ton of baggage?  We’re talking, I overpacked and brought 10 overstuffed large suitcases levels of baggage. 4th prince Wang So is the guy for you.

And if you prefer someone with no personality, presence, or memorable traits, I got a two-for-one deal for you in the crown prince Wang Mu and 9th prince Wang Won.

Would I watch it minus the thirst traps?  There is political intrigue, scheming, romance, fluffy hijinks (my least favorite parts of the drama), angst, beautiful costumes, and pretty decent fight scenes.  Scarlet Heart Ryeo is a pretty solid fusion/fantasy sageuk mostly thanks to Lee Jun Ki.  The only person who has ever carried a larger load on his back is Atlas.  I’m not saying all the other actors are horrendous. It’s just very clear that the one elevating the material beyond the inconsistencies/messiness/elementary politics of the script is Lee Jun Ki.  Your enjoyment level of the drama will likely increase if you are a fan of any of the main actors.  

[lathalea]

The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug

The tumblr group The Hobbit (aka the Dwarf Lovers aka The Cult of Saint Bofur and the fanclub of Helicopter Dori) strikes again! This time we watched “The Desolation of Covid” or “Bilbo doesn't know what's going on: The Sequel”.

Remember, you’re reading our silly comments below at your own risk. Oh, and they are NSFW. Sometimes ;)

They hear Beorn's roaring in the background. Thorin: Friend or foe? Gandalf (whispers): ...a furry Dwarves: *internally screaming*

Thorin: *being majestic*

Things get wild at Beorn's. Everyone: Gandalf really needs to stop throwing parties at houses that do no belong to him

The furious bear roars at the dwarves inside Beorn's house. Gandalf (smug mode on): This is our host Dwarves: Fuck Gandalf you've been smoking too much weed again! Gandalf (swag mode on): we are fine

Bilbo plays with his, ahem, ring. Everyone: Bilbo, it's not polite to fondle your things around other people

Thorin: *being majestic, part deux*

Azog and Necromancer at Dol Guldur Azog: I finished my homework Necromancer: Ok now clean your room Azog: but Dad you promised me i can play with my friend

Thorin: *being majestically majestic*

Meeting Beorn, he's pissed at the amount of dwarves Beorn: I'd kill you but the hobbit is cute

Thorin: *impatient brooding* Also Thorin: TIME IS MONEY

More dwarves appear. Beorn to Gandalf: are there any more? Even more Dwarves appear. Beorn: FUCK OFF ALREADY

Galadriel and Gandalf have a long distance relationship. (DID SOMEONE SAY A 'SHIP'?) Galadriel: sends a very long SMS about the evil forces gathering Gandalf: seen

At the border of Mirkwood. Gandalf: oh the forest is scary... OK CYA GUYS!

Dwarves traveling through Mirkwood Everyone: is it smart to let Thorin lead ? Everyone: Guys, do you really want to follow Thorin?

Rain in Mirkwood. Everyone: OH LOOK WET DWARVES Thorin appears on the screen. Everyone: Ah, Majestically Moist Dwarves.

Crossing a river in Mirkwood. Thorin: send the lightest first bc I wanna see Bilbo's cute ass

Everyone is hallucinating. Is it shrooms or did they eat something at Beorn's? When Bombur said brownies he didnt say that type of brownies I tell you, they stole some shit from gandalf! Bilbo: I'm totally high but thorin still looks hot

Thorin *hallucinates majestically*

Thorin tries to shoot a deer :'( THORIN YOU LITTLE BITCH! Correction, you majestic bitch!

Poor Thorin. He misses everithing: the road to bag end, the trail in Mirkwood, the deer, everything.

They got lost in Mirkwood (we're looking at you, Thorin) Thorin: we're going east Everyone: Thorin you don’t even know where east is!

Bilbo is playing with his *ring* again. He’s so uneccessarily sensual with it It's Thorin's fault. He sang once and made Bilbo realize he was gay as hell

The meeting between Thorin and Thranduil. Oh shit now we have the epic fight of the majestic kings... you mean two divas having a cat fight?

Thorin x Thrandy FTW! Thirsty Thranduil looks at Thorin: THERE IS THE KING UNDER THE MOUNTAIN THAT I TOO DESIRE Thorin: *glares majestically, trying to hide a blush* Thranduil: *wink* YOU KNOW, ONE KING WITH ANOTHER Everyone: Oh, an arranged marriage! Thranduil: *stares at Thorin* Thorin: *stares back at Thranduil* Everyone: Guys is it me or does Thrandy look like hes having an orgasm

Balin - daddy vibes: WHAT DID U SAY TO THRANDUIL Thorin: I told him he was shitty and I hated his face and HE'S NOT INVITED TO MY BIRTHDAY PARTY. Balin: *facepalm*

Thranduil and Tauriel scene, he says Leggy is off limits. Everyone: Thranduil, dude, you just cockblocked your son!

In the dungeons. You know, they went into the cells fully dressed...so where did all their clothes go? They played strip poker, duh

Wine barrel escape. AQUAPARK TIME! Thorin *majestic even when in a barrel and wet* Bilbo: well i was planning on sharing a barrel with thorin but ok The elvenkings magical barrel ride. Available now at Universal studios.

Kili gets wounded. Everyone: KILI THIS IS NOT HOW YOU GET YOUR ELVISH GIRL TO NOTICE YOU! Tauriel arrives. Everyone: ... or is it?

Kili probably got a boner 4 times since meeting Tauriel. Like 1 time per minute? Yeah seriously their romance is like 5 minutes long.

Gandalf meets Radagast at the Bitch King of Angmar's... whoops Witch King of Angmar's tomb. Radagast: pick a more romantic place for a date next time, it only has 1 michelin star

Gandalf's crazy ass speech about the Nine being resurrected by the Necromancer and the menace they bring Radagast: Gandalf, you junkie! Everyone: Everything would have been easier if you just burned the fucking corpses

Gandalf speaks to Radagast of dwarves: we cannot forsake them

Everyone: You can't forsake them?! Gandalf you have been leaving them alone this entire time!

Thorin: *swims majestically*

The dwarves get to the shore of the river, safe and sound. Where’s Bilbo? He drowned.

A person appears with a bow. Oh look! Bard! Naah, It's Legolas in his pirate phase.

At the shore. Okay real question, where are Bilbo and Thorin in this scene? MAKING OUT IN THE BUSHES

Thorin *being majestic in the background*

Miserable, wet dwarves by the river. Thorin's wet hair: *majestic*

Thranduil's cloak: *swirls fashionably* Thranduil's sass kills people.

Legolas follows Tauriel out of Mirkwood. Legolas: SHIT ADA IS GOING TO KILL ME

Thorin: *wet, tired, pissed but still very majestic*

Thorin stinks with fish: *STILL MAJESTIC AF*

Thorin stares at the windlance and, yes, you guessed it, *brooding. majestically.*

Balin: Don't be such a little bitch, Thorin and take the weapons Bard gave us Thorin: *a majestic lil bitch face*

Flasahback with Azanulbizar. Flashback with Girion and the windlance. Wait a second, is Balins role just to make flashback scenes? Balin is needed for remembering things. He's a data disk, you know... An old floppy.

Dwalin in Laketown: *pissed 24/7*

Tauriel and Legolas with bows, aiming at each other. Everyone: MEXICAN STANDOFF!

Tauriel to Legolas: Mellon Legolas: *broken_heart* Everyone: He's just got mellon-zoned!

Everyone: Look, Thorin fucked up! Everyone else: He's majestic, not smart!

Meeting with the ppl of Laketown. Dwalin: This is Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror Thorin: *majestic as assdhsgfgdh fuck* Balin: shit Dwalin it was supposed to be a secret

Bilbo vouches for Thorin in Laketown. Thorin: *stares majestically and lovingly at Bilbo* Everyone: BAGGINSHIELD KISS!!!

Look at the face Legolas makes But it's Bard!

Bofur: He’s sick! Kili: *sick* Master of Laketown: WHERE IS YOUR FACE MASK

Thorin on a boat: *BEING INTENSELY MAJESTIC*

Everyone: It is the crossing of the Delaware! But with dwarves!

Thorin staring at Dale, Bilbo nearby. Everyone: Thorin, you dramatic bitch! Thorin: Look Master Baggins i am so horny right now come and get naked, I'm majestic

Thorin walks past Bilbo and then returns. LMAO WHY HE BRUSHED PAST HIM LIKE THAT TO BE MAJESTIC

Gandalf and Radagast's date at Dol Guldur, continued. Gandalf: are we exclusive now? Radagast: *mumbles* Gandalf: do I have your word Radagast: yes, yes *sigh*

Thorin *stares majestically at the entrance to Erebor* Bilbo: *swoon* Also Bilbo: how close can i stand to you without it looking suspicious that we are a couple

Thrain jumps at Gandalf. Gandalf: ooh i didnt know you were into this kind of stuff, Thrain, kinky! <3

Thrain remembers who he is. Thrain: I had a son... Everyone: YOU HAD TWO SONS JUST FORGET AND ENTIRE FUCKING CHILD AND WHAT ABOUT DIS Took classes from Denethor, did he?

The secret door to Erebor. Last light of Durin's Day. The Company: Where is the key? Thorin: whoops left it at bag end

What shampoo do u use Thorin? Thorin: Thorial Paris

Thorin, defeated: what did we miss, Balin? Balin: *clueless* Everyone: Oh look, Old Floppy has no information. Who formated him?

Bilbo figures out the secret entrance by the moonlight. Bilbo: come back! if I have to open this door myself I swear to god I will murder everyone in this valley

Thorin takes the key: *hot, majestic, very hot and did we mention majestic?*

Bilbo stares at a relief inside Erebor: and what is this thing above the throne? Balin with sad eyes: that's the clitoris, bilbo. none of us have ever seen it

Bilbo: how will I know what to search for? Balin: theres only one clitoris on a woman, you'll know it when u see it... Bilbo: *stares* Balin: *sighs* i get if you're gay and its too much for you bilbo Bilbo: *stares* Balin: Oh Bilbo this is a suicide mission, ok have fun. BALIN OUT!

The necromancer attacks at Dol Guldur. Gandalf takes his wand: EXPECTO PATRONUM!

Sauron: *shows himself, the eye and the flames, you know the stuff* Gandalf: asdfhgdjh Sauron: so this is from my new autumn collection what do you think?

Bilbo walks around the treasure chamber, searching. Clueless Bilbo: clitoris, clitoris... hmmm

Smaug opens his eye. Bilbo: Sherlock, why r u wearing a dragon costume? Smaug: it's for a case, John

Smaug wakes up pissed. Smaug: I KNOW THE SMELL AND TASTE OF DWARF. Bilbo: Oh shit, I should have showered after sex.

Smaug: what r u doing here thief Bilbo: they told me one can find a clitoris here, i did not believe them!

Smaug: you think flattery will keep you alive? Bilbo: well it worked with thorin...

Everyone: SMAUG YOUR SHERLOCK IS SHOWING

Thorin: i will not risk this quest for one burglar Balin, the Old Floppy accessing the data: THORIN YOU WHORE HIS NAME IS BILBO

Hey, imagine the Witch King riding Smaug! Imagine Bilbo riding Smaug. Imagine Bilbo riding Thorin...

Gandalf has a strange relationship with cages. He learned bdsm from the dwarves. All the leather and metal shit dwarves have they are into some kinky shit don’t try and tell me they aren't. Erebor is literally a bdsm dungeon thats why they want it back.

Bard wakes up in a prison cell with a headache. Bard: omg who did i sleep with this time

Thorin escapes from the dragonfire (in a majestic way), his clothes burn. Everyone: This girl is oooon fiiiiireeeee

Dwalin is a fierce warrior throughout the movie. If he was a snack, he would be a protein bar. Smaug scene in the forges. Everyone: GO DWALIN PROTEIN BADASS! Dwalin makes his own protein powder, drinks, and health bars! Available now in a mountain near you.

A ff idea!!! Modern day dwalin gym nut who lives off protein shakes. Who's going to write it?

Thorin hanging in the air above Smaug. Everyone: Thorin is just turning into rock tarzan!

Thorin *majestically swings in the air*

Why is Smaug so cranky? He was Thorin's ex and now he's pissed that Thorin prefers a younger guy with a nice ass, Bilbo.

How do they gain an advantage against Smaug? Three words: Molotov cocktail Balin Oh, and Mario cart - Thorin edition

Smaug demolishes Erebor. Everyone: So much property damage... I hope Thorin has insurance

Smaug: *throws a fit* Everyone: He clearly needs a Snickers bar

Smaug flies away to destroy Laketown. Bilbo: oh fuck what have we done Thorin: its ok, its outside of Erebor, wanna go skinny dipping in a pool of gold?

You are the best group ever! 💙💙💙

@estethell @awkwardly-sitting-in-the-corner @deathlikessodaandpizza @missiemoosie @hopeforthefutre @theresonlyzuul @shrimpsthings @anunexpectedtmblr​

Missed the ‘An Unexpected Journey’ post? Here it is.

And here is The Hobbit: Battle of the Five Armies.

[sapphic-seph]

Hadestown as Things my Friends have Said

Featuring our 48 page long document of “Crew Quotes” Some of them are a little cursed, you’ve been warned.  Orpheus: Why do you wear sweatpants so often- Eurydice, in a foreign accent: I NEED ROOM FOR MY LITTLE LEGGIES Hades: I am NOT paying child support for fourteen children, sorry.  Persephone: *sitting on a counter with her feet up* Eurydice: What are you, six? Persephone: Yeah- six feet taller than you- Persephone, awake at four am: Kinky roombas.  Eurydice: *being productive* Orpheus: *beating a tree with a stick* Orpheus: *eating a banana* Hermes: Get that weewee out of your mouth! Persephone: Oh? It's my turn to clean the bathrooms? Hm, well then. Could you pass the drain cleaner? I'm thirsty. Orpheus and Hades: *arguing*  Eurydice: There’s too much testosterone. Stop fighting about who has the most hammer injuries! The Fates, trying to cheer Eurydice up for once: “Attention seeker, he uSED YOU AND CAN GO EAT A CHERRY SHAPED LIKE AN ASS-”

[elsaclack]

59 for jake/amy!

baby BABY baby!!!!!!!!!!!!!

this is…….a fresh contender for the angstiest thing i’ve ever written straight up oops

trigger warning for graphic depictions of violence and injury!!!!!! this got REAL dark guys i’m SORRY

59. “Don’t touch me.”

Darkness descends rapidly over Brooklyn, plummeting Jake’s apartment into powdery, faded shadows and a bone-crushing silence.

Jake sits alone in the center of his couch, staring at a spot just beyond the far left corner of his coffee table that he can no longer honestly comprehend.  The smell of stale beer and old laundry permeates the stillness around him, enveloping him in a sort of cocoon of anxiety spurred on by the latent adrenaline still humming through his body.

The solution to this, of course, would be an easy one.  It’s not like this is the first time the aftershocks of a particularly gruesome case followed him home.  It’s not like he doesn’t have coping mechanisms (whether they’re healthy or not is a decision to be made by him and him alone, regardless of what the crackpot precinct shrink says when he’s forced into mandated therapy sessions).  There are eleven more beers in his fridge, ready and waiting for him once he polishes off the last few gulps of the open bottle before him.  There are shitty nature documentaries to pretend to watch.  There are video games collecting dust on the bottom shelf of his TV stand.  There are unopened bags of potato chips in his cabinet (also stale, probably).  Solutions are all around him, readily available, patiently waiting for him to blink the initial shock away and make a decision.

The beer bottle’s label - long since peeled away from the amber glass - is damp and disintegrating between his fingertips.  He’s tangentially aware of it in the same way that he’s aware of the fact that he’s thirsty for something more substantial than old beer.  It’s there, it’s a concern, and it may even be valid, but it’s nothing more than a violently-rocking buoy struggling to remain upright in a tsunami.  He could throw the label away and wash the water-goopy paste off of his fingers and order a meal and throw on a movie, and he could spend the rest of the night pretending like he’s okay.  He could idly scroll through his Instagram feed and pretend like he isn’t waiting, hoping for the call or the text he already knows will not come.  He could turn the television on and studiously avoid the local news channels until he finds something stupid and funny and safe to focus on until the rest of his thoughts retreat to the sealed compartments in the furthest corner of his mind.

He could do those things - any of those things - but he doesn’t.

He can’t.

He’d told himself, way back at the beginning of his beat cop stint, that he’d never let himself be vulnerable.  His job can’t allow it, he’d reasoned.  Vulnerability allowed for weakness and weakness meant disadvantage and disadvantage meant death.  His job is too important, his perps too ruthless.  He’d find other ways to be vulnerable, other groups of friends to allow beyond the towering walls of false bravado and showmanship.

Within two years, and for four more after that, he had no notably close friends to speak of.

Until Amy.

And Charles, and Rosa, and Gina, of course.  But Amy - stupid, perfect, brilliant Amy - was the only one who wormed her way in without his express knowledge.  He still can’t remember, exactly, when the shift between annoying know-it-all partner and close confidante and friend happened, but one day - one day -

She was there.  Right there, right beside him.  Full of understanding and patience and gentle advice that left him feeling warm and safe in a most peculiar, unfamiliar way.

(Beyond that, he’s not sure when the shift between close confidante and friend and girl of his wildest dreams happened, either, but right now that seems neither here nor there.)

So it makes sense, then, that the masochist within him insists that he deserves this torture, in some way.  A fitting price for a most egregious error in judgement that ended with her name being added to a long list of victims.

She’s luckier than most - something he keeps reminding himself, the only tattered rope keeping him from sinking into a bottomless abyss of regret and shame.  Ernie McMahan simply did not leave survivors, and yet - survive, she did.  Of course, nothing about tonight’s situation followed protocol, even by McMahan’s standards.  The series of events that unfolded between 6:14 and 6:38 PM only unfolded by sheer happenstance.  It’s not like Amy fit McMahan’s type - nothing about her screamed leggy blonde - and it’s not like he sought her out and preyed on her like all of his other victims.  Hell, he’d only attacked because she got too close to finding him, but.

But.

The guilt sinks in a little deeper, soaking through his bones.  Objectively speaking, it wasn’t expressly Jake’s fault.  Like, sure, he wasn’t where he was supposed to be - where she told him to be - but in all likelihood, even if he was where he was supposed to be, it probably would have only meant he would have gotten to them a few seconds earlier.

He would have gotten to her a few seconds earlier.

Not huge in the grand scheme of things.

But insurmountable tonight.

The guilt crawls like a living thing through his belly, slimy tendrils licking up his skin, and when he closes his eyes he sees it all again - late evening sunlight spilling tangerine through the cracks between wooden boards haphazardly nailed over warehouse windows, illuminating the edges of a silhouette knelt over a writhing mass on the floor, muscled arms swinging and swinging and swinging.  He can hear it, too - sickening sounds of knuckles pounding against bone and flesh, gasps and yelps and grunts of her in pain and fear, desperately fighting to escape, sensible rubber heels scraping uselessly against the dusty floor and fingers scrabbling at the butt of her firearm, lying six inches away, as his knees pressed against her chest and her left arm to keep her pinned.

He’d sprinted, flown, not sure if his feet were actually touching the ground, and tackled him off of her.  On a kind of primal autopilot, he’d punched McMahan in the face so hard he’d knocked a tooth out before roughly rolling him to his belly and snapping handcuffs over his wrists; when he twists his own wrist now, he can see the angry split between his knuckles, already scabbed over, darkened red skin around it only just now curdling into what he’s sure will be a gruesome bruise.  There will be more on his shoulder, and another on the right side of his forehead from where he’d hit the floor at an angle as he tackled McMahan.  Something he’d usually be stoked about - nothing said badass cop more than battle scars.

Now, though - now, he can’t stand the talismans of his own failure.

Distantly, through his cracked open window, Jake hears a forlorn siren wailing.  It fades into the night as quickly as it came, and he buries his face in his hands, gingerly scrubbing the heels of his palms over his eyes in a doomed attempt at drowning everything out.  It wasn’t enough, being forced to stay in place to keep McMahan subdued while Amy slowly writhed in excruciating pain a mere six feet away.  No, it wasn’t enough - because the angle afforded him the perfect view of her bruised and bloodied face contorted in an utterly terrifying portrait of agony, the way her entire body seemed to shudder and tremble with each labored, rattling breath in, and - most nauseatingly - the way her clothes hung tattered and ripped around the seams.

He tried to talk to her between snarling at McMahan to shut the fuck up and calling for backup on his radio.  He tried to get her to speak, to look at him, to respond in any way, but all he got back were bone-chilling moans and heels still scraping uselessly against the ground.

Cops raided the scene before the EMTs - Jake scrambled toward her the second he was sure the beat cop had a solid grip on McMahan’s wrists.  He’d crawled, ignoring the sting in his hand and the uncomfortable grit of the ground beneath his knees, reaching for Amy before his consciousness could catch up.

And the moment his fingers brushed against her arm, her eyes flew open, glassy and unseeing but fixated on his face.

“Don’t touch me!”

He’s in no way a wordsmith - has never claimed to be - but even if he was, he’s sure there isn’t a single word to fully encapsulate the raw, feral force with which those words left her.  He didn’t know, before tonight, that she was even capable of making that kind of sound.  It’s like the words were wrenched out of her chest, ripped out of her by some demonic force, sending him falling backwards and scrambling away from her on instinct.

Her eyes hadn’t followed him.

He’d stayed nearby, hovering, useless, until the EMTs rushed in.  He’d watched them kneel down beside her, one speaking to her in a loud, calm, slow voice.  He’d watched her wordlessly shriek again when their hands touched her body.

He’d closed his eyes and turned his head away when her shriek immediately transformed into a harsh, punishing sob as they lifted her onto a gurney.

He’d followed them out into the parking lot, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek as tears dripped down his face, only stopping when Rosa stepped between him and the ambulance.  Go home, she told him.  I’ll stay with her.

He wanted to fight her.  He still wants to fight her.

But Amy’s words were still swimming through his mind, etching themselves across every available surface where he’s certain they’ll stay for the rest of eternity.  So he didn’t fight her.  He just nodded, cast one more glance at the ambulance, and forced himself to walk away.

Because it’s not his fault, but it is his fault, and even though realistically speaking his following her instructions to a T might have changed things just a little, he’d find a way to forgive himself for not.  But what happened after…he exacerbated her pain and distress and fear, he made things so much worse, and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to forgive himself for that.

Amy’s felt a lot of things toward him - he just never imagined fear would be one of them.

The sound of his ringtone cuts sharp and shrill through the air around him, and he starts, blinking for the first time in what feels like a very long time.  Rosa’s name shines bright at the top of his screen above her contact picture - her scowling at the camera in front of the dartboards at Shaw’s six years earlier - and he struggles to remember how to swallow as he taps the answer button.

The word hello sticks in his throat.

“Peralta?”

Her tone is as flat and monotone as usual, but he senses the weariness beneath the surface.  He clears his throat, forces himself to swallow, and hears her breathe in loudly through her nose on the other end of the line.  “Hey,” he finally manages, wincing at the way his voice cracks from lack of use.

“How fast can you get to the hospital?”

Dread floods his belly at once, ice cold fear in an empty cavern, and he’s on his feet before he’s aware of his own actions.  “Why?” he asks, not bothering to mask the fear in his voice.  “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong, she’s fine,” Rosa assures him - and the fear subsides a notch or two.  “She’s fine - well, she’s gonna be fine - she’s awake and aware, and she just gave Charles a statement on what happened.”

Jake nods, momentarily forgetting the fact that she can’t see him.  It’s strange, the knot of jealousy forming in his throat.  So Charles was allowed to go to the hospital, but he wasn’t?

“She wants to see you,” Rosa’s voice breaks through his momentary spiral.  “She won’t stop asking for you.”

Something about the reproach in her voice tells him that this is probably an argument Rosa’s been having with Amy for a decent amount of time; a small smile erupts across his face in tandem with the undeniable affection throbbing in his chest.

“I told her I’d call you to see if you were still awake.  I can’t lie to her, mostly because she knows my tells, but - I don’t know if you coming up here is the best idea.”

He frowns as he pulls his closet door open and reaches inside for his sneakers.  “Why?” he asks as he drops to the edge of his bed.

“She’s still shaken up and super emotional, and I don’t know if - if seeing you is gonna - y’know - make it worse.  She cried when she woke up and saw me, and then she cried again when she saw Charles, and we weren’t even on the scene with her - it’s obviously your choice, I can’t tell you what to do, but I just don’t want her to go through any more emotional trauma than necessary tonight.  Okay?”

He lets out a breath as his heel slips inside his sneaker.  Rosa’s not wrong - just like she wasn’t wrong when she sent him home at the scene.

But.

“She wants to see me,” he mumbles, bending to slide his other foot into his shoe.  “I can’t - not come.  I owe her that much.  If she wants me to come, I’m gonna come.”

He hears Rosa sigh, her breath crackling against the receiver in a way he thinks might be harsh under any other circumstances.  “Fine,” she says after a moment, “but change your shirt before you get here.  You had bloodstains at the scene.”

He glances down at his chest, eyes automatically drawn to the red smears over the left side of his chest he hadn’t noticed until that very moment.  He has no memory of when they got there, no idea whose blood it may be - with a grimace he clears his throat, and mutters “will do.”

“Presby.  Get here soon.”

Twenty minutes later finds him standing at the sign-in desk of Brooklyn Prebyterian Hospital’s bustling emergency room, casting furtive glances through the receptionist’s window to the doctors and nurses rushing to and fro as he fills in the sign-in sheet.  Amy’s still in a high-priority observation room here, according to Rosa’s text, though not for much longer - she’ll be moving to a trauma specialist wing as soon as the room there is ready for her.  Her stay will be short-lived, provided her concussion proves to be a grade two, as the doctors currently suspect.

The nurse receptionist pulls the clipboard down to her desk when Jake slides it toward her, and after a moment of typing information into her computer, she reaches beneath her desk and produces an adhesive visitor’s sticker with his name and driver’s license photo.  “Keep this on at all times,” she instructs as she hands him the sticker.

He nods, pressing the sticker down over his heart, and follows her directions through the doors and into the interior of the emergency room.

She leads him through a winding series of hallways, lined with glass walls and patients in varying states of distress, but Jake doesn’t absorb any of it; his focus remains on the back of the nurse’s head and on trying to regulate his breathing.

He spots Rosa first - wild curls unmistakable despite the distance.  She’s got her back turned toward the hallway, facing the bed against the south wall, concealing the vast majority of the figure laying in said bed.  Jake’s heart is in his throat.

The nurse stops five steps from the doorway to her room, gesturing toward it wordlessly, stepping aside to allow Jake to move past her.  And it’s like his vision has tunneled - all he can see is Rosa’s torso and the legs stretched across the mattress to Rosa’s right, all he can hear is the quiet voice of his partner, his friend, his everything.

(Uh-oh, he thinks.)

He must make some noise there in the doorway - perhaps an unintentional rap of his knuckles knocking against the doorframe, or a strangled sound from the base of his throat - but Rosa turns toward him sharply, brow furrowed, shoulders tensed.  She relaxes marginally when she seems to register who she’s looking at; slowly, she leans back, and Jake catches his first glimpse at Amy.

Angry, mottled bruises paint a vicious portrait across her face, accented by a swollen split to her upper lip and a truly alarming amount of swelling around her left eye.  She’s looking at him standing in her doorway and all he can do is breathe, breathe, because she’s alive and he knows that but he’s never seen her like this before and it’s tearing something vital out of him, destroying him from the inside out.  He releases his breath slowly, raggedly, letting his nails bite into the unrelenting metal doorframe to keep from releasing the sob expanding dangerously in his chest.

The room is quiet, disturbed only by the distant sounds of the ER behind him and Rosa standing, chair pushed backwards by her knees.  “I’m gonna go get you another heated blanket,” she murmurs to Amy, before moving toward Jake.

She pinches his upper arm as she passes him, and the pain of it is almost enough to shock him out of his trance.

“Jake,” Amy murmurs - and that’s it, that’s what shakes him free.  He moves toward her at once, forgoing Rosa’s chair to kneel beside her bed, overly cautious to keep his hands pressed to the mattress despite the consuming urge to touch whatever parts of her she’ll allow him to touch.

Don’t touch me.  Don’t touch me.  Don’t touch me.

Neither one of them speak for a moment - he’s only partially aware of the tears wetting his face, far too distracted by the relief drowning his fried nervous system.  Her left arm is stretched across the mattress at her side, her still-shaking fingers rising and falling erratically in a way he thinks probably isn’t entirely voluntary; deep bruises dance across her skin here, too, splotching around her elbow, traveling all the way up beyond the edge of her sleeve.

“I’m so sorry,” he breathes, and her brows knit together.  “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry -”

“No,” her voice rasps, and he squeezes his eyes shut, the memory of her guttural shrieks echoing in his mind.  “Don’t - no, Jake, no sorries -”

“I should have been there with you, I was supposed to follow you through that doorway but I kept going down the hall -”

She shakes her head, a grimace momentarily contorting her features at the movement, and her hand leaves the mattress altogether before flopping back down again.  “Stop, stop, please.  It’s okay.  I - I know.  It’s okay.”

He drops his forehead to the mattress for a moment, trying to draw in a steady breath, and feels another weak thump against the mattress near his head.

“Jake,” her voice is higher, now, warbling at the base, and he springs up to find her eyes shining with tears.  Her lips part to draw in a shaking breath, and he’s about to come out of his skin with a bone-deep desire to do whatever it takes to make everything okay for her again.  “Jake, I - I’m sorry.”

Tears streak down both of her cheeks in tandem, but bewilderment falls like a wet blanket over his instinctive sense of alarm.  “For what?” he asks in a strangled whisper.

“I screamed at you,” she mumbles, head lolling to one side.  “You were trying to help me and I screamed at you.”

“I scared you,” he protests, “I touched you without any warning and - I mean, I know better than that, we both do, we’ve gone through the same training courses and we know - Amy, honey, you were in so much pain and you were also in shock and I scared you.  I deserved a hell of a lot worse than you screaming at me.”

Her chin quivers as she lifts her hand again, managing to keep it aloft a little bit longer than before.  “I didn’t mean it,  I didn’t, I - when I woke up and you weren’t here…”

Her fingers weakly curl into the folds of her blankets as her voice trails off, tears streaming down her face in earnest.  “I thought I would make things worse,” he admits softly.  “I thought - I just wanted you to feel safe.”

She sniffles, her good eye wide, and her fingers flex again.  “Will you please hold my hand?” she whispers.

He scoops her left hand up immediately, covering it with both of his own, pulling it up closer to his face to press his lips against her fingertips where they protrude between his palms.  Her eyes flutter shut and she sniffles, returning the gentle pressure as best she can.  She lets out a breath, releasing a quiet hum from the back of her throat; the noise, so little, settles like balm across his aching heart.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, good eye fluttering open.  He nods, gently caressing the soft skin of the back of her hand with his thumb.  “Jake, I - I, um.  I need - I need to tell you something.”  He shifts a little closer, ignoring the stiff protest in his knees, and she studies his face for a long moment.  “I don’t know how to do this,” she admits after a moment.

“Okay,” he shakes his head, flashing her an encouraging smile, gently squeezing her hand.  “You don’t have to tell me right now.”

“I want to,” she says earnestly.  “I just - when I was - I thought, for a second, that - that I wasn’t gonna - that -” she stops, clenches her jaw, and he finds himself steadying her hand as a tremor works down her arm.  “I was scared,” she says after a moment.  “And I had this - this thought.  That I wasn’t…that I might leave things behind.”

He stares at her for a moment, before understanding hits him with all the indiscriminate force of a careening freight train.

“I’ve been living my life with all of these compartments,” she continues, seemingly oblivious to the vice squeezing the air out of his lungs.  “All of these neat little black and white boxes, and I’ve been ignoring the grey.  Because it doesn’t fit, Jake.  The grey doesn’t fit.  And I’ve never been good at handling things that don’t fit.  I just - if I can ignore it, long enough, eventually, it goes away.”  She wiggles her fingers in his grip - not enough for him to loosen his own grip, but enough to draw his attention to the fingertips still peeking out at him.  “I thought if I ignored this long enough, it would go away.”

He returns his eyes to her face to find her looking at him - looking at him, all of him, piercing right through to his very soul - and his heart shoots directly into his throat.

“It didn’t,” she murmurs.

He clenches his jaw, briefly squeezes his eyes shut, forces himself to inhale and exhale through his nose.

“It’s becoming more and more of a problem,” she continues after a moment.  He keeps his eyes closed, focusing on her words until the rest of his surroundings fade away completely and it’s just her hand in his, her voice, and the unforgiving floor against his knees.  “And I’ve been thinking - I’ve been dreading this, because I knew I was gonna have to tell you one way or another, and for once in my life I had no idea how you would react.  I was so scared - it seems stupid, now.”  He snorts involuntarily, dropping his head to press their hands against his forehead, and somewhere to his right he hears her let out a quiet laugh.

“Amy…” he murmurs when she doesn’t immediately continue.

“Hang on,” she says softly, and he nods.  “I just want to get the words out.  I like you, Jake.  A lot.  Too much, probably.”  Another laugh escapes her chest - this one airier than the one before it.  “I don’t expect you to say it back or to feel the same way - I hope you feel the same way,” she adds, and he bites down on the inside of his cheek at the undeniable longing punctuating each word.  “But I know it’s been a while, and…you said, that night, that you’d pissed at yourself if something went down and I didn’t know how you felt.  And that was all I could think about earlier.  How angry I was going to be if you didn’t know.”

She huffs out a breath, fingers rippling against his palms.  Slowly, he lowers their hands and opens his eyes; she’s watching him again, pursed lips moving slowly as she nibbles at the inside of her lower lip.  He has this absurd desire to pull her lip away from her teeth with his thumb, to gently caress her chin, to cup his hand beneath her jaw and hold her head in place while pressing chaste kisses to her lips -

“You’ve had me for a long time now, Ames,” he admits, surprised at the emotion rasping in his voice.  He reaches up with his right hand to gently, gently touch her face, smiling when she turns her head automatically to nuzzle further into his touch.  “It’s - only ever been you.”

The smile that lights her face is genuine and soft, small and shy, and Jake finds himself thinking this - this is what I’ve been looking for.

“When you get outta here - when you get better - can I take you to dinner?”

She nods, smile growing, and he gently runs the pad of his thumb over her cheek.

“Are you guys done being gross?”  A voice behind him asks.

He cranes his neck around, hands never leaving Amy’s body, to find Rosa leaned against the doorway, a light blue hospital-issued blanket folded over her arm.  She’s got one brow arched, a distinct scowl across her features, but there’s an unfamiliar warmth to her gaze that makes Jake want to hug her.  “Hi, Rosa,” he says instead, returning his attention to Amy’s face.  “You can come in, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Rosa harrumphs but steps over his legs without further comment, unfolding the blanket and draping it over Amy’s legs.  Amy’s eyes track Rosa’s movements, a thankful smile briefly splitting her face when Rosa makes eye-contact.  “Okay,” Rosa says, “seems like you don’t need me here anymore.  I’m gonna head home.”  Jake feels a solid thump against his shoulder; Rosa’s looking at him very seriously when he turns to meet her gaze.  “Call me if she needs anything, any time.  ‘Kay?”

“Thank you, Rosa,” Amy says as Jake nods.

“Get better soon, I hate sparring with Charles.”

Amy laughs, and Rosa cracks a small, genuine smile.  She pats Amy’s ankle twice, shoots Jake another nod, and then shuffles back out the door.

“You should get some sleep,” Jake tells Amy softly.  She blinks at him slowly, something like serenity softening the features of her face, and he traces his thumb over her forehead, his touch featherlight.  “Sleep, Ames, you need it.”

A crease appears between her brows as her throat works against a swallow.  “I don’t want to miss anything,” she whispers.

“You won’t,” he assures her, “I promise, you won’t.  I’ll be right here the whole time, I’ll be here when you wake up again.  Sleep,” he urges her softly, ignoring the rush of pride he feels as the crease between her brows smooths out again.  “We’ll keep talking when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

He nods solemnly, lifting her hand to press a kiss against her fingers.  “I swear.” he murmurs against her knuckles.

(He keeps his promise, for the record - he’s there when she wakes six hours later, and the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that, and pretty much every morning that follows.)

[blackthxrntree]

I have learnt a lot from that clip

Willem H has no concept of leg day like did you see his tiny little leggies

Senne and Milan are proud dads rn

Senne is one of the 4 valid William's

Zoë I love you so much

Milan is like 0.5% away from falling in love with Senne (I mean arent we all)

Sander is such a bloody meme I love that dumbass

Tiny Baby Robbe is actually Thirsty AF like he was just fucking straddling Sander after making out w him infront of his flatmates and dragging him by the lapels into his room oof

[blankdblank]

Ring of Roses

ABBA, The winner takes it all! 

This is day 25, still finishing the 24th prompt, hopefully i can finish that here in a bit and either get it up today or tomorrow after work depending on when i drop off to sleep.  --- Hope you like it and please don’t ask me why Dis came off as a Southern Belle in my mind for this story.  :D

…

Breathing hard you took on the tallest hill in this green tree dominated wonderland you continued running trying to get yourself up this impossible feat once in this century as every year you found yourself here for the yearly race of the best thoroughbreds in Elven lands. You could hear it though, the dually truck usually lapping you on your daily runs and again you had kept to your side of the street yet a ‘whoo’ that came too close for your liking with a gust of wind afterwards had you, in their reaching the top of the hill a moment later, squeaking in pain as your foot slid off the road and into the only dip in the inexplicably tall hill securing your luck for the day. A hard slam into the ground jammed your shoulder and sent you into a triple roll stopping at the fence on your right.

Staring up at the sky you mumbled, “So fucking close…The universe just doesn’t want me to beat this hill…”

Inhaling deeply you winced as you shifted your twisted ankle making your hands rise to press to your watering eyes, you had broken bones before and been fine but it seemed every banged knee, elbow and foot had you almost on the floor with twisted ankles having your life teetering on the end, of which you’ve had millions and lived to whine about to whatever caused the injury. Usually you didn’t have an audience but the sound of dirt shifting and a group of bellows in the distance had your hands lowering to peer up at the Giant Elk peering down at you over the fence. “Hello Handsome.”

A hard exhale from him and his glance at your ankle had you moving to sit up grimacing about the sting in your shoulder you rolled exhaling at the loud pop from it. The sound of an engine died with a truck coming into view with another whimper from you seeing the blonde you had been failing to talk to since you were kids. Your father ran the championship each year and owns the race track meaning you were the one to act as announcer and presenter for the winner’s ring each year, now being far more appealing than adorable as you once were for the racers, with it being more of a challenge for each to see who could catch your number. Sitting up in an ease out his open window your breathing quickened seeing the slightly bubbly partially wet Elf in just jeans turning around to look at you after the herd had motioned over to you. Back inside he slid and made the short drive over to the fence where he parked and hopped over it.

I don't wanna talk

About things we've gone through

Though it's hurting me, now it's history

I've played all my cards

And that's what you've done, too

Nothing more to say, no more ace to play

Looking you over the blonde wet his lips and crouched asking, “Are you injured Miss Pear?”

Weakly you chuckled forcing your eyes to remain locked on his and not anywhere else while his breathing steadied and his chiseled body screamed at you to ogle away in the easing of bubbles down his chest. “Just the Douglass brothers in their truck whooing again.”

His brow inched up, “Whooing?”

“You know, like ‘Whoo!’” The last word you added a weak try at a celebratory ‘Whoo’ and he nodded, “And I managed to slip into the only pothole on this damn hill like a twit, twenty feet away! Every time! I can never make it up this hill!”

Unable to help it he smirked and said, “You fell pretty hard then? I’ve seen you sprinting up it before, must have been going fast.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to if those assholes could stop lapping me in their damn truck. I’m close to throwing a rock at them.”

Slowly his eyes slid over you, normally an act from other men making you squirm but the town vet’s son’s inquisitive search for injuries ended with your awkwardly locked ankle you were refusing to move had him shifting on his feet to lower a knee and extend his hands. “May I?”

His eyes locked on yours and you nodded making him look back to your ankle he gently eased his fingers around, “It’s not broken, just my millionth sprain of the year. Usually I can just outwait them and I can get up fine.”

Smirking up at you in his move to cradle your foot he carefully slid the shoe he had unlaced off he replied, “Doesn’t seem bad.”

Your head tilted, “You don’t know me, I’m downright laughable, bumped elbows can have me in tears but I’ve run marathons with breaks easy.”

Making him smirk for a moment before lowering his gaze missing your grimace in his rotating your foot and ankle, “Movement is fine. Not sprained from what I can tell, best to keep the jog tomorrow to a slow trot if you won’t skip a day.”

You nodded reluctantly even though you took the runs to catch glimpses at him in passing. “I guess I can hike instead.” Making him smirk and lower your foot to the ground carefully.

“You look thirsty. I can make you some tea if you wish.”

With a nod you said, “Ok. I’ll,”

Scooting around you his arms looped around your back and legs to lift you as he stood bringing you nearly eye level with the Elk almost grinning at you pleased you weren’t injured badly. Carefully he set you on the fence and turned to grab your shoe he carried in his hop over making you jealous at his nearly seven foot figure to do so with ease while you as a Vanyar stood at 5 ft 9, an adorably petite version of the statuesque women you  were forced to grow with hating your place on the screen for standing out. Again you were scooped up and he carried you around to slide with you into the passenger seat he left you on and slid back across the bench to his seat after closing the door for you.

Carefully he turned easing around the Elk and made way back to his three story wood and stone house bearing floor to ceiling windows to let in the best views. “Wow.”

Grinning in a glance over at you he parked saying, “Naneth designed it, her and Ada have an identical one on the other side of the hills closer to town.”

“You prefer living alone?”

Weakly he chuckled, “It was for me and my ex, we, had my son right out of school. They wanted a wedding but she didn’t. Him and I live here.”

“Oh, the other blonde, Leggy, I always thought you were just an overly loving older brother, how old is he?”

Again he chuckled and climbed out strolling around the truck to open your door to scoop you up and lift your shoe, “Nearly 500 now. Hopefully he hasn’t tried to cook anything while I was showering or gone.” The last sentence almost mumbled to himself in concern rather than to you. His voice picked up though as he added in a quick grin to you peering up at him, “Gone to Uni, smartest kid I know but terrible luck with toaster ovens.” Making you giggle to yourself widening his grin.

“Ada, what was wrong with the herd?” You heard from the staircase in his entering through the open door he nudged closed with his foot again and tuned to stride to the stairs peering up at the now wide eyed blonde teen in shorts.

“Douglass brothers ran Miss Pear off the road.” Pulling back he made for the living room as his son hurried down the stairs.

“What?! Should we call the Sheriff?”

Thranduil, “Sheriff is their uncle. Here, elevate this, we’ll ice it to be safe.”

With a sigh you pulled your buzzing phone out of your arm pouch and unlocked it while Legolas helped to prop up your foot. As it was being settled on pillows you answered your brother’s call, “Hey Jelly bean,”

“Finally make the hill?”

“Nope, the Douglass brothers lapped me again and ran me off the road, twisted my ankle, the Greenleafs are going to help me ice it and making me tea.” You could hear the sharp inhale and feel the irritation building in his chest.

“I’m gonna call you back. ADA!!”

Hanging up the phone you saw the pair of blondes staring wide eyed at the phone they heard the shout through making Legolas’ pursed lips part to say, “Their uncle is the Sheriff but I doubt they can hide from Mr Pear.”

Thranduil sat down on the cushioned bench they put your foot up on and gently wrapped it with a towel and covered that with a bag of frozen strawberries making you smirk at him before he said, “We have to thaw them anyways for dessert.”

You shrugged, “At least I can help you in return,” making him chuckle in Legolas’ pop up.

“I’ll fix the tea!” He said then darted off as your hands eased around the ties on your cut off sweat shorts under your loose tank top in mint green matching the end of your silvery curl filled ponytail that slipped from its bun on your last hill.

Thranduil’s eyes darted from your dazzling purple pair to your shoulder saying, “Mind if I check your arm?”

You shook your head, “Nope.” He nodded and stepped over your legs to sit beside you on the couch with brows furrowed in focus between glances at your familiar antler design necklace of silver antlers around a moonstone for the head you smiled and smoothed your fingers over, “Your Naneth sent it to me after I spotted hers in passing in the markets. I never did get to thank her properly, I do love it. It’s perfect.”

Thranduil grinned saying, “I will tell her.” As he looked to your arm again he said, “It suits you.”

“I always have loved Elk. I’ve seen them run, few times I’ve gotten distracted up the hill watching them run. Some are faster than stallions I’ve seen.”

Thranduil chuckled, “Yes, even the Douglass Mare can’t touch Tuo for speed.”

“I don’t know why you don’t race them then.” Making him look up at you with brows raised, “No rule against it. Plus it’d be nice to not have Luti in the circle again, smug jerk needs to be knocked down.”

Thranduil chuckled again then said, “You have a small scrape, I’ll clean it.”

He stood and went to fetch his kit as Legolas hurried over with a full try making you giggle at the tea, crackers, cheese and sliced fruit. “Didn’t know what you’d like but there’s a bit of everything, and the tea is best straight but we have some of Gran’s honey if you’d like?”

You shook your head with a grin up at him, “No thank you.” After a cautious sip on the hot tea you asked, “Are you training to be a vet too?”

He nodded and wet his lips, “Do you do any hobbies besides the presenting?”

“I, um, actually finished a cosmetology degree. Been trying to work up to asking at Dis’ beauty shop in town, but I don’t have much experience out of school and Dwarves take hair very seriously.”

Legolas chuckled, “No doubt she’ll take you in.”

Slightly uncertain your brows scrunched up and you asked, “Really?”

Legolas, “She said Gorgo is expecting again and needs some time off soon, you could train now and possibly have her seat when she does. We don’t get many new faces to town so I’m certain she’d love to have some fresh stories to hear.”

Slightly relieved you said, “Thank you.” Sipping on the tea again before blurting out, “Ada’s been patient with me figuring out what I wanted to do, and it might have seemed frivolous but I mean, a hairstyle can change your day, for better or worse.”

Legolas nodded and readied to say something only to look at the door in another truck driving up, “Ooh, Gramps.”

Oropher hurried up the porch and Legolas went to talk to him as Thranduil came back and sat beside you eyeing the box he opened and grabbed an alcohol watch he tore the pouch to bringing it out to wipe the scrape gingerly listening to Oropher being informed of it all. Within moments he came in grinning looking you over and joined the conversation spreading their grins as you learned more about their herds that when your brother Jelly Bean had showed up they promised you could come and see any time as you were carried off. For future runs you were told that you had permission to run along the path inside their fence up the hill to keep you safe from any repeats. Gratefully you thanked them and wished them an enjoyable dessert as the truck you were settled into backed up and turned to head home.

.

Jelly Bean, “Are you in pain?”

You shook your head in his third glance over at you, “Just because you have 600 years on me doesn’t make me a baby, you know that.”

“I’ll be damned if it doesn’t! Out of the twelve of us you are the baby and the only girl at that! Nobody hurts you! Ada’s talked to the Sheriff, if he could he’d have barred them from the races but they’ve already paid and we’ve no grounds technically to refund and reject them.”

You shook your head, “Didn’t think so, but at least th fuss might make them leave me alone for a bit.”

Jelly Bean chuckled, “Well, if they try to get close to you the only one in the winner’s circle will be Gummy Bear in a dress.” Making you giggle as he chuckled himself.

 *

The winner takes it all

The loser's standing small

Beside the victory

That's her destiny

 Damn he loved you. For so long he’d wished to talk to you but never felt enough to approach the wealthiest man in Greenwood for his daughter’s courtship as a single father from his teens. Every year him and his son had watched the footage of the winners being interviewed by you and each year the exclusive Champion’s Ball no details had been shared and in passing it was common knowledge you were more than curious as to what it could entail.

With a smirk Legolas approached his father as Oropher helped to prep the strawberries to add to the ice cream maker and the strawberry shortcakes they were going to have. Thranduil glanced down at his awkwardly spreading smirk making him ask, “What is that look for?”

Legolas shook his head, “No reason, just gave Miss Pear your number.” Oropher smiled amusedly turning to the pair watching Thranduil’s brows shoot up and mouth drop, Legolas poked him in the stomach, “She just finished her cosmetology license and was nervous about asking Dis for a place in her shop, I said you might be able to help arrange an introduction.”

Thranduil, “Leg!”

Oropher, “I think that’s a wonderful idea!”

Thranduil, “I don’t even know how I would be able to do that!”

Legolas gave him a hug and peered up at him making his father sigh feeling his messy bun he’d tied up to keep his hair dry shifting forward on his head in doing so, “Come on! She likes you, you like her, just, hint to Dis you might need some help and she’ll lasso her in right off.”

Thranduil, “I am not using Dis-,”

Oropher, “Either way when Dis finds out she wants a place she’ll start plotting, so get in now or be set up yourself.” Making Thranduil sigh again hugging is son back in thought.

 *

I was in your arms

Thinking I belonged there

I figured it made sense, building me a fence

Building me a home

Thinking I'd be strong there

But I was a fool playing by the rules

 Even Tuo had heard the comments. Year after year the Douglass brothers boasting their stallions and mares were the best and fastest around leading to their milling about the usual racing paths where they would overpass the billion dollar creatures by full body lengths only worsening the insults sent the Greenleaf way. It was that time of year again for antlers to be shed and it only made the bucks all the more furious without their usual weapons to attack those issuing them.

Another drive by had shouts hurled at Thranduil and Tuo saw red, in his return home he readied for bed after a drink only to pause at the newspaper being hurled at him to scatter across the floor revealing the sheets packed with news of all the incoming challengers. There was still time, and in the locking of eyes Thranduil knew it, either with or without him his Elk was going to do something drastic.

 *

The gods may throw a dice

Their minds as cold as ice

And someone way down here

Loses someone dear

The winner takes it all (Takes it all)

The loser has to fall (Has to fall)

It's simple and it's plain (It seems plain)

Why should I complain? (Why complain)

 A bell rang from an opening door passed by and through the front door of the town mini spa center Thranduil strolled and for the bright blue hair center between the pink facial center and the nail salon he entered Dis’ domain. He was spotted in his approach and the raucous laughter from inside dwindled to whispers on why he could be coming in making Dis stroll up to the front counter with a grin from relaxing in her own chair.

“Morning Thranduil, come to get a gift certificate for Taule again?”

He shook his head, “No, not here for Naneth today.” Exhaling softly he lowered folding his arms on the counter making the women at the other end of the shop lean in closer. “This is a bit uncomfortable to ask, however, you know Miss Pear?”

“Yes,” her eyes narrowed for a moment, “How is that-,”

Thranduil shook his head, “I saw her yesterday,”

Urgently she cut him off resting her hand on his crossed arms, “How is she?! We heard those Douglass boys ran her off the road!” At that the women all rushed over and Dis said with a smirk, “Heard you were the one to swoop in and save her.”

Thranduil sighed and said, “I wanted to come, because she happened to share she just got her cosmetology license,” Dis’ mouth dropped open excitedly, “And that she was a bit nervous on approaching a Dwarf owned shop for a job. Legolas offered I could, arrange a meeting.”

Did patted his arm again, “Of course we’ll give her a training spot!” The women all agreed nodding as they did, each offering lessons on varying techniques making him nod, and she said, “You send her a message that the peach cobbler is just to die for at Mary’s diner after her pre race run through tomorrow around noon and I’ll just happen to mosie on through and bump into her.”

Thranduil nodded and straightened up, “Thank you.”

In his turn however she asked, “This message, you wouldn’t happen to be passing it on through a text would you?” his head turned to find her smirking, “I was just wondering if you might have gotten the sweet thing’s number or if I might have to do that for you myself?”

Exhaling shortly he replied in his stroll to the door, “Legolas beat you to the punch,” making her squeal giddily and turn to begin plotting ways to arrange the new couple in her eyes she could aid in bringing about.

 *

But tell me, does she kiss

Like I used to kiss you?

Does it feel the same when she calls your name?

Somewhere deep inside

You must know I miss you

But what can I say? Rules must be obeyed

Humming to yourself you sat in your window bench seat propping up your foot staring up at the stars after having spent the better part of the evening going over the schedule for this week leading up to the big race you would be in sneakers for to keep your father calm on not damaging your ankle before the big day. Again your fingers smoothed across the cockatoo plushie on your lap your eldest brother Gummy Bear had crochet for you in a pink and grey shade matching your Lyla you lost two years prior still hurting you enough to know you weren’t ready to take up your family’s offer to help you find another. By now she’d have nuzzled on your shoulder after a signaling bout of fake kissing sounds she would make when she wanted to be closer to you.

Out of nowhere she would call your name sweetly whenever you were sad or in pain. Always finding candies in the house she would hide in your bag for pleasant surprises through your day between bits of shredded construction paper you’d given her after she’d see you smile in trying at origami when she was little, all you now kept in a glass box on your desk. You now had a path you had chosen and the fear you had assumed not to be an issue seemed worse as to how you would take the first official step on it.

But again you glanced at your phone reading the message from Thranduil,

‘If you’re in the mood for it tomorrow at noon you should give the peach cobbler a try at Mary’s diner.’

To yourself you mumbled, “What is that supposed to mean? Hey the cobbler is good? Or is it a vague offer for a date?” Again you sighed and set the phone down, “Why would he put a specific time though?”

…

The judges will decide (They decide)

The likes of me abide (We abide)

Spectators of the show (Of the show)

Always staying low (Staying low)

The game is on again (On again)

A lover or a friend (Or a friend)

A big thing or a small (Big or small)

The winner takes it all (Takes it all)

 Finally the big day came and after your run in at Mary’s you got your answer as Dis showed up and went from asking about your health before mentioning her emptying spot bringing about a need for a trainee signaling your timid mention of your license. It wasn’t a date but it did lead to a tour of the shop and an appointment for your first day on the job after the races were through.

Racers and horses flooded the town but with it exploded the news that your new friend was going to be giving your idea a chance. There was no terms against it, a fact you reminded your father if, and the giddiness and giggles from you had him smirking in your bounce away seeing your interest in the vet had not waned over the years and had now been given a chance to blossom.

 *

I don't wanna talk

If it makes you feel sad

And I understand, you've come to shake my hand

I apologise

If it makes you feel bad

Seeing me so tense, no self-confidence

 Strutting straight to his assigned pen Tuo passed the curious horses between sneering riders, owners and onlookers and Thranduil joined his family to finalize the details and brush him down readying the saddle he rarely let Thranduil put on him after decades of considering doing just this. Still being the lone Elk rider in the bunch and the topic of all this gossip made his stomach clench, at least until he heard your voice sound.

“Hello Handsome.”

Turning around sharply his brows shot up only to drop in a grin seeing you stroking Tuo’s snout he nuzzled closer to you. Slowly his eyes took in the halter top dress in mint matching your hair tight till your hips where it playfully spun around you in your habitual thinking twists on your feet. Around Tuo Thranduil stepped and greeted you, “Managed to sneak away, Miss Pear?”

With a giggle you held out an apple you asked, “I saw this and wondered if after the race Tuo can have it?”

Thranduil chuckled saying as Tuo took a bite out of the apple making you giggle, “He can’t resist apples. Should help give him a boost if he has a hope for more after.”

You nodded, “I’ll do my best to sneak some more.” Looking to Tuo you stroked his shout as he finished the apple, “You’re going to show them all, aren’t you handsome? Just how marvelous you are.”

Proudly he chortled in return and you glanced at Thranduil when he spoke, “You know, when I do win, I’ll be getting a ticket to the Champion’s Ball,” His hand patted Tuo’s side in inching closer pretending his heart wasn’t racing faster in doing so, “I know you’ve wanted to see what it’s like. We could go together, if you’re up for it?”

Your name was called and before you hurried away you grinned up at him, “I can’t wait.” Looking to Tuo again you flashed him a wink saying, “See you in the winner’s circle. I’ll keep your roses ready for you.” He chortled again as you stepped away leaving Thranduil grinning madly.

 But you see, the winner takes it all

The winner takes it all

 From the inspection of the starting gates led to Thranduil’s hands clenching on the reigns before the starting jolt in their opening. All at once from an even two strides Tuo shot ahead and his steady lead only grew until you and your fight to hold back your giddy giggles ended in Thranduil’s hop down to guide Tuo to the waiting ring of roses to be strung around his neck for the pictures to follow the interview you gave.

 So the winner takes it all

And the loser has to fall

Throw a dice cold as ice

Way down here someone dear

Takes it all has to fall

It seems plain why complain

The others all frowned in your choice winning. Gown chosen suiting his choice of tail bearing tux demanded for the occasion. Pictures were taken and into the Ball you had strode. An introductory speech was given and that was the last demanded of Thranduil leaving you and him in your seats. Not much was offered for dancing leaving you all mostly in your seats for small talk between a team of magicians hired for the night and leaning in closer to his side you whispered, “No wonder they don’t brag about the Ball.” Making him chortle and rub his face trying not to laugh any louder and draw attention to you both. Peering up at you he caught your smirk, “I’m in the mood for nachos, you?”

Smirking back he asked, “You ever bowled in a ball gown?” You shook your head with a giggle and his hand claimed yours to cradle, “Then My Lady, you have not lived. Allow me to right this egregious error.” Stealing a peck on your knuckles on the hand he held in your sneaking out.

So off you went and drawing the eye of those in town passing by the tiny bowling alley seemed to gather quite a crowd seeing you both giggle your ways back to giddiness between snacks and games and trips to the attached arcade for tickets and prizes. Nerves seemed to vanish as nudged into the photo booth by a bargain claiming Dam onto his lap you stumbled and in a flash a nose scrunching kiss was captured and soon followed by a more sensible one backed by a wall of roses.

All –

@himoverflowers​, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator​, @sweeticedtea​, @ggbbhehe4455​, @thegreyberet​, @patanghill17​, @jesgisborne​, @curvestrology​, @alishlieb​, @jogregor​, @armitageadoration​, @fizzyxcustard​, @here2have-fun​, @lilith15000​, @marvels-ghost​, @catthefearless​, @imjusthereforthereads​, @c-s-stars​

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

X Thranduil - @evyiione​, @sweetlytenacious25​, @tigereyesf​, @pastelhexmaniac

[chrsitophwaltz]

MICKEY MEETS FC BAYERN (PART 4/4)

for the entire houston clownery experience click here

psa: if you’ve read the last 3 parts, then you know the drill. i just wanna add that i don’t know how coherent this is bc writing it drained me already. i typed it straight from my garbage brain so this is obviously NOT SAFE FOR WORK. if you’re brave or thirsty enough, or have holy water at the ready, then by all means please proceed.

*matthew mcconaughey voice* alright alright alright

we’ve reached the end, folks! it’s taken me longer than i thought to put this part out. mainly because my brain still can’t comprehend that this actually happened. y’all know that feeling where something happened and you just floated right through it then a few hours later when you’re all alone it hits and destroys you like a fucking trainwreck?

yeah, that’s what it’s been like.

so to recap:

friday: the team arrived. i was positioned nicely near the bus exit and my mind, body, and soul had been buzzing and ready for that moment. i had it all well-rehearsed too: niko steps out, i scream like a banshee for his name, he comes over-- with soft hair and glorious stubble and all-- to sign my shirt and take a gazillion pics. oh, and of course i try not to faint or drool all over him. it was almost fullproof. the problem? he never stepped out. he and thiago went straight to the airport for a press conference and were never in the team bus. i was ready to unleash death right then and there.

but oh well. all hope isn’t lost. i’m gonna be five rows behind the bayern bench the next day during the game anyway. got the tickets within an hour or so after sales opened. i can thirst to my heart’s content over him and his beautiful backside for two hours. and i had this huge ass sign ready, asking for his bottle. it’s bigger and brighter than my life. he CANNOT possibly miss that, right?

saturday: game day! i’ve been buzzing the entire morning and early afternoon. today’s the day! my first time inside a football (american) stadium too. and i was kinda nervous about my sign’s debut too. what if he does see it and give me his bottle? what would i do? do i manage to keep cool or do i smash it right into my eye socket in front of him? until now i still don’t know

so we go down to the stadium. my sign was getting some attention too. people, bayern fans and madridies alike, stopped me and asked what it meant (i had to sheepishly explain to random people that yes, i am indeed asking for his bottle, and no, y’all don’t wanna know why). some guy even got it on his video camera but idk what he did with it sjdfdjkfdjkfsfs

i got settled into my seat and h o l y s h i t i was so close to the pitch and the bench! all the drama? i got it! all the shirt-changing action? i got em too! and all the angry niko antics??? best believe they’re seared into my mind forever and ever!!!!

(dare i say, with full risk of sounding like a downright whore, the man’s got real juicy buns in the back oven. like, fuck me!!!! he’s fit as fucking fuck!!!!!!!! he also loves to whistle and scream instructions and mouth off to hansi on the bench. oh, and to randomly thrust his hips like nobody’s fuckin business!!!!!!!!)

(srsly niko, why do that???? GET OFF MY DAMN NECK!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!! my 17-year old sister was beside me and i had to be 110% a responsible, sane adult!!!!!!! even the guy sitting behind us eventually caught on to my thirst since he saw me filming niko the whole duration of the game sddbsjfdjfnsm)

anyway, niko LOVES to hydrate and he probably finished around 4-5 bottles of water. at one point he looked over at where i was and i’m sure as h e l l he saw my sign (it was a huge ass board). but guess what? it’s like he knew just how desperate i was and kept on sexily chugging. god fucking dammit, niko!!!!

y’all know what happened to all those bottles? NOTHING! they’re just piled up on the bench never to be used again. i was right there, niko! A CRUMB! just one fuckin crumb was all i asked for!!!!!!!!!!!! he could’ve thrown that bottle straight at my fuckin face and i would’ve THANKED him

the game ended, we won, and NO BOTTLE. a bitch was sad!!! a bitch was going STIR CRAZY!!!!! the team only had one day left before they left for kansas city. i’ve been trying to get info on how to get into the practice session so i can see him and all the boys. but of course! the training session might as well be in secret because it’s invite-only!!! even the paulaner bbq event was closed. the only events that were open were the mall meet-and-greets. but those wouldn’t have niko or the rest of the boys in them.

please bear in mind again that i decided to shell out extra just to make that one day extension happen. 

i had to see the entire team. i needed to experience niko up close. if i don’t get to do this now, then god knows when i’ll get the chance to do so again.

so, driven by desperation, i made a totally uninformed decision to go to the hotel at some random time the next day. ultimately, it was either the hotel or the carl lewis track. i figured the hotel would be a safer bet since i’d been there before and it was closer to the mall where the meet-and-greets would be (just in case the worst happened and i failed to catch them before they left for practice or wherever).

hotel or track? hotel.

what time? probably 8:30.

did i know what i was doing? absolutely fucking not.

but hey, couldn’t hurt, right? it was bonkers. truly bananas. but what choice did i have? in the end, i just wanted to be able to tell myself that i tried.

sunday:

i’ve been thinking about what to call this part. here’s some of what comes to mind:

1. crazy binch follows crazy idea and it works? it’s more likely than you think!

2. if you like it (i LOVED it) then you should’ve put a ring on it (I MCFUCKIN DID!!!!! in my head at least sksdjfksdfsdfh)

3. the day kathleen krüger probably wanted my head on a spike (and i don’t blame her)!

so the events from parts 1 and 2 happened. saw and greeted kathleen krüger in decent german. it was going pretty well. somewhere in there, during the sven/leon mishap, it finally happened. the moment that i’ve been waiting for. perfection!

*record scratch* eh, not really.

look, i’m 5′3 (and 1/2, i’m gonna insist on that). leon is 6′2. sven is about 6′3 or 6′4? anyway, y’all get it. they’re tall af.

and niko? a very sexy 5′9.

so in the haze of mortification and embarrassment brought about by the sven/leon mishap, i completely missed niko going out of the hotel. the binch literally had to be positioned in between sven and leon and all the other tall german people milling around the hotel. my ass had been on alert for him nearly the entire week (and let’s be real, for months) and when the moment finally presented itself, it completely flew over my head. i nearly ruined my own damn plan.

thankfully though, i’d been chatting with the bayern staff earlier and they knew that i’d been waiting this whole time to meet niko. i wondered out loud, “ugh, when is niko gonna show up he’s usually one of the earlier ones” and the guy in the red audi fcb tour polo shirt frowned and said “what? he literally just went out. didn’t you see him?”

my world literally stopped. i wanted to slap myself. my ears were ringing.

niko, already out? how could i have missed him? had he already gone up the bus???

i literally did a 360 so fast i gave myself whiplash and saw through the glass doors the man i’d been waiting forever for. he was clad in his blue coach kit of shirt and shorts. i could also swear he was glowing like an angel (probably bc of the bright sun or the product of my thirst-addled brain, idk).

there was another problem, though: he wasn’t stopping. he was going straight for the bus. and his leggies were f a s t.

and where was i? still frozen in shock inside the freaking hotel!!!!

i’m not the fastest person in the world but man, adrenaline really does work wonders! thank goodness my brain chose that moment to regain its function and spurred my body into motion. with no fucks left to give, i ran full tilt through the throng of people leisurely heading out, past the security guards who looked at me like i was insane (i was), out of the hotel and into the courtyard where there were about 50 or so fans behind the barriers who had gathered to catch a glimpse of the team.

it was like everything was in slow-mo. there was kathleen, patiently standing near the bus door and taking inventory of the players and staff before they leave. and there was niko, with literally one foot lifted to go up the first step into the bus.

my brain did a quick calculation. even with adrenaline, he’d already be up and inside the bus by the time i get to where he was. they may have let me inside the hotel, but i knew the bus was off limits. i had to stop him before he’s out of reach. and i knew that if i missed him, then that would be the absolute last time i’d see him in houston. that was my last chance.

i already had one foot dipped into the proverbial pool of shame. i was vaguely aware that i had the hotel staff stationed near the door and some fans looking at me bc of my marathon sprint antic. why not just take the full plunge, right?

so i did the only thing i could do to stop him: i screamed for him. throat open, full diaphragm, lungs out screamed: “NIKO! NIKO PLEASE!” my voice and the desperation that it was absolutely dripping with echoed within the walls of the hotel entrance.

i don’t even know the others’ reaction to that anymore, and i don’t really wanna know. all i know was that it worked! he stopped and turned around to look. and god was he. so. beautiful!!!

overjoyed that he paused, i ran straight towards him. there was a body in front of me that i barely dodged in my haste and i belatedly realized it was the team photographer taking shots of the departure. i nearly bowled him over and destroyed his expensive camera but thankfully i somehow managed to do a the matrix-esque maneuver and ducked under his arms and up again straight back to niko. the look on my face must’ve been shocking and horrific (i bet) because as i zoomed in on niko, i saw poor kathleen just behind him, still near the bus door, go tense with her eyes as big as saucers.

look, i understand. if i were the team manager of a popular football team, and some woman was running straight for one of my charges, with A Certain Look on her face, and with the bus door wide open, i’d be worried af. she probably thought i was gonna attack niko (somewhat true, but not in the way she thought...or was it?) and/or infiltrate the team bus. my intentions were pure (ish), of course, but my face didn’t reflect that.

the Queen knew martial arts and could’ve karate-kicked me off the face of the earth and away from niko, but she didn’t. so thank you, kathleen. and i apologize.

safe from kathleen’s wrath (for now), i turned my full attention to niko. i was finally in front of him!!!!! my dream had finally come true!!!!!!!!!!!

my brain and my soul were trying to leave my body and i wasn’t really 100% percent in the moment, but even with the little presence of mind i had left it was too much to bear. niko looked a bit perplexed, like i might attack him or something (with the way i looked, ran, and shouted like an animal i totally get it), but still managed to look relaxed, open, and friendly. he looked at me expectantly and i felt my mouth move to ask for an autograph and my hands give him my cardboarded jersey and sharpie. i wasn’t in control of my body anymore but thank god it knew exactly what i wanted.

niko, a true angel sent down from the heavens above, gracefully took my shirt and sharpie. i’m pretty sure my mouth was wide open and probably had some drool hanging off, and i could feel kathleen’s stare boring holes into the side of my head. as he was signing it, my last few brain cells were roasting.

his hair was soft and ungelled, and was damp (he looked like he recently just came out of the shower) and as his head was bent down, That Stray Lock of Hair flopped into his forehead. it nearly made me pass tf out!!! the sun was also shining brightly and his stubble was already silvery (thanks to bayern’s season of clownery!) so when the light caught it, it literally shone. each strand was literally p e r f e c t i o n. perfect length, perfect texture (from the looks of it; i didn’t dare touch no matter how much i wanted to bc thankfully i still had one fragile shred of dignity left, and i’m sure kathleen would’ve brought out the shotgun), perfect everything. i was about to have a coronary right then and there.

i’ve thought a lot about what i wanted to say to him if i did get the chance to meet him and talk to him. i remembered all the highs and lows of last season and as he finished signing my shirt, i thanked him and said “good luck, niko. and don’t listen to everything they say; you’ll always have people to stand behind you and the team no matter what.” at least that’s what i thought i said. i don’t really remember bc i was half spaced out. but i must’ve said something to that effect bc he looked up from what he was doing and gave me a big, and dare i say, relieved (?), smile. god, his eyes. they were so green. and soft. and really, really kind.

he was probably surprised that i said that to him, what with my earlier crazed stunt. but of course, ever the gentleman, he said “thank you so much” G O D!!!! HIS ACCENT!!!!! if you haven’t heard him speak in english yet, or just speak at all, now’s the time to google that shit. it’s deadly af on video, but goddamn, like everything else about him in person, it’s truly something else live.

mercifully, when he gave me back my shirt and pen, i still had enough life left in me to ask for a picture before i finally passed out. i never would’ve forgiven myself if i forgot!!!

me: thanks again, niko. is it alright if we take a picture?

niko: sure, of course! (god i love him; also, he loves to say “of course” for some reason sjkdhfdfjsdkfh)

so i had my shirt and sharpie in my left hand, and was trying to work my phone with my right hand. niko sidled up real close to my left side and HOLY FUCKING SHIT. he was so warm. and his arm was f i r m. he was leaning really close and my brain was short-circuiting from trying to memorize every single detail and trying to work my phone camera.

(note: my lock screen is niko drenched in beer after they won the bundesliga. thankfully, i turned off my phone’s auto lock just the night before. imagine if he saw me trying to unlock my phone with his wet self plastered on my screen. i never would’ve survived the shame.)

as i was skin on skin with niko, my organs were literally failing. my hands were shaking and sweating, and my camera just. wouldn’t. set. on. photo. it went to video, to slow mo, to god knows what else. it was already getting embarrassing and i was mumbling apologies to niko bc i was sure i’d already taken more than enough of his time. and i haven’t forgotten that kathleen was still there! still staring at us, at me, and witnessing every single mortifying thing!!!!

niko, literally heaven itself incarnate, was so patient though and just chuckled. oh. fuck. me. his chuckle. y’all know his voice is deep af, right? and you know that certain r a s p that comes with it. well, fuck. he did this deep ass raspy chuckle that went straight down to my loins!!!!! christ on a bike!!!! my inner whore was literally about to jump out!!!!! i’ve fantasized about hearing it in person for so long but jesus fucking christ I WASN’T READY. ALL THIS TIME AND MY BODY STILL WASN’T READY!!!! AND I’M DAMN SURE IT WILL NEVER BE READY!!!!!!!!! NO ONE IS READY FOR THIS ATTACK!!!!!!!!

g o d. anyway, he finally took pity on me. he chuckled (i’m on the brink of death here!!!) and reached for my phone to help me take the goddamn photo. he set it on photo (freaking finally, thanks niko) and we posed for the photo. hell, he was so close again. while i tried to smile and look somehow decent, i just had to take away as much detail as i could before we parted.

1. i already said this, but his h a i r. so soft. and houston was freaking humid. while mine was literally about to turn into a bird’s nest from the humidity, the man just couldn’t look fugly if he tried!!! he literally had NO FRIZZ. damn niko, tell me your secret!

2. his stubble was SO CLOSE. every strand? PERFECTION. no words could adequately describe it. and holy shit, his jawline and cheekbones. if i touched it i could literally lacerate my goddamn hand. and he had no pores??? fucking sexy cryptid

3. his c h u c k l e (he wasn’t chuckling anymore, but that shit stays with you till the end of time)

4. HIS S C E N T.

okay. i have a scent kink. i know. TMI. like this whole write up is one big banner for too much fuckin information. but holy shit. HOLY S H I T. until now i still don’t know how to fully describe, and i probably never will succeed in fully conveying what it was truly like (and if my brain embellished some of it; i was really too far gone to know anything anymore), but fuck. f u c k. he wasn’t wearing perfume or cologne, i’m sure of that. nothing too artificial that stood out to my nostrils. probably bc they were going to train under the houston sun and spritzing was wasted and unnecessary. but remember that he was fresh from the shower, so that was basically his main scent. it was very nice, very crisp, very clean. basically, sexy as hell. classy. panty-melting!!!! hell, i don’t know!!!! you know what i mean!!! idk if it’s from the hotel toiletries (if it was, good job post oak hotel!) or if it’s his own (then i need to know niko! what products do you use???). but yeah. clean and crisp. d***y supreme.

and there was also something else. it must’ve been his natural scent. and god. GOD!!!! a bit woodsy (?) and quite sweet. i’ll stop there before i say something that REALLY crosses the line.

so my thumb moves, and we take the photo. ONE FREAKING PHOTO. that’s all i managed. i wasn’t able to look at it until my uber ride to the mall later on, and i really would’ve liked more to take with me and stare at when i’m....lonely. but it was magically HDR, and i looked passable. and niko. again: perfection!!!! now that i know what he’s like in the flesh, nothing else will ever come close. but this does come quite close.

after the photo was taken, i manage to squeak out another “thanks.” niko smiled again (kill me one last time, why don’t you) and squeezed my arm lightly before saying goodbye and finally going up the bus. kathleen could breathe a sigh of relief now.

i don’t know how long i stood there. surely not that long since i still got to take pics with serge, manu, and lewy. but it did feel like forever and i haven’t shaken myself out of it. as i’m writing this, exactly one week later after it happened, i still haven’t shaken myself out of it. i don’t think i ever could.

i’m just thankful to whichever deity made this happen. my houston trip was finally complete (i haven’t met everyone yet at that point, but i just somehow knew deep inside that it would all work out). i got what i came for and more. my extension was not only worth it, but completely priceless. i’ll treasure this whole day and that little moment i got with niko for the rest of my life. that’s for sure.

just to end this, i just wanna say something. i know this was one whole crazy and thirsty post, but seriously. he’s a really nice man. a good man. it wasn’t for more than a few minutes at most, but it felt like forever in my mind. and in that short moment, i just knew he tries his best. i’m a true blue niko stan but even i know he made mistakes. i’m clearheaded enough to acknowledge that. but he tries, and he succeeded. and no matter how calm and cool and collected he always appears to be, you can still see how much it all affects him. hell, he literally grayed in front of our eyes in less than a year. his eyes were a little less bright at the end of the season as compared to his presentation last july. when i gave him that little message of support, i literally saw the relief in his eyes and how much he appreciated it. he and the team have been through quite the ordeal last season, and there are no guarantees it will be easier this time around.

you don’t have to like him, you know. but please. a little basic human respect still goes a long way.

there, i said my piece. and it’s done! thank you, fc bayern, for being so nice and game and all-around wonderful. thank you, kathleen krüger, for staying calm long enough to let me have my moment with niko. and thank you, niko, just for being... you. now here’s the ONE picture i’ll treasure for the rest of my life:

[kiissme]

open — males, females. plot — you came for an appointment with faye’s boss, hoping to sign them to the magazine she works for, but he’s nowhere near his office, but it’s okay, his assistant will keep you company. verse — assistant.

          “I mean, he’s totally comin’.” Except he wasn’t. “He’s just been held up.” Meaning he was holding up with that pretty blonde Faye saw in his office two days ago. “He definitely didn’t forget about today.” Harry definitely forgot about any and all his meetings, usually. She usually has to copy and paste her previous texts and plugged in the relevant information. It was a system that often worked — except at this moment. “He would never forget ‘bout today, or ‘bout you.” Except when he was with a naked and leggy blonde who seemed pretty flexible. “You’re the best in your field, Harry says so all the time.” Only after Faye had told him that, she was a girl that did her research and was the one that whispered about the advantage of signing the other on. Harry was easily manipulated, but not enough to show. “He’ll come any minute, I promise you.” Even if she had to go and drag him by his overworked cock if it meant not blowing this deal. “Just — stay for a bit, ten minutes, maybe? I can get you somethin’ if you’d like? Was gonna do a lunch run for the office, can do that for you as well. Hungry? Thirsty? I’m Scottish so I can definitely make a mean cuppa — tea, I can make tea. Or coffee, I suppose. Please? Just stay.”

[geirskogull]

Steel Reign - Chapter 3 - Dial A Summoner

Danica calls up a good friend who probably wont react badly to “oh yeah i might be a primal now”

Archive Link

Rating: M

Count: 2.1 K

Rain. Rain was a regular occurrence in the Shroud. Caolan Haustefort should know that. Caolan Haustefort liked to consider himself a smart man, and things such as the local weather patterns should be within his constant purview of “things he was aware of.” 

But as his floppy wet beret could tell you, he very much was not. 

Danica was lucky, he thought to himself, lucky he was bored enough trying to find a ship to sign on to in Limsa that he'd be willing to drop everything and come to this ass end of the forest to see how she was faring. A lie in two parts on his account, one he told himself in a vain attempt to keep the haughty aloof arcanist act in one piece. He was sure that was exactly the kind of person ships were looking for and Gods above he’d be their man. 

Of course he’d also be the worried mother hen, rushing from one end of Eorzea to the other when one of his comrades muttered even a single worrying word. 

Pushing open the swinging doors of Buscarron Druthers, the rush of warm dry air made him shudder, sending droplets of water all over any who were within spitting distance on the main door. His eyes scanned the crowd for the mop of black hair and slightly pointed ears of the woman whose shaky voiced link pearl call had dragged him there, and when his eyes came up empty his heart began pounding. The mask slipping and worry visually coloring his grey face, somehow losing what little color it did have. His long steps rushed him towards the tavern keeper, a strong looking gent whose name adorned the very place her ran. 

“Need a drink, son? I’m sure I have something here that can warm your drenched bones” Buscarron asked, looking up at the Duskwight with a  sympathetic look in his singular functional eye. Caolan shook his head no, sending another wave of splatters across the bar this time. 

“Not now, though depending on what the person I’m supposed to meet here has to say, perhaps later.” He cracked a nervous smile, letting his eyes wander over the gathered crowds again, absently. Trying to maintain a calm that he was no longer capable of holding.

“Looking for the Dragoon in the corner perhaps?” Buscarron’s words drew caolans eyes and attention back towards him. The ‘keep motioned to a well hidden alcove with the glass he had been cleaning. Eyes following, he did not like what he saw.

Danica sat in the booth, eyes downcast, intent upon the small linkpearl and not at all at either the food or drink placed in front of her. She looked exhausted, almost half dead. “She’s been like that since she wandered in here during the worst of the storm. I had half the mind to offer the poor girl use of the backroom to rest, but something tells me she’d be too proud to accept the offer.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He replied, he shook his head, a heavy sigh following. “Thank you.” He pushed himself off the bar, and with a slight bow of his head towards its keeper he turned towards Dee. His frown never truly leaving his face.

Buscarron’s eyes followed the leggy gent, he must have been whoever she called on that little red pearl earlier. Who she spoke to in rushed, hushed tones, far too low for him to make out anything she actually said to the folks on the other side. All he knew was that she looked scared, and alone, and his honor - and his memory of when she came bouncing through the door on order of the Lancer’s guild - had him flicking his eye back over there every once and awhile. Just make sure she was still upright and breathing. 

“Dee?” Caolans voice was almost a whisper as he approached his friend, and yet she still nearly jumped from her skin when his words hit her ears. She paused just short of her spear, just recognizing him before her hands wrapped around its shaft. Danica Voss was jumpy.

This wasn’t good.

Voss was never jumpy. Ok that was a lie, Caolan chastised himself, her entire preferred form of combat revolved around jumping, but this was a different jumpy. A scary jumpy. A worrying jumpy. A jumpy that had him compressing himself to as small a size as he possibly could, which admittedly, even when he hunched over and scrunched up his shoulders wasn’t very small. 

“Dee...” he let her name hang in the air as he slid into the booth, across from her. Trying to figure out, among his many grand social stratagem, which to employ to talk to a friend about something bothering her. 

“Your food is getting cold.”  Working around the problem before getting it, that would work yes? He thought to himself, gentle nudging the plate towards his friends. Even if it didn’t work, it would make her eat something, hopefully. 

Voss flicked her eyes to the plate, as if noticing it for the first time. She opened her mouth, flicked her eyes towards Buscarron who simply waved, and then shook her head. The way her brows crinkled as she grimaced spoke a sharp spike of pain as she did so. 

“....Not Hungry.” She eventually managed to whisper. “But thank you.”  Her eyes flashed back towards the owner, who hard turned back to his own work for now. She silently cursed herself, how had she not heard him place it down? Odin, or the sword, or perhaps even just her own overactive mind painted her scenarios were such inattention would be fatal.

“Thirsty then?” Caolan asked, tilting his head, and comically letting his dripping beret fall with an audible splat. Danica blinked, startled and confused at the sound, but drawn away from her own mind if even for a second by the sheer strangeness of Haustefort without a hat. When she didn’t respond, he leaned in, his wet hair dripping upon the table. Gods he wished he had thought to bring an umbrella.

“Or perhaps you wish to tell me why you summoned me all the way from Limsa, where if you’d like to know I was very very close to actually signing on with a good crew for a spell, via linkpearl with just the words “We need to talk.” You know, the anxiety words. The no good very bad anxiety words.”  He cracked a small smile, hoping his good natured jab at the heart of the problem would ease some answers out of the half elezen woman.

She swallowed hard, eyes still downcast when she answered. 

“I need help.” Three simple words that did not tell any meat of the matter. He blinked, waiting for more words, fear growing in his heart as the seconds turned closer towards a minute. Slowly, she raised her hands to the table. They were bruised, bandaged things. Unsurprising considering her martial profession.

“Did you really summon me all this way just to heal some minor injuries?” He asked, giving an incredulous. He deeply doubted such a thing would be the case. Hells, he’d known her to forgo medical treatment when she really needed it, if it didn’t seem important at the time via her own special, Danica standards.

Then, he noticed the black metal hilt in her hands. 

His mouth hung open, shock and awe stalling any words from leaving his mouth. He’d never thought he’d live to be in the presence of such a sword, well unless it was swinging down upon him to end his pitiful existence. Yet, here it was in Danica’s hand. 

“You killed Odin?” He whispered, finally. Grasping at her wrist holding the hilt and shoving it back beneath the table. Scanning the bar for eyes turned their way, thankful that his whisper hadn’t actually been a scream. 

“Yes.” She responded her hands shaking, “No.” She said quickly after. Her eyes finally leaving the sword to look into his grey ones. They were red, had she been crying? Or was she just tired. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, leaning further across the table. The wood digging into his gut, he was almost crawling across it. 

“I think it is the Primal.” She whispered, and he felt the his gut twist. “And... and who ever kills Odin becomes him the moment they touch the sword.” 

Becomes the primal. 

The words hit him like an imperial air raid. He dare not ask to confirm if she was saying what he thought she was saying. The look on her face was enough to tell him that any shadow of doubt in her own mind was long gone. He took a deep breath.

“What do you need me to do, Dee?” His voice was serious, thankfully not betraying the fear in his core. His friend, a primal. A primal among those who hunt primals. He was sure she was having those very same worried thoughts rushing through her mind, mayhap even faster. Of those she called friend turning their blade upon her, striking her down. Her name cursed, those close to her executed for fear of being tempered. He closed his eyes, swallowed hard, and spoke again.

“Anything you need of me, I will do.”

“I need you to be my friend right now.”

She responded, her voice shaky. Perhaps on the verge of tears. Reaching across the table, caolan grasped the hand that did not hold the cursed blade with both of his. A comforting shield, even if only in theory and less in practice.

Hells, the Arcanist Guild never prepared him for something like this.

“I’m...” She spoke, looking back towards the swirling wood grain of the table. “I’m telling you because your the only person my mind gave me that wouldn’t...” She couldn’t even bring herself to finish the sentence. He wondered how long she sat agonizing over those names before ringing him up. He was glad she did.

“I need you to help me understand this, help me figure out what exactly is going on. You know stuff about primals, about summoning! And your my friend and...” She shook her head, grimacing. If Odin was in there, was he talking to her? Was he making this easy, making this hard?

“I can do that, I’ll head back to Limsa and start spending my days scouring for everything I can get on the topic. And I’ll get us a linkpearl for just us. And I’ll... Have you told anyone else?” He asked, concern in his voice. “Who sent you out here anyway? Last I heard you were too busy punching people in Ul’dah for sport.”

Danica snorted, and Caolan smiled. Progress in this strange predicament they found themselves, that he had been dragged into. 

“Urianger, we Scions were called on to try to put a permanent end to Odin. We thought we had a plan by fighting him in Urth’s font but...” She shook her head, giving a bitter chuckle. “Look how that turned out.”

“Urianger, that’s the guy with the hood right?” he asked, trying to remember everything he could about Danica’s fellow scions. He remembered little, mostly tidbits about the ones Zara and Bryce were also familiar with. There was Neran, the Paladin, then Aveline the Astrologian, and Y’sthola - he’d seen her around Limsa and... 

He cursed his memory for not giving him more. 

Danica gave an affirming nod. “The others were out dealing with other big problems, so it fell to me and now...”

“Do you trust Urianger as well?” Caolan asked, not allowing Danica to continue deep into the swirling abyss of fear that stood before her. She looked up and nodded. 

“He’s done nothing to earn my distrust,”

“Then I think we should tell him as well.” Caolan announced, Danica merely shrugged. 

Though her voice showed much more fear than her nonchalant movement did. 

“I’d prefer to let as few people know about this condition as possible.” She whispered. Eyes darting around the room. None had eyes on her, but it didn’t stop her from worrying ears may be. 

“Alright, don’t, but at least report in so they don’t come calling.” He amended his statement, and she sighed. He was right, so very right. If she didn’t report in people would come calling. When people come calling, they ask questions. And when people ask questions, they inevitably get answers. She swallowed hard and nodded.

“Come with me?” 

She asked, though it was more of a plea. He sighed, shaking his wet head with a look of mock insult upon his face.

“Yet you request more! Ugh, fine.” He couldn’t stop a smile from creeping upon his face, or laughter from breaking his words

“But let’s at least wait till the rain stops,”

“Pray then we will return to the waking sands?”

[deez-no-relation]

Okay. So I know I’m most likely not someone MS would give a second glance to because I’m curvy and plus size and the only thing I have going for me as far as he goes is that I’m tall and very leggy BUT I can’t stop thinking of him seeing me at a bar or cafe or something and his eyes twinkling and he smirks and talks to me and we end up fucking. Like the idea of his hands on my slim waist sliding over my larger hips and grabbing me where I’m soft while I ride him is very very appealing

(Plus size anon pt2) because actually I can’t stop thinking of him loving my thick thighs wrapped tight around his head as he eats me out. Him loving my big boobs as they bounce from how hard he fucks me. Also. I’m infertile so I suppose that’s the second thing I have going for me when it comes to MS he could go as raw as he wanted to. Again, I’m not his type, but I still am one thirsty bitch over this dumb man

_________

Confidence!! Beautiful!! You have it in you, I know you do. Because I see the signs of confidence already, tempered by a world that has told you that you aren’t sexy enough when you know deep down that you ARE. And you know that with the right context and opportunity you would fucking ROCK his world and he’d love it. I believe this very strongly. I believe in you. 

[gnomebud]

my favorite thing about content on here with peter nureyev is people either a) being thirsty af or b) being emo af (image description below the cut)

image description: a collection of tags from various tumblr posts, reading:

“i miss him” “WHERE IS HE.” “inhale” “where is my husband” “please bring him back to me” “[frank ocean voice] been thinkin bout you (you know know know)” “oh my beautiful leggy crime boy....” “peter come home” “i love him please come back” “thief of my heart u mean” “WHERE! IS! MY! BOY! WHERE!! what the FUCK” “give me back my knife gay” “when will my dude return from the war.....” “i would die for peter nureyev” “im fuckin GAY my dudes” “FUCK ITS HIM ITS MY MCFUCKING HUSBAND” “bring back my son” “idk if i already reblogged this i don’t care either im G A Y” “peter u darling fucker” “where is this man and when will he be back.....thief of hearts indeed”

end image description

[bewitchingallure]

Father’s Hands

J.M. Clark

Hydrangeas full in bloom, the softest purple invited us to pull up closer in the driveway. So many of them, lightly drooping in bunches, blocked the bottom of the window into the warm sunroom. My eyes traveled from the flowers and up the window only to see hand blown glass spheres of all different sizes and colors hanging from fishing line behind the glass. I wondered how they stayed so still, where Liam and Felicity got them. In that moment, I loved them so much I despised my mother’s decorative taste at home more every time I came here.

I continued to sit shotgun. Father already turned the car off, but I couldn’t go. As excited as I was, the chilled air was drifting away and the stale warm air returned to comfort me. I was stuck in the moment, a little nervous. Then I saw Ellie, Ray Bans pulling her hair back, as she shuffled to the trunk with a cumbersome laundry basket of clothes.

Ellie had always been my best friend. In one aspect we were two of a kind, in the other I looked like the Virgin Mary beside her. Ellie was an only child, I was the middle mostly fallen through the cracks. Her back was always covered in labels, mine in her hand-me-downs. I was her last season shadow but I didn’t mind. She made me feel like I belonged. Ellie showed me the ropes, let me in on a sliver of the childhood I never got. She was my sparkle. What I learned growing up beside her, collecting her left over sparkle, was that no matter how much time we spent together, no matter how much she shared, she was never threatened because she knew she was always going to be better than me. Her charity didn’t threaten anything. Sometimes I wondered though, if we hadn’t been cousins would we be this inseparable? When you’re short on friends though, and don’t know the secret to making more you don’t overthink those things. You just accept them.

She was a stretch of black pavement away, thirty minutes if you’re speeding, but it felt so much further. We had separate lives. Oxford Heights and Guilderland possessed vastly different atmospheres, there was an elitism I only heard about cross-town. Father said we moved out of there when I was young so he didn’t raise brats. Ellie and I briefly recollected our teenage angst every encounter we shared. Other than that we only reminisced on the memories we created, including the week’s worth we were about to remember for the rest of our lives. I had never gone on holiday without my family before. I didn’t have a single ounce of fear, just pure foolish excitement.

“Y’all coming or what? All of my stuff is already packed in the car,” Ellie threw her fists on her hips and waited to see us moving in response.

Her enthusiasm pulled me out of the haze and lit a fire under my ass. I scuttled with arms open wide to all of my possessions, so I could pile them into the Camry trunk. Little did I know, laundry baskets fit better than duffle bags, and I studied that trunk like a game of Tetris. As usual, Father was over thinking, over packing, over analyzing. Hydrogen peroxide, old baseball caps, and fishing line were necessities that we couldn’t leave behind in his mind. I don’t try to understand, but merely nod and smile. He’s Toula’s father from My Big Fat Greek Wedding. Broke a leg? Terminally ill? Family drama? Hydrogen peroxide will fix it.

At this point he was over talking to Liam and Felicity. Part of me always knew Father didn’t care for them much, he always thought they let Ellie get away with murder. He backed off for a week because he knew he’d never be able to take me on a vacation like this though. I appreciated it more than I led on.

Ellie and I were already strapped up in the back seat reading our Seventeen magazines. Now, Liam and Felicity were my mother’s cousins so Ellie was really only my second, but we were always excited to go somewhere new, having strangers assume we’re sisters. That’s what I liked about tagging along with them. I was an honorary daughter and sister. Our final goodbyes before our very underestimated trip, Father kissed my forehead through the low peeking window in between us. My hair anticipating blonde sunshine, my skin excited for a sheer layer of freckles, my legs thirsty for a tan - we were ready to go. The engine was running with that air conditioning blowing to the point where its uncomfortable frost clothed our knees alone. Sitting Indian-style I laid a pillow across my lap, half for comfort but mainly due to scarce room anywhere else. Whipping the car out of the driveway into the center of the cul-de-sac, Ellie and I could tell we weren’t the only ones excited to be smothered by the journeys of Delaware. I didn’t think twice about the feverish waves Father gave me through the tinted chamber of the Camry, but in hindsight I wish I could’ve held on to that hand forever.

His hands weren’t soft, but that’s what I loved about them. They were huge, perfect tickling war hands, ideal hair braiding hands. They had nails that grew precisely even, they were dry and dingy and cracked and they always smelled of nicotine. I never imagined them to be desirable hands but in between tears they were the only hands I wanted to hold. I took him for granted, I just didn’t know it yet. Daddy’s girl.

After seven hours, two movies, and countless sing-alongs to the best of The Doors we had finally arrived. Liam and Felicity were the parents every kid wanted: very hip, a little negligent, and a bit stuck in the ‘70s for comic relief. Bethany Beach, Delaware was our haven for the next week. We had nowhere else to go and that was exactly what the four of us wanted.

Settling in was one of my favorite parts. Walking into a gorgeous condo waiting for my touch of character, your shaving cream, brushes and make up bags to line the counter in the bathroom. Ridding the drawers of the old wood stench, like a weathered paperback book, I laid down a bathroom towel from home along the bottom and filled my folded shirts and shorts side by side. Sneakers for tennis and sandals for the beach lined accordingly beside the dresser and window. Now here was the debate - which gets the bed adjacent to the window? Ellie had her own bedroom and a separate playroom at home, so this week I just wanted a bed next to the window. Luckily she was too fatigued to state her case, and it was an easy defeat.

With things set to a tee, we headed off down the stairs and out to venture. It was like one of those villages you put atop your mantle at Christmas. Illuminated at night, the boardwalk was home to hundreds of shuffling feet in and out of restaurants and ice cream shops. Overwhelmed with its beauty, Ellie and I waited for the cameras to stop rolling and reality to set back in. As excited as we were, our bodies spoke louder crying for sleep, but our minds weren’t yet ready, time was flying too fast.

Felicity was always an early bird, said Ellie was wasting the day waking up at such late hours. Eight was her idea of a snooze, and off she was waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs holding a beach bag, and chairs while simultaneously struggling to put sunscreen on her back.

“You girls know you can sleep back at home! Lets go before the beach fills up! Ellie, your father has the snacks in his bag.”

“I’m not doing this shit every morning,” Ellie said, rolling her eyes over to me.

I would’ve agreed except I never really found justice in anything Ellie complained about. I shrugged. We were family, but I got the sense I was going to see her only-child flaws rise up this week. Soon enough our long blonde hair with waves to match the water, cotton cover-ups and J. Crew flip flops struggled behind. The Delaware sun shone upon us the entire mile we walked. I looked like a fool, switching my bag from shoulder to shoulder just to evenly strain them both. Shoulders back, leggy and standing tall, Ellie paraded ahead gracefully, as per usual.

We arrived at the private beach the first day, which was underwhelming to our judgmental side. We were satisfied tourists just people watching on the public beach from then on. Ellie and I loved nothing more than to people watch. Maybe we were too critical or too serious. When being politically correct was demanded more often at our heightening ages, it was nice to quietly analyze and giggle at strangers from a distance, to blame it on our naïve youth.

The days started to mesh together. Our mornings spent on bicycles through the villages, peak of the heat spent drinking Diet Coke in reclining sun chairs reading tabloids, nights experimenting with the local fare and live music. I always thought if someone took snap shots of our days they would be Polaroid, sporting a sunny faded tint over them. They were colliding in my mind, which night I had the catch of the day to which morning I ate two oranges at the beach while staring, trying to figure out how that fellow fit in his wet suit. Elastic never ceases to amaze me. Things were beginning to change though. It became apparent that Thursday afternoon that those coy stares weren’t only addictive, they were dangerous.

Allotted enough money for lunch and frozen yogurt, we made the getaway to Five Guys on the boardwalk. Ellie and I had an acquired style that followed us wherever we went. Not because we were flawless, but because we were merely insecure. The thing about thirteen and a half is you cover up all the things you aren’t with material things you wish you were. It was working so-so. We grabbed two chairs at the counter looking out the window, so we could eat and people watch as per usual.  Ellie and I ate our junior burgers side by side. That Thursday though was not like that Tuesday or even that Wednesday. They sat there innocently enough, on the bench outside directly across from us, taunting our teenage minds.

They were Ben and Jordan. They had vile intentions masked behind deceptive smiles. Fitting to our youthful immaturity, we scarfed down our meals quickly and while seeming cavalier, we sat on the other side of the bench from them. Obvious enough what we were doing, the boys spoke first.

My eyes were the only things that weren’t paralyzed. They darted over Ben like a pinball machine. He was certainly no chore to look at. He had that shorter sandy blonde hair that styled itself with salt water, and his skin. His skin looked soft and was tan but not tan enough where you questioned his ethnicity. I studied the freckles that sat on his shoulders, the ones his Celtics jersey didn’t hide. I wondered if he played basketball too, maybe he’d get a scholarship for college, maybe he was in college. I took turns looking at him because I didn’t want to stare, stole little glimpses of him, learning the curves of his face with every quick glance. Ben sure made Jordan look like charity. Jordan was a little sweaty, little doughy, and a little too talkative. You’d think he’d shutter looking at Ellie, but clearly his genetic setbacks didn’t stop him from trying to flirt. I felt those hazel eyes sweep over me whenever I was looking down, counting the nails in the boardwalk planks. I’d look up and see him looking at me. Ben looking at me. Ben’s eyes demanded mine back. As much as I loved the idea of him looking at me, wanting my attention, the reality was so much more nerve-wracking.

I let Ellie do the talking. If I spoke, I’d stumble over words like bad hopscotch and we’d never see them again. And when I say I let her do the talking, I mean she’s good with taking initiative. Her words make moves. A real go-getter. When I lump us together, it’s her abundance of confidence that averages out to mine being mediocre. I sat there, peering up occasionally, but mostly staring down picking at the hangnails decorating my nail beds. Inside our small talk we exchanged hometowns, ages, names, and Ellie’s number.

 Mistake One.

 The four of us went about the condo getting ready for the evening. Ellie’s dad, Liam, made a tradition of burning his dress shirts with an iron, and then his wife would have to salvage it with her secret cornstarch trick. Felicity took forever and a half to get herself ready for anything of importance because she usually meanders around the house with a glass of wine, getting drunk in the process, saying, “it helps me relax!”  With Ellie’s wise expertise, I had eyeliner on for the first time. Not having been introduced to contacts, my glasses were the humbling touch to my outfit of jean shorts, a white tank top, and a burgundy cardigan. Father just had to pick out the frames with butterflies with on the arms. Maybe that was his small effort to repel his daughter’s maturity. In the midst of organizing my ensemble I caught a glimpse from the corner of my eye of thumbs - moving quicker than ever. Jerking my head back, I saw Ellie texting Ben.

Yea for sure, we’re free after dinner. You?

Us too, we’ll be around the boardwalk. Meet at the beach by Sal’s shirt shop? 10?

Word. Your cousin coming?

Yea! She’s staying the whole week.

 Mistake Two.

 The center of the boardwalk was our meeting place. Liam and Felicity split to listen to some local talent. They were the type that considered live music a hobby. It was a stiff departure seeing as they were never physically affectionate to Ellie. More of a verbal “love you” rather than a hug and peck seemed to suffice. They headed west as we headed south down to the shore. My heart raced a little, that anxiousness rising up from my stomach, now sitting with its legs wrapped around my heart. This didn’t quite faze me, as almost everything incited that reaction. I simply thought we were walking along the water, forgetting about her racing thumbs from earlier. The straps of my sandals hooked on my finger we walked side by side down to the beach. The sand was cold but not that cold-it-feels-wet feeling, just cold. Gazing ahead to the barely visible horizon, I was startled to see those familiar smiles appear in front of us.

Wearing the same outfits as before showed that they weren’t trying too hard, but why were they there? Ellie quickly engaged in conversation like old pals, as I stood there puzzled. In another dimension I thought off, and thought, and wondered, and it clicked. It was planned and it wasn’t right.

 The Virgin Mary was isolated from the bliss and ignorance.

 We sat in a square behind the fences and grass that grew through the sand. Claiming to have taken part in the conversation, I was actually just an onlooker to the game. It was a game of risk. I just pictured us passing around a revolver, and the bullet was waiting for me. Who had done what, when, and how many times? All of the words quickly stirred together and topics changed too quickly for me to figure out the ones prior. How were there seeds and stems in buds if they hadn’t bloomed yet? My neighbor’s dog was named Molson, but I wasn’t aware you could drink him, and apparently I don’t need my softball uniform to get to third base. I couldn’t tell if Ellie was a prime liar or if she had been keeping a few untidy details from me.

Ellie was effortlessly popular, confident, and magnetic – her common knowledge was my astonishing discovery. I latched onto her like it was my saving grace from everything I was. She was less than a year older but worlds ahead. Ellie stood apart from everyone. She was the first to have a real bra, a real manicure, real experience. Boys loved that. We put her on a pedestal and they all climbed up to meet her. She spoke ambiguously enough so other girls could never steal her secrets. She never got lonely at the top. Her words spread like butter. So if she were lying, I’d never know. But she had the prerequisites, she had no reason to lie.

Then they look at me. They ask what I’ve done. I’ve done nothing. I kept my questions to a minimum to avoid the embarrassment. I responded with,

“Not much, woke up early had a parfait for breakfast, went to the beach with Ellie earlier.”

They laughed, and I think the boys had mistaken my sheer inability to adapt or socialize with quick wit, but I felt this pressure shining down on me in the pitch of night. I was embarrassing not myself, but Ellie. This nervousness had initiated that unholy muscle to press against my pea-sized bladder. The gates opened and the horses were off! I had to go like Seabiscuit and there was no stopping me.

 Mistake Three.

 Quickly hustling back to my designated spot in the sand you could say conversation was already winding to a finish. It was an hour young of midnight which was plenty for the youthful. We walked up back up to the boardwalk together and said our goodbyes. Timid, I simply nodded and smiled. It was a classic, my safety. Parting ways, Ellie and I met Liam and Felicity back at some restaurant down the boardwalk. We were exchanging nights, Ellie was pouring out lies, all believable - but still lies. While she was digging a hole of mistrust, I looked down on my phone.

It was a light that read an unknown number. That unknown number wanted to tell me that I looked so pretty. As flattering as it was, he was still a stranger. I responded.

 Mistake Four.

Ya know, there’s just something about you. You’re pure. And your eyes, I love them.

           Oh thank you, they’re real.

           Thank goodness, fake eyes creep me out. They always look so empty.

             The witty banter continued a while longer, and it made me wonder again how old Ben was. I wasn’t about to ask, as if I had a problem with it. Just made me wonder, why me? He must be five years my senior, an illegal difference regardless of chemistry. Pure?

My thumbs racing as fast as Ellie’s earlier that evening, I was blinded by the empty compliments and conniving plans being mapped out. I was never the hero, but always the sidekick. I was never the fries, but always the ketchup. Know what I mean? I had to seize a rare opportunity. Maybe what I reveled in most was making Ellie my ketchup for once. All of the sudden I was the one who was preparing a lie! The Virgin Mary doesn’t lie, but starting with Ben, there were going to be dozens of necessary lies to follow. Words flew from condo to condo, phone to phone, until the early hours of the morning. That led to a break in the cycle.

 Friday August 1:

 We woke up late. We didn’t ride bicycles. However, we did sit on the beach. The tabloids were in the bags, I had a better story instead. They wanted to meet up that night at the same spot. It was our last full day in Bethany and it was crucial. Our hearts raced with anticipation and wonder and excitement.

We told Ellie’s parents we were going to go to the local movie theatre down the boardwalk, a stretch from Liam and Felicity who were supposed to meet old friends for drinks. I wasn’t sure how they knew people there, apparently they were friends of Felicity’s from college. Odd, but figuring that out wasn’t on my list of priorities at that moment. It was to successfully spew lies out of a thirteen-year-old girl’s mouth. They were successfully spewed lies. Take my word for it.

Two tickets, fifteen dollars, and minutes later, we walked out of the theatre. Had to keep a paper trail in case there were questions later on. We met by the bathrooms, the four of us. Our conversation the night before hadn’t settled the awkward small talk, but only heightened it. We walked down to the beach, walked along the water. Jordan was quite fond of Ellie from the looks of it. Jordan was ketchup. I had Ben chasing after me. I didn’t know that it was a game, a literal chase with a literal prize. A revolver. Looking down listening to Ben talk, I watched my toes sink into the wet sand. I should’ve looked up sooner, but I didn’t. I looked up to see nothing.

 Where was Ellie? Where was I?

 Neon shirts can’t save you now

The blanket of night wraps around any light

The excitement of the beach, she understands the danger now

With his hand over her mouth, she put up a silent fight

 She squirms, he scolds

As she tries to escape, the tighter his hold

The sand’s comfort disappears

Pushing her against it unleashes her fears

 Excruciating, one word to describe the pain

Tears pouring so hard she’s about to faint

Dripping down in hope his hand will slip off her mouth

But he persists to invade south

 He finished, stood up, told her she was easy

Left there, stripped naked of her dignity

Barely capable of clothing herself

She trembles, she shakes, her body aches

Happiness for the rest of the trip she fakes

 Location couldn’t change what happened, and the only thing at home I missed were Father’s hands. Seeing his crooked smile as I pulled up in the driveway widen, I was hesitant to get out of the car, as if he could see the shame splashed across my face. He ran towards me, and those hands picked me up in the air faster than I could say hello. He spun me around, set me down, put my face in his hands and examined me. I could tell he missed me just by the reek of nicotine on his hands - quite the chain smoker when he’s anxious. He said freckles looked perfect on me, and how more grown up I looked after just a week. I just stood there with my face against his warm hands, and let myself cry. I let his palms fill with my wet apologies. My tears were no longer water, but thoughts and regrets. That was my home, the only man I could trust, the only hands that could ever hold me again.

How long does it take to deface someone? Seconds, minutes, hours? Something about being violated takes time away from you. It takes feelings, words, smiles away from you. It smothers you in silence, in shame, in questions you’d never dare try answering. Something about being raped ruins you. Something about logic feels like a mirage, a distant daydream. I still keep that denim skirt in the back of my closet, the one he broke the zipper on in his heat of the moment, the one he just pushed up instead, the one that used to be my favorite. I come across it every time I clean out my closet but never get rid of it. I’m not sure what good it does me, hanging on to my stolen virginity. Maybe that skirt is the only thing I do have control over. Whenever I pick it up, I always make sure to place my thumb over the edge, where that spot of dried blood lay. It looks brown kind of like chocolate now, all these years later, but it feels fresh. I rub my thumb across the stiff blood knowing Father’s hydrogen peroxide would probably get it out. I never get it out.

[winchesterprincessbride]

Political Animals-Dean and Jo-Part 2

Master List

Part 1 (All Parts are linked)

Your name is Jo Harvelle, and you are an Omega working in your mother’s bar part time while you go to school. On a busy night at the bar, sparks fly between you and a gorgeous Alpha, but your best friend and co-worker warns you of his hard partying, lady-killer reputation.  He’s clearly interested, but you don’t have time in your life for drama.  

Characters: Alpha! Dean Winchester, Omega! Jo Winchester, Alpha! John Winchester, Alpha! Sam Winchester, Omega! Jessica Moore, Beta! Bobby Singer, Beta! Ellen Harvelle, Beta! Melanie Rivera (OC), Beta! Benny Lafitte, Krissy (OC) a classmate

Text messages appear in bold

The next morning I barely made it to the coffee shop on time because I stayed up too late working on my paper.  It was packed with students nursing their hangovers from the night before. I didn’t see Mel anywhere so I grabbed the last empty table and waited for her.

After a bit, I got a text from Melanie.

Hey, girl! I just woke up. Totally overslept.  Raincheck?

Mel was notorious for being late for everything, so I wasn’t surprised. I texted her back.  

Sure. No prob. Talk to you later.  

I sat and sipped my latte, scrolling through my emails. It was rare that I had time to just relax and unwind, so I decided to enjoy it. 

I smelled him before I saw him, that same mouth-watering scent from last night that set me on fire. I looked up and there he was, standing in front of me, looking sleepy and rumpled and delicious.

“You again?” He said with a grin.

“Me again,” I said nonchalantly, trying to ignore my racing heart.

Before I could say a word he slid into the booth across from me. “I’m not leaving here until you tell me your name, at least.”

“And if I don’t?” I asked, not even bothering to hide my appraising stare. Damn his eyes were really green!

He leaned in close and whispered in that rough voice of his that just oozed sex, “Then I guess you are just stuck with me….Omega.”

Lord was this guy sure of himself! Looking like he did, I guess he didn’t need to work too hard. Little did he know that he had totally met his match in me. “What if I’m okay with that?” I asked him, my eyes meeting his. He raised an eyebrow at the challenge in my voice.

“Your not gonna make this easy, are you?” He countered.

I swallowed the last of my drink and pushed away from the table, getting to my feet.  “It’s Jo. Jo Harvelle. Nice to meet you, Dean.” I turned and walked away, smiling because I knew his eyes were on me the whole way out the door. I wondered how long it would take him to realize he’d never told me his name.

I had a test in Statistics later that afternoon.  I had really studied and I knew the material, but I was pretty sure I bombed it.  I just couldn’t seem to focus. My mind kept finding its way back to Dean and his sinful lips. I could still smell him, his scent an intoxicating mixture of leather, pine, and whiskey.

There was a girl in my class named Krissy I was friendly with who seemed to know pretty much everyone.  So as we were walking out of class and commiserating about how we had probably failed the test I asked her what she knew about Dean Winchester.

“Dean? My roommate dated him for a while freshman year.  He’s easy on the eyes, isn’t he? I think he went out with every available Omega on campus back then.  He was quite a player.”

“Oh really?” I should have known.  He was so not my type.  Then why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? He probably flirts like that with every girl he sees.  l shouldn’t read into it.  

“He’s had it rough,”  Krissy continued.  “My friend Darcy ran into him recently, and she said he’s changed.  I mean, first he gets kicked out of school, and then his mother gets killed in a car wreck.  That’s enough to make anyone rethink their priorities, huh?”

“Thanks for the info, Kris. I knew you were the person to ask.”

I had a rare Friday night off from the bar, so my plan was to lay around in my pajamas, binge on Gilmore Girls reruns on Netflix, and eat popcorn.

I was deeply engrossed in life in Stars Hollow when I got a text from Melanie.

Got any plans for tonight?

Neflix binge, you?

Seriously? What kind of friend would I be if I let you sit home on the one Friday night we don’t have to work?  Make yourself presentable!  I’ll be over in 20. I heard about this party…

I sighed in resignation. Mel was always hearing about parties. But I knew there was no point in arguing. Maybe she was right, Getting out and socializing might be just what I needed.

Fine.  You win.  See you in 20.

Mel was late as usual so I had time to shower and change.  I didn’t look half bad considering I had done my hair in record time.  Lorelei and Rory would just have to wait for another day.

“So where are we going?” I asked as I grabbed a jacket.

“Lainie in my sculpture class has an apartment off campus.  She and her roommates are having a few people over, nothing big.   Her place is a few blocks from here.  Chris is supposed to be there.” She added casually.

Chris was an Alpha that Mel had been crushing on for ages.  He was the first guy I’d ever seen that turned my normally confident friend into a tongue-tied idiot.

I smacked her arm playfully.  “You little sneak!  You just wanted me to go so you’d have an excuse to see Chris, didn’t you?  What’s wrong, couldn’t face him alone?”

Mel tried not to smile.  “No……..Maybe……Okay, yes!  Please don’t be mad!”

I hooked my arm through hers as we walked.  “The things I do for you.” I grumbled as we both laughed.

So much for “nothing big”.  When we arrived at the address Melanie had been given, the place was packed.  There was barely room to move, and the music was so loud you could barely hear, let alone talk.  Within 10 minutes I had lost Mel, and when I couldn’t find her I decided I might as well get a drink.

There was a line for the keg, and in front of me was a really tall guy standing with a leggy blond.  They looked familiar.  I tapped her on the shoulder and she turned around.

“Hey, your Jessica, right?” I asked her, she nodded.

“I’m Jo, Melanie’s friend. We’ve met before.  I came here with her, and now I can’t find her.  Have you seen her?”

Jess looked over at the tall guy, who gave me a dimpled smile.  “Have you seen Melanie since we’ve been here, Sam?”

Sam leaned in so I could hear him.  “I think I saw her talking with Chris Morgan a few minutes ago.”

When we got to the keg, Sam poured two beers and handed one each to Jess and I.  Then he got one for himself.  I thanked him and headed off in search of Melanie again.

I still couldn’t find Mel, but Krissy was there with her roommates, so I hung out with them for awhile.   They were drinking some sort of “punch” that someone had mixed in what looked like a large plastic trashcan in the corner.  It was sweet and fruity and it went down easily.

“What is this?” I asked Krissy. It barely tasted like it had any alcohol in it.

“Who cares?” Krissy laughed as she ladled more into my empty cup.  I sucked it down greedily, not realizing how thirsty I was.    After a few of those, my head began to spin,  everything got blurry, and I realized I couldn’t feel my feet.  

I wanted Mel to taste this stuff but of course, she was still nowhere to be found.  I decided to go look for her again.  I walked a wobbly path around the apartment again, bumping into people and furniture.  No Mel, but no Chris either. I bet she finally scored with Chris and was off with him somewhere at that very moment. 

My eyes lit upon a back door in the kitchen leading out into the yard. With too many people crammed into such a small space, it had gotten really warm. Fresh air and a little quiet sounded really good right now.

The porch was shadowed in darkness, but I was able to make out a pair of chaise lounges tucked in the far corner.  I tried to find the light switch, but it wasn’t where I thought it would be so I gave up.

I headed to the furthest chaise and flopped down on it. Instead of a soft cushions, I felt hard muscles under me. “What the fuck?” A familiar voice said.

No. NO. It couldn’t be. “Dean? ” I whispered.

“This is getting a little crazy, don’t you think?” He muttered.

“How so?” I whispered, trying desperately not to wiggle around in his lap. God he smelled so good!

“I’m sitting out here thinking about you and you just fall into my lap.” He said. “When does that ever happen?”

“You were thinking about me?” I asked quietly.

Dean leaned forward until his lips brushed my hair. His big hands grabbed my arms to steady me in his lap. “I haven’t been able to think about much else since I saw you, Omega.”

“I’ve been thinking about you too, Alpha.” I whispered.

I had heard many times about the strength and speed of Alphas but I’d never seen it up close until now. With a growl Dean picked me up and flipped me around to face him so I was straddling his long legs.

He swallowed my yelp of surprise with his mouth. As soon as his mouth made contact with mine, I couldn’t get close enough. I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him closer, our mouths a clash of tongues and teeth.

Dean’s hands settled on my hips, grinding me against his jean-covered erection. We were so wrapped up in each other we didn’t even notice the porch light go on.

“Jo, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Come on, I want to leave!” Mel snapped.

Something in her voice shocked me out of my trance. “I gotta go.” I said to Dean.

“So I heard.“ He looked over at Mel, who was shooting daggers at him.

I climbed out of his lap and headed over to her. What was her problem? She looked like she had been crying.

"Dean…..” I began. Mel yanked me through the door before I could say another word.

@skybinx-blog @percywinchester27 @a-sea-of-fandoms @dorky-and-i-know-it@fangirl1802 @pinknerdpanda  @atc74  @moonlitskinwalker @we-are-band-sexuals@jayankles   @notnaturalanahi  @ariannalikescake @growingupgeek  @itsummertime22  @roseblood11   @demondeansdomme@cantchoosejustonefandom @ferferelli @midnightjazzmine @dr-dean@clairese1980 @moonstonemystyk @obsessedtmifangirl @bailieinabottle@mesomisha54 @agoodold-fashionedvillain @brewsthespirit-blog  @fucking-grapefruit @typicalweirdbookworm @the-strandedgypsy@meganwinchester1999 @maddieburcham1 @diabetus-swag @bohowitch@mizzezm @winchestergirl-love @vixenvindictive@theoriginalvicki @ayeeitsemry @kittenofdoomage@oriona75 @jotink78 @the-cucumber-who-lived @magickal-angel @gecko9596 @winchester-writes @valynsia @ronnie248-blog @inuhimesblog @phoenixia67 @afanofmanystuffs@sassy-losechester @mariairwin666@essie1876@shell-fire @becaamm @aalexandra2712 @stone-met@maxsaturdayhatesnarwhals@thelittleredwhocould@just-another-busy-fangirl@sunriserose1023 @blacktithe7@ajspencer1892 @mamabear82nd@notateenbeachmovie @i-just-wanna-live-gc @calicat79 @lovisathelins@evyiione@captainradicalpassion@scrumptiouswinnie@millaraysuyai@keelzythe2nd@disneymarina @blackcat995@mrswhozeewhatsis 

[heyfrenchfreudiana]

7. barely legal + stevenat please? or maybe 33. fuck buddies/one night stand/casual hookup + stevenat?

por que no los dos?

Also. I’m going to hell. Underage kink after the cut for those who are squicked by it.

Just watching her move. Watching the flush of her skin and the sheen of sweat, her eyes shut and lip between her teeth like she was in her own world, like he wasn’t even there. Her hands cupped her breasts as she moved her hips and he watched, mesmerized, his fingers digging into her hips as he fucked up into her. He’d never done this before, never just brought someone home like this, didn’t even know her last name, but all he could think as she moaned above him was how very good it was.

Natasha. Her name was Natasha. For Steve, who’d only ever been with ‘Sharons’ and ‘Jennifers’ and one time a ‘Becky’, ‘Natasha’ sounded exotic and sexy, even sexier when she said it, her voice sultry and addicting. He’d tried typing it into his phone when she said it but his fingers were fat and he was suddenly clumsy. She’d laughed, taking it from him. When he looked at her contact in his phone later, he found she’d added a red heart next to her name. It was adorable.

It was kind of stupid, how they’d met. At one of those bars where there was a dance floor up top and pool tables downstairs. It was a late night and he couldn’t relax so he’d gone out for a walk. He wasn’t even thirsty, not really, when he’d decided to walk in but he’d also thought maybe a drink might soothe his nerves. His lips hadn’t even touched the whiskey he’d ordered when he saw her and it was all over from there.

A leggy redhead bent over a pool table, her ass close enough to his face that he swallowed and did a double-take. She was wearing tight black jeans and he got far enough to look for pantylines before he bit the inside of his cheek and looked down, the voice of his mother ringing in his ears. The balls clacked and clacked and he tried not to look her way, focusing instead on his drink and the reason he couldn’t sleep in the first place. His job.

Steve had been, miracle of miracles, hired to teach High school History. In an industry where jobs were hard to find, he could list all of the reasons why he’d found something at all (his gender, because he was fresh out of college and new and excited, because Peggy Carter was the Principal and they’d had something of a history of their own). At the end of the day, he was nervous. Nervous about his lesson plans and his powerpoints and nervous about teaching teenagers. Nervous they’d eat him alive.

“Hey, you wanna play?”

He looked up, a sultry voice breaking his thoughts, and saw the woman playing pool, standing in front of him with one hand on her hip. She smiled, her eyes predatory and Steve felt like a lech for the way his eyes swept over her body, over the long red curls and the way her breasts looked in this black halter top thing she had on. She had red lips that curled into a smile when he tossed back the rest of his drink and stood up, his own mind thinking what the hell, why not?

“You need someone to hustle?” he asked, taking the cue stick she handed him and she shrugged, a noticeable glint in her eyes.

“Tired of playing by myself.”

Natasha, as she soon introduced herself, was probably a professional player. She had to be, what with the way she cleaned up the table so damned fast. He was convinced of it, even after she laughed and said that there was a pool table at her uncle’s house.

She stole sips of his drink and he found he didn’t care. If anything, he cared more when he was lining up the eight ball with the corner pocket and she leaned into him and whispered that he was going to lose.

“Are you here with someone?” he asked when they’d stopped for a second, leaning against the table with his hands in his pocket. She laughed, so fucking cool, one of those cool girls who was always out of his league, and shook her head.

“Are you?” she asked, touching the side of his hand with hers. It was electric.

Steve was very much not with someone. He was, in fact, very much on the heels of a divorce and had made the resolution to focus on teaching because he didn’t think he could even go back out there, not with his baggage. Not that he’d tell that to a stranger. Twenty-eight years old, fucked up credit, a divorce and cardboard boxes everywhere. Exactly the kind of thing that any woman looks for in a man. He thought of the piles of paperwork and all of the manila folders sitting on his kitchen table, the proof he’d failed as a husband and the proof that anyone should run and not walk and took a deep breath.

“Alright, you’ve got this weird look right now,” she announced as she bumped her shoulder against his. “Let’s do another round of me kicking your ass.”

“I’m letting you win,” he lied, giving her a grateful look.

When it was time to leave, he walked her out and she shook his hand, sparks of electricity passing between them. She’d been laughing at something he’d said and all he kept thinking was “maybe this is why I got the job. Maybe she is why I moved here.”

He probably should not have said that out loud.

Natasha’s laughed got quieter and when she stepped close, he thought she was sending the signal that he should kiss her. Which was insane but the alcohol in his bloodstream made him stupid and so he did. He tipped her chin up and pressed his lips to hers and she hummed against him, the sound of it going straight to his dick.

“You are amazing, when can I see you again?” he said, his brain just fuzzy enough as he kissed her, pulling her toward the alleyway so he could press her against the wall and bury his hands in her hair. She was breathless against him, her hands gripping his polo shirt tight and he waited for her to tell him the answer.

“Anytime you want,” she said before licking into his mouth, tongue fighting with his. He thought he could kiss her for hours. He wanted to.

“Now?” he whispered, feeling crazy and high and she gulped and met his eyes. Hers were this crazy intense shade of green, big and concerned even with the pupils blown all to hell and he felt ashamed for making that kind of pass. It wasn’t him, asking to sleep with a girl on the first night, absolutely wasn’t his style. Steve was a serial monogamist, his last relationship- the aforementioned marriage with Sharon lasting two years before they’d ended things. He didn’t fuck around, didn’t just sleep with people…This felt criminal, felt dangerous and he thought she probably hesitated for that reason too.

“Yes,” she whispered, tugging on the spot right above the button to his jeans, her nonverbal communication as crystal clear as anything.

Which was how he found himself stumbling over boxes, Natasha in his arms and mouth on his and his body aching for what was coming.

“Where’s the bed?” she asked, her voice shaking, and he nodded toward the bedroom, picking her up because he didn’t want to wait much longer.

“Sorry about the boxes, I haven’t made time to unpack…” he apologized as he sat her on the bed.

“Whatever,” she said as she pulled him onto the bed, pushing him down so that she could straddle him, her thighs on either side. “I’m not here to look at your house, Steve.”

She lifted her shirt off and he groaned, her skin pale and glowing almost in the weak lighting of his room. And so beautiful. Gorgeous as she moaned and shifted her hips, rubbing against his dick as he reached up to slide a thumb over one nipple. Fuck, her nipples were pink and perfect. And they tasted just fine, he thought as he darted his tongue against one. He teased her until she was whimpering, until he thought he might come in his pants because she was rocking, undoubtedly doing what she could to release the pressure she was feeling between her own thighs.

“You are perfect,” he murmured and she sighed against him before pulling away and sliding between his legs, her hands on his zipper.

It was the best blowjob he’d ever had. Or well. It would have been had he finished in her mouth, he figured, not that finishing with his dick inside her wasn’t fantastic. But the visual. The visual of her lips tight around him and her wide eyes looking into his as she bobbed her head. Holy fuck, he was going to remember that forever. She licked and sucked and moaned when he reached gently for her hair, his hand flat on the back of her head and his toes curling.

“I’m going to…” he said as a warning and when she pulled off, he caught the string of saliva and just about died. She looked smug then, stepping back so that she could slip her pants off and move over him.

It was perfection. Perfection when he watched her shiver above him, perfection when she clenched around his cock and leaned back, allowing him the right opportunity to seek out her clit with his fingers. The alcohol had long since worn off and he was thankful he was sober enough to watch her come.

She left that morning, tying her hair back and giving him a quick kiss and the explanation that she had to go or she’d be late. Just as well he thought, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering when he remembered his own job and the long day ahead. She looked even more incredible in the daylight, a breath of fresh air in his dark and cluttered home. When he kissed her, he hoped she felt how thankful he was for the night before. For the chance to stop worrying. For not being alone.

And then she was gone, her name in his phone. He caught himself staring at it that morning as he waited for the morning bell to ring, smiling to himself because she’d added a little red heart next to her name. It was unexpected and cute and he almost sent her a quick text to tell her so, the voice in his head saying not to fall so hard being what held him back.

He was thinking about her as he wrote his name on the white board, about her breasts and her laugh and the way she smelled. Students started filing in and taking seats and he couldn’t help his stupid grin, his cheeks hurting because he’d maybe met someone and she was fantastic. He didn’t even know her last name, just knew that had red hair and said fuck a lot when she was coming. She was a person. He’d met a person. There was hope after all.

Hope disappeared when he turned around and saw her. Third seat from the left, second row, her hair still up and her feet bouncing in a pair of strappy pink sandals. She met his eyes and he watched her take a deep breath. When she smiled, it was with confidence, as though this was no big deal.

As if him fucking a student was no big deal.

Steve lost time, his brain in full fight or flight and his heart threatening to leap out of his chest and out the door, right alongside his career once everyone realized exactly how bad this was. His career and then what? Jail time? Fuck. Fuuuuuckkk.  He closed his eyes and knew everyone had quieted down and was staring at him, waiting for him to begin,

He managed to get through most of the alphabet for the roll call looking down, well aware that he was making the worst first impression, so aware that she was looking at him, though he couldn’t even imagine what she was thinking. And then he got to her name and got downright dizzy.

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“Present,” she said with a raised hand and a haughty expression. “Here, Mr. Rogers.”

Steve grit his teeth and gripped the roll sheet tight as one clear thought raced through his mind.

He was fucked. Very and surely fucked.

[nancypullen]

Hump Day

What’s up? Not much going on here, which is actually quite lovely.  We’re moving along in that end of August haze,  still hot and muggy but everything looks different.  The gardens are leggy and past their glamour peak, though hummingbirds and butterflies are still bouncing bloom to bloom.  The sun is still blazing but with a little less intensity, like a song that slowly fades out rather than ending with a bang.  The song of summer is ending and I love that it’s always a gentle meeting of seasons, unlike the sometimes violent arrival of spring storms that usher winter out the door, summer and autumn seem to embrace.  A peaceful coronation rather than a coup.  < - - -Guess who just binge watched the entire first season of Ekaterina: The Rise of Catherine the Great.    Oh my gosh, it was wonderful.  It’s in Russian with English subtitles and absolutely gorgeous.  I was not overwhelmed with the first episode but decided to watch a second and absolutely fell in love. It’s dripping with beautiful costumes and palaces and provides a fantastic history lesson.  I knew the basic facts concerning Catherine the Great, so this fleshing out of her story was riveting. Annnnd that’s how I get distracted and neglect this blog.  I’ve also been writing more.   I drag out what I call manuscripts for children’s books and tweak them and polish them and tell myself they’re still not good enough for the light of day.  I write poems because my brain often thinks in verse.  Seriously.  It always has.  As I watched the eclipse last week and marveled at the moon I started thinking about the decades that I’ve spent moon gazing.  What a comfort it’s always been to see her up there, following our car through darkness, through a window in an Army brat’s latest bedroom, from a porch late at night while I process life’s latest curve or celebration.  A constant friend, whether waning or waxing, you can look up and find her there.  So this was bouncing around in my head and I put it on paper ...

I feel a certain kinship,

a deeply bonded friendship,

with the moon that hangs above us in the sky.

She gladly shares her light,

a companion day and night,

but despite her brilliant glow she’s very shy.

She keeps her dark side hidden,

there are parts of her forbidden,

like the secrets kept inside a woman’s heart.

Giving all she can,

to the world of greedy man,

to save herself she must stay miles apart. It’s not finished - more verses to come, and  I know it’s clunky and clumsy and sort of elementary ( and desperately needs polishing) - but that’s what my brain is doing all. the. time.  If you’ve ever wondered why I’m absentminded or forgetful, it’s that.  I’m probably thinking about the bee that I saw earlier and how he dove into the salvia like he’d found treasure, or like a thirsty traveler at an oasis. Then I try to rhyme oasis and my brain goes down the rabbit hole.  I put so much of that in mental storage while raising the boys because, really, you have to remember where you left them and what they need and who has clean clothes and what’s for dinner.  I poured it over them in different ways though, Halloween costumes or volunteering for projects like skit coaching and art work and creative fundraisers.  As children I convinced them that any time you see birds lined up on a telephone wire that it’s a very important bird meeting, probably discussing cat issues.  More than once as adults they’ve pointed at a line of birds and said, “bird meeting”.  That’s the tip of the iceberg.  Their heads are no doubt filled with nonsense that I’ve fed them over the years, but nonsense that I hope still makes them smile.  It’s important to nurture silliness. I don’t know where this is going except to say that the past few days have been lovely because I’ve decided that I need to let my brain out to roam more often.  Who knows what it will find?  Moonbeams, fairies, bird meetings, and all sorts of magic.  It’s important to let your spirit be exactly what it is, without apology.  There’s room for all of us and a place for everything we have to offer.