#i want to find that fic because as someone who’s lived in canada my whole life i’ll be the judge of if it was accurate or not

[le-agent-egg]

what was that one fic on ao3 about a canadian au for danganronpa thh?? i genuinely don’t know if i hallucinated that all i remember was leon was a hockey player

[wosowrites]

I can be your New Home Part 3 (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️blood⚠️

a/n: Long ass fic part one and two can be found on my masterlist.

prompt: in which jessie and the reader tell their club team and national teams they’re dating after a while but things don’t exactly go as planned

For the first month, you and Jessie kept your relationship on the dow low. The team loved Jessie and felt as though they had known her forever but she was still a new player who was still finding her footing with the squad. You had always assumed that you would be the one to ask Jessie if you could tell people. Hiding your love for Jessie was hard. You loved your team and had known them for years. You wanted them to know. You wanted your dutch teammates to know as well. And that’s exactly what happened.

Jessie brought up the subject to you right before international break as you drove home to your apartment. She was basically living there at this point.

"Y/n," she said, turning her head to look at you. "Mhm," you said, concentrating hard on the road as it was raining so hard it was hard to see in front of you. "I can see how hard it is for you not to tell people about us. And honestly it’s hard for me too. Janine keeps trying to set me up with people and all I want to do is tell her that I’m with you," Jessie said, fiddling with her fingers. "Where are you going with this?" you asked, furrowing your eyebrows. "We should tell people. I want people to know about us. Maybe just our teammates first though," the Canadian suggested. "Yes. Yes yes yes. Viv won’t stop trying to set me up with Williamson," you laughed, making Jessie smile. "If you’re turning down the english captain you must either be insane or in love with me," Jessie said.

It just slipped out.

Her heart dropped and she froze in her seat. It definitely took you by surprise, but her words weren’t wrong. "Why would I want the english captain when I have the future canadian captain? And yeah, Jess. I love you. And maybe I’m also a little insane," you told her.

The day after, Jessie left for spain for international break while you went to norway. It was your first time being apart but you had agreed to tell your national teammates about your relationship during the break, and then tell the Chelsea girls after. Canada was set to play Spain and then Germany, and Netherlands were set to face Norway followed by Portugal.

You took the plane to Norway with Vivianne, excited to see your national teammates again. You loved Chelsea, and it did feel like home, but it was nothing compared to the feeling of being with the dutch girls. You had your headphones in, and so did Viv. Sat side by side, you thought of the best way to tell your team. You soon realized that your perfect test run was right beside you. You could tell Viv about Jessie, hitting three birds with one stone. Tell her about your girlfriend, clear up why you weren’t interested in Leah, and practice how you would tell the bigger group.

You tapped Viv’s shoulder gently, pulling her out of the trance her music had created. "What’s up?" she said, taking her headphones off. "Um… I feel like I owe you- or maybe not owe but i want you to know why I won’t go out with Leah," you said, making her frown. "Okay. Go ahead," she said. "I’m seeing someone. For a month now. And before that it’s because I was interested in her," you started saying before being cut off. "What! Who is it?!" she basically yelled, slapping her hand down onto your thigh in excitement, making you yelp. "Ow!" Viv ignored you. "Wait. Let me guess. Is it Cuthbert? Or… Kerr? Wait is it Guro Reiten? No you cannot let your play be affected by the fact that you’re dating Guro-" Viv spiralled. "What? No! I’m not dating Guro. Im dating Jessie Fleming," you said.

Viv stared at you for a second. "The shy little freckled girl who doesn’t talk and has gotten like… one yellow card in her whole life?" Viv said. "Hey! You know who she is! And she does talk. And it’s a good thing she doesn’t get booked a lot," you said, pouting at you friends words. "Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean for it to seem like I was judging you. She’s really cute, and she’s really good. I just didn’t think she was your type," Viv said. "Well she is. And I really really like her," you told the older woman. "Well if you love her, then so do I. As long as she treats you good," the woman said. "She does," you answered with a small smile. "A Canadian. Huh," she teased.

You laughed and hit her playfully, laughing at her comment.

You arrived in Oslo two hours later, and you were at the training ground two more hours after that. You jumped into Dan’s arms, having missed her as she played for Lyon and you didn’t see her often. You hugged Jill hard, having missed your best friend more than you could put into words. You had told Viv in the car about your plan to tell the girls about you and Jessie, deciding to tell them during team bonding that night.

You ate supper with the girls, settled into the room you were sharing with Jill, and then headed to the common room for team bonding after having called Jessie.

The girls all talked, you caught up with them, had a drink (sparkling cider, you had training tomorrow after all) and then played games. You did a few rounds of twister, which you quickly realized you were horrible at, and then you decided to play never have I ever.

And why not have fun with it?

"Never have I ever scored a bicycle kick," Dan said, only you and Jackie put your fingers down. "Never have I ever… hooked up with a teammate…" Lieke said. People let out 'ooo’s'. "Wait do you mean hook up like no strings attacked or hook up like hooked up and are now dating?" you asked Lieke. "What does it matter to you? You’re single. But for the sake of the game… hooked up with no strings attached," she answered.

You smiled cheekily, knowing her words were wrong and then put a finger down. "Who?!" Jill yelled, pushing you. "Not saying. We made a deal," you shrugged. "But i’m your best friend!" Jill yelled. "Precisely," you teased. "Okay. My turn. Never have I ever secretly dated your teammate named Jessie Fleming for a month and told your national teammates about it during a game of never have I ever," you said.

You dramatically put a finger down and grinned at the girls.

"MAAK JE EEN GRAPJE??" Jill yelled pushing you to the floor and climbing on top of you, hitting you in the stomach and making you yell and laugh at the same time. "You’re joking! Fleming? The shy small little Canadian?" Dan asked as Jill kept her attack going on you. "Yes! Get off of me, Jill!" you squealed. "No!" she yelled. "Jill! Off," Dan’s voice said strictly. Jill eyed you and you smiled at her, knowing she wouldn’t say no to Dan.

The girl reluctantly climbed off you and sat down with her arms crossed. "How?" Sherida asked you. "I’m happy for you but she doesn’t seem like your type," the captain added. "I don’t even know really. She came here and she was really homesick and we just clicked instantly and then soon enough… I don’t know she has me in a chokehold that you wouldn’t expect from her," you said.

Everyone smiled and nodded, scattered words of happiness for you here and there. "Who knew little Jessie Fleming could get you all flustered," Lynn said, making you blush harder.

Barcelona, with the CANWNT

Saying that Jessie was shy was an understatement. She came out of her shell the most with the Canada girls, and was only now starting to actually start conversations with the Chelsea girls. But for some reason, she just couldn’t get herself to manage to stand up in front of her team and talk about her love life. It just felt unnatural. If she could, she would have sent a message to their group chat and left it there. But she knew that wasn’t the way to do it.

You called Jessie the night you told the team, and asked her if she had told the girls. She felt guilty when she said no, but you made it clear that she could take her time, and she appreciated and loved you for it. But suddenly training had started and it was intense, and no time felt like the right time. And then out of nowhere, it was the fourth day of the training camp and the sessions were done for the day. The entirety of the Canadian team was sitting in the common room, getting ready to watch the Netherlands take on Norway.

Jessie sat with Janine and Sincy on each of her sides, watching the TV intensely. "Okay girls. Just a friendly but who we rooting for?" Alysha Chapman asked the group. "Netherlands," Jessie said right away, pretty absentmindedly. "Okay then. But don’t like… three of your teammates play for Norway. Only one plays for the dutch," Janine said. "Yeah but Y/n is my girl- close friend. She’s my close friend," Jessie said, cursing herself for almost giving the secret, that shouldn’t be a secret anymore, away.

"Okay then, Netherlands it is. Everyone agree?" Sophie asked the group. "Let’s go oranges," Julia cheered, making Jessie give her a 'really?' look. "What? What’s their cheer?" She laughed. "It’s in dutch. Kickoff is starting. Watch," Jessie said sternly.

The game was strong off the bat. Players were engaging in hard tackles and making risky plays. But at the 30th minute, it was still 0-0.

"That’s bullshit what the hell!" Jessie yelled, lifting her arms up in frustration at the TV. "That was not a yellow," she groaned as she watched you walk back to your position, shaking your head at the supposed yellow card. "Agreed. That was all ball. The ref has it out for her she’s gotta be careful," Christine said, leaning backwards into the couch and shaking her head in annoyance.

And then, it finally happened. A goal, yes, but also the moment that made Jessie tell her team.

As a corner came in, you made a run towards the near post. You jumped into the air, Guro trying to defend you. You got your head on the ball and flicked it back. But the Norwegian keeper’s reaction was late. As your head hit the ball, her gloves hit your face a solid two seconds later.

Your head went flying to the side, the contact of the gloved fists into your nose making you yell. Your body fell onto the grass with a thump.

All you could do was bury your head into the grass, but it hurt to do so. There was blood everywhere and you turned over, sitting up and lifting your hands in the air. Blood was pouring down your face, smudged on your cheeks and dripping from your chin into your jersey.

"Oh my god," Jessie breathed, her heart racing at the sight of you on the TV. You barely flinched, standing up and trying to get to the referee who was acting as though nothing had happened. Jessie watched you yell at the man, and watched as Vivianne and Dan held you back, Jill trying to examine your face and telling you to stop before you hurt yourself more.

"What is the ref doing is he crazy? Her nose is broke oh my god!" Jessie muttered, tears pooling in her eyes. She knew you would be okay but the fact that the referee was purposely out for you made her angry. And the pressure of telling her team something so so personal was getting to her too.

"Hey, hey. She’ll be okay, Jess," Janine said, turning her attention it Jessie as the whole team and the freckled midfielder stared at you slowly bowl your head and rest your hands on your thighs, medics at your side. "Jess… are you crying? What’s going on?" Vanessa asked, standing up and putting her hand on Jessie’s shoulder. "The ref is being an asshole, i’m stressed out and my girlfriend is hurt! I’m aloud to cry!" Jessie said, her words spilling out of her mouth as though they tasted bad.

Everyone froze, the sound of the commentator saying "…and that definitely looks broken, that’s the most blood i’ve ever seen in a game of football…" echoing in the back. "Jessie…" Jordyn said, a small smile on her face eve though Jessie was crying. "You’re dating y/n?" She said. "Yeah," Jessie sniffled.

"Jeff that’s great! And she’ll be okay. That girl gets pushed and punched and tackled every game. She’s a fighter," Steph said, rubbing her hand on their baby Canada’s back. "I know. Shit I didn’t want to tell you guys this way," Jessie said. "It doesn’t matter. Do your Chelsea teammates know?" Kailen asked. "No. Oh look she’s going off," Jessie said.

Back in Norway

You cursed loudly at the referee, but she didn’t give you a yellow, knowing you would be sent off the field anyways due to your broke nose. Your team yelled at the referee, trying to get them to understand that the Norwegian keeper needed a yellow. Even Guro had to call out her keeper.

You walked off the field, holding a towel to your nose, your head throbbing with pain.

It was clear quickly that your nose was broken. But the Netherlands won 3-0 over Norway, so you were happy enough.

So, after getting fitted for a nose brace, you got told to go back to England and rest up. Theoretically, you could play, but your coach wanted to take no chances.

You had told Jessie over the phone that you were okay, and that you were going back to London. You had wanted to go to Spain to watch Jessie, but with the Champions league quarter finals coming up, Emma said absolutely not. And that it was better for you not to gain any jet lag. So, filled with announce, you went home.

You watched Jessie play over the TV, gaining a 3-1 win against Spain and an annoying 2-1 loss over Germany.

She came back home, as in your apartment, two days after the Germany game.

You drove to the airport, even though it was 11:00 pm, and walked inside the luggage pick up area to wait for her. Once you saw her, your face broke into a smile. She ran towards you and jumped into your arms, careful not to hit your face as you were still wearing a nose plaster. She hugged you tightly, whispering words of how much she missed you into your ear. "How am I supposed to go over a week every few months without you?" you said to her as she looked into your eyes. She leaned in and kissed you sweetly. "I don’t know. But I don’t want to think about being away from you for a long long time," she answered as you put her down.

You got her luggage and then walked towards the car. "Tomorrow, we tell the Chelsea girls?" you asked. "Tomorrow," she said.

You arrived to training the next day, greeted by apologies from Maren and Guro on behalf of the Norwegian keeper, and cries of 'dude there was so much blood' from LJ and Sam. But before you went onto the field, you stood up, having decided you would tell the girls. "Listen. I want to say something quickly but let’s not make a big deal out of it. Me and Jess are dating. Jess as in Jessie. Fleming. Her. Shit," you said, awkwardly pointing towards Jessie. "Doing great," she said, giving you a thumbs up.

You rolled your eyes at her before noticing your teams reactions were all different. Some had their eyes wide open, others were smiling and Magda and P looked like they were trying not to cry. "Are you two weirdos about to cry?" you asked the blondes. "Yeah! Kinda! Our children are dating," she smiled. "Magda that sounds really weird…" you laughed.

She took a while to notice.

"Oh! No! No not like that! I just mean I see you both as mnt kids. Like. Urgh! Im happy for you guys. That’s it," Magda said, standing up and hugging you and then placing a kiss on Jessie’s head. "Okay. Training," you said, clapping your hands together.

"Her children are dating," Sam scoffed, shaking her head. "Where do you get this shit, Mags?" the aussie teased.

[msmargaretmurry]

I don’t know if this is a proper trope or anything but I would love to read your take on a matthew/leon normal person/still a hockey player au! or like, celebrity/still a hockey player au

i definitely think this is a proper trope! in general i'm not an alternate universe girlie, but i AM an alternate timeline girlie, so i love versions of this trope that are like, you know, the one thing that happened differently in someone's life that totally disrupted the course of their life, but then these two people are brought together by the universe anyway. this got a little long, i'm gonna put the rest under a cut, lol.

so with matthew/leon, because they both come from hockey families, it's not the hardest thing to invent scenarios where they wind up in each other's circles anyway. i wouldn't want to create whole new backgrounds for the non-hockey one, because i think they have both been so shaped by their backgrounds and their families. it's interesting to me to think about how the circumstances of their meeting dictates their relationship — if there's no rivalry, what is the draw? which isn't to say there isn't a draw, but you kind of have to come up with a new inherent conflict. i have said to many friends, and i stand by this, that i think if they were on the same side from the get-go they would've gotten along famously. but finding other ways to throw a wrench in the gears is fun! say the concept is, like, leon did soccer instead of hockey, still went pro, and for whatever reasons got banished to the deeply cringeworthy fate of playing MLS (sorry mls) (vamos united) — he's probably got a chip on his shoulder, and he probably wants to get back to the bundesliga, he probably does not even want to consider a long-term future with inter miami fc, which would make developing big feelings for the local hockey team's handsome rat man VERY inconvenient.

because i'm a sucker for angst and drama, my favorite version of this is when the non-hockey-player one originally did have big stanley cup dreams, but something happened to derail them, and so getting into a relationship with a hockey player means also confronting all those complicated feelings about loving someone who's living the life you wanted, and finding a new purpose for yourself. this would be fun either way for me — teen matthew's junior career was wrecked by an injury but he stays in the family business doing atheltic training, or agent stuff, or coaching or scounting or whatever, and that puts him into leon's orbit and sparks fly. (possibly acrimonious sparks, depending on what matthew's up to, lmao.) OR, teen leon's junior career was wrecked by an injury but going back home felt too much like giving up so he decided to stay in canada and go to university or something, lands himself a spot at a school in calgary, etc etc etc. i love a character who's a total sad sack and there's BIG sad sack potential in scenarios like this. <3

the most important thing to me, in fics like this, is that that even though one of them's not an nhl player, they're still the same person, character-wise. they've still got the pieces of that personality that led them to become an elite athlete, that intensity and drive and passion and swagger that in another life made them so successful and extremely annoying to play against. but how does that shape them in the non-nhl version of their life? does it make things harder for them, without that outlet?

anyway intermission is over so i need to go white-knuckle it through the rest of this hockey game. i know there's some fics of this trope in the matthew/leon tag already but imo there are INFINITE possibilities for this type of story so there can always be more!!

[xjoonchildx]

adonis | pjm x reader

🚨 summary: your crackpot of a neighbor will not rest until you throw yourself at the gorgeous paramedic in town. she's nuts, y'all.

🚨 pairing: reader x paramedic!jimin

🚨 genre: meddling neighbors? horny little old ladies with bad-slash-good intentions? awkward OCs who can't find the words to speak in the presence of greatness?

🚨 warnings: one very mouthy senior citizen, sweet/shy jimin, an OC who can't find a clean shirt throughout the entire fic, one very spoiled pomeranian, smoking, sexual innuendo, literally one line of implied smut

🚨 word count: 3.4K (lmao)

🚨 notes: this is my drabble *snort* for the possum anniversary and i am celebrating the wonderful @starlostjimin who is such a cool, funny, amazing, talented person. did you know that 911 is 911 in america AND canada? anyhoo. i hope you like my very first jimin fic ever, and i hope it delivers on the things that you wanted 💕

thank you always to @hobi-gif for being the most amazing beta and person in general.

If you had to wager a guess, you’d say it was Mrs. Choi from the fourth floor who’d dialed 911. That miserable old bat has always struck you as kind of a snitch.

At any rate, that’s how you find yourself standing outside your condo at ten o’clock at night, wearing nothing but a faded bathrobe and a pair of worn-out house slippers. Lights mounted on top of the fire truck idling at your building’s entrance turn the courtyard into a tragic makeshift disco, everything and everyone splashed in flashes of red and white. 

You mill around on the damp grass with the rest of your neighbors, each of you turned into temporary exiles in mismatched sleepwear. 

Mr. Nam from the sixth floor is yelling into his phone as he paces, giving someone an earful about the disruption. Mrs. Song from the seventh floor was smart enough to grab a lawn chair and she watches the scene unfold like it’s one of her beloved dramas. Mr. Baek from the first floor doesn’t pay any mind to the fuss around him, engrossed in a book good enough to drown out the grumbling and sirens. 

But you don’t spot the woman who lives in the unit next to yours – not right away – because it takes her an absurdly long time to heed this whole evacuation business. 

When Mrs. Yun finally breezes through the condo’s glass doors, she does so with all the subtlety of a pageant queen. She makes a beeline for you, decked out in a Hawaiian-print muumuu loud enough to wake the dead – accessorized by a full face of makeup, a full set of curlers, and her trusty Pomeranian tucked under one arm.

“What is all this fuss about?” she pouts, giving Chichi an affectionate scratch. You lean over to give the dog your own scratch and she licks your fingers as thanks.

“Hell if I know,” you shrug. “I came outside when I heard the sirens. Which, by the way, was about ten minutes ago.”

“I was busy,” Mrs. Yun sniffs, affronted by your reprimand. She sets Chichi down to pat her curlers and make sure each is still in place. “I have a friend coming over tonight.”

“A friend.”

“Yes honey, a friend,” she echoes, tone haughty. “You should try it some time.”

God, you really should. The only man in your life these days is the Doordash driver and the last time he’d come by, he’d made a clumsy joke about your sodium intake. You’d been embarrassed, sure, but somehow that pales in comparison to this reminder that you’re being outsexed by the little old lady next door.

“You should ask someone when they plan to let us back in,” Mrs. Yun says, tapping her foot impatiently. “You should ask – ” she pauses to look out over the crowd, eyes lighting as she points one fresh gel nail in the direction of the fire truck, “ – him.”

You follow the trajectory of that thin finger with your gaze until your eyes land on Mrs. Yun’s intended target. And then you blink as you take in what is surely the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. Dark eyes and sandy blonde hair and a jawline so sharp, it could have been cut from granite.

Holy shit.

“I’ll say,” Mrs. Yun grins, and your face burns with embarrassment when you realize you’ve spoken out loud. It flames even hotter when she raises an arm to wave him over. 

“Sir? Sir!”

“No. No, no, no, no, no.”  You panic, whispering in the most threatening tone you can muster. “Put your hand down. Don’t – ”

But it’s too late. Mrs. Yun has already caught the attention of this Earth-bound Adonis. He makes his way towards you both without delay, wearing an easy smile so devastating it makes sweat bead at your temples.

“Hi there,” he greets kindly. “How can I help you?”

“Thank you, Mr. – ” Mrs. Yun pauses to squint at the name embroidered on the man’s dark navy uniform, “ – Park. What’s all this uproar about tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he chuckles, and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Someone called 911 because they smelled smoke, so we had to come check it out.” A radio secured to his shoulder crackles with an incoming transmission and he pauses to listen before he speaks again. “Pretty sure they’re almost done checking the building. Old places like this, we’ve always got to put in a bit more attention where the wiring is concerned. Wouldn’t want to leave you ladies in a dangerous situation.”

“Oh, of course not,” Mrs. Yun purrs, making no effort to hide the cheeky once-over she gives him. “We certainly appreciate you being thorough.”

The Adonis – Mr. Park – flushes, clearing his throat as the tips of his ears turn pink. You make a mental note to sit Mrs.Yun down later to explain that a few things have changed since her heyday.

The radio crackles again, a garbled voice coming over the line.

“Sounds like they’re almost done,” he explains, looking down at his feet to find Chichi sniffing at his boot. He crouches down to pet her and she curls into the curve of his hand, eager for his touch. 

Somehow you’re willing to bet this man has that kind of effect on everything in his path – men, women, and houseplants alike.

He gives Chichi a few firm scratches before getting back to his feet. The rigid fabric of his uniform pants strains against the lean muscles of his thighs as he moves and Mrs. Yun’s eyes practically bug out of her face. You’d jam an elbow in her side if you thought there was a chance you could pull it off without being caught.

“I’d better get back,” he says, turning to you with one of those debilitating smiles. Your toes curl inside the shabby velvet of your slippers. “Please don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.”

“Oh, we won’t!” Mrs. Yun calls out, appreciating his retreating form with a lifted brow. You wait until the man is well out of earshot before turning on her.

“What the hell was that?” you demand.

“That – ” she says with her nose in the air, “ – is why you never leave the house without your face on.”

“You were practically undressing that man with your eyes,” you accuse hotly. “You do know what sexual harrassment is, don’t you?”

Mrs. Yun huffs as she bends down to scoop up Chichi. “I wasn’t harassing the man, I was appreciating him. Fine art is meant to be admired.”

“Oh, please,” you grumble. “And don’t think I missed that little detail about the smoke.”

She narrows her eyes at you.

“Mind your business.”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

One week later, a knock at the door nearly startles you right off the couch. You frown into your half-eaten carton of ramen and set it down on the coffee table, taking a moment to seriously contemplate pretending not to be home.

But then there’s more knocking – more insistent this time.

You pad across the floor, crack the door open and the ramen in your stomach threatens to come right back up.

“Hi again.”

You blink. 

“Sorry to bother you, it’s just that your neighbor suffered a fall and she said you would have a key to get into her place.”

The Adonis – Mr. Park – looks a little sheepish as he stands in the doorway, waiting for you to speak like a normal human being with a passable set of social skills. He shoves one hand through his sandy blonde hair and the locks seem to fall back in slow-motion.

“I – y-yes of course,” you stutter, so flustered that you nearly trip over your own feet in your haste to scramble for the kitchen. You dig Mrs. Yun’s spare key out of the silverware drawer and rush back to drop it into his waiting palm.

“I hope she’s okay,” you worry, biting at the inside of your cheek. “I’m right here if you guys need anything else.”

“We’ll take good care of her,” another voice promises, and you crane your neck to peer past the stunning Mr. Park to search for the source of it. A second man stands out in the hallway, a heavy duffel bag slung over one muscular arm covered in a myriad of tattoos. His face is boyish and beautiful and soft, a stark contrast to his powerful body.

Jesus. Who’s doing the recruiting in this city?

“We’ll have this back to you right away,” Mr. Park promises, and your neck heats when he rewards you with one of his sweet smiles. 

The second they leave, you make a beeline for the bathroom – and cringe as you stand in the mirror and peel one half-dried ramen noodle off the front of your shirt.

🚨🚨🚨 🚨

15 minutes later, Mr. Park’s picture-perfect partner is knocking at your door.  

“Hey there.”

You might have run a brush through your hair and dabbed on a bit of tinted chapstick in the last five minutes, but he notices that – or the absence of one half-dried ramen noodle, he makes no indication.

“Hi again,” you say. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, for sure. Maybe a little banged up, but otherwise she’s alright. She’s asking for you though, if you can walk over with me.”

“Yes, of course.” You shuffle into the hall and let him lead the way, through the open front door to Mrs. Yun’s unit and the narrow foyer that opens up into her living room. She’s upright on the couch, holding an ice pack to her head. The glorious Mr. Park is bent down on one knee at her side.

“I’ll tell you what,” she says, looking as pleased as a queen holding court, “I’m grateful every day for the very dedicated public servants in this city. That was terrifying.”

“But you’re okay, right?” you ask.

“Nothing broken, so far as we can tell,” the Adonis says. “She’s probably going to be good and sore tomorrow, but for now she’s doing just fine.”

“Thanks to Mr. Park and Mr. Jeon here,” Mrs.Yun says sweetly. A little too sweetly, in fact. The wheels in your brain start to turn and you eyeball her from across the room. She peeks at you from behind the ice pack and dons an angelic smile.

“Yes, they are certainly appreciated,” you say slowly, the skepticism in your voice vibrating at a frequency only Mrs. Yun can hear. She beams at Mr. Park as he gets to his feet and starts to pack up his things.

Mr. – Jeon, was it? – slings his heavy duffel bag over his shoulder. “Be sure and take those anti-inflammatories tonight, okay? You’ll be all locked up in the morning if you don’t.”

Mrs. Yun practically preens at the personal attention she’s gotten from these two insanely good-looking men. “I will.”

“You’re lucky to have a good neighbor,” the Adonis says to Mrs. Yun, turning to you with a genuine smile. Your heart thuds in response. “If it’s alright with you, keep an eye on her tonight? She might need your help.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, alright,” you say with a tight smile, and Mrs. Yun clears her throat.

🚨🚨🚨🚨

“Promise me – right now – that you really fell.”

“What did I tell you about leaving the house with your face on?”

“Answer the question,” you fire back and Mrs. Yun sighs, tossing the ice pack down on the couch.

“Yes, honey, I did fall. I fell in love with that scrumptious Mr. Park the second I saw him. And if I were a woman thirty – ”

You raise an eyebrow. 

“ – Okay, fifty years younger than I am, I would be taking him for a spin myself. But since I’m not, I’ve decided that you should have him. Did I bend the truth a little? Yes. But for a good cause. I’m a very thoughtful person, you know.”

“You are outrageous,” you hiss, pacing as Mrs.Yun pretends to look for dirt under her fingernails. “This is a waste of public resources! They’re supposed to be responding to emergencies. Real emergencies.”

“First of all – ” Mrs. Yun is defiant, chin in the air, “ – Nothing ever happens in this town. Nothing. And second, there’s dust in your panties, sweetheart. If that’s not an emergency, I don’t know what is.”

Your mouth falls open in a silent scream and Mrs. Yun ignores it, climbing off the couch with ease to cross the room and crack open a window. She pulls a box out of the tiny accent table perched beneath it and proceeds to light an absurdly long cigarette.

“You’re too damned young to be shut away in your house all the time,” she argues, pursing her lacquered lips to blow a stream of smoke out the window. “Work. Couch. Work. Couch. How can you stand it? Let me tell you what I’d be doing right now if I could turn back the clock and have your youth again: Mr. Park. I’d be doing Mr. Park. You should be doing Mr. Park.”

You stifle a disbelieving laugh. The novelty of your neighbor’s loose lips and bad habits wore off a long time ago, but sometimes she still manages to catch you off guard.

“Well, I’ve got an early morning so unless you have any more unsolicited sex advice to share, I’m going to have to call it a night.”

Mrs. Yun blows another long stream of smoke out the window. 

“Nope. I’ve got it all off my chest.”

“Good then,” you say, turning on your heels. You make it all the way to the door before you pause and call out to her.

“And put that thing out!”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

Three days later, you find yourself struggling with an overloaded paper bag from the grocery store. Yes, you’ve purchased the reusable ones and yes, they’re a hell of a lot stronger – but you never miss an opportunity to leave them hanging in the closet on your way out the door.

Something in the bag is wet – well, moist at the very least. And it’s enough to have you gripping the bottom tight with both hands as you try to maneuver your way through the revolving door at the entrance to your condo. It’s an awkward fit inside the narrow sliver of space and as you’re shuffling forward, the door’s momentum dies. You push at it with one foot and lose an onion from the bag, nearly losing your balance in the process.

You blow out a heavy breath and go to push the door again, only this time it smoothly glides away before you even make contact. The misstep makes you jerk forward, but at least the door keeps moving long enough for you to step out of it.

“Think you lost something back there.”

Most of your hair has slipped out of your ponytail holder by now, the strands matted to your forehead with the sweat you worked up on the walk from the car. But when you turn, you can still make out the glorious Mr. Park quite clearly. He drops the onion back into your bag and smiles at you.

“Please, allow me.”

He lifts the bag out of your arms, carefully securing the bottom like you’d done just moments before. With your hands now free, you push your hair out of your face and silently pray that you don’t look as unfortunate as you suspect you do.

“You don’t have to do that,” you demur. “But I appreciate it anyway. Mr. Park, right?”

“Well, I’d much prefer you call me Jimin,” he laughs, the sound of it making heat bloom inside your chest. “But yeah, it’s me again.”

He’s not wearing his uniform, you realize. And though some small part of you mourns the loss of those fitted shirts and pants, his off-duty look – an oversized sweater, jeans and pair of sharp boots – sure as hell doesn’t disappoint.

“Do you… live here?” you ask stupidly, as though a man this handsome could live anywhere on this entire street without someone taking notice. “Or – ”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I came by to check on your neighbor. You know, after the fall and all. I told her she could call me if she ever needed anything and she asked me to stop by.”

“You gave – ” you pause, shock forcing your voice at least an octave higher, “ – You gave Mrs. Yun your phone number?”

His cheeks pink at the observation. “She’s in her 70s, you know? Lives alone. I really don’t mind.”

You truly have no idea how your chain-smoking, jazzercising, oversexed hellion of a next-door neighbor has managed to convince this man she’s a frail old woman in need of a hero.

Will wonders never cease?

“Besides,” he says, “She’s kind of...quirky, you know?”

“That’s a very strange way to say unhinged,” you counter.

He laughs.  

“You’re funny. Come on, I’ll walk you up.”

yun: DID YOU HAVE YOUR FACE ON [ 9:15 PM ]

yun: he told me he helped you with your groceries [ 9:15 PM ]

yun: now tell him to help you out of your clothes [ 9:16 PM ]

you: go to bed [ 9:16 PM ] 

Two days later, legs like noodles from spin class, you limp through your front door and sag onto the couch. You might have napped for a second, you’re not entirely sure – but after a knock sounds at your door, you are most definitely alert. Your thighs protest as you force yourself off the couch to answer it.

You crack the door open and it’s him. Adonis. Mr. Park. Jimin. 

And you’re wearing a gray workout shirt with what you are certain is one very sizeable sweat stain down the front. Good God, will there ever be a time when you see this man and don’t look like a complete wreck?

“Oh my gosh, did she call you again?” you ask, incredulous. “You are so sweet to do this for her, really but this is too – ”

“ – She didn’t call,” he interrupts, looking just the tiniest bit bashful.

“Oh.”

“Listen, this is kind of embarrassing and maybe not entirely appropriate given I know where you live, but it’s just that I don’t have your number.”

Your eyes widen and your already distressed legs start to feel a bit more weak. Jimin scrubs a hand down his jaw before he speaks again.

“I was actually wondering if you might let me take you to dinner sometime.”

You blink. 

“Or I could cook you dinner. I make this really great prawn dish? But again, I’m not trying to be a creep or anything and it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with that – ” he’s backpedaling now, his words coming out in a rush.

“– You are not a creep,” you insist, when you’ve finally come to your senses and figure out how to access your words and use them to form sentences. “I just – I was just not expecting that. But yes, I’d love to go to dinner with you.”

Your knees threaten to buckle at the slow smile that comes over him.

“That’s great.”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

You fling the silverware drawer open and practically rip Mrs. Yun’s key out of it in your mad dash to her apartment. No, you do not feel guilty for letting yourself into her house, the woman has absolutely no boundaries and could use a taste of her own medicine.

You slam the door behind you when you walk in, and Mrs. Yun squints at you from her perch in the window. She blows out a perfect ring of smoke and then raises a brow.

“Got a bee in your bonnet?”

“Give me one of those,” you demand. “Right now.”

🚨🚨🚨🚨

There’s a knock at your door – again – only this time, you already know who’s on the other side. It’s your beloved Doordash driver, bringing an order of your beloved shio ramen. Two, actually.

You open the door to grab your food and Jimin calls out from the couch.

“Need some help with that?”

“Nah, I’m good,” you say over your shoulder. 

When you turn back to thank the Doordash guy, he’s staring into your living room, eyes wide and trained on Jimin. You clear your throat and he snaps his focus back to you.

“Have a good night,” he says pleasantly.

And then he gives you a thumbs up.

yun: can the two of you keep it DOWN  [ 11:22 PM ]

yun: some of us need our beauty sleep [ 11:22 PM ]

[ffamranxii]

HAIKYUU!! COUPLES HEADCANONS

DAISUGA

-Daichi goes to the gym to work out. Suga goes to the gym to ogle Daichi

-Suga has a massive sweet tooth

-Daichi cooks, Suga cleans

-Suga is a little shit who is not above seducing Daichi in public. He can say the most lewd things without batting an eye while Daichi blushes furiously

-Daichi and Kuroo once hooked up at training camp. They do not talk about it

-Daichi is good friends with Michimiya and Kiyoko. Suga is closer to Asahi

-Daisuga rarely fight and are often asked for relationship advice. Daichi tries to discourage this because “guys I didn’t realize Yui had a crush on me or that Suga was in love with me for three years.”

-Daichi can’t dance, won’t dance, and refuses to acknowledge the time he got trashed and twerked

-Suga dislikes his given name unless it’s said by Daichi, who is the only person allowed to call him Koushi

-Suga is extremely flexible. Daichi is not.

-Daichi or Suga getting hit on makes Daichi uncomfortable. Getting hit on amuses Suga, and Daichi getting hit on makes him horny

-It took all of high school for Daisuga to get together, because Daichi is oblivious and Suga assumed Daichi wasn’t into him. Daichi’s dumbness and their mutual pining becomes a fond, shared joke several years later

-Daichi has no gag reflex. 

-Daisuga have a very fat, very orange cat named Ninja. He’s surprisingly fast and agile despite looking like a furry basketball. (Daichi is a dog person and did not even want Ninja at first. He suspects Kuroo had something to do with this. Suga sometimes playfully gets upset because “Ninja likes you better than me, Dai!”)

-Everyone expects Suga to be the dominant one but Suga is more than willing to be submissive for Daichi and has on several occasions

ASANOYA

-Noya gets up before sunrise to run. Asahi would rather die than leave his bed before 8am

-Noya turns the coffee pot on and cooks breakfast to lure Asahi out of bed

-Noya is surprisingly patient, gentle, quiet, and kind when it comes to Asahi and his insecurities

-Noya is the type to bottle his insecurities and fears until they explode. The only one who can calm him back down is Asahi

-Asahi makes bratty faces when he thinks Noya isn’t looking

-Noya and Tanaka spend a lot of time with Daisuga because of the Daichi&Suga&Asahi&Kiyoko friendship. Asahi and Ennoshita become good friends

-Asahi doesn’t understand the distance between Noya and his sisters because Asahi is very close to his

-It is impossible to embarrass Noya

-Asahi gets a lot of inspiration for his fashion designs from traveling with Noya

-Noya knows how to braid hair and likes to play with Asahi’s

-Asahi enjoys physical affection but dislikes overt PDA. Noya would happily climb Asahi like a tree in public if Asahi would let him

-Only Asahi calls Noya by his given name

-Noya knows he likes Asahi early on but Asahi’s panic (“omg someone LIKES me?? NOYA likes me?? My crush??”) at his confession prevent them getting together until after the Date Tech match (after Asahi rejoins the team).

-Noya is affected by wanderlust and that’s why he travels. Sometimes Asahi joins him. They get married in Canada during one of these trips. (I once read a fantastic asanoya fic where a significant event happened in Canada so Canada is my asanoya place now)

-Noya sends Asahi a postcard from every place he’s ever visited. Sometimes he’ll spend over half an hour trying to find the *best* one, only to buy them all and send them as a sort of big long letter. Asahi saves them all in a photo album that lives on the coffee table. (Some people have a coffee table book, Asahi has a photo album.)

-Noya prefers to top. The one thing he’s really uncomfortable with is being on the bottom (physically laying beneath someone and also sex).

KUROKEN

-Kuroken have a black cat and a calico and enjoy naps on the couch with the kitties. Kuroo has SO MANY pictures in his phone of Kenma curled around the kitties.

-Kuroo: “Love you.” Kenma: “Hate you.”

-Kenma CAN cook, but likes that Kuroo likes taking care of him

-Every game Kuroo has ever owned is multiplayer because he only games with Kenma

-Kenma’s favorite games involve critical thinking and puzzles. Kuroo enjoys watching him play

-Kuroo is an introvert masquerading as an extrovert. Kenma is an introvert. They enjoy quiet nights in.

-Kuroo has anxiety. Kenma always knows when Kuroo is anxious and how to fix it

-People make Kenma anxious. Kuroo makes himself anxious.

-Kenma’s nicknames for Kuroo are Kuro and Koroemon. Kuroo calls Kenma Kyanma and kitten

-Kuroo has been in love with Kenma for as long as he can remember, since they were kids. Kenma knows this, but doesn’t understand he feels the same way until Kuroo goes off to college

-Kuroo is the one who discovered Daichi’s lack of gag reflex. He’s delighted to learn that Kenma lacks one as well

-Kenma moves more slowly than Kuroo. He’s not as comfortable with physical affection and sex as Kuroo is. Their relationship progresses slowly, and Kuroo lets Kenma lead. 

-After Kenma’s confession, how he feels about Kuroo is one of the very few things Kuroo does not doubt or make himself anxious over.

-Kuroo can, will, and has go(ne) on and on and ON about Kenma until someone shuts him up. It drives Yaku up the fucking wall in high school.

-Kenma does a retro game stream once or twice a month made up of games he and Kuroo used to play as kids. Kuroo actually games with him on those days and Kenma’s followers are quick to notice and speculate because Kenma has literally never gamed with another person in the same room before. Sometimes Kenma can only post the actual gameplay because Kuroo ruined the footage of them by being excessively sappy. (Kuroo is NOT above flirting and dirty talk to get an edge and Kenma doesn’t really think his fans need to know that.)

-Kuroken do not talk about Kuroo’s mom or sister

-The Kozumes love “Tetsu-chan” and Kuroo’s grandparents adore Kenma. Kuroken get along with each other’s families better than they do their own.

-Kuroo is tactile. He’s that ass-slapping friend. Kenma thinks he’s ridiculous

-Kuroo used to be dislike Hinata, because Kenma and Hinata are extremely good friends and Kuroo was afraid Hinata would take Kenma away from him. Kenma has assured him he doesn’t like Hinata like that but Kuroo doesn’t warm up until Hinata starts dating Kageyama

BOKUAKA

-Akaashi is 100% in charge of the house and the financials and his word is law. Not because he’s an asshole but because Bokuto is whipped

-Akaashi is a screamer. Bokuto has a big dick.

-Bokuto is the calmest between him and his sisters. His sisters have formed an Akaashi fanclub

-Bokuaka kiss a lot during sex

-Bokuto fucking loves owls

-Akaashi used to be embarrassed over being a manga editor but Bokuto thinks it’s the coolest job ever, “even better than mine!” When his authors need references, Akaashi sends them pictures of Bokuto. Bokuto takes this responsibility very seriously

-Bokuaka exclusively refer to each other by first name but Akaashi can’t break the habit of using -san

-Akaashi and Kenma are very good friends. Bokuto thinks they might even be better bros than him and Kuroo. (Kenma is one of the few people Akaashi calls by first name, and one of the only people who calls Akaashi by his.)

-Akaashi overthinks as a result of anxiety, but he doesn’t think he has anxiety. He prefers to call it “seeing the issue from all sides”

-Akaashi and Bokuto do yoga together. Bokuto behaves himself surprisingly well around Akaashi in yoga pants

-Akaashi decided to attend Fukurodani after watching Bokuto play and literally for no other reason

-Bokuaka are the embodiment of love at first sight and their relationship has an unreal, almost storybook quality to it because they are literally perfect for each other. Because of this, Bokuto doesn’t understand why other people struggle so much to start and maintain a relationship, no matter how many times Kuroo tells him “just because your relationship is straight out of a movie doesn’t mean the rest of the world works like that”

-Bokuaka have a koi pond in their backyard and have named all the fish. Bokuto always asks about them when he’s away for games

IWAOI

-Iwaizumi cooks and cleans because he’s always been the one taking care of Oikawa, but he refuses to fold the laundry because “I’m not doing everything for you, you fucking freeloader”

-Iwaizumi cooks healthy “old man food.” Oikawa’s sweet tooth suffers

-Oikawa is that guy who puts more cream and sugar and other additives in his coffee than actual coffee. He’s tried all of Starbucks’ seasonal drinks and never gets the same thing twice

-Iwaoi have very heated arguments about if Godzilla can kick King Kong’s ass or not. Iwaizumi of course sides with Godzilla

-Iwaoi once fought about the original purpose of Stonehenge and now no one can mention England without it coming back up

-Oikawa only became comfortable with his glasses because Iwaizumi likes them

-Iwaoi have been friends since they were in diapers. The whole volleyball team took bets on when they’d announce their relationship

-Both the Oikawas and the Iwaizumis respond when either boy calls for mom or dad. Oikawa calls his sister Nee-chan while Iwaizumi says Oneesan

-Iwaizumi’s favorite of Oikawa’s features is his legs. Oikawa is in love with Iwa’s arms

-Neither of them can remember when they started liking each other or how their relationship started

-Iwaoi are shockingly codependent and do NOT do separation (during university in Argentina/California or for away games) well

-Deep down Oikawa is extremely insecure and worries he isn’t enough - in volleyball, in school, in his family, in his relationship. Iwaizumi always knows when he’s putting on a front and how to cheer him back up

-Iwaizumi is secretly so soft and weak for Oikawa

-After the Olympics Iwaizumi moves to Argentina to be with Oikawa and they get married. They move back to Japan after Oikawa retires from volleyball and after gay marriage becomes legal there

-Oikawa keeps various plants around the house and the patio and is extremely proud of them. He paints all their pots and even names some of them (which Iwaizumi thinks is disgustingly cute). His most prized plant is a lucky bamboo he bought on a whim when iwaoi first moved in together.

-Oikawa can’t deepthroat. It makes him so jealous that Iwaizumi can

-Iwaizumi blushes whenever Oikawa gives him a genuine compliment

-Iwaizumi has a praise kink. Oikawa has a “whatever comes out of Iwa’s mouth” kink

-Iwaizumi has dom tendencies.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Drum it out - Harry Styles

a/n: hiya lovelies! im bringin an OC fic this time only because i had a strong vision about the girl and thought it would be best to have her as one instead of Y/N this time, but hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! Remi Devon is a baddie, i like her!

pairing: Harry x OC

summary: Harry is forced to find a new drummer since Sarah is about to become a mom, but no one seems to be good enough to replace her. It is until he meets Remi Devon, the woman who completely takes his breath away from the moment he sees her on stage.

word count: 7k

warning: NSFW content, some slight spanking

masterlist

“Don’t worry, you’ll love her just as much as I do!” Sarah smiles at Harry, giving his arm a gentle squeeze as they make their way into the small but cozy looking bar. Harry is skeptical, mostly because for him, no one compares to Sarah and if it wasn’t for her pregnancy, he would do anything to make her stay in the band. But he is so happy his two friends are starting a family together, it’s only that Harry is now forced to look for a new drummer as it’s getting harder for Sarah to keep up with the hectic lifestyle they’ve been living. Her bump is now pretty obvious and it’s only a matter of time until she can’t sit behind her instrument.

They’ve been trying to find someone to replace her during the second half of her pregnancy and at least the first year after she gives birth, but no one seemed good enough. Truth is, and Harry knew it damn well, that his problem was always the same: they weren’t Sarah.

Now she has dragged him to check someone out, a girl Sarah knows from years ago and who was told to be a mind-blowing drummer, though Harry has doubts about that.

“Sure will,” he hums, not too convinced about it.

The bar was previously a small theater, the seats have been taken out on the ground floor, replaced with tables and stools around the sides and a dance floor in the middle. The gallery is used as a kind of VIP area, this is where the two of them are right now, sitting at a small table in the front corner so they have an amazing sight of the stage where a local band is about to start very soon. Sarah said Remi, the drummer in the talk, is just a jump-in for the night for a friend, but it was a great opportunity for Harry to check her out.

“You know, she beat me at an audition a while ago. This super cool rock band was looking for a drummer for their mini-tour in Canada, because their drummer broke his leg and we both tried for it. There were still some people waiting to audition when she went in and she blew their mind so much, they just ended the audition right there,” Sarah tells him, the story still holds a dear place in her heart. She and Remi used to be close friends, but got a little distant as life took them to different paths. Now they are meeting up every few months when they are in the same city, catching up on everything since they last saw each other, sharing their equally exciting stories.

“Really?” Harry asks with genuine surprise as he takes his beer from the table and glances down at the stage. Everything is set up already and his eyes move to the shiny looking drum set at the back. It’s hard to imagine himself finding someone as good as Sarah, for Harry she has been the etalon ever since they met. But now he is forced to find someone even though he doesn’t want to, not even a bit.

“Yeah. She is the kind of girl that just turns heads wherever she goes without even trying.”

“You think I would get along with her well?” he asks, turning to face her just in time to see the wide smirk on her lips as she nods.

“I think you two would make an epic duo, H.”

“Alright, now I’m interested,” he smiles softly.

“She said they will play a lot of covers.”

“What kind?”

“You’ll see,” she smirks, sipping on her lemonade, a hand going to slide down on her stomach.

The dance floor is not packed, but there are a lot of people, seemingly most of them are here specifically for this band called Striped Shoes, Harry hasn’t heard about them until now but he is always happy to discover new music.

Soon, the lights go down, darkness falling to the theater, the only light is coming from the bars at the back. Then a spotlight turns on and a guy is standing in the middle of it, cheers erupting from the people as he starts playing the guitar and Harry immediately recognizes the song: Smells like teen spirit by Nirvana. Just a few riffs later all the other spotlights come on, each of them illuminating a member of the band and Harry’s eyes flick to the drum set where the only female on the stage is sitting, he catches her the moment she starts playing, the vibrant energy lingering around her almost knocks him off the stool even from this far away. Her hair barely reaches her shoulders, it falls to frame her heart shaped face in soft waves, the roots are a darker color than the rest that’s an odd shade of mahogany, but it suits her perfectly, Harry thinks. She has a few tattoos littered across her arms but not a full sleeve on any of them. They are on full display in the shirt that’s sleeves were seemingly ripped off, the fabric is raw on her shoulders. It seems to be some kind of old band shirt but Harry doesn’t recognize the logo on the front. Her legs are wrapped in ripped jeans and Harry is immediately mesmerized by how steadily she keeps the rhythm while absolutely nailing the song.

She makes it look so easy yet fascinating, her head snaps back a few times, a satisfied grin stretching across her lips as she enjoys the music, clearly a fan on it. She doesn’t miss a beat and flows into the next song that’s an original from the band as if the two songs were the same while she had to switch up the rhythm entirely through the transition.

Harry feels starstruck, watching this woman take the whole show, in his opinion, while simply sitting behind the drum set, playing like no one he has ever seen. She puts all of herself into it and that’s why she manages to outshine everyone else. Harry knows how hard it is for a drummer to get the same kind of attention as other members, but Remi makes it seem like it’s the natural, like drummers are the front people without a doubt.

When the cover version of Rock and Roll by Led Zeppelin comes on, in a way more hard rock version, Harry almost fears the stage is about to catch on fire. The song already has amazing drums in it, but the band gave it even more attention, giving a chance for Remi to show how amazing she really is.

“So? What do you think?” Sarah shouts over the music and Harry suddenly realizes he is not alone. He managed to zone out on the drummer without even noticing.

“She is… amazing,” he admits truthfully, in complete awe of what he is witnessing. This is music. This is passion. This is exactly what Harry always looks for in musicians and Remi has a whole lot of it.

They push the short drum solo a little longer at the end and Harry watches as Remi finishes the song standing, playing so hard that with the last hit, one of her sticks simply snaps into two, flying across the stage as she is breathing hard, skin glimmering from the sweat, her hair a complete mess from all the head shaking she’s been doing, but Harry thinks that it’s the hottest thing he has ever seen in his life.

Sarah knows she finally found her replacement, judging from Harry’s look she knows he is a sucker for Remi so she just lets him enjoy the rest of the concert.

When they play their last song and they all gather at the front of the stage to bow in front of the audience, Harry finds himself standing as he is applauding the band, but especially Remi who doesn’t even know Harry Styles is now a fan of hers.

“Let’s talk to her, shall we?” Sarah suggests once they disappear from the stage. Harry nods, finishing up his beer before the two of them head backstage.

Sarah has been put on the list since she previously let Remi know she would be coming. She was ecstatic to see her old friend, however was not told that Sarah would be coming with someone else so when Remi spots the two of them walking down the small hallway at the backstage, she is surprised but not shocked. She knows Sarah has been working with him for a long time now, but she wasn’t expecting him to be here tonight.

“Hey! There you are, mama!” Remi jokes with a heartfelt chuckle as she hugs her old friend. “Already looking like a milf!” she teases, earning an eye-roll from Sarah.

“Rems, I want you to meet Harry. Harry, this is Remi Devon.”

Remi’s eyes meet Harry’s piercing green ones and for a moment, Harry feels his stomach drop. She is even more breathtaking up close, in her simple but very fitting outfit, hair pushed back from her face carelessly she is easily the first woman ever to make Harry nervous to the point where he is having a hard time to even talk.

Remi holds out a hand for him smiling warmly and he luckily takes control over his actions and shakes it before it could get awkward.

“Nice to meet you, Harry. Heard a lot about you,” she chuckles softly.

“Hope you believed only the best,” he nods with a shy smile.

“Oh, of course,” she winks and Harry swears he felt his heart skipping a beat.

“We actually have something to talk to you about, Rems. Do you have some time for us?” Sarah asks.

“Yeah, just let me wash my face and I’ll be right back. There’s a small green room on the left, feel free to wait there,” she nods and disappears a moment later.

Sarah and Harry move into the room as Remi told them to and just a few minutes later she storms inside, a new shirt hugging her torso, a simple black one, but it’s tight unlike the one she wore for the concert. She sits into the armchair while Sarah and Harry have taken the small sofa.

“Alright, I’m all yours,” she smiles at them crossing her legs. Harry knows he should be the one to bid the offer, but it seems like he is not finding his words just yet. But Sarah is quick to talk when she realizes Harry is at a loss of words.

“I brought Harry today because I wanted him to see you play. We are currently looking for someone to take my place shortly,” she explains, placing a hand to her bump. “I know you’ve been freelancing lately so I thought you’d be interested in working with the band and of course Harry.”

“Oh!” She seems genuinely surprised at the offer. “So this was kind of my audition in secret?” she chuckles.

“You could say that,” Sarah smiles.

“And how did I do?” she asks, eyes meeting Harry’s gaze that hasn’t left her face since she arrived.

“You… definitely passed. The best I’ve seen so far,” he tells her and the smile on her face is worth everything for him. 

“So what does this mean exactly?” This time Harry answers, finally finding his voice.

“If you are not too busy in the upcoming time, I would love to have you as my drummer,” he states, handing her the offer on a silver plate, basically.

It’s an offer most musicians dream of, so Harry thinks she’ll accept it right away, but of course, Remi is not like others. 

“I’ll be needing some more details before I give you my answer though,” she smiles.

And that, she gets. A few days after the concert Remi meets up with the rest of the band and Jeff to talk about all the details. She clearly wants to know what she is jumping into and Harry respects that. At the end she accepts the offer and as Harry watches her sign the paperworks, a huge wave of satisfaction and excitement washes over him. 

***

The public imagines Harry as the picture perfect human being who is always at his best, never making any mistakes, but that’s far from the real truth. He is as flawed as anyone else, it’s just that not many get the chance to see him in this state.

His bandmates are among the few privileged ones that are bound to see all his ups and downs as well and since Remi is part of them now too, she has witnessed his bad days since they have started working together.

Harry’s growl is heard in the microphone when he is supposed to be singing and the music soon comes to a halt. It’s probably the tenth time he is messing up the exact same part because his head is just not at the right place. He knows he should be at the top of his game, not wasting his colleagues’ precious time, but he just can’t bring himself away from the heavy thoughts that’s been occupying his mind lately. There are days when he is as free as a bird, not a worry in the world, but sometimes everything comes down at once and he feels like crumbling under the weight of his own career.

“Sorry guys,” he apologizes into the microphone, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he closes his eyes for a few seconds to collect himself. The silence in the auditorium where they are currently rehearsing for tour is harsh, everyone is tired and they can feel the nerves creeping up on them about the upcoming tour and making sure that everything is perfectly in place for the first show.

Remi looks around from behind her drum set, holding her sticks in one hand and she doesn’t like what she is seeing. A group that’s always so happy and carefree is now just a big ball of stress, this is not right. 

“Guys, why don’t you all wrap it up for today, I’ll stay here with Harry and help him get it right,” she offers.

“How do you want to practice without everyone else?” Mitch asks, not at all in an offending way, more like out of curiosity.

“I’ll find a way,” she smiles softly and he doesn’t push it further. 

As the rest of the band is packing up, leaving slowly, saying their goodbyes Harry is sitting on the floor next to one of the speakers, head hanging low, deep in his thoughts. Adam is the last one to leave the place and once it’s just the two of them, she stands up from behind her set and walks over to the desperate man.

“Get up,” she orders, not in a bossy manner, more of a ‘do what I asked, I’m trying to help’ way so Harry obeys. Standing up he towers above her, almost a full head taller than Remi, but still, sometimes she can make him feel so small.

Harry has noticed that her energy is making her push the air out of his lungs sometimes, just the way she stands, looks, moves around a room, it’s making her appear like the ruler of everyone around her. He has often found himself just staring at her from afar since she has joined the band and even though she has caught him ogling her a few times, he just still can’t bring himself to stop admiring her. He definitely has a fat crush on the new addition to the team, however now his feelings are pushed aside, their place taken by his anxiety and worries.

She takes his hands and pulls him to the middle of the stage, putting the microphone stand to the side so they have some space cleared out around them. She then turns to face him, a warm smile tugging on her lips while he is rather curious about what she has on her mind.

“Scream,” she simply tells him, his eyebrows immediately knitting together in confusion.

“Wha’?” 

“Scream,” she repeats, but he is still lost about the situation. She chuckles a little before taking a few steps away from him, twirling around her heels before stopping facing the area where the audience is supposed to be during a concert. “Whenever I feel like I’m locked, like everything around me is so suffocating that I can’t even function normally, I take a minute and just let it all out,” she explains before taking a deep breath and hunching over, the most eardrum-breaking scream bursts out of her, making Harry jump a little.

She holds it long, until her throat is cracking up and she runs out of her breath, then the scream dies and she takes a deep breath, filling up her lungs again. Harry stands there, completely stunned, thinking that if anyone heard her now, they are surely convinced she is being tortured here. 

When she turns back to face him again, she is smiling as if nothing just happened, like it’s the most natural thing to randomly scream from the top of her lungs on a casual Wednesday night.

“Now it’s your turn,” she tells him, but Harry doesn’t feel like it’s gonna be his thing at all. But he still turns to the side, clears his throat and lets out a not too forceful shout that’s quite saddening compared to her scream. “Oh, come on, I’m sure you can do better, Styles,” she chuckles, hands on her hips as she tilts her head to the side.

“Is this really necessary?” he questions, eyebrows still furrowed at her.

“Very much. Now come on, do it!”

“Remi, I--”

He doesn’t have the chance to finish, because she screams at him, knocking the air out of him once again, making him flinch at her sudden action.

“Scream!” she then snaps at him.

“I don--”

“Scream!” she repeats forcefully and Harry gives up. Taking a deep breath he lets his voice out in a hoarse scream that’s way more vibrant than his last attempt. “Yes! Again!” she grins nodding and he does it again.

And then again and again, until he feels like his chest is completely empty, like nothing is keeping a tight grip on his insides anymore. He is panting, mind racing as he realizes how much better he is feeling now, meaning that Remi’s technique worked.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, smirking, her arms folded on her chest.

“Fucking awesome,” he chuckles out of breath, running his hands through his messy hair. 

“Great. You think you can handle going through the song now without messing up?”

“I… think?”

“Alright, grab your guitar and I’ll give you the beat.”

She moves back behind her set as Harry grabs a guitar, throwing the strap over his head, turning to face Remi behind him as he places the microphone stand in front of him.

“I’ll go softer on the beats, you just do your thing okay?” she tells him and he just nods, fingers already on his guitar.

Kiwi sounds a whole lot different with just the drums playing weakly and only one guitar playing, but it’s not what matters. Harry finally manages to go through the song without messing anything up.

When the song ends and the music is replaced by silence, Harry can’t help the grin stretching across his face.

“I fucking needed that,” he sighs, his head falling back for a moment as the last bits of euphoria settles in his body.

“Want to go over something else?” she asks, turning back and forth to the sides on her stool, playing with the sticks, twirling them between her fingers easily.

“You sure don’t want to go home like the others?”

“Let’s see what choices I have. I can go home and watch an entire season of Love Island on my own, eating leftovers from two days ago or I can stay here, play music with a hot dude. I think I’m fine with the second option.”

Harry’s eyebrows shoot up at how simply she just called him a hot dude, his heart fluttering in his chest again like the first time he saw her play, only difference is that now her eyes are piercing on him and it’s just the two of them in an empty room. He is already having thoughts that should probably be pushed down.

“Did you just call your boss hot?” he teases her then.

“I don’t think you’re my boss,” she scoffs. “You need me here more than I need to be here, so I think I’m the one having the higher ground,” she points out and Harry knows she is so damn right. “Besides, I know you find me hot as well.”

He is quick to blush at her words, but that doesn’t stop him from questioning her.

“What makes you think that?”

“I see you staring, Harry. I’m not oblivious or naive. I know you like checking my butt out every time I’m fixing my set leaning down,” she chuckles and now he is certain his ears are a deep shade of red, he was caught more often than he thought, it seems like. “Also…” she smirks slyly. “If you think you hid your hard-on cleverly the other day when I played my solo, you are wrong.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Harry mumbles, cursing himself for being such a horny teenager around her, but he can’t help it. The woman is the epitome of everything Harry finds so fucking attractive, it’s like she was made for his imagination specifically. “This, um, this is a little awkward, but I’m sorry--” “Oh, don’t be,” she chuckles. “I’m just lucky I’m a woman and my arousal can’t be seen that easily,” she comments and Harry almost chokes on his own breath.

Did she just admit she has been turned on by him before? When? What did she think about? What was it that made her turned on? Harry needs answers, however he is not given the chance to get them.

“Alright, you can choose two more songs we’ll go over and then we are off,” she simply says, as if they weren’t just talking about being horny a moment ago.

“Uh, maybe Only Angel and, um, Lights Up?” he prompts, trying his best to regain his composure. 

“Cool. Let’s do them.” And with that, she switched back to work mode without batting an eye.

***

It feels like the crowd will never stop screaming. It just keeps going and going, people are probably losing their voice, but the screaming just continues as Harry stands at the front of the stage, his adrenaline jumping to the sky, eyes roaming around the full arena. He throws a few more kisses, placing his hands to his chest one last time before turning around and heading off the stage, his eyes meeting Remi.

She is not wearing her usual clothes, instead, she is now sporting a pair of high-waisted dress pants in a lavender color, a white top tucked into it, her matching blazer thrown to the floor, she probably got hot the moment she started playing. Her tattoos are on full display and she looks just as sweaty as Harry feels. But still, for him she is a sight he would love to look at for the rest of his life.

Their eyes meet and she smirks at him, eyes glimmering from the high she experienced through the concert, it’s a feeling they all share every time they perform together and it’s clearly like a drug neither of them wants to come clear of.

“Good job, Rockstar,” he reads her lips saying and he laughs, winking at her.

Ever since their one-on-one rehearsal, things have felt to change between them. It’s like a barricade that’s been lying between them has come down and they are feeling much more free around each other. Secret glances, touches and flirty comments are their usual and they don’t care that the people around them are starting to catch on it as well. They love the game they are playing and neither of them plans on stopping it.

Harry stops at her drum set, holding out a hand to help her up and walk her off the stage, knowing well she doesn’t feel the most comfortable in her stage clothes and feels a little too restricted by the end of the concerts, but she understands that her style does not go well with the look they are going for. 

She snatches her blazer from the floor and gladly takes Harry’s helping hand as he walks her off the stage, her Gucci boots feeling a little too tight at the moment.

“One of these days I’m gonna rip these pants off,” she jokes, pulling on the tight waistband of them.

“Just make sure I’m around when it happens, Darling,” Harry teases, making her laugh as they walk backstage, everyone congratulating them and the band following behind on their way.

“Oh, you’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

“Very much,” he admits without shame, the blushing long gone from his cheeks and ears. The buildup has changed his nervousness around her lately and he is enjoying the teasing and flirting all too much. 

The whole team agrees that tonight’s show was exceptionally good and that it deserves some celebratory drinks. A few blocks away from the hotel where everyone is staying there’s a cozy looking bar and the rather loud lot occupies half the place as they flow in and start ordering their endless rounds of drinks. 

Harry is sitting at one of the tables they have taken up, going strong with his third beer of the night, half zoned out of the conversation with the small group he is sitting in. His eyes are fixated on Remi’s figure who is standing at the bar with Charlotte, unlike every other female around she is not sipping on some kind of fancy drink or a cocktail, she went straight for the crafted beers the place had to offer. She has changed her stage clothes, wearing her usual tight black jeans and a sheer top with a simple black sports bra underneath it. Harry can’t stop his eyes from raking down her body, taking in every curve, tattoo and tiny detail about her and he thinks that there is not one thing on her he doesn’t find attractive. 

Her eyes find him, a playful smirk playing on her lips Harry has been thinking way too much about lately, and she cocks an eyebrow at him in a way that yells at him: Like what you see, Rockstar?

As an answer, he just simply shrugs with a growing smirk until she turns back to Charlotte, who is still talking to her, she hasn’t even noticed that Remi was focusing somewhere else for a moment. Remi laughs at something her bandmate said and Harry wishes he could be closer to hear her voice, he has grown quite a liking to her laughter, he has been trying to crack as many jokes lately as he can just to hear it.

He takes his eyes off her just for a second when someone at the table asks him something. He mumbles his reply and reaches for his beer as his gaze shifts back to her figure, only to find that Charlotte is not gone and a not so friendly looking guy is behind her, clearly trying to chat her up.

The dude is standing way too close to her for Harry’s liking, leaning in to talk to her, but she keeps backing away, however he does not care about that. She is clearly not enjoying the exchange and when the guy reaches up to her face Harry is quick to jump to his feet, ready to go to her rescue. But it’s not needed.

Just as he takes one step towards the scene near him, he witnesses as Remi grabs the bloke’s hand before he could touch her face and with a strong and quick move, she twists his arm behind him, keeping the guy on his toes as he is trying to escape her deadly grip on his wrist, his hand pushing into the middle of his back.

Harry’s mouth hangs open as he watches Remi tell something to the guy in a not too friendly manner before letting him go and the man flees before Harry could blink twice.

“That was impressive,” Harry tells her, walking up to her at the bar. Remi just shrugs, gulping down the rest of her beer. 

“I know some tricks.”

“How come?”

“Grew up with three older brothers, had to learn how to defend myself when they decided to attack me out of nowhere.”

“Three brothers? That must ‘ave been wild,” he huffs impressed.

“I surely didn’t have a girly childhood, I’ve always been kind of a tomboy,” she shrugs again. As a teenager, she often wished she would be like the girls in her class, but later on she realized how big of an advantage it is that she speaks the boys’ language so easily.

“I think it just made you… badass,” Harry smirks, leaning against the bar counter.

“Is that what I am?”she arches an eyebrow cockily. 

“Definitely. A handful, but the good kind.”

“Oh, just be careful, Rockstar. I might think you are trying to get into my pants,” she chuckles and as Harry hears her laugh he can’t stop himself from taking it further. She is too intoxicating.

“And what if I am?”

Remi doesn’t seem surprised at his comment, not even a bit. She is clearly enjoying the flirting once again, but when she answers, he surely is the one who is surprised.

“Then I gotta say you are working way too slow. I’m losing my patience.”

His eyebrows rise, lips parted as he stares back at her, the words that left her lips pushing the air out of his lungs once again, he is done for her. Utterly and completely. He wants to say and do a million things, but then settles on just one simple question.

“Want to get back to the hotel then?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” she smirks and simply heads towards the door without another word spoken. Harry is quick to grab his stuff from the table and catch up with her at the exit. 

The crispy night air feels a little sobering as they both step out of the bar, heading to the nearby hotel with rushed steps, keeping their silence but they both are grinning madly. When their eyes meet they can’t push down the laughter and Harry grabs her hand before he starts running, pulling her after himself.

By the time they reach the hotel they are both out of breath, adrenaline running high once again as what’s been building up between them since the first time they saw each other is finally about to bloom fully.

Remi pushes the button for the elevator and as it moves down painfully slowly Harry’s hands find her hips, pulling her back against his chest. His lips tease the soft skin on her neck, peppering kisses everywhere he reaches while his fingers dig into her skin under her sheer top. She leans against him, head falling back to his shoulder and she pushes her bum against his crotch, a whiny moan escaping his lips that makes her smile in satisfaction. 

“Fuck, Remi,” he breathes out, eager to finally have her all to himself and make all his fantasies come to life. The elevator finally dings and as the door slides open Remi turns in his arms abruptly and grabbing onto the collar of his shirt she simply pulls him inside, hand snapping on the button of his floor and just as the door slowly slides closed and they start moving up, her lips finally crash against his.

They are kissing hard, eager to take as much from each other as they can, they are both greedy, wanting the other all to themselves, the heat of the moment lighting up the small elevator. His fingers rake through her hair, grabbing a handful of it in each of them while one of her hands slide down his upper body until it stops on the obviously growing bulge in his pants. Harry moans shamelessly when she gives his erection a teasing squeeze and she smirks against his lips, satisfied with how easily he reacts to her touches. 

Harry melts into her, wanting to devour every bit of this moment with her, he is seeing stars when she takes his lower lip between her teeth and tugs on it. A hand flies down to her ass and he squeezes it hard without shying about how much he is enjoying touching her.

The elevator reaches their floor and once again he grabs her wrist and starts pulling her down the hallway towards his room. Her lips are glued to his neck when he is trying to get his keycard from his back pocket and open the door, but when he finally succeeds, they basically fall into the room, tangled into each other and the door snaps closed behind them. 

He is quick to push her against the door, lips attacking her neck, nipping and sucking on her skin until he is sure a mark is left on her. 

“Off with it,” she pants, her hands tugging on his shirt and they work with all four of their hands to unbutton his shirt until it flies across the room. Remi pushes on him, hands spread across his hot chest as they get farther inside the room. The bump into some furniture on their way, lips glued together again until they finally reach the bed and fall right onto the perfectly made sheets. They are both showing dominance so it’s a constant fight for the lead between them, rolling around until at last Remi ends up on top, strangling his lap. She straightens up and grabs the hem of her shirt, getting rid of it fast before she does the same with her sports bra, baring her upper body completely to Harry’s greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, pushing himself up until he wraps his arms around her, mouth meeting her chest, littering her heated skin with sloppy kisses until his lips reach one of her nipples.

“Yes!” she moans as he starts playing with it, his hands coming to cup her breasts, massaging them continuously before his mouth moves over to her other nipple, giving it the same attention. 

Harry uses her momentary weakness and turns them over, his crotch coming in contact with her center as he pushes his hips between her legs forcefully. He kisses down her stomach before he leans back and works fast on the buttons of her jeans. The tight material hugs her legs stubbornly, but he is eager to get rid of them and he soon succeeds, leaving her in just a lacy black thong. He undoes his own pants in a heartbeat, pulling them off and throwing them to the side before he gets on top of her again, kissing her lips so hungrily as if it hasn’t been just a few moments since he kissed her last. 

She whimpers under his touch when he moves a hand between her thighs, running his fingers along her clothed folds, her arousal already soaking the fabric. He doesn’t hesitate to slip his hand into her underwear, her juices wetting his wandering fingers and he teases her hole and clit playfully.

“You better not fucking tease me, I don’t like that,” she pants, her dark eyes meeting hers and he can see the threat behind her words, she is not joking.

“Then what do you like?” he breathes out, eager to please her so much, she’ll forget about everyone else she has ever slept with.

She doesn’t answer, instead, a devious smile tugs on her swollen lips as she pushes him off until she is able to move. Harry is now kneeling on the bed and watches as Remi pushes her ass up into the air, back arching perfectly, her thong looking so delicious on her round butt and when she pushes herself back so her behind meets her throbbing dick in his briefs he could cry from the sensation. His hands immediately grab onto her asscheeks, pulling her even harder against himself.

“Smack it,” she breathes out, glancing over her shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“Do it,” she nods and Harry doesn’t need more encouragement, he lifts a hand up and smacks her ass so it leaves a little redness after it. Remi moans erotically, enjoying herself fully and seeing how much it turns her on, he smacks the other cheek as well.

“You are gonna be the death of me,” he whines and pushing down his briefs his erection finally springs free, he grabs it with one hand, stroking himself a few times while his other hand is keeping a tight grip of her ass.

Remi wants to see him naked, so she quickly pushes herself up to her knees and turning around her eyes fall on Harry stroking himself. Hunger fills her eyes as she launches forward, lips meeting his while her hands simply take the place of his on his length, doing the job for him.

“I’m on birth control. When were you last tested?” she mumbles against his lips before leaning back so she can get rid of her thong and Harry does the same with his underwear.

“Three weeks ago, haven’t been with anyone since and I’m clean,” he mumbles in a rush.

“I’m clean too. You can ditch the condom if you want to.” “I wanna feel you,” he pleads desperately as she lies back on the bed and he gets on top of her again.

“All yours,” she smirks, spreading her legs wide for him, the sight in front of him is easily beating any art he has ever seen, he thinks. 

He positions himself to her entrance, but doesn’t push into her just yet, leaning down so his lips brush against her ear as he whispers into it.

“Let’s see if you feel just as amazing as I imagined.” And with that, he pushes into her with one swift movement, stretching her all the way until his whole length disappears inside her.

“Fuck, Harry!” she cries out, back arching at the sensation. He sucks on her neck once again as he starts moving in and out, fitting inside her so perfectly, he is convinced she was crafted just for him. 

He is going fast and hard, their pants and moans completely filling the hotel room and they can only hope they can’t be heard by anyone right now. She circles her legs around his hips, the angle he is reaching making her toes curl behind his back.

“You feel so fucking good,” he chokes out, face contorting into a blissful frown as he is getting closer to his orgasm with each thrust.

“I want to be on top,” she gasps, already pushing on and this time Harry doesn’t hesitate to obey. He rolls to his back, pulling her with him so now she is on top. Her hands come to rest on his stomach as she starts riding her, circling and lifting her hips so perfectly, so breathtakingly that Harry could cum just from the sight of her bouncing on him, but the feeling is making it a mind blowing experience. His fingers dig into her hips as she is starting to move faster and faster, before Harry starts bucking his hips up to meet her rhythm as well, going so deep into her, he is having a hard time deciding where she ends and where he starts. They are completely merged together in one hot mess. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” she screams gasping, her head falling back as she doesn’t fall out of her rhythm, still being such a drummer even in the bed, dictating the beat. 

Harry pushes himself up into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around her so he can push her naked chest against his, their sweaty skins sliding against each other relentlessly, creating friction.

“Scream my name when you cum,” he orders, his lips finding hers once again, but it’s a messy kiss, their teeth are clanking, noses are bumping together as they are both nearing their high.

“Harry, oh fuck!” she exclaims and with her next movement he can feel her clench around him.

“Louder!” he growls on the edge of his own orgasm.

“Harry! Harry!” she screams shamelessly, throwing him over the edge, a guttural moan bursting from him as they both fall out of the rhythm, satisfaction washing over them in waves.

“Oh shit!” she breathes out, lips against his as she keeps him close with her hands on the base of his neck. 

“Fucking Hell, Remi. I think I almost had a heart attack,” he breathes out with a soft chuckle making her laugh as well. She pulls him into another kiss, but it’s way slower now, the hunger and greed taken by their pleasure, now it’s time for something softer.

When they fall back to the bed, arms and legs tangled as they are still trying to stay close to each other, Remi looks up at him with a tired smile.

“So, was it like you imagined?” she asks and he chuckles softly.

“A thousand times better. But now we have a problem on our hands.”

“And what would that be?”

“Now I’m hooked. I won’t be able to stop thinking about you, not that it hasn’t been the situation since the start.”

Remi chuckles shortly, pushing herself up enough so she can look comfortable at his flushed out face. 

“Well, it’s a good thing we are kind of locked together for months.”

“I’m one lucky man, aren’t I?” he smirks, so full of himself before he pulls her back down, kissing her like they have all the time in the world on their hands.

[whoistheasshole]

How do I overcome maladaptive daydreaming?

Anonymous asks: Hi ... How do you overcome maladaptive daydreaming?

I've been daydreaming about stories and characters from books, movies, TV shows etc since a very very young age and these last few years especially they've gotten much more intense bc of some big negative changes in my life and stuff that affected my mental health badly. I can remember whenever some bad stuff happened I would immediately retreat into a fantasy land and pretend I was there, either by daydreaming or reading a story/fic. It became very very natural after a while and now I'd say that it's like my natural state of being. I daydream about everything. If anything even remotely significant happens in my life? Daydream about it. Watching a new show on tv that I like? Create an oc that's really just a more idealised version of myself, put them in that world and daydream about it. I'm bored, restless, nothing to do even though there's actually a lot of stuff I could be doing (schoolwork, studying, even trying to do something fun like draw or write)? Automatically I'm in the daydream world and by now I'm already halfway through my imaginary conversation with imaginary people. I used to be pretty confident in my ability to be able to tell between these two worlds, to be able to distinguish what's real and what's not, and although even now I obviously know what's fiction and what's reality it doesn't ... Feel that way to me? Emotionally I'm so attached to these characters and these figures that I think a part of me subconsciously believes that they really are real in a sense, and whenever I remind myself "yeah lol but that's a character they don't really exist" it's kind of a jolt to my system like "oh yeah right. Of course. I forgot that." And then after that comes the disappointment, boredom, and depression, and before you know it I'm in another daydream.

I've known this is a problem for a while but I haven't known what to do about it, and I still don't. Whenever I try to force myself back into reality and think about my real life I just feel so ... blank? I don't know what else to think about. Because there's nothing actually happening in my real life. Because of quarantine and online school it's difficult to meet my friends or even have daily, simple face to face human interaction where you joke and talk and laugh with someone you like. The only friends I have are online but obviously that's different from talking to someone in person, and after a while all you want to do is just see another person in real life and talk to them and feel like a normal human being once again. But you can't do that, so you daydream about doing it, and before you know it the whole day is gone and when you try to think of what you did, what you REALLY did and not just daydream about doing, all you can remember is pacing around your house and thinking. Just that. All day long.

It's not just that my life is empty. There's some stuff, some serious stuff and problems that I'm not sure how to deal with, that if they aren't already a problem now will definitely become one in the future. And thinking about them seriously and trying to think of what to do about it and coming up with absolutely nothing because there is nothing you can do about it? That's painful. Who wouldn't want to retreat into an escapist fantasy in this situation?

So that's that. I really don't know what to do about this but I'm tired of living like this and wasting my life and my youth and I really, really want to turn things around. I would really like some advice or help if that’s okay.

Hi Anon,

Thanks for your question! First things first, it sounds like there might be problems to tackle in your life that are above my pay grade. If you haven’t done so already, I do recommend looking at therapy options to get unstuck on these problems. If applicable, here are some tips to find low-cost mental health support in the US and Canada. Or talk to your doctor about your options and go from there.

Below I will throw some do-it-yourself mental health care at you, meaning this is what I pieced together over the years, but it should obviously not be taken as a replacement for therapy – or as medical advice, for that matter. Also, I only know your words so if anything feels like it doesn’t apply to your situation, feel free to disregard.

With all the disclaimers out of the way, I don’t think the daydreaming is the issue. Or rather, it has obviously become an issue but it is not the issue. You write you had „ some big negative changes in [your] life and stuff that affected [your] mental health badly.“ You say that you go to your daydream world when you’re „bored, restless, nothing to do“. This tells me that you have been facing some difficult circumstances and that your emotions and motivation got buried somewhere along the way. You have turned to daydreaming as a coping mechanism and have now become so good at it that it has outlived its usefulness – or at least breached containment as far as it can serve a helpful function in your life – and has become a problem in itself. Remember how I wrote that it’s not the issue? I’m saying this because I believe that if you cut out the daydreaming tomorrow, something else would fill that void and it might not be more fun or productive – because the boredom and restlessness would still be there and you would still need a way to cope with the difficulties you’re facing. Now, I’m not saying this to discourage you from taking action. Instead I’m trying to slightly move the focus to zoom in on areas you could tackle that might bring bigger, more lasting rewards. (Reducing your daydreams may be sort of a byproduct though.)

I suggest focusing on: Feeling your feelings, resting and reducing learned helplessness by taking action.

First, resting. I cannot tell if this is part of your issue, but being restless and unmotivated can mean that you’re pretty much out of energy to give. If you’re used to pushing yourself to get one thing done and then another and then another, but never picking up intrinsic motivation (where it becomes fun to accomplish things) have a look at this answer to see my suggestions how to rest properly. Humans can achieve a great deal by willpower alone, but if you’re doing this on an empty tank you are hurting the engine and it will damage the car (or so I believe cars work. In any case it’s bad for you and can lead to burnout).

Second, feeling your feelings is the most essential step to mental health and a struggle for so many of us. Suppressing your feelings can become second nature where you don’t really notice you’re doing it, but it takes a lot of mental energy to maintain. That’s energy you don’t have for anything else in your life! On the other hand, if you’re avoiding your feelings rather than suppressing them, it can feel like your life is simply passing you by and other people/circumstances are making decisions for you. You’ll feel like you’re powerless to shape the life you want.

To get you started, it is important to assess what you’re dealing with. Are there any memories or emotions that feel too big and scary to tackle alone, as if they would split you in half if you thought too much about them? In that case I want to reiterate my recommendation for therapy. Therapy will allow you to get a hiking partner on the summit project for mount feeling who will know how to avoid bears and where to seek shelter from thunderstorms. If you’re unsure how to tackle the topic rather than scared, here are some resources I find helpful:

Learn to feel your feelings, post 1

Learn to feel your feelings, post 2

Book: The Tao of Fully Feeling by Pete Walker – a little wooey at times, but he’s got a solid and compassionate view on the topic

Book: Recovering from Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson – cannot recommend enough

Book: Your turn for care by Laura S. Brown – slow start, but really valuable advice

Journaling/morning pages as described here under „750 words“ 

The last two books I mentioned handle different main topics, but they offer really solid advice in the second part on getting your emotional feet back under yourself and especially how to discover and honor your own needs and boundaries.

You can also take a stab at a DBT (dialectical behavior therapy) workbook. DBT is very focused on practical skills to stay with your feelings, how to cope with distressing emotions or situations, how to form healthy habits etc. Generally I believe resources around the term „dissociation“ might yield specific helpful strategies for you (not saying that as a diagnosis, but a pointer for further research). You might also want to look up „grounding“ exercises.

Don’t try everything at once, you only need to start somewhere­. Chose what sounds most interesting, relevant and doable for you and keep going at a sustainable (not exhausting) pace. If you get kicked off your emotional equilibrium in the process, take your time to recenter yourself. And if other things get in the way, keep coming back to the process when you feel ready. You’ll notice that when you get „better at feelings“, your mood and motivation will improve and it will become easier to turn towards your daily life again. Mind you, this is more of a marathon than a sprint, you’ll likely not see any earth-shattering improvement in a week. More like a year or even several years. But a feeling once felt is off your to-do list. Yes, it might be a long to-do – or rather to-feel – list, but with every step you take you are lifting the burden ever so slightly. And after, say, four months you might look back and see that you haven’t made sweeping progress, but that real life has become a little more interesting, that you have gained some helpful tools to deal with the challenges you’re facing, that you know yourself a little better. And this is how you build recovery.

Third, „learned helplessness“ is a specific term and might not apply to your situation. But in any case, feeling stuck is probably familiar to a lot of us. So whether it’s the one or the other, your antidote is action, focused action towards the goals that you want to achieve. You might believe to solve your issues you need to find a whole new school/major or move across the country or give some people around you a personality transplant, but that is not the kind of action we are looking for. Any kind of action that serves one of your goals, no matter how small, helps. Because this step is two-fold. You’ll want to work towards a solution for your issues but, somehow more important, you want to make your brain understand that acting on behalf of yourself is an option. Despair doesn’t set in any time something bad happens to us. It sets in when we feel trapped in a bad situation. – At this junction I want to point out that I’m not trying to give you some kind of toxic positivity „every person is the architect of their own fortune“ manifest destiny crap. There are situations that are really bad and there are times in our lives when we have few options to change these bad situations. What I’m trying to get at is that even running through the few and shitty options we have is healthier for us mentally than taking the situation completely at face value. We have to feel like we have agency and if that amounts to „I will clean up this one dirty spot in my flat that’s been drying there for months and bothers me every time I look at it“ or „I will wear color X today in protest and nobody will know“, so be it. On the other hand, it can also mean socking away money and saving your documents for when you’ll be able to use them, reaching out to a helpline for your specific issue or writing down a ten-year plan where you slowly build up to the big change that you’re envisioning. Your task in the here and now: 1) Think about something that makes you feel unhappy in a big or small way. 2) Identify a doable action that would bring you closer to resolve the issue. 3) Perform that action. And don’t discount asking for help on your list of possibilites. For a lot of topics there are professional, government or non-profit organizations or helplines. Sometimes „write down any action I could take“, including the ridiculous options, will be the first step to get unstuck. It’s not about an immediate solution, it’s about getting your brain in the habit of identifying options. And then chose one thing, do one thing. Show yourself that you are part of this world and that you can change what happens to you.

You wrote that you feel like you’re wasting your life and your youth, so if I may recommend one bonus strategy: Do new things. As Devon Price explains in „Laziness Does Not Exist“, new experiences will make time pass more slowly for us (in a good way) and help us create fun memories. As an example, they mention that the car ride to a new destination always feels longer than the way back. This is because we are collecting a bunch of new impressions when we make the trip for the first time. You can harness this for your own life, to disrupt the drudgery of school during Covid: Try something new. For instance, one year I challenged myself to plan at least one new experience every month. I wasn’t too rigid on what „new“ meant – e.g. visit a corner of my city that I haven’t been to before. But it can also mean visiting a museum (physically or virtually), trying to grow a plant from seed or your kitchen waste, joining some kind of (masked and/or outdoor) meetup in your area or a volunteering opportunity, trying a new recipe or nice homemade cocktail (with or without alcohol). Sending somebody a physical letter, maybe with some nice drawing or a little poem (at least for most of us that’s a rarity). Doing literally any physical hobby – perfecting a slightly complicated yoga move, making an origami animal or a collage, learning a new song on an instrument you know or to sing it by heart … there are literally no limits. Just challenge yourself to experience new things and wholeheartedly let yourself be bad at them. If you draw a crayon painting that would make a six-year-old laugh, good job! You can even create a little collection of the things that you tried/did/saw – for example documenting them in a journal or as a photo series. Be careful with putting this up for others on social media though, if that sucks more joy from the experience than it creates. Consider instead to message some pictures to friends or family. It’s a nice thing to talk about! Or keep it to yourself – this exercise is intended to make you happy. You can also write your adventures down on individual pieces of paper and collect them in a glass that you can go through later to reminisce. Not only looking forward and experiencing new things, but also happily looking back at them makes us feel better.

And there you have it. I didn’t write anything about daydreaming because I believe the above steps build the road that leads to your goal. Of course feel free to replace the daydreams with healthy alternatives in the moment. But make sure to think ahead of time what would be healthy and helpful for you and try to be very understanding and patient with yourself if it doesn’t work in the moment. Your daydreams have served a purpose so far and it will take sustained action to give them an appropriate role in your life. I hope the above will make it as easy and empowering as possible to get there.

Read an update from the letter writer here.

[retrogradedreaming]

UHHHH maybe,, you could write a little thing for reki making the sk8 fam tea? and kaoru thinking hes gonna have to pretend he likes it but then "oh wait reki can actually make tea what-"

just bc this has been living in my head for awhile sdkljfs

(capt-snoozles)

It turns out I am completely incapable of writing ANYTHING short, so have a full one shot type thing, I guess. I hope it's okay that I kinda borrowed headcanons from you and @that-was-anticlimactic for Reki with TS at a couple of small moments in the fic?

----

It used to be Kaoru alone who visited Kojiro’s restaurant when it was closed on Mondays. But since the start of winter break, Sia la Luce had become much livelier now that Reki, Langa, and Miya weren’t in school all day, and Shadow came when his days off lined up right. If Kaoru were being honest, it took some time to get used to the space no longer being only his and Kojiro’s, but he’d grown to like how their group came together like this.

The afternoons were the quietest part of these days. Kojiro took these opportunities to try out new recipes on them, leaving everyone contentedly full and pleasantly sleepy. Today, Langa had actually fallen asleep in the booth, and Reki sat beside Kaoru at the counter, playing with a tiny skateboard and making soft sounds like a small motor. Shadow and Miya sat at a table across the room, arguing over whether clown or cat makeup looked cooler while Kojiro finished cleaning. Kaoru let himself sink into the lull, Reki’s noises and that of the skateboard wheels on the counter an almost comforting presence beside him. And yet, one thing was missing, keeping him from truly relaxing.

“Seems like a good afternoon for tea,” Kojiro said, as if reading his mind as he appeared out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “You want me to make some?”

“Absolutely not,” Kaoru scoffed. “People who microwave their tea should be arrested.”

“There’s no way you can tell the difference,” Kojiro said, defensive. “Hot water is hot water.”

“Only an uncultured pig would believe that,” Kaoru snapped. He was about to stand, to tell Kojiro he’d make the tea himself like he always inevitably had to, when Reki all but leaped from his seat, skateboard abandoned for the moment.

“I’ll make it!” he offered, and the way his face lit up meant that Kaoru took too long to say not to bother. By the time he’d found his words, Reki had already bounded around the counter and into the kitchen, and Kojiro didn’t even try to stop him. Before Kaoru could tell Kojiro to stop him, Reki called out to Kojiro, asking about the industrial stove, and soon, Kojiro was not only allowing Reki to make the tea, but encouraging him.

Kaoru supposed this was a step up from Kojiro’s microwave technique, but if Kaoru were likely to trust anyone other than himself to make a decent cup of tea, it wouldn’t be Reki. The idea that he’d wanted his tea made well and was unlikely to receive it as such set him on edge. As he listened to the water boil and the conversation continued around him, he found himself wrapping a strand of his hair around his finger and tugging, letting it go, and repeating the process until his scalp hurt. He didn’t even notice that Langa had woken up until he appeared beside Kaoru and spoke.

“What’s Reki doing?” he asked.

“Making tea,” Kaoru said, doing his best not to appear so anxious about something so small.

Langa peered over the edge of the counter to where Kojiro and Reki were talking in the kitchen, and then turned back to Kaoru. “I like how he makes it. I never liked it before I met him.”

Kaoru hummed a halfhearted response. He doubted that Langa’s standards were very high, given that he’d grown up in Canada. He’d likely had tea often enough, given that his mother was Japanese, but Kaoru knew from experience that plenty of people even here in Okinawa had no idea how to brew a proper cup. It was about timing, knowing how hot to make the water, how long to steep the leaves, and so many people rushed the process—or worse, forgot about it and steeped too long—that Kaoru preferred to make his own.

He couldn’t help but envision Reki handing him a bitter cup, or one that tasted like little more than hot leaf juice. He grimaced at the idea of having to drink it and pretend he liked it, suffering all the while. He would have to wait until he was home later to make something better for himself.

He was still trying to think of a polite way to decline the tea he’d obviously wanted when Reki came out bearing a tray of steaming cups and began making the rounds through the restaurant. Reki handed the first one to Langa, who accepted it, smiling softly up at Reki. Langa sipped the tea immediately, only to flinch and draw it away after the first sip.

Not promising, Kaoru thought. If he’d boiled the water, it was ruined, even if it was something as simple as green tea. And yet, Langa only took another sip while Reki looked on approvingly.

“It’s good,” Langa finally proclaimed, and Reki glowed as if he’d received praise from the emperor himself. Reki moved on, handing Kaoru his cup.

“Thank you,” Kaoru said, accepting it with both hands. Fortunately, Reki moved on to Shadow and Miya without waiting for Kaoru to try it, which meant that he didn’t know Kaoru only held onto it without making a move to taste it. If nothing else, he could enjoy the warmth that crawled from his fingertips all the way to his elbows.

Neither Miya nor Shadow hesitated in drinking theirs, though Kaoru couldn’t imagine they cared much how it tasted, as long as it was hot. And yet, as he watched, the two of them looked just as pleased as Langa when they tried it.

“Oh wow, the slime makes good tea,” Miya pronounced, hugging the cup close to him like a space heater.

“Damn, this is pretty good,” Shadow said, drinking deeply and draining half the cup. “How’d you even learn to make it like this?”

Reki shrugged, taking up his own cup, the last on the tray. He set the tray down on the counter and took the empty seat beside Langa. “I dunno, I guess I just picked it up over the years. It’s kinda like making skateboards, y’know? You have to figure out how all the parts fit together, and if you do it wrong, the tea doesn’t taste right.”

Kaoru looked up at him from the murky depths of his tea, brows raised. When it came to making tea, the analogy was rather profound, and Kaoru couldn’t argue it. Reki was right—tea was about the sum of its parts, the pieces fitting together perfectly. And as with building skateboards, the person making it had to know exactly how to combine each piece to create the whole.

“That doesn’t make any sense, but whatever,” Shadow said, taking another sip. “All I care about is that it doesn’t suck.”

“How come you’ve never made us tea before?” Miya asked, eyes trained on the Switch he’d pulled from his pocket now that he’d abandoned his conversation with Shadow.

“I don’t really have the patience for it,” Reki said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s kinda like, if I don’t wanna put in the time to do it right, why bother?”

While everyone was wrapped up in conversation, Kaoru finally chanced a discreet sip. If it was as bad as he’d expected, he could school his expression appropriately while they were all distracted. Perhaps he could even get away without having to lie about how good it was. And yet, when the tea touched his tongue, he paused.

It wasn’t too hot.

It wasn’t too weak or too strong.

It wasn’t too bitter and the leaves didn’t taste as though they’d been burnt.

It was, as far as Kaoru was concerned, some of the best tea he’d had outside his own home. For a moment, he couldn’t find the words to say so. He sipped it again, just to make sure he hadn’t deluded himself based on everyone else’s praise. Sure enough, it was almost more delicious the second time.

“You surprised?” Kojiro murmured at his ear, his own cup dangling from his fingertips. Kaoru jumped, nearly spilling his tea. When he turned to face him, Kojiro’s lips quirked in a smug grin, and he raised one brow meaningfully. Kaoru shot him a hard glower in return, a silent command to keep his mouth shut before Kaoru turned back to Reki.

“It’s delicious,” Kaoru said, and it wasn’t forced in the least. “I’m impressed.”

Reki, who had already immersed himself in talking to Langa, gaped at Kaoru, one of his hoodie strings falling from between his teeth. Then, he flashed a wide grin. “Glad you like it!”

“Have you ever practiced tea ceremony?” Kaoru asked, reluctantly setting his tea down on the counter.

“Nah, my parents let me try it once when I was younger, but I kept messing up the steps,” Reki said. “It’s not really fun when people get mad at you for doing it wrong.”

“I studied it for some time,” Kaoru said, remembering how the order felt comforting, how the amount of concentration it required gave his anxious mind something to focus on, how the simple yet refined aesthetic felt like clearing his head. In recent years, he didn’t have time for it with his calligraphy business, but a part of him missed it. “It’s quite a bit different from drinking tea like this, but if you wanted to, perhaps we could do a...modified version of it. Something less formal with everyone here.”

Reki’s eyes brightened, and he looked to Langa, who only seemed to share his enthusiasm. “It sounds fun, yeah! A lot better than getting yelled at by a bunch of old people because ‘tradition.’”

“I’d say so,” Kaoru said, and they devolved into talking about their favorite teas and the best ways to brew them. Kaoru couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked to someone who actually understood that tea was an art even more than it was a drink. But Reki did, and when the rest of the group finally left, leaving Kaoru and Kojiro alone in the restaurant to clean up, Kojiro nudged him with an elbow.

“You didn’t think Reki could make tea like that, did you?” he said, the words teasing but too close to Kaoru’s own thoughts for comfort.

“Shut up or I’ll leave you here to wash dishes alone,” Kaoru quipped, even as he accepted the next cup to dry. “I will admit, I was pleasantly surprised.”

“I knew you would be,” Kojiro said as he dried his hands and stretched.

“Anything is better than microwaved tea,” Kaoru said. And although it was true, he couldn’t help but look forward to the next Monday, and the last before the kids started school again.

[hohoz]

The ones that suffer the most

I wanted to talk about this for a long time.

I’m a Resident evil addicted, I finished almost every RE game released and I must say that Capcom made some poor choices regarding Jill and Chris, they are EASILY the most mistreated characters in RE Franchise. 

But let’s explain why is that: 

Jill and Chris are survivors, they had to survive in a mansion with a lot of puzzles and zombies, while looking for items that could help them to progress and find a way to reach Brad. 

When they arrive at STARS Office, they are revolted that Umbrella did all that under their noses and innocents were dying because of that and they explained EVERYTHING in a report - but Irons made that go away. 

In the ORIGINAL RE3 we had this special file (Jill’s Diary) 

August 7th Two weeks have passed since that day. My wounds have been healed, but I just can't forget it. For most people, it's history now. But for me, whenever I close my eyes, it all comes back clearly. Zombies eating people's flesh and the screams of my teammates dying. No, the wounds in my heart are not healed yet...

August 13th Chris has been causing a lot of trouble recently. What's with him? He seldom talks to the other police members and is constantly irritated. The other day, he punched Elran of the Boy's Crime department just for accidentally splashing Chris's face with coffee. I immediately stopped Chris, but when he saw me he just gave me a wink and walked away. I wonder what happened to him...

August 15th Midnight. Chris, who has been on a leave of absence for a "vacation," called me so I visited his apartment. As soon as I walked into his room, he showed me a couple of pieces of paper. They were part of a virus research report entitled as simply as "G". Then Chris told me that, "The nightmare still continues." He went on to say that, "It's not over yet." Ever since that day, he has been fighting all by himself without rest, without even telling me.

August 24th Chris left the town today to go to Europe. Barry told me that he would send his family to Canada and then he would follow Chris. I decided to remain in Raccoon City for a while because I know that the research facility in this city will be very important to this entire case. In a month or so, I'll be joining with them somewhere in Europe. That's when my real battle begins...

For some weird reason this file isn’t available in RE3 Remake. 

But ok, here we see that Chris was doing some investigation - in the RE2RMK  you could see this letter that Chris left in a way that normal people wouldn't understand - the only thing that Claire says is that “doesnt look like him” but how normies would understand what Chris is like is he is not well represented in media ??????????????????

And Jill had all the detective work in her wall. 

So far so good - we understand the basics about them - they are Special police force, the elite, they had a traumatic experience and they survived to tell the story. 

Some problems until now:

Jill had a MAJOR personality change in RE3 RMK- I honestly like most of that, she is a badass in the originals and she is a badass in the rmk but I still dislike the fact that she swears all the time (specially because in RE1, RE Rev, RE5 she doesn't do that) 

We can tell a lot about her personality just looking at her room, but I still miss some stuff (I had expectations - so this is not a real problem. but still) like a Vinyl player (since she is probably into classical music), some letters from her father so new players can understand her origin and why is she so good in lockpicking and more about her dog (she had a pic in the original that could’ve been her boyfriend but it was replaced by a dog in RE2 rmk but in RE3 Rmk there in no dog) 

Okay - after you finish the game the only thing we see is this: 

In my opinion this is Chris since he is always associated with Green colors while Jill is associated with blue. 

So my speculation here is that she found him while in the original we had this: 

This is not a major chance but still is important (lore of course - duh) but the problem here is that while Jill is looking for him - Code Veronica is happening. 

So I can only assume two things, they did not show him because they DON’T HAVE A FACE FOR HIM or I am wrong and that is Jill, but if that is Jill so why there is no decent epilogue like the original ? 

Okay, now we are arriving in the real trouble area

I will do RE5 first and the Wii and Rev1 (even tho those two comes first in the lore) 

RESIDENT EVIL 5 

So before the game was release we had some propaganda, including this: 

So have in mind that Jill was dead, I thought that she died and RE5 would explain that shit. 

But in the beginning we see that Chris is looking for her and have in mind that Chris HAD A MAJOR CHANCE IN HIS APPEARANCE, and I’m not talking about his muscles. 

I will not address Chris in CV since he was good in that game but I the team that made CV also made the original, it had CONSISTENCE. 

Here we have Chris, he’s THE classical american soldier protagonist from Hollywood in the 80′s/90′s and he had some omage to TOPGUN

He also shares some traits with his sister

A major trait here is that HE HAS BLUE EYES, typical good looking soldier from US. 

and now let’s have a look at Chris in RE5...

Yeah... I still hate this face even tho I love his Character in this game, this ugly a** monkey looking mf and he had a lot of steroids

So we have some lore to him in RE5, Jill and Chris went to a mansion looking for Spencer (one of the fathers of Umbrella and the one that was behind project Wesker, he wanted to do this Virus so he could live forever, so RE has a good lore, it’s not just about zombies) but when they found him, he was dead and Wesker was by his side, in a fight Jill sacrificed herself to save Chris’s life. 

Chris started doing mission after mission because her body was never found, and he made a name for himself, he became a ‘legend’ inside BSAA and you can see that in the beginning of RE5.

The reason behind the muscles was probably to fight Wesker mano to mano but still is not well made, it really felt weird playing for the first time. 

So now we have a problem here, there is thing that you use in a narrative that is to make someone strong af powerless, and they did that to Jill. (a good example of this is in TWD- Ricky is a fucking legend and Negan made him powerless in the face of a event) 

Jill was used in a Boss fight and that is it... She is not in the game as a character, she is being manipulated and her whole design was changed, she looks like Nina from Tekken. WTF. - BTW, the fact that Wesker had mind control over her created 1000 fics of sex 

 So that is it, my main problem here isnt Jill itself, but it’s the fact that they used her character as a boss even tho she is the heroine, she never appears in RE lore again until some guy inside Capcom said “Well people are asking about Jill so let’s place a file in Rev2 saying that she is in rehab” 

The only time that she appears again is in a 3DS NINTENDO ONLY game, it felt that Capcom simply don’t care about her character. 

By the way Revelations 1 is a great game and was adaptable some years later for PC and consoles

But you think that this is bad, wait until we arrive at RESIDENT EVIL 6 

When I learned that Jill was not in RE6 I was mad... But after I played that game I said “thank you God” that game was bad, transformers kind of bad, it had bad writing, the lore was all over the place and Chris was the one that suffered the most in this game. 

He was responsible for the death of an entire squad, suffered amnesia and people still wanted him in the command 

THEY MADE HIM AN ALCOHOLIC 

The golden boy of BSAA reduced to THIS. 

By the way, the director said that HE WANTED TO KILL CHRIS IN THIS GAME to SUBVERT EXPECTATIONS - so if you liked Piers now that he died only because of that. 

So now let’s analyse what we know: 

The first 2 main characters are not well represented in media until RE6, they don’t know how to re introduce Jill in the games and Chris was reduced to a normal guy at a Russian bar;

But it gets worse... 

Capcom LOVE Leon, we know that. he is always the hero, he is the protagonist in almost every movie and he is always the cool guy so when he get’s a new model, he looks like this:

But When Chris get’s a new face he look like this: 

WHO DAFUQ ARE U, no offense to the model but he has NEGATIVE JAW LINE.

And still he doesn't look like Claire’s brother, there is no blue/green eyes and he looks younger that he was in 6 (and 6 still uses that ugly character model) 

But let’s go in the lore- we HAVE 0 info on Jill in RE6 / RE7 and no sight of her in RE8 

And speaking of which, they tried to make Chris the bad guy in the trailer so when we play we see “Ohhhh he was not the bad guy, that happened and that is why he did that” 

But still... 

If they are going to do that to his character don’t use this character, shit ! Do something with that Wesker’s son that made 0 sense in RE6 but leave Chris out of this - it really feels that they simply don’t know how to treat him right

And you may think that I may be complaining a lot because of his appearance

But this is him in RE8  

(to me this is some random dude from Russia) 

And this is him in RE:Verse (that is going to be release TOGETHER) 

So this tells me that they have 0 clue of how to handle his looks

Jill got RE3Rmk but it felt like a cheap game compared to RE2Rmk where the original RE3 was SO MUCH BETTER

And this is bad because there are so many new fans joining the fandom only to see 2 great characters suffering from poor director’s choices. 

I’m sorry about this rant, if you like Chris face and looks its okay, really, but dont tell me that Chris from 5/6/8 is the same from 1/CV and if you think im wrong about Jill its fine, but she is an amazing character that could have so much more impact in RE universe (I mean, she never even appeared in a RE movie - animations) 

But it’s sad to see so many characters that receive good representation in media and good games/lore while Jill get’s almost none and Chris is handled like random face guy. 

I was going to talk a little bit more about Rev 1 and RE Umbrella Chronicles but there is no need since Im mad right now and it seems that Capcom has 0 interest in making Code Veronica and Umbrella’s fall after that since their fav boy Leon need a rmk in RE4 even tho RE4 is not that old. 

Bonus:

Fun fact: Chris served in the Air force, so yeah, to me even Tom Cruise looks more like Chris than Chris from the games

[pinkczennie]

Male escort | Johnny (m)

Summary: After getting your heart broken, you hire a male escort to spend Christmas with you.

Pairings: male escort!Johnny x female reader

Genre: fluff, a tiny bit of angst (breakup), smut

Word count: 5k 

Warnings: mature language, explicit sexual content, fingering, protected sex

Notes: I don’t know how escorts work completely so I’m just using my imagination and assuming based on a film I was inspired by. This is my first fic in a while so I hope you guys like it! 

Tag list: @commentgirl​ 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Great. Just great, you thought to yourself.

Today is December 19, just a few days away from Christmas. You just finished work for the day and you were counting down the days until you get to spend Christmas with your boyfriend.

That was until your boyfriend said he wanted to break up with you.

You felt your heart shattering as he broke the news to you and tears threatening to escape your eyes. Honestly, you should have seen this coming because it explains why he hasn’t been spending much time with you lately and the texts became less frequent but you just assumed he was busy. 

You walked back to your apartment that day feeling completely numb. You couldn’t believe your boyfriend of two years just broke up with you, a few days away from Christmas nonetheless. That evening, you stayed in bed crying your eyes out. Thankfully, your roommate was staying over at her boyfriend's apartment for the night, so you wailed and cried your heart out. You didn’t eat or drink anything at all and you probably would have dehydrated and starved yourself had it not been for the ping coming from your phone, signaling a text message.

You peered at your phone, a piece of you hoping it was your boyfriend messaging you to say that he’s sorry, that he made a mistake, and wanted you back.

Unfortunately, it was just your roommate.

My joy, Sooyoung <3: Hey can you open the door for me pls? I need to grab something real quick from my room but I forgot my keys at jaehyun’s apartment as he was driving me here lol

Wiping your tear-filled eyes, you got up slowly from bed with what little strength you had left and dragged your feet out of your room and to the front door without checking your appearance in the mirror first. 

You arrive at the front door and open it for your roommate to enter. 

“Hey girl, sorry about th-”

When Sooyoung and Jaehyun both got a good look at you, their eyes widened at the sight of your appearance.

There was a crumpled up tissue in your hand, your hair was a mess, and your eyes were red.

“Y/n...are you okay? What’s wrong?”

Her question triggered tears to flow out again. No, you were not okay.

“Lucas, broke up with me,” you said quietly, trying not to have a breakdown in front of the two.

“What?” Sooyoung gasps. “Oh no, y/n...come here.” 

Sooyoung engulfs you in a giant hug and you lean into her body as you silently cry into the tissue in your hands, not wanting to stain her jacket and hair with your tears.

“I’m sorry, y/n,” Jaehyun says as he places his hand on your shoulder. 

“Thanks, Jaehyun,” you croak out.   

“Do you want to talk about it?” Sooyoung asks. 

And that's how all three of you ended up in the living room. You sat on the couch with a bottle of water in your hand, which Soyoung thankfully got for you from the kitchen. Sooyoung sat by your side and Jaehyun sat by her side as you explained to the two about what happened.

“That piece of shit,” Sooyoung mutters, “I’m going to kick him in the balls if I ever see his face.”

Jaehyun rubs comforting circles around the top of Sooyoung’s hand with his thumb, trying to sooth his seething girlfriend. 

“It’s okay, Sooyoung. You don’t have to do that. He was a great boyfriend to me.” You soften as you reminisce about all the good memories you had with him during those two years, which only made your heart hurt more as you remember. 

“I’m just upset at the fact that he broke up with me so close to the holidays even though I had all these plans I made with him already. I bought us two tickets for the Christmas fair, I made prepaid reservations at a fancy restaurant, I even booked a hotel....” Your voice lowers to a whisper as you said that last part. 

“I don’t know what to do now since my flight to visit my parents won’t be until the day after Christmas because I already told them I was going to spend Christmas day with Lucas. All he could say was ‘sorry, but I don’t think I can continue with this relationship any longer’.” 

“I’m sorry, girl,” Sooyoung pats your shoulder. 

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “I guess I’ll just figure out what to do with the ticket and reservations since it looks like I’ll be spending my Christmas day here, eating ice cream and binge watching anime until my flight.” 

You’d offer it to Sooyoung and Jaehyun but you already knew they planned to go to a ski resort during Christmas, so you’ll have to find someone else who would want them.

“Is there maybe some other guy you could possibly go with?” Sooyoung suggests. 

You shake your head. “I’d rather not go with anyone I know just so it doesn’t get awkward and no one gets any strange ideas that I might be interested in them.”

Sooyoung turns to Jaehyun. “Hey, you have some single guy friends, right?”

“Yeah…” Jaehyun hesitantly nods.

“Do you have any guy friends who might be able to go with her? Like...Yuta?”

“He already went back to Japan to visit for the holidays.”

“What about Sicheng?”

“His flight to China is in three days.”

“Mark?”

“Canada.”

“Doyoung?”

“He’s recently been seeing someone.” 

Sooyoung sighs and taps her chin as she thinks of any other possible solution while you internally groan at the thought of having to spend Christmas single AND alone.

“But, if you want,” Jaehyun speaks up after a silent pause, “why don’t you hire a male escort?”

Both you and Sooyoung perk up at Jaehyun’s suggestion. 

“A male escort?” Sooyoung questions.

“Yeah. I knew one of my frat bros from college who hired a female escort. And don’t worry, escorts aren’t just for sex. You can just hire a guy as your fake boyfriend for a day just so you could have some company and your plans don’t have to go to waste. I can even ask him for the website he searched on.”

Sooyoung looks at you. “It’s just a suggestion. You don’t have to do it though.“  

Maybe it was just the loneliness that got to you, but you were honestly considering it. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

After an hour, you felt bad for holding them up so you decided to end it there. At first, Sooyoung was hesitant to leave you alone, but you insisted because you already felt bad for making them stay for a whole hour listening to you.

“Alright then, we’re leaving now,” Sooyoung said at the door before gently squeezing your arm. “Make sure to eat something, drink some water, and shower before you go to bed tonight. And call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will.”

And with that, the two left. 

You did as Sooyoung asked. You ate some ramen noodles because you didn’t have the stomach to eat much or cook anything, and finished a bottle of water. Then, you took a nice, warm shower, changed into a comfy pair of pajamas, and went to bed. After the rough day you had, you were able to knock out pretty quickly from exhaustion. 

------

You woke up the next day with swollen eyes, probably from all the crying last night. Instead of getting up, you just laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Your body felt heavy and you lacked any motivation to get up.

After a few minutes, you reached for your phone to check the time and any messages. It was currently 11:16 am. You received a couple of notifications since the last time you checked your phone. 

After looking through all your notifications, you decided to check Instagram. When you clicked on Lucas’s profile, your heart sank when you saw that he had already blocked you. You probably assume he already blocked your phone number and other social media accounts too. 

You were about to cry again at the thought, but then you remembered what Jaehyun said. 

A male escort.

Jaehyun sent you the website link the night before, just in case you wanted to take his suggestion. 

It took you a moment, before you said fuck it. 

You sat up from bed to retrieve your laptop on your desk beside the bed and brought it to your lap. You turned the laptop on and typed in the website link. 

Seekingescorts.com  

There were hundreds of escorts to choose from. Each of the escorts had pictures attached of what they looked like and basic information listed, such as their name, age, height, etc.

Thankfully, there were filters presented for you to narrow down the choices of escorts, such as gender preference, age window, and within a certain distance of your location. After filtering your preferences, the escorts were narrowed down to just seven people. You looked through the profiles of the available seven escorts and the third escort instantly caught your attention. 

 Name: Johnny Suh

Age: 25

Height: 6’0”

He looked extremely attractive in the photos provided, not that the other escorts weren’t attractive, but Johnny just seemed more your type.

After looking through the other escort’s profile, you knew for sure your mind was set on Johnny. You pressed on his profile, filled in the necessary information required, and clicked submit. 

Thank you for your submission. You will receive an email confirmation and a message from the escort you have chosen shortly. 

You did it. You actually hired an escort. 

A couple hours later after going about your day, you receive a text message from an unsaved number.

Hello, this is Johnny Suh. Thank you for hiring me as your escort on December 25 from 1pm to 11pm. I have read through the information you have given me and look forward to spending my time with you. Please let me know where you would like for us to meet and any other information I should know. 

After reading through his message, you reply back to him with the meeting location.  

There wasn’t any other communication sent between you two after that, other than a I’ll see you at 1pm, so you just counted down the days left until you would be spending Christmas with Johnny.

-----

Today is December 25. 

You looked at your phone. It was currently 12:58pm, two minutes before the time you were supposed to meet Johnny. 

You had a light layer of makeup on and dressed as nice and warm as possible because it was pretty cold today. Your heart pounded from nervousness as you thought of all the possible scenarios as to how the day will unfold while making your way to the designated meeting point that you and Johnny agreed on. Once you arrived, you stood there and stared at the people passing by as you waited for Johnny to arrive. 

As you stared at the people passing by, you suddenly began to hesitate, feeling dumb for hiring a male escort to pretend to be your boyfriend so you can spend your plans with someone that were originally supposed to be spent with your now ex-boyfriend.

What am I doing? You thought to yourself. This is stupid, I can’t believe I’m doing this. This was such a selfish and impulsive decision just because I didn’t want to be alone on Christmas. I should have just stayed home, not go out with some male escort I don’t even-

“Y/n?” 

You turn around at the mention of your name. 

Whoa. 

You stare up at the man that just called your name and you were absolutely speechless. 

Johnny looked just like in his photos, maybe even better in person. He could even pass off as a model. His hair was nicely styled and he was dressed in a long, beige coat, and black jeans. He was tall, had a sharp jawline, and the most mesmerizing eyes that you were slowly getting lost in. There were no words to describe this man other than absolutely stunning. 

“Are you y/n l/n?” Johnny asks, snapping you back into reality.

“Y-yes,” you stutter. 

“Hi, I’m Johnny.” He extends his hand out for you to shake with a gentle smile on his face. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too.” You shake his hand. 

“You look really pretty today, y/n.”

You blush at the compliment. “Thank you. You look really good too.”

“Thanks,” he smiles. “Are you excited for today?” 

“Yeah. A little nervous as well,” you honestly confess. “I’ve never hired an escort before so I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Whatever you want to do, just let me know and I will happily do so. Also, if anything I do makes you feel uncomfortable, tell me and I will stop. My goal for today is to be the best boyfriend for you. Alright?” 

You nod, feeling a little less nervous at how easygoing he seems.

“What are we doing first today, my love?” he asks before taking one of your hands in his and presses a kiss to the top of your hands.

You swoon at his gesture before quickly pulling out the two tickets to the fair from your pocket and presenting it to him. 

Johnny looks at the pieces of paper in your hands. “The Christmas fair first? Alrighty then, let’s go!” 

And thus your day began with Johnny at the fair. You two played games, rode on the rides, and ate fried food together. For hours, it was just filled with fun and laughter. 

There were quite a few people, so Johnny would hold your hand to keep you by his side whenever you two would walk by a large crowd, making sure no one strays away from each other. 

For a second, it didn’t even feel like you were with an escort because Johnny was such a natural at playing the boyfriend role that there was never an awkward moment with him. It genuinely seemed like you two were just a couple going on a date to anybody looking. 

If Johnny was made of something, it would be boyfriend material. He was handsome, treated you like a princess, and a great conversationalist so there was never any awkward silence.

At around 5:30pm, it was time to leave the fair because you had a prepaid dinner reservation at 6pm. 

The restaurant was dimly lit and there was a pianist softly playing classical music at the back.

A waiter from the restaurant arrived to escort you both to your reserved table in the middle of the room. The table was surrounded by lit candles, roses, expensive silverware, and a bottle of wine. 

Johnny, like the gentleman he is, pulls your chair out for you to sit and pushes the chair back to the table after you sit down before he takes his seat. The waiter opens the wine bottle and pours both of you a drink. You both clink glasses and enjoy your meals while chatting throughout the dinner.

After dinner, the fancy restaurant was in the same building as the hotel you booked, so you checked in and then headed to the elevators up eight stories to your hotel room.

You both look around the nice hotel room in awe. There was a nice view of the city lights by the window, a single king-sized bed, and a large bathroom by the door.

There were a basket of flowers and a card that sat on the table. You went over to read the card and your heart clenches.

Welcome to the SME Hotel, y/n and Lucas. 

You forgot to call the hotel ahead of time to get his name removed or changed. 

You were so distracted by the card that you didn’t even notice Johnny looking over your shoulder, peering at the card in your hand that has your attention. He reads the card and notices the male name, ‘Lucas’, written after yours. Then, Johnny looks at you and notices your sad eyes.

Johnny walks in front of you and gently cups your face, grabbing your attention as he brings your face up to look at him.

“Is something wrong, my love?” he asks.

You look away from his gaze with a shake of your head. “Nothing’s wrong."

“Are you sure? Because you looked really upset reading that card. You can tell me if anything’s wrong.”

You stay quiet for a moment before you release a sigh.

“I was supposed to spend Christmas with my boyfriend. Well...ex-boyfriend now,” you explain. “He broke up with me a few days ago, even though we had all these plans together. I guess I just got a little upset when I saw his name on this card because I’m suddenly reminded that we’re no longer together.”

Johnny softens at your story and strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m sorry he did that to you. I know it hurts right now, but just know that the pain will slowly go away with time, and you will find someone new again.”

You nod with a sad smile. 

“But for today, you’re mine. So I don’t want you to be thinking about another man in front of me or I’ll get jealous.” 

You know Johnny is just playing the character of your boyfriend, but you couldn’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at his words. 

He takes the welcome card from your hand and places it back, face down, on the table.

“Come here.” He brings you into his warm embrace. You softly smile at his comforting gesture and hug him back.  

You both just stand there while hugging each other until an idea suddenly pops up into his head. “Hey, let’s get your mind off of him for a moment.” 

You look up at him with a raised eyebrow and tilt your head to the side at his words. 

Then, Johnny takes out his phone and clicks on the Spotify app. Suddenly, Taylor Swift featuring Shawn Mendes’s Lover plays. He turns the volume up to the highest setting before placing his phone on the table. Then, he turns to you and brings his hands out.

“Dance with me.” 

You stare at him for a second before looking down at his extended hands and slowly take his hands. 

We could leave the Christmas lights up ‘til January. This is our place we make the rules.

The dance began playful, filled with giggles and laughter as Johnny spun you around, doing elegant twirls. 

Can I go where you go? Can we always be this close? Forever and ever. 

As the song progresses, Johnny brings your head to rest against his head and you melt into his body. His arms wrap around your back and your arms wrap around him. You both close your eyes and silently listen to the song while your bodies slowly sway to the music.

See I finally got you now, honey. I won’t let you fall.

There was nothing on your mind right now except Johnny and the feeling of his body against yours and the steady beating of his heart against his chest. 

Oh, you’re my, my, my, my. Darling, you’re my, my, my, my lover. 

The music ends. 

You remove yourself from Johnny’s body to look up at him who was already staring down at you with a tender gaze. For a moment, you were both just lost in each other's eyes. Slowly, your eyes went from his eyes to his lips. 

You gulp. The longer you stared, the more you thought about leaning in to kiss his plump lips. Is it wrong to have such a strong desire to kiss another man a few days after getting dumped? 

“What are you thinking about right now?” he asks, his voice one octave lower, making you feel some type of way. 

“How much I want to kiss you,” you confess. You don’t know where this newfound confidence to say that sentence out loud came from, but knowing that you probably won’t be getting another opportunity like this any time soon, you threw all care out the window. 

Johnny leans in dangerously close with a smirk on his face. “Then do it.”

No one knows who leaned in first, but the next thing you know is that you’re both kissing each other. 

The kiss starts off gentle, like two lovers kissing each other for the first time again. Then, the kiss became more intense as Johnny’s arms wrap around your waist to pull you closer into his body and your arms cling onto Johnny’s shoulders.

Eventually, you both part ways to gasp for air without letting go of each other. You look up at Johnny with eyes full of lust and his eyes are just as dark as yours. The sexual tension was lingering in the air and you couldn’t take it anymore. You feel wetness pool in your underwear that you could no longer ignore and you desperately want him to do something about it.

“Johnny…” you breath out.

“Do you want to…” He didn’t finish his sentence but you already know where this is going.

“Are you sure? You’re not obligated to just because you’re-”

“You’re not forcing me to do anything. I want to do this,” he states. “Do you?”

You search his eyes for a bit before you reply, “Yes. I want you too.”

The verbal consent was enough for him to dive back in for another kiss. You wrap your arms around Johnny’s neck as you feel him lift you up with his arms and make his way over to the bed where he gently places you on your back without breaking the kiss. 

You shiver as Johnny stops kissing you and begins sucking open mouth kisses on your neck, but not leaving any marks in case you didn’t want any visible hickies on your skin.

He removes all your clothes, so you were completely bare in front of him. You become shy as Johnny’s large figure looms over you, his hungry eyes raking over your exposed body while he’s still fully clothed.

Johnny brings his face right in front of your chest and cups your soft mounds. A moan escapes your lips as he suddenly takes one of your erect nipples into his mouth and pinches the other one in between his fingers. As he continues to suck on your bud, you feel something poking your thigh, so your hand palms his erection and he shudders at the contact.

After a while, he removes himself from your breasts and starts taking his clothes off but keeps his pants on. 

You couldn’t help but stare at the sight in front of you because Johnny was built like a Greek god, sculpted by the finest artists. 

“Like what you see?” he smirks.

You nod. You weren’t even going to deny it and he chuckles at your honesty.

He brings two of his fingers to your awaiting entrance and you shudder.

“God, you’re fucking soaked,” he whispers into your ears. His sultry voice and fingers rubbing against your folds just made you even more wet.

He slowly pushes his two fingers inside of you and you bite back a moan. Oh god. 

“Let me hear you,” he says as he nibbles on your earlobe. “I want to know that I make you feel good.”

Johnny slowly thrusts his digits in and out of you as you release your moans that you could no longer hold in for him to hear. 

Once he thought that you were ready, he added a third finger and you grip the bedsheet from the additional intrusion.  

“Johnny,” you gasp as he brushes against your walls and hits that one spot that causes your body to arch against the bed.

“Right there,” you chant so he continues to rub against that spot.

You could already feel your orgasm starting to approach as your breathing becomes harsh and your wall clenches around his fingers as the pleasure continues to build up in your body.

You usually last longer than this, but something about doing this with Johnny, a somewhat stranger to you, an attractive stranger might you add, made it so much more thrilling. 

“I’m going to cum,” you warn him.

“Go ahead. Cum for me.” 

After a few more thrusts, you cry out in bliss and release all over his fingers. You pant heavily as you quickly try to recover, knowing that there was more to come. 

As you try to recover, Johnny finally removes his pants and boxers, allowing his cock to spring forward. You look down and your eyes widen at the sight of his erection. Holy shit, he’s huge. 

As you continue to stare, he reaches for the condom in the bedside table drawer he found while looking around the room earlier and rips the plastic open. 

He was able to get hard from kissing and fingering you, so he easily puts the condom onto his dick without any additional stimulation and positions his length in front of your entrance.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

Your heart was pounding, wondering if he’ll even fit inside of you. But regardless, you still nod. 

Johnny slowly enters you and you gasp at the pain and the pleasure. It felt like he was ripping you in half, even after being stretched open with three fingers.

“Shit, you’re still tight,” he hisses as he continues to enter you.

“Too big,” you whimper as your nails dig into the mattress. 

“I’ll go slow.” He kisses your forehead to distract you from the pain and continues to slowly enter you, just as promised. Once he is fully inside you, he waits patiently for you to adjust to his size. “Let me know when I can move.”

After adjusting to his size, you tell Johnny that he can move. 

He begins his thrusts slow just in case it was still too much for you. He was so gentle with you as if you were going to break. You were still slightly overstimulated from being fingered earlier, but you didn’t care and allowed Johnny to thrust inside you. 

"Faster,” you plead and he does as you request. You moan his name, along with a string of curses, as he begins to pick up the pace. 

The room was filled with nothing but the sounds of loud panting, skin slapping against skin, and the bed creaking as Johnny pounds into you. Hopefully, the hotel walls are thick because the people staying in the rooms next door or even passing by would surely be able to hear everything.

It didn’t take long for your second orgasm to approach again and he could feel it too as your walls clench around his length. 

“I’m going to cum again,” you announce.

“Fuck, me too. You feel so good, baby.” Johnny begins to groan and his thrusts become less accurate, signaling that he was close too.

Your toes curl and your back is arching off the bed as you come around his cock. With one last thrust, he groans and releases his seeds into the condom. 

Both of you just stay in your current positions, chest heaving as you both try to come down from your highs. After a minute, Johnny slowly pulls himself out of you and gets up from the bed to make his way to the bathroom. He removes the cum filled condom, ties it up, and tosses it into the trash can. Then, he returns to the bed and plants a kiss on your cheek before wrapping his arms around your body in a warm embrace. 

For the remainder of the time left, you and Johnny just cuddled naked under the blanket until your time with him was up. 

“What did you think of everything?” Johnny asks.

“Are you referring to the date or the sex?” You tease.

Johnny laughs, “The date, you pervert. But yes, I’d like to know how the sex was too.”

Seeing his laughing face brought a satisfied smile to your lips. “I had a really good time today. And the sex? Wow.” 

“I’m glad.” Johnny returns a smile and he brushes a stray hair of yours away from your face. “I had a good time today too.” 

There was a comforting silence before you hesitantly ask, “Do you do it with all your clients?” 

“Not all of them. We have the right to say no,” he replies. “And don’t worry, I always do it protected and get tested regularly just in case.”

A few minutes before 11pm, you both start putting your clothes back on because it was almost time for Johnny’s departure. You were quite sad the day is already over, but today has been such an eventful day. 

Even though you knew Johnny was just a male escort only meant to comfort you by spending the day with you so you wouldn't be alone during Christmas, you were going to feel empty once again. But you were still happy nonetheless. Johnny made you feel so loved, even if it was just temporary. You were so glad to have met Johnny because this will be a Christmas worth remembering for sure. 

You walk him to the door once 11pm hits. 

“Thank you for today, Johnny,” you smile up at him. 

He returns the smile back, “It was my pleasure.” 

Johnny leans down and presses a gentle kiss on your forehead. You just couldn’t get enough of his kisses. 

“Goodnight, y/n. Merry Christmas.”

“Goodnight, Johnny. Merry Christmas.”

And with that, he turns around and walks away from your hotel room and heads to the elevator. You wait until you are no longer able to see Johnny before retreating back into your room and shutting the door behind you.

A loud sigh escapes your lips as you stare at the empty hotel room as memories of your day with Johnny flooded your mind. This day didn’t turn out like you expected it to, but it was way better than what you could have hoped for. 

You were definitely going to have to thank Jaehyun later. 

The loneliness begins to settle in again, so you grab your phone from the bedside table and begin to type a text message to someone, then hit send. 

You: Can I see you again on New Years? 

[crossbackpoke-check]

Drop the fiiiiiiiiiiiiiics 🤤🤤🤤🤤

of course :))) this is by no means comprehensive but

fics mentioned in the post:

everybody wants you, you can have them all by arzoensis

the jack/team usa fic that is a) fantastic on its own merits and b) incredibly beloved to me because there are red wings in it. yes i am that easily pleased

5 times Cole Caufield got railed by his opponents (and one time he didn't have to) by cokehead_zeroed

the cole “bunny” caufield fic that is a 5 + 1 of exactly what the title says. to quote leo: #destroythattwink

flirting with the girls like, you’re so pretty by robokittens

the aforementioned jack/cole fic 🤧 sorry i lied it was actually lesbians (i’m not sorry i love lesbians but i know rule 63 is not some people’s jam so figured i’d give a heads-up) but also i do stg there was an omega/omega jack/cole fic so if you find it let me know

just a simple meeting of the minds by crawsley

the trevor/jamie/cole abo fic which, while part of the she lives in my lap series, can probably be read as a stand-alone but also i think you should read the whole series so

hughes lake house shenanigans, or: we do not speak about the usntdp & this is why

always tearin’ what i’m wearin’ by ferryboatpeak

per the author: Cam York Tops Everyone. per my tags: team usa fuck or DIE baybe. anyway sometimes you realize how midwestern you are when you find out people DON’T know that The Comfy and cookie bars are a real thing and not everyone owns a billion different variations of a blanket, five star review on The Comfy fic from me

ain’t like anywhere else by ferryboatpeak (la is a wealth of hughes house lore)

trevor/cole with eventual trevor/jamie/cole, it is a wip but the first chapter is mostly cole/trevor and👌🧑‍🍳💋✨ in terms of characterization, dedication to a canon timeline & one of those lines that Gets You (“Maybe it's impossible to kiss Cole without being at least a little sweet about it.”) (yes i think about that wrt cole always)

devils roll the dice by countthestars

cam york/j’accuse, i don’t want to spoil anything in this fic but it’s cam pov incredibly bros being bros calling each other bro while they wrestle, y’know, like normal bros, except there’s one time when cam calls jack something else and i feel sooooo normal about it

on my tbr list but i trust the authors with my life so i’m recc’ing them anyway

later’s better than never by canary

for someone who only knows cam york as that ginger flyers prospect who Is Not Cole Caufield and IS victoria’s worst enemy this man pops up a lot on this list. anyway! alex turcotte/cam york with sides of various usntdp pairings and it is a Fundamental Pairing Text (christened the tag)

half your love by dilangley

trevor, jamie & jack soulbond fic, this has come very highly recommended to me & also: dilangley fic ✔️ enough said

I’ll try and stop her stride by crawsley

trevor/jamie abo but also jamie/the usntdp fuck or die,,, sometimes it’s a team bonding experience to fuck the canadian boy y’know? it’s like a rite of passage for all the draft picks to be assigned their rival enemies to teammates team canada player but if you don’t have your own then your buddy’s eventual boyfriend will do just fine

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

complication, miscommunication - a. beauvillier

Popping in with another Beau fic! I wasn’t sure who to write this one about for the longest time, so it was on the back burner for a while, but I think it works really well with him. Let me know what you think - hop into my inbox, please reblog it if you liked reading! (I also love reading the tags.) I love getting feedback!

word count: 3k+

The offseason was never a good time for anyone who was unsigned, and Anthony Beauvillier was no exception. After a second-round loss to the Hurricanes in the playoffs, he was taking some time off before leaving New York to spend the summer in Montréal. “Maja,” he called, looking over at the couch to where his girlfriend of a year and a half sat curled up on the other side, seemingly engrossed in a book. Anthony chuckled. “Maja,” he said a little louder. She made a noncommittal noise. “Maja Mitsuko Okabe.”

Maja snapped her book shut, looking up at him with panic in her eyes. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?” 

He snorted. “Does something have to be wrong for me to talk to the woman I love?”

“You full-named me,” Maja shrugged, tucking her feet beneath her on the couch cushion. “Doesn’t usually happen.”

Anthony searched his mind, frantically trying to come up with some excuse for interrupting her, but not coming up with anything that would sound very convincing. “I was just wondering...if you had booked your flights yet for the summer.” 

Maja narrowed her eyes; she clearly wasn’t buying it. “Yeah, booked them yesterday. Air Canada nonstop from LaGuardia to Montréal.” She had requested the time off two weeks ago, and would have heard back sooner had it not been for a staffing change in the HR department of the green energy firm where she worked as an electrical engineer. “I’ll try to get a Friday off sometime in August, come up for a long weekend.”

“I’d like that,” he said. Of course I’d like it,” he thought. Why wouldn’t I like it? Why did I even say that? 

“Something’s on your mind, Beau,” Maja said softly. And, like almost every other time she said so, she was right.

“Yeah,” he sighed. There wasn’t really any use trying to keep it from her. “I’m not sure if the team’s going to give me a qualifying offer.”

Maja shifted towards him on the couch, propping her head up on one arm. “And who told you that?” 

“Nobody, really,” Beau said, shrugging. “It’s just a bad feeling I have. My season wasn’t bad, but I still underperformed, and I know Trotz and Lou were looking for me to step up in terms of goals. Playmaking isn’t everything.” Anthony’s voice dropped. “I know I obviously wouldn’t be able to do anything until I know if they’ll extend an offer, but…” He paused. “My agent’s heard some interest from other teams. Guess they just want to throw their hats in the ring if it comes to that.” 

Maja played with the clasp on her bracelet, the same one Anthony had gotten her for their one-year anniversary. “Where?” 

“Winnipeg, Minnesota, I think he might have mentioned something about Edmonton.”

“Oilers, huh?” Maja said carefully. “Playing with McDavid, that could be cool.” 

Beau made a face. “I mean, yeah, it would be, but…” He trailed off. “But that’s in Edmonton. It’s thousands of miles away. I’d hate having to leave the team, I wouldn’t get to play with Mat anymore. And I don’t know where that would leave us.” 

“What do you mean, you don’t know where that would leave us? I’d go with you, I thought you knew that.” Maja stopped playing with her bracelet. She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like there was never a possibility she would have considered anything else. 

Anthony turned to her. “But you love it here. You love your job, you’re doing important stuff.” 

And that much was true; Maja loved feeling like she was using her knowledge for good, and her coworkers were some of the best she’d ever had. But she loved Tito more. “I am, but I can find a job pretty much anywhere, Beau. It’s important to me that we stay together.” 

“But what if I do go back to Canada?” Anthony said, one hand running through his hair. “Your whole family’s in Boston, I wouldn’t want to take you away from that. And you don’t know anyone there, and I wouldn’t want you to have to move to an entirely new country just for me.” 

“It’s really not all that different, Beau,” Maja said, stiffening. “I’m an engineer. I can get a job anywhere, I might have to get a new license but it’s not that hard. Weather wouldn’t be a shock, I’ve dealt with snow my whole life. And unless you went to Montréal, it’s not even like I’d have a language barrier.” 

“I know,” he said, “but I don’t want you to feel like it’s an obligation for you to pick up your whole life and move just because of me.” 

Maja stood up abruptly, nervously running her hands over her jeans. “It’s starting to sound like you wouldn’t want me to come, Anthony,” she snapped. 

He screwed his eyes shut. She didn’t call him by his whole name unless she was really, really fed up with him. “It’s not that, I just—” 

“You just what?” Maja cut him off. “Because whether or not it’s what you meant by it, Beau, the way you worded it makes me think you’re not serious about this. About us. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I am, so I’m going to need you to do some real soul-searching and get back to me about how you really feel, because it sounds like we’re working on a deadline here.” She turned on her heel, grabbed her jacket, and walked out the door. 

---

Anthony didn’t like that they weren’t talking. Granted, it had only been a day and a half, but it was rare that he and Maja went that long without FaceTiming or calling each other, even when he was on a road trip. It just wasn’t something they did. And it also wasn’t like he had to think about his answer, about how serious he was about his relationship with Maja. It was one of the most important things in his life. But, just like the fight that had led him to this moment, pacing around in his kitchen with a rapidly burning piece of toast in the toaster, he was worried. Worried to talk to her, worried he’d seem like he was being pushy if he did, worried he’d seem like he didn’t care if he didn’t. He was tempted to call Mat, or even Jordan, but didn’t want the inevitable tongue-lashing that either was sure to give him. He knew he had to fix it, but he didn’t know how. 

Anthony lay on his bed later that evening, his phone on speaker next to him, playing nervously with his hands. Sometimes, even though he was almost 24, there were things he just couldn’t go to his friends for. Mat was his best friend and he loved him, but he needed someone else for this. He needed his mom. “I know my flight’s supposed to leave in a few days, but Maman...I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave things like this.” 

“Then you don’t,” his mom shot back over the phone, her French terse. “I raised you better than this, Anthony. You don’t leave the women you love unsure of where your relationship stands, where the two of you stand. You love her.” She said it more like a statement. 

“More than anything,” he replied morosely. 

“Then you stay, you go over and talk to her. And if that means you’re in New York for a few more days, then so be it. Your dad and I can wait. Québec will still be here when you’re done. What’s more important right now is Maja, and that you fix this.” 

Anthony groaned, his head hitting the pillow. “You’re right.” 

“What was that?” she replied, even though he knew she had heard him just fine. 

“You’re right, Maman. It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t what I meant. I need to fix this.” 

He could see her nodding on the other end of the line. “You do. Go to her.” She had barely hing up the phone before Anthony was frantically tugging on his shoes and stumbling out the door. 

Anthony was outside of her door less than half an hour later; it would have been earlier, but New York traffic didn’t seem to care that it was past 10 PM. He knocked on her door frantically; he could have used his key, but it just didn’t feel right. He heard her pad down the hallway towards the living room. “I’m coming.” She opened the door, her mouth slightly agape when she saw who it was. “I thought you were maintenance. The bathroom faucet’s been leaky.”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “At,” he checked his watch, “10:12 PM?”

Maja shrugged. “Night shift?” She stepped aside to let him in. “I’m guessing you want to talk.” Maja was intuitive; even more than that, though, she knew Anthony better than anyone. He didn’t like to let conflict sit, knowing it would only get worse with time. She walked over to her couch, gesturing for him to sit, her arms crossed. “So talk.”

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for what I said the other day, for making you feel insecure in our relationship and for letting you doubt how committed I am. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Do you get it, though?” Maja questioned. “Do you get why it hurt me so much?”

Anthony did. He knew he did, so why was it so hard to admit it? He settled for a stiff nod.

She sighed. “Because it made me feel like you weren’t as serious about us, our relationship, as I am. I read your cautioning me against moving with you if you ever got traded as you not wanting me to, which made me feel like you just had no interest in building a life with me, in taking the next step. And that’s what hurt so badly, because I knew the second you mentioned it that that’s something I’d do in a heartbeat for you.” Maya looked over his head, her fixing her eyes on a picture of Anthony from his first home game, trying to collect her words. “It seemed like you didn’t see us lasting, nothing long-term that would require those kinds of sacrifices and choices to be made. Almost like I had wasted my time, this past year and a half, on someone who couldn’t care less if I stayed or went.”

Anthony leaned forward, hesitantly reaching for her hands, wrapping his fingers around hers when she didn’t pull back. “I know how my words came out was wrong, and I take full responsibility for that. I shouldn’t have said it like that, but I think I did because I was worried, and didn’t want to assume you’d be willing to do something so drastic as move thousands of miles and potentially to a whole new country just because I asked you.”

“Relationships mean compromise and sacrifice,” Maja said. “And I didn’t think it was fair for me to feel like I was the only one doing either.”

“You weren’t,” Anthony shook his head. “You aren’t.” 

“I never got what you meant about worrying about the distance,” Maja said. She scrunched her nose. “Okay, I take that back like halfway. I got what you were saying about it being hard. It would be, of course it would be. But it’s not like we haven’t done it before. You’re gone a couple times a month during the season, and then most of the summer in Québec apart from when I could get off work for a week or two. And sure, it was rough, but we got through it. So I heard you not wanting me to come with you, and me not seeing a need to stay here, and didn’t see where you saw us going. If you saw us going somewhere. That’s what hurt the most, I think.”

“Moving without ever having lived together just seemed like a big step. I didn’t want to push you into something you weren’t ready for, but I would have hated it just as much if suddenly you were off in a new state or country all alone in an apartment some place where you didn’t know anybody. It wouldn’t have been fair.” 

Anthony had a point, Maja thought, as she moved her thumb back and forth over the back of his hand. “Have you thought about that, though? Things going forward, moving in together, all of that?”

He met her eyes, and now it was his time to stare at her like she had just asked the world’s most obvious question, like there was no possible parallel universe where she didn’t already know the answer. “Absolutely, Maja. I’ve thought about everything.”

“Everything?” she asked, her thumb stopping momentarily. “What’s everything?”

Anthony smiled softly at her, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her gently into his side. “Everything means everything. Moving in together. Getting a nice house in Garden City, or wherever we’ve settled by then. The day I finally get to put a ring on your finger,” he said, absentmindedly rubbing the fourth finger on her left hand. “Getting to wake up to your beautiful face every day, and never having to leave. Taking our kids to visit your grandparents in Japan, trying to figure out how to raise them trilingualy.” 

“Really?” Maja laughed, a watery laugh filled with disbelief and hope and unfettered joy somehow bound into a single noise. “You’ve thought about that?”

“Of course I have,” he said simply.

“You said kids, so it’s going to be multiple?” Anthony hummed his agreement. “How many were you thinking?” 

He tilted his head. “I like three. Seems like it’d work well. But that would obviously be up to you,” he chuckled. “Not like I’d be the pregnant one.”

Maja couldn’t remember the last time her heart felt this full. The way he spoke about their future — the house and the wedding and the kids — so easily and freely made Mja nearly positive that it had been something he had been thinking about for a while. “Three sounds good.”

---

5 years, $20 mil, the text read. Anthony didn’t really care that he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, not until they made the news official. But he had to tell Maja, tell her they were staying out, had to let her breathe a little easier and stop worrying about having to type up a two week’s notice and figure out how to apply for a Canadian visa. He knew he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but Maja was more important than that, and she deserved to know, and if that got him a slap on the wrist from the team, then so be it. He looked down at his watch; it was half past 5, so Maja was on the subway back to her apartment if she hadn’t already arrived. He hung a U-turn, changing directions from his place to hers. This wasn’t something he wanted to wait for. It didn’t take him long to pull into the visitor’s parking at her apartment building, muscle memory guiding him into the elevator and up to the third floor. 

“Coming!” Maja said as he knocked on the door. She flung her arms around him as the door swung open, her toes barely touching the floor. “I’m so proud of you, love,” she whispered into his shoulder, her voice muffled by his sweater. Stepping aside, she let him into her living room, where he was greeted by a counter filled with take-out containers. “I might have assumed you’d come by,” Maja admitted, “so I went out to that Indian place you like and picked up some stuff. Figured you’d be hungry.” 

He wrapped his arms around her waist from behind as she spooned out the rice and butter chicken. “Thank you,” he said, pressing a kiss against her cheek. “You’re always one step ahead.” Dinner was a quiet affair, Anthony cleaning up their plates and putting the leftovers in the fridge before joining Maja on the couch, her back pressed up against his chest as the Good Place played on the TV. 

“I really am proud of you, you know,” she said softly, twisting her head to look up at him. “I know it’s something you worked really hard for and were worried about, and I’m so glad it worked out for you.” 

He squeezed her thigh in appreciation. “Thanks, babe. And again, I’m sorry about how I told you, how I interpreted everything and spoke too soon. It wasn’t fair to me and it wasn’t fair to you.”

“Don’t keep beating yourself up about it,” Maja said. “You’re right that it wasn’t a good move, but you apologized and took responsibility for it, and that’s what really matters. As long as you weren’t just trying to butter me up when you talked about the future.” 

Anthony knew it was tongue-in-cheek and that she was teasing him, if the half-smirk on her face was anything to go by, but he shook his head all the same. “Of course it wasn’t. I meant every word.” They sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “Don’t resign your lease.” He knew that she had almost a month until she had to give the papers to her landlord, but she’d also been toying around with the idea of moving to a place a little closer to her work. 

Maja looked up at him in surprise, her eyes wide. “Don’t resign my lease?”

He nodded. “Move in with me, I can fly down for a few days to help whenever you decide you want to. Move in with me, let’s start that future now.” If he was being honest, it had been something Anthony had been thinking about for months. He just finally got the courage to ask. 

“When can I start?”

[pastpatientlywaitingforimagines]

Orbit | Spencer Reid x Reader Platonic

Ayyyy this is for @veraiconcos fic writer palooza! I had a ton of fun working on this, check out their post for more details!

Summary: Since joining the BAU you have easily become one of Spencer’s best friends, and he is terrified he is going to lose you. (Gender neutral reader, platonic soulmates). 

Category: Fluff

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR 4x24-5x01. 

Word Count: 1830

As with all of my Galaxy Universe fics, the plot for this fic is fully standalone! If you like this relationship, I have a whole bunch of content that you can find in my  GALAXY MASTERLIST

Spencer Reid didn’t have to be a genius to know he was sporting some abandonment issues. In his defense, though, he had been left by too many prominent people in his life and he was only 27 years old.

Even though he had only known you for a short while, you had easily secured a spot as one of his favorite people. As much as he enjoyed spending time with you and liked that he could be unapologetically himself, it terrified him that he could be so comfortable with you.

He wanted to shut down and shut you out, not let you see the broken pieces left by his father, Elle, and Gideon, but every time he tried you would do something so unapologetically you that it was impossible to stop feeling like the universe had created the two of you for the sole purpose of knowing the other.

It was the twinkle in your eye when you would remind Morgan that you were authorized to carry a larger gun than he was. It was the way you perched on Spencer’s desk while debating the best way to eat an Oreo. It was the pen you always carried that Spencer suspected was for him because you preferred pencil.

You were the one person Spencer felt most relaxed around, and there was still the looming possibility that you could choose to leave.

It wasn’t until the Anthrax case that Spencer realized how much he was afraid of you leaving. When he woke up in the hospital Morgan was the only one there, and your absence was the first thing he noticed. He should have felt grateful that Morgan had chosen to stay and he felt guilty that he was upset about your absence until you showed up with as many jello cups as you could possibly carry.

“Oh good, you’re awake. Red or green?” Your words had been so casual and comfortable, exactly what Spencer needed as Derek filled him in on how the case had ended. You listened quietly from his other side, spooning sugary gelatin into your mouth.

Spencer wanted to tell you then how much he was afraid of you leaving, but he also didn’t want to speak it into existence. He decided to keep his mouth shut about it, let the secret fester in his soul until he figured out a better way to deal with it.

Then you went to Canada.

At first you were on the streets with Derek and Emily while Spencer stayed at the precinct to go over victimology. You called him right after you were done talking to the locals and on your way to meet back up with Morgan and Prentiss.

“I don’t know, Spence. Something about this feels off,” you told him when he asked how it had gone.

“How so?” he trusted your instincts, if you were able to pinpoint your source of uncertainty it could help him nail down the victimology.

“Everyone out here is being hyper vigilant. Nobody’s wandering off on their own, as far as I can tell. I don’t think this is just some guy who killed 10 people. There’s something bigger going on here, we just have to figure out what.”

As a man of science, Spencer was still working out how you knew the things you did from just a gut feeling. He wasn’t surprised when you were right.

Once the team had a better scope of things at the farm, Hotch assigned you and Spencer to learn as much as you could about Lucas Turner. After coming up empty in the house, it was your idea to check the barn. A comfortable, but serious silence fell between you as you found what you were looking for.

You were looking over his shoulder at the crayon drawing he was holding when Hotch came to check in on your findings.

“Hey Hotch,” you called to your unit chief as he started walking away, “do you ever get the feeling that a case isn’t going to end well?” Spencer wondered what cosmic events had to have occurred to give him the pleasure of knowing someone who mirrored his own thoughts so perfectly.

“Keep looking,” Hotch had said sternly before leaving, “this girl needs us.”

“That wasn’t the answer I was hoping for,” you sighed, turning back to the collection of objects in the barn.

“What did you want him to say?”

“Something validating, I guess. Sure, this girl needs us and I’m not saying we won’t find her, but even if she’s alive there’s still what- a hundred victims already dead? A hundred victims with families and lives. A hundred people…”

You were right, Spencer knew that. If he had learned anything while working with you, it was that your gut feelings usually had some merit to them. If you were feeling like this wasn’t going to end well, it probably wasn’t. He wondered if you would stay with the BAU if you were right, and with that came back the creeping fear he had been trying to avoid.

He didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that he hadn’t processed his issues with your abandonment he wasn’t even sure was coming.

You took the Metro home with him, he didn’t have to ask to know that you were too tired to drive and could take the metro back to work once you were better rested.

“Spencer,” you had murmured sleepily from the seat next to him in the almost empty car.

“Hmmm?”

“This might sound really stupid, but do you ever feel like we were meant to be friends?”

Spencer swore his heart skipped a beat. All the mathematical equations in the world couldn’t explain the way you seemed to know exactly what he was thinking.

“There's an old Buddhist saying that when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making,” he quipped, “but yes. I do.”

“So you think we’re soulmates?” you smirked.

“Assuming one perfect soulmate exists for every person on the planet and you’re in the same age range as your soulmate, there’s still 500 million potential candidates. Mathematically speaking, of course.”

Your eyes sparked at the debate, though your eyelids were still heavy “I thought there was 500 years of prep work behind it though. 500 years is long enough to filter through 500 million. That’s one million a year.”

“If I wasn’t convinced we were soulmates before, your math skills have sealed the deal.”

“Of course they have. I’m smarter than I look,” you boasted.

“Is intelligence something you can determine by appearance?”

“You tell me, genius. I think you look pretty smart.”

“You know, (y/n), I think you’re just as smart as I am,” he told you honestly. You furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Are you kidding? I failed high school Algebra twice.”

“Academic achievement isn’t the only way to measure intelligence,” he reminded you, “the way your brain works is exceptional.”

“Not right now, it isn’t. I feel like mush. Do cases stop hitting this hard once you’ve been doing this for a while?”

“No, my brain feels like mush too.”

“Go home and get some sleep, ok?” you instructed when it was your stop. Spencer waved as you walked away.

He saw you again sooner than he thought, insomnia not allowing him to sleep so he was the first to receive JJ’s call. He took the Metro to your apartment, knocking on the door until you answered. He was surprised at how quickly you were ready to go, knocking your elbow into his as you left your building to go back into work.

“Old habits, I guess,” you shrugged when he brought it up. It ended up being the most casual interaction of your day, another whirlwind of a case happening with the whole team running on not much sleep.

While Spencer stayed with Dr. Barton to go over medical charts, you went to the school with Morgan and JJ to protect Jeffrey. It was irrational, he knew, but he couldn’t help but wish you were still with him to work on building the profile.

He didn’t want to admit it (he wanted the team to focus on the gunned down unsub and Dr. Barton), but he was glad you were the first one by his side when you finally made it back to the doctor’s house. You stayed with him, even when he told the team about Hotch. In fact, you didn’t leave his side the entire ambulance ride and his time at the hospital.

JJ came into his hospital room a few times to update the two of you on Hotch’s situation, and every time he expected you to leave with her but you didn’t. When he was released from the hospital you drove him home, helping him up to his apartment. Once he was settled, you busied yourself making his home more accessible for the injured man.

Spencer felt sort of awkward as you hummed to yourself, and rightly so. You hadn’t spent much time outside of work together and now he was stuck on his couch with limited mobility. All things considered though, he really didn’t want you to go. He didn’t want you to leave his apartment, he didn’t want you to leave the BAU, and he didn’t want you to leave his life like so many other people that he cared about had.

In a stroke of genius, he realized that he had to tell you. He had to open up the possibility for you to stay to figure out if you were going to leave.

“(y/n)?” he called to you as you finished up putting away his clean dishes in the kitchen.

“What’s up?”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?”

There was a moment of silence that Spencer quickly realized was you moving through his small apartment to grab your bag before you happily joined him on the couch, sitting down carefully as to not jostle his leg.

“Of course I would, did you think I was leaving?”

Spencer blushed, “I don’t know… people who I care about have a tendency to leave.” He watched your features soften.

“Spencer,” you started, “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you.”

You didn’t need to clarify further, you both knew the weight your words held and it relieved the tension Spencer had been sporting since the beginning of your friendship like a weighted blanket relieves anxiety.

“Do you want to watch this movie I got from the library about alien abductions in Alaska? I’ve heard it’s super creepy and I didn’t really want to watch it alone anyways.”

Spencer grinned at your suggestion, “there was actually a study that showed that people who claimed to be abducted by aliens were predisposed to sleep paralysis and hypnosis. Should we order some food? When was the last time you ate?”

[koolkat9]

PRE-RELATIONSHIP-NedCan?

SHIP QUESTIONS

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

CW mentions of history and war

Although they had probably met before in a professional setting (meetings), the two didn't get properly acquainted until WW2. Normally I don't like making a ship take off during this time period, but speaking in a real life context, the actual modern relationship between the actual countries of Canada and Netherlands is often attributed to Canada’s involvement in the liberation of the Netherlands as well as the fact they housed the Dutch Royal Family during that period. It's all very interesting and is one of my favorite aspects of WW2 to read/learn about. Anyway, getting to Matthew and Tim. So Matthew was the one to find Tim cowering in his home and takes it upon himself to ensure he gets out safely and into the care he needs. Though Tim is somewhat out of it, he is able to think clearly enough to know that this person who has him will get him to safety.

What was their first impression of each other?

Not including their first impression at meetings, Tim saw Matthew as his guardian angel (inspired by a fic by TulpenVelden on ao3), but he would not voice this until they actually started dating.

Matthew at first just saw helping Tim as his duty/the right thing to do, but after getting him to safety, he found himself drawn to this man.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Not many were aware of how close they were growing especially on Matthew’s side but as soon as Emma and Luxembourg (not sure on a human name for him) caught wind of it, they did start pushing Tim to go for it. They were just excited that Tim was into someone.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Tim, but Matthew followed shortly after.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Tim was hesitant since he didn’t want to ruin their friendship and he valued that relationship immensely. Matthew was a bit more willing, but chickened out of actually confessing for a while because of nerves.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

At first, both of them would be skeptical, but in modern times they would be more inclined to believe it. Tim though doesn’t really believe in the whole soulmate thing, but knows that he and Matthew do work well together.

What would their lives be like if they had never met?

Not much different. The aftermath of the war would have probably been much more hard on Tim since Matthew's support and friendship helped him keep his spirits high, but other than that, I don't think there would have been a major impact.

[emsylcatac]

Oh man, really appreciating the extra French cultural insight on ML, so thank you for all of your elucidating! Have you made any posts covering common school events/milestones, and/or how teens tend to celebrate holidays in Paris? I know exams are different and that proms aren't really a thing, and the show has given us some insight into field trips (not too different), but do you know of anything else fandom tends to miss?

Heya!! :D

Thanks for your feedback & you’re very welcome!!

I haven’t done any post regarding school events or holidays yet, so let’s do that now!

School events/milestones:

First just a quick explanation of the French scholar system:

Maternelle (= Kindergarten): 3 years, from 3-4yo to 5-6yo – Petite section · Moyenne section · Grande section

Primaire (= Primary school): 5 years, from 6-7yo to 10-11yo – CP · CE1 · CE2 · CM1 · CM2

Collège (= Secondary school | Junior high school): 4 years, from 11-12yo to 14-15yo – 6ème (said sixième) · 5ème (cinquième) · 4ème (quatrième) · 3ème (troisième) – school start around 8:30am and ends around 4:30pm, with 1h lunch-break and 15min break in the morning & afternoon. – except on Wednesday ends around 11:30 or 12:30.

Lycée (= High school): 3 years, from 15-16yo to 17-18yo – 2nd (said seconde) · 1ère (première) · Tale (terminale) – Same about breaks & lunch breaks & start of school, but usually ends around 5:30pm. – except on Wednesday ends around 11:30 or 12:30 (or if you’re unlucky like I was the school organises exams on Wednesday afternoon from 2 to 4h straight but most schools have free Wednesdays afternoon)

Currently, Marinette & Adrien are in their finale year of ‘collège’ so in ‘3ème’ (called ‘troisème’).

So about major end-of the year exams:

End of 3ème (around the end of June usually): ‘Brevet’ – it’s a national exam and every student in the whole France have the same examination questions. They have to revise courses they had during the whole year and can be pretty much interrogated on anything they’ve learned. One exam per subject. Writing exam subjects are: French, Mathematics (main ones), History/Geography, Sciences (with Physics/Chemistry and/or Earth&Life Sciences and/or Technology). Added to that, they have an oral exam. It’s about Art History or a project they’ve conducted throughout the year (alone or in groups, however they get an individual score) Side note: this one is pretty ‘easy’ to have and you really need to want to fail to actually fail. It also takes into account the general score you have during the year and allows you to have a few points in advance. For instance, I was a good student and my general score was high enough for me to have enough points to already have the ‘brevet’ before even taking up the exam. It’s usually the case if your general score is equal or above 16/20 I think)

End of Terminale (around mid-June): ‘Baccalauréat’ – it’s again a national exam but much more important. You can’t pursue your studies if you haven’t passed it and will need to repeat the Terminale year. Subjects vary depending the course students chose when they entered their “1ère” year (it’s kind of a lot to explain everything there especially because the system have completely changed this year and teachers & parents are complaining about it, so I’m going to quickly talk about the ‘old’ system where basically you chose between scientific course, economic & social course or arts course; there’s others but those were the main ones). Again, you need to revise everything you’ve learned throughout the year and can be interrogated on anything. There’s writing exams as well as oral exams and practical exams (for sciences).Side note: Contrary to the ‘brevet’ this one is harder to get. I’m not saying it’s super hard, but students with school difficulties can fail even if they worked for it. Only the score you get at this exam is taken into account, not the general score you got during the year so you can’t “have” your Baccalauréat before taking up the exam.

End of 1ère: some exams of the “Baccalauréat” occur in the 1ère year but not a lot as well as a group project.

Proms, holidays & others undercut to avoid long post:

Regarding school proms, we indeed don’t have them as much as people in Canada or the US. It mostly depends of your school: some will organise them at the end of 3ème or Terminale because it’s the end of a ‘cycle’ sort of, but they’re mostly just events with food brought by everyone and music. You rarely have to find a partner to go to a prom with you, except maybe if the school you’re in has decided on that. Some schools don’t organise any.

Other special event that can be organised in your school (and again it depends how strict the director is and all) is carnival. We all come with disguises for the day. My ‘lycée’ was pretty strict about it but we managed to allow it during my finale year and organise a concert during lunch-time. We had to be recognisable though so no full-mask or full-makeup. But the previous years it was forbidden. We didn’t have any carnivals during collège. It again also depends on your school’s policy.

________________

Holidays

We have 4 in-between holidays and one summer holidays:

“Vacances de la Toussaint” (vacances meaning holidays): 2 weeks around end of October & Beginning of November, including the 1st of November. Usually, people tend to stay at home or visit family members that are living far from their home. Some might travel a bit as well but it’s not often. So some teens will visit their friend, maybe celebrate Halloween but Halloween isn’t that big of a thing here and it’s disappearing more and more.

“Vacances de Noël” (= Christmas holidays): 2 weeks including Christmas day and New Year. Mostly spent in family, some might go skiing but it’s rare and there’s less chance to have enough snow for that in the mountains.

“Vacances de Février” (February holidays): 2 weeks in February, sometimes a bit in March; dates change every year because all of the French regions don’t have the same dates for these holidays so teenagers will be in holidays 1st, 2nd or 3rd depending the year & region. Lots of people who can afford it will go skiing in the mountains one week; it’s pretty expensive so not everyone do that but still a lot.

“Vacances de Pâques / vacances de printemps” (Easter holidays / Spring holidays): Again 2 weeks, with dates changing like in February. Mostly around April, sometimes end of March. People tend to stay home or go a bit in the South of France if they can afford it or have enough time where the weather is warmer, some will visit family members, etc.

“Grandes vacances” (= big holidays or as you would say, Summer holidays): Lasts 2 months in July & August. School ends either end of June or beginning of July depending the grade you’re in and the end of the year exams you have, and will start again at the beginning of September. Some teens would go on family holidays somewhere (mostly to the sea or the mountains or abroad), some in summer camps, some would stay at home, some all of those.

Anyway, in all those holidays teens can meet-up and hang-out with their friends, do sleepovers, etc.

________________

School trips

School trips always have a cultural & educational purpose and will depend on the subject they’re being made for. You can visit museums, special cultural or historical places, etc. Most of the time you leave for the day by bus.

In some cases you can do a 3 to 5 days (or more depending your school) trip to another European country like England or Spain or Germany, maybe Italy. Those are opportunities to learn more about the other country’s culture (I know that when we did those trips we stayed in hosting families) learn and speak a bit the language, and learn history of the country depending on the outings of the day.

________________

Anything else fandom tends to miss?

Ok so it could take a lot of time and everything isn’t coming to my mind but one of the main thing I tend to see in fics is “Americanisation” of the French school system if that makes sense. Which is logical because it’s kind of hard to understand how everything works in another country without living in it.

For instance lots of people in fics write things like “they share maths classes together but not French, so Adrien takes Marinette to her class before going to his” and not really: you stay the whole year with the same classmates and share all your courses with them. Only exceptions are if you took some particular options (like someone took Latin and the other took ancient Greek or nothing), or depending the 2nd language you chose to learn (German or Spanish usually but some schools offer more choices). Or if you’re in a practical course, then you class might be split in half but with Marinette & Adrien’s class, they’re already not numerous so I’d say the whole class would share them together.

There’s a lot of other things but they’re not coming to my mind right now or are too long to detail there (for instance what I said above about scientific/economic&social/arts courses), but I’ll make sure to share them if I think about it :)

Thanks for the ask, I hope I answered what you were looking for!! ♥

[kjack89]

How Slow Life Seems

For @impetusofadream as a much belated fill for the @bishopmyrielfundraiser. The request was for a foreign exchange student AU, which somehow morphed into a study abroad AU, which somehow morphed into, well, this.

E/R, modern AU, developing relationship. Title is from the poem also quoted in the fic (in both French and English), ‘Le pont Mirabeau’ by Guillaume Apollinaire.

“How’s the research paper going?”

Enjolras glanced up from his laptop to blink at his mom, who was leaning against his doorway, looking almost as tired as he felt. “Fine,” he said noncommittally, before sighing and amending, “Ok, actually it’s going terribly. JSTOR’s great and all, but not being able to access primary source documents directly…”

He trailed off and his mom nodded understandingly. “Well,” she said bracingly, “hopefully it’s just for the rest of this semester. Once COVID calms down, you’ll be back on campus and able to look at all the primary sources your heart desires.” She paused. “And, you know, you’ll get to see your friends again, plan more protests, get put on academic probation again…”

Enjolras laughed lightly. He couldn’t pretend that he’d always gotten along well with his parents, rebelling in a million ways throughout high school and moving all the way across the country for school. But with COVID shutting down campus, he had reluctantly returned to his parents’ house, and he was surprised to find it wasn’t as bad as he remembered. 

Maybe absence really did make the heart fonder.

Or maybe it was because, on his second day back, his mom had casually dropped into conversation at the dinner table, “By the way, we’re taking in a foreign exchange student this summer. You’ll like him – he’s a non-traditional student from Poland who got a grant to come do research on populist uprisings.”

Enjolras’s mother worked with the Office of International Study at the local university, which meant as long as Enjolras could remember, there was always some random student or another who stayed with the family, normally when their own study or living arrangements got disrupted. But rarely had the student in question so perfectly matched just about every single one of Enjolras’s interests – even if he had to feign disinterest.

“Populist uprisings?” he had scoffed. “Here? Might as well come here to study Bigfoot.”

But as the days had gotten closer to the student’s – to Feuilly’s – arrival, Enjolras grew more eager. So it was with a genuine smile that he asked his mom, “Is Feuilly getting here soon?”

His mom’s smile faltered, just slightly. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said, and Enjolras’s smile faded.

“He’s not coming, is he?” he asked dully, already able to see where this conversation was going.

His mom shook her head. “No, he’s not – his university canceled all study abroad because of COVID.”

“Oh,” Enjolras said. “Of course.”

“But there is some good news!” his mom continued, in that forced way she had when she was trying to get him to agree to something she knew he wasn’t going to want to do. “There are a number of foreign exchange students stuck here who can’t go home, so you will at least have some company, for a few weeks, anyway, until we’re able to safely get them home.”

Enjolras perked up, just slightly. “So who’s coming to stay with us?” he asked, trying not to sound so excited at the prospect of any company that wasn’t his capitalism-loving parents.

“His name’s Grantaire,” his mom, sounding relieved that he seemed open to it. “You’ll like him,” she added quickly. “He’s Canadian! You can practice your French!”

Enjolras considered it for a moment. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I suppose it could be worse.”

---------

“Oh, sorry,” Grantaire said, somewhere in between bored and awkward. “I don’t really speak French.”

It was the second thing Grantaire said to him, right after “Hi” and right before, “Oh, I don’t really care about politics.”

Needless to say, Enjolras did not like him.

Grantaire was an art student, and slept until 2 in the afternoon most days, and sat out on the back porch smoking cigarettes while scrolling idly through his phone, and openly laughed whenever Enjolras tried to engage him in any kind of political conversation, and seemed to have absolutely no interest in going anywhere or doing anything.

It was hard to say which Enjolras liked least.

Granted, in the era of COVID there wasn’t exactly a whole lot to go do or see, but even outside of the immediate, Grantaire seemed to have no ambition towards doing anything. When Enjolras asked, a little stiffly, why he had bothered to study abroad when he clearly didn’t care about expanding his horizons, Grantaire just shrugged, ducking his head to light the cigarette in his mouth. “Free trip, I guess,” he said, blowing smoke out of his nose and grinning at Enjolras lazily.

Enjolras was not amused. 

His mom didn’t help matters, encouraging him at every given opportunity to spend more time with Grantaire. “He must be homesick,” she reasoned. 

“I’m not entirely sure that Grantaire cares enough about anything to miss it,” Enjolras muttered, and she gave him a look.

“Imagine being stuck in a foreign country during a pandemic with no knowledge of when you’re going to be able to go home,” she said. “He needs our understanding, and I’d hazard that he also needs a friend.”

But every attempt Enjolras made towards conversation – he wouldn’t go so far as to say friendship – was met with mockery at worst or disinterest at best, so Enjolras gave up, figuring they were better off ignoring each other.

At least until one night, when Enjolras was up even later than usual, sprawled out on the couch with his laptop balanced on his lap and books spread around him. He jerked upright when the door banged open, though he settled back down again when he heard Grantaire swear to himself. “Oh,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras didn’t bother looking up at him. “What’re you doing up?”

“Studying,” Enjolras said, pointedly vague, but Grantaire didn’t seem to take the hint, leaning down to rest his elbows against the back of the couch as he peered down at Enjolras’s computer screen.

“Thought your semester was done.”

“It is,” Enjolras said with a scowl as he shifted his computer so that Grantaire couldn’t read it. “I’m not studying for school, I’m trying to draft a bill to create criminal penalties for racially-motivated false police calls.”

Grantaire snorted, straightening and heading into the kitchen to grab a beer from the fridge. “Of course you are,” he said derisively. 

On any other night, Enjolras might have ignored him, but that night, he couldn’t quite bring himself to, instead closing his laptop and sitting up to glare at Grantaire as he settled down at the kitchen table. “Something wrong with trying to bring a little bit of justice into the world?” he asked, his voice brittle.

Grantaire just shrugged. “Not at all, but if you think that’s what justice looks like, you’ve got another think coming.”

Enjolras scowled. “What are you even talking about?” he snapped.

“I’m talking about the irony of someone who I’m sure espouses the need to abolish the the police and the criminal justice suddenly being ok with using said criminal justice system to punish the local Karens.”

Enjolras stared at him. “I don’t know—”

“Yeah, I’m sure you don’t,” Grantaire scoffed, a small smirk lifting the corners of his mouth.

Enjolras ground his teeth together, irritation making his blood boil. “What, and you’re suddenly an expert in criminal justice?”

“Not even remotely,” Grantaire said breezily, draining his beer and standing. “But when I say Fuck 12, I don’t intend to turn around and say that they’re ok when they’re enforcing my agenda.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to retort before closing it again, the sinking feeling in his stomach telling him that, as much as he might want to deny it in the moment, Grantaire might have a point.

He hated him more than a little for that.

It took him a moment to push the feeling aside. “I didn’t realize you cared,” he said stiffly, and Grantaire paused on his way out of the kitchen. 

“I don’t,” he said with a shrug. “And it’s not like Canada’s much better when it comes to police brutality against Black and brown folks, especially indigenous folks.” He paused, his expression unreadable in the dim light “But I just figured someone like you should probably think through all the sides of things.”

Enjolras eyed him warily. “I don’t know whether to be grateful or insulted.”

Grantaire scratched his neck and shrugged. “Honestly, it’s a crapshoot either way.”

Enjolras couldn’t help but laugh lightly at that as he opened his laptop again. “Well, you’ve at least given me something to think about.” 

Grantaire made a mocking bow. “My legacy, monsieur,” he said, turning to go upstairs to his bedroom.

“My mom thinks you might be homesick.”

Enjolras didn’t know what possessed him to just blurt that out, and he couldn’t help but hold his breath slightly as Grantaire froze before turning back to him. “Does she,” he said noncommittally, more a statement than a question.

Enjolras jerked a shrug, staring down at his laptop as if he couldn’t care less if Grantaire was homesick. “Yeah.”

“She’s a nice woman, your mom,” Grantaire said, leaning against the doorway and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I get why you probably don’t get along with her or your dad, since they’re, you know, the bourgeoisie that you with your upper middle class upbringing disdain so much, but she is nice.” 

Enjolras nodded slowly. “Are you homesick, then?” he asked.

“Oh, no,” Grantaire said with a laugh, and Enjolras blinked up at him. “You haven’t leveled up far enough to access my tragic backstory or find out if I’m missing home.”

Enjolras scowled. “I wasn’t aware that asking you basic facts about your emotional state counts as unlocking a tragic backstory.”

Grantaire winked. “That’s because you don’t know anything about my emotional state.”

“Well, am I allowed to ask you about something else?”

“Sure,” Grantaire said easily, and Enjolras was taken aback for a moment. He hadn’t expected Grantaire to agree, so he fumbled for a question to actually ask.

“Where do you go?” he asked abruptly, and it was Grantaire’s turn to look taken aback.

“Where do I go?” he repeated.

“When you go out,” Enjolras said impatiently, waving a vague hand in the direction of the door. “When you disappear for hours on end – where do you go?”

Grantaire grinned. “That’s a good question,” he admitted, rapping lightly on the doorframe with his knuckles. “Good enough that you should ask me again sometime.”

Enjolras frowned. “Why?”

“Because one day I just might show you.”

He disappeared, leaving Enjolras staring after him.

----------

Something after that changed between them. It wasn’t like they were suddenly friends or anything like that, but Enjolras was beginning to sense that maybe they could be.

Underneath the cynicism, Grantaire actually seemed to share most of the same political beliefs as Enjolras – even if he chalked up said political beliefs to ‘wishful thinking’.

That used to piss Enjolras off, but somehow, it didn’t anymore. He told himself that it was because he now realized there was actual substance beneath the scorn and dismissal.

He also told himself that it had nothing to do with noticing the way that Grantaire’s eyes sparkled everytime he said it, as if it was somehow an inside joke between them.

Enjolras found that his usual late nights staying up, studying and working into the early hours, were now interrupted by Grantaire joining him, usually with a beer in hand. But it was becoming harder to see them as interruptions because somehow, Grantaire had a knack for finding ways to make Enjolras’s arguments better. Sharper. As if the teasing the torment was always intended to get him to this point.

Now that Grantaire wasn’t interrupting him, the only person that was when Enjolras’s mom would come downstairs to shush them for arguing too loudly. After one such time, a couple of weeks after that first night, Grantaire leaned back against the couch and remarked casually, “Your mom is nice.”

“You’ve said that before,” Enjolras said, highlighting something in the article he was reading before glancing up at Grantaire. “I’ll take it that your mom isn’t?”

He asked it casually, and for a moment, Grantaire looked like he might deny it. But then he just shrugged, staring moodily into the distance. “She was never cruel,” he said, something almost cold in his tone. “She and my dad didn’t beat me, or abuse me. They just—” He broke off, his expression darkening. “I dunno. Kids can tell, I think, when they were never really wanted.”

He said it plainly, matter-of-factly, and that somehow made it so much worse. Enjolras wasn’t sure whether to say something – or what to say, for that matter – but Grantaire saved him from having to. “My parents had me as an attempt to keep their marriage together. It didn’t work. And after that, I don’t think either of them was ever really that interested in being a parent.” He made a face. “Save for telling me how disappointing I was.”

“I’m sorry.”

Enjolras winced as he said it, but Grantaire just waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t be,” he scoffed. “It’s not a tragedy in the grand scheme of things. And all things, I’ve been lucky. I grew up with food on the table, a house over my head, excellent schooling– Well, until university, that is. They cut me off when I told them I was planning on getting an arts degree instead of something useful.”

He made another face and took a long pull from his beer before forcing a smile. “And there you have it, my tragic backstory. Congratulations on leveling up.”

Enjolras laughed, but only because it seemed expected of him. Grantaire relaxed slightly at that, though he froze when Enjolras added, in what he hoped was a casual way, “Neglect is still abuse, you know.”

“Maybe,” Grantaire acknowledged before smiling again, this time a genuine smile. “But honestly it may have been for the best. After all, regardless of whether it was a tragedy in the grand scheme of things, somehow or another, it still got me here.” He paused, his grin widening. “Where I can annoy you until all hours of the night.”

“Aren’t I lucky,” Enjolras said dryly, and Grantaire laughed, the moment between them ending almost as quickly as it had started.

But something about it lingered with Enjolras, and it took him a few days to realize what it was: he did feel a little bit lucky, all things considered. He was surprised to find that he liked Grantaire, liked spending time with him. Grantaire made him laugh, and rage, and on occasion, scowl and sulk when Grantaire knocked down one of his arguments.

Grantaire made him feel what previously had always been reserved for his causes.

And even though Enjolras knew Grantaire would have to leave eventually, when once he would’ve given anything to get rid of him, now he was surprised to find that he didn’t want him to go at all.

----------

“What are you doing tonight?” Grantaire asked abruptly, and Enjolras didn’t even look up from his computer.

“Same thing we do every night, Pinky,” he murmured. “Try to take over the world.”

“Hilarious,” Grantaire said dryly. “But I meant it.”

Enjolras sighed and looked up. “Well, I’ve got about a half dozen articles I need to read, not to mention there’s some really interesting case law coming out from Clay County, Illinois, regarding suing a governor over executive powers, and—”

“So nothing important, in other words,” Grantaire interrupted with a grin.

Enjolras’s eyes narrowed. “And what more important thing did you have in mind to do tonight?”

Grantaire’s grin widened. “Ask your question from before,” he said, and Enjolras stared at him for a long moment before remembering.

“Where do you go?” he asked, and Grantaire’s grin softened.

“Let me show you,” he said, holding his hand out to Enjolras. “With your permission, of course.”

Enjolras hesitated for only a moment before taking Grantaire’s hand and allowing Grantaire to pull him off the couch and out the door, face masks in hand.

The answer to Enjolras’s question, it seemed, was everywhere. Enjolras had grown up in this town, but he had never seen it like this, following Grantaire down alleys and through neighborhoods he didn’t even know existed. Their first stop was a little corner liquor store that Enjolras must’ve passed hundreds of times without every going in, and Enjolras even drank some of the wine Grantaire offered him, shifting their masks to drink straight from the brown paper bag-wrapped bottle as they made their way across town to some dingy dive bar.

But instead of going in, Grantaire led him over to a man selling tamales by the front door. “Best tamales in the city,” Grantaire assured Enjolras, who found that he didn’t doubt him.

From there, they crisscrossed the entire town, it seemed, pausing in a back alley to listen to a band playing some tiny venue Enjolras had never heard of, or swinging past the local movie theatre, which was projecting old films on the side of the building, turning their parking lot into a mini drive-in.

Enjolras didn’t say much, other than to comment a few times on mask compliance and social distancing, but he didn’t feel like the silence between them was uncomfortable, mainly because there wasn’t much silence. Even with a pandemic, there was still people on the sidewalk, talking loudly with each other, and cars crowding the streets, and even the sound of cicadas turning the quiet night into a cacophony.

They ended in a park, where Grantaire helped Enjolras over the temporary fence set up to block access to the playground, and they sat down on the swings, Enjolras facing one direction, Grantaire facing the other. “So this was…” Enjolras started, trailing off as he searched for the right word.

“Stupid?” Grantaire suggested, with a self-deprecating laugh.

Enjolras looked over at him sharply. “The opposite, actually,” he said. “I think I saw more of this city tonight than I have in my entire time living here.” He shrugged, glancing around them. “I’ve spent almost my entire life here, and I’ve never seen it like this.”

“You should try sometime,” Grantaire said, and there was something serious in his voice, so much so that Enjolras looked over at him, searching his expression. “Sometimes I think that you’re so focused on what needs fixing that you don’t stop and see the beauty in the brokenness.”

“Well, that’s your job,” Enjolras said, aiming for a joke but falling flat. “As an artist, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant,” Grantaire said quietly.

For a moment, they both sat in silence before Grantaire told Enjolras, “I’m leaving in two days.”

“What?” Enjolras asked blankly.

“Your mom told me today. I finally got cleared by my university to return to Canada.”

Enjolras’s entire chest felt like it was being squeezed. “That’s—” he started, his voice coming out a croak, and he swallowed, hard. “I mean, that’s what you’ve been waiting for, right?”

Grantaire jerked a shrug. “I guess.”

There were a million things that Enjolras wanted to say to him, but none of the words seemed to come. Instead, he asked, hesitantly, “Is that...is that why you decided to show me this? Because you’re leaving?”

“No.” Grantaire shook his head, something almost urgent in his tone. “I wanted to show you this because you needed to see it. You are so focused on changing what’s out there that you don’t take the time to stop and see what’s right here.”

“And you do?” Enjolras asked.

“Maybe.”

Enjolras was suddenly aware of how close they were, brushing against each other in the dark as they had twisted in their swings to face each other. “And what do you see?” he asked softly. 

Instead of answering, Grantaire leaned in and kissed him.

----------

It was somewhat of an answer in its own way, and judging by the chaos of packing that followed the next day, it was the only answer that Enjolras was ever going to get. He wanted desperately to talk to Grantaire, to talk about what had happened in that park, or about the millions of other things he had just assumed they would have time to talk about, but time was the one thing they didn’t have.

Not during the day, anyway.

But in lieu of their usual late night bantering, Enjolras crept into Grantaire’s bedroom after his parents had gone to bed. “Enjolras?” Grantaire asked, sitting up. “What are you—”

Enjolras kissed him, a little desperately. “I wanted to do that,” he said, his voice breathy.

Grantaire’s hands dropped to rest against his waist. “Is that all you wanted?” he asked, his voice low.

“I also wanted to talk.”

Grantaire groaned softly. “Of course you do,” he said with a sigh, dropping his hands and flopping back down on the bed. “Let me guess, about what this means, or what this is between us?”

Despite himself, despite not wanting to ruin what little time they had left, Enjolras scowled. “Why do you say that like it’s a bad thing?”

“It’s not, it’s just—” Grantaire broke off with a sigh. “It’s predictable. Remember what I said about you being too busy trying to fix what’s out there to focus on what’s right here?”

Enjolras’s scowl deepened. “I don’t think this—”

“No, but I do.” Grantaire sat up again, his expression serious. “Look, if you can honestly tell me that talking about this will make the fact that I am leaving tomorrow easier or better, then I’m happy to spend this entire night talking.” He paused as if waiting for Enjolras to attempt exactly that. “But if you can’t, then don’t make me waste this night.”

Enjolras bit his lip. “Well, then what do you want to do?” he asked, hastening to add, “Besides, you know, that, because that’s not happening tonight.”

Grantaire half-smiled. “All I want is to hold you,” he said simply, holding his hand out to Enjolras. “Can we do that?”

The breath seemed to catch in Enjolras’s throat. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’d – I’d like that.”

He let Grantaire pull him onto the bed, curling reflexively against him and tilting his head up so that Grantaire could kiss him, slow and sweet.

True to what Grantaire said, that’s all they did, lying there together, wrapped up in each other and in the millions of unspoken could-have and should-have-beens. Enjolras rested his head against Grantaire’s chest. “‘M falling asleep,” he murmured, and Grantaire smoothed the hair away from his forehead.

“Then sleep,” he said, his voice low in Enjolras’s ear. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

Enjolras believed him.

And as he drifted off into sleep, he could’ve sworn he heard Grantaire whispering into his ear, “L'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante, L'amour s'en va, Comme la vie est lente, Et comme l'Espérance est violente.”

----------

Enjolras only just made it back to his own bed the next morning before his parents woke up, not that it mattered in the chaos of getting Grantaire’s stuff packed into the car so they could drive to the airport. Enjolras and Grantaire sat in the back seat, neither seeming to want to break the silence, though once, when Enjolras’s parents weren’t looking, Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s hand and raised it to his lips to kiss Enjolras’s knuckles.

Still, the reality set in after Grantaire checked his bags and rejoined Enjolras and his parents, who tactfully gave them some room to say their goodbyes. “I spent most of my summer counting down until you left,” Enjolras told him, and Grantaire laughed.

“You sure know how to make a girl feel special,” he teased, but Enjolras didn’t smile.

“But now that you’re actually going—”

“I know,” Grantaire said softly. “But I have to go. Besides, someone’s got to be ready with a place for you to stay for when you inevitably try to overthrow the government and need to flee the country.”

Enjolras half-smiled. “Depending on how November goes, that may be sooner rather than later.”

Grantaire shuddered. “Don’t even joke about that.”

“Sorry,” Enjolras said, before adding, a little desperately, “I’m going to miss you.”

Grantaire ducked his head. “Who knows,” he said, “maybe I’ll look into transferring schools.”

“Really?”

Grantaire shrugged. “Yeah, it’s not like I have much to look forward to back home.” He nudged Enjolras with his elbow. “But I do have a really compelling reason to come back here.”

Enjolras shook his head, his throat tight. “Don’t transfer just because of me.”

“Don’t you have a high opinion of yourself,” Grantaire said mockingly. “I was referring to the tamales.”

But Enjolras didn’t laugh. “I mean it.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow. “You and I both know that you need me, too. So it’s only half for me.”

Enjolras did smile at that, a little reluctantly. “Maybe.”

Grantaire nodded, and glanced towards security, his expression darkening. “Well,” he said, clearing his throat. “I guess I should be going. And I’ll, uh, see when I see you, I guess.”

Enjolras nodded as well. “Yeah,” he said, his voice thick.

Grantaire hefted his bag onto his shoulder and turned to leave when Enjolras said, “Oh, and Grantaire?”

“Yeah?” Grantaire said, turning back.

“Always joy comes after pain.”

Grantaire blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“From the poem you recited to me last night.” A slow grin spread across Grantaire’s face, and Enjolras said, mock-accusatory, “You said you didn’t speak French.”

“I lied,” Grantaire said, and Enjolras shook his head.

“And what else did you lie about?” he asked, putting his hands on his hips.

Grantaire didn’t hesitate, closing the space between them to kiss Enjolras. “Well,” he said, “I said I wasn’t going to do that, for starters.”

“I think I can forgive that,” Enjolras whispered, kissing Grantaire again before asking, “Anything else?’

Grantaire grinned. “Let’s save that for the next time we see each other.”

Enjolras smiled as well. “I’m gonna hold you to that,” he warned.

Grantaire pulled him into a hug, one that Enjolras was only too happy to return. “I hope to God you do,” Grantaire whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek once more.

“I will,” Enjolras promised, and this time when Grantaire turned to head into security, Enjolras didn’t stop him.

He didn’t have to, because for once, Enjolras saw things exactly as they were right in front of him.

But he also knew he’d find a way to fix it, and for them to be together again.

One way or another.