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sixofpomegranates · 4 years ago

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Rain in California - Act 1 - Fame

🥀Mini Series “Rain in California” Act 1 - Part 3 - Fame🥀

✨My Main Masterlist✨ | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad

🥀Soundtrack🥀 | ✨Aestethic Trailer✨ | 🥀Masterlist🥀 | Words: 6.4k

🥀click here for the previous chapter🥀

TW: ANGST (LIKE REALLY), mention of loss/death/addiction/sobriety/murder/abortion/miscarriage, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, depression, addiction, substance abuse, drugs, alcohol, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP, mentions of OD, PTSD, Self-Harm/Cutting, religious trauma, past physical/psychological abuse on child/teen, abusive parents, teen pregnancy, murder, injustice, withdrawal symptoms,

Songs in this Chapter:

Heartbeat - Don Johnson

Seven hours and a Gastric Suction later, [y/n] felt like hell.

Her throat hurt and the medication they´d given her didn’t work. Now she laid in her hospital room, in her uncomfortable bed and was mostly angry at herself. [y/n] didn’t know why she had acted so stupid…well, probably because she had been high as hell. Not feeling able to control herself, when taken more than usual.

She didn’t want to be so erratic, but when she was high, it just all seemed so easy. Saying the things she thought, doing things she normally would never even dare thinking of, not being hurt by others...On drugs she felt free. Herself.

Although she didn’t even know who she was anymore.

When Spencer was holding her in the bathroom?

That was the first time somebody had said something to her about her addictions, except for ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’, ’It´s not that bad.’, ‘We´re here once you´re ready.’ and ’She´s just having a rough time.’.

It was the first time somebody really seemed to see through her and literally forced her to look at herself in the mirror. To care for her enough to show her tough love. Leroy, Hank and Tom had tried it, but given up on her, sure they supported and cared for her still, but for them she was already too far gone. And they were probably right about it.

But the dog? He still had wanted to help her, even after she tried being her ugliest.

She had gone too far, still remembering his face, the terror in it, when she cut her wrist, when she had taken all her pills at once. [y/n] had wanted to hurt him like that, her mind, her stupid junkie mind, had her convinced, that doing it would be a great way to get back at him.

Because she felt hurt, being rejected by him.

Most likely she had scarred him for life. And now he hadn’t come in, since she was allowed to have visitors, and probably would never come back.

She has successfully driven away the only one that had still cared enough.

Now, mostly sober, she felt like a monster, aware that she was a wreck beyond repair.

Of course she had, in the beginning, thought about stopping. But the drugs were the smaller evil to her, since they calmed her mind and made her forget the pain. She would stay alone forever, unworthy other people´s love, her mind should at least be allowed to be numb.

*****

“I came as fast as I could. What happened?”, Philip handed Spencer a duffle bag, filled with [y/n]´s clothing. He had asked him to bring it, since Spencer didn’t know how long she would stay.

“They pumped her stomach and had to stitch the wound on her wrist.”, he stated, making the short manager´s eyes go wide.

“Are you insane? What if they hurt her vocal cords?”, the tall one tried to remain calm, but had to really force himself to not hit Philip.

Why was that a priority?

“I didn’t wanna let her die. She could´ve OD´d. What would you have done?”, Spencer asked slightly aggravated.

“Carry her to the bathroom and force her to throw up, until nothing´s in her stomach anymore. Then I usually take her to bed and give her water every hour and feed her soup until she´s better.”, the manager explained and Spencer felt like that had to be a joke.

“That has happened before?”, he asked baffled and Philip nodded. “Yeah, a couple of times, but she always either took something or cut herself. Never both at the same time. Where you two fighting again?”, he asked reproachful and Spencer felt the guilt sink into his heart. “See, agent Prentiss? This is why I said, [y/n] didn’t need a bodyguard.”

“I´m sorry, but I don’t think that this is the result of having a bodyguard. It´s much more one to them not getting along and [y/n] being highly addicted to a couple of substances.”, Emily stepped in for Spencer.

The manager just ignored the her obvious insinuation of the rockstars declining mental help, before going into [y/n]´s room. The agents then just looked at each other before going in too.

*****

This was the first time Spencer saw [y/n], since they got here. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to be alone with her before. She was laying in her bed, bandage on her left wrist, looking directly at him when he came in. They had taken of her make-up, making Spencer realize, that she was prettier without it. Her jet black, dark hair in a ponytail. To him she looked calmer and softer like this. The real girl behind the façade. Philip was already all over her.

“[y/n], you look awful.”, he said, shaking up the pillow as she got up a little, to sit.

“Feel like it too.”, her voice sounded a little raspy.

“Poor girl. How is your voice? Do you need anything?” “Fine. My throat´s just a little sore. Can you check me out of here? The faster, the better. That way I can go home without the media knowing.”, Spencer and Emily shared a look.

“The paparazzies showed up an hour ago.”, Emily stated, making [y/n] nod.

She leaned further back in her pillow and looked at Spencer, like she wanted to say something.

“C-Can you still check me out, Philly?”, Philip nodded.

“Of course. I´ll be back asap and then we´ll take you home so you can pack.”, he walked outside and [y/n] looked at Emily.

“Can – I don’t know – you maybe go with him?”, she asked her friendly.

The dark haired woman shared a look with Spencer, who nodded at her. Signaling, that he was okay being alone with the singer again. Emily then nodded and walked after Philip, closing the door on her way out. For a second Spencer thought about leaving the room too. To, no longer, have this black-haired demon take hits against his sanity, but then her voice cut into the silence of the room.

“I´m sorry.”, she said and Spencer wondered, if she was being honest.

“For almost killing yourself?”, he asked her sarcastically and she shook her head.

“For how I treated you.”

“I´ve been through worse. You´d need to be trying way harder, if you want me to break.”, he answered her cold and she began looking at her hands.

“I´m sorry, I tried pressuring you, to take drugs.”, Spencer shrugged at that. “You were high. If I didn’t relapse after the love of my life was killed or when I was put wrongfully into prison, I won´t relapse because a pretty girl is offering me drugs.” “Doesn’t make it better or okay. I saw the token in your room, when I was looking for my pills. I knew and still did it. You must really hate me.”, [y/n]´s voice sounded like she was about to cry.

“I don’t hate you.”, he said gently, sitting down on her bed. [y/n] let out a self-degrading laugh and looked at him, tears filling her eyes. “No, it´s okay. I deserve it.”, she looked over to her IV drip bag, filled with clear liquid, and hit it slightly. “That stuff makes me sentimental.”, she tried saying jokingly, but sounded just sad.

Spencer looked at her for a while, thinking about what he could say. He hadn’t thought she would apologize for how she acted and he had meant what he had told her. He didn’t hate her. Yes, she was emotionally draining to be around, it wasn’t all bad though.

Spencer remembered Philip and how he had talked about the two sides of people.

“That´s no medication, [y/n].”, she looked at him confused. “You lost a lot of water so…Yeah. What you´re feeling is the drugs wearing off.”, he cooed, holding himself back with the rambling. “Nice. That´s what every junkie loves to hear.”, both chuckled a little. “Hey, I give you ten thousand dollar, if you get me some pills, my head hurts like hell.”, she said it in a joking manner, making Spencer chuckle and shake his head.

“No chance. I´m not bribable.”

“Makes you one of few in Hollywood.”, the sound of rain made [y/n] look to the window. “Can you open it?”, he nodded and got up. “Thanks. I love the sound of rain. People always portrait it to be so sad when it rains, but I think it´s nice…cleansing.”

He opened the window and sat next to her bed on the chair. They listened to the sound of raindrops hitting the streets for a while, when he decided to take the shot and ask [y/n], what had been on his mind for the last hours.

“Why are you doing it?”, she looked at Spencer, making a questioning noise. “Cutting yourself, taking drugs.”

“The pain makes you feel alive and the drugs help you hide the side effects of being it.”, Spencer chuckled a little.

“So melodramatic.”

High, she would have probably devoured him, but now she only smirked and rolled her eyes. By now a certain realness tried finding its way in both their voices.

“What was your reason for taking them then?”, she asked, leaning in his direction.

Spencer thought a second, honesty was earned and he wanted her to be honest with him. So he gave her a trust bonus, reviling a bit of his darkness.

“I wasn’t giving the chance of choosing to take them. I was kidnapped and my tormentor, at least one of his personalities, thought he would help me handling the pain.”

He could´ve sworn to see empathy in her eyes, but instead of showing it or whispering words of condolences, like so many others would do in this situation, she just smiled.

“And there I was, thinking you´re just a hypocrite.”, he shrugged. “Well…I am one.” “How?”, [y/n] asked, a little frown appearing on her forehead. “Because you were right. I think you are attractive and maybe my motive wasn’t all just about protecting you at the concert.”, he could feel himself blush.

“I´m sorry for acting out, after…you know.”

“It´s okay. Would you feel better, knowing that I really hated making the decision, to not sleep with you?”, she nodded.

“A little.” “Good. Cause it was. But it was the right thing to do.”, she smiled a little and began focusing on her hands again.

“You see, I get it now and I´m glad, at least one of us, has made a right decision tonight but…I don’t know how I´ll be to you, when I´m high again.”, her concerned voice made him take her hand. Being afraid of your own mind, no longer being able to control it, was something he was very familiar with. “Then don’t be. We could get you into rehab.”

[y/n] chuckled and took his hand with both of hers, caressing it with her thumbs. She seemed to be thinking. Making Spencer believe she may be taking his offer. But the longer she thought, the more obvious it became, that she was losing to something dark inside her head.

“Would be a waste of time.”, she whispered, her playfulness gone, as if reality just slapped her into the face.

“But if you continue like this, you´ll be dead soon.”, [y/n] gave him a gentle smile.

“You always say that, like I don’t plan on dying with twenty-seven.”

For a second he tried reading her, hoping she was joking, having made those suicidal jokes a little to often in the last days. When he didn’t like the answer, he prepared himself to hear it from her.

“Do you?”, she nodded. “I´m going to join ‘Club 27’ and then drift into oblivion. My songs and everything I did, only becoming an relic from the past.”

The way she said it, made it sound like she had already made peace with that decision. It frightened Spencer, making him think of how to make her re-think it.

“What about your friends?”

“There´s only the band…and I started pushing them away from me, a long time ago. I saw how it will end for me and decided not to have it hurt them, like it hurt me, when I found my mom.”, he shook his head. He refused to accept this as an answer.

“And what about yourself? You can’t just feel like dying is the only option.” “It´s not. But it´s the most relieving one.”

The calmness in her voice and body language showed him so much. What had driven her into that state? A state were death was seen as a relieve, because everything else hurt too much. Depression. She showed signs of it. Many people with addicted use it to cope with their mental problems. What had happened to her? His mind traveled back to the day before, to the only moments when she had let her façade slip.

To the silver bullet that would kill her.

“What happened to your baby?”, he asked her stern and she looked at him defeated.

“Oh, I see…I´ve been profiled. What do you think happened?”

“You lost it.”, she nodded, but he continued, carefully watching her body language. He wanted answers, but would stop when she would get too uncomfortable. “Probably because of your abusive father.”, she nodded again, seeming a little numb to his words. “Was he religious?”, the black-haired girl chuckled and answered him a little sarcastic.

“Depends on how religious you´d call a reverend. Why?”

“Religious trauma or trying to shock people. Your music, I mean.”

For a second [y/n] let go of his hand, making him rest in her lap. Spencer refused to pull it away, if she would start talking, he wanted her to know that he was still there. He had, by now, enough pieces of the puzzle, showing him a dark picture of her past. A reason, why she tried to be high so often.

Reality was a sharp knife and its cuts couldn’t hurt so bad, when you numb yourself.

“My father was always hitting my mom, but when she then took off, there was only me and him. He forced me into the mold of the perfect, religious daughter and when I wasn’t as obedient as he would´ve liked, he´d make me read the bible for hours and beat me senseless.”, she started gesturing to her stomach and chest area. “Of course only hitting me in places, nobody would see the bruises. When I was fifteen, I got caught trying to smoke for the first time, by a teacher. As they notified my father, he locked me into the dark broom closet for a week. Out of spite, I then started smoking regularly and met a boy through it, Daniel.”

Spencer watched [y/n]´s face light up for a second. She looked like JJ or Rossi, when they were talking about Will and Krystall. Like he probably did, when he was thinking about Maeve.

“He went to the same school as I and his abusive parents were addicts, like my mom had been. We kinda bonded over that and would sneak out at night, spending hours together, talking about the stupidest things. Thinking we were so deep and intellectual. He, at one point, started stealing his parents weed, so we could get high together. Made getting beaten easier. The time with Daniel was the first and last time I ever felt those butterflies. You know? This childish feeling of love?”

She smiled at him as he nodded, remembering those butterflies too, but then the smile darkened and she took Spencer’s hand again. As if to try and hold onto him, shielding herself from the dark memories creeping up.

“I got pregnant with sixteen. A shame. I managed to hide it for a few weeks and Daniel and I came up with the childish idea of running away together. We thought, we could just get jobs somewhere else, buy a home and become a family…Like foolish kids.”, her self-degrading laugh broke Spencer’s heart, as she tried swallowing her tears.

“And it didn’t work.”, he whispered and she only laughed, voice dripping in sarcasm. “Of course it didn’t. A woman from church had overheard us talking and the rumor of me being pregnant was already out there, since I threw up so often at school. So she thought she would help me, if she told my father.”, Spencer squeezed her hand a little. “You wanna know what he did?”, he shook his head.

“What?”

“He waited for us to meet at night. As I crawled out of the window, he stormed outside with his shotgun and confronted us. After I admitted to being pregnant he hit me, making Daniel step between us and start fighting with my dad to protect me and the baby…and my dad- he-…he then just shot him. In-…In cold blood, just pulled the fucking trigger.”, [y/n] voice was filled with disbelieve. Like she still wasn’t able to believe what she had seen.

“My father then grabbed me by the hair and tried getting me to go back into the house. I, obviously shocked about him just shooting my boyfriend, refused to and so he started beating and kicking me, till I stopped fighting back…Needless to say, I lost the baby after that.”

As a few tear ran down her face, she let go of Spencer´s hand and wiped them away. Letting a cynical laugh follow.

“That’s not even the best part of the story. Nothing happened.”, Spencer looked at her frowning.

“What do you mean with ‘Noting happened’. He shoot a teenager. Weren’t there any repercussions?”, she shook her head.

“No. Because he told the police, that he came outside to me screaming, because Daniel was beating me. Angry at me, for being pregnant. He stated that he just did what he had to do, to protect me.”, he shook his head in disbelieve.

“Weren’t you questioned? Didn’t you tell them what really happened?”

“I would try telling, but nobody believed it. Because the reverend, a pillar of our community, would never do such thing. They thought I was just lashing out and framing my father, because I was high and angry at him for shooting my boyfriend...Daniel´s parents didn’t even care, too high to get what had happened. After that, I wasn’t allowed to go to school anymore, in fact, I wasn’t allowed to do anything anymore. My father taught me at home and every Sunday I was allowed to go to church and pray to have my sins being forgiven.”

Spencer nodded at the amount of information she had just given him.

He felt bad for her, started to understand her, started to hate her father and the cruel injustice she, Daniel and the baby had suffered.

Why had they only once, tried to get her into therapy?

The amount of suffered trauma had to end in a situation like this, left untreated.

It was eating her alive, suffocating her, and everybody who saw it, just slapped the ‘She´s gonna be okay’-Band-Aid on this gashing wound, moving on with their own life´s, while she was losing the battle inside her head. He got up and sat on the bed next to her, she scooted a little, giving him some room to lean back too. As he lifted an arm, [y/n] rested her head on his chest.

“Then how did you get…viral…?”, he looked at him and the confused spoken word, smiling.

“You know about that?”

“Luke.”, he answered and she nodded. “I wasn’t allowed to have a phone, but I was allowed to use our computer once a week for an hour. I would record myself singing and playing guitar on our shitty webcam and started uploading it, not thinking anybody would ever see it. With eighteen I got in contact with this guy, he said he was in the midst of establishing his own record label and he would love to pay my flight to LA, taking me under contract. I accepted and just ran as fast as I could, before my father could get me.”

[y/n] again laughed cynical. Seemingly a coping mechanism of hers, to play down the pain and severity of things and situations.

“When I arrived, he then offered me to stay with him, if I´d be…you know…nice to him. He earned a shit ton of money with my music, while I got nothing…But everything was better than going back home again.”, she sat up a little, so she could look at Spencer, again with that sparkle in her eyes.

“At one point, when I didn’t want to have sex with him anymore, I had to work at a pizza restaurant to afford rent. There I met Leroy, Tom and Hank at the Open-Mic-Night. I told them a little about what was going on and Hank sued that guys ass. He didn’t want anything in return…just happy to help me. If you think Hank is scary now, you would have shit yourself, seeing him in court!”

Both chuckled. Spencer could, thankfully, only imagine how terrifying the fifty year old biker could get.

“After winning the case I asked them if they were interested in becoming a band and we made some demo tracks with the money I had gotten. The label took us under contract and introduced us to Philip, who became our manager.”

“But you weren’t into anything but marijuana. How did we end up here?”, she sighed.

“The label has a lot of expectations surrounding me. One of them was for me, to go out and be publicly seen with their other artists, for the image. They were taking a lot of stuff and I always said no, sticking to weed. But somewhere along the line, I wanted to know how it felt. If my mom was right, for choosing it above me. And I think I get it now. Everything I told you before? My dad, my baby, Daniel? They´re gone. I´m able to standup for myself and not letting me being pushed into something I don’t want, like when that creep wanted me to whore myself out to him, just so I´d have a roof over my head. Life is just easier that way and thankfully shorter too.”, Spencer pulled her closer.

“I like you like that.”, he almost whispered. “Depressed?”, [y/n] snickered and he chuckled, shaking his head. “Real.”

“Only fair. I´ve been a real bitch to you, the whole time.”, he shook his head again. “Not that bad.”, she hit his chest gently, while giggling. “Oh, please. I can handle it. Come on.”, he sighed playfully, admitting the truth. “Okay, yeah. You´ve been a bitch.”

They laid there for a while, [y/n] seemingly thinking, before she talked again.

“You´re gonna pass on babysitting duty for me now, I guess?”, she asked hesitant, making him chuckle.

“Nope. I´m gonna stay.”, [y/n] sat up and looked at him, like he had completely lost his mind.

“Why in the world, are you doing that to yourself?”, Spencer shrugged. “Savior complex.” “I´m not worth it.”, he shrugged again. “I know. But the sober girl inside you is. You know? The one that knows my name, speaks French with me while playing Mozart and puts a blanket over me when I fall asleep while reading.”

Then she asked him something that hit too close to home. Revealing a reality he liked to ignore.

“You can’t save everybody. You´re aware of that, right?”, he nodded as she laid back into bed, her head resting against his chest again. “But I can try.”, Spencer whispered against her ear.

“Would you mind just watching TV with me? Withdrawal headache´s a bitch.”

Spencer grabbed the remote and turned the TV on. After many attempts of finding something interesting, [y/n] stopped him from switching the channels. They had come across an 80´s music special. Something with the name ‘Heartbeat’ by Don Johnson had just started playing. Although [y/n] didn’t move a lot, Spencer could tell she was excited. Moving her lips along the lyrics.

“I don't care what you say

You can give it away

Your money don't mean much to me.

I've been out on my own

Gonna got it alone now

'Cause that's the way it's got to be.

Ev'rybody tells me how I can beat the odds for now.

Well I've been standing by the fire

But I just can't feel the heat.”

“That’s a great song.”, Spencer shrugged, again not feeling too much connection to the music. But it did sound nice. At his shrugging she hit him a little and put on a badly played face of disbelieve and shock. “Show some respect for the classics!”, he laughed at her words. “Respect for the classics? You called Beethoven a deaf bitch.”, now [y/n] shrugged. “Touché.”, she giggled, laying her hand on her head as if to ease the pain.

“Looking at me

It's easy to see

You think you know just how I feel.

If you do to me wrong and it won't take me long

Before my restless heart will heal.

I'm looking for a love

Love like mine”

“That was good music back then.”, she whispered against his chest. “Heart break, real emotions…love that stuff.”

“Why don’t you play more of it then?”, Spencer asked, Luke in his mind telling him about their music just no longer trying to hit the feelings. [y/n] giggled a little. “I´m guessing…Luke told you?”, he nodded and she let out a sigh. “Remember when I told you about the label having expectations? Every song I make has to go through them first, before being released. At one point, I had nine songs, completely done and they only greenlit one of them. Told me the others ‘weren´t my style’, ‘not exactly my genre’ or ‘wouldn’t speak to my audience enough’. So I just stopped looking for the deeper emotions. Still love the music I make, but the feeling´s dead. My lyrics helped me coping at the beginning, but the restrictions the label set me, ended that.” “Why don’t you just write those songs again? It doesn’t matter if anybody hears them.”, he suggested to her chuckling in response.

“They tell me it's so hard to find

But I can feel it in the rhythm of the heartbeat in the street.

Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat”

“If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound, mon amour?”, Spencer looked at her for a second, flustered by the realness she let him see.

“Yes. For me it would.”, he told her, making her giggled. “I probably lost my ability for stronger emotions anyway. But thanks, Spencer.”

His heart skipped a beat as she said his name.

“Heartbeat - I'm looking for a heartbeat

Beating like mine.”

As the door opened Spencer quickly jumped up, Emily looking at him with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uhmm…Hello?”, she asked, more meant as a ‘What´s going on?’. Philip walked in right after her, not having seen the both of them more or less cuddling in the hospital bed.

“Oh no, it´s raining again.”, he sighed as he closed the window and stepped aside for the nurse, who took out the IV from [y/n]´s arm. “Okay. I got you released from hospital, [y/n]. I have the papers and ta-da.”, he handed her a white little paper bag. “Your pain medication and antibiotics for the arm.”

“Thanks.”, she answered and passed it over to Spencer. “Ca-Can you…so I take them correctly?”, he looked at her confused.

“You sure?”, she nodded and Spencer smiled at her. Baby steps. “Of course.”

“I thought Dr. Reid would stop his bodyguard duty, now that you´re going to stay with me?”, [y/n] shrugged.

“I- I don’t know.” “You know, I can protect you too.”, Philip insured her. “Yeah…but I would feel safer with my guard dog around.”, she looked at the tall man. “Only if you´d be okay with that, Spencer.”

“More than okay.”, Spencer smiled at her, making her smile back.

“O-Okay, that´s fine. That´s gonna be fine. Dr. Reid can sleep in my office. Now get dressed, so we can pack your stuff at home.”

Philip handed [y/n] her black duffle bag, Spencer had put on the floor next to her bed. She opened it and pulling out some jeans and a black sweater. When she tried to get up she was a shaky on her legs, but managed to go to the bathroom. Spencer stayed close to her, being able to catch her in case she´d fall. When she closed the door behind her, he looked at Philip and Emily.

“How many paparazzies are out there?”, he asked and Emily held her breath, shortly thinking.

“Too many. Just checked before coming in. You guys better think of a plan, if you don’t want [y/n] to be seen by them and become five o'clock news.”, both men nodded and then looked at each other.

“Okay…so, Philip? Where do you park?”, Spencer asked. “Outside, visitors.”, he nodded and looked to his friend.

“Me too. Emily, you?”

“Car park.”, she answered and Spencer handed her his key.

“Okay. We trade. I take [y/n] home in Emily´s SUV. Emily takes [y/n]´s car and you, Philip, you just drive to the mansion. Maybe we can make them think she´s still in medical care, that way.”, all of them nodded to each other, not really knowing what more there was to tell. Not knowing if the plan would even work.

*****

When [y/n] looked in the mirror, in the tiny bathroom of her hospital room, after washing her face, she felt okay. Horrible, but okay.

Feeling kind of stupid, having given Spencer her medication. It had felt right. But she didn’t know why. Did she want to make him happy? Well, he certainly was. But honestly? Nobody just stops being addicted for one person. Having your addiction tendencies being bound and under control solely for another person than yourself probably never works in the long term.

She knew she would have to stop for herself and that just wasn’t worth it.

She just wasn’t worth it.

Spencer would leave again, he was just another person in her life that would vanish, never to be heard from again. Her life would move on, just like it did now and that was it. It was okay like that. There wasn’t much to be expected anymore and she had made her peace with it. Having lost the will to try years ago.

Somehow she had decided however, to enjoy the few moments she would still have with this man. A man she barely knew, but yet, felt so interest in. A man that either lived his best boomer life or just simply lived in a cave without Wi-Fi, giving his lack of knowledge by simple words like iconic and viral.

Maybe it was his lack of interest in her Rockstar persona, that intrigued her. She had heard him and Philip outside of her room. Spencer had not given a single fuck, that her voice could´ve been ruined by having her stomach pumped, as long as she didn’t die. That was nice. Being more than an expensive voice. Being counted as a human.

She wanted to know more about him, had given him her silver bullet, as a sign of trust. Now she wanted his or however much he was willing to give. Being high would ruin it, being high would maybe have her forget something. [y/n] knew she would still need to take the bare minimum of her drugs, so the withdrawal wouldn’t kill her, but for now she would like to be semi-clean. The headache and the freezing being acceptable.

She had put on her fresh clothes, liking that they didn’t smell like cigarettes, wondering why she even smoked, when everything just started to reek and ruin the nice smell of her lavender perfume. Was it still out of spite, because her father didn’t like it?

Maybe she would quit…on the other hand…maybe just reduce them a little. For now, she didn’t have any, anyways. She would probably need some chewing gum.

When she walked out of the bathroom Spencer smiled at her, stepping closer and his hands cupping her face.

“Hey. You okay? You´re a little pale.”, she quickly nodded, her heart beating as fast as it always did shortly before a concert.

“Yeah, just not wearing any makeup, so…”, he shook his head, thumb stroking her cheek.

“Uh-uh. You weren’t pale like that before. You feeling sick?”, actually yes, she did.

“A little.”

“We´re gonna get you something to eat later and then you should take a nap. Philip is going to drive in his car and we´ll meet him at your house. Emily already left.”, [y/n] nodded, quickly stepping away from Spencer. She hadn’t even noticed Philip still being there, while he smiled at them.

“I´m gonna leave now and you guys just go to the garage and wait a few minutes. When something happens you call me, okay [y/n]?”, she nodded, Spencer taking her duffle bag as Philip hugged her and then left.

She and Spencer went to the car park, her having the hood from her sweater pulled into her face, hoping nobody would recognize her. The last thing she wanted was a media scandal, so shortly after the her teen-pregnancy was brought to light. People talking about the ‘out of control’-Rockstar almost dying due to an overdose. Not that they were completely wrong, but still. She hated when strangers acted like they knew her, only because they read one of those crappy articles.

When they got into the car Spencer turned on the seat heating, without saying a word, only smiling at her. Why was he so nice? Was it his savior complex or did he just have a great personality?

Driving to her mansion in silence, they were met with an array of paparazzies in front of it. Spencer parked across the street. [y/n] quickly fixed her hair, should they notice her and start making photos.

“Tinted windows, they don’t see you.”, he told her, making her relax.

For a second she thought about how much she hated this. The flashes of the cameras pointed into her face, only inches away from it. Asking her inappropriate question, because fame cancelled out the right of privacy. They were always waiting for her to do something, to be put on a blast for.

Maybe she could just, a little longer, be a no one. Like she seemed to be, alone with Spencer.

With Philip, she never had even five minutes to herself. Yes he was nice, but he was so in-your-face sometimes. Smothering her with care.

“Spencer?” “Hm?”, he turned to her. “Would it be okay, to just go undercover?”, Spencer raised his eyebrows. “Undercover?”, her cheeks flushed a little.

“Yeah…get a hotel room and some junk food maybe…” “What about Philip?”

“I´ll text him…I- I´d just like to be alone.”, he nodded at her words, already starting the car again. “Oh, sure. I get that.” “Alone with you.”, was that sentence too bold? “I know. Already thought so.”, he put a hand on her thigh, gently squeezing it. She smiled at this gentle gesture. “Any hotel okay?”, he asked her, as she laid her hands on his, wanting to make sure it stayed there. “Sure. But you´ll need to get the room. I tend to attract attention.” “Really?”, he asked in a playful voice, as he pulled into the main street. “Yeah, apparently I look like this one singer from a rock band.”, she answered, giggling, even though it killed her head. “Huh, weird. Wouldn’t have noticed.”, he almost whispered, seeming to have noticed it.

“Maybe we should get me some nicotine patches too.”, she smiled, making him look at her surprised.

“Stopped smoking?” “Yeah, thought I´d try it. Maybe you can smell my perfume better like that. Lavender.”, Spencer chuckled. “Sexy. Kissing a smoker only seems good in the movies.” “You know movies?”, she said, playfully mocking him. “Russian and black-and-white ones.”

“You´re a little nerd, huh?

“Hope that’s not a deal breaker?”, she looked at his little worried, almost insecure look.

Yes, the junkie who just ruined his night, by having a mental breakdown, would think a nice, smart guy that liked watching ‘Dr. Who’ was a dealbreaker.

“It´s actually kinda cute.”, he let out an adorable giggle and for a second she could feel her heart skip a beat.

*****

Spencer had gotten them a hotel room in a small hotel with individual, private entrances. Definitely not as classy as [y/n] was used to, but private enough, not to be seen. Before, he had bought her nicotine patches and gum and they had gotten some pizzas.

Now her arm was plasters with some of the patches and they sat on the bed, eating pizza and watching ‘10 things I hate about you’, making him see just how quirky [y/n] could be. Singing along to every song, telling him how much she loved watching it, secretly at a friend’s home, as a teen; giggling like crazy when something funny happened and gushing over things she thought to be romantic. Spencer had given her her medication and the withdrawal, at least in the moment, seemed to be manageable.

After the movie she had insisted on him picking something, making him extremely nervous. He didn’t think that any of his picks would have her enjoy the next two hours, but she didn’t let him say no. So he put in an old black and white movie called ‘La Dolce Vita’, about a week in the life of a philandering tabloid journalist living in Rome. He laid down in bed and signaled [y/n] to come closer. She had quickly cuddled up beside him, seemingly touch starved by the way she held him close. A very familiar feeling for Spencer.

After he had begun stroking her hair, she had fallen asleep faster, then he had fallen for her.

Seeming to like every side of her, every part, no matter how damaged or ugly. Spencer had pulled the sleeping girl a little closer, gently kissing the top of her head and smiling to himself. What he had smelled two days ago, had been lavender. He drifted of as well, only waking up half an hour later, when the credits woke him.

Turning the TV off, before laying close to [y/n] again, now spooning up behind her, face buried in the crook of her neck, arms wrapped tightly around her.

To be continued...

Give me your feedback [also anonymous!]

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #reader insert #spencer x reader #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer x fem!reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds x y/n #spencer x y/n #rainincaliforniaff

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection.

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging.

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest.

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors.

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek.

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance.

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00.

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.”

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.”

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso.

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis.

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.”

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.”

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house.

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him.

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie.

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed.

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.”

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?”

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next.

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.”

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

“Nope.”

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked.

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?”

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.”

“Messy how?” Pierre asked.

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly.

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.”

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked.

“About what?” Pierre responded.

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.”

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.”

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked.

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.”

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her.

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.”

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer.

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.”

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.”

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion” — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special.

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag.

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent.

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

November 28 (sun)

Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews.

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said.

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling.

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?”

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished.

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep.

December 18 (sat)

Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow.

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table.

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home.

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard.

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch.

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done.

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth.

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard.

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

January 26 (wed)

Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted.

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin.

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet.

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.”

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor.

“Coming.”

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport.

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked.

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?”

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough.

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge.

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching.

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence.

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex.

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.”

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice.

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone.

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured.

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

February 20 (mon)

Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen.

Are you free right now? I need to call you.

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered. I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text.

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head.

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?”

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?”

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense.

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered.

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise.

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully.

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it.

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said.

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

#hockey imagine #pierre luc dubois #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey writing #hockey #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl smut #nhl writing #nhl #Pierre-Luc Dubois #pierre-luc dubois imagine #columbus blue jackets

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shhh-no-ones-home · 4 years ago

Text

night watchmen josh balz x reader

+++++++++ Song: diamond girl by set it off

tag list: @thisplace-ishaunted @lifeisabitchandsoareyou @musicsexandpizza69 @svintsandghosts @alilpunkrock @cynic-spirit @theoneandonlykymberlee +++++++++

I sat on the couch in silence, leant over, my elbows digging into my thighs as I propped my head up on my hands. I had come home early to surprise my fiance but he was nowhere to be found. i was hoping to get him and head out for a date on the town but now i had been sitting here for an hour by myself, three glasses of wine deep, and no text back. this sucked. it was slowly creeping up on seven o'clock and i couldnt help but check my phone over and over again, but still nothing. i sighed and sat back, slouching into the couch.

"fuck this."

i said before standing up, freezing in my tracks as the front door unlocked. i heard laughing and got confused before he pushed the door fully open, him walking in with a tall thin woman tucked under his arm. when she saw me she stopped, looking to him for answers.

"baby?"

he asked, also confused.

"youre home early."

i tucked my phone into my pocket and nodded.

"yeah, if you would have answered my text three hours ago you wouldve known that."

i said sarcastically.

"i was hoping we could go out on a date but it looks like you did that already."

he pulled his arm off her shoulders and stood there uncomfortably.

"baby its not what you think-"

he started and i held my hand up.

"no, youre right, what it looks like is you moving out."

i said firmly.

"baby please."

He tried to protest. i shook my head, pulling my engagement ring off and pressing it into his hand.

"you have till tomorrow to get your shit out of my house and then im changing the locks. if you need me ill be at josh's, calling the landlord and taking you off the lease."

i said walking past him to our room. i texted josh as quickly as i could and began packing. as i stuffed clothing into a bag i tried so hard to fight the tears back. we had been together for three years. what happened to all that time? i guess it didnt matter anymore. i guess it didnt for either of us. the truth is i wasnt even that heartbroken. at some point i think i stopped loving him too, it just didnt matter till now. it didnt matter till i was faced with the truth of it all. now i had to deal with that. when i walked back out into the living room he was standing there alone, a sad look on his face. he reached out for me as i made my way to the door.

"wait, baby, can we please talk about this?"

he said and i turned to look at him.

"there is nothing to talk about."

he laughed in disbelief.

"yes there is, just hear me out."

i shook my head.

"no, i dont want to hear anything from you right now. other than maybe how long this has been going on and if you still love me, that i think i deserve to know."

he dropped his gaze to the floor in shame.

"no, i dont."

i nodded.

"and ive been seeing a few different women for the last year."

i closed my eyes tightly for a second.

"so when you proposed to me and said all those things, you didnt mean any of it?"

he slowly shook his head, looking to me with a sad look on his face. i blinked slowly, turning back to the door and reaching for the handle.

"good, cause i dont think i did either."

i said harshly as i pulled the door open, stepping out into the cool night air and closing it behind me. for the first time in forever i could just breathe, relax, revel in freedom. this was a feeling i missed. being with him felt like a trap for so long. i sighed in relief as i saw josh's car pull up in front of the house, making me smile for the first time today. he got out of the car, a look of pity strewn across his features. i practically ran to him, him hugging me tightly to his body and rubbing my back gently.

"you okay?"

he asked and i nodded into his shoulder.

"i am now."

i said softly as he pulled away. he ran his hands down my arms, examining my face before opening the passenger door.

"lets get out of here."

°°°°°°°°°

as i sat on joshs couch i sipped the coffee he had offered and waited for him to come back from the kitchen. the dogs were sitting in a blanket about a foot away from me, staring in my direction. usually they were all over me but maybe they knew something was wrong.

"sorry that took so long."

josh said walking in behind me, another mug in his hand.

"its fine, nothing im not used to."

i let out a soft laugh as he sat, sending me an apologetic look.

"so, uh, do you wanna talk about it?"

he asked and i shrugged.

"i dont even know what there is to talk about now. its over. if im honest it was kind of over a long time ago."

he placed his hand on my thigh, squeezing it lightly.

"im sorry it ended up this way for you y/n. i know you said months ago that you didnt think this would last. but i never even wouldve imagined it would happen like this."

i side nodded before taking a sip of the coffee.

"you and me both."

i said, raising my brows.

"are you gonna be okay?"

i sighed, slouching into the back of the couch.

"thats the thing josh. every part of me says i should be sad. i should be mad. hell maybe even a little vengeful. but im not. i dont really feel anything other than annoyed."

he raised a brow in confusion.

"annoyed?"

i nodded lightly.

"i guess im just fed up with the fact that i waisted three years of my life. three years of time and emotion. three years i couldve been looking for an actual partner and friend. looking for someone who actually cares about me."

he cleared his throat.

"someone like me?"

i sent him a small smile.

"maybe."

he smiled back at me, knowingly.

"its not like we havent been flirting the past few months. when you called me i was almost expecting you to tell me you had ended things with him and you were gonna come running into my arms. ya know, like those shitty fairytale fantasy type things."

i couldnt help but laugh.

"honestly i think i wanted to but it didnt feel right. besides, i dont think it wouldve been appropriate to kiss you in front of him considering he had been cheating on me. that wouldnt exactly look good on paper."

he laughed a little too at that.

"yeah but whats keeping us from doing that now?"

i sent him a look.

"i dont know."

he side nodded.

"im single, youre single, we're too grown adults who have been slightly pining after each other for a few months."

i nodded back.

"all valid points."

i said, inching towards him. he looked down to my lips, inching closer too.

"then theres nothing keeping us apart anymore."

i looked over his eyes.

"i think youre exactly right."

i said softly, shutting my eyes as he closed the gap between us, connecting our lips. it was a lot softer then i had dreamed it to be and he tasted like caramel. it was quick though. when he pulled away we both smiled at each other like idiots.

"why did that take us so long?"

he said through a laugh and i shook my head.

"i have no idea."

i said before pulling him in for another kiss, this time much deeper and smoother, as if that were possible. he hummed into my mouth, bringing his hand around to the back of my head and holding me to him. when we both pulled away again he rested his forehead against mine, keeping his eyes closed.

"god i wish i wouldve done that forever ago."

i smiled at him as he opened his yes, pecking him quickly on the lips.

"god i do too."

we both laughed lightly for a second, him pulling me closer to him.

"y/n?"

he said, taking my hand in his.

"yeah?"

i asked.

"will you be mine?"

i let out a relieved laugh.

"yeah."

he brought his free hand up to stroke my cheek gently.

"i promise ill treat you so much better."

i sat back and held up my pinkie.

"promise?"

i asked and he sent me a knowing smile, connecting our fingers.

"promise."

#wattpad #x reader #276 #josh balz #miw #imagines #one shots

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nanasarea · 5 years ago

Text

Love, Lux, and Tulips I

Prompt: Your mom and Jeno’s mom were best friends, so you grew up together as one big family and became best friends, but once you started Lux academy, you met your new crush Renjun, who became a tad jealous, to say the least.

Genre: fluff, angst, rich!au, magic!au

Pairing: childhood best friend!jeno x reader x classmate!renjun

Word count: 1.2k

a/n: wow i new series when will i stop prob never also we know i don’t proofread haha + title credit to @neocitybynight also repost bc tumblr tags are a bitch

remember you can still vote for endgame here

Tag list: @legendnct @mjlkau

series m.list / main m.list / ltt m.list / I II III IV V

“Just five more minutes, mom. Please?” Jeno asked, knowing his mom couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes and the pout. “Three, no more, no less.” his mom sighed before he turned back to you and held up your barbie before introducing the doll to his stuffed animal. “You think they’ll get together one day?” Your mom asked his as they drank their tea “I’m sure of it.” His mom answered, looking at the two of you.

You and Jeno were destined to be best friends before the two of you were even born. Your moms have been best friends since they were teenagers. Both of them came from very wealthy families and both the Lee and the y/l/n family names were highly respected, some even called your two families the unofficial royal families of the wizarding world.

Despite the wealth, they decided to live together, as they wanted to be one big family, so they bought this huge castle which mimicked the ones from fairy tales. You grew up in that castle alongside Jeno, you would always run around the halls, which seemed endless at the time. You use to joke that when the halls end, your love for one another will.

You had a nanny, Joohyun at the time to make sure you don’t end up getting lost, thankfully. She got the nickname Irene when Jeno’s cousin from Canada came to visit you and said she reminded him Princess Irene. She was sweet and took care of you, despite being quite a young age herself. On Jeno’s 5th birthday, she was just 14 and baked him a whole cake by scratch and despite your desire to help, which actually just happened to give her much more work.

Once, she found you and Jeno fast asleep in your garden. You got some cookies from the kitchen and went to make a bouquet, because you wanted to say thank you to her for taking such good care of you. The plan would have been successful if you hadn’t convinced Jeno to help you eat half of the cookies before going to get the flowers, which only resulted in you two passing out in a bad of daisies, covered in cookie crumbs.

Your moms would always joke that once you two grow up, you would end up marrying each other and you would start living like an actual family, but the older you got, the more you thought what if they weren’t joking. It was almost as if your moms expected you two to join the two families and no one could blame them. Not because it would turn two wealthy household into one even wealthier household, but because of how much time you spent together.

You were always together. You even insisted on sleeping in the same bed, because you didn’t want to be separated, it was as if you were attached at the hip. You started your whole day together, you were even home-schooled purely because you couldn’t handle being in separate classes. It didn’t fade as you got older as your dad had expected, which made him slightly uncomfortable knowing that his 14 year old daughter is sleeping in the same bed as a boy her age and if it wasn’t for your mom reminding him that it’s just Jeno, he would have banned you from seeing one another.

One time, when you were 13, you even shared your first kiss. You were watching a movie and a kissing scene came up, which made you both uncomfortable, to say the least. Later that evening, you decided to ask him if he saw the appeal, to which he shook his head.

“No, I mean, it’s just lips touching, isn’t it?” He asked “How is it any different from other parts of your body touching like your hands touching?” he added, the confusion and nervousness in his voice telling the truth, as if his ears turning red at the conversation wasn’t a dead giveaway. “Jeno, you think it’s different, don’t you?” You asked “I mean, it’s different if I touch you here...” You started, placing your hand on his shoulder “Or here?” You added, starting to tickle him, causing him to fall back and burst into laughter.

A good minute had passed and you finally stopped, letting the boy breath. “I guess that’s different.” he sighed, catching his breath. “I guess so.” You agreed, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. “Do you wanna see what the hype is about?” he asked, nervously “Kinda, but only if you want to.” You said, turning to face him. “I do, I mean how special can it feel anyway?” he laughed, you quickly mimicking his nervous laughter.

He scooted over to you and looked at you, as if to confirm that you wanted to continue. You nodded your head and closed your eyes quickly, causing him to giggle. “Here goes.” he said before placing a quick kiss on your lips. It was faint, you barely felt it if you were being honest, but you felt like squealing afterwards. “Anything?” he asked “you?” you asked back, to which you both shook your head nervously before blurting out a good night to one another and going to bed.

As time passed and you both matured, you found yourself looking at Jeno in a different way than what you use to see him as. He was the same boy who helped you make flower crowns, who stole your crayons when you weren’t looking and who gave you his dessert in secret when you whined about wanting more, but he had something about him now. Something new. You don’t know when it happened, but you remember noticing it for the first time. It was when he was playing football with his cousin, Mark and you were talking to your cousin, Yeri. You looked over to cheer him on when the sprinklers went off and his loose white shirt turned into a sheer tight one and his newly dyed blonde wet hair was swept back. He looked over at you as if to see if you saw what happened, laughing at the event before running to you and asking Irene if he and Mark could get some towels.

He looked over at you and Yeri, and said “Sorry to disturb you too.” breathless from the running. “No worries.” Yeri smiled, assuring that he shouldn’t worry about it, which is when you noticed his biceps and asked yourself, when did he start working out. You felt yourself become nervous and awkward around him, which you weren’t use to, you were use to looking at him like a small newborn kitten, but in this moment, he looked more like an intimidating lion.

It wasn’t until you got the news, that you and Jeno could join Yeri and your other friends at Lux academy, that you realized how big of a heartthrob Jeno actually grew up to be. It was your first day and people already asked you if you were dating and if not, if you could hook them up. You just stared at them in confusion, feeling a sense of jealousy washing over you, but you just laughed it off. It was normal to be protective of your best friend and wished that they wouldn’t start dating anyone, was it?

#nct-writers #nct fluff #nct series #nct scenario #nct x reader #nct au #lee jeno fluff #lee jeno series #lee jeno scenario #lee jeno x reader #lee jeno au #huang renjun series #huang renjun fluff #huang renjun scenario #huang renjun x reader #huang renjun au #royal au #magic au #llt

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holidaywishes · 5 years ago

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It Had To Be You XLII

Chapter Forty Two: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

Summary: Fast forward a year to June 2023 and It’s Bachelorette Party time.

Warning: Tyler isn’t really in this one (hence no GIF) in anything other than conversations between the girls. Most of the warnings are just mentions of alcohol, drunkness, drunk embarrassing moments, and possible male strippers.

Author’s Note: Hope you enjoyed the short, little, fluff chapter that came out last time but I wanted to get into some more Girl Time story lines so we can feel more connected to the Bridal Party that (Y/N) will have. Also, I think if I keep writing about Tyler and (Y/N) in these last chapters, it will just be overly-angsty. So, yeah. This one and the next one are just short, fun and cute. Also, I wanted to do a quick update of the timeline since there’s been a few time jumps from Chapter 38. So, here it is:

Part XXXVIII: July/September 2021/January 2022

Part XXXVIX: Late June 2022

Part XL: Late July 2022

Part XLI: August 2022

Parts XLII & XLIII (this chapter and the next): June 2023

Song Credit: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody (All We Got) -- Fergie ft. Q-Tip & Goonrock

masterlist

the other masterlist

When Diana convinced you to do your Bachelorette Party in Vegas, you whined that it was too cliché but no one else in the group was taking any of your suggestions seriously.

“You want to go Wine Tasting for your Bachelorette Party?” Lucy sneered

“What’s wrong with that?” you answered

“Well first of all,” Ethan added, “you hate wine...”

“Yeah well... I suggested--”

“Venice beach?” Cassidy interrupted, “no, sorry. If you have it there, I’m out. I honestly thought that was a joke.”

“Thanks for that, Cass. What about New York?! I suggested that and nobody said anything”

“It’s not bad...” Candace said, “but it’s a little overpriced for the amount of stuff we want to do. Vegas is the all around better choice...”

“She’s right,” Diana interjected, “I love New York as much as the next girl but there’s something for everyone in Vegas. In New York, you have to worry about one person being terrified to take the subway while another is too annoyed to sit in a taxi in traffic...” You looked at the group and let out a long, exaggerated sigh, signalling your reluctance to agree

“Fine...” you finally said and they all smiled at you before jumping up and down with excitement, “but hold on. We have to invite Melissa and Katie and some of the girlfriends from the team...”

“Even if you don’t know them?” Lucy said skeptically

“I know it would mean a lot to Tyler...” you admitted, “it would show him that I’m willing to get to know these people who are a big part of his life and who will most likely be around for a while. We don’t have to invite a lot, just one or two.“

“It’s your party...” Ethan mumbled, “your guests.” You rolled your eyes but continued to send invites to Melissa, Katie, Dominika and Julia. Candace and Lucy handled the booking and the planning of the Bachelorette weekend while you just worried about packing and showing up. Once everyone had confirmed they were going and bought their plane tickets, you were on your way and the excitement started early.

“Mimosa for everyone,” Katie smiled, handing out champagne flutes in the airport bar, “CHEERS! to a weekend of sin that none of us will remember.” She winked at you and you shook your head with a smile before taking a sip of your drinking.

“Can you just promise me one thing?” You asked

“We won’t let anyone out of our sights” Ethan replied, tilting his head to you with a smile

“Not what I was gonna ask but that’s good too,” you smiled back, “no, I was going to ask... can you just promise me that no strippers will be called to our hotel room? We can go to a show but I don’t want cops showing up at the door who actually turn out to be strippers... okay?”

“Got it.” Lucy answered, seemingly for the rest of the group, and raised her glass to clink yours.

The first stop of the weekend, after the hotel, was to the MGM Grand for some gambling

“Apparently it’s got a lot of options,” Cassidy said, “not just poker or slots. Something for everyone!”

“Am I guaranteed to win?” you joked

“No,” Melissa said plainly, “but you are guaranteed to get a lot of alcohol in your body in a very short amount of time.” You laughed and nodded before walking into the Casino with a ridiculous outfit that practically shouted ‘Bachelorette’ to the room, completely with Tiara and Sash. Unfortunately, you didn’t win much but you broke even and that led you to direct the group to the next activity; a trip to Fremont Street.

“To be honest, we were kind of thinking we’d do this tomorrow,” Julia started, “but there’s a lot to see in Downtown Vegas so we can do a couple days here.” You could feel the alcohol begin to hit you, so when someone flew past your group on the Zip Line above, you were all too eager to find it and take your turn.

“LET’S DO THAT!” You exclaimed

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” Candace laughed, “you think you can handle it?”

“Uhhh, YEAH!” You said, running up to a stranger, “do you know where the Zip Line starts?” He pointed toward the SlotZilla building down the street and you thanked him

“I’m sorry. It’s her Bachelorette Party. She’s excited” Lucy explained to the man

“It’s all good. She’s not bothering me,” he smiled, “have a good night!” With that, Lucy and the group followed you to the start of the Zip Line and took your places. About halfway through, it hit you that you were getting married and you yelled over to Candace

“DO YOU THINK HE REALLY WANTS TO MARRY ME?”

“WHAT?” she yelled back

“DO YOU THINK TYLER REALLY WANTS TO GET MARRIED?”

“OF COURSE HE DOES!” Dominika responded when she heard your question

“WHY DON’T YOU THINK SO?” Candace asked finally

“I DON’T KNOW. HE’S GETTING OLDER? MAYBE HE FEELS LIKE HE HAS TO”

“HE LOVES YOU” Both Dominika and Candace yelled. You waited to get off the Zip Line to continue the conversation but as soon as you were off, Julia and Cassidy were dragging you back up to try the Zoomline. The view from that high freaked you out a little but not enough to stop you from going through with it.

“YOU READY?” Julia shouted, raising her eyebrows as she asked

“I’M READY!” You answered, “CASS?”

“LET’S DO THIS!” The three of you were shot from the wall and watched as your friends tried to follow along but you lost sight of them when they ran into a big group of people. When you got back on solid ground, you got a text from Ethan asking where you were

“BUDDHA!” was all you sent back

“They on their way?” Julia asked and you nodded, looking at your background on your phone; a picture of you and Tyler when you’d first adopted Lionel.

“What’s wrong?” Cassidy asked

“I miss him!” you answered

“Who? Tyler? You’ll see him in a couple days.”

“What? No, Lionel. My puppy. He’s getting so big!” The two girls laughed just as your friends walked into the hotel finding you standing by the Happy Buddha Statue.

“Time to go ladies,” Diana said, winking at Ethan, “and Ethan. Our limo is here to take us to the Rio. We’ve got naked men to see and more alcohol to be consumed!” Diana and Candace wooed while the other girls yelled ‘let’s do this bitches’ from behind you, making you and Ethan laugh. Before you got to the show, Diana told you that the package she bought got the group Dinner and Drinks

“OOH YES! FOOD!” You slurred, the alcohol clearly taking over

“We’re gonna have some drinks too but this is to make sure we don’t die too early.” She said

“Plus,” Lucy added, “we have passes for Tao after the show. So we’re going to make sure we’ve sweat the alcohol thoroughly out of our body before we go to sleep tonight.” Right when you got to the Rio, and were directed to your seats, you got a text from Tyler but just as you were about to answer, the lights went down and you put your phone on silent. The show was everything you expected and, in your drunken state, you were overly enthusiastic about just about everything, not that you’d remember any of it the next morning -- luckily the entire group had their cameras out to capture everything.

Waking up the next day felt like someone was stopping on your head and you groaned when Melissa plopped herself into the bed with you.

“Last night was fun,” she grumbled, “but I don’t think I want to drink today.”

“I don’t want to get out of bed today. For anything. Give me room service.” You complained as you pulled the covers over your head

“Ladies,” Cassidy slumped in the room, whispering as quietly as she could while still being heard, “the hangover IV people are on their way. We should be fine in a couple hours. Hang out by the pool. See some shows tonight. Go to some clubs, drink--” she stopped herself from throwing up before continuing, “a little and then come back and go to sleep for a second before we catch our flight.”

“If I’m not dead in an hour, Fine. But until then, I’m not making any promises.” The words would prove to be the death of you, and the rest of the group, because that IV Treatment seemed to perk everyone up enough to do last night, almost, all over again. So much so, that you almost missed your flight. Tyler picked you up from the airport and, luckily, chose to keep the dogs at home but he was not about to let your hangover go unnoticed.

“So..” he started, “have fun this weekend?”

“I’m never partying with your sisters again. EVER. I don’t think I can go back to Vegas...” you answered

“You never texted me back...”

“That’s your sisters fault. Not mine. Or maybe it was the strippers,” you tried to think but your head was still pounding, “it was the alcohol’s fault.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t die”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I didn’t...” he laughed but you put your hand on his arm to stop him, “shhh. I just need you to... shhh.”

“I love you” he smiled, looking over at you as you sunk in your seat

“Mmhmm, me too,” you answered, “now let’s just have some quiet time.”

#Tyler Seguin #tyler seguin series #Tyler Seguin Imagine #Tyler Seguin Fics #Dallas Stars #NHL #Dallas Stars imagine #Dallas Stars Fic #Dallas Stars Series #NHL Fic #NHL Imagine #NHL Series #It Had To Be You #It Had To Be You series #masterlist #the other masterlist #it's time for the bachelorette party y'all!#next up #Bachelor party...

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albapuella · 5 years ago

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How to Lose a Lover in 10 Days or Less: A Comprehensive Guide to Becoming a Future Romantic Failure (Chapter One)

AO3

Fandom: Homestuck

Summary: How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days AU Dave needs to win a bet; Karkat needs to write an article. Shenanigans ensue.

Tags: Humanstuck, alternate universe - no sburb session, POV switches galore, implied/referenced child abuse Author’s note: This story is the result of a jam session I did with aceAdoxography on the davekat thirst federation discord server. This one's a little out of my usual wheelhouse, but I hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. New chapters every Saturday/Sunday.

I also tried to be fancy with the html, but it didn't come out right (you will see what I mean). However, I'm leaving it as is for now.

Chapter 1: Inciting Incidents

Day 0:

“I'm smooth as peanut butter,” Dave protested, his coffee sloshing in its cup as he swung his arm out. “Choosy moms might choose Jiff, but I ain't in the market for an older woman at the moment. Just call me Skippy, because that's how smooth I am.”

Rose looked both unimpressed and unconvinced. “Really?” She took a small, dignified sip of her tea.

“Yes!” Dave frowned. “I'm like super suave. Fucking James Bond over here.”

She squinted at him for a moment. “You do realize that James Bond is characterized by his inability to keep any woman with him longer than the length of one of his movies.”

“That's only because he's too much man to be tied down,” Dave said. “And that's not even the point: the point is that the fucker's suave. He can have any girl he wants.”

“And I suppose you can get any boy you want?” It sounded dismissive. “It would be wonderful if you managed that feat before my wedding. You know how mother worries about you, and I would rather not spend the first day wedded to my wife listening to mother wailing about how her poor little Davey's going to be all alone in the world.”

Dave felt the flush creeping up his cheeks, and he wasn't sure if he was experiencing his future humiliation already or if he was getting mad. Just because he couldn't keep a relationship going for long, that didn't mean he wasn't smooth. It wasn't his fault that up until very recently he'd only pursued girls because he hadn't wanted to admit he was gay... Okay, yes, that actually was his fault. The point was of course those relationships had failed. His relationship prowess had never been given a fighting chance. “Yeah, I could. In fact, I could make any of the guys here fall for me.”

“Very well, brother of mine,” Rose said, smiling that particular smile which tended to portend bad things for the person it was directed at, “how about that one?” She pointed to a man sitting alone at a table on the other end of the cafe.

Dave looked over at him without making it obvious he was doing so. Damn, Rose. The guy was a snack, obviously, but his expression indicated that the whole world had pissed in his cornflakes one at a time and had made him miss the bus to his job at the blow job factory. Still, it was too late to back out now. “Fine,” he said, setting down his cup just a little too hard. “I'll see you in two weeks, Rose, and I'll have him on my arm in a matching tux. We're going to be the hottest, gayest penguins you've ever fucking seen.”

She laughed at him. Which was fine: he was going to have the last laugh here. And there was no time like the present. He stood and strode over to the other table, curving his mouth in his smoothest, suavest fucking smile.

The man had noticed Dave's approach and looked up from his coffee, the ire on his face now joined by confusion. “Can I help you?” His voice was rough but not unpleasant. His tone was less pleasant, but Dave had expected that from his expression.

“I sure hope so,” Dave said. He put one hand on his hip and held the other out to the man. “I've just lost my name: can I have yours?”

The man blinked. Then he laughed—less amused and more disbelieving. “Seriously? You're seriously going to open up with that? That has to be the cheesiest fucking pick up line I've heard in my life. And I've heard a lot of them.”

Dave only grinned. Breaking the ice was just one of Dave's many talents. “What can I say, dude, I'm a connoisseur of fine cheese. Premium, aged in wooden crocks or whatever.” He waggled his hand. “Don't leave me hanging.”

The man looked from Dave's hand to his face and back again before heaving a sigh. He shook Dave's hand, his grip solid but not crushing. “Karkat.” Then he frowned. “What do you want?”

“Thought that was obvious, Karkat,” Dave said, trying the name out. He liked it. “I want to ask you out. On a date. I'm Dave, by the way,” he added quickly. It probably would have been smarter to open up with that. It also occurred to Dave that there were a lot of other variables he hadn't considered until this moment. “If you're single. God, I hope you're single. And into guys. Otherwise, I'm going to feel pretty stupid.”

Karkat opened his mouth but didn't speak as something too quick for Dave to pick up flashed across his face. Then he grinned, perhaps a little too widely. “You're in luck,” he said. “I am in the market for a date.”

Oh. “Cool. Cool, that's—” Dave broke off with a fake cough into his fist. “Yeah, uh. So, are you free tomorrow? Night?”

A slow nod. “Yeah. Sure. Sounds great.” He dug through his bag and took out a small notepad. “Do you use Pesterchum?” he asked as he scribbled something down.

“I think everyone and their grandmother uses Pesterchum,” Dave said, still kind of surprised that this was going as well as it was. “Not my grandmother, I don't have one, but you know, grandmothers. Or the tech savvy ones anyway. I think your average grandmother might have some trouble—the text is kind of tiny, isn't it?”

Karkat looked up from his writing. “Right.” He ripped the page out and held it out to Dave. “Message me, and we can set up that date.”

Dave took the paper. “Thanks, I'll, uh, message you soon!” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and made his way back to Rose. He knew his face was burning, but he decided to believe it was the flush of victory rather than anything else. She was still smiling at him, and he held the paper out in front of her face. “See? I've already got his chumhandle. You're going to eat your words, Rose. I hope you like the taste of humble pie.”

Rose laughed behind her hand. “Nice work, Dave,” she said once she'd recovered. “Try not to break his heart, won’t you?”

“What?” Dave shook his head. “His heart is going to be wrapped in three layers of bubble wrap and under ten pounds of packing peanuts.” He shoved the paper into his pocket. “I got this thing on lock.”

---

Karkat tore his eyes away from the retreating Dave to jot down some notes on his notepad. Looked like he'd be able to write this article sooner rather than later. Unless Dave had been dared to come over and get his phone number. That had happened before. He scowled into his coffee. Well, if Dave never got in touch with him, then he'd just use his last disaster of a relationship to base his article on. That was what he'd planned to do originally anyway.

It wasn't a secret around the office that Karkat Vantas, despite being a font of romance wisdom, was dead in the water when it came to dating and keeping a boyfriend. He attributed this mostly to his abhorrent personality and lack of self-control. Whenever the opportunity came up for him to stick his foot in his mouth, you could find him there, furiously chewing on his toes. He'd lost count of how many times a date had ended because he'd said something he shouldn't have. Or rather, screamed something he shouldn't have at the top of his lungs with more profanity than was warranted in retrospect.

So, of course, the boss knew about Karkat's lackluster love life, too. The assignment had been one of her little jokes. One of her little mind games. “Oh, Mr. Vantas, please write an article about how to fuck up a relationship in less than two weeks—it should be easy for you seeing as you're such an expert at being so noxious that no one but your handful of friends can even stand to be anywhere around you, never mind a stranger who doesn't know your history or has any reason to want to stick around and deal with your bullshit.” Paraphrased, of course. Her version had been much less honest.

He re-read his notes.

* Dave, no last name given. Terrible pick up line. Rambles. Idiot or awkward. Or both. Dresses like a color-blind douche bag. Obnoxious sunglasses. Vision impaired? Hot. Attractive. Moderately attractive.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he set down his notepad to fish it out. He frowned down at the screen. A notification from Pesterchum? His heart rose a little despite himself until he saw the name. Kanaya. He sighed. While he was happy she was happy, he couldn't handle being gushed at right now. He put the phone on the table and finished his coffee.

---

Dave dithered for hours before he finally decided on the perfect message to open communications with.

TG: this is dave from the cafe TG: wanted to say hey TG: and ask what you want to do Saturday

Okay, so it wasn't the best rap ever, but he was stretched for material here. Also, it probably wasn't a good idea to blow up this guy's phone before Dave got some confirmation that this was even Karkat's chumhandle. It wouldn't be the first time someone had given him a dud. At least the messages were going through: that was a good sign.

CG: ARE YOU RHYMING ON PURPOSE? TG: hell yea dog TG: mc strider here by popular demand to lay down the jams TG: ive got all my adoring fans just waiting for me to shower them with stanz- TG: -as like youve never seen its a dream come true straight to you

That was enough; he had to give Karkat some time to respond. Assuming this was Karkat.

TG: this is karkat right? CG: OH I CAN TALK NOW? CG: YES THIS IS KARKAT. CG: AS CHARMING AS THIS IS (AND I AM SO UTTERLY CHARMED RIGHT NOW), DO YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO GO ON A DATE WITH ME? TG: totally i totally do i knew as soon as i saw you yea im taking this total snack on a date

Which was not a lie, technically. Yes, Dave liked how Karkat looked, but he probably wouldn't have gone over to his table without Rose egging him on.

TG: where do you want to go skys the limit TG: but not really TG: cause no offense but i just met you TG: and i dont think were at the stage where id be willing to sell one my kidneys TG: to make your dreams of jumping out of an airplane onto the back of a narwhal or some shit like that come true TG: thats like after at least date number 5 and id expect some kind of thanks TG: at least a tongue kiss or something TG: not that i think you need to pay for dates physically TG: thats all kinds of gross TG: forget i said any of that please CG: … CG: HOW ABOUT DINNER AND A MOVIE. LIKE NORMAL PEOPLE. CAN WE DO THAT?

Dave grinned with relief. He'd thought for sure he'd just blown this.

TG: sounds great nothing beats the classics

With that sorted out, the rest had been easy. Dave closed his phone, feeling accomplished. He was really doing this. He was really making this happen. But first, he had some clothes to throw in the shower!

---

Karkat slid his phone back into his pocket with a sigh. Well, now he had a date for tomorrow. He looked down at the new set of notes he'd written during that 'conversation'.

* Last name Strider? Raps without provocation. Definitely visually impaired. Goes off on wild tangents. I'm going to be murdered. What the hell am I doing?

It had been difficult not to react in his normal way to the frankly bizarre things Dave had said, and he knew that was only going to be more difficult to manage in person. Still, he had to 'hook' this man as best as he was able before he could fuck it up like always. After all, he couldn't 'lose' a guy he never 'had', right? He idly entertained the thought of what 'having' Dave might be like. He was clearly crazy, but there was something endearing in his total inability to communicate like a regular person. The way he'd been so obviously nervous and out of his depth when he'd come over to ask Karkat out. The way his cheeks had flushed when Karkat had accepted. The way his body had moved when he'd walked away.

Shaking his head, Karkat tucked the notepad into his bag. No point in even thinking about it. Even if he weren't getting into this just to ruin the relationship for his article, the end would have been the same anyway. Honestly, he was doing Dave a favor: at least this way, Dave would only be wasting ten days worth of his time rather than torturous months of dealing with Karkat's bullshit before finding an excuse to cut him loose.

#homestuck #fan fic #humanstuck #my fic #wip #the html looks fine on my end #don't know why it's messed up when it goes live #*shrugs*

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alejandrocortez · 4 years ago

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50 Questions: OC Interview

1. What’s your name?

Cortez.

2. Give me your full name…

Alejandro Cortez

3. Do you have a nickname? If yes, what is it and how did you come to have it?

Cortez or my favorite “WAIT-NOO! AHHH!”

4. What species are you? (Human, werewolf, etc? Or are you an alien?)

Human. Like God intended it to be

5. Where were you born?

Texas. Raised in Blackwater.

6. I see. And that would make your age…?

7. Okay, now…are you a good guy, or a bad guy?

I don’t like labels. My work requires me to be what I need to be.

Part II: Tell Us More About Yourself…

8. How would you describe your personality?

I like to keep to myself.

9. Would you say you’re someone who can handle pressure?

I have to. You think the scumbags I hunt down go down easy?

10. Do you like to read?

At times. I know the Bible from cover to cover

11. Favorite color?

Dark Red.

12. Do you get along with others?

I try.

13. Do you have any enemies?

Of course. The Cortez name carries infamy along with its enemies.

14. How about friends?

The twins, Jeremiah and Abraham Brigby are men I trust with my life. John is my best friend but he refuses to accept it

15. Are you patient?

No. The quicker it’s done, the better

Part III: Hypothetically…

16. Suppose that you could become any creature you know of. What would you pick, and why?

A snake. They can get to and fro without being detected, giving them the chance to strike when least expected

17. One of your enemies in question 13 just complimented you. Response?

My Carcano never allows enemies near me, much less to let them compliment me.

18. One of your friends in Question 14 just insulted you. Response?

Fuck you too, John.

19. If you could change anything about yourself…

Nothing. I am the perfect hunting instrument for my lord and savior. I have been sent to bring hell fire to those who dare to go against him.

20. About your home…

I have no home. I was 16 when I killed my father and burned down the church he tortured me in for many years.

Part IV: Now We Get Personal

21. What’re your parents like?

My father was a preacher. A man that used different methods of pain and torture to convert slaves/natives into Christianity, so you get a faint idea of what kind of man my father was. My mother....well, my father killed her when I was but 4 years young...I don’t remember much of her...

22. Do you have any siblings?

Not that I am aware of.

23. What’s your occupation?

Whatever the money calls for. Bounty Hunter, bodyguard, security, etc.

24. I see, that’s a good job to have. Do you like it?

I enjoy my work, no matter what I do.

25. Are you seeing/dating anyone?

My relationship matters I tend to keep private, only because I have the tendency to lay hearts across the land. Although at the the moment: No, I am not.

26. Married/Engaged/Other?

Although I don’t believe in marriage, yes , I married once. Once.

27. If yes, how did you meet?

I worked as a body guard for her husband. One night after taking her back home, she decided she wanted something more than what the job required.

28. Tell us your biggest secret.

I have no secrets.

29. Your worst fear? You don’t have to answer this one if you don’t want to.

Dogs. They don’t like me and honestly I don’t like them.

30. Favorite food?

Beef stew. I like the potatoes...

30. Favorite drink?

Whiskey.

31. Tell us one thing you’re the most proud of.

Pride is a sin.

32. Something embarrassing? You don’t have to answer this one, either.

The second hand embarrassment I get from the women AND men that try to approach me romantically and attempt to seduce me.

33. If you didn’t answer Questions 29 and/or 33, tell me why.

I’ve told all.

34. Is that a good reason?

Of course.

Part V: Closing

35. Are you satisfied with your life?

I cannot complain.

36. Anything you feel like you have to do? It can be something long-term, like a bucket list, or something you need to do right now.

To cleanse the world of the unholy that crawl through this land.

37. Any hobbies?

I enjoy carving. I tend to make small dolls out of wood when I am waiting.

38. Quick, you get one wish! What did you just wish for? It’s alright, you can tell me…

To hold my mother...one last time...

39. How would you describe that wish? Good? Bad? Selfish? Selfless? Other?

I don’t need to explain myself...

40. Have you been honest with these questions?

Perhaps I have, perhaps I haven’t.

41. Your personal quote?

“Pray to your gods for mercy, because you will get none from me...”

42. Do you like change?

I don’t, but I settle and assimilate myself into new surroundings all the time

43. What’s your most valued possession?

A beautiful Belgium horse I call Seco. He is loyal to no ends

44. Anything else you feel like sharing?

Not really.

50. Last question!…yup, that’s it! How do you feel?

Bothered. I don’t like being questioned...

Bonus question! Tag those you’d like to know more about!

@ruffi-ann @writingandsins @scrawny-nag @direwrath @lusus--naturae

#red dead 2 gameplay #red dead redemption 2 #red dead 2 character #red dead redemption 2 online #red dead 2 #red dead redemption roleplay #arthur morgan #cortez #alejandro cortez #johnjackson

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fightevilandthengetblownup · 5 years ago

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OT3FIC: American Eskimo Dog

28 - summer pineapple delude quirky astound greasy moonlight bait

The dogs had had the most excitable day and were all laid about, panting heavily and relaxing after all the excitement across the dry grass of the backyard under the dappled shade of the tree above on the hot summer evening. Will felt an innate wish to be just like them and lay out there as dusk started and the group surrounding the barbecue and smoker drank their beers, and those flitting about the outdoor table put the final place settings and salads out. It had been almost as exhausting keeping up with the conversation of the last two hours as the constant running and spinning the dogs had done.

It wasn’t like any Fourth of July that the empath had ever participated in recently. Usually he spent the day doing work around the property, maybe a trip to the only open takeaway for Chinese food and trying not to let the dogs go too crazy at the fireworks on the other side of the forest. This year though, Will had found himself surrounded by some of the FBI’s most wanted as well as some others that would have been beyond his belief if someone had told him before he met the blonde that they existed. It wasn’t even like any of the strange ‘holidays’ that had cropped up in his life.

Since Jo and Grey had moved in, Will’s concept of what constituted a family event had changed and broadened significantly.

Will now found that there were days called Death Days which called for celebration - or rather copious amounts of alcohol and tight hugs that he had thus far managed to avoid being a part of. There were three of them still living that celebrated these - Jo’s usually involving a visit from the brother’s and grumpy surrogate dad; Dean’s was usually one where Jo would be from home and not back for a few days where she would practically fold in on herself in tears in the threshold upon getting home; Sam’s seemingly was a little more joyous an occasion where the tall hunter and his brother would bring fireworks and dubbed it more affectionately Apocalypse Aversion Day (though Will had learned through a hushed conversation with the blonde while she was very intoxicated that this was his second Death Day date but none of them wanted to ever think about the original one and the wheels that put in motion) - and then there were the ones in memoriam. There was one for Jo’s father but that was always her own private day where Will would be lucky to see her at all before sunset, and then it would be straight to bed with warm arms circling her. There was another for a man called John, who so far as Will could tell was the overbearing and controlling, estranged father for the other two hunters, but Jo seemed to spend those talking to the boys on the phone and lighting a pyre in the field for some reason or other. He’d learned there was a date for the older hunter’s wife too, where Jo would visit for a week and come home exhausted and needing sleep more than others.

There were happier seeming occasions and more normal holidays as well like Christmas (which always had a funny story about pagans and an evil witch), and birthday’s. But there was also more obscure ones - like how Jo would go to New Orleans every year for Mardi Gras and only ever explained the rationale as “I’ve got a friend I need to keep honest on the tips. And maybe a patron to see”; and a date that Will had dubbed Monster Day in his mind which always had Grey’s siblings suddenly inundating the farm, or at least the ones in bodies which was still strange to wrap his head around, and Jo scurrying out to the forest away from them after a warm greeting. There was Samhain not Halloween, there was other pagan-based reflections that Jo claimed it was “just smart” to stay in favor of, and there was a date Grey called Love Day not long before Valentine’s Day itself where he would suddenly lavish Jo with gifts. There was also another Love Day which was much the same but to himself, and Will still blushed every time when he realized it was the anniversary of their first time and just how much effort Grey put into being a calm and nurturing presence around him that day.

But that they were doing something particularly normal, particularly average and particularly mundane like Fourth of July was more unusual than normal in the grand scheme of things.

“Comin’ through!” The loud call came from the back door as Will turned his head to the noise to spout Jo spinning about blindly with an entire crate of beers held in her arms with another case on top blocking her face from her path as two of the shadows quickly disperses from her path between the door and the cooler.

“Jo, you shouldn’t-” “I was a freakin’ bartender for longer than you’ve been topside. I can handle some beers.” “Really Cupcake, that’s uncalled for.” “Oh whatever, out of m’ way!”

Will watched in amusement from against the oak’s trunk as Jo bouldered her way across the grass and sat the cartons down as the quirky strangest of the shadow’s ran over to help her unload them and begin filling the coolers. Shada who had objected to the idea of so much manual labor sniffed and turned back to setting out flower vases, candles, salad bowls and other elements along the long picnic table with the tall blonde shadow-girl following her pointed demands with a constant bobbing of her head. The fourth shadow, the dark haired one who always seemed up to causing trouble rolled his eyes watching his siblings and the blonde huntress before turning his attention back to the slightly taller, gangly looking hunter that had been nursing a single beer for four hours and counting but was somehow still wobbling on his feet.

He’d not thought much other than embarrassment upon meeting the eldest of the siblings - or who he perceived to be such, Grey had once tried to explain the concept of age against terminology but it had been a struggle and he had been much more interested in him using his mouth for something other than the explanation at the time - when she appeared during one of their chore days, but since then Shada had grown on him. Especially when he realized that the shadow was just as fiercely protective of her brother as he himself was. The tall blonde - Ombre - had been the next one he’d met, and while she’d been sweet and quiet and demure, Will couldn’t help but think she was trouble waiting to happen one day, like a young child not yet learning to throw her temper tantrums in the terrible twos. Mail had been next, though he’d been accompanied at the time by the fourth one who still hadn’t quite decided or settled on a name for himself (cycling through generic names including the awkward visit he demanded to be called Consuela Banana Hammock), and Will had found both brother’s almost as equally strange in their own ways as one another. Mail’s inability to sit correctly was almost as weird as the way the other would delude himself into thinking he had struck on gold in a conversation when he just made everything odd.

“Did you need anything else for the barbecue?” Grey called out from the back door towards the group of hunters around the charcoal grill, his head poking out from the back door before he started his own passage towards the dining table with yet another salad for the meal. “More tongs or-”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got it Grey.” “More beers would be good though-” “Dean, Jo just brought out more, get one yourself you lazy asshole.” “Bitch.”

“You idjits better shut up and get me a new beer by the time you’re done arguing.” Bobby’s voice cut over whatever Sam might have said in response along with the metal ting of the tongs against the edge of the grill as he growled back at them. There was a laugh from the table and near the drinks as the two girls, closest and strangely good friends from what Will had learned, so different but so similar laughed in response to the hunter’s grumpiness as Dean kicked at the dried clumps of grass under foot.

Looking over at the trio of hunters to that side, joined quickly by the fourth male hunter at the gathering as the shadow currently going by Ben Dover for the day moved towards annoying one of his siblings and Garth Fitzgerald IV moved to the rest of his own group; Will knew that if Jack had any inkling of who was currently flipping steaks, burgers and smoking a pork butt at his house, it would be the most tempting bait to drive the FBI director towards madness.

Of the four hunters, Will had found himself connecting far more to the older hunter than either of the three closer to his own age. A man living alone a large plot of land far away from town, who preferred the company of his canine companion and the solitude of providing for ones self, was definitely someone that Will could always get along with. The gangly hunter, that Jo and Grey alike swore was a werewolf, was probably his second favorite of Jo’s little side to the family - though he had freaked Will out on their first meeting by pulling him into an exceptionally tight hug; the fact that upon releasing Will, Garth had looked shocked, asked if he was a “touch aversion type” and apologized profusely before never doing the same despite the generous bear hugs Jo and Grey alike would get upon greeting had made a soft spot in the agent’s heart for him. Sam and Dean fell somewhere together, inseparable really the same way they were in all ways that Will had seen, but the more he saw the pair and also saw them around Jo and Grey, the more he liked the pair. Dean was gruff and politically incorrect to Sam’s quiet and sass, and Will had been astounded to realize that he appreciated the both for what they had to offer.

“Alright alright, this lot is done, someone get me the fuckin’ fruit.” “Right here, Bobby!” “Well then bring it over, ya brat, I can’t cook it from over there!”

Will shook his head a little, watching as the older hunter piled one of the foil trays that Grey had brought out high with beef and chicken and even some fish burger patties before the shadow covered the tray with more tin foil and moved it towards the table while Bobby scraped off the surface. They moved in tandem that pair, as if synchronized dancers even though Will knew it was more an innate knowledge of cooking that they shared more than experience or practice.

“Girlie, where-” “Here, you old grump!” “ ‘Bout time.”

The blonde hunter had bounded over after a small amount of rummaging with a few air-tight containers at Bobby’s insistence, setting the containers down before hurrying back towards the table to help guide Mail into the correct way to set out cutlery. Will could tell the second that the first slice went down that it was that glorious sticky, spicy pineapple slices recipe that Grey had been developing and that made Will’s mouth tingle with a mix of the acid of the fruit itself, the slight heat of the spice and the natural sweetness as well as the slight crunch of the demerera sugar included that formed the best crystals of crunchy caramel when they were cooked just right. There were also fresh peaches cut and quartered that he knew were for Jo’s favorite salad and that if Hannibal was there he would have had to concede the grilled peach, mozzarella and prosciutto salad worked fantastically well on a balmy summer’s evening like this when the sun was just crossing the horizon and would finally give way to the night. He even figured there might be some watermelon for the feta and rocket salad he’d suggested they try the next time that Shada was visiting from what one of the spectacularly boring looking salads on the table looked like.

“I’ve got to say, the amount of salad is great this year, Jo.” “Oh yes, Sam, Cupcake definitely made the right choices this year!” “I’m excited to try some of them-” “Of course you are, Ombre. At least there’s no Ambrosia salad-” “What salad?!” “It’s bits of canned fruit! In marshmallow!” “Ewwwww!”

The cries from the two female shadows, their voices loud and high pitched in their disgust perking the ears of the dogs that lay about tired and nearby, curiously cocking toward the noise before all of them besides Zoe decided it wasn’t worth investigating. The small dog snuffed her way around, giving a wide berth to the shadows but looking at them curiously until she was picked up in the loving hold of the werewolf with a scratch under her chin as the group of hunter’s shook their heads at the girls’ antics.

Will found himself shaking his head with the same bemusement as he watched the pair go back and forth over why that “isn’t a salad” or “isn’t food” and then further onto the real question of “why is human food so weird sometimes” which he thought was a valid question, as the eldest hunter began to slowly take the remaining steaks and sausages, chicken strips and the vegetarian options off of the grill into respective foil packages that Sam, Dean or Grey would ferry to the dining table while Jo wrangled the lid of the smoker off with the help of Garth to pull the pork butt out; as if the greasy and somewhat unhealthy but altogether delicious meats might prove the girls’ perceptions wrong without much trouble.

“You know, this is a very old tree.” “Yes it is.” “It had deep roots.” “Yep.” “You will weather any storm with roots this deep.”

The empath wasn’t even surprise to hear the gravelly voice beside himself all of a sudden. The final member of their party for the night was always a late comer according to his best friend; and that the angel had popped in from his busy schedule to simply enjoy a barbecue with friends was touching enough. That, as Will turned slightly to look out the corner of his eye, he could see the angel staring at him in return rather than the knotted roots of the tree they were metaphorically discussing was even more touching. Of all the family, he’d been the one Will automatically connected too even more than Bobby - and giving a small smile, the empath waved a hand towards the table as the moonlight started to rise to shine over them all.

“Ready for some dinner, Cas?” “Thank you for the invitation, Will. You and yours are very accommodating.” “We try to be.”

“It is very good. You are all very good, and you should feel blessed.” Cas’ voice was somewhat tighter than usual and as Will patted a hand on the surprisingly small shoulder under his grip, the other nodded in agreement looking out as their dogs dozed, and both sides of his favorite people’s families merged and mingled together in a mass of smiles and laughter, Will knew that the words were entirely true. It was very good, they were all very good and he sure as heck felt blessed as he caught the eye of his love’s and the way their smiles both widened for him.

#ot3 grey/jo/will fic #willpov

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shes-soparticular · 6 years ago

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Slow Burn (Part VII)

Summary: What if Shawn met someone that first night in Amsterdam? What if she was the love of his life?

(Part I) (Part II) (Part III) (Part IV) (Part V) (Part VI) (Masterlist)

A/N: I know I said the Chicago chapter would be next, but I wanted to write in this little transitional bit to tie up some….loose ends, if you will. I already have the Chicago chapter started, though, and hope to have that ready for you guys in the coming days.

Words: 2058

Walking down the jetway at O’Hare feels more like walking down a gangplank than simply coming home. The six-hour flight from London was supposed to have calmed Alex’s nerves. It was supposed to have given her the much needed silence and clarity to string together the thoughts she needed to express to Ethan. But while she’d absent mindedly sipped the free airplane wine and stared at the dark clouds outside, she’d found herself picking at scars she thought had healed long ago. Trading the windows of the plane for those of a taxi, she stopped forcing herself to create a script for what was to come. She’d spent too many years filtering herself, it was high time to strip herself bare.

Before she even unlocks the door to her apartment, she knows he’ll be there waiting for her. That’s usually how they planned her returns, with Ethan picking up takeout and waiting on her couch. But as she ushers her overpacked suitcase through the front door, she’s shocked to see him sitting rigidly at her kitchen table with a large cardboard box sitting at his feet. Steeling her nerves, she slowly shuts the door behind her. “Hey, how are – “ Before she can finish her pleasantries, he leans forward and taps the cardboard box, quick to interrupt her.

“I think I managed to get everything. Your records, books, clothes. If anything comes to mind that’s missing, one of your friends can come get it.” Sure enough, she can see a few flashes of her possessions sticking out the top of the box. Among them, a dog-eared copy of On the Road, a second hand Eagles vinyl, and a sun-faded denim jacket he’d bought her from a vintage store during better days. Eyes flickering from the box back to his face, her lips open and close several times before she finds her words again.

“I…we should talk, though.” She knows letting him walk out the door with everything left unresolved won’t help either of them. Knowing Ethan, though, keeping him there and convincing him to listen is far easier said than done.

“Save it, Alex.” He sighs deeply, sounding almost as drained as she feels. “Did you really think I didn’t see this coming from a mile away? That I didn’t notice you falling all over him? I know you’ve always pegged me as an idiot, but no one could possibly miss that. Trust me.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, cutting through the exhaustion.

The last thing she wants to do is interrupt him in that moment, but her words come quick on the heels of his. “I need you to know that it’s not about that.” Even though it seems like a cop out, she truly means it. She’d left this relationship in spirit quite a long time ago, long before she’d looked up from her drink in a hotel bar to see those hazel eyes fixated on her. “Can you even remember the last time we were in a good place? That either of us truly wanted to be here other than it being comfortable?” The way he looks away from her, his jaw only tightening, Alex knows this probably won’t be the come to Jesus conversation they really need to have.

“You know how many times I could have taken off? Do you?” Ethan still avoids eye contact with her at all costs, instead seemingly studying his shoes. “But I never did. I stuck around. I tried. Then the second I’m out of your sight, you’re traipsing around Europe with some other guy as if we haven’t been together for years.” Of course she knew this argument would be coming and it was completely valid. No matter how she tried to rationalize it or explain it away, she’d hurt him. And she’d known what she was doing, on some level, all along. She couldn’t feign innocence this time.

“That’s not how this should have gone, I truly apologize for that. Despite all of our bullshit and the way we left things earlier this year, I should have been honest with you all along.” Alex swears she can see his features soften ever so slightly at her admission, but his eyes still refuse to turn towards her. What comes next nearly sucks the air out of her chest.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Is she? She’s done her best not to let her heart go there, much less her mind. Considering she hasn’t gone so far as to admit that to herself yet, or to Shawn, the last thing she wants to do is have Ethan be the first person on the receiving end of that revelation. Even though she can’t answer with a resounding yes, she can’t say no either. Didn’t she just get done apologizing for not having been honest all of those months? It didn’t make sense to attempt a lie now. There was no point. When it becomes obvious to Ethan that her silence will continue unbroken, he finally rises to his feet, leaving a wide gap between them as he slips passed her towards the door.

“Listen…I know you want this clean break. To be absolved of any guilt so you can ride off into the sunset. But you gave up. After everything we’ve been through? You checked out.” For the first time, she can hear weakness creep into his voice. A tone she’s so rarely heard from him. Only a moment passes before he clears his throat, shaking it off, his voice returning to its tempered firmness. “That’s on you, Alex. You’re the one that’s always been at arm’s length. That’s just who you are.” Those last words sting more than anything else he’s said thus far, more than the guilt already weighing like a yoke around her neck. Because there’s a real grain of truth to it. Even if they aren’t in love anymore, even if maybe they never were, Ethan still managed to see qualities in her she didn’t even recognize in herself. What if the disconnect she’s been pinning on her relationship with Ethan had been her fault all along? What if history repeated itself with Shawn and she never truly let him in? As best she could, Alex cleared that thought out of her mind. Right now, she needed to focus on the relationship ending in front of her. On giving it the attention it deserved. Giving Ethan the attention he deserved. Not every moment of their relationship had been negative. No matter how she felt now, it didn’t erase all of the good memories they had created together. He was her first everything. They’d spent more years growing together than they had growing apart. Despite this being an entirely necessary move for both of them, that didn’t stop her heart from sinking at the finality of it all.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you what you needed.” She blinks back the years stinging the corners of her eyes, an overwhelming combination of emotion filling her chest. Relief. Nostalgia. Guilt. Hope. “I know this is going to sound cliché, but I really hope you find someone that can.” Even though Ethan was notorious for needing the final word, he doesn’t take it this time. Instead, he makes his way out her door one last time without so much as a glance over his shoulder. And just like that, the only man that had ever been hers was now an outsider.

--------

Watching his friends gathered around his kitchen island, laughing over an expanding number of empty Coors Light cans, he can’t shake the fact that his mind is elsewhere. Being back in Toronto, back home, doesn’t feel nearly as fulfilling as it should. All he wants to do is be fully present in that moment, to listen avidly as his friends bitch about their remaining college courses, to join in and reminisce over all of the stupid shit they used to do back before anyone was paying attention. But selfishly, all he can think about what’s missing. About how badly he wants to have Alex leaning into him, her hand resting on his chest while she takes every opportunity to team up with Brian to roast him. He can picture her fitting in so perfectly, that charmingly loud laugh of hers never lost amongst the crowd. The type of girl that didn’t need him glued to her side, but could mingle amongst everyone and have her own inside jokes by the end of the night. Except of course that he’d insist on being glued to her as much as physically possible, tugging her onto the balcony by her belt loops when the need for a moment alone became too much to deny.

Instead, he ends up alone on his balcony, save for his phone and a half empty glass of gin and tonic. Without hesitation, he scrolls to her contact and holds his breath as he waits for her to answer. They’d exchanged a few texts since they’d left London for their respective homes, but they hadn’t actually spoken. He hadn’t heard her voice. And now, with the Bombay Sapphire coursing through his veins, he can’t wait any longer. His goal had been to give her a few days of space, to handle that elephant in the room they hadn’t spoken of since the last time their lips had touched. But he’d by lying if he said he wasn’t growing concerned, that he wasn’t yearning to hear from her. Even a few days of separation had felt so foreign and restless, the thought that he might not see her for another month nagged at him endlessly. So now, breathing in the cool spring air with the CN Tower glowing before him, he hopes hearing her voice will calm him the way he’d grown accustomed to. Sure enough, the second she picks up, her hello soft and honeyed, a wave of relief passes over him.

“Hey stranger.” He can’t hide the smile in his voice, as much as he’d love to play it cool. “I don’t know if you remember me, but my name is Shawn Mendes and we hung out a lot in Europe together.”

“Hmmm, doesn’t ring a bell?” Her voice comes across just a bit groggy – he really should have checked the time – but her signature lightness is there. The playful rasp that he can’t get enough of. “Tall? Ruthlessly soft curls? Bedroom eyes?”

“Oh, bedroom eyes? Is that how I look at you?” There’s an abundantly obvious answer to that question, they both know it, but she simply answers with a gentle giggle.

“How’s the party going? I’m already in my pajamas over here.” She sounds generally interested, which erases his guilt over the possibility of having woken her up.

“Not the same without a certain someone here to get hyped over Tom Petty songs.” The number of ways he could have ended that sentence, the number of things he’d rather say, is endless. But most of those statements are along the lines of the girl I love isn’t here and I’m in my feelings about it.

“As long as no one else is taking my place in that regard, I don’t want to have to square up but you know I will.” He doesn’t doubt that for a second. Silently, he hopes she’s feeling territorial in more ways than one.

“Who could possibly take your place?” Without intending to, he lets a tenderness creep into his statement giving it the weight he’s been trying to avoid. “How are things in Chicago? Any other tall, curly headed boys giving you bedroom eyes out there? Because…I don’t want to have to square up but you know I will.”

“Nope, not at all.” There’s a pause from her end of the line as she contemplates her response. When she finally speaks, it’s easy for him to understand why she’d taken her time. “Utterly single over here.” That word: single. A word he’s been both waiting to hear and now hoping to change. A word that’s set his heart racing nearly as much as when the words “kiss me” had left her lips.

The only thing he can manage to say comes out as a deep breath. “31 days.”

“No…” And with that word, she nearly stops his heart. “30 days. It’s after midnight.”

Tagging @liliane106 @mendes8123 - if anyone wants to be added to my taglist, let me know!

#slow burn #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes imagine #slow burn fic #shawn mendes

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padfootagain · 5 years ago

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Will You Still Be Here In The Morning? (IV)

Part 4 : The World That Ended

Okay, here we go, part 4, one left to post, still this extremely long fic of mine, don't panic.

Still a bit of angst, it's getting better though.

I hope you like it, tell me what you think of it :)

Gif not mine

Word Count : 4298

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

The demon was driving aimlessly through the streets of London. The night was pitch black, and another kind of shadow growing inside him seemed to cover the light of the lampposts too. He was crying.

Too fast… too fast?! After six millennia? He had given the angel a lift home before, it was nothing so special, he just…

He just wanted to spend some time with Aziraphale. Every waken minute, if he could, or even every minute no matter if he was lost to dreams or awake, but… even a demon could have dreams, right? He wasn't asking for so much though. Just… a ride to the bookshop. Maybe Aziraphale would have invited him inside, and they would have drunk one of the angel's best bottles of red wine, and talked about the years they had been apart and…

Heaven and Hell and invisible barriers that kept them apart. He knew all about those. He knew how Aziraphale kept the boundary up. Maybe it was for the best, Crowley had to believe it was, at least.

Maybe one day we could… go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz…

Did it mean that Aziraphale wanted that too? Wanted… more than the arrangement, but he was just too scared and too…

Crowley already hated Heaven but now, his wrath reached whole new heights.

You go too fast for me, Crowley.

The demon's expression relaxed as it saddened. The anger, the confusion wore out, fading to let resilience course through his veins instead. He had waited six thousand years, he would wait six thousand more if needed. He would accept whatever Aziraphale was ready to give him, even if it was only friendship forever. It would already be more than enough.

He didn't even realize his Bentley was slowing down as he drove through London's sleepy streets.

He hadn't felt like he was pushing the angel forward. He hadn't felt like his invitation to drive him wherever he wanted to go was too much. But if Aziraphale had felt this way, then, he guessed he ought to slow down all the same. He had to be more careful.

Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz…

Oh… if only they could…

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

"So, this is what you've been up to for these past few weeks!"

Crowley was grinning, so proud of himself as cars kept on honking and angry drivers exchanged sweet names through the motionless traffic. They walked across Trafalgar Square and towards the National Gallery as Aziraphale was finishing his cheesecake.

Turning off all the traffic lights in London had asked weeks of preparation, but it was worth the hard work. Crowley could feel the anger oozing from every single driver and pedestrian in the city. He was a genius…

"Well, maybe the antichrist is planning the apocalypse right now, but nevertheless, I am still a demon, and I had to do some mischief, angel."

"Of course," Aziraphale replied, a little annoyed. "Still… Crowley, look at the chaos around here!"

"That was the point, angel. That was the whole point. Can't you feel how angry they are?"

"Yes, dear. I can."

"This planned worked so well!"

"Except that you lost an hour stuck in the Bentley, and we had to walk here, as you had forgotten it was set for today…"

Crowley merely glared at the angel by his side in response, who was wearing his smug face again. The bastard…

Aziraphale threw away the empty box of his cheesecake before they walked inside the museum. They wondered for a while through the gallery, in silence for the most part, until they reached the impressionists section.

Aziraphale had always thought it very strange that his and Crowley's favourite Monet had been put right next to each other, and that a bench had been added to the room right when the two paintings had been exposed there. He couldn't tell Crowley that he was suspecting one of his complicated schemes, of course. Nevertheless, he liked to believe it was Crowley's fault that the Water-lilies, setting sun and The water-lily pond had found themselves side by side, with a bench perfectly placed to admire both of the paintings.

If he had asked, Crowley would have fiercely blushed, and denied it all, and he would have been a terrible liar.

Aziraphale heaved a content sigh as he sat down on the bench that had miraculously been freed a couple of seconds before. The little crowd that had been watching the paintings dissolved, and the angel and the demon could admire Monet's game of colours in peace, between the vivid greens of the pond and the deep reds and purples of the sunset.

"Anything new on your side then?" Aziraphale asked, glancing over at Crowley on his right.

"Nothing so far. You?"

"Not a word."

"Warlock is doing okay."

"Yes, I know. He got an A at his maths test, although he got a C+ in literature…"

"Everyone can't be as passionate as you are about books, angel."

"I guess not… still… a C, Crowley!"

"Have you heard of that Kevin again?"

"No, nothing. I surely hope not, the little tyrant…"

"Good."

"You've never told me how you 'handled' the situation though."

"It's been dealt with."

"Crowley… what have you done?"

The demon rolled his eyes at the angel's worried tone.

"Nothing harmful, of course. Who do you think I am, angel? I wouldn't hurt a child!"

"I know, dear, that's not what I meant," Aziraphale defended himself. "Although, you can be… intimidating, sometimes."

"Intimidating? Really?"

"Yes. You are a demon, after all. Your little game with the traffic lights today proves it."

"I merely talked to the child, that's all. And threatened to kill his dog if he ever bullied Warlock again."

"Crowley!"

"I'm kidding! I just talked to him. Relax, angel."

They remained silent for a moment, Aziraphale wiggling a little next to Crowley in that swift, discontented movement that showed he was annoyed. It made the demon smile.

The visitors who walked in the room didn't seem willing to disturb the two men who were observing the two Monet paintings at the centre of the room. None of them dared to walk between the bench and the artworks. Many who looked at the two men though wondered who they were to each other, and found them a little strange. The one before the pond all dressed in pastel colours and an old-looking white coat, his hair impossibly white. And sitting right next to him, before the sunset, a tall silhouette wrapped in black except for his red collar, hair of a vibrant red, long strands held back out of his face but still cascading to brush his shoulders. He was wearing dark sunglasses, which was without a doubt the strangest accessory to wear in an art gallery. They sat close to each other, and yet a few inches apart. Many wondered if they would finally reach out and hold hands…

"His dad is away again," Crowley spoke after a while.

"I know," Aziraphale heaved a sigh. "He's feeling lonelier again."

"We could drop by. You know… as Brother Francis and Nanny Astoreth again. Still have the outfit."

"I am not so sure that it would be good for him."

"I think it would. He liked us."

"When he was four."

"He's eight. He's still little. And he's… lonely. It's a terrible feeling, loneliness."

Aziraphale struggled to keep a neutral expression.

"I know," he nodded. "There's nothing we can do though, Crowley. We should stay out of the way now. We've done our best."

"We could be doing more."

"And what could that be? We've tried to educate the child in both good and evil. Now, whether he leans towards the light or the dark depends on him, and him alone. We can only keep an eye on him now, and make sure he's fine."

Crowley slowly nodded. There was nothing else to discuss concerning the antichrist, heaven, hell, God and Satan. Instead, the demon hoped to drive the conversation towards another topic, any topic, really, as long as it meant staying there, in front of the paintings, with Aziraphale.

"I heard they were opening a new bakery down your street," he told Aziraphale, guessing that talking about food was always a fine way to keep the conversation going.

"Yes! I can't wait for it to open, to be honest! Apparently, they will have a lot of French pastries! And now, although I agree that there is a lot you can say about the French, anyone has to admit that their pastries are scrumptious."

"Indeed."

"Are you still struggling with this orchid of yours?"

"No, tamed the thing in the end. It's beautiful."

"Crowley, really, the poor plants…"

"I destroyed one of the plants who had a spot on a leaf a couple of days ago, taught them all a lesson."

Aziraphale gave him a tender smile.

"Now, where did you really put that plant, dear?"

Crowley mumbled under his breath, before answering.

"I planted it in Regent's Park."

Aziraphale couldn't stifle a laugh.

"Shut up!" Crowley protested.

"You really are incredible, sometimes, dear."

Crowley wanted to reply with a snarky remark, a clever answer, he wanted to be witty. But all he could do was to try to stop the blush from rising to his cheeks and slow down his heart.

He was very well aware of how close to his Aziraphale's fingers rested on the wooden bench. Just a few millimetres away. It felt like six thousand years though…

And Aziraphale was perfectly aware that a tiny movement towards the demon would have closed the distance between their fingers, he knew it was nothing, just a few millimetres. And yet, it was a distance impossible to cross.

Their fingers thus remained there, resting on the bench, so close, within reach, and yet apart.

"Angel?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I really like these paintings, don't you?"

The angel's throat tightened, and he held back the tears that suddenly formed in his eyes. He recognized the hidden meaning in these words. They truly meant stay, please, stay a little longer.

"Yes… Yes, I like them quite a lot as well," he answered with a nod, his voice a little deeper than usual, a little unsteady too.

Crowley smiled. The words sounded like something more, they sounded like a Yes, I will stay, for now.

And for now, it had to be enough.

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

The world was still there. Fragile, flawed, and yet still there. Still beautiful in its own imperfect way. Still full of hope despite being stained with despair. Still loving despite all the hate spreading through its cracks.

The world had not ended, after all. It was still there, spinning around the sun at 1,037 miles per hour. Atlantis was gone, and the bookshop was back, and the Bentley was all but burnt. Aziraphale and Crowley didn't know all that yet though. All they knew was that the Earth was still there, spinning, getting hotter and hotter by the second, coughing in carbon dioxide and other pollutants, filled with leaves stretching towards the moon and fireflies buzzing through stony lanes and buildings.

They had taken a bus out of Tadfield and back to London. For now, they thought the bookshop, just like the Bentley, were gone. And maybe they still were for now, maybe Adam would need the night to put things back the way they were before Armageddon.

They were in Crowley's apartment, the only safe place left. None of them doubted that Heaven and Hell would come for them in the morning. Moreover, Agnes's prophecy was adamant in stating that they were not out of trouble yet. They didn't doubt that they had until dawn though.

Crowley had forgotten about the pool of water and blood and fused bones that Ligur had become when he fell into Crowley's trap, and both he and Aziraphale froze at the sight.

"Ha, yes… that's…"

"Is it Ligur?" Aziraphale asked with disgust painted all over his features.

"What's left of him," Crowley nodded. "Hang on, I must have a mop somewhere…"

"Don't be ridiculous! Stay here!" the angel stopped him as Crowley was taking a step towards the putrid pool. "Who knows if the holy water could still be effective! Stay here, I'll do it."

"It's okay, angel."

"Crowley!"

"Alright, alright…"

Aziraphale only had to miracle Ligur's remains away, and it was all safe for Crowley to walk into his office again.

"Thank you, angel."

"You're welcome. Where is that book then?"

"In my bedroom, on the left."

They walked through the flat, Aziraphale grinning at the sight of Crowley's plants, to the demon's bedroom.

Just like the rest of the flat, it was simple and decorated with taste, although Aziraphale found it a little bare. Crowley reached for a book hidden under his bedside table and sat down on his bed, soon joined by Aziraphale.

"So, the prediction talked about choosing faces… You're sure?" Crowley asked, but the angel nodded with confidence.

"I remember something about that… in here…"

"I didn't know you were interested in old magic."

"Rituals and runes can come in handy once in a while."

Aziraphale hummed in agreement while Crowley frantically turned the pages of the book, a little too frantically to the angel's taste, actually. The poor book…

"Ha! Here! Knew it!"

He showed Aziraphale the page of the ritual he had remembered… that would allow them to exchange their faces.

"So… we could use it for me to look like you and you to look like me, right?" Aziraphale asked, quickly studying the ritual.

"I think so, yes. Do you think it's what Agnes meant?"

"Quite literally, yes. Then, I could get down to Hell, and you can take my place in Heaven."

But Crowley snatched the book out of Aziraphale's hands, shaking his head.

"We can't do that, angel. There must be another way, it's too dangerous."

"There's no other way, Crowley. They will come for us. We can't hide forever."

"Why not?"

"Don't talk about Alpha Centauri again."

"We could run away, Aziraphale."

But the angel shook his head, although his expression both saddened and softened, a touch of melancholy colouring his eyes.

"We can't run away forever, Crowley. I can't…"

"It's too dangerous!"

"No. No, it's time… it's time to get free of them."

Crowley's mouth slightly opened, agape, as he stared at Aziraphale with both confusion and hope oozing from his entire frame.

"Can you… can you take off your glasses, please?" the angel asked out of the blue.

"Why?"

"Because this conversation is important, and I want to be looking at you while we're having it."

Crowley swallowed, but obeyed, taking off his glasses and putting them down onto his bedside table, before turning towards Aziraphale again.

Crowley always felt naked without his sunglasses, fragile, it was like taking off his entire armour and revealing his very soul. But it was Aziraphale looking back at him, and if there was one person in the entire universe Crowley believed in, without any doubt, without any hesitation, it was him. If there was anyone the demon would trust his soul and heart with, it was Aziraphale.

"Crowley I… I know we've… I have always been cautious and I know sometimes I've made sure to… keep you at arm's length. I just… I'm just so scared of what Hell could do to you. It could have been you, Crowley, that disgusting soup on your floor! It could have been you instead of Ligur!"

"But it wasn't."

"It could have been. And now, they know, Crowley. They know about us, they know what we are to each other, and nor Heaven nor Hell is going to stop until they have found us and punished us for what we've done about Armageddon, but also for what we mean to each other."

Crowley narrowed his eyes a little, before blowing through his nose an annoyed breath.

"And what could that be? Fraternizing still?"

"Oh, you can't be serious, right now!" Aziraphale shot back with a glare. "Are you really bringing Saint James's Park back?"

"I don't know. You were fraternizing with me then. Like we were mere acquaintances!"

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I don't know it, angel! Unlike you, I don't have a super power allowing me to detect what people feel, okay? I don't work like that. I can't know if you don't tell me!"

"You're my best friend, Crowley!"

The demon froze.

"For God's sake!" Aziraphale went on with anger. "Of course, you are, you are my only friend, you have been since… since forever, really. Don't tell me it's not…"

His voice died out.

"Anyway," he calmed down, looking away from Crowley's neutral expression. "We are on our own side now, as you said. And we need to break free from them. Both Heaven and Hell. It's our only way to get out of it alive and free, it's now or never, Crowley. And I… I trust you. More than anyone, more than myself. I know you will come back. I am… terrified at the idea of sending you up there, but it's the only way we'll both get out of this alive. We need to trust each other on this. And I do trust you, with my life, but most importantly, with yours. And you need to trust me too."

Aziraphale was looking down at his feet, conscious of Crowley's stare set upon him, but unable to hold it.

They remained wrapped in silence for a moment, while Crowley's eyes drifted from the angel's face to the side of his arm, and finally, to his hand resting on the mattress. Perfectly manicured, as always, his golden ring wrapped around his pinky finger, as always.

He had longed to reach out and take his hand for six thousand years. The only temptation he had thought he would never been able to bend to.

But then, Aziraphale had taken his hand in the bus from Tadfield. Maybe it was simply the shock of it all. Maybe he simply needed support from a friend. Or maybe…

Maybe it was a step towards more than they had ever had. A step towards more than maybe, perhaps, one day, almost…

He took a deep breath, and dived, reaching across the mattress to close the space between their fingers, merely a few inches, but these inches were much more than inches right now. They were six thousand years of reaching but never touching, and thousands questions unasked out of fear, of banned affection and forbidden friendship, and fear, oh, so much fear for such a long time. And through all that, it was also all these times where they had reached and almost touched, almost given up, almost thrown cautious to the wind and leaned into their feelings.

It was an impossibly great distance to cross, a distance he had not crossed in six thousand years, but he was crossing it now.

Aziraphale's skin was soft, warm, reassuring, the most reassuring sensation he had ever experienced. Suddenly, he didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like he belonged, right there, by Aziraphale's side, holding his hand. Yes, yes… in this great ineffable plan, that was exactly where Crowley was meant to be: holding Aziraphale's hand.

The angel intertwined their fingers together and finally looked up at Crowley, who greeted him with a tender smile.

"I do trust you, angel. More than I trust myself. I'm just… I'm just scared something could go sour, and I wouldn't be able to reach you on time…"

"It's the only way, Crowley. And I… we need to break free now."

The demon slowly nodded.

"I think you're right."

"It's the only way."

"I know."

"We should try it. See if it works."

"But before we do it, you have to promise me something, Aziraphale."

"What is it?"

Crowley's eyes became more intense, with a touch of desperation too, and the angel couldn't fail to notice that the white that usually encircled his irises had disappeared, revealing their true appearance.

And God almighty, how beautiful his eyes were… Aziraphale had always loved them beyond measure…

"Promise me, this time, that you'll still be here in the morning."

Crowley's eyes drowned in tears he had been holding back for six thousand years, his heart swelled with feelings he had been refraining ever since that moment on the walls of Eden, and he was fragile and raw and beautiful as Aziraphale stared at him with all his layers of armours willingly stripped away from him. For so long now he had been asking that question, and for so long Aziraphale had never dared to answer.

But for now, Aziraphale couldn’t speak. Because he could recognize that feeling Crowley had been hiding for so long, he could see it so clearly in the tears running down his cheeks, in the glint in his amber eyes, in the tremor of his parted lips. And he wanted to tell him that he felt this way too… he wanted to tell him all these words he had longed to confess for years, but hadn't dared to, too afraid of being heard, of putting Crowley in danger. If only he could truly speak his mind, he would have wrapped his arms around Crowley and spoke words he had longed to let out ever since that night in the church in 1941, as the dust settled down and he was standing there in the ruins and flames with Crowley and he finally put words on the way he had been feeling for millennia.

I love you. I've always loved. It has taken me so long to finally realize it was true love, but it's been all along. It's always been you, it will always be. I love you, so passionately, so absolutely. I've never cared that you were a demon, I was just so afraid of what Hell could do to you if they knew how I felt for you. I should have run away with you when you asked me to. We could have gone to Alpha Centauri, and live in the stars you've built, and it would have been enough. But now, it's the opportunity to build a side of our own. Crowley, we could build a side where it wouldn't be wrong for me to love you, and for you to love me back. Darling, please, I love you. I would do anything for you. Please, please, stay into my life. I will be here in the morning, if you let me. Please, stay, stay… Crowley, please, stay. Stay forever.

He couldn’t say all that, not now… they weren't fully free yet, but… Heaven and Hell were not looking for them just yet. They would in the morning, dawn would bring their wrath. But for now, it was still night time. Now, the sky was still as dark as ink, still stained with shining lights, and fireflies still flew in ruins of a roman forum far away, and stars were so bright, and it was just the two of them, and no one was looking… And if Aziraphale couldn’t confess everything, he could make a promise.

Crowley was not expecting Aziraphale to wrap his arms around him, and yet he was fast at reciprocating the gesture. They held each other tightly, both of them trembling, both of them crying, both of them feeling safer than they had ever felt. And suddenly, Aziraphale didn't feel alone anymore. He felt like he belonged, right there, wrapped in Crowley's embrace. Yes, yes… in this great ineffable plan, that was exactly where Aziraphale was meant to be: in Crowley's arms.

When the angel finally answered, his voice was made hoarse by overwhelming emotions and tears he couldn't fight against.

"I will be here, Crowley. I promise. I will be here in the morning. I will. I will…"

Crowley's hands turned into fists, he buried his face in the crook of the angel's neck, holding on Aziraphale's coat as if his life depended it on it… because it did. He let out a shaky breath.

"You know… when I entered the bookshop, and you weren't there, I thought… I thought…"

"I know, Crowley. I'm sorry. I was discorporated, for my defence."

"I thought I would never see you again," Crowley went on, crying, the tears falling unrestrained like the first raindrops on Eden. "Angel, I can't… I can't lose you, I…"

"You won't. I won't lose you either. It won't happen, because we'll be prepared, and when they come for us, we'll show them that they have to let us go."

"I thought you were gone… I can't live through that again. I can't…"

"You won't have to. And I won't let any of them hurt you either. We'll be fine. Crowley, I promise. It could be over tomorrow, we could finally be free."

"And then? What will happen then?"

Aziraphale struggled to get the words out, but he did, his heart still in his chest and his lungs unable to let any air out, and yet he did speak.

"Then we can build our own side."

Crowley pulled away, staring at Aziraphale, staring at these blue eyes he dreamt of more often than not, searching for any trace of hesitation, of fear, but he found none. He only found determination. And it was all he needed to see.

He slowly nodded, before drying his face on his sleeve, standing and putting on his sunglasses again.

"Right. For the ritual, what do we need, angel?"

Aziraphale smiled, before turning to the book again.

It was now or never, it was their only chance, and they were determined to make it count.

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

Tag list : @ponycake27 @horsesreign @xinyourdreamsx @jbluevelvet @notkeppeki @daynigt-dreamer-stuff @fudgeflyss @stuckupstucky @snek-shit @suchatinyinfinity @i-padfootblack-things @buckybsarmy @heyohheyitsgabi@madamrogers @secret-jester @allegra-the-witch @damalseer @its-my-little-dumpster-fire @draqcnheartstrinq @colddecember-night @allknowingnerd @bluebaggins @mundieoriley @kyber-hearts-and-stardust-souls @yana-versio @hellojawsie @littlee–onee thank you all for your support during the marathon that this week turned into!!

#ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fanfiction #ineffable husbands imagine #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #ineffable husbands fanfic #crowley #crowley fanfiction #crowley imagine #aziraphale #aziraphale fanfiction #aziraphale imagine #good omens #good omens imagine #good omens fanfiction #fanfiction #writing #imagine #fanfic

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chimcharstar · 5 years ago

Note

Questions 1, 2, skip a few, 99 100! ANSWER THEM ALL!!!!!!

LETS DO THIS

99 gay-ish asks

how tall are you?5 SOMETHING

what is your body type?SLENDERMAN

what is your favorite part about your body?THE T

is your current hair color your natural hair color?YES

are you more outgoing or more shy?SHY

are you more femme or butch?ITS COMPLICATED, BUT, BUTCH

are you tol or smol?APPARENTLY IM TWINK. NOT SURE WHERE THAT IS ON THIS SCALE

wine mom or vodka aunt?NO

weird habit?I EAT BREAKFAST FOOD AT ANY HOUR

favorite meme?VIBE CHECK, IM SMUG ABOUT MY URL

do you sing in the shower?NO BUT I USED TO. JUST SHY ABOUT ROOMMATES. I DO IN MY CAR

ever used a bow and arrow?NO, BUT MY BROTHER DESIGNED AND BUILT ONE, GOT IN TROUBLE FOR MAKING A WEAPON

are/were you a theatre kid?IN AN ALTERNATE UNIVERSE WHERE IM ALLOWED TO HAVE AN EGO, YES

have you ever seen a broadway musical?NO

do you think musicals are cheesy?NO I THINK THEYRE JUST A MEDIUM OF ART

have you ever been a part of a protest or a march?NO WEIRDLY

favorite Cards Against Humanity Card?IDK THEM

last movie you watched?PROBABLY MEGEAMIND

behind the camera or in front of it?BEHIND. BUT BOTH IS GOOD

favorite tv show?AVATAR THE LAST AIRBENDER

meaning behind your urlTHE ACTUAL REASON IS IT REMINDS ME I CAN TRUST MY INTUITION

reason you joined tumblrA CRUSH WROTE IN MY YEARBOOK I SHOULD GET IT. DONT WRITE THAT IN PEOPLES YEARBOOKS

who’s your closest tumblr friend?THE PERSON ASKING ME 99 QUESTIONS

what’s something most people love that you hate?TACOS AT WORK. THEYRE POPULAR OF COURSE. I MAY NOT KNOW MY TACOS, BUT PLAIN RAW CABBAGE ON THEM MAKES ME DOUBT

have you ever taken narcotics?NO

have you had sex?NO

have you ever gotten caught sneaking out or doing anything bad?I DONT GET CAUGHT!!!! IM SO SNEAKY… AND TRAUMATIZED. I ONLY GOT CAUGHT WHEN PEOPLE WERE LIKE, HUNTING ME. NOT FAIR. ALSO HOW DO YOU “GET CAUGHT” FOR DOING NORMAL THINGS LIKE READING AND HAVING CLOTHES

worst/funniest lie you’ve ever told?PROBABLY THE REASSURING CHRISTIAN VALUES THINGS I TOLD MY PARENTS TO GET MY BIRTH CERTIFICATE. IT WAS THE FUNNIEST BECAUSE FOR SOMEONE INCONVENIENTLY TRUTHFUL, THAT WAS SOME PRETTY HARDCORE LYING IN A RIDICULOUS SITUATION, AND THE WORST BECAUSE WHAT A HORRIBLE THING TO HAVE TO DO. IT WAS HORRIBLE BECAUSE I WAS SO CONVINCING BECAUSE I MIXED IT WITH THE TRUTH I COULD SINCERELY EXPRESS

describe your passion without mentioning it.HEY GUYS IM WRITING CHAPTER 1 AGAIN I THINK I FIGURED IT OUT THIS TIME

describe your best friend.WARM STRONG RESILIENT UNCONDITIONALLY LOVING KINDLY HONEST CREATIVE TALENTED BRAVE HARDWORKING BEAUTIFUL ORIGINAL NURTURING SELF CONFIDENT

give us one thing about you that no one knows.NO ONE KNOWS THE GRITTY DETAILS OF SOME SAD MOMENTS IN MY PAST. DID YOU KNOW I HATE THE SMELL OF HOSPITAL FOOD FROM WHEN I VISITED A FAMILY MEMBER IN A PSYCH WARD

how do you feel right now?GOOD, I SHOULD PROBABLY GO TO BED THOUGH

what is your biggest fear?BREAKING SELF HARM STREAK

what’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?SING A SONG EARTH WIND AND FIRE

what is the best decision you’ve made in your life so far?LEAVING MY PARENTS. ITS TAKEN ME AGES TO UNLEARN SO MUCH SELF-DEFEATING STUFF

have you ever tried your hardest and then been disappointed in the end?MOSTLY EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE BUT IM CHILL

something you fantasize about.ACTUALLY DANCING TO MUSIC I LIKE. I NEVER LEARNED HOW TO DANCE BUT I WANT TO SFM

last time you cried and whyTHAT PREACHER GUY IN LUCIFER. IT SUCKED BUT IM SO BLOWN AWAY BY LUCIFERS ANGRY YELLING AT THE SKY. WHAT A GIANT MOOD

what was the last thing that made you laugh?MY SISTER ASKING ME WHAT DILF MEANT

do you really, truly miss someone right now?NO. IF I MISS SOMEONE, ITS A SIGN THEY WERE A BAG OF DICKS TO ME AND MESSED UP MY INNER CLARITY

who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything?YOU

the last time you felt broken?WHEN MY TWO FRIENDS AT THE TIME GANGED UP ON ME AND ABANDONED ME AT A NOT PRETTY TIME IN MY LIFE. I COULDNT EAT WHICH AND I STILL STRUGGLE WITH EATING, I NEVER USED TO

are you starting to realize anything?THAT IF I RELY ON MY LIFE EXPERIENCE, ILL EXPECT TO FAIL AND SABOTAGE MYSELF, AND INSTEAD I NEED TO TAKE RISKS AND PUT FAITH IN MY FUTURE.

are you more dominant or more submissive?THERES EVIDENCE FOR BOTH, BUT I THINK THE LATTER IS JUST FROM ABUSE AND GIRL RULES

i’ll only date you if _____. (fill in the blank)WASH YOUR HANDS FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

do you prefer to date people the same age as you, younger, or older?AROUND MY AGE THERE IS SOME UNDERSTANDING

describe the person you’re in love with/have a crush on in great detail.IM NOT IN LOVE I DONT EVEN HAVE A CRUSH. I MAY HAVE A SQUISH

do you have any kinks?MAYBE SO

first thing you notice in a person?HOW THEY HANDLE STRESS AND PROBLEMS, IF THEY BLAME/GET ANGRY, OR IF THEY ARE COMPASSIONATE AND PATIENT. LOOKING FOR RED FLAGS

how can someone win your heart?FOOD. CHEESECAKE WAS A POWER MOVE. BONDING… OVER FOOD. I HAVE HAPPY MEMORIES ATTACHED TO BEVERAGES.

been rejected by a crush?YES

have you ever had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back?YES

would you have sex with the last person you text messaged?NO

is trust a big issue for you?YES

did you hang out with the person you like recently?NO

is confidence cute?YES, SELF LOVE LOOKS GOOD ON PEOPLE

what would you say if the person you love/like kissed another girl/boy?GOOD FOR THEM. I DONT LIKE ANYONE RIGHT NOW

would you be able to date someone who doesn’t make you laugh?NO. GIGGLING LIKE A LUNATIC IS AN IMPORTANT PART OF MY LIFE AND YOU NEED TO KEEP UP

does the person you have feelings for right now know you do?IF THEYRE FEELINGS, PROBABLY, BECAUSE IM TRANSPARENT

ever embarrass yourself in front of a crush?IVE HAD MY EMBARRASSMENT GLANDS REMOVED FOR MY FTM TRANSITION

do you want to get marriedYEAH WHEN IM FIFTY THEN ILL GET A BUNCH OF DOGS AND CATS AND CHICKENS

worst thing you’ve ever done?APPARENTLY IVE BORROWED BOOKS AND NEVER RETURNED THEM

three things that turn you on.IM GOING THRU PUBERTY 2, TEENAGE BOY EDITION, IT DOESNT TAKE MUCH

who do you hate?I DONT LIKE SUCH SIMPLE CATEGORIES, BUT I START TO FEEL HATRED WITH REPEATED CRUELTY/WHEN SOMEONE REFUSES TO HEAR ME

favorite term of endearment?MY FRIEND

who was your celebrity/fictional gay awakening?I DIDNT REALLY HAVE TVS/POP CULTURE GROWING UP LIKE MOST PEOPLE, PROBABLY FOUND IT IN CREATIVE WRITING

intimidating girls or kind girls?KIND

what do you look for in a possible partner?EQUALITY

do you tend to like more masculine, feminine, or androgynous girls?YES

are you good at flirting?PERHAPS. WHEN IM NOT THINKING ABOUT IT

who was the first person you came out to?I DONT ACTUALLY REMEMBER. A HIGH SCHOOL FRIEND. IT WAS A STRESSFUL COMPLICATED TIME, MY WORLD WAS UPSIDE DOWN, IT WAS GRADUAL

do you have any friends who are wlw?PROBABLY

is your crush wlw?IDK

last person to make you reconsider your sexuality?A DOUCHE CANOE UNFORTUNATELY

write a short love poem to your crush/self?DEAR PERSON,THANK YOU FOR THE CHEESECAKEIT WAS SO GOODBUT ONLY BECAUSE IT WAS FROM YOU

do you fall in love easily?NO. I WISH I DID. I COULD USE THE HIGH TO GET STUFF DONE

is there something that happened in your past that you hate talking about?I HATE TALKING ABOUT THINGS THAT MAKE ME FEEL HUMILIATED AND ASHAMED, SO I JUST DONT. I ALSO HATE TALKING ABOUT SELF HARM BECAUSE I NEVER KNOW HOW. AM I GOING TO TRIGGER PEOPLE? AND IT IS SHROUDED IN SHAME AND FEAR.

are you good at hiding your feelings?YES, WHEN I CONSCIOUSLY MAKE AN EFFORT TO

are you a forgiving person?NO. I USED TO BE ALL ABOUT FORGIVENESS, AND GREW UP FORGIVING ABUSIVE CYCLES, IT WAS SO UNHEALTHY. NOW I FEEL LIKE A CROW HOLDING GRUDGES FOR CENTURIES, AND I DONT WANT TO BE BITTER EITHER – I OFTEN FEEL BAD FOR NOT FORGIVING, EVEN IF ITS JUST FORGIVENESS FOR MY OWN SAKE. BUT ITS A NEW DEVELOPMENT THAT IM ALLOWING MYSELF TO FEEL ANGRY, BE TRUTHFUL ABOUT BEING WRONGED, WANT JUSTICE FOR MYSELF. AND MAYBE SOME THINGS SHOULDNT BE FORGIVEN.

what is your “type?”I DONT KNOW. I RECENTLY STARTED GROWING SOME SELF WORTH, AND I DONT THINK THE PEOPLE IVE SOUGHT OUT TO RELIVE MY PAIN COUNTS

fall asleep in her arms or rub her back until she falls asleep in yours?LAST ONE

tall girls or short girls?BOTH IS GOOD

hugs or kisses?HUGS

twirl her around or get twirled?I WANNA TWIRL PEOPLE

tummy kisses or thigh kisses?BOTH

hairline kisses or neck kisses?NECK

play with her hair or stroke her tummy?PLAYING WITH HAIR

making out or soft kisses?MAKING OUT

hugs around the neck or hugs around the waist?WAIST

how confident are you in your sexuality?I THINK PEOPLE WOULD ASSUME IM NOT. IM SHY, AND MY NERDY CHRISTIAN VIBE ISNT GOING ANYWHERE. IM ALSO JUST BEGINNING TO LIVE AS MYSELF AND IM RELEARNING EVERYTHING. BUT WHEN IT COMES TO REALLY KNOWING MYSELF IM CONFIDENT

when you like someone do you blush or get butterflies in your stomach?NO. I WILL START CRANKING OUT ART AND FOCUS LESS THAN USUAL

have you ever liked a friend as more than a friend? did you tell them?YES

how old were you when you realized you were into girls?20ISH BUT THE SIGNS WERE THERE LONG BEFORE

most embarrassing thing you’ve done in front of a cute girl?I GOT MY EMBARRASSMENT GLANDS REMOVED REMEMBER

do you have a favorite lesbian ship? is it canon?I DONT KNOW MANY BUT IM HAPPY FOR THE CANON MARCELINE AND BUBBLEGUM

what is the most aggravating thing someone has said to you about your sexuality?MY SISTER PROJECTING ABOUT HER LIFE. WE HAVE CONSERVATIVE MISOGYNIST PARENTS BUT WE ARE VERY DIFFERENT PEOPLE AND IT DID NOT AFFECT US IN THE SAME WAY

when was the last time a girl made your heart flutter?I FEEL LIKE IM FORGETTING SOMETHING NICE A STRANGER SAID ONCE

what is love to you?NOT SOMETHING YOU DISPENSE AT YOUR CONVENIENCE. ITS A WAY OF LIVING – IF YOU LOVE YOURSELF, YOU LOVE OTHER PEOPLE, AND YOU LOVE THE WORLD AROUND YOU AND TAKE CARE OF IT. ITS NEITHER FAWNING NOR CONTROL – ITS ACCEPTANCE

ask me anything.YOU DIDNT ASK ME ANYTHING SO IM JUST GOING TO TELL YOU SOMETHING. IVE BEEN EATING POPCORN CHICKEN WITH HONEY

#zee5tarbug #asks #chatty tag #I DID IT

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 5 years ago

Text

Flatbush & Atlantic: part viii

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii

Here’s part viii! Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, tell your dog, tell the nosy woman who lives in the apartment above you. Remember to reblog, it helps the series reach more people, and as always - tell me what you think! I haven’t gotten much feedback so far and would love to know everyone’s thoughts, even if it’s only a few words.

part viii

April 19 (sun)

Cass was the most nervous she had been in her entire life. Okay, well maybe that was an overstatement. That honor probably went to the night law school acceptances went out, or when she sat with Alejandra — a friend from back in Texas — as they thought DACA was going to get rescinded, or when her dad lost his job when she was in middle school and their family was living paycheck-to-paycheck. It was Game 6 of the first round, the Islanders leading the series 3-2. The score was tied 1-1 halfway through the second period, a beautiful tip-in by Nelson that managed to just squeak past Mrazek. They had been up 3 games to none at the start of the series, with every intention to sweep the Hurricanes in Game 4 at home. But then they dropped two in a row — needless to say, tensions were running high coming into the night.

She was sat up in the club box with the WAGs and some other family members who had flown in for the occasion, in hopes that they’d be able to celebrate a win and a move to the conference semifinals. The team probably could have used with tightening up their backcheck, but the passes were spot-on and Cass didn’t see much room to complain. Lauren on the chair opposite, she sat next to Paige as the clock hit eight minutes left, clutching a glass of white wine as her foot nervously tapped the carpet. Paige placed a steadying hand on her arm. “They’re going to pull it off, you know.”

Cass ran a hand through her hair. “That’s what I keep trying to tell myself. And I know they’ve got the talent, and these guys are some of the hardest workers I know, but—”

“It’s hard trying to rationalize it,” Paige finished.

“Yeah,” Cass nodded, “and especially knowing how long the team’s gone without a cup, like it’s been, what,” she glanced at the banners in the rafters, “38 years since they’ve won?. That’s 13 years before I was even born.”

Paige looked down at the ice thoughtfully. “I guess there’s really not much you can do in these situations but have faith that all the training and all the effort’s going to eventually pay off.”

“I guess you’re right,” Cass said, though if she was being honest she didn’t like the subjectivity of the statement. Shitty things happen to good people all the time, bad people get away with terrible things all the time, and people who have worked their asses off don’t always get what they’ve spent their entire lives working toward.

There were just under six minutes left on the clock, and the first line had just gone back on. Anders took the faceoff, and Cass was so focused on the puck that she didn’t notice the gloves dropping on the other side of the ice until Paige let out a gasp, gently shaking her out of her trance. She was thrown for a minute; sure, fights were more uncommon since the league started cracking down on penalties, but they weren’t uncommon, so why did it matter that she paid any attention?

Five seconds later, and she understood. It was Mat. It took Cass a few seconds to really grasp it — Mat wasn’t a fighter by any means, she had never seen him in one even before they got together, so what had finally set him off? They traded punches as the refs struggled to get a handle on the situation, jerseys riding up as Cass’ hand squeezed like a vice grip on Paige’s knee. She was too anxious to even figure out who the other player was, just that he was tall and blond and had one fist gripping Mat’s collar as he dodged one of his blows. Mat tried to steady himself, tried to realign his center of gravity, but then the other player threw a punch at the side of his face and it clipped his cheek as he tried to avoid it and he couldn’t get his balance back and he fell. Hard. Helmets had gone off before the fight had even started, so there was nothing in between his head and the ice.

Cass’ hands flew up to her mouth, and Lauren had to stop her from sliding off the edge of her lounge chair. There was blood, and it was coming from his head, and if there was one thing her mother’s 30 years as a nurse had taught her, it was that blood from the head was never a good sign. “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered, feeling the bile rise up in her throat. Scratch anything she had said before, this was hands-down the most scared she’d ever been in her life. The love of her life was bleeding from his head down on the ice, and he wasn’t moving.

You could have heard a pin drop in Barclay’s Center as the whole crowd waited for Mat to get up. And waited. And waited. Cassidy barely noticed him being helped up by Jordan; she was already running through the halls, Paige right beside her, frantically pressing the down button on the elevator to take them to the dressing room. She didn’t pay any attention to the usher who was telling her that they were private elevators because Mat was hurt and he was bleeding and oh God oh God oh God I need to get to him I need to get to him.

She leaned her head against the cool metal of the side panel, long since having abandoned her efforts to control her tears as Paige tried desperately to comfort her. “The team has really good doctors, and if he needs a hospital, we have the best ones in the world right here in New York,” she said, but her words fell on deaf ears. Cass’ head jerked up. The elevator had dinged, indicating that they had finally reached the underground level. She turned left, headed straight for the locker room. There was no way he would have been left on the bench. Cass knew enough about hockey and enough about injuries to know that a hit that hard and blood that bad meant that he’d be taken right back.

By this time, she knew the way as good as anyone, and didn’t care who would try and stop her from getting in the room. Come hell or high water, she was going to see Mat. She passed the handful of puzzled arena staff, bursting into the locker room. “I’ll be out here,” Paige had said, but it barely registered. Mat was in a room off to the side, and thank God the trainer was one who recognized her, because he nodded at her as she lingered by the door, unspoken permission that she could enter. Cass rushed to Mat’s side, his eyes screwed shut in pain as the trainer — Carter, was it? Nick? She really couldn’t remember much of anything at the moment — held a pad of gauze to his head with a gloved hand.

“Doctor should be here any minute, Mat, just hang on,” he said.

Cass knelt down, hands shaking as she laced her fingers through his. “It’s going to be okay, Mat. You’re going to be okay.”

Mat opened his eyes just a sliver. “Cass?”

“Yeah, babe. I’m here.”

The door opened again, a man with a medical bag walking through the corridor and into the side room. “Dr. Khan,” he said to the trainer as he set the bag down, unclasping it. “Nick,” he responded. So it was Nick, Cass thought absentmindedly.

“I was watching from a box when it happened, got down as soon as I could. So, his head hit the ice? No helmet?” Nick nodded as Dr. Khan snapped his own pair of gloves on. He turned to Cass. “Are you the wife?” For a moment, Cass was thrown. He may have been a doctor, but this man really couldn’t have known much about the team if he thought one of their star players was married. If Mat Barzal was married, everyone would know.

After a moment, she shook her head. “No. Girlfriend.”

He nodded. “Okay. I’m fine with you staying as long as you keep out of the way, it shouldn’t take too long.” He turned to Nick. “A/O questions?”

“Knew his name, knew the year, knew where we are, knew who she is,” he tilted his head over at Cass.

“Good, good,” Dr. Khan said, moving over to take his place at the head of the table. “Head wounds bleed a lot,” he said reassuringly, looking over at where Cass stood, her nails bit down to nubs. She thought she’d quit the habit in fifth grade. “It shouldn’t need more than a staple or two.”

True to his word, fifteen minutes later the bleeding had subsided substantially, and Mat was sporting two very shiny, brand-new staples. “I’m sorry we had to shave a little, your lovely girlfriend was telling me how much pride you take in your hair. It’ll grow back quickly,” the doctor said.

Mat let out a groan. “I’m going to lose all of my millions of adoring fans. The hair’s all I got, you know.”

Dr. Khan chuckled. “I’m glad to see you’re in good spirits. I’m going to diagnose you with a moderate concussion. It could have been a lot worse, but you got lucky this time.” He turned to Cass. “Would you be able to stay with him for the next few days? He should be able to manage, but it’s always better safe than sorry and it would be good for him to have someone around in case anything comes up.”

Cass nodded. “Yeah. I’m in school, but outside of that. Yeah. I can stay.”

Nick walked back through the door, handing a few printouts to Cass. “Just some concussion stuff for you to know. Activities for him to avoid, symptoms to be aware of, what to do if things get worse. That kind of thing.”

Cass took the sheets. “Do you think things will get worse?” She asked worriedly.

Dr. Khan shook his head. “It’s not likely, seeing as how he’s relatively aware and the concussion could have been much more severe. But it’s always better to err on the side of caution when it comes to any medical situation.”

She nodded, nervously rubbing Mat’s thumb. “Should I...take him home now?” She asked, trying to think of how she was going to take him back to Manhattan on the train when lights and loud noises were the exact thing he was supposed to be avoiding right now, or how much an hour long Uber would cost.

“I’d like to keep him for a little longer, an hour or so, just for observation to make sure symptoms don’t get any worse.”

The next hour seemed to inch by, dotted with visits from Nick and Dr. Khan and one from Trotz during the second intermission. Mat was going to be out for somewhere in the vicinity of two weeks; everything was dependent on him being medically cleared and a slow return to training and team practices. The news gutted him. It wasn’t just that Mat loved hockey, he loved being out on the ice and in the thick of the action and with his team, his brothers, and it just seemed so patently unfair that he wasn’t going to be able to do that when they needed him the most. Doing the math, he had realized with heart-wrenching certainty that that meant he would maybe be able to make the last few games of the conference semifinals, and that was only if they made it that far. It wasn’t that he didn’t have faith in his team, but the knowledge that he wouldn’t be able to do anything but sit on the bench in a suit and hand out waters ate away at him.

Someone, maybe one of the equipment managers, had taken the liberty of packing up Mat’s things, and Cass was poking around trying to find his keys. He was pretty coherent by then, but still in no state to drive. She slung the bag over her shoulder, trying not to groan at its weight — she’d definitely be sore tomorrow — and helped him out of the locker room and back to the players’ parking lot, half-heartedly waving goodbye to the handful of players and staff that were still trickling out. The ride back to his apartment was quiet, and Mat barely acknowledged the news that the team had eked out a win with a powerplay goal late in the third. They were going to the second round, and it killed him that he might not get to be a part of it.

She parked in the underground lot, taking the bag once again despite Mat’s insistence that he could carry it himself, their ride up the elevator accompanied by a strangely specific playlist that was mostly comprised of late 2000s pop. “I slow danced with my first boyfriend to this song at our freshman year homecoming dance,” Cass said.

The corner of Mat’s mouth twitched up. “I Won’t Give Up?” She nodded. “What was his name?”

“Justin. He played varsity basketball, I did lacrosse and field hockey. We were the jockiest couple at school for the all of four months we dated,” she said wistfully. “He was a good guy, but I should have known things weren’t going to work out. He had a lot of growing up to do.”

Mat hummed in acknowledgement as she opened the door. “I didn’t know you played field hockey.”

Cass let out a laugh. “Wrong surface, I know. But yeah, I did, through junior year of high school. Dropped it senior year to focus on lacrosse and college stuff.”

“But you still did lacrosse in university,” he said, more like a statement than anything.

She nodded. “Club, yeah. It would have been cool to be on the school team, but D1 sports are super competitive, and I didn’t have time between A Phi and the Mexican Student Association and honors stuff there would have been no way I could have made it all work.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Anyone ever told you you’re a bit of an overachiever?”

She glared at him. “You’re lucky you’re injured, or I would have slapped you.” Heading over to the kitchen, she called over her shoulder, “I’m getting some water, do you want anything?”

“Water would be great.” Cass came back a minute later, handing him his glass. She looked at her watch. Past midnight. Then she looked at her phone, which she hadn’t checked since the middle of the game and which had understandably blown up since then. She responded to texts from Paige and Lauren and Kerry, sent Chris a message that she’d need tomorrow off to look after Mat, reassured Noah that Mat was fine and would be back on the ice as soon as humanly possible. Her brow furrowed. Three missed messages from the apartment’s group chat, The Fantastic Four, named largely due to the fact that Cass may or may not have had a not-so-little crush on Human Torch as a middle schooler; once the girls had gotten the story out of her, they never let her live it down.

10:44 - Ryanne: When do you think you’ll be back? Made spaghetti and wasn’t sure if I should leave it out for you or put it in the fridge.

11:17 - Stella: Were you taking the subway home?

11:39 - Alicia: I saw on Twitter Mat got hurt, is everything okay? Do you need anything?

11:55 - Alicia: Cass? You good?

“Shit,” Cass breathed, shutting her eyes for a moment.

Mat looked concerned, scratching at an itch under his gauze. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Cass said, typing a response. There was almost nothing she hated more than worrying people. Oh my gosh I’m so sorry guys! Yes, I’m good, Mat’s okay too. It’s a concussion so he’ll be out of play for a few weeks, but thank God it’s not worse. I hadn’t checked my phone since he got hurt, I’m so sorry to worry y’all!! I’m over at his, the doctor said he should have someone watching him for a few days just in case. I might come pick up a few things tomorrow, but I’ll be back Wednesday :)

Mat stuck his tongue through his teeth and let out a sigh. “I’m sorry you have to deal with all this,” he gestured at his head, “it shouldn’t be your responsibility.”

Cass smiled softly at him, leaning gently into his side. “It’s okay, I don’t mind it, taking care of you and all. Plus, acts of service are my number one love language.” He laughed. “But,” she started hesitantly, “I’ve got to ask. You’re not really a fighter.” His arm tensed around her, knowing what was coming. “So what made you drop the gloves? You don’t really ever let these things get to you.”

“Yeah,” Mat sighed. He really should have expected the question sooner, it wasn’t like it was an avoidable situation. “Um, he had just been chirping me for most of the game, just stuff about how I’m all talk and no talent, about my points drought earlier in the season, stuff like that.”

“And?” Cass pressed, knowing that there was something he was holding back. She wanted to help him, and she couldn’t do that without the full story.

“And you,” he admitted. “It’s not really that unusual for guys to chirp each other about girlfriends, but he was just saying some pretty nasty stuff about you. Just sexist, gross stuff. No one should say that about a girl, doesn’t matter who she is.”

As unfortunate as it was, Cass was pretty sure she knew exactly what had been said about her. She was a woman — a young, attractive woman — living in New York City, which was practically the world capital of catcalling, and her earbuds could only drown out so much. But still, Mat’s response had her heart skip a beat. “Thank you for defending my honor,” she said sweetly, turning her head to give him a kiss on the cheek.

He blushed. “If I could go back? I’d do it all over again.”

April 27 (tues)

Cass scrolled through her Twitter feed as she waited for Mat to arrive at the deli for lunch. It had been a week and a half since the injury, and things were definitely progressing — though not as fast as Mat would have hoped. She had stayed with him for a few days until he was feeling back to his old self, and though Mat hadn’t exactly been thrilled by Cass having to wake him up every three hours to be sure that he wasn’t, you know, dead, he had been a pretty good sport overall.

Reading and excessive screen use was on the no-no list she’d been given by Dr. Khan, so Mat had taken to a lot of listening to music and trying valiantly to pick back up his guitar skills once he was feeling up to it. Skills was perhaps a generous word, Cass thought, since the only song he had been able to play with any confidence by the end of the week was Rockstar by Nickleback. “It’s not that bad,” he had said defensively. “They get a bad rep.” Cass wasn’t so sure about that, but thought it would be a bit of a dick move to criticize his music taste, so she refrained.

She was jerked out of her thoughts by Mat, who greeted her with a bright smile and a kiss on the forehead. “How was your day, babe?”

She shrugged. “Pretty good, nothing special. Just got out of a Contracts seminar. Nothing quite as thrilling as debating the precedent set by Supreme Court cases from the 1980s.”

Mat barked out a laugh. “I’m sure. I don’t think I’d understand a single word of what they said, but that just proves what I already knew.”

“Which is?”

“That you’re ten times smarter than I am.” Cass laughed, and he opened the door. “Now, I’m starving. I want food.”

“Good thing we came to a deli, then,” Cass said dryly.

He snickered. “Guess I walked right into that one.” The couple stopped in front of the menu. “What’s good here?”

“Besides everything?” Cass asked. “Roast beef sandwich, grilled chicken’s pretty good too. And obviously the pastrami.”

Mat shifted from one food to another. “I’ve never actually had one,” he admitted.

Cass turned to look at him slowly, eyes wide. “You’ve never had a pastrami on rye?” He shook his head. “You’ve lived in New York for, what, almost four years now? And you’ve never had a pastrami sandwich?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Mat mumbled.

“Oh, it is,” Cass said, as they reached the counter. “I take my sandwiches very seriously, Mathew, and you’re about to find out why.” She waved to the man behind the counter. “Carlos!” Jabbering in rapid-fire Spanish as he assembled the sandwiches, she pulled out her wallet to pay before Mat even got the chance. “Él es mi novio,” she said, answering Carlos’ unspoken question and tapping her card on the reader. “Gracias, te veré pronto!” She grabbed the bag of sandwiches, Mat following her out the door as they walked down the block, peeling off to a side road with a small park. Cass shifted her backpack off, setting it on the ground beneath a small table that had become one of her go-to lunch spots since she, Les, and Fiona stumbled across it in their first year.

“So it seems like you’ve known Carlos for awhile?” Mat asked, unwrapping the sandwich.

Cass nodded, biting into hers and letting out an almost-euphoric moan.

Mat raised an eyebrow. “You usually save that for the bedroom.”

Almost choking, she swallowed the bite, leaning over the table and lightly slapping his arm. “Mat! But yeah, he started working at the deli sometime in spring of my first year. He moved from Puerto Rico, so that’s why we were speaking Spanish.”

“What was that you called me back there, anyways? Nuevo?”

Cass snorted into her coffee. “Nuevo means new. I called you my novio. It’s the word for serious boyfriend. Or fiancé, really. The language doesn’t make much of a distinction.” Cass sipped slowly, deciding to hazard a question. “How has your recovery been going?”

Mat perked up. Anything relating to hockey and he was all ears. “It’s going well, yeah. I was cleared to start working out the other day, they did some scans and said that everything looks like how it should, which is a relief. I’ve been a little dizzy but nothing serious,” he quickly added, seeing Cass’ nervous glance, “and I go back in two days to see if I can get back to training with the team. A day or two of that and fingers crossed, I’d be ready to play a game if we’re still in it.” The team was down 2-1 to the Capitals, and Mat had been tearing his hair out the entire week, frustrated beyond belief that he couldn’t do anything to help. He was a hockey player, a damn good one at that, and there was nothing he could do but sit in front of his TV and watch his team fall behind in the series. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be out there, scoring and making hits and making a difference, not cooped up like some toddler with a list of things he couldn’t do and couldn’t touch.

Cass could see that he was starting to retreat a little bit, so she reached out, squeezing his hand. “Hey, chou, listen to me.” He looked up. “I know it’s frustrating for you. Believe me, I know how much you want to be out there and how useless you might feel right now, but that’s all bullshit, you hear me?” Her eyes softened. “The best thing you can do for the boys right now is work out when you can, listen to your doctors, and focus on getting better. The city wants their golden boy back, and as cute as your pout is,” Mat’s lips twitched, “it doesn’t do anyone any good, least of all you.”

Cass was nearly done with her sandwich when Mat spoke again. “Graduation’s coming up fast, huh? What is it, a month from now?”

She nodded, picking up a napkin and dabbing at the mustard by the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, it’s the 22, so a little under a month now.”

“Is your whole family coming down?”

“Yeah,” Cass said, bounding her head. “Everyone’s able to make it, which is awesome, and so much more than I expected. Eliana gets out of school the week earlier, so it’s not a problem for her, and it’s on a Saturday so it’s a non-issue for Noah and my parents. My nana’s driving down with my family, and my mom’s parents are flying from Hermosillo.”

Mat gave her a confused look. “I thought they lived in Texas?”

“They started splitting time after they retired, they were the only ones who immigrated so all of their relatives were still down in Mexico,” Cass explained.

“Got it.”

She continued. “Yeah, so I’m really lucky that everyone’s able to make it, it’s been forever since the whole family was together. Which reminds me,” she said, pulling out her phone and sending a quick text, “I need to get their flight info. I promised to pick them up from JFK.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” Mat asked quickly.

Cass was confused. “What if you’re still playing?”

He waved his hand. “Obviously not then. But if we’re not, I’d love to come. I could drive around so you wouldn’t have to pay for parking, and it would be nice to meet them before your graduation.” The unspoken addendum was if I’m able to make it. Game 4 of the Stanley Cup Finals was scheduled on the day of Cass’ graduation; Mat knew that realistically, the chances of making it that far were slim, but the thought of not being able to celebrate with her, celebrate her, caused a pang in his heart.

Her smile could have lit up the sun. “I’d love that, I really would. And you’re going to love my grandparents. I’ve told them so much about you and they’re excited to finally meet you in person.”

Mat beamed. “I’m glad. Hey,” he added, treading lightly. “Have you heard back from any of the places you’ve applied yet?” He knew of at least a half-dozen firms and nonprofits she’d interviewed with, but if any of them had resulted in an offer yet, she hadn’t told him.

Cass looked down at her hands. This was the conversation she had been dreading ever since last week. “Cass?” Mat asked again, more hesitantly this time. He could tell something was up. “Uh, yeah.” She said, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Yeah, I have. You remember that tech company I interviewed with the other week?

“Yeah, the ones that do computers and stuff?” Mat asked, confused. If she got the job, then why did she seem so nervous?

She nodded. “Yeah. They got back to me a few days ago...and they offered a position.”

Mat stood up, ready to walk around the table and wrap her in a massive bear hug. “Cass!” He exclaimed. “That’s awesome! You said it sounded like really interesting stuff, and the company’s in New York so you wouldn’t even have to move—”

“That’s the thing,” Cass said, cutting him off. “They’re headquartered in New York, and I thought I was applying for a position in New York, but it turns out everything was ‘space available,’ whatever that means.” She finally looked up at Mat. “The job’s in Hong Kong.”

He feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him, and sat back down in his seat hard. So hard, in fact, that he almost knocked it over, but he barely noticed. Hong Kong? That’s a whole country and the world’s largest ocean away, and the thought of losing her to a whole different country wasn’t something he ever could have anticipated. He’s finally gotten something so good, someone so good, and the thought that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye was a possibility he hadn’t even allowed himself to consider.

Mat swallows. “Are you...Are you going to take it?” He asks thickly. She looks down at the coffee cup in her hands, the same speckled white-and-blue one Mat gave her back in the fall. God, October seems like a lifetime away from where they are now. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and he felt a weight lifted off of his chest. “I don’t even know if I want it, and I didn’t want…,” she tapped her fingers on the scratched stone table, “I didn’t want to decide anything without talking it over with you first.”

His head felt like lead when he tried to nod. “Okay, yeah. That makes sense. So, let’s talk.”

“It’s not something I ever saw myself doing,” Cass said.

“The moving to a foreign country part or the job itself?” Mat asked.

Cass scrunched her nose. “Both, I guess. Sure, I applied to places all across the country, but that was more for job security than anything. I needed cash flow to start paying off my loans, and as much as I love nonprofit and pro-bono work, it doesn’t really pay well. That’s sort of the whole point.

Mat reached behind himself to throw the sandwich wrapper into the trash can. “Do you like what they’d be having you do?”

“It’s contracts and negotiations, so it’s interesting enough. I like the topic and I know I’m good at it. But it’s not what I originally imagined for myself,” she conceded.

“What did you think you’d be doing?”

Cass let out a strained breath. “When I first got to law school, I was convinced I’d do immigration law. I’m passionate about it, feel like I’ve got a stake in the matter, and Spanish fluency is a really good skill to have in the field. And I loved getting to work in the clinic on deportation appeals. The day I got a stay for my first client was one of the happiest days of my life,” she added. Mat couldn’t help but smile. Even with mountains of uncertainty threatening to topple over on them, Cass had such a good heart and he’d always be proud of that. “But I’ve loved what I’ve gotten to do with Chris in the office. If I’m being honest, I didn’t think that I’d like it.”

Mat’s curiosity was piqued. “How come?”

“I think part of it had to do with how rushed and nervous I felt about the whole thing. It was pretty much my last chance and I really just threw my application together without thinking. I didn’t have time to worry if I’d actually like what I was going to be doing. It might just be my Rangers bias coming through, but I think I thought it would just be Scandal-type dealing with dumb shit players did, getting them off the hook for drunken escapades or finding contractual loopholes to save the team money on the salary cap.” She shrugged. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“So,” Mat said said slowly, “if this isn’t the kind of work you wantedto do, why are you thinking about taking the job?”

“Couple of things,” Cass said. “The company culture is really good, by all accounts they hanuinely care about their environmental impact and worker’s rights, they make sure everyone on the supply chain is given a living wage. Good upward mobility, and there’s a half-dozen offices around the world that you can apply to transfer to after five years. Benefits and salary are are some of the best I’ve seen for new hires.”

“But would you be happy?” Mat asked, so softly that she almost missed it.

Would I? Cass thought. It was never the plan for her to move so far away; she’s never lived further than a few hours from home and as much as she hated to admit it, the prospect of not being in the same time zone as her family terrified her. What if her abuelo has another stroke, and she’s halfway across the world? What if she’s not able to hold her brother when he goes through his first heartbreak? What if she isn’t there to kiss Mat when he hoists the Stanley Cup for the first time? But what if she hates herself because she never took the chance? She finally looks back up, feeling like Mat’s hazel eyes are boring straight into her soul. “I don’t know.”

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ineedrelationshipadvice · 5 years ago

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hi!ive been with my gf for just over a month but I have strong feelings for her, however I don't know how to balance myself so im not always the one going above and beyond for others, i gotta think about myself too cause I don't want things to fall into dynamics I've had in the past. Nonetheless she's currently going through a bit of a rough patch and maybe she does need a little extra attention and someone to check up on her? How do I do this but also mainly focus on myself -🖤

This is hard, and I'm going to be perfectly honest, while I'm usually confident in the advice I give, I'm going to be very biased on this one, and you should take everything I say with a grain of salt. I am a people-pleaser. It's in my blood. I want to help people regardless of circumstance, and I have a strong tendency - just like you seem to have - to put myself before others, even to my own detriment.

It's good that you're aware that your tendencies here are to do this thing. Often times people aren't even aware they're putting themself out for someone else. So it's good you have the self-analytical prowess to see that in yourself. While this may be a fault for people like us, just remember that this is a good problem to have! It means that we do help people, and that we are kind. That's awesome!

However, where is the limit in this particular circumstance? That's a good question. You mentioned that she's going through a "rough patch," but didn't explain any more. What you might determine as a rough patch may be very different from what I would call a rough patch. And this is your partner; you're not their therapist, and your life shouldn't revolve around them. But it is nice to support them in their time of need, if you can.

The big play here is to only offer as much as you actually have. Don't go TOO FAR beyond your means to take care of them. And furthermore, LET THEM KNOW. "Listen, I care about you and want to help you through this. But please understand, sometimes I'll need to take care of myself too, and may not always be there for you." Letting them know upfront is an important way to lower their expectations to something more realistic.

But that doesn't really address the fundamental issue there. And again, I'm biased. But here are a variety of patented tips and tricks that I use in my own life to dictate myself on how not to over-invest in someone else. Your mileage may vary with this, because every situation is different, but here you go.

Be careful with your money. Money is a renewable resource so long as you have a job. But your finances are yours, and you should generally try to keep it that way. This goes double if your income is not fantastic. If someone you're close to is in a position where they need money, make sure to set hard limits for yourself on how much you're willing to give. Me personally, assuming I had plenty of money to spare, I would never commit more than $100-$150 into someone, even some of my closest friends. It's great to love people, but we're all in this dog-eat-dog world together, and you need to be perfectly comfy in your finances before you commit to spending on other people.

Your time is precious. Time is NOT a renewable resource. We only have one life, so we gotta make it count. What that means in this respect is, all of your time should not fixate on this one person. It might feel natural to do this, especially if you're in a relationship with someone. But make sure that you actively make time for yourself, your friends, your hobbies, and your interest OUTSIDE of your relationship or someone who needs your support. If you constrict yourself to never doing things that matter to you because the person you're supporting always needs you for something, that's leaning toward a toxic relationship. You matter too, so make sure you make yourself matter by investing the appropriate amount of time into yourself.

Hours of viable support. Again, there's only so much time in the day. That means that you need to be able to spend your time wisely to handle the issues that matter to you. What that also means is you need to set clear boundaries on when it is appropriate and not appropriate for someone in need to contact you. For instance, my rule personally is, my DMs and texts are always open, any time of day, and if I don't respond, it's because I'm asleep and will handle things when I'm awake. That leaves me open to supporting people for a huge portion of my day, but it also has the strict rule of saying, "When I'm not available, I refuse to help you." Again, it's good to support people. But if people need constant support, then they need other people in their life who can share the burden with you. You can't be their one-stop shop for support.

Limits on the trouble. Everyone has different issues they need help with. But we also need to respect our own boundaries. Make sure that you enforce those boundaries if applicable given the trouble that someone is going through. For instance, is someone is being abused by their romantic partner or parents, and YOU are someone who struggles with abuse, you can certainly try to support them, but you also need to make sure that it doesn't traumatize you in a way that will negatively impact your self-being. Make sure you make those boundaries clear, because it's not that you don't care, but sometimes the your personal experiences and their personal situation may influence what you're actually able to handle in any given situation. Same goes for experiences. If someone is struggling with legal trouble, for instance, and you have ZERO experience with legal trouble, you can support them til the cows come home, but you can only do so much with something you know nothing about. Let them know you have your limits.

Ask what they need. One thing many people forget in situations where they're helping someone out is, at the end of the day, there needs to be a goal to support. Even if that goal is just letting your friend vent their feelings, then that's the goal. If you're engaging with someone who needs your help, simply ask what they need. "What can I do to help?" It's a courteous thing to do, and they may not even know. But setting that boundary there, so you KNOW how to help if there's a way to, can help you know when the goal has been accomplished in the short-term. And it also lets you know when aiding them might stretch you too thin. For instance, if they say, "I just need someone to talk and cry to for a little while," that's valid. But if they say something like, "I need you. I NEED YOU!" that is more vague, and not something you can do permanently. If you get into a situation like that, you need to gently remind them of your limits. "I understand you need me, but I can only offer so much. If there's anything I can do that's reasonable, I'll do it.

REASONABLE. As just mentioned, there is only so much you can do. You can only provide so much reasonable, feasible support before it either goes so far out of the realm of possibility for you to help them, or otherwise, it's so far beyond your expertise and ability that you just actively can't help them. For instance, if you have a friend struggling with poverty, and if they don't get some money they can't feed themselves, you can lend them some money so that they can eat. But if this is a daily occurrence, and they're going to be starving every single day until something changes, you're not a bottomless pit of money (unless you are, which hey, wanna share?). You have to cut people off eventually. If you get to such a situation, just explain, "I want to help you, but I have to take care of myself too. Is there anything else I can do that will support you?"

Seek the experts. At the end of the day, NONE OF US can support people as much as an expert in the field can. And believe me, there's an expert for everything. Your friend or partner is struggling with psychological issues? Help them find a therapist. Someone is struggling with their finances? Help them find a financial advisory or get a job. Someone is struggling with abuse? Help find them an advocate, law enforcement officer, or otherwise other methods to keep them safe. You can't solve every problem, and you shouldn't be expected to. Find the people who can do a job better than you ever will be able to.

At the end of the day, as said, your mileage is going to vary with all of this. Every situation is different, and there is no way anything I say here can cover all the millions of different ways people need to support each other while getting through this life. All we can do is manage as best as we can, help people when we are able, and remember that as much as we can help people, we're important to and need to always be ready to take a step back if need be so that we can handle our own issues. Don't let your own problems pile up just because you're being nice and taking care of someone else.

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moldypieceoflasagna · 6 years ago

Text

36 questions that nobody asked me

(except @lollipoppedchainsaw )

(the 36 questions that lead to love or whatever) https://www.nytimes.com/2015/01/11/fashion/no-37-big-wedding-or-small.html

1. Given the choice of anyone in the world, whom would you want as a dinner guest?

I hate going out to dinner so much i probably wouldnt be able to enjoy it properly

2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?

It would be interesting to see what it’s like for a short period of time, but i’d never be able to keep it up; i’d probably have an identity crisis

3. Before making a telephone call, do you ever rehearse what you are going to say? Why?

yes i have to mentally prepare myself 100% of the time

4. What would constitute a “perfect” day for you?

hanging out with the people i love is enough to keep me happy for a good while tbh. sitting around doing nothing literally nothing with them is endlessly entertaining to me even though sometimes i might make that hard to believe

5. When did you last sing to yourself? To someone else?

i sing to myself a lot, not so much to others- although i AM a slut for karaoke

6. If you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30-year-old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want?

body because i feel thats probably what old people complain about most. plus like,, 90 years of life knowledge? sounds great to me

7. Do you have a secret hunch about how you will die?

probably an accident that’s almost statistically impossible

8. Name three things you and your partner appear to have in common.

single rn (ladies) but i usually try to find friends with similar music tastes because scream-singing in the car is the most fun one can have

9. For what in your life do you feel most grateful?

im most grateful for my dogs and for my friends! i love them and it means the world to me to have people that i can call family. also i would die without my dog juno, she is my rock (and my therapist)

10. If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?

Not rly how i was raised, but i wish i had a closer relationship with my older siblings. Three of them had moved out before i was rly old enough to not be an asshole child, so most of them still see me as an asshole child and they never take me seriously. im glad i have an alright relationship with them, but that’s kinda all it is and i know i could do better

11. Take four minutes and tell your partner your life story in as much detail as possible.

Lived in Texas my whole life yeehaw. I have 2 brothers and 2 sisters; 2 of them dont like me, and my relationship with the other 2 is,, certainly not bad. Had a lot of physical and mental illness in the past, but 20gayteen is definitely my year, yeet

12. If you could wake up tomorrow having gained any one quality or ability, what would it be?

either speaking a different language or playing the piano. im very jealous of good piano players, and at some point i need to be able to speak a more useful language than french because so far in texas it’s proved absolutely useless (other than talking to my mom but that doesnt count)

13. If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?

I’d wanna know wtf im supposed to do with my life because sweaty i still have no idea. passion? dont know her please introduce me

14. Is there something that you’ve dreamed of doing for a long time? Why haven’t you done it?

i wanna go skydiving bitch, no one wants to go with me! pussies!!! the lot of you

15. What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

that one time i did an entire semester’s worth of work in the last three days of the school year

16. What do you value most in a friendship?

being able to put up with my huge fucking mouth. also honesty is super important, even if it’ll make me feel shitty

17. What is your most treasured memory?

when i went camping with a bunch of friends and they were bitter i got to be in the middle of the tent because they were all cold. either that or the time i was getting really bad sleep paralysis and @lonelywaterfall & @skity stayed over so my paranoia didnt render me completely useless,,, also the paramore concert lol ive never been more vulnerable in my life.

18. What is your most terrible memory?

coming out to my mom haha

19. If you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living? Why?

i’d go on a trip around the world to explore/to see a few people, and i’d put extra effort into my gender expression

20. What does friendship mean to you?

comfortable silence is my kink. also emotional vulnerability and SAD BOY HOURS we cant forget those

21. What roles do love and affection play in your life?

I’m such a slut for physical affection yall have no idea please hug me as much as possible and play with my hair or my hands

22. Alternate sharing something you consider a positive characteristic of your partner. Share a total of five items.

i guess ill do the same with previous partners so.. i think being funny is probably the #1 thing i appreciate in someone. when you make me laugh so hard i cry, just know that’s like. peak. also stubbornness is strangely attractive to me, plus like,,, uh having an unexpected soft side? an appreciation of art is super important, too. also SPOON VERSATILITY.

23. How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?

it was probably happier than a lot of people’s but there wasnt much to it. plus being the youngest in my ENTIRE family really sucked during my childhood because everyone picked on me and i think that’s probably what started a lot of my issues lol

24. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother?

better than it could be, but definitely not what i want it to be. we both love each other and i admire her work ethic, but she gave me a lot of anxiety problems (both genetically and not) and she isnt the most understanding person. i have hope though, people change

25. Make three true “we” statements each. For instance, “We are both in this room feeling …

I’m hungry and sitting alone in front of my computer feeling like OVERSHARING ON THIS BEAUTIFUL THURSDAY MORNING, BOYS

26. Complete this sentence: “I wish I had someone with whom I could share …

many, MANY animals and a lighthouse in the middle of nowhere

27. If you were going to become a close friend with your partner, please share what would be important for him or her to know.

I’m REALLY insecure about my body xd

28. Tell your partner what you like about them; be very honest this time, saying things that you might not say to someone you’ve just met.

LOVE feeling safe.

29. Share an embarrassing moment in your life.

probably every time that i’ve ever worn a dress, because i really,, really dont like wearing dresses and that’s it

30. When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself?

last cried by myself this morning and last cried in front of another person at my friend’s birthday party

31. Tell your partner something that you like about them already.

no partner but if youre reading this im rly proud of ur attention span. gj buddy

32. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?

i think most things can be joked about after a certain amount of time, but like,, it has to actually be funny and it has to come from someone i know isnt serious about it. if a joke is made just for the purpose of being offensive and edgy, it’s never funny no tea just truth.

33. If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?

i’d regret not spending enough time with people that i love, not traveling as much as i should have, and also i’d regret not formally coming out of the closet to my family (they probably already been done knew but like. yknow). i came out to myself & the people closest to me a LONG ass time ago, but i’ve kinda seen what it did to my immediate family so im not too excited to do that to my extended family. if i’m not too much of a pussy, ill probably do it in the summer when i see them next, bc ive been meaning to for a while.

34. Your house, containing everything you own, catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to safely make a final dash to save any one item. What would it be? Why?

is it bad of me to say my computer? i feel like everyone else has a much more meaningful answer lol. it would probably either be that or the papers i keep on my bulletin board, bc most of them hold a lot of sentimental value (also my prescriptions would be a pain to get copies of)

35. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?

either of my parents because i dont want them dying before i reach the point where i can expect them to be happy for me when i marry a girl

36. Share a personal problem and ask your partner’s advice on how he or she might handle it. Also, ask your partner to reflect back to you how you seem to be feeling about the problem you have chosen.

personal problems? what’re those lmfao dont have any srry try me again later

i’m too much of a pussy to tag certain people so if you see this and I've had any sort of conversation with you, do it coward

(also @skity @drawinintherain )

#love exposing myself to people on the internet #hot

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