#his ass would NOT wear a shirt with his dad's logo on it. i just thought it would be funny LMFAO

[itseghost]

ive been scribbling my durge and astarion a lot in between work and wanted to turn them into Modern Boys hehe

they didn't like each other much at first in my run so i imagine that'd remain the same even though the circumstances wouldn't be as dire LOL

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

lady and the tramp spaghetti kiss but with deuce’s mom and lilia 🫣

I'm yoinking this idea for the unofficial blog event 🤡

(Quick clarification: Mrs. Spade being an ex-delinquent is a headcanon! I just thought it’d be an interesting concept, so I incorporated it into her character.)

Curiouser and Curiouser...

When Lilia mentions to his son that he's planning on cooking for the "lady friend" he's seeing, Silver steps in to stop his dad from poisoning the poor woman. "You should try a restaurant, get to know one another better before volunteering to share your... talent with her," Silver advises as lightly as he can. Thankfully for him (and for his dad's date), Lilia relents.

He decides to take his date to Tony's, a laid-back family friendly pizza and pasta joint in town. Lilia brings along his own candle—blessed with Malleus’s almost apocalyptic green fire (imagine that, a horned fairy godmother in pitch black robes)—to decorate their table, as well as a crystal vase with a single red rose (provided from the Heartslabyul Gardens by Cater, wanting to support his fellow Light Music Club member. “Knock’m dead with your charm, Lils!”)

Kalim had wanted to contribute something to Lilia’s date night, but unfortunately a huge parade of animals, while impressive, wouldn’t squeeze into Tony’s. Instead, Kalim went shopping with Lilia to help him get all dripped out for the occasion! “I’ll pay for whatever you want, so have at it!” (It was Jamil who had to limit Lilia’s spending and stopped him from buying medieval battle armor. “Why would you wear this to a date?! Are you trying to kill them? Just wear something practical and casual!”)

Lilia thought he’d be the first at the venue, but he's actually been beaten to the punch. She's easy to spot because of her hair--a bob, striped blonde and dark blue--and her spade earring. Lips painted, eyes done up. Her leather jacket is open to reveal a cute white rabbit logo (most likely a freebie T-shirt from work), paired with jeans (ripped at the knees) and ankle boots.

"You're early, Dylla," he remarks, slipping into the seat across from her and placing the candle and vase on the table. She smiles and says, "I'd never be late for a very important date."

Lilia asks if Dylla was waiting for long. According to her, she was at the restaurant over 15 minutes ago but "not to worry" because she was just talking to her son over the phone to pass the time. Dylla mentions that her son can be such a worrywart sometimes. "He was reminding me to stay safe and to let you know that he'll be on your ass if you make me sad," Dylla says with a laugh. "Oh my, I'd better not let your smile waver then," Lilia replies easily.

While they're looking over the menus, Lilia mentions his own "prodigious" cooking. (According to him, his son Silver just can't get enough of it!! Once, Silver took one bite and immediately passed out from how "good" it was.) "It's a required skill for single parents," Dylla agrees. "I can cook myself, but mainly simple dishes. My Deuce enjoys eggs, so I usually make things with those. It helps that they're cheap and keep for a long time too." (She says that she'd love to try his food, and in return she'll make something for him too! They make a promise to get to it someday.)

They settle on ordering the same item: Starry Night Spaghetti, a plate of spaghetti with meatballs. (There’s a story that two dogs once had the same dish under the stars, and became closer than ever as a result!) “A shame we aren’t eating outside—then we’d be bonded just like the canine couple,” Lilia says.

During the wait for their food, they exchange crazy stories about their lives. Lilia shocks Dylla with tales of his travels and of his past as a war veteran (although he's a little vague about the details), and Dylla tells him all about her days as an ex-delinquent and biker chick. "Kufufu, looks can be quite deceiving," Lilia chuckles. "No one would dare suspect such sweet-faced people like us to be so troublesome~"

Of course, they also share stories about their sons! Who can forget when Deuce used to wear all those rabbit-themed clothes as a kid? How about the time Silver fought a family of bears and came out of the battle with three new friends?

Lilia scootches his seat closer so he can show off some pictures of him and Silver on his phone! Dylla's shoulder presses against Lilia’s as she leans in to look, squishing the two into their own personal bubble, seemingly putting them in a world far away from the noisy pizzeria.

They decide to take pics together to commemorate the date! Dylla learns a lot of things from Lilia (like flipping the camera lenses to take better selfies, how to use the timing feature, and what filters do). They take a normal picture, then one with silly faces (Lilia’s suggestion) and a third with silly poses (also Lilia’s suggestion).

He busts out his bagpipes at some point to romance her with a romantic (?) serenade. Lilia does a little jig with it—something he threw together on the spot with knowledge of different styles of dancing from various cultures. The other customers mistake him for a paid performer and start clapping along and cheering—and Dylla joins in, clapping and cheering the loudest of them all.

Lilia starts to ask if they’d like an encore, if and so, which instrument? Mandolin or accordion? He can play them all! A member of the wait staff comes over to gently ask that Lilia put away his instruments, so then Lilia tries to sing without any musical accompaniment: “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, thaaat’s amoreeeeee 🎵”

He gets shut down a second time because, “Sir, your screeching is making the children at the next table over cry.” (Dylla gets a real kick out of Lilia’s enthusiasm though! “I can’t remember the last time a man was passionate enough to sing his heart out, consequences be damned!”)

When the food finally arrives, they realize that the chef must have made a mistake—there’s one plate of spaghetti, as though both of their orders were combined onto a single massive serving. But hey, Lilia’s willing to roll with it and just eat off the same plate. “What do you know, it’s family style!” he jokes. “In the Land of Crimson Long, it’s common for restaurants to serve food this way. You just pick out the portion you want to serve yourself.”

So that’s just what they do—stabbing their forks into the spaghetti at opposite ends and eating from that. Lilia’s appetite is healthy (he’s getting sauce on his mouth and is sucking up the noodles with such speed that a stray one slaps him in the face), but Dylla's got something on her mind.

She keeps winding her spaghetti around and around on her fork, lost in thought and doubts. Dylla wonders about a great deal of things. When is the right time to introduce this man to Deuce? How would he take it, especially when he’s gone without a father for his whole life? Was she even deserving of another husband, and someone as wonderful as Lilia?

Dylla absentmindedly brings the noodles to her mouth. There’s a slight tug at the other end (a stubborn clump, maybe?) but she pays it no mind, far too fixated on her thoughts. She doesn’t realize what’s happening until she feels something on her lips—and finds Lilia’s wide-eyed stare trained on her.

They hurriedly pull back from one another, and from the spaghetti-stained kiss. Dylla's slightly panicked and profusely apologetic, but Lilia reassures her that it’s fine, neither of them were anticipating it—and if anything, the guilt is split 50-50! “Guess we’ll both have to be sentenced for our grave crime!”

“… Oh, one moment. You have something here.” Lilia runs a thumb along the margins of Dylla's lower lip. It’s just some stray spaghetti sauce and lipstick smudges, but the gesture, however small, feels very tender and intimate, even moreso than the kiss. His hand lingers for maybe a second longer than it should have, but he, at last, retreats with a playful grin. “There you are, good as new.”

They fistfight to be the first one to the bill (their reasoning being, “it must be hard for you as a fellow single parent, let ME foot the full thing!”). Being fae, Lilia has the advantage with superior strength and speed, but Dylla gives him a good run for his money. They fight ends with Lilia headlocking his date and seizing the check in his mouth, puncturing the paper with his fangs.

Before any wallets can be opened, their (deeply exasperated) waiter asks them to “please just leave”, not even caring if they pay or not. (He doesn’t get paid enough to deal with shenanigans like this 💦)

They exit Tony’s and enter the night. There’s a full moon out to illuminate their way as they walk to Dylla's waiting magical wheel. As she produces her keys, Lilia tucks the red rose that had been with them at heir dining table behind her left ear. “May the Night guide you,” he says cryptically. Dylla isn’t sure what it means, but it makes the heat rise to her cheeks anyway. He sure knows how to sweet talk, his way into someone’s heart.

She asks Lilia where his ride is and he nonchalantly says that he “flew in”, which just leaves her slack jawed (until he cracks yet another classic Dad Joke with, “and boy, are my arms tired!”). “Well, if you’re up for it, I’d love to give you a lift home,” Dylla offers. “There’s plenty of room for another person.”

“If you could take me to Silver’s dorm, that would be great—but how scandalous! We disturb the public peace, don’t pay for our meal, then make a quick getaway on a motor vehicle?” Lilia climbs aboard, looping his arms around his date. “I think we’re shaping up to be quite the criminal couple.”

Dylla revs up her magical wheel, which lets out a monstrous groan. They peel off and merge into the road, racing the stars and sky that housed them, their peals of laughter filling the night. It was definitely one to remember.

[duckingwriting]

Decorations

Day 15 of @flufftober, prompt was - “What are you wearing?” - “It’s laundry day!”

Fandom: Marvel Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark Characters: Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Additional Tags: Flufftober2024, Established Relationship, Flash Fic, Tony is a tease Summary: Steve comes back from a mission to discover Tony wearing something he would never expect.

Read Bellow the cut or on AO3

Captain Steven Rogers had survived being frozen in ice. Survived war. Survived anything and everything that was thrown his way. Even when surprised he generally remained in control. Remained steadfast and unwavering. He didn't think twice before throwing himself down on the wire. However, walking into the lab after coming home early from a mission, Steve found himself completely surprised. And honestly a little lost for words.

"Um..." Steve held the tech he had retrieved with Bucky and Natasha. He had been bringing it to the lab where Jarvis told him Tony was. 

"Oh! That was fast." Tony sauntered over towards where Steve was and snatched the tech from his hand lifting it up to examine it closer to the light. Those whisky eyes Steve found himself lost in so often narrowed. "Mmmm....modified for sure. Not one of my designs to begin with either. Probably one of Dad's then."

Tony was muttering as he took the tech over to his desk and pulled out tools. There was an alarming amount of Stark Tech being used by less favorable people and the team was working on tracking it to its source. They weren't sure if there was a leak in the company, purposeful or not, or something else happening. It didn't make the missions hard either.

"I um..." Steve had agreed to give the report so Natasha could go see Bruce and Bucky, well it was no secret he and Tony still didn't get along that well. But now all he could do was stare at the bare skin exposed. Tony had specific outfits for specific reasons. He wore suits to impress. He wore the ironman suit to fight. He wore faded jeans and AC/DC shirts, usually with holes, at all other times. And sweat pants to sleep. If he wore anything at all. The shirt he had on now was an AC/DC shirt but the band logo was hot pink on a faded pale pink. And it wasn't just a TShirt. It was a crop top. And his pants could not be safe lab attire. Steve was sure there was something about covering skin in labs. The cut off shorts barely kept Tony's ass and cock contained. Steve was sure that if he moved just right he would catch a glimpse.

Steve jerked his thoughts away from that line. Tony tended to get snappy when Steve interrupted his work with attempts to get the other man to abandon work for the activities his mind was trying to conjure. 

"What exactly are you wearing?" Steve blurted out, unable to stop himself.

Tony stopped muttering and glanced down at his outfit before blinking his gaze back to Steve with a raised eyebrow. "It's laundry day."

"Laundry day?"

"Yes. Make sure you pay attention to what should be hung to dry instead of thrown into the dryer this time, Spangles."

"Tony-" Steve took a step towards the other man.

"I'm working, Spangles." Tony turned his gaze from the tech with a grin. "But perhaps if I have some warm sweats when I'm done I can be talked out of them."

[midnightsunnyday]

Flufftober Prompt 1: Wearing each other's clothes (Lucifer x MC)

A/N: my (late) entry for @flufftober 2022 day 1! I'm basically behind by five days, but I wanted to participate in as many as possible. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

Summary: MC wants Lucifer’s sweaters. Meanwhile, Lucifer is hiding is own secrets.

No warnings, but some curse language and mentioned nudity.

*********

“What about…this one?”

“No.”

“Ok, then this one?”

“Absolutely not.”

You groaned. Fresh from the shower and ass bare to the elements, your only hope was a silky, soft warm shirt from your boyfriend's very expensive, well-organized, and abundant wardrobe. The only problem was…

“You can’t possibly be thinking of wearing that, are you?”

“What? What’s wrong with this one?”

“What’s wrong is that shirt is 5,000 Grimm.” Lucifer sighed. “It goes without saying that it isn’t meant to be slept in.”  

He’s always been rather picky over his clothes. Admittedly, you saw why. No wonder Mammon always tried breaking in here. Not even Asmodeus could get his hands on some of these items. And neither could you.  

Granted, you could just run back to your room and grab something else, yet recently all of your favorite shirts have gone missing. You interrogated every single one of the brothers, threatened, even. Yet not one would confess to their crimes. All the others you could part with, yet your favorite shirt, the one that read Not A Morning Person with the cute little puppy sleeping underneath? That you could never forgive.

Furthermore, you weren't just absently tearing through Lucifer’s closet. Your relationship was entering a new phase, whether he liked it or not: stealing wearing the most comfortable items of your partner’s clothes. Yet the more you searched, the more you realized how the man had the sense of fashion of a depressed, middle-aged divorcee. Everything was either minimal or solid in color. No flashy prints, just rows of black, grays, blues, and the occasional reds. He had no jeans, no sweatpants, not even shorts. Just slacks, more slacks, and…

“Ew. Of course he would own Polo,” you mumbled, frowning at the familiar logo that only golf dads wore. “Honestly, what’s so wrong with letting me wear one measly shirt?”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed your various attempts at “garment espionage,” Lucifer said. He'd been watching you the entire time from his bed, yet judging by the way his eyes wondered, it wasn’t the clothes that interested him. “Today it’s “one measly shirt.” Tomorrow my entire closet is emptied.” 

You pouted. “But our relationship.”

“Is perfectly fine,” Lucifer tapped the space beside him. “Now, come to bed. You’ve been standing there naked for the past 10 minutes.” His eyes lowered, smirking. “No need for clothes.

Your arms prickled with goosebumps, yet not from the draft. Just this once, or twice, you'd let him seduce you into bed. “Fine. But this isn’t…is this my shirt?”

“Pardon?”

“This is my shirt!” You yanked at the familiar faded black fabric and worn white print. Coffee first, adulting later? This is peak millennial humor.” You glowered at him. “Explain yourself, peacock.”

“There’s nothing to explain. We simply have the same tastes, is all.” He frowned. “And don’t call me a peacock.”  

You yanked your shirt from its hanger, behind it you found another, and another. “I’m fluent in sarcasm. I can’t be held responsible for what my face does when you talk. I may look calm but in my head, I've killed you three times?”

Lucifer tucked at the hem of his robe. “Purely a coincidence if I ever saw one.”

Tossing the shirts aside, you stalked closer to the bed. Now that you thought about it…

“Open your robe.”

Lucifer folded his arms. “No.”

“I said open the robe.”

“Clearly this is unnecessary.”

“Don’t make me use the pact.”

Lucifer slowly untied the belt of his robe, revealing to you your greatest fear: Not A Morning Person, the shirt read.

You fell silent, more from utter shock than outright anger. Lucifer refused to meet your gaze, a fearsome blush adorning his face. He scoffed and removed his robe, draping it atop your shoulders. “I suppose this means…I’ve been found out.”  

“Honestly, I should've known it was you." You poked at his chest. "You would wear that shirt."

“It’s ironic. That, and…the dog is rather cute."

“I know, right? Though you realize what this means, yes?” You wore the grin of a person finally getting what they wanted.

“Fine. You can wear my shirts. But I’m taking at least two of your hoodies.” He hummed. “Make that four of your hoodies.”  

“Fine. You can consider your spider silk sweaters as good as gone.”

Looks like you were right all along. Stealing your partner's clothes was indeed crucial to the survival of a good relationship.

"Though are you sure you'd rather not take something...less expensive?"

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

When me and my family members go out places my dad tells us "be careful with my stuff" which could arguably come across weird out of context but our family has always seen it as a really sweet expression of love and protectiveness. It's said mostly in jest anyway. ANYWAY I bring this up because Phantom protecting the town because he thinks the people belong to him would ABSOLUTELY be romanticized by most of the teen population. Having someone very powerful act possessively but in a non-creepy and invasive way is the absolute least of any of their concerns. Yes they do belong to Phantom thank you very much.

omg now I'm just imagining Paulina going around in a shirt that says something romanticised like-

"Forever his" with his logo underneath

there could be a ton of shirts likes this that the Casper High kids would absolutely wear like-

"property of Phantom"

"If found return to Phantom"

"Phantom owns my ass"

and dumb shit like that, I mean they're teenagers as if they wouldn't

[imposterogers]

i’m Screaming at that still of the avengers in ur comparison post ohmygod those bland ass outfits 💀🥴 they really said we are not giving them one ounce of personality

this is the post for reference but I think what frustrates me the most is even five minutes of thought and effort would have made such the difference like

-steve rogers grew up in the 30s/40s poor. he’s an artist and spent years living on the front. how could this have been reflected in his clothes? he’d probably thrift some of his clothes, buy basics like a backpack and combat boots from a military surplus store and have One single pair of nice shoes. add some charcoal stains on his sleeves from drawing. a paint splatter on his jeans. there’s also a lot of clothing lines that take inspo from retro designs, and I’d imagine him wearing modernized versions of older fashions

-tony is a rich man who grew up rich. his clothes didn’t need to be flashy but they should be noticeably higher quality. maybe a sweater embroidered with a logo of a Big brand. gold cufflinks. a rare vintage band tee shirt he won on eBay. but his clothes should also be worn because he spends hours tinkering and can be a little careless bc he’s privileged enough that material goods are easily replaceable

-relatively generic clothing makes sense for nat just because after spending years on the run / as a spy she’s learned how to blend in with a crowd, and anything she wears she should be able to move in, but with that said where’s a hint of self expression? a locket or bracelet reminding her of yelena? mismatched socks?

-as for thor - he’d been living in a norwegian fishing town for five years. was there no influence on his sense of style at all? a cable knit sweater? a Fjällräven jacket? before endgame I would assume either someone else dressed him (he didn’t spend enough time on earth to understand their fashions) or he could have worn outfits that almost made sense but were just a little bit wrong

-clint bestie u never had a personality so I can’t really make something out of nothing but he did spend a lot of time on a farm in missouri

-as for scott and rhodey,… where’s scott’s dad joke t shirts? lightweight and squeak proof shoes bc always on the move and no one should be able to hear a thief? a baskin robbins baseball cap he kept as memorabilia? rhodey is also ex military so where’s a touch of that in his clothes?

idk I just think it would have been so easy just to add even bare minimum personalization to their styles rather than “they r sponsored by target” (side note: why is the raccoon dressed better than the avengers. probably bc it’s cgi lmaooo)

[libraryofloveletters]

the 9-1-1 men seeing you in the LAFD sweatshirt and cuddled up to them 😍🥺

Sweaters

Author’s Note: I added Hen too because I couldn't help myself :) also it’s currently the morning of February 8th. Here’s a lil fluff for y’all before we go batshit crazy over the buckley family secret tonight 😌

Word Count: 1.8k

--

Hen 

Laundry day. 

Oh how you despised laundry day. 

You never did the laundry but Hen wasn’t home today and you figured it would be nice for her to come home and not have to worry. So as a good partner would, you tumbled through the house and collected all the dirty clothes, which included the flour covered shirt you were currently wearing and tossed it into the machine. 

Now, if it were up to you, you’d just continue your day without a shirt but it seemed odd to do that, especially since you didn't know if Hen would be bringing any company home with her. Digging through the drawers, there were no clean shirts. 

Are you kidding me right now ? 

Finally spotting a shirt under a stack of pants, you tugged it out of the drawer. The front had the little fire station logo on it and the back read Los Angeles Fire Department. Not giving it a second thought, you pulled it on and went about your day. 

Hen should be on her way home soon and you were sitting on the bed surrounded by clothes, folded and unfolded. You never realized how much work it took to fold laundry, you laid back against the pillows. The last thing you remember was the smell of freshly washed clothes. 

“Babe? I’m home! Where are you ?” Hen calls out as she walks into the house. It was quiet but your car was in the driveway. 

“Y/n ?!” she calls again, walking further into the house. Turning into the bedroom, she smiled at you. You were surrounded by the laundry and fast asleep. She moved some of the clothes over to the drawers and sat beside you on the bed. The bed shifted as Hen pulled the blanket over you. 

“Hey” you give her a sleepy smile, “hey you, how was your day ?” she asks as you shift closer to her. 

“Good, I did the laundry” you mumbled, your eyes shutting again. 

“I like your shirt” she chuckles

You mumbled an answer, “yeah it looks better on you” 

“I think I like this one better on you” her arm wraps around you as you fall back to sleep. 

Eddie 

“What colour should we do ? We got blue and red and uhhh-” you reached into the cupboard for the little bottle of food colouring “yellow” you turned to Christoper who was beside you. The two of you were baking cupcakes for the team. 

“Green!” he shouted and you nod. “Sounds like a plan, now my little scientist, what do we mix to make green ?” “blue and yellow” he said, you take the lid off the little blue bottle and hand it to him, you do the same with the yellow. The two of you pour a ridiculous amount of food colouring in the frosting. Plugging in the mixer, you began mixing the frosting. After a few minutes, the two of you looking into the bowl. 

“Well, that doesn't look right” The frosting a mucky green, almost brown colour rather than just the normal, light green colour you were going for. 

“We should buy frosting instead” Chris says, sticking a finger into the bowl and tasting the frosting. “Does it taste good at least?” he gives you a smile, you take that as a yes. You were looking up grocery stores that were still opened and Chris was washing the frosting off his hands. You moved so that he could be the paper towel and accidentally hit the on button on the mixer.

Frosting ended up everywhere. 

“Well that’s not good” You and Chris laugh. You wipe the frosting off his face and send him off to change his shirt as you clean up the kitchen. Looking down at your own shirt, you too, were covered in frosting. You walked to Eddie’s room and found one of his LAFD shirts laying on his bed. Pulling off your own, you pulled on his instead. 

“Maybe we should just buy cupcakes instead ? We can just eat these later ?” 

“Yeah!” 

The two of you headed out to find a store that sold cupcakes and was still open. it was currently 10:30 at night and technically, Eddie told you to have Chris in bed by 9:30 but you could never say no to Chris, especially when he asked to bake with you. Arriving at the station, you headed in together. Bobby was the first one to see the two of you. He walked you two up to the kitchen where the team was. 

“Dad!” Chris shouted, getting his father's attention. He looked surprised to see you two there. “Hey buddy!” he gave Chris a hug, “What are you guys doing here?” 

“We have cupcakes” he told his dad, Eddie smiled and let him go. Chris went off to see Buck and Chim. “Hey you” you smiled at Eddie, walking over and setting the box of cupcakes on the counter. “Is that my shirt?” he asks, you settle yourself between his legs, leaning onto his thigh as he sat on the stool by the counter. “Yeah. We attempted to make cupcakes but the frosting part was a bit of a disaster so I just borrowed this” 

His arms wrapped around your waist, “that’s okay, it looks better on you anyways” 

Chim 

These back to back shifts were kicking your ass. You hadn't had a proper night’s sleep in over a week and you were running purely on the fact that coffee exists. You finally had a night off and thought it would be nice to spend a night with your boyfriend. You arrived at his place a few hours before his shift ended. 

His fridge was stocked for once and you decide you’d make dinner. You weren’t the best cook in the world but you knew enough to make a decent meal and not burn the place down. It didn't take long to make dinner and you still had half an hour before he got home so to the shower you went. 

The shower felt like heaven on earth considering that you had been living off coffee and mini naps in the break room at work. You managed to find a pair of pants you left there after spending a night, as for your shirt, you couldn't find any of your shirts. 

What kind of person leaves pants but no shirt ? 

You pick up the one you had on before only to find a stain on it. Tossing it in the laundry basket, you turn to the closet to find something. There had to be something in here that you could wear. Not that he’d mind coming home to dinner and a shirtless you but you rather eat with your shirt on. You pulled out a t-shirt from his closet, it was his LAFD shirt but it didn't seem to make a difference to you, you’d leave it before you went back to your place. 

“Honey I'm home!” Chim laughed as he shut the front door. You practically skipped out of the bedroom, it had been way too long since you last saw him. “Hi, I missed you” you pull him into a hug, “I missed you too” he smiled. 

He looked over at the kitchen, “you cooked too?” 

“Yeah, I had some time” 

“Can I take a shower or is dinner gonna get cold ?” 

“That’s fine, it’s probably already cold,” you laughed, “I'll heat it up, go take your shower” you push him off to the bathroom before going to the kitchen. You tidy up a bit as he’s in the shower. 

“Babe?” he calls as he walks into the kitchen, “have you seen my- there it is” he points to the shirt, you look down. 

“Sorry” you give him a smile, making him chuckle. “It’s okay, I'll wear the other one.” 

“Wait, you have more than one?” 

“Yeah, obviously,” he laughs, “why would I only have one?”

“Well then, I'm keeping this one” 

Buck 

Opposite shifts sucks. 

Although the two of you live together, you kept missing each other. Whenever he was coming in, you were leaving and when you were leaving, he was coming in. For the last 2 months, your relationship consisted of “good morning, have a good day at work” and “good night, sleep well” as you pass by each other on the way out. 

You finally just gave in one day and called in sick. Were you sick ? No, but you were exhausted. You were working morning shifts and Buck was working nights, so you’d be home when he got home today but he didn't know that. Seeing that you were already up, you made you way over to the closet to get a hoodie because for some reason, it was freezing in the apartment although it was probably warm outside. You spotted Buck’s black LAFD sweater in the closet, it was your favourite of his but it looked better on you, or so you thought. 

Walking down to the stairs and to the kitchen, you find the stale coffee that Buck left in the machine on the counter. Dumping it in the sink and putting on a fresh pot. The fridge was empty, for the most part, there was milk, eggs, cheese and what looked like leftover takeout. You managed to find pancake mix in the cupboard and dumped all the ingredients in a bowl. The door unlocked and Buck’s shoes thudded against the wall by the door. 

“How many times do I have to tell you not to kick your shoes off like that ? You’re going to scuff the wall” your back was facing him but you glance over your shoulder to see your boyfriend. He seemed shocked that you were home. 

“I thought you had work ?” he makes his way over to you, hugging you from behind. “Called in sick, thought we could spend the day together ?” 

“Yeah, I like that idea” he kisses your neck, as his arms wrap around your waist. “Maybe we should just go back to bed” he says as he lifts you off the ground. The whisk falls from your hand and falls into the bowl, “Buck! come on, I'm making breakfast for you” you pry at his hands, he just squeezes you tighter. 

“I just wanna cuddle, I miss you” he somehow turns you around, his hands now gripping at your thighs. He mustered up his best puppy dog eyes and gave you a lil pout. “You’re an overgrown baby Evan Buckley, do you know that?” you roll your eyes, he smiles at you. 

“Yeah, I know” he makes his way up the stairs and back into bed. He dropped you on the bed, you shifted back up against the pillow. He joins you in bed after he changes, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his side. 

“Why do you smell like my cologne ?” he looked down at you, “is that my sweater ?” 

“You mean our sweater ? Yes it is” 

Buck laughed and shook his head, “yeah, our sweater looks cute on you” 

----

taglist: @ssa-volturi @advicefromnixxxx @dralexreid @keenmarvellover @venusrosepetal @mikaelson-emma 

[jengajives]

the much anticipated part three in which dinner doesnt actually happen yet

part one

part two

Just inside the metal door, there was a plaque that read “TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES OR I WILL KILL YOU” in elegant, cursive lettering, and Daeron spent a long time just staring at it trying to decide whether he found the joke funny or not. At the moment, being murdered here was a genuine worry of his. The thought of Fëanor bursting into the entry hall wielding a machine gun and unloading just because Daeron had forgotten to remove his sandals felt entirely plausible. Daeron was careful to leave the shoes neatly in the row near the others. After taking a moment to examine the gold-embroidered sneakers and a pair of dress shoes polished to perfection he finally managed to speak again. “Is everyone in your family obscenely wealthy?” Maglor glanced up. He’d taken a seat on a very uncomfortable-looking metal bench to unlace his boots. “I guess so, yeah. Curufin and Caranthir have the most because they’re actually talented, but the rest of us are just kind of leeches on Dad’s fortune. He’s got more than enough.” “Yeah.” Daeron glanced at the ceiling some thirty feet above his head. “I noticed that.” “Once I finish recording, though, I should be able to hop off the charity line.” Maglor tossed his boots carelessly into the pile. “I’m gonna make it big.” “I know you are, honey.” If he ever actually finished recording. Maglor was such a perfectionist; he’d been working on his album for years. Abruptly, from somewhere deeper in the belly of this beast, came the sounds of shouting. Daeron turned to see if he could place it. The entry hall was tucked just alongside a massive room that definitely could have fit Daeron’s entire apartment four or five times over. Slick laminate floors reflected the sunset that came in through floor-to-ceiling windows over looking the valley and the distant gleam of ocean. The furniture was of simplistic design but unmistakably expensive, and in the center of the room a massive fireplace was alight with a pale red flame. The far corner featured what seemed to be an indoor waterfall, cascading alongside an opening which Daeron assumed led down to other rooms. There was a glass and steel staircase suspended off the side of one of the walls, curling up to the second floor landing impossibly far above. Directly to his right, the floor stepped down into what seemed to be a lounge of some sort. Behind that, at the far end of the room on the same slightly lower level, there was a massive dining table set with at least twenty chairs. A couple of them were filled, though their occupants were too far away for him to make out. From this table came another shout. It was so echoey in the massive room that Daeron had absolutely no idea whether there were any words in it at all. “Oh, wonderful.” Maglor sighed as he shucked his jacket and tossed it onto the little bench. “They’re fighting already.” “Who’s fighting?” “Who do you think?” The new voice was drily amused and, thankfully, familiar as it approached from the side. Maedhros emerged from the lounge wearing a tired smile, with a baby standing on top of his feet. The little one clung to his left hand and the stump where his right had once been so it wouldn’t fall as he walked it forward with short, certain steps, and when he got close he carefully lowered the baby to the ground so it could start crawling around and babbling, as babies are prone to do. Daeron immediately gave a coo and stooped to pick up the kid. “Look at this little cutie!” “He’s Curufin’s” Maedhros said. He stuck his hand into his pocket now that he wasn’t using it anymore, and gave Daeron a warm smile. “It’s good to see you again. I’m glad Mags convinced you to come.” “He was the one that did the convincing, actually.” Maglor looked at the baby in mild disgust. “They put you on Celebrimbor duty?” “No, I volunteered. Didn’t want to listen to them scream about whatever economics thing they’re upset about.” “Good choice,” Daeron said as he wiggled a finger in front of the baby’s face. Celebrimbor had a ridiculously chubby face and a big smile that made his eyes squish down to nothing but the narrowest slits of silver. His dark hair was surprising thick for one so young. “He’s adorable.” “He’s good company.” Maedhros smiled again. Daeron was beginning to think the expression was a trademark to him- a tired smile that looked convincing, but with nothing at all behind it. There had always been something off about the eldest Fëanorian. Personally, Daeron thought it had something to do with the hand and the scars, but it was rude to ask and Maglor had never offered any meaningful insight on the matter, so he was left to speculate. “How long have they been going off?” Maglor glanced in the direction of the dining table and Maedhros only chuckled. “Not too long. Celegorm started it and then bailed, as per usual. Mom should concede here soon and it’ll probably be safe to go in.” “Big happy family,” Daeron observed absently, because he was too occupied playing with the kid to remember not to be rude. Luckily, Maedhros just laughed softly, which probably meant he hadn’t said anything too offensive. “You have no idea.” Daeron tickled Celebrimbor under the chin. He held the baby towards Maglor. “When can we get one of these?” Maglor gave a strained smile. “Must we?” “You don’t want a baby? He’s so cute!” “Sure, sure. You know I love kids. Nothing I love more than kids.” Maedhros chuckled at the two of them, but before he could say anything, something buzzed in his front pocket. Hastily he pulled it out and glanced at the screen, and his face went somewhat pale. “Sorry. I have to take this.” He hurried from the room and bounded up the stairs two at a time in what appeared to be desperation. Daeron watched him go. “Wow. What is that about?” “No clue.” Maglor shrugged. “He’s a weird guy. You know, not as weird as the others, but weird.” “Sure.” Didn’t really satisfy Daeron, but it would be a little much to ask more about it, so he just didn’t. Maybe he could pry after dinner, depending on if they had wine or not. He looked back at little Celebrimbor and was about to follow Maglor into the lounge when they were interrupted by another yell. The voice was clearer this time, closer, and when Daeron turned he saw a dark-haired man standing just outside the dining area, looking at them. He was speaking Quenya, which was irritating, but Daeron knew enough to understand him. “I thought I heard you out here, Mags! Is this your boyfriend? Come in here right now!” He had a playful tone, but it still seemed incredibly threatening. Maglor just smiled and motioned for Daeron to follow him. “Hey, Curufin.” As Daeron approached, the new Fëanorian gave him a shrewd, calculating type of look. He was wearing a gold chain and a flashy watch on each wrist, and his outfit was so disturbingly ugly it had to be designer. There was some sort of brand logo printed over and over beneath an obscure animal print on the shirt, but Daeron had no idea what it was. His hair was long and done up in loose, stylish locks twisted with gold. He was definitely looking at Daeron like he was a cut of meat. “Oh, dear.” Curufin’s lip curled. “Isn’t this interesting? Good to meet you, pal. It’s Curufin.” He held out a hand, and Daeron was disturbed by the amount of rings on each individual finger. Hesitantly, he accepted the handshake and made a reply in clunky Quenya. “Hello. My name is Daeron.” As he spoke, he shot a glare at Maglor. “They’ll speak Sindarin,” my ass. “You one of Thingol’s?” “Curufin,” Maglor said warningly. His brother only chuckled and motioned to the table. “Welcome to you both,” he said, with just a bit of malice in his voice. Daeron took a deep breath and turned to face the others.

[prettyboyjackhughes]

-Draft Day- |J. Hughes|

“Char, you know as soon as they announce his name, you’re the first person he’ll try to find.” Trev says, messing with his tie. Tonight was the 1st night of the NHL draft. Jack is expected to go number one, Trev and Alex not far after. I was super excited for all of them but I wasn’t able to be in 3 places to sit with all of them. Trev and I had shared every little thing since we were born, might as well share this too.

“Well good thing he’s not that far away.” Jack says, turning around and smiling at me. Alex and Madi are in the row behind us. Madi and I had gone shopping for draft dresses a few weeks ago. I had bought a gray, short, off the shoulder sweater body con dress. Madi’s dress was a black, short body con dress with puff sleeves. She had paired her’s with nude heels and I had worn mine with black knee high heeled boots that made me almost as tall as Jack. Jack was wearing a blue suit with red stripes and a red and blue checkered tie. Trev had on a black suit with a light blue tie. Alex’s suit is my favorite. It’s light gray with a navy blue tie. Jack turns around and looks at me again.

“Trev’s right though. You’re the first one I’m looking for. So you’d better be ready to kiss me.” I laugh and lean in to kiss him.

“Baby baby! Not yet! I don’t want lipstick on my face when I get called up!” I roll my eyes and lean back in my seat, crossing my legs, my dress sliding up apparently too far for Jack and my brother’s comfort.

“Seriously Char? Pull it down!” Jack says loudly. Luke laughs and looks back at me.

“For real Charlie! No one wants to see that!” Trev says, pulling my skirt down for me. I roll my eyes and Madi laughs. The announcer comes on and asks everyone to take their seats and I reach over, taking Trev’s hand.

“Welcome to the 2019 National Hockey League Draft. Our first draft will be from the New Jersey Devils.” Jack shifts anxiously in his seat and Trev reaches down with his free hand to pat his shoulder.

“With the first pick overall, The New Jersey Devils are proud to select, from the U.S. program, Jack Hughes.” Jack stands up, the biggest grin I’ve ever seen on his face. He immediately turns around and almost falls over the chairs, reaching for me. I stand up and step towards him. Our lips connect and I can feel the smile on his face. After a few seconds, he pulls away. He hugs the whole Hughes family, Turcs, Trev, and Madi, and then makes his way to the stage. He had left his suit jacket on the back of his chair; leaving him in just his button up shirt. It hugs his upper body and arms in all the right places and shows off the muscles he’s worked extremely hard to get.

“Damn, he looks good in red.” I say, leaning back and patting Madi’s knee as Jack pulls the number 19 Devils jersey over his head, his hair sticking up adorably. She laughs and we all sit, waiting for Alex’s and Trev’s names to be called. We politely clap for every guy drafted but all I can focus my mind on is the fact that my boyfriend got drafted number one overall and was gonna be playing in the NHL alongside my brother and his best friend. Along with what will happen after all this is over, what Jack and I will do when we get home. Jack’s parents and Dukes were all staying at Quinn’s apartment in downtown Vancouver. My parents and Alex’s parents were all at a hotel about 20 minutes away from Quinn’s apartment. But since this is a big couple weeks for the boys and they would be coming and going so frequently, the parents all pitched in and booked the 5 of us an Airbnb for the next 2 weeks. While Trev was the third wheel to both couples, I’ve been woken up by him sneaking a few girls out at 4 in the morning before he thinks we’re all awake.

“You’re gonna get hell from all the girls in love with him.” Trev says as they announce the 3rd pick. I shrug, not worried about it.

“They’re not the ones sleeping with him at night. I am.” I say, smirking and laughing. Madi high fives me and I flip my hair.

“Wow, real humble aren’t we, Char?” Alex says, shifting in his seat and putting his arm around Madi’s waist. I smile and Alex gently tugs a chunk of my hair. .

“And with the fifth overall pick, the Los Angeles Kings select, from the U.S. National Development Program, Alex Turcotte.” Alex stands up and pulls Madi up with him. He pecks her on the cheek, not locking lips like Jack and I did. He hugs Trev, his parents and then reaches for me. I stand up, hug him and whisper in his ear.

“I’m so proud of you Turcs, love you.” He smiles and heads down to the stage.

“Madi that’s your boy!” I laugh as she snaps pictures of him.

“I feel like a proud mom!” She says, smiling. Trev’s gotten quiet during the last few minutes. I nudge him, waiting for a response as he stares at his phone.

“Huh? Oh I’m okay. Just, taking it all in.” I can see in his eyes he’s off but I’m not sure why. The management at the Anaheim Ducks had talked to him a while back and had mentioned if he was still there when it came their turn to pick, they’d take him. He was happy about that, since that meant he and Alex would both be out in California, but it also meant he didn’t really have anything to worry about. He’d be getting picked in the first round no matter what.

“And with the ninth overall pick, the Anaheim Ducks are proud to select, from the U.S. National Program, Trevor Zegras.” Trev looks up, almost shocked to hear his own name. He stands up, a goofy grin on his face. I stand with him, pulling him into a hug.

“Trev, I’m so proud of you! This is our dream! Now go!” He pulls away and goes to Mom and Dad, pulling them both into a hug. He finally escapes the row and heads down the stairs to the stage, the big grin never leaving his face. I take a Snapchat of him pulling the Anaheim jersey over his head and shaking hands with the general manager. I caption it ‘Proud of my Bubs❤️’ and post it. Soon, after what seems like hours of watching boy after boy get called up, teammate after teammate of the boys getting drafted, we are finally dismissed and get to go meet up with the boys. We head to the family waiting area and see the boys, all huddled in a group, waiting for us. Madi and I take turns hugging each of them. Jack suddenly pulls me away and kisses me. He kisses me, tongue automatically slipping into my mouth. After what seemed like no time, he pulled away.

“Sorry, I had to finish that from earlier. But anyways, the boys wanna go out. But we don’t have to. I know we had...plans.” He says, very obviously squeezing my ass as his arm sneaks around my waist. I smirk as I see Trev’s face, who obviously saw what Jack did. Surprisingly, he doesn’t come to say anything.

“I’d rather go home. I’m kinda tired plus, I really want it.” I say, “accidentally” brushing my hand against the inside of Jack’s thigh as I turn around to face him. Trev sees that too and finally does come over.

“Seriously you two! What is your deal? Our parents are literally right there! Why not just walk over and tell them you’re leaving to go have sex?” He says, attempting to keep his voice quiet but Madi and Alex still hear and excuse themselves from Alex’s parents, making their way over to us.

“Good lord Trev, keep your voice down! Besides, we all know you’ve been texting some girl all night trying to get her to come hook up with you when y’all go out.” Alex says, elbowing Trev. His face flames red and I almost want to put an end to the embarrassment he’s suffering on his big night but after what he said, I decide not to.

“Okay no need to expose me like that and it was one, okay two girls. So leave me alone.” He says, crossing his arms. We all laugh and Trev’s signature grin returns to his face.

“Okay kids, I need pictures.” Alex’s mom says, coming over and bursting our little bubble. Jack’s hand, which was safely in mine somehow escapes and travels back down to its original place. I roll my eyes and elbow him in the side. His hand goes away and instead, he wraps his arms around my shoulders. He’s going through a phase where he always has to be touching me, no matter how. From his hand in mine to playing with my hair, he’s always touching me. And I’m 100% okay with it.

“I want the boys first then we can do the couples and Charlie and Trev.” Turcs’ mom is a family photographer and really successful in Island Lake, where they’re from. Jack is in the middle, Alex on his left, Trev on his right. They all have the most genuine smiles on their faces. I pull Madi over to the giant NHL draft logo on the wall and we take a few selfies in front of it.

“Charlie, you know that boy is in love with you, right?” She says, glancing up at Jack and nudging me. I look up and catch him staring. I smile and he winks. My stomach drops and I get butterflies.

“Yeah I know, Mads. And I’m in love with him.” I say, smiling and hugging my best friend.

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicMas20 Day 3: Married in Vegas

I hope December is treating everyone well <3 Today’s offering is ‘Married in Vegas’. G requested it to be included in FicMas months ago, and it’s here. In pieces, because I may have over-estimated how ‘ready’ it was to be seen. 

It also degenerated into something terribly depressing, when I was definitely going for something happier, rom-com meets coming of age, so large chunks definitely need to be rewritten.  

Oh, and if you want more of a specific fic, you NEED to tell me, or it will simply languish on my harddrive, forgotten forever.  

Onwards!

--

I meet him on a Thursday night, in the shitty little bar where I work. We talk, he drinks, and then he leaves.

By Saturday night, I am Mrs Alice Whitlock-Hale, with a ring bought from some cheap jewellery vendor and a plastic flower crown in my hair.

It was the best night of my life.

--

Okay, so I could start at the beginning. But the true beginning is a four-year-old girl being left behind when her mom runs away with her baby sister, and the middle is when, at fourteen, that girl is thrown out of her father’s house. She tries to go home once, at sixteen, only to find out that her dad and step-monster moved away. Left the state and left her behind without so much as a forwarding address.

But that story is depressing as hell, so we’ll start when things get interesting.

My ‘husband’ – Jasper Whitlock-Hale - was a strapping 6-foot-something soldier fresh from his last tour – honourably discharged, he was quick to inform me when we first met, and I could tell that was a point of some pride for him.  

I worked at a bar called ‘Sassy’s’. It had been opened in the 70s and I was pretty sure it hadn’t been cleaned or redecorated since those halcyon days. The current owner was Bruno – his son, Emil, was the manager. They were both decent, in that they paid me on time and never groped me. It’s pretty sad when those factors qualify as ‘decent’, but you tend not to be too picky when you’re applying for work at places like ‘Sassy’s’.

Especially when you’re an underage runaway.

How were we still in business? Well, we did dollar beers after nine at night (it wasn’t good beer), and we served pretty good nachos, and we had a huge flat-screen television. Oh, and we ignored any kind of gambling that happened in the dark corners.

It started off as a totally normal night – the usual crowd waiting for their cheap beers, wiping down sticky tables, and killing time. If I was lucky, there wouldn’t be any decent sports playing tonight, and no one would bitch much if I switched the channel over.

He walked through the door just after nine, limping quite obviously. He was wearing a button-down shirt, jeans and a worn leather jacket. He looked kind of haunted – but that isn’t exactly unusual in Vegas; if you don’t arrive with regrets, you’re probably going to leave with them.

He also looked too young, too clean and way too promising to be a patron at Sassy’s. I was slinging beer at that point, as he approached.  

“Beer, please,” he said as he sat at the bar.

“Dollar, thanks,” I said with a smile, grabbing a chipped – but clean – glass, and grabbed a dish of peanuts. They were pretty good – more than often, they were my dinner.

“Thanks,” he nodded once, staring at the amber liquid for a moment. He looked exhausted.

I kept working – stacking fresh glasses, packing the dirty ones into the ancient dishwasher behind the bar that Bruno had installed last summer, so proudly. Pretty sure it was older than me, but it meant that I didn’t have to deal with the washing-up anymore, so I smiled and thanked him, as if I didn’t spend at least half a shift trying to get the damned thing to work.

“Mija!” Luis ducked his head out of the kitchen, passing me a plate.

“Thanks,” I said. “Need a drink?”

“Nah, just fine girly.”

Luis had it easy. He was in college, so this was a part-time gig for him – he only came in two nights a week. He earned twice what I earned, but we didn’t get as many orders for food, so he got to sit in the tiny-ass kitchen (seriously, two people couldn’t fit back there) and study. He’d make me dinner every shift we worked together, which was nice of him. Tonight was grilled cheese.

On quiet nights, I liked to prop the kitchen door open, and sit on the bar and listen to him talk about his classes while I ate. He was always hinting about me going to college, about financial assistance and scholarships, but it just wasn’t going to happen for me.

I had a mouthful of food when the group in the corner started yelling for more drinks. These guys knew Bruno and Emil, so I had to tolerate their smart-ass mouths. They liked to tease the ‘princess’ who worked there. I got that from a lot of regulars, but these guys liked to imply that I was a whore, and tell me they’d wait for me after work to ‘test me out’.

Luis said it was because they were testing me, and they were pissed that Bruno never fired the white girl. Camila, one of the ex-waitresses, was the daughter of one of them and that was why they never tipped me. A form of protest. I never breathed a word about it, and treated them just as well as any other customer.

“Beers, gentlemen,” I said, sliding the tray onto the table. “Can I get you anything else?”

“I’ll say,” one of them leered and another slapped me on the ass. I rolled my eyes and turned to go back to the bar.

“Rough night?” the guy at the bar said as I returned.

“What? Oh, them,” I shrugged, picking up my sandwich. “They’re here every night.”

“They act like that all the time?” he asked.

“Yeah, but they’re just blowing off steam. Don’t like that I kept my job and one of their daughters didn’t,” I said. “Can I get you another?”

“Please.” He watched me move carefully. “What’s your name?”

“Mary,” I said, placing another beer in front of him, and grabbing a soda for myself.

“Jasper, ma’am,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Jasper. You from around here?”

--

By closing time, Jasper had nursed four beers and half my sandwich – which he inhaled like he hadn’t eaten in a while. We’d chatted. He’d just returned from his third tour in the Middle East – he didn’t say much about that, though I heard some pride in his voice when he mentioned it.

We talked about Vegas a bit, about the things he missed when he was overseas (his aunt’s chocolate cake, the cool forests of Washington state, and books). He was just passing through Vegas, here for a few days. Trying to adjust back to civilian life.

He stayed as I cleaned up, loading the dishwasher and scrubbing down the benches and tables. He watched as David and Sammy came up to pay, smirking as I leant over the bar to reach the money, giving them an unwilling flash of my pitiful cleavage.

All twenty-six dollars of it, in crumpled bills.

“Thanks,” I smiled brightly, handing them a receipt and a package of matches with the logo on it. They grunted at me and left. Their table was a mess of napkins, peanuts and glasses.

“Hope they tipped you well,” Jasper said as he watched me load the tray.

“Oh, they don’t tip. They hate me,” I said, as I piled the garbage onto a tray.

“How long were they here?”

“Since five. It’s fine, really,” I said. “It’s tradition.”

“No, it’s being an asshole,” Jasper muttered.

Luis chose that moment to leave the kitchen, bag on his shoulder.

“It’s closing time,” he sung at me, just like every night. “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

I snorted. “Well, Jasper, it’s been nice talking to you, but I have to lock up,” I said with a little regret. He was a nice guy, and nice guys didn’t spend a lot of time at Sassy’s.

“Do you need a lift home?” he offered and then froze. “Sorry, that sounded really… seedy. I was going to offer to split a cab.”

“Thank you, but Luis gives me a lift,” I said.

“Okay. Do … you work any other nights this week?” he asked, almost shyly.

Luis was doing his best to be invisible, grabbing the trash and dragging it out the back.

“Tomorrow morning, from eleven til seven, I said. “Beer is full-priced, I’m sorry to say.”

“Okay. Thanks. It was nice talking to you,” he said again, fumbling with his words.

“You too. And if I don’t see you again, have a good time in Vegas,” I said, and, leaving money tucked under his glass, Jasper finally rose and limped out.

I sighed; dumping the glass in the sink and counting out the four dollars for the till, I jammed the tip into my bra. There wasn’t much else to do – I was opening tomorrow; we opened from 11am til 1am, so it would be me who unpacked the soda in the backroom, and the glasses and ran a mop over the perpetually sticky floor. So I could go into the kitchen and change out of my uniform and go and find Luis.

Once the hot pink wig was peeled off, my black hair stuck clammily to my face. My make-up had mostly melted off and it was a relief to tug on my leggings and hoodie and grab my bag.

Luis was waiting for me in the car as I locked up.

“So, you and soldier boy,” he began as soon as I got in.

“Ugh, really?” I pulled my tip out of my bra. “He was alone, and flirting with the waitress. Won’t see him again.” It had been a quiet night – fourteen dollars, plus whatever Jasper had left me. I mean, on average, I made maybe twenty-five dollars in tips a night.

And I stared. Two twenty dollar bills were staring at me, along with six dollars. A forty six dollar tip for four dollar beers. And half a cold grilled cheese sandwich.

“No, he didn’t like you at all,” Luis drawled.

“Shut up,” I grumbled, but inside I was giddy. He was dashing, and smart and polite. And now I could make my rent.

“Here were are. Sleep well,” Luis pulled up in front of the apartment block.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, spinning my keys around my finger, and headed home.

The apartment block was a grim brick building of roughly eighty apartments. I lived in number 48. Well, I rented a room in number 48. The apartment was really Victoria’s. Victoria had two kids and never actually told me what she did for a living. Nothing would surprise me. She was a bitch, didn’t give a shit about her kids, but rented out the third closet-sized bedroom complete with air mattress and a locked closet full of canned soup to me for the princely sum of eighty bucks a week.

//

What did I know about my new husband?

He walked with a limp – I was guessing an injury that got him discharged from the military.

He had a twin sister – one he spoke of with equal parts affection and irritation.  

He liked history – American military history, specifically.

He was raised in Texas, until his mother died when he was 10. He and his sister were packed off to live with his mom’s best friend and her husband in the wilds of Washington state, where he stayed until he finished high school. He never mentioned his father.

And he was a consummate gentleman.

I, on the other hand, lied my head off.

Well, I only told the usual lies – I was 21, earning money for college, hoping to be a nurse one day. Oh, and when he asked about my family, I told him they were dead. It was better to keep it simple, it meant there were no questions.

We got married on the Strip, Saturday night.

And when he woke up Sunday morning looking hilariously horrified at the fact we got married, I might have exaggerated how drunk I was.

That makes me sound like the worst kind of person, and I don’t think I am, really.

I mean, he was dressed very nicely, he had a black AmEx, and was clearly educated. But I didn’t want to take advantage of him, truly. I wasn’t looking for money or anything. He was so nice, so handsome and he made me feel safe. And before she left me, my mom always told me that life was meant to be full of adventures, and I had to get out there and grab them with both hands. She didn’t leave me with many good memories, so I kind of held onto that advice.

Just once, for a moment, I wanted to pretend to be the type of girl who could marry someone like Jasper Whitlock. The kind of girl who got to stay in beautiful hotel suites.

He kept apologising to me, seemingly more shocked that I had slept on the hotel couch than the idea we had gotten drunk, married and might have had sex. He looked completely panicked, pacing and muttering and staring at me like a stranger.

I took advantage of the giant bathtub and the endless selection of bath gels and lotions whilst he tried to be subtle about the panicked phone calls he was making, his knuckles white as he gripped the damning piece of paper that declared us husband and wife in the state of Nevada.

I emerged smelling of cherry blossoms and lavender. I mean, I only had the previous night’s clothes – my black mini-skirt, leggings, a Sassy’s tank top and my poor flats – but at least I was clean and tidy.

“I need to shower,” Jasper managed as I came out. “There’s coffee and juice if you want something.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

As I went to grab a drink, his phone buzzed and I looked down to see the messages flash across the screen, one after the other.

ROSALIE (CELL) 9:17:04am: Cut the tramp loose. C spoke to E & u can annul when u get home. JFC.

CARLISLE (WORK) 9:17:11am: I’ve spoken to Eleazer, and he’s willing to work this out.

EDWARD (CELL) 9:17:24am: Tell me this is a joke or something. Rosalie keeps shrieking every time she calls.

ESME (CELL) 9:17:31am: Rosalie told us. Bring her home with you and we can fix it. Love you XOXO

BELLA (iMessage) 9:17:49am: R u ok? Saw on R’s FB what happened.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:00am: Did u srsly marry a stripper in Vegas?!?

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:09am: Rose is losing her shit. Nice knowing u.

EMMETT (CELL) 9:18:34am: At least send pix of what she looks like dude.

I turned away from the phone, though it was fascinating watching the messages pop up. My cellphone was a beat-up second-hand Sidekick Tiffy had given me for my seventeenth birthday, the back bedazzled in pink and purple, and the only text messages I got were from Luis, Emil and Bruno, about work.

Or Victoria, bitching about the rent.

I grabbed my drink and sat on the couch, flipping on the television whilst I waited for Jasper to finish in the shower. He emerged, looking calmer, though pale and hung over, snatching up his phone, with a towel slung around his hips. I tried not to stare – goddamnit, this guy should not be marrying strange bartenders in Vegas. He would have absolutely no trouble getting a date. I knew I was bright red, refocusing on whatever cartoons were playing on the screen.

Jasper took me to breakfast at the hotel restaurant afterwards - I felt super underdressed with my sweater over my top, as I was served the fanciest eggs I had ever seen. Jasper crumbled a bagel up and drank about a gallon of coffee, barely meeting my eyes. I figured I might as well take advantage of my wedding breakfast, and also helped myself to fruit salad that included fruits I wasn’t aware were even available in America, and a doughnut that looked hand-painted with icing.

“I have some appointments today,” Jasper said, finally, when he finally pushed his plate aside. “We could meet for dinner later.”

I popped the last bite of doughnut into my mouth and wondered if he was planning on leaving town, leaving me behind.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

--

I had the day off, surprisingly enough. Normally on my days off, I had plans – sometimes I worked for a catering firm I was registered with, for some extra cash. Sometimes I’d hit the thrift stores to try and pad out my meagre wardrobe, or go and sketch or read in the park. I hated hanging around the apartment, since Victoria, James and Laurent kept unpredictable hours and could be there all day.

But today, I had nowhere to be. My phone needed charging and I could do with a few extra hours of sleep – a headache was definitely lingering. Plus, if breakfast was any indication, I needed to dress up for dinner. I was pretty sure that breakfast had cost more than my entire wardrobe. But I had one dress that was passable.

Luckily, the apartment was empty when I slipped in and collapsed into my bed, noticing only for a second that the hotel couch was far and away more comfortable than the ancient air mattress Victoria provided.

I was woken at five pm by a text message from Jasper.

360-555-0134 5:03:44pm: My meetings are done. Just heading back to the hotel for a shower. Our reservation is for 7:30pm. Pick you up at 7?

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face – I hadn’t been sure I’d ever hear from Jasper again. But he was taking me out to a fancy dinner. Hell, I would have been over the moon if we went to a movie and ate hot dogs in a park. Flipping open the keyboard, I tapped out a response.

775-555-0182 5:04:59pm: Sounds good – am sending my address. Hope your day was good.

I had two hours to get ready for the fanciest meal of my life.

I could so do this.

—

Considering my resources, I didn’t think I looked too bad. I’d left my hair loose, since I didn’t own a curling wand or straightener, and managed to paint my nails with the half-empty bottle of nude pink I’d found amongst my stuff.

My dress was a black polyester number I had fished out of a basket at the thrift store and had cost me eight dollars. It was a baby-doll style and I thought it made me look older. My shoes were black wedges that were nowhere near fancy enough, but I didn’t own any proper heels.

I had run to the drug store around the corner for a lipstick, a deep crimson that made me feel much older and more glamorous. The effect was somewhat spoilt by the fact I didn’t own a decent coat, just a purple cardigan and a hoodie. And the only purse I owned was a silver crossbody-bag that looked like I had only paid two dollars for it.

At seven on the dot, I emerged from my room to find Victoria, the kids, James and Laurent eating pizza.

“Look at you, baby,” James was practically drooling as I walked through, jamming my wallet and phone into the tiny bag. “Told you she was gorgeous.”

Laurent made a non-committal sound but his gaze never left my legs, ew.

“Where are you going?” Victoria demanded, glaring at me. She definitely preferred me as skinny, bedraggled Mary instead of girly Alice.

“I have a date,” I said.

“A date? Finally working for the money, Mary?” Victoria said. “Thought you were too good for that.”

I made a face at her. “A date. With a guy. Where he takes me to dinner and we talk.”

“You didn’t come home last night,” Victoria said carelessly, and I caught a dark look pass over James’ face. “Excuse me for assuming that you’d come to your senses.”

I swallowed my vulgar response and grabbed my keys. “Don’t wait up.”  

//

My stuff was packed up – in the end, I had only a small duffle bag and my messenger bag of stuff for nineteen years of life.

Jasper was planning on driving back to Forks over two or three days. He had considered – and offered – to pay for us to fly back, but I’d never been in an airplane before, and figured a road-trip would give me time to prepare to meet Jasper’s family.

//

I wasn’t expecting it. Not for James to half-punch, half-slap me, and shake me by the throat. I couldn’t breathe, my lungs burning, slightly disoriented from the blows.

James half-threw me against the fridge, the handle digging into my back. I dropped my bags as he grabbed me by the scruff of the shirt and pulled me back towards him.

“You think you can leave?” he spat at me. “Stupid bitch, think you’re better than this?”

I tried to pull away, but I was too small.

“You’re just like Vic. Just like ‘em all. You’ll come crawling back when that prick gets bored,” he purred at me, one hand sliding down my stomach and I suddenly was terrified. “I’m not picky, I’ll take you back – when you beg.”

“James.”

We both jerked around to see Laurent standing in the doorway, with one of Victoria’s daughters in tow.

James pasted a bright smile on his face. “Just sayin’ good bye to Mary here. Takin’ her chances in sunny California.”

Laurent looked from me to him and shrugged. “Coming?”

James looked back at me and sneered. “Yeah. The trash can take herself out.”

Within seconds, they were gone, and I was alone. I span on my heel and headed to the bathroom.

I stared at myself in the mirror. My throat was red, where he’d shaken me, and my eye and cheek were already swelling – and my lip was split. My back and shoulder ached, plus my right ankle was tender.

Thankfully, the collar of my cardigan would cover up my throat, and my sunglasses would cover up my eye. Hopefully, my lip would stop bleeding by then. Nothing that indicated James had hurt me. But I didn’t want to hang around, in case he came back.

Snagging my bags off the floor, I dropped my keys on the kitchen table and fled apartment 48 for the final time.

--

Jasper was waiting in the bar with a coffee and the paper when I showed up. I’d tried so hard to dress nicely – a blue shirtdress and lavender leggings – but the women in the hotel foyer made me look like a middle school student.

“Hi,” I smiled as I reached the table.

“Good morning,” Jasper said, jumping up to take my bags. “Can I get you anything?”

“An oj?” I asked, looking around at the fancy surroundings. I wasn’t sure anything as pedestrian as an orange had ever crossed the threshold of this place.

“Certainly.” A hotel employee suddenly appeared at Jasper’s elbow. “Could you put these bags with mine? And the lady would like an orange juice, and perhaps the brunch menu?”

“Of course, Mr Whitlock,” the employee said.

I wriggled around in my seat, gazing around the bar. One woman was wearing the most incredible red and gold heels, and another had an embroidered floral dress that was to die for.

“The hotel had some computer difficulties this morning – we should be able to leave soon,” Jasper said to me, drawing my attention back to him. “I’d like to make it to Boise tonight.”

“Sounds good,” I said, as a waiter swept to my side, placing the fanciest glass of juice in front of me, and a tasselled menu. “Thank you.”

“I’ve already eaten,” Jasper said, looking guilty. “Early start. But please, get whatever you want.”

“O-kay,” I said. I wasn’t very hungry, and my throat hurt after James’ assault, but I needed to eat – I wasn’t sure if we’d stop for lunch. Rule number one was never, ever turn down free food.

A hotel employee appeared at Jasper’s elbow the second my breakfast plate was cleared, to let us know that the ‘issues’ had been fixed, and our luggage was in the car.

It was happening. We were going.

Mary-Alice Brandon: now leaving Las Vegas.

//

The motel was neat and pretty clean, with two double beds and a TV. We’d grabbed burgers through drive-thru, and were ready to settle in for the night.

I had some ancient pj bottoms and a tank top to sleep in, and didn’t think of anything else as I left the bathroom, my hair hanging loose.

“What the hell happened to you?” Jasper was at my side in a second, his eyes wide.

“What?” I gave him a confused look, and belatedly realised that my make-up was washed off and in my tank top my throat was bared, the bruises that James had given me so much darker and angrier than before.

“Oh, um, my landlord’s boyfriend had a problem with me leaving,” I said uncomfortably.

“Jesus,” he murmured. “We can find a doctor in the morning.”

I waved it off. “I’ve got painkillers in my purse. Just have to wait til I heal.”

//

Jasper was determined to buy me clothing as soon as we finished breakfast, and I gave up and let him drive me to the Gap outlet. It was a novelty to be able to purchase whatever I need, something I wasn’t used to, as I carefully chose jeans and dresses. I also picked up a winter parka on sale, when Jasper warned me how wet and cold Forks was.

But when Jasper went to pay, he gave me a Look. “My sister spends more on a single pair of shoes,” he grumbled at me as I gathered my bags.

“I’ve got everything I need, I swear,” I said. “Probably too much, honestly.”

//

On the way from Seattle, I tried to memorise everything about Jasper’s family and friends, so not to fuck this up worse than it already was.

There were his ‘aunt’ and ‘uncle’, Esme and Carlisle. They had one biological son, Edward, who was 22 and married to Isabella, with a toddler named something strange. Ness, Jasper called her.

Jasper’s twin sister, Rosalie, was engaged to a man named Emmett, who was also one of Jasper’s best friends. They were building a house in Forks, and were getting married at the end of the year.

Jasper’s best friends were Emmett and a man named Peter, Jasper’s roommate in college, who now worked at a law firm in Seattle and had a girlfriend named Charlotte whom Jasper called ‘an angel’, and designed wedding dresses.

I felt like I needed flashcards.

[boreothegoldfinch]

chapter 5 paragraph x

Of my classes, English was the only one I looked forward to, yet I was disturbed by how many of my classmates disliked Thoreau, railed against him even, as if he (who claimed never to have learned anything of value from an old person) was an enemy and not a friend. His scorn of commerce—invigorating to me —nettled a lot of the more vocal kids in Honors English. “Yeah, right,” shouted an obnoxious boy whose hair was gelled and combed stiff like a Dragon Ball Z character—“some kind of world it would be if everybody just dropped out and moped around in the woods—” “Me, me, me,” whined a voice in the back. “It’s antisocial,” a loudmouth girl interjected eagerly over the laughter that followed this—shifting in her seat, turning back to the teacher (a limp, long-boned woman named Mrs. Spear, who always wore brown sandals and earthtone colors, and looked as if she was suffering from major depression). “Thoreau is always just sitting around on his can telling us how good he has it —” “—Because,” said the Dragon Ball Z boy—his voice rising gleefully, “if everybody dropped out, like he’s saying to do? What kind of community would we have, if it was just people like him? We wouldn’t have hospitals and stuff. We wouldn’t have roads.” “Twat,” mumbled a welcome voice—just loud enough for everybody around to hear. I turned to see who had said this: the burnout-looking boy across the aisle, slouched and drumming his desk with his fingers. When he saw me looking at him, he raised a surprisingly lively eyebrow, as if to say: can you believe these fucking idiots? “Did someone have something to say back there?” said Mrs. Spear. “Like Thoreau gave a toss about roads,” said the burnout boy. His accent took me by surprise: foreign, I couldn’t place it. “Thoreau was the first environmentalist,” said Mrs. Spear. “He was also the first vegetarian,” said a girl in back. “Figures,” said someone else. “Mr. Crunchy-chewy.” “You’re all totally missing my point,” the Dragon Ball Z boy said excitedly. “Somebody has to build roads and not just sit in the woods looking at ants and mosquitoes all day. It’s called civilization.” My neighbor let out a sharp, contemptuous bark of a laugh. He was pale and thin, not very clean, with lank dark hair falling in his eyes and the unwholesome wanness of a runaway, callused hands and black-circled nails chewed to the nub—not like the shiny-haired, ski-tanned skate rats from my school on the Upper West Side, punks whose dads were CEOs and Park Avenue surgeons, but a kid who might conceivably be sitting on a sidewalk somewhere with a stray dog on a rope. “Well, to address some of these questions? I’d like for everybody to turn back to page fifteen,” Mrs. Spear said. “Where Thoreau is talking about his experiment in living.” “Experiment how?” said Dragon Ball Z. “Why is living in the woods like he does any different from a caveman?” The dark-haired boy scowled and sank deeper in his seat. He reminded me of the homeless-looking kids who stood around passing cigarettes back and forth on St. Mark’s Place, comparing scars, begging for change—same torn-up clothes and scrawny white arms; same black leather bracelets tangled at the wrists. Their multi-layered complexity was a sign I couldn’t read, though the general import was clear enough: different tribe, forget about it, I’m way too cool for you, don’t even try to talk to me. Such was my mistaken first impression of the only friend I made when I was in Vegas, and—as it turned out—one of the great friends of my life. His name was Boris. Somehow we found ourselves standing together in the crowd that was waiting for the bus after school that day.

“Hah. Harry Potter,” he said, as he looked me over. “Fuck you,” I said listlessly. It was not the first time, in Vegas, I’d heard the Harry Potter comment. My New York clothes—khakis, white oxford shirts, the tortoiseshell glasses which I unfortunately needed to see—made me look like a freak at a school where most people dressed in tank tops and flip flops. “Where’s your broomstick?” “Left it at Hogwarts,” I said. “What about you? Where's your board?” “Eh?” he said, leaning in to me and cupping his hand behind his ear with an old-mannish, deaf-looking gesture. He was half a head taller than me; along with jungle boots and bizarre old fatigues with the knees busted out, he was wearing a ratted-up black T-shirt with a snowboarding logo, Never Summer in white gothic letters. “Your shirt,” I said, with a curt nod. “Not much boarding in the desert.” “Nyah,” said Boris, pushing the stringy dark hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know how to snowboard. I just hate the sun.” We ended up together on the bus, in the seat closest to the door—clearly an unpopular place to sit, judging from the urgent way other kids muscled and pushed to the rear, but I hadn’t grown up riding a school bus and apparently neither had he, as he too seemed to think it only natural to fling himself down in the first empty seat up front. For a while we didn’t say much, but it was a long ride and eventually we got talking. It turned out that he lived in Canyon Shadows too—but farther out, the end that was getting reclaimed by the desert, where a lot of the houses weren’t finished and sand stood in the streets. “How long have you been here?” I asked him. It was the question all the kids asked each other at my new school, like we were doing jail time. “Dunno. Two months maybe?” Though he spoke English fluently enough, with a strong Australian accent, there was also a dark, slurry undercurrent of something else: a whiff of Count Dracula, or maybe it was KGB agent. “Where are you from?” “New York,” I said—and was gratified at his silent double-take, his lowered eyebrows that said: very cool. “What about you?” He pulled a face. “Well, let’s see,” he said, slumping back in his seat and counting off the countries on his fingers. “I’ve lived in Russia, Scotland which was maybe cool but I don’t remember it, Australia, Poland, New Zealand, Texas for two months, Alaska, New Guinea, Canada, Saudi Arabia, Sweden, Ukraine—” “Jesus Christ.” He shrugged. “Mostly Australia, Russia, and Ukraine, though. Those three places.” “Do you speak Russian?” He made a gesture that I took to mean more or less. “Ukrainian too, and Polish. Though I’ve forgotten a lot. The other day, I tried to remember what was the word for ‘dragonfly’ and couldn’t.” “Say something.” He obliged, something spitty and guttural. “What does that mean?” He chortled. “It means ‘Fuck you up the ass.’ ” “Yeah? In Russian?” He laughed, exposing grayish and very un-American teeth. “Ukrainian.” “I thought they spoke Russian in the Ukraine.” “Well, yes. Depends what part of Ukraine. They’re not so different languages, the two. Well—” click of the tongue, eye roll—“not so very much. Numbers are different, days of the week, some vocabulary. My name is spelled different in Ukrainian but in North America it’s easier to use Russian spelling and be Boris, not B-o-r-y-s. In the West everybody knows Boris Yeltsin…” he ticked his head to one side—“Boris Becker—” “Boris Badenov—” “Eh?” he said sharply, turning as if I’d insulted him. “Bullwinkle? Boris and Natasha?” “Oh, yes. Prince Boris! War and Peace. I’m named like him. Although the surname of Prince Boris is Drubetskóy, not what you said.”

“So what’s your first language? Ukrainian?” He shrugged. “Polish maybe,” he said, falling back in his seat, slinging his dark hair to one side with a flip of his head. His eyes were hard and humorous, very black. “My mother was Polish, from Rzeszów near the Ukrainian border. Russian, Ukrainian—Ukraine as you know was satellite of USSR, so I speak both. Maybe not Russian quite so much—it’s best for swearing and cursing. With Slavic languages—Russian, Ukrainian, Polish, even Czech—if you know one, you sort of get drift in all. But for me, English is easiest now. Used to be the other way around.” “What do you think about America?” “Everyone always smiles so big! Well—most people. Maybe not so much you. I think it looks stupid.” He was, like me, an only child. His father (born in Siberia, a Ukrainian national from Novoagansk) was in mining and exploration. “Big important job—he travels the world.” Boris’s mother—his father’s second wife—was dead. “Mine too,” I said. He shrugged. “She’s been dead for donkey’s years,” he said. “She was an alkie. She was drunk one night and she fell out a window and died.” “Wow,” I said, a bit stunned by how lightly he’d tossed this off. “Yah, it sucks,” he said carelessly, looking out the window. “So what nationality are you?” I said, after a brief silence. “Eh—?” “Well, if your mother’s Polish, and your dad’s Ukrainian, and you were born in Australia, that would make you—” “Indonesian,” he said, with a sinister smile. He had dark, devilish, very expressive eyebrows that moved around a lot when he spoke. “How’s that?” “Well, my passport says Ukraine. And I have part citizenship in Poland too. But Indonesia is the place I want to get back to,” said Boris, tossing the hair out of his eyes. “Well—PNG.” “What?” “Papua, New Guinea. It’s my favorite place I’ve lived.” “New Guinea? I thought they had headhunters. “Not any more. Or not so many. This bracelet is from there,” he said, pointing to one of the many black leather strands on his wrist. “My friend Bami made it for me. He was our cook.” “What’s it like?” “Not so bad,” he said, glancing at me sideways in his brooding, self-amused way. “I had a parrot. And a pet goose. And, was learning to surf. But then, six months ago, my dad hauled me with him to this shaddy town in Alaska. Seward Peninsula, just below Arctic Circle? And then, middle of May —we flew to Fairbanks on a prop plane, and then we came here.” “Wow,” I said. “Dead boring up there,” said Boris. “Heaps of dead fish, and bad Internet connection. I should have run away—I wish I had,” he said bitterly. “And done what?” “Stayed in New Guinea. Lived on the beach. Thank God anyway we weren’t there all winter. Few years ago, we were up north in Canada, in Alberta, this one-street town off the Pouce Coupe River? Dark the whole time, October to March, and fuck-all to do except read and listen to CBC radio. Had to drive fifty klicks to do our washing. Still—” he laughed —“loads better than Ukraine. Miami Beach, compared.” “What does your dad do again?” “Drink, mainly,” said Boris sourly. “He should meet my dad, then.” Again the sudden, explosive laugh—almost like he was spitting over you. “Yes. Brilliant. And whores?” “Wouldn’t be surprised,” I said, after a small, startled pause. Though not too much my dad did shocked me, I had never quite envisioned him hanging out in the Live Girls and Gentlemen’s Club joints we sometimes passed on the highway. The bus was emptying out; we were only a few streets from my house. “Hey, this is my stop up here,” I said. “Want to come home with me and watch television?” said Boris. “Well—” “Oh, come on. No one’s there. And I’ve got S.O.S. Iceberg on DVD.”

[barrysjumpsuit]

the dark side - jj maybank x shoupe’s daughter, ch. 1

w/c: 1.9k

summary:  catherine shoupe has the perfect life. when she gets hired by heyward to run groceries, she has a new coworker - jj maybank. as the deputy’s daughter, she can’t help but hate him. but when jj decides to bring her to the dark side and woo her over, cat not only has to hide her activities from her father, but also hide who she really is.

warnings: none for this chapter

a/n: i’m super excited for this! making it up as i go.... posting may be slightly delayed/irregular since i’m busy with working and moving but who knows i’ll probably waste my time and work on this more than i should

---

Cat’s feet and back ached, and the sun felt good on her cool skin as she stepped out of the overly air-conditioned grocery store she had been in since they opened that morning. She sat down on a bench in a shaded area between the store and a coffee shop, resting and enjoying her fifteen minute break.

The same thing. Every day, five days a week. Cat would be the opener for the grocery store, getting there at four in the morning and working until ten. It was smaller, a hippie fresh market type of place with fresh produce and organic products. Very Kook-y. It drew tourists and locals alike, as well as a bunch of people her age, working for grocery delivery services.

Morning shifts in the summer were nice because they drew more of the local crowd. The working class, like her, though still kooks. Moms grabbing their groceries after dropping their kids off at school, working professionals stopping by for premade sandwiches or donuts for their coworkers. That particular morning, her dad had stopped by for his own lunch and spent entirely too long chatting with her.

Cat enjoyed seeing people, asking them about plans for their days. She often suggested the best surfing spots and restaurants to the non-locals, while striking up easy conversations with the regulars that frequented the market in the mornings. After work she often took her brother out to the beach. It was her mission this summer to teach him how to surf. In the evenings, if her dad wasn’t working, she would help her mom cook dinner and they would have a big family meal. It was repetitive, but perfect and full of things and people she loved.

After her fifteen minute break was up, she went back inside, but her manager pulled her aside before she returned to her checking lane.

“Hey, Catherine, come see me in my office?” Mrs. Lee’s voice rang out. 

There was a brief nervousness that made Cat’s stomach roll over, but it quickly vanished once she saw the smile on the store owner’s face. “So you know Heyward, right?”

“Of course,” she answered, smiling at the thought. She knew the man and his son well - they were always in and out, buying groceries for their customers. “He’s awesome. What about him?”

“He and I are partners now,” she continued, obviously excited about the development. “He’s looking to hire some new people to deliver groceries. I know you love being out on the water and talking to people, so I figured I’d ask to see if you were interested. It’ll come with a bump in your pay, too.”

“Yes!” she said, perhaps a little too eagerly. “I’m definitely interested. Does he want an interview?”

Mrs. Lee laughed. “He said if you were interested, you’re on board automatically. He knows you’re a good worker. I’ll call him and let him know and get back at you, okay?”

“Sounds good! Thanks, Mrs. Lee,” Cat said, smiling back at her before leaving her office.

Going back to her checking lane was almost bittersweet, knowing that lane three had been hers for almost two years. As soon as she flipped her light back on, a local came through, eagerly starting up a conversation and letting Cat know how his son was doing in the summer little league baseball series.

After she got off, she cranked the AC on in her car and began the drive home. The place was flooded with tourists, the summer season officially in full swing. She lived right off the main strip, which was fun and convenient, but could get annoying when anyone and everyone was there. 

“Hey Cat!” her brother greeted her as she got home. He was sitting on the couch, watching TV.

“Hey Tyler! Want to go out for ice cream later?” she asked, and he nodded excitedly. “I’ll make us some lunch then we can go after that.”

“Okay!” she heard him respond as she jogged up the carpeted steps. She walked past her parent’s bedroom and then into hers, kicking off her shoes and changing into flowy shorts and a basic tee before going back downstairs to make lunch.

The rest of the day was pleasant and uneventful. After they ate lunch, she took Tyler to the ice cream place two blocks away. He got birthday cake while she got peppermint, enjoying the cool sensation on the hot day. They walked on the beach, her brother talking nonstop about the video game he was playing, while Cat smiled and faked listening.

She was really listening to the sound of the waves lapping at the store, and the voices of those who lounged on the beach. Some were playing in the ocean, some were playing games in the soft sand. 

Her father was off work at six, so once they returned home, it wasn’t long until her mother got off work and they started prepping dinner. Cat’s mom was laid back, always smiling, which she loved. She left her work at the office, unlike her father.

Being the daughter of a sheriff’s deputy was odd. Cat didn’t mind it. There were rules in place, of course, but she hadn’t any urge to break them. There were people from her school out doing drugs and drinking most nights of the week, but Cat had never touched any of that. She had a curfew, but she didn’t really mind it.

Her dad got home right before dinner was ready. He pulled Cat towards him, kissing the top of her head before kissing her mom on the lips. “How are my ladies this evening?” he asked, grinning. A patch on his uniform read Shoupe in bold letters, and he was still fully clad in his uniform.

“Pretty good,” Cat answered, stirring the sauce that was simmering on the stove. 

They made light conversation until her dad went to change out of his work clothes while Cat and her mom set the table and plated up dinner.

“How was work, Cat?” her dad asked when they were sat down and eating.

“It was good. The usual. But, I got a new job!”

“Oh?” her mom asked, taking a sip of wine and raising her eyebrows. 

“Heyward and Mrs. Lee are working together now, and Heyward needs runners. So he wants me. I get a pay bump too.”

Cat was smiling, but it dropped when she saw her dad’s face. Her mom noticed too, casting him a glare, and he spoke. “That’s great, honey. But be careful, okay?”

She couldn’t help but roll her eyes. Her father hated her going near the Cut. Not that she had much reason or urge to, but she knew it could be rough down there. He often worked down there, on the south side of the island, and constantly told stories about shoplifting Pogues and underage drinking. “Dad, it’s Heyward’s. It’s basically Figure Eight.”

“I know, I’m just saying,” he said, raising his hands in surrender.

“Can you take me on the delivery boat sometime?” Tyler asked, luckily rerouting the conversation.

The issue was luckily dropped, but Cat still felt bad. She didn’t know why - she was seizing the opportunity, something her parents had always encouraged. Cat had been working ever since she was old enough. Her father always told her, a good work ethic is the most important thing you can have. They were urging her to save up for college, and now she was essentially being promoted.

Mrs. Lee had texted her during dinner. Heyward wants you to start tomorrow! Meet him at 9, wear whatever you want.

She responded to the text before settling down in bed with a book. At ten, before she went to bed, her father stepped into her room after knocking softly on her door.

“Hey, dad,” she said, and he walked over to sit on her bed. Cat pulled her feet up to give him some room and put her book down on her nightstand.

“I’m happy for you, Cat,” he said, smiling at her. “Just be careful, okay? With all the boat traffic now and going everywhere… Heyward’s a good guy. I trust him.”

“I will, dad. You know me. I grew up on the water.”

He smiled again. “Yeah, you did. Have fun tomorrow, okay? Good night.”

“G’night, dad,” she said as her father stood and left the room.

---

Cat woke up early, not used to getting to sleep in since she usually was at the grocery store before dawn. Her parents had already left for work, leaving Tyler in front of the TV as normal. She made a smoothie before changing into shorts and a t-shirt. 

“Bye, Ty!” she called as she left the house at 8:30, closing the back door behind her before heading to her car.

It was about a 20 minute drive to Heyward’s from her house. When she got there, she quickly located him on the dock, filling a gas can. As she stepped onto the dock, he gave her a wave, and quickly hurried over.

Heyward gave her an impromptu ‘training’. How to read the orders, how to use the boat’s navigation. It was simple, and she knew most of the people who had put in orders for that day. “Right now I have two people who shop and two of you who run and deliver together, each day,” he was explaining. “Here’s your work shirt, I don’t give a damn what pants you wear as long as your ass isn’t hangin’ out.”

He thrust three t-shirts of different colors towards her, each with the Heyward’s logo printed on it before taking her into the office to discuss her pay and scheduling. Since she was already in the system, it went by quickly, and she ran her printed schedule to her car and slipped into her new work shirt before returning to the dock. 

“There’s those sons of bitches getting back now,” he said, waving at two people who stood on a white boat pulling up to dock. “Catherine, go ahead and start carrying over the groceries in the cooler over there, time for your first run.”

She went inside the small building and started pulling bags out of the ice, full of produce and goods from her store. She noticed Heyward’s son, Pope, standing on the boat, and he held out his hands to take the bags from her to load.

“You working here now?” he asked, and she nodded. Cat had always liked Pope; they went to the same school until high school. He was quiet and witty, which she appreciated, and they had even sat together at lunch one year.

As soon as she finished handing Pope the groceries, she took his outstretched hand and climbed onto the boat.

“Hey Catherine!” she heard Heyward call. She turned to see him, grinning at her. “These are your new coworkers. Have fun.”

Pope grinned at her, but Heyward said coworkers. Plural.

A blond boy came into her line of sight, smirking. Cat’s heart sank as she recognized who it was, and she considered getting off the boat, but couldn’t bring herself to move or speak. It was someone she hadn’t seen in quite a while, and she was okay with that.

JJ was the first to speak up, his voice smooth and cocky. “Hey, kitty Cat, long time, no see.”

---

taglist:  @letsgofullkook @stargazingstarkey @sortagaysortahigh @jjsmentalpolaroids @ims0golden @jjmaybcnks​ @shawnssongs​ @queenk00k @broken-jj​

[zmediaoutlet]

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to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

First time Dean gets his heat when they’re working together again, Sam doesn’t--at first--have any idea what’s going on.

He’d been with a woman, for two years; before that, he didn’t really date anyone, girl or hal, at least not long enough to get to know their cycles. It’s not much of an excuse, with Dean, who got his first heat when Sam was eleven and followed pretty much the same pattern, twice a year, every year.

They’re in Florida, and it’s only March but it’s already getting hot there, humid and sticky and gross in the sun or shade. A ghost hunt just finished, and a decent collection of bruises between them, and they take a day off to stock up the car again, to regroup. The motel, at least, has working air conditioner, and Sam’s stripped to a t-shirt and boxers at the table, biting his nails and lazily looking for a case, and Dean--still hasn’t gotten out of bed. Ten in the morning, and yeah, maybe they don’t get the opportunity much to sleep in, but still. Sam squints at the lump in the bed. Throws the motel notepad somewhere near a rounded curve of hip, and says, “Seriously?”

A grunt. “I’m tired,” comes Dean’s voice, scratchy from below the pile of blankets. He doesn’t even know how Dean can stand the covers--even with the a/c set to 70, he can feel sweat gathering below his hairline. “Go away.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Are you sick or something?”

A shift, and the blanket tugs down enough for Dean to give him a look, his hair rumpled and his eyes bleary. “Or something,” he mutters, and fitfully pushes the blankets down to his waist. He’s got his usual grey camisole on, the USMC logo nearly illegible over the chest, but his skin’s flushed pink at his shoulders and cheeks and throat, and he actually does look a little--Sam frowns. Dean rubs his eye, smearing the raccoon-stain of the eyeliner he never washes off right, and then squints at Sam. “Could you--coffee? Food?”

“Was that a request?” Sam says, raising his eyebrows, and he doesn’t exactly want to be an errand boy but--Dean’s nodding, vaguely miserable, and Sam sighs, and stands up, and points. “You have to get the next one.”

“Sure thing, boss,” Dean says, and flops back into the pillow.

*

Closest thing to them is a Pilot, and even if it’s less than two blocks Sam takes the car. Too hot to walk. He wishes he owned a single pair of shorts. The truck stop’s not too busy, and Sam wanders up and down the aisles in the c-store, just stretching his legs, not in a hurry for once. A t-shirt with three wolves on it--Dean might actually wear that. Keychains, license plate holders. Oil in gallon jugs, and Sam thinks that might actually be a decent price, and makes a note to tell Dean, in case the Impala needs a change. Around the other aisle there’s the usual light drugs, caffeine pills and aspirin and Pepto and everything else a trucker needs to get through a haul, and Sam’s got a bottle of Tylenol in hand when his eye glances over the familiar tubes with their dainty purple labels that say Kool Kream, and he pauses, and realizes--oh. Fuck.

Kool Kream, and he’d always made fun of the name, but when they were kids Dean used it semi-religiously. His heats were about average, as far as Sam knew, but he would overheat sometimes, and chafe, and Dad would bring it home for him without even making rumbly pronouncements about the extra cost. A few times, when Dad wasn’t home, Sam would get sent out too, and he’d put it on the counter with beef jerky and a Coke like somehow that’d mask what he was buying, and he knew he was blushing to the top of his head, but the cashiers usually didn’t say anything. Weird kind of practice, for buying Midol and tampons for Jessica.

He gets two cups of coffee, and two ice cream bars, and a bag of the slightly suspect deli-case sandwiches, and two tubes of the cream, and the cashier just smiles at him and wishes him a nice day. He doesn’t know how he missed it. Dean always used to get super tired, the day or two before his heat, and then it was--embarrassing, sure, but also made Sam feel kind of... tender. Dean was a pain in the ass, a lot of the time, and made it his life’s mission to annoy Sam, a lot of the time, but for that week Sam always felt...

Shower’s going, with the door barely cracked, when Sam comes into the room. Dean’s bed is a complete wreck, and Sam leans over it to tug the blankets into some kind of order, just to make it more comfortable in case Dean wanted to crawl back in, and--yeah. Smells like... sweat, a little, but more like the tang of slick, and Sam’s mouth waters and he has to swallow it back. Dean’s favorite kind of porn is still heat-sex, and even if Sam tells him he doesn’t want to hear it Sam’s watched it, too, and unfortunately real life isn’t the sex-crazed, impossible-to-deny, irresistible ravishment of that genre--but, fuck, if Sam hasn’t jerked off to the idea, more than just about anything else.

Shower sputters off, and he calls out, “Coffee’s here,” just so Dean knows that Sam is too.

The bathroom door immediately swings further open and Dean sticks his head out, wet hair pushed back from his forehead. “Thank god,” he says, and makes a grabby hand.

Sam rolls his eyes, comes over. Coffee, and a sausage sandwich that Dean makes excited noises at, and then Sam offers up the tube of cream. Dean blinks at it, then at Sam. “I just thought,” Sam starts, and shrugs. “If you still use it.”

Dean licks his lips. He’s pink all over, his shoulder curving out from around the door, and his throat, and his cheeks, and his ears where his hair’s tucked back. He’s washed his face and there’s hardly any eyeliner left, but his lashes are still thick, damp and dark. “You remembered,” he says, soft. He takes it, too, and leans over to put his coffee and sandwich on the bathroom sink. He pauses there, towel caught around his waist, and looks at the tube in his hand.

His bare chest is pink, too, flat but soft, and Sam swallows. “Anything else you need?” he says.

Pause, and Dean lifts one shoulder, still looking at the tube. “Don’t suppose they had dildos in stock at the Pilot, huh?” he says, crass, but his heart’s not in it.

Sam huffs. He leans his shoulder against the door frame, hands in his pockets. “Thought you used a toothbrush holder,” he says--wondering, careful, if Dean would remember--that time, in Eugene, when Sam had walked in, and Dean had had the covers tugged up to his chest but his knees wide and his hand working under the sheets, and he’d gasped and said god, Sam, knock, and--

Dean bites his lip. Looks up, and Sam sees that he does remember, and Dean doesn’t move but his eyes are massively dark, his pupils wide, and he says, level, “Not if I can get something better,” and Sam tugs his hand out of his pocket and touches Dean’s jaw--soft, incredibly hot--and Dean’s lips part and then Sam steps forward and ducks the however-many-inches down and kisses him, hard and all at once, and Dean shoves at his chest and says, mumbly between their mouths, “How fucking long have you been waiting to do that, you dick?” and then loops his arm around Sam’s neck and kisses back.

“So long,” Sam breathes, “so fucking long--” and Dean moans, grabs at him. The towel falls immediately and Sam drops his hands, grabs him under the ass, hauls him in. Jesus, jesus, he’s so soft and so built, his hips that heart-shaped curve that Sam dreamed about for ten years, his ass full and sweet, his shoulders strong and his hands grabbing, grasping, pulling at Sam’s shirt, wanting just as much as Sam has always wanted. “Dean--”

“You are killing me,” Dean says, tugging back, breathing hot up into his face. He’s red-cheeked, his mouth wet. “Sammy, for fuck’s sake.”

“I know,” Sam says, even if he doesn’t--and he ducks and kisses Dean again, and then ducks another inch and grabs him under the thighs, picks him up in an easy haul--just what he’s always pictured--porno scenarios slipping through his mind--and, yeah, Dean gasps, squirms against him, his clit hard and rubbing against Sam’s stomach, through his t-shirt. He dumps Dean on the closest bed--Sam’s--follows him down, getting his hips between Dean’s spread-wide thighs, pushing his dick up against Dean’s clit. Overwhelming--all this skin, soft and hot, and Dean’s face most of all, watching Sam with laser focus, his hands sliding into Sam’s hair.

“You got a condom?” Dean says, dark, offering, and Sam grimaces--not the kind that’ll hold a knot, not with Dean’s body pumping out hormones like it is now. Dean throws his head back against the mattress, groans, and Sam shakes his head--”It’s okay,” he says--”it’s okay, let me just--I’ll--” and he slides his hand down Dean’s side and gives his clit a few pumping strokes, makes Dean squirm, and then slides two fingers down the soft smooth stretch from the root of the clit down to his asshole, where it is--god--soft, and wet, and open, and Sam says hotly, “Were you fingering yourself? In the shower?” and Dean says, on a groan, “What do you think, Sherlock?” and Sam kisses his throat and shoves his fingers in, fast and to the knuckles, all at once. Dean flinches, moans loud. Fuck, fuck--hot inside, so hot, and squishily wet from how much Dean’s giving up. Tight at the entrance and softer inside, and Sam can imagine--how he’ll get in there--”How do you like it?” he says, against Dean’s throat, and Dean shoves his hips down against Sam’s hand and gulps air, so that Sam has to lift his head up, look at him. “C’mon, c’mon. Tell me. Like this, on your back?”

“Sam,” Dean groans, and Sam starts really working his fingers, shoving in and out, pressing and curling to try to find that rough patch, the holy grail, and Sam says, “I’d do it however you want--however, you just gotta tell me. That good?”

Dean reaches down between them, grabs Sam’s wrist. “You know it’s good,” he says, curling his hips. “Shit, shit--”

Slick all over Sam’s fingers, slipping down his knuckles. Dean’s going to be a mess. “Fuck, you’re wet,” he mumbles, and kisses Dean, and Dean squeezes his wrist hard and humps his hips up and comes rippling, shockingly fast, his ass clenching around the space where a knot should be, where Sam should give it to him. Where he will. He’s throbbing, in his jeans, and he kisses Dean’s mouth, his jaw, his throat, breathes in his smell. Fuck.

Dean’s thighs fall open, slowly, and Sam drags his fingers out with a gush. They feel almost bruised, from the pressure inside, but he doesn’t care. He sucks them clean and gets that tang, sharp and almost vile, intense, and Dean opens his eyes then and drags in a breath, shaky. “Jesus, you’re a freak,” he says, but--admiring.

Sam smiles at him. He’s covered in sweat and his balls feel like they’re going to explode and he hasn’t even had his coffee, yet. “You haven’t seen anything,” he says, soft as a promise, and Dean grins, happier than Sam’s seen him in months, and pulls him in for a kiss.

[thebluenoteblog]

and i will give you everything | part one

Summary: You meet Tyler in a bar and spend the night together. Though you have no idea who he is, just looking at him has your brain screaming ‘run’. Little do you know that the first night was just the beginning of a much longer story you would share with him.

Player: Tyler Seguin

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Smut, cursing

You were two drinks in and halfway people watching from the mirror in front of you. It was a favorite hobby of yours. You loved to pick a person and assign them a name, a personality, hobbies, and a life based on what you saw. Your current victim? His assigned name was Dustin. He was wearing jeans, a plaid shirt, cowboy boots and a camouflage baseball hat to complete the look. He sat leaned back in his chair, legs spread wide with a beer resting on his knee.

You imagined that his Tinder bio was ‘Country boy stuck in the city’. He’d probably never been outside of the city in his life, but he drove a lifted truck and acted like he was the shit because of it. Dustin listened to exclusively country music. He had a deer head hanging in his house that he didn’t kill because he’d never been hunting in his life. His dad killed the deer, you decided. His dad was probably raised out in the country.

You lifted your beer to your lips and were about to shift your attention to one of Dustin’s friends when a gust of warm air washed over you. You turned you head toward the door and you immediately decided to scrap Dustin and his friends.

This new man was so much more interesting.

He paused inside the door and looked around the bar, lifted his hat and ran his fingers through his long dark hair. Your eyes followed his tattooed arms as they moved. Hunter. You’d call him Hunter. You averted your eyes to the mirror and watched him move to the row of barstools.

The bar wasn’t that busy, there were a few groups of people, but he had his choice of seats. He sat down on a stool a few spots down from you and you frowned but hid it by taking a sip of your beer. The bartender made his way over to him and Hunter ordered some beer that you hadn’t ever had before. He had an accent. Canadian maybe? Definitely not from Dallas.

He crossed his arms and leaned them on the bar as he waited for his drink. You continued to watch him in the mirror and decided that he was a personal trainer. He worked in a gym, maybe owned his own. He definitely owned his own gym. He rode a motorcycle. He had that air of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ about him that when paired with those looks that made you think that he had never had a serious relationship in his life.

The bartender set his drink on the bar in front of his folded arms and Hunter thanked him and raised the bottle to his lips. You watched his throat move as he swallowed. His Tinder bio was probably something like ‘If you aren’t down for a good time, swipe left’. He looked like he would be a really good time.

You were so distracted by your thoughts that you didn’t catch him shifting his eyes toward you in the mirror. You usually would have noticed and averted your gaze to your drink or the bottles lining the shelves, but he had you so distracted that you didn’t notice his attention shifting to you.

Your eyes met in the mirror and he held your stare as he brought the bottle back to his lips. There was an air of danger in his eyes. Not the ‘I’m going to get murdered in an alley’ kind of danger. It was more of the ‘I need to abort mission before I get my body and heart destroyed by this man’ kind of danger.

You broke eye contact first, looking down at your hands wrapped around your beer. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Hunter set down his bottle, lift his hat and run his fingers through his hair. You chanced a glance up in the mirror to find him still staring at you.

This time you didn’t look away. You didn’t have time before he stood up from his stool and moved to take a seat beside you. Your heart raced. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to meet the people you had assigned personalities to. Especially not the ones who looked like walking, talking, time bombs.

A minute of silence passed before he spoke, “So,” he said, “did you catch that Stars game tonight?”

You frowned. Sports fan. You looked closely at his hat and noticed now that he was sitting closer, the logo looked to be for a sports team. You should have picked up on that. “I’m not going to lie to you,” you responded, “I haven’t watched a hockey game since I was about ten years old.”

Something lit up in his eyes and he said, “I’m Tyler.”

“(Y/N),” you said, twisting your bottle in your hands. You knew his real name now. Very far from Hunter. Tyler suited him. It was better. He brought his beer to his lips again, then set it back down on the bar, “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

He smiled, it wasn’t exactly directed at you. It seemed more like he was smiling at whatever the question made him think of. “I’m from Ontario. What gave it away?”

“Accent,” you stated, shrugging as you took a sip of your drink.

He chuckled lightly, “I’m surprised you picked up on it. It isn’t that strong.”

“I’m observant,” you said. When your favorite hobby was trying to tell a person’s story with as little information as possible, you learned to pick up on the smallest details.

He nodded, leaning an elbow against the bar and angling his body toward you. “So am I,” he said. “I observed that tattoo on your wrist. What does it say?”

You glanced down at the tattoo on the inside of your right wrist and flipped your hand over, showing him. “It’s a sibling tattoo. My brother, sister and got them together. Mine says baby sister.”

He pointed to just above his collarbone, “I have matching tattoos with my sisters too.”

You smiled, “You have sisters?”

He nodded, “Yeah, two of them.”

“Do they live here or in Ontario?” You asked him.

He glanced sideways over your shoulder, then back at you. “Ontario. My whole family lives there. They visit a lot though.”

“It’s nice that they get to come down and see you, at least,” you said. You lifted your beer to your lips and took another drink. This time you finished it and set it down. You frowned at the now empty bottle and sighed as you moved to get the bartenders attention.

Tyler beat you to it, holding out a hand. The bartender was there in a second, “What can I get for you?” He asked.

Tyler nodded his head toward you, “Whatever she wants, put it on my tab.”

You frowned at him. Here came that danger part that you had pegged him for. You may have been wrong about his name and you may have failed to notice that he was representing a sports team with his hat. However, you were unlikely to believe that you were wrong when you had declared him a danger to women everywhere.

That was not what you needed in your life.

But dear god, did you have a habit of getting caught up in exactly that.

You ordered your drink and it appeared in front of you faster than you’d ever had a drink delivered in your life. “Can I get you anything else?” The bartender asked.

Tyler shook his head, “Thank you.”

He made his way to customers at the other end of the bar and Tyler turned back to you. “So, what about you? Are you from around here?” he asked.

“Born and raised,” you said proudly. “I don’t think I’d ever move away. Travel a bit maybe, but I’ll always come back.”

He nodded, “I get it. Home is home. I left when I was pretty young though, so I guess it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Why did you leave so young?” You asked, tilting your head and furrowing your brows. You couldn’t imagine having moved out of your parents’ house before you were twenty, let alone leaving the town or the country.

He frowned and stared at his beer, moving to balance it on his knee, which was turned toward you. “I had goals to accomplish.”

“Did you accomplish them?” you asked, genuinely curious now.

He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” He looked back up at you, “What about you? Do you have any big goals that you were out to achieve?”

You smiled fondly at the thought, “I want to get a book published. I haven’t quite gotten there yet.”

“One thing I’ve learned is that if you work hard, anything is possible,” he said. “You’ll get it if you want it badly enough.”

“That was so cheesy,” you said, laughing a little and looking down at your hands.

He shrugged, “I believe it though.”

You glanced up through your lashes at him and your eyes met. There was that danger. That surefire look in his eyes that made this voice in the back of your head scream ‘Red alert! Abort mission! T minus X amount of time before this man ruins your life if you let this continue!’. That being said, you had a horrible habit of ignoring your better judgment.

Your eyes stayed locked for longer than they should have and neither of you said anything. Finally, he cleared his throat and broke the silence, “Are you any good at darts?”

You grinned, “I bet I could totally kick your ass.”

He laughed, a huge amused laugh, “We’ll see about that.”

You stood up at the same time at him and you found yourselves standing with just centimeters between you. He was taller than you had realized, or maybe it just seemed that way now that he was towering about a foot above you with your chest almost brushing his. You looked up at him and he swallowed before moving away from you.

As you made your way over to the dart board, he rested a hand on your lower back. You walked past Dustin and his friends and noticed their eyes on the two of you. It wasn’t you they were looking at though, they were watching Tyler. One of them leaned forward and whispered something to another as you walked past, all you caught was the word, “Hockey”. You glanced over at Tyler to see if he had noticed their odd behavior, but he was staring straight ahead, no look of recognition on his face.

You shrugged it off as you arrived at the dart boards on the other side of the bar. He dropped his hand and grabbed the darts, handing yours to you. “Best two out of three?” He asked.

You shrugged your shoulders, turning to face the board, “I mean if you don’t think you can beat me the first time around then yeah, I guess.”

He nodded his head while he laughed at you, “You’re cocky for someone who has no idea what they’re up against.”

“Or maybe you’re just underestimating me,” You responded. “I’ll let you go first since you’re so sure of yourself.”

He was still laughing and shaking his head as he moved into position. He threw the dart and it was a good shot, you would admit that. He turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. A challenge. So, he was competitive. This was something to file away for sure. You couldn’t help yourself, you smiled sweetly and said, “Cute.”

He huffed and turned back around, throwing the rest. He did well, but you knew you could do better. You grew up with a dart board in your basement. You had been determined to compete with your dad and your brother for the position as the top dart player in the family since you were six years old.

Your first dart hit the center of the board. You turned to Tyler and raised an eyebrow. He frowned at you for a second before forcing himself to smile. “Cute.” You laughed and turned back to the board. When you finished throwing, it was safe to say that you won.

“Do you still want to go two out of three?” You asked him. He was frowning with his arms crossed.

“Of course, I do. I’m not just going to admit defeat,” he said.

You won again.

He was halfway pouting as you took your seats back at the bar, “I bet I would beat you at pool,” he said. “Hardly anyone beats me.”

“I bet you would beat me too,” you said as you lifted your beer to your lips again, finishing your third for the night. “I’m horrible at pool.”

He grinned, “We should definitely play then. I have a pool table. I’ve got a ping pong table too.”

You tilted your head, “I don’t know, I’m pretty good at ping pong, you might not want to risk losing again.”

He laughed, “I promise not to throw the paddle.”

“Well I would hope not,” you said, “You’d be breaking your own stuff.”

“Like you’ve never gotten mad and broken something?” He said, though it was more of a question.

You giggled and covered your face with your hand, “I’m really going to plead the fifth on that question.”

“That just makes me want to know even more,” he said, leaning forward toward you. “Come on. It sounds like a good story.”

“It sounds like an incriminating story,” you said, moving closer to him. “I don’t need any more people knowing about it than already do.”

He frowned, “I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

Eventually. What was his game plan here? He looked like the classic ‘love them and leave them’ type. There would be no eventually. There would be tonight and that was it. You would probably go back to your house. He would be gone the second you fell asleep. You would never see him again.

But he’d said something about having a pool table at his house and playing ping pong with you. So, what was his game plan? What was he doing? This was why guys like him were so dangerous.

You shook your head, “That would take a while.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” he said, “I don’t give up easily.”

He pulled away, putting some distance between the two of you and brought his beer to his lips, finished it, then set it down on the bar. “We’re both out. Do you want another one?”

“No,” you sighed, leaning back. “I should stop while I’m ahead.”

He grinned, “Whatever you say, (Y/N).” It was the first time he’d used your name and it made your stomach flip. Maybe the alcohol had hit you harder than you thought it had. “Do you want to come back to my place? We can play some ping pong.” He nodded his head toward the pool table in the center of the room, “Pool is no fun if we know that I’m going to win.”

You pulled your lower lip between your teeth and watched as his eyes drifted down to your mouth. “I guess I’m not opposed to that.”

Tyler pulled out his wallet and held out his card. The bartender dropped was he was doing was grabbed it. “Run her tab too,” he said.

“You don’t have to do that,” you said, already in the process of digging your wallet out of your purse.

He waved you off and the bartender ignored your protest as he ran the card then handed Tyler two checks and a pen. You weren’t snooping. You just happened to catch out of the corner of your eye that he left an insanely large tip for what combined to be a $30 bill.

You eyed him as he pushed the receipts and the pen across the bar. He definitely wasn’t some small business owner like you had suspected. Looks like you had been off the mark again. He stood and smiled at you, “Ready to go? I’ll drive. You’ve had a few.”

You frowned. You hadn’t thought ahead to the point that you would be trapped in a house without your car with a man you had just met an hour ago. He seemed to notice the battle raging inside your head and he gave you a kind smile, one that contrasted so deeply with the image you had been building of him as this man who destroyed women’s hearts as a hobby. “I’ll bring you back to your car whenever you want.”

You relented. Who were you kidding, you had never been the poster child for good decision making anyway. Why start now? With full knowledge that your sister was going to kill you for this when you filled her in the next morning, you nodded and said, “Okay. Let’s go.”

He placed a hand on your lower back as he led you out of the bar, and you would swear that you could feel the eyes of Dustin and his friends on your backs as you left.

<><><><><><>

There was a part of this story that you were missing. Usually when given so many pieces of a puzzle, you would fabricate something. However, now that you knew his name, where he was from, how young he was when he left home and how many siblings he had, it felt weird to speculate on why you were pulling up to a massive house in a ridiculously expensive car. Now that you had two more pieces to this puzzle, the large tip seemed a little less strange.

You had paused and stared at the car when he walked up to it and opened the door for you. You’d raised your eyebrows as if to ask, are you joking? And he had just shrugged his shoulders and grinned at you. Proud. He was proud of his car.

Now he was unlocking his front door and pushing it open. As soon as the two of you stepped inside, three dogs came sprinting into the entryway. All labs which made you smile. You dropped down to your knees and scratched behind the ears of the yellow lab that was trying desperately to fit in your lap.

“Gerry,” Tyler chastised him, “You aren’t a puppy anymore, you don’t fit!”

“Oh,” you said, reaching out a hand to rub down the back of the chocolate lab that was trying to lick your face, “Labs are my favorite animals. I like dogs, but I love labs.”

He reached down to scratch the chin of the black lab, “Technically they’re the same thing.”

“They aren’t though,” you said. “You obviously know that. That’s why you have three of them.”

“You’ve got me there,” he said. “Come on boys, outside.”

You frowned and stood up, following him as he walked through the house to the back door. He opened it and ushered the dogs outside. “Go on. Don’t look at me like that, Marshall. I’ll feed you later.”

The chocolate lab turned and walked off into the back yard, following his brothers. “They’re cute,” you said.

“They are,” he responded as he pushed the door closed and turned to face you. “Ping-pong?”

“Do you want to risk losing again?” You asked.

He smiled, “I’ll take the chance. This way.”

You followed him through the house and ended up in a home gym that also contained a ping-pong table. He picked up a paddle and handed it to you, “Loser takes a shot of fireball?”

“Deal,” you said, “This is a little unfair though because I’ve already had three drinks and you’ve only had one.”

He grinned, “You better win then.”

“Challenge accepted.”

You lost.

“Best two out of three!” You protested, picking the ball up off the floor.

He shook his head, laughing. “Not a chance. Terms are decided before the game starts. Bottoms up.”

“You’re just bitter because I beat you at darts,” you said, tossing the ball at him. He batted it away with his hand. “I let you go two out of three, it isn’t my fault that you suck to badly to beat me.” He smiled, and he looked more amused than anything.

“I’m really okay with it, we’re even now.”

You put a hand on your hip, “Not we aren’t, I beat you twice.”

“You’re taking the shot, you lost fair and square.”

A few minutes later you were standing in his kitchen and he was pouring out a shot for you. He slid it across the island to you. “Did I mention that I hate fireball?” You asked, “I’ve had some pretty bad experiences with it.”

“Man up and take the shot,” he said.

You huffed, “I never said I wouldn’t. I just said that I don’t like it.”

Before he could say anything else, you threw back the shot then set the glass back on the counter. You wrinkled your nose as you refocused your eyes on him. “Are you satisfied?”

He was staring at you, palms leaned on the counter. “Something like that.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “What do you mean?”

Feign innocence. That was a safe bet. Pretend you had no idea that he brought you here for sex. Pretend that you didn’t notice the way he was staring at you, those brown eyes even darker now than they had been in the dim light of the bar.

He maintained eye contact with you as he walked around the island, coming to a stop in front of you. The way he moved so slowly without taking his eyes off of you reminded you of a something big and scary stalking its prey in the best possible way. Your breath hitched when he came to a stop in front of you. With just inches between you, each with one hand on the island, he noticed.

The corners of his mouth turned up. When you looked into his eyes you saw it again. It was there, clear as day. That danger that screamed ‘Run! Run for the hills!’ but when moved his hand from the countertop and ran it up your arm, settling it on your neck, you didn’t run. You let your eyes drift closed as he leaned down to kiss you.

Just before your lips met, a set of paws jumped on the door. You both startled, then laughed. He whispered, “Fucking dog,” with his hand still on your neck and his face close enough to yours that you could feel his breath when he spoke.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him, “You should probably let them in. They’ve been out there for a while.”

He sighed but straightened up anyway, removing his hand and taking a step back from you. You immediately missed having him so close. “They’re so spoilt,” he said. “It’s like fifty-five degrees outside and they have fur. The weather is perfect.”

“They would rather be with you,” you said. “They’re labs. They’re attention whores.”

He laughed as he walked out of the kitchen and around the corner to let the dogs into the house. “Come on in boys. You already ruined the fun.”

The dogs came barreling into the house and ran straight for the couch where they all laid down. Gerry grabbed a toy along the way and sat there chewing it, squeaker going off at about the same rate that your heart had been beating when Tyler was about to kiss you. Tyler walked over to the couch and pulled the toy away from him, “Sorry, Gerry.” He said, “That’s not happening right now.” He grabbed a toy shaped like a tire off the floor and tossed it to him. “Here, play with this.”

Gerry looked betrayed but accepted the peace offering.

Tyler put the squeaky toy up on the mantel and walked back over to you. “I’m sorry. They’re my kids.”

Fuck. Why was he so… likable? It was just another thing to add to the list of reasons he was so dangerous. You quickly reminded yourself that after tonight, you would probably never see him again and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t have the time to fuck with your head or your heart. He could have your body for one night, that’s all you were giving him, that’s all he would ask for.

He closed the distance between you. Without saying anything, he placed a hand on your hip and pulled you against him. You looked up at him slowly, taking in his tattooed bicep and his broad shoulders along the way. His hand drifted around to the small of your back and for the first time you realized how large they were.

You wondered what he could do with them.

That thought had you biting your lip to keep yourself from asking him to show you. He reached his free hand up and with the pad of his thumb, pulled it free. Tyler moved his hand to the back of your neck and he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The kiss started slow, just a brush of his lips over yours. Then you swiped the tip of your tongue over his lower lip and he hummed as he pulled you tighter against him. He deepened the kiss and he tasted like whatever beer it was that he had been drinking earlier. He nipped at your lower lip and you reached your hands up from where they were tucked against his chest to wrap around his neck.

When his slipped his tongue inside your mouth, you ran your fingers up into his hair, knocking his hat off and onto the floor. He pulled back, moving his hand from your neck to rest on your arm. You frowned, “Are you that attached to your hat? Because I like the hat, but I really like your hair.”

He chuckled, “No, no,” he said, “It’s just…” he looked over his shoulder at where there were three pairs of dog eyes fixed on the two of you, “Like I said, they’re my kids. This is weird.”

You laughed, “Do you want to go somewhere else?”

Tyler nodded, “Preferably.”

He started to walk toward the stairs, then paused and ran back to where you’d been standing to pick up his hat off the floor. You threw back your head and laughed at him.

“Shut up,” he said, bumping your shoulder lightly as he walked past you, “I like this one.”

You followed him up the stairs and before you made it to a room, he turned around and grabbed you. His lips were on yours and you were pinned up against a wall. You had your hands up and on the back of his neck, holding him against you as soon as you registered what was happening.

He lowered himself and lifted your leg up around his hip. You got the hint and wrapped both legs around his waist. He straightened up and made his way down the hallway, never breaking contact with your lips.

He kicked a door open and then kicked it shut again after he’d carried you through it. You didn’t open your eyes or pull away from his lips to look around the room, but you figured out that you were in a bedroom when he laid you down on a bed.

You kept your legs wrapped around his waist, preventing him from pulling away. You moved your lips to the side of his mouth, brushed them across his cheek, then scrapped your teeth over his beard. He groaned and lifted you, moving you up the bed and laying your head on the pillows.

You were pretty sure he wasn’t pulling away at that point, so you unlocked your legs. His hand slid under your shirt, pushing it up over your stomach. He pulled away and you successfully resisted the urge to whine. He pulled you up and continued to pull on your shirt. You lifted your arms and he pulled it over your head. He made a move to push you back down, but you resisted and ran your hands under his shirt and over his stomach. He yanked it off and tossed it to the side, then tangled his fingers in your hair, pulling your mouth back to his.

You wanted a chance to look at his tattoos, but you would take this too. He reached behind you and unhooked your bra with one hand, danger, and pulled back to toss it off the bed in the same direction that he had tossed his shirt. He lowered you back to the pillows and trailed his mouth down the column of your throat, occasionally nipping at the skin. Every time he did your breath hitched.

He cupped your breast with his hand, his very large hand, and moved his mouth to cover your nipple. You threaded your fingers in his hair and held his head in place and he nipped and sucked. Despite your hand holding him in place, he moved to your other breast and did much the same thing.

He dipped his head between your breast and then trailed down your stomach while looking up at you through his eyelashes. He looked devious, and it was really doing it for you. He reached the button of your pants and stared at you for a moment. Waiting so see if you would stop him? Building suspense? It was hard to tell.

He pulled your pants off and they joined the rest of the clothes on the floor. When he sat up to pull off your pants, you got your first good look at him. He was… a work of art. His tattoos were beautiful. His body was amazing. He was looking at you like you meant something even though you knew you didn’t.

Maybe that was why he was dangerous. He made you feel like you mattered when you didn’t.

Tyler pushed your thighs apart and ran his thumb over the black lace covering your pussy. You knew you were soaked and when his eyes snapped up from where his he was teasing you to meet yours you knew that he knew it too. “So wet for me already?”

You swallowed as his words only served to reinforce his point.

He pulled the lace out of the way and ran his rough thumb through your wetness, spreading it up to your clit which he circled. You couldn’t resist the small moan that fell from your lips and as soon as the sound left you he removed his thumb and yanked your panties down your legs before tossing them over his shoulder.

He dropped down, settling his face between your thighs. He nipped at the inside of your thigh, then he moved up closer to where you wanted him and sucked a mark just below the crease of your leg. “Tell me what you want,” he said, his mouth hovering over you as he looked up at you. You could see the spark in his eyes, he was enjoying this. He wanted you to beg.

You weren’t going to beg. At the very least you were going to be a brat about it. “Eat my pussy, Tyler,” you said without hesitation, voice breathless, hand moving to tangle in his hair.

He blinked at you, maybe a little surprised, then grinned and did just what you asked. His licked up your slit and circled your clit then dove back down and licked up more of you. He hummed against you, and said, “So good.”

He wrapped his hands around your thighs and held them tightly. Tight enough that he may leave bruises, but you weren’t going to worry about that when he was flicking his tongue over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your hand tightened in his hair and you squeezed your eyes shut when he sucked and ran the flat of his tongue over your clit sending you headfirst into an orgasm.

He licked you until you pushed his head away, then he crawled back up your body and hovered over you. You propped yourself up on your elbows to capture his lips and moaned when he tasted like you. He pushed you back down, but you pushed his shoulder and flipped him over to straddle his lap.

His eyes roamed over your body and his hands followed, ghosting over your sides and landing on your breasts. You pulled away from his hands and he grunted, reaching for you but gave up and laid back against the pillows when he realized what you were doing. You scooted off of his legs and pulled his pants off, they too joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

You ran your hand over the outline of his cock, never breaking eye contact with him as you pulled his boxer briefs down. “Calvin Klein. So cliché of you.” You said softly, pretending that his size wasn’t making you want to scrap whatever ideas you’d previously had and jump on his cock right that moment.

He grunted and grabbed your hand, then moved it to his dick. “Do you just want my hand, or do you want something else?” You asked him.

“Hell,” he said, “If you’re offering I’ll take it.”

“You’ll take what?” You asked.

He grinned, “Put that pretty mouth on my cock, (Y/N).”

You swallowed and did exactly as he had told you. You ducked your head and took him into your mouth. He tangled his hands in your hair and pushed deeper. You put a hand on his thigh and he got the hint, backing off a little.

He watched you and you kept your eyes locked with his through your lashes the entire time. His hand guided your head, keeping you at the pace he wanted. He groaned, “Fuck,” again and you noted that he must really like that word.

He pulled you up and the rolled you off of him and onto your knees. He ran a hand down your back and then he was pulling off his underwear and leaning across the bed to grab a condom out of the night stand. You heard the package rip open and then he was behind you again, with a hand on your shoulder and the other guiding himself into you.

He didn’t give you time to get used to him, but you weren’t complaining. He pushed you down onto your elbows and spread your legs farther. He knew exactly what he wanted. You buried your face in the pillow to stifle your moans and he didn’t like that. He reached around and pulled the pillow away from you. “Let me hear you.”

“Shit,” you said, breathless as you rested your head up on your forearms, “So good.”

He groaned and reached around to circle his fingers around your clit. “Come for me, (Y/N).”

You fisted your hand in the sheets and moaned out his name as you did just that.  Maybe it was his cock, maybe it was his fingers, maybe it was his words, but damn if that wasn’t the best orgasm you’d ever had. A moment later his fingers tightened on your shoulder as he finished.

He paused for a moment and rubbed up and down your back before he pulled out of you and walked into the bathroom. You collapsed onto the bed and buried your face in your folded arms. You needed to leave tonight. You needed to have him drive you back to your car and never see him again because now there were so many clear-cut reasons that you brain screamed, ‘run’ when you looked at him.

Then he came back from the bathroom and awkwardly handed you a damp washcloth, almost like he’d never done it before. You sat up and took it from him, “Thank you,” you said, and he pulled on his underwear before disappearing into the closet while you cleaned yourself up.

He emerged a moment later with a t-shirt in his hand and traded with you, taking the washcloth and tossing it in the hamper. You stared at the t-shirt for a moment before pulling it over your head. Again, you said, “Thank you.”

He nodded and walked around to the side of the bed that you weren’t sitting on and pulled the covers back, “The dogs are going to be so mad that I’m not letting them sleep in here tonight.”

You frowned, “Don’t kick them out all because of me.”

He shrugged, “They’ll get over it.” He rolled onto his side facing you, presumably waiting for you to come lay down with him. Every instinct told you that this was a horrible idea, but his eyes looked so hopeful that you couldn’t say no. You grabbed the pillow from where Tyler had thrown it at the end of the bed and put it back in its rightful place, then laid down beside him.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you back against him. Neither of you said anything as you fell asleep.

[thebrotherssalvatore321]

Keeping Secrets Ch. 12

Keeping Secrets Masterlist

Pairing: DamonxOc, TylerxOc, ElijahxOc, KlausxOc endgame. Warnings: None for this chapter.

Over the next three weeks Katie kept her head down and focused on work and school. To keep her hands even more occupied she bought a guitar and started teaching herself how to play. She didn’t get to spend much time with her friends because Bonnie was still at her aunt’s house, Elena was wrapped up in Stefan and Caroline was wrapped up in Matt.

She was working after school and was picking up the tip that Tyler had left behind on her table when Matt walked up to clear it. "Is it just me or has he been coming here a lot more than usual?" she asked him.

"Yeah and he's tipping you more than the other girls." Matt said as she split the money then handed him his half. "I think someone has a crush."

"Is Tyler Lockwood even capable of crushing on someone?" Katie asked with an eye roll.

"I don't know, but he’s only human so...maybe." he said with a shrug then started clearing the table.

Katie brushed the conversation off and got back to work.

The next day Katie was working after school when Tyler came in and sat down in her section. So she grabbed her notepad and pen and walked over. Seeing Damon sitting at the bar Katie made her voice sound more cheerful. "Hey, Tyler, what can I get you?" She asked with a smile.

"A coke and some curly fries." He told her with a smile back.

"Alright. I'll put that order in and be right back with your drink." She told him then walked to the bar finding the ice scoop and coke sprayer to be faster than the soda machine in the back.

"You're not seriously flirting with the dimwit football player are you?" Damon asked, clearly having been listening.

"Screw you, Damon." She told him then turned to see the order of curly fries be slid into the order window. She carried them and the drink over to Tyler and set them down in front of him. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Your phone number." He said with his jockish smirk.

Katie gave him a questioning side eye. "Did you seriously just ask for my number?"

"Yes. I seriously just asked for your number."

She pursed her lips to the side as she thought about it. "Okay." She bit her lip and smiled at him as she pulled her note pad out of her apron pocket and wrote her number down. She tore the paper out, put it on the table then slid it to him.

"I'm kind of surprised that worked." He told her with a suspicious smile. "You gave me a fake number didn't you?"

"There's only one way to find out." She told him with a playful smile then got back to work.

That night she got a text from an unknown number. "I swear if this is a fake number..."

"Hi, Tyler." she texted back.

"Well what do you know. Katie Finnegan actually gave me her number." After she got the text her phone started ringing so she answered it.

"Hi."

"Hey." He answered back a little awkwardly.

"Why wouldn't I give you my number?" She asked as she walked over to her bed and sat down on it cross legged.

"I don’t know. You've been kind of…off, here lately." he answered. "You don’t smile anymore."

Kate made sure her hair looked okay and her glasses were straight then snapped a pic of herself with a too big, cheesy smile on her face. She typed "I do too." then hit send.

She heard a noise on the other end of the line as Tyler opened the message then laughed. "I've known you long enough to know that smile is fake." He replied.

"Eh, well, I tried." Katie replied.

"So I heard you and Damon broke up."

"Yep." She answered.

"I also heard you're living with him and Stefan."

"My grandpa kicked me out. I had no where else to go." She replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Must be a pain in the ass living with your ex." He commented.

"Pain in the ass isn't a strong enough expression." She replied as she fell back putting her head on her pillow.

"What would you say if I asked you out?" He asked making Katie's heart jump up into her throat.

"Um that depends, are you asking me out?" She asked avoiding his question.

"Yes." He answered not missing a beat.

"How's your mom going to feel about you goin' out a piece of trash like me?" She asked remembering what his mother had said when she had given him a ride home.

"You heard that huh?" He asked and she could hear a hint of how bad he felt about it in his voice.

"Yeah she wasn't exactly quiet about it." Katie answered trying to keep how much she hated his parents out of her voice.

"Sorry." He told her sounding like he didn't say the word much to other people who weren't his dad.

"You don’t have to apologize. You didn't say it." She told him.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." He told her and things got quiet for a few seconds so to break the silence he asked, "So what are you wearing?"

Katie actually laughed. "You did not just ask me that."

"I did." She could hear a smile in his voice. "Am I gonna get an answer?"

"Only if you answer first." She told him with a smile still in her voice.

"Just some grey lounge pants." He answered and Katie instantly pictured him shirtless. It wasn't like she hadn't seen him shirtless before. Tyler was proud of his body and had no problem showing it off. But it was the first time she gave how hot he was more than a fleeting thought and actually found herself attracted to him. "You're picturing me shirtless aren't you?" He asked when she didn't say anything.

"No." Katie drawled sounding a little embarrassed. "Why would I do that? You're repulsive." She joked to smooth over how obvious she had been.

"Uh huh, sure." She could practically hear him rolling his eyes. "So..." he drawled, "What are you wearing?"

Katie looked down at her maroon, Timber wolf cheer sweat pants and overly worn t shirt with a faded ‘Three Days Grace’ logo on the front. "My red cheer shorts and a black spaghetti strap tanktop." She lied but used clothes from her wardrobe to do so.

"The ones you wear to practice all the time?" He asked and Katie blushed as she hummed a positive answer. "Nice."

"I wasn't aware you even noticed me at practice." She replied without thinking.

"You really don’t see it do you?" He asked.

"See what?" She asked completely oblivious.

"Practically the whole football team has had the hots for you since you joined the cheer squad." He explained and Katie felt like her head was going to explode. "I mean we've all whistled at you."

"I always thought y'all were whistling at the squad as a whole." She replied as she rolled over and sat up.

"If you paid attention you would've realized that we were looking at you." He answered.

Katie's stomach growled making her realize that she hadn't had dinner. "Okay if that's true then why are you the only one that's asked me out?" She asked as she headed down stairs to the kitchen.

"We all assumed you were a lesbian." He answered.

"Seriously? A girl doesn't flirt back so guys automatically think she's just not into them?" She asked as she walked into the kitchen and saw Damon getting a bag of blood out of the fridge.

She hadn't been shopping and knew that there wouldn't be anything in the icebox for her. So she grabbed a cup of noodles out of the cabinet next to the fridge. "Yeah." He answered as if it were the obvious one. "But then you showed up at my house with that Damon guy and proved us wrong."

"That Damon guy, seriously?" Damon asked loud enough for Tyler to hear.

"Is he there right now?" Tyler asked.

"I had to leave the solitude of my room to find food." She answered as she put a pot of water on the stove to boil.

"Do you have me on speaker?" He asked curious as to how Damon could hear him.

"No. He just has really good hearing." She said then pulled herself up to sit on the kitchen counter. She glared at Damon as she kept talking to Tyler. "So I'll ask again. Why are you the only one that's asked me out?"

"I think I'm the only one who noticed you and Damon broke up." He answered.

"I broke up with her." Damon chimed in.

"Don’t you have somewhere to be?" she popped off at Damon not caring if Tyler heard. "Or sorority girls to exploit?"

"Nope." He answered with a smart ass smile.

She shot him the finger. "Do I need to call you back later?" Tyler asked as the water in the pot started boiling.

"Nope." Katie answered as she peeled back the seal on the cup and poured the water in to the fill line. "I'm going to eat in my bedroom." She grabbed a fork out of the drawer and closed it with her hip as she held the phone with her shoulder and the cup in both hands to keep from spilling hot water on herself. "Okay I'm back in my room. No more interruptions." She sighed as she kicked the door closed behind her and set the cup of noodles on top of her dresser.

"Right, so are you going anywhere for Christmas break?" He asked knowing that tomorrow was the last day of school before the two week break.

"Nope. My schedule is wide open other than the winter festival that the gang usually drags me to." She told him as she waited for her noodles to be ready.

"You wanna get some dinner and catch a movie this weekend?" He asked making Katie realize that she'd never been on an actual date before.

"Sounds fun." She told him feeling nervous.

"Alright, cool." She smiled at the smile she could hear in Tyler's voice. "Well it's getting late. I'll see you tomorrow?" She hummed a positive answer. "G'night."

"Night." She replied then hung up.

She was in the kitchen when Stefan walked in wearing a pair of black pajama pants. "Hey." He greeted her where she stood with her back turned to him washing her dishes.

"Oh, hey." She replied with a look over her shoulder at him.

"Did I hear you talking to Tyler Lockwood earlier?" He asked as he grabbed a glass out of the cabinet.

"Is privacy not a thing when you live with vampires?" She asked as she put the pot and fork in the draining board and turned to see him making a glass of ice water.

"Sorry." He said with a tight lipped smile even though he wasn't really sorry. "Isn’t he kind of a hot head?"

"Yeah." Katie answered as she leaned her hips against the cabinet. "But I broke my grandfather’s nose and stabbed Damon in the hand. So who am I to judge?"

"Point taken." He replied then took a drink of his water. "I just don’t want you to rush into anything just because you want to get over Damon."

"I appreciate your concern, but if I'm being honest I've kind of had a small crush on Tyler since, like, junior high. So I kind of feel like it'd be a missed opportunity if I turn him down." She admitted as she walked over to the island that he was standing on the other side of. "Is that stupid?" She asked sheepishly.

"Nope. It makes total sense." He told her with a shake of his head then finished off his water and set the glass in the sink. "Goodnight." Katie hummed back at him.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie and Tyler were standing at her locker after school when Caroline and Bonnie came over. "Hey, are you going to help us set up for the festival?" Caroline asked Katie with a smile.

"Hey, you're back." She greeted Bonnie with a hug.

"Just for the winter festival then it's back to my aunts." She said as Katie let her go.

"Well, I'm glad your here. Christmas would suck if we weren't all together." She told Bonnie then looked at Caroline. "Yes, I will help with the festival." She then looked at Tyler.

His eyes got big and he held up his hands. "No. You're not roping me into helping."

"Awe come on you don't want to string up popcorn with me?" Katie asked with a laugh. "I usually end up eating half of it anyway."

"No eating the popcorn." Caroline scolded pointing at both of them.

"Yeah I'm gonna pass." Tyler told her with a no nonsense face. "I will see you later though." He gave her a quick smile then left the group of girls.

"So what's up with you two?" Caroline asked.

"We’re… going out." Katie answered watching him walk out the double doors at the end of the hallway as they followed slower behind him.

"What?" Bonnie asked. "When did that happen and why didn't you tell us?"

"When did you and Damon break up?" Caroline asked looking at her across Bonnie.

"Damon dumped me two weeks ago. I assumed Elena or Bonnie told you." Katie answered Caroline first. "Tyler called last night and asked me out. So I haven't had a chance to tell you guys."

"How'd he even get your number?" Bonnie asked curiously.

"He asked me for it." She answered with a shrug.

"Is Tyler even your type?" Caroline asked as they pushed the doors open and headed out into the cool air.

"I don't think I really have a type." Katie answered.

"So are you guys going on a date or something?" Bonnie asked as they walked up to the table that held two bowls of popcorn, string and needles.

"Yeah. Dinner and a movie this weekend." Katie answered.

"That's predictable." Caroline laughed.

"After being with Damon, predictable sounds nice." Katie argued and Bonnie made a face that said she understood.

Hours later after the festival started Elena, Stefan, Caroline, Matt, Katie and Bonnie all gathered around one of the picnic tables. "Nobody open their gift until every one has exchanged. Okay first off who picked who?" Caroline, who had arranged everything, ran the show.

"I got Stefan." Elena started and handed him his gift.

"I got Caroline." Stefan said as he handed Caroline her gift.

"And I got Bonnie." Caroline said with a cheery smile. "That means Matt and Katie got each other." Caroline finished and Matte and Katie switched gifts. "Okay open."

Katie was surprised when she unwrapped a silver jewelry box and opened it to find a black leather wrap bracelet with silver letters on it that spelled out her name. "Thanks, Matt, I really like it."

"Thank Caroline. I had no clue what to get you." He told her with an ashamed look then started un-wrapping his gift.

"I kind of had no clue what to get you either." Katie said as he tore the paper off of the Nerf football. "Figured I couldn’t go wrong with a football."

"You figured right." He said with a laugh then tore the cardboard packaging off of it and started tossing it in the air.

"Boys are so easily amused." Caroline said with an eye roll as she walked up.

"Thank you for the bracelet." Katie told her with a hug.

"He wasn't supposed to tell you." Caroline complained. Katie just laughed and shook her head. "He wanted to buy you a cheap bath set."

"I would've been fine with that." Katie shrugged.

"Even if it smelled like old feet and flowers?" Caroline asked with a grossed out look.

"Ew, no. Thank you for saving me from that disaster." Katie thanked her again. "What did you get from Stefan?"

Caroline pouted and held up her hand and the mini snow glob of Mystic Falls that dangled off the key ring on her finger. "We're not including the boys in secret Santa next year."

Katie just laughed at the pathetic excuse of a Christmas gift. "Hey, Tyler, catch!" She heard Matt say and she looked up in time to see Tyler catch the ball.

"You're man is here." Caroline smiled and bumped Katie's shoulder with hers then walked over to Matt.

"What is she talking about?" Elena asked with a look between the blushing Katie and Caroline.

"Katie and Tyler are going out now." Stefan answered for her.

"You knew?" Elena asked with a look up at Stefan who was hugging her from behind.

"We live in the same house and I have good hearing." Stefan pointed out.

"Wait you live with the Salvatore’s now?" Caroline asked turning away from Matt who took the football from Tyler. Katie just nodded. "Why?"

"My grandpa kicked me out." Katie answered with a shrug as she took the jewelry box out of her pocket and opened it.

"Why?" Caroline asked not letting the subject drop.

Katie didn't look at her and instead focused on putting on her new bracelet. "Can we talk about this later?"

"No, why do I feel like I missing something?" She asked getting mad as she looked around at her friends who were giving her warning looks.

Katie looked around at all the people. "Okay," she sighed and walked over to Caroline and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of earshot of her friends. "I've been trying to find the right time to tell you this, but you're always so cheerful I didn't want to bring you down with sad stuff."

"What are you talking about?" Caroline asked quietly, her super sweet voice making it harder on Katie. They came to a stop on the sidewalk.

"For the last seven years, up until I started dating Damon, my grandfather abused me. Physically and emotionally." Katie put it all out on the table.

"You're not really clumsy are you?" She asked, the light bulb going off in her head. Katie shook her head. "Oh my god, I should've realized..."

"I was really good at hiding it." Katie shrugged. "Damon caught Grandpa in the middle of beating me and stood up to him. He stopped physically hurting me, but not emotionally." Katie explained while Caroline stared at her with a furrowed brow. "I spent the night at the boarding house for a couple of nights and when I came home and told Grandpa where I had been he accused me of sleeping with both of the Salvatore brothers. I saw red and broke his nose. He kicked me out and Damon and Stefan offered me a room at the boarding house."

"I am so sorry." Caroline said with a shake of her head.

"No I'm sorry. I should've told you about all this sooner." Katie argued. "Are you mad at me?"

"No." Caroline said with a shake of her head.

"Hey," Tyler called as he ran over to them. "I hate to interrupt, but they're about to light the tree."

"Oh, we can't miss it." Caroline perked up and headed over to the big tree that was set up in the middle of the decorated parking lot.

"You okay?" Tyler asked with a curious head tilt.

"Yeah I'm good." Katie answered.

"I got you hot coco." He said as he held up a to-go coffee cup.

Katie tried not to cringe at the thought of drinking hot chocolate, but she managed a small smile as she took the cup from him. "Thanks."

They all stood amongst the crowd as Sheriff Forbs gave a speech. Katie noticed Elena standing next to Stefan, leaning into his side while he had his arm wrapped around her side and Matt hugging Caroline from behind. When she looked across her shoulder at Tyler he rolled his eyes with a smile and put his arm around her shoulders.

"You don't have to just because they are." Katie told him considering she had never seen Tyler be lovey dovey with Vicki. He was handsy, but he never came off as the type to hold hands.

"I want to." He told her with a look that suggested she was being ridicules.

"Okay." Katie answered skeptically.

"You don’t believe me?" He asked with raise brows.

"You never really came off as the romantic, hand holding type." Katie shrugged.

"I'm not." He shrugged. "But that doesn't mean I don't want to be."

"Okay." She told him with a small smile.

The tree being lit caught their attention so they both watched as the lights came on going up the tall decorated tree. When it was completely lit everyone started cheering and clapping. Katie just smiled.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie kept her outfit for her date with Tyler simple and wore a plain white t-shirt, dark wash skinny jeans, black wedge heeled ankle boots and her black leather jacket. She was sitting on her bed putting on her boots when Damon walked up and leaned against her door frame with a bottle of alcohol in his hand. "Your boyfriend’s here."

She looked at her watch to see that it was twenty till five. "He's early."

"I was talking about me." He told her with a smirk. Katie rolled here eyes and went to her bathroom to put the finishing touches on her eye makeup. "You're seriously going on a date with that guy?" He asked as he stumbled into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"That guy has a name and yes I am." She answered as she finished lining her eyes.

"He’s a stupid jock." He told her with scoff.

She turned around in his arms and took them off of her. "I'll take a hot jock over a murderous ass hole any day." She walked around him to her room.w

"A murderous asshole that you love." He pointed out and she turned to see him standing in the middle of her room.

"Yeah and what did you do with my love Damon?" Katie asked as she walked over and grabbed the bottle out of his hand. "You flushed it down the toilet like you do everything else good in your life." She took a swig of whatever dark liquid was in the bottle.

"I miss you Katie." He said giving her his sad eyes. A big part of her wanted to give in to them, but another part of her just as big, and more logical, told her that she couldn’t stay on the emotional rollercoaster that was Damon Salvatore.

"You miss me?" She asked with pissed off wide eyes. "That's why you keep dragging whole sorority houses of girls here and partying all night?" She asked and he just blinked at her. "I told you if you pushed me away I wouldn’t come back and you pushed anyway." She told him with an exhausted shake of her head. "You know, Elena once told me I was like a fish on a hook that you kept throwing out then reeling back in..." she took another drink of the alcohol then slammed the bottle into his chest. "I'm cutting the line."

"It’s that simple for you to give up on us?" He asked and she was pretty sure she saw tears welling in his eyes.

"Simple?" She scoffed with a sarcastic laugh. "There is nothing simple about this. A part of me will always love you, but I can't keep letting you push me away then pull me back in. It's not right and it’s eventually going to rip me apart. It's not fair for you to expect me to be happy with only half your heart." She watched him take a drink from the bottle. "So I'm going out with Tyler and if, slash when, he kisses me I won't feel guilty. Hell, I might even sleep with him on the first date, who knows."

She was halfway down the stairs when she heard glass shattering. She flinched as she stopped and looked back, fighting the urge to go to him. "Katie." She looked to the bottom of the stairs to see Stefan looking at her with sympathetic eyes. "Tyler's waiting for you in the living room."

"Did I just make a big mistake, not going back to him?" Katie whispered as quietly as she could.

"No." Stefan told her with pursed lips and a shake of his head. "I don’t think so."

Katie walked down the stairs and stopped in front of Stefan. "How am I supposed to get through tonight after that?" Katie asked.

"Easy." He said as he grabbed her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "Take a deep breath." She did as she was told. "Let it out." When she did Stefan made a face. "Now just remember to relax and smile, but first go brush your teeth." He let go of her shoulders. "You reek of alcohol and no one wants to kiss that on their first date."

Katie let out a tense laugh. "Will you let Tyler know I'll be down in a few?" She asked and he nodded so she turned around and went back to her room. Damon was still standing where she had left him. They ignored each other as she went to her bathroom, brushed her teeth then headed out of her room, but she stopped when she saw the broken glass and alcohol all over the floor. "Please clean that up before I get back." She said not looking at Damon then walked out.

When she got to the living room she saw Tyler talking to Stefan and when Tyler saw her he gave her smile. She smiled back at him where he stood with his hands in his pockets. "You ready?" He asked as she walked over to him.

"Yeah." She answered then turned her eyes to Stefan who gave her a nod of encouragement. "Let's go."

They made small talk on the way to the movie discovering that they had similar taste in music and movies. After calling to see what was playing they decided on Avatar.

Thirty minutes into the movie and halfway through a large container of popcorn Tyler took his eyes off the movie to look at Katie. One of her legs was crossed over the other and one hand was tucked in the bend of her knee while the other rested on the arm rest that she shared with him.

Katie, feeling like she was being watched, glanced over at Tyler to see him looking at her hand. So she turned her eyes back to the screen and flipped her hand over. A few minutes later he placed his hand over it, slipping his fingers between hers. She looked at him and smiled. She was almost positive that there was a bit of a blush on his cheeks as he gave her a closed lipped smile back, but it was hard to be sure in the dim lighting.

They held hands for the rest of the movie and until they walked to his car and he opened her door for her. "So what do you feel like eating?" He asked as he started the car.

"Umm, you chose. I'm not picky." She told him with a shrug.

"Is this one of those trick questions where you tell me to choose just to see if I get it right?" He asked with a playful glare making Katie laugh.

"No, I promise, I really don't care. You could bring me to McDonald's and I'd be happy."

"Ew, really?" He asked and she nodded. "Well, we're not going to McDonald's." He put the car into drive.

"So where are we going?" Katie asked curiously.

"You'll see." He told her as he pulled out onto the highway. "And if you complain when we get there I'm throwing you out of the car." he told her making her smile.

A few minutes later he pulled up in front of the Mystic Grill. "You brought me to the place I work?"

"I brought you to where we both were when I decided I was finally going to ask you out." Katie felt her cheeks warm as she gave him an almost bashful smile. "I was aiming for romantic. Did I completely miss and land in cheesy?"

"No." Katie laughed out the word and shook her head.

Her heart dropped when they walked in and her eyes landed on Damon sitting at the bar. "Do you wanna go somewhere else?" Tyler asked when he saw him too.

"Nope." She told him as she forced a smile onto her face.

"Okay." Tyler guided her to the table he had been sitting at when he asked her for her number and they sat down. "So, what do you do for fun?" Tyler asked trying to get to know her better.

"No one knows this, but I actually write poetry." She answered. "I kinda think some of my poems could be songs, but I have zero knowledge of music so..." she shrugged. "What about you?"

"I draw." He answered while playing with the square cardboard coaster in his hands.

"Are you any good?" She asked as their food was sat down in front of them.

"The art teacher thinks so." He answered with a shrug. "If you want to go to my place when were done here I'll show you some of my sketches."

Katie grabbed his left hand and looked at the watch on his wrist. "Won't your parents be mad if you bring me to your place this late?" She let go of his wrist.

"They're gone for the weekend." He answered.

"Then sure." She answered then they started eating.

Somewhere in the middle of their dinner Damon left and Katie didn't notice. When they were done Tyler paid the bill then drove to his house.

"So was it just me or were there big brother vibes coming off of Stefan when I picked you up?" Tyler asked as he unlocked his front door the walked inside.

"It wasn't just you." She answered as she followed him inside and he turned on the lights.

"Every girl in school went gaga over that guy when he showed up." He said as she followed him up the stairs then stopped and looked at her when they got to his bedroom door. "And you live in the same house as him."

"Are you afraid you might have competition?" She asked challengingly.

He rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. "No."

"Good, because you don't." She replied with a smile and he opened his bedroom door. "I'm one of the few who didn't take one look at him and instantly want to jump into his pants." She didn't know what she thought his room would look like, but it definitely wasn't what she expected.

She always thought most teen aged guys would have messy, cluttered rooms, but Tyler's was neat and clean. Just like her room in the Salvatore house his had a fireplace that looked like it hadn't been used in years. Sports trophies and a signed baseball sat along its white mantel. White nightstands with lamps on them sat on each side of his queen sized bed that was made with a simple thin white bedspread and goldish yellow pillow cases.

Tyler pulled a drawing pad off of the book shelf in the room and walked over to her as he flipped through a couple pages. He flipped the pad around and handed it to her. "Whoa." She commented when her eyes landed on a drawing of a guy crouched down in what she thought of as superhero landing. "I'm no artist, but this is really good." She said as she flipped to the next page revealing a sketch of a woman in short shorts and a tank top with gun holsters on each thigh and a gun in each hand.

"Oh that’s-"

"Lara Croft." Katie finished for him. "The video game one, not the Angelina Jolie one."

"You play video games?" He asked with raised brows.

"Nope, but Jeremy does. I've picked up on a few things over the years." She shrugged and handed him the pad. "You plan on doing anything with your art or is it just something you do for fun?" She asked.

"It's just for fun." He answered as he put the book away then walked over to his bed and sat down. He looked at her like he wanted her to sit down next to him.

She just walked over and leaned on the post of his four poster bed and turned her eyes to the floor with a frown. She hadn't thought things through and didn't even think about what was going to happen after he showed her his drawings. "Can I ask you something without you possibly getting offended?" She asked looking up from the floor to him.

"Sure." He answered giving her a curious look.

"Did you bring me here just to see if I would sleep with you?" She asked already kicking herself for being so blunt.

"No?" He asked more than answered.

"Because I'm not one of those girls that's going to go further than first base on the first date and I don't want you to get pissed when I don't put out. I know that I'm a cheerleader and cheerleaders are supposedly easy and-"

Tyler stood up and put his hand over her mouth. "I never thought I would say this to you because you're so quiet at school, but shut up." Katie rolled her eyes at him. "If I move my hand are you going to keep freaking out on me?" He asked looking at her with a playful smile on his face as he looked at her through his lashes. As she looked down at his hand over her mouth she decided to be mean. She nodded her head yes. “Then I guess my hands going to stay here all night.” As soon as he finished talking Katie licked his palm making him pull it back with a disgusted face and she started laughing. “Oh, you are so going to pay for that.” He told her as he tried to wipe her spit on her face. She laughed and tried to dodge him, but he managed to wipe it on her neck instead.

She yelped when he tackled her to his bed and started trying to lick her face. “No.” she laughed and attempted hold him back, but failed miserably. He managed to grab her hands and pin them to the bed then licked her from chin to cheekbone. “Okay. Okay we’re even.” She laughed as he pulled back and they both realized the position their wrestling had put them in. He still had her hands pinned down and was straddling one of her legs, both of them breathing a little harder than normal after their playful tiff. “Can I have one of my hands please?” she asked and he let go of her hand.

She wiped his spit off of her face then smiled deviously as she wiped it on his cheek. He closed his eyes and wrinkled his nose. “Really?” he opened his eyes when Katie laughed.

“Mhmm.” Katie hummed then hooked her pointer finger into the collar of his button up shirt. She was thankful he couldn’t hear the rapid beating of her heart as she looked up into his milk chocolate brown eyes. She let her eyes slip down to his naturally pouty lips then back to his eyes. He took the hint and leaned down, pressing his lips gently to hers. Katie always thought a kiss was a kiss, they’d all feel the same, but that wasn’t the case. Kissing Tyler felt nothing like kissing Damon, but she found that she liked it all the same.

He kept the first kiss short and simple and pulled back after a few seconds. She sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and bit it as she gave him a closed lipped smile. “You are so not a lesbian.” He said with a goofy smile.

“Shut up.” She laughed. “I can’t believe you guys thought I was a lesbian.” She said with a shake of her head.

“I never really believed it.” he told her with a tilt of his head.

“So should I keep proving to you how straight I am?” she asked.

“Hey I won’t stop you.” he said making her smile as she started unbuttoning his shirt. Once she had all the buttons undone he took it off then rolled them over so that she was on top and both sat up so that she was in his lap. He cupped her face in his hand as he kissed her and started pushing her jacket off of her shoulders. She took it off and let it fall to the floor behind her then pulled back from him long enough to grab the hem of her shirt, take it off and toss it to the side.

His eyes glazed over when they landed on her cleavage, pushed up by her white bra with black pinstripes and black lace trim. She was going to take it off, but the hardness she could feel against her butt told her he liked it, a lot. So she kept in on and slid her hands up his chest to cross her wrists behind his neck. When he still didn’t look up from her chest she smiled. “Tyler.” she sing songed his name. When he still didn't take his eyes off her chest she grabbed his hand off her hip and brought it to her lips. He watched with lustful eyes as she kissed the tips of his fingers starting with his pinky. When she got to his pointer finger she swirled her tongue around the tip then sucked it into her mouth. Her teeth grazed it as she pulled her head back then let go of his hand.

A quiet laugh left her lips as his other hand flew to the side of her neck and pulled her into him. Any restraint either of them had left was thrown out the window as he moved them around to be on top of her. Her legs wrapped around his hips as his lips attacked hers and their hands roamed each other.

After thirty minutes of making out things started to cool off. He was leaning back against his headboard with Katie straddling his lap, his hands gripping her jean covered thighs while she kissed his neck when she pulled back and grabbed his wrist to look at his watch. "Whoa, it's late." She showed him his watch.

"Time flies when you're having fun." He commented. "We should probably get you home huh?"

"Unfortunately." she answered as she moved off of him and slid to the edge of the bed. "Have you seen my shirt?" She asked as she scooped her jacket up off the floor.

"I think you threw it over there." He pointed to the foot of the bed. She stood up and walked around the bed to see her shirt on the floor. "You know my parents won't be home until tomorrow night. If you don’t want to go to the boarding house you can stay here." Katie pulled her shirt over her head and bit her lip thinking about it. "You can use the guest bedroom if you want." He added thinking it might help convince her to stay with him instead of going back to the house with Damon.

"I'll stay.” She answered as she put her jacket on the back of the chair that sat in front of his tv then crawled onto the bed and laid down next to him where he still sat leaning against the head board, “but not in the guest room.” he slid down to lay next to her and she rolled onto her side, putting her head on his shoulder as she placed her hand on his chest.

As much as she liked Tyler and how much he made her laugh, in that moment all she could think about was how she should be lying like this with Damon in his bed. Then she remembered all the crap he’d put her through and looked up at Tyler who was looking up at the ceiling. “Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked looking into her eyes.

“Everything. Asking me out, taking me on a classic date, making me laugh, giving me a place to stay for the night where I don’t feel like murdering anyone.” She said with all seriousness.

“You’re welcome.” He cupped her face in his hand and slid his thumb over her bottom lip. She smiled and bit it. “Damn woman.” He smiled and rolled over pinning her hands to the bed beside her head.

“What?” she smiled at him innocently.

“You know what.” He told her with lust back in his eyes.

“Tell me anyway.” She said then bit her lip.

“You’re a tease.” He told her then started kissing her neck.

“Yeah, but you like it.” she sighed tilting her head to the side as she slid her hands over his still nude back.

They messed around until neither of them could keep their eyes open. She fell asleep on top of the blankets while Tyler slept under them. He asked her to get under the covers with him but she lied and said that she doesn’t sleep covered up.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie thought she heard someone clearing their throat, but being half asleep she didn’t pay it much attention and just snuggled into Tyler’s side. That was until some one clapped their hands and yelled “Tyler!”

They both shot straight up in bed and looked at his open bedroom door to see his mom. “Crap.” Katie sighed and felt herself wanting to sink into the mattress and disappear.

“Yeah, crap.” Mrs. Lockwood snapped as she crossed her arms over her chest then looked at her son. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing, were weren’t doing anything I swear.” He answered as he got out of bed showing his mom that he still had his pants on.

Katie stood up and grabbed her jacket. “Mrs. Lockwood, I-”

“You, don’t get to talk.” She pointed at finger at Katie who closed her mouth and held her jacket in her hands in front of herself. “You, explain yourself.” She said with a point at Tyler where he stood on his side of the bed while Katie stood at the foot of it.

“We went on a date then came back here to hang out. We watched tv and ended up falling asleep.” He lied, but it didn’t really matter because his parents wouldn’t believe them anyway.

Mrs. Lockwood stared at him looking like she was considering believing what he was telling her, but then she looked at Katie and said, “Leave.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Katie answered quietly then headed for the door with her eyes down cast. When she was out of the door she turned back to Tyler and said, “Thanks, again.” then headed downstairs.

She ran into the mayor on the way to the front door. “Katie, what are you doing here?” he asked looking confused.

“Tyler and I fell asleep watching tv last night.” She answered making the mayor frown. “Your wife wouldn’t let me talk, but maybe you will?” she asked and he nodded and motioned for her to speak. “I know coming home and finding your son with a girl in his bed doesn’t look good, but I promise we didn’t do anything last night.”

“Okay, time for you to go.” He told her and put his hand on her shoulder to push her toward the door.

“Please let me finish?” she asked as he opened the front door. He gave her a tight lipped nod and she saw Mrs. Lockwood walk down the stairs and look at her husband talking to Katie. “Tyler knows my home life sucks, as I’m sure you well know, and I didn’t want to go home. He’s a good guy, please don’t punish him for my mistake.”

“Have a good day Katie.” He told her then shut the door in her face.

“Way to get on the parent’s good side Katie.” She scoffed and looked around as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and started walking. She knew she should call someone, her ankle boots weren’t made for walking, but she didn’t know who to call. If she called Caroline or Elena she’d get a judgmental lecture on how she shouldn’t have stayed the night with Tyler. So she called the one person she knew might possibly understand, Stefan.

He picked up after a few rings. “Hello?” he asked sounding sleepy.

“I am so sorry if I woke you up or if you’re with Elena,” She started and she heard him grunt as he sat up. “and I don’t mean to bother you-”

“No, no, it’s fine. Elena’s not staying at the boarding house until Damon calms down.” He explained. “Are you okay? You didn’t come home last night.” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I fell asleep at Tyler’s.” she said then tripped when her heel landed on a rock and she twisted her ankle. “His parents came home early and found us asleep in his bed.”

“Oh, that sucks.” He said and she could hear humor in his voice.

“I know, way to make a good impression on the boyfriend’s parent’s huh?” she asked then tripped over another rock. Stefan laughed. “So I hate to ask, but do you think you could come pick me up? Because I’m currently doing the walk of shame down a rock road in heels when I don’t even really have anything to be ashamed of.”

“Okay, stop walking before you twist and ankle. I’ve heard you trip twice already.” He said and she could hear the rustle of him putting on clothes.

“You could hear that?” she asked a little surprised that he could figure that out over the phone.

“Super hearing applies to phones too.” He answered. “I’ll steal Damon’s key’s and come get you.”

“Thank you, Stefan.”

“Hang tight.” He answered back then hung up. Despite what he told her Katie kept walking, kicking rocks as she did so that she wouldn’t trip over them. Soon she saw Damon’s car headed her way so she stopped walking and uncrossed her arms from her chest. He stopped and rolled down the window even though the top was down. “Hey stranger need a ride?” he asked jokingly and Katie just rolled her eyes with a small smile and walked around the car as he rolled the window up.

“Why don’t you have your own car?” Katie asked as she climbed inside.

“I do, I just don’t drive it.” he answered.

“Why not?” she asked tying to keep the conversation off of her and her recent mistakes.

“It’s too showy, draws too much attention.” He answered and the conversation fell for a few minutes. “Why did you call me instead of one of your friends?” he asked with a look at her across his shoulder.

“Because I knew that if I called them I would get all kinds of questions and judgmental comments and possibly a lecture. I didn’t feel like hearing that today.” She said with a shrug.

“How do you know I’m not going to lecture you or judge you?” he asked and she looked at him to see his eyes on the road.

“I don’t know. I guess because you don’t seem the type.” She shrugged. “And out of all of my friends I figured you would understand why I didn’t want to come home.” She admitted.

“You just celled me your friend.” He pointed out.

“That’s because you are.” She pointed out. “I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” The conversation fell again and after a few more minutes he pulled into the boarding house driveway.

They headed into the house without another word to each other and when Katie got to her room the first thing she noticed was her journal sitting on her bed and not where she had left it on her desk. Cautiously she walked over to it and picked it up and opened it. Damon’s handwriting in red ink marred every page with notes in the margins. She didn’t even read what he had written all she cared about was the fact that he had read her whole journal. With shaking hands Katie sat down at her desk and took all of her poems out of the back pocket of the spiral book to see that he had written and doodled on those too. She sighed and placed her head in her hands, willing herself not to cry. It worked, but sadness turned to anger.

She got up and locked her bedroom door to keep anyone from coming in. Then went to her bathroom and showered. After she got dressed she grabbed her keys and purse and left her room. She was halfway down the stairs when Damon zipped in front of her. "Where are you going?" He asked with a smirk.

"If you must know I'm going to by a new journal since you vandalized mine." She answered flatly.

"Why didn't you tell me you wrote poetry and songs?" He asked tilting his head to the side.

"Because you never asked what I did for fun." She told him already tired of the conversation. "Just like you never took me on a date." He opened his mouth to argue but she didn't give him the chance. "Founder's parties and school dances don't count as dates." He closed his mouth and frowned. "Now will you please get out of my way?" She asked and it surprised her when he stepped aside and let her pass.

TVDTVDTVD

Katie sat down and put her new, green faux leather journal with a combination lock on the desk and opened it. She knew the lock wouldn’t stand a chance if Damon really wanted to read her journal again, but it gave her a feeling of security anyway. After writing her old poems in the back she turned to fresh back page and started writing a song when it was done, she titled it, “Kissing Other People.”

[oh-obrien]

Take Me Out

Relationships: Dylan O'Brien x OFC

Word Count: 4,496

Author’s note: Sorry I disappeared y’all and sorry this one’s a little short. I had finals and then I found out my grandpa has cancer so we’re a little bit all over the place, but I’m getting back in the grove. Here’s some baseball and jealous Dylan for you all. All my characters are oc’s as I didn’t want to pull any real life players to use. 

“Imagine liking the Mets,” Cameron mumbled around the white hair tie she held between her teeth. She watched through the mirror while Dylan pulled his jersey on, finishing dutch braiding the left side of her hair at the same time. “Orange and Blue just, it doesn’t go together well at all,” she continued while tying her braid off with the hair tie. 

Dylan rolled his eyes and walked back into the bathroom after he pulled Cameron’s jersey out of the closet, holding it up at an arm's length and wrinkling his nose. “Because pinstripes are any better?” He asked while leaning against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, watching his girlfriend continue to braid her hair. “Tabloids later are going to be like, Dylan O'Brien's girlfriend seen wearing a Yankees jersey at the first game of the Subway Series: Is this the beginning of the end?” He couldn’t hold in his laugh at the end.

Cameron also tried to stop herself from laughing while she sectioned off the hair on the right side of her head, not wanting the braid to be uneven. “Oh god,” she mumbled, “I’m going to have to tweet that everyone needs to remember my dad is one of the coaches for the Yankees,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re lucky he let you stay the first time I brought you home and you had a Mets hat on.” Dylan watched her fingers braiding her hair while she spoke. “At least you don’t care about hockey. It would have been bad if you blurted out you were an Islanders fan too.”

“I remember that!” He started laughing lightly again, his shoulders shaking slightly while he did, “he just grilled me after that.” Dylan remembered the first time he met Cameron’s parents, the week of the Subway Series two years earlier. The pair had been together for only a couple months at the time and Cameron had surprised him with tickets for all three games that year, her dad had also offered that the couple could stay at the family’s house in Sagaponack for the time they were visiting. Dylan and Cameron had pulled up in front of Cameron’s childhood home in a car her dad had hired to drive them out to Sagaponack from MacArthur airport, and Cameron swore she saw Dylan’s jaw hit the floor of the car when they pulled through the front gates.

“He had that custom made, I think it’s a bit much,” Cameron referred to the large wooden Yankees logo that had been put on the front door to their home. “And if you get past that and how huge the house is, actually who am I kidding,” she rolled her eyes while they got out of the car. “I cannot stand this house,” they thanked the driver after he got their suitcases out of the back. “And I can't stand that I spent eighteen years of my life here.”

Dylan snorted at the memory and Cameron cocked her head to the side at his outburst. “You say how much you hated living here when you were younger every time we come out to visit, and I’m just stringing it all together,” he shrugged.

“I also hated going to private school, but clearly something paid off somewhere,” Cameron tied off her second braid, the two falling even in front of her chest. “Because I got into my dream college and then I was somehow lucky enough to bump into you and then got you to sick around long enough to actually tell you my dad coached the Yankees,” she hooked her fingers into the loops of Dylan’s shorts and pulled him closer. 

Dylan pulled his face away from Cameron’s, a tight lipped smirk spreading across his face. “Did it really now?” He asked, watching pout spread across her full lips. “Because if I remember it correctly I actually asked you out that first night,” he brought his hands up to rest on Cameron’s waist, right above the curve of her ass.

“But then for some reason you decided to keep talking to me,” Cameron leaned up slightly to peck Dylan’s lips, “a bunch of sorority girls on a bar crawl after finals and you decided it would be a good idea to talk to me out of that group?” She cocked her head to the side slightly, clearly pressing the issue further in a playful way.

Dylan rolled his eyes and pulled Cameron even closer to him. “Okay so,” he slipped his hands along the line of skin on Cameron’s back that was left uncovered by her white cropped t-shirt, “you were cute, I made a move.” Cameron looked up and gave Dylan a ‘really’ look, knowing a lot of her sorority sisters she had been with were more than cute. “You were cute, and the only one without some basic fruity drink in your hand,” he added the last part.

“Yeah I did look pretty cute that night,” Cameron just shrugged and watched Dylan shake his head at her usual antics. “And then there was you, you looked half dead my dude,” she reminded. Cameron patted Dylan’s chest lightly and pulled away, grabbing her jersey off the counter and pulling it on.

Dylan watched Cameron quickly tie a knot out of the two ends at the front of the jersey instead of buttoning it, letting it hang open most of the way. “I was in the middle of filming an entire movie in sixty days,” he pointed out while Cameron adjusted the knot of the jersey so it would be even with her cropped shirt. “And in my defense I had also filmed twelve hours that day but somehow got convinced to go out!”

Cameron tucked her phone into the pock on her ripped jean shorts, “well I’m glad they convinced you,” she brushed past Dylan and back into her childhood bedroom. She sat down on her bed and pulled her navy converse off the floor, slipping them on before tying them tightly. “You have everything you need?” Cameron turned to face Dylan after she grabbed her RayBans case off her dresser. 

Dylan patted around at his pockets, making sure he had his wallet and phone. “I think I have everything,” he shrugged, “if not it’s not that important.”

“You are so go with the flow it hurts sometimes,” Cameron shook her head and held her hand out for Dylan to take. “C’mon, the car is waiting downstairs and I don’t want to be stuck in rush hour traffic, nothing is worse than the LIE during rush hour!”

“How about the George Washington during rush hour?” Dylan smirked while he spoke, knowing he would get a reaction out of Cameron. She had mentioned numerous times throughout the visits they took to New York how much she hated having to take the GW Bridge to leave the state.

Sliding her fingers through Dylan’s cameron just huffed, squeezing his hand a little harder than she normally would. “Never speak of that godforsaken bridge ever again,” she mumbled as the pair started down the staircase. 

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Dylan watched the beaches of where Cameron grew up slowly fade away as the pair got closer and closer to Queens, suburban neighborhoods turning into taller and more condensed buildings. Of course growing up he had lived quite close to the ‘Big Apple’ himself, but he knew he didn’t visit nearly as often as Cameron did. 

“I practically grew up in Yankee Stadium,” Dylan remembered Cameron telling him on their first date. At the time he had thought that must have been one of the coolest childhoods ever, having a parent who coached an MLB team, but he quickly realized it probably wasn’t as glamorous as it seemed. 

Dylan learned that in the winter months Cameron’s dad would travel with the team for their winter training and there would be an extended period of time where Cameron wouldn't get to see him. Dylan also remembered her noting that it taught her what she didn’t want to be as a parent, and that had been something that had scared him, although he didn’t yet express it. He would often travel for filming or press tours and through Cameron, he realized just how much a parent constantly being away could impact a kid. 

However, kids weren’t yet on the couple’s mind. The pair had met in Louisiana while Dylan had been filming the first movie in The Maze Runner series, and Cameron had been in the process of wrapping up her junior year of college at Louisiana State University playing for their softball team. She had also started to cram for her LSAT’s right before they met. In a fast paced two months which consisted of seeing each other when there had been any time in either of their schedules and texting on the days there wasn’t, the couple had quickly started falling for each other. 

Once Dylan had flown back to Los Angeles after The Maze Runner had wrapped, Cameron found herself reconsidering her law school options and studied even harder for her LSAT’s. After receiving a 178 out of 180 on the test, Cameron had applied to as many law schools as she could, but had her eyes on getting into University of California at Berkeley’s School of Law.

Prior to flying out to New York for the year’s Subway Series between three Mets and Yankees, the couple’s two year anniversary had just passed. Dylan’s career had started to take off even more while Cameron found herself attending law school at UC Berkeley. After quite a few long conversations and consulting with friends and family, the pair had recently decided to settle in a spacious home right outside of Los Angeles together. With Cameron in her second year of Law School and already receiving job offers for after graduation and Dylan’s career only growing, they both knew that they wouldn’t be leaving the area for quite awhile. 

“You’re thinking pretty hard over there O’Brien,” Cameron laughed lightly while she drummed her fingers lightly on his thigh. Dylan took a moment to regain his thoughts before he looked out the window, realizing that their car had pulled off on to the exit that would take them to Citi Field. “Pretty sure I saw some steam coming out of your ears,” she pulled his Mets cap off his head and ran her fingers through his hair. 

Dylan leaned into Cameron’s touch but let out a small huff in protest of her previous statement, “believe me,” he closed his eyes, “if anyone is going to be thinking that hard it’s going to be you.” Cameron just smiled and smoothed her boyfriend’s hair down again, settling his hat back on his head while their car pulled around the back of Citi Field. 

Watching as Dylan’s eyes took in the sights around them Cameron just shook her head while the driver pulled up near the coaches and players entrance. Sometimes it amazed her just how starstruck certain things could get her boyfriend and she wasn’t sure if she would ever fully understand it. He had nearly everything he ever wanted in his reach, but coming to Citi Field would always make his face light up like a kid in a candy store. “Let’s go, Superstar,” Cameron pushed open the door to the Suburban and held her hand out for Dylan to take. “It’s just Queens, basically still the Island.”

Threading their fingers together, the couple thanked their driver before approaching the entrance where two security guards stood, chatting with each other while leaning against the wall of the stadium. Cameron reached into one of the back pockets of her shorts with her free hand and pulled out the passes that would give them access to nearly anywhere they wanted inside Citi Field. 

Cameron held the passes up and the security guards waved them past with kind smiles. She scanned hers on the pad next to the door and heard the heavy metal lock click open before she grabbed the handle. “I want to go see my dad and brother before the game,” Cameron looked over to Dylan who let out an over dramatic goran. “Oh please,” she rolled her eyes, “all the guys know I’m dating a,” she fake gagged, “a Mets fan.” Untangling their hands Dylan reached over to pinch Cmaeron on the ass which made her squeak and quickly take off down the hallway they were in. 

“Oh fuck off!” Dylan laughed making sure he saw what direction Cameron had taken off in, following a safe distance behind. He just shook his head while following the directions that would lead them both to the visitor’s locker room. He also assumed that after years of attending Subway Series games Cameron probably didn’t need the directions around Citi field for herself anymore. 

Cameron found herself jogging through the hallways of Citi Field, leaving enough distance between her and Dylan that he couldn’t catch her easily but could still follow her so he wouldn’t get lost. She looked behind her to make sure she could still see Dylan before she turned the last corner that would lead to the visitor locker room before crashing into a hard body. “Shit!” She felt a pair of hands catch her waist so she didn’t trip.

“Yeah what the fuck, Cam?” Carson, Cameron’s older brother, asked while he steadied his sister on her feet. Carson has his jersey half buttoned and his cap sat backwards on his head, a smile spreading across his face “And where’s Dylan? You can’t let him get lost in here,” Carson let out a long sigh, hoping his sister’s boyfriend didn’t actually get lost in the depth of Citi Field.

Cameron rolled her eyes and turned around to watch Dylan round the corner, shaking his head when he finally caught up to his girlfriend. “What’s up, man?” Dylan and Carson pulled each other into a ‘bro-hug’ before separating.

“Ahh, nothing much!” Carson laughed while he finished buttoning up his jersey, “just got a series game to play nothing too big,” he shrugged. Cameron let out an overly dramatic huff to get both of the boy’s attention back on her. “Dad’s out on the field, most of the guys are too.” Carson pointed towards the staircase that led up into the visitor’s dugout. 

Cameron nodded in thanks before taking Dylan’s hand in hers, opting to pull him towards the field, itching to be outside on the diamond again. “Can you handle being in the Yankees dugout or is your ego too fragile?” She looked over to Dylan while she scanned the door open with the passes her dad had gotten for the couple. 

“Okay, I’m not that bad,” Dylan rolled his eyes while Cameron pushed the metal door open, the humid, hot and heavy summer New York air hitting them in the face when she did. “I’m just dedicated to my team.” Dedicated Dylan was indeed, it would always be a competition between the two when they would watch games back home. Whose team did better that week, whose team had the better stats, whose team had better chances of making it to the World Series. The competition would always be in good fun of course, nothing ever really rode on whose team did better, except bragging rights. 

Cameron leaned over and kissed his cheek, “and I think that’s adorable,” she reminded him. Once the pair stepped out on to the field they noticed most of the players were warming up in some shape or form. The infielders were running drills and those not participating were found in the back of the stadium, sitting on the fence of the bullpen, talking with the relief pitchers who were getting their arms loose before the game. 

“Someone is all grown up,” Cameron heard a familiar voice speak from next to her and turned to see Mark, one of the newer players, walking out of the bullpen. Mark had also gone to college with Cameron, although he had been a year ahead of her, he played on the LSU baseball team and had been a starter his freshman year.

Cameron rolled her eyes and accepted his offer of a hug. “You only graduated a year before me!” She laughed while he lifted her off the ground. She looked behind her once Mark put her down to see Dylan kicking the dirt with his beat up Adidas sneakers, an angry frown evident on his face.

Biting her bottom lip, Cameron walked over to Dylan and grabbed one of his hands that hung at his side and squeezed it, but he didn’t squeeze back like he usually would. Great, now she had to deal with a moody boyfriend for the rest of the day too. “Mark this is Dylan, Dylan this is Mark,” she leaned into Dylan’s side more. “You actually probably saw each other the night me and Dyl met at that bar we went to after finals your senior year.

“Nice to meet you for real man!” Mark laughed while he offered Dylan his hand to shake. “You got a real catch, I asked her out when?” Mark looked over to Cameron for confirmation on the years after he dropped Dylan’s hand.

Fuck, now she would really deal with a moody boyfriend for the rest of the day. “My sophomore year your junior,” she filled in. She knew that Dylan would be even less happy now that Cameron had just been getting all cozy with a guy she had rejected before she had started dating him. 

“Yeah she said no though, said it would be like dating her brother. Which was more of an insult than anything,” he nodded to where Carson was dumping a water bottle over one of the other player’s heads in the outfield while they warmed up, “he is something special.” Mark noticed that Cameron’s dad stood neat home plate, trying to round everyone up for batting practice and Mark offered Cameron a final smile. “Gotta go, see you later?”

Cameron nodded with a small smile, “yeah!” Mark leaned in and kissed her on the cheek before running off, his bat and batting gloves in his hands. Cameron had always thought that Mark would grow up to be incredibly handsome while they were in college together, she had just never been attracted to him.

“He asked you out?” Dylan asked once Mark would definitely be out of earshot of the couple. “And you didn’t tell me?” He sounded more hurt than anything. That would be how most of their arguments, if they could even be called that, went. Someone would feel hurt by something the other did and they’d voice their opinion about it and from there on it would be a downward spiral. It usually resulted in someone sleeping in the guest bedroom for a night and waking up to an elaborate breakfast the next morning.

Cameron ran her hands over her face, not in the mood to argue with Dylan around her dad’s players and staff. “It was sophomore year of college Dylan and I said no!” She pinched the bridge of her nose and let out a long sigh. “Look, I don’t want to get into this here. I’m going to say hi to my dad. If you want to pout over here feel free but I’m looking to enjoy the rest of today.” She spoke calmly before leaning up to peck his lips lightly before walking over to her dad.

“Look who it is!” He paused what he had been saying to his players to pull Cameron into a tight hug. Cameron smiled and squeezed her dad before pulling away, waving to the rest of the plays, most of who she knew. “How was the flight out this morning?” He asked after dismissing the players to get a few extra swings in before the game. “And why’s the boy toy pouting?” He nodded towards Dylan. 

Cameron just shrugged, “LAX is LAX, even if we did leave at three in the morning.” The couple had figured it would be the best time to fly into New York from Los Angeles, catch some sleep on the plane and nap once they got to her parents house. It had become their system when visiting there. “He’s not a fan of Mark, that’s why he looks so upset,” Cameron watched as Carson approached her boyfriend. 

Dylan offered Carson a halfhearted smile and then tucked his phone into his front pocket, crossing his arms over his chest before falling into conversation with the ball player. “Mark’s still trying?” James, Cameron’s dad, asked. “I think it’s pretty clear you and Dylan are in it for the long haul now,” he added.

“He’s not usually the jealous type,” Cameron spoke while she walked into the dugout with her dad. “I just,” she sighed, leaning against the bench. “I think it’s the fact that I’ve known Mark so long that’s getting under his skin, like the fact that me and Mark have more history will suddenly make me dump him for Mark ot something.” Cameron watched her dad hang the line up on the wall of the dugout, Mark not on the starting roster for the day.

James turned back to his daughter, a sympathetic smile on his face, “well if it makes Dylan feel any better, I’ll bench lover boy for the day,” he laughed lightly. “Just don’t tell him that I had already planned to take Mark off the roster for the day, he’s been making a ton of errors lately and we can’t have that right now.” Cameron looked at the lineup to see that her brother had been placed in the clean up position, as per usual. 

“Thanks dad,” Cameron sighed and wrapped her arms around her dad again, pulling him into another tight hug.

James just laughed and pulled away from his daughter, “don’t thank me, now go save Dylan from your brother before he talks his ear off about how we’re going to win today,” he nodded towards the two boys. Cameron just rolled her eyes and started up the stairs that lead out of the dugout. “And Cam,” she turned around again, “you mother and I are staying out here tonight.”

“Dad!” Cameron groaned, her face turning red, before she took the last two stairs, both in the same step to get out of the dugout faster. Walking over towards Carson and Dylan, Cameron knew the pair had seen her, but Dylan didn’t hold his hand out for her to take like he usually would. A pang of heart coursed through her chest, but she knew she had upset Dylan, and she should have realized what her actions would have done sooner.

Settling next to her boyfriend, Cameron saw her brother eye them both suspiciously before he fell back into his conversation with Dylan. Once there was a lull in the conversation and it appeared it would be dying off Cameron reached out and grabbed Dylan’s hand, but it stayed limp in hers. “If you don’t mind,” she butted in, “I’m going to steal him for a few minutes before the game starts because we need to talk about something.”

“There’s nothing to-” Dylan started, but Cameron cut him off with a sharp look that said they weren’t pushing this off until later. Dylan let out a long sigh, “I’ll catch up with you later dude,” he told Carson. 

Carson looked between his sister and her boyfriend before nodding shallowly, “yeah, catch up later,” he raised an eyebrow at Cameron, asking if she was okay. After she mouth an ‘all good’ back, he jogged towards the dugout and down the concrete stairs, emerging a few seconds later with his glove in hand. 

“Cameron I really don’t-”

“Nope,” Cameron tugged Dylan off a little further to the side of the field, where she knew no one could overheard anything. “If we leave this until later we both know that won’t end well,” she told him leaving absolutely no room to argue. “Now, you want to go first?” she dropped his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. 

Dylan tucked both of his hands into his shorts pockets and shrugged, kicking the dirt under his feet again. “I really don’t have anything to say,” he mumbled, clearly ignoring what Cameron had just said. 

“Well, I’ll tell you that I was never interested in him,” Cameron watched Dylan carefully even if he wouldn’t look up to meet her eyes. “He’s a self centered douche who always bragged about how amazing he was and everything was about him, he wasn’t humble and he never cared about anyone else, he just cared about how he looked to everyone else,” she took in a deep breath and when Didn’t reply she let out a long groan. “He’s not humble and he’s not willing to better himself, he doesn’t care about how anyone else feels and he never will. He’s not funny and his smile and laugh always seems fake and quite frankly my dad took him off the lineup for today because he’s such a self centered dick. And you should have more trust in me, I’m dating you and only you, my eyes are on you only, not anyone else, especially not him!”

Cameron watched Dylan look up to meet her eyes, his slightly shiny, but no longer hurt. He had his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled his hat off to card his fingers through his hair. “Sorry I doubted you, he’s just, everything you grew up with and probably wanted growing up,” Dylan mumbled. “And I just got jealous and afraid you’d leave me for someone like him, like everyone expected you to end up with,” he held his hands out for Cameron to take. 

Letting out a tiny sigh, Cameron threaded their fingers together and pulled Dylan closer to her. “Never doubt yourself, bubs,” Cameron kissed him lightly. “I have eyes for you and only you.”

“Love you,” Dylan kissed her again.

“I love you too, dork,” she smiled and pulled away slightly. “Now let’s go say good luck to my dad and thank you for the seats behind home plate,” she started pulling him towards the direction of the dugout. 

Dylan laughed behind her and rolled his eyes, “like I’d ever tell the Yankees good luck,” he said it just loud enough that Cameron could hear. Pausing in just far enough away from the dugout that they would still be out of earshot, Cameron pulled Dylan closer again.

“Say good luck,” she leaned up to whisper in his ear, “and we have the house to ourselves tonight,” she pulled gently on her earlobe with her teeth to drive her point home. 

Dylan closed his eyes and let out a quiet groan, “I hope they win then!” He pulled her towards the dugout again. “In extra innings though, of course.”