#i understand the point is that he’s trying to change but going to rehab is not amends for abusing a child. you’re not undoing a wrong

[abortionado]

Haven’t known exactly how to articulate this but it truly bothers me that the audience is supposed to buy into Ted’s narrative about Jamie’s dad and not Georgie’s.

Like. Ted is missing so much context about Jamie’s upbringing. He genuinely doesn’t know shit. His perception of James is entirely based upon a couple of vague anecdotes from Jamie, two impersonal encounters with the man, and (most of all) projections of his relationship with his own parents + his insecurities about being a bad father (even though neither he nor his parents are anything like James and the situations aren’t remotely comparable). God love him, he absolutely doesn’t get it!!!

Georgie, on the other hand, has personally, intimately known James for decades, and she knows him as a horrible man who does horrible things to her baby (and almost definitely to her as well) time and time again. She knows from actual experience that James is inconsistent and doesn’t keep his word. She knows that he’s a destructive force in Jamie’s life. She knows that he promises to change and then doesn’t. She knows that he’s the type of man to force his way back into their lives, promise to be a better father, bring her little boy on a big exciting father/son bonding trip to Amsterdam, and somehow fuck it up so completely that he refuses to talk about it and is never really the same again.

So she says to Jamie, your father is who he is, he’s never going to change, and it’s okay to give up on him and move on and make peace with life without him.

And apparently, she’s fucking wrong! She’s wrong about him, and he IS going to change! She doesn’t understand the man who abused her for twenty years like Ted does, because she’s a cynic who hasn’t been wised to The Lasso Way! The REAL wisdom is that hurt people hurt people!!!! Get this toerag back into Jamie’s life!!!!!

It just seems like such a disservice to this character and everything she’s been through and her relationship with Jamie for her to be wrong and Ted to be right and Jamie to ignore her and pursue a relationship with his father. Give me a break

[impsandstars]

What’s in a name?

I have compiled a screenshot of all of Blitz’s name credits at the end of every episode he’s in.

There is a change at the end of season 1 episode 8 (Queen Bee) where we get a single line through the O in his name. In this episode we get Blitz dealing with the aftermath of seeing Fizzarolli for the first time in 15 years.

Seeing Fizz after that many years has probably brought up quite a bit of emotional pain (his response upon seeing him at Ozzie's was to hide behind his menu and say "not him") for Blitz who we know cares very deeply for Fizz. At no point during Fizz's public humiliation of him during the episode Ozzie's does Blitz react or say anything in retaliation. He doesn't fight back. He still cares what Fizz thinks about him and having his once best friend treat him like that must have been quite a punch to the heart. Blitz accepts it all as it reinforces his own narrative that he is not deserving of the love of the people whose lives he ruined. All the emotional turmoil comes to a head at the end of episode 8 when he remarks how Fizz was right and he is going to die alone, coming to the conclusion that he and Fizz will never reconcile their relationship because Blitz believes he cannot be forgiven; that the damage he caused was unforgivable.

The second change is at the end of season 2 episode 5 (Unhappy Campers) where we get a second line through the O in his name. In this episode we get to see Blitz interact with his sister Barbie for the first time in presumably a while.

The relationship between Blitz and Barbie pre-fire is not really shown a lot in cannon (yet?). We know they did some sort of solo show together so presumably they were close siblings. Blitz cares enough about her to look in on her at rehab so we know, at least from his point of view, that Barbie is still an important person in his life. In this episode we get to see that relationship from Barbie's perspective. She clearly feels a lot of animosity toward Blitz ("haven't you ruined my life enough?"). She didn't let him know she had left rehab or that she had gotten a job and is apparently doing okay for herself. Blitz is no longer a part of her life. Blitz's reaction to seeing her in this episode is so sincere and very vulnerable for him. The desperation in his voice when he tried to get her to meet up with him to talk and she threw it back in his face? Ouch. Her comments about him ruining her life and her wanting him to stop trying? Double ouch. Much like with Fizz, Blitz is left with the understanding that forgiveness from her is something that he will never get as the damage has been done

The name Blitzo is a representation of his past (notice how the only people he doesn't correct about how to say his name are Barbie and Fizz). It is from a time when he had the love and connection of those in his family. After these two episodes it's almost as if that was the final reminder to Blitz that he longer has either of them. That that version of himself is gone.

By crossing out the O to change his name to just "Blitz" in the credits it's as if to say he has closed that chapter from his past. It shows that he feels, after these interactions, that it is no longer possible to be that person from his past, to be the person that was loved and cared for by Fizz and Barbie. He is no longer worthy of having that name and everything good that is associated with it because it's his fault he lost them.

Although, with the change of his name, it could potentially be a fresh start. A chance for him to build a new version of himself. A person worthy of the two most important people in his life and by extension the other people in his life he cares about too. ("I don't want to be this way, not forever").

[paintingraves]

AITA ? I (40M) bought a condo one of my friends (43F) wanted to buy with her boyfriend (36M) to get back at her for hurting my best friend's (50M) feelings.

This is a bit lengthy so bear with me.

I have a prestigious job in the medical field and I am head of department in my specialty. I met my best friend (G) years ago when he bailed me out of jail (another long story). We work in the same place, under the supervision of our boss (C) who is also a close friend of mine.

Now G and C have a bit of a history. They met in medical school, from what I know they shared a night together, but G was kicked out of uni so it never became more than that, until they found each other again years later and she offered him his current job. They are always flirting, always pushing each other's buttons, and they are clearly very attracted to one another, but a lot of things prevent them from acting on it.

First, their respective positions - she's our boss - and also the fact that my best friend is, to put it plainly, an asshole who avoids emotions and vulnerability like the plague. Given his history, it makes sense, but he's never tried to work on himself, instead preferring to hide behind drugs, booze, and, lately, prostitutes. So he wasn't exactly relationship material, but things changed last year.

First, they got closer. In a very emotional moment that I won't disclose here, G ended up at her place and they kissed. They immediately agreed to pretend like it never happened, despite the fact that they clearly both have strong feelings for each other.

Next, G's drug addiction got worse. Much, much worse, to the point where he hallucinated an entire night where he went through detox in her company, then they had sex, and she left early the next morning. Yes, I wish I was making this up. He was weird the next day, and he ended up shouting for the entire hospital to hear that they slept together. She got understandably extremely mad at him for putting her reputation at work at stake in such a humiliating way. That's when he realised how bad things had gotten. He came to me, and with my help, he went into rehab.

He spent a few months there. When he came back, he'd changed. Not radically, but he was off the drugs, he was seeing a therapist regularly, and he seemed genuinely commited to working on himself and trying to be a better man, to lead a better life. In his own words, he was "tired of being miserable." He moved in with me at the advice of his therapist, and he tried to distance himself from work for a while. He quit, he tried other activities, but eventually he came back because he loves this job.

I could see he was also still interested in C, but she was very guarded. I encouraged him to try to show that he'd changed, because he had, and I knew she also had feelings for him. But things came to a head when we went to a medical conference she also attended. The reason she was so distant with him was also because, as it turned out, she got into a new, serious relationship while he was away, with a man (L) who used to be G's friend. Obviously, it was a blow for G. And for me as well, because I didn't know about this, or I wouldn't have encouraged G to pursue it.

Anyway, life went on, and after a while C started talking to me about buying a condo and moving in with L. I was still a little put out by her behaviour towards G. She called my ex-wife, who happens to work in real estate, and found "the condo of her dreams".

So I called my ex-wife, visited the condo with G, and impulsively decided to buy it before she could.

We'll be moving in shortly with G. He seems happy, and I'm happy to be doing this for him. Hopefully he can move on, and it may teach her a lesson.

So, Reddit, AITA ?

Edit, in answer to a few comments:

- Yes, we met when he bailed me out of jail. I was going through a rough patch and ended up doing something stupid that got me arrested. He bailed me, a perfect stranger, out of jail because he said I was "the most interesting person around." We've been best friends ever since.

- The price for the condo was around 250,000$. I paid 3/4th of it using most of my savings, and I don't regret it one bit. He paid what was left, in an exceptionally generous display (for him).

- L was a private investigator G hired to spy on me (long story) at a time where I wanted to get away from him. They became sort of friends, but we hadn't heard from him in a long time before finding out he was in a relationship with C.

- C cares for him, but she is also at a spot in her life where she wants stability. She is a single mother with a daughter to care for, and she wants to be with a man whom she can rely on. What with G's history, I can't blame her for not acting on her feelings.

It doesn't mean I can't be mad at her for hurting him, though.

Edit 2:

Yes, G and I are close. He's the only person who truly gets me and doesn't put up with my bullshit. He's the worst and the best friend I've ever had.

Edit 3:

Stop asking me if I'm in love with my best friend. We're both straight, we've both been in very commited, serious relationships with women. He doesn't see me that way, no matter how many gay jokes he makes.

Edit 4:

C found out someone had bought her dream condo, and was pretty mad. I won't lie, I acted all chagrined on her behalf but I feel pretty damn good about it.

[imaginarylungfish]

my thoughts on the end of mha

i've had a few weeks to process the ending of mha now. when i first heard there were only 5 chapters left, i was shocked. i thought when hori said he had more story to tell, we were gonna get like 10 more chapters or something. so yeah, i felt like i got some whiplash there.

but after i had some time to recover from my shock, i got sad. this manga has brightened many a sunday for me. sure, i understand the criticism of the final war arc, but i can't say i was ever bored. i always wanted to know what was happening next.

and while i was sad the villains didn't live/we didn't see a rehab arc for them nor did we see much emotional processing by certain characters after the war, i understand this manga couldn't go on forever to adequately tackle all those stories. that's what fics are for, i guess.

izuku's ending

a really big thing i liked about the ending was izuku becoming quirkless again. that's what i wanted. i have some gripes with the execution, though. it was weird that izuku didn't show any emotion about losing ofa except in the battle. i still think that was a bit of a fumble on hori's part. you're telling me the kid who cries about everything wouldn't cry about losing something that let him live his dream? just seemed ooc.

but anyway, izuku ending as a quirkless hero was exactly what i wanted. that's exactly the way to conclude his whole arc. however, unless you fill in the blanks with headcanons, the impact of that arc is a bit lost on the reader. do we see izuku's acceptance of his inherent worthiness of being a hero (due to his unwavering spirit rather than the need for a quirk)? we don't. do we see society's acceptance of quirkless people as inherently equal to people with quirks? we don't. we must fill in the blanks ourselves. and i just don't think that type of fill-in-the-blank should happen. we should get that from the mangaka.

i also found it weird that izuku became a teacher at ua and then a quirkless hero. i understand there was some fun shock value/bait-and-switch to this little plot point (which i have to admit was amusing). but it kind of just didn't make narrative sense to me once i had my little laugh. like, pick one, hori. does izuku lose his quirk and become a ua teacher or does he lose his quirk and become a quirkless hero? having both muddies the waters.

we knew mha was going to end in a hopeful way. that's what this manga was about. it was all about trying and pushing past limits to succeed, despite the odds. i knew it wasn't going to end with izuku being depressed or anything. he was going to be happy in the end, whether he ended up as a quirkless teacher or quirkless hero because that's just who he is--he doesn't give up. so, i wish that was more of the focus of the last chapters since izuku is the protag after all. but i got the big thing i wanted (which is more than some others can say), so i can't complain too much.

katsuki's ending

i'm actually really satisfied with kastuki's ending (and his whole character arc, honestly). katsuki's whole thing was that he felt inferior to izuku his entire life because of izuku's innate heroism. so, katsuki bullied izuku to make himself feel better since katsuki always felt like he needed to be the best. but slowly, we see katsuki's worldview change as he enters ua high, fails the provisional licensing exam, and sees izuku's continued mastery of his quirks.

throughout the manga, katsuki has to grow up and mature. he has to realize that while he was born with something that makes him a great hero (his quirk), that's not all that it takes to be a great hero. and in fact, izuku has the other part (empathy and determination).

katsuki learns how to be more of a team player and less self-centered. he balances out his need to win and be the best with including others in his thought processes. enough so that he sacrifices himself for izuku, apologies to izuku, and gives izuku the final push in the war.

katsuki shows emotional growth and maturity throughout the manga which i think culminates not only in the final chapter but also in his reaction to hearing the news that izuku lost ofa. his show of emotion is big for him since we know this is not something he normally does. (i still can't believe we saw katsuki of all people cry after the war, but not izuku. ugh, i'll forever be salty about that.)

it's made clear in the final chapters through his words and actions that katsuki cares about izuku. he not only verbally expresses to izuku that he is sad they can't compete anymore, but he also checks in with izuku about how much of ofa he still has, and ultimately, works to get izuku's dream back. if that ain't redemption, i don't know what is.

so with one of the last panels of the manga being katsuki reaching out his hand to izuku (!!!), calling him deku to reinforce izuku's heroism? what a great conclusion. i am satisfied. thanks, hori.

(plus, there were no canon ships which i'm happy about. that's something that i'm glad hori left up to interpretation. now, we can all go read fics with our favorite ships without too much retconning. i think we all won in that regard.)

shoto's ending

i love shoto, so i will always want more of him. but i think that's exactly why i'm fine with his ending. i don't see it like an ending. it's a start for him. he finally gets to be himself, to be shoto. sure, he still probably has a long way to go in terms of getting over his family trauma, but throughout the manga, i think we get to see his growth in that regard which culminates with his battle with dabi and subsequent aftermath.

his story was always tied to his family's story, which made him a complex character. and while i can't say i loved everything that hori did with the todoroki family, i do like what he did for shoto individually.

i will always love shoto's thoughts during his fight with dabi. i think it exemplified his character growth. he was such an angry, cold teen when he entered ua. but he learned how to make friends, accept his trauma, and become his own person. throughout the manga, he learns how to interact with others in the way he wants. despite his treatment as a child (ie. abuse), he decides to reconnect with his mom and work with endeavor. but the main thing is that he chooses it. he gets to dictate what he does now. that's huge for him.

i particularly loved the scene where shoto says he just wants to talk with dabi/touya during their fight. it reminded me of a little kid who just wants to get to know his big brother. but also it showed the maturity shoto gained throughout the story. instead of avoiding things like he originally did at the beginning of the manga, he wants to face them head-on. he has learned talking with others and gaining new perspectives is helpful and that arguments, even though unpleasant, can be productive.

and like i said before, i have some gripe with how some pieces of the todoroki family arc ended. however, i was satisfied with shoto's ending. i loved the "favorite food convo" callback. touya's response was hopeful yet heartbreaking at the same time.

i do wish izuku and shoto talked after the war because i just think izuku would want to know how shoto's doing instead of whatever the fuck this was:

but again, overall i am satisfied.

ok i'm going to stop writing now. i already wrote more than i thought i would (and even added panels). i do have thoughts on ochaco's ending and other random things, but i think that's a post for a another day. i did the main three and that's good enough for now.

overall, i was satisfied with the ending of mha, especially after looking back on it with all pieces put together. the story impacted me in more ways than one and i look forward to re-reading and learning more in the future!

[physalian]

When a Villain’s “Villainy” Dismisses Their Valid Argument For Change (Or, Marvel)

Marvel stories aren’t the only ones that pull the whole “this villain has a very valid and justified stance on something socially acceptable but actually terrible and- oh, nvm, they’re a murderer, thus they’re totally bad,” schtick, but they’re the loudest voices.

Pop Culture Detective did this deep dive into how the “Avengers” really are “Avengers” (as opposed to “Prevengers,” like Tony points out) because they don’t have any initiatives or social stances that promote change, they just stop villains from making change. Most damning example of this character is Killmonger.

Excellent deep dive, go watch it. I won’t regurgitate it here. Instead, I’ll talk about how these villains are also attempts at having depth and nuance and are very hit-and-miss about it.

So. Villains with nuance: How to write a character with something to say, while showing that their way of going about it is wrong, while also still agreeing that they were right.

—

This isn’t actually that hard, y’all. Marvel doesn’t do it because they don’t want to piss off the rich people or be “woke”.

So say I have my antagonist named…. Wilson.

Wilson’s goal: prison reform/dismantling the for-profit punitive “justice” system that works to keep people in the system instead of helpful rehab.

Wilson’s motivation: that his dad got incarcerated for possession of drugs, and through a series of Very Bad and Corrupt Legal Practices, Wilson’s dad spent 45 years in prison and died there.

Wilson’s plan: peacefully protest, then when that doesn't work and he's exhausted all other legal avenues, systematically blackmail every cop, justice, and prison employee that he deems corrupt, racist, etc, on the grounds of either “just following orders” or “that’s how it was” isn’t good enough in effort to get them fired/ruin their lives. Doesn’t matter how involved in his dad’s incarceration these people are, Wilson wants to make a statement, and he’s going to make it as loud as possible.

Enter the hero: Sarah.

She’s the seasoned detective trying to catch him because crime is crime and he’s done a lot of it.

Marvel’s hypothetical version of this story: Wilson joins and organizes several peaceful protests and marches and nonviolent gatherings, gathering a vocal following that’s concerning to local, then national, government officials when he gains more power than they’re comfortable with. Around halfway through the story, Wilson breaks and starts randomly murdering these same people just so the audience doesn’t start to root for him.

Marvel’s solution: Wilson ends up in prison, or dead from a high and ambiguous fall, due to his own actions because murder is bad and he’s done a lot of it. Prison reform, what?

Or: Wilson ends up in prison because he still committed violence against a lot of innocent people and the punishments he enacted didn’t fit their crimes. The populace remains horrified by his actions, mourn the corrupt government people, and claim this is exactly why the prison system is the way it is. Sarah, however, understands that Wilson was right, and works for the rest of her career on enacting prison reform.

You know, Zootopia did this pretty well, for a kids’ movie, by having Judy publicly admit that what they’re doing is wrong and try to change it, while also simultaneously botching it entirely.

Ironically, Marvel does have a property that tries its damndest to do the “villain actually has a point, he’s just going about proving it the wrong way” and that’s X-Men. Their best efforts aren’t the ‘ha ha CGI explosion of cool mutant powers’ but the social commentary these characters were meant to reflect.

You can write a villain with a point. But if you’re going to go far enough to make a polarizing statement in your work, knowing it will piss people off, commit to that message and don’t abandon it the second you’ve made them “irredeemable”.

That, and, like Zootopia, it gives your hero so much more nuance when they can admit their staunch, heroic worldview is flawed and needs growth, or complete dismantling, and that hard life lessons can come from anywhere, not just their heroes—particularly when they themselves are an archetypical “hero”. (also killing this complicated villain instead of giving them the chance to see the proper enactment of the change they want to see in the world is a huge missed opportunity).

Not limited to superhero stories, either, or hot button issues like prison reform. Do it in fantasy with fantasy bigotry. It doesn’t have to be a huge global plot either. “Critical voice is painted as the villain and resorts to unsavory-to-illegal activity to stay alive and/or promote their cause” also fits plenty of war stories big and small.

Heck, go even smaller, with lower stakes, and you could write about a high school bully victim who goes too far in trying to get justice/catharsis when the law doesn’t do enough about it. Write about a dysfunctional family. This trope is so flexible it’s disappointing how rarely it’s done well.

Whatever the case:

Make a problem in the world of your story that the society/powers that be of that story doesn’t actually think is a problem, or isn’t doing enough to solve

Make solving this problem the villain’s goal

Make the villain’s plan to solving this problem deeply flawed and the wrong way to do it

Make the hero (and the narrative) recognize that their intentions are in the right place, the actions aren’t, but the villain’s plight was heard, and the hero, presumably with the social and political power to enact real change, resolves to make that change.

The villain loses, but they also still win.

I am sick and tired of throwing the whole character out and trying to eat your cake and have it, too, pretending to have a deep and nuanced narrative that ends up saying nothing more than “crime is always wrong no matter the circumstances if the governing bodies aren’t paying you to commit those crimes.”

I’m not a huge fan of Black Panther (I think by that point my Marvel fatigue on all these new characters was starting to creep in), but they really did Killmonger dirty, didn’t they?

[something-tofightfor]

On Deck Part 3: Ducks on the Pond

Pairing: Jack Daniels x Female Reader Baseball AU

Word Count: 7,433

Rating: NSFW - smut, language, feelings (maybe. just a little)

Summary: Having Jack in your house is more than a little overwhelming - but when you realize that it's what he really wants, everything changes.

Author’s notes: 

This chapter was a hell of a lot of tun to write. Trying to strike a balance between what I know happens and what is happening here was a struggle; hopefully you enjoy.

(On Deck universe masterlist for all the extras!)

While there are a lot of baseball references within this story, you only need to know the basics to enjoy it and understand what's going on - we're not getting overly technical here.

As always, if you have any questions or comments, please feel free to reach out.

“Ducks on the Pond” is another term used to describe runners in scoring position. To be considered “in” this position, a player must be on either second or third base due to previous play action. When this happens, any batted ball that results in a hit is likely to score one - or more - of the runners. These players are ready and waiting for the current batter’s action.

He parked in the driveway next to your car, turning his head to look through the window and at you. Did I actually invite him back to my place? Jack waited to get out until you were standing in the driveway, motioning for him to follow. I did. Shit.

There was no other way to describe it: you were nervous. But you were also excited - and you hoped that that emotion was the one that would win out. I didn’t think it would get to this point. I never really believed I’d get the chance to have him here.

He was quiet as he entered your house, but by the time you’d set your bag and keys on the counter, Jack was talking again - and you liked the way that the sound of his voice filled your home. “I like this place.” He’d stopped to take his shoes off by the door, glancing up as he undid the laces. “Smells nice.” He straightened up, looking around at your front hall and into the living room. “It’s real lived in.” 

“I moved in when my uncle offered me my job.” You crossed your arms over your chest, stepping back toward him. “I don’t … plan on staying here forever, but it’s worked out for me so far.” Shrugging, you gestured with one hand. “It’s just me, so it’s all I need. I’m sure it’s smaller than yours, though.”

“I actually just have a condo here.” He sniffed, reaching up to scratch the side of his neck. “It’s nice, but it’s nothin’ fancy. Not real big either. My place back in Texas?” Jack groaned. “That’s home. And it’s a hell of a lot bigger.” You’d seen the pictures he posted online - nothing seriously revealing, but still enough to give you an idea of what his houses looked like.  “And I’ve been livin’ out of a hotel while I rehab, so this is much bigger.” He winked. “You gonna give me the grand tour?”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, I… come on.” You gestured for him to follow you, wincing as soon as you turned your back. Of course he doesn’t want to stand around and talk. He came here for a reason. No matter how much fun you had with him that day, Jack’s interest in you was likely purely physical. He’s not here to be a friend. “Bathroom’s right here.” You pointed, clearing your throat. “And my bedroom’s -”

Jack said your name, the sound of it freezing you in place. As he spoke, asking you to turn around, you felt his hand on your back before it slid over to your hip and was joined by his other one on the opposite side of your body. What is… He waited until you were facing him again to continue, his tone softening. “Are you nervous?”

“A little.” There was no point in lying to him, and you figured things would go smoothly as long as you were on the same page to start. “I’m not … this isn’t something I do often, and especially not with someone I just met.” 

“Can I make it a whole lot easier for you?” He stepped closer, his hands still on your hips. “No pressure. I didn’t come back here with you because I expect anything, even though it was implied.” He smirked at you, but the expression wasn’t unkind. “I would like to kiss you again, though. And since we’ve already gotten the first one out of the way, I figure the second will -”

You moved quickly, leaning in and tilting your head - and when you met Jack’s lips with yours, some of your nerves dissipated. His hold on you tightened, Jack groaning - but then he pulled away, his eyes wide. He looks shocked. Should I not have … oh, no. “Jack?”

“Didn’t seem too nervous there.” He winked again, straightening his shoulders. “Good. That’s real good.” You agreed, your eyes flicking over to the side and then back to him, your smile growing. “Do you want to keep going and show me that bedroom, or go back to -”

“I’ll show you the bedroom.” You bit the inside of your lip, eyes locked with his. “We’re already pretty close.” He laughed quietly, his fingertips brushing against yours when you turned away and started walking down the hall. “It’s a little messy, so -”

“You should see mine.” He entered behind you, Jack’s voice low. “I hate puttin’ clothes away, so I always have two baskets: one clean, one dirty.” You huffed out a laugh, scanning the room for anything embarrassing while Jack kept going. “And my underwear drawer? Pfft. Nothin’s folded. Socks either.”

“I figured you’d have someone doing your laundry for you. Maybe a housekeeper.” You leaned against your dresser, crossing your arms and watching as Jack took a seat on the edge of the bed. “Your schedule has to be really busy, and I’m sure the last thing you want to do is clean your kitchen or the bathroom or -”

“I do have a housekeeper.” Jack winced. “But she doesn’t touch my bedroom or my laundry.” Interesting. “You got me pegged, huh?” 

“It was just a guess.” You uncrossed your arms and pushed forward, heading for where he sat. “But… yeah, maybe I do.” He smiled at you, the expression genuine and reaching his eyes. “And Jack?” He hummed, waiting. “Laundry sucks, so I can’t say shit about the two baskets thing.” 

Jack’s laugh filled your room, and before you realized it was happening, he reached out for you and hauled you into the bed with him, both of you rolling onto the mattress. You braced yourself with both hands, ending up on your back. When you felt Jack’s weight atop you, you gasped, the sudden realization that Jack Daniels was in your bed flooring you. 

“You alright?” You nodded, staring up at him. “Good.” His eyes moved over your face, Jack’s smile locked in place. “I made you a promise at that park, an’ I think it’s time you let me follow through.” 

“I do too.” Swallowing, you cautiously reached up, putting your hand on his shoulder. “If you can.” He rolled his eyes before taking a breath, and then Jack was closing the distance between the two of you. Why am I challenging him? I already know he’s going to live up to it.

Your heart thumped in your chest, the beat slightly erratic. When his mouth met yours, your lips were already parted, giving him the perfect opening. He took it, the tip of his tongue poking out to meet the fullest part of your lower lip - and at that feeling, it was you that reacted, your hold on him tightening. 

And you moaned when he pushed it between them, your mouth opening wider to accommodate Jack’s. His response was to deepen the kiss further, his tongue stroking along the edge of yours, one slow drag after another. He was right. There’s nothing disappointing about this. 

You raised your hand from his shoulder to the back of his head, but when you pushed your fingers into the silky strands of his hair and pulled, he broke away, backing off with a grunt. “That’s what you like?” I mean… yeah. “Me too.” 

“Jack, you -” You didn’t get to finish the sentence before he was kissing you again, that one slightly messier and nowhere near as deep. It was followed by a series of shorter ones, each of them purposeful. 

In all of the fantasies you’d had about Jack, none of them included the fact that he liked to make out. You’d assumed that he would have just gone for it, uninterested in foreplay and wanting to get right to the main event. But I’ve never been happier to be wrong. 

You combed through his hair again when he moved his lips from your mouth to your cheek and then down over your jaw, his mustache dragging over the thin skin it met. And you angled your head so that he could move even lower, Jack’s mouth trailing down the column of your neck until it reached your shoulder. He paused there, sucking gently, but you didn’t even attempt to speak until your felt his tongue moving over the same area, leaving a damp trail in its wake. Before this gets too far, I need to … 

“Jack, wait.” You pushed him away, and he let you - propping himself up on his good arm and giving you a chance to collect your thoughts. “I don’t want to get carried away. Do you have…” You trailed off when you felt his fingertips moving along the inside of your forearm, though this eyes remained on your face. Unfair. This is unfair, he … “Do you have a condom? Because -”

“I do.” He nodded, his expression serious. “Not specifically for today, though. I just carry ‘em with me.” That didn’t surprise you - but his next words did. “And if we’re gonna do this, I’ve got a couple rules.” Oh. Rules? What … “No pictures or video. You left your bag in the other room, so I’m not worried about that.” You nodded, deciding to wait before you replied. “Anything that can be seen when I’m in my jersey … you can’t make marks there - nothin’ from your mouth or your hands.” That made sense to you, too, and you nodded again. “I’m not gonna stay over.” He looked apologetic at that revelation, Jack licking at his lower lip briefly and then giving you a tight smile. “That’s just for tonight though, it’s not a general rule. It’s because I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow to go to the stadium, and then I’m drivin’ back before the game, so I need time to pack.” 

“OK.” Your voice was quiet, heart still beating wildly. So it means he stays sometimes. Just not this time. “OK to all of those. What -” 

“And one more thing.” Something else? “I’m gonna need you to keep pullin’ on my hair as much as you want to, darlin’, because I like that a hell of a lot.” Good. I like it a hell of a lot, too. 

That made you laugh, but it was a short sound as you leaned in closer, nodding your agreement. “You got it, Jack.” Slipping your fingers back into his hair, you pulled on the strands, which earned you another low groan from him. You liked the sound - maybe a little too much. Detouring from another kiss, you turned your head to the side and craned your neck so that you could speak into his ear. “Take off your shirt.” 

He froze at the sound of your voice, but it only took seconds for him to push his weight off of you, Jack sitting up on the edge of your bed and taking a long breath. “You gonna do the same?” He tilted his chin down, the smile creeping back across his lips. “Now’s a good time.” 

You sat up, too, but you didn’t move your hands. 

Instead, you waited to watch as Jack used his left one to grip the bottom hem of his t-shirt before pulling it over his head in one smooth motion. Holy shit, I’ve never seen anyone do that in real life before. “Jesus, Jack. That …” He grinned and then stood up, giving you the opportunity to stare as he positioned himself in front of you. 

He was gorgeous  - even more so than you’d imagined he would be. You let your eyes roam from where his jeans sat low on his waist, up and over the slight curve of his belly. Jack put both hands on his hips, which made his muscles flex again. As your eyes continued their journey upward, you bit down on your lower lip. “You see anything you like?”

“You know I do.” Humming as you eyed his broad, freckled chest, you shook your head slowly. “Can’t believe they make you cover all this up with a uniform every night.” 

“I try to show a little skin.” He shrugged. “Always keep a couple buttons undone.” That made you laugh again, and when you realized that Jack was the type to joke in the bedroom, you shivered. I’m going to enjoy this. “I think it’s your turn to do the same.” He was right. You’d stalled slightly, enthralled by the sight of him. But in order to actually take the night further, you’d need to remove your clothing, too. 

“I can do that.” You didn’t stay seated, though. Standing in front of him, you also pulled your shirt over your head, letting it drop beside your feet. He reached out, both of his hands sliding over your sides, and at the first contact of his palms to your bare skin, you gasped. “Jack, y-” You didn’t get to finish. He urged you closer, hands moving over your body so that one could settle against your lower back, the other traveling up to stop between your shoulders. 

Both of yours found their way to his stomach, your fingers curling inward. “I forgot somethin’.” He spoke quietly, tilting his head so that he could kiss your cheek. His facial hair tickled your skin with each word, Jack continuing to speak the closer he got to your mouth. “Probably don’t need to say it, but my shoulder’s still not at 100%, so we also need to be careful with that.” 

“Of course.” You agreed, and your hand slid lower, fingers catching the button of his jeans. “The last thing I’d want to do is hurt you right before you’re set to come back.” You popped the button and then moved your hand to the zipper. As you undid it, he dragged the edges of his nails across your skin. It made your back arch and pushed your chest against his, which is what Jack seemed to be waiting for. 

Things moved quickly from there, both of you impatient to rid each other of your remaining clothing. 

You undid the zipper while Jack unhooked your bra, both of his large hands sliding apart so that the could grab the straps. By the time you were pushing his jeans down and over his hips, he’d eased the material over your shoulders so that it dropped down your arms, the elastic catching on the crook of your elbow.

Being so exposed in front of Jack after such a short time should have scared you. It should have worried you, especially after the other women he’d likely been with throughout the years… but it didn’t. Instead, his touch thrilled you, and when he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them to the side, you opened your mouth to tell him - and were cut off with a searing kiss. 

He wasted no time, mouth locked against yours, his lips parted and the tip of his tongue prodding against the seam of your lips and waiting for you to give him access. Oh, Jack. It didn’t matter to you that what was going on was likely a one time thing, It didn’t matter that within a few hours, he’d be dressed and gone. 

Because for the time being, he was there, with you. He was in your bedroom, with his hands and mouth on you - and yours were on him. And he started this. The kiss continued, Jack deepening it as his fingers curved around the back of your neck, keeping you close. 

You broke away with a gasp, letting out a shuddering breath. I need to focus for a second. Jack’s eyes were wide, but before he could question you, you reached down and undid your only remaining button. Here goes nothing. You glanced down to watch as your pants followed the same path his had taken, sliding down your legs before you could step out of them. You caught a glimpse of him then, the material of the trunks he wore straining to contain a sizeable bulge. Ok. That looks … 

Almost as though he could tell exactly where you were looking, Jack reached up with one hand to adjust himself. At the sight of his hand against the dark material, fingers curled around himself, you sighed, licking your lips. I want to know how he tastes. “Can I -”

“No.” Jack cleared his throat and then said your name, waiting until you were looking up at him again to say anything else. No? What did I - “We don’t know each other well enough for that yet.” Yet? Does that mean he wants to know me better? “Hey.” He used one finger to tip your chin upward, his mouth lifting in a smirk. “That’s my own rule, but that doesn’t mean it applies to you too.” The tip of his tongue flashed between his lips, his eyes locked on yours. “I’d like nothin’ more than to -”

“No.” You backed away, your own smile growing. If I can’t go there, neither can you. “We should play by the same rules. Make it fair.” He looked surprised at that, both eyebrows shooting up, but Jack didn’t question it. Instead, he bent over and reached into his jeans pocket for his wallet. 

Flipping it open, he pulled a condom free and then turned away from you, setting it - and the billfold - down onto the tabletop next to your bed. You used the opportunity to stare at his back and the way his muscles flexed with each movement, his skin smooth. 

There was a smattering of freckles over his shoulders that you knew you’d think about each time you saw him on the field, but after only a few seconds he turned to face you again, one brow arched. “Bed?” You couldn’t speak, and so you just nodded in reply, forcing yourself to turn away from him and climb back in. Ok. Ok, it’s happening, and he’s going to … 

You felt his hands on you before you could get settled, Jacks’s fingers sliding beneath the waistband of your underwear and then tugging. He eased them down, and when you straightened your legs and laid down on your stomach, folding your arms beneath your head, he removed them completely. 

Jack was silent for almost too long, and when you turned your head further to see what was wrong, you gasped. He was standing next to the side of your bed, staring down at you - but instead of both hands hanging by his sides, the fingers of one of them were curled around his length, the man as naked as you were. 

Jack stroked himself slowly, and when he saw that you were watching, one side of his mouth crept upward in a sly smile. “Found somethin’ I like lookin’ at, too.” 

You were fine until he winked. At the sight of that, you breathed out his name, both eyes closing. He laughed quietly, and when you felt the mattress dip a few seconds later, followed by the brush of his knee alongside yours, you knew what he was going to do. 

He swung his other leg so that he was straddling your thighs, and then Jack leaned forward, one hand flat on the bed next to you to support his weight with his uninjured arm. He touched you with the other one, fingertips trailing over your curves and then up, and your eyes flew open at the feeling of his mouth following those fingers, pressing kisses to the exposed expanse of your back. 

You would have been content to let him kiss his way up the entire length of your body, but only moments after you felt him run the tip of his nose up the line of your spine, Jack spoke again. “Roll over.” He nipped at your skin, the edges of his teeth dragging, and before he got out the next word - a quiet please - you were moving, slowly flipping over so that you were on your back and staring up at him. 

There was a warmth in his eyes that surprised you - and you wanted to take advantage of it. “C’mere.” You brought both hands up, one of them resting against his shoulder and the other urging him to move his face toward yours. “Let me k-”

“Not yet.” Jack nipped at the heel of your hand and then ducked down, zeroing in on one side of your chest. His lips closed around your nipple and when he sucked, your back arched, fingers tightening against his arm before you gasped and muttered the word sorry, moving it down and toward the space between his shoulders. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he sucked harder and then released your skin, flicking his tongue against it a few times before you felt the graze of his teeth. 

You moaned then, wanting him to hear how turned on you were, and it was the right decision. 

He switched to the other side of your chest, mouthing his way across your sternum. When he reached your other breast, you groaned out his name, hips rising from their place on the mattress to meet his. He swore at the contact, but Jack chased your movement with his own, even as he lapped at the curve of your skin. 

You felt how hard he was - the length of him hot against your lower abdomen, a warm, sticky smear dragging against your belly with every short thrust of Jack’s hips. “Jack.” You whispered to get his attention, heart thrumming in your chest. “Jack, hey.” He raised his head at the sound of your voice, but he didn’t sit up, instead staring at you with his chin pressed against your heated skin. “You’re too far away.” Using your free hand as a demonstration of your words, you slipped it between your bodies. “I can’t reach you.” 

“That what you want?” Jack wet his lips, taking a deep breath. “You wanna get your hands on me?”

“Yes.” Dropping your hand, you pressed it to your belly. “As a matter of fact, I do.” Jack straightened up then, sliding both knees forward and then settling back so that his weight rested on his calves. Your gaze dropped from his face to his chest and then lower, and before you had a chance to talk yourself out of it, you were using both hands to push yourself up and into a sitting position, widening the spread of your legs just enough so that you could bend your knees and plant your feet to help you balance. “What do you like?”

“I’m gonna like whatever you do.” He leaned in, voice low. “So don’t you worry ‘bout that.” Those words were all you needed, your eyes closing as you met him in another kiss. That one was slow, and it was you that slipped your tongue between his lips first, the sound Jack made almost too quiet to notice. But you liked that, didn’t you. 

You wondered if he could hear - or feel - the thudding of your heart, the beat of it traitorously quick. He knows. He’s gotta know. You reached out slowly, your fingers closing around Jack - and when you stroked him for the first time, the thrust of his hips toward you was immediate, Jack’s kiss turning hungry. He held you close, one arm wound around your shoulders, the other hand pressed flat against your lower back. Wait, though. Wait a second … 

Releasing him, you pulled your hand away slowly, and when Jack mumbled your name, backing up, it was your turn to wink. “Just a sec.” Averting your eyes, you looked down, hoping that he would do the same. Am I really going to do this? The sight of him - so close to the apex of your thighs - made the decision for you. Yes, I am. You slid your fingers between your own legs, coating them. 

“Oh, fuck.” You heard him - and knew that he was watching. Good. “Can I -”

“Yeah.” You let out a shuddering breath and moved your hand back to him, your slick fingers gliding up and down his length. “Yes, Jack.” He scooted back a few inches, and though you never broke your rhythm, it changed the angle, making it easier for you to pause at his tip to swirl your thumb around and over it a few times before giving him another firm stroke. 

He rested his forehead against your shoulder and stared downward between your bodies, Jack’s breathing quick. And when he touched you for the first time, it caught you by surprise - the press of his thumb turning into a slow circle of the digit. Then it was you that cried out his name, hips jerking forward and your grip tightening around him. Fuck that feels good.

He couldn’t do much else with the way you were positioned, but when Jack lifted his head to meet your eyes again, he grinned at the sight of your face - mouth hanging open and both eyes wide. “Lay down.” He swallowed, closing his eyes and shaking his head briefly. Wait, what? “Lay down.”

“But I won’t be able to -”

“I know.” He moved his hand, letting it rest against the crease of your thigh. “Lay back.” You stroked him twice more and then did as he asked, reluctantly pulling your hand away as you settled against the blankets and pillows. You wanted to bring your hand to your mouth and pop your thumb between your lips - tasting even the slightest bit of him. But he said no. He said not this time. And so you didn’t, getting comfortable and raising your hips as you waited to see what Jack would do, both hands resting by your sides on the blankets.

He repositioned himself, too, moving so that he was kneeling beside you before urging your legs further apart with one hand. It had only been a few minutes since you’d climbed into bed together, but time slowed as Jack twisted his wrist and slipped three fingers between your legs, two of them spreading you open and the other pushing slowly into you. 

He focused on what he was doing, the smile never leaving his lips, and even though you wanted to watch, you couldn’t. Your eyes closed and you turned your head to the side, mouth open as your hips rocked forward and into his touch. One finger inside of you turned into two, each thrust of them a little deeper than the last. 

He knew what he was doing - that much was clear - but Jack wasn’t trying to make you come. Instead, he was focused on pleasuring you, opening you up carefully. Because he’s big. Swallowing, you opened your eyes and forced out a breath, turning your head to watch him again. 

For a brief second, you considered saying fuck an even playing field and telling him you wanted his mouth. Jack would have done it without question - you could see the look in his eyes, watched the way he licked at his lips while his fingers pumped in and out of you. Even just the thought of it turned you on, and you wondered if he could tell. 

You wanted to know what it felt like to have him between your thighs, and could very clearly imagine how good the rub of his mustache against your sensitive skin would feel. Not tonight. Not this time. Not - 

“I need to fuck you.” His voice broke you out of your thoughts and when you met his gaze, Jack’s chest was heaving. “Grab the condom.” You groped for it without looking away and when you handed it over, he accepted it with one hand, the other still on you. “I can’t…” He groaned, closing his eyes and pulling his fingers out. You inhaled through your nose at the loss of contact, but Jack didn’t keep you waiting. The sound of the condom opening was followed by a quiet hiss as he rolled it on and then held it in place, squeezing himself. “I can’t hold myself up.” 

It hadn’t even occurred to you. Of course he can’t. Holding himself up would be … “Ok.” Nodding, you moved to push yourself up again. “Ok, so I’ll get on top, I -”

“No.” Jack stroked himself once, pushing his shoulders back. “I’ve got a better idea.” Gesturing with his free hand, he pointed. “Lay down on your side.” 

You thought about it for a few seconds and then did just that, rolling onto the side that would allow him to keep his injured arm free. Jack got into position behind you, his body pressed against yours. One arm slid between you and the mattress and then bent at the elbow to cross up and over your chest. He wants me close.“Wh-”

“Relax.” He kissed the back of your shoulder and then squeezed your arm. “I’ve got you.” Reaching down, he gripped your thigh and then eased your leg up and back, urging you to drape it over both of his. “This alright?”

“Yeah.” You nodded, a smile on your face as your eyes closed. “It is, Jack.” He squeezed your hip and then reached between you, guiding himself into place. You held your breath in anticipation, and Jack didn’t keep you waiting. Nudging his hips forward, Jack slipped partway in - and your body did the rest. 

Rocking your hips back at the same time he pushed forward ensured that he was buried in your heat in a single, smooth stroke. You gasped at the feeling, but that reaction was nothing compared to Jack’s. He didn’t speak, instead turning his head and then ducking it so that he was pressing his lips to your throat, breath leaving him in rapid pants that warmed your skin further. 

He only gave you seconds to adjust and then he pulled back slowly, hips easing away from you before he urged them forward again, setting the pace. He gripped your hip hard, fingers digging into your skin, and for a few minutes, you let yourself get lost in him - in the way he felt and sounded and the way he was touching you, the hand on your chest sliding down so that he could cup one breast in his palm, squeezing just enough that you could feel it. 

He groaned against your neck and then bit down - not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to make you whine. While you reacted to that, he moved the hand from your hip down, returning it to the space between your legs.  

That angle was better - and Jack wasted no time in zeroing in with his fingertips, circling against you with quick, precise motion. It felt good - better than good, if you were being honest - and your body fell into rhythm with Jack faster than you anticipated. But something’s… Opening your eyes, you frowned. Something’s missing.

It was just sex. You knew it was just sex, and you understood the need for the positon; Jack’s health and well-being the most important things to consider. But … “Hey, you alright?” Murmuring the words into your ear, he slowed the motion of his hips and hand, though he didn’t stop either of them entirely. “You got real… stiff.” 

“Yeah, I …” Closing your eyes, you reached up with one hand, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. “I’m fine, I just …” Moving your hips backward to meet his as he thrust forward, you sighed. “I’m not used to not doing anything, and I feel like I should b-” 

“How ‘bout this?” He kissed the underside of your jaw, saying your name as he sunk back into you. “Next time, you’re in charge?” Next time? So that means… He circled his hips slowly, but didn’t pull out, leaving you completely full of him - and waiting to see what he’d say next. “How’s that sound?” 

Twisting your upper body so that you could look up at him, you took a deep breath and nodded. “Yeah. That sounds … acceptable.” He laughed at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. It was just a natural reaction - Jack’s response to a humorous comment - but it made your chest tight, nonetheless. I want to make him look at me like that again. You reached up then, your hand sliding along the side of his neck and then further back and into his hair, the roots damp with sweat. Jack got the hint, leaning forward until he could kiss you again. 

That time, he bit down on your lower lip, taking it between his teeth and tugging before he released it, mouth sealed over yours. It was a familiar kiss - much more familiar than you’d expected with him, but it helped to put you at ease. You nodded slowly as you kissed him back, fingers tightening in his hair as Jack’s hand resumed its previous pace - and so did the pace of his hips. 

You wanted to prolong things - wanted to extend the time you’d get to spend in bed with him, but your body had other ideas. In the space of only a minute or two, you felt the heat gathering low in your belly, your breathing quickening by the second. Jack’s hips snapped against yours, and when he groaned, you felt the vibration before he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against the side of your face. 

He was sticky with sweat, but it was the sound of his voice you focused on. You weren’t even sure that he knew he was speaking, but each word went straight to your core, your fingers closing around his forearm as your mouth fell open. “Feels amazing. So fucking good. Wanted you all week.” You did? He groaned and tilted his head so that he could kiss the top of your shoulder, and you moaned at the feeling of the edge of his nail as it grazed your skin, the motion of his hand slowing. 

That got to him. 

Jack’s hips stuttered, and when your eyes opened, you realized that it wasn’t going to be you that came first. “Oh, fuck, Jack.” Lifting your hand again, you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling harder than you had earlier. “You’re right there, aren’t you? So fucking close.” He nodded, each of his exhales hot against your sticky skin. “Let me feel it.” You sighed again, turning your face away from him to press it against the blankets and biting your lip as you arched your back, forcing him in deeper. “Feel you.” 

He came without warning, a low, almost strangled moan erupting from his lips as his hips slowed, the muscles in his thighs tensing along with the ones in his abdomen. You felt the heat through the thin latex, Jack filling the condom as the pressure of his fingers between your legs increased. “Feel that?” He groaned the words out, his voice uneven. “Made me come fast because I wanted you so goddamn bad.” He grunted, continuing to move. “‘S’your turn now.” 

“Yes, I -” You stopped when he latched onto your shoulder again, the pressure of his teeth firm. Your hips jerked backward and toward his, the combination of everything he was doing too much to hold off your own orgasm any longer. 

But unlike Jack, you were vocal about it, his name tumbling from your mouth over and over even as your muscles seized around him, the heat uncoiling and spreading through your body as your hold on him tightened. Oh, fuck. 

Jack’s hand slid back down your chest and settled over your heart, and when he released your skin from between his teeth, you felt him smiling against it, even as the movement of his fingers stopped and his hips slowed. “Fuck you feel good.” Yeah, so do you. Both of you were breathing hard, but it was Jack that moved first, swiping his fingers in one more slow circle against you and causing you to jerk backwards and press against his body before he pulled his hand away. What is … 

You got your answer moments later when his damp fingers trailed over your thigh and then your hip before moving between your bodies to steady himself  as he withdrew. Humming as he pulled out, you brought your hand up to rub at your face while you caught your breath, already steeling yourself for the loss of him behind you. “Jack, I -”

“Shh.” He eased free, a long exhale hitting the back of your shoulder. “Can you move?” Move? You want me to get up? “Face me, I mean?” The question shocked you, but you did what he asked, moving your leg first and then carefully turning in his arms. “You good?” 

“Good? Yeah.” Fighting the urge to lift your hand and push the hair away from his forehead, you narrowed your eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be good?” 

“Donno. That was pretty quick.” He swallowed, the tip of his tongue emerging to wet his lips. “Didn’t mean for it to be.” You didn’t? “Sorry abut that.” He used his right hand to touch your shoulder, his eyes dropping to the skin and his lips turning downward into a frown. “I know I said you had to be careful, and then I just -”

“Don’t apologize.” You did reach up then, fingers brushing over his temple and easing the hair away from his face. “I liked it.” His eyes widened and then Jack laughed, ducking his head to kiss you quickly, his hand gripping your hip. “A lot.” Instead of backing away after the kiss, Jack stayed put, his mouth hovering just above yours. You wondered what he was waiting for - if he wanted you to say something else or if he was about to speak again, but instead of giving you too much time to consider, he acted. 

It caught you by surprise when he kissed you again, his tongue licking over the curve of your lower lip. You didn’t keep him waiting, though, angling your head and opening your mouth for him. If you only had a few minutes left before he was gone, you were going to make the most of them - and if Jack wanted to kiss you like he had no intention of leaving your bed, you sure as hell weren’t going to stop him.

Eyes closed, you kissed him back, one hand absently moving over the curve of his shoulder and then down, trailing along the muscles of his bicep. You would have liked to continue exploring his body, but Jack broke the kiss with a sigh, shaking his head.

“I’ve gotta go.” You knew it was coming but it still hurt, the sting of knowing that he was just going to leave canceling out some of the elation you felt at being in his arms. “I fucking hate to just …” Jack trailed off, taking a deep breath. “I wish I could stay.”

“You don’t have to do that, Jack.” Bringing your hand to the front of his body, you spread your fingers against his chest. “I get it.” You repositioned your shoulders, nodding. “Places to go, suitcases to pack, baseball games to play.” His eyes darkened briefly, lips falling back into a frown - but Jack recovered, smiling as he nodded at you. 

“Can I use your bathroom?” He got up as soon as you gave him permission, one hand holding the condom in place while he rolled away and then got out of the bed. You watched shamelessly as he crossed the room and then left it, pushing the door all the way open and disappearing into the hallway. As soon as you heard that door close, you sighed, rolling onto your back and covering your face with both hands. 

“Holy fuck.” You needed to get up, too. You needed to get out of the bed and get dressed, so that when Jack came back into the room, he didn’t find you laying where he’d left you. There would be plenty of time to think about him and about the time you’d spent with him after he was gone. I wonder if he’ll think about me, too. 

That question motivated you enough to get you on your feet. 

After you’d used the towel from your shower earlier to clean yourself up, you pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of pajama shorts, glancing at yourself in the mirror after you were dressed. He’s going to need to come back in here, and he’s naked, so… 

You padded down the hallway and knocked softly on the door, letting him know that you’d be downstairs. But you didn’t wait for a reply, heading briefly into your second bathroom and then into the kitchen, pulling two bottles of water from the fridge. You downed most of one before he appeared in the doorway of your kitchen, once again dressed, though his hair was still somewhat unruly. I like it like that. 

“That for me?” He pointed at the second bottle and you nodded, sliding it across the counter. He drank from it, keeping his eyes on you. It was awkward, but only slightly, and when he finished with his water, Jack swiped a hand across his mouth and grinned at you. “Thank you, darlin’.” 

“Of course.” You sipped, shrugging. “A bottle of water is the least I can do.” 

“No, not for that.” He scratched at his cheek, keeping his eyes on you. “For today.” He’s thanking me for sex? Your expression must have fallen enough that he saw it, because Jack immediately circled the counter to where you were standing, reaching out to wind an arm around you. “No, not like that. I’m not thankin’ you for … shit. I sound like such an asshole, don’t I?” He paused, glancing up. “It was real nice to not feel like this was just a hookup because of who I am.” Oh. Oh, that’s different. 

“You’re welcome.” You reached for his hand, linking your fingers together and squeezing. “I had fun today, too.” His smile widened at your words and to your surprise, Jack pulled you into a tight hug, letting go of your hand to hold you close. You hugged him back, turning your head and pressing your cheek against his broad chest. “Maybe we can do it again sometime.” 

The words slipped out before you could stop them, but Jack agreed, taking a step back and saying your name quietly and looking directly into your eyes as he continued. “I’d like that.” There was nothing left to prolong his leaving, and when Jack turned away and toward the hallway, you followed, though not closely. “I’ll be back up here later this week, if everything goes well.” He put on one shoe and looked up at you, nodding. “Can I call you?” 

“Sure.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you bit the inside of your lip. “That would be great.” You wanted to say more, but chose not to. And when Jack stood up, patting his back pockets to make sure he had everything, you leaned against the wall, watching. I have to lock the door, it’s not like I’m hovering. “Drive safe, Jack. You’re gonna be on the road a lot this week.” 

“Yeah, I am.” He reached for the doorknob then, fingers closing around it. But before he pulled it open, Jack spun back to face you and crossed the small space, crowding you against the wall. “I know I have to go, but …” He trailed off as you tried to process what was happening, but before you could get your bearings, he was kissing you, the wall at your back and his body pressed to your front. 

Is this fucking happening? He pushed his tongue between your lips, letting out a quick breath through his nose, and then Jack’s hand slid beneath your shirt and up. His fingers splayed wide against your side, though they curled inward when you nipped at his lower lip, tugging on it. It is. And he started it and… 

You broke apart with a quiet gasp, and after Jack pressed another kiss to your mouth, he said your name, tone serious. “No maybe about it. I want to do this again.” 

Straightening up, Jack winked at you and then moved to open the door, lips curving up into the smile that you were all too familiar with. Ok. Ok, yeah. Yeah, me too. 

“Yes.” It was all you could manage - one word in a breathless exhale - but it seemed to be all he needed, because you got another grin before he stepped outside in the the still-warm darkness of the mid August summer, closing the door behind him. 

---

[iocaisaint]

Random things I'd change in ACOSF

Feeling particularly hateful, don't wanna see it move along

There's actually too many things to fix in canon!Nessian so it's not getting page time actually.

Figure out what Nesta's powers actually are/have 'Lady Death' actually mean something (in my mind she would be able to make things come to bring things back from edge of death, commune with the dead, kill people/parts of people like she can make a hand rot, summon the death trove etc.)

On that note instead of the imprisonment rehabilitation being about drinking /fucking have Nesta hurt someone accidentally (we know she was basically an atomic bomb levels of power AND was using alcohol to drown out powers it would make more sense)

She sequesters herself in Windhaven with Az (who's spending as much time as he can with mom post-war), the IC chooses not to be filthy hypocrites and listens to her when she doesn't want to be around Cassian

She meets Gwyn working in the library trying to figure out her powers. Gwyn storyline is mostly the same, only Gwyn has more of a desire to leave the library but hasn't reached the point in which she can. After their initial meeting Nesta starts helping Gwyn with her work.

Now Emerie! It's time to give my sister a storyline. So, one day when Nesta is out and about she finds Emerie like half-bleeding to death (in this version Nesta isn't in prison rehab so she can leave whenever she wants)

She helps her but Em is like tight lipped as hell as to what happened to her. We find out that Em basically runs an underground railroad type of situation where she takes Illyrian women and children from abusive homes to the more "progressive" camps; when Nesta found her her group had been intercepted and she chose to stay behind. Idk how old Em is but she's been doing this ever since her mother died at the hands of her Dad. I can't think of a better name so let's call them The Dropoffs™

Em and Az DO NOT get along in the beginning. His general feelings towards Illyria Vs her feelings towards the current leadership being functionally useless (she's right)

Em begrudgingly starts training with Az because he is the best and she wants to get better so that she can hold her own during The Dropoffs™ . Az also respects what Em is doing. Nesta doesn't train but offers moral support out 1. Fear 2. She doesn't want to

Nesta off-handedly mentions this to Gwyn, who asks whether she can join (same reason as in canon it would be something that Catrin would do. Nesta asks Az, he's like sure 🤷🏾. So slowly The Valkyries™ are born

Gwyn and Em butt heads initially because of the library. Emerie rightfully questions why she's risking her life when there's a sanctuary for this shit in her home that isn't offered to Illyrians

We find out that Beron & Briallyn are working with Koschei (we don't know the exact terms of the deal and won't find out until the next book)

Have Eris train her (I already know SJM gonna drag the shit out of Beron's death) he needs someone to kill his father, she needs someone who understands her powers.

This will include a side trip to GOT s3 known as the Autumn Court, we get Nesta being the courtier she was supposed to be, we get out of NC and we get Beron dead everybody wins!

We get some questions answered Mor, Jesminda etc.

Nesta & Eris kill Beron after much, much scheming and close calls. HL of Autumn Eris

While this is happening Az is whooping Gwyn and Em into shape decides to be dumb like in canon and show them off to the Illyria men. They get kidnapped for the blood rite.

Nesta is like absolutely not and goes to get them outta there.

She finds them with the bracelets, they've managed to climb Ramiel but Emerie is fucked up between having to basically carry Gwyn there and injuries they sustained along the way.

Nesta tells the Cauldron to go fuck itself in this version, has her one on one with the Mother and basically begs her to heal Emerie. The Mother does and everything including Emerie's wings are healed.

Sprinkled in for necessary character development Nesta coming to terms with her dad dying (we're sticking to the pre-acofas canon of her hating the man so she has actually complex feelings, also her feelings towards Feyre AND Elain, being turned into something she never wanted, her being really good at being courtier but also hating that she relishes in what her mother trained her in)

Also Modest Nesta in!

Lastly, Feyre is rightfully terrified cause her sister just came from murdering the oldest high lord to the blood rite, Nesta apologises for the cabin and also explains why she doesn't want to visit her dad's grave, she tells Feyre she loves her) AND SCENE

If I had to do a romance it would probably be Neris OR Nesta/Emerie cause why not

The only storyline I hate more than Nessian was Feyre's pregnancy so off-page Rhys got over himself called Tamlin and had him shift Nyx's wings so he could be delivered safely and then shifted Feyre's womb afterwards. A hard but ultimately peaceful delivery thank you!

[wittyworm]

Hey everyone! Long time no update

A LOT has happened since the last update. Back on March 6th, Shorty was admitted to the hospital, taken by ambulance. He had been passed out for several days on the floor unable to move. Lungs and limbs fulled with fluid. Fast forward to now, May 18, 2024, after about a month in the hospital and another month in physical therapy, he is able to walk again on his own! and the swelling in his legs has gone down significantly. But that’s not where the update ends. Because there’s still a lot we need to get set in place. 
He was able to get all of that much needed medical attention because we finally got him set up with a GOOD health insurance policy and were able to go to the Social Security Administration and set up his direct deposit to a bank that only him and I have access to. Everything seemed to be falling in place, but then he stopped receiving his social security deposit. He received a letter in the mail claiming that the direct deposit information we had just went and got set up again, had been changed on the 3rd of May, about 2 weeks ago. Neither he nor I understand why he would be getting a letter from the SSA like this, since we had the direct deposit set up to a new bank in February, that only he and I have access to. I’m thinking identity theft or something?

I’m not sure but, now that he is out of rehab, he is back at a motel. We’ve been asking around Davenport if anyone is looking for a potential roommate and recently just visited the house of a very kind gentleman renting out a room for $700 a month. Super ideal if we can get the situation with his Social Security deposit figured out (motels are way too pricey, even the crappy ones!).

The problem is, I do not have a car, though I am able to use my mother’s on Friday and the weekends when she is not at work, I am sort of at my limit with what I am able to do to help anymore. I had to leave my job due to multiple health issues, and though I have applied to many different jobs at this point, actually going in to each place and asking in person, I am having no luck, especially with no car, and only a bike with my declining health. I’m just not sure what to do. I am remaining hopeful.

Before we learned about the new situation with the Social Security Administration, Shorty had very generously offered me $500 to go toward the van I was trying to get. Not sure how to thank him enough for that. It’s now in my savings and I am going to keep trying to make and sell art and do odd jobs until I hear a response from any of the applications. Fingers crossed.

if yall wanna help me out i still have my patreon and kofi and a bunch of prints available. just lmk

[myechoecho]

Lovely Runner, ep 3

Im Sol time slipping back to the future was not something I expected. Her past self goes back to liking the other guy. So does Past Im Sol not remember any of the interactions with Sun Jae? Based on the promo she'll go back to past but will she be going back and forth? Will she always go to that particular point when she went back? What causes her to times slip exactly. Obviously the watch is key but what can trigger it?

I'm curious to know if Sun Jae's injury happened in the same way. We know from his future self interview that the race was his last. From that, I thought that he re-injured his shoulder there. But the new timeline it happens in practice. Either timeline is true, because the race IS his last. But I think the new time changed when the injury occurred. Similar to the fire, where it wasn't stopped but changed somewhat. Though how those two idiots kept fighting not noticing a fire or tons of smoke I have no clue.

Sun Jae was delightfully awkward around Sol and trying to tell her that he likes her. I'm also glad that he seems to have a genuinely good relationship with his father.

I do hope they start to transition away from Sol treating Sun Jae as the "Star" and her being his stan. I know this is the basis of the story but I'd like to see her connect with the fact she does not know past Sun Jae nor does she truly know the superstar Sun Jae.

Why would he know how to pose perfectly for the camera? He hasn't had his picture taken thousands of times yet. She knows about how his swimming career ended, but did she know about how he felt about constantly being injured and rehabbing? I know this came out in an argument with his father but it also had a ring of truth to it. She seemed surprised at the revelation.

I understand why she's like this with him but want to see her start to separate the two in her mind and get to know him as a person. She's only going to wind up hurting Sun Jae otherwise. I'm not trying to be negative but it is bothering me a bit. Still it's early on so there is enough time to for that to change,

I am curious about Sol's accident. Can she not mark it in her calendar because it cannot be stopped or is it being erased because it is future knowledge and anyone could look at her calendar? I think it might be a combination of the two.

[photmath]

Comme Les Fleurs - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Bingo and Tears

Summary: Left with no other options, Kylian must rehab his newly injured leg at a stranger’s home for the next month and she isn’t at all what he expects. Meanwhile, Aurèle has to deal with easily-irritated and sullen Kylian as she opens her home to him. 

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: cursing, brief frustration

Note: Thank you so much for the feedback for this!! I enjoy reading every comment and reblog lmfao, you guys are funny and super sweet. Think this starts off as a slower chapter but will start picking up pace in the next chapter. I literally hate writing the beginning of stories, oh lord. Anyways, a happy guest feature!

Kylian’s breathing slowly starts to calm down after a couple moments of Aurie leaving him alone. She was setting up his shower, making sure that he had the right necessities before she instructed him how the first shower of his will go at her place, especially with his worsening calf. He didn’t shy away from making his presence known in the guest restroom; his toothbrush and face wash neatly placed on the sink and a small toiletry bag beside them.

Her phone buzzes and she grabs it from her pocket and grimaces at the person calling, “Hey, Martin.”

“I’m going to need that plan by tonight,” he says.

She blows a raspberry, rubbing her eyebrow with her finger, “About that. Looks like we’re going to have to scrap it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kylian is going home today.”

“Going home?” Martin repeats curtly. She felt like she had just asked a stupid question in front of the class and was getting called out for it. “Are you kidding me? This guy—listen, I’ll talk to him, get me that plan by tonight.”

He hangs up before she can explain the situation, and despite the need to do so, time was dwindling down for her to make it on time to the retirement home.

She brings down the handheld showerhead and sets it beside the bench. Once she steps out, Kylian is already making his way towards the restroom.

“Did you get yourself a change of clothes?” She asks and his eyebrows furrow. He was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and adjusting to the bright light of the restroom. He shakes his head while he yawns.

She sighs, squeezing her way out of the doorway to retrieve his bag. She hoped his duffel bag contained all that he needed because she didn’t want to bring his entire suitcase to the bathroom. She returns, dropping his duffel bag on the floor beside the shower.

“Okay, I’m running short on time so we’re going to need to hurry.” She grabs two dark green towels from the tiny closet and sets them near the shower. “Kylian, are you awake?”

He nods, holding in another yawn, “Yes.”

“Great because I need your eyes on me.”

“Like a school teacher,” he mutters.

“Yeah, shut up.” She holds her hand up at his wide eyes, “It’s going to be better for you if I wash your legs and you do the rest. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now that it hurts to put on your shoes and socks, so if you’re comfortable with it, I can wash your legs and then you finish up. But I will only do this if you’re 100% okay with it.”

Kylian stares at the shower, trying to understand the logistics of what Aurie was explaining. The shower was quite wide and flat, no step to hobble over and a bench where he could sit. There were guardrails surrounding every side.

He rubs his arm, staring back at Aurie’s impatient gaze, “I’m supposed to be naked?”

She palms her forehead, “Obviously not, those shorts you’re in are fine. I’ll only be washing below your knees and you’re able to do the rest. That second towel—” she points to the towel on top of the small cabinet, “—is for you to have over your thighs.”

He dips his head down, “Okay. I’m okay with that.”

“Sounds great,” she gives him a thin-lined smile and he rolls his eyes. She fetches a small black box from her pockets, settling it onto the stack of towels. “Press the button there and I’ll come by whenever you're ready. Just take a seat on the bench, towel over you, and we can get started. Try not to put any weight on your calf.”

He watches her walk out of the bathroom and immediately pulls his shirt over his head, relieved to finally have some kind of break from being pooled in his own sweat. He swings himself to the bench and takes a seat on the cold porcelain bench, soothing in the chill. He covers his thighs with the towel and plays with the black beeper she had given him, it’s smaller than his palm with only one button on it. He presses it and a red light lights the other end momentarily.

Aurie knocks on the other end of the door and then slowly opens it, Kylian rests his head against the wall, his uninjured left leg dangling down while the other stays somewhat up. She walks towards him, crouching down in front of him to grab his leg so he doesn’t have to hold it up himself.

“I’m going to go ahead and take off your sleeve,” she instructs. He simply gives her a nod.

She unstraps the bands and tugs it off, scooting it towards the other corner. The silence between them was engulfing Aurie’s ears, the water wasn’t on yet but she wanted it to be. Any kind of noise for that matter.

Her gaze flickers to Kylian’s bruising, following it along the side of his leg, and her eyes widen once they land on what she could see from his hamstrings.

“Is it that bad?” he probes. She looks up at him, unaware that he had been watching her the entire time. His eyes were so hooded and drawn down that they looked like they were closed.

“Erm,” she stutters, “it could be worse. How about you lift up your thigh for a second?”

He raises his leg, “Come on, don’t lie.”

“Does it look like you had a skiing accident instead? Yes.” Her humorous tone goes unnoticed by Kylian as he spews out curses in Spanish, still grossly upset with himself for the events of last night. A moment of weakness and wanting to somehow get back at Aurie even though she certainly wasn’t the reason he was in this position.

She grabs the showerhead, angling it down as she turns it on. After putting soap on the washcloth, she starts to scrub his uninjured leg. Her movements were soothing to him and his frustration slowly seeped out.

“Martin called me by the way,” Aurie says and Kylian’s eyes flutter open. “I didn’t get to tell him everything, but I said that you were leaving today.”

“I am?”

She looks at him, her hands coming to a stop on his shin, “You are.”

“Is this about last night?”

She nods, “I was serious about what I said. I’m done.”

Kylian’s throat suddenly hitches and he gulps.

She continues to scrub at his legs, now going at a faster pace. “You can call your driver after the shower, or whatever you need to do. I’ll be on my way to the nursing home anyway.”

“I wanted to go,” he whispers, his voice still stuck in his throat. Despite the chill of both the water and porcelain, he was starting to get hot. Dread settles into his fingers as he thinks about going back to Paris, so he grabs onto the towel and fists it.

She smiles, “Didn’t you say not to lie earlier?”

He sits up, slightly annoyed that she was finding this entertaining. He sighs, “I want to go, Aurie.”

She rinses off his soapy leg and moves onto the next one, careful to not apply too much pressure. “Kylian, I don’t want you to go if you’re just going to be a total pain in the ass. Contrary to you, I care a lot about these people. They love playing bingo every Saturday afternoon and will absolutely hate me if I have to cancel. I am not going to ruin it for them because I brought a bratty guest with me.”

Another sigh, “I won’t be a pain in the ass, I promise.”

Aurie lets out a brief exasperated laugh, “Your promises so far mean nothing, especially after last night. As soon as I’m done from here, I’m telling Martin that I’m done. That you’re going home and will continue your rehab with him and whomever.” She rinses off his leg and stands up.

“Wait,” he starts, his hand gently touching her wrist. “I’m sorry about what happened. I shouldn’t have brought Lucette over without your permission or messed with my leg. I’m sorry.”

His eyes are more remorseful than what she had anticipated so she knew his apology was genuine. She lets out a small exhale, “Okay, thank you for your apology. I do think, however, that we should move your rehab back to Paris.”

He shakes his head, “No. Let’s just do it here.”

“No, I’m not risking my integrity—”

“And you won’t,” he assures.

Aurie turns off the running water, now that they were both clearly strayed from continuing his shower. “You do realize because of what happened last night you’re back on day one of recovery, right?”

The tiny crease between his eyebrows gives his confusion away. His wet legs were starting to itch as they dried in the cold and he pats them down. Aurie notices and immediately helps him, grabbing the towel from his hands.

She purses her lips, “That massage put you back perhaps a week. You’re going to be in a lot more pain than you should be and the swelling will take a little longer to go down. It’s even more purple than before because you just angered all the blood that pooled around there. Your hamstrings. They don’t hurt right?”

He lifts his leg and presses his fingers into his skin, “No.”

She nods, “Even though they’re purple, they don’t hurt because it’s just blood that’s been traveling up your body from the massage. Look, Kylian, I want to help you, but I don’t think you realize that your leg is my responsibility at the moment. You get it hurt? That’s on me. I didn’t think I needed to tell you that you couldn’t do anything to your leg, including massages, for the first 48 hours because I thought you already knew. But you didn’t, and that’s on me. It’s not on you or Lucette for not knowing, it’s my responsibility. So when I tell Martin about what happened, he’ll probably yell at you, but also come at me harder for not keeping a better eye on you.”

She steps out of the shower, drying her hands with one of the towels. Kylian’s somber eyes are planted towards the tiles, thinking about what to respond. If he had to choose, he’d rather be in her hands than Martin’s. This would be new to experience, something different than the walls of the rehab room at Camp des Loges.

She dries the floor of any water droplets and turns back towards a defeated Kylian, “I should’ve told you to not mess with it.”

He runs his hand across his face, “No, I’ll tell Martin that it wasn’t your fault.”

She gives him a sympathetic smile, “That’s nice but it won’t mean much—”

“But it’s not your fault, Aurie,” he pleads, trying to get closer to her again.

“It isn’t, you’re right, but this is how it works. My instructions weren’t clear for you, and I was never explicit with them. I just assumed you knew which was my mistake.”

Kylian asserts, “I’ll make sure Martin knows. I’ll stress it to him even. Can you just give me another chance?”

“Give you another chance?” She raises her eyebrows. “You’ve wanted to leave the second you got here. How could you want to stay now?”

His hands sink down beside him, shrugging, “I…I like it here.”

She huffs, turning the water back on. The shower head squirms as water travels through it, moving around and spraying right onto Kylian’s abdomen.

“Aurie—” He turns away, his arms stretched out in front of him.

She can’t help the foolish laugh that escapes her mouth as she catches it, “Sorry!”

Water trickles down his face to his shoulders and arms. “Really?”

“I’m sorry,” she responds meekly. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

He grits his teeth, wanting to continue his case to stay, but it was better to carry out the conversation when he wasn’t partially naked and dripping wet.

Aurie exits the bathroom and Kylian lets out a deep sigh that he had been holding since she first crouched in front of him. He hated how much comfort her presence brought him even if he hadn’t known her for long.

It was something about her voice, it encaptured him quickly. Her hands; the way her gentle fingertips just burned through his skin every time she touched his leg. She wasn’t treating him like an overly sick patient and wasn’t intimidated by his status. He liked that he saw glimpses of her wit and humor even whenever he upset her in the worst way possible. And her laugh, if he wasn't already sitting, he would’ve fallen down by now.

Aurie rushes getting dressed and then folds the blankets and mattress back into the couch, her phone buzzing with another text message from Martin, stating that he’d come by to pick up Kylian for a couple of hours later. The bingo session would be long over so she wasn’t worried about it.

As she finishes making a quick, sad meal of eggs and toast, she sets up her plate and hears the bathroom door opening, waiting to fish out another plate for Kylian.

He comes into her view, wearing a matching gray jumper and sweats, “I couldn’t carry my bag.”

“That’s okay, do you want any eggs or toast?”

“Sure.” He sits down at the table, careful that his crutches don’t knock over any of the pots, especially the one of her niece.

Aurie slides his plate towards him, taking a seat down in front of him.

“Were you being serious?” Kylian asks, having not taken a bite from his plate. He wanted to set it straight now, that he was serious about his recovery. “About being done with my recovery?”

She finishes chewing, “I don’t know…I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had a patient who willingly put themselves in this position because their girlfriend gave them a massage.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend.”

“Sorry, that was my irritation speaking,” she looks down. Kylian tilts his head down to get a better view of her face. “I just—look, if you want to redo this, okay. I’ll do it, but the moment you adamantly break my rules or just blatantly disrespect me, you’re out. Especially if it comes during this next week when you’re bedridden. You’re going to feel like shit and utterly bored that you’ll want to do something but you can’t.”

He continually nods his head at her words, digesting them this time and listening. He thought he would have to work so much harder for another try but here she was giving him another shot.

It wasn’t like she was opposed to keeping him here. She had already rearranged the bedroom in the other room to be his rehab room and would hate for all of that to be for nothing. Having to move the heavier equipment with the help of Raphael, her brother in law, that same day Martin called her. Meanwhile, Kylian’s attitude had shifted entirely from her first encounter with him. He seemed to slowly start trusting her more and as long as he was willing to work, she was open to giving him another chance.

“That includes not bringing someone over in the middle of the night, especially without my permission,” she warns. The way her voice drops into a more serious tone has Kylian fumbling, a nervous smile stringing onto his face. “I’m being serious, Kylian.”

He drops his head down into his arm, chuckling, “I know.”

It was cute.

She rolls her eyes in a joking manner, “Don’t be a shitty roommate, I’m serious!”

His shoulders only jerk harder as he laughs, “I won’t.”

“I don’t mind you bringing someone over but just give me a heads up—and they better not touch your damn leg. I don’t care if they have the recipe from God to fix your leg, don’t let them touch you.”

He sits back up, a bright smile featured on his lips. It was probably the first unstrained smile that he gave towards Aurie and she couldn’t contain her own smile. Her heart was warming at the sight in front of her.

She glances down at her plate, “By the way, Martin is coming to get you after we come back from bingo.”

Kylian's head drops back into his arms, “Ugh.”

------

“You can’t be serious,” Kylian deadpans, laying his head against the seat. Aurie had brought out the wheelchair she had kept in the trunk of her car for months, placing it in front of the passenger door. “I can walk just fine with the crutches.”

“No, you’re still not to be trusted right now,” she pats the seat. “Let’s go, we have two minutes before everyone hates you.”

He bites onto his lips to hold in a smile, his dimple deepening as he hops down, settling into the wheelchair. His arms wrap around the wheels, but Aurie slaps them away.

“No, you’ve lost that privilege too.”

He clasps his hands in his lap, chuckling to himself. God, she was not going to let up, but he didn’t mind.

She pushes him inside, speeding through the entrance to make it to the room.

“There you are!” Estrella, a long-time resident, greets Aurie as she meets her in the hallway. Estrella looks at Kylian, “Ahh, I see you’ve brought someone new.”

Aurie titters, “This is Kylian.”

“Ay, que guapo!” Estrella beams, winking back at Aurie.

Aurie’s cheeks rise with heat as Kylian just gives Estrella a goofy smirk. She presses the button so the doors automatically open, waiting until Estrella wheels in first.

Kylian turns around to face Aurie, “Look at that, they don’t hate me.”

“Oh shut up.” Earning an eye roll, Kylian just stares up at her, his neck straining to make eye contact with her. She looks down briefly, “What?”

“Nothing,” he blinks rapidly, facing forward as she wheels him in. She parks him in front of the table with the wheel of colored calling number balls.

“I should probably warn you,” she bends down towards him. Her movement has Kylian inching towards her, rejoicing in the feel of her breath and presence next to him. “They’re very blunt and will tell you whatever they think. So don’t take it to heart.”

“I would never,” he smiles bashfully while staring at her. She pats his shoulders, grabbing a hold of the microphone and clipping it onto her shirt.

“Sorry for the brief delay,” she greets. “I had to bring a fellow guest, this is Kylian.”

The group of about fifteen residents stare at Kylian, craning their necks to get a view of him. Kylian waves at them back. Aurie notices Maria, one of the snarkier residents, beaming, “Did you finally get a boyfriend, Aurèle?”

Some of them nod along, Estrella backing up her best friend, “You did great!”

Aurie’s palms grow sweaty, especially because Kylian keeps on glancing towards her, waiting for her reaction.

“Uh—no guys. I’m just taking care of him at home.”

Estrella whistles, “At home? Que rico.”

Kylian laughs, enjoying the embarrassment she was succumbing to. He was sure they didn’t know he understood Spanish but Aurie and him both knew. His fingers tease with the handle of the wheel.

“How about we just start?” Aurie suggests, trying to regain control. She knew there were more comments bound to happen with both Maria and Estrella sitting near them.

“You know, Aurèle, most of us have been waiting quite some time for you to bring in a child,” Estrella teases. “Are we going to have to die in order for you to finally have one?”

Kylian raises his eyebrows in surprise, Aurie’s warning wasn’t enough for that kind of comment.

“Gosh, Estrella,” she facepalms, hoping the murmurs and laughs quiet down on their own while she gapes, refusing to make eye contact with a simpering Kylian.

Aurie then starts handing out the cards, Kylian watching her silently as she walks around each table, greeting each of them with a bright smile and a hug.

He doesn’t notice he’s lost watching Aurie until Claude, the gentleman beside Estrella comments, “I remember when I was young and in love.”

Kylian turns his attention towards him. He bites onto the inside of his cheek as his mind rings.

“I’m Claude,” he gives him a small wave from where he sat and Kylian waves back.

“Kylian.”

“I must say, your wheelchair is a little boring, you should get an electric one,” Claude advises, adjusting his hat. “Ah, but you’re only injured, aren’t you? I can see your legs bouncing underneath.”

Kylian chuckles, “I hurt my leg playing football.”

Claude cringes, “Oh, don’t tell me you played in the World Cup last winter, Aurie wouldn’t shut up about it.”

This makes Kylian search for Aurie again. She’s making her way towards them, he gives her a smile as she notices him talking to Claude.

“Is this one of your boys that you treated when you worked with that team?” Claude queries.

“They play on the same team.” Aurie hands Claude and the two ladies their card, walking back towards Kylian.

Kylian shoots her a grin, “Can I play too?”

“Of course,” she whispers, covering the microphone. She scoots in the chair next to him, their elbows bumping into each other. “Claude hates football.”

Kylian leans in closer to her, “I thought so.”

She snickers, wheeling the call numbers, setting out a few. Kylian liked this. The calmness of it. Being able to be in a room and being the center of attention for only a couple of seconds before all eyes went back to someone else. He didn’t have to worry about his appearance or something he had to say.

He also liked to see Aurie in her natural element, and not just the physiotherapist that was taking care of him. She had a job outside of this project. People who knew her well enough to know that she didn’t have a boyfriend, or that she once worked with Neymar. They were accepting towards her hugs, not shying away from them. When giving out the playcards, she took her time with each resident, listening to anything they had to say.

He couldn’t pin it, something about her lulled him towards her.

“You missed N43…and B12,” she points. Truth was, he had stopped paying attention to his card a few minutes ago, lost in his thoughts—of her.

“Thank you.”

She clutches onto her heart, “Did you just thank me? Wow, I think I need to make note of this.”

He laughs, shaking his head. Before he can respond, she goes back to calling out the balls. He gets four in a row with the next number, earning a giddy golf clap from Aurie, but he doesn’t want to steal the spotlight from the residents by announcing it so he doesn’t.

He sits back in his chair, scanning the residents engaged in the game while Aurie places the calling balls into their right marker. A wistful smile etches on his face as he watches her and them in silence.

------

Kylian had left to go with Martin some time ago, while Aurie went grocery shopping, stocking up on food. She was currently cooking cheese ravioli, hoping that Kylian liked it, but she didn’t really care because she had already spent the last hour mixing and kneading the pasta. He could simply fend for himself if he didn’t like it.

The black beeper that she left on the kitchen counter starts buzzing. Kylian must have taken his before he left in order for it to beep. He had triggered the SOS call by holding down the button for too long. She rolls her eyes, setting it on a towel so that the buzzing stops. If only he knew Morse code, he would be able to communicate through it.

There’s a rip of sudden knocks on the door and Aurie halts. Kylian couldn’t have made it back that quickly, plus, she gave him a key to the house before he left in case she wasn’t home.

She tiptoes to the front door, skipping the areas where the wood creaks. She can make out a brown-haired man standing, much taller than Martin or Kylian, but her window is too blurred to decipher who it is. She sighs, grabbing onto the nearby bat, as she opens the door.

“Hi?” She wills everything in her to stay calm at the Spaniard. Someone who Estrella and Maria would have absolutely killed Aurie—without hesitation—to be in the same room with. She drops the bat beside the door.

He gives her a confused smile, looking down at his phone, “Hmm, you are not who I imagined ‘Aurie’ to be. I’m here for Kyks.”

Aurie was going to murder him. Another guest without notice. At least it was day time. And Sergio freaking Ramos.

She plasters on a smile, “He’s with Martin right now, but he should be back in give or take twenty minutes.”

Sergio slides his phone into his pocket. “Ahh, okay.”

“Would you like to come in?”

“Do you mind?”

“No, not at all,” she opens the door wider for him and lets him in.

A part of Aurie was screaming internally. She adored Sergio Ramos and thought he was an incomparable captain in her eyes. She loved watching and hearing him direct his team on the pitch during her brief stint of interning for the Spanish national team. After six years of being in the field, she’s been able to compose herself in front of big stars.

“This is a nice place,” Sergio compliments, following the trail of vines. “I’m sure Kylian hates it.”

“Why do you say that?”

Sergio flashes her a smile, looking back at her, “He hates plants.”

“Really?”

He chuckles, walking towards the dead plant in the pink-hearted pot, “Is this his?”

“No,” she laughs. “It’s my niece’s.”

Sergio takes a seat in front of it, “He’s been killing the plants in the lounge room for months. He constantly overwaters them and pours Gatorade in them, but they just end up replacing them.” Sergio snickers, looking back at a shocked Aurie.

“I would’ve never known that. He was encouraging me to revive that.”

Sergio’s laughter halts momentarily and then he frowns, “Ahh, no. He’s going to kill it. I won’t be surprised if all of these others end up dying in his presence.”

Aurie crosses her arms, “I’ll be damned.”

Sergio raises his eyebrows at her abrupt comment, “Oh—okay. I see why you got paired with him now. Here I was hearing that you were a total pain in the ass.”

She rolls her eyes, facing towards the pot to finish cooking the ravioli, “Please, that man is hilarious.”

“He has his moments, but for the most part he’s nice.”

Aurie scrunches up her face, one that Sergio can’t see, “Do you like cheese ravioli?”

“Of course,” Sergio smirks. “I’m not sure why he was complaining so much when here you are cooking for him.”

“He’s a diva.”

Sergio’s belly laugh is contagious to have her turning around to laugh with him. He quips, “I’m sure he’s just been acting out to get under your skin.”

“Well, you’re welcome to stay for dinner if you and Kylian don’t have other plans.”

The red flashing light coming from her beeper goes off again, another signal from Kylian. This was probably him saying that he was about to be here soon.

Soon, she hears the sound of the front door unlocking and Sergio stands up to go greet Kylian. Aurie doesn’t expect Martin to show up as the three of them come back towards the kitchen. Kylian and Sergio start conversing while Martin walks towards her.

She chokes on her spit, “Hey.”

Martin purses his lips, “No exercise for the next three days for him. I’ll help you with his plan since his circumstances are quite unique, but I do want what you draft up by Monday night.”

Aurie nods, “Okay, did you see his hamstrings?”

“I did. I gave him more explicit instructions.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

Martin holds his hand up, “Don’t be. He’s stubborn, Aurèle. He hasn’t ever had a serious muscle injury like this so he doesn’t think much of it. But he knows now. I’ve read him every single possible precaution there is.”

She nods, glancing towards Kylian who adjusts himself on his crutches as Sergio pats his head. Kylian looks towards Aurie, sending her a small smile before wincing as Sergio then pinches his cheek.

“I should’ve at least let him know—”

“Aurèle, drop it,” Martin says. Aurie looks away, chewing on the inside of her lip. “It wasn’t your fault. Kylian made sure of it and I know how he is. Under these circumstances, you’re handling it well.”

“Okay.”

Letting Martin down was like breaking a pinky-promise with a child. It felt gut-wrenching to her, knowing the disappointment was apparent in Martin’s eyes, but directed towards Kylian, not her. She couldn’t tell the difference apart either way.

Martin squeezes her shoulder, “Hang in there.” He removes his head and heads towards Sergio and Kylian. Sergio claps his hand, pulling him into a hug. Aurie goes back to cooking the ravioli one by one while Martin leaves.

Kylian swings towards her, sighing as Sergio nears the both of them at the stove. She stares at both of them looking at her quizzically. “What is it?”

Kylian breaks first, “I forgot to mention Sergio was in town, I was trying to warn you.” He points towards her beeper on the counter, while his own is attached to his hoodie’s pocket.

“It’s okay,” she chimes. “That was a surprise, but I heard worse news from him.”

Kylian looks towards Sergio who’s grinning widely, a worried expression sweeping across Kylian’s face, “What did he say? It was a lie.”

“He said that you hate plants,” Aurie crosses her arms, her hip leaning against the stove, trying her hardest to muster up a displeased face.

Kylian splutters, “No.”

Sergio laughs, swiping at Kylian’s neck, “Don’t lie to her.”

“I don’t not like plants.”

She takes the oven mitts and swipes it at his torso, him chuckling at the two of them. “If you kill any of my plants, Kylian, I swear.”

“I’m not!”

“That calf won’t be the only thing in pain the day I find out.”

------

Once Sergio left after dinner, Aurie helped Kylian recompress the sleeve of his calf, it becoming loose throughout the day. Aurie had kept trying to let the guys catch up on their own, but Kylian would often include her in the conversation, telling her stories about his visit to Sergio’s house with the horses. She didn’t mind it, and liked hearing the way Kylian’s voice would raise with excitement.

Kylian was going to need another dose of medicine in about an hour, and Aurie was fighting through yawns as she planned out a treatment plan for Kylian, papers scattered on the dining table. Kylian sat across from her, his eyes glued to his phone but not wanting to be away from her presence.

He looks up, noticing her yawn, “Go to sleep, Aurie.”

“You’ll wake up in a cold sweat without your medicine.”

He watches her scribble something with her pen and then marks it out. She writes again but crosses it out shortly afterward. He can see the weariness and fatigue in her eyes and he puts his phone down. The past two days dealing with him had been exhausting and long for her, and he wanted her attention to be elsewhere since she clearly couldn’t focus on making up this plan.

“I told Martin about Lucette,” he blurts.

“Good,” she comments, her eyes still casted down. “I didn’t get the time to mention it.”

“She won’t be coming around anymore.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry about that, really.”

She clicks her pen, setting it on the table and looking up at him. His heart shrieks at the look in her eye, so whimsical but drained. “It’s okay, I’ve already forgiven you. You’re fine, but do keep in mind this is my safe place. It’s secluded and unattractive to the press for a reason. I do in fact live here alone, and yeah, it can seem scary at times, but usually I have my dog with me. Not at the moment because you’re here.”

“You have a dog?”

She nods, “And a cat, but they’re at my sister’s house. Speaking of Camille, I’m babysitting my niece, Simone, tomorrow. It was a last-minute plan so I apologize for the late notice, but you can be in the rehab room if it gets too much for you.” She notices his nose scrunch up at the mention of her cat but ignores it. Not everyone is a cat person so it’s understandable.

“That’s okay, kids are cool.”

She points to the plant, “I think I’ll end up swapping that plant out with one of mine that looks similar.”

He chuckles, “That’s a good idea, and I understand. I’ll be more careful with inviting guests. I just felt annoyed yesterday and didn’t want to bother my parents, and most of my friends are on vacation so I called her. We’re…um, complicated.”

She cringes, not caring nor wanting to hear about Kylian’s love life. She hated utterances of relationships, always the focus of the conversation when they shouldn’t be. But if this was the one conversation that was going to keep her awake, so be it.

“You can always bring your family or friends that you trust here.”

His knee won’t stop bouncing so he pinches his skin to deter his mind, “Okay.”

Aurie stacks the papers into a neat pile, tucking them into the corner of the table, “Do you want to talk about Lucette? That seemed like an abrupt way to end.”

He grunts, wiping his palms on his pants, “She’s an old friend.”

“Friend?”

He blushes, “We were together for maybe six months and then she cheated on me.”

“Ouch,” she tries to hold in a smile but fails.

Kylian’s shoulders slouch but he smiles anyway, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

He snorts at her smile, “Anyway, I just kind of felt bad, she was losing a lot of her close friends at the time that I felt like I was the only one remaining. Even after she cheated, I ended the relationship but stayed in contact with her.”

She hides her yawn from him. God, she never imagined she’d be listening to his relationship problems and they not be all that worthwhile. She expected more drama, more glamor and fame, but this was…unsurprising. She despised cheaters, including people who cheated during board games. Kylian getting cheated on within six months of a relationship? She wanted to laugh.

“So you feel bad for her?”

He blinks, “Kind of.”

“That’s not a valid reason to stray her along. You’re just wasting both of your time. There has to be an obvious reason that none of her friends are friends with her anymore.”

Kylian thinks to himself silently. It was unhealthy, too much back and forth of if they were on good terms or not. He had lost too much sleep over the last months for nothing. He needed to put an end to it. He turns on his phone, searching for Lucette’s number and blocks her without a second thought. He then blocks her social media accounts.

Everything that Aurie was saying he was taking seriously. She could tell him that tomorrow it was going to snow in the middle of the summer and he wouldn’t think twice about it, just excited to be snowed in.

“I thought you weren’t a therapist.”

“You’re right, I’m not,” she snickers, “How was your thing with Martin?”

He groans, “You know, you’re a lot nicer than him.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Your hands are softer,” he admits and then freezes. He hopes that she doesn’t take it as an inappropriate comment but it’s too late. He watches the way her eyes ever so slightly widen in surprise. “I mean, you’re more gentle. He’s abrupt and doesn’t tell me when he’s doing something. Just does it. I had to sit in an ice bath for fifteen minutes as my punishment.”

She grins, “Oof.”

“It was more yelling by him than anything else.”

“That hasn’t been any different than me, you sure have made me more upset than usual.”

“He just scared me though, instilling more fear about my injury than I should've known.”

“It is a serious injury, Kylian,” her tone shifts from light to solemn.

“I know, but there has to be better ways to say it.”

“Would you have listened any other way? That if you don’t manage this right, it could take you a while to recover the fast acceleration you have.”

He deflates in his seat, mumbling, “I’m taking it seriously.”

“Now you are,” she points out. “You fucked it up more than it should be the very next—not even two days. The first two days are the most critical. You threw us both in a loop that even now I don’t really know what to do because this hardly happens. We were trying to get you out of here before physicals started and be ready before the transfer window starts their intensive screenings.”

Kylian grinds his teeth, suddenly being reminded of the looming summer transfer window. He hated talking about it. Hated talking about the possibility of leaving his team or staying here. He didn’t have much of an option to leave, knowing that his departure would only work if both parties agreed. He knew his injury wouldn’t hinder his options, but hearing the plans of just how much trouble Aurie and Martin were going through for him, it weighed on his shoulders.

Before Lucette had come over last night, he let his curiosity get the best of him, shuffling towards the makeshift rehab room and looking at it. It was almost a replica of the one of PSG’s except more cramped and lower leg based. There was a treatment table where he was going to be laying on at some point. He could imagine Aurie standing next to him, him laying on his stomach, while she ran his hands on him. Medicine balls, an agility ladder, and even a treadmill were laid out in one of the corners. Those were the only things he could see. The covered cubbies beside the treadmill showed peaks of some more equipment, but he didn’t want to open them, too worried that he would make too much noise and wake up Aurie.

He ran his fingers over the spines of the books on the shelves in the front room, pulling out mostly hardcovers. He scoffed at some of them, their titles too blunt, like: How to Deal with a Difficult Patient.

But he liked the chaos of the books. It seemed that she had collected too many books over the years that they didn’t fit on her shelves. Some were tightly squeezed on top of others, but it still remained neat.

He sits up, his foot kicking against his crutch and it slides across the table, hitting into her niece’s pot. His abrupt kick was enough to knock it over and the circular rim makes it roll towards the edge of the table. He’s too far to try to catch it, only shoving it farther as he reaches out for it. It cracks into three pieces as it makes impact, the soil spilling out onto the wooden floor.

“Merde,” he curses. He doesn’t look up at her, still looking down at the pink pot. Heat creeps up his neck once he remembers her niece was coming tomorrow, possibly in the morning. It was nearing midnight and Aurie wasn’t going to have time to fix the pot. “I’m sorry, Aurie.”

She gets up quietly, watching the way his eyes quietly take in the scene. She didn’t want to patronize him, knowing that it was an accident.

“Do you have glue? It didn’t shatter,” Kylian spins around to face Aurie walking towards him. She picks up the larger pieces and sets them on the table, a broom in her other hand. “It can be fixed.”

“It’s okay,” she says quietly. He takes the pieces, fixing them back into place. “I can just make her a new one.”

“She’s going to notice the hearts.”

Aurie can hear the panic in Kylian’s voice and she moves his crutches to lean against the wall, the broom next to them. She made sure they were balanced before she turned her attention back onto him. He was about to spiral and she knew it, having seen this happen before with different patients. The loss of control, the adjustment to their daily activities, it was too much for someone who was so active to suddenly stop and be put under much pressure. Even with the injury, Kylian had so many other worries that loomed his mind.

He spits out more lines in French, his hands trying to hold together the falling pot. He’s too concentrated to notice her inching towards him, and he’s starting to sweat from the stress.

“Kylian.”

“How could you not have glue in here?” He fusses as one of the pieces falls down, it’s so fragile that it cracks and he sighs. “Oh fuck off!” He lets go, letting the pieces crash down onto the table.

“I can fix it tomorrow, alright? Let me handle it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know, and it’s okay, it was an accident. It’s just a pot.”

“It’s not just the pot. I’m sorry for coming in here and wreaking havoc,” he laments. “I would have never wanted you to uproot your entire routine and get rid of your pets to help me.”

She pressed her hand on his shoulder apprehensively, “That’s okay, it was getting boring here anyway.” He leans towards her touch, his body heat soaking through his jacket.

His head sinks down towards his lap and she notices the sudden tremble in his shoulders. Her arm loops across his neck, pulling his head closer to her chest and cradling him. His arm wraps around her back tightly as he murmurs more words but she can’t make them out.

He’s overwhelmed with the sudden pain in his calf again; the shattered pot that’s in front of him; and the decision that keeps both him and his father awake at night, especially after the lackluster season. Aurie’s arms wrapped around him bring him the kind of comfort that he’s longed for, only making his tears stream harder as he melts in her embrace. Any other time, he would’ve felt embarrassed to be crying in front of someone, but right now he doesn't feel judged at all. Just grateful to have her in his corner even after they didn’t start on the best of terms.

She uses her sleeves to wipe away the tears that strayed down the side of his cheek while he grips onto her arm, not wanting to let go. If he could stay like this forever, he wouldn’t hesitate to offer a price for it.

--

Note: Me and always making Kylian cry at least once in a series. 🤝 Anyway, I heard there was a kiss next chapter??? But any thoughts, comments keep me going <3

Taglist: @karotland @darlingmbappe @mrs-bellingham @kylianswifey @kymb-10 @fictional-l0v3r @chaotic-taco-collector-blog @itsjuspenny-blog @mattmurdocksbigtoe @formula101x @et-in-arcadia-ego77 @lovekm @okayymochi @titti-maja @jokertbh @venus2eros @heli991113​ @neymarloverxxx​ 

[thatgirl4815]

the sandray boeing situation is so frustrating because ray is a very emotionally driven person "act first think later" AND he is at the very start of recovery which means he is in a very vulnerable emotional state right now and he is not making the best decisions right now and sand is ALSO in a very vulnerable emotional state from his shitty manipulative cheating ex trying to come back into his life and reopening old wounds so he is ALSO not making the best decisions right now and all people are focusing on is who between the two of them is in the wrong in this situation ugh it's driving me crazy.

also this is a message for the people who are either like "see he's making bad decisions again he hasn't changed and right back to his old tricks" or like this "see ray is trying to stay calm that means he's totally changed and he's just doing this to help sand in his own way": ray is NOT gonna change in one week he's gonna need way more time than this to start acting the way people wants him to act even if he did promise to change. sand's love and two weeks of rehab is not gonna magically heal him from YEARS of addiction and of letting trauma dictate his actions and emotions that's not how things work these things take time. ray is trying but he will make mistakes again. it's sand's choice to make whether he has the patience to deal with ray or not. him having the patience right now does not mean he will stay with ray no matter what happens. forgiving this or that mistake doesn't mean he will forgive every mistakes ray does in the future. if he wants to stay he wants to stay if he wants to leave he wants to leave, there is not one right or one wrong decisions. both of these decisions are perfectly understandable and reasonable.

Yesss I completely agree—you’re underscoring a really important point about dichotomous thinking in the fandom. A lot of the divisions I have seen have been people viciously defending or attacking another character without really taking into account both perspectives. Getting frustrated with a character’s choices is understandable, but sometimes that frustration leads to a lack of empathy and understanding for why they did what they did.

Part of what makes Ray in particular such a difficult case is his alcoholism and his sad backstory, which I actually think can be taken too far both directions: Ray’s behavior towards the people in his life, especially Sand, can’t be solely blamed on his personal issues, but it can be informed by them. Yet I’ve seen people jumping to Ray’s defense because of this backstory alone, and I think that’s where it can oddly get a bit out of hand. It’s good to empathize with Ray and acknowledge how his history/addiction guides his actions, but when that is used as an excuse in any situation, then it becomes an issue.

Anyways, I didn’t mean to go off on too much of a rant there, but my main point is I agree with you! Sand and Ray have faced a lot of conflict in their relationship, but regardless of how they’ve acted in the past, that doesn’t define their future. Especially for Ray as someone who is slowly learning to overcome some of his biggest internal obstacles, I think that growth will become palpable in SandRay’s relationship bit by bit.

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hi. I'm back for your integration). This time to an episode from the first season when Tim visits Isabel on Valentine's Day.

Why do you think Tim was the first to talk about divorce?

I remember when I first viewed it, it surprised me. He waited for her, fought for her, endured this nightmare and it seems he still loved her. Isabelle apologized, talked about the past. She tried to understand herself and explain to him why it happened. I don't think she's thought about the future yet. And then he offers to divorce. Does he no longer see a future together?

I can only explain this by the fact that Tim, having heard how Isabel felt his pressure on her, that she did not meet his expectations, decides to rid her of herself. (I wonder, by the way, if this is objective or just her feelings, interpretation or just excuses)

Sorry for the mistakes and hopefully not too confusing, English is not my native language.

This is a delicate (and complicated) subject so I hope I'm not saying anything wrong or offensive here. And as always, this is only my interpretation.

The way I see it, when Tim went to the rehab facility to see Isabel, he didn't know what to expect, what her state of mind would be. Hence why he admitted almost turning away twice. What he did know was that he wanted his wife back, that he loved her… But as he had learned the hard way, that might not be sufficient. Still, I don't think he was envisaging divorcing her. It's only once she opened up about the pressure she felt when they were married that he considered it.

At first, Isabel was simply trying to make amends, apologise for all the things she did. It's actually part of the 12-steps program, which supports recovery from substance disorders. Step 09 is about making direct amends to the people you've harmed. Now, I don't know if she was at that stage already but her wording was very similar. Here's what she says : "I don't want to talk about it, either, but it's part of my recovery. […] The whole point is to make amends with the people that I've hurt. And I hurt you most of all". She wanted to acknowledge all the hurt she inflicted… But he wasn't really listening. From what we saw, Tim had a major blindspot regarding Isabel's addiction, where he blamed everything on the drugs. That was his coping mechanism. But it skewed his perspective as well, as Lucy tried to tell him, calling him out on this several times. In his mind, Isabel didn't do the lying, the cheating… It was the drugs. He was compartmentalising. And now that she was in recovery, he thought everything would go back to normal.

Unfortunately, this isn't as black and white. She was under the influence, but she also did those things. And most importantly : she may be in recovery, but addiction can last a lifetime. This is a disease, it doesn't go away just like that. So while she might no longer be using drugs, she was still an addict. He needed to accept that if he wanted them to move forward. But instead, he was unintentionally dismissing what she was saying - something he tends to do when he gets uncomfortable. He wasn't ready to address any of that and she got frustrated, unloading on him, telling him how she used to feel this pressure to live up to his standards. So once he understood there were deeper issues in their marriage that might have contributed to her addiction, his blinders came off. He felt he was at least partially responsible for her addiction.

Now, I don't really think she was trying to blame him at first. She genuinely wanted to apologise and was not skirting responsibility, even when Tim was offering her an easy way out. This tells me that she was sincere in her approach. I also doubt she wanted to divorce him. Addicts are usually asked to refrain from making life-altering decisions like this in their first year, to avoid any major change that could trigger a relapse (and I'm glad the show didn't go there by the way). The problem was that Tim got caught off-guard. He had no idea what he was walking into and as a result, didn't have time to prepare himself. You can't force someone to talk about something so sensitive or accept your apologies. The other person has a right to know first and to choose whether they are ready to discuss this.

Like I said earlier, Isabel got frustrated when he was deflecting and she vented out. And whether that was her intent or not, she did place some of the blame for her addiction on Tim. Deserved or not. In 5.20, she implied there were things from her past she was running away from, developing unhealthy coping mechanisms in the process... So there were clearly other factors at the very least. But regardless, this whole conversation really highlighted the dissonance and the breakdown of communication in their marriage. Because he was never aware of how she felt while they were together. She never told him how she was always afraid of disappointing him. Anyhow, Tim internalised what she said and took on the blame placed on him. Hence why he decided to divorce her. If he could be a potential trigger for her, then staying married would do her more harm than good. He would always be a reminder to that low point. So he did what he thought was best for Isabel's well-being. It wasn't for him. It was for her.

(Don't you worry or apologise about your English - I'm not a native speaker either!)

[neuronary]

yknow. every time i see anyone posting any like. generational separation 'ok boomer' adjacent stuff, i think about my grandparents. both sets.

my mum's dad was a bricklayer throughout his teens, twenties, and thirties. he dropped out of school at twelve to work to support his family (nine siblings, which really puts my five to shame). he was a card carrying union rep nearly the entire time, organised strike action across three different construction sites, and negotiated pay rises for seven. he's voted labour his entire life, begrudgingly, despite thinking they are 'an effete load of centrist wankers'. even before the blairites.

my mum's mum spent her working life as a social worker, supporting hundreds of parents (largely single, working class mothers) through rehab to help reunite their families. she stopped me from falling for anti-communist propaganda in american tv shows several times throughout my teens. and she taught me to care about everyone i meet, even the ones that seem like total bastards.

neither of them are perfect. they don't use the right words. my grandad still misgenders me because he can't get the hang of they/them (but i appreciate the solution of stammering before yelling my name or alternating between he and she). my gran, right before i got top surgery, said "so, by next week you'll be my grandson". they don't get it, not really. but they try. and they'll love me as long as i don't get a job at a bank, vote tory, or cross a picket line.

then there's my dad's side.

both of his parents were long-standing conservative voters before i came out, then my grandpa (the epitome of the quiet, asocial husband seen on television) quietly starting voting green, as the only party with a robust pro-trans rights stance. my grandma (may her memory live on) ran a knitting drive of feminine cardigans and jumpers to donate to my transfem friends at her local WI. i recently found out that, in her will, my grandmother donated a not insignificant portion of her money to mermaids uk.

my grandfather has started listening to judith butler audiobooks (his eyesight is going nowadays) and presses on even though 'it all seems rather complicated for me' because he's an academic at heart, and he wants to understand me. he's past the point of being able to engage in much meaningful political action, but he sent me money to donate to my university's divestment lobbying group (objectively insane from a former tory) and spend on making them food to sneak into their sit-in when the uni tried to starve them out.

neither of them are, or were, perfect either. that's not the point. the point is that they changed. they were never what many people would term 'bad people', but they changed and they grew as they learned more about the world and modern politics.

tl;dr old people are not your enemies. the rich are. get it together.

[viceroywrites]

better than drugs

pickles x fem!reader

the two of you meet in rehab; him being a metal drummer punished for drinking while operating a hovercraft and you being a recovering alcoholic and drug addict who recently relapsed.

in the short weeks you spent with him, you came to two realizations; he was more addicting than any drug, and you never wanted to quit this drug.

ao3 version here - first two chapters are rewritten on tumblr and the rest will be the same moving forward.

content warning: this story involves discussion of alcoholism, drug usage, and drug addiction. reader is a recovering addict. suggestive sexual themes in this chapter.

chapter three - surrender and soul searching 

You let out a yawn, making your way into the large group therapy room. Your first few days in rehab had been surprisingly uneventful, meeting with your one-on-one counselor and the psychiatrist who to your surprise did not make any changes to your medication, and attending groups, breathing  a sigh of relief as the doctor that was at your second stint was not present. 

You end up running into Cecilia on your way into group therapy and sighed as she gave you a lecture after seeing you with Pickles in the cafeteria the previous day.

“I know, Cecilia, I’ll stay out of trouble. He’s not that bad once you get to know him.” You admit before wincing as she gave you a stern look.

“Alright, I know he’s been causing a lot of shit but he promised me he would tone it down. You just gotta know how to wrangle him in.” You put your hands up in defense and Cecilia sighs, shaking her head.

“If you say so, I gotta see it to believe it, kid. As long as he doesn’t drag you into his chaos, do what you want. You’re a grown woman.” Cecilia shrugged in defeat but paused, “It’s interesting how you got so close to him. You’re usually a brick wall with people, no one gets through that thick skin on day one, I should know.”

You glance away, not understanding it quite yourself, “Well, maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf. Maybe I need to change how I do things here so it actually sticks this time.

Cecilia gives you a pat on the shoulder, “It will stick. Now go to group, I don’t want you running late.”

Your feet carry you over to the group room and you scan the room that seems to be filled with other clients but no Pickles in sight. You take a seat closest to the door, your eyes taking in the familiar setting before they land on the 12 Steps written out on the board with Surrender being highlighted in red.

“Looks like we’re missing a special someone.” The counselor hums, walking in the room and his eyes narrowing in on the empty chair next to you.

“Guess I should go get Pickles, he’s probably trying to make an escape again.” One of the guards sighs, about to walk out the door to grab the drummer. However, as he turns his heel, he’s greeted to the sight of the red-headed drummer walking in the room.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to drag me here.” Pickles mutters, stuffing his hands in his pockets. His grouchy demeanor shifts slightly at the sight of you, a tired smile spreading across his features as he points to the chair next to you, “This seat taken?”

You stare at him in surprise, considering the first few days he had skipped the group entirely, being chased around still by the guards. ‘Guess the scolding I gave him last night worked…’ You think to yourself before  giving him a playful grin, “Yeah, it is. Guess you’ll have to sit in the corner and cry about it.” You say as you lean back to prop your feet up on the chair.

Pickles’ smile turns into a smirk, “I think I’ll have a seat, if you don’t mind, doll.” His cold fingertips wrap around your ankle, picking your feet off the seat as he takes a seat. Your cheeks grow warm as he places them right back down onto his lap.

You noticed the confused and curious stares of the fellow patients as well as the lead counselor and quickly retracted your legs back down to the floor.

“Alright, let’s get started then. Today, we’re talking about Step 3 - surrender. Now what does that mean to you all?” The lead counselor begins the discussion, eyeing the two of you carefully.

Pickles mouths a ‘Sorry’ to which you shake your head, smiling back as a silent way to signal that you were good.

-

“Okay, let’s take a 15 minute break and we’ll reconvene in the group room for the last hour.” The white haired counselor announces, getting up from his seat.

The rest of the group gets up to get coffee or water in the corner of the group room  or go to the bathroom. You stay in your seat, still zoning out from the lengthy group discussion that was only disrupted by an unruly patient that currently lays on the floor after getting tased by a staff member.

A nudge on your shoulder snaps you out of your trance, your eyes flicking up to see Pickles standing next to your chair. He leans over, his warm breath caressing your ear to whisper in your ear, “Wanna take a quick smoke break?”

You blink up at him, your heart beat picking up at his proximity before shrugging with a grin, “Why the hell not?”

Getting up from your chair, you can practically feel the counselor leading today’s group staring at the two of you down with some scrutiny. He was the same counselor you had during your stay in rehab in college, Dr. Hammettt. Feeling some embarrassment with having to face him again, you take up Pickles’ offer immediately, stepping over the body of the patient to escape the doctor’s judging gaze.

“God, I swear he can go on and on for hours about this stuff. Makes me wonder how he doesn’t run out of material.” Pickles snorts as soon as he’s out of ear shot.

“It's the same old spiel, I’ve heard it before when I was here in college. The steps have been around for decades now, no need to rewrite the script.” You chuckle, stuffing your hands in the pockets of your pants.

As you round the corner, you bump into Cecilia who’s making her rounds of administering medication to the patients. 

“You guys already done with group?” Cecilia questions, eyeing Pickles suspiciously as she directs the question more towards you than anything. 

Before Pickles can pour out an excuse, you already have one ready, “No, we’re on break. I was just heading back to my room to grab my sweater since it’s cold in the group room.”

“And you?” The nurse turns her gaze to Pickles, clearly suspecting the worst as he has been tearing the facility up every single day since he’s checked in.

“Just tagging along with her, got nothing better to do.” Pickles admitted honestly, though he recognizes that the suspicion the nurse has in him is valid, wondering how she knows you in the first place.

“I’ve got him on a tight leash, don’t you worry, Cilia. Come on, let’s get going, break time’s almost up.” You grin playfully as you grab Pickles by the collar of his black tank  and start tugging him towards the direction of your room. He lets out a yelp, “Alright, I’m coming!”

Cecilia watches the two of you walk away in curiosity, “Huh, never seen her smile like that here before.”

You close the door behind you once Pickles steps in, letting out a sigh of relief. “God, why does it feel like I have a target on my back? All the staff keep staring at me like they know I’ve got these cigarettes on me.”

Pickles flops down onto your bed, getting a whiff of your scent as he settles into the sheets. His back against the wall, his hands behind his head, he gives you a grin, “I’m sure that’s mostly because you’re hanging around me. You already know the kinda reputation I have here.”

You reach for the pack of cigarettes in your duffel bag compartment, grabbing the lighter and walking towards the bed, “You’ve certainly made a name for yourself. You know stirring shit up makes your stay longer, right?” You chuckle, sitting on the edge of the bed as your thumb flicks the lighter.

Cursing under your breath at a few failed attempts, you blink owlishly as the lighter is taken out of your hands. With the cigarette dangling from your lips, you glance up at Pickles who shakes his head in amusement, “Need some help again? Remind me to get you a better lighter when we get out of here, this thing is a piece of shit.”

Somehow, Pickles is able to get it lit on the first try, bringing the flame to the tip of the cigarette. You roll your eyes, inhaling slowly before pulling the stick out of your mouth, exhaling the smoke in his face, “Whatever, my fingers are smaller than yours.”

Pickles lets out a cough as the smoke fills his nostrils, wafting it away before smirking at your bold gesture. “Mind if we share? I  don’t wanna bum one of your stash and we gotta finish it quickly. We only got five more minutes before we need to head back.”

You pass the cigarette over to the red-haired drummer, your fingertips brushing as he takes it from you. You take note of how calloused his fingers felt, probably chalked up to his years as a drummer. Watching as he takes a puff, your eyes can’t help but linger on his lips as they wrap around the butt of the cigarette.

Your gazes lock as he stares at you with a shit eating grin, catching where you were staring, “My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” You roll your eyes, grabbing the pillow at the edge of the bed and hitting the drummer with it. He lets out a laugh, taking the pillow to prop up against the wall to support his back.

You swipe the cigarette back, taking a few more puffs before finally passing it back to Pickles who mumbles out a question as the cigarette dangles from his lips, “So how do you know the old hag?”

You roll your eyes, shifting so your back is up against the wall, sitting closer to Pickles. Your legs brush up against each other as you did not leave much space in between you two. “The old hag is Cecilia. She’s been a nurse since my stay in high school. You could say she’s like my second mom here… if my mom was actually mom.”

Pickles chuckled, finishing the rest of the cigarette as only the butt is left, “You’re preaching to the choir if we’re talking about bad parents.” You extend your hand out to which he drops the butt into your palm.

“Oh really? I’m curious to hear some of your backstory, maybe I can sell it to the tabloids when we get out of here.” You chuckle, sliding off the bed to grab some tissues, wrapping the butt in a few before placing it carefully in your trash can. You remember to grab a sweater, actually needing it since the group room was pretty chilly.

“Oh shit, we only got a minute left.” Pickles mutters, glancing at the clock in your room. Your eyes widen, quickly grabbing a perfume bottle to mask the scent of the cigarette smoke. You toss it over to Pickles who stares at you like you’re crazy.

“Oh don’t be a pussy, just put it on unless you want to get into more trouble.” You huff to which he complies to your demand, spritzing the perfume on his clothes before tossing it back to you.

You both exit the room, shoulders tense as you make your way back to the group room just in time. You take your seats, staring at each other with wide eyes as Dr. Hammett walks back into the room, coffee in hand.

He steps over the body of the patient just like you and Pickles had done, taking a seat in his chair, “Alright, let’s continue. Since you’ve been through this before, tell the group a little about your journey with Step 3, Y/N.”

You blink owlishly at the doctor, still a bit on edge after just having smoked a cigarette and barely having enough time to mask the scent than you normally would. “R-Right…” You take a deep breath to calm your nerves.

“Well, surrender to me means acknowledging that we’re not in control. Not just with alcohol or drugs but with a lot of things in life. People, places, things. We just use drugs and alcohol to feel in control sometimes.” You begin to explain, looking down at your feet as you always found it hard to give a share while looking at the people in the room, feeling scrutinized.

Pickles watches you answer with surprising interest. If he was wrangled into group by the bodyguards, he would tune it out, waiting for his turn to give some sort of half-baked answer that normally would not fly and finally blurt out his honest thoughts after much pressing. Anything the doctor said would often go in one ear and out the other. Yet somehow, what you had to say had some truth to it for him.

“Where do you think you’re at with this step as of today, Y/N?” The doctor questions, satisfied with your answer as he notes how Pickles, who typically is checked out, seems at least slightly engaged. 

“I think I’ve worked through Step 3. I know I have a problem and I know I can’t control people, places, and things.. I think at this point, surrender is easy - isn’t that why I’m here?” You say with a shrug.

“Thanks for your share, Y/N. We’ll move on to you, Eric.” Dr. Hammett nods, giving you a sincere smile which he typically doesn’t do before redirecting his attention onto another patient.

You let out a deep breath, feeling the pressure being lifted off your shoulders.

The rest of group goes smoothly, everyone going around to share what surrender meant to them. Even Pickles gives  an answer without much pressing.

As the group wraps up, you get up from your chair and follow behind Pickles before being stopped as your name is called out. You look over your shoulder, seeing the doctor being the source and glance back at Pickles. “I’ll catch up with you later, see you at dinner.” Pickles nods, looking back in concern before walking out, closing the door behind him.

“Am I in trouble, Doc?” You ask, walking up to him with a hesitant smile. You’re convinced that you’ve been discovered and may suffer the consequences of it.

Instead, Dr. Hammett places his clipboard down, “Far from it. As much as it's sad  to see you back here, I’m glad to have someone in the group who actually knows the steps. I swear groups are going to be different now with you here.” 

You relax visibly, blinking owlishly in surprise, “Oh, well, I’m glad that I could help at least.”

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to… well, you’re going to anyway in group but how’d you end up back here? Don’t tell me you went on another bender?” He asks, a mixture of concern and curiosity in his eyes.

“No, no… I’d like to hope my bender days are behind me. I ended up drinking a bottle of wine after a stressful day at work… roommate caught me, told my parents.” You admit, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

Dr. Hammett blinks at your answer, crossing his arms, “That’s it? Just one night? You could’ve just gone to more meetings again, checked in with your sponsor… you didn’t need to come all the way back to rehab.”

You look away, sighing, “Well, you know my parents. It was either rehab or move back in with them so they can ‘monitor’ my sobriety.”  Your fingers curl to emphasize the quotation marks to which he chuckles at.

“Well, hopefully, this stay will be a lot shorter than the others. You know your steps, just work them, participate in group and I think you’ll be ready for discharge in the next two weeks.” The doctor explains, “If anything, I’d love to have you here longer to kick these other guys into gear.”

You chuckle, shaking your head, “I’ll have to politely decline staying here longer. I have a job I have to get back to in a month.” 

“By the way… I noticed you’ve been friendly with Pickles. You probably already know the reputation he has around here.” Dr. Hammettt’s voice shifted into a more serious tone. “Just be careful. The last thing I’d want is for your recovery to be compromised because you’re hanging around him.”

Your eyes narrow, a bit offended at how everyone assumes you’ll be corrupted by the red-haired drummer. You reply as you cross your arms across your chest, “I’m fine, Doc. I told Cilia already I’ve reigned him in a bit so hopefully he won’t be too much of a ruckus for the rest of my stay. Can’t guarantee he’ll be the same if I discharge before him.”

“Don’t tempt me, Y/N. I might keep you around longer just to play babysitter for a bit.” The doctor chuckles, relaxing a bit, “Well I won’t keep you any longer, you’ve been listening to me ramble for the last three hours.”

-

Pickles finds himself anxiously pacing around his room, wondering if you got caught. 

Trying to preoccupy himself, Pickles reaches into his beat up, black duffel bag, pulling out  a set of drumstick and a practice pad. He grabs his headphones, hooking it up to his Dethphone. Sliding the earbuds in, he scrolls through the music files Nathan had sent him before he had been exiled to rehab for their upcoming concert in Australia. He figured he might as well practice even though it was still up in the air if he was even going to play.

Selecting a song, his hands move almost instinctively, drumming on the beat with exact precision. His eyes close as he attempts to focus on the rhythm that plays in his ears but his thoughts begin to drift.

‘Dude, you totally screwed her over. You’re gonna fuck up her recovery, she’s actually tryna to get clean for good reasons.’ The angel on his shoulder nags at him.

‘So what? She’s the one who brought the cigarettes in the first place. Besides, she’s just some chick you met a few days ago.’ The devil on his shoulder snorts.

‘Yeah, some chick that you seem to be getting pretty cozy with. Ya know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re starting to like her.’ 

‘Like her? I’m just horny, and she’s the only one here who isn’t walking around like they’re a freaking zombie. She’s a good fuck at best.’

‘Oh yeah, is that why you went to group today? Just cause she’s a good fuck? Not cause you just wanted to spend more time with her.’

“Fuck!” Pickles curses, tossing his drumsticks onto the ground as he loses track of the tempo, falling behind. He pulls the earbuds out and sighs in annoyance, catching himself wondering why he’s even concerned about you in the first place. After all, his main goal is supposed to be getting out of this hell hole as soon as possible so he can join his band again.

Before he can collect his thoughts, he hears a knock on the door and groans, getting up and opening the door, “Look, I didn’t do shit-” His words are cut off as he’s greeted to the subject of his worries, staring at him in confusion.

“Jeez, it’s just me, calm down.” You mutter, “Did I interrupt something? I could hear you practicing from out here.”

“No.. it’s fine.” Pickles sighs, stepping out of the way to let you in, “Wanna come in? I can’t focus anyways.”

“Sure, might as well kill some time before dinner.” You step inside, surveying the room that looked identical to yours. You see the drumsticks on the floor and pick them up, glancing back at Pickles, “It sounded really good, by the way. Well, until you got frustrated and got off tempo.”

“No shit, I’m in fucking Dethklok. Of course, I sound good.” Pickles takes the drumsticks from your hands and you stare at him as he takes a seat on his bed.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” You question him, hands on your hips.

“Just ready to get the hell out of here..” Pickles mutters, glaring down at the floor before his conscience finally weighs down on him. He finally surrenders and glances up at you, “Hey.. uh.. sorry if I got ya in trouble today. Ya know with the smoking.” 

Your eyebrow raises. The gears start to turn and you  put the pieces together, letting out a laugh, “Oh my god, you were all wound up over the fact that I might’ve gotten in trouble?”

Pickles glares up at you, flipping you the bird, “I was not! I’m not a complete dildo though… figured I’d apologize or whatever.” 

“Well you have nothing to apologize for, I didn’t get in trouble. Don’t you worry your pretty little drummer head about it. Dr. Hammett just wanted to catch up since he was my counselor during my second time here.” You chuckle, finally taking a seat next to the drummer.

“I wasn’t worried… but that’s good to hear.” Pickles sighs, tossing his drumsticks back into his duffel bag and laying down on the bed. 

“I get it though… being ready to get out of here. Days feel like weeks in here honestly.” You hum, looking down at Pickles as he lounges on the bed with his hands behind his head, “Listen, some friendly advice, you can take it or leave it. Keep doing what you did today. Don’t fight, just go to groups, even if you don’t pay any attention. Participation matters and the more you’re what they call ‘non-compliant’ the longer they’ll keep you here.”

Pickles digest the information you give him, closing his eyes before looking back up at you, “Fine, I’ll do it. You’ve done this 2 times already, you gotta know what works and what doesn’t.”

You’re pleasantly surprised at his reaction, expecting more resistance before smiling, “Well that didn’t take much convincing.”

“Ya know, that doesn’t mean, I’m not going to still make the staff’s lives a living hell, right?” Pickles gives you a shit-eating grin, “I’ll just have to find other ways to get under their skin.”

“God, you’re the worst.” You snicker, “So why were you practicing earlier? Aren’t you technically out of the band?”

“Only until I get out of here. We got an upcoming gig in Australia… where my douchebag brother, Seth, is. Hopefully, I’ll get to play then and redo that whole hovercraft bullshit.” Pickles explains, grabbing his headphones and Dethphone, “Wanna listen?”

Your head tilts in curiosity, glancing from Pickles to the Dethphone. Pickles chuckles at your reaction, shaking the phone teasingly, “Come on, ya know, you wanna.”

“Fine since you’re offering,” You groan playfully, taking the extra earbud and popping it into your ear, “I wanna hear the song you played during the hovercraft incident. I was kinda disappointed when it got cut off so abruptly.”

“Man, you really like torturing me, don’t cha?” Pickles chuckles cynically before pressing play, “I don’t blame ya, we worked hard on that one.”

You spent the rest of the evening, with a break for dinner, discussing the songs Pickles had shown you, and getting to know more about Pickles�� life with Dethklok, laughing yourself to tears at all the ridiculous stories he shared.

“So ya got a favorite Dethklok member?” Pickles teases as you two walk towards your room. You think over his question before shrugging your shoulders, “I mean you’re my favorite Dethklok member that I’ve met.”

“I’m the only Dethklok member you’ve met.” Pickles says in a deadpan voice and you giggle, “Well, I guess I’ll have an answer for you when I meet all of them.”

“Oh, that’s such a cop out and you know it.” Pickles groans as you arrive at your door.

“Too bad, that’s my answer for now! Though Toki is kinda cute.” You admit, grinning widely at Pickles’ offended reaction. “Alright, I’m gonna knock out, better see you in group tomorrow!”

You give Pickles one last wave and smile before disappearing behind your door. The drummer chuckles as he shakes his head, making the walk back to his room.

He quickly strips out of his clothes, ready to pass out, standing in just his tighty-whities. Since he had only packed a few pairs of clothes, Pickles had been rotating out most of black tanks, giving it a good old sniff test to see if it would be good for the next day.

He freezes as the scent of your perfume fills his nostrils, forgetting that he had doused himself in it earlier in the day to drown out the cigarette smell. His body feels warm from just your scent, imagining burying his head into your neck as he fucks you. Pickles looks down, groaning at the sight of a sizable bulge having formed in his briefs.

“Ah fuck.” 

[fnaffancontentbutmostlyglamrocks]

The Gondola ride is a cover up by Fazebear corporation. None of that happened. They played you for fools.

YEAH, NO SHIT

Trust me. Monty and Bonnie fans know it's a cover-up. It's cute and just lets us have fan fiction and art fodder.

Also, how else did you expect the company to explain Bonnie's dissappearance?

"What the fuck is this!" Bonnie lashed out almost hitting the confused alligator holding his bass guitar.

"Bon please don't take this personally....we just" Freddy looked away and sighed.

"We care about you, and we can't stand to see you do this to yourself anymore" Chica tries to put her hand on his shoulder

Bonnie slapped her hand away.

"Don’t you dare touch me you useless bitch. If anyone should be replaced with some yokal, it's you"

"Enough!" Roxy’s voice echoing across the room. "You did this to yourself! The drugs, alcohol, and sex. You're addicted and need help!"

"It was my idea," Freddy said solemnly. "I love you too much to see you like this"

"You wouldn't understand. I'll never get better. Why do you even bother." Bonnie stopped and started to cry."Everyone hates me"

"No one hates you, Bonnie." Bonnie was surprised to hear Monty. "We all want to see you get help"

"So the replacement is trying to comfort me"

"Monty isn't replacing you Bon." Freddy softly remarked. "He's just holding your spot so you can go to rehab"

"I always remembered the shows you used to perform near my swamps." Monty breathed. "You inspired me to be better. To reach out and try new things, " he looks at the bass guitar.

"I was in a bad place myself when you first met me. First watched me play and told me I had potential. " He looked at Bonnie "Now, I want to return that favor" He looks down

"All of it depends on whether you accept you need help and change"

Bonnies tears had stopped at this point. He wiped his face clean and apologized for how he acted.

"Alright, I'll get the help I need. I'll go to rehab, but you better keep that bass warm for me Monty"

"You know I will"

The ride came to a sudden stop and crash. Cassie barely crawled back up onto the catwalks.

"Now I know why my dad wouldn't let me on that ride."

She looks off in the distance and see’s Monty.

"ROARAHHAH ARH ROAAHH"

"I won't do drugs Monty!"

Monty lifts his right hand up and gives a thumbs up. He's still gonna kill this child, tho. At least she's not gonna die from an overdose.

[safetycar-restart]

Hello. Some soft lance thoughts for you from after his accident (or an imaginary one)

As soon as you found out he was injured you were there, by his side. Listening to everything being said and reassuring him it’ll be okay. When you get him home you take the best care of him, you don’t let him do a thing if it isn’t on his rehab plan. When he’s not rehabbing he’s in your arms getting cuddles and you even feed him and wash him and dress him. You make it your goal to make his recovery as smooth sailing as it can be. Makes sure ice baths are ready after sessions, run him warm baths to relax and even help with some of the exercises when he really doesn’t wanna do them.

You go to the race with him and after that finish? You lay him on the bed saying he needs to rest now and you massage every inch of his body and let him fully relax.

-🐢

We absolutely need soft lance thoughts you’re so right.

Firstly, honestly I think he might try to hide the accident from you? Like if you weren’t with him when it happened, he would try to act like everything is fine because he doesn’t want you to drop everything to race over and help him.

But of course that doesn’t work out.

He tries to be strong but he needs all the support he can get and his family can tell how much he’s struggling with not having you there. So within two days you’re informed and you rush right over.

You don’t even get to finish berating him for not immediately telling you before he’s crying and saying “thank you” over and over again because he’s so so thankful you came because he needed you so bad.

From then onwards, you’re a team. That’s the best thing to call it. You’re a team.

You sit with him for every doctor’s visit and physio session, never letting him go alone. He always looks to you whenever the doctor finishes talking, making sure that you understand everything because that’s as important as him knowing himself.

He actually sends everyone else away when he gets sent home? He doesn’t want his whole family looking over his shoulder when he’s this vulnerable and defenceless. He has you, and that’s all he needs.

He works so hard at home, doing everything he possibly can to heal and you’re so so proud of him. He’s so thankful to have you helping him, to have someone help him shower and change and wash his hair and make him food and help him shave. Everything that if you weren’t there, he’d have to ask someone else to do and the thought of that makes his skin crawl.

And of course he gets all the cuddles!! And cheek kisses.

You come up with a rule that whenever he finishes a set of a rehab exercise, he gets a kiss on each cheek and he takes that rule VERY seriously. It is of utmost importance to his healing that he gets his cheek kisses.

You’re very nervous about the race, especially when you see how tired he is after a day of practice sessions. He just collapses into your arms, not even capable of taking his own race suit off.

You very nearly ask him not to race, but you know exactly how hard he’s worked and you know that if you asked him, he would listen and regret it. So you just support him as best you can.

And holy fuck!! Points!! His performance was fucking incredible and you couldn’t be more proud.

Lance, of course, is overjoyed with his performance as well and he sees it as a joint victory? He mentions you in every single post race interview, saying he would ever have been able to do it without your support. And he knows that’s true.

And yes, you sweep him away back home after the race for more rest and he’s so so happy.