#if that makes sense. anyway sound off in the comments xoxo

[heirloommtomatoes]

should i go to law school. sound off in the comments xoxo

[pendingnomdeplume]

i am drowning, and there's no sign of land pairing: hozier x gn!reader rating: T tags: angst, mental illness, hurt/comfort words: 761

author's note: This was pre-written and is part of a backlog of items I still have from the previous blog. xoxo.

title from: No Children by The Mountain Goats divider by: cafekitsune

It’s late when you call, a last resort for which you’ll profusely apologize and ask forgiveness that you’ll never believe or accept. The stains of leftover tears make your skin feel tight as you rub at your swollen eyes and take a deep breath. At least your breathing has evened, no longer wracked with hiccuping sobs that make your ribs hurt. 

“Hey, are you okay?” It’s the first thing to rush from his mouth, worry obvious in his voice. You can imagine him now, frizzy hair thrown up and out of the way while he sits at his computer or hunches over a notebook—the anxiety gripping his chest as he sees your name pop up at an hour that is usually all his own. 

The only response you can summon is a humorless laugh as you shake your head despite him not being able to see it. 

“Do you need me to call someone?” Andrew wouldn’t ask without reason, and you’d provided plenty of reason for this level of concern before. 

“Nothing so dire.” You wince at the way your voice cracks. “It’s just…it’s been a night.” 

“Tell me about it.” 

It’s such a simple phrase, but it makes your heart swell and tears prick the corners of your eyes. One of the few people who’s never made you feel like a burden on them. 

 You sigh. “My brain won’t stop, and it’s so loud today. I don’t know what actually triggered it, but…it’s been pretty touch-and-go the last few days.”

You brace yourself for an impact that likely won’t come. Andrew isn’t like that, won’t blame you for not reaching out sooner as if it’s a moral failing. Likely, he’ll be more frustrated with himself for not seeing signs even when you’ve worked so hard to conceal them. 

“Did you email your psych?” 

The question sends an electric buzz of irritation along your skin that you try to shake off. He knows you hate that question, but he also knows that you drag your feet on your own well-being—part of the menagerie of mental illness that convinces you it doesn’t matter anyway. You pause and take a deep breath to swallow down the snappy comment that desperately wants to break free. 

“I did, but I don’t know when I’ll hear back.” 

You’re both quiet as each of you thinks of the next thing to say, but everything that comes to mind is just as alarming as the call itself.  A barrage of self-doubt, self-pity, and self-deprecation tumbles through your brain, and you squeeze your eyes shut as though it will do anything to quiet the roar. 

“Do you…want to talk about it?” The question is asked thoughtfully and extended carefully. You take a moment to turn it over in your mind, gauging where exactly your own emotional energy is at. 

Finally, you shake your head. “No, I don��t think…I don’t think there’s anything to really talk about. Not right now, anyway. I just…” 

I just don’t feel real. I need an anchor to reality. 

Andrew asks, “Do you want to get on FaceTime, then? I’m working on something if you want to hear.” If you need company.

When the screen fills with his image, he smiles and greets you softly. An acoustic guitar rests in his lap as he flips back through his notebook to find where he’d left off. As he plucks out quiet notes, you shimmy down under the covers and reach over to turn off your bedside lamp. Andrew glances over when he notices the shift in his peripheral vision, and he smiles again when he sees your eyes peeking out from beneath your duvet, already starting to get heavy with sleep. 

You watch him for a while, occasionally catching the way he glances at his phone to see if you’re still there, still awake. Warmth floods your chest as he sings to himself, little sounds and whispers here and there as you catch a few words that make little sense to you within the greater context. 

Sleep takes you just as the sky begins to shift. The birds just outside Andrew’s window signal dawn, and he’d nearly forgotten he was on a call at all with how comfortable and cozy the silence is between you. 

He catches the way your eyes dart beneath closed eyelids, clearly in the depths of a dream. He whispers your name once, then repeats it louder than before, but you barely stir. Finally, he reaches over, letting his hand hover over the End Call button before whispering a barely audible, “Goodnight.” 

[darthmarrsgf]

i wanna just put my arms around you (like the circles going around the sun)

yes i already posted about this, yes i'm posting again bc i'm excited!! elara dorne ilu xoxo <3

read on ao3

* * *

“…seventy-two hours. You deserve it. Report to me when you’re back on board. Garza out.”

Sarena waited until the holo flickered out of view before turning to the rest of the squad with a grin. “You heard the General. I’ll see you all in seventy-two hours. Get the hell off my ship.”

The Captain laughed to herself as she passed Elara, clapping her on the shoulder while Elara’s stomach knotted. “Captain, I—" Elara hesitated, glancing away from Sarena. “I can stay with the ship, if you’d like.”

“It’s fine, Dorne. I’m not going to make you babysit. Forex can do it.” Sarena frowned, sharp eyes flickering over Elara’s drawn features as she turned back to face her. “Unless you— You want to stay?”

“I, ah— I don’t really have anywhere to stay planetside besides the barracks anyway, and—" Don’t make me say it, she thought. Even if I did, I don’t have any friends to see. She looked down at her hands, frustrated by her own visible uncertainty.

“Oh. Well—" Sarena shrugged. “If you’re set on staying here, I won’t stop you, but there aren’t many places better for a few days of leave than Coruscant. You spent much time here?”

“Hardly any, sir. I suppose I could—" Elara faltered. The city shouldn’t be any more intimidating than Dromund Kaas, she reasoned, but so little of her life in the Republic had been spent outside the strict regimen of her life in the military.

Sarena rested a hand on Elara’s shoulder. “Like I said, Sergeant, I don’t mind if you want to stay here, but I don’t want you bored out of your mind. Or trapped and listening to Forex rant,” she added with a grimace.

“I hadn’t thought about that,” Elara muttered mostly to herself, though she was pleased that the comment elicited a laugh from the Captain.

“Look, there’s a place I usually stay when we get time off here. Quiet, but close enough to the action. I wouldn’t mind showing you around, if you wanted.” She arched an eyebrow for emphasis, studying Elara with an expression she couldn’t quite parse.

“I— Alright.” Elara nodded decisively before she could give herself a chance to reconsider. “That would be… very kind of you.”

Sarena rolled her eyes. “Don’t make me sound like a martyr, Dorne. I like spending time with you.”

Thankfully, she turned away before Elara’s expression transformed into what she could only imagine was absolute shock. She couldn’t remember anyone saying that to her in twenty seven years, and the fact that it was Sarena—

“Five minutes, Sergeant. Get your stuff, and we’ll get out of here.”

* * *

“Bags, then beer,” Sarena had declared when they stepped out of the airlock, seemingly confident that no other explanation was required. Though Elara preferred to maintain a detailed itinerary when traveling, she had simply nodded and followed behind Sarena as she led them out of the spaceport and onto a taxi bound for their hotel. As their taxi sped toward the city center, Elara flexed her calf to stop her leg from bouncing. It wasn’t being alone with the other woman that stoked her nerves—if anything, she realized, that was the one thing that gave her any sense of certainty. Coruscant was enormous, dizzyingly so, but Elara decided she had absolute faith in whatever Sarena decided the weekend would hold.

The room Sarena ultimately led her to was more upscale than Elara expected—the Captain had always struck her as unflaggingly practical and unpretentious, often sacrificing her own comfort for the sake of the rest of the squad in ways that Elara was sure she didn’t even notice. But the sleek surfaces and plush linens of their weekend lodging just edged on indulgence, and the small insight into the Captain’s taste gave Elara an inexplicable thrill.

Elara stepped over to the other side of the room, peering out the window that took up most of the far wall. “Well, this is certainly a step up from the barracks.”

“Can’t say I miss those days.” Sarena snorted and unzipped her bag, which Elara took as her cue to start changing her clothes.

After she pulled on her jacket, Elara shook her hair free, rearranging it into a looser ponytail. Giving her reflection a final once-over in the mirror hanging across from the beds, she noticed Sarena’s eyes on her from where she leaned against the doorway.

“Seemed a bit severe. I never wear it like this. I should just cut it all off, but… It’s really just vanity, I suppose.”

“It looks nice,” Sarena said with a smirk, the compliment sending a jolt of something racing down Elara’s spine. She was determined not to read too much into such an innocuous comment, but she still couldn’t stop her lips from quirking into a small smile as they left the room.

It felt undeniably strange to be walking next to Sarena at such a leisurely pace, but Elara still felt her earlier apprehension begin to fade. For the next three days, they could just be themselves, without the physical and mental burden of the armor that was usually between them. She wants to spend time with you, Elara reminded herself, letting the thought bolster her confidence as they wound through the busy streets.

“Doesn’t look like much, because it isn’t, but it’s nice to just be left alone sometimes,” Sarena explained with a shrug while they descended the flight of stairs leading to the cantina’s entrance.

“Fair enough.” Elara couldn’t help but wonder what it meant that she was apparently an exception to that desire.

Sarena was right—the bartender was friendly and seemed to remember her from her earlier visits, but otherwise, no one even turned a head as the two women passed their tables. Elara hadn’t expected to feel so at ease in a poorly lit bar with questionably sticky floors, but she supposed it was just further proof positive of Sarena’s instincts.

“Cheers,” Sarena offered after they had both settled into a booth.

“And what are we toasting to?” Elara gamely raised her glass, careful not to spill any of the drink Sarena had paid for on the table.

Sarena grinned. “To a weekend without Garza’s orders or Aric’s snoring.”

As their glasses clinked, Elara suppressed a snort.

“Where did Jorgan go?” She frowned, running the afternoon back through her mind. “I don’t even remember seeing him after you ended the call.”

“He did that last time, too. Felt like an interrogation, but I finally got him to admit that he’s got a friend. The kind of friend you spend all your free time with when you’re not getting blasted around the galaxy.”

Elara laughed. “Good for him, then.”

“What about you, Dorne? Got a boyfriend?” As Sarena tipped her head back and took a pull of her beer, Elara did her best to avoid locking her gaze on the long line of the woman’s neck.

Elara sipped her drink. “No, sir.”

“Girlfriend?”

Elara hoped the heat that flooded her face wasn’t visible in the low light. “No— no girlfriend, either, at ah—not at the moment. I haven’t— Well. Most of my colleagues on Taris weren’t particularly interested in spending time with me.” Sarena frowned, prompting Elara to move on in hopes of avoiding any more probing questions. “You?”

The Captain shook her head and picked at the label on her bottle. “No girlfriend. No anybody. Not in a long time.”

Elara raised an eyebrow. “What about Agent Balker?”

Sarena laughed. “Jonas? No. He’s fun to mess around with, but we never— it’s not serious for either of us. I don’t really do ‘serious’ with men.” Her tone was casual, almost conspicuously so—Elara was certain she was searching for something, and she wanted to make sure the impression she gave was authentic.

“I don’t—I don’t think I do either.” Elara grimaced inadvertently at the thought as she ran down the list, short though it was, of former entanglements. She knew she’d never been in love, not yet, but when she tried to imagine it, it was never a man who she envisioned as her ideal partner—it was a woman, and recently, it had become a tall, muscular woman with black hair and teasing brown eyes.

“Good to know.”

Elara’s heart raced at the captain’s small, approving smirk. It is? She wanted to ask, but stopped herself just before the words tripped over her tongue. This, whatever this was— she didn’t think she was imagining it, but she didn’t want to ruin it, either. Instead, she just smiled into her glass.

After a moment of quiet consideration stretched between them, Sarena met Elara’s eyes.

“I know—" She sighed, brows furrowing. “There’s… Look. I know this hasn’t been easy. I’ve seen the way people talk to you because of where you’re… from. What they think your past was like. You never complain about it. Maybe I’m just projecting. But I just wanted you to know—I don’t like it. And I won’t tolerate it. You���re an amazing soldier, and you’re a good person. And I just—I hope you know you have a place here. With us. We’re— I’m lucky to have you.”

The silence returned for a breath as Elara blinked, doing her best to dispel the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “Captain, I—"

“Sorry,” Sarena interjected with a grimace, quickly breaking eye contact. “If I’m not careful, I turn into a sap. Ask anybody in my old squad. But I— I mean it. Just know that.”

“No, I— Thank you. Truly. You have no idea how much…” Elara sighed, taking a final swallow of her drink while she tried to compose her thoughts. “When you offered me a spot with you on Taris, I almost—I could have collapsed with relief. I was good at my job, I know I was, and there were a few people who didn’t treat me with outright derision. But over a year of that, constantly— It was wearing on me. I’d like to think I was good at hiding it, but… It hurt. Badly. And knowing that now I can just… do my job, and support you, and that’s enough, is— It’s been even more liberating than I could have imagined.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Dorne. Really. And I promise I won’t spring any more heartfelt conversations on you tonight.”

Elara laughed. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to have someone to talk to, and to feel… appreciated.”

“Of course I appreciate you,” Sarena said with a huff. “Most of us would be down a limb if it weren’t for you.”

“I do try to keep you all in one piece, despite how difficult you make it.”

Sarena gestured to Elara’s empty glass. “Another round?”

Elara almost reflexively declined—she liked to think of herself, in general, as restrained, but— Well. The Captain was offering, and it was the only guaranteed free time she’d have until Maker knew when.

“Yes, thank you.”

After Sarena waved their server over and placed their order, Elara tilted her head in consideration.

“So… aside from drinking, what all do you do here?”

Sarena’s dark eyes glittered as she leaned forward. “You ever been to a swoop race?”

* * *

Elara, as it turned out, had not been to a swoop race, and Sarena was privately relishing the opportunity to show her the exact kind of controlled chaos they embodied.

After a quick detour at a nearby market for food, which Elara insisted on paying for, the pair headed off on foot. The weather was surprisingly pleasant—clear, cool, and just breezy enough to make the city air feel less stagnant than it usually did. Not for the first time, Sarena noted how much smaller Elara seemed without her armor. She was undeniably strong, and Sarena knew she kept herself in excellent physical condition, but there was something about her that looked far more graceful than Sarena ever felt.

As they approached the track, the captain couldn’t help but feel endeared to the way Elara’s blue eyes widened. “Is it always this… busy?”

Sarena assessed the throngs of fans streaming into the stands. “A night like tonight, at the end of the week? Sure.” She glanced back at Elara. “If it’s too much, just let me know. We can step out and get some air.”

Elara nodded resolutely. Damn, she’s cute. Sarena forced herself to fix her gaze in front of her as they stepped inside.

“And don’t get lost,” she cautioned. She resisted the urge to grab Elara’s hand—though, to her surprise, she felt the barest brush of the woman’s fingers on her elbow.

“Then don’t lose me,” Elara countered. “Although you seem to have forgotten you’re still half a head taller than most people. I don’t think it’d be hard to find you.”

“Are you teasing me, Dorne?”

“I suppose it depends, Captain.” Sarena didn’t miss the satisfied smirk that played at the edges of Elara’s lips.

“On what?”

Elara shrugged. “On whether or not you like being teased.”

Sarena swore she felt her heart stutter—there was no way the other woman wasn’t flirting, she reasoned, trying to ignore the way the thought sent a jolt through her body.

“Guess that’s a yes, then.” She tried to keep her voice as level as she could, aiming for the offhand tone she had maintained earlier that evening when probing the status of Elara’s personal life.

“I guess it is.”

Another zap of electricity surged through Sarena as she felt Elara’s hand close firmly over her elbow. At this rate, it was going to be a miracle if she made it back to the hotel without saying—or certainly imagining—something wholly inappropriate.

When they reached the portion of the stands Sarena preferred—close enough to follow the action, but a few sections away from the diehard fans and enthusiastic gamblers—Sarena turned to her companion. “You want something to drink? On me.”

She wasn’t anticipating the way Elara’s face blanched. “Oh, I, ah—I can just go with you.”

“Don’t worry about it, Elara. I don’t mind paying for—" She paused, registering the way Elara’s grip on her elbow had tightened. “Are you okay?”

Elara glanced down, quickly releasing Sarena’s arm as she blinked in surprise. “I’m fine,” she insisted. “But if I’m alone, and someone tries to talk to me—" As if on cue, a man brushed past her with a thoroughly unnecessary ‘‘Scuse me, sweetheart.’

“My accent,” she hissed.

“Oh. I— You’re right. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. C’mon, I’ll show you where the bar’s at.”

As they wove through the crowd, Sarena couldn’t stop replaying Elara’s comment in her mind. “You know,” she said, clearing a path between two onlookers with a determined shoulder, “If someone gives you a hard time, I’ll deal with them.”

Elara rolled her eyes. “Yes, Captain, that’s very noble of you. But I’d prefer to just avoid any altercations, especially if it meant I’d have to spend my evening stitching you up.”

“What, you don’t like spending time together? Besides, I’d like to think the other guy would be the one needing stitches.” Sarena gestured at the bartender, who immediately jutted his chin in acknowledgement and walked over to take her order.

“You’re not exactly a model patient, Captain,” Elara mused, accepting the bottle Sarena passed her with a nod.

The other woman rolled her eyes. “Don’t call me Captain. You know my name. You can use it.”

Elara looked poised to argue, brows already angled, but she seemed to lose her train of thought as soon as she took a sip of the drink Sarena had handed her.

“Stars, what is this?” Elara’s delicate features twisted into a grimace as she swallowed.

“It’s cheap,” Sarena said with a shrug, taking a swig and hoping Elara didn’t notice her eyes water. Every time she did this, she somehow forgot that it usually took at least two drinks to get used to the taste.

“Let me buy the next round. I think we’ve earned a middle-shelf selection, if nothing else.”

“Tell you what—you a betting woman, Dorne?”

“Gambling, Captain? I’m sure you can imagine that every dutiful Imperial citizen, which I was until very recently, has far better discretion than to—" Elara stopped herself with a sharp laugh as Sarena rolled her eyes, tilting her bottle up to her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile.

Thankfully, it was a poor attempt, and Sarena took another sip of her drink to pull her attention away from the curve of Elara’s lips.

“You’ve got five minutes to read up and tell me who you think will be ahead at the end of the first stage. Loser buys the next round.”

“It’s a deal, Captain. Though I’d warn you against underestimating me.”

Sarena nudged Elara’s elbow with her own. “I never do, Dorne. I never do.”

* * *

Several hours and ill-fated wagers later, Sarena offered a final credit chip to Elara with a sigh. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Keep it. You can buy dinner tomorrow night. Besides,” Elara added, grinning up at Sarena as they exited the arena, “It does feel a bit like gloating, at this point.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Sergeant. I’m not making the same mistake twice.”

Elara laughed. “Thank you.” Her uninhibited smile filled Sarena’s chest with a painful mix of attraction and bittersweet joy as she glanced down. “For bringing me. I had— I had fun. I can’t remember the last time I did something like that.”

“I’m glad you had a good time.” Sarena averted her eyes, focusing on the ground for a moment before continuing. “I’m glad you didn’t stay on the ship.”

“Me too,” Elara agreed softly, moving just close enough to Sarena that their arms pressed together. Even through the layers of fabric separating them, the feeling of Elara’s body fitted next to hers made Sarena flush.

“Coruscant really is impressive.” Elara nodded toward the skyline, buildings glittering with neon lights.

“It is, especially when you compare it to—” Sarena paused, considering the worlds they’d visited so far. “Well. I guess… most of the Republic. But don’t repeat that.”

Elara laughed. “My point of comparison is Dromund Kaas, so I’ll admit my standards are a bit low. I’ve been surprised by how little I miss it, to be honest.”

“Really?” Sarena glanced at Elara, eyebrows raised.

“There are people I miss, certain foods or shops, sometimes, but the city itself— I don’t think I realized it until I’d been gone for almost half a year, but there’s an energy about it that feels… unnatural. The weather— I’m sure you’ve heard about the lightning and the storms. It’s constant. They say the Sith caused it.”

“You deal with them much?” Sarena asked. For all the trouble the Jedi tended to cause the Republic military, it had always seemed like the Sith were even more prone to meddling, with a particularly bloodthirsty bent.

“Never on my own, thankfully. The Sith are… strange. From what I’ve heard of their training and initiation, it takes a particularly ruthless kind of individual to succeed.” Elara frowned. “I can’t imagine how my life would have proceeded had I been Force-sensitive. I’d either be dead, or someone completely different.”

Sarena leaned in enough to jostle Elara’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re alive. And you.”

Elara smiled and ducked her head. “I am, too.”

As they continued their walk back toward the center of the city, Sarena turned to her companion. “What do you think, Dorne? You got enough in you for one more stop?”

“I believe I do, Captain.”

For the second time that evening, Sarena resisted the urge to take Elara’s hand. It should have never even crossed her mind, let alone seem like it would be so easy—but it did, and Sarena felt helpless in the wake of her own yearning.

She stuffed her hands in the pockets of her jacket instead, determined not to overstep any boundaries despite her lingering optimism. “Just a couple more blocks.”

When they reached the arboretum, Sarena allowed herself to indulge in a private moment of triumph as Elara gasped.

“Oh, this is— I had no idea there were places like this in the city,” she said, craning her neck to take in the trees that stretched overhead.

Sarena grinned and nodded toward the western edge of the park. “C’mon. There’s a spot I want to show you.” Elara trailed behind her, pausing occasionally to study some of the flowers blooming around them.

Though it was several hours past sundown, they passed a few couples ambling along the paths in the moonlight, heads tipped close and fingers intertwined. It was quiet, peaceful—starkly unlike most of the places she and Elara spent their time. Sarena forced back another wave of longing. Did the others assume she and Elara were together, too? Or was the restraint Sarena forced into her body language too obvious, too awkward for the pair to appear as anything but friends?

When they reached the overlook, Sarena turned back to her companion, who was gesturing excitedly at a bush they had just passed.

“Did you know that before the discovery of kolto, the sap from these was used as an anticoagulant during— Oh.” Elara paused when she arrived at Sarena’s side, eyes widening as she took in the view before them. “It’s beautiful, Captain.”

“Sarena,” she corrected. “Got turned around one time and ended up here. Sometimes I still come back.” By myself, she wanted to add. I’ve never brought anyone else here. I’ve never wanted to.

Much like it had Elara, the corner of the park overlooking the sprawling city had stopped Sarena in her tracks during that first accidental visit. She had ended up staying for nearly an hour, lost in her own thoughts as she watched the vibrant yellows and oranges of the sunset crescendo and fade. Even though it was well past nightfall this time, the view of the city was just as impressive.

“I can see why,” Elara said. “Can we— Let’s just sit, for a moment.”

As they settled next to each other, Sarena allowed herself a quick glance at the other woman, pleased by her easy smile.

Elara shifted until she was half-facing Sarena. “Captain…”

“Sarena.”

“Sarena. Why do you like spending time with me?”

“What?” Sarena’s stomach fluttered at the sound of her name, but the twinge of pleasure was overshadowed by her confusion.

“You said you… You said you like spending time with me. No one’s ever said that to me before. At least, not since I joined the military. And I know why. I’m uptight, and I’m—strict, too strict, but—"

“Stop. Don’t say that.”

Elara waved her off. “I’ve heard it all. Inflexible. Cold. Killjoy. All of those, combined with ‘bitch.’” She laughed, the sound joyless as it passed her lips. “You can’t protect me from it. I’ve already heard it.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try. I’m not going to let you repeat that shit like it’s true. You’re—okay. Yeah. You’re a little uptight. But that’s not always a bad thing. What we do is serious. If we fuck up, people die. You don’t take that responsibility lightly. I’ve seen it.” Sarena hesitated before shifting her hips, moving close enough to Elara that their thighs nearly touched.

“But that’s just— It’s part of who you are,” she continued. “Like the way Aric insists on inspecting all our weapons when he doesn’t really need to. I could stop him, you know. But I choose not to. It’s how you take care of your people. Gives you peace of mind. And I admire that as much as I admire all the other weird shit everyone else does to keep us all in one piece.” She glanced down at Elara, who was pretending to be occupied studying her own hands.

“Thank you,” Elara murmured. “It’s— It’s nice to feel like someone understands. I’ve always been particular, even before I came to the Republic, but my goal isn’t to be pedantic. I saw what happened when good men let the Sith use them like mercenaries. I saw how quickly things could unravel when we ignored protocol. I just—" She sighed, raising her gaze to stare into the distance. “It’s my responsibility to keep myself and the situation under control. To know exactly where it could go wrong, and how I would fix it. If a mission failed, if you were injured because of an oversight I could have prevented, I— I don’t know how I’d forgive myself.”

You. The specificity didn’t escape Sarena’s notice. “That’s a lot to put on yourself.”

Elara shrugged. “You’re the one who said it—what we do is dangerous. Mistakes are deadly.”

“I know, but it goes the other way, too. You can’t control everything. You don’t deserve that pressure. No matter how much you feel like you have to make up for—you don’t have anything to prove to me, Elara.”

Elara huffed, a sound that Sarena thought was supposed to be a laugh but was undermined by the kind of sharp inhale that usually accompanied tears. “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any more heartfelt conversations tonight.”

“You’re the one who brought it up,” Sarena countered. “And I didn’t answer your question—”

“You don’t have to—” Elara waved her hand in dismissal.

“—I want to. I like spending time with you because you’re— you’re you. You’re smart, you’re funny, you care. You’re a good soldier, but you’re compassionate. I think those are harder to balance than some people realize, but you’re— you’re good at it. It helps. Sometimes, I—” Sarena tilted her head, weighing the best way to capture a thought she had never dared share aloud. “I wonder if we can ever win. Sometimes, it's just… It doesn’t feel like what we do makes any difference when the Jedi and Sith keep trying to tear each other apart, and we’ll never live in a galaxy where there’s actually peace. But you— You make me feel like it’s possible. Even if it’s not tomorrow. If we’re not even alive to see it.”

She picked at a loose thread on the cuff of her jacket. “Everything you had to do, had to leave behind—I don’t know if I could have done it. If my conviction alone would have been enough to start all over like you did. I’ve never known anyone with that kind of willpower. And I hope you realize how special it is. So… that’s why.” Sarena shrugged and looked pointedly away from Elara.

“I don’t—” Elara’s words were quiet when they finally came. “I had decided that everything you said earlier this evening were the nicest things anyone had ever said to me, but I think you’ve outdone yourself.”

There was a distinct wobble to the last word, and Sarena was unsure if she should acknowledge it or not. Before she had a chance to decide, Elara turned to her with a wry smile.

“I promise I’m not always this critical of myself. I know my own motivations, and that’s all that should matter. But—it’s nice to finally have someone in my corner, so to speak.”

“I don’t take that for granted, Elara. I’ll always back you up.” Sarena shrugged. “And the corner can be literal, if you want. I boxed a few rounds here and there for some cash before I joined up.”

Elara laughed, a musical burst that broke the tension. “Boxed. I’ve spent far too much time talking about myself tonight, and I’ve a feeling your stories are much more interesting. If you don’t mind sharing, of course,” she said, adding the last part in a rush.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be sick of hearing me talk by the time leave is up.” The irrepressible fluttering in Sarena’s stomach had returned, encouraged by Elara’s candor. She shivered, the breeze skating across the back of her neck distracting her from her thoughts. “I’m cold, so I’m guessing you’re probably freezing. Ready to head back?”

“I would argue, but you’re right.”

Sarena grinned, offering Elara a hand as she stood. Sarena tried not to dwell on the sensation of their palms pressed together—tried, and mostly failed, but she told herself it was the effort that mattered.

By the time they arrived back at the room, Sarena was aching to remove the clothing that kept them apart and learn what every part of Elara’s body would feel like under her hands. But she couldn’t, wouldn’t make her feel pressured. It was the last thing Elara needed. If she wanted this, Sarena was more than ready—but it had to be her choice.

* * *

Elara gripped the edge of the sink, toothbrush moving in slow circles as she tracked Sarena’s movement in the reflection before her. She felt certain she wasn’t imagining the tension that continued to build even in the companionable silence. The way Sarena had leaned into Elara’s touch and occupied her space all evening; the way she paid for her drinks; the private jokes and comments she had whispered just for Elara to hear… It pushed just past the boundaries of the propriety she had always seen Sarena maintain when they were on duty. It must mean something.

Her heart galloped in her chest as Sarena stepped next to her at the double sink, stripped down to her bra and a pair of exercise shorts that hugged the impressive muscles of her thighs. As she drank in the sight of Sarena’s bare skin, Elara’s mind flashed back to their conversation from weeks ago. You can ask, you know.

Before she could lose the nerve, Elara reached out and gently brushed her fingertips over the elaborate geometric design that covered Sarena’s arm from her shoulder to her elbow. “Your tattoos—do the designs have a special meaning?” Elara inquired softly, carefully cataloging the way Sarena stilled under her touch but made no move to break the contact.

“That one does,” she said, meeting Elara’s gaze in the mirror. “So does this one.” She moved her arm and, with her free hand, guided Elara’s fingers to the skin on the side of her rib cage. Slowly, deliberately, Elara traced over the refracted pattern with a firm touch. She studied Sarena’s reflection, heart racing as she watched the other woman’s eyelids drift shut.

“And what are they?” she asked, willing her voice to stay steady. Keeping her hand grounded on Sarena’s skin, she turned to face her.

Sarena mirrored her movement, stepping far enough into Elara’s personal space that Elara had to tilt her chin up to meet Sarena’s eyes.

“Where my mother is from, women are tattooed to honor important events. I got the one on my arm when I joined the military, and the one on my side when I received my first commendation.” Sarena’s eyes skated over Elara’s face, and she refused to back down from her gaze.

“What about this one?” Elara reached up to Sarena’s brow, shivering with satisfaction as Sarena leaned into the touch Elara trailed over her tattooed cheekbone.

“That was my first one. I was fifteen, and I finished the initiation that marks you as a warrior. A woman.”

Elara smiled softly, brushing her thumb over the soft skin of Sarena’s jaw. “They’re beautiful.” Her heart stuttered in her chest, but she refused to succumb to her nerves. “Just like the woman who wears them.”

“Elara…” Sarena’s voice was low, warning, as she swayed even closer.

“Sarena,” she murmured in response, suppressing an exclamation of delight as she felt a warm hand settle over the small of her back.

“I need— You have to tell me. I need you to tell me you want this.”

“I want this. I want you.” As Elara brought her other hand to cup Sarena’s jaw, her voice dropped to a near-whisper. “Kiss me.”

With her assent, Sarena surged forward, pressing their bodies together as her lips found Elara’s. Elara moaned softly into Sarena’s mouth, heart racing as she deepened the kiss and their tongues met.

Elara whimpered in protest when Sarena pulled away, but the woman continued to hold her tightly, gently worrying Elara’s bottom lip between her teeth before pausing. “I’m— is this—" Sarena frowned and forced an exhale through her nose. “Is this okay?”

“This is perfect,” Elara said, tilting her chin to recapture Sarena’s mouth in a slow, deliberate kiss.

That seemed to be enough reassurance for Sarena, whose fingertips dug into Elara’s back and hip just enough to stoke the heat building between her legs. She kissed like no one Elara had ever kissed before—eager, tactile, and overwhelming in the most pleasurable way she could imagine. The warmth of her hands danced over Elara’s arms and back, leaving her skin flushed and tingling in their wake.

When they paused so both women could take a breath, Elara ran an experimental hand down Sarena’s side.

“What?”

“Hmm?”

“What are you smiling about, Dorne?” Sarena punctuated her question with a quick kiss to Elara’s temple.

“Oh, I was just thinking—I’m quite glad we were able to establish the situation we’re in now, while we still have the majority of the weekend available to… enjoy one another’s company. By my count, we still have approximately sixty two hours before we’re due to report back.”

“Sixty two hours, huh? Not as much to work with as I’d like, but I’ll do my best to show you a good time.”

Elara brushed her fingers over Sarena’s cheek, tracing the other woman’s jaw with gentle fingertips. “Tonight was lovely, and I’m certainly looking forward to whatever you come up with next.”

Sarena’s eyes narrowed as she studied Elara’s face with a grin.

“When’s the last time you went dancing?”

[just-jordie-things]

14 and 74 for zuko plss

prompt 14: kiss on the neck prompt 75: kisses where one person is sitting in the other person’s lap ___

Traveling and living with your friends full time was fun and all, you went on a lot of interesting adventures, and you were saving the lord for spirit’s sake, you should be more proud of what you were doing.

But being with everyone all the time meant that you didn’t get to have a lot of private moments with your boyfriend.

You weren’t sure that Zuko really noticed this, but you felt like you’d been on edge ever since coming to Ember Island.  You’d only been together a month or so, having gotten together not long after he’d joined the gaang- which they still weren’t too fond of but made less comments about it now since you were both so happy together- since being on the island however, you’ve realized that you craved more alone time with him.

You were a little clingier, grabbing at his hands at dinner, snuggling up against him at the theater, it was impossible not to notice, but you didn’t think that Zuko pieced it together in his head.  The few kisses you’d been able to share lingered, and you always held your breath longer than necessary.

Truth was, you had it bad for Zuko, and you just wanted to sit around all day to kiss every inch of his face.

Finally, today was that day.

Your friends were all busy- Suki and Sokka were off training, and Toph, Katara, and Aang went into town for groceries- which left the whole area to you and Zuko.

So after your friends left, and Toph was far enough away that she probably wouldn’t be able to use her seismic senses, you let your hair down, and happily skipped outside to where your boyfriend was sitting by the fire.

It was fairly early in the morning, the sky was gray and it was foggy, and sitting by the fire brought a comfort and warmth that was best experienced at this time of day.

As you made your way over to him, you saw that Zuko was firebending a little, playing with the flames and watching them dance over his knuckles calmly.  He was sitting on the ground, his back propped up against a log while he rested peacefully.

It was rare to see him looking so content, especially when you were days away from ending a war.  It made you smile.

He looked up at you as you approached, smiling back at you fondly.

“Morning, beautiful,” He hummed, his voice a low rasp that sent shivers down your spine.  “Sleep well?”

He reached his hand up to you, extinguishing the flames so you could take it and sit with him.  But instead of crouching down next to him, you plopped yourself down in his lap.

He cocked his head and opened his mouth to say something- not having expected you to do... that, but no words came out.

“I slept wonderfully,” You sighed, your arms draping over his shoulders so that your fingers could play with the ends of his hair.  “You?” 

Zuko swallowed, which you noticed, before nodding back at you.

“Y-yeah I slept, um, fine” 

You smiled a little at this, because you knew that Zuko had issues with falling asleep and staying asleep, so you felt relieved that he was well rested.

“Good,” You murmur, before leaning in and giving him a short peck on the lips- which wasn’t nearly enough for Zuko- but he didn’t complain as you pulled away.  “I’m glad” 

He chased your lips a little, leaning forward and sliding his hands around your hips to pull you in closer.

“Everyone left” He hummed as his nose ghosted past yours.

“Hm, did they?” You pretended to look around, pulling further back from Zuko than necessary as you scanned the area around you.  “I didn’t notice-” 

“Yes you did,” Zuko muttered, one of his hands flying up to the back of your neck to bring you back close to him, but not kissing you.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat while his eyes were focused intently on yours.

“You’re so hot when you play coy” He mumbles, and this time he notices your shiver.

You giggle nervously when he smirks, your hands completely delving into the hair at the nape of his neck now.

“You’re so hot all the time” You hum cheesily in response, and lean in closer to kiss him, but he doesn’t give you the satisfaction.

He’s blushing from the comment, heat creeping up his neck and pooling at his cheeks, but he tries not to let his sheepishness get in the way of him trying to tease you.

“I thought you couldn’t go to the market because you had a headache, love?” He questions, his thumb tracing down your jaw.

“You wanna play that game?” You inquire, your eyes flickering up to his.  “Because I thought you couldn’t firebend with Aang because of the lunch you were making us,” You spoke in the same playful tone as he had, and he rolled his eyes affectionately.  “Where’s the groceries for that, love?” 

He couldn’t help but chuckle, before drawing you in and placing a sweet kiss on your lips.  It was soft and gentle- nice- but not what you craved in the moment.

He pulled away too soon for your liking

“Pardon me for getting a little distracted by my girlfriend,” He teased, and now you were the one to roll your eyes.

Again, he gave you a short kiss, and you huffed as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“How much time do you think we have?” He murmurs, the hand on your hip trailing up to gently cup your cheek.

“Not enough” You breathed, before leaning in and properly slotting your lips over his.

The hand on the back of your neck tightened as he pulled you impossibly closer to him.

A moan died in the back of your throat, your chests flush together and your legs wrapping around his hips tightly.

Zuko’s lips trailed away from you, talking his time as he placed slow, open mouthed kisses along your jaw.  You tilted your head to give him proper access as you let out a shudder.

“Your heart’s beating really fast” Zuko murmurs as he drops his head to the crook of your neck, letting smaller and and shorter kisses across the sensitive skin of your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You said in a duh tone.  “I’ve needed you all week” 

You feel his lips tug into a smirk before he nips playfully at your shoulder, and looking back up at you.

“Needed me, huh?” He muses, and your brows furrow as he gives you a shit-eating grin.

“Don’t you dare start teasing me again” You said as threateningly as you could while putty in his hands.

Speaking of hands- Zuko’s traveled down past your hips, grabbing your thighs and roughly pulling you back against him.

“You started it” He muttered, and captured your lips in a sloppy but butterfly-inducing kiss.

You didn’t retaliate, just grinned almost drunkenly as he went back to strategically kissing down your neck, until he found that sweet spot that made you whimper a little.  Upon hearing the delightful sound, Zuko decided this would be the perfect spot to leave a little mark.

As he nipped and suckled the skin until there was a pretty mark left behind, you melted completely under his touch.

“Zuko,” You mumble, breathlessly, but steal a quick kiss from him anyways.

Your hands grasp at his jaw, kissing him a second time, almost losing your train of thought, but it comes back to you as his hands grasp your thighs a little tighter.

“Put the fire out” You tell him seriously, and he nods back at you.

You scrambled off his lap, adjusting your messy hair as he stomped out the remaining flickering flames.

As he turns back to you- looking nothing but hungry- you grin ear to ear, and open your arms just as he grabs onto you, lifting you up and sliding his hands under your legs to carry you as he stumbled towards the house.

Your arms wound around his neck, and now it was your turn to give his throat the same attention he’d given your own neck while he all but ran inside. ___

xoxo ~ jordie

[xjoonchildx]

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter six: epilogue

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 664 rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings:  criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

A/N: thanks for coming on this wild ride with me!

i would love to know how you guys feel about the end of this story. i really hope you like it. thank you to every single person who left likes and comments, they really mean the world to me.

also: a big, heartfelt thank you to @ladyartemesia​ she knows why.

xoxo

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

****************************

Seokjin Kim is an excellent golfer.  To hear him tell it -- he’s at least Mickelson-level good.

Of course,  it’s hard to know how true that is because you have no idea who Mickelson is and because Seokjin has always been his own biggest fan. You certainly wouldn’t put it past him to exaggerate.

One thing you do know for a fact, though? Jin hates to lose -- at anything.

That’s why you know it’s a big damned deal when he tells you about how he got up bright and early on a Sunday morning and paid for a round of golf at one of the best courses in the city just to let some inferior golfer with a cheap set of clubs kick his ass.  

The man has a reputation to protect, for pete’s sake.

Jin makes a big show of telling you that he purposely tanked a golf game -- for you -- because while he might be a good golfer, he’s an excellent attorney.  And that morning when he headed out to the course, he put his vanity aside and his plan into place.

Eight days later, he walked into that inferior golfer’s office with Jungkook Jeon in tow.  

Jin walked out of that office with a deal that will probably be the talk on the golf greens for a long time to come.

After all, he does have a reputation to protect.

****************************

It’s weird, you think, when you turn the plastic ID badge over in your hands.

Weird because it’s the badge you wore for years on the job. Weird because now it’s not your smiling face staring back from the poorly-lit picture.

It’s Jungkook’s.

In the end, the government decided he would be of better use working to strengthen IT security at the bureau than he would be rotting in a prison cell.  He’ll spend the next decade of his life working for peanuts only because legally they couldn’t get away with paying him nothing.

It’s modern-day indentured servitude, really.  

And it’s a good deal.  An unbelievably good deal.

That’s why Jungkook didn’t say a word when they threw him into lockup for a week, just to make a point. That’s why he never mentioned the fading yellow-green bruise he was sporting under his left eye the day they let him out.  

He’d earned at least that after all the shit he pulled and he had the good sense not to complain.  

So...progress?

The sound of Jungkook’s heavy footsteps pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up to see him leaning in the doorway to your home office, arms crossed -- solid body taking up nearly the entire frame.  

It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve seen this man, studied every angle of his body and face, traced every inch of his skin with your fingers and lips.  Sometimes he just takes your breath away, anyway.

You answer his slow smile with one of your own.

“You’re supposed to be working,” he teases, as though he’s caught you doing something you shouldn’t be.  You laugh and put his badge back down on the desk.

“I have one client,” you argue.  “I promise you, she’s handled.”

Yet another point in Jin’s favor.  

Just how big does a fruit basket have to be to say hey thanks for pulling off the most unbelievable plea deal in history and sending me my first client so i can get this private investigation business off the ground?  

Probably pretty fucking big.

Jungkook crosses into the room, picks up the badge and gives it his own long look.  His face is serious -- so, so serious when he lifts his eyes to meet yours.

“So what’s it like?” he asks.

“What’s what like?”

“Dating a super hot federal agent.”

You roll your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous.”

He lifts your chin and dips his head low to brush a kiss against your lips, eyes sparkling with humor.

“But you kind of like it.”

He’s right.

You do.

You really, really do.

*****************************

[vydante]

Restart | 12

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

A/N: Missed y'all. I don't think I'm officially off of my hiatus, but I somehow managed to pull a chapter out of my ass after months of radio silence. I really did back myself into a corner with the last chapter, but hey, this is my story and I get to pace it however I want.

Sorry if things are worded weirdly, I'm writing them but they're going through one ear and out the other when it comes to comprehending what I actually wrote. No one will remember what happened, but that's okay. God, I really need a beta-reader... Anyways. Love y'all. XOXO.

Also, sorry if any of the formattings seems off. HTML doesn't really translate well over certain sites. (Tumblr, Quotev, Wattpad, and AO3 are now my main places for posting my works. Anywhere else, that's not me nor was it permitted by me.)

If you want a recap: You're in the process of jumpstarting Project Renaissance after realizing that you've just been doing basically nothing ever since you woke up in your old body. You've also taken to making video logs to report down your progress, and in the last chapter (that was in the POV of multiple video logs), it ended on a cliffhanger with Barnes being discovered and moved to a safe house.

This chapter takes place roughly after the last one. 

If you're currently binge reading this story, this recap is only because last chapter was updated... Roughly more than 7 months before this chapter. So. Yeah. :D

Oh, and let's pretend that either A. Barnes doesn't have a tracking chip in his arm OR B. he did, but you got it out during the whole rescue-escapade. That's my bad, I straight up forgot about that possibility until I was like, close to 4000 words deep into this chapter. Now we're at roughly 8k+... Hehe. Whoops.

_______

You're not gonna call Barnes, Bucky.

There's a personal touch to the nickname that bothers you. How awful it sounds in your ears, to call the former husk of a man a name he no longer recognizes. There's history to that name, both on writing and in memory, though only in sparsity. Plus, it'll be difficult for you to associate Bucky to Barnes. A man with an identity to a man without.

So after the whole debacle of getting him out of the mini-Hulk playbox and into decent dry clothing, when he asks what his name is, you quietly debated to yourself what to tell him.

"... Your name is James Buchanan Barnes," you'd eventually reply.

He doesn't comment on the resignation in your tone, but you're confident that he certainly noticed it- surely, the ticks of being the Winter Soldier was still there, no matter how disoriented he must be. But whether courtesy was something that he hadn't forgotten whilst his brain was refried over and over like leftover KFC wings or he was simply too exhausted to ask, you didn't care.

Granted, for a man who should have a lot of questions on his mind, he's definitely proven himself to be a man of very few words.

An hour goes by, and in the midst of you trying your best to build a solid standing between the two of you, he's said so few words that you could probably count all of them on both of your hands.

If it weren't for the nods of affirmation, you'd think that his averted gaze from you would have meant that he wasn't paying attention at all, but honestly, you knew better than to judge him for that if he actually wasn't actually listening in the first place.

Hell, he could tear up the walls to the high heavens and you still wouldn't hold him against it, so you were just thankful that he was so docile, for someone who could snap your neck if he felt so inclined.

Though, as it turns out confusion and disorientation wasn't the actual reason why he was being so docile, you belatedly realize as you're stood in front of a blank-faced Barnes. You're in the middle of trying to give him a basic tour around the house when he quietly interrupted your monologuing.

"Mission parameters," you echoed his words, though mainly to yourself. He nods, and for once meets your eyes. There's neither confidence nor surrender in his eyes, and that makes your stomach churn. Chances are, he probably saw nothing wrong with asking such a thing.

"You want me to give you- mission parameters. Like- like your handlers would?" You laughed incredulously, but the humor was replaced with subdued hysterical horror.

You were aware of what they were. Aware of the types of hunts his Handlers- bastards- would sick him out on. Aware of what he did without a second thought. You saw those files, if only briefly. That was more than enough for you to see the type of expectations that came alongside "mission parameters".

He nods as if you were stating the obvious.

God.

You opened and closed your mouth, and for a split second, once you got past the horror of being asked to tell him what to do, a subtle realization crawled up your spine. In the midst of your impromptu introduction and briefing, you never really made a distinction as to what role you were supposed to play in all of this.

So it shouldn't be a surprise for Barnes to assume that you're his new- what? Handler? Caretaker? After all, as far as you can assume, that's probably all he knows; all he was conditioned to grow accustomed to, to expect his every move to be dictated by some outsider with no care to the wants or needs that Barnes has.

(Hell, if you were to make a reach right now, maybe Barnes thinks he doesn't have wants or needs. That he shouldn't.)

(In the background, a part of you simmer in silence.)

With your jaw clenched, you make an effort to make your voice as even as can be when you ask him, "You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do."

Pray as you might, there's something about realizing that you said the wrong thing right after saying said words that make you wonder what you did to anger the higher powers that be to put yourself in the situation you're in right now.

Barnes doesn't say anything, but his eyes says it all. Confusion. Realization. Grief. Detachment. His metal hand clenches, and you're man enough to admit that it made your heart stutter in fear.

"I...", he mutters, "... don't understand."

You swallowed.

This...

This is gonna be tough.

_______

It's difficult to explain what self-autonomy and freedom meant to a man who is only capable of remembering being chained and held on a leash like a rabid dog.

Thankfully, it was your winter break, so you had a manageable excuse for being away from "home" for a few days, but you only had so long to try and establish to Barnes that you're not going to be able to be there with him as often as you are now (and even then, the time frame was too small to even make any sense of attachment).

You knew for sure you couldn't always be there for Barnes, so one thing was certain: he had to meet DAHLIA. And thankfully, since the whole safe house was yours, not even your father knew that DAHLIA, your own A.I., would be uploaded into the houses' built-in hardware.

(While the hardware was built with the intention of housing J.A.R.V.I.S. there as a standard, he ended up "moving out" the moment that the house became yours. Something about "not intruding on a teenager's privacy", but you're more than thankful for Tony's afterthought, even if you did end up taking slight advantage of his consideration.)

And surprisingly enough, Barnes wasn't really bothered by the concept of DAHLIA as much as you had initially expected. Of course, he didn't really talk to her, but it wasn't like he talked much in the first place.

(On a side note, it looks like DAHLIA seems to like the house, all things considered... So there's that.)

(The original DAHLIA was never installed here, instead she ended up "living" in a retirement house of sorts in a wooded area of New York. She never said anything about the house, so it's... Kind of endearing, to see that she actually might prefer this house instead. And mildly insulting, considering you personally decorated the other house.)

You ended up spending nearly the whole night trying to establish even the most basic of guidelines: use the bathroom whenever he needed to (you initially said phrased it as "wanted", but he promptly cut you off saying "The Asset does not have wants," which, rude, but also sad); whatever is in the kitchen is available for him to eat whenever, where ever; basic hygiene; and the most important one- if he had any questions, his first source would be you. And on the off-chance that you're not available, DAHLIA is always online and ready to help.

He gave a tentative nod, but you're somehow not confident that he might have interpreted it wrong. You're hoping he doesn't do anything to prove you right.

"Alright. So. Any questions?"

He stares at you for a beat too long before shaking his head.

He's still giving non-verbal answers for the most part, but it's better than nothing. You internally sighed and motioned him to follow you deeper into the safe house.

Considering that it was already pretty late by the time you managed to beat those guidelines into his head (maybe that should be worded better, but you never claimed to be a lyricist; it is what it is), he might be just as tired as you are from how long the day has been.

(Granted, this dude has been "asleep" for who knows how long, but it's the thought that counts.)

"You know where I'm taking you to?" you asked, not really expecting an answer from him.

"No," he responds from behind you. Color you surprised.

You turned into the hallway and stepped up to an unassuming door. You opened it to reveal an equally unassuming bedroom. Muted colors, modern design; it reeked Pepper's doing, knowing that Tony isn't as decoratively-inclined as she is.

Hah, bet she didn't expect that instead of housing you or your dad, it'll go to a super-solder that wasn't Steve instead.

(Not that Steve would ever have a reason to step foot in here, but in this line of work, you'd be stupid to be 100% sure about something.)

You motioned him to come into the room and tilted your head to the bed.

"This is your bedroom, pretty much where you'll be sleeping. There's a bathroom right over there," you motioned to the door adjacent to the entrance door, "and I'll be in the room right next to yours."

Barnes takes a second to process it all, and with a quick scan of the room with calculating eyes, he nods. You absentmindedly scratched the back of your neck.

"I mean, there's plenty of rooms here so if you don't like this one, just let me know and we'll probably move you to another room-" you rambled, secretly trying to get a move on so you'd finally get some shut-eye.

(What? You're not perfect, sleep is heavily slept on in this day and age. Hah.)

(God, you're definitely going to hell.)

"-and you know how to use a toilet, right?"

The raised eyebrow pointed at you definitely proves that that was a pretty stupid question, but hey, you can't take any chances. You shrugged, a tired smirk threatening to form on your lips.

"Well then. Can I leave it to you to settle down for the night, or...?" you left it open-ended.

He didn't say anything in response, only stared at the bed in front of him. There was a pregnant pause, but he nodded at you. There was a strange tilt to his eyes, but you didn't bother to think further into it as you were just thankful that you could finally rest.

"Well then, good night Barnes. I'll come by tomorrow morning and we'll continue to, er," you thought about it, "work, on your situation."

You made a swift exit out of his room and immediately into "your" room, which was literally right next to his. You immediately discarded your clothes and with a brisk shower and teeth brushing, you promptly dropped straight onto the bed with an audible grunt, wet hair soaking straight into the pillow.

Pulling the plush duvet to cover your body, you reached for your phone to check for any messages you might have gotten.

(3 from Tony; he asked where you were. You told him that you're staying at a safe house and that you needed a small break. It wasn't wrong, but definitely an omission of truth. A few days would be fine, right?)

(2 from Rhodey; it's a picture of a Goodwill's, and there's a silhouette in a nearby window of some guy. "This you?" he asks. "No ❤️," you sent back.)

(63 is from the group chat that the Avengers are in- ah, make that 64 and counting. It's just a bunch of nonsense from what you can gather, but you briefly scrolled through it anyways.)

Turning your phone off, you smushed your face into the pillow and sighed, a terrible knot forming at the pit of your stomach. With an open ear, you tried to hear any noise that could come from Barnes' room, but considering that the walls were reinforced and he was already quiet as it is, all you could hear was the AC running in the background.

"DAHLIA," you huffed, eyes drooping, "keep an eye on him, wake me up if anything happens."

"Got it," her voice echoes from the ceiling speakers.

You quietly tucked yourself in bed. As the exhaustion finally started settling in your body, the last thought that lingered in your head was "Man, I hope nothing bad happens tomorrow," before you drifted right off to dreamless slumber.

_______

The next day was, to say the least, a little disconcerting, but a bigger improvement to be sure.

Right after waking up, you begrudgingly put on some daytime appropriate clothes and stepped out into the hallway. You knocked on the door that was right next to yours, and gingerly opened it when you didn't hear much of a response.

"Good morning," you tentatively greeted. Barnes was sitting at the foot of the bed when you knocked on his door. He mumbled back a greeting and stands up to your eye level.

His clothes are still the same from last night, and judging by the clean state of his bed, he either woke up earlier than you expected or he was sat like that the whole night.

You're not too keen on finding out which was the case, but you had to.

"Sleep well?"

You stepped out of the doorway and motioned him to follow you. Briefly glancing down at your phone to see just a few messages waiting for you, you opted to ignore them for now.

"I slept."

He quietly stated from behind you. He avoided saying if he slept well or not, but at least the damn Terminator slept. You mentally deflated a little; the bar was set so low for him, you're not too sure who it's more insulting to- you or him.

(Of course, it's to him, that shouldn't be a question. Your feelings don't matter.)

"We're gonna have to wing this a little, but uh, here's the general gist of what's gonna happen."

Stepping into the kitchen, you're taken aback to last night as he tentatively stands across from you from the kitchen island. Really, you'd opt to go to the living room, but you both radiate too much nervous energy to really sit.

You opened the refrigerator and sighed when all that greeted you was water and non-perishables. Right. You just got here, it's not like there's gonna be freshly stocked food in here 24/7.

"DAHLIA, order some fresh food and get it delivered today. Charge it on my debit," you mumbled quietly.

DAHLIA doesn't say anything, but the refrigerator lights flicker a familiar green hue that keys you in that she heard you. You raised an impressed eyebrow; what an unnecessary feature for a refrigerator to have. You closed the door and turned around to face Barnes.

"I'm here to serve as, say, a guide for," you gestured to him, "your... rehabilitation, of sorts."

"For now, I can't really offer any... Professional help, on a technical level. I'm not- that's not my area of expertise. I'm an engineer at heart," actually, you really liked other things more than being an engineer, but your fate of becoming the CEO of SI was sealed the moment you decided to live with your dad, "so we're going to have to make a compromise on that."

You shook your head.

"If you were anyone else, I'd point you to a shrink," Barnes gives you a confused stare.

"Therapist," you clarified. He nods.

"But quite frankly," Zemo's face flashes in your memory, "I don't trust anyone to properly... Well, I don't trust anyone when it comes to the mental health of you, and the Avengers too, of course."

Pausing mid-rant, you raised an eyebrow at him.

"You... do know who the Avengers are, right?"

He nods and begins to rattle off a pre-scripted monologue. His eyes are blank as he started speaking.

"A group of top priority, compromised of highly skilled individuals, enhanced or otherwise specified. Threat priority ranges from 5 to 9. As of now, 6 active-duty members and 1 reserve member. The Asset is to not engage under any circumstance and reveal-"

"Alright alright, I get it- that's," you're a little offended that you're considered a "reserve member", but that's not technically wrong, "That's a lot to unpack there, but yeah. You- whew, you definitely know who the- we are."

(You've gotten into the habit of distancing yourself from the Avengers the moment that you had become CEO. You're still working on that, but the word "we" still feels wrong on your tongue.)

There's a little more life that came back to Barnes' eyes after you had snapped him out of it, and it's a bit surreal knowing that Barnes just kinda... runs on autopilot when prompted. The image of Barnes being strapped down in a chair and forced to learn and recite those kinds of things by heart is both horrifying and a little funny.

(Do you think they had a set curriculum he had to learn by?)

"So yeah. The Avengers gotta be careful when lookin' for shrinks, and so do you. There's just too many factors that go into gettin' a personal therapist. So for now," you shrugged, "you're stuck with me."

"What are they?"

"Hm?"

"The factors."

You shrugged.

"Well, for starters, you're- you were, HYDRA's prisoner," the muscle around his jaw visibly clenches when you mentioned HYDRA, but you powered through, "so they'll definitely be interested in getting their fight dog back. They're good at blending in and good at getting their musty little fingers into every nook and cranny. I wouldn't put it past them to have one of their agents go undercover as a therapist for hire. So that's one factor: trying to discern who is and isn't HYDRA."

You raised a finger.

"Then there's the fact that because you're such a... shall we say, top priority, er, asset," that word runs bitter on your tongue, "even if your shrink isn't HYDRA, they'll definitely be targeted by HYDRA if it ever came to light that they have a direct link to you. So there's reason number two: loose ends, and the risks that come with it."

You raised another finger. By now, Barnes has a hard but contemplative curl to his lips.

"And then not to mention how unique your case it. Barnes, you've been a POW for decades. Your brain- no offense buddy, but from what I can tell, it's been fried to hell and back. I don't even have to do any fancy brain scans to know. And that's not even including all the other stuff they probably did to you, only God knows."

You shook your head.

"There's too much at risk for you to get proper therapy right now. But. It's not impossible."

You think back to Shuri, and how she and the other Wakandan scientists were successful in both removing the trigger words and rehabilitating Barnes.

Well, you're not sure about the last part, since you never interacted with the Barnes of your time, but you'd assume that they did help with his subsequent mental health. You wouldn't really put it past them- T'Challa was a nice guy, from your limited interactions with him way into the future, and Shuri was buzzing with ideas and energy. If T'Challa's sympathy for Barnes wasn't enough, then Shuri's crave to help and experiment would supplement the balance plenty. Vice versa, too.

So yeah, future-Barnes' mental health was most likely addressed during his time in Wakanda. And it was almost guaranteed to have been a success.

So you're still gonna hold a torch for the possibility that Barnes' can come out of this as a relatively well-adjusted guy.

Not to mention B.A.R.F. As far as you know, the R&D team assigned to that was still progressing smoothly, but the only downside to that was that it wasn't going to be until a few more years before it's "perfected".

You were never really involved in any way with B.A.R.F. since you were both prepping for SI and finishing college. Your dad was definitely more involved in it than you were, but it's not like you could ask him to pull a few year's worths of experimentation and knowledge out of his ass and exponentially boost the rate of B.A.R.F.'s progress, so.

Helen Cho suddenly sprang to mind, but you quickly threw away that thought. Your- well, Barnes'- issue was neurological, Cho was all about cell regeneration and is a geneticist. So unless somehow the issue crosses over with Cho's line of work, she wasn't a possibility either. There was also Strange, but as far as you've heard the man was pretty... abrasive, even as a wizard. Hard to get a hold of, and very... Hard-headed.

Well, all of that was second hand since it came from Tony, but still. Maybe you could pull Tony in for some clout, but that'll just make him suspicious. God, maybe you shouldn't have kept the whole "I'm actually from the future" spiel a secret, otherwise you wouldn't have to be doing all this crap alone.

Oh well. In for a penny, out for a pound.

You sighed, already feeling the dull thump against your skull starting to form.

"So what now?" Barnes asks. He's less tentative than he was last night, but still soft-spoken when he talks.

"Well, you're stuck with me, bud. I'll do my best to get you prepped for the actual rehabilitation, but honestly, that might take a little longer than you'd expect. So, we'll just- well."

You eyed the outfit he was donning, which was literally your clothes- so it was a few sizes too small for him. He doesn't really seem bothered by it, and if it weren't for the fact that he's sort of proved himself to be neglectful of voicing his own preferences, you'd be a little more inclined to appreciate the view of one very, very beefy super-soldier.

But alas.

Life never really works in your favor, so.

"We'll need to get a few essential things out of the way. Food is already on its way, I assume you aren't allergic to anything?"

He pauses, and there goes that familiar glaze forming over his eyes. You sigh, knowing that he was probably searching through his mental "data-bases" for any allergies, but thankfully it's not long as he blinks back into attention.

"None."

"Yeah, I could'a figured, what with your super-soldier serum."

(You're pretty sure that also makes him immune to cancer, but maybe that's just you glorifying it.)

"So: the food situation is cleared. Now, we need to get you some new clothes because, uh, those don't look very comfortable."

"Comfort does not matter. I am adequately dressed."

You snorted. Maybe it's better that you don't tell Barnes that he's wearing a Sharknado tee and some sweats that have "Eat this!" printed on his behind.

(And maybe it's better that you didn't remember that yes, these are indeed still your clothes.)

"Comfort does matter, my guy. DAHLIA, take some quick measurements."

The kitchen light dims and brightens, shining lime green into the kitchen. It lingers and turns back into that white-blue that sometimes makes your eyes burn when you've been up for too late into the night.

"Seargent Barnes' measurements are now on file. You two want to see the available catalog?"

Right where the kitchen island was, a panel opens up to reveal a hologram of a bunch of articles of clothing, all of which has been adjusted to Barnes' size- or an approximate at least, since there's some that's labeled X or XL.

"Barnes? You got anything you want to do right now or...?"

You gestured to the hologram in front of you.

His face contorts a little, not too noticeable at a quick glance. He doesn't look uncomfortable per se, but judging by the downwards curl of his lips, he's definitely not excited to see the hologram.

You flicked your wrist and it disappeared just as quick as it appeared. Strangely enough, his expression doesn't loosen up as his eyes flicker upwards to yours.

"Hey, that's okay. If it's the hologram, that's no biggie, we'll just move over to the, uh, TV in the next room over. C'mon."

You jerked your head and motioned him to follow you. His face laxes and he walks behind you without a word.

_______

You two ended up getting a lot done all things considered.

Barnes seemed pretty bothered by how many clothing choices there are, but when you asked if he wanted you to just curate a list for him, he easily relented. He was hovering over you the whole time, but you weren't too bothered by it as you were too busy browsing for him.

You went from site to site searching for clothes that screamed "The Winter Soldier", but all that was coming up was clothes in fifty shades of black and with no pizzaz. You did pass by a few Avengers-related merch (especially yours), but he said nothing when you added two or three into your cart, so he probably doesn't care. You did show him a lot of clothes that you thought would fit him, and he nodded to pretty much all of them.

By the time you were done looking for clothes, the doorbell had rung.

("That was quick," you reminisced. DAHLIA was quick to respond.

"It came from a nearby Walmart."

"Huh.")

Barnes' head jerked as his eyes were trained on the entrance door. You patted his arm, and his eyes glance at you.

"Relax, it's just the food. DAHLIA ordered some groceries earlier."

You stood up to go answer the door, and Barnes followed suit. You raised an eyebrow at him, but he doesn't really seem like he's gonna back down anytime soon.

"You know... You can follow behind, but you're gonna have to be in the shadows or something 'cuz, you know... Just- if someone's still at the door, don't let them see you okay?"

He nods, almost mechanically so, and you turned around and walked to the entrance door.

Opening the door, you were greeted with a few big boxes. You raised an eyebrow and glanced out through the door; there are no cars nearby, and DAHLIA whispers in your ear that the clearing's safe- not a single life signature anywhere.

"Barnes, the coast's clear," you called out, already reaching down to grab one of the boxes. You grunt, adjusting your grip before you lifted and turned around.

Barnes, having already popped out of whatever dark corner he was in, is already a few feet behind you.

"Hey, you don't mind helping me bring in those boxes, will you?"

You were already walking past him, but you barely caught the briefest flash of furrowed eyebrows before you saw him walk over to the door. You mentally shrugged, but placed the box in the kitchen and went back over to the door to get the other one.

By the time you were done setting down the box, Barnes had already closed the door and was standing under the arch connecting the kitchen to the main hallway.

You motioned him over, and he complied.

"What is inside?"

You're almost proud that you didn't jump. He doesn't talk much, but when he does it always startles you.

"Groceries, but I don't know what specifically. DAHLIA chose all of it. And by the looks of it, she chose a lot. So. You're gonna help me unpack and we'll probably- well, I'll probably make some food. You can help if you want."

Your back was turned to him, and you started unloading the boxes and their contents. Barnes doesn't move for a hot moment, but he squats down next to you and starts unwrapping the smaller boxes that were inside it.

"You don't mind if I put on some music, right?"

You glanced at him.

"I... don't. Mind," he mumbles, tentatively glancing back at you. You gave him a brief thumbs up and turned your attention back to

"DAHLIA, play something chill. Low volume."

_______

Pretty much, the whole day consisted of unpacking all of the groceries that had been delivered. You ended up pausing, having gotten tired of being awake without food in your stomach, and made some food for the two of you.

You tried conversing with him, trying to get him to at least feel more comfortable, and it... kinda worked. There are a few touchy subjects that he doesn't really seem to like talking about (he doesn't really vocalize his discomfort, but his flinches, no matter how minute they were, spoke louder than words). HYDRA, obviously. Anything revolving the Avengers put him off as well, among other things.

Really, most of the eating consisted of small talk and eating noises, but at least some of the tension in his shoulders had lessened by the time that you two needed to get back to unpacking. Hell, by the time that was done, Barnes' clothes had arrived.

(Oh, the benefits of being insanely rich. Say it with me kids: Thank you, Tony!)

You're usually a little apprehensive about buying clothes online, but color you surprised when not only did all of them fit; Barnes didn't have a single problem with any of them.

"You like 'em?"

You whistled when Barnes came out of his bathroom, now back in your clothes that you had given him originally. He tried all of them on, and you ended up buying him so many clothes that a lot of time had passed by the time he was done. You just sat on his bed, slowly collecting all of the clothes and ripping off the tags, damned if he didn't like one of them; you'll just take it instead.

"They're adequate," he nodded. In his hand were the folded clothes (A camo tee and dark sweatpants), and he set them onto his bed with the other folded clothes.

"Did any of 'em uncomfortable? Too tight, any of the fabric feels wrong...?"

You left the question open-ended as you helped him dump it into a laundry bin. He doesn't respond right away as if he didn't hear you. His eyes flicker over to yours.

"... No. They- I..." the muscle under his eye spasms, "I liked them..."

You grinned, "Glad to hear that, guess we got lucky that none of these was a dud, huh?"

The ghost of a smile that was on his lips appeared briefly, but it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

Really, that had basically been the peak of the day before things had started to mellow out a little bit. But that was okay, you took whatever it was that Barnes gave, and if it was just the smallest smile you've ever seen on a man, then so be it.

Afterward, the day somehow managed to blend together and pass along like an exhale. Not much happened, since you couldn't really- well, offer anything that could scientifically and medically help him. So you opted to just- try to get him up to date as much as possible.

Honestly, by the time that you had gotten through the first three decades (starting when he was born), it was already pretty late into the night.

(He had a lot of questions, and you really didn't blame him. Hell, most of the more personal information really came from DAHLIA, because as much as you sympathized with the man, you really didn't care to learn about his whole entire biography.

But, at least you answered most of the history related questions. If you had to go through a few history college classes back when you were in college, then you'll be damned if you didn't at least make an effort to learn and internalize them.)

Barnes didn't really show any signs of exhaustion if the casual leg bouncing wasn't enough, but you sure were pooped.

(What? Unlike your dad (and most of the Avengers) you actually had a normal internal clock. For the most part, anyway.)

"Well, as much as I liked talking about prehistoric times," you sounded sarcastic, but you actually did like it, "I gotta sleep, I don't run on super-soldier energy like you do bub."

You stood up, stretched, and saw that Barnes was now standing up as well.

"Should I...?"

Raising an eyebrow, you huffed in good nature, "Go to sleep? Yeah, probably. We're not done with the History101 crash course, and we'll probably be talking about other things tomorrow as well," especially about the fact that you're not gonna be at the safe house often soon, "so we both need the energy for that. So, go clean up and get some Z's, yeah?"

"Oh."

He looked a little lost but followed you back into your shared hallway. Stopping in your doorway, you turned your head to glance at Barnes.

"Good night, Barnes," you nodded, not waiting for a response as you headed into your room. It was quiet and almost inaudible, but you still heard it with your ears before you had closed the door shut.

"... Good night."

You stood in your room, a sudden wave of both exhaustion and dread flooding your body. You shook it off though; it was just the nervous jitters hitting you at an inopportune time.

But really, you trusted your guts almost as much as you trusted Tony.

So as you brushed your teeth and did your business in the bathroom, you tried to quell the anxiety that was building up in your chest.

"DAHLIA, keep an eye on him."

"Gotcha, doll."

You sighed, dropped onto your bed, and hoped that whatever it was that might happen, you'd be prepared for it.

_______

And lo and behold, it didn't even have to be the next morning before shit all hit the fan when DAHLIA wakes you up in the middle of the night (3 A.M., to be specific).

"-oll, wake up! Barnes is having a panic attack!"

It takes half a second to process the fear in DAHLIA's voice. It takes another to process her words.

Fuck.

Scrambling immediately out the bed, you thanked whatever higher being there is that you were sleeping with at least some sweatpants on as you booked it straight to your door and right through Barnes'.

(Maybe you should have joined the football team, because that would have been one wicked tackle. Ha, yeah right, you know nothing about football.)

The lights were on, most likely DAHLIA's doing, and his bedsheets were clearly mussed up. He's nowhere to be seen, so your eyes jump to the joined bathroom door, and lo and behold, there was light bleeding through the cracks.

You quickly approached the door and opened it, throwing away the worry that he might have been absolutely naked.

The good news was that he wasn't nude.

The bad news was that he was hunched over on the ground, right in front of the bathroom counter, and he's gripping his head so tightly you would have thought his skull would have caved in.

Terror shoots down your spine like a lightning bolt, and you immediately rushed to the curled over Barnes, adrenaline rushing through you as a million thoughts ran through your head.

"Barnes!"

He doesn't appear to hear you, groaning and panting as he further curled in on himself. His muscles spasm, hard, and you're at a loss at what to do. He's sickly pale, and the sheen on his skin makes you want to vomit. His panting is shallow, and if you weren't sure if the glint that shone in your eyes was the reflection off of the marble floors or a puddle of saliva coming from Barnes.

You're not sure if touching him right now is a good thing, but you'll be damned if he wasn't your responsibility now. You reach out to him, wrapping one arm around his hunched back and the other trying to pry at his wrists.

(Would you have touched him, if you didn't have the reassurance that DAHLIA has your back?)

(Shut up.)

Maybe you were tensing up for him to go all "Winter Soldier" mode on you, but he's the one that tenses, even more, when you touched him. Thankfully, he doesn't resist your pull as his arm is limp the moment you tried to pull it back, but it doesn't change the fact that he's shaking, badly, and your mind is frozen in limbo.

"DAHLIA, what-"

You're at a loss for words, but DAHLIA, sweet DAHLIA already knows what you were about to ask.

"Sergeant Barnes was displaying elevated levels of anxiety, however, it did not seem to warrant any mentions. I thought-"

She cuts herself off, almost as if she was worried that she had made a wrong call. You swallowed, knowing that despite being a baby A.I., she's never done wrong by you- both in the future and now.

"You thought what?"

You try to rub Barnes' back as if he was a dog that had needed soothing. He groans, but you're not sure if you should interpret that as a hurt groan or a relieved one. You paused and moved your hand away, hovering it just inches away from his back, and his breath hitches.

Your hand dropped onto his back once again, and you could feel the muscles on his muscles spasm a little; his whimpers aren't as loud and painful (though, they're still more than worrying).

So, on the very small bright side, back rubs don't seem to be hurting him either. It's a small win, but a win for sure.

"You- my visuals were clear in the conclusion that you saw it. His discomfort. Your body language and expression acknowledged it but you refrained from addressing it. I- acted under the assumption that it was all under control..."

Something in your mind pauses for a pregnant second before your eyes widened.

"What?"

DAHLIA doesn't even get the chance to reply as Barnes jerks his hands away from yours and pulls at his scalp again. You lurched forward.

"Hey! No!"

You bit back a growl as you grabbed his wrists once again. You yank them back down to his sides as his body jolts, a sob ripping through him. You placed a hand on his chest and tried to boost him back up so he'll have his back against the bathtub that's behind him.

He offers little to no resistance as his back makes contact with the bathtub, but he's slumped into himself. He pulls his knees forward and curls his head into them. For a super-soldier, it's almost cute how hard he's trying to take up as little space as possible if it weren't for the fact that your heart was absolutely breaking at the sight of him.

"Oh, Barnes..."

In shuddered breaths, he mumbles something incoherent.

"...-an't, I- I- I-.... -can't..."

He shakes his head, jolting as if someone had shocked him. You rubbed his arm, glancing down at what you can now confirm to be a puddle of saliva, and then over to the trash can right next to the toilet. You're not too sure if you should get it just in case he decides to vomit, but you're ready to lunge for it the moment Barnes shows any signs of gagging.

"DAHLIA," you spoke at a lower volume, "what- when was he, um, uncomfortable."

"Two nights ago, roughly 22:00, when you told Sargeant Barnes that he was his own free man. Yesterday morning, 08:00, when you asked if he wanted to do anything prior to browsing the available clothing catalog. Right after, he was also discomforted by the catalog, before you offered to buy clothes for him. At-"

"That's- that's enough," you breathlessly muttered. DAHLIA doesn't say anything else, but the air has suddenly become heavier than you remembered.

Your head was almost dizzy with not only how many instances Barnes had been anxious in such a short time, but also at how you remembered each and every instance with startling clarity.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of freedom, but you put it off and opted to just give him a nickel tour of the house.

Barnes was anxious when you asked if he wanted to do anything before looking at clothes, but looked too relieved when you brushed over it.

Barnes was anxious at the idea of shopping for fucking clothes but was okay after you took over for him.

The taste of stomach acid burned your tongue, as yesterday's dinner threaten to rise at the implication of all of this.

"DAHLIA," you mumbled, "the- the rest of those instances- do they..."

You trained your eyes on Barnes.

"Do they all- follow the same... The same- pattern?"

DAHLIA was always in tune with you, even after the time jump.

"... Yes," she lamented.

"God..."

Now, you're not sure who that trash can would be really for; you or Barnes.

"Barnes..."

You murmured quietly. He flinches, and his shaking hasn't gotten any better.

"What- what was it? Was it- was it all too much? God, I'm so sorry, it probably was, wasn't it? I should have- fuck, I should have taken it more slowly, I-"

Barnes shakes his head, stopping you in your rambling. You blinked rapidly.

"Then- was it..." you paused, "... Was it the choices?"

It's almost expected that he doesn't answer you straight away, but he nodded anyway.

"I... It was- it was too much- I couldn't- I don't know- I-"

His breath shuddered with each word as if it hurt him to just even speak right now. You shushed him, ignoring the intrusive thought that it was akin to shushing an animal.

"Hey, hey, it's- it's okay. You'll be okay."

It's not much, what you're saying to him, and it's no surprise that they didn't do much anyway.

Honestly, you didn't know what to say at this point. There didn't even seem to be any phrasing in the known English language that would be able to comfort a man with as much baggage on his shoulders as Barnes, and briefly, just briefly, you wished that you were literally anywhere in the world, but here.

You tried thinking about anything that came from your (albeit limited) interactions with him between the past days that would help ground him, before something jolts you from deep within.

("What are my mission parameters," Barnes asked from behind you.

You paused.

"Mission parameters?")

You didn't even realize that you had said that out loud, but Barnes had tensed up even more before you could even take it back. He held his breath, audibly swallowing.

("You don't need mission parameters, Barnes. You're your own free man. You can- can make decisions on your own. You don't need me to tell you what you need to do.")

("I... Don't understand...")

You spoke on impulse.

"You... You need them, don't you? Mission parameters."

Immediately, you regretted even speaking up just as those words left your mouth.

While every fiber in your being hoped that it wasn't true, there was a small inkling in your head that already knew the answer to your question. It was the only thing that was barely even logical enough to make sense.

His apprehension of making a choice.

How uncomfortable in his own skin he always appeared, despite it even being just a few days.

How relieved he always looks, when the choice was already made for him.

His body tenses underneath your hand, but it's the slight bob of his head that makes your stomach drop. You thought- what a fool you were- you thought he'd be okay without being ordered around, but that was nothing but wishful thinking.

(What was the saying? It's hard to teach an old dog a new trick, was it?)

(Yeah.)

Looking at how only a few days of what you had originally thought was Barnes' newfound freedom turned out to be much more of a nightmare for Barnes, it might just be better for the both of you to push aside your comfortability and start making an honest-to-God investment into Barnes' recovery, even if that means that you had to take a step backward.

A very, very risky step backward.

It was a shot in the dark, but it was the only thing that you could place your bets on for now.

You just hoped that your aim wouldn't fail you now.

"Okay, well... How about this, Barnes, here's your main- your main mission, okay? Become a free man. Hey, no, look at me," you swiveled his head so he could look at you. His eyes were panicked, crazed, and irredeemably sad, but you had to make sure nothing crossed through your face so he'd know that everything will be okay. Your grip on both sides of his face was firm as you pleaded with him.

"Your only 'mission' right now? Breathe," ironically, his breath hitched, "If not for your own sake, then for mine."

You swallowed, heart stuttering as you looked into his glassy eyes.

"Please," you let your desperate prayer lingered in the air.

Maybe it was being given a task to accomplish after days of trying to figure out what to do with his supposed new "freedom", or it was how non-labor intensive and just... simple, his new mission parameter was, but it was almost instantaneous how all of the tension in his body dissipated into thin air.

Witnessing the moment of mercy upon grief through Barnes, no matter how brief or temporary it may be, was almost cathartic.

Almost.

(Perhaps you shouldn't be looking for absolution vicariously. But you were never really a good person, were you?)

_______

A/N: I've read a lot of WinterIron fics. While I have read a lot of interpretations about how Barnes would have reacted when he was freshly freed from HYDRA, this is how I choose to interpret it- one that would best fit the story for now. Next chapter, since I couldn't fit it in this chapter, is a special, but it is very much important and related to the story, and Barnes as a character. If you're familiar with some WinterIron tropes, this won't be too foreign of an idea. Not too sure about other ships/ stories, but. Ah, I'm rambling. Anyways, see you next year lol.

_______

Masterlist 

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Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit @tonystanktheirondad @ludwigvonbaethoven @rspctot7 (if you’re not @/ fabledxmystery, so sorry for the mistag! LMK if it’s not you) @tolkoskott @klanceiscannon14 @deos-life (grr it won’t let me tag you) @kp1183 (kperla1183) @xyuriko-akamine (akabaneyuriko) @kettnerjanea​ @soldier-42 @daybreakmistakes @spnfanboy777 @crash-zite @jm-cy

[theycallmebeccawrites]

Chris & Ellie Series: Episode 23

Hello lovelies! Hope you guys are having a good day and if not.. I hope tomorrow is better for you. I went back and forth between posting this episode today or waiting until next week...but y’all know I can’t wait... just waiting this long has been killing me haha.

Anyway, with this episode the focus of the main episode (vs the half episodes) is switching to Chris while Ellie will be the focus of the half episodes. That will end once they’re back together again! How long will that be? You’ll just have to wait and find out. 😏

Enjoy this episode, it’s a long one (for me at least). And I’ll catch y’all next time.

xoxo Becca xoxo

Pairing: Chris Evans x Ellie Spencer (OFC)

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: language

Episode Summary: Chris and his buddies in Las Vegas following the filming of Avengers two.

Disclaimer: This work of fiction is not to be reposted, used or translated without my permission.

This episode can also be read on AO3.

The Chris and Ellie series is primarily chronological. It begins with a flash forward to 2016 and has a few other scenes in the future. However, the majority of their story is told in chronological order starting in 2013 and going through 2017. Each episode starts with a date to help you place it within the story.

The Chris & Ellie Series Masterlist | Chris & Ellie Masterlist

Episode 22.5

Episode 23: Viva Las Vegas

September 2014

Ready for a night on the town, Chris sat on the sofa in the main living area of the penthouse that he had rented for himself and his friends in celebration of Brock and Tessa expecting their first baby.

Having come straight to Las Vegas after filming had wrapped on the second Avengers movie, Chris had been in town since last night while his friends had only arrived from LA that afternoon. He'd taken the master bedroom and had left the other four to figure out sleep arrangements for themselves. There was always a fight, but in the end, they all usually crashed on the closest bed available regardless of the decisions made earlier in the evening.

90's club music played on the penthouse sound system, making Chris feel more comfortable. It had all been too big and too quiet last night when he'd arrived. He'd planned to just go straight to bed, but that had been derailed when he'd gone into the ensuite bathroom and saw the large bathtub. His thoughts had instantly gone to Ellie and her love of taking baths; specifically, in the large soaking tub in his bathroom at home.

With his mind plagued with thoughts, he'd spent thirty minutes swimming laps in the private pool before taking a shower in the guest bathroom and going to bed, with the doors to the ensuite closed.

"Do you want to talk about it?" a voice asked from behind him.

Pulled out of his thoughts, Chris turned and saw Chucky Kellie standing in the doorway.

Not sure what to say, Chris stayed quiet, but Chucky took that as an invitation to join him.

"Tanya talked to Ellie," Chucky explained. "They invited her to the baby shower back in July. She said that you guys broke up."

"You and Ellie broke up?" another voice piped in.

"I was wondering why you looked like someone had stolen your favorite stuffed animal," a third voice said.

A grunt followed that comment and Chris didn't have to look behind him to know that Bryant had just elbowed Ray in the stomach for his remark.

"Are you guys going to go into the room or are we going to just stand here all night?" the last of his friends, Brock, asked.

Their arrival had given Chris time to think about whether or not he wanted to talk about the Ellie situation. He knew if he said he wasn't ready, they'd all go along with it and they'd go out to dinner and do a bit of gambling just like they'd planned. But even he knew it was time, past time, in fact.

Ever since that fateful day in front of his house, he'd made a point to be honest with himself even if the truth hurt. It had been easier, he supposed, thousands of miles away and busy with work. But now he was officially on a break from filming until the new year. It had seemed ideal, when he'd been planning it, to have fall and winter to relax and get back a sense of peace. But now that it had started, it seemed almost overwhelming. Especially since he had yet to decide where he was going to spend said time off.

One of the guys cleared his throat, subtly reminding Chris that they were all waiting for him to decide if he was up to talking about it or not.

Sighing, Chris said, "Ellie and I broke up."

The lack of reaction made him wonder if they'd all already known. He hadn't known Tanya to be a gossip, but he supposed she would have had to explain Ellie's absence at the baby shower to the other wives. Said wives would have then passed on the information to their husbands and then everyone would have known.

"Did she break up with you?" Ray probed, gently.

"It might have been easier if she had," Chris mused, defeatedly.

The time had come, he realized, to divulge everything that had been going on in his head and in his relationship with Ellie to someone else. As odd as it seemed, the words started coming to him easier than he thought they would. He supposed it was because, while his friends knew Ellie, they had been his best friends since before he'd been famous. They always had his back.

He knew Scott did, too. But it was different.

At the end of the day, Chris knew that his brother would choose him over anyone else that came between them. But when it came to Ellie, Chris knew she had a special bond with his brother. Scott had been with them virtually every setup of the way as they'd gone from being friends to more. And now Scott had been by Ellie's side through the aftermath of it all.

"The first time Ellie and I met," Chris found himself telling his friends. "I was completely naked." He'd never planned to share that story with anyone, but with these four, he felt like he needed to be honest and start at the beginning.

As expected, the four idiots spent a good five minutes laughing after he shared how he and Ellie had met when his mom had hired her as a housekeeper behind his back.

Once they'd calmed down, he continued the story. How he and Ellie had only spent a few weeks with each other before they'd had to share a bed not once, but twice. Then how the two of them, and Scott, had gotten close watching sports and spending time together.

"Wait, let me get something straight," Bryant interrupted. "Are you saying that the two of you hadn't even kissed when we had the kickoff party?"

"We hadn't," Chris confirmed and then followed it up with, "Did it seem like we had?"

His friends exchanged looks before Brock said, "We thought the two of you had been dating when you brought her to the wedding. Your chemistry…"

"What Brock is trying to say, is that you and Ellie seemed like you'd already known each other for a long time when we all met her," Chucky said, cutting in. "The two of you just looked so at ease."

"Even Kady and I noticed," Ray chimed in. "And we spent maybe 5 minutes with you guys."

"And then the way you two were sassing each other at the kickoff party," Bryant added.

Chris nodded as their comments brought to mind one of the fears that had plagued him; that everything had been too easy from the beginning with Ellie.

"It was easy, easier than it had ever been with anyone I've ever dated," he admitted to them. "Ellie and I spent a lot of time at home watching sports. Scott was with us most of the time, but not all the time. We just fell into an easy pattern and then I kissed her at Fenway Park after the Red Sox won the World Series."

"DUDE!" Ray exclaimed, making them all laugh. "Sorry, but that's just awesome." Considering Chris knew that Ray and Kady had met at a Dodgers game, he wasn't surprised his friend felt that way.

"Is that when you two started to officially date?" Brock asked, redirecting the conversation.

Chris shook his head and then chuckled at the memory. "She returned the kiss," he said. "But then she hid from me the next day. And then we went to a Halloween party with my brother and younger sister. I cornered her in a room and made her talk to me." Realizing how bad that sounded he quickly continued, "I mean, I waited for her to get out of the bathroom and asked her if we could talk."

Ray made kissing noises and Chris threw a pillow at him.

"Did you two kiss that night?" Chucky prompted and then smirked when Chris's face flushed.

"Fuck you all," Chris grumbled as they laughed. "Yes, fine. We made out and we might have gone farther if another couple hadn't barged into the room."

Ray let out a catcall.

"How are you married?" Brock asked him.

"Kady loves me," Ray said with a shrug. "But back to story time, Evans. Is that when you two started hooking up?"

Chris shook his head. "She went back to LA the next day and I stayed back east," he told them. "But after kissing her, I knew I wanted to kiss her again. And I really missed her. We had been spending so much time together and then suddenly we weren't. I mean, we texted a lot, but it wasn't the same."

"And when you said you wanted to kiss her again, you mean you wanted to date her right?" Bryant asked.

"Yes, definitely," Chris replied though he felt his heart twinge at the memory. He'd been so convinced last fall that he and Ellie were meant to be together. "She hadn't been so sure. She didn't want to ruin our friendship if it didn't work out."

Those words sucked the humor out of the room and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his friends straighten. Shit was getting real now.

"I told her that it would be ok," he said with a sigh. "That we owed it to ourselves to explore our feelings. Because she told me she liked me, too." He told them about Ellie's encouragement while he was directing his movie, how he'd encouraged her to submit her resume for an editing job and how she'd told him over the phone on Christmas Eve that she wanted to give them a try.

He didn't get graphic in the details of what had happened in January, but he confirmed that he had taken her up to the bed and breakfast for a romantic getaway. And that he'd helped her celebrate the Seahawks' Super Bowl victory.

"So what happened?" Brock asked him. "When we saw you guys at the Super Bowl, you could hardly keep your hands to yourself. But then at the premiere…"

"They were secretly dating," Chucky reminded him. "He couldn't have his hands all over her."

"Obviously, but Brock is right, things weren't the same that night," Bryant argued before he looked at Chris. "Did something happen?"

"Other than getting messed up in my own head, no," Chris admitted. He sighed and told them about his journal. He knew that Chucky knew about them, after all the two of them had shared a bedroom at one point, but he didn't know the full context of them.

"And you completely shut her out when you got home?" Brock said with a frown after Chris told them.

Chris nodded. "I was so stuck in my own head, I didn't know what to do," he confessed.

The joking from earlier had stopped now that he'd gotten into the serious part of his tale. They'd been through situations like this with him before and he trusted that they'd pull him back from going too far.

Taking a deep breath, he dove headfirst into the abyss that was the downfall of his and Ellie's relationship.

"I wanted to be with her," he told them. "But at the same time, my head kept telling me that it wasn't the right time to be in a real relationship. She didn't press me to get out of the house, to go out in public with her. So we were able to keep it a secret."

He should have taken her out. He realized that now. He shouldn't have kept her a secret.

"Then everyone came for the premiere and there I was, dating someone my mom really liked and I couldn't bring myself to even tell my mom about it," he continued. "My mom isn't stupid though. I'm sure she knew what was going on. But I couldn't bring myself to say anything about it. And I don't know if Ellie wanted to tell her or if she was just following my lead on the whole situation."

He should have told his mom. She would have been happy for them both.

"And the real kicker is that I had to watch my sister introduce my girlfriend to my dad," he said. "It should have been me. That should have been a special moment for the three of us. But I just… I couldn't."

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, offering him strength with his confession.

"Tara figured it out and said she approved," he told them. "Then I went on the press tour… and came home to find Ellie's older sister and her husband in town. They weren't staying at the house, but we had dinner with them. I liked them and I thought they liked me, too. But then the next night…"

He paused to gather his thoughts, because it was getting harder for him to talk about it all now. He thought he'd gotten past the pain, but it had been simmering under the surface.

"The next night, Ellie had a fight with her sister, who didn't like that she was living in my house, working for me and sleeping with me," he explained. "She offered Ellie money to help her find her own place. Ellie didn't take it well and she came home upset. She told me about it…"

"And it fed into the fears you already had in your head," Brock surmised. 

Chris nodded then explained, "I pulled away again, but not completely. It wasn't fair to Ellie. I see that now. I wasn't there for her, but I wanted her in my bed and to be there for me."

He felt a mixture of shame and relief as he admitted it out loud.

"She tried to get through to me, but I was so stuck in my head," he sighed. "Then I had a bad dream and made a huge mistake. Easily the biggest mistake of my life." He took a deep breath, trying to work up the courage to explain.

"Here," Ray said, tapping his hand with a shot glass filled with liquid. "I think you need this."

Chris accepted the shot and tossed it back. It burned, but it was almost a welcome relief.

"Do you need a break?" Brock asked him. "We can order room service."

Chris wanted to say no, wanted to continue, but he knew he needed a break.

"Get me a burger," he told Brock. "I'm going to get some air."

Getting up, Chris went outside to the private balcony. Somehow, they'd managed to create a relaxing outdoor oasis in the middle of Las Vegas and hundreds of feet in the air.

While he felt better getting stuff off his chest, he knew the worst was yet to come. He knew his friends wouldn't judge him for his actions, but he didn't know if any of them could mask their disappointment in him.

Hearing the door open behind him, Chris looked over and saw Brock. "We ordered dinner, they said it would be about forty minutes. We told them not to rush since we're nobody special."

A chuckle escaped Chris's lips. His friends were part of the reason he was who he was. They helped keep him grounded.

"You ready?" Brock asked him.

"No, but I want to get it over with," Chris replied. "Do we have beer?"

"Ray and Bryant were popping tops when I left the other room," Brock told him.

Chris followed his friend back inside and to the main living area. Sure enough, five beers were sitting on the coffee table with a bag of chips.

"Thought we might want a snack," Chucky said with a shrug.

Once they were all settled, Chris continued his story. "I had a dream that Ellie and I were together and we had a kid. But she was leaving me because I couldn't give her enough time because of my job," he told him. "And in the dream, she said she should have listened to her sister."

"Fuck," Ray breathed.

"Add the dream to my other thoughts and it was the making of a bad situation in my head," Chris said with a nod.

"So what was the mistake?" Bryant asked cautiously.

"I left," Chris told him. Then clarified. "In the middle of the night. Without saying anything to her."

"Dude…" Ray said, his voice laced with disbelief.

"And when you say you left?" Brock prompted.

"I packed my suitcase and left early for filming," Chris replied.

"Fuck," all four of his friends chorused.

"What did Ellie say when you two talked?" Brock asked him.

Chris didn't say anything as he felt his stomach churning. He focused on the beer bottle in his hand as he tried to will back the emotions that were bubbling just under the surface.

"Chris, please tell me that you and Ellie have talked," Brock said, quietly.

"I can't," he whispered as he blinked back his tears. "And now it's too late."

"What do you mean it's too late," Ray demanded.

"It's been 5 months," Chris said with a shrug. "I thought she was just mad at first. Which I understood, but I thought she'd at least make sure I was ok. And then when she didn't…" He took a shaky breath. "I texted Scott, checking on her. And that's what really ended it. I shouldn't have involved him and I did. And it's a fucking disaster now."

A part of him wanted to stop there, but he knew he couldn't. "I went to see her at the end of July when I found out she was moving out of my house," he explained. "There was a guy with her. And it was clear that she'd moved on."

"Clear how?" Bryant asked, his question immediately followed by a grunt of pain. "Fuck off! It was an honest question. I mean if he saw her making out with some guy, then yeah, she moved on. But if it was just a hug, maybe it was just innocent."

"I didn't stay long enough to see them kissing," Chris told him. "I told the driver to leave as soon as I saw them hugging."

A knock on the door of the penthouse saved him from having to answer any more questions. At least at that moment. He knew his friends wouldn't let the conversation stop there.

Once the food was rolled in, they migrated to the dining table to eat their dinner. Chris was silent as he ate, but the other four made small talk.

It wasn't until an hour later, when they were taking turns playing pool that Chucky asked, "Let's pretend Ellie hadn't moved on for a second. If you knew she was still single, what would you do?"

"I don't know," Chris admitted. "I fucked up."

"Forget that for now, too," Chucky said. "How do you feel about Ellie right now?"

"I think I'm in love with her." The words came out of Chris's mouth without a second of thought. They caught even him off guard, but as they settled, he realized that it was the truth. He'd spent the last six months listening to his head and ignoring his heart. Clearly, his heart had known what was really going on.

"Does that change anything for you?" Brock questioned.

"Yeah," Chris said with a nod. "But not in the way you think. I didn't treat Ellie like I should have. If this guy she is with now is treating her like she should be treated, what right do I have to ruin that for her?"

"But you love her," Ray retorted.

"Isn't there a saying about how sometimes you have to love someone enough to let them go?" Chris said with a small shrug. "Besides, I'm spending the fall and winter back home in Sudbury."

"You are?" Bryant asked. "Since when?"

"Just decided," Chris replied. He shook his head. "I can't go back to the house in LA. There are too many memories there that I'm not sure I'm ready to process."

He saw his friends exchange looks but in the end they all nodded.

"Just know we're here if you need us," Chucky told him.

"I know, thank you," Chris said.

A few days later, Chris went home to Massachusetts and his mom's house. It took him a few days to settle in and to fit himself into the rhythm of the household, but he knew it was the best place for him to be.

It was at the start of his second full week that his mom had gotten the email from Ellie that he had suspected was coming: her two weeks’ notice. His mom had forwarded him the email, since it concerned his house, and he hadn't planned on reading it at all. Then, he'd woken up in the middle of the night with a sudden urge to hear Ellie's voice. He knew he couldn't call her, but he knew reading the email would let him hear her in a way and maybe offer him some closure.

Dear Lisa,

I want to thank you for taking a chance on me last year. You could have hired anyone to be the housekeeper and we both know there were people more qualified than I am. Instead, you chose me and for that I am eternally grateful.

Between my hours at the bookstore and my editing jobs, I find myself running out of hours in the day and during the week. Given that Scott is living in Chris's house permanently, I feel like it is time for me to move on from my job there.

Thank you again for taking a chance on me. It was the kindness of yourself and your family that helped me get to where I am now, finally doing the job I always dreamed of.

Sincerely,

Ellie Spencer

A bittersweet feeling came over him as he closed the email app on his phone. Setting the phone back on the bedside table, he stared up at the dark ceiling. He'd hoped to find relief in reading her words, but he hadn't. Instead, he longed to actually hear her talk. To hear her laugh.

As he remembered her laughter, a small smile tugged on his lips. It wasn't one of those melodic ones that people rave about. It was a real laugh. The kind of laugher that included snorts, wheezes and a fully body response. God, he'd loved making her laugh.

Sighing, Chris rolled onto his side. While his mom thought Ellie was just too busy to go to the house, he knew the truth. Ellie was cutting all her ties to him, and after everything he had put her through, he couldn't say he blamed her.

Then his thoughts went to his brother. What would this all mean for Scott's relationship with Ellie? Would she cut him off, too? He hoped she wouldn't and not only for the selfish reason of knowing how she was doing. No, he knew that she was an important person in his brother's life and Scott deserved the best.

Episode 23.5

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[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Begins

Part 19

Chapter Summary: Jared needs some time to come around to the idea of his best friend and his sister, but will he be able to get over all the lies? 

Warnings: Language, angst, descriptions of anxiety, a mild physical altercation

Word Count: 2.1K+

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Happy Sunday! First, I’d like to say a huge thank you to all of you still here with me. This past semester was a difficult one for a number of reasons. Until I started writing again, I hadn’t realized how much I truly missed these two and being in this little world I created. It was a truly therapeutic experience to get back to it. Also, I already have our sequel all outlined and ready to start. xoxo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and check out Alexandra’s Library for more works by yours truly!

Jared was gone before she woke on Monday. Well, not technically before she woke as she didn’t actually sleep. The sound of the front door startled her before her alarm for the morning had gotten the chance to. She wasn’t surprised. Jared didn’t come out of his room the rest of the weekend. Only once for food and even then he just stockpiled what he could into his room.

This wasn’t exactly what she had expected, but again, it didn’t surprise her. After he had stormed out, she rolled out of bed and decided then to start her day. What difference did it make whether she got up now or stared at her ceiling for another half hour anyway? 

When Clif showed up with the car at his normal time, Jensen was already in the back seat. He smiled at her as she climbed in next to him, the corner of his mouth dropping when she shook her head at him. Jensen nodded his understanding.

Y/n stared out the window as the lights of the city flashed passed them, one hand on her chin as she chewed on the nail of her thumb. Jensen’s fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled her hand to his face, kissing the back of her knuckles. She turned to face him, a weak smile on her lips.

“Take a breath.” Y/n did as she was told, breathing in deeply and holding it for a beat before letting it back out. A move she had perfected years ago when her anxiety first started to go from bad to worse.  She repeated the deep breath a few more times, allowing the action to help the stuttering in her chest slow down to a more bearable rate.

“It’s gonna be a long day.” She noted. Jensen nodded at her and linked his fingers with hers. There wasn’t much else to say between them. She had kept him up to date via text all weekend, so they were on the same page when it came to Jared. 

Friday, she had said all she could to her brother. If he couldn’t accept her apology, what else was she to do? They both knew they had messed up and the guilt that has settled in her chest was suffocating. At this point though, she wouldn’t take any of it back. Jensen was the light she hadn’t known she was missing. He was her safe place, the one person that somehow knew her better than she knew herself. There was nothing that could persuade her from giving that up. Maybe it was selfish, but after everything she figured it was her turn to be a little selfish. If Jared had been there to peer over their shoulders, who’s to say they would have been able to truly find each other. No, that was a risk she couldn’t take. 

They spent the rest of the ride in silence, neither knowing what would greet them when they reached set. With the tension in all of their relationships sure to be noticeable by everyone else, it was best that her and Jensen kept up their facade. The last thing either of them wanted was all their dirty laundry out for everyone to see, something they had come to an agreement on during their many conversations over the weekend. 

Jensen led her towards the makeup trailer as she trailed behind a step. Crew greeted them on their way like usual, a ‘good morning’ here and a nod of a head there. Y/n noted as they walked past the trailers that Jared’s was dark. This didn’t mean much as the set was a large space, and he could still be anywhere. She knew what time he left the apartment, but she couldn’t be sure when he actually arrived on the set, if he had yet done so at all.

Jensen stepped up and pulled open the door to the makeup trailer, allowing her to enter first. She was greeted by a warm smile from Trish as she peeked over Jared’s head. Jared’s body stiffened as he caught his sister's eye in the mirror. Neither of them said a thing, allowing a heaviness to blanket the inside of the trailer. Neither looked away from each other either, their looks of longing and sadness literally mirroring each other’s. They stayed that way for what felt like minutes when in reality it was less than thirty seconds. Just enough time for Jensen to enter behind her, his visage in the mirror stealing Jared’s attention. 

“Morning.” Trish broke the silence in the trailer as the door shut behind Jensen, who muttered a noncommittal response along with Y/n. Trish’s brow furrowed slightly, now picking up on the energy in the room, though she chose not to say anything. 

“It seems like the sun might actually be on our side today.” Y/n noted, trying to break the tension and pull Trish’s focus. They had an outside shoot, and originally the forecast had called for rain, switching at the last minute to partly cloudy. 

“As long as Jared here doesn’t sweat off all my hard work.” Trish teased as she leaned back to inspect her work. Jared’s clipped voice cut through the light conversation.

“Am I done?” Trish nodded, a soft ‘of course’ leaving her mouth. The poor woman had no idea what to make of the sudden mood shift in Jared. He jumped up from his chair and exited the trailer, the door slamming behind him. Y/n flinched at the noise and shared a quick, tense look with Jensen before Trish rounded on them, the furrow in her brow insisting on some answers.

“What’s up with him?” 

“I’m not exactly sure.” Y/n lied, the words tumbling out of her mouth like vomit. “I haven’t spoken to him at all today.” That part wasn't a lie, though she didn’t feel any better about it. The purse in Trish’s lips had Y/n’s heart rate picking up for a moment as she tried to assess if the woman believed her. Trish hummed under her breath, content for now not to ask anymore questions. She collected her things in silence, bidding Jensen and Y/n a goodbye in no time. Y/n let out the breath she hadn’t realised she was holding. 

“I can’t do this.” She hung her head as the tears returned. Never before did she think she could cry this much, and she already admits to being a crier. She had been so sure that her tear ducts would have run dry from how much they were being used. A sob shook her chest as she just let go in the presence of just Jensen.

“Hey, come here.” Jensen’s hands found her waist and pulled her to sit in his lap, her legs laying across his own. “Please, don’t cry. Jared just needs more time.” His thumbs wiped the streams flowing down her cheeks away, the action in vain as the salty liquid just kept coming. 

“I know, but I’m not sure how much longer I can handle this. I’ve never seen my brother like this and I just feel so damn guilty.” 

“I get it, I do. But honey, you’ve said your peace. What else can you do?” Jensen placed a soft kiss to her forehead. Her breathing was beginning to even out as she got control of her emotions, allowing the proximity of Jensen to ease her mind. At least, she knew that she was not alone in all of this. There was one person that could understand this feeling in her gut. A soft hiccup fell from her lips before she spoke again. 

“Beg for his forgiveness.” She suggested.

“If that’s really what you want to do, I’m here for you.” Jensen promised her, his eyes intent on hers as he made his promise known. A hint of a smirk appeared at the corner of his lips, offering her a view of her favorite dimple. He understood the hyperbole in her statement, something that she could never repay him for. Even still, she wasn’t completely opposed to the idea. It was just something to add to her list of the ways he had changed her life and view on the world.

****

The rest of their day consisted of much of the same. Jared was absent when he absolutely was not needed on the set. Though both of them still delivered Sam and Dean like they have been for the past fifteen years. Not that she doubted either of them. They were still professionals after all. The one big difference became their demeanor in between takes. 

Y/n could tell people were clearly suspicious of both of the men’s activity, it was written all over their faces. Though, not one of them chose to comment, much like their dear Trish. She wasn’t sure it would last. Someone was bound to open their mouth sooner or later. She was just surprised it came almost a week and a half later. 

Things had not gotten better in any sense of the word. Jared hadn’t said anything to either of them since the incident. Only interacting with Jensen when the script dictated so. It was the director who opened his mouth after the two men were struggling to connect for the first time in fifteen years. 

“Okay, what is up with you two?” The man came out from behind the camera, his ball cap low on his head as he yelled cut. He hadn’t been getting the performance out of the boys for the dramatic brother scene they were filming today, and he knew something was up. 

“Nothing.” Jared’s nostrils flared as he spoke, one of his little indicators that Y/n had picked up on growing up. He was annoyed and trying desperately to hide it. 

“Bullshit. You guys haven’t so much as said two words to each other this whole episode.” 

“It’s just stress. We are coming up on the end here and I think we are all getting a little emotional.” Jensen stepped up to offer an explanation. 

“I’ve known you both for years. I’ve seen you go through all sorts of things, and never before have I seen this coldness between the two of you.” 

“It’s nothing. I’m sorry. We will get it right.” Jensen promised. Though he didn’t seem convinced, the director left the two standing on stage and returned to his seat behind the camera. 

“I’m so sick of you.” Jared’s voice was soft, but Jensen heard it. 

“Excuse me?” He rounded on Jared.

“You heard me. You always think you know best. Nice cover story for Bill, didn’t want to tell him the real reason why I can’t even look at you?” Jared hissed. Jensen had no idea where this was coming from. Sure, he knew Jared was pissed, but he had never seen him act out like this. It was scaring him to be completely honest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would want our business spreading around the set. You know how gossip can travel, especially when it involves the leads.” Jensen shot back. Trish nudged Y/n’s shoulder when she noticed the heated exchange between the actors. Y/n whipped around to where she had indicated. From her spot, she couldn’t hear exactly what was happening, but it was a safe bet that it had to do with her.  

“I’m not the one that has anything to be ashamed about. I’m the victim here.” Jared shoved Jensen. The force wasn’t anything that the man could’ve done at his full strength, but it was enough for Jensen to stumble backwards on his feet. Jensen made no move to react, instead simply accepting the punishment that Jared was dealing out for him. 

It was what happened next that was a blur. Jensen’s lack of a reaction seemed to only piss Jared off more, and he moved to push Jensen harder this time. Jensen dodged the movement, ready this time, only for a swarm of crew members to step between them before things could escalate even further.

Y/n couldn’t focus on anything but the sound of her heart thrumming in her ears as the tears threatened to fall once again. The sounds of grumbled shouts from the director for everyone to take a thirty minute break sounded like she was underwater. Jared was pushed back from the set by someone with their hand against his shoulder. Jensen walked off on his own in the opposite direction. 

What did it feel like to be kicked in the gut? Right now she was sure the feeling in her abdomen was a close approximation. The two men she loved most in this world were at odds because of her. Panic, guilt and fear all swirled into one nauseating sensation. She just wanted the world to stop, if only for a few hours, so she could get her shit together. So she could figure out a way to fix all of this. She had to fix this.

Part 20

Forevers: @spn-impala​​ @22sarah08​​ @turtlepad​​ @callmekda​​ @chaldei​​ @hobby27​​ @cowboysnwinchesters​​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @pikabootoyouchu​​ @dawnie1988​​ @grease222​​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @polina-93​​ @clarinette07​​ @moonlight-babeh​​ @suckerforfanfics​​ @witandnargles​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @geeksareunique​ @akshi8278​

Et Cetera: @jbbarnesgirl​ @hillface89​ @arses21434​ @thevelvetseries​ @sslater34​ @mrsirishboru​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @encounterthepast​ @facadeformyrealblog  @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​​ @rebeccathefangirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @heartinmyhead1​ @1d-killed-me​ @samsgirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @woodworthti666​ @supraveng​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @heartsaved​ @know2grow​ @littlewhiterose​ @surprisinglysarah​ @stoneyggirl​ @carryon-doctor-lock​ @thebookisbtr​ @youaremyfiveever​ @kalesrebellion​ @lilulo-12​ @winchester-fantasies​ @vicmc624​ @supernatural3002​ @winchester-writes​ 

[obscure-sentimentalist]

“Don’t shut me out.” “You had a nightmare, tell me what it was about so I can fix it.” These two seems really interesting but I can't deciiide 😖 Sorry Oh, and I guess it would fit the merlyn boys au really well :) I love this au! And the au's of this au :) Xoxo

[*shows up months later with a mug of hot chocolate* In my defense, I didn’t settle on the direction for this one until just recently, and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. Hopefully it’s worth the wait! (And thank you, Anon! I did end up using both prompts in here!!)]

Prompts from the drabble challenge list

Old enough ‘verse

January 2013

When Tommy jolts awake, the startled release of air from his lungs doesn’t echo off the walls of a too big, too empty house, like he expects.

Instead, he’s immediately aware of the crick in his neck from resting on the pillow propped against the couch arm, and the carpet fibers underneath his fingers as they drape down. They’re not particularly specific sensations, and the dark conceals any features of his surroundings, but it’s enough to ground Tommy and assuage his immediate fears.

Just the lingering vestiges of a dream, a memory. Wherever he is, it isn’t there, and he hasn’t been quite so little in a very long time—no matter how some people still try to make him feel that way.

The couch cushions groan (echoing the one in Tommy’s mind) as he sits up and shuffles back to prop up against the arm. He lifts the hand that was resting limply on his chest and scrubs at his face—rubbing out the pair of damp trails marking his cheeks—before dropping it onto the thick wool blanket in his lap. The one grazing the floor, though, fumbles along in search of the foot switch for the floor lamp his brain sluggishly remembers is right behind him. It doesn’t take too long for his fingertips to catch on ribbed plastic, and with a click, the space floods with a momentarily-blinding light.

Tommy hisses as he ducks his head, only to bring it back up a moment later so his eyes can adjust and take in the details of the room, to latch onto anything familiar to fully drag himself out of his head and into the present.

His anchor makes that choice for him, letting out a sleep-slurred grumble from the well-loved recliner perpendicular to the couch.

“Whuzzgoinon?” The leather creaks, and a dark head of mad scientist-level mussed hair leans forward with a swollen-eyed glare.

Well that slams Tommy back to awareness and alertness faster than anything else would have.

“Sorry,” he blurts none-too-quietly, but when Connor winces at the noise, Tommy drops his tone and tries again. “Sorry. Got a little disoriented, forgot where I was. And, frankly, didn’t expect you to be here, seeing as I can now tell that this is your apartment, and you have an actual bed.”

“Mm,” his brother, epitome of eloquence, mumbles, flapping a hand in acceptance of that explanation as he drops into the widest yawn Tommy’s ever seen. “Must’ve passed out here.”

“Well, we did have a real fiesta of a night,” Tommy teases in reply, his brain catching up to his more recent memories. “Chucking balls across the floor in borrowed, questionably-smelling shoes makes for quite a workout.”

Connor’s hand lands over his eyes with an audible smack. “What even made you think of going bowling, anyway?”

Tommy shrugs. “Just seemed like a bit of light fun. I’ve needed something like that for a while, and thought it’d work well for my Birthday Coin Toss win.” The explanation out, he switches gears and tries to nudge his twin’s attention away. “Go back to sleep, Connie—for real this time, yeah?”

Luck, it seems, is not on Tommy’s side tonight, as Connor only sits up straighter at the suggestion, hand slipping from his face to reveal a much clearer gaze as it locks on Tommy.

“You needed a bit of light fun,” he repeats slowly, a pensive crease forming in his brow. He pauses a moment to turn the words over, then tries again. “I thought you said things were getting better. With Laurel, and being cut off, and…”

“They were,” Tommy cuts in frantically, almost physically leaping off the couch as he does so. “Are. Everything’s fine. It’s just… still a lot of change, you know? Gets a little draining.”

Connor meets that with a slow nod, but the fact that his frown doesn’t ease makes it clear that he’s not done picking this apart. “Makes sense for wanting to go with lower-key hijinks…”

“Oh, come on, the perfect word was right in front of you. Tomfoolery. Practically named for me.”

“…But if the effects are disrupting your sleep, too?” Connor finishes, giving Tommy a heavy stare. “You’re not going to get by me with a hand-wave-y explanation like that.”

Any amusement that Tommy coerced into his expression with his previous (and clearly ignored) quip bleeds out at those words. “What?”

“A minute ago, you told me you got disoriented,” Connor reminds him. “But what woke you up in the first place? And why was it enough that you needed to throw the light on?”

Oh, Tommy’s not liking how close his brother is tripping to the truth.

“You had a nightmare,” Connor concludes with the confidence of the medical professional he’s becoming. He motions with his hand as he settles back in the recliner. “Tell me what it was about so I can fix it.”

Tommy’s eyebrows shoot to his hairline in dubiety. “You switch your residency from Trauma Surgery to Psychology on me, or something?” He pats both hands around his forehead and face in vague measurement. “I’m happy with the size of my head, no shrinking necessary, thanks.”

Connor’s lips thin at the comments, but still he persists. “You said it yourself—it’s a lot of change. And while it sounds like, from what you’ve told me, it’s mostly good change… ‘mostly’ isn’t ‘completely’.” He leans forward, elbows dropping to his thighs for balance. “Is there something bothering you?”

“You mean besides you, right now?” It comes out as more of a snap than Tommy wants it to be, but if his brother would just leave it alone…

That only serves to bring a slightly pained expression to Connor’s face.

“Tommy, please.” There’s a faint thread of exasperation in his tone, but the cracking on that last word gives Tommy pause. “Don’t shut me out. Whatever it is, let me help, okay?”

That twists something in Tommy’s chest, almost like guilt.

It’s been almost five years, and yet he’s still not used to the fact that having a brother means having someone else in his corner—emotional support he’s already much too short on. So much of his relationship with Connor has been centered around lower-stakes, silly fun; just getting to know each other after a lifetime separated. It’s not that truly opening up is something that Tommy is averse to doing; there’s just rarely been a real need to do so.

Being a brother—a twin—settled in both of them so bone-deep that it just… is. Putting things in words and vocalizing them feels superfluous.

Oh, there have been conversations and misunderstandings cleared up, discussions of each other’s current aggravations and concerns—words falling freely and meeting a willing ear. Those topics were more trivial, or at the very least easier to slip off the tongue (even the heavier ones, though those were typically loosened and floated along by alcohol). Arguably, talking about a nightmare should count among that number of insignificant subjects, but there are always exceptions to that rule.

Still, Tommy falters on his rejection in the face of Connor’s plea—doctor’s head and brother’s heart, working in tandem and wanting nothing more than to heal.

“This was a one-off bad dream—it… hasn’t happened in a long time,” Tommy finally confesses, draping an arm across his forehead as he lies back. “But yeah, I guess the fact that it’s come back is related to everything that’s going on, or at least one particular corner of my life.”

His vision obscured, Tommy relies on the hum of acknowledgement and the shuffle of fabric over leather to confirm Connor’s attention, before continuing. “I- I told you that, after Mom died, Dad disappeared for a good two years, right?”

“‘Good’ doesn’t seem like the right choice of word for that situation, in any use,” Connor growls lowly, “but yeah, you did.”

“Cool.” Tommy swallows thickly, and lets his arm slide back down from his face. “So, uh, he did that. Which meant that, from ages eight to ten, I kind of bounced between staying with Ollie and the Queens—huh, that’d make a good band name—and living back home with the part-time staff.”

Connor doesn’t seem to have any words to verbalize in response, but the living room definitely feels a bit more frigid than it did a moment ago, before Tommy dropped that truth.

“And, you know, it was fine during the daytime, when it was light out and there were more people around the house. By evening, though… well, the nanny was there a number of nights, and I slept over at Queen Manor for most of the ones when she wasn’t, but still, that was when I was so aware of how empty the house was.”

For a split second, Tommy finds himself slipping again, into the tiny body that hasn’t been his for nearly twenty years, burrowed protectively under layers upon layers of blankets to muffle the mansion’s hollow echoing—to hide himself away from the nothingness before it consumes him. Or maybe it’ll just see in him what Dad must have and leave too, because Tommy’s never been good at giving reasons to stay…

“Hey.”

The cushion under Tommy’s feet jostles lightly, and he snaps back to the now with a sharp breath. The sound doesn’t clatter noisily against too-still silence, instead landing softly in the glow of the lamp and the shadow of Connor’s concerned expression.

His brother draws his own outstretched foot back from the edge of the couch to settle again on the floor in front of the recliner. “You’re not there anymore.”

An obvious statement, given that Connor’s never set foot in the manor and Tommy can hear the faint city sounds of Gotham beyond the living room window, but he recognizes it for the grounding it is and grabs on with both hands.

“Right,” he sighs, his gaze locking on the ceiling. “Been a long time since my nights were like that, and… not quite as long since my unconscious last decided to screw with me and yank open that particular memory box.”

Connor lets out a low hum of acknowledgement at that, but doesn’t say anything more on the subject. He’s informed enough on the goings-on of Tommy’s life these days that he can puzzle out the culprit behind the resurgence of such dreams.

(Hilarious how Malcolm trying to wedge his way into Tommy’s life invokes recollections of a time when his absence was a weeping wound. It’s not like Tommy needs to be reminded of the consequences, were he to actually let his father get close.)

“What do you need?” Connor finally asks, his voice dipping quiet and thoughtful with the question. It’s not a tone that Tommy is used to hearing his brother speak in, but it rings of such sincerity that he rolls his head to the side to meet Connor’s expectant gaze. “What usually helps you after these kinds of dreams?”

“Gonna write me up a prescription for the good stuff, Dr. Rhodes?” Tommy cracks instinctively, even as his chest fills with a certain warmth.

Luckily, Connor takes it as the knee-jerk reaction it is—reaching for humor to mask vulnerability, even when it’s entirely safe to have it exposed—and just rolls his eyes fondly. “You snore enough already without the help of sleep aids. Pick something else.”

Tommy clicks his tongue in a jokingly disappointed way, but sobers as he casts his eyes carefully down. “I think just… noise helps. Voices, more specifically. Nothing too loud, or punctuated in any particular way.” His runs his fingers up and down over the carpet in a slow drag, trying to focus on his thoughts. “A lot of times, I’d put on headphones and whatever music with quieter vocals I had, or maybe a late-night radio station that had hosts on-air. After I moved out, it was whatever early-morning programming I could find that wasn’t sitcom reruns or Law & Order marathons. Feel like I can recite Shake Weight infomercials in my sleep.”

“Please don’t.” Connor sounds incredibly pained by the thought.

“Hypothetically, of course. You and I both know that I’m not the Comatose Chatterbox here.”

“Asshole.”

“Now that I’ll own up to,” Tommy concedes, lifting his hand from the carpet to jab a finger at his brother for emphasis.

Connor seems to accept that, and shifts back in his seat. “I can turn on the TV, find something that’ll work,” he offers, gesturing to the flatscreen to his right. He pauses a moment, considering, before he cracks a faintly amused smile. “Or I can captivate you with standard treatment procedures for various traumas. Lots of nonsense words, all mashed together with numbers—perfect boring material to pass out to.”

“Oh, great,” Tommy starts cheerily. “So helpful to know how many ccs of whateverthehellthisis I’d need if I got, like, stabbed in the chest or something.”

Connor raises his hands in playful surrender. “Just tossing out ideas. You have something better?”

It’s only as Tommy is giving the challenge some thought that he realizes how muted and distant the lonely ache of his nightmare now feels. The vacant house has bled out of mind and body, retreating back to the dark, locked corner in which it belongs. Tommy would even dare say he’s tired again, ready to drift back off and into better (or at least weirder) dreams.

But then there’s Connor, always so determined to fix and heal whatever he can, cycling through ideas for how best to help. His brother, trying to be there for Tommy now when he wasn’t for the initial hurt, through no fault of his own.

Maybe sleep can wait a while longer.

“Compared to yours?” Tommy scoffs, lips spreading in a taunting grin. “That’s not even a question.”

The sharp arch of Connor’s eyebrow is evidence enough that this is a challenge most eagerly accepted.

[amphtaminedreams]

The Eras of Lana Del Rey: Lookbook no.9

Hi to anyone reading,

Hope you’re okay! AND that you didn’t end up here because you searched the Lana Del Rey tag so you could see people ranting about her-you’re about to be very disappointed. Sorry. This is not about to be some Question for the Culture discourse because the world is bleak enough right now and the last thing we all need is to be reminded of that saga. 

Being a Lana Del Rey fan is easy, they said. She’s not a controversial artist, they said. And yet 2020 had to do what it does best and fuck everything up. 

Whether people like her or not, it’s made me so angry reading all the abuse she’s been getting about her appearance for the last couple of weeks, because I really thought that if we could agree on anything it was that attacking individuals for the way they look because you dislike something they’ve done (with the exception of shit like racist tattoos and blackfishing) is, you know, awful and judgemental as fuck? Like you do realise when you treat the word fat as a pejorative that the fat people you don’t have a problem with understood that you meant it as an insult too? I think what all those people tweeting about Lana’s weight, and that includes some of her fans, are forgetting is that she was in her early 20s when she was thrust into the limelight. As much as there’s this conspiracy that her dad bought her a career in the music industry, she’d made the decision to go it alone and had lived in a trailer park as a struggling musician for years. On top of that, we have the unreleased tracks with lyrics seemingly referencing an eating disorder in her younger years. OF COURSE her body is going to look different. Why is it that we treat weight gain as an inherently bad thing without any insight into the other factors that constitute a person’s “health”? It’s fucking insane that so many feel they have the right to comment on other’s bodies in the first place and it breaks my heart that she might be reading these comments. This wasn’t intended to necessarily be a rant about how much I love this woman but all the shit I’ve read about her on the internet these past few months have pushed me to it. You'll respect your queen of alternative music or I shall stan twice as hard on your behalf. You can thank me later when you come to your senses xoxo

I’d love to say it was intentional that I finally finished this post the week Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass was released but that would imply I have my shit way more together than I actually do. If I’m being completely honest, I’ve only heard L.A Who am I to Love You so far 1). because I want to wait for the hard copy for the rest and that doesn’t turn up til September and 2). because I do not have my shit together, lol. That being said, there is no doubt in my mind that I am going to love it-one thing I have always loved about Lana’s lyrics is how well they paint a picture and this is something that poetry only more freely allows for the exploration of. That ability to create such a strong narrative voice and atmosphere is a talent that extends to her visuals and the production of her records too, and is something I really missed when it comes to the Norman Fucking Rockwell era. I’m just going to say it: a strong aesthetic is to NFR as memorable songs are to Lust for Life. Lacking. Am I allowed to say that as a fan? The collaborations don’t do it for me, okay, and as as NFR is concerned, aside from The Greatest/Fuck It I Love You video which went down the whole neon surfer girl route, it’s hard to identify a cohesive theme. It’s understandable that at this point, she would want to just focus purely on the music, and it goes without saying that NFR will stand the test of time in that regard but I don’t think we can deny that when people think of Lana in the future, it’s not gonna be a green windbreaker that comes into their heads.

^Illustration credit to Filip Kozak (https://filipkozaksart.tumblr.com/?fbclid=IwAR3vwLX2pNxoFNhTPD1ky14LllPqlLtL1GxGlD79xuHxdtzcHLw-6aNBZWo)

And here’s where this Filip Kozak illustration comes into it; after years of it sitting in my camera roll for years, it finally has a use. There’s really nothing better to illustrate how mundane life has become this year than the disproportionate level of excitement my photo-hoarding-self experienced realising it would fit perfectly into this post and is thus eligible for deletion. Up there with being able to fit a whole box of biscuits onto the shelf at work rather than having to individually take out as many as I can and then shove them on top of the existing box of biscuits one by one. Truly riveting content on this Tumblr page. Back to the point-by using this as my stimulus for the post rather than the Lana Del Rey albums as outfits tag that went round on Twitter, I can conveniently exclude NFR as an outfit inspiration category, and that saves me from having to buy a charity shop windbreaker with its price bumped up 150% by some upper middle class Depop e-girl or boy who uses the word peng as a descriptor like it’s a nervous tic. To make up for leaving out NFR, I’ve tried to branch out a bit and do the outfits not just based on the music videos or album covers but also from street style and stage looks and photoshoots from around the same period too. It was hard not to be influenced by the general “vibe” and sound of the albums either when I was planning outfits, whether it’s the grand, orchestral instrumentals of Born to Die or the 70s psychedelic rock inspired riffs of Ultraviolence and hopefully that’ll show as well! Enjoy:D

Born to Die (Release Date: 27th January 2012)

It’s been 8 years, and when you ask most people what they think of when they hear the name Lana Del Rey, they’ll probably dismiss her as the one who sings about being sad and doing coke and sleeping with older men. That’s the Born to Die impact. Say what you want but it’s one of only a handful of albums released by a female artist to have spent more than 300 weeks on the Billboard 200 chart and it really established the mythos of “Lana Del Rey” because before all this, before all the think pieces from other women claiming she’d set feminism back hundreds of years with her music, before she ousted grayscale Effy Stonem as the queen of angsty teen Tumblr (which as you can probably guess was a subsection of the internet I was very much engulfed by, lmao), she was just Lizzie Grant, a relatively normal aspiring singer songwriter in her early twenties. But as Lana Del Rey, she was someone else-some beautiful, mystical being that personified the sentiment of being born in the wrong era. Whilst every other singer’s record labels seemed to be trying desperately to thrust them into the future and keep them on top of all the musical and stylistic trends, it was refreshing to hear someone whose music and visuals captured all the most glamorous elements of the past. Part Priscilla Presley/Jackie O reincarnation (the National Anthem video really illustrated how Lana is just as much a storyteller as she is a musician), part high level mobster’s wayward wife à la Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface, she was the good girl by day and the bad girl by night, and I think that’s a duality we can all relate to or would like to think we’re interesting enough to relate to deep down.

Her style from around this period was EVERYTHING. She had those grungy Tumblr girl elements, the camo jacket and the oversized pieces and the leather jackets, but she also heavily drew on the styles and silhouettes of the 50s and 60s with the beehives and the new look Dior inspired cinched waist dresses. Even now in 2020, I think this period is what most people would think if they were asked to describe Lana’s style. I made sure I got the grungy pieces in there with the chunky boots and the vinyl and the oversized leather but the foundation of her looks back then were usually these daintier throwback pieces like the white silk dress and the corset and the mint fur trimmed coat (House of Sunny’s Penny Pistachio coat).

Favourite lyrics from the album? “Now my life is sweet like cinnamon, like a fucking dream I'm living in” from Radio. Nobody asked but I’m gonna give it to you anyway.

Born to Die: The Paradise Edition (Release Date: 9th November 2012)

Lana’s Paradise EP contains probably my absolute favourite song of her’s, Ride, and with that, the beautiful opening monologue that will stay in my mind forever. This era was of course ushered in by Tropico, the short film that included the premiere of the songs Bel Air, Body Electric and Gods and Monsters, which established the ethereal tone of this period-it’s in the name, after all. Both the album and the videos were other-worldly and leaned heavily on religious symbolism which I’m sure pissed off many a middle-aged bible basher at the time. Most prominent in her lyrics were reflections on the freedom of the open road which corresponded with visuals of biker gangs and desert dwellers and modern interpretations of the Wild West, as was an attempt to capture the nature of the so-called “American spirit” which as Lana portrayed it shared more qualities with a kind of celestial, transient being than any kind of solid concept or identity. She played an emotionally detached stripper and a haunted saloon-style-bar singer (almost looking like a runaway bride) and Eve the “first woman” all in the same album and honestly, if that’s not iconic, I don’t know what is. We saw SO many incredible red carpet looks in this period too which built upon this idea of her as the fallen angel tempted by original sin that Tropico established; I feel like this era was all about laying bare the soul of the character she played, this broken, delicate but ultimately liberated being that was so dangerous to the idea of the strong, stable modern feminist ideal. She went about it in COMPLETELY the wrong way in a post that betrayed the ignorance of the privilege she has as a white female performer, but I think this is what she was getting at in it and Ultraviolence only went on to bolster her critics.

In response to the criticism she still receives about the choice to wear a Native American war bonnet in her Ride music video, I’d like to say that it really seems like she’s learnt from that-actions speak louder than words and so though it’s not my place to say whether this makes up for that error, the work she’s done with Native American reparations-focussed foundations since and the money she’s donated to the cause says a lot about her intentions. Again, I want to stress that it’s not my place to say! But it’s a detail that is often overlooked so I thought I’d mention it here. 

“I was a singer, not a very popular one. I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet. But upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky, that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken. But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted and then losing it to know what true freedom is.”

Ultraviolence (Release Date: 13th June 2014)

AH, Ultraviolence. My favourite of Lana’s albums and imo, a masterpiece. ONE skip. ONE. Sorry Guns and Roses. I got stoned in my back garden and listened to this (for research purposes ofc, heh) and ended up deciding that this is what I want to listen to when I die (also whilst stoned). It sounds dramatic but listening to this album in that state of mind is such a heavenly experience that I’d be too zen to notice myself slipping away into nothingness on the basis that if I didn’t as long as I could stay in that bubble of awe, nothingness forever wouldn’t be so scary after all. I know, I know, that sentence has big Jaden Smith’s old tweets energy. But if an album is what helps me get over an existential crisis, I beg you allow me the nonsensical ramblings about how I felt like I was ascending into the stars.

Though in terms of the lyrical content the public perception is probably correct, I think the reputation Ultraviolence has as Lana’s darkest, most gothic album (which is something I’ve in incorporated into the outfits I put together) is mistaken; instrumentally and visually it drew more on 70s psychedelic rock and the bohemian counter culture of the period than anything, and her stage looks are a clear reflection of that, and also the outfits I was most excited to channel. It seems counter-intuitive to the moody atmosphere I associate the tracklist with but it’s my go-to summer album; it’s raw (probably her most stripped back work along with NFR, lots of the songs are barely edited) and it’s gloomy but let’s be real, hot as fuck-don’t bother making a sex playlist, just put Ultraviolence on shuffle, and you’re good to go. This was the album where Lana debuted some of her most criticised lyrics and where the notion that she glamourises abuse comes from, one of the points she also seemed to be getting at in the Instagram post, but imo it’s fair to say that she sang truthfully about the initial allure of a dangerous relationship and the nature of the mindset that facilitates staying with somebody poisonous where you do feel like you’re nothing without them. Turning horrific experiences into romantic tragedies is how Lana has always made her music and yeah, out of context there are some fucked up lyrics on the album, but policing how a woman expresses her trauma and complaining that she glorifies weakness because she wrote honestly about the reality of a complicated partnership is hardly any more “feminist” than the lyrics themselves. I can only guess that the reason Lana felt the need to bring up this criticism in 2020 is because these darker themes are going to be revisited in her upcoming album and that in spite of the issues with the way she expressed herself, this time critics will be more accepting of how she chooses to address these themes. 

On a lighter note “yeah my boyfriend's pretty cool, but he's not as cool as me” will always be a great line. Simple but effective. If my boyfriend ever is cooler than me it’ll be doing Lana a disservice.

Honeymoon (Release Date: 18th September 2015)

Considering that a lot of other Lana fans are of the opinion that this is her best album, I find it weird that I really don’t remember all that much about this period, other than High by the Beach being released and then hearing Salvatore and Freak for the first time. I guess because she didn’t do a Honeymoon specific tour and didn’t make that many public appearances in this period? It was definitely harder for me to find visual reference points beyond the HbtB music video and the cover art, so I mostly drew on the general vibe of the album, a cinematic accompaniment to a summer in Italy or the South of France, filled with exotic instrumentals and the sense of impending romantic doom that Lana does so well. I suppose if I associate the visuals of this era with anything it’s idyllic florals and warm tones, bygone country club pool days, a rich American’s vacation in Southern Europe, long walks on the beach (and as our Lord and Saviour Jujubee once said, big dicks and fried chicken). Apparently inspired by Lana’s relationship with Francesco Carrozini, it’s a hazy story of some ultra-feminine, submissive archetype becoming unhealthily enchanted by a mysterious “foreign man” who’s ultimately not all that good for her, which as the story goes turned out to be quite prophetic. Going against the grain, it’s my least favourite of her albums after Lust for Life, but in spite of that, I will always remember how obsessed I was with the sax riffs (I think? I don’t know my instruments all that well so forgive me, lol) on Freak and I definitely understand why it’s a firm favourite for so many.

“You could be a bad motherfucker, but that don’t make you a man.” was truly a cultural reset of a line.

-on an unrelated note, OMG, I never realised how I have my mouth open in literally every fucking photo I take, somebody tell me how to pose, please and thank you-

Lust for Life (Release Date: 21 July 2017)

Lust for Life is a controversial one. On the one hand, I appreciate that this album was the victory cry of a happier, more independent, politically-aware Lana in spite of it apparently being a far more optimistic sounding album than the one she wanted to release, but on the other there were way too many collaborations for me and this meant that the album lacked a sense of cohesion and the characteristic narrative thread that usually runs throughout her tracklist. Aside from Love, Cherry, Get Free and Tomorrow Never Came, most of the songs on the album aren’t hugely memorable and it’s a crying shame that a collaboration with STEVIE FUCKING NICKS of all people left so much to be desired. Coming from two witchy icons, I expected something absolutely magical so maybe I was setting myself up for failure, but come on. We could’ve had a real anthem there.

Aesthetically speaking however, this is one of my favourite eras for Lana, which is unsurprising when you consider the tracklist contains references to both Woodstock and Coachella. I’m not gonna lie, I think seeing Coachella fashion in my early teens was my style awakening-I remember seeing Vanessa Hudgens’ outfits and being like, wow, I want to be her (oh, what a fall from grace)-so the late 60s/early 70s flower power groupie style Lana adopted in this period really spoke to me. It was all long hair and dreamy pastels, and this era included some of the most head-to-toe coordinated looks we’ve ever seen from her. Of course I couldn’t completely abandon the grungy touches that I love, that I tend to associate with the early Lana street style days and the Paradise and Ultraviolence music videos rather than with this album, but I’m never gonna pass up an opportunity to whack out a good floral two piece and putting together Lust for Life inspired looks is the perfect excuse to do that.

So, that marks the end of this post! If you made it to the end, thank you so much for reading! I have a Yesstyle lookbook and review to edit but now that I’ve finished that, I’m trying to go down more of a style inspiration focussed  route with my lookbooks rather than just putting together outfits from clothes I’ve just bought (though I might still do one every so often to bring in a new season-let’s just ignore the fact that they’re all blending into one bc climate change for now, one catastrophe at a time please universe). I find that if you have a specific idea in mind of what you want, it’s super easy to find something similar on Depop and Ebay and that way you avoid buying new things and also take old things off a person’s hands that might otherwise end up being thrown out by a charity shop and then dumped into a landfill from there. Something I’d LOVE to do before this year is out is put together a lookbook based on the most stylish TV shows of the last decade, but that probably won’t be for a while-even so, if you have any recommendations of series to watch which could fit into this category, let me know! 

To finish, I need to go a little bit off-topic so forgive me, but I truly don’t know why this even needs to be said: WEAR A FUCKING MASK. IT IS NOT A POLITICAL ISSUE. IT IS A BASIC HYGIENIC PRACTICE THAT HELPS SPREAD THE STOP OF A HIGHLY CONTAGIOUS DISEASE! RUDIMENTAL SCIENCE! NOT A CHANCE TO PROVE HOW “EDGY” YOU ARE! SERIOUSLY, STOP MAKING A FUCKING PANDEMIC ABOUT YOURSELF! NOBODY ENJOYS WEARING THEM BUT THEY HELP PROTECT OTHERS! SO UNLESS YOU HAVE A VALID MEDICAL REASON NOT TO BE WEARING ONE, DON’T BE A SELFISH PRICK! 

Sorry to sign off on a rant-y note with something that has nothing to do with Lana, lol, but all the stupidity has been grinding me gears lately and I had to let it out on behalf of all retail workers: if we can wear a mask for 9 hours at a time, YOU can tolerate the mild discomfort of wearing one for 10 minutes. I know this doesn’t apply to the majority of people but there’s always a couple of arseholes, isn’t there!?

Stay safe,

Lauren x

[sinnamonfox]

~ Sean x Finn - Rival mechanics AU ~

Exam period’s dying down, still, I should be writing essays rn yet here I am, spewing out AUs. Oh well.

Hope you guys enjoy it too! <3

I imagined Blood Brothers Sean and Daniel cuz hot damn, plus Parting Ways Finn, his dreads in a bun. Since Daniel just turns 21 I guess Sean’s 28 and Finn’s maybe a year or two older.

Both of the boys are mechanics in Seattle. They have their own, separate business in the same area, not too far from each other. Finn has been dealing with cars all his life and Sean's watched Esteban during work, often gave him a hand too. Now, that Esteban's been gone for a few years, Sean's taking over the garage with the occasional help of his little brother, although he wasn't so little either anymore, only turning 21.

As far as Sean can remember Esteban hated the McNamara Salon. Said they were no good troublemakers, knowing the owner from when Esteban started up his business here after freshly settling down in the country. He was suspecting that him and his sons were actually living off of illegal deals. Although the other man never explicitly said so, something was just.. off. Turned out, his dad was right.

Finn's own father isn't a good man, he's far from it. He's still in jail for drug dealing, car stealing, domestic violence and putting his minor sons up to his kind of work. Finn ended up in juvie but he's out now years later and he's running the garage all alone, under legal circumstances. It's a lot of work, especially after his father put a permanent mark on the garage's reputation, but he's doing his best to get by. Being a mechanic is the only thing he knows how to do anyway.

It's a warm summer night when they accidentally meet at a bar. Sean's taking Daniel out drinking for his 21th birthday with Lyla, Chris, Noah and some of Daniel's college buddies. Sean goes up to the bar to buy the first round of shots, leaning on the counter, waiting with his fingers tapping the surface.

Finn.. he's fucking smitten the minute he spots Sean. There's just something about him that stands out in the crowd. He's also kind of.. familiar. Sean has a slightly rugged look with a goatee. He's all lean muscle, broad shoulders in a plain white tshirt that compliments his natural tan skin so well, a long, black wolf medallion hanging by the middle of his chest. The veins on his arms are prominent from all the smoking and heavy lifting, and his legs.. well, fuck.

Finn doesn't hesitate for a second before sliding up to him, calling him sweetheart right off the bat.

Sean's considerably less shy than he was a years ago as a teen. He's still quiet, more brooding than he used to be but definitely more upfront as well. He flirts back because Finn's very attractive and it's flattering that someone like him is showing interest in Sean. With Finn's dreads put up in a bun his sharp features are fully visible, there's a septum hanging from his nose. His face tattoos are strangely endearing, he pulls them off by being so confident in his own skin.

They banter flirtily, there's no doubt about the attraction between the two. Finn notices the Diaz tattoo on Sean's wrist and it clicks where he's seen those brown doe eyes before. They met once because of their dads. He comments something about his looks and how he’s changed. Sean's confused at first. As it dawns on him, he starts acting more reluctant, recalling Esteban's warnings about the no-good McNamara family. Finn, despite sensing the shift in his behavior, doesn't give up.

When Sean gets his shots, he excuses himself back to Daniel's, but before he could go back Finn hands over his phone number, scribbled down quickly on a scrap of paper with a goofy smiley:

"*call me, Sweetie

xoxo ~ Finn*"

Finn gets back to his own crew but all he can do through the whole night is steal glances of Sean. Sean tries to focus on Daniel, it's his birthday after all. He's giving him the keys to his old car but playfully warns him not to give it a go tonight. Daniel's ecstatic, it's the first (official) time they're getting drunk together.

Still, even after finding out about who he was, Sean's eyes can't help wandering over to Finn.. the two men's gaze occasionally meet from across the room. Turns out, both Lyla and Daniel notice, they saw the two interact at the bar and what they're doing now is obvious. They tease Sean because of it. "Think you've got some drool on your face, man." Daniel knocks his elbow against his with a cheeky grin, Lyla has a similar expression on her face as she sushes Daniel. "Sssh, careful, dude. You're interrupting the eye-fucking."

Sean decides he needs a smoke. He downs his (third) shot before grabbing the lighter and cigarette pack from his coat then heads out alone. He can't resist checking on Finn one last time despite how his head is full of warnings. Finn catches it and follows not too far behind, ignoring his friends' perverted comments.

Sean's leaning against the brickwall in the alley with his left leg bent when Finn joins him. "Ain't usually into smokers but damn, sweetheart. That's a good look on ya." Finn's accent is impossible to miss, his voice is smooth and so relaxing. The grey smoke cascades out of Sean's mouth as he exhales, disappearing into the dark night, his own cheeks slightly pink but the neon lights conceal it. His lips wrap around the cigarette one more time before they part softly, looking erotic even though it's not his intention. Finn follows the motion with his eyes, not at all hiding his interest.

At first, it's mostly Finn flirting, Sean's still undecided, his heart in a constant fight with his brain. They chat for long, their friends completely forgotten. They end up laughing together, a lot. Sean finds out Finn's got a way with words and Finn.. he learns that Sean doesn't really but it's okay because he gets him on a deeper level. Sean's eyes are more expressive than he is verbally but luckily Finn's excellent at reading people. The tan male finds himself liking this punk more and more.

The topic turns more serious. They connect. Neither of them knows how but they end up chatting about their families. Finn he reveals more than he normally would to strangers, Sean (sort of) knows his situation anyway. Sean talks about how he's alone with Daniel, the only family they have is each other and Finn can relate to that, his brothers are the only family he's got left.

As silence falls upon them once more, Sean realizes Finn's somehow drifted closer to him and he can feel Finn's breath on his face. There comes the moment which seems to be a turning point, somehow. Both of the guys are thinking the same. Finn's eyes flickering down to Sean's plump lips. Their heartbeats quickening, breathing turning faster. Finn makes the first step, bringing a calloused hand up to Sean's face, thumb swiping over his cheek, curiously awaiting his reaction.

Sean's heart wins. His lips part, he couldn't look away from Finn's piercing blue eyes and doesn't think before he closes the distance, their lips meeting in a sensual kiss that's excruciatingly slow and passionate. Sean feels like he's forgotten how to breathe, the wind's knocked right out of him. Finn's lips are massaging against Sean's for minutes, they're getting lost in the sensations. Sean's hands are now resting on Finn's hip, not wanting to pull back because it's so damn good.

When Finn goes to break away, Sean chases after him and tugs on the neck of his tshirt to pull him back which causes their bodies to collide accidentally.

Finn downright moans.

Pins Sean against the wall with his forearm by his head, which in turn makes the younger whimper into his mouth. Finn swallows up the sound, the make out session suddenly turns more heated. Sean’s long fingers slide up the front of Finn's tshirt, feeling up the flat of his stomach and it sets off something in the tattooed man, his tongue pushing into Sean's mouth to explore it eagerly. Finn grabs Sean's ass over those tight black jeans and they're both getting carried away, it's too much and Sean's stopped thinking..

Hannah interrupts, looking for Finn because Cassidy knocked herself out. They're both visibly flustered, Sean's feeling shy suddenly. "Sorry, darlin'. Duty calls but.. would love to do this again, sometime. All'uv it." Finn winks suggestively before disappearing inside, leaving Sean there alone. He brings his fingers up to his lips, the taste of Finn still lingering.

[wonjaekook]

The Perfect Man

A/N: We’re starting off with one of the most cliche of cliche tropes - best friends to lovers, with this particular plot. You’ll see :)

21 Tropes: 1. Best friends-to-lovers + lavender w/Johnny (ft. Jaehyun)

Description: You’ve spent the last few years trying to find the perfect man. After a lot of first dates and not many second, you finally find him. You also find that, maybe, he’d been there the entire time.

Word Count: 5.2k

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: none

“I enjoyed our date, it’s just,” he clears his throat to try to reduce the awkward air between you, “it didn’t seem like your heart was in it. No spark, you know? Um, thanks anyways and maybe I’ll see you around?”

“Thanks... I enjoyed it-” The streetlight illuminates his figure as he turns his back and begins to walk away, “-too.”

Truthfully, you didn’t even remember his name. He was good-looking enough and remained polite through the entire evening, putting up with all of your lame attempts at jokes, but there was nothing impactful about him. He was right that there wasn’t a spark - but that didn’t make the rejection hurt any less. As you let yourself back into your empty apartment, flicking on the lights and mulling over the failed date, you remember that you owe Johnny a text. Right on cue, your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Johnny: how’d it go?

Johnny: unless it’s going reaaally well… then don’t answer this text ;)

Y/N: no luck. he didn’t want a second date.

Johnny: damn

Johnny: call me?

Kicking off your shoes at the door, you slump down on your sofa and press on his contact. The instant you hear his voice on the other end of the phone, you relax a little.

“So, what happened?”

You frown, though the man on the other end can’t see your expression. “He said it didn’t seem like my heart was in it. What does that even mean?”

At this point, he would normally crack a dumb joke, saying something like ‘it means your heart wasn’t in it,’ but he seems to sense your dejection through the phone and bites back any insensitive comments. “Don’t get caught up on this one guy, Y/N. He just didn’t really see what you have to offer, and that’s his loss. He’s just one guy. One dumb guy.”

“But, the thing is, it’s not just one guy! Every date I’ve been on for the last god-knows how long has ended like this. I haven’t had a stable boyfriend since high school!” The last part comes out as a whine. “I just don’t get it, Johnny. What’s wrong with me? Do I lack passion? Do I need new hobbies? Is there something wrong with my face?” You rant to him, getting slightly more bitter with every question. He sighs into the phone.

“Listen, how about I set you up with my friend? He’s the perfect guy and you’ll love him. If you don’t get a second date, next round of drinks is on me.”

“Not that I doubt your matchmaking skills, Seo, but you’d better be prepared to pay for drinks.”

“Does that mean you agree to the date?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” In your mind’s eye, you see him celebrating his small victory, grinning into his phone. The image has a genuine smile tugging at your lips for the first time since you had left for your date earlier that night. Except, even as he had suggested the date, he feels a tugging in his chest and a slight frown making its way onto his face. He almost wants to take back the offer, but if it has a chance at making you happy…

Even though you know almost for a fact that the date Johnny is planning is going to fail, just like the rest of them, it wouldn’t kill you to make him happy and go on it. Yeah, maybe a part of your heart would hurt, but it wouldn’t kill you. Before he can say anything else, you remember that you need to return the favor and ask about his day. “How was practice, John?”

“Long. Tiring. So, the usual.” You chuckle at his comment. “I miss you. We should hang out soon.” “You’re the one living the idol life with a full schedule all the time. Still, let me know when you’re free. I miss you, too.” Glancing at the clock on your wall, you frown. It’s almost half past eleven. “It’s getting late. What time do you have to wake up?” “We have a schedule in the morning so, maybe… 4:30?”

You nearly scream, but you suppress it. Your neighbors would not have liked the noise at this time of night. “You idiot! Get off the phone and go to sleep!”

“Are you sure I have to? I have the energy of Donghyuck on three cups of coffee right now!” Hearing him whine almost makes you laugh and give in. However, as much as you’re enjoying talking to him, you know he tends to let his health rest on the backburner sometimes and you couldn’t let him be even more sleep-deprived than he already is, especially with his early schedule tomorrow.

“Yes, I’m sure. Sleep well! Now, go.”

“Alright, mom, I’m going. I’ll let you know when your date is! Goodnight!” After forcing some cheer into his voice, he hangs up and you stare at your blank phone screen, smiling softly and mumbling to yourself. Unbeknownst to you, on the other side of the black mirror, he does the same.

“Goodnight, Johnny.”

The next morning, you wake up to a text from your best friend.

Johnny: date’s this friday at 3, i’ll send you more details later xoxo

Though he wants to keep it a surprise, you try to grill him on who his friend is. You only manage to get out of him that, no, he is not as tall as Johnny, and, yes, he’s trustworthy.

By the time Friday rolls around, you’re nervous. This is Johnny’s friend - how much does he know about you? Did Johnny tell him about the incident from freshman year of high school? Does he already know your full name and your birthday and all about your parents? Has Johnny even mentioned you to him before? Your feet nearly drag as you walk to a familiar cafe, one you frequent with Johnny whenever he has time. And, outside of the cafe, you see a somewhat friendly face leaning against the building. “Jaehyun?” You say. There’s no way…

“Y/N!” His smile is sweet, a slight sparkle glimmering in his eyes when he notices you.

Though you don’t know him too well, you know that he’s a nice guy. You’d been to your fair share of small NCT 127 gatherings with Johnny, but you never had many opportunities to chat with Jaehyun in particular. With the short exchanges you did have with him, he came off as polite and funny, and you do find him attractive. Perhaps this wouldn’t be the most disastrous date ever.

His hair is a lavender color, faded from what used to be a more vibrant purple, and his dress is relatively casual, just a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, which makes you feel slightly more relieved when you notice. You’re glad you didn’t completely underdress on the first date.

“So, are you the friend that Johnny pressured into going on a date with me?” You start, standing in front of him. He straightens up from his leaning position and moves to pull the door to the cafe open, gesturing for you to enter first.

“Yes,” he says, a smile resting on his lips, “though I wouldn’t say there was much pressure involved. I’ve always thought you were cute.”

Your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise. “Really?” You can’t help saying.

“Yes, really.”

The atmosphere of the cafe has always leaned on the romantic side with its warm air and cozy furniture. Each hanging light fixture glows a soft amber and the windows let in a good amount of daylight. You prefer the vibe at night, but it’s just as nice to come during the day, especially with a handsome guy at your side. That is, a different handsome guy than usual. Thankfully, the cafe also keeps its mouth shut about idols visiting.

Ever the gentleman, he pays for your coffee, pulls out your chair, and does everything right. If you’re being perfectly honest, a date hasn’t gone this well in ages and you’ve only been together for fifteen minutes. As time progresses, you find yourself laughing along with him and smiling wider than you have in a while. When your time together starts to come to a close after what feels like the blink of an eye later, he offers to walk you back to your apartment, which you quickly agree to.

As you walk with him, you prepare yourself for the worst. Though you felt like it had gone really well, did he feel the same? You’d led yourself to think dates that had gone poorly actually went well before. What if it was another case of that? So, his first words when you stop in front of your apartment building surprise you. “I’d really like to see you again.”

“I-” You find yourself flustered, stumbling over a response to something you never thought you would hear. His eyes crinkle up in amusement at your reaction and you work to pull yourself together. “I’d like that, too.”

“Great!” His smile begins to melt the barrier of insecurity you’d put up around your heart. “This might sound kind of weird, but Johnny actually already gave me your number. I’ll text you?” At the mention of your best friend, your lips quirk up. You’d have to thank him later.

“Ah, yeah! Don’t worry too much about it, though. I know you have a busy schedule.”

“You’re worth making time for, Y/N.”

The sudden comment has your face heating up, a pleasant blush coloring your cheeks. It feels nice to be appreciated like that. It is nice to be appreciated like that. Saying a shy goodbye, you part ways with Jaehyun. As soon as you’re away from prying eyes, you can’t help but do a little happy-dance. Finishing up your celebrating, you pull out your phone and tap on your text conversation with Johnny. Except, before you start texting him, you stop. A nagging feeling pulls at your heart that you can’t quite place. You shake your head to try and clear it of the strange feeling. What is wrong with you?

Y/N: you didn’t tell me you were sending one of your group members!!

Johnny: oh? pleasantly surprised?

Y/N: better than surprised

Y/N: we had a really great time and he wants a second date!

Johnny: and you doubted my matchmaking skills

Johnny: you’re perfect, he’s perfect, how could it not have worked out?

Your eyes catch at that text. Johnny thinks you’re perfect? Before you can overthink it too much, you tap out a response.

Y/N: shut up johnny, it’s only been one date

Johnny: it always starts with the first date ;)

When Jaehyun returns to the dorms that day, Johnny congratulates him, giving him a friendly slap on the back. He had left the dorm that day looking great, lavender hair perfectly styled, not a thread out of place in his outfit, every piece of him as put together as could be, and he had come back looking just as great. After he returns, Johnny finds that the stewing ball of jealousy in his heart had turned lavender, just like his friend’s hair.

“I really like her, John,” he says, glowing in a way that Johnny hadn’t seen in a while. The thread of envy tugging at his heart pulls taut, but he pushes the feeling back. He wouldn’t sabotage his member’s or his best friend’s potential happiness for the sake of his dumb pining. However, perceptive as always, the younger boy notices his slight shift in expression. “Are you really okay with this?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? I set you guys up.” He isn’t okay with it, but he would force himself to be.

The second date goes just as well. You can’t help but love being around Jaehyun. He’s naturally charming and funny and you understand why he and Johnny get along so well. You actually see a bit of your best friend in him, which puts you even more at ease. On your ice cream and park date, you spend hours just talking to him, learning about each other, until the sun has long gone down and you’ve walked past the same tree five times. When he offers you his arm, you hook your own through it, enjoying the close proximity. Once you’re in front of your apartment building once again, he drops his arm and turns to face you.

“So,” he starts, “we’re having a movie night at our dorm on Saturday. Johnny and all the other guys will be there, and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

“I would love to, Jaehyun,” you tell him, your eyes lighting up at the opportunity. He seems excited by your response and, reluctantly, you both part ways. You choose not to bring up the topic of your date with Johnny, but he texts you an hour later anyways.

Johnny: movie night. this saturday. you coming?

Y/N: hell yeah! Jaehyun already invited me ^^

Johnny: oh

Johnny: well bring snacks or you’re uninvited

So, on Saturday, you pull up to the dorm, snacks in hand. Having grown up together in the States, you two share similar tastes and not-so-coincidentally have the same favorite chips. When you knock, you hear muffled shouting from the other side of the door before Johnny opens it, the sight of his bare face and floppy brown hair making you instantly light up.

“Y/N!”

“Johnny!”

He picks you up and spins you in the most cliche way possible, triggering you to drop your bag of snacks in the process and making you laugh and hit his chest to put you down. “Put me down or I’m taking my snacks back!”

A second after you say that, he drops you back onto your feet, grabbing the bag and walking to the kitchen. Once he puts you down, you notice Jaehyun leaning against the wall behind him, watching the entire exchange with an amused smile on his face. His lavender hair falls in his eyes and you can’t help but think that he looks particularly good today.

“Jae,” you grin, “I’m happy to see you.”

“Oh?” He says, standing up straight from his position against the wall, “I already get a nickname?”

“Well, if you don’t want one-” You start, biting the edge of your lip.

“I’m kidding. You can honestly call me whatever you want.” He leans in, surprising you by planting a quick kiss on your cheek and pulling away to see the blush making its way onto your face.

“Just don’t call him daddy!” You hear Johnny call from the kitchen in English, “He’d probably be into that!”

You and Jaehyun look at each other before bursting into laughter. “Funny coming from you, Seo!” You call back.

“Shut up!”

As you make your way deeper inside, Jaehyun’s hand brushing yours but never interlocking, you greet all of the other boys as you come across them. Out of the others, you’re closest to Mark, as he also speaks English, and he reminds you a lot of your own little brother. So, when Jaehyun sits next to you instead of Mark and Johnny, like they normally do, Donghyuck is confused for them. You quietly explain the situation between you and Jaehyun.

Donghyuck’s eyes shift towards the kitchen. “But, aren’t you-”

Mark nudges him and he shuts up, confusing you. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, but leans in to whisper to Mark. You roll your eyes at their confusing behavior and settle closer to Jaehyun’s side, much to his satisfaction. When your best friend enters the room, however, they look up at him and Donghyuck opens his mouth to speak again. “Hyung, tell us an embarrassing story about Y/N.”

“Oh, god,” you say, eyes nervously darting between the maknae and your best friend, “Johnny, do not. Absolutely do not.”

He smiles deviously. He’d better not talk about-

“Freshman year of high school,” he starts and you glare at him.

“Johnny, I will hurt you,” you hiss in English, making Mark and Jaehyun laugh. You can feel his deep laugh rumble in his chest, but your focus remains on Johnny.

Johnny shushes you. “Shh, Y/N, I’m telling the kids a story.” He picks back up where he’d left off a moment before, much to your displeasure. “So, freshman year of high school, there was this guy. He really liked Y/N and, one beautiful autumn day, he asked her out during lunch while we were sitting at our lunch table.” He pauses, looking you in the eye, knowing the worst has yet to come. “But! She did not like him back, and, instead of rejecting him like a normal person, she just blurted out that I was her boyfriend.” You bury your face in your hands, groaning. “However, he didn’t believe her, so we had to pretend to be dating for a month until he left her alone.” The laughter of the others fills the room and you peer between your fingers to glare at him. You don’t notice that Jaehyun isn’t laughing as hard as the rest of them, instead watching the exchange between you and Johnny closely.

“Johnny, don’t make me pull out the pictures,” you threaten, hand reaching for your phone.

“I’m not afraid,” he retorts, smirking.

As the conversation continues, Jaehyun closely watches the two of you until, a moment later, his eyes soften. He should have known.

Eventually, the topic passes and one of the boys starts the movie, some action flick that they had previously agreed on, and you stay close by Jaehyun’s side for the entire thing. A few minutes into the film, you feel like something is off, but you can’t quite place it. That is, until it suddenly hits you. You’re not sitting next to Johnny. At this point, you’d normally be leaning in to whisper dumb comments to each other and, though Jaehyun occasionally provides some of his own, you find that it isn’t at all the same. You do appreciate the arm that he has around you, the closeness of being with someone you like, but a lingering feeling in your gut has you feeling strangely about the situation. Though you try to ignore it, the feeling doesn’t go away during the entire movie.

As you’re preparing to leave and all the boys file away to get ready for bed, Jaehyun trails after you, politely offering you an arm to lean on so you can slip your shoes on. When you’re about to turn around and leave, however, he stops you. “Y/N,” he says, “are you free tomorrow?”

“I should be, why?” You’re curious, knowing he wouldn’t normally ask you out so spontaneously.

“Do you want to go to the cafe with me?” Inexplicably, your stomach drops. You have a bad feeling about this. “My treat,” he adds, setting you slightly more at ease.

“Oh, sure. Text me a time?”

When he texts you later that night, he seems normal. When you arrive at the cafe, he seems normal, when he’s paying for your drinks, he seems normal, when he sits down at a table with you, everything seems perfectly normal. After some small talk, he clears his throat and your heart sinks.

“Y/N, I gotta level with you. I really like you, but,” he pauses and you begin to feel the disappointment and rejection that always follows those words. You lower your head, not really wanting to meet his eyes, the coffee cup in your hands held tight under white knuckles. “You’re in love with Johnny.”

“What?” Your head snaps up and you look him straight in the eye, your mouth slightly agape. That was certainly not what you were expecting to hear. “What?” You say again, absolutely dumbfounded.

“You’re in love with Johnny.” He quickly realizes that repeating the same thing isn’t getting rid of the confused expression on your face and he begins to explain. “I saw the way you look at him, Y/N. Tell me if I’m wrong, but is he the one person in the world you’re the most comfortable with, the one you look forward to seeing all the time, the one you compare everyone to without even trying?” When you don’t answer, he knows that he hit the nail on the head. He gives you a smile, a soft, sad smile that very nearly breaks your heart.

“I…” you start, trying to find the right words to deny him, “I… I’m not in love with him…” The words are quiet, like you’re trying not convince yourself more than convince him. You feel more at a loss about your feelings than you ever have in your life.

“It probably happened a long time ago and you didn’t even realize it,” he says quietly, his voice softer than ever. “Just think about it. I’m pretty sure that he feels the same way about you. And,” the pause he puts between his next words seems longer than the last, and your eyes drift from the table back up to his eyes, “No matter how you look at it, I’m not Johnny, Y/N. I wasn’t lying when I said that I really like you. But I know that our feelings aren’t the same.” He takes a deep breath in an attempt to settle the air between you. “I’d still like us to stay friends, though, even if we stop seeing each other,” he gestures around him, “like this.”

You take him in, his soft lavender hair, his dark clothes, his stature, everything, and you come to the realization that you had been comparing him to your best friend the entire time you’d been seeing each other. The slightly off feeling you’d had with him was because he wasn’t Johnny. Right now, you don’t want to draw any conclusions, to admit that you’re in love with your best friend, but you can at least face some of the facts.

So, from that day forward, you and Jaehyun begin to get to know each other as friends. You mull over your feelings for a long time, the pieces slowly coming together. Your supposed lack of interest on every new date. Your apprehension about texting him about your first successful date with his friend. Your eagerness to always make time for him, no matter how much your schedule clashed with his.

Then, one day, as you’re sitting in your desk at work, you remember the plans you had made with him that evening and you instantly brighten up, working hard to finish everything. As soon as you find your desk empty of tasks, your mind drifts back to him and it finally hits you.

You’re totally, completely, undeniably in love with your best friend. And you have been for a long, long time.

When the time for you to leave finally arrives, you leap out of your desk, bag in hand, and walk towards the door with a newfound purpose. You’re in love with your Johnny. You’re in love with him and you-

What are you going to do?

Your footsteps slow from their previously brisk pace and you stop at the entrance to the elevator. You can’t just profess your love for your best friend randomly. That would be insane. There’s no guarantee he even feels the same way about you. You figure that you might as well talk to the person who made you have this realization in the first place.

Y/N: you were right.

Jaehyun: do you want to talk about it?

Y/N: yeah… meet me at the cafe tomorrow?

You thank whatever possessed the owner of the cafe to decide to keep it open until 3 AM every day, because, when Jaehyun finally finishes practice, it’s past midnight. You know this issue has waited long enough, however, so you agree to the ridiculously late meet-up.

It takes you a moment to recognize him despite the sparse few patrons in the shop, as his hair is now a deep black instead of the lavender you were used to. “You changed your hair.” You can’t help the observation from slipping out when you sit down in front of him with your drink. The corners of his lips curl up.

“It was time for a change.” He watches you for a moment, waiting for you to speak.

“Thanks for meeting me so late,” you start, unsure of how exactly to proceed, “I… I figured it out. You were right. I met up with him yesterday and… I don’t feel that way around anyone else.”

Yesterday, your little hangout with Johnny was the most normal occurrence that possibly could have happened. He came over to your apartment and you just enjoyed each other’s company, chatting and watching videos over takeout. Yet, while the occurrence was not out of the ordinary, the way you felt was. For the first time, you looked at him and knew that how you saw him was not normal. It wasn’t how someone who was just friends with someone else viewed their friend. When he saw you staring at him weirdly, asking you “what’s wrong?” you wanted to pour out your entire heart to him, confess everything that you had held back for what felt like years at that point. Instead, you responded “Nothing,” even though everything was actually wrong. Everything was wrong because suddenly you wanted his casual touches and joking fliration to mean more and you still didn’t know how he felt about you.

Pulling yourself from your memories, you look at Jaehyun again. “You said that he feels the same way about me, but I don’t know. He’s still the same Johnny he’s always been.”

His phone buzzes in his pants and he frowns. “Sorry, just a second.” A moment later, after responding to whoever had texted him, he looks back at you, his phone returning to his pocket. “I’m not him, so I can’t prove that he feels the same way about you, but trust me. You should tell him.”

“I don’t want to ruin what we have,” you mumble, half to yourself.

“You know it would take a lot more than a confession to ruin your relationship.” He’s right. You know he’s right, but you’re still scared. He reaches out, setting a hand on yours. “You can do it. You won’t be over it under you do.”

Letting out a breath, you nod your head. “I’ll do it. Next time I see him, I’ll…” He squeezes your hand. “I’ll tell him.”

“Good.” He smiles brightly before standing up from his seat across from you. “Now, come on.”

“What?” As he tugs you by the hand out of your chair, you forget about your drinks on the table. You follow him out the door and he drops your hand. And, as you exit, you see him. You stop staring at him in confusion for a second.

“Good luck,” Jaehyun leans in and whispers, giving the small of your back a light push towards Johnny before he turns in the opposite direction and begins to walk away.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting to see you here, but I think he planned this,” Johnny chuckles, beginning to turn in the opposite direction that his bandmate had gone. “Walk with me?”

“As long as you and your long legs don’t go too fast.”

After a minute of walking in silence, he breaks it. “Are you mad at me?” “What?” You say, brows furrowing, “No. Why would I be angry at you?”

“You seemed kind of off last night.” So, he had noticed.

“I just had a lot to think about.” He glances over at you when you answer vaguely. You know you’re just stalling at this point, not confessing, but the time isn’t right. Not yet.

“Is everything going alright with Jaehyun?” He speaks slowly, as if he’s afraid to broach the topic. You don’t have to think long about your response.

“Actually, we’ve stopped seeing each other.” He appears confused, opening his mouth to question you. “We’re just friends now,” you add on quickly. He closes his mouth before opening it again.

“I thought things were going well?”

“They were. Things were fine, he just, I just… he made me realize something.”

Johnny quirks an eyebrow. “Care to share with the class?”

You stop walking and he follows suit, turning to face you on the sidewalk. “I…” It’s now or never. A moment like this wouldn’t happen again. The world seems to stand still for that moment, holding its breath for you. Steeling your nerves, you begin. “Johnny, I realized that the reason guys always think I’m not interested in them is because I’m in love with you. And I know you don’t have to accept my feelings, but-”

“Yes.”

“What?” You stop, flustered. Did he really just interrupt your confession?

“I accept your undying love for me, Johnny Seo, because I might have been waiting for you this entire time.” It finally clicks - why he never went on dates while you continuously tried to find a boyfriend, why he always told you that you were perfect, why he was always there, despite everything. A swelling feeling of relief washes over you, followed with a wave of confusion and frustration at him.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Johnny? Johnny!” Your expression shifts from confusion to irritation when he just smiles at you. “We could’ve been over with this months ago, years ago!”

“Friendly reminder that you were the one who just figured out your feelings. I’ve known for years,” he replies smugly, as if holding back his feelings was some great accomplishment. You stand there, the streetlights creating long shadows around you, a baffled expression on your face. 

“...for how long?” Your voice is soft, questioning. He couldn’t have-

“Since maybe junior year of high school?”

A gasp escapes your lips at his profession and all you can do is stare at him with wide eyes. With some further reflection, you could probably figure out that you felt that way about him for just as long, but this isn’t a competition. He loves you and he has loved you. “How? You really never…?”

He smiles, a deep genuine smile that reaches past his eyes and into his heart, which he had given you a long time ago anyways. “It’s easy when you gave me something to look forward to every day, after every practice, after every test.”

“Johnny… thank you.” It’s all you can say, years of repressed emotions welling up in your chest. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

“I would have waited forever for you, babe.” The teasing smile is back on his lips, but you know that there’s at least some truth to his words.

“Johnny Seo, the perfect man,” you giggle, fake-swooning at his attempt to be smooth.

“It’s time you stop thinking about me as just the perfect man and also start thinking about me as the perfect boyfriend.”

[fae-fucker]

Zenith: Chapter 56-59

Chapter 56

We’re in Andi’s POV. She’s angsting, as usual, about how she’s a bad person and all that stuff, but now that she and Valen have exchanged apologies and everyone else is partying down, she will allow herself to get wasted and dance for real, which is significant because she only pretends to dance. With ghosts. Yeah, remember that bit? I wish I didn’t.

Andi finds herself looking for Dex Dogtective and thinking about how they used to bone good, but she’s acting all tsundere about it:

The two of them together were like Griss and Rigna. They just didn’t mix well.

We still don’t know what Griss and Rigna is, and I bet we never will! I’m assuming it’s some sort of booze, in which case ... I mean I’m no expert but some specific types of Earth booze go together. We don’t exactly know the effects of neither Griss nor Rigna or how they interact in the same system to have this comparison make sense to us.

But sure, uuh, deep sci-fi worldbuilding, I guess.

Andi asks Valen if he’s ready and that this isn’t one of their military balls and they can just “live,” and Valen is like “how does one live” and Andi’s like “lets find out together” and it’s very deep, trust me, I promise.

They see the Unified Systems flag and Valen makes a comment about “them” not deserving to be on the flag. Andi assumes he’s talking about the Olen System, where Xen Pterra is, and we get yet another exposition dump about how Xen Pterra was running out of resources and attacked the other systems for not helping. Which, and forgive me if I’ve said this before, doesn’t make any sense? Wars are expensive, resources spent in armed conflict could have been used to help out the planet instead. I dunno if Shinsay are trying to make a Statement about people in power caring more about warfare than their own populations, but I’d be very surprised if they went that route and didn’t play this as straight as they seem to be. 

Shinsay introduce yet another type of booze. Andi and Valen drink it. It’s good shit. They go dancing.

She felt weightless.

Like a starship made of glass.

... but with metal shields that pop out when it needs extra protection. See, this metaphor could’ve been good if any thought went into it beyond “does this make me sound deep?”

Chapter 57

Dex is already tipsy and he’s thinking about how hot Andi is in ... interesting terms.

Andi, with her “stab you in the balls and laugh at you as you scream” eyes.

I ... What?

Pro tip: When having a character describe someone they find desirable and you want to convey that to the reader, avoid using the word “balls” anywhere in that description.

Just some advice<3 xoxo love u

Anyway, Dex watches Andi have fun with Valen and the crew and decides he wants in on that. He approaches Andi and it’s all supposedly very sexy. He notes that she’s drunk and he’s also tipsy I guess but even though she’s “not thinking straight” his “body” wants this so they go in for a smooch when

DUN DUN DUUN

Something explodes and the chapter ends.

Riveting.

Chapter 58

The Xen Pterrans are attacking. Lon gets instantly wounded because drama. Dex pulls Andi to the ground and covers her with his body. It would’ve been exciting and/or touching if I cared. Alas.

Chapter 59

We’re in Valen’s POV. He’s having flashbacks to his torture. He’s about to get shot by a Xen Pterran when:

“No!” Valen shouted. “No! Not me!” He closed his eyes and waited for the shot. But instead, a body brushed past his. Valen opened his eyes, and the soldier was gone.

Valen tries to hide and sees Andi and the rest of the crew being all badass. He’s starting to have a severe flashback and is about to lose his grip on reality when Andi snaps him out of it with a smack to the head (don’t do this IRL) and says they have to run. Valen sees the Xen Pterran ships overhead (???) and the crest on them (?????), which is the Solis family crest. It reminds him of Nor and we get this:

A queen of death and darkness, seated upon a throne of the galaxy’s bones.

I didn’t italicize this because this entire sentence was italicized in the book. No idea why. To make it more epic, I guess?

This post is a bit on the short side because the chapters are on the short side and nothing really happens in them despite there being plenty of potential for interesting character development, so I figured I’d take this opportunity to make some observations.

The multiple POV shit is so, so bad, if you guys hadn’t noticed. I’m sparing you a lot of trouble by recapping with minimal quotes. So why don’t I think it works here?

To pull off good multiple POVs, you need strong character voices. Dex is the only character who has anything close to a character voice at all, which isn’t saying much. Lira would be next, then Andi/Nor, whose narrations sound almost identical and I’m pretty sure that’s not intentional, and then we have Valen, who has literally nothing going for him. When all of the characters sound the same and make similar observations using similar thought processes about the same events, there’s no reason for them to have their own POV.

The POV flipping takes you out of the action. I understand that Shinsay are trying to show us how the same event affects different characters, but they forget that they’re showing the same event over and over, though we don’t stay long enough with any of the characters for us to actually see how they’re affected. It ends up becoming a disjointed mess of different people describing the same event. This is not necessary and doesn’t add anything to the story, rather it removes any well-needed tension and excitement by breaking up the action.

Building off the last point, we don’t stay long enough with anyone to really get a good feel for who they are as people. We just jump around fanfic-like from different heads just so Shinsay can have their OCs jerk each other off about how cool their moves are. It’s extremely pointless. Multiple POVs isn’t just about getting a new angle on the same cool action shot the hero does, it’s about getting us closer to the character whose head we’re in.

Back on the topic of the “plot”: Did nobody, like, look up, at this festival? How would the Xen Pterran fleet already be not only in position, but close enough to the surface where Valen can see their crests? Did nobody notice the strange ships hovering above their heads? On a planet that supposedly doesn’t have a significant starfleet? Surely that’d be something people would find at least alarming?

Also, why did Xen Pterra attack the one planet that posed no threat to them in a military sense? It sounds like my question answers itself but think about it. Now Arcardia, which is famously military, will have time to prepare and launch a counter-attack. Surely you’d want to focus your surprise attack on the strongest opponent to hopefully take them out of the fight quickly and then pick off the rest? Or, in this case, hope to brainwash them into submission and then use their resources on the other allies? If I remember correctly, this was supposed to be a “test run” to see if Zenith works, but is that really a risk they can take by alerting the enemy to their new cool superweapon?

Well, except I’m pretty sure Arcardia doesn’t launch any counter-attack and barely even prepares for war at all, so I guess I’m expecting too much of ... well, all of it. 

Really need to stop doing that.

When will I learn!

[elejah-verse]

Game Of Love/7

Fanfiction

Part 7

Joel Goran x reader

Ft. Klaroline and other TVD/TO characters, as well as Saving Hope characters. 

TVD- Saving Hope crossover

a/n: Joel Goran meets the Mystic Falls/NOLA gang. But it is totally AU- Klaus Mikaelson is a surgeon, and so is Y/N and Caroline Forbes. 

There is a lot of drama- quite a lot going on. LOL. I hope you enjoy it. I so appreciate you all reading it. xoxo 💕😘

tags

@rissyrapp20 @dendrite-lover @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @goddessofthunder112 @elejahforever @hides2000 @arivalappears @idkhaylijah

☕

Joel listened to his voice mail- the message from Y/N.

"Hey, it's me. What happened to you? Why are not answering my calls? I guess things didn't go good. Ok. I guess you need alone time."

Joel now made a painful sigh, and played the message again and then flashed back to about what had happened half an hour before.

Flashback

Joel and the woman he had picked up from the bar crushed on the bed. And as she started pulling his T-shirt off of him, Joel suddenly stopped her and now got up, straightening the T-shirt, gulping.

"I- don't - want this! I am sorry- this is a huge mistake. I got to go."- Joel now stumbled out of the hotel room.

As he got out of the hotel, he walked down the road, his head thumping violently. He waved a taxi and soon he was on  the way to his apartment.

He now pressed the speed-dial and Y/N answered -

"Are you ok?"

Joel gulped feeling terrible.

"I am ok."- he replied-"I just - needed time to myself like you said."

"So, you didn't managed to- get to any kind of agreement?"- Y/N asked.

"Can we talk about it tomorrow?"- Joel said.

"Sure. I will see you tomorrow."

"Thanks."- Joel said.

"Hey. It's ok. All of it is kinda not an easy thing for you."

"Yeah"- Joel muttered.

It was clear to Y/N that something much deeper went on and she now said a little see you and they both hang up. 

👕

At Rousseau’s

Caroline waved a little at Oliver with a little smile. As she walked over to the bar, her mind now played the call she had picked up earlier.

Flashback

Seeing Klaus’ name on the display, Caroline made a mental sigh and trying to keep it cool, answered the call with a small yes.

“I thought - that - I will see you- thank you - for the card.”

“I was - so busy- Jo has just piled up so much work and - yeah- it’s so good to - you scared us all.”- Caroline said.

“Like my sister said - I am no race car driver- I am better at mending people. Ah - I know that your shift is over - nurse Trevor told me- I know visiting hours are over - ”- Klaus said.

Caroline now drew a long deep breath trying to keep her tears at bay. Oh, she was so wanting to visit him, everything, but - there was this big BUT - and hearing his voice now half hope half anguish, calling her name-

“Caroline?” and then remembering all the stress Camille had already caused, with a heavy heart, she now replied-

“I - can’t- ahm- my date is waiting for me. Yeah- you now think of getting better”

“Date-ha?”- Klaus muttered with a broken voice.

“Yeah. I got to go.”- Caroline said adding a little see ya, and hung up.

“Beer?”- Oliver now asked, and Caroline nodded and added “ and a shot of Tequila.”

“Right. I see that Dr Parker has really got it in for you”- Oliver now said.

“Yeah - we go way back - and there is no love lost there”- Caroline said and now downed the shot of Tequila as the bartender served her drink-”but can we forget about the hospital. I got the next 12 hours free and I just want to unwind and so do all the things that are so not work - maybe do some other kind of work- anyway - I want to know more about you.”

“All right.”- Oliver now said-”what do you want to know?”

“Can you sing?”- Caroline now said.

“Can I sing?”- Oliver was surprised to hear that question.

“Yep. Let’s do a duet.”- Caroline now took hold of the Attending’s hand and walked him to the karaoke machine.

He had heard that Caroline was a fiery ball of fun, but now he had to experience it for himself.

The other thing Caroline was so good at was getting a party started and get the bar on their feet. She let herself go. To forget and try to turn over the new leaf. And even though her heart burnt and ached for someone else, hours later as Oliver took her home in his car, she kissed him and said-

“For date 1 - this was really mad. So, what are we doing on date 2?”

“I don’t know. I know I will have to somehow top this”- Oliver said.

“You have 24 hours to think about it.”- Caroline said and slipped out of the Attending’s car.

In the hospital, Klaus looked at the card Caroline left for him, feeling like the world had just crushed down as he had just heard from the nurses commenting that Dr Queen has asked Dr Forbes out on a date.

👩‍⚕️

The next day, Joel was paged early in the morning and went to hospital. As soon as he finished he went to find  Y/N, who had just gone to the OR herself.

"Can you please call me the minute she is finished"- he said to one of the nurses at the hub.

He had other patients to attend and finish some paperwork. He did all like a robot, his mind evidently in  different universe.

Vincent, who called him up to the ER, having noticed Joel not being himself.

"Don't tell me there is trouble in paradise?"- Vincent joked a little, to which Joel nodded somewhat.

"I thought you found the one? Don't tell me you messed this up?"

Joel was quiet.

"Seriously? I can't believe it."- Vincent said.

Joel's phone rang and it was the nurse telling him Y/N finished in the OR.

She waited for him at one of the examination rooms. 

"Hey"- Y/N now smiled a little at Joel, walking over to him placing a little kiss on his lips. Joel kissed her back and then taking her hands looked at her seriously now saying-

"I have to tell you something."

Him being deadly serious and edgy, Y/N's stomach suddenly churned with a hollow pain.

"What?"- she slipped her face now changing expression into deep worry.

Joel sighed a little and then told her briefly  how his talk with Alex went, him ending up in a bar, and picking up the woman, going with the hotel she was staying at, and - him walking out of the hotel room. As he finally said- nothing happened, Y/N, who was first in a strange haze now slapped him hard across the face.

"I should have known. HUH- my head said no, but my heart said- yes, give him a chance. Love him, teach him to be loved. But, you don't deserve to be loved"- the words went right through him, feeling like she had slid the knife in his heart and twisted it. 

She wanted to go on, as she now felt strange kind of anger wash all over her, but her phone rang and it was Alaric, so she answered, walking away from Joel.

As he tried to call her and talk to her later, she ignored all his calls and avoided him. Luckily, she was not in his team that day or the following, and the days after that. And no matter how much he tried to talk to her, she ignored him. Y/N found refuge at her best friend Bonnie, trying to nurse her bruised heart.

"If  we look at this technically- he didn't actually sleep with her."- Bonnie said.

"No, but - it's the intention that kills me. He kissed and he went with her to her hotel room, and- what is wrong with him? Does he not have real feelings? I know he is messed up- but- he just had a talk with Alex and - he- what? Flipped his emotions and - I don't know what to think. Well, I am the one who is so stupid. He cheated on Alex with me. Why would he be any different to me?"

"We know he has problems with love- and emotions and- I think that - in a very strange way- he is doing this to hurt himself. This may sound strange. But it is like- when there is something good - he kind of self-harms.It sounds crazy but - yeah- that's what it is. It is a conduit for release from emotional stress. It makes him feel better in the short term, that's true. However it can cause emotional damage because the person becomes addicted to the relief that the harm brings and then just gets stuck in a cycle. I think Joel has that problem. But I might be wrong, but - sleeping with other women - is kind of a pattern. Some cut themselves - he- well, you know-"- Bonnie said.

"Makes sense."- Y/N now said-"But I just- can't deal with it- not right now. I am-"

"Hurt, angry."

"Yeah. He needs to get better first, before - if we ever- get - a new chance. I don't know. I feel- huh, I told him that he doesn't deserve to be loved."- Y/N now remembered what she had said to him. 

"Well, I don't know what to tell you, but you- two need to talk."- Bonnie said-"no communication is not good. You know it."

"You are right."- Y/N said and then grabbed her phone now dialing Joel's number. It went straight to voice mail. 

"He is probably in the OR. He is on-call today. Ok. I am going over to the hospital. Thank you."

"What are bffs for!"- Bonnie said-"and whatever happens, I hope it works out for both of you."

Y/N now hugged her best friend and then left. 

🎈

An hour later

Joel, Alaric, Alex and Vincent were paged to the ER- and they were there hands on.

"There has been a shooting outside the Coffee Bean."- they were told and soon those who were injured were rolled in. 

And as Joel now got to deal with one of the patient, his eyes now froze as his eyes set on a sight he couldn't believe he was seeing. 

Y/N was rolled in. 

In a nano second Vincent, and Alex now crossed their looks with Joel, who was screaming with his eyes- NOOOOOOOO. 

Y/N was wheeled away to the OR, and Joel, had turned to the patients in need of help. 

Caroline, who was summoned as well, and finding out her sister was shot, was completely beside herself, but as a professional surgeon she had to assist and she did the best as she could to help others letting the Attendings do their job and save her best friend. 

A few hours later, Joel, waited in front of the OR where Y/N was still operated on-

Charlie, one of the General Surgery Attendings now went out of the OR

"Tell me, Charlie!"- Joel said with trepidation coursing his heart.

"It's very critical."- Charlie said-"All we can now do is- pray."

Joel shook his head in disbelief. A few days before he had it all. And now - everything turned around like the end of the world was nigh.

🎈

Joel walked in the ICU room where Y/N was brought to. He sat down on the bed, and looked at the woman with his heart clumped up in pain, his stomach aching with regret for having hurt her. He loved her, it was the holy truth.

"Please, you have to get through this. I refuse to lose you.I have never wanted to hurt you. Ever. Please, Y/N. I love you so much. I never loved anybody like I love you. You may not  believe it, but it is the truth. Please, fight. You can do this. Please, don't leave me."

Joel now took the Maori pendant that he gave her for her birthday and put it on the side table. 

"I love you."- Joel said bending down to kiss her.

___

Days that followed, were filled with anguish. Caroline and all Y/N’s friends were there around the clock, sitting with her friend, praying, hoping that she would wake up and come back to them.

 Y/N’s aunt Jenna that came down to from New York  and sat with Y/N nearly all the time she was allowed to. Caroline practically lived in the hospital. Joel had also spent every free time he could find with Y/N, meeting Jenna at one point.

"Caroline said- you were Y/N's last boyfriend? Attending, no more no less. I hear you are a cowboy casanova?"

Joel could only imagine where the name came from, and now made a face saying- that it was a bit exaggerated.

"Caroline also said that you have sat with her the whole night after they brought her out of the OR and wouldn't leave her sight."- Jenna continued.

"I did."- Joel said-"and if it ok, I came to sit with her now, and read to her."

"I have also heard about your ex-ex- girlfriend being pregnant"- Jenna continued.

"What is this? A third degree?"- Joel now asked.

"You can call it that. Look, I know that those two can look after themselves, and I am not a great example of a mom, but - this is somewhat a bigger complication Y/N had ever found herself in. So, if you plan to stick around, and make amends, you better mean it- or- just be a man and walk away."- Jenna said, and seeing Alaric now went to him.

Joel got in the room and sat on the chair, opening the book.

"I never read poems. I mean I did, in school, but not- like this, to someone. I got this book from a patient, who- well, she heard that my girlfriend was not well, and she reckons if I read this to you, you will wake up. Because it comes from the heart. It comes from mine. Ok, here we go"- Joel now randomly opened a page.

                      Time in Eternity by T. Merill

When you were as an angel in my arms, Had laid your bare head just below my chin, Your length pressed up to mine, entrusting charms My whole youth's starward longing could not win; With still the murmur of your love in me, Miracle-tones of all my lifelong hope, I wished that there might start eternity And seal forever that sweet envelope; And as it did, my thoughts are now for you As every star is blotted by the sun, And so the sun itself Has perished too, And with it, every dream of mine But one.

It was frustrating to see her there laying like the Sleeping Beauty, and there was nothing any of them could do but wait.                        

Joel now descended again in his thoughts. He wished he could go back in time and change so many things. But now he made one wish. He wished Y/N would wake up and she was fine. 

Klaus, having heard about Y/N being shot from one of the nurses, now asked one that came into his room to wheel him to the special ICU area where Y/N was at.

As got there, he now stumbled upon Caroline kissing Oliver bye for the day. The sight made his heart now quiver.  He could not fault her, as he had broke it off with her, even though, deep inside he had regretted it from the moment she had walked away from him that particular day.

And now, he saw that she had moved on. Kissing Oliver Queen openly, meant they were in a relationship.

"Can we go back?"- he said to the nurse now, but Caroline saw him and him turning now away from her would not have been right.

"Hey"- Caroline said as she now came up to him.

"Hey."- Klaus said back now asking the nurse if they could be left alone for a second.

"Of course, Dr Mikaelson."- the nurse said and looked at Caroline.

"It's ok. I will see that Dr Mikaelson gets back to his room."

The nurse left and Klaus now asked how Y/N was doing and said how sorry he was that she was going through this as he knew that Y/N and her were like sisters.

Caroline thanked him for his concern and now filled him in on Y/N's current state. She then asked how he was doing.

"Walking still presents difficulty, but I am determined to get on my feet as soon as I can. And back to work."- Klaus said.

"I am surprised you are still in the hospital."- Caroline now said.

"I prefer to be here than home. Too many women stressing over me. Here I have peace and quite. I am more at home in the hospital than at the family house"

"I get that."- Caroline said- and then with a small gulp. She then wanted to go look for a nurse to take him back to his room, but Klaus took hold of her hand and Caroline stood still for a second, looking at him, trying hard to keep it together.

"I see you- are- I hope he is good to you."- Klaus said referring to Oliver.

"What?"

"Nothing."- Klaus sighed a little and then said-"Oliver Queen is a good guy."

He then let go off her hand and turned the wheelchair around wheeling away to the elevators.

Caroline stood like frozen looking for a second, her heart now thumping wildly. Seeing Klaus get in the elevator, she whispered-

“Damn you Mikaelson.”

[squilliamnylander]

all the small things | auston matthews

Note: I wrote a thing and here it is?? I’m kinda nervous to post this so any and all feedback is appreciated - whether it’s positive or constructive criticism. 

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: some nsfw y’all, but not a lot

“Bub, have you seen my game-day hoodie? I thought I left it in the bathroom but It’s not there.” Auston calls from your shared bedroom, voice growing clearer as he makes his way down the stairs. He thumps down each step, slow and deliberate and you know he’s just woken up from his nap. You set down your copy of Jane Eyre as a sleepy Auston stumbles into the living room, clad in grey sweats and an old ZSC Lions tee shirt. The shirt was well-worn - the colours are faded and there's a small hole near his naval. As he approaches the couch, you sit up from your cave of blankets to kiss the patch of skin showing through, and he offers you a small smile. 

“It smelled a little gross so I washed it,” you reply, “Sorry, shoulda told you. In the laundry room, I think it’s near the bottom of the bin.” 

He looks down at you, still smiling over your small show of affection, and crinkles his nose. 

“Buuuub,” he draws out his nickname for you so it sounds almost like a whine, “I told you not to do my laundry. You’re not a housewife,” and he winks at you, “yet…” 

You roll your eyes, but a giggle escapes and you take his hand in yours. 

He continues: “Seriously, we have staff for this. Thank you, I appreciate you, but I don’t want you to feel like you need to take care of me.” 

You tug on his hand and he gets the memo, sliding onto the couch, far enough away so as not to disturb your elaborate blanket set-up, your book still lying propped open on your lap.   

“You’ve been tired and stressed Aus - more tired than usual. Don’t think I haven’t noticed. Your bin was overflowing, so I thought I’d help. It’s really nothing, I don’t mind.” You reach up and run your fingers through the mop on his head, untangling as you go, lightly pinching his ear in reassurance. 

“Besides, we can’t have Auston Matthews warming up without his lucky hoodie, and it really was disgusting. Zach and Willy won’t go near you if you show up smelling like ass-sweat.” 

You thought he would laugh - you were going for a laugh, hoping it would ease the tension he was holding up in his shoulders, but he just looks at you instead, and it’s so full of love and reverence, you think your heart is going to burst. He leans in, pressing a firm kiss to your lips. He doesn’t deepen it, just holds you there for a second, before moving his mouth to your earlobe.   

“It’s not nothing,” he whispers. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

..........

“Tomatoes, garlic, onion, red peppers, green peppers, chilli peppers, mango, corn chips, avocados… I think I got everything.” Auston mumbles, walking into the kitchen, carefully balancing two very full grocery bags on his shoulders. You start to stand up. try to reach out to take them off his back, but he spins, dodging your grasp the way he always does to opposing players on the ice.

“Relax, I’ve got it.” He places the bags on the floor, pulling out the items you asked him to pick up on the way home from the rink. A few nights ago, Auston had confided in you that he missed his mom’s homemade Mexican food, and that his cache of homemade hot sauce just wasn’t cutting it. A lifetime of hockey meant to more nights eating out than in, and it was pretty obvious - he was horrible in the kitchen. The most he knew about cooking was how take leftovers out of the plastic takeout containers before reheating, and there were no genuine Mexican places in his UberEats delivery zone. So, you offered to make him the one dish you knew how to make - a recipe you had mastered in the early, broke days of freshman-dorm living - salsa. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

“Oh, and I grabbed you these.” He pulls a small black box out of the grocery bag and puts it on the counter, before moving to put away the produce. You pick it up, inspect it, wondering why your boyfriend decided to meander down the feminine hygiene aisle of your local Sobeys while shopping for salsa ingredients. He must sense your confusion, because he shuts the fridge, turning to look at you. He places his hands on the counter, leaning over it to kiss the crease between your scrunched eyebrows. 

“Borrowed your toothpaste this morning ‘cause I left mine in my suitcase and while I was in your side of the vanity, I saw you were almost out. Figured you’d forget to restock before it was too late.”   

You mouth an inaudible ‘aw’ and stand up, walking around the countertop to latch your arms around his middle. His arms immediately circle around you, pulling in you in. He smells like sweat and hockey tape and his deodorant - like Auston - and you squeeze him back tighter.   

“Love you,” you speak into his chest, voice muffled by the sweater he’s wearing, but he hears you anyways. Auston always hears you. He laughs quietly, a breathy laugh you can feel as his chest rumbles against your cheek.   

“It’s just tampons bub, no big deal.”

..........

“Matthews, get in here for a sec. I got something for you.” 

Auston gets off his bed, padding barefoot through the hotel room’s connecting door into Mitchy’s room. They’re in Niagara for pre-season training camp, and it’s the first night of two weeks away from home for the boys. Mitch is holding a small box, wrapped in blue tissue paper, and Auston immediately knows it’s from you. You had wrapped all of his presents for him last christmas - he was hopeless, couldn’t even figure out how to cut enough paper, and you chided him for wanting to have a store attendant wrap his own mother’s gift - and he recognizes your signature corner folds. Mitch smiles a big toothy smile, before handing Auston the box. 

“She made me promise not to give it to you until your birthday, which is technically not for another hour, but I’m hella tired and I want to catch some actual shut-eye before morning skate tomorrow - knowing Babs, we won’t get much this trip. So yeah, here.” 

Auston laughs at his teammate’s comment, and takes the box.

“She’s a keeper, brother. Gave this to me over a week ago and texted me everyday to make sure I didn’t forget. A pain in the ass, but a keeper.” This earns Mitch another laugh from Auston, knowing very well how persistent his girlfriend could be. 

“Believe me, I know,” he says, “Thanks for doing it.” 

“Not a problem.” Mitch replies with a yawn, “Now get out, I’m going to bed. Goodnight Auston - and happy almost birthday.” 

Auston heads back into his room, closing the connecting door for some privacy, before getting back into bed with the box. He opens it, tries not to tear the paper to shreds, wants to save everything his girlfriends gives him, and finds a note.   

‘For my boy’ it reads, written in blue ink because she knows it’s his favourite colour, knows that even though it’s a simple thing it makes him happy, and he already wants to call her and tell her he loves her just for remembering that. But it’s late, past eleven at night, and he doesn’t want to wake her, not on a Sunday night when she has to be up early for class the next morning. So he sits alone with the box and the note, traces his fingers over her neat printing, before breaking the seal and reading what she wrote for him.   

“Happy Birthday, Aus. I wish I could be there with you today to celebrate your incredible life. I loved you at 20 and I’m going to love you now at 21 too. Call me sometime if you can - I promise I won’t sing over the phone. I love you, and I hope you like your gift. Xoxo.”

He doesn’t even need to open the it the rest of the way to know he loves it. She knows him, knows his favourite colour, knows he likes to stay up till midnight on the eve of his birthday, knows which of his teammates would remember his birthday too - anything she bought for him would be perfect. And while the Bon Jovi tour tee, the blue baseball cap and the key to her apartment she had included in the box were certainly appreciated, he finally understood what people meant when they said it was the thought that counts. He would wear the shirt and cap tomorrow, had the perfect pair of black skinnies in mind to match, he was most looking forward to calling her in the morning to thank her for always thinking ahead, for always thinking of him.

..........

“Can I offer you anything else, ladies? Some more champagne?” The waiter asks, approaching your group. A chorus of ‘no’s’ and ‘no thank you’s’ is heard from around the table, and you join in quietly, shaking your head and offering a polite smile.   

The venue is enchanting, with high ceilings and crystal chandeliers that shimmer in the candlelight, and you try to focus on the beauty of the moment instead of your persistent hunger. You’re here to celebrate your friend’s marriage, and although you love her, would never survive hockey season without her, you kind of want to kill her for choosing lobster as the main dish. Maybe it’s because you grew up in a city, away from coastal towns and seafood diners, or maybe you just have reasonable taste, but the buttery smell is stuck in your nose, every whiff triggering your gag reflex, and choking down the fingerling potatoes was not enough to quell the uneasiness in your stomach. You’re lost in the art on the walls, pushing food on your plate like some kind of toddler, when you feel a blunt jab to your side. Trailing down, your eyes find Auston’s elbow as the culprit, you angle towards him, meeting his eyes. He looks amused, gives you a knowing look - knowing that you despise seafood, knowing that the smell makes you want to vomit - and you can’t help but offer a small pout in return. After all, he can’t stand lobster either, so he’s probably feeling as nauseated as you are. He looks both ways - at William sitting next to him, at the Bozaks across from you, like he’s about to pull some sort of magic trick, and once satisfied no one was paying attention, he picks up his plate and scrapes his potatoes and bread onto yours with a wink and a half-smile.   

You’re feeling equal parts grateful and guilty, because as hungry as you are, your boyfriend just gave you the only food he’s going to get for the next five hours or so. 

You lean towards him to whisper, “What are you gonna eat?” Auston just shakes his head before replying. “I ate a big lunch, I’m good, go ahead.”   

Placing your hand on his thigh, you give a small squeeze to show your gratitude before taking a too-big bite out of his dinner roll, which elicits a chuckle. The rest of the night flows beautifully, and by the end of the meal, you’re satisfied enough to drag your boyfriend to the dance floor. The song is melodic and slow, and Auston’s got you wrapped in his arms so your head is resting on his shoulder.

“You know,” he murmurs, lips grazing the crown of your head, “When we get married, I think we can pick a much better dinner menu.”   

His grip around you tightens, his body stiffening. If he hadn’t been holding on to you, you might have dropped right in the middle of the dance floor. The two of you had never talked about marriage before, choosing to focus on the more immediate future, like bye-week and playoff trips and off-season. You never expected him to bring it up either - before you, Auston had been a serial dater, never holding on to a girl for more than a few hours or at most a few nights. And yet, here he was, talking about the real future, at his teammate’s wedding of all places, and he was clinging on tighter than ever. You turn your head to look up at him, and he looks scared. You’ve never seen his eyes like this, not even before game 7 of the playoffs, not when he was faced with the possibility of surgery, not even when he had first asked you to move in with him. So, you press a light kiss to his shoulder, trying not to stain his suit with your lipstick, and bury your face back into the crook of his arm before saying,

“I think so too, I think our wedding will be so much better. Although, I really do like this ballroom. The chandeliers are stunning. Maybe we could steal them right from the ceiling for ours.”   

You don’t need to look at him to know he’s smiling, can feel him relax his body back into yours. He sways you to the music, and just for a moment you imagine this to be your wedding day. Dancing with Auston, surrounded by your favourite people dancing in celebration of your love, you realize it’s all that you want. Well, it’s almost all you want, you think, holding back a laugh when you hear Auston’s stomach grumble. Ideally, you’ll both like the food at your wedding. Ideally, he wouldn’t have to give up his food to keep you full. But he’s Auston, the boy you know yore going to marry someday, and you know that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you full and happy and dancing for the rest of your lives together.

..........

You wished more than anything you could be there to welcome him home. The boys had played an incredible game; a stellar, unexpected win that, with playoffs right around the corner, had everyone buzzing. The team and friends and girlfriends were all headed back to yours and Auston’s shared home to celebrate, but you had a flight out of Pearson that night, and not only missed the game, but missed your chance to give him a celebratory kiss - an easy tradition you had picked up early on in your relationship. 

As the boys stumbled through the door, followed by their already-tipsy girlfriends, Auston was struck by how quiet and cold the living room felt without you home. The fireplace, which was usually on, was dark, and the windows were all shut even though you normally kept them open, a fan of the fresh air and the city sounds from outside your downtown home.   

He makes his way through the house, turning on the lights and the stereo, as his teammates and friends fill up the place. There’s chatter and music and the sound heels clicking on the hardwood, and it’s not you, but it’s better than being alone. He finally makes his way to the kitchen, heads for the fridge to grab a beer, when he notices something on the kitchen table you normally kept bare. It’s a tin, a christmas tin complete with cartoon Santas and reindeers with red noses, with a post-it note sitting on top. 

In your always-neat printing, it reads: “Sorry I couldn’t be there to welcome you home. Hope this is enough of a substitute for my congratulatory kiss (for now xoxo). Love you, I’m so proud of you.” 

He opens the tin, smiling a real, eye-crinkling smile when he sees what you’ve left him. Your homemade fudge brownies were a fan-favourite, never lasting more than a day whenever you made them. You weren’t a special occasion baker, your philosophy being that it was never not time for brownies, and he certainly wasn’t going to complain. Except this time, you adorned each brownie with a Hershey’s kiss, and the cheekiness of it all has Auston laughing, nodding his head as if you could see that yes, this was enough for now, enough to make him feel like you were there supporting him. He’s about to take out his phone to check your flight status, to see if he can call you to thank you, when Travis comes bouncing into the kitchen, and whether he was buzzed about the game or on wine coolers, Auston wasn’t sure.   

“What are you.. woah did she make us brownies? I fucking love her brownies, dude. Bring em out!” 

Travis grabs Auston’s arm, and he’s too tired, too blissfully happy to resist, happy about the win, happy about the brownies, happy that his teammates have welcomed you in so lovingly, so he allows himself to be pulled into the group, and as he joins in the celebrations, he knows you’re right there with him. You always are, and you always will be.

..........

He’s got his hands hooked under your legs, grasp unforgiving as you squirm beneath him. His touch is liquid fire, each finger spreading heat through your belly as he digs into the soft flesh of your hips. You’ll bruise tomorrow, and he might wake up to a bald patch with how tightly you’re pulling on his hair, but you can’t really think about it, can’t really think about anything when Auston’s mouth is on your pussy.   

You groan as his tongue juts into your folds, and it only encourages him to pull your body even closer to his face. You’re really wet, cum dripping down the junction of your leg, right onto Auston’s chin, and it dribbles down, soaking the bed sheet beneath you.   

“Aus,” you murmur, “I’m not gonna last if you keep this up.”     

He had been relentless in his teasing all night. Fingers wandering up your thigh, sneaking under the hem of your little black dress, hidding by his professional demeanor and the white table cloth. As he walked to the podium to accept his award, the applause of the crowd drowned out the flithy things he had murmured into your ear on his way up. 

“The only prize I want is your pussy wrapped tight around my cock when we get home tonight.”   

His comment had left you with goosepumps on your limbs and a throbbing between your legs that hasn’t subsided since. This is how you ended up here, both naked and needy between the sheets of Auston’s California King. Only he wasn’t taking what you thought he wanted, wasn’t stretching you out and slamming his hips into yours the way he usually did on nights like these. It was his night - his big night, his award, his achievement - and he deserved an easy orgasm. You were more than willing to give it to him, to oblige him in any way he wanted. You were prepared to do most of the work. Instead, he head you spread out, spread open for him, propped up on pillows, about to cum for the the third time in a row, and he hadn’t even touched or let you touch his leaking cock.   

“Aus,” you repeat your earlier plea, only this time it comes out as a whine - he’s got you past a point of no return and you know that you’ll come again whether he fucks you or not. 

“It’s okay bub, you can come again. Fuck, I need you to come.” 

Everything is heightened as he pulls you a little closer, spreads your legs a little wider, sucks you into his mouth a little harder. It’s enough. Stars cloud your vision and there’s a tingling in your tummy and your legs shake around his head and you collapse back into the pillows in a state of tired bliss.   

You feel the mattress dip, and Auston places a wet kiss to your temple before stumbling into the bathroom. You watch him walk, focusing on the curve of his bum and the dimples in his back as he disappears behind the door. Water runs down the sink, and he’s back a moment later with a damp washcloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Placing the cup on the nightstand, he takes his time with you, swiping the cloth up your thighs, cleaning you up, careful to avoid your sensitive mound. When he’s done, he exchanges the cloth for one of his t-shirts off the top of the hamper, passing it to you before dropping back into bed.   

Hands still shaking from your high, you reach over for his upright cock. You know he can’t be comfortable right now, and you want to get him off, want to watch him fall apart in your fingertips - but he stops you. He grabs your wrist and pulls it and you to his chest, bringing the blanket up to cover both of your bodies.

“What about you?” you ask, voice still hoarse, “Tonight was supposed to be about you.”   

“No baby,” he says, voice thick and heavy, his throat still coated in your cum, “all you. Couldn’t have done it without you. Wanted to thank you, wanted to thank you for always supporting me, even when I’m on the other side of the country. Can’t do this -“ he pauses, trailing his fingers back down to your thigh, fingers curling into the hair between your legs, and his touch combind with his sultry, fucked-out voice is almost enough to bring you back to the edge for the fourth time, - “when I’m on the road, which really blows, because I’m so much better when I’m with you.”   

He leans in to kiss you, soft and slow and he tastes like you and his toothpaste and as his tongue swirls into yours, you know that you’d rather have him like this sometimes than never at all.

..........

You know things aren’t good - no, they’re bad, really bad - before they even carry him off the ice. Your boyfriend is tough to break, a stone-cold wall who doesn’t fight back, doesn’t get emotional, but he had taken the chirping a bit too far tonight, and it had earned him a brutal hit. Your chest tightens, hands shake, and Sydney takes the wine glass from your hand before you spill it all over her carpet.   

“I’m sure he’s fine - just fine.” She offers, but it doesn’t reach you. If he was fine, he would have gotten up. If he was fine, he would have been back on both skates, watching the asshole who jumped him head for the penalty box. Instead, his face was in his hands, helmet somewhere across the ice, and there are too many people covering him and you can’t see if your boyfriend is okay - he has to be okay. Everyone in the room is holding their breath, watching the Leafs staff carry their star centre off the ice. It’s a familiar feeling to most of the women in the room; hockey is a contact sport, a dangerous, violent sport and you know it’s the nature of the game, know that it was bound to happen at some point to someone in this series, but you didn’t think it would be Auston. Didn’t think you would have to be the desperate, pitied girlfriend of an injured hockey player.   

He’s off the ice and play is resumed, but you can’t even see the game - only Auston lying on the ice, the camera panning out to Babcock’s worried face, the staff coming and going from the tunnel, whispering, covering their mouths from the camera. It only takes about fifteen minutes, though it feels like hours, for the call to come in. You’re so out of it, so caught up in a downward spiral of “what ifs” that you don’t even realize Christina is talking to you until she puts your phone in your hand.   

“Yes, she’s right here, hold on.”   

You take the phone, bring it up to your ear, and there’s an instant sigh of relief when you hear your boyfriend’s voice. 

“I’m okay,” is all he says, and though you know he’s lying for your comfort, it works, because he’s speaking and he’s conscious and he remembers you and that’s all you needed to hear to stop yourself from completely dissociating. “Just a small fracture, maybe a mild concussion, they don’t know for sure yet, but I’m okay. Just wanted to call you in case you were watching, in case you saw it.”

You suck in a breath. The pain in his voice his obvious, his breathing uneven, but it doesn’t sound nearly as bad as it could have been. You know he’ll beat himself up mentally for the break he’ll have to take, for not being able to help out his teammates, more than anyone on the ice ever could physically. “Of course I was watching. Do you want me there?” You ask, hoping he says yes. You think you might need to see him more than he needs you, need to press your palm to his heart to make sure that fucker is still beating, need to flick him for scaring you so badly.   

“You don’t need to-“ 

You don’t let him finish. “Not what I asked. Do you want me there? With you?” “I always want you here.” He replies, and it’s quiet, a whisper - he’s never been very good at being vulnerable, and you know that even admitting to you that he’s been injured was not an easy thing for him to do.   

“Then I’ll be there,” you say simply, like Boston isn’t 1000km away, like you’re just going to run a quick errand to the drugstore. 

“I love you,” you say, already on your way to your bedroom to pack a bag.  

“I love you,” he says, and his voice doesn’t sound as shaky, as panicked, as it did just a few minutes ago. You were showing up for him, just as you always did. 

..........

It’s not their usual locker-room talk. It’s eleven in the morning, half-past the end of a regular Tuesday morning skate. Mitch is in the middle of the room, trying to teach Matt how to do some ridiculously elaborate handshake, while Curtis and Kappy talk to Coach about some power play drills they had run through. Naz is lying on the therapy table getting his hamstring worked on, and Travis is shuffling through a Drake playlist that blasts from the speaker on the wall.  Willy is wandering through it all, lost in his own world with his ass on full display, looking for his other skate. The rest of the boys bustle around, trying to pack up. It’s chaotic, really chaotic, but for once Auston appreciates the noise. It allowed him to slip out unnoticed, Patty following closely behind.   

When they’re finally alone, the door shut behind them, Auston pulls the small velvet box from his pocket and hands it to his teammate. Patrick takes the box, opening the lid to look at the ring. He’s the first person to see it - the first person Auston has decided to tell - and he doesn’t take that responsibility lightly. He knows how proud of himself Auston must be, knows the nervous excitement, the effort it’s taking him to squash his rising fear of rejection. Patrick reaches out, his firm grip clasping down on Auston’s shoulder. Giving a light squeeze and a few finger pats, encouraging the boy to stop bouncing, he embraces the fatherly role he’s taken on. “I’m impressed, kid. I always knew you had it in you.” 

Auston looks at Patrick in surprise. “You did?”   

“Absolutely, Although, you know, to be honest, I didn’t think it would be this soon. Not that it’s too soon, but, you know, I just meant that I didn’t think you’d find your perfect match right away. I thought there would be a few more ’almost’ is all. ” He’s rambling now, trying to find the right words to calm the clearly anxious boy.   

Auston smiles at that. “Me n’either, man.” He replies, and he smiles, the bright, beautiful, toothy smile usually reserved only for his girl.   

“How’d you know?” Patrick asks, wanting to know exactly what’s running through Auston’s head. He wants to include it as an anecdote in his wedding speech.   

It’s a loaded question, the answer a bullet capable of ripping through even the most solid relationships. Why do you pick the person you think you want to spend a lifetime with? It’s the biggest commitment he’ll make in his lifetime, but Auston doesn’t hesitate when he answers.

“It’s the little things, man. It’s laundry and tampons and eating out and birthdays and kisses and singing in the car. All the little things. The big things, the hard things, aren’t so bad because with her, the little things are everything. She’s everything.”

[whattoreadinsteadofdrinking]

birthday party/week recap aka this post is long af

This week was really intense for a lot of reasons, and despite having slept for 12 hours last night I woke up tired and cranky and full of the bad kind of regret feelings that usually I associate with drinking, only now I am associating them with other things, like being honest and vulnerable, so I’m gonna write it all out.  Heads up that this will be long, boring, and you probably don’t want or need to read all of this since it’s just a bunch of rambling and my attempt to get my thoughts straight so I can have a more balanced day.

I knew this week was coming up and I knew it would be a long one.  On Thursday, I was scheduled to be a guest speaker at a fundraising banquet for a program that gets scholarships for low income students so they can leave our public school system (which in my area, is basically a systematic way to keep poor kids poor) and into private schools where they have a great chance of success.  I was chosen to speak because I used to work for the public schools here, and while I believe wholeheartedly in public schooling, it only works if the wealthy actually pay their goddamn taxes instead of opting out of it.  Our schools in the public sector here are so bad that I had 8th grade students who could not read.  I mean really could not read at all.   I could write a lot about that but I won’t.  

I’ve been practicing my speech but the thing is that it’s a topic I’m really passionate about and it makes me emotional.  As I’ve written about on here before, I began really drinking when I began teaching, so in the past, the way I dealt with the emotions this brought up was to have a beer (read: 5 beers).  Talking about my experience in the public school system over and over, to myself, and then preparing to do it in front of a hundred people, was A Whole Lot.  And then on Thursday when it was time to do it, I almost cried at the end when I was sharing about the progress one of my kiddos has made in my current (private) school.  It was a good speech and was received well, and I don’t feel bad about getting that “oohhhh she’s close to tears” voice in front of people because let’s be honest people CRY SOMETIMES, but my boss made a weird comment about it at work the next day and now I am paranoid that I sounded like an ass who couldn’t get it together.  Her comment singlehandedly took what felt like a victory and turned it into something I am a little embarrassed by.  I am aware that I am the one letting her comment have that much weight but I can’t seem to un-feel it. I can think through it and realize it doesn’t matter and her opinion doesn’t matter but I can’t un-feel how unhappy it made me to hear that, if that makes sense.

The theme of “being vulnerable in front of others” from that night was just a huge carry-over from Wednesday, when I shared some really upsetting and frank truths about my journey in group.  It was hard but needed.  I don’t regret it, and everyone else was sharing, and honestly it felt like a huge weight off my shoulders to be that honest with people about where I’m at, but like.  Telling people you’re an addict is hard.  And you can’t take it back.  They will never un-know it now.  They will know that about me forever.  I feel good about having said what I said and simultaneously I feel like Toby from the Office during that scene when he accidentally touches Pam’s leg, realizes he’s exposed himself in a humiliating way, and announces that he’s moving to Costa Rica.  Then runs and jumps the fence of the office park and runs away into the night.  I want to jump the fence and run into the night and move to Costa Rica.  That’s how being vulnerable with others makes me feel.

So Wednesday, vulnerable at group, Thursday, vulnerable in a speech in front of a hundred people (many of whom are my coworkers, friends, and superiors at work), and yesterday was my birthday.  I planned a birthday that I wanted rather than the one I thought I should have-- i.e, I didn’t invite some people from my friend group who upset me or who I feel do not respect my boundaries.  I also invited people from a bunch of different areas of my life, which, while not a big deal in itself, felt a little like taking the compartments out of my social scene because many of them have not met each other before.  I was feeling good about it until my one friend asked when J was coming and if I’d had a text from him asking about where we were.  I replied that J hadn’t texted me.  He kept asking questions til I said, “well, I didn’t invite him.  It’s nothing personal, we just aren’t that close.”  My friend looked really taken aback because this guy is a close part of our mutual friend group.  What he doesn’t know is that J is a creep who continues to infringe on my boundaries by asking me personal and inappropriate questions, sharing things with me that I do not wish to know, and not taking “no” for an answer when he asks me on a date (I wrote a REALLY long post about this situation a while ago.  It continues to be sucky and terrible.) Our other friend, who is basically the most smiley human being on this planet, began frowning at me, so I clarified by saying that when you have a lot of friends, the downside is that you have to choose who to invite to your birthday party out of a big group and so I only invited people I felt closest to. 

I want to just tell my friends that this guy is a creep but they are men, and no offense to them, but I already know that they are the kind of dudes who are not going to understand why having to repeat “no” to a guy over and over can be triggering.  And I don’t owe them an explanation for that or for any reason why a man may be unsettling to me.  I am not Gandalf, I do not need to be their wise guide through the lands of “This is What Misogyny Is And How It Complicates Women’s Lives” Middle Earth.

Anyway they gave me some weird looks and now I am nervous because they told me they told this dude about the party.  So I’m waiting for him to confront me on that. Yay.

Then I was dancing with my friend and she spun me around and I accidentally lost my footing and fell fully backwards onto the guy behind me.  It hurt my back.  Everyone saw.  It was embarrassing. Dancing has been a way for me to practice being more in my body and vulnerable, a thing I chose to do as I started this sobriety thing, both to take up time and connect with others. Falling over while dancing, in front of literally all my closest friends, felt like a metaphor for this entire week.  Because it turns out that being vulnerable sometimes feels awesome and works out great, and sometimes ends up with you looking like an idiot in front of people who matter to you, and the hard thing about being vulnerable is that you have to accept both outcomes.  You have to be ready to fall on your ass, in public, on your birthday.  You can’t just have the sunshine-y smiley fun times, and have those mean anything, without risking looking like a fool.

I used to cover up the times I felt like a fool by drinking.  Or, I would drink to feel connected to others and not lonely and disengaged enough that I didn’t feel the need to share who I was, and avoid ever feeling foolish at all.  Now it’s Saturday, I slept for 12 hours, I am fed and hydrated and ready for the day, and my brain is just running in cirlces inside my head shouting “YOU LOOK LIKE AN IDIOT! EVERYONE THINKS YOU’RE AN IDIOT!  GOOD LUCK FACING PEOPLE NEXT WEEK!  JUMP THE FENCE AND MOVE TO COSTA RICA! ABORT SOBRIETY, ABORT FRIENDSHIPS, DON’T GO DANCE CLASS TOMORROW, STAY QUIET ABOUT THAT RUDE GUY AND APOLOGIZE TO EVERYONE TIL THEY REALLY CAN’T STAND YOU! WOOOOOO!”

But. but.  I am gonna quiet my brain down.  I am gonna cook stir fry and listen to a Beatles album.  I am gonna post this long-ass post, and truly may God bless you if you’ve read this far because for heaven’s sake I can’t imagine how bored you are, and let all the feelings go.  I am gonna call my sister and go for a long walk. I  am gonna continue to see my friends and not apologize for anything I’ve done this week because you know what?  I DO NOT NEED TO BE SORRY FOR BEING A HUMAN BEING.  I don’t need to be sorry for sharing my story of teaching, and having an emotional reaction to what is a huge horrifying injustice that keeps poor people of color from having the same chances in life as white suburban kids.  I don’t need to apologize for sharing my story in a group that is specifically about sharing our stories.  I don’t need to apologize for keeping space between me and people who refuse to respect boundaries.  I don’t need to apologize for falling down while dancing (except to the dude I landed on, lol.) I don’t need to live life being sorry for being me.  I may FEEL sorry and like I owe people a debt for being in their life or taking up their time or whatever, but I know that that feeling isn’t based on truth. and a part of getting that truth to feel real is, letting myself be human, sober, and move on.

xoxo Sarah