#maybe i just continue to crank out songs in this vein and then when i feel stuck try to really push myself to write somethinf completely

[mellotronmkll]

I like every song I write a little bit more than the last which is really encouraging but I'm sure I'll write an absolute complete shit one soon to break the streak but the key will be to just go alright. Anyways... and keep going

[meetevieinthehallway]

hi! here’s a crappy old blurb that i had sitting in the drafts!

in which lovie is sick and stressed from uni at one in the morning and harry finds her hyperventilating.

harry was absolutely exhausted.

per usual— but there was a specific ache in his back today, one that had accompanied him from morning to night—he told his love they needed a new mattress, she told him he needed to stop laying twisted to her chest (he refuses to do so, pouting every time she suggests it)—and it’s pulsing at the top of his spine and making him wince in certain positions. 

his hair at this point was ultimately unruly and unkempt from the amount of times his fingers ran through, pulling and tugging in frustration, as if he could rip new ideas out of his scalp.

his hands were sore, too, from gentle plucks of the guitar he had toyed this afternoon, praying that the indents in his fingertips would bring about motivation, inspiration— god, that it would bring anything.

he’s desperate to get out of this block.

nevertheless, he cranked out two songs today, making him ultimately beaming and his throat a bit raw and tired.

he stumbled through the door with heavy feet and an unzipped coat, his nose pink from the cold circulating in the outside air. his beanie had been pulled down to the middle of his forehead from the time he walked from inside the studio to his awaiting driver, who he last-minute remembered possessed a peculiar hatred for artificial heating. so, correspondingly, harry’s body never warmed up in the fifteen minute drive, causing his toes to go numb and his teeth to chatter lightly. he would never ask him to crank the heat, because it’s bad enough he has to drive around a famous stranger all day— harry wasn’t gonna torture the guy with something he specifically despised. (no matter how fucking weird it was). 

his boots clunked as he passed through the doorway, wrinkling his nose up and closing the door behind him with his back. a wince, a sharp inhale, then a slow exhale, eyes closed. it was a solid minute before he cracked his eyes open— but he swore he could have fallen asleep standing. 

his love had reduced the lighting significantly, the lamps dimmed and several candles lit around the room. it was close to dark, matching the scene outside, and the warmth wrapped his body and nuzzled him. he smiled lazily, his hand carding up and taking the beanie off his hair, curls bouncing out as he shivered. she lit that vanilla candle he likes, and he can feel the sleepiness start to settle further into his veins.

“angel? where are ye, bub?” harry’s voice was a soft coo and his dimples appeared as he leaned his hand against the wall.

he kicked his shoes off, throwing his coat on a chair nearby as he hummed his way down the foyer. he craved for his girl like he craved the warmth to envelop him; he wanted her wrapped around and within his soul, caressing his skin until he was lulled to sleep. he couldn’t wait to bury his face in her neck and stay there for a while, his lips caressing her own and her skin for a time before he found the energy to carry her to bed. he always told her to stop waiting up for him, but she would kiss her teeth and roll her eyes and tell him shut up, and that was that. 

stubborn little thing she was— and he loved every ounce of it.

harry pondered what she could be doing on his search for her, thinking about how she may be sleeping with a book on her chest in the den or giggling at a sitcom in the living room; either way, she’d be cozy and wrapped in a blanket—maybe, hopefully, in his shirt, maybe even with no pants on and—

oh.

he was completely wrong.

he turned a corner with a half smile, hearing her laptop keys being softly pressed, but his face sank and his eyebrows furrowed quickly, his lips slowly pronouncing her name.

she was sat on the floor in a ball, papers scattered around her frame and closing in on her body, her face in her hands and a bun wrapped on the top of her head. she was sniffling softly and her breaths were deep— yet shaky. he could hear her mumbling to herself, yet not responding to her name.

“angel?”

she jumped, looking up at him and harry frowned at her red-rimmed eyes and red nose. the sweet thing looked so sad and worn, eyes wide and teary.

“what’s goin’ on, baby?” he padded towards her, her head shaking as she started to begin typing again. “hey hey—” he mumbled, starting to sink to the floor.

she’s continuing to type, not ignoring him as much as she’s so out of it he doesn’t know if she’s here, but he grabs at her hands to stop typing, pulling them towards him. she whines, shooing him away, and his concern deepens. “angel.” he murmurs, tilting his head, starting to pull her body towards him. she barely turns her face away from the screen, but his thumbs still move to pad away her fallen tears as she writhed to get out of his hold. “hey.” he said, “now wait just a mo’, bub—”

“jus’ let me finish—”

“it’s one in the morning.”

she’s typing again, hitting a few keys before he grabs at her hands, stronger, pulling them toward his chest. 

“why are you writing at this hour?”

she finally meets his eyes, and she’s snapped back to reality. and once she sees the concern swimming in his irises, it breaks her. she’s sobbing once more, harsher than how she has all night, whining and whimpering as she tried to get back to her laptop. he shakes his head, picking her up, placing her bum on his thigh and draping her legs across his own. she immediately falls into his chest, and she feels fragile. 

“stop.” he murmured, pinning her hands down with his own, right on her lap. his thumbs run over her wrists. “take a breath, baby— ’s not good for you. tell me what’s wrong.”

she whimpered then, taking her sleeves and wiping her face, sniffling and shaking, her breathing trembling. “’m so tired.” she cried, wiping her nose and keeping her palms to her eyes.

“you need sleep. why the fuck are you doing work this late, hm?” he’s petting at her hair. “you’re so overwhelmed—” he pauses, to press his lips to her forehead, but he inhales sharply when he felt the heat resonating from her skin. “oh, angel. we definitely need to get you to bed, you are burning up—”

“can’t!”

he flinched as she said it in frustration and sadness, in between a sob; she hastily, in a blur of quick movements, reaches and grabs her computer again, settling it on her thighs before furiously typing.

“stupid paper for my stupid professor on a topic i hate and he made it due at two a-and i just don’t feel well—”

her mumbling broke into cries but she kept going, and harry couldn’t understand how she was simultaneously describing her frustration while continuing sentences about god-knows-what-topic. she was frantic, tears still falling and if she didn’t slow down harry swore she was going to pass out.

“have you been writing this all day?” his hand rubbed at her back.

she sniffled, shaking her head. “been sick and gross all day and i completely forgot. ‘m so fucking stupid and now i jus’ wanna be done—” she gasped for air and broke completely, her voice choking on sobs. her trembling hands pressed to her eyes, cries escaping her lips and her head shaking. “it doesn’t even make sense. can’t focus. ’ve been throwin’ up all day and i jus’ wanna sleep, but—”

“woah, what?” he sputtered. “you didn’t think to call me?” he asked incredulously.

her head fell forward in time with her shoulders, the jumper on her body sliding off her collarbones. her head was absolutely throbbing, pulsing with need and making her dizzy. she looked up and her eyes closed tight, weeping more intensely. her sleeves came to her eyes slowly, pitifully, and harry realized that him scolding her was not what she needed right now. he grabbed her and pulled her back to his chest, her sobs increasing and her will to fight against him diminishing.

“okay, okay, okay.” harry mumbled as his hand came to the back of her head, his thumb stroking the base of her neck. she completely collapsed into his collarbones, her forehead heated and her eyes squeezed closed, a trembling jaw and sniffly nose pressed to him. she was a proper mess. “—hey hey.”

his love whined once, then sniffed, blinking her eyes open to view her fumbling fingers. she sighed, hiccuping, sitting up to look harry in the eyes. he frowned when he saw her flushed cheeks and watery lashes, his knuckles gently coming up to brush at her skin. she smiled sadly, her lips quivering.

“’m sorry i didn’t call.” she swiped at her eyelid, breath staggered. “didn’t wanna disturb you.��� he gazed at her with sad eyes and frowned. “a-and... you— ….” she whimpered, shaking her head and gazing at him. “you just walked through the door ’nd you’re like— not even settled and—” her breath hitched and more tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, and harry cooed. her eyebrows furrowed and her soaked sleeves came to her lips, covering them and shaking her head. “’m sorry—” she whispered.

“no no no.” he murmured, brushing her loose strands of hair away. “no apologies, love, okay?”

she sniffled, leaning forward until she was in his neck again, whimpering. harry’s face sunk, his lips kissing the top of her head as he rubbed her spine.

“i hafta finish.” she whimpered, shaking her head. harry kissed her forehead and sighed, shaking his own.

“no. we are going to email your professor and if he has a problem, he can speak to me and—”

“can’t!” she cried, “no exceptions, must be turned in on time.” her voice dropped several octaves to mock her asshole of a professor, and harry shook his head.

“don’t care.”

she hiccuped, eyes sad. “h—”

“i don’t care about his stupid rules.” he gruffed. “you’re sick as hell and your health comes before anything. understand?” his voice is deep and monotonous, frustrated, but not at her. harry wasn’t going to let this teacher make his girl feel as if she must finish a stupid paper when she’s most likely got the stomach flu.

“please, angel. let me get you settled and i will email him, kay?”

she sniffled. she stared up at him with weepy eyes and saw his desperation in his irises. her head was spinning and her throat was sore, but he gazed at her like she spun the stars into their orientations. even with teary eyes, skin irritated and red, he looked at her with such care and awe. 

she looks down momentarily and suddenly realizes how bright her laptop seemed, and how the words on her page looked garbled and wrong. even if she wanted to keep going, she doesn’t think she physically could. 

she wiped her nose, eyes fluttering around his face. she nodded slowly. “okay” she murmured, shoulders deflating a bit. 

harry smiled small and placed a wet kiss to her nose, mumbling an “atta girl”. 

she stood slowly, knees cracking as harry’s jumper fell to her the middle of her thighs, the bunched up socks coating her ankles and feet falling off. she was utterly adorable to him, even with teary eyes and a sad frown. 

“c’mere, i’ll carry you to bed, angel.”

god did she love him.

he bent slowly, and she draped her weight over his spine, lazily putting her arms around his neck. harry’s hurting back was no longer important to him, because her breath was soft and hitting the back of his neck and the top of his arm, and he swears heaven has continuously blessed him. 

“thank you, harry.” she mumbles it as she slides off his back once they are next to their bed, and he presses his lips to her forehead, then her cheeks. he lays her down, pulling the covers over her, stroking her hair back from her eyelids. she catches his hand and holds it to her cheek, her eyes looking at him.

“sleep, pretty girl. i’ll be in bed soon.” 

[prettyboybarzal]

lessons in romance // nate mackinnon x reader

summary: nate mackinnon is really bad at keeping a steady girlfriend. so bad that’s become somewhat of a joke between him and the boys. but you come along and try to set him straight.

word count: 14k+

author’s note: it’s finally here. i’m honestly surprised at how fast i cranked this out... which is actually a LOT longer than most people write on here so mayb i shouldn’t brag lmao! this fic was inspired by THIS gifset. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE give me feedback/reblog!!!!!!

warnings: smut (i jumped out of my comfort zone people. i finally wrote some lmfao) & mentions of a past toxic ex

Weekends were better spent in bed or visiting family, not sitting in a crowded bar with men who reminded you slightly of your ex-boyfriend. You were probably overreacting a little bit because the guys truly meant well, but their overly boy-ish energy was startlingly similar to that of your ex. Maybe a few more drinks would help the cause and you could get passed the sex jokes.

Mel Landeskog was the reason you were there. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, much like her husband, and so you were sitting across the booth from some of the largest men you’d ever seen in your life. Gabe gave you the rundown of their names as they arrived though the only one you could remember was Cale. He was a perpetually blushing 21-year-old named after a vegetable; how could you forget him?

“Do you think Nate’s upset about this one?” Cale asked. The new topic of conversation was their friends’ disastrous date since he texted to tell them he was broken up with and was on his way to them. “They were sort of serious.”

“We’re about to find out,” Gabe announced, nodding towards the entrance of the bar. Nate was on his way to the booth, tired smile on his lips. As he got closer, he started shaking his head and the table erupted in chirps at his expense.

You recognized him from earlier at the Landeskog’s pregame. He was slipping out of the front door as you stepped in. His cologne was the type the good-looking guys always wear, and you weren’t disappointed when you looked up at him. He was handsome with the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled to his elbows and the top three buttons undone, and when he smiled, you all but swallowed your tongue.

He began to greet his teammates. The chain around his neck caught the light of the DJ booth and you found yourself gazing at it. You tore your eyes away from the gold at the sound of Mel’s voice introducing you.

“This is my girlfriend, YN, from my Saturday morning Cycle class,” she said. “And, YN, this is my husband’s boyfriend, Nate MacKinnon.”

He threw his head back in a laugh at Mel’s joke as he extended a hand to you. “Nice to meet you.”

You listened to the quips from his teammates, each one with their own opinion about Nate’s relationship or lack thereof. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time in recent months that he’d been broken up and it had become somewhat of a spectacle to the boys. Mel, who’d seen this song and dance one too many times, wrapped her fingers around your elbow and tugged you with her towards the bar.

“What was that about?”

“Nate can’t hold down a girlfriend,” she explained. “It’s been a joke since he first came here because they almost all have the same issue with him.”

“And what is that?”

“He’s not romantic enough.”

You glanced back over your shoulder and watched the boys laughing amongst each other. It looked like they were celebrating as they lifted their beers in a sad looking toast, and it hit you right where it hurt.

You really saw your ex-boyfriend in the group now and, though you tried not to make assumptions, you found it hard to set the first impression aside. The liquor in your system didn’t help. With each joke about his dating misadventures, you became less of a fan of him and by the end of the night you were bubbling over in annoyance.

Gabe and Mel offered Nate a ride home towards the end of the night and you managed to keep your expression neutral when he accepted. As they headed out to grab the car, you and Nate waited at the curb several feet away from each other.

“I’m sorry about your break up,” you offered after a moment of silence. The statement came out more like a question and Nate’s lips quirked up into a smirk at the inflection of your voice. “Sorry, I just can’t tell if you’re upset or not, so I don’t know if I should even offer my condolences.”

“I’m, uh, I’m not upset,” he began. “I saw it coming.”

“How so?”

“Let’s just say this isn’t the first time a girl’s broken up with me for not being romantic enough,” he said. Thoughts were filling your head faster than you could make sense of them. There was no reason for the situation to annoy you as much as it did. You didn’t know this guy and the odds that you ever saw him again were slim.

“So, if it’s not the first time, why hasn’t anything changed?”

“Excuse me?” he asked. There was a crease between his eyebrows. He hadn’t been expecting you to respond like that. You shouldn’t have. It wasn’t your business

“I mean, you act like a martyr when you probably would be successful in love if you just put in the romantic effort these girls are craving,” you said. Your anger had begun to boil over and words were spilling from your mouth faster than you could stop them. “Guys like you are the worst. You lead girls on and make them think they’re special. Next thing they know, they’ve been wasting time on you and your lack of effort.”

The comment made Nate take a step away from you. His eyebrows drew together in shock and confusion. As you spoke, he turned his body to you and crossed his arms over his chest. The moment you closed your mouth, he interjected. “You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to,” you argued, turning to him. You were in a stand-off with a man several inches taller than you, and to any passerby it probably looked a little bit funny, but you weren’t backing down. “I know guys like you. I’ve dated guys like you.”

Before Nate could continue arguing, the Landeskogs pulled up to the curb. Mel hollered out for you two and the topic of conversation was dropped.

---

You regretted everything you said to Nate the moment you woke up the morning after. It wasn’t like you to be so rude, especially not to someone you didn’t know. Your heart stopped every time Mel texted you in the days following. You thought that at any moment she’d confront you about what you said to him, but it never came. As the week carried on, you found yourself forgetting the harsh words spoken outside the bar and the worry stopped.

Until Thursday night.

The knock at your apartment door was unexpected. You met your roommate, Mara’s, narrowed eyes over the dirty dishes you were working on. By the look on both your faces, neither one of you had a guest on the way over. She turned on her heel to check the peephole and the next look she gave you was equally as confusing as the previous one. She still opened the door.

“Does YN live here?”

The voice sent shockwaves through your veins and you stopped your movements, plates held just above your head as you were about to slide them into the cabinet. Nate MacKinnon was at your apartment. Mara nodded at him slowly before stepping back to let him in.

“Hi,” he greeted. His hands were tucked into his sweatshirt pocket, legs clad in compression leggings and a pair of shorts. He looked like he’d just come from a workout and his hair was still wet from the shower he’d taken before coming over. “I hope you don’t mind. Gabe gave me your address.”

“No problem,” you told him through a shaky breath. “Come in. Come sit at the island.”

He removed his shoes and approached slowly, sending Mara one last smile as she crept off down the hall. You silently cursed her for leaving you with your shaking hands as you cleared the clutter from the countertop. You watched him as he settled into the stool across from you, mirroring the kind smile he was sharing with you.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee? I have food, too, if you’re hungry.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. His voice was softer now than it had been before. “I wanted to talk to you about the other night. It won’t take long.”

“Oh?” you asked, trying to ignore the way your stomach dropped. You wanted to start apologizing right then. You didn’t have a reason to go and butt into his personal life like you had. You should’ve kept your mouth shut. Guys like him didn’t care about your opinions. “I’m sorry for what I said. When I get drunk, I have the tendency to shoot off at the mouth.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said. Your mouth snapped shut. “No one keeps me in check. All the guys think the fact that I can’t keep a girlfriend is a big joke because I’m so bad at dating. It shouldn’t be a joke. So, I’m sorry and thank you.”

You dropped your hands to the counter and leaned against it. The last thing you expected was for Nate to thank you, so you needed a moment to gather your thoughts. His eyes glistened as he watched you and then the corner of his lip quirked up because you started giggling.

“You should not be thanking me,” you said. With that simple statement, the tension in the air lifted. You turned your back on him, indicating that if the conversation must go on, you were going to be doing the dishes as well. “I was just being bitter the other night.”

“You had every right to be,” he said. “I was gloating.”

“You were kind of gloating,” you mumbled. You hadn’t meant for Nate to hear, and he knew that, but he laughed anyway. You turned to face him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” he said. He didn’t even know why you were apologizing at that point. It seemed like you’d apologize for taking up space and that made him feel a bit sad. He smiled politely at you anyway, to signal he wasn’t annoyed by the apologies, and it lit up his features in a way you hadn’t noticed the other night. “Anyway, I came here for a reason.”

“Okay.”

“I need you to teach me to be romantic.”

He delivered it tentatively, as though he was afraid of the way you might react. In the split second that followed, your mouth open and closed twice as every possible response came to your mind. He waited patiently.

Finally, “You don’t even know me. How can you be so sure that I’m the right person to teach you this stuff?”

“You’re a girl,” he explained, deadpan. “Girls know romance.” You snorted at how adorably dumb he was. Your hand flew up to cover your mouth in embarrassment and your cheeks burned as he grinned at you, amused by the sound of your laugh. “What do you say?”

---

Mondays were always your least favorite day of the week. Every weekend, your workload piled up and most Mondays you could hardly take a lunch break because you were so busy getting shit done. Whenever you came home from work on Mondays, you were wiped. Mara always made sure to have dinner ready for you when you got in, and the two of you often sat on the couch while eating those nights.

That Monday, you were sure that you’d be in bed before the Bachelor even started. But then Nate showed up unannounced. Mara was in the middle of washing the dishes this time, so you were the one to open the door. He greeted you with a goofy smile and a large electrical wire. Without a word, you stepped to the side and he was kicking off his shoes to enter the living room. Mara caught the roll of your eyes as you followed him.

He was standing beside the television when you entered the room. The wire he’d brought with him was connected to his cellphone while he found a port for the other end. You sat at the corner of sectional and waited, yawns escaping your mouth every minute or so. The day had been long enough already.

Suddenly, the television lit up with his cellphone background on full display. He held it up to show you, a grin present on his face.

“I need your help,” he began. He tapped one of the dating apps on his home screen and immediately you were regretting letting him in. You realized he wasn’t leaving any time soon as he unraveled the cord and plopped down beside you on the couch. Mara entered the room, eyes catching on the beautiful brunette woman on the screen, and then she gave Nate a curious look. “Come on, Mara. Join us.”

An amused smile came to her lips as she sat on the other end of the couch.

“I am not swiping for you,” you grunted, rubbing at your eyes. “I have no interest in judging girls off these apps.”

“Relax, YN,” he said. “I’m not asking you to play matchmaker. Just help me talk to this girl.”

“You need help talking to girls?” Mara asked as she gave him the once over. You laughed out loud while Nate blushed.

“I don’t need help,” he began. He turned his attention back to the television and pulled up the profile of a beautiful brunette woman. “I just don’t want to come on too strong, or douche-y. This girl is perfect and I wanna take her out.”

“Can you two make this quick?” Mara asked. “The Bachelor’s on tonight.”

“And my bed is calling my name.”

Nate peered at you over his shoulder. He smiled at your tired eyes, drooping as you leaned your head on your hand. He leaned back, stopping inches from your face and said, “I’ll make it quick.”

To your surprise, and Mara’s delight, he reached up and ran his hand over your hair before turning back to the television. He gave a rundown about the girl on the television, but his words went in one ear and out the other. Your glazed eyes watched as he typed out messages to her, and you laughed when Mara made fun of the way he was talking. (“Why the fuck are you talking like that? Are you her father?”) Finally, he turned on you.

“Are you gonna help or what, love doctor?”

“Give me the phone,” you said, extending your hand. He plopped it into your palm and watched you type out the message on the television screen. It took you less than a minute to type out a sweet message asking the girl out on a date before you were shoving the phone back into his hand. “You overthink too much.”

“That’s it?”

“Short and sweet,” you noted with a shrug. “I’d say yes.”

Nate’s eyes cut to you and you felt a chill run down your spine at the intensity behind them. Mara cleared her throat as you diverted your attention from him, shaking the feeling you got from his baby blues. She smiled sweetly at the two of you. “Can I detach your phone from our TV now? It’s almost time for Bach.”

You peeled yourself off the couch and headed to the bathroom to wash your face before changing into sweats and a t-shirt. You returned to the living room to find Nate with his feet up on the coffee table. Mara had tuned the television to ABC and the Bachelor recap was playing. He looked up as you entered and frowned.

“Stay out here a little bit longer,” he proposed, bottom lip jutting out in a pout. “We’ll watch some of this and see if she says yes to the date.”

“Nate, I’m exhausted.”

“C’mon.”

You couldn’t say no, not when he was pouting like that. So, you rolled your eyes and walked around the couch to plop down in the spot you’d been before. Before long, your eyes were closing and you couldn’t keep them open any longer.

Nate didn’t realize you fell asleep, but he didn’t mind when you leaned against his arm as a pillow. He stiffened for a moment, unsure of what to do, but a soft snore escaped your lips and he found himself smiling down at your peaceful face. He didn’t move for the rest of the episode because he was too nervous to wake you. When the credits began to roll, he dropped a hand to your knee and shook you lightly.

Your eyes opened, bleary from sleep, and you found that you’d fallen asleep on him. You jerked away, realizing that it was probably too close for comfort, and smiled apologetically. He returned the smile before standing and gathering his things from the coffee table.

“Get some sleep,” he said on his way to the front door. You hummed in response, following him to the door to say a proper goodbye and lock up. He pulled you into a hug before going, shocking you once again by with how gentle he was despite hardly knowing you.

“Did she say yes?” you asked as he pulled away from the hug. “I almost forgot to ask.”

“Yeah, she did.”

---

Lesson #1: The First Date

In the chaos of the week that followed, you’d almost forgotten that you promised Nate your assistance before the date. You weren’t used to being accountable for someone else like you were now, so it wasn’t surprising.

“There is a man at reception asking for you.”

The office receptionist, Debby, was standing in the doorway with a giddy smile on her lips. You knew immediately from the look in her eye that the man at the front desk was going to be the talk of the office for a week.

You stood, following her out the door of your office and down the hall. As you rounded the corner to reception, you saw Nate leaning against the desk. He was sucking on a mint from the bowl in front of him and smiled wide when he saw you.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have my date tonight, remember?” he asked. One glance at your watch told you that you worked a little too late. You cursed under your breath, turning quickly to head back to the office and send one last email. Nate hesitated, but ultimately decided to follow you down the hallway. He eyed the pencil skirt you were wearing, eyes lingering a little too long on your ass. He shook his head from his trance, knowing damn well that he was just asking for trouble.

Nate lingered in the doorway of your office for a moment before his eyes landed on a picture frame across the room that caught his attention. It was a marble frame without a photo like it had been removed and never replaced. He picked the frame up and turned it over in his hands, then turned to you.

“You need a picture.”

“What?” you asked, eyes still trained on the screen. They flickered up to see what he was talking about and then got right back to work. “Used to be a picture of me and my ex. Nobody’s important enough to put in.”

Nate placed the frame down. He felt a pang of sadness for you in that moment, but distracted himself by moving onto the next shelf and playing with some of the desk games on it. He was in the middle of fiddling with your Rubiks cube when you stood from the computer.

“You’re wearing that?” you asked. Nate winced at the question, glancing down at the jeans and t-shirt he was wearing. When he looked back up, you were wearing a shit eating grin. “I’m fucking with you.”

“Jesus, YN.” He clutched his heart and released a deep breath. You rounded the desk and grabbed your jacket from the hook. As you swung it over your shoulders, Nate stepped up to help. You slipped your arms through the arm holes trying to suppress the flair up of butterflies in your stomach.

When you reached the sidewalk outside the building, you led him down the block to a florist. Their window displays were your favorite in the city and you often found yourself going out of the way to peak at them on shitty days. You daydreamed about the day someone bought you a bouquet from there specifically.

The bell above the door rang as you stepped in. The smell of fresh flowers hit your nose and you sniffed it in happily. You grinned back at Nate and he felt a tug at his heart at your excitement.

“Can I help you?”

You bounded over to the woman behind the counter, Nate following behind you a little awkwardly. You gave him an expectant look and then his brain finally caught up with the question. As he leaned forward to look at the flowers in the case in front of you, his hand pressed against the small of your back.

“What would you get?” he asked curiously. You took a sharp intake of breath at the lack of space between you and pulled away to look at the flowers.

“Sunflowers and baby’s breath are my favorites.”

Nate smiled at the woman behind the counter and repeated what you’d just said, adding, “It’s for a first date, so I don’t need it too big or anything.”

You laughed at his explanation, and then the blush that come to his cheeks when he realized how silly he sounded. Neither of you noticed the confused look on the florist’s face. She was about to comment on how cute the two of you were, and in hindsight she was glad she kept her mouth shut. He reached out and squeezed your arm as a warning to stop teasing him. You stepped away completely, still smiling stupidly as he turned to pay.

“I’d’ve put roses in there too,” you told him once you were back on the sidewalk. “But this is only a first date. It might’ve been a little intense.”

“Roses?” he asked. You hummed in response, plucking the flowers out of his hand as you continued in the direction of the restaurant he was meeting his date at. “Good to know, you know, for the future.”

The walk to the date spot was only about ten minutes long and most of it was spent talking about your plans for the weekend as opposed to his date. He was going to be away with the team and you had plans to visit family. You kept thinking to yourself that you needed to stop getting distracted by him and his good looks and his sweet disposition. He was dating someone, and that person was not and would not be you, but he kept surprising you with the way he weaseled himself into your life.

“We’ll have to hang out next week sometime, then,” he said, snatching the flowers back out of your hand playfully. You nodded, but you were taken by surprise. It didn’t make sense that he’d want to hang around you without getting something out of it, whether it was dating advice or something more. Clearly, Nate didn’t care and you were beginning to wonder if maybe you’d get a beautiful friendship out of this nonsense.

“Any last-minute advice?”

“Don’t say anything dumb,” you said to him, emboldened by the realization that you might actually be friends now. Nate laughed out loud. “You think I’m just being funny, but sometimes you say stupid shit.”

“Jeeze,” he muttered. “Way to fuck up my self-esteem right before a date.”

“Oh, please.” You rolled your eyes and came to a stop just before the crosswalk he’d be using. He slowed to a stop as well, the bouquet of flowers falling to his side as he looked down at you. You reached out to right them with an amused smile. “Careful with these.”

“Got it, boss.”

You stalled a moment more, gazing at the flowers. You almost felt jealous of the girl going to dinner with Nate because those flowers would look perfect in a vase on your dining room table. “God, I really hope she appreciates those.”

The tone of your voice took Nate by surprise. It sounded a little sad, and full of yearning, and he felt kind of bad that he’d be walking away with the flowers you’d been admiring the entire walk from the florist. Even so, you said your goodbyes and he watched you turn on your heel to head home. He felt stuck in place, eyes trained on your retreating frame while his feet were cemented to the sidewalk. Before he could second guess himself, and his motives, he called out your name.

“Wait, YN!” When you turned, he was halfway down the sidewalk to you and, once he was within arm’s length, he plucked a sunflower from the bouquet and extended it. “For you.” Your cheeks felt red hot as your fingers curled around the stem. You hoped he couldn’t notice a blush. If he did, he didn’t make it known and left with a simple, “I’ll talk to you later.”

A stupid smile sat on your lips the entire way home. You felt the thumping of your heart long after you’d entered your place and placed the flower in the dining table vase. No matter what you found yourself doing that night, Nate remained at the back of your mind. You swore to yourself that it was because you wondered how his date was going, nothing more. But, when your eyes kept finding their way to the sunflower on the dining room table, you worried that maybe the reason you couldn’t stop thinking about him was something more.

---

You grabbed dinner with Mel the next Tuesday. Because of your trip to visit family, the two of you agreed to take a week off and reschedule some sort of get together for Tuesday. Gabe was home so he’d be with Linnea, and you were just happy that it wasn’t Monday. She was in the middle of a story when your phone lit up beside you; Nate’s name was on full display.

When’s our next lesson?

You snatched the phone off the table and away from Mel’s prying eyes, hoping that it wouldn’t peak her curiosity. The movement itself was enough to stir her, though, and Mel was soon leaning forward to see what was going on. She reached out and pushed the phone down, craning her neck to read the text.

“Next lesson?” she asked, eyebrow quirking. “Who is this?”

“It’s Nate MacKinnon.”

You said it so quickly and so nonchalant that Mel actually continued picking at her brunch before she reacted. Her fork clattered to the plate. “Did you just say Nate MacKinnon?”

“This,” you began gesturing at her wild eyes and wicked smile, “is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”

“Why?” she asked, feigning innocence. “Because I’m totally going to take this and run with it?” You dropped your face in your hands. “You should go for it. He’s a little dumb, but mostly cute. You definitely have the patience to deal with him though.”

“Mel, it’s not like that at all,” you told her. “I’m helping him learn how to be more romantic.” Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline in shock. “I’m serious. You know just as well as I do that he’s bad dating. He asked for my help after we met. I have enough experience with douchebags to tell him what not to do.”

“You sure do,” Mel agreed. You laughed at her response and an easy smile spread across her face. “Maybe teaching him a thing or two about how to be romantic will remind you of what you deserve.”

You sighed, picking up the coffee in front of you to take a sip. Mel knew better than anyone, besides Mara, how shitty the guys in your life had been. She met your ex last year just before your break up and she hated him from the moment you introduced the two. He never deserved you and her heart broke the longer you spent wasting your time on him. When you finally ended it, she was your biggest supporter.

You left the message unanswered, not wanting to give her anymore ammo in what was sure to be her new mission. When she got up to head to the bathroom before the check came, you opened the message from him. The last conversation was from Saturday night and he was letting you know that the girl he’d gone out with was looking forward to their next date.

What do you need help with now?

Do you know how to cook?

---

Lesson #2: A Homemade Meal

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to cook,” you grunted as soon as Nate pulled his apartment door open on Friday night. The grin on his face was anything but apologetic and you pushed past him with two large grocery bags in hand. You brought them to the kitchen and began unpacking them onto the counter.

“I do know how to cook, by the way,” he said, stepping up beside you to help you remove everything from the bags. You eyed him skeptically. “Mostly just the basic meats and vegetables.”

“You can’t cook a date your pregame meal.”

Nate knew that. He wasn’t that stupid, but he did love saying stupid shit around you. You tended to roll your eyes at him, but your lips always gave away how you really felt about his stupidity. The right side always curled up into a smirk, like you were trying to fight the laughter bubbling in your chest. He loved it when you did that.

“Is this, like, a meal your ex used to make?” he asked after grabbing some spices from the cabinet. You were grateful that his back was turned because the easy smile on your lips disappeared at the reminder of him. You busied yourself with the pot of water on the stove and set it to boil.

“No, my ex never actually made dinner for me,” you answered in a poor attempt to keep your voice steady.

Nate stopped prepping the meat and turned to face you. Questions sat on the tip of his tongue, begging for him to ask, but you wouldn’t look at him. He felt a little bit angry at your confession, though he couldn’t quite place why. Admittedly, he had been that boyfriend before – the one that didn’t cook dinner. Now, he was mad at himself for ever being that guy.

When you didn’t turn to look at him, he dropped the subject. You worked in silence, you busy with the pasta and him with the chicken. As you waited for the food to be ready, you hiked yourself up onto the counter. Nate grabbed a bottle of red wine from the end of the counter and poured glasses for the both of you.

He stood across from you with a dish towel over his shoulder and his own glass of wine in his palm. He asked about work and you filled him in on all the hot office gossip. The smile on his face didn’t fall once as he listened to your stories, and he never tried to change the subject or take over the conversation for himself. After a while, you stopped.

“I’ve been talking forever.”

“Yeah, and I’ve been enjoying it,” he told you. You laughed. “I wish I could be a fly on the wall in your office.”

Feeling a bit bolder, you kicked your foot out and nudged his side. “Maybe I can take you to bring your pet to work day.”

Nate’s jaw dropped, a reaction you weren’t expecting, and you began laughing hysterically at his surprise. He placed his wine glass down beside him and took a step closer, wrapping a hand around your ankle to tug you closer to the edge of the counter. You yelped in surprise.

“Pet?” he asked. You wiggled your foot out of his grasp, giggles falling from your lips as he dropped his hand to his side. The oven started beeping, interrupting whatever moment you were having before it could continue. “Saved by the bell.”

“Looks good, Nate,” you praised as he pulled it out of the oven. “My mouth is watering.”

“Go sit down,” he ordered. “You have to evaluate my presentation and make sure I look good.”

Nate entered shortly after you sat down and placed the plates on either side of the table with a smile. He slipped back out and returned with the wine. There was mischievous glint in his eyes as he topped your glass off and added to his.

“How is it?” he asked, leaning back. A look of cockiness flashed over his features and you felt it in your stomach when you looked at the way his arms were crossed and his biceps filled out the sleeves of his t-shirt. You picked up your utensils and cut into the meal, picking up a bit of each piece before putting it in your mouth.

Nate leaned forward eagerly. He watched your eyes light up when the flavor hit your tongue and he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. You nodded emphatically as you swallowed your first forkful. He cut into his own meal and the moment he took a bite, he moaned. The meal was so good that conversation was sparse and, by the end, it looked like your plates had been licked clean.

You didn’t stop Nate from filling your glasses again, though you figured you should have. The third glass always lowered your inhibitions.

“How pissed off would you be if I asked you about your ex?”

“Not pissed off,” you answered. You took a sip of the wine, then leaned your cheek in your palm as you spoke. “What do you want to know?”

Nate sat up at this, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t prepared himself with a question because he didn’t think you’d give him the go ahead. He let out a tuft of breath, took a sip from his glass, and thought. Finally, he asked, “Why’d you break up?”

“How long do you have?”

“As long as you need,” he answered. His voice was soft, comforting, and you felt yourself relax into the question.

“Honestly, I didn’t want to break up with him,” you began. “And, if I didn’t have friends like Mel and Mara, I might still be with him. Things have changed now, though. I realize what a crap human being he was but, if I stayed with him, I don’t think I would’ve realized how much better I deserved.”

“Did you fight a lot?”

“Do I seem like the fighting type?” you teased. He shook his head. “He did enough fighting for the both of us. He would yell at me for no reason sometimes, just because he felt like it.”

Nate was angry. His features were contorted in distaste as you told him about your ex. Even though you tried to make light of the situation with a few light-hearted jokes, Nate couldn’t find it within in him to react with laughter. You deserved so much better than what you’d been given.

“When I broke up with him, Mara was there. We packed my things and moved it all out. I was going to leave a note, but he came home from work early and caused a scene. He went out the night after and sent me all these videos and pictures of him out with his friends. They were flipping me off, girls were draped all over him, etcetera. I blocked him the next morning and I haven’t seen him since. That was over a year ago.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, dropping his head in his hands. He felt ashamed. “That’s why you yelled at me.”

“Yep,” you answered. “Emotions got the best of me.”

“I don’t blame you.”

Silence filled the room and you felt vulnerable. You didn’t share the story about your tumultuous relationship often, but with Nate it just slipped out. You grabbed your glass from the table and finished it off.

“I’m not staying for another,” you announced. Nate sat back, his face flashing with an offended expression. As you gathered the plates from the table, you tried to ignore the knots in your stomach that were becoming more and more prevalent when he was around. “Nothing good ever happens after the third glass. But, if I was your real date, I would definitely stay for a fourth and you would probably get to kiss me at the end of the night simply for how good that meal was.”

The words fell from your lips so easily that it shocked you and you hoped that the playful tone of your voice wouldn’t scare him off. You gathered yourself before turning back to look at him. He was still sitting at the table, chair pushed back with one arm over the back of it. The way he was looking at you was lethal, eyes drinking you in as you stood in his kitchen. You couldn’t tell if you were imagining the tension or it was real.

“Thank you for dinner,” you said finally. You grabbed your bag from the counter and pulled it over your shoulder as you headed for the door. Nate stood then to walk you out, pulling the door open as you slipped into your sneakers. “It was delicious.”

“Thank you for teaching me how to cook something actually good,” he said. “Poor girl would’ve been eating chicken and vegetables or pasta if you hadn’t come by.”

“Can’t let that happen, can we?” you asked. “Let me know how dinner goes.”

Nate leaned down, wrapping an arm around your waist to tug you into a warm embrace. You melted into his arms as yours came up and around his neck. For a moment, the two of you just stood there in each other’s arms. You wondered if he could feel the beat of your chest again him. It sped up as his hands flattened against your back, crossing over each other to engulf you completely.

“I’m not that kind of guy,” he said. He leaned his cheek on the top of your head and his chest rumbled beneath your own cheek as he spoke. “You know that, right?”

Your blinked away tears before he couldn’t notice then and nodded in response to his question.

When he pulled back, he leaned in to press a kiss to your cheek and his lips caught the corner of your mouth. An electric shock coursed through your bloodstream and you pulled back quick before offering one last smile and tossing a goodbye over your shoulder.

---

Nate called you the next Friday night with plans for Saturday.

“Mel and Gabe invited a bunch of the guys over and she told me I should see what you were doing tomorrow.” he said. “I feel like I haven’t talked to you much since last week. The guys would love to meet you.”

“Meet me?” you asked. “So, it’ll be more than just the ones I know?”

“A few more,” he answered with a laugh. “They’ll love you, okay? I’ll be at your place to get you at 5:30.”

It was the first time you were going to see him since you made dinner together last Friday. You exchanged a few texts throughout the week, but nothing of substance. You knew his dinner date went well, though you didn’t know to what extent. You found yourself wondering if she stayed for that additional glass of wine after dinner, or if she stayed for the night after.

He showed up to your apartment wearing a white dress shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows. You welcomed him in while you went back to your room to get your heels on. He gaped at the dress you were wearing as soon as you had your back to him. His eyes wandered over your curves as you bent to grab your heels from the floor in your bedroom. When your dress slid up your thighs, he had to force himself to look away.

You tried to get more details about his dinner date out of him on the way to Mel’s, but he kept quiet. She liked dinner, she stayed for an extra glass of wine, and then she went home at the end of the night. An invisible weight lifted from your shoulders upon hearing she didn’t stay the night and you settled back into his passenger seat.

Nate noticed the way you relaxed into the seat and tore his eyes from the road for just a moment to sneak a peek at you. You were watching the world go by from the window, unaware that he was even looking at you. When he turned his attention back to the road, all he could think about was his sweaty palms and accelerated heartrate. Why did he care so much about what you thought?

Everyone was already at the house when you pulled up. The two of you walked up the driveway, his hand against your lower back much like it had been in the florist. Mel opened the door, lunging to sweep you into her arms and whisk you to the kitchen, her husband and your, well, Nate left behind.

“Thanks for having me, Mel.”

She handed you a drink complete with a salted rim and said, “I’m glad Nate asked if you could come.”

“Nate asked?” you repeated. She affirmed with a nod and ushered you to join the others in the living room while she and Gabe finished dinner.

You swore half the team was there, which meant not one seat was open on their couch. As you passed Nate, he grabbed your hand and sat you on the arm of his chair. He pulled your legs over his lap and began introducing you to the boys you didn’t already know.

You caught Cale’s eyes and felt heat rise to your cheeks. Out of everyone in the room, he was the only one making note of the lack of space between you two. Though you weren’t technically sitting in his lap, it still felt a little inappropriate. Nate’s hand was like fire where it rested against your thigh and you had to remind yourself to stop peeking at the placement.

Nate lied about your invitation to dinner, and for what? He could’ve just invited you himself instead of disguising it as a joint decision between him and Mel. What was he so afraid of that he couldn’t man up and admit he wanted you there? Better yet, why didn’t he ask Gianna?

You somehow ended up seated away from Nate at the dinner table. Cale settled in on one side of you and EJ occupied the other. Across from you sat JT and Tyson, bickering as always. You don’t know how you ended up separated from Nate, but you welcomed it because you needed the breathing room.

The meal was delicious, but Nate couldn’t even enjoy it because you were so far away. He was going to get fucking whiplash because of the way he kept looking back to see who you were talking to or hear what you were laughing at. How did he even end up this far down from you?

On the other hand, he couldn’t stop the smile that kept creeping up to his lips when he saw you with his teammates. They loved you, probably almost as much as he did, and he was proud to have you by his side that night. But then came the harsh reality that you weren’t actually his to show off.

When the party relocated, he made sure to slide up next to you on the way to the couch. EJ’s laughter mocked him, but you didn’t catch on to his teammate’s playful ribbing. With Gabe and Mel’s eyes in the room, he didn’t pull you over his lap and opted to lower his arm over the back of the couch instead. There were just inches between your skin and his but, after having you on his lap earlier, it felt like miles.

Drinking games were played, stories were shared, and you all left the house with full bellies and large smiles. Nate was driving, so he eased up on the drinks after dinner. You, on the other hand, were feeling just as free as you did after three glasses of wine at his place last week, and feeling daring enough to ask him the question that’s been on your mind all night.

“Why did you tell me that Mel asked you to invite me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“When you invited me, you said that Mel told you to,” you explained in a slow voice as if you were breaking the situation down to a child. “But she said that you asked if you could invite me.”

“Why does it matter where the invite actually came from?” he asked. A slight panic was rising in his chest because he didn’t have an answer for you. This wasn’t supposed to come back around to you. “Everybody wanted you here anyway.”

“Why didn’t you ask Gianna?” you asked, stepping down to join him on the path to the driveway. He rolled his eyes at this, and you noted it because though you’d done it to him many times, he’d never done it to you. He began walking, so you followed. “Are you going to answer my question?”

“Because I didn’t want to introduce her to everyone yet,” he answered. “You just fit in with us.”

Nate saw your face fall and decided not to push the conversation any farther. He said something wrong, but he didn’t know what. As far as he thought, he was complimenting you. He was complimenting how easy going you were, how his friends got along with you so easily. You were already a part of the group. It was great.

You continued along to the car in silence, not bothering to argue with him over a dumb comment. He wanted friends, so you were giving him friends, but the touches and the invite to team dinner was something more than friends. You needed distance. And he needed to figure his shit out, fast.

---

Lesson #3: Meeting the Friends

Something changed. When Nate dropped you off that night, he left you with a half-assed hug and a quiet goodbye. You couldn’t catch a wink of sleep that night because something changed. But then, Nate texted you tomorrow and tried to carry on as normal. Things weren’t normal.

And you knew that for sure when Nate didn’t invite you to EJ’s house the next weekend. Mel invited you instead and since you could never say no to Mel, you went. The thought of texting Nate to let him know passed briefly through your head, but the sheer fact that he hadn’t even bothered to talk to you about it in the first place was enough to decide against it.

When you entered EJ’s living room, you knew exactly why he hadn’t asked. Gianna was sitting on his lap, fingers curling through his hair as they talked. Anger rose in you no matter how hard you tried to suppress it. Just last week he said he didn’t want to bring her around and now she was here? Now she was here and he couldn’t even talk to you?

There was an uproar as Nate’s teammates noticed you standing in the doorway and Nate’s eyes cut to you in surprise. You lifted your hand in a pathetic wave before Cale was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and leading you to the kitchen.

“Who’s the girl with Nate?”

“His new girlfriend,” you answered, hoping that you didn’t sound bitter. “I don’t even know if that’s the right title for her, but they’ve been on a few dates.”

Cale let out a soft hum, his tone indecipherable, just as Tyson entered the room.

“What’s the deal with Nate’s new girl?” he asked as soon as he saw it was just you and Cale in the room. When you didn’t answer, he nudged you for an answer.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, she’s no you.”

---

Nate couldn’t help but ask himself, “What the fuck are you doing?”

As you were pulled into his teammates arms, he watched and couldn’t decide whether he wanted to get up and hug you too or if he just wanted to disappear. When Gianna’s fingers gripped his bicep, he decided he wanted the latter.

That’s when you looked at him, of course, and the smile that was on yours lips faded just a bit. At least, that’s what he thought. You lifted your hand in a wave before Cale was looping his arm around your shoulders and directing you towards the kitchen.

“Who was that?” Gianna asked, fingers curling into the hair at the nape of his neck.

He looked up at her with a simple answer. “One of our friends.”

Gianna kissed him and for the first time since he met you, Nate thought about what it would be like to kiss you instead. He brought her to EJ’s in a pathetic attempt to right the way he was feeling about you, but it only made it worse.

---

“Nate was weird last night,” Mel murmured after Cycle the next morning. You were waiting for her to say something. Since all the guys made comments the night before, you knew Mel was next. “Did you guys fight?”

“Fight? Me and Nate?” you repeated, stalling for time. “We didn’t fight.”

“What did you think of his girlfriend?”

“I actually didn’t get to talk to her,” you answered. You shrugged, giving the illusion that you didn’t care all that much even though you were fuming. After all the help you’d given him, he couldn’t be bothered to introduce you to her? And that wasn’t all. He hardly spoke to you all night, only entertaining conversations with you when someone else was around. You ended up spending most of the night with EJ.

“My sitter just bailed for tomorrow.” She’d been tapping away at her phone for a few minutes, no doubt panicking to Gabe. You watched her a moment longer as you wondered what her plans were for the next day. Then, it occurred to you.

“There’s a game tomorrow, right?” you asked. She nodded, still typing out messages to whoever was on the other end of the phone. “I can watch Linnea tomorrow. Don’t worry about finding a sitter.”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.” She waved you off absentmindedly and continued talking, “Besides, I thought Nate had a ticket for you or something. Didn’t he ask you to go?”

“Tomorrow?” you said incredulously. “No, absolutely not. Isn’t it like a WAG game? It would make no sense for me to be there.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I just thought that he told Gabe,” she paused and noticed your set jaw. You were clearly not Nate’s biggest fan at the moment, so she decided to tread carefully. “You know what? Nevermind. I would love it if you could watch Linnea.”

---

As expected, Linnea was an angel the next day. You spent the time lounging in their living room with the game on TV while you played together. She took a bottle in the middle of the game and you brought her to her nursery once she’d been burped to rock her to sleep. But, you couldn’t quite peel yourself from the chair to put her in her crib. She was sleeping so peacefully and for the first time in a while you felt calm, so you stayed with her in your arms long after she’d fallen asleep.

You didn’t know what time it was when Gabe and Mel got home, but you heard their car doors close. You waited for them to happen upon you in the nursery, so you were surprised when it was Nate that knocked at the door.

“Hi,” he whispered, stepping into the room. He studied the decorations as he approached the rocking chair you were sitting in. When he stepped up beside you and admired Linnea, you tried not to look up at him. You knew it wouldn’t help the butterflies in your stomach, but you did it anyway. He was smiling down at the peanut in your arms. “Mel and Gabe are in the kitchen. They saw you on the baby monitor and told me to come get you.”

“Okay, I’ll put her down and meet you in there.”

“I can wait for you,” he said, stepping away. You stood, cradling Linnea to the crib and then craning to put her down in the center. Nate was watching you intently from the doorway with an unreadable expression on his face.

He stepped out into the hallway first, but he wasn’t walking towards the kitchen. He stood, waiting for you to stepped out into the hallway and look at him. You gave him a half-assed smile, still feeling a little hurt that things had been so weird between you two, and he asked, “Are we okay?”

“We’re fine,” you answered. He wasn’t convinced, but you reached up and shoved him lightly to get him to move down the hall. He didn’t budge, hand coming up to grasp yours against his chest. The beating of his heart sat right at your fingertips. “How was your game?”

“It was good,” he answered. “I wish you were there.”

“Well, then, you should’ve asked me to come,” you said, quite boldly. His lips parted, but whether it was to speak or not you wouldn’t know because you were continuing down the hallway without him.

You slipped into the kitchen to find Mel, leaving the men on the couch in the living room. The moment you stepped in, she was turning to greet you with a smile. You hissed, “Are you behind this?”

“I mentioned you were babysitting, his eyes lit up, and Gabe was the one to invite him over.”

“Team effort?”

She feigned an apologetic smile before ushering you out to rejoin the boys. Gabe got the fire going and Mel curled in his chest once he settled back on the couch. You sat on the other end, legs extended towards Nate in the corner. You felt his eyes whenever there was a suspended silence. You knew he was thinking about you, and selfishly you relished in the attention.

“YN, did you know that Nate’s parents were visiting next weekend?” Gabe asked during a lull in conversation. Nate glared at him, but the Swede happily ignored his buddy at the center of the couch. His eyes cut to you.

“I didn’t,” you answered. “But that’ll be fun. I know how much you missed them.”

All he could offer was a stupid ‘yeah’ before Mel swooped in to save the entire group from a very awkward moment.

Nate was going to kill Gabe. He was going to kill Gabe, but first he had to make a decision. He knew exactly what he had to do. It felt like you were a thousand miles away, not only physically but emotionally. Gabe should’ve kept his mouth shut. He was going to have you meet his parents, he just hadn’t gotten the chance to ask. Now, he looked like a dick. You couldn’t even look him in the eye.

“I was going to tell you about my parents,” he said, practically chasing you down the driveway after you ducked out while he was in the bathroom. To his surprise, you stopped walking and waited for him to catch up. “Seriously.”

“It’s getting hard to believe that, Nate,” you said. “I don’t know what’s going on in your head.”

Nate felt his heart sink. He began to rack his brain for a way to salvage the conversation, but it was too late by the time you reached your car. You stopped before opening the door to look up at him.

“You’re thinking too much.”

“I just—I know you’re upset with me,” he began. “I want to make it better. We haven’t really talked since EJ’s, and that’s on me.”

“Were you going to invite me today?” you asked. He gave you a curious look. “To the game. Mel mentioned something about it at Cycle. That you told Gabe you were thinking about giving your ticket to me.”

Nate ran his hand over his face. The Landeskogs had really gotten him into some trouble here, and he wasn’t sure it was accidental.

“You’re the one I wanted at the game,” he admitted. “I wanted to invite you, but I knew how bad it would look if I didn’t ask Gianna.”

“So, you invited her,” you concluded.

“No.”

You looked at him in shock, mouth agape, and asked, “You’d rather no one go than give the ticket to her?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” he grumbled. You threw your arms up in surrender, hoping the words would sink in. “I don’t know, YN.”

“Yes, you do,” you argued. He kept his mouth shut at that, knowing you had enough. You sighed heavily, allowing the conversation to roll off your back. “When are your parents going to be here?”

“Saturday morning.”

“What are you planning to do?”

“They’ll be at my game in the afternoon and then I was getting us a reservation for dinner,” he trailed off only momentarily. “I haven’t made it yet because I was going to invite you, but Gabe beat me to the punch in there.”

“What about Gianna?”

“YN, if I didn’t want her at my game, why would I want her to meet my parents?” he asked. He made it sound like you were asking the stupidest question in the world. But, he wasn’t answering the most important one. Was he breaking up with her? You wanted to ask, but part of you didn’t want the disappointment. He worried while you thought.

“I’m around on Saturday,” you answered. He smiled, and you forced one back. You hated the feeling between you two. The air between you had never been so stuffy and you wanted to clear it. “Anything else you wanna tell me before the Landeskogs do? Is Sid actually your long-distance girlfriend?”

Nate laughed loudly as he stepped away. He answered your question cryptically, “No, nothing to tell you right now. Not yet.”

---

Lesson #4: Meeting the Family

You planned to meet Nate at his apartment before dinner since his parents had gone to the hotel upon arrival. On the way, you picked up a box of pastries from your favorite bakery. You were taught to do little things for important people, and anyone who was important to Nate felt important to you. You tried not to think about the implications of having dinner with his parents, but it was hard to shake the nerves.

“What’s this?” he asked as soon as he opened the door. His finger slid over the logo on the top of the pastry box, eyes catching on the word bakery. When he looked up at you, his eyes were shining. “For me?”

“For your family,” you told him. “Don’t get any ideas.”

“I thought maybe you heard about my break up and you were trying to comfort me,” he said like it wasn’t breaking news. “I’ll put these in the kitchen.”

“You broke up?” you asked, following him to the kitchen. You stopped in the doorway as he put the pastries on the counter. He nodded simply as he cleared some clutter from the countertop. You could see his muscles moving beneath his navy polo. Guiltily, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring the way the sleeves hugged his biceps or the wide expanse of his back and shoulders. “What happened, Nate?”

“We can talk about it later, alright?”

“Are you single or not?” you asked. Nate caught the frustration in your tone and he’d be lying if it didn’t make him want to kiss you right then. You needed to know what was going on with him, and that made him feel good about whatever was going on between you two.

Nate started to exit the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway beside you. You were crowded against his chest as he smiled down at you and answered, “Yeah, I’m single.”

You released a breath once he stepped out of the doorway. He slipped his shoes on while you stood nearly the front door. He caught the look on your face, a little scrunched up as you spaced out. You were thinking too much, worrying about what happened with him and Gianna. When he walked back over to the front door, he took you by the hips and said, “We can talk about it later, if you want. Right now, I just want to be with you and my family.”

---

“I’m nervous,” you admitted as Nate pulled up to valet outside the restaurant. He looked at you in shock. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” he promised. He reached over and dropped his hand to your thigh. You pouted at him, and his first instinct was to lean over the center console and kiss it off your lips. He knew better than to risk it all just before dinner, so he grabbed your hand and dropped a kiss to your palm instead. “You’ll be fine. No need to be nervous.”

A heavy sigh left your lips as he stepped out of the car. He rounded the front and opened the passenger door for you, grabbing your hand as you stepped out. After he handed his key to the valet, he laced his hands in yours and led you into the restaurant.

The MacKinnons were already at the table that had been reserved for them. There was uproar of cheers when they saw Nate walk in. You stole a peek at his face and the pure joy on it set your heart aflame. He dropped your hand as you approached the table to hug his parents and sister. They introduced themselves to you as well, sweeping you up in tight embraces like they had with Nate.

“It’s great to finally meet you,” they spoke as they hugged you.

Nate pulled your chair out from across his mother and then situated himself beside you. The menus were passed out and Nate whispered suggestions in your ear while his family members debated their own meals. She took the time to calm her nervous. Parents loved her, so there was no reason to freak out. Eventually the drinks were handed out, orders were taken, and the chaos at the table stopped.

“Now, how’d you two meet again?” his mom asked. You looked at each other, stupidly, both stammering in response until Nate got his shit together.

“We met through friends,” he answered simply. Then, his lips curled up and he said, “She yelled at me.” You dropped your face into your hands, embarrassed by the picture he was painting of you, but they took it in stride, laughing at your expression. “It wasn’t that bad.”

He continued, “As you guys know, I’ve been very unlucky in my personal life.” Sarah snorted at this. Their mother smacked her knee as a scolding. “I literally suck at being romantic and all the guys were joking around about it after I’d just been broken up with. YN called me out, so I asked her to teach me how to be romantic.”

“Well, what’d you learn?”

“How to cook a meal other than my pregame types, and I also have a new favorite florist,” he said. He reached into his back pocket for his wallet and flipped it open to slip out their business card. You didn’t realize he grabbed one. “There are some other things, like her wine rule.”

“Wine rule?”

“Nothing good ever happens after the third glass of wine,” you explained. They laughed at that, though they seemed bewildered by your reasoning.

Nate elaborated, “It just means that if your date stays for a fourth glass, you’ll probably get lucky.”

This earned him a smack on the arm from both his sister and yourself.

Nate’s family was just as kind as he was and it was clear how much they all adored each other. You fit in seamlessly, at least that’s how it felt, and when they asked the waitress to take a picture of them, Nate tugged you into his side to keep you in the frame.

“Take one without me,” you urged him. He just shook his head, gazing down at the picture on his phone. He passed it off to his parents and sister for approval. “Nate.”

“I want you in the picture,” he whispered to you. His hand came up to the back of your neck and he pulled you in to place a chaste kiss to your temple. He pulled away, like kissing you in public and on the forehead was normal now, and asked, “How was your food?”

When you got back to his place after dinner, you presented his mother with the pastries and earned a hug and kiss on the cheek as a thank you. They settled into the kitchen as he made drinks, chatting as a family about the people back home and his life in Denver. You slipped out to go to the bathroom, and give them some alone time.

“I like her,” you overheard his mother say as soon as you slipped out of the kitchen. You slowed your steps on your pursuit to the bathroom even though you knew it would be best to keep walking. You couldn’t help but be a little nosy.

“That’s good to hear,” Nate said. You smiled to yourself. “I like her, too.”

---

Nate’s family only stayed for another hour before you were bidding them farewell from his front door. They squeezed you and thanked you for the pastries, and then began inviting you to visit before Nate had to shut it down. Your heart felt full after spending the night with them, but sitting alone in Nate’s apartment in anticipation of what was to come was scaring the shit out of you.

Your hands were a little shaky and your palms were definitely sweaty. There was change coming, change that was already present, and you were both excited and terrified for it. Nate reentered the apartment not long after. When he saw you sitting on the couch, he released a breath he’d been holding.

“Are you going to stay for another glass?” he asked after locking the door behind him. “That one’s only your second.”

You eyed his smile, heart beat stuttering a bit beneath his gaze, and lifted the glass to your lips to finished what was left. You nodded and followed him into the kitchen. While he filled both your glass and his, you picked yourself up onto the counter like you’d done so many times before.

“I did a bad thing,” he murmured after handing your glass back to you. You raised a brow at him as he reached over to one of the cabinets and opened it to reveal two pastries in a Ziploc bag. “I stole two of them from my mom.”

“Nate!” you exclaimed. He chuckled at your exasperation. “I can bring you to that bakery whenever you want! Your parents don’t live here! It was a gift!”

“And they have the other eleven pastries,” he argued. “They’re not going to miss two.”

Reluctantly, but still with a smile, you took a pastry from his hand. You bit into it at the same time, eyes lighting up at the taste. At the sight of each other’s faces, you were doubled over in laughter before you had the chance to swallow what was in your mouth. You looked away from him to regain composure and only looked back when you were sure you wouldn’t choke.

“Those were fucking good.”

“Only the best for your mom.”

“Thank you,” he spoke. “For the pastries and for hanging out with my family today. I’m sure you had other things to do, but it meant a lot. They’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“I had a lot of fun with them,” you said. His smile was soft, shy even, and he watched you carefully as you sipped from the glass in your hand. “It was nice to meet the people who made you who you are.”

“Wait until you meet Sid.”

You decided to move from the kitchen to the living room in favor of more comfortable seating. He reached his hand out behind his back, and you linked your fingers with his lazily so he could lead you to the couch. You slowed to a stop as he sat down, legs spread to pull you between them. Your hesitation caused a look of confusion to flash over his features.

“Can you tell me what’s going on inside your head now?” you asked, placing your glass down on the table beside the arm of the couch. He followed suit, then placed his hand delicately at your hip to urge you closer.

“Sure, I can,” he answered. He pulled you into his lap. You looped her arms around his shoulders as he flattened one hand against your back and curled the other around your thigh. ���I don’t want to waste those romance rules on someone I don’t really like all that much.”

“You really didn’t like her?” you asked meekly. Of fucking course he didn’t like her, you were thinking. You were in his lap, not her, but you still couldn’t wrap your head around it. “Why?”

“The only reason I looked forward to going on dates with her was because I got to spend time with you before,” he confessed. You felt it all through your body. “I broke up with her the morning after we were at Gabe’s together. After you called me out on my bullshit, I knew I was being stupid.”

“Why me, though?”

“Because you deserve the world and I want to be the one to give it to you.”

It was only natural for you to lean in and capture his lips with yours. After all this time spent waiting and beating around the bush, you didn’t want to wait a second more. It was passionate, and new, and exciting. His hands held you close while your fingers curled into the back of his hair, but he wasn’t close enough.  

You swung your leg over to straddle him, not caring that you were wearing a dress with just panties underneath. His hands flew to your hips as you grinded against him. You gasped against his lips at the friction as he held you tighter, teeth nipping at your bottom lip until you covered his mouth with yours again. He guided your hips to grind against him once more, but you braced your hands against his chest to push away.

“I’m not staying for a fourth glass,” you said breathlessly. He smiled up at you, eyes falling to your lips that were red and plump from kissing him. Kissing him! He leaned in, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, and pulled you down by the back of the neck.

He murmured through his kisses, “You didn’t even finish your third.”

At the challenge in his voice, you reached over for the glass on the side table and finished what was left. He held you close, laughing against the crook of your neck. You giggled along with him until you felt his lips against your skin again and a gasp fell from your lips.

“You gotta leave before I pour number four,” he warned, breath ghosting over your neck. He kissed your neck again, this time sucking lightly enough to earn a strangled moan. You pushed back against his chest and stood, flustered as you adjusted your dress and your hair. Nate couldn’t help but smile as he watched you cross the room for your purse. He grabbed a pillow and held it over his lap to hide his hard-on.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked as you put your heels on the end of the couch. He was admiring your flushed cheeks and your wild hair as you busied yourself. You fastened the strap on each heel before looking back at him. It took everything in you to not go back over there and unbutton the rest of his shirt.

“Nothing,” you answered as you stood. He followed suit, adjusting his dress pants just a bit so he was comfortable and making you giggle in the process. He stepped up beside you and pulled you against him again. He placed one, two, three kisses against your neck then your jaw then your lips.

“Let me make you dinner.”

---

Nate wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands to himself. He knew that the second you walked out of your room in that little black dress, but he was really trying to be on his best behavior. It was technically only your first date and he wanted to impress you. You just weren’t helping very much. As soon as you were in his car, you were grabbing his hand and lacing it with yours to drop them into your lap.

He was a little nervous that he wasn’t going to be able to pull this off. He was sure that he’d fuck up somewhere and you’d go running. And, truthfully, you could tell that he was overthinking every little thing he did. The tension in his shoulders as he moved about the kitchen to prepare everything for dinner was clear.

“What’s wrong with you?” you asked.

He gave you the most pathetic shrug and shake of the head as he tried to wave off your concern with a soft, “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie,” you called him out. “You look stressed.”

“I mean, I am a little stressed,” he admitted, diverting his eyes from yours as he headed over to the fridge. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Before he knew it, you were standing between him and the refrigerator. You flattened your hands against his chest and slid them up until your hands were linked behind his neck. A slight tug on him was enough to get him to kiss you. He finally relaxed, arms dropping from the refrigerator door to grip your hips.

“You’re not going to fuck this up.”

“I don’t have a very good track record.”

“You do with me,” you said softly. He looked skeptical, not quite understanding what you meant, so you pressed against him as his arms enveloped you. “You gave me a sunflower the third time we were ever around each other. You’ve cooked me dinner already. Sure, it was under different circumstances, but it counts. Nate, you know exactly what you’re doing. Don’t overthink it.”

“Go sit,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You managed to calm his nerves better than anyone he’d ever known in a matter of seconds. “I’ll plate dinner and then I have to grab something for you, okay?”

Nate entered the dining room a minute later, placing both plates down across from each other before disappearing to grab wine glasses and another bottle of wine. Then, he was off down the hall to his bedroom. Your eyes followed him curiously, wondering what else he could possibly have up his sleeve. He’d already impressed you enough by cooking a meal you didn’t teach him.

“Oh, wow,” you breathed out when he appeared in the hallway with a bouquet of flowers. “Nate.”

“For you.”

You stood to take them from his hands and kiss him in thanks. When you pulled away, your fingers danced along the petals of the roses tucked between the sunflowers and baby’s breath Nate had grown to love too.

---

You filled your glass for a fourth time as inconspicuously as possible after your last bite of dinner, but Nate caught your eye over the bottle as you poured and you knew he knew what you were doing. He tried to stifle his smile unsuccessfully, picking up his own glass to cover it. One sip and his third glass was done.

“More?” you asked, extending the bottle in his direction.

“Four glasses?” he teased. “What do you take me for?”

“Okay, more for me then.”

Your voice was low, eyes dark as they settled on him, and suddenly he was lunging forward to grab the bottle and pour another glass for himself. Your giggles filled the room. He wanted them to echo off his walls forever.

“I want to take a picture with you,” he said. You gave him a curious look, though your stomach was doing cartwheels at the suggestion. “I keep thinking about your empty picture frame and I want you to have something to put in it.”

“We can take a selfie,” you suggested. He was quick to shake his head, pushing away from the table to take your hand and lead you to the patio. He pulled the phone from his back pocket and set it up against the couch. He removed the glass from your hand to place it out of view of the camera.

“Now, this is quite the set up,” you murmured as he moved furniture out of the way so there was ample space to take the photo. Denver’s city lights were sure to be the perfect backdrop and having Nate beside you wasn’t too bad either.

“Well, it has to be perfect if it’s going in your office.”

“How do you know I’ll even want to put it in the frame?” you asked. Nate pressed the timer and turned to walk back at you, smirk on his lips. You were teasing him, but you were playing innocent with those doe eyes. He curled around you, arms pulling your back against his chest to pose for the picture.

“After tonight, I’m sure you will,” he murmured in your ear. “Smile.”

The audacity of a man who tells you to smile after igniting your entire body in goosebumps.

The camera went off in a sequence, five pictures for the one timer. You smiled twice before he reached up to turn your face to his for a kiss. The sound of the shutter had you pulling away from his lips with a giggle. He smiled down at you for the next photo as laughter spilled from your lips, and then he was kissing you again.

When you finally pulled away from him, all giggly and handsy, Nate dragged you along with him to his phone. He curled around you as he flipped through the photos, each one cuter than the one before.

“Are you saying you wouldn’t put that in your office?” he asked. His breath tickled the back of your neck. You were just trying to tease him before, but with the lack of space between you and the way he was looking at you in these photos, you just couldn’t tease him anymore. His fingers trailed up your arms, goosebumps rising in their wake once again.

“How’s that fourth glass of wine treating you?” you asked. Nate tucked the phone in his back pocket as you turned to face him. His hands were on you once they were free, curling over the curve of your ass.

“I shouldn’t have let you talk me into it,” he murmured against your lips. “I’m trying to be good, but it’s impossible to keep my hands to myself.”

“What if I don’t want you to keep your hands to yourself?” you against, arching your body to press against him. You could feel him hard against your hip and knew you had him exactly where you wanted him. You pressed your lips to his and, as you pulled away, you took his bottom lip between your teeth and sucked on it.

A growl ripped through his chest as he lifted you into his arms. Your legs came to wrap around his waist as he carried you into the apartment and slammed the patio door shut behind him. He dropped you onto the bed, one hand coming to tug you towards the end by the ankle. His hands spread your legs so he could step between them and they slid up your thigh, pushing your dress up as they went.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted to do this,” he murmured in your ear as his hands reached your hip, dress bunching around his wrists and revealing your lace panties to him. “Stealing touches in a crowded room just doesn’t compare.”

You lifted your arms as he guided the dress over your body and tossed it to the floor. At the sight of your match set, Nate pushed you up the bed and crawled over you. He peppered kisses along your skin from your collarbone to your chest. He worked his way down your stomach until reaching the top of your underwear. In on swift movement, your thong was on the floor and he was spreading your legs.

“So pretty,” he murmured, fingers spreading your folds. You moaned out as he slipped his finger in. “You like my fingers in your pussy, baby?” You could only manage to nod because he’d already slipped a second finger in. He curled them while he pressed a kiss against your inner thigh. “How about my tongue?”

Nate licked a stripe up your center and you gasped, hands flying down to curl into his hair as he continued to eat you out. He sucked on your pussy, continuing to thrust his fingers into and curl. He dragged moans out of you, obscene words dripped from your lips, and the filthy sound of his tongue filled the room.

“You taste so good.”

You tried to grind against face for some more friction, but he held your hips down and continued. You whined, tugging his hair and arching your back as he brought you to orgasm.

“Nate, I’m gonna cu—” you moaned, toes curling at the feet of his lips around you. Suddenly, cool air shocked your core and your orgasm retreated. You sighed as your whole body sank into the bed at the absence of stimulation. Nate crawled up your buddy, licking a stripe up your neck before attaching his lips to yours.

“Sorry, baby,” he said. He nudged your knees apart and situated himself between them, hand falling to his dick as he lined it up with your entrance. “I just need you to cum on my cock.” You moaned as he pushed his head between your folds. “YN, as long as you’re mine, I’ll never make you feel like you don’t deserve all the most romantic things.”

You answered with a moan as he bottomed out inside you. He watched your face as you adjusted to his size and smiled as you whimpered, pulling your teeth between your lips. You felt so good around him and as he began to pull out and thrust in again, your nails dug into his biceps.

You knew he was trying to take his time, but you could hardly take it. As far as you were concerned, Nate would have all the time in the world to take it slow with you. Tonight was not that night.

“Fuck me harder.”

When you sounded like that beneath him, how could he say no? His previously slow and calculated thrusts became sloppy at your request. He relished in the sound of your moaning and the way you called his name like a prayer. You were unraveling beneath him and he wanted to get you there. He adjusted your leg over his shoulder so he could hit a new angle.

“Come on, baby,” he moaned against your lips. “I wanna see you cum for me.”

He reached down and placed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in circles as he pumped into you. You screamed out and your body arched as your orgasm ripped through you. Nate pumped into you a few moments more as he chased his high while listening to your whimpers. He spilled out into his condom as a string of curses left his lips, then collapsed onto of you to catch his breath.

Your fingers immediately found his hair as your breathing evened out together. His body was hot on yours and a sheen of sweat covered both of you. Nate’s fingers curled around your waist and into your skin, squeezing you like he needed to get closer but couldn’t. Finally, he pulled out of you and sat back on his knees.

“You’re so beautiful,” he sighed, hands rubbing up your stomach to cup your breasts. You shivered at his touch. “I never want to leave this bed.”

“Not even for shower sex?”

“Okay, maybe for shower sex,” he murmured. He picked you up, tossing you over his shoulder to carry you to the bathroom.

---

A few hours (and orgasms later), you were clothed in Nate’s sweats and t-shirt and waiting for him beneath the covers in bed. He was cleaning up the glasses you left on the patio and running the dishwasher, though he was quick to finish it up and return to you. You looked so cute propped up against the headboard that he couldn’t stop smiling as he got ready for bed. He pulled on a pair of sweats, but remained topless as he slid under the covers. Instead of pulling you down to rest on his chest, he dropped his head onto your stomach and pulled you tightly to him. Your fingers carded through his hair.

“Thank you for tonight, Nate,” you spoke. “This was the best first date I’ve ever been on.”

“I’m counting this as our fourth date,” he responded. You laughed at him, slapping his bicep lightly at his teasing. “Let’s be honest, I was trying to impress you this entire time anyway.”

“Consider me impressed.”

Nate pulled you down to eye level with him, heads on your respective pillows, and then turned to shut the lamp off beside him. When he turned back, he pulled you against his chest. With your ear to his chest, you listened to his heartbeat and his breathing as it evened out. His fingers scratched your back ever-so-slightly as if soothing you to sleep.

“Are you happy?” he asked. You looked up at him with a curious gaze. Could he not tell how happy you were?

“Of course, I am,” you answered. “Are you?”

“How could I not be?” he asked. “You’re so far out of my league.”

“No, I’m not,” you groaned. You covered your blushing face with your hands at his words, hoping that he couldn’t feel the beat of your heart. Nate was quick to tug them down, holding them against his own chest. He didn’t care if you felt how hard his heart was beating. In fact, he wanted you to know. He wanted you to know the effect you had on him.

“You feel my heart, right?” he asked. You nodded. “You did that. You do that to me every single time I’m around you.” Your eyes began to water and you tried to pull your hand away from his to wipe the water pooling in the corner. Nate grabbed both your hands with one of his and wiped it with his own thumb. “I’ll never let you go to bed thinking I don’t love you. I’m going to shower you with flowers from our favorite florist and buy you pastries from that little shop you like, and I’ll never make you feel like you need to stifle yourself and who you are on account of me.”

“Nate.”

“Just listen to me, alright?” he asked, voice soft. You nodded. “Your ex stuffed you down and he didn’t appreciate you. That’ll never happen with me, and if you feel like it is, you need to tell me, just like you did when we first met.”

You tried to stammer through some type of coherent response, but words failed, so you kissed him. His arms wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against him and your legs intertwined. He was intoxicating, you couldn’t get enough, but he felt just the same. He wondered how anyone had let you go before and simultaneously thanked them for the gift that was you.

That night, Nate vowed he’d never let you go to bed unhappy and he’d never let you feel any less than perfect. He waited forever for a partner like you, honest and kind, and he finally had it in his hands, in his bed. And you promised that you’d never love anyone as much as you loved him. You just knew it.

[writing-with-whiplash]

Holding On

“Holding On”

Hey guys! This is a fanfic of @jangofctts amazing clone oc Sweets! Go check out her awesome clone oc’s by searching for “sunburst squadron” on her blog and also check out all the other amazing fics she has! Sweets is her creation. I do not own his character, I’m just writing for him.

Sweets x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY-- Not explicit, but a sexual situation, a little spicy, implied smut; lap dance; swearing; friends to lovers; lemme know if I missed anything!

Summary: Reader, a friend of the Sunburst Squadron, gives Sweets a private dance

Author’s note: The songs I had in mind for the dance were “Movement” by Hozier and “Hold On” by Brooke Annibale if you want to listen ;) 

Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!

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

The night had started out like many nights on Coruscant with the Sunburst Squadron. Most of the boys wanted to go out to 79’s--per usual--and they finally convinced you to go with them. Clubs and the usual nightlife of the big planet-wide city weren’t really your thing, the strobe lights, loud music, and crowds of drunken partiers being much less preferable to your calm nights on base. You spent most nights murmuring encouragements to the poor soldiers in the med bay, reviewing paperwork for Void and Blanche so they wouldn’t overwork themselves, or hanging in the target range with Sweets. At the moment, you desperately wished to be in the target range.

The bass coming from the surround-sound speakers was cranked up so high you could feel the vibrations in your tummy and the glass in your hand. Troopers and civies alike paraded about the tightly packed bar, wiggling to the beat like intoxicated sardines. You simply shook your head, nursing your only drink of the night. You had told the boys that you just wanted a little buzz and they didn’t pressure you into getting more while they ordered round after round. Blue and Jaws were already slumped in the booth, although you couldn’t fathom how they could possibly sleep with all the noise going on. Max was chatting up some cute stranger at the bar and by the looks of it, he wasn’t coming back to the barracks with the rest of the group tonight. Blanche had entrusted you with making sure his boys made it back to base, but you knew you couldn’t pry Max away from his prize. Scanning the humid bar for the rest of the squad, you saw Bruiser in the midst of an arm wrestling match. His boisterous laugh barely carried above the pounding music as he smashed his opponent’s knuckles onto the sticky table, earning himself another small pile of credits. You made a mental note to make sure no one tried to pick a fight with him over money throughout the evening. Kami was a little harder to find, tucked away in a shadowed corner as he received a not-so-subtle lap dance from a pretty twi’lek girl. Fuse, the last member of the squad who decided to go out, sat nestled in the booth right next to you, bouncing to the beat of whatever was playing. He watched your gaze linger on Kami and the girl.

Scooting closer to you, he hollered, “Jealous, eh?”

“Jealous of what?” you hollered back. Fuse smirked and nodded his head toward the pair just as the dancer lowered herself in Kami’s lap, swirling her hips in time with the song. It hit you that Fuse thought you liked Kami. “Jealous of her? Fuck no! I’m not after Kami.” You shook your head and downed the rest of your drink, the alcohol burning your throat before settling in your tummy. When Fuse gave you a look of obvious disbelief you leaned back over to him. “I don’t like him! I just--” You paused for a second, debating whether or not to tell your friend about why you kept looking back at the pair. His expectant gaze implored you to continue. “I just wish I could do something like that. Dance like that.” You shook your head again, bracing for some teasing comment from Fuse. The trooper simply stared.

“What makes you think you can’t?” His brow furrowed as you shrugged, not wanting to open up about your insecurities in the middle of the bar. “What, do you think you’re not good enough or something?”

The concerned expression on your friend’s face made you cave. “I just don’t feel confident enough to pull something like that off. I’m awkward and clumsy and she’s so pretty and he’s so into it and I don’t know how to do anything like that. I don’t know how to make someone be into me like that.” 

Fuse’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Girl, you could captivate any guy in this bar if you danced like that. And I know you could do it. I know you could!” Fuse shouted in your ear. “That dress you’re wearing is already stunning. You could take any of these guys home with just a sway of your hips. Why don’t you believe in yourself?”

Heat bloomed in your cheeks as Fuse’s words settled in your ears. You could take any of them home just like that? You shook your head a little at the thought. There’s no way it could be that easy. You were too stiff and nervous to have prowess like that. Besides, the only trooper you wanted was still back at the base, most likely spending his night alone with his sniper rifle in the shooting range. Fuse snatched your mind from the enveloping quiet of the range and shoved it back into the dingy club.

“Maybe you just need some practice,” he purred, scooting impossibly closer and wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Shut up!” You shoved his shoulder at the insinuation, although you knew he wasn’t serious. Fuse cackled with laughter, lightly shoving you back. Your ankle wobbled as you took the weight of the shove on your high heel, damn the skinny things. They looked great, but at what cost? “I have practiced, thank you very much.” As soon as the words left your mouth you regretted telling him. If the air in the bar had been a little thicker, you supposed you could have snatched the words right out of it and popped them back in your traitorous mouth, but they had already entered Fuse’s ears. 

Fuse’s mouth formed a little ‘o’. “And just who have you been practicing with? Honey, I can give you all the tips you need on how to dance like that.”

Rolling your eyes, you shook your head. There was no way in the galaxy you were about to tell Fuse you had spent several lonely evenings practicing a dance on an empty chair. The mirror you danced in front of did nothing to boost your confidence--only betraying wobbly legs and stiff arms. The sensual sway of the music you picked never influenced your movements. It simply made them seem more clunky and out of place. The flimsy armchair rocked dangerously beneath you every time you leaned against it, lacking the anchor of an audience. You had actually slipped off it once, and when Void asked you why you needed bacta for the large bruise blooming across your side, you made up a story about running into your desk in the middle of the night. To make matters worse, you weren’t sure if the audience you always imagined would even want a dance from you. 

Sweets was so shy and quiet. Although he didn’t talk much when you first met him, it only took a couple of days for you to fall completely head over heels for him. After several weeks of working with the team, he had started talking to you about local flora he found on missions and let you watch him in the gun range. You got as close as he would let you, but you had no idea if he reciprocated your feelings. The thought of him refusing you--of him shutting you out--always made your stomach plummet as you tried to sway your hips over the empty chair. You could just see his face freeze at your offer of a private dance--how he would withdraw within himself with a disgusted look and never talk to you again. There’s no way he would ever want you or agree, so why should you risk your friendship over a stupid little dance? 

Fuse ripped you from your spiraling thoughts with a snap of his fingers before your nose. “Ground control to sad girl, do you copy?” You flicked his hand away, trying to rid your mind of its noise. “Come on, I know you. You’re sitting here telling yourself that you can’t do it so much that you’ve convinced yourself not to try at all. And I’m here to tell you that you can do it. Any guy would be lucky to get a dance from you, you hear? Any guy. So who’s the lucky one you’ve been practising for, huh?” 

“I wouldn’t tell you for a million credits,” you shot at him. It was true. The idea of Fuse knowing that you had feelings--and unprofessional thoughts--for his brother were mortifying, not only because of the storm of teasing to follow, but because of the possibility of some of the other squad members finding out, namely the squad member in question. Fuse was unpredictable. 

“I think I know who it is anyway,” Fuse waggled his eyebrows, “and he’s not here with us tonight.” A knowing smirk spread across his face as you shrank back, stomach falling to the dirty barroom floor. “Don’t worry, I’ll never tell Sweets you like him. You’re going to be the one to tell him. No, no, don’t shake your head at me. I’ve seen how you look at him. I’ve also seen how he looks at you when you can’t see him.”

Your head shot up. Sweets looked at you like that? Impossible. The words coming from Fuse’s mouth had to be wrong. The beat of your heart outpaced the music as you desperately hoped he was right. After all the months of becoming friends with Sweets, all the sleepless nights dreaming of his arms around you, his lips on your lips, you couldn’t throw everything away just because Fuse thought Sweets liked you back. But your heart lurched, urging you to give in to your feelings. What would happen if you never told him? You very well could lose him that way, too. The thought of that happening hurt even more, causing determination to dissolve the pit you carried in your stomach. Adrenaline flowed through your veins as you promised yourself to see this through. 

“I’m ready to head back to base.” You stretched and checked your watch. Blanche would not be happy if you brought the boys back too late, and by the looks of Blue and Jaws’ drooling faces, it was going to take a while to get into a cab. 

“Where’s Max?” Fuse wondered aloud, scanning the bar as he pulled his comm out. 

“I think he had company to attend to. I’ll get Bruiser. You can handle Kami.” You left Fuse in the booth before he could protest, eager to get back to base before your nerves convinced you to back out. Bruiser didn’t want to leave his winning streak, but the threat of Blanche’s wrath had him shoving credits into his pockets and heading toward the door. Max had indeed left with his date and Kami begrudgingly left his dancer to help you and Fuse haul the other two onto the small transport. 

Anxieties swirled up from your stomach and into your heart, melting your shoes to the transport floor. You could have let them flood you, drowning out your true feelings and wants in a tidal wave of insecurities and disbelief; instead, you distracted yourself by focusing on the city lights passing by. No matter how much you tried to steel yourself, the waves of doubt lapped at the sides of your stomach, threatening to dissolve you from within. As you drew closer to base, you became more and more nervous until you began to shake. Fuse surprised you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“You got this,” he smiled. “I believe in you. You’re going to do great and he’s going to love it. Trust me on that.” You simply nodded, biting your lower lip to keep it from trembling. 

Sooner than you had hoped, the transport arrived at base. Although Fuse had tried to bolster you again, your knees wobbled and stomach churned as you led the boys back to the barracks. Blanche was waiting for you at the door, nodding at you and failing to hide a yawn behind his hand. You hadn’t meant to return so late. Part of you began to wonder if Sweets was even still awake. No matter what was going to happen tonight, the adrenaline rushing through you wasn’t about to let you sleep any time soon. Just as you hoped that maybe he had gone to sleep already, sparing you from potentially making a fool of yourself, Sweets walked down the hall from the gun range. Your stomach lurched when you saw him, sending little shivers down your spine. You waved at him a little awkwardly and he waved back, touseling his curls a bit before shoving his hands in his hoodie pocket. Fuse cast you one last smirk and helped Blanche herd their brothers toward the bunks. 

“Fun night?” Sweets asked softly, watching the others stumble and weave their way down the empty hall. 

“Maybe for them,” you replied, your voice too quiet. You clenched your hands to keep them from shaking and hoped Sweets didn’t notice. Unfortunately, he did. You couldn’t decide if  it was excitement or nervousness that caused your stomach to tighten at his next action--Sweets grasped your hands in his own. His long, slender fingers intertwined with your own trembling ones and before you could stop yourself, you imagined what they would feel like in other places. Sweets stepped closer to you, his breath fanning across your hair as he tilted his head to the side. 

“You ok?” he murmured. His thumb traced circles across your knuckles, causing you to involuntarily shiver. Sweets took that as a “no” and pulled you into his chest. “Did something happen while you were out?” 

“No.” The word barely escaped your mouth as a whisper into the collar of his hoodie. “I’m just tense is all.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

An idea formed as soon as he spoke. Before you could let it be drowned in nervousness and doubt, you asked him: “Would you dance with me for a little bit? The bar was super crowded and loud and I just want to move around a little bit.” Your heart thudded so hard in your chest at Sweets’ silence that you were certain he could feel it. “Just maybe not out in the hall,” you added quietly. He huffed a small laugh at that, grabbing your hand again to pull you down the corridor.

“Come on.” 

Sweets lead you into his sanctuary: the shooting range. It was completely empty at this hour of the night. Instead of leading you to the target area, Sweets took you up to the observation room. It sat behind the range floor and up a flight of stairs, meaning less opportunity for intrusion. You silently hoped the range would stay empty tonight.

Sweets flicked the dim lights on and you pulled out your pocket music drive, selecting a soft but upbeat playlist. The two of you began to move on your own a little awkwardly from opposite sides of the room, but you gravitated towards each other as the song picked up. Soon, you were giggling as Sweets spun you in circles around him. The knot in your stomach loosened as he laughed with you. The fabric of your dress lifted and flowed with each spin and sway of your hips, making you loosen up a little just to feel it sweep around the tops of your thighs. As you began another twirl around him your ankle gave way above your flimsy high heel. Faster than a shot from his own rifle, Sweets caught you and pulled you into his arms. Your breath shook as you collided with his firm chest, heat tingling in your cheeks...and between your thighs. 

“Maybe you should take those off,” he hummed. “I don’t want you to get hurt.” 

You breathlessly agreed, kicking the offensive shoes into the corner. Sweets chuckled and pulled you into a slow dance, one hand on the middle of your spine while the other traced small circles into your lower back. Maker, he was going to be the end of you. You laced your fingers behind his neck, trying to calm down as you swayed back and forth. Sweets’ gracefulness on the battlefield had captivated you, almost causing you to get shot on multiple occasions as you watched him instead of paying attention to the battle, and it was no different as he swayed before you.

 “Feeling better?” The words vibrated in his chest, drawing you even closer to him. “I’ll dance with you for as long as you like.” 

You hummed against him. “I’m feeling better, but I want to stay here a while.” The pair of you stood closer than you had ever been before, and it nearly took your breath away. A particularly sensual song came up on the playlist--one that you had practiced your dance to many times--as well as the song immediately following it on the queue. It was now or never. “Sweets, would you like a dance from me?” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him as your voice squeaked, too afraid of his answer. 

“I thought we were dancing,” Sweets said in a small, questioning voice. You could almost curse his endearing innocence. 

Letting out a nervous giggle you tried to subtly elaborate. “Yes, we are, but I was wondering if you would want me to dance for you.” 

When Sweets seemed to ponder your question in silence, you took it a step further. Lightly, you brushed your hips against his in time with the song, gazing up at him with hooded eyes and parted lips. Sweets’ eyes widened as the realization of what you meant sank it. You watched his Adam’s apple bounce as he gulped, nervousness creeping up from your belly. Finally convincing yourself that you fucked up, that he didn’t want you and would shut you out for good, you shrank away from him, the words I’m sorry just beginning to escape your trembling lips. Before you could slip away and fade from existence, Sweets grabbed you, pressing his fingers lightly into your hips. You snapped your head to find his normally calm eyes beginning to darken. He immediately closed his eyes as a deep flush spread across his face, nodding quickly. Relief flooded you, as well as a new kind of nervousness. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves. You could do this. 

With every beat of the music you pushed Sweets gently backwards until he sat in one of the observation chairs. You took another deep breath, going back to all the nights you practiced to this very song. Only this time, you actually had your dream audience sitting before you, darting his tongue out to wet his plush lips. Closing your eyes, you ran your hands across your hips, allowing your muscles to loosen up as you swayed. As the song picked up so did your hips, beginning swirling motions as your hands continued to travel across the front of your dress. Sweets audibly gasped as you lightly cupped your breasts, his eyes tracking every move of your fingers as they deftly kneaded the soft flesh. You knew you had to keep him on his toes, wanting more throughout the whole routine, so you stepped around the chair, trailing your hand across his shoulder and throat as you moved around him. He tried to turn and follow your movement but you turned his face back to the empty room with a light touch against his jaw. His breath shook as you leaned against him from behind, just barely pressing your soft chest to the back of his head. You giggled at his reaction, ghosting your hands down his chest through the thick fabric of his hoodie. 

“You wanna take this off for me, baby?” you cooed into his ear. Sweets nearly smacked you in the face as he rushed to throw the hoodie across the room. A laugh escaped you even as you tried to cover it with your hand and Sweets turned around at the soft sound of it. He smiled sheepishly, eyes crinkling at the corners. You leaned around to press a quick kiss to the heart on his his warm cheek and he immediately whipped his head back to the front, the blush from his face beginning to creep down his neck. 

The song kicked up a notch as you made your way around the other side of the chair. You spun before your captivated audience in a slow, tantalizing twirl, running your hands from your breasts all the way back to cup your ass through your skirt as you turned your back to him. By the time you turned back around to face him, hands trailing down your thighs to lift the dress’ hem up a little, Sweets had leaned forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees. You paced toward him with an exaggerated walk, reaching forward to press him back into the chair. Nudging his feet a little further apart, you stood between his legs, rotating your hips toward him. Sweets’ hands shot up, stopping to hover on either side of your hips. He looked up at you, dark eyes searching for the permission to touch you. 

“Hold on to me,” you whispered to him. His strong fingers kneaded your soft hips as he pulled you closer to him, pressing his nose to the soft curve of your belly. You let out a breathy giggle and carded your hands through his curls. He let out a quiet moan at that, encouraging you to continue. The song on your music drive changed and the beat became slower, deeper.

You gently grabbed Sweets’ face, pulling his head further up your body as your hips swept in bigger circles, almost brushing against his chest. He buried his nose between your breasts, pressing a soft kiss to the skin your dress exposed. A high pitched whine left you and you pulled his hands up to your chest, lowering yourself into his lap. Every touch he gave you sent chills down your spine; hundreds of butterflies bursting from your stomach fluttered across your skin, exploding into stardust in your eyes. You raked your nails lightly across his scalp and down the back of his neck, finally settling on the thin fabric covering his chest as you swirled your hips against his. Sweets arched his body into yours, groaning softly at the contact. He pressed kisses up your throat as you continued your smooth movements, reaching up to pull your face to his. You pressed your forehead to his teal bangs, nudging your noses together as you closed your eyes. This night could not have been more perfect in your mind. Your whole body shuddered as Sweets ran his hands lightly up and down your back, settling again at your hips. 

“Can I kiss you?” he breathed against your lips, voice quavering. 

Maybe this night could be more perfect. You leaned forward to capture his lips with your own, keeping your hands against the back of his neck to press him to you. Sweets moaned into your mouth, shuddering as you fully ground down into his lap. Yes, this night was about to get even more perfect.                

[peterparkerstarker]

ok ok ok so i very recently found out RDJ was trained in ballet, and we all know Tom was. so what about a starker au where peter and tony are in the same ballet company, tony is a Principal dancer and peter is a freshly promoted soloist. peter gets to work directly with tony and he's so excited and starstruck because tony is so talented and hot and tony thinks he's so fucking cute and they fall in love fdjkhfjshfs sorry for rambling i just have a lot of feelings about ballerinas

Ahhh thanks for this prompt! I know basically nothing about dance or ballet, and such a fun time researching for this. I completely fell in love with this story as I wrote it. I would absolutely love more prompts!

The song I reference is Billie Eilish and Khalid’s “Lovely”

@thotticusmaxximus  @readysetstarker

Fluffy Starker Ballet AU: 1,831 words

Peter’s hands shook a little as he went through his regular warm up stretches. 

Mr. Stark hadn’t arrived yet, though apparently that wasn’t uncommon for him.

The Shield Ballet Company was incredibly strict about being ready and on time, but they seemed to make an exception for Tony Stark. After all, he was their principal dancer and they were lucky to have such a talented soloist in their group, people would whisper reverently.

Peter was pretty sure Mr. Stark could get away with murdering half the company if he wanted to. 

That’s just how good he was.

Peter knew this was an incredible opportunity. He’d not only made it into his dream job by the age of 20, but now he was being offered a solo in their biggest fall production. 

Which meant he had to spend extra time practicing with Mr. Stark as his teacher to make sure he was ready for it.

He fell into the monotony of the stretches. Peter let his hips shift, opening them wide as he put pressure on his knees and toes with his bent wrists, noting how the burn of his muscles settled into a dull ache. 

You can do this, he told himself. Just go through the warm up routine until he shows up.

He eased his loosened body up, standing and grasping onto the barre, rolling his feet and neck, shifting his hips back and forth. This was easy. The same stretches he did everyday.

The only difference was pretty soon he’d be dancing for Mr. Stark, and the thought of trying to impress him left Peter with an uneasy feeling in his gut.

He glanced at the clock mounted high on the wall across from him. 4:47 pm. 

He’d been here for nearly an hour. 

Maybe Tony got the time wrong?

Peter knew he was supposed to be here because Natasha had shown him in to the practice space, assuring him Mr. Stark would be arriving shortly.

It was becoming more and more clear that he wouldn’t be coming.

Oh well, Peter sighed. 

Might as well make use of the private practice space since he had it for a couple more hours. He still needed to hone his routine for Prokofiev’s Cinderella, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun first. A little extended warm-up, he told himself.

He grabbed his phone from his bag, selecting his song of choice, and cranking up the volume. 

Thank God for soundproof practice rooms. I doubt Director Fury would approve, he smiled broadly as the song started up.

The dulcet tones echoed in the empty space and Peter found himself getting caught up in the music.

“Thought I found a way, thought I found a way, yeah.”

Peter took a deep breath and began moving, focusing on the gentle piano notes to guide his rhythm.

“Oh, I hope someday I’ll make it out of here, even if it takes all night or a hundred years.” 

The two voices wove in and out of each other, building and building. 

He knew the words by heart, had spent hours listening to it on the floor of MJ’s bedroom, eyes closed and imagining how he’d dance to it. He’d spent so long thinking about it but hadn’t worked up the courage to try it out until now.

But there was no one here to judge him, and the space was so large. Much larger than the little area of his tiny studio apartment that he’d cleared for home practice. This was the perfect time to bring his ideas to fruition. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned into the sensation of it, felt it in his bones.

“Tear me to pieces, skin and bone, hello, welcome home.” 

The words were so sad, only made more so by the soft but driving piano and gorgeous harmonies.

He squeezed his eyes closed even tighter and listened, really listened as he experimented with the steps, making adjustments, spreading his arms wider, bringing his knee in a little tighter. 

The words washed over him, enveloping him like a hug goodbye. 

“Isn’t it lovely, all alone?”

He danced harder, increasing his speed as the strings soared, the harmonies coursing through his veins, it felt like.

He landed a perfect jump on the last note, and stood there, panting for a moment. 

Clapping. 

Someone behind him was clapping.

There was someone else here.

His eyes darted open, and he turned to find Tony Stark standing there, sunglasses on and gym bag draped over his shoulder, clapping and grinning.

Holy fuck.

How long had he been there?

How much of Peter’s improvised routine had he seen?

Peter knew he’d started out like he’d planned. But halfway through it felt forced and stiff, so he’d let himself make changes, adjusting to what felt right. 

And Tony Stark had been standing there long enough to know that, he was sure.

His face went hot, flushing red with embarrassment. Tony Stark had seen him dancing when he didn’t know anyone was watching. 

It made his stomach do little flips of anxiety and hope all tangled up.

He tried to say hello but his words stuttered out into broken syllables, and Tony cocked an eyebrow in response. He looked good when he did that. Sexy as hell, in fact.

“That was excellent, kid. A little stiff and trite in the beginning, but once you let yourself get into it you really had something there. Me, I’m a classics guy. Give me Giselle or La Sylphide and I’m a happy camper. But that was breathtaking at the end, kiddo. How long you been working on that?” Tony spoke with an easy grace, a sincere smile on his handsome face as he set his bag down and began unpacking.

“Since now,” Peter said frantically. “Uhm I mean, that’s the first time I’ve danced to it. Not that it’s the first time I thought about dancing to it. No, I spent a lot of time planning it out, but when the time came, none of it was quite right. So I uhm, I improvised.” He could feel the heat practically steaming off his ears. 

He was mortified that Mr. Stark had caught him dancing a modern routine that he hadn’t even practiced before. 

Tony nodded, beginning his own stretches as he replied. “That bit at the end, do you remember what you did?”

Peter thought for a moment, then nodded shyly.

“Good, Think you can teach it to me?” Tony asked, popping his neck and giving Peter a confident grin. 

“I can try,” Peter mumbled, still in awe at this gorgeous, talented man.

-----------

7 weeks later they were waiting for their cue.

The concert hall had been dimmed to near darkness, and Peter could only just make out the lines of Tony’s muscular body. They’d start out in near darkness, across the massive stage from each other.

As the song went on, the lights would grow brighter and brighter, and they’d work their way towards each other. The closer and closer they came, the more they were pulled back, fighting against invisible forces with all their might to meet in the middle.

The stage lights would brighten to the point of being uncomfortable, heat radiating down on their exposed skin, the blinding glare so intense that the audience could hardly stand it.

And the moment they met in the center of the stage, hands finally touching for the first time at the very last note of the song, the lights would turn off, descending them back into darkness, the contrast leaving the audience, as well as Tony and Peter near-blinded by the sudden pitch black.

It was Tony who had first suggested it.

They’d spent nearly every day since that first day developing it, honing each graceful move until Peter could do it blindfolded, or without the music, or sometimes both, and hit every step perfectly.

And Tony had insisted they do it that way for some rehearsals.

He was relentless in his quest for absolute perfection. It was exhausting and infuriating. But it had been worth every frustrating moment, because Peter had never loved a routine so much. 

Had never loved a dance partner quite so much.

Tony had asked Peter to show him what he remembered that very first day, and they’d built off of it, refining the awkward beginning, letting themselves loosen as the song continued. Their movements shifted from tight and calculated at the start of the routine into something wild and passionate, needy even, by the end.

Tony had asked for Peter’s input, and it was still kind of dazzling to Peter that he cared so much about his ideas and opinions. 

“Well of course, kiddo,” Tony had replied with a half-cocked grin. “You’re the one who started this. I’m just helping you finish it.”

Peter had learned to not stutter when Tony looked at him like that, but he couldn’t help the way his heart would clench, hanging onto every word the older man said.

And now here they were, standing on stage for the first truly modern performance Tony Stark had ever done in his professional career. 

It had been advertised like crazy. 

Tony was right when he said he was a classical-only kind of guy. Tonight’s performance was a huge deal for both of them.

As the orchestra cued up, Peter stilled his breathing, focusing on the vague outline of Tony he could make out across the stage.

And as the lights grew more brilliant, he kept his focus on Tony, reaching out for him, never quite close enough to touch, letting himself imagine he really was getting yanked back, away from the love of his life. 

Well, the unseen hands were the only thing he had to imagine.

The love part was real.

He hadn’t told Tony, had been so careful in all their practices to keep it professional even when Tony teased him and cuddled close to him while they rested in between sets.

But tonight, Peter couldn’t hold it back, couldn’t deny what he’d been feeling for quite some time.

He loved Tony. 

Loved the gentle curls of his dark hair, loved his lean muscles that were earned from years of hard work and dedication. Loved the way he ruffled Peter’s hair when he made a bad joke, and loved the encouragement Tony gave him even through the worst of their rehearsals. 

He loved Tony.

And as they drew nearer and nearer, finally beginning to break free of the unseen bonds keeping them apart, a thought flashed through his mind.

What should have been a fleeting one, but it took root in his mind and heart.

And as they finally met in the center, stage lights blaring to a dazzling haze, he grasped onto Tony’s calloused hands and kissed him as the world around them went dark and the roar of the crowd’s applause enveloped them.

[steves-on-a-plane]

Can You Feel the Love Tonight?

Title: Can You Feel The Love Tonight?  SONG FIC: Can You Feel the Love Tonight - The Lion King  Words: 2579 (2393 without lyrics) Content Creator: @steves-on-a-plane Square Filled: Genre, song fic Rating: G Pairing: Bruce Banner x Reader Warnings/Triggers: none Summary: Reader is a SHIELD intern assigned to work in Tony & Bruce’s lab at the Avenger’s Tower. From the first day Bruce is especially kind to Reader and Tony begins to suspect they may have more than professional feelings for each other.  Link: @brucebannerbingo

“I just want to say that I really appreciate you letting me work with you like this.” You thanked the respected scientists who greeted you in their shiny new lab. The lab was located on one of the lower levels of the just finished Avenger’s Tower. By lower you of course meant the fifteenth floor which was still taller than any building you had worked in previously. Tony Stark, who was to be one of your direct supervisors waved you off immediately with a dramatic flourish of his hand.

“Yeah, well Fury had an extra intern and we’ll need someone to fetch coffees for us now and then so.” Mr. Stark shrugged as if that was the end of the matter. He moved away from you to a nearby workstation.

“[Y/N], have you ever worked in a lab like this before?” Dr. Bruce Banner, your other supervisor asked you.

“Not unless you count the lab classes I had to take in college.” You confessed. The fact that you were entirely unqualified for your position, unpaid internship that it was, had not gone unnoticed by you. You had only hoped neither of your new bosses would mention it on the first day. You’d wanted, perhaps foolishly, to fool them for at least a week or two.

“It’s alright.” Dr. Banner smiled at you. “We told Fury we wouldn’t need someone with a scientific background. What did you study in college?”

“Oh uh…communications.” You mumbled, almost embarrassed at the floor. You felt you had to explain yourself. Sure, they hadn’t asked for an explanation, but you could tell by Mr. Stark’s face alone that they wanted to know how a communications major from a midlevel school had ended up working in their lab.

“There was an advertisement for internships with a government agency.” You told them. “For obvious reasons, SHIELD was very secretive about their interview process and honestly I thought I was signing up to run coffees around the FBI or CIA. But I thought a government internship might help me get an actual government job or if nothing else it would look good on my resume.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you on our team. Right, Tony?” Dr. Banner coached his friend.

“Sure. Welcome aboard, kid.” Tony nodded before swiveling his attention back to his work. “Banner, why don’t you have [Y/N] help you unpack the equipment in the corner. Maybe you can teach her what some of that stuff does.” Mr. Stark pointed to a far-off corner that was stacked high with shipping crates.

“What are you doing?” Bruce asked, already picking up a clipboard and walking towards the mountain of crates.

“Improvements to the suit.” Tony supplied shortly. You followed Bruce to the corner, and he explained that each shipping crate was marked with a number. The number corresponded with a piece of equipment listed on the clipboard in his hand. The most efficient way to unpack the boxes was to cross-reference the number on the case with Dr. Banner’s list. Then you’d know exactly what was in the cases and where to put it.

“Sounds like you’ve done this before.” You observed.

“I’ve worked for the government before.” Bruce confirmed. “And I’ve moved labs with them a few times. This’ll be the best way to make sure we didn’t lose anything in transportation either.”

“Has that happened before?” You asked.

“More times than you’d think.” He answered.

As you and Bruce set to work, Tony listened to you from across the room. He wasn’t used to sharing a lab space. He hadn’t done so since his days at MIT and hadn’t anticipated this new distraction. Thankfully he’d had the foresight to build himself a private lab a few floors up for the days when the distraction was too much to bear. You and Bruce continued chatting away while you worked. He asked about your family and you asked about his work. Tony rolled his eyes at the whole thing. He wondered how long he’d have to suffer before the two of you realized you have chemistry.

I can see what’s happening. [What?] And they don’t have a clue. [Who?] They’ll fall in love and here’s the bottom line, our trio’s down to two.

“Okay, it’s about that time.” You declared, looking up from your watch. It was another late night at the Avenger’s Tower. You didn’t mind late nights at the tower except for the fact that your bosses never seemed to eat. “Am I getting dinner orders or are you having caffeine for the third meal in a row?”

“Actually,” Tony swiveled around in his rolling chair. You’d begun to notice that Tony never missed an opportunity to zip around in his rolling chair. It was almost like he’d challenged himself to see how long he could stay in said chair. “I could go for some Shawarma. Big guy what do you say?”

“Hmm?” Bruce looked up from the centrifuge he’d been watching with anticipation.

“[Y/N] is taking dinner orders are you hungry?” Tony called across the room to him.

“Oh, whatever Tony’s having is fine.” Bruce assured.

“I’m on it.” You vowed. In your short time working in the lab you’d also learned that Dr. Banner didn’t like to make a fuss or cause a scene. He often went along with Tony’s opinion just because it made things easier. You also knew that he wouldn’t want to have shawarma again for the fourth time that week and that there was a Thai food place a few blocks away that he was always in the mood for. So armed with a Stark Industries credit card, you stepped out for a mission of your own.  

“Are you feeding all of SHIELD on my dime?” Tony joked when you returned to the lab a half an hour later. Bruce silently rushed over to help when he noticed you struggling to carry the brown bags of Thai take out, shawarma and cold beverages.

“Not at all.” You assured Mr. Stark quickly. “I made sure to get you the shawarma you asked for.” You handed his one of the brown paper bags and a drink. “And I knew that Dr. Banner was probably sick of shawarma, so I went to that Thai place he likes.” You offered Bruce his own brown bag. He accepted the bag with a hint of hesitation.

“Oh, you didn’t have to go out of your way for me.” His cheeks reddened with guilt. “I would have just eaten what you guys were having.”

“I know.” You smiled. “But I wanted to do something special for you.”

“And what did you get for yourself?” Dr. Banner questioned. He noticed that the counter was now empty of food and drink options.

“Oh, I got…” You turned around and realized your mistake. You’d forgotten to buy yourself dinner. “Oh.”

“We can share.” Dr. Banner offered. “One of the reasons I like that Thai place so much is because they always over fill the cartons. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“It’s alright I’ll…” But as you looked into his soft inviting eyes and you found you couldn’t say no. Instead your helped yourself to one of the soda cans in the lab’s communal fridge and settled in next to Bruce. He slid a white cardboard container in your direction and offered you a smile.

The sweet caress of twilight. There’s magic in the air. And with all this romantic atmosphere, disasters in the air. Can you feel the love tonight, the peace the evening brings? The world for once in perfect harmony with all its living things.

You leaned against Tony’s very expensive bar. You didn’t dare claim one of the stools, they weren’t there for you. You held your drink apathetically. You’d been nursing it for over an hour now and it was getting warmer by the second. You looked down at the bar’s black marble countertop and traced one of the stone’s white veins with your finger.

You didn’t belong at this party and you knew it. Everyone else around you knew it. Mr. Stark was just being polite when he invited you. This party was supposed to be a get together for the Avengers and key members of SHIELD who’d helped the team successfully complete their latest mission. At the end of the day you were still just a lowly intern. You hadn’t earned the stripes to be at that party and you shouldn’t be there.

“[Y/N]?” A soft voice somehow managed to penetrate the booming bass Tony had cranking on the dance floor. You looked up from the marble countertop to see Bruce approaching you. “Are you alright?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” You nodded a little too enthusiastically. “I was just thinking about heading out.”

“Heading out? The party only started an hour ago.” He frowned at you. “Why would you want to leave?” You bit your lip, wondering if you dared tell Dr. Banner the truth.

“I don’t belong here.” You sighed.

“Let me fill you in a secret, [Y/N]. I don’t belong here either.” He confessed. “I was going to get some fresh air outside; would you like to join me?” You nodded and let him lead you to an expansive deck outside.

So many things to tell her, but how to make her see? The truth about my past? Impossible. She’d turn away from me.

“What did you mean when you said you don’t belong here?” You questioned him once you were alone. You leaned against the railing; glad Tony hadn’t opted to wrap his deck in glass walls like so many other New York condos.

“You first.” He smirked.

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if the answer should be obvious. “I’m an intern! And everyone else here at this party? I mean director Fury’s in there and Captain America. That guy has muscles for days by the way. Sorry that’s unrelated, and Mr. Stark and you? I’m a nobody compared to the rest of you. I shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re not a nobody, [Y/N].” Dr. Banner disagreed. “Do you think that Director Fury just hands out SHIELD internships? You had to overcome an extensive interview process and his approval is not very easily gained. Tony doesn’t just let anyone into his labs either. Just the other day he sent you to retrieve something from his personal lab. I haven’t even been invited in there yet.”

“It was a screwdriver.” You reminded him. “It was not big deal.”

“It was a big deal for him. Just ask Pepper.” Bruce told you. “You know, this party is for everyone who helped make our last mission successful and if you weren’t working with us, well, Tony and I would die of starvation for one.” He chuckled, trying to make you laugh. You offered a half-hearted giggle. “But seriously, you help us more than you know and you’re a fast learner. You’re a great addition to the team.”

You got the sense that Bruce wanted to say more but stopped short to stare out at the city lights. You followed his gaze with your own eyes and watched the cars and buses zoom by on the streets below. New York City really comes alive at night. You mused before shifting your attention back to Bruce. His face was illuminated by the city and the rest of him was backlit by Tony’s party. The effect was a dazzling glow. You wished that you could blink and take a photo so that he could see himself through your eyes.

He’s holding back, he’s hiding, but what I can’t decide. Why won’t he be the king I know he is? The king I see inside?

“Alright, it’s your turn.” You announced, regrettably breaking the silence and the illusion of his romantic lighting along with it. “Why did you say you don’t belong?”

“Well you mentioned Steve.” Bruce said, rubbing the back of his neck. It was a habit you’d come to recognize as a nervous tick. “And how he has muscles for days? I mean, Thor’s a god! And-and when I stand next to the rest of the team…sometimes it’s hard to see how I measure up.”

“Are you kidding me?” You blinked at him, taken aback. “You’re amazing! Never mind the fact that you’re incredibly smart, you’re…you’re so nice!”

“Nice. Well at least I’ve got that going for me.” He laughed and looked back down at the city.

“No! I mean, nice isn’t the right word because you’re more than that.” You struggled to explain yourself. “I mean that your kind. You put other people first. The first day that we worked together, you went out of your way to make sure I felt welcomed. You always at least try to make sure that the three of us get enough sleep. You care about us all as people first. In my mind that makes you more than worthy to stand with Captain Muscles and the god of thunder.”

“That’s kind of you to say but…”

“But nothing. Didn’t you ever watch Captain Planet? Heart was always the strongest power in the end. Sure the other kids had fire and wind, but Ma-Ti had heart. That’s what you’ve got, Dr. Banner.”

“This is suddenly starting to feel like a pep talk from a sports movie.” He laughed again. “But you know, having a heart doesn’t mean anything if you have no one to share it with.”

Can you feel the love tonight? The peace the evening brings? The world for once in perfect harmony with all it’s living things.

“It’s a nice night.” You commented. “Good gentle breeze, not too hot.”

“Would you like to dance?” He asked you suddenly. You looked back into Tony’s penthouse with uncertainty. “We don’t have to go back in there.” He promised. “Not to dance anyway.”

“It would be my pleasure.” You smiled. You stepped closer to Bruce and allowed him to place his hands on your waist. You placed your own hands on his shoulders and let him guide you along on the patio. “I have to admit that slow dancing to house music with my boss was not how I saw this night progressing.”

“Trust me, this wasn’t where I saw the night going either. Not that it’s bad.” He assured you. “I’d gladly take dancing with you over schmoozing with Director Fury.”

Can you feel the love tonight? You needn’t look too far. Stealing through the night’s uncertainties, Love is where they are.

“Say is that Banner out there dancing with my intern?” Tony elbowed Steve. The billionaire had taken a break from dancing to get a drink at the bar when he noticed the two of you out on the patio.

“She’s not your intern, Stark.” Steve commented, sipping from his own drink. “She’s a SHIELD intern and she doesn’t belong to anyone. Let them have their dance, who knows when they’ll have the chance again.”  

“You know,” Tony groaned, pouring himself another drink. “You are not nearly as fun as your collectable baseball cards suggest.” He walked away from the wistful Captain, not willing to let him bring down the mood. Tony continued to watch you and Bruce having a good time together out on the patio. You were the first person he’d seen that could make Bruce really smile.

And if he falls in love tonight, it can be assumed, his carefree days with us are history. In short our pal is doomed.

[spookbusters]

Turn Down For...Cops?

Summary: The eldest Henderson sibling pops up in Hawkins after graduating college and has a most interesting run in with the Chief of Police.

Pairing: Chief Hopper x Henderson!Reader // Word Count: 1.2k // Warnings: Heavy flirting, so many innuendos

A/N: Please enjoy what was one of my first ever Hopper fics that I ever started! I’d just discovered how thirsty I was for him, but I think it turned out pretty great!! See extra A/Ns at the end!

“I know what boys like, I know what guys want.”

The song blasted through your car speakers as you stood outside it. A file in your hand made a soft sound as you shaped a rough spot where your nail had broken the other day. The outer façade of Hawkins Middle was a little brighter than you remember it being. Maybe they’d painted it while you were gone? 

Considering the fact that you’d been in college and away from Hawkins for four years it was a definite possibility.

You glanced at the watch on your wrist, and tossed the nail file into the cup holder through your car’s open window. A sigh comes from your parted lips as you hug yourself in your trench coat. Where was your brother? School was supposed to have ended forty five minutes ago.

Your thoughts are abandoned momentarily when a loud, irritated voice calls out from behind you, “Hey!”

A man was walking – no, more like marching – your way, looking very upset.

“Do you have any idea how loud your stereo is,” he huffed, standing in front of you. Though, you’d admit, you barely payed attention to whatever followed ‘hey’. His looks were positively distracting. Piercing blue eyes, thick brows, soft brown hair tucked beneath a hat. He was tall, too. Much taller than you, even in the heeled boots you sported.

You were pulled out of your thoughts again at the sound of his voice, strong and deep, “Hey, are you listening to me?” The snap in his attitude set a low annoyance swirling in your veins. “You damn high school punks,” he mumbles, “Thinking you can do whatever you want.” “I just finished my degree, for the record,” you scoff,” And, what are you? The music police?” Cute or not, he was irritating you. It seems as though he scoffs in amusement, before smirking and pulling his jacket apart just enough for you to see the shining badge under it reading ‘Chief of Police’. “As a matter of fact,” he eluded, grin never faltering.

“Shit.”

Damn it, are you serious? Only been back in town a half-hour and you’ve already gotten in trouble with the cops.

You sigh, not about to debate the legality of your actions with the god-damn chief of police. “Fine, I’ll turn it down” you submit, “I’m not looking to get in any trouble, Chief. I just got back today.” He, thankfully, decides not to push the matter, opting to watch you lean through the open window and flick the sound knob down and noting that your legs looked a little too good under the thigh-length coat. Did that thing even do anything to keep off the chill?

“You know, Chief, staring at a lady’s ass isn’t very gentlemanly.” 

Now it was his turn to get snapped out of thoughts. You were grinning up at him, over wear tossed into your backseat now. Underneath, you wore a simple, white peasant blouse, a red corduroy skirt, and heeled boots that made your legs look oh so lovely. The way your top dipped below your neck, not showing any cleavage but teasing the idea of it, did not go either unnoticed nor unappreciated.

Despite himself, heat crawled over his cheeks and down his neck. “Way to go, man,” he thought to himself, “Got yourself caught.” Unfortunately, you weren’t quite done messing with him yet. Cat and mouse wasn’t a game you often played, but it was appealing to you at the moment. “Don’t worry, I don’t mind,” you all but purred. Was he weak in the knees? 

“Especially coming from a guy like you.”

Oh yeah, his legs were gelatinous.

Neither of you knew where these sides of your personality came from, exactly. Being bold wasn’t your style, you preferred a subtler flirtation. And for him, acting like a total deer-in-the-headlights was borderline unnatural. He manages to pull himself together long enough to slip one good line in. 

“Watch it, I might have to put you in cuffs.” You openly laugh at that, and he decides he wants to hear as much of the sound as he possibly can. You get ready to throw a quip back at him when a borderline earth-shattering call is heard from the front of the school.

“Y/N!!”

You turn in the direction of the cry and see a mass of curls bounding your way, surrounded by five other children. “Dustin,” you squeal, opening your arms for your little brother to jump into, “God, I missed you so much!” “I can’t believe you’re here! I thought mom was picking me up for the doctors’,” he grinned, squeezing your middle. 

You’d missed your brother sorely while away. Between school, work, and the cost, you were only able to come up during summer and Christmas. Seeing your best friend only twice a year was devastating, no matter how many times you’d called to try and make up for it. 

You turned your head as you leaned it on Dustin’s. “My brother,” you mouthed, and the Chief’s eyes widen.

You look over at the rest of the Party and smile at the rest of your brothers’ friends. “Y/N,” he announces, settling to your side,” This is El, our mage, and our ‘Zoomer’, Max.” The two girls smile and offer their greetings, and you do the same.

“I see you’ve also met El’s dad, Hopper,” your brother adds,” Hey, Chief.”  “Hey, kid.” Your attention is returned to the chief and you lean up against the door to your car,” Hopper.” You test the name on your tongue and smirk at the way he twitches at it, “Yeah, he was bugging me, why?” 

The chief rolls his eyes, eyes dark with a mix of annoyance and something you’re almost nervous to pinpoint. “Your sister here was disturbing the peace.” Now it’s your turn to make a sassy gesture, “Yeah? Disturbing who’s peace?” 

“Mine.”

“Oh? Well, I can fix that, then.”

“Could you two knock it off,” Dustin groans, a look of exasperation on his face. You cringe, having mildly forgotten to mind yourself in front of your younger sibling, “Sorry.” 

“Hey, Y/N,” Mike pipes up,” Can you take us to the arcade? We’d called it off because we thought Dustin had plans.” You glanced at Hopper, seeing as El was one of the Party. You had a hopefully quizzical look on your face. He thought it was cute. 

“How about it, Chief,” you asked,” I take the kids for a bit and you can come pick up El from the arcade later on? Maybe we can take them out for something after?” It was a blatant excuse to spend more time with him. You knew it, and he knew it. But all things considered, the banter with you was entertaining. 

And you were beautiful.

So, he agreed. The kids began piling themselves into your cramped backseat. “Dustin, the roof,” you directed. He presses the switch and pushes the convertible top into it’s place in the back. The other kids smile and you hear a few murmurs of “cool”. They make you smile, “Should make things more comfortable.”

You pull a pen out of your side door and turn back to Hopper, snatching his hand in yours. The digits of your phone number are already written on his palm before he has time to protest. You throw a wink up at him with a quick, “Just in case you need to get in touch with me after tonight.”

Before he knows what’s hit him you’re in the drivers seat, pulling out of the parking lot. Your stereo is cranked up like before.

Maybe, just maybe, he will put you in cuffs one of these days.

Extra A/Ns: GUYS IDK HOW TO CONTINUE “A SAFE PLACE”, I’M CRYING. I want to keep it going so bad but I really just have no idea where to take it :(( Someone send help pls

[call-me-emma]

Tests

Summary: Wally and Avery highly suspect that Emma has some special powers. But how can they be sure?

Pairings: OC / Wally West (platonic)

Warnings: none really

Word Count: Approx. 3800

A Note: Avery Yu belongs to @audreythetealovingcat @audreyandherocs

The drive to the Flash Museum was over before the fourth song on Emma's favorite Switchfoot cd started. The museum was laid out in a circular pattern, so they decided to just follow the circle, stopping at whatever looked interesting.

The first exhibit was dedicated to the various speedsters throughout history, with a small statue and name plaque for each; with Flash and Kid Flash at the center. The base depicted scenes from some of the battles each speedster had won and quotes from the grateful people they had helped, along with information about numerous charities they had worked with. Wally grinned as he read a quote from a little girl saying how Kid Flash was her favorite hero. Fortunately, neither of his friends noticed him tear up a touch; he remembered this little girl in particular.

Emma stared in awe at the polished bronze statues of Flash and Kid Flash towering above them. “I still can't get over the fact that this city has an actual museum to him. In Chicago, they pretty much either hated superheroes or were mostly neutral. It’s so different seeing people like, actually embrace Flash and Kid Flash.”

“How could they hate superheroes? All the good they do? And the people they save? I don’t get it,” Wally asked.

Emma shrugged. “I don’t get it either. It didn’t use to be like that, from what I can remember. When I was a real little kid we had a handful of superheroes, and the police loved them. They worked with them. But then something happened. I’m not sure what, my dad wouldn’t tell me. It was right before we moved here.”

Avery nodded. “So, is that why? Is that maybe why your father doesn’t seem to like metas?”

Emma shook her head. “I wish it was. But no. He’s always hated them. I don’t get it. He doesn’t like anything that’s different.”

Avery sensed Emma’s frustration bubbling to the surface in a prickling sensation on her skin and quickly redirected the conversation. “Well we’re here to enjoy the museum, and none of us feel that way. So let’s enjoy it while we’re here.”

The next exhibit mirrored the first, being dedicated to the Rogues Gallery. Now it was Emma’s turn to sense Avery’s mood shift. She could feel the girl’s visceral hatred for Vandal Savage. Emma had never really heard much about the evil immortal, so she had no reason to hate him so intensely herself. But she found her stomach knotting and her hands clenched into fists without her control. She heard herself making a low growling noise in the back of her throat as she stared at the hologram of Savage. She heard Avery’s voice in her mind as clearly as if she were speaking. A tirade of Chinese spilled from Avery’s mind; Emma was surprised to find she could make out a cuss word here and there. Taking her friend by the shoulders, she motioned to Wally it was time to move on.

As they passed the restaurant, Emma paused and tilted her head towards Wally. *Did he just?* She frowned. *He did.* She turned to face him and chuckled. “Wally. How can you possibly be hungry again already? We just got here!”

Wally raised his brows at Avery quickly,  then squinted at Emma. He hadn’t said anything. But he had been thinking about how good a pizza sounded.

Well, it is about lunch time, and it’s been a few hours since we ate breakfast. Avery tested Emma to see if she heard.

Sure enough, Emma did hear. She turned to Avery. “I guess you’re right. I didn’t realize it was this late already. Let’s eat while we’re here.”

Let’s share a pizza, Wally thought.

Emma didn’t even notice that Wally hadn’t said anything out loud. “That’s a good idea. Let’s get a pizza to share. How about.”

Sausage, Avery suggested telepathically.

“Sausage? Is that ok with yous guys?” She pulled out her wallet as she headed towards the counter to order. “What do you want to drink?”

Wally and Avery decided to keep their little impromptu test going and see how long they could continue their telepathic conversation with Emma.

Coke for me, Wally thought.

“Really, Wally? Coke? Not Mountain Dew? Ok.”

I’ll take a Sprite, Avery thought.

“Avery? Did you say you wanted a Sprite?” Emma ordered the pizza for them to share, and the drinks for her friends, with a root beer for herself.

As the three sat down at the table, Wally kept his face blank as he questioned Emma. “So, how’d you know we were hungry?”

Emma almost choked on her soda. So Wally hadn’t said anything out loud earlier; she had just heard him mentally. She recovered as quickly as possible. “Well, Wallman, when are you not hungry? I seriously don’t know where you put it all. ” She nudged him playfully.

“What can I say? I’m a growing boy. I’ve got a fast metabolism.” Wally shrugged. He looked at Avery. Either she really didn’t hear me, and it was a lucky guess, or she’s not ready to say anything yet. He was careful to keep his mind guarded so Emma didn’t accidentally hear. They weren’t quite sure how exactly her telepathy worked yet. So far it seemed to be sporadic, and outside of her control.

Wally, you know there’s no way she just made a lucky guess. Remember she straight up asked me if I’d said I wanted a Sprite. You and I both know I didn’t say anything out loud. So we at least know she has telepathic hearing. What we need to find out is if she can control it and if she can transmit thoughts as well as just hear them.

To prove her point, she turned to Emma. “How’d you know I wanted Sprite? I didn’t get a chance to answer.”

Emma’s face flashed from confused to slightly worried before she answered. “I just know you well, I guess. I know you like your lemons, so it makes sense you’d like lemon pop.”

“Huh. Yeah, you’re right.” Avery held back from saying anything more at this point.

Wally was biting his tongue to keep from saying anything to Emma yet as well. They still needed to test a few more things, and this was not a conversation either of them wanted to have with her in a public place. Wally knew his friend well enough to know this talk needed to happen somewhere she felt safe, and where she could ask questions without fear of anyone else hearing. Once they all finished eating the group headed to the next part of the museum.

Emma ran ahead of her friends to the next exhibit, which focused on the Speedforce. The display explained how the Speedforce worked and featured a simulator where visitors could experience a virtual Speedforce; similar to the zero gravity rides at the space museum. There was also a special set-up detailing how a normal person’s body would react to running at such high speeds. A treadmill hooked up tp next to a blood-pressure and heart rate monitor and a pulse oximeter let people see how their vital stats while running compared to Flash or Kid Flash’s. State of the art technology also measured how much sugar, oxygen they burned, along with hydration levels. Avery and Wally gave each other a look.

Should we have her try it? Avery asked.

Definitely. I’ve already noticed she does seem to be able to run faster and farther in gym class. Plus she seems stronger, so there’s a good chance these powers she has are physical too, and not just mental. Except, it might look suspicious if we have her try it and the two of us don’t. But I don’t think you should exert yourself like that, and me, well.

They were surprised to find that Emma had already eagerly stepped onto the treadmill. “What?” She shrugged at them. “I’m just curious. I’ve been working my butt off in Taekwondo lately, and it seems to be paying off.”

“Emma, are you sure? Just, be careful. The last thing we need is you having an asthma attack.” Avery told her worriedly. As much as she wanted to see if her friend really did have some sort of physical powers, she was concerned about her. She knew Emma had had asthma attacks from overexerting herself before, and that Emma had a tendency to push herself too hard. She glanced at Wally. Ok, we need to test this, but we need to watch her carefully. We pull the plug if she starts reaching for that inhaler.

Agreed.

“Don’t worry guys, I have my inhaler.” She waved it at them. “And I can handle a few minutes on a treadmill.” She pressed the start button, having hooked up all the monitors. She started off at a steady walking pace, gradually picking up to a full run.

The next thing she knew she was running faster than she’d ever been able to run before. Normally she hated running, but this. This felt so much different. Like she was flying. It was exhilarating. She was sprinting as fast as she could, and all she could feel was the adrenaline pumping through her veins. Her legs weren’t tired and cramping, her heart wasn’t racing, her forehead wasn’t covered in sweat that dripped into her eyes. Best of all, her lungs weren’t burning and her throat wasn’t constricting. She laughed with excitement as she cranked up the speed. Running had never been this effortless for her. She didn’t bother to glance down at the readout.

Wally’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped when he saw it. A few seconds ago when he’d looked she was going nearly 10 miles an hour. Now she was pushing 20. Her pulse rate had barely climbed and all her other stats looked just as good. He looked at Avery and pointed to the screen. She nodded. He knew Emma’s fastest mile time had only been about 14 minutes in gym class. Even that had been pushing it. She’d already gone five miles at her current speed. A quick mental word to Avery and he pulled the emergency switch on the treadmill, bringing it to a sudden stop.

Emma stared at Avery with a bewildered face. “Why'd you stop it? I feel great! I wanted to keep going!” she whined.

“Emma, you've already been on it for a while. There's a line forming,” she gestured behind them.  “And you were pushing yourself pretty hard. You don't feel it now, but you were going almost 20 miles an hour. Are you sure you feel ok?”

“20 miles an hour?” Emma shrieked in disbelief.

Wally looked around quickly and noticed the crowd staring at the same time Avery sensed them. He placed a hand on Emma's back while Avery took her by the hand and they led her to a quieter corner, away from the nosy throng.

“There's no way! I mean, yeah, I feel great, I've never been able to run like that before! Wow! That fast? Really? How long was I on it for? Dang, I don't even need my inhaler! I wish I could feel like this in class all the time!” She rambled.

“Emma, shhh. You've got to keep your voice down.” Wally reprimanded.

Emma hung her head and fidgeted with the hem on her shirt with one hand, clutching her arm with the other. “Sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you guys. I'm sorry about that. I didn't think I was being that loud. It's just,” she trailed off

Avery took her hand gently, stilling her anxious fidgeting. “It's alright. You didn't embarrass us. You've got nothing to apologize for. We're your friends, we’re never going to be ashamed of you.”

Wally nodded. “Yeah, it's not that. You just need to be careful. You never know who might be listening. It could be dangerous if the wrong people hear you talking like that.”

“Who might be listening? What? I don’t get it. What are you guys talking about? It’s not like we know anyone here,” Emma asked.

Wally gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him directly. He spoke slowly and methodically. “Emma. Think about it.” He paused for a moment as he could see on her face that she was trying to decipher what they meant. “You were going on about how you’re suddenly able to run so fast for so long without feeling it. How you felt like you were flying.” He emphasized the last word. “Why might that not be a good idea to talk about so loudly? In this city, of all places?” Avery watched Emma’s face as her brows furrowed together and she squinted at the ground, biting the corner of her lip. Avery held back from giving her any hints. They needed Emma to figure this out on her own.

What are they talking about? It’s not like I was saying I actually was flying. Why are they so? In this city? What’s he?

Wally saw his friend’s eyes light up and the spark go off just as Avery felt the jolt of static when it finally dawned on Emma. She stood there in shock for a moment before her shoulders began to shake with laughter. She slapped her thigh with one hand, covering her mouth with the other.

She barely caught her breath to blurt out “Wait. You guys don’t think that I? I mean seriously! No, no, no! I do not! I mean, that would be awesome! But no! I’ve just been working my ass lately is all.” She leaned in close and whispered emphatically. “I. Do. Not. Have superpowers.” She added to herself I can’t.

Wally smiled at her excitement and sudden change of mood. That overflowing enthusiasm was one of the things he adored about his best friend. He had hoped for a moment that she might take hearing what he and Avery had to tell better than expected. Then he felt the strange shoving sensation in his mind when she declared she didn’t have powers. A light pressure settled on his head as if somebody was trying to stuff something inside that wouldn’t quite fit. He put his hands up in surrender. “Ok, ok. Say no more. We get it.”

Avery felt something drilling at her temples when Emma made her declaration. She immediately recognized the sensation of someone trying to get past her mental wall. For a split second the idea that Emma could possibly have powers seemed utterly ridiculous to her. She pulled her hand away abruptly and took a small step back as she realized what was happening. “Ok. Wally’s right. But you really should be careful.”

Emma nodded. “Ok, yeah. Yous guys are right.” Her eyes darted around, suddenly self-conscious. I’m being silly, she thought. Out loud she said, “Let’s just go see the next part.”

The group made their way through the museum without even until they came to a life-size statue of Gorilla Grodd with the title “Flash’s Telepathic Foe.” A short video showed the two mid-battle, followed by a brief description of how Grodd’s powers worked, and of course, a bit of how Flash managed to beat him. A case contained a model for the mind control headband Grodd sometimes used. A plaque detailing various theories about how telepathy worked stood next to it. It also gave a bit of information about a few other telepathic opponents, and some allies like Martian Manhunter and Miss Martian.

Emma stared intently at the plaque listing the theories. “So, I don’t get it. How does it work? The telepathy?”

Wally looked up from examining the model of Grodd’s headband. “Are you asking me to explain how telepathy works?”

“Yeah. How does it work? Like, I know most so-called psychics are just really good at reading people and stuff, but what about him?” She gestured to Martian Manhunter’s photo. “What about the real telepaths?”

“Well, there’s a few theories on how it works.” Wally started to explain.

“Just like? Is it science, or magic, or something else?” Emma prodded.

Avery spoke up. “Telepathy can be tricky to define and even harder to recognize. That’s partly because there are so many different types, and each individual telepath has different abilities. As for science or magic, that depends on the person. It can be magic based, but there are also some scientific elements to it.”

“And don’t forget, sometimes advanced science looks like magic until its able to be explained. For Martians, for example, scientists know that it’s something in their genetics that gives them their powers. To us humans, they look like superpowers. But for them, it’s just a normal part of their biology.”

“I think I get it, sort of. But now I just have other questions.” Emma stared at Avery bewildered.

“Hey, hey, don’t worry about it. It’s just one of those things you sort of take for what it is. Don’t overthink it.” Wally patted her arm.

“Hey look! Speaking of. Are you a telepath? Let’s try it. Maybe it can help explain it a bit. You always did learn best with interactive stuff.” Wally pointed excitedly at the sign hanging over a set of computers. “At the very least it could be fun.”

Nice. Avery encouraged Wally. We can see just how much she can control it.

“I don’t know.” Emma shifted her weight back and forth on her feet. Truthfully the little set up did look tempting. She had vehemently denied having powers, but she strongly suspected that wasn’t true. She felt fairly certain Wally and Avery were right about her new physical abilities. She feared there might also be some mental abilities, including possible telepathy. She glanced back at the computer and shrugged. “I mean, I guess. Why not?” She chuckled nervously. “It’s not like this thing is probably that accurate anyway”

Avery agreed to try the test with her first. They sat down as Avery carefully cleared her mind, letting down her barrier just enough to give Emma access without projecting anything herself. She clicked on the screen and selected a handful of images for the test. The idea was for one person to select the images and string them into a sentence, while the other person tried to figure out the sentence, or at least the images. Few people ever got it right, but everyone had fun trying. Emma took her seat across from Avery and waited for her signal to start.

Emma pursed her lips and made eye contact with Avery. She knew Avery like a sister. If she could see the images Avery had picked from, this would be a snap. She squinted at her friend for a few seconds before an image and a strange sensation came to her. She saw several long finger-like projections stretching out in front of her, reaching for Avery. A tickling sensation played at the back or her brain, working its way forward. The tickling became more intense and changed to more of a prickling, like thousands of tiny needles and Emma could just make out the outlines of several shapes. She closed her eyes, in part to ward off the growing pressure in her skull, in part to block out everything else and bring the shapes into focus.

Avery felt a slight pressure at her temples as Emma concentrated. She could see long tentacles coming towards her in her mind’s eye. They wrapped her head, surprisingly gentler than Avery expected. If she had her mental walls up, it would have been more uncomfortable, like somebody drilling at her temples. As it was, it felt like Emma was pulling her hair a bit too hard and tugging at her skull. Avery didn’t notice Emma rubbing at her forehead, but Wally did.

Despite her slowly growing headache, Emma kept focused on the images in her mind’s eye. She was so close to forming a full picture. Wally and Avery might have suggested trying the little test in good fun, but she had to know for sure. She leaned forward, craning her neck as if to see a movie screen. At the same moment, the pictures came into focus, a sound came to her. She opened her eyes and jumped in her seat.

“Um, I think I hear a dog barking?” She closed her eyes briefly again. “And, I think. It’s brown? I see a brown dog.”

Wally glanced from Avery’s screen to Emma, and back. He hadn’t expected results like this.

Emma rubbed her forehead again and squeezed her eyes shut tighter before she continued. “I see a school bus, and I think I hear kids on it. And, there’s one more. I hear, music? It’s, um, I think I see. Um, uh, oh! Is it an iPod? It’s blue.” She opened her eyes as she severed the link, causing Avery to stumble back in her chair a bit. She looked at Avery questioningly, waiting for confirmation. She knew it was strange that she’d actually seen images, let alone heard them. She also knew she should probably be acting like she hadn’t really seen or heard anything, that she should be hiding this. Especially if she really was a telepath. But a desperate curiosity got the better of her. She’d wondered for a few months now, and she knew she could trust Wally and Avery if she could trust anyone.

Avery hadn’t noticed the expectant look on her face while she recovered from the sudden release of pressure and put her psychic walls back up. She had, however, heard what Emma had said. What Emma had said had impressed, shocked, and slightly worried her. She was sure now that her friend was a telepath and a strong one at that.

Wally and Avery watched Emma with faces as passive as possible. “Emma,” Avery started slowly. “You got all of them.”

Sensing Emma’s growing worry, Wally attempted a joking tone o lighten the mood. “Hey, you did so well with this, maybe you can get me the answers to the next math test?”

Emma looked at Wally, then at Avery, expecting them to break out in full laughter. She knew that wouldn’t happen though. “C’mon Avery. What were they really? That’s not possible. There’s like, a million different combinations possible. There’s no way I could have guessed what you picked.” She gulped. “Unless..” Her breath quickened and her hands shook. “No, no, no. Please no.”

Avery answered slowly, carefully. “Emma. That was it. No joke. I don’t joke about matters like these.”

Emma took a small step back, eyes wide. “Matters like these?”

Wally placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go home, Emma. It’s getting late, and we need to talk.”

[helloimnotlame]

We Own The Night - Seth Rollins Smut

A/N: Stressed Seth and Reader take drugs and forget about the world to Dance Gavin Dance. Written in the perspective of being high. Drug use and mentions of anxiety. GIF not mine ; Listen to the song here ! <3

♫Forget my jealously You swallowed the demons on your own♫

You never saw yourself doing hardcore drugs in a million years. Everything about it just made the instinct say no. The side effects, the way it tore people's lives into halves..It wasn't a risk you wanted to take. But this....was needed. This was earned. Besides - it wasn’t like you were getting doped up on the street with Brian Griffin. You were with the man who had your life, who you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. He was laying beside you with a deep glaze of darkness that wrote 'high as fuck' in all caps that steamed into his melted fudge eyes to the long spirals of his hair sprawled across his face like a dry mop.

♫Stomp that feeling, your puke is a mutant Can’t think of who did this, well I grew stupid♫

His bronze greek crafted physique was the only thing you could see in the graphite sheets that inspired a black hole sensation making you feel like you were balancing on thin air. You felt like you were floating just above the thermosphere on a wicked cold cloud with the only thing keeping you grounded being a subtle tingling sensation against your leg. Maybe it was just his lapping over yours - but that'd be the easy answer. Your brain was screaming giant eel, but you were too high to care either way.

♫ Say accidents happen, it’s admirable acting

Flicking the back of your ear with my finger ♫

Your attention was on smile across his face that you never saw before. It wasn’t one of those fake smiles he put on for the kicks nor the solid hoax he put one in response to you asking if he was okay. This - was as genuine as the night. How much you'd give to see him like this all the time..for him to as happy as he was now everyday..it’s a shame how much the law demonizes drugs. 

♫Separate is the way though, no second is the place though Just fake it through the day and the night is your god.♫

His body folded to press his nose against the smooth white desk beside you, lined with alleys of the devil’s snow. His eyelids laid shut in anticipation, his nose inhaling the dusk in one quick motion, leaving no other evidence other than the small residue marking his nose. “Heh, fuck” His ash and sandpaper voice groaned. The TV wasn't even on yet all you could hear when he spoke was Grover form Sesame Street. His voice was already raspy as it was without the drugs and the crank only enhanced it. The sound wasn't bad and if you weren’t high you’d enjoy the harmonic sounds however in this moment, it was too cringey to bear. "Shhh" your finger faintly pressed against his lips but you felt ear. At least your vision manageable or else you would've start digging for gold. His voice croaked as a laugh in response. "Whatever...girl..." that smile again. 

♫ Let your hair down have one more round Drink til you believe it Sloppy kisses, dirty wishes Baby, this is living ♫

Deep down there was hope that this wouldn't ruin his career. Its hard policy with the crank. But that hard policy is what lead him here in the first place. The constant spotlight, the immense workouts, you could tell he was getting frantic. But, the rest of the world's thoughts came later. Now, it was trippy vision, pure relaxation and post-hardcore. "I...I feel like I'm alone right now" his dreary voice stuttered, leading him on top of you - his weight hitting you like the weight a fat baby but still with the presence of its delicacy. He wasn’t holding back. His velvet hands smoothed across your arm until it stopped just in the crease, the pricky tip of a needle replacing his hand. There was a sudden rock in your stomach that spewed fumes of anxiety that you didn’t feel with the crank. Guess you did need another dose. “It’ll only just be a second babygirl...don’t worry...I got you” his scratchy voice consoled, waiting for you to nod your head in permission before continuing. Sure he was high out of his, but at least he was still compassionate. before piercing your skin with the sharp needle and wasting the toxin into your stream. if only you were stable enough for pain. once all the fluid was drained, he released, tossing away the syringe and cupping your chin in his hands. You shared grins - societies renegade druggies.

♫Get up off the wall come on get down get down Give into moment and live now live now♫

It wasn’t long till you felt the effect kick in - your body shivering under him as waves of nirvana poured into your veins. No wonder people get hooked on this shit. It was a feeling like nothing other - but you were strong. And it was only this one time. Right? "That's my girl" he purred his breath the gin to your tonic, the aurora he gave off better than the drugs.  “Yknow, I heard this shit is good for the relationship stuff... and yknow it's hard. So many people fuckin' watching and telling me how to love.." You heard his words loud and clear and even digested every word he said. A response though - you'd have to take a rain check. All you felt like saying was "koala" and didn't know why. Seth noticed and with the subtle drag his tongue glided across his bottom lip in desire for your own, your lips connected, the taste of him was the same as yours but a bit sweeter.

♫I have the heart of a coward Here in my arms is exactly where I want you We own the night♫

The kiss was during with no form yet tumbles of passion found. He got on top of you yet weightless. The gray cloth of his sweatpants hoovering above you was like a weightless kite. His warm lips touched your neck sparking instant sensuality and to the beat of Tillian’s voice your bodies moved ships that clashed into the swivels of the duvet. “You want it ?...As much as I do?” he gasped in between kisses, his lazy body rested into the crook of your neck - his breath panting against your skin almost comparable to the smack of air you fell when entering Walmart.

♫Say accidents happen, it’s admirable acting

Flicking the back of your ear with my finger♫

“I...I want it as much as you do” The words didn’t feel like it came from your mouth. For all you knew - you were a cloud carrying all the hippies of South Central through the sky. And maybe you’d be one of those clouds who look like something legible. Before you could think more you felt his wet lips grasp loosely at your skin. The subtle tingles it left was no match for its real life counterpart. This, was like snake kisses. “You taste so good” he mummered as he suckled on your neck. Who knew the taste of skin would be enjoyable..Maybe it was the perfume. "Yeah?" Hypothetical yet out of your mouth like butter. "Yeah" his dry voice purred in confirmation. If only the words were “Okay” the two of you  would’ve been a perfect spin off to The Fault in Our Stars.

♫See you in battle; your boat is my paddle Your life is my business; your plaque on my wall♫

And if the two of you were stars - boy would there be many faults. But you shined together and only for each other. That’s what mattered. The feeling of Seth’s persusaive tongue, his hands grabbing at your body in complete desire, the aching warmness that began building between your legs...Everything going on began to become so intense and you could feel small moans breathing through your lungs as if it was your breath. "Shhh...baby...you just squaked" Seth cooed giggling under his breath, his finger dragging your lips just as you did. Is that sound you made? You were thinking if it was so much you couldn’t even remember. If only anxiety could be this peaceful in real life. “I got you baby girl...it’s okay”. He was still chucking about it yet you still got the message that it was your cue to relax and let be, let be. You owned the night.

♫I need poison mitigate my pain Feel my toes go golden up in flames Give me false hope in my veins Tranquilize and modify my brain♫

The bare air invaded your skin vulnerable skin as your clothes fell to the beside to the mercy of Seth’s finger pads. His honey dripped body hovered over you like smooth molasses, his aching erection rubbing gliding across your clit giving you chills. A suave hiss slipped from his lips in response to feeling his tip meet your sensitive place, his velvety hand cupping the side of your cheek. By the look in his devilish eyes you could tell he was ready, and you only returned the look. His hips lined up perfectly against yours, his fat cock smoothing into your hole giving you instant sensations at the feeling of being filled. With the high the was no space for pain, but only the immense pleasure you felt from him hips bucking into yours, and his dick filling your walls. “Oh fuck” you breathed, hiking your back and clutching onto his forearms. It was like an all in one sex toy. Everything was twice as hard, twice a deep, all the things you begged him for in normal circumstances. Everything was so intense...and it was amazing. He was writhed with pleasure too by his facial expression twitching trying to find the right way to express itself at the warm tightness of you that sent him into ecstasy.

♫Where did I go wrong? There's nothing I can do the thrill is gone So I play these nervous songs Pretend that I’m not barely hanging on♫

Like steam blowing gently at the boulders your stomach built - you felt another high approaching the one you were already hugged inside. With each pulse and twitch his hard dick writhed through you - you could feel he was going there too.

"Good girl..good girl" he rambled on as his aggression increased, your body bouncing with each thrust he gave.  "My precious little angel...Oh my fuck I need you...I love you...” You could fell his emotions pour out into the cup of escasty, that you took a long gulp of, your orgasm erupting and releasing like little small volcanoes. The highs you shared spoke for itself - Seth collapsing on top of you, and your own body in itself as you laid restlestly in the duvet. 

♫ And medicate Medicate Medicate me all night long♫

That high was over but you still were consumed. It was just added pleasure into the pool of divine you were bathing in. You could tell Seth felt the same way as he fell back into his previous position, right beside you, only his half of his body was now sprawled out on top of yours carelessly. He turned his head to look at you - a crooked yet soft smile across his lips. “Yknow - I’m seeing stuff n’ shit right now but..we’re - we’re in this together...Forever”. Each of Seth's words were dragged by the grasp of his weary voice yet you could tell it was genuine. All the words he wanted to say all this time came out.

[shipitup-blog1]

Daydreaming p.ii

I’ll Be Your Sinner (In Secret)

_______________________

This is the part, you've got to say all that you're feeling, feeling

Packing a bag, we're leaving tonight when everyone's sleeping, sleeping

Let's run away

I'll run away with you

'Cause you make me feel like

I could be driving you all night

And I'll find your lips in the street lights

I wanna be there with you..

•

•

•

The seventeen-year-old’s eyes droop the slightest bit as he tries to continue the focus aimed at his homework, listening to Mr. Stark’s soothing voice hum along to ACDC and somehow make the addictive rough beats sound gentle and sweet, unknowingly lulling his sleep-deprived Gen Z self. He cuddles deeper into the leather jacket his mentor had given him earlier, curling into himself and breathing in the home-y scent of hot coffee, despite the obvious fact it only adds to his sleepiness, and makes FRIDAY silently turn up the room’s heaters — bless her digital soul.

“Pete, you still functioning?” Comments Mr. Stark, amused when he turns from prepping their short dinner to find Peter slumping; nearly snoozing on the marble countertop.

He snorts in even more amusement as the younger practically jumps up, looking like a disgruntled puppy and whipping his fluffy head of wet brown curls back and forth. “I’m up, I’m up! Of course, sir!” Ever the fanboy trying to make a good impression, Peter even rips off the leather jacket, hastily folding it and setting it onto the seat beside him. “Do you want me to go home, now? That’s alright, Mr. Stark, I’m sorry for bothering you, I really was just on my way to Ned’s, but I- well, the spidey senses warned me not to jump into the puddle but I wanted to and yeah my common sense isn’t very sense-y, so I jumped and I slipped on the snap of something slippy in it, my clothes got drenched and I probably bothered you and Happy because you drove past, saw me, picked me up even if you didn’t have to, so I’m really thankful for that but now I’m all good and you’re offering dinner and I’m so sorry-“

Tony chuckles, freezing Peter instantly as the beautiful wheeze of breath washes over his whole body, ringing in his ears, heating him more than the leather jacket with inner cotton could ever. The chuckle eventually turns into sniggers, then laughter, until Peter’s beet red pouting at Mr. Stark gasping for air against the fridge, wondering what exactly was so hilarious.

“You,” Tony starts, “are fucking adorable,” he wipes away nonexistent tears of laughter, causing Peter to pout some more and contemplate whether he and Mr. Stark getting closer together was really a good thing or a bad thing.

(It was certainly giving him mental heart attacks, he could tell you that.)

The man turns up the heat for the pot of pasta, crossing what little space was between them to lean on the counter like Peter, but stood up, smiling at him. “You’ve been ranting a lot, these days, got lots on your mind, huh?”

Uh, yeah, I’m gay for you, his bothersome mind snorts unhelpfully. And I’d like it if you were gay for me too, as in, your dick in—

Alright, alright! Peter snaps at himself, I get it, now shut up, man.

“-asking if you’ve got any issues?” Tony questions, smile a little less ‘lol’ and a little more ‘¿¿¿???’ The confused grin has Peter grimancing, trying to come up with a sensible excuse for him loosing sleep.

You could tell him that you’re procrastinating with homework, staying up late to work on it because you watch funny videos on youtube! Brain Voice #2 supplies, he’d understand—

“I sneak out at night to do the do with MJ,” Peter blurts.

ABORT MISSION. ABORT THE FUCKING MISSION.

...Damn, sad to say I saw that coming.

Tony doesn’t hear the internal argument Peter’s having with his selves at the moment, instead smirking at the fact this teenage kid thinks he could out lie Tony with lying to Tony. “Yeah,” he drawls, “kid, pretty sure you’re not fucking Miss Michelle. Especially when you’re still calling sex ‘doing the do’.“

The man cocks his head to the side, eyes glittering. “But you could be material for sneaking out.”

“Huh?” Peter blinks, sipping the last of his coffee hurriedly so that he had nothing to spit out in case Mr. Stark surprised him.

He watches him shake his head, sighing but smiling. “Nevermind, you still do your best to follow May’s curfew, and that’s rare for kids your age, so I shouldn’t be bad influence.”

That rubs Peter the wrong way.

“Mr. Stark,” he rolls his eyes, “you’re hardly bad influence, I bet I’ve done things that would definitely shock you if you knew.”

Tony grunts, stirring the spagetthi sauce for them, eyebrows raised, “wow, sport, lemme guess, you came home a minute past curfew? Badass.”

Peter huffs at the mocking tone, standing to sway his way towards the elder, common sense definitely missing as he seductively trails his fingers up Tony’s exposed tan bicep, gently snuggling into him. Slowly, he whispers, “I could be worse for you, sir, I could.”

Tony growls, gripping Peter’s hips in a bruising hold that has the boy whining softly, niping his ear before the former remembers fuck- he’s just a kid what are you doing?

“I meant going on a short late night road trip, Pete,” he tries to clear the rumbling of his throat, nudging Peter back.

The younger simply grins with youthful rose cheeks and touseled locks, looking all too accomplished by the little stunt he pulled, rocking back n forth on his heels and toes. “That actually sounds really fun, Mr. Stark! We should try that after dinner.”

“...I knew you wouldn’t say no to my awesome cooking,” Tony awkwardly jokes, light atmosphere returning and sweeping away the previous heavy beginnings of ‘Sex Haze’ that totally screwed the inappropriate thoughts of his mentee he’d tried burrying ages ago.

[~]

“I don’t think I can take anymore pop,” Peter hiccups as he chugs down another can of cream soda, giggling with his head propped nearly out of the open shotgun window. His fluffy hair whips around in the wind, brushing his face and simply causing Tony to appreciate the adorable beau beside him. The man speeds up, on the empty, no-cameras highway, winking at Peter. “Time to be cliché, go ahead.”

Carly Rae Jepsen’s Runaway is bursting into the night air and Peter’s eardrums, especially because everything’s cranked to eleven, but the boy unbuckles his seatbelt and throws away the can at some rando tree, drunk on sugar, since everything needs to be cranked to twelve, now.

“I’m a fucking adult!” He whoops, hands on the glass of the topless car, standing dangerously on his sock-covered toes at the edge of his leather seat. There’s a few answering crows that have good enough timing that make him giggle deliriously, Tony laughing along because this was incredibly awesome. Really, how did he not come up with this before? The wind rushes past his ears, blushing his cheeks and cooling the previous resting heat in him.

He looks at Tony, who’s already staring back, grinning, and blows him a kiss which he takes in hand and presses to his cheek.

(Maybe Tony didn’t want nothing sexual yet, but Peter’d be damned if he didn’t try his chick-flick-flirting.)

“Let’s run away,” the older starts lowly, tilting his head back to focus on Peter’s dazzling smile.

“I’ll run away, with you,” Peter sings aloud, throwing his hands into the air repeatedly.

Baby, take me to the ceiling

I’ll be your sinner in secret

When the lights go out

Run away with me, run away with me!

The seveteen-year-old can’t stop the adrenaline rush in his veins and the pure joy; pure sappy love in his head, thanking everything and everyone he’s fallen for Tony Stark, because the man, try as he does to deny and hide it, has fallen for him too.

That’s magic, if Peter would ever admit.

Not too surprising though; every moment he spent with Tony was magic.

This your chance, Peter, a voice eerily close to Karen’s echoes to him alone, kiss him.

He studies Tony’s sharp brown hair, saliva-wet lips, handsome goatee and strong form. He stares thoughtfully at those comfy arms that held him steadily when needed, at the hands that could put him to bed with one simple brush, and dopily sighs, a little too whipped for a spider-mixed-teen.

Yeah.

He’s thanking Tony correctly.

Sat down and silent, Peter leans onto Tony’s shoulder, ignoring how he tenses, lowering the radio’s volume. “Thanks for this, Mr. Stark, it’s helped me blow off a bit of steam from the whole MIT and superhero-ing stress.” He sees the clenched muscles of Tony’s arm relax, and runs his palm over them, just to enjoy the sight of those hard ridges stiffening.

“No problem,” Tony answers quietly, probably over thinking the situation like he always did, questioning Peter’s actions for hormones instead of actual crushing-flirting-trying.

“Can I ask for something, right now?” He breathes softly, enraptured by the moonlight on Tony’s face, petting the soft bristles near his cheek and on his chin.

“More cream soda?” His soon-to-be boyfriend jokes, and Peter can’t stop the high giggle that escapes him, because this nervous 48-year-old acted so close to his age it was honestly endearing. “No,” he sits up, wondering if fate put on Carly Rae’s song on purpose, cupping Tony’s face. “Kiss me, please.”

The car stops.

Peter’s heart stops in anticipation.

Tony shakily exhales, closing his eyes, but not pulling away Peter’s lax hands. “Pete-“

“Hold onto me,” he pleads in tune to the song, pressing their foreheads together. Tony told him it was time to be cliché, and he was gonna be as cliché as he could be, right now. “I never wanna let you go,” the whispered truth pulls Tony’s arms to wrap around him, and Peter’s heart speeds again. He almost sobs in relief, that his fella doesn’t casually reject him as usual. For some reason, spidey senses were telling him this was the last chance he had to confess.

The man’s thumb brushes his exposed hipbone gently, breath smelling of coffee and mint in an oddly addictive mix, over taking all of Peter in a way that was so Tony he wanted it candled and burning in his room forever.

“You have to be sure you want this,” Tony mumbles, croaky with something just as pleading as the former, “I don’t know what I’d do if you pull away- Peter, fuck, this is so fucked up.. I’m ruining your life-“

“Ruin me,” Peter laughs, light and floaty, “you ruin me instead, I love it, I love you.”

The kiss that follows is so innocent Peter wants to giggle and cry at the same time, brief and gentle but so, so worth every painful awkward moment between them. It has him shuddering and begging internally for more, yet he just beams at the moment, the first peaks of sunlight poking at his closed lids, Tony’s laughter stuck on replay.

“I love you shouldn’t be said before the first date, kiddo,” he chuckles, sounding high as well, almost glowing. “I think we did this whole thing backwards.”

Peter snorts, pecking him shortly on the cheek, cuddling him like he’s always wanted to, “not really, it’s not completely backwards until you fuck me before we get to the first date.”

“You little shit,” Tony chokes, flicking his ear, only earning a playful kiss to his finger.

It’s the happiest Peter’s felt himself be in weeks, and that’s amazing; Tony’s amazing.

(What he doesn’t know is that this wouldn’t just be the first, but also the last time he’d get to run away from the world with Tony.)

•

•

•

(With their packed schedules, and brief meetings, Peter doesn’t get to drive freely with his lover even once after their sole time, and the last time he sees the savior of his childhood — his Tony — is on an alien planet, when the world turns to gold.

“I’m sorry, I love you,” he wanted to sob.

“I’m sorry,” is all he gets to say.)

_______________________

:)

[do-not-trust-robots-blog]

No Particular Place to go

June 11th, 1974

The sound of a car speeding off in the distance informed me that she was gone. It all started about a week ago. In the dead of night when my daughter assumed everyone was fast asleep she would sneak out to be with her, in my opinion, useless boyfriend. But I never slept.

Most fathers would be terrified at the prospect of their precious daughters riding off into the night with a hormonal 20-something doing who knows what, but unlike most I was still able to recall the memories of my youth. I remembered the days of reckless behavior, run-ins with the laws, and things that would make Sally and that wannabe punk’s head spin.

***

February 22nd, 1946   

Johnny Hollin’s car roared to life illuminating the dim street and beaming a kind of crude spot light on his long time sweetheart, May Jane Larey. She stood in her ravishing pale form blushing and fiddling with the ends of her loud yellow dress, as if Johnny and I hadn’t already seen her in more compromising positions. What a tart.

No matter how sweet and innocent May pretended to be when she was with her parents eating that shit they called dinner, Johnny and I both knew that under those soft smiles and shy glances May hid her true self. Mary was a whore. Just the images floating around my mind of the things May could do, the things that only we got to see, sent shivers down my spine and caused my breathing to quicken.

After three agonizing minutes of May pretending to contemplate the idea of getting into Johnny’s car, she finally stopped being a tease and got in. Johnny greeted her with a sloppy kiss and a rough squeeze of her rear causing her to let out an adorable yelp. Such a fucking tease. I knew she did these little things on purpose to rile me up. All the things that she did sent an unquenchable fire coursing through my veins destroying every nerve ending in its path. But that was love wasn’t it? Dragging a person to the very brink of insanity before gathering them back into your enduring embrace. The two drove off leaving me to follow in the isolated darkness.

I’d follow the couple to the same place every night, for a bite to eat. May would wrap those dusty pink lips around whatever Johnny bought her, usually a number four with extra relish. Then they’d drive around the small town acting like they didn’t know where to go next, a useless attempt to salvage their purity, but they knew, we all knew.

Richard Road was about a mile away from May’s parent’s house. The older folks in town who had forgotten the ways of the young, only thought of the place as a gravel road that led to nothing. To the posterity of Texarkana, it was the only place to escape the inquisitive eyes of noisy neighbors and strict parents. Some described it as their safe haven, a home away from home. But let’s just call it what it really was. Texarkana’s crude version of  Lover’s Lane.

A place where the likes of Johnny and May could come and give each other the time without interruption, and people like myself could do what we do best under the cover of the trees. I parked down the street lateral to Richard road about half a mile back, and gathered all the things necessary for a pleasurable viewing of tonight's events. An old pillow case, most likely stole from Dad, with small crooked holes cut out for practical reasons, a flashlight, and a little extra heat just incase Johnny wasn’t in a very cooperative mood.

I secured the pillowcase tightly around my head with a simple shoestring. May would surely be frightened by my current appearance, there was no possibility that either teen would recognize me. For hours I had worked on lowering the octave in which I speak so that it resembled deep growl when I spoke, and over the course of my meticulous planning I’d packed on the pounds so much so that I rivaled even Hale the Whale, the biggest guy in town. When I finished my trek, Mary and I would lock eyes. Her brown eyes would open wide with fear and a hint of surprise and a high pitched shriek would rip out her throat cutting through the bitter air like a bullet. It would be the first note in a symphony of pain and misery.

I hadn’t missed much by the time I made my short nerve wrecking trek to the car. Johnny sang along to one of the ceaseless songs on the radio trying to pull a laugh out of pigheaded May. Finally he gave up his futile attempts at humor, turned off the overhead light, and began to furiously tickle May. The innocent act was only so for a second. Johnny’s calloused hands started to drift down the hem of the luminous yellow dress May adored so much.

May froze at the “new” sensation, as if she wasn’t already accustomed to it, but inevitably she melted into his increasingly aggressive touches. She let her back arch off of the faux leather seat, and her lips part ever so slightly releasing all those pent up emotions she’d been grasping onto so tightly. And it was that final glorious breath that let the heavens know that our May, the one the world tried to keep locked in a cage of modesty and purity, had broken free of societies bonds. Now she was in the form that I was most acquainted with. The May that seemed to glow under the moonlight, the May that was permanently coated in a thin sheen of sweat, and the May that couldn’t bare to be silent for even a moment. This was the Mary that we loved.

Any other night I would have let the couple continue their teenage fumblings until Johnny’s movements faltered, his face contorting beyond recognition, and May couldn’t stop singing. Then, the two would use whatever napkins they had leftover Harleys to make themselves presentable to the world outside. May would powder her dampened cheeks in the passenger's side mirror, covering the woman I knew and replacing her with May Jeanne Larey, the girl with the sweet smile and perfect grades. I despised this May.

Tonight would be different. I pulled the piece that seemed to be burning in my back pocket out and cocked it. A whisper in the edges of my mind cautioned the idea of bringing it at all. What if Johnny overpowered you? After all he is Johnny Hollis and you’re just a guy trying to attack him and his girl. No. I’d already thought of that. If Johnny even thought about getting smart with me I splatter his brain on the gravel, and even if he didn’t, even if Johnny was a perfect gentleman tonight, I might just do it anyways. It would be a marvelous, like some morbidly beautiful painting created by me. It would be the first artistic thing I’d ever done.

The gun fit perfectly in my gloved hands as I strolled casually to the rusty pick up, and the crunch of my feet as I marched to the driver’s side door rang through the air like thudding drums of war. I, in this scenario, the brave chieftain riding off to defend his clan and they were the invading puritans coming to rid me of my land.

With a gentle knock on the glass I notified the couple of the guest presence here on the desolate road. I never had seen Johnny so flustered in all my life. The boy shot at least three feet in the air at the sound hitting the ceiling with his head. He looked around attempting to find the source of the interruption. He falsely assumed that it was and animal or maybe even a cop, but instead he found me. Two sets of curious eyes began to scan my mask. I could only imagine the thoughts and assumptions racing through their minds.

I tapped again more urgently this time snapping the two out of their trance. But it wasn’t my tapping that did the trick. It was the subtle flash of the small silver piece in my other hand, the piece that could rip families apart and plunge neighborhoods into chaos that propelled Johnny to crank down his window. I was greeted with a wondrous foreign smell that was almost, almost indescribable. Being an observer in a place like this you never got the chance to experience the smell. Not matter how well you knew your subjects or how close you were that was something only they got to have. Not tonight.

Johnny’s voice shattered my enjoyment. ‘’Fellow… You’ve got me mixed up with someone. Y-you’ve got the wrong man.’’ This Johnny was no longer the confident man that could have any broad of his choosing, he was a scared little boy on the verge of wetting his trousers.

‘’I don’t want to kill you fellow, so do what I say.’’ A blatant lie. The one reason I had watched them for so long and knew them so intimately was not because of May’s earth shattering beauty or the fact that Johnny is a walking talking embodiment of the male image. I was here right here right now to fulfill this sick and twisted fantasy that had been brewing in darkest corner of my consciousness for years. And tonight things were going to end on my terms.

***

June 11th, !974

A loud crash shook me from my pleasant stroll down memory lane. Sally was home. From what I could gather off of my hearing alone, she had most likely miscalculated a step as she crawled through her small bedroom window, perhaps a cosmic punishment for her juvenile crimes. I expected her to just let out a pained groan, realize she was being quite loud, and crawl into bed dreaming about the boyfriend she foolishly believed she’d marry. If only reality would conform to baseless human expectations.

Frantic steps pounded towards the bedroom door that separated my wife, May, and I from our children. Luckily May was extremely difficult to disturb once asleep. The bedroom door flew open. Light from the hallway spilled caused my eyes to sting, having become so adapted to the cool darkness.

Sally stood before me. The sporadic rise and fall of her flat chest could be seen even in this blinding light and her skin, which favored my darker pigment, was speckled with fresh crimson blood. I could smell it from here. Thoughts of logical reasons behind her current appearance flooded my mind.  “Yeah dad we went to this groovy costume party and I got a little fake blood on me! Look see it's just corn syrup and food coloring!” Then with her index finger she would wipe one of the specks off and taste it with a giggle, I would tell her how much she had scared me, and we’d have a good laugh. But I knew. I knew.

Her voice quivered as she shattered the perfect reality I had created for us in this quiet peaceful suburb. ‘’Dad I did something really bad.’’

[soundspotting]

Trentemøller - The Last Resort

Trentemøller’s music is a revelation to me, he’s one of those artists who master their art gracefully and solemnly and who work persistently at improving their skills and at pushing the boundaries of their art. His finely crafted cinematic sound, intricate and eclectic, rightfully bears the mark of Scandinavian authenticity, while remaining in a timeless global and essentially human form of cathartic expression. His music folds and enfolds like the North Sea waves. His ethos permeates everything, from composition to choosing vocals, to album art, to his mind-blowing live performances.

Trentemøller’s debut album, The Last Resort was released 12 years ago, but ever since I discovered it maybe 9 years ago, it remained one of my favourite albums. As Trentemøller himself recounted in an interview, the album’s release followed a time of self-doubt and then of reinvention, and I feel this personal trajectory is truthfully pieced together into the sound journey that is this album, a beautiful blend of natural and industrial, of organic, mineral and metal. A contrast of light and dark, of sweet and bitter, of gentle innocence and harsh realities. Thrill and discipline balanced carefully by the minimalist touch of the Copenhagen born musician.

The Last Resort begins unassumingly, in a stream of consciousness style. An 80s synth pop line progresses with elements which announce Trentemøller’s style on this album: dark cello and violin notes, feminine moans and whispers, building up like a flurry of butterflies in a rainforest clearing, to drop, anti-climactic, into a minimalist beat, clean and elegant like the smooth lines of Danish architecture. Western-like guitar riffs, natural sounds and mellow bells mark Take Me Into Your Skin and this album. In a calculated step, you’re taken into the depths, under the sea, to the real beats beneath your skin, the ones your very cells vibrate to and even deeper. You’re then brought back up gently, to a cityscape with lights slowly fading and bells swaying in the early morning wind.

This album has been my shaman through the struggles and perils of writing my master thesis a few years back, and Vamp is one song that really helped me get those thoughts in line. It’s a dark, but more upbeat melody, maintained by a catchy bass line, joined gradually by jazzy soft rock lines in almost imperceptible crescendos and decrescendos, while the bass line grows stronger and stronger. There’s an element of surprise that’s a gift unravelling itself to your ears and your mind. Crank up the volume, wiggle in your chair, bob your head in your cubicle, whatever works. Let your hair down metaphorically for a few bars, then go back to the basics.

It’s midnight in the forest, your heart is pounding in your ears. The darkness is teeming with life, screeching, crawling, creaking. The city and its restlessness fading into the background, you dare delve deeper into the Unknown. There is something raw, primordial about this Evil Dub, ignited as it is by tribal drum beats refined in the long nights of the northern latitudes.

When you listen, when you really really listen, you discover layer after layer of sound like soft peels of translucent smoke that Trentemoller carefully weaved along the path of this misty journey. To go further means to turn your steps inwards and let the music flow through layers upon layers of perception, down to the root of your being.

Along this inner track, you’re lullabied by Always Something Better into an exploration of a sort that takes you back to Orbital, Daft Punk and Little People all at once. The drop is well worth the industrial, thorny track through the abandoned building site leading to it. Albeit a well-calculated, disciplined drop, coming from a skilled, self-aware touch.

While The Cold Winter Waiting  follows naturally from the previous piece, just like the seasons succeed each other in nature. Trentemøller skillfully paints through his music bleak, cold mornings in the midst of the Danish winter. Days of dappled seaborne clouds, when the trees seem to retreat into a mineral state, leafless and dark, taking that journey back to the source of life, appearing lifeless only for a while. As a counterpoint, beautifully interwoven amongst the empty mornings, are the warm evenings indoors, candles lit, passions tempered, hopes held close and nurtured. Within the bleakness, there is a spark, a hope, a seed. We are the pain and also the way out of the pain. Breathe in, feel, breathe out, relax, merge with the cold waves and surrender to the enveloping warmth.

‘Music is a big prayer’. Time for the Nightwalker, a reference perhaps to the character from Japanese mythology so wonderfully and magically depicted in Studio Ghibli’s classic ‘Princess Mononoke’, the dark and ruthless but equally beautiful and fragile face of the Forest Spirit. The mystery of the god that is both good and evil. The light in the dark – the hope, the fire in the middle of winter. Placed almost at the middle of the album, Nightwalker is an exquisite musical metaphor for the time of the year when sunlight is at its lowest in the Northern hemisphere and perhaps introspection at its deepest. One of my favourite pieces on this album.

At this point along the path, the haze of melancholy and reverie wearing out, you may find at the core of this album the pain of separation. Thunder drums and cymbals sound out a bad omen, the cello mourns an empty space. In style and feel, Like Two Strangers takes me back to Unsaid of Little People, another beautiful bittersweet recount of personal memories through the impersonal filter of samples.

The Very Last Resort washes over the remnants of these memories with its entrancing acoustic guitar picking. A lyrical depiction of the wonders of the human brain, able to fuse past memories with present regret and melancholy as if no time has passed at all. Sounds, wounds, voices become muffled. It’s as if you’re witnessing the memory of a couple’s argument fished out of Dumbledore’s Pensieve. The argument, the melancholy, the regret reverberate through the mind, blurring and stretching images and sounds, like reflections in a distorting mirror. An overarching sense of finality lingers. The beat returns just in time and brings you back to the present. In the end it all fades into the dark pool of forgetfulness.

Onto story laden scar tissue fall delicate sounds, some close and clear, some faint and muffled, like winter’s first snow fall that begins slowly, shyly, covering the noise of abstract rush. Pause, look, feel, admire, let your eyes be amazed, let your heart and your ears follow the soft intermingling of chimes and drums. And be prepared to welcome The Beat into your musical veins. Snowflake is a nine minute conversation with the snow fall, in which the almost frantic discourse of the main line, like an interior flow of consciousness, comes up against the quiet evanescence of the ice crystals, making their way to the ground.

From snow covered ground to deep sea water, you’re taken on a dive way below into the ocean rifts, into the realm of the plankton and bioluminescent sea worms. Your heart pounding in your ears, you’re dazzled by the richness and rhythm of fluorescent life. There’s a growing ominous presence sinuously whirling around you, just that bit out of reach, like a hidden Kraken of sorts, or the mother of sandworms on Dune, a sort of mythical Chameleon.

Once you’ve grabbed that chance to get close to that elusive Chameleon, you can now carry this chance home, back through the forest. The emotions welling up towards this point receive their well-deserved relief. Into The Trees unravels the tension through an upbeat house vibe, while blending perfectly in the larger painting that is this album, such that it all becomes a continuous ebb and flow of the same exuberant story.

As if to help bring you back to your usual more mundane endeavors, Moan starts out with a symphony of echoes and fragments of everyday life, which converge towards the main line of the song. It’s a gentle, touching, yet powerful melody telling of woes, wonders and past events. It ends in a classical manner, with an almost imperceptible wisp of wind blowing across sand.

From this fine touch of sand grains on the skin emerges Miss You – with subtle touches of pan drums, with soft piano and sobbing violin. It’s one of the most beautiful bittersweet pieces of electronic music I’ve listened to, full of both elation and sadness, so much like the feeling of longing - the pain of the separation mixed in with the warmth of the memory of closeness.

[This is just the piece for a soulful flowing dance such as a bunch of artists have put together here (In fact if any of you know who made this video/where the footage comes from, please write in your comments so I can credit them properly, I haven’t been able to work this one out). 

The mash up of Miss You by Trentemøller and Teardrop by Massive Attack is a fantastic example of a skillful blend of dedicated artists, classic beats and beautiful movements, a meta mix through decades of electronic music. The sinuous body movements, the faceless dancers covered in silky sheets, resembling characters in Magritte’s paintings and the beats in Teardrop perfectly complement the pan drums and the softness in Miss You.]

The Last Resort is masterfully complete with this last piece. The album is rounded and rich in experience and in feelings, and it’s intricate like an impressionist oil painting. What’s more, by being the best version of itself, it’s infinitely delightful and inspiring (even the album cover art left such an imprint onto my subconscious that one day I painted [this], at the time consciously unaware of the source of my inspiration). A fine balance of melancholy and burning spirit permeates The Last Resort, transforming the cold impersonal feel of electronic instruments into natural, organic sounds which give Trentemøller’s music life, warmth and character.

[phantombs]

littlebutternattie​:

if this whole setup was drawn across comic book pages, coming to life through exaggerated yet well-funded, bring on the six to eight digits of cash flow, animations that had no dire need for green backdrops, wires, and whatnot, natsuki would have had an incredulous stream of smoke that drolly formed unidentifiable polygons continuously blowing off her ears as each vein left a remarkable dent on her once porcelain skin, now with a sheen layer of sweat that gave her blooming cheeks a painful glow. was it the spirits still floating through her blood vessels? maybe not, sobriety was looking quite reachable at this point. was it the lack of ventilation? possibly. it was getting stuffy indoors and the unmistaken scent of concoctions mingling with human poison … sickening but intoxicating depending on who senses them. was it him? yeah, most definitely. / Read more.

This wasn't a comic book, no. Still, you could've had him fooled with a strong keg of whiskey. After all, Lady Piña Coladas, eyes sprung saucer-like and wide, has the cruel Grim Reaper shadowing her doorstep. Yet, it isn’t for something real like a heat stroke or heart attack, but for her ego teased wild and her embarrassment on high. Dramaticism, that is. And Cường, a oneiromancer, has seen his fair share of dying, but this, he admits, is just a plenty bit new. She squeaks like a barn mouse, and he huffs out a rumble. Rolling out his tummy, it sounds like a laugh. "Noon. Shouldn't it strike midnight instead?” He shrugs, studying the gold of his booze. "Well, we have good news then, Cinderella, or whatever it is you are: your hemorrhage healed over. So cool it a little bit and lay off the drinks. Sounds simple enough to me. Is that doable for you?” Of course! Sure. Thank god, yes.

Natsuki, nerves untangling, now visibly relaxes. Count her lucky stars: she’d somehow cheated death! Who'd have thought! Grinning, the bartender trades him a look conspiratorial in nature, and he says not a word of it. This gardener, as she'd thought, is as harmless as she'd figured! He's a gentleman, polite, and cranks lovely up a notch. “No way to ignore me anymore? Wow. I must have really left quite the impression on you,” he starts. Rearing his head, the door chimes ringing when an old couple skulks in, his eyes drag careful and black as dream. His iced whisky noisily clatters. It joins her mental song of brandy on the rocks. "Well, Natsuki, stop talking so seriously. It’s fine. Come if you want to,” he deadpans. “Of course, I’m inviting you obviously, and I’ll have your daffodils ready, too. But I’m not your stepmother, last time I checked. And last time I checked, I’m not your keeper either." Got that, Cinderella? He blinks. Cường whirls his tumbler around, and tonguing his rich alcohol’s flavor, catches the bright of her smile. It scrunches up her eyes a little like moon-winks, and she’s finally, steadily, looking clearer of mind. Good, he confesses. She laughs honestly, evidently humored. He listens to it dither as the soft jazz croons.

But just as quickly as she’s stable, maybe even halfway to confident, that roaring color returns to her face. Cường doesn’t understand it. He barely even tries, doesn’t even think to, admittedly, yet here she’s sat astounded with garnets up her cheeks! Wow. You– you made this for me? she quivers. “That's right,” he rumbles. “Just for you. Now, drink it all up before you wake up sick.” How kind. It's fragrant, a careful, satisfying blend of turmeric and hand crushed ginger. He knows it's perfect being the best in the business, and she nurses it carefully, dutifully, slow. "No. Your kids were all good," he sips. "Very good. A little like student like teacher, I'd think they say." His implication's right: no kid at that age spoils just any adult. Sentimental, she looks endeared by this. Her expression warms like honey, heart three times bigger, and that, Cường proposes, fits her well. Yet, very suddenly like some odd hybrid chameleon, she fires up, fresh fire on her tongue. Wow. I like challenges, she mutters. And you? "Need I say I'm undefeated?" Ooooh. Her stool creaks, and stepping on its footrest, Cường slows it still. "Are you asking me as a teacher or a student? I like the ones I write most. Do you play or want to?"

[artificialqueens]

New Man Part 3 // Rolling in the Deep (Biadore) - Fucking Awful.

A/N: Back with Part 3 of the New Man saga! Another 3500 words of Biadore angst that I swear is going to get happy in a chapter or so. I think there will be 5 chapters, maybe a 6th. Few things:

First, funny story: “Fucking Awful” was actually supposed to be the name of Chapter 2, but because I’m a dumbass and don’t understand the naming conventions it ended up as my author name. AND I AM SO HAPPY ABOUT IT because you know what, I am fucking awful.

Second: This is back in Danny’s POV. I like switching back and forth, but I feel I get Danny (or the version of him that lives in my trash brain) a little better. There are few train of thought moments, designated by italics. 

Third: Back to song inspiration, this time from a different British redhead – the goddess Adele, and “Rolling in the Deep.“ (Link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rYEDA3JcQqw) No one is singing, its just a soundtrack to what happens here. Lyrics are in italics AND indented. 

Fourth: Let me know if these are too long and wordy. It’s something I get critiqued on professionally, so I’m keen to reel in unnecessary words in my creative/for fun writing.

Alright that’s it, hope you enjoy this! XOXO Fucking Awful

 “Oh shut UP!” Danny yelled at no one in particular, grasping blindly for his phone to shut off the alarm. “Fuck! Shit! Balls!” He finally managed to quiet the Marimba. 10:12am. An hour and 33 minutes until Johnny would be there to pick him up. Just enough time for a run – Danny was into fitness now – and a shower before brunch with his friends and…oh God.

Danny remembered he had to see Roy today, and out came a full body groan. He had spent the last 2 weeks telling his crew how excited he was for them to meet Roy – his Willow and his best friend, not just that guy from TV. But now everything was so utterly fucked, and after last night he could barely look at Roy let alone fawn over him at a bottomless brunch. Dragging himself out of bed and into workout clothes, Danny mentally prepared for what was coming.

Roy is cheating on his boyfriend. Roy is trying to cheat on his boyfriend with you. You basically told him to fuck off and that you don’t want to know him anymore. Now you are going to spend the whole day with him. Party.

He was now fully awake, partially from the blast of cold Seattle air but mostly from seething anger. What in the fuck did Roy think he was doing? The Haylock he knew wasn’t a cheater, he wasn’t even into open relationships. Moreover, he knew infidelity was the ultimate sore spot for Danny.

They’d talked about this a million times, and Danny had probably cried about it a million more. Adore’s free love persona had made a lot of guys think they could take advantage of Danny, both cheating on him and using him as an instrument of their own cheating. Every time it crushed Danny, made him feel worthless. A committed relationship is a committed relationship, and stepping out on a partner is the ultimate sign of betrayal and disrespect. Fuck that guy (Kyle? Tyler? Who cares.) that Roy was dating, but he still didn’t deserve to be cheated on.

And Danny didn’t deserve to be treated like a whore. That Roy thought Danny would be ok with being the Other Man was what hurt and angered him the most. Danny could feel his heart racing as he stretched. He had to calm down and play this afternoon all flazeda, so his friends wouldn’t ask questions. He knew they saw Roy making out with the stranger, something they were sure to ask about, but there’s no way they saw the 7 seconds in Heaven outside. If Danny could just act normally, he could help Roy deflect uncomfortable quest –

“Oh fuck THAT!” Again, to no one in particular. He knew what he was listening to for the next five miles, on a loop…

There’s a fire starting in my heart Reaching a fever pitch, and it’s bringing me out the dark

—

An hour and a half later, Danny was showered and getting ready – still blasting “Rolling in the Deep” on repeat.

Finally I can see you crystal clear Go ‘head and sell me out, and I’ll lay your shit bare

The “chill” plan was no more. Some combination of Adele and adrenaline transformed hurt and disappointed Danny into a pissed off, vengeful queen. He was rocking an all-black look to brunch – hair tied back under a beanie, long sweater and t-shirt, jeans and Docs – but he painted on some red eye shadow for a little extra fire.

In the years he had known Roy, Danny had never been really and truly mad at him. Annoyed or frustrated, sure, but never angry. So this full-body heartburn of rage that was coursing through his veins and shooting out his fingertips was strange to say the lest.  

See how I leave with every piece of you Don’t under estimate the things that I will do

“If you’re going to listen to music about a woman scorned, shouldn’t you at least play Lemonade?” Johnny let himself into the apartment, sneaking past Danny who was too wrapped up in belting along with the track.

“Beyoncé may be the queen, but Adele is still good shit.” Danny didn’t even glance up, finishing the smoky rust around his lids. “Plus this track fucking goes.” He turned up the stereo louder with one hand, swiping on mascara with the other.

Johnny reached over to stop the music. “Speaking of going, we have to. Jinkx is picking up Roy” – Danny flinched imperceptibly - “and everyone else is already there. If we don’t leave now we’re gonna be…Oh, I’m sorry. Is heroin chic a daytime look now?” Johnny raised an eyebrow.

Danny smirked and chucked his mascara at his cousin. “Fuck all the way off, let’s go.”

—

Baby I have no story to be told But I’ve heard one on you and I’m gonna make your head burn

Much to Johnny’s chagrin, the Adele fest continued in the car. The full 20-minute drive was spent listening to the thumping kick-drum and haunting chorus, Danny swatting his hand away anytime he tried to switch the music.

“Dude, c’mon. This is the eighth time; can we please listen to literally anything else?”

“No. I need to feel…empowered.” Danny didn’t want to elaborate.

“Empowered to do what? Look, I know some weird stuff happened last night – great job making it awkward, by the way, don’t think we didn’t all notice – but can we please not make a scene today? I have people to impress.”

Danny knew that Johnny was trying to date one of his new friends, and he was fully in support of his cousin getting it in. “It wasn’t me who – I didn’t – ok.” Instead of turning it off, Danny reached over and cranked the music louder.

Think of me in the depths of your despair Make a home down there, ‘cause mine sure won’t be shared

If he wasn’t going to say anything to Roy, at least he could feel the revenge fantasy for the rest of the drive.

–

The table of 15 was taking up the back patio of a little hipster spot in Capitol Hill. Johnny had almost immediately broken off to make romantical moves, so Danny settled into the open seat opposite Roy and Jinkx.

“Hey Danny! Doesn’t someone look nice today!” Jinkx had a smile plastered on his face, while Roy sat next to him looking more than a little sullen.

Danny reminded himself to keep it together, for Johnny’s sake. “Thanks! Felt pretty chill when I woke up this morning, but it wouldn’t be me without something a little ratchet.” Good, normal conversation.

“Well jeez, way to assume he was talking about you queen.” The words flew out of Roy’s mouth so fast, he almost looked like he was surprised he said them out loud. Danny reacted sharply, brow furrowed and lip curled as he shook his head ever so slightly.

“I was, of course I was!” Danny heard a muffled THUD under the table, and saw Roy flinch. “I love it. Seattle looks good on ya, kid. Doesn’t it, Roy?” Danny thought it was strange that Jinkx was speaking to Roy like he was scolding a toddler.

“Of course, I’m kidding.” More strangeness, Roy sounded almost sheepish. “You look great. You always look great.”

We could’ve had it all Rolling in the Deep

As angry as he was, Danny couldn’t help smile at the complement. How did Roy continue to have this effect on him?

You held my heart inside your hand And you played it to the beat

“Yeah well, adopting the finer points of your clown makeup has its perks. Color can be a good thing.” Roy smiled a bit at that, melting Danny like ice in the desert.

What the fuck are you doing? Remember how you feel!

Danny snapped out of it. “I’m fucking starving, what are you guys getting? Jesus, what food could we even fit here? There’s no space.” He made a show of feeling cramped, and hollered across the table. “Katie, can we try to –“

“Well hey there bitches, room for one more?”

Danny whipped around, as if he needed to see who it was to know the voice. Entrance sisters are forever, after all.

“Not for you, you sneaky little shit! You’re back early!” He jumped out of his seat to hug DeLa, who wasn’t supposed to be back from Australia for another three days. God, Danny was happy to see Ben.

“Yeah well, for a penal colony the Land Down Under is surprisingly low on eligible dick. I think I’ve made my way through the entirety of New South Wales at this point.” DeLa waved to the rest of the table before making his way over to Jinkx and Roy.

“Did you borrow my sailboat to get back here, you twat? Come ‘ere.” Roy stood up to hug the queen, too. Danny was surprised how happy Roy was to see Dela, they were friends but he didn’t know they were that close.

“No grandma, we have planes now. I left the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria safely in your boat house,” Ben quipped back as he went to hug Jinkx.

“Not bad, fruit fly. Not bad.” Roy sat down and Dela rounded the table back to Danny, who had made space for him.

“So, catch me up. How’s it going?” For half a second, Danny swore he saw Ben look meaningfully at Roy and then Jinkx. “Isn’t this just a great little reunion –” THUD. There was that muffled sound again, but this time it was Ben flinching.

“Sorry guys, I know it’s cramped and we keep hitting each other.” Danny apologized.

“It’s fine Danny, really. Everyone just needs to be a little more careful.” Jinkx smiled tightly. Now the pointed looks were coming from him, Danny was sure he saw it.

What’s going on? Why are they being weird?

Oh well, nothing a few Bloody Marias won’t fix.

—

An hour later the whole table was on the spectrum of tipsy to trashed, with the notable exception of the stone cold sober Roy. Danny’s sense of weirdness was replaced with the warm buzz of micheladas, tequila and good friends. There’s a reason the Lord blessed us with bottomless brunches on the Sabbath. Listening to the laughter and seeing the connection between friends new and old, Danny started to think maybe he could be chill.

Their food plates had barely hit the table when that image shattered, again. Poor Dela, he knows not what he does.

One of Danny’s new girlfriends, Sam, was telling him and Ben about her upcoming couple’s vacation. “So yeah, 5 days in Cabo to celebrate our anniversary, or month-iversary I guess. 5 days alone – I think I love that woman, but pray for me.” Sam took a drink.

“Damn, Sam. I didn’t realize you and Charlotte had been together for two months already. That’s rad.” Danny liked Sam a lot, and was glad to see her happy.

“Two months, that’s a big one.” Ben paused for a beat before winding around to face Roy and Jinkx, who were shouting across the table at Johnny and his new ‘friend.’

“That’s about the time you figure out if a relationship is going to work,” Ben continued. Another pause, and there was that damn pointed look at Roy again. Jesus, was he drunk already?

“Speaking of which – Roy, you’ve been with Sky for about 2 months now. How’s that going?”

Ben shouted the question loud enough to disrupt Roy’s conversation, which had the unfortunate effect of getting the whole table’s attention. The whole table who had been at the bar last night and witnessed Roy’s and Danny’s little display. Silence washed over them like goddamn Hurricane Katrina, leaving Dela very clearly confused if only for a second.

Danny immediately saw red. It wasn’t just the eye shadow creeping into his corneas, or the deep scarlet brunch cocktails – he was pissed. “Yeah Roy, how is Sky?” Danny asked, nearly shouting. He could feel the anger building.

You’re gonna wish you Never had met me

“Why didn’t you bring him with you? Didn’t think he would have fun?” The power of angry Adele was rising in his chest.

Tears are gonna fall Rollin’ in the deep

“I mean, what about this trip wouldn’t be fun for him? Jinkx has never met him. Dela hasn’t met him. In fact, neither have I. Wouldn’t he want to meet your sisters? Your best friend? Why wouldn’t he want to meet me, Roy?”

Johnny interjected. “I’m sure he was busy. Danny why don’t you switch over to water?” God bless him, like any good cousin was trying to stop the train of destruction. Danny was too far down this hill to pull back.

“Nah, I’m good man. Tell me, why didn’t he come here?” He focused all his attention, staring at Roy with enough intensity to clear his blurring vision while burning a hole in eyes of the man looking back at him. 

Now it was Jinkx’s turn to try. “Danny, drop it. You’re yelling.”

“No I’m not. And you’re not my mom, Jinkx. I just want an answer to my question.” Danny never took his eyes off Roy, who’s body seemed to wilt while his eyes stayed locked.

“I didn’t mean to cause a problem guys, I –“ Dela looked totally panicked.

Fire. Heart. Fever. Scars. Breathless. Tears.

The combination of hurt, alcohol and electricity clashed like lightning, and Danny couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Is it because you came here to cheat on him, Roy? You told him you were coming to visit your friends, but really you just came here to fuck some other guys and hope he wouldn’t find out?”

If he wasn’t yelling before, Danny sure was now. 

“You think that’s who I am, that I don’t care about other people’s feelings and that I’ll help you hurt them? You think I would be a part of that, that after all these years of pining for you I’d be so goddamn happy for your scraps of attention that I’d do it? That I’d let you jam your tongue down my throat in back alleys and fuck me in secret like your side piece?”

Well, so much for keeping that kiss a secret, Danny thought as he caught his breath. Might as well bring it home.

“You’re a shitty person, Roy. You’re a bad, mean, hateful person. You don’t care if you hurt people, do you? I never saw it before, but that you would do this to your boyfriend – to me…”

Shit, shit. Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry. Danny couldn’t understand why Roy, who had never been at a lack of words for a moment in his life, was just sitting there silently while he railed on. The indomitable Bianca del Rio just sat there staring, and increasingly – he thought, maybe – like he was actually biting his tongue.

“You don’t have anything to say? You can’t even defend yourself because you know it’s true. I don’t know if you’ve always been like this, if something changed, or what the fuck is going on.” Danny paused, starting to feel self conscious about the volume of his voice and the lack of chiming in from any of his friends.

“Jesus, Roy. I thought Bianca was an act but the real you is so much worse. I would say I hope Sky’s off fucking someone else too, so you know what it feels like, but you’d have to be a human with emotions to get it. You’re just a heartless evil cunt.” And with that, Danny was out of steam.

—

The next seconds crawled slowly and quietly enough to hear a pin drop. Danny knew this for a fact, because he literally heard the waitress drop her pen at molasses speed. Then the world slammed back into focus, with the same jarring effect as an astronaut getting ejected into space in a Star Trek movie.

Danny felt all eyes on him – 26 silent, unblinking eyes. The only person not still basking in his impassioned speech was Roy himself, who had finally broken the stare; his eyes were closed, maybe even squeezed together, while he rested his forehead on wringing hands. Danny had never seen this body language before, which was strange because Roy was a true creature of habit.  

Feeling totally exposed – a feeling he wasn’t totally in love with at the moment – but still high on righteous indignation, Danny violently stood up to leave. He threw his credit card down on the table and walked towards the exit, speechless as a silent movie…until he heard a mumble.

“What did you say to me?” Danny turned on his heel, sure he heard Roy say something under his breath. He was ready to fight.

“I said he did, Delano. Sky did. He cheated on me. I walked in on him fucking someone. Two weeks ago.”

Danny didn’t go to school for fucking math, but something was clicking. Two weeks ago, cheating, no more Sky…damn the tequila fog.

“You guys have something in common after all – he said I was too cold to fall in love with. Didn’t think I would even care, I can’t feel anything anyway.” Roy wouldn’t look up as he spoke, his voice was calm and controlled. That was really freaking Danny out – this was his somber voice, the same one he used in the days after Danny’s dad died.

What’s going on? Danny was starting to wonder if he’d miscalculated something here. Fucking continuation school.

“You should be happy, turns out you already got what you want. I got cheated on, Danny.” Roy paused and finally looked up.

In one fell swoop, Danny realized he was so very wrong. The eyes Roy had been hiding were as red as his own, but colored instead by broken blood vessels and tears. Danny realized why he didn’t recognize the body language – he’d never seen Roy cry before.

“Happy, even if you’re wrong. I promise you I feel it.”

In that moment Roy’s voice wavered ever so slightly, and Danny felt his whole body come undone. He had to sit back in his chair to keep from falling over, seeing Roy like this turned him to actual human Jell-O.

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck. Fuck. Danny’s mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. How he could fix this.

“I think I should go,” Roy said to Jinkx, who started to move in response. His voice was back to the unnerving calm. “No, stay. I’ll get an Uber, you guys have fun. Let me know how much I owe you.” Roy stood up. “Everyone, it was a pleasure to meet you in the daylight. Glad to know my friends are so well taken care of in Seattle.”

No no no, don’t leave. What is happening? What are you doing? Danny was screaming internally, but he couldn’t figure out what words to say or at this point how to even make sounds come out of his mouth.

“Bye, Danny.”

Roy said those two words with such a tenderness and finality, Danny started to panic. He needed to do something but he was immobilized, his brain fried by his earlier surge of emotion and the overload of new information.

The scars of your love, they leave me breathless I can’t help feeling we could’ve had it all

And just like that Roy was gone.

[aiaranradnay]

Beneath His Skin

A/N: my second fic for @mrs-squirrel-chester ‘s album fic challenge.

this song happens to be one of my favourites and I often relate myself to it; and since the time I’ve watched SPN, I've always related to Dean... so I put two and two together I guess. hope you like it :)

word count : 1000 odd

fic genre : angst

warning: depression, self -hate, self harm

characters : Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester (mentioned), Castiel (mentioned)

thank you @mrs-squirrel-chester​ for being the beta at such a short notice :)

thank you @writingthingsisdifficult​ ; we spoke, I got inspired. ;)

thank you @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​  for your constant support​ :)

Song: Papercut

Artist: Linkin Park

Album: Hybrid Theory (2000)

Genre: Rock

There are days when Dean Winchester is genuinely happy.

When the world seems brighter; Sammy seems to be at peace; life feels like it is worth living. The entire fiasco of the supernatural world seems rather trivial – monsters are dealt with, people are saved.

Days like these carry hope.

However, days like these are also very rare.

The more frequent ones, those days are dark.

Like a pitch black cloak draped around him, blinding him. It feels like those bitter cold nights where nothing can comfort you. The world outside may be bright and colourful, but within him, it’s a thick fog of pure darkness.

He knows that something is wrong, he can feel it in his soul, for he can see on one; not Sam, not Cass, or the hundreds of people that walk around him... no!... the only fucking person he can see is himself; and it’s not a good sign.

He cannot remember what exactly caused these emotions – the anger, the frustration, the paranoia.

Where the hell did all this pressure build up from? What is the source?

He has no answer.

He only knows that he can feel it within him; simmering through him, as his heart pounds loudly against his chest, pumping the thick streams of self-hate and loathing through his veins.

He hears the voices, whispering all around him.

Days like these, he wakes up and washes his face, the cold water stinging his face and he looks into the mirror.

Pure hatred burns through him as he observes the man before him, and it takes a hell of a lot of control to stop himself from driving a fist through the mirror in hopes of destroying ‘that man’.

It is a cacophony of several voices, the most prominent being his own. It is even accompanied by his pathetic face. Not the one that people see, but the one that he holds inside. The dead one, with sunken black pits for eyes, snarl on his lips, and often with blood splattered across its face, it is around whenever he’s quiet; it judges his every thought, every decision, and mocks at every failure. It even manages to turn the good moments into twisted nightmares.

It is like he’s drowning; and to save himself, he cranks up the loudest music available, blasting the heaviest rock through his speakers while nursing a drink in his hand. The dark brown liquid sloshes down his throat every now and then, burning the path, clearing all thoughts that come in the way. Some days it works, some days it doesn’t. No amount of that poison can nullify the madness.

It's like he’s paranoid looking over his shoulder, searching for the source of all the noise. As if there are demons around there, looming like a constant threat. It's like a whirlwind inside of his head – a billion events of his screwed up life playing on repeat, cutting in deeper gashes each time. The voices – his voices grow louder, spewing insults and taunts and there is no stopping them. He feels a desperate need to skin himself raw; as if it were the solution to peel away the face inside him, which lives right beneath his skin.

He’s at the training area, his hands balled into fists, relentlessly punching the living hell out of the old punching bag that hangs there. Loud thumps echo through the room, his punches match his heart beat, the force of it increasing for every punch. The bag violently swings by its chains until finally, they give away and it crashes with a loud thud.

At the shooting range, he’s emptying rounds of bullets into the battered target, puckering it further.

Or at the hunts, where he is overly enthusiastic to gank the sons of bitches. The heads roll off with more force, the gore is raunchier. He relishes the blood splattering; the bullet holes on the monster are far too many.

He can feel Sammy’s eyes on him the whole time – eyes that know that something is wrong. Sam often asks him to open up; share his thoughts. “Dean, I know what you’re going through alright? I’ve been there too. If you would just talk...” Dean waves him off, refusing to believe that Sam has suffered this way. It’s not that he doesn’t know – Hell, he’s watched his little brother struggle through it and frankly , he blames himself for his brother’s pain; it’s just a fool’s hope that he carries around – hoping that maybe it never happened, and his baby brother didn’t suffer, because he doesn’t deserve it.

He himself on the other hand is different story; he reeks of it. For all the pain he has caused just by his presence, he deserves it all – the paranoia, the feeling of being haunted, constantly looking over his shoulder for the source of all his madness; the never ending storm is his head that makes him want to scream out, throw, and destroy anything around him. It is what he is – a destroyer.

The bag is rigged back into position. The thumps continue with more vigour. His knuckles are bloody. The gashes from the most recent hunt reopen, spilling blood.

With all that sweat, grime, and blood he heads to the showers. Sometimes it’s hot, sometimes it’s cold; the water runs at maximum, hitting every part of his body, running down his face, taking away his sorrow; his pain. The rhythmic beat of the drops pounding on his skull, muffled by his hair clears any lingering thought.

But then again, this too is a chance result; there are some days when nothing can save him.

On those days he is bound to drown. Despite trying his best, it is like quicksand – the more he struggles the quicker he goes. And the worst part about this is that there is no outside force. All of it, it’s within him. He alone brings in the darkness, for its all etched right beneath his skin.

As the sun sets, bringing in the nights, it is like a betrayal; as if the sun mocks him, at his inability to see the light or have hope. The night draws in, it is time to sleep – the end of one day just so another miserable one may begin.

His eyes flutter shut, seeking out sleep; His body gives in to the fatigue of the physical exertion. But his mind wanders, reliving the entire day, his entire life – emphasizing his failures. His mental wounds bleed as the hasty stitches that block out the traumas get ripped open.

Sam watches him from the other side of the room, heartbroken at his brother’s state of mind. He watches how Dean writhes in his sleep at times, how his body seems to desperately grip at the mattress as if in need of an anchor.

The next morning, the topic comes up in their conversation; Sam insists on helping but Dean always dismisses the thought. “Is just nightmares, Sammy” he claims. “Just nightmares.”

@writingthingsisdifficult  @whaledenwtf  @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @mrs-squirrel-chester  @percywinchester27