#so i need to take $150 out of my ass to give to him because he cant wait a few more days for his shit done

[uncouth-the-fifth]

i'd like to report a crime - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: anxious work stress + leon comfort!!, leon being a fucking goober Notes: when i'm at work I'm always picturing him swooping in to save me...... leon kennedy if you can hear me please protect me from 9-5 hell... and like I said before, I would LOVE requests or prompts for this fic, I have so many ideas but I can't commit to any of them lol.

Standing in the bullpen at work today, you had a thought. Maybe they called it “medieval torture” because that was a whole lot catchier than “a shitty day at the busiest police precinct in Washington DC.”

It certainly felt like medieval torture to you. Before you’d even stepped into your big girl pants this morning, you knew that today was going to suck. Plain and simple. Suck. Yet another presidential event was bringing the Secret Service’s jurisdiction into your already hectic station, meaning that big square dudes in suits were going to be breathing down your neck until quitting time. You had three huge active cases that needed your attention. One of those cases came pre-packaged with a deeply annoying lawyer, who, in your professional opinion, has his head shoved a foot up his ass. He will absolutely be showing up to bother you today.

And worst of all: in your haste to get to work (Leon had put some serious effort into making you late), you’d accidentally worn a pair of super uncomfortable shoes! So now every waking moment of your existence was bonafide torture.

Clamping your jaw, you glance up from the paperwork in front of you and check your watch. Three o’clock. Right, okay, you can work with that.

You slap your hands down on your desk as you push out of your seat, and it gets a satisfying yelp out of the man sitting cross-legged beside it. He bristles up like a porcupine and nasally complains, “Where are you going, Detective Kennedy? You said we could—”

“Coffee, Douglas,” you bite back to said lawyer.

The last thing you want right now is some of the lousy, watered-down coffee from the station’s breakroom, but taking mini-breaks at your desk is just not an option anymore. Douglas has been camped out there from the moment you clocked in, and since you both refuse to budge, he’s going to stay there. Breakroom it is. You wince the whole way there, cursing your shoes from hell.

Someone forgot to start another pot of joe, so you have the absolute pleasure of doing it yourself. A small blessing in disguise, really. You give the glass pot your best thousand-yard-stare the whole time it heats the water, and just when the outline of it is starting to burn behind your eyelids, you’re jolted out of your glazed reverie by a cheerful, “Detective Kennedy!”

The officer appears at your side like she was there the entire time, and you wouldn’t put it past her—Giana is the latest in a long line of rookies who have imprinted on you over the years. Good kid, but a little on the overeager side.

She gives you a sympathetic frown and launches into way too much bubbly talking for your aching head to handle. “Heyo! Man, it’s crazy today, huh? You look beat, detective. Hey, think of it this way—just a few more hours and we’ll be home free! Any fun plans tonight?”

The question triggers a movie-style flashback sequence in your mind, complete with black-and-white visuals and some tasteful dream fog. Leon, your husband, boredly poking around the aisles of a new Target by your place. Leon discovering the boys' toy section. Leon, your beautiful, amazing husband, going starry-eyed at the massive NERF Elite Titan CS-50 Toy Blaster, which you’re pretty sure you need a license to operate.

He’d tapped the Nerf box like a boy on Christmas morning. “150 foam bullets, baby.”

But it would take a lot of energy to relay all of that to Giana. So instead of explaining that you’re having an epic Nerf duel with Leon when you get home (no headshots, loser makes dinner), you cooly answer: “...Spending time with my husband.”

Giana hums. “It’s so weird to me that you’re married…” (Thanks.) “I can’t even picture you not grinding away at some case.”

The coffee machine burbles out its last sad spit of coffee. You pour a good amount into your mug, smiling, “Oh, Leon’s just as bad. We’re both married to our work. He’s just my favorite mistress, s’all.”

Giana opens her mouth to launch into another cheery tirade you can’t catch up with. You like the girl, but on top of being way too eager, she’s also painfully see-through. For example, you don’t even have to turn around to know that a gloriously hot guy has just walked into the bullpen behind you. It’s written all over Giana’s owlish look over your shoulder. Hell, you can even clock that he’s heading straight this way—not only does Giana cross herself to bid away impure thoughts of the stranger, but she evaporates into smoke out of pure shyness.

“Look out!” She stage-whispers.

Aw. Poor girl, you think as she waddles away. Considering who’s going to be unloading a clip of foam bullets into you later this evening, (what a strange double entendre), you’re basically immune to hot guys. You can handle this.

“Excuse me, detective, I’d like to report a crime?”

All sense of professionalism poofs off your face at that familiar voice. You whirl to face your husband, and in one swift slash, the ten ton weight of your stress is slapped clean off your back.

Leon’s resting stare has slowly been absorbed by his Serious Agent Face. But today, he’s smoldering less in the business way and more in the off-duty model way. In a white tee, jeans, and racing-striped leather jacket, he certainly looks the part, clean-shaven and dewy-skinned. Fuck him and his unblemished skin. What Umbrella moisturizer was he using back in the day, dammit?

You’re capable of joking again and fall flawlessly into the bit. “Of course. What kind of crime, beautiful?”

He isn’t really able to look flustered, but you think you get close to the impossible with the way his head tilts at that line. You notice that he’s hiding something behind his back.

“A theft,” he answers. The tiniest smirk twitches on his mouth. “My heart’s been stolen.”

…What a fucking cornball. The tragic part is that you find the joke pretty funny, and not completely in the ironic way. He waits for you to giggle and twirl your hair or what-the-fuck-ever, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction, ducking into his quick hug to grin into his shoulder.

You groan at his awful joke. “Jesus. You need a fork for all that corn, Leon?”

“I take mine off the cob,” he drawls in your ear. With that voice, he could make anything sound suggestive.

You’re about to pout at him for failing to return your hug, when you draw back and see that his hands are full. It’s then that Leon presents his bounty to you, bowing his head and holding his trophies aloft like a knight giving respect to his princess: in one hand, one of the stupid expensive coffees you like, and in the other… your comfiest work flats.

“How?” is the first thing your fish brain manages to say. Because, truly, how does he always know? The coffee, the shoes— “Did you put a tracker in me? One that tells you everything I’ve been complaining about all day?”

You go slumping down into the nearest seat, mystified by him. Leon sets the still-steaming coffee down in front of you and kneels, stooping to help you out of your shoes-from-hell. The strap around your ankle has rubbed the bone raw even through your tights. He gets the clasp loose on the first shoe with little fussing, then soothes the skin with tender brushes of his thumb.

“Mhm,” he hums. All you can see of him from this angle is the layers of color in his hair, deep browns and ash blondes blending into one another. The smug pride in his voice is obvious—he loves knowing he’s read you well. “Tells me when you’re hungry, too. Have lunch with me?”

Please god, your body begs. Just picturing it loosens some of the tension in your neck. Like last time, the two of you would play-fight over where to eat, and your cute little delivery boy would go pick up the winner. That way, you wouldn’t have to waste a single moment of your allotted thirty-minute lunch. Leon would pull up a seat at your desk (maybe scare Douglas off with a flash of his badge), and you’d get a blissful, uninterrupted dose of him. Enough to get you through the rest of your shift.

He’d be too deep in Professional Agent Mode to babble like he does at home, but Leon’s raspy chuckles and his hand on your knee would tide you over til’ five.

…But no, the universe is never that kind to you. You wince at Leon’s offer and drop an apologetic hand to his shoulder, still knelt at your feet and working on your other shoe. He’s too good to you. “M’ sorry, baby, but I think I’m gonna have to work through lunch if I wanna get home on time. Rain check?”

He doesn’t mind. He throws a squinty warning stare your way, not happy that you’re getting dangerously close to overworking yourself, but he understands.

A sly smile creeps onto Leon’s face as he helps you slip on a flat. “I could talk to your Captain. What if you were pulled away for a ‘federal emergency?’”

“Then I think me and my Captain would implode from stress,” you laugh. “He’d think I’d been drawn into some national crisis or something.”

Leon scoffs. “That’s only happened, like, once.”

The other flat welcomes your poor, aching foot like a jacuzzi hot tub, and you take a deep magical sip of the overpriced coffee he got special for you. It trumps the watery breakroom joe any day.

For a minute you’re so stupidly happy that you could easily punch a boulder clean off a cliff. Hell, you might even twirl your hair.

“One too many times!” You groan. Since he’s being all cute and kneeling at your feet, you can’t resist poking him a couple of times to be silly. In the chest. In the cheek. In the heart. Stage-whispering, you accuse, “I think you just like having excuses to work with me.”

Leon finishes helping you into your shoes, but he’s in no hurry to leave his spot. One of his rough hands finds yours in your lap and toys with your wedding band, twisting it, testing the groove where it’s been sitting for a few years now. Those big blue eyes fix on your face. You’re married to the guy, but something about being the subject of all his naked attention makes you feel like shrieking into a damn pillow. He’s the best. Judging by that mean little smile on his face, he knows it’s true.

He gives your hand a little squeeze and points out, “I was your partner before anyone else. We never got our buddy cop beat—so yes, I will shove myself into your world since I can’t pull you into mine.”

You’re grateful he still thinks that way. Getting him to talk about Raccoon is harder than pulling teeth, but this—your partnership, whether that be as cops in an imaginary second life, or as husband and wife—never fails to pry him right open.

You’d been asked before if it was frustrating, how your paths had split after the city had blown. The two of you had come from the same spot and endured the same things, but where Leon had soared up, you’d kept to what you knew. No part of you envied him for it. In his mind, the two of you were still the same unit you’d been then, endlessly loyal to one another. You watched Leon’s back and—clearly, he watched yours.

“You’re my favorite,” you tell him, sweetly petting his chin. “I’m gonna fucking destroy you at our Nerf duel when I get home.”

All the buttery tenderness wipes from his face, and in an instant he’s on his feet, clapping a scarred hand down onto your shoulder and bending to whisper fiercely in your ear. “I’d like to see you try.”

He smushes a kiss to your cheek, waves a friendly, “See ya,” and melts back into the current of the rowdy bullpen. You hate to see him leave, but by god, you love to watch him go.

A few seconds after Leon says his goodbye, Giana, your rookie, peers around the open door of the break room. Her patchy blush goes all the way down to her uniform collar. “...Nevermind. I can definitely picture you married, Detective Kennedy…”

-

Ask to be added to my Leon taglist!

[petrssecrethideout]

"Bro, do you wanna hear about something crazy?"

"I mean sure, go ahead,"

"Alright, so I was just relaxing, scrolling TikTok,"

"Already a bad idea."

"I know, I got beef with that fuckin' algorithm let me tell you. I follow a couple of bodybuilders, post a couple of gym vids and suddenly my For you page is filled with the biggest assholes alive. Anyway, I'm scrolling, and I see this guy, he's doing that whole 'alpha top dog' thing even though he's not that big."

"Okay wait pause, how big is not that big?"

"I don't know, I have more muscle in my arms than he has in his whole body, real gym influencer type."

"Alright, for anyone listening to the pod at home, I should probably just say that this guy could be anywhere from 150-300 pounds from Dale's description of him, okay? He's not good at judging what normal guys look like anymore."

"Yeah, okay, you got me. Anyway, this guy keeps going on about his great advice, so I stick around to hear it. You wanna know what he said? 'Stop Cumming, its killing your natural testosterone' What kind of bullshit is that!?"

"I mean that is a big part of the current fitness world, these guys will say anything to get more followers, and a lot of their followers are so desperate for progress that they'll take whatever advice they're given."

"It's a shame, because he's also wrong! I tried that whole 'No Nut Whatever' and its been the only time in these last 5 years that I've plateaued."

"... Really?"

"Yeah! If I'm not cranking a load out every day I can kiss any potential gains goodbye."

"Wait,"

"Like after my workouts, when I got a huge pump going, I just have to crank one out, like what good workout would it be if I didn't"

"Dale c'mon,"

"And its not like I can just hit up a guy on Grindr and go to town every time I need to, there aren't enough guys on Grindr for that."

"Uggggh dude, we are never getting a sponsor with you talking like this."

"What, so all the straight alpha dudebros can talk about semen retnetion and get a ton of followers, but I get censored for talking about jacking off and getting tons of ass?"

"Yeah, we will."

"Well then, listeners, go subscribe to the patreon so that I can talk about my actual tips for growing, and so that you can help Mark get bigger. I'm telling you, I'm gonna make this boy huge with your help. Audio listeners make sure to check the videos so you can see this boy get huge. Now bro, help me out here. You don't want those Tiktok gymfluencers to win do you? How often are you jerkin off?"

"Oh god I can't believe I'm answering this... A couple of times a week maybe?"

"A week? That's fucking crazy. My average is like 4-5 times a day. More if I'm really feeling horny. If I'm being honest I jerked off a few weeks ago on the pod, like I forgot to before I came here. One of the comments mentioned something about my grunting that episode."

"Jesus christ dude, how do you even manage that?"

"Well, you gotta work up to it. I couldn't do that starting out, but once I started growing I was so horny I had to do something about it. I think that's what these guys don't get. You gotta get those balls working, give them a reason to keep making that sweet testosterone. How are you supposed to do that if you aren't jacking it? Honestly dude, I feel like I gotta prove these guys wrong now."

"What, you're gonna be a cum warrior?"

"Hell yeah man, I'm gonna be fighting the war on jerking it, on the side of jerking it!"

[multifandom-exe]

Prompt list :p

i did take this from my old account, but lots of the fics i write are based around this list. Contains: Angst (1-50) Fluff (51-100) sarcasm/humour (101-150) and drama (151-200)

if you wanna request something from this list, just use the character and ‘ prompt 34 from prompt list #2′ thank you! ill write for whoever you want mama.

Theres like 200 so be wary

“I love you ! Is that what you wanted to hear ?”

“I love him/her, and I know that I shouldn’t.”

“Can you just shut your mouth ?”

“WHY DO YOU KEEP LYING TO ME ?”

“We both know that I should walk away, but I can’t.”

“Wait, he/she has a girlfriend/boyfriend ?“

“I lo—-” “No, please… Don’t say that. You love her/him, not me.”

"Could you just take this pain away ? It hurts, so much… Help me.”

“You’re safe here, I got you.”

“Don’t ask her out again, please… You’re killing me, every single time you ask that.”

“Look, he/she wants you, just make him/her happy.”

“If you go, I’ll know that you never loved me.”

“We never were just friends, and you know it.” “I know it, but you deserve someone better than me.”

“SHE WAS CRYING BECAUSE OF YOU!!!”

“You love me like I’m the person who actually deserves your love.” “But you are the only one who deserves it.”

“I know for a fact that you’re not “fine”.”

“You’re looking at me like.. you’re disgusted. What did I do? Just tell me what I did, please!”

“What happened between us?”

“Nothing has changed!” “Yes it has, and you know it.”

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt this badly.”

“You said you needed space. You were 5,000 miles away for a year, and you’re still unsure. I’m starting to think that an entire universe apart wouldn’t be enough space for you.”

“I remember when he/she/they used to look at me that way”

“I want you to list every lie you ever told me. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“I don’t hate you. I hate that after all of this, you’re still trying to lie to me”

“I can’t keep this secret for you anymore.”

“I’m sorry I’m not what you signed up for.”

“Why she/her/them? It could have been anybody, and you chose to betray me with her/him/them.”

“This will be the last time you lie to me.”

“You never loved me, did you?”

“You made me miserable and I still loved you.”

“Everytime something goes well, I momentarily forget how much I despise you.”

“We’re never going to have a happy ending, just remember that.”

“Don’t pretend like you’re not happy to see me like this.”

“Your mind must be a horrible place.”

“Hand me the gun and I’ll kill him myself.”

“And I thought you loved me.”

“ And I thought I loved you.”

“ Aren’t you even going to cry?”

“I didn’t expect you to wait forever. I just hoped…”

“Did you always know that you were going to leave?”

“If you cry, I’ll stay, and if I stay that will just give you another reason to hate me.”

“I’m addicted and at this point I don’t think anything could make me stop.”

”If you wanna know, then ask.”

“You never asked because you knew I wouldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear.”

“We grew apart, and at this point I’m glad.”

“Find somebody else to kiss your ass.”

“When are you going to stop clawing for something that’s never going to happen?”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.”

“It was easier to believe that the you I knew was dead than deal with the fact that I still have to see you every day.”

“What you’re doing is going to kill you one day.

“You’re hair is really soft after you wash it.”

“Ssh. Stop fussing. I’m just braiding your hair.”

“You smell really nice.”

“Would it be all right if I borrowed your sweater? It smells like you.”

“I might have slept with your robe when you were gone.”

“If you steal the blankets, I am going to put my cold feet on you.”

“Here, let’s share the blanket.”

“You’re comfy.”

“You are very endearing when you are half-asleep.”

“But I want to hear you sing.”

“Don’t get up - I’ll do it.”

“Care to give me a back scratch?”

“I think I love you.”

“Your bed head is really cute.”

“How about a kiss?”

“You made this for me?”

Aw, you’re blushing.”

Uh oh, I know that look. What do you want?”

“Let me help you with that.”

“I don’t want to forget this moment.”

“Are you really flirting with me right now?”

“I like the way your hand fits in mine.”

“You have something in your hair, umm… Do you want me to get it out?”

“It’s nice that your voice was the first thing I heard today.”

“This movie is really scary, but you’re into it so I’m trying not to cover my face the whole time, but- WHAT IS THAT?”

“Wait, don’t pull away… Not yet.”

“Half the time I get too embarrassed to say anything”

“No, it’s fine. I can wait until you’re done talking to them.”

“No, like…. It’s just, I can’t believe you’re actually wearing my clothes.”

“You’re a big piece of inspiration for this, honestly.”

“I’ve been trying to get ready for like an hour and a half, because I know you’re going to look so good and I need to try and match up.”

“I wanted to say “I love you” for the first time without stuttering, but that failed.”

“My friends get so annoyed by how much I talk about how sometimes.”

“No, mom, don’t tell him/her I said that about him/her!”

“I can’t get over how a few months ago I wanted to learn your name and now you’re having breakfast with me in my sweater.”

“ You are so beautiful — So fucking beautiful. “

“And just WHERE do you think you’re putting your hands?”

“Wow, you look even better in the daylight.”

“I don’t remember ever having this many hickeys. But I don’t mind.”

“We could order pizza and just stay like this all day.”

“It was always you.”

I love you in every possible way.”

“I didn’t mean to love you so much.”

“Don’t you hurt a single hair on his/her/their head.”

“Duck, you idiot!”

“Hey. Pal. I’ve got a wand and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

“It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

“Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

“I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

“Define normal.”  

“Do I get bonus points if I act like I care?”  

“Just remember if we get caught, you’re deaf and I don’t speak English.”  

“Don’t look for any redeeming qualities. I don’t have any.”  

“It’s amazing how fast the world can go from bad to total shit storm.” 

“I love you. You enormously stubborn pain in the ass.”  

“And you wonder why you’re still single.” 

“Remind me to kill you. Please.”  

“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” 

“She’s crazy. And just when you think you’ve reached the bottom of her craziness, there’s a crazy underground garage.”  

“She may seem like lollipops and rainbows but I bet behind close doors she’s latex and whips.” 

“If my day gets any worse, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program.”  

“Sorry. I don’t speak skank.”  

“My middle finger salutes you.”  

“I don’t have enough middle fingers to let you know how I feel.”  

“Somebody’s cranky.” “Somebody needs to shut up.”  

“Oh darling. Go buy a brain.”  

“Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.”  

“All due respect, but that’s a bunch of crap.”  

“I am one of the few people in the world who can murder you and leave no forensic evidence behind.” 

“Excuse me. I have to go make a scene.”  

“What did I tell you about calling her/him the devil?” “That it’s offensive to the devil?”  

“I heard that!” “You were supposed to!”  

“I need therapy after this.”  

“You didn’t get in trouble for lying. You got in trouble for lying badly.”  

“I turned out liking you a lot more that I originally planned.”  

“I think you’re weird.” “I think you’re boring.”  

“I’m afraid I’ve been thinking…” “A dangerous pastime.” 

“Wow, there’s a big surprise. I think I’m going to have a heart attack and die from surprise.”  

“I’m gonna hit you so hard, it’ll make you ancestors dizzy.”  

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.”  

“Well, excuse me, psychic wonder!”  

“Don’t look in her eyes, she might steal your soul.”  

“She’s hot, but she’s evil.”  

“Do I regret it? Yes. Would I do it again? Probably.”  

“I already know that I’m going to hell. At this point it’s really go big or go home.”  

“I’m not a damsel in distress. I’m a damsel doing damage.”  

“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.”  

“Never take life seriously. No one ever comes out alive anyway.”  

“Sometimes I question my sanity. Occasionally it replies.” 

“Why should we date?” “Because we are attracted to each other.” “I am attracted to pie, but I do not feel the need to date pie.”  

“Neither one us is drunk enough for this conversation.”  

“You’re questioning my methods.” “I’m not questioning it, I’m saying it’s stupid.”  

“Wow, somebody needs a Happy Meal.”  

“I didn’t do it!” “Then why are you laughing?” “Because whoever did it is a freaking genius.”  

“Idiots. I’m surrounded by idiots.” 

“You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” 

“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”  

“Rule number one: don’t bother sucking up. I already hate you, that’s not going to change.”  

“You make no sense to me.” “Welcome to my life.”

“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?” 

“Can you stop thinking about yourself for once?”  

“Don’t think I forgot about what you did last time.” 

“I know you lied to me.” 

“I’m not even sorry.” 

“You backstabber!” 

“I never want to see you again.” 

“You never mattered to me.” 

“I knew this was a bad idea.” 

“Rot in hell.” 

“It was supposed to be a secret!” 

“No one loves me.” 

“He/she/they is/are so petty…” 

“You made me cry.” 

“I don’t know who you are anymore.” 

“How DARE you?!” 

“I know you’re not talking to me…” 

“I SAW you with him/her/them!” 

“Just leave me alone.” 

"What did you do?!” 

“I told everyone that I didn’t want to talk but I’m actually dying for attention.” 

“Just admit that was extra…” 

“I forgive, but I don’t forget.” 

“Did you see what he/she/they was/were wearing?” 

“So what if I had sex with your ex?” 

“There’s something I have to tell you…” 

“I can’t do this anymore.” 

“You weren’t there for me when I needed you the most.” 

“I never loved you.” 

“It’s too late.” 

“Quit ignoring me.” 

“Don’t you get it? It’s because I love you!” 

“I love you. I’m sorry.” 

“I don’t want to be friends.” 

“Can we please pretend I never said that?” 

“Friendzoned again.” 

“You should’ve loved me when you had the chance.” 

“Fuck you for toying with my emotions like that.” 

“I was there for you when no one else was!” 

“Alright – I can tell a ‘no’ when I hear it.” 

“I’m sorry I acted so creepy.” 

“Fuck. It’s like what they say – nice guys finish last…” 

“I’m tired of keeping this secret. Even if you don’t love me back.” 

“I knew that’d be your answer. That’s why I never told you before.” 

“When I said I loved you, I meant it.” 

“Is there any part of you, deep down, that might love me back?” 

“You were the one that left all those notes for me?” 

"You’re in a relationship with another person – you know this can’t end well.” 

“We agreed this was just physical!” 

“I love you. I know you don’t love me, so don’t say it back.” 

UGh that was so long, props if you made it this far. No need to credit if you use any, but a like or reblog is appreciated

[im-out-of-it]

act 10 of season 1, episode 13 continued

143. THIS IS MY ALL TIME FAVORITE MAGNUS MOMENT I MEAN THE FLIP THE RINGS MAGNUS THE RINGS MAGNUS THAT LONG RING I NEED IT

144. “we need to find jace” -clary. so the supposed best shadowhunter can’t take care of himself and always needs rescuing? how interesting

145. I don’t get Jace desperate to beat Valentine but instead he’s acting like him. I still stand by this: at least with Alec, I could sympathize with his actions after he found out about his parents. Jace is just running around, cutting off hands, and doing whatever he pleases without paying consequences. he’s ten times worse because no one is trying to stop him. “he’s not thinking clearly” so does jace get a pass????????

146. honestly Valentine is so funny to me because he knows that jace wants to kill him but he’s here making up shit about how he is jace’s father all in the name of revenge. like at this point, it’s comical because you can’t feel bad for jace for believing a VILLAIN

147. this is my favorite second gif. camille is so amused, magnus is vexed, and Alec is horny 😭

148. Alec: he kissed his psycho ex but fuck, that ass. I’m so gay and I think I already love this man

149. I know they’re super identical but ALEC BEING THIRSTY FOR MAGNUS SENDS ME 🥰

150. okay, can we be for real for a sec? if I was as wealthy as Camille, I WOULD FUCKING LIVE HERE LIKE THE SPACE FOR ALL OF MY BOOKS ✨

151. I don’t know why isabelle is all like it’s creepy. BITCH SOME OF US DREAM FOR THE ACRES AND THE SPACE FOR BOOKS SO BACK OFF

152. FUCK LOOK AT MAGNUS

153. Alec: still mad at you babe

154. Magnus: let’s shoo the fuck out of here and also don’t be mad at me babe and Izzy is like IM WATCHING YOU

155. ALSO CAMILLE IS FINE AS HELL. she’s ready to fuck out of here

156. Camille: what’s that I smell? oh yes, the wonderful smell of freedom

leaving off at 157. so there’s like not even 10 minutes left so part eleven will be out in probably a few hours give or take. I’d doubt it’ll be thirteen parts but how ironic would that be

[riveranova]

(A/N): Aaaaand mama's back! First of all, let me say how grateful I was and am to get so many messages from people sharing their stories and wishing me all the best - made me tear up multiple times not gonna lie. Thank you all so much and let's dive right back in. <3

IkePri NSFW Headcanons x GN! Reader - Part 2

Warnings: Smut | minors DNI, would this really be a Nova original if there wasn't at least a lil bit crack?, Licht's getting a little sad

Characters: Chevalier, Luke, Yves, Jin, Licht, Leon, Ikemen Prince

Word count: 690

Chevalier Michel

yk i had a thought for this one

obviously hes a top

but but, hear me out - what if he wasn't?

:)

imagine his cold, blue eyes that normally resemble a frozen lake

well that thick ice is now shattered as he's pressing his head into his pillow, trying not to wake up his annoying brothers (Clavis) while you suck him off

hes a lil bit embarrassed about the way his fists and thighs are clenched together because hes Chevalier Michel, no one makes him this weak

well, exept for you of course

but no one is allowed to find out

i think that hes a little bit bratty as a bottom

like, you want to make him beg? well beg for it.

its kind of a back and forth

but just threaten him to stop and its like a different man lies before you

just imagine him beg for you to get him off in that deep voice

Luke Randolph

i'm a huge suporter of the 'luke only cuddlefucks' theory that a great researcher (me) brought to life

i mean that man sleeps the entire day so why not, right?

he gets horny really fast, just like Gilbert

hes also big, and i dont only mean his body

big boy, gimme a big booooy-

strong hands hold you in place - in front of him, holding you against his chest while slowly fucking you from behind

100% whispers sleepy shit into your ear

honestly so sweet

idk why this is so funny to me but imagine him just falling asleep mid-sex

you're just laying there like '...uh''

lucky for you, this man is into sleep play, so just finish the job yourself~

Yves Kloss

honestly? i think hes one of those really cute and soft tops

soft tops are the best, are they not

but i don't think hes really focused on the sex part

hes a big aftercare guy

he honestly just wants to spoil you and make sure you're all pretty for him

150 step korean skincare routine after every single session without fail

bathing together with him is the most normal thing in the world

hums into your ear while massaging your shoulders

praise praise praise

i honestly think that Yves would be so fucking obsessed with you - in a non-weird way tho

if youre comfortable then he is too <3

Jin Grandet

alright, heres my completely objective take on him

daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy

god i love this man so much

crush me with those honke- okay, sorry

i think hes the kind of guy who doesn't want to have one big session but like short ones scattered across the day

lil quickies yk

hes also shameless

so he just pulls you away whenever he wants to and you know what he wants

he has these 'please im so horny its not cool anymore' eyes

and if youre like me then fuck it, leggo

gives zero fucks about how loud you are

castle staff hates it when he does that but as i said

shameless (hot) asshole

Licht Klein

grumpy ass bottom

not even bratty, just grumpy as fuck

but i think thats what makes the entire thing so thrilling for him

yeah so what if he doesnt care what you do? what are you gonna do about it?

okay maybe hes a little bratty

not the guy that makes a lot of sounds while having sex

he kinda just lays there enjoying the attention hes getting from you - the sex is just a lil bonus

tries to take control on very impatient days

but nuh- uh, his moody ass is staying down

100% sure that he has these 'pls humiliate me' days

theyre rare, yeah, but getting told hes the 'bad sibling' his entire life fucked a little with his brain

pls give him aftercare

Leon Dompteur

i swear i need three tries to get his last name right every single fucking time

anyways, this mans obviously a top

he treats you like youre the deity hes praying to every single day

literally worthsips you so much

i think hes a big vanilla boi

no choking or bondage, just sweet sweet vanilla sex

his hands are huge and everywhere, like a blanket that just never ends

big praise guy too

loves to give it and absolutely thrives off of getting some back

please tell him that hes doing a good job, tell him how good his cock is making you feel

hes a big cuddler too, so get ready for some cozy aftercare <3

[gaypirate420]

Curiosity here: {Discussion}

If you could re-write Jasper but keep 2 things about him, what would you keep? Besides appearance and gift! How would you explore this new version of Jasper?

For me, I'd keep his army past and Alice. But I'd explore how he changes over time and comes to realize how bad being on the Confederate side & being racist is. (I think you get it I'm trying to keep this short.)

Such as what makes him change and how he copes with his new understanding, and y'know the whole process of that.

Ofc, she comes into play too, maybe she's the catalyst that gets him to thinkin' about the topic at the surface, but it eventually goes deeper as she overtime explains things to him, and he thinks further on his own. IDK BRO I'm just thinking and wanted to read what you'd do. {Have a discussion.}

I'd change him shacking up w/ the Cullens though...or maybe their relationships with each other. I'd love to explore everything basically around canon while still being divergent to an extent. (Canon Related?)

He'd be the main character, but I think you already knew that if you read or at least skimmed this. But I have a terrible fear of people misunderstanding me. (⊙﹏⊙)

But yeah, I was just curious! I know a lot of people have done all sorts of things with him in Fics regarding his past and such, but I do always enjoy reading your responses to things.

This is just a purely hypothetical discussion. {If this was ever made that would be ambitious as hell cause like mf is like... 150 years old!}

I don't even want to think about all that time, and they never sleep either so like holy hell. So many moments of introspection and guilt and etc. to write I'd have a mental collapse. {But that's me when I write anything but also editing sucks ass.}

But not to mention ofc the huge amounts of research everything would take, and I am a huge perfectionist.

-Sincerely a mutual who tried to ask a few questions then freaked out over my own questions.

I'm making this anon now because I fear this ask now.

I think we have the same idea dear mutual!

(this is so fucking long omg I went off the rails, let me know what y'all think.)

I wouldn't rewrite anything, I'll just play it differently, I'll give it a nice depth.

I've always been on the side that just rewrite or ignore Jasper's confederate past is- not ideal. Yeah it's okay for a silly little comfort fic with your favorite vampire but not when talking about his actual canon characterization.

I would keep him serving for the Confederate army. I know a lot of people don't like that about him, but, I think it's a huge part of his character but there was something lacking there.

And what was missing is guilt.

Jasper, as to how he is written, and how we see the scenes of his past are played on both the book and the movie makes him look like he wasn't ashamed of his racist past or that he was even still prideful for it.

And it's so weird for me, how could this man who spent a century long depression, a self described "monster" a "nightmare" that just floods with self loathing couldn't feel guilty for not only taking someone's life but their freedom?

How could he feel guilty over killing the newborns but not black people? It doesn't make sense and it makes it worse, it makes you think that he, in modern times, it's still a confederate and also because vampires are "mentally frozen." He's not changed that much really then.

(I think Jasper lacking guilt and remorse about these fact about him is because of SM and her own views she not so subtlety spread all over her books though.)

So yes, I am keeping him as an ex-confederate soldier. Jasper was 17 so we are just to assume he was ignorant, and that's okay, we can live with an ignorant white boy for now. I cannot stress enough about how there is no need to make mental flips and splits to justify this choice of thinking in a 17 y/o southern boy from the 1840's. But, he gets to change, he, after the first years of him killing the newborns reflects about this, he might not be completely educated but he has the spirit.

Now let's talk about Alice.

I love her, but, if we are really analysing this then her and therefore the rest of the Cullens (because they welcome her and Jasper on their family) are okay with Jasper serving for the confederacy and I don't like that.

Why did Alice make him feel hope and all this shit and get him to change and learn a new life but didn't make him reflect on that maybe, perhaps, fighting for the enslavement of an entire race wasn't a good thing to do.

She says "you'll never be that again." referring to him being a vampire killing machine, not a racist, may I remind y'all.

So, I think the change would be about Alice teaching him things, Jasper spent so much time with Maria and then he was seriously depressed, I get the idea he wasn't interested on- going outside besides to feed from humans.

I think there are two types of vampires, those who love seeing humanity grow and change and come up with all these little inventions and then the ones who just see humans as prey.

Alice being the first and Jasper the second, but not for long after he meets her.

I think Alice could update him about the modern world that was the 50's, she would educate her that yes, Jasper's gentlemanly ways are charming and make her blush and giggle but there are some comments that aren't okay, just because in "his time" it was "okay", "funny" or "right", to say these things doesn't make them less offensive, dismissive and hurtful.

Alice would ask Jasper what did he felt while serving? And why? Was he even fully aware of what he was fighting for? Did the years of him seeing countless human's fight and go to wars that got bloodier and more destructive made him stop and think about the damage of his own army career?

Make the man reflect. Make him think for days and days about these questions he asked himself but never truly took the time to answer them. I need Jasper to have a slight mental breakdown before he gets to know the more peaceful life with the Cullens and Alice.

Alice asked these questions in her endless curiosity, not in innocence, but rather to know Jasper, really know him and understand him.

I want him to feel disgusted about having to feed from humans now that he realizes how much harm he did, and that's were the Cullens come in, Alice knows about her new family of course and it's more than excited to know her mate wants this life too, not because oh he's so in love with her he'll do anything (he is) but because he wants to change.

Carlisle let's him stay because he knows this, he understands in a way and he can't help but sympathize with him and Alice wanting to change herself and help her partner.

But Jasper can't fully because his body is asking him to kill constantly. He doesn't want to keep harming people, but his body can't forget, not only his body it's scarred as a reminder, but there's this annoying bloodlust that doesn't want to go away just yet.

But he has Alice, holding his hand and make him feel like everything will be alright.

Jasper is struggling but he is changing, he is getting more and more mental peace, finally, after a century and a half. It's slow, it's painful but it's there, self forgiveness and change.

One of the things that I love, a concept, Jasper being into philosophy, history and just literature, him loving to learn.

I love that in Breaking Dawn Jasper wanted to help Bella with her thirst. And of course I love him being hurt when she's way more successful than he is after so many years.

Seeing someone who you share the same experiences is so amazing, it helps you, but seeing them overcome this challenges that you also endure it brings you down on such a horrible way, it hurts you, but it makes you think of who you were before and how much you have accomplished. How much you've changed and that's my take on Jasper Hale.

I am not normal about him.

Also, I think I would change vampires not being able to sleep or cry, I think Jasper deserves both, as a treat :). I love him.

[eriexplosion]

Ruins of War time, picking up where we left off - screaming in terror!

"I would say this was going well!" Well that was your first mistake Tech. Never say that.

CRASHING? Hunter is! so! Tired!

The way that they actually think everything is fine and then the container abruptly falls JUST A LITTLE MORE.

Okay though this femur fracture is not actually that integral to the storyline, and it's very specific and all I'm saying is that I think the femur is going to have broken again in the fall or something of a similar nature and give him a bad leg. Here's how reduced mobility Tech can win.

Genuinely freaky how he barely made a sound though like tiniest 'agh' ever for 150 kgs slamming onto his leg.

"It's unlikely the thieves who infiltrated the cargo ship survived the crash" Parallels parallels everywhere.

God the way they have to haul Tech over the cliff like fucking cargo. Just hoist him.

Interesting that they've never gone over the plans with Omega before, she doesn't know what Plan Double Zero means, and it's a very basic radio silence code. They set up that Omega hasn't been taught the Plan codes before hinging their finale on a plan code - giving us an excuse potentially in season 3 to have Crosshair explain what it is, because I doubt it's as simple as I'M KILLING MYSELF BYE.

"What are you doing here?" "I LIVE HERE."

They are literally making this man take them home, Romar actually has a ton of reasons to turn them out on their ass but he's being a very good sport about it.

All Omega wants to do is prove that she's worth having around after hearing what Echo said, this is her sole goal in life right now and I need to hug her.

"I'm keeping an eye on you" you are holding an old man hostage in his own home Omega it's not ideal.

KALEIDOSCOPE. "For blast's sake, it's a TOY. It makes you HAPPY."

Tech and Echo's argument oh my god, the way Omega feels like her family is fracturing. BABY.

HEY ACE. I love Romero so much. Explaining that it's not a Separatist archive. It's Serrenian. They existed before the war (they exist now, after the war) and how Tech never thought of it like that because clones existed ONLY FOR WAR aghhhhhh MY HEART.

Wrecker instantly turning the tank gun into a hand held gun is just. So attractive actually, I love that. "I make a pretty good tank" damn right you do."

"She was just here..." "WELL SHE'S NOT NOW!"

God Echo is really having a TIME of it.

Tech literally hobbling out on a fractured femur like that absolutely is going to weaken it further just saying.

I do love the detail that Wrecker is intentionally shooting AROUND the other stormtroopers when using the tank gun, so he has at least a chance of not hurting them too badly.

Captain Wilco having this moment with his helmet off as he kneels by a dead trooper is only a couple seconds but it does SO much for making us feel attached to him before The Events at the end.

They always go SO hard on Tech's music honestly, there's so many moments of him getting fired on and the fight behind the tree and Everything that the music just goes incredibly hard. The way it cuts out for just a second when he finally collapses before swelling up just a little again. Damn the Kiners are good at this.

NO Omega you cannot have even a SMALL amount of treasure.

"You don't have a normal life because of me" god babygirl this is very important but oh my god please have this breakdown ANYWHERE that is not a collapsing container unit.

Telling Omega she has to let it go... with her worry about being the reason they're in danger set to reappear in season three, I feel like that's going to be a thing that comes back. Everyone's a burden bby let's get you some fruit.

Will the kaleidoscope ever come back only time will tell

I'M A SURVIVOR REMEMBER? Refuse to believe that's not related to Tech's plot with the way that it lingers on him. I'm sorry the man's unkillability signals are so heavy.

"We made the right choice, Omega. I'd do it all again." MY HEART

Obsessed still with the fact that the Batch must have been reported dead by Crosshair, just, god there's so much there that's just IMPLIED instead of stated.

Wilco ;_;

Anyway as a premier this one REALLY doesn't actually cover much? Like they are fun episodes but we don't get much new info or anything, but we do get several small things that I think would very possibly come back.

[caution-may-bite]

Vent

TW for Child Abuse, Car Accident, Etc.

I've had a hell of a start to this year. On Christmas Eve I had my car totaled. The officers who came to the scene thought it was thebother guy's fault but since there was no way to prove it, the insurance might just cover ourselves.

Well my mother took me andnmy partner home after we had to go to the hospital. I am concussed and both of us are in a lot of pain. Because I mean. A bit ass Ford 150 hit my tiny ass shitmobile fast enough to deploy our airbags when we were going at most maybe 20. More like 5 to 10 because we had just pulled out of the parking lot.

She then proceeds to yell at us for buying fast food. She claimed we needed to be "more humble" and wouldn't listen to anything.

Now, as I have been struggling to work due to the concussion, she had called me up saying we can't have our cats back that she was watching for us because one of them is sick. Which we told her and explained to her why and how he was the way he is. But I mean, it was weird she decided it was okay to rename all of them why they were living with her so I should have seen this coming.

And despite having apologized for the trauma she caused me as a child, when I was arguing with her over our cats and the news that the sick cat had more going on with him than we knew, when I brought up that she abused me as she kept saying "I raised you better than this!" She said that I made false reports to CPS as a child- and to call the psychiatrist that I had gone to as a child for proof that they were fake. I, as a child, could not have made those reports. The psychiatrist office is a mandatory fucking reporter.

She also claimed that I lack empathy when all she has done is be unempathtic and really downright cruel. But she views herself as doing nothing wrong. She only ended the call when I told her she was one of the least empathetic people I know. Because she is. And that hurt her ego, and it is one of the things she prides herself on. So she ended the call and told me "I love you." The same excuse she gave me whennI was talking to her before.

She had told me that the reason she did things that traumatized me as a kid was because she loved me. I can't, for my own mental stability right now, go to far into things. I can for a fact say that locking all the food up behind chains and locks is not love. Forcing me to sleep in the floor or at the foot of the bed is not love. Hitting me because she was angry is not. Ignoring my cries for help and pleading for medical care that I needed is not love. Locking me outside because I didn't finish particular chores and refusing to let me drink or go to the bathroom, or on the otherhand locking me in a bathroom that smelled so badly of piss and handing me a sponge and being told to scrub the floor with a black substance and only coming around to yell at me while I cried because my eyes burned and the fumes were making me feel sick and the sponge was being torn up by the hard layer of whatever piss substance was on the ground- all of that does not seem like love.

I am struggling to get an apartment and go to full day's work. I am working as hard as I can because I have people and pets that I care for deeply that I want to succeed and give a better place for.

I am having to try and find a new job that is closer even if it means taking less pay because of this car wreck.

A small thing in comparison but I had to eat my mother's cooking again and she is... horrible at it. Yet she is convinced she is a chef level cook. I am sure things being overly salty does not equal having flavor. I am surprised I even learned how to cook, considering that was what I had to base my skills off of.

There's several moments where I wonder if I was just meant to suffer. If I had done something so horrible in a past life that I am getting what I deserve in this one. Things keep being thrown my way, and I don't know how to handle it. I feel so stupid for even trusting my mother again and guilty that now my partner, and his other partner are now all involved in something with her.

At the same time, I have some odd sense of calm from the fact that I wasn't crazy. That my mother really is an insane bitch. That it was bad enough the mandatory reporters at the psychiatrist place had to place reports multiple times and that she had the delusional mindset to blame me.

I don't know why she hates me so much. As a child I was constantly seeking her validation but nothing I ever did was good enough.

She only cared for my well being when it made her look good. She only supports things when it makes her look good.

I was something she could cast all the blame on. I still am. I am the evil child that ruined her life. To her I am ungrateful. Because of her and how she constantly characterized me as someone evil and cruel I always feel like I should not be around people because I will hurt them and that I am a horrible person that does not deserve what I have. That if I am not working to prove myself then I am worthless.

I noticed that a likely reason I feel I need to report what I have done or what I am doing, and provide proof of such and update others on tasks even if they are small is because of her as well. She expects a report of all that I have done every time she sees me again.

And she still places more value in the pets than my own life. The pets got vet care first, or treats or a new bed or toy. I was neglected and made to care for them.

I should stop rambling now. Sorry for going on so much I just needed to get this out somewhere.

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

Some Clone High NathMarc quotes because I’m a psycho for this au

@imsparky2002 @msweebyness

Ivan: Goth's darkness is nihilistic whereas Emo's is cynical.

Juleka: Wait, I thought we were nihilistic. ...Whatever, it doesn't matter.

Ivan: No, see, you're cynical.

Juleka: Oh yeah, you're right.

—

Alya: It's the Emo kids! *The other Vamp kids turn to look at the Emos and take to hissing and snarling at them. Louis steps forward and snarls at Marc as he and Nathaniel head for the podium*

Nathaniel: Ugh! You spit on me, Louis! *Adrien steps down so he can address the Vamps* Uhh, hey everybody, uuhm, I know we aren't on the greatest terms right now. We realize we called you all jackasses, and we're sorry we burned down the Hot Topic at the mall.

Marc: Sorry.

—

Juleka: So, all of a sudden you Justin and Britney wannabes think it's cool to dress like us?

Adrien: We dress the way our souls feel, to express the darkness, per se.

Nathaniel: … Aren't you Adrien Agreste?

Adrien: That's Vampir Agreste now.

Juleka: You kids need to all go put your freakin' Banana Republic clothes back on, right now!

Marinette: Hey, we're just as dark as you guys, maybe darker.

Marc: Really. Do you guys even think about arson?

Adrien: Of course not. That’s a crime.

Nathaniel: Oh my God.

Adrien: You know, you guys are really giving off a negative human energy. We prefer to take our darkness somewhere else, per se.

Ivan: All right, Count Fuckula, you go do that.

—

Adrien: Edgar Allan Poe was the original Vamp kid.

Marc: No, he was the original emo! But he's been dead for 150 years!

Nino: Hey, look man, all genres of Gothic subcultures are derivatives of Poe's work… Motherfucker.

—

Poe’s ghost: Children of Darkness, I would help you, but I fear I cannot be seen with a bunch of douchey Vamp kids and their poser-ass plastic fangs.

Nathaniel: Thank you!

Adrien: Hey!

Nathaniel: I'm just saying it's nice to know that Edgar Allan Poe agrees with us.

Poe’s Ghost: Agrees with who? Is that red dye in your hair or did a blood demon spit on your head, poser?

Nino: Ha! He got you there!

Nathaniel: … Your clone father is kind of a dick, Marc.

—

Nathaniel: Nobody is stopping Shadow Moth now. All will be sadness. Life will become death, and I will watch the crimson blood leak from your neck.

Ivan: Whoa. This emo kid is hardcore.

—

Kim: Dark as night. Hair like tar. Take your soooky self to the car.

Marc: Sigh. Once again, your poetic brilliance has put me to shame.

—

Alix: Nath, how the hell do you stay so mellow?

Nathaniel: I just pour all of my rage and anxiety into murals I paint for sick children.

*Cut to a child in the hospital bed having trouble sleeping because of Nathaniel’s mural depicting a haunting scene*

—

Kim: Look at them! They look exactly like Edgar Allen Poe and Vincent Van Gogh! They’re probably… Clones, or something.

Max: Kim, while scientists have been working on cloning technology, cloning humans is just… Unethical and goes against God and humanity.

Rose: I don’t know… Has anyone ever actually seen Nath’s left ear?

Akuma Class: …

Alya: Okay, obviously we need to do some detective work-

Max: Or not?

Alya: Then it’s settled.

Max: Why can only I hear me?

—

Marc: *Sitting in the school basement with Nathaniel* Wanna go out tonight? I’ve been wanting to browse the catacombs.

Nathaniel: What?!

Marc: *Turns Nathaniel’s head around* Wanna go to the catacombs tonight?

Nathaniel: That’d be lovely.

—

*Adrien somehow roped Nathaniel into modeling with him*

Stylist: *Brushing Nathaniel’s hair* With just a few snips, you’ll look- WHERE IS YOUR EAR?!

Nathaniel: Ugh. Like you’ve never seen someone with a missing body part.



[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 32, 33, 34

From this prompt list. If you've read this far, I'm not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn't written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way in. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft and am unlocking these old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here

Days 30 & 31 here

***

9. "Can I--can I please touch myself?

40. "I wanna taste you on my lips again." (slightly modified for characterization purposes)

***

Tim dug his nails into his skin. Damian wasn't supposed to want to do this, he wasn't supposed to want to give anything back, he was supposed to be taking, and instead—

His thoughts vanished for a moment, hidden behind a wash of white light that overtook his vision as Damian laved the delicate skin beneath his mouth with his tongue. Tim's muscles turned to water.

When he tuned back into his surroundings, he realized he was practically sobbing, little "oh oh oh" noises escaping his mouth as he fought not to just shove his ass up and demand what he wanted. Damian's strong hands held his hips still, not quite immobilizing him but definitely making sure he couldn't inflict an accidental injury.

Tim gulped, found his voice, and groaned, "Fuck, Dami, it's so goddamn annoying how good you are at this when you've never done it before."

Damian pulled away enough to kiss one of the dimples at Tim's tailbone, wetness spread across his face and thus to Tim’s back. His voice sounded rough. "I am a superior human being, Drake; I don't know what else you could've expected."

Tim laughed, then moaned embarrassingly loudly as Damian pulsed his tongue over the ring of muscle again. Fastidious Damian being willing to do this for him . . . the concept was making him so hard it ached. “I didn't expect this, that's for sure. Thought you’d maybe–” He gasped and writhed when Damian’s tongue pushed deeper. “Nngh!”

“Your expectations are clearly in need of revision,” Damian informed him. 

Normally that would've just pissed Tim off. Tonight it made the heat climb higher in his belly. He wanted to say something snarky about it anyway but words weren't really available to his brain at the moment. He couldn't seem to stop shaking. Rimming always left him feeling intensely vulnerable and wasn't something he could enjoy unless he trusted his partner deeply. The revelation that Damian had earned that trust at some point left him struggling to adjust.

He ground his cock into the mattress and whined in frustration at the tease of pressure. He shifted, ready to shove one hand beneath him, but Damian bit his upper thigh and ordered, “Keep your arms still. You didn't even ask for permission.” Damn. He really was a fast learner.

Tim forced himself to loosen the muscles that had tensed to rock-hard at the order and kept his hands where they were, but it required real effort. "Please, Dami," he choked out.

Damian hummed into his skin. Tim was going to burst into flames and leave a human-shaped ash heap on the sheets. "Please what?"

"Can I—" Tim cut himself off with a sharp inhale between his teeth as Damian fucked him with his tongue. "Can I please touch myself?"

"Not yet." Damian straightened, keeping a casually commanding hand on Tim's ass, and leaned over for the lube bottle. "Turn over for me."

It took a second for Tim's enervated body to do what he wanted, which was weird in and of itself, but he did manage to roll to his back without kicking Damian in the face. His cock jumped at the sight of Damian on his knees, his erection so hard it looked painful while he paid it no attention whatsoever.

"I wonder how quickly I can make you come." Damian didn't wait for a response, but lifted one of Tim's legs out of the way and sank two fingers inside him without hesitation. It would have been easy to assume he was being careless, but Tim whipped his gaze up to his face and saw the intent focus Damian usually turned on a particularly demanding katana form. Yours, said the voice in his head, sounding smug, only to fade in a helpless burst of pleasure as Damian's fingers crooked upward. Leave it to the baby bat to be some sort of sexual savant.

Tim arched his back and cursed as Damian's fingertips found what he was looking for. His cock spurted precome onto his stomach. Damian dipped down and lapped it up, warm and wet, while his hand kept moving steadily. "I want to taste you on my lips again." He kissed his way down the treasure trail to Tim's erection and licked up its length, giving a light nip to the frenulum just as he added a third finger. Tim cried out, loud enough to hurt his throat, and threw an arm over his eyes. He wasn't sure exactly what his face was doing at the moment, but he was positive he didn't want it to be perceived.

Damian swallowed his length down and rubbed his prostate simultaneously, and Tim was gone. He couldn't see, he couldn't hear, he was utterly immolated by the orgasm that tore its way through every single nerve ending.

When his brain started processing again, he felt Damian, heavy and hot against the length of his body, kissing Tim's face over and over again while his fingers slowly slipped out of him.

"So very lovely," Damian murmured, and Tim, overstimulated and wrung-out, stifled an involuntary sob, turning to press his face into Damian's neck. Damian let him hide, caressing his hair with his clean hand and saying soft things in Arabic that Tim couldn't understand.

Eventually, Tim yawned into his skin, and Damian huffed a soft laugh. "I'm unsure of whether it's a testament to my efficacy as a lover that I've nearly put you to sleep."

Tim jerked back to look at him, eyes wide in sudden remembrance. "You never came!"

Damian turned red. "That is definitely not true. Watching you was sufficient for my needs."

"What—oh." Tim blushed too.

Damian gave him a tiny hint of a smile and kissed his forehead. "I will be right back."

While he was in the bathroom, Tim flopped to his back and tried to catch his breath. It wasn't easy, with a cold, unfamiliar discomfort trying to immobilize his lungs. The nausea from earlier in the evening had returned with a vengeance. Maybe he really was overworking himself lately. He was too young for a patrol followed by a relatively effortless sexual encounter to affect him this badly.

Damian slipped back under the covers, lay on his back, and pulled Tim into the crook of his arm. His breathing evened out into sleep within seconds.

Tim held him close, eyes wide open as Damian's Arabic whispers played on a loop in his mind. What did “un uo you nee” mean? What did any of it signify?

Well, it didn't matter. None of this mattered, if he were honest with himself. It was all just a momentary encounter, or a few of them. Nothing of more importance than that. Probably in the morning Damian would get up and forget all about it.

Damian woke him again coming out of the bathroom just as dawn was starting to lighten the edges of his curtains. Tim sat up and watched him pull on his leggings. "You're leaving?"

"I don't have clothes to wear home, so I had better head back before it's fully daylight." Damian laced the leggings and pulled his tunic over his head. "Besides, I don't want Father to have the chance to ask the questions he'll ask if I return any later than this."

Tim gnawed at the inside of his lower lip, mind already picking away at the case now that Damian had mentioned it. There were a couple of connections with a Russian operation that he'd been meaning to explore, and now he wouldn't be able to go back to sleep for a while.

He followed Damian out to the living room and grabbed his computer to get to work. Damian sat down on the floor to tug his boots over his calves, then stood to walk over to Tim where he sat in the couch. He picked up Tim's hand, a delicate grasp on his fingertips. "I shall see you tonight."

Tim, still staring at the screen where the intercepted Russian Twitter DMs were displayed, reclaimed his hand so he could scroll further down. Damn, this looked like maybe it could be about more than guns. Pulling the thread might lead to a tangle. "You will? Why? Are you scheduled that many nights in a row? Because I need to check the program if that's the case and revamp; that's too many. I can do it after I get back from patrol."

A pause followed, stretching out so long that Tim forgot he was waiting for a reply and started typing notes on his tablet while staring at his laptop. He started when Damian spoke again. 

"Ah. Of course, I've got my nights confused. Tonight is my off-night for patrol. I won't see you until our next brief." He pulled his domino on and tapped the white-outs into place. "Thank you for an educational experience."

Tim frowned in confusion. "What do you—"

But before he could finish the sentence, Damian spun on his heel and strode from the room, the click of the door behind him like a full stop.

days thirty-five, thirty-six here

[squadxx4392]

(Friend and I were chatting and we got bored asf, so we did this)

Draco : *Just pulled Pansy off of Harry* NO! Back off you devil!

Pansy : Fine! I'm gonna go hook up with that Muggleborn you hate! She's hot and she'll let me hug her! *angrily stomping away*

Harry: *actually overwhelmed and hates the attention*

Hermione : What the fuck is going on- oh hey Pansy- but seriously what? wait why are you hugging me-?

Pansy: Draco wouldn't let me hug Harry 😞

Ron : *stuffing his face and turning to Blaise* The fuck happened-?

Blaise : Don't ask

Harry: *panicking*

Luna : *Simultaneously appearing* Hello Harry. Are you alright?

Draco: SPACE GIVE HIM SPACE SHOO SHOO *also backing away*

Harry : Hey don't shoo away my emotional support Luna! *grabbing her and hugging her*

Draco: *scoffs* I never ever get hugs from you but you hug my cousin all the time 🙄 *currently jealous*

Harry : She's my emotional support human, fuck off!

Luna : *trying to stifle her laughter*

Draco: *cries 😢 and walks off sad*

Draco: *plops down on the floor and cries more*

Theo : I- what?

Harry : I don't regret it

Draco: I'm going on a walk 😞

Neville : You're all going to Hell. Goodbye! *somehow sinks into the floor*

Draco: ... I hope I go to hell ngl

Ginny : NoO-

Draco: *goes out for a walk and doesn't come back for a long ass time*

Pansy : Has anyone seen Dray-?

Harry : no

Ron: He said he was going on a walk

Ginny : Luna, send out the beast

Ron: BEAST WHAT!? GINNY NO THATS BLAISE'S FRIEND

Luna : *pulling out a can that's rattling* alright, girl, sniff *releases a big ass tarantula*

Ron: HELL NO BLAISEEEE

Blaise : FUCK OFF I'M READING

Draco: *in a tree resting his eyes*

Luna : *appearing behind him* hello Draco!

Draco : *falls out of the tree*

Draco: JESUS CHRIST DONT DO THAT

Ginny : HA! LOSER!

Draco: I'm not in the mood leave me be 🙄

Hermione : You're not getting that out of us. Come on you arsehole

Draco: Uh no

Harry : Dude put on your walkman and come on! We're hijacking a car and going on a fucking road trip in America!

Draco: I'm good, take Luna instead 🙄

Luna : All of us are going, dickhead! Pull your head out of your arse and come on!

Draco: I'm seriously not in the fucking mood.

Blaise : We were gonna let you burn down the first house we saw but if you don't wanna come, whatever. Let's go

Draco: Thank you. Finally being left alone

Severus: No. You're going with them. *throws him over his shoulder*

Ginny : Listen to your uncle, Dray!

Draco:... I hope to off myself very soon

Pansy : Draco nO-

Draco: Yes.

Theo : Funny how you think death would get you out of this friendship. Because it isn't 🥰

Draco: Oh but it will

Pansy : Nah it's not. We'll haunt you in the afterlife

Draco: Istg. I'm going to move out of this country.

Ginny : You do realize all of us would.move WITH you, right? You're never getting rid of us. Now then, drive bitch!

Harry : *starts going 150 mph down the freeway they are suddenly on*

Draco: *gets out of the car*

Draco: *jumps out* Cya

Neville : Wingardium Leviosa; DRACO I WILL STRAP YOU TO THE ROOF OF THE FUCKING CAR DON'T PLAY WIT ME

Draco: I hate you all.

Draco: *mumbles* Except Harry

Luna : Awww we love you too <3

Draco: Yeah whatever. *rests his eyes*

Ron : Mate, we can go faster than this. Speed up the car, I want McDonald's!

Harry: No.

Blaise : *pushes Harry out of the driver's seat and starts going 250 mph* Next stop : McDonalds

Harry : Oh you FuCkIng himbo-

Draco: *puts earbuds in*

Hermione : Please share-

Draco: *hands her an extra pair*

Hermione : Thank you

Blaise : What d'you all want? We're here

Draco: *listening to music*

Ron: Hamburger 🤤

*Narrator's voice* Will they all get McDonald's? How will they get home? Where even are they?? Tune in next time on HARRY POTTER RANDOMNESS!

Friend : 😺 This was great I need another episode

Me : ikr? We must tune in for the next episode! look it's coming on!

(Fr tune in for the next bit)

[siesporamor]

Ok, it's time I start Sueña Conmigo posting, so here's a quick rundown:

it's the most telenovela of all telenovelas

there are 150 episodes of this thing

as much as I love Violetta, I can't unsee some similarities that border plagiarism

basically our protagonist, Clara, lives with her strict, rich as fuck dad, while her mom lives in Mexico

yes, she does write in a diary, if you wanted to ask

her dad doesn't want her to sing for Reasons, I think mostly because Clara's mom is a singer and they're separated, but it's honestly unclear

Clara decides to participate in a singing competition called Soy Tu Superstar, where no one other than the main characters will ever sing

because her dad can't find out, she creates a persona called Roxy Pop (no, I can't take it seriously)

unlike Vilu and Fran's basic-ass disguises, Clara puts some effort: she wears a pink wig (that I actually always liked), blue contacts, completely changes her style and uses a different voice

she obviously becomes the reality's fan favorite in .5 seconds, because she's the protagonist

meanwhile, as her dad is taking her to school in his car, there's this group of guys singing and playing instruments in the middle of the street and blocking traffic

this guy Luca somehow falls on Clara's dad's car and they see each other and idk, meet cute shit

Clara later finds out Luca is a new student at her school, too bad he also acts like a dick because he thinks Clara stole his guitar (it's complicated)

no, seriously, he's a walking red flag and he DOES get worse

anyway, he immediately falls in love with Roxy while hating Clara as if they don't act exactly the same??

also Luca has a girlfriend who is ofc the show's resident mean girl, Marcia, Roxy/Clara's main rival in the singing competion

Clara is head over heels for him and I wish someone had told her she deserves better

oh, and there's this guy Titán (whose real name is Diego, no, don't ask questions) who wants to date Clara, but doesn't seem to realize she literally cannot stand him

there are a shitton other characters, but you just need to know Violeta, Clara's bestie, and Nuria, the daughter of Clara's father's girlfriend who is a literal pick me girl

btw Luca has two sisters and the eldest is Jade, thought you should know

Luca also has a band, but I couldn't care less about his friends

not all men, but all these men

if you think it's annoying when in Violetta s1 every guy is into her, wait till every girl is into the most mediocre man on this planet

thankfully at some point it turns into every guy likes Clara, which in any other circumstance would've bothered me, but this time it felt refreshing

also have you seen her?? ofc everybody's into her

sidenote, Clara's outfits kinda slay and I've always wanted her rings

what else. Luca is nasty crusty musty and dusty, and every single time there's a minuscule impediment in him and Clara/Roxy getting together, he gives up faster than I accept to order pizza instead of cooking

I have beef with Luca, can you tell?

too many fucking episodes and sooo much reused footage

whenever Clara/Roxy and Luca are singing to each other the camera always focuses on just their eyes and it's so awkward

This is it. I've broken Sueña Conmigo down to its bare bones. It's a dumpster fire but it's MY dumpster fire.

[fromkenari]

Anyone who knows my taste in country music knows it doesn't include Toby Keith, and it hasn't included county radio since I was in middle school, but here are some sobering stuff I learned tonight while looking up things on the interwebs.

First, we all know "Try That In A Small Town" is some vague bullshit meant to make money but not actually be culpable for anything, right? And really, the song itself? Terrible. Jason Aldean hasn't had a Hot Country #1 in almost a decade (don't come at me with those "Country Airplay" numbers that just means the *checks notes* 150 country radio stations that Nielsen checks have been playing it, but he hasn't had an actual Hot Country, which includes streaming and other services, #1 since 2014), which honestly, shocked me. However, now I know why they were putting him on every award show to sing because he was close to the top but not actually there. Now look at him. Instant crossover #1. His first one. That video? This guy doesn't even write his songs, and he's not from a small town, so I think it's giving him too much credit that he knew anything about that courthouse or that it was his idea to put the protest videos in his video. Let him dig his hole and please, stop giving him attention. It just encourages the actual reactionary assholes out there to listen to it and push him. Do you remember what happened to The Chicks when they were canceled by people??? Because they weren't canceled for the 'Dixie' that is not there anymore. They were canceled for daring to speak up about George W. Bush in front of a country music-loving crowd. Nobody gets canceled for racism in country music.

Which brings me back to my original point...

Toby Keith. We all know that mindless "The Angry American" song (and possibly some of his other #1 hits, he has 20, and he wrote 18 of them, including "The Angry American.") I want you to forget whatever it makes you feel for a second because that is not the worst one. (Something something America, Land of the Free, whatever, worst thing he says is "...boot in your ass.") I need you to look at the lyrics for "Beer For My Horses," which has a deceiving title, unlike the other song, which tells you what it is straight up. "Beer For My Horses" is a duet with Willie Nelson that Keith co-wrote, and it was a Hot Country #1 for six weeks in 2003. It was nominated for a Grammy for Best Country Song. Knowing that. LOOK AT THE DAMN LYRICS. Here's an excerpt:

Grandpappy told my pappy, back in my day, son A man had to answer for the wicked that he done Take all the rope in Texas find a tall oak tree Round up all them bad boys, hang them high in the street For all the people to see

That's pretty terrible. It's Willie's verse. It's the second one in the song. Here are more lyrics from the third verse:

We got too many gangsters doing dirty deeds Too much corruption, and crime in the streets It's time the long arm of the law put a few more in the ground

This song got no critical pushback. No uproar. No removal from CMT. In fact, they made a movie based on the lyrics. I know because I've seen my own father watching the movie and immediately extricated myself from the room because I had no idea what I was witnessing. Willie's in the movie. Toby Keith stars. Came out 15 years ago. And I don't know if you were paying attention, but Willie won Country Album of the Year at the Grammys this year.

Oh, and by the way, you know how this Jason Aldean song has everyone talking about sundown towns? (If you don't and/or you don't know what they are, go look it up.) Anyway, check out the title of Tim McGraw's 13th studio album released in 2014. Actually, I'll do it for you. It's called "Sundown Heaven Town" and one of the singles was a song he did with his wife Faith Hill called "Meanwhile Back at Mama's" which is about Mama losing her house in the idyllic small town because the big city people are coming to knock it down.

Also, "Last Night" by Morgan Wallen is the first song I've heard from him and the first time I've even heard of him. I was forced to listen to it by my Spotify alarm. If you don't know why he's problematic, you can Google that hot mess, but hint: it's more racism.

Finally...

Darius Rucker has a new album coming out this year titled "Carolyn's Boy." He has the only country music I want to hear right now. (P.S. He wrote five of his six #1 Hot Country singles.) His current single is "Fires Don't Start Themselves," which, not shockingly, is a standard fair country love song and not anything outright or even vaguely speaking out against all the bullshit above this paragraph, even if the irony of the possible double meaning of the title is only potentially funny thing in this post.

[girl4music]

"WHAT THIS MEANS FOR THE SHOWS

If we operate with the premise of "the demon takes over and sets up shop", the actual philosophical and psychological discussions of the show become moot. There's no need for 'Angel The Series' because Angel isn't responsible for 150 years of carnage. Some random demon is. Spike should regain his soul in Season 7 and go "wait, who are YOU people?" because he's just returned to his own body. But that's never how the show treats it when it matters. Both shows are, in many ways, extended metaphors and extended allegories. The only times it's referred to as some external source are from the mouths of people who've had no experience being vampires, using a, frankly, really understandable excuse to explain something that's otherwise pretty heartbreaking. If it's just some random vampire going 'hey, these guys had mad mommy/daddy issues, let me replicate that," the entire show becomes profoundly less compelling."

Five By Five Takes slaying it once again with their Buffyverse analyses. This is exactly what I mean by how it's pointless Angel has a whole ass redemption story if his choice and agency and consciousness is taken away from him when he loses his soul and it gets restored again. First of all - what does that entail? And second of all - what is to learn from it? What's the moral behind the condition of nonconsenually giving over your identity to a demon? Five By Five Takes brilliantly explains why Buffy and Angel becomes so much more worth watching and re-watching when that black and white demon/vampire/monster lore just disappears from the then-narrative and the lines between good and evil start blurring. Because if all I got from it was demonic possession, I'd have dropped 'BtVS' in the trash ages ago with all the rest of the black and white rubbish. Instead - it's become one of my all-time favourite TV shows. And despite its inconsistencies in its lore and world-building writing, it still manages to thoroughly capture my heart, mind and soul. And it's precisely because they discarded the initial premise of "a vampire isn't a person at all" bullshit Giles regurgitates in eariy Season 1. it's precisely because they blur the lines on all of that why I give a shit to watch it and to continue watching it. To engage in and interact with it. If all I could get out of it is "there's no half-way", I wouldn't be here now. I really don't care if the lore is wonky. I just want a compelling story with excellent character representation and development.

[scarefox]

Ok, I gotta vent anyways. Didn't want to post this but I have to let it out

TW: car accident, money problems, dysfunctional family 🙃

My brother had a car accident yesterday night. Wild animal appeared on the road, car malfunctioned and send them upside down in a ditch. Everyone is alive and ok. He just has some minor injuries. But his car is trash. He got it secondhand just 1 month ago after he got his drivers license....

Our parents are so not helpful. Dad makes everything worse with his blame game and being an ass about everything. Mom is spiraling in anxiety and seeks help from me (because she doesn't get it from dad who acts like nothing happened and it's everyone's fault). I tried to talk with mom to calm her down, assuring her that everything will be fine and it's not her who is the issue in this family, but dad who projects his issues on everyone else. But I can not fully openly talk about this stuff with her because it's linked to my own mental issues I have with this family.

Long story short. At least my brother is now looking for therapy. Seems like the hospital advised him. So that's good at least. Because he would need therapy (and a check for neurodivergence) since ages. Everyone in this damn family needs therapy but nobody wants to hear that. Ironically my brother is the most optimistic one still atm. Thinking he will get it all managed with a lawyer and help from his friends. And he just gets a new car after 2 months fulltime working... bro

Meanwhile the financial support I am getting (which I applied months ago) is not paying as much as I need (because of my freelance job). But at the same time they don't allow me to earn more than 150€ on top of what they give me, or else they take that away from the support money again. WHICH IS BULLSHIT?? How is that supposed to go when I have like 1030€ bills per month but I can only get like 900€ per month?!!? Germany at it's finest... So yea I am applying for stupid logistics and office temp jobs again.

And therapy for myself. Gotta pull through this time with the therapy search. It's just damn hard to find something here.

And I had to cancle my sport till I get the finances sorted out. But my coach gives me one month training for free. Since I supported her during lockdown. So that's nice at least.

[easypeasylindyvesey]

I Think it’s Strange We Never Knew: Jimmy Vesey x fem!OC

Summary: After the unforeseen death of Abby’s boyfriend, one of the NHL’s star defenseman and her teammate, she severely struggles with managing her grief. She confides in Jimmy Vesey, who is not only another teammate of hers, but is one of the very few people she has a strong friendship with. That is until that night and the days that followed. Does this life-altering news change the trajectory of their personal perceptions of each other? Or does it entail a chance of crossing boundaries for the risk of moving on?

Word Count: 7,676

*(General) Warnings: (foul) language, mentions/discussion of death, suicide attempt (brief, closed door description), eventual confession of feelings, grief, panic attack(s), angst, eventual sexual implications but no smut, age gap

*Note: This story takes place in the future. Abby is 24-25 and Jimmy is 33-35.

SEPTEMBER 2027 (Warnings: (foul) language, mentions of death, angst if you squint, jimmy beginning his emotionally unavailable era)

This is the time of year where you feel like you’re mourning the loss of something you never had. For me, it’s always been the end of summer, the end of all things relaxation and the beginning of the hecticness. Everything goes too fast. You just wish it would slow down in just the slightest. The uncertainty of the future gnaws at my brain pretty much all the time. The red and yellow does not illuminate on the traffic light. It’s only green. And it never changes.

Preseason has already begun, and everyone on the roster rotates throughout each game. Tonight is the third game out of six. While Jimmy and the other selected guys had to take the train down to Prudential Center, I get to sit in the apartment on the couch, alone, verbalizing my thoughts without anyone hearing me (well, that’s as long as I don’t yell too loudly). If I’m being truthful, I am secretly grateful that he and I were not placed in the same group for these games. It’s nice to have a break. And I’m not saying this because I’m sick of him; more on the fact that both of us are in desperate need of socialization that doesn’t involve the other. We’re less dependent on each other. It’s as if we’re circling back to where we once were.

Then again, where were we to begin with?

Oh, right. The lip-locking.

No, we have not had another incident since. And no, we haven’t acted on impulse for even attempting a replication at it. We’re back to our awkward, unhinged selves. No bickering, no teasing that could be mistaken as flirting, no nothing. I sent him a text earlier wishing him luck and to not take it too seriously. He had the audacity to reply: 

I’m wearing an A tonight. You best believe my ass I will🤑

I replied back:

you’re not even getting paid bozo

He replied:

Well in this case you’re paying your time to watch me.

I replied:

get over 10 min TOI and then we’ll talk

He responded back:

Just don’t get a noise complaint.

I laugh. Typing back, I write:

i will when you execute your move of missing the net and then i curse the most amount of expletives known to man

Another text comes through:

You already do that on a regular basis

To which I answer:

and i’m damn well proud of it

He sends another:

Gotta go. Train leaves at 10, probs won’t be back till 11 or a little after. Don’t wait up if you’re that tired.

I end it:

i will so you can listen to my analytic response.

Or so I thought I ended it.

He answers back:

Don’t need a reiteration if I end up playing like shit

I roll my eyes, typing:

you’re gonna be fine. pre doesn’t matter anyway. just give it 110% like you always do💛

And finally, it ends:

Jokes on you. I give it 150.

I toss my phone on the couch, scoffing at his antics. I reach for the remote and turn up the volume. I’ve got a blanket, a warm bowl of fettuccine alfredo, and the group chat notifications on for those who aren’t playing tonight to discuss the game unbeknownst to the others. It’s gonna be a fun evening.

—------

The evening was far from fun. They lost 3-2 in a shootout. Overall, they had a really good game, but they just couldn’t capitalize for long increments of time. Jimmy ended up proving himself wrong. He played quite well. Did he miss the net? In fact, he did.

On a motherfucking breakaway.

The camera zoomed in on his frustration after he got denied, and all I could do was dramatically groan “Jesus Christ!” out loud, punching the pillow next to me and immediately going to the group chat and sending a text to express my displeasure toward that failed chance: what the fuck was that😭. Of course, it’s all jokes. It always is. 

I didn’t text him after because I’m sure he knows I’ll still be waiting up for him to get back, and while he might not be in the mood to talk, let alone have the mental stability to hold a conversation, he’ll know I only tried because I genuinely care.

I’m lying down on the couch, resting my head on the pillow and the blanket engulfing my entire body, putting on “Family Feud” as background noise while I scroll though my phone, checking for anything remotely interesting to look at.

The upper half of my body jolts as I hear the sound of a key being entered through the lock and the door quietly squeaking its way open. Heavy footsteps make their presence known on the wooden floor, the door being closed and the latch hanging across. A presumably exhausted sigh fills the space, the sound of a bag being dropped near the chair. 

I’m watching the TV when I hear Jimmy open the fridge and say something. “Ten twenty two.”

I keep my eyes fixated, but he doesn’t see my face contort in confusion. “What?”

The fridge door shuts, and I hear his footsteps glide across the floor and onto the carpet, sitting down in the chair angled toward the TV. He’s holding a water bottle in his hand. “My ice time tonight.”

I nod tiredly. “At least it wasn’t single digits.”

“At least I didn’t get benched the last period.”

I turn my face to look up at him. “Why the hell would you ever be benched?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. There’s always someone better.”

I roll my eyes. “No one is better than anyone. You’re all great in your own way. Christ’s sake, Jim, please don’t tell me you actually think that.”

“Can’t help it sometimes.”

He sounds so defeated that it actually makes me sad. It gives me the willpower to sit up and turn off the TV, placing the remote on the coffee table and ripping the blanket off me. I sit slouched with my head resting in the palms of my hands. “If you were not good, you would have never, ever made it to the pros. I don’t fucking care you’re a bottom sixer. You know your role and you stick to it. You worked your ass off tonight.”

Jimmy looks down at his shoes. “You not gonna say anything about the breakaway?”

I roll my eyes. “Forget it. You missed. Big deal. It’s not like you sent Twitter into a frenzy.”

He cracks that half smirk, half smile. “Sure you had something to say about it, though.”

I run my hands down my face, rubbing my eyes underneath my glasses. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

He leans back in the chair, casually manspreading, if you will. He looks up at the ceiling. “I think it’s all the pressure we’re gonna have this year to perform well. It’s starting to affect me now, like, if there’s any showings of inconsistency, it’s gonna drag the whole team down, and then God forbid we don’t go to playoffs, everyone’s just gonna blame certain people for spoiling the chance. I don’t want that on my conscience, Abb. I really don’t.”

I sigh, looking at his side profile that’s still pointed upwards. “Hey, I totally get it. Seriously, I do. There have been times where I’ve had a rough game and then I had to make sure the next one was an improvement, and if not, I’d believe everyone would start coming after me. You’re allowed to have a bad night. It happens to all of us. We’re not gonna win every game, but we go out and die trying.”

His eyes return back to a noticeable level, staring into mine. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

I stand up and leave the blanket, phone in hand, walking over to his side and resting my hand on his shoulder, giving it the slightest squeeze to show my support. “You are enough,” I tell him, looking into his eyes. It’s only now that I realize how long his eyelashes are, how aligned and straight they present themselves. “Okay? Don’t go to bed with that mentality. Take a shower and wash it off.”

“I already took a shower,” Jimmy says quietly.

“So then go change and get some sleep,” I suggest. “Unless you wanna talk about it. I can get coffee going if it’s really something you need to get off your chest.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’ll pass. I think once we’ve all adjusted, it won’t feel like such a huge weight.” He starts to unbutton the cufflinks on his button down. “Thanks, though.”

I rub my thumb on his shoulder, removing my hand as he motions to stand up. “Always, James.” I smile as I head for my room.

Jimmy scoffs, his shoes once again clicking on the hardwood. “The fuck is wrong with you, Abigail?”

I stop in my tracks and turn around to look at him. I’m inches from my door. “Nobody calls me that.”

“Maybe I’ll be the first person to do so.” He squeezes past me to enter his room. “I mean, it is your actual name.”

“Yeah, but I don’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“The same reason you don’t like being called James.”

I can already see him slowly closing his door. “And who said that?”

I pretend to think about my answer. “Uh, you?”

He smiles. “Nice try. Get outta here.”

I stick my face out at him. “I gladly will. Sweet dreams.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mutters sarcastically, clicking the door shut. Before I forget, I head back to the entryway to turn off the light. It’s almost pitch black when I’m making my way back. I’m on the cusp of entering past the door when I hear the thud of what sounds like a belt, and an “Oh, fuck” escape Jimmy’s lips.

I stay hanging near my door. “You okay?” I say loud enough so he can hear me.

“Yeah,” he says behind the door. “Just, uh, just sore.”

“There’s an unopened bottle of ibuprofen in the top cabinet,” I tell him, “in case you needed one.”

“I’m gonna need, like, 50,” he jokes. “Nah, I’ve got some in my bag.”

“Which is still out in the kitchen,” I remind him.

I hear a groan. “Fuck’s sake. Can you get that for me?”

I walk the short distance into the kitchen and grab the gear bag, lifting it securely in my hand before approaching his door. “Got it.”

The door opens and he’s changed into a navy blue shirt and plaid pajama pants, his bed already unmade. He takes the bag from me. “Thank you.” The door looks to be closing again. “Good night.” It clicks shut again. I’m finally able to have full access to my room, shutting the door, staring at nothing in the dark. I make my way over to my bed, crawling in and taking off my glasses, putting them down on my nightstand table and putting my phone in the charger, flipping it case side up and sinking into the coziness of my sheets. I can’t help but wonder if Jimmy’s pain, both figurative and literal, is starting to take hold.

I can’t help but wonder if I should start to be afraid.

—------------

The first official rainy day of fall luckily happens on the day where there isn’t a game. There’s no worrying about driving up to the rink, or even having to go out at all. I stand out on the balcony in my slippers, breathing in the chilly, raw air. Of course, chilly at this rate is around 60 degrees, but it’s better than consistent 85-90 degree days where you have to crank the AC. The sight of wet leaves on the pavement and the light panging of the rain on the window calms me down. All I need to fit the vibe is a hot drink in my hand.

Walking back into my room and out into the kitchen, I feel a shiver run down my spine. It’s evident that Jimmy notices as he’s pouring coffee from the Keurig into two mugs. “Oh, you didn’t just get sick, did you?” It looks like static electricity has taken over his hair.

I grab the blue and white striped mug in front of me and drag it across the countertop. “That would be your dream, wouldn’t it?” I take a quick zip to lower the chances of burning my tongue.

He shakes his head. “Actually, it’d be the opposite.”

I place the mug back down. “Let’s just say I’d probably handle it better than you.”

He lifts his own mug to his mouth, then pauses. “What do you mean by that?”

I move my eyes from side to side. “You know, the whole stereotype that men act like babies when they’re sick. I’m not sure if I can affiliate myself with that.”

Jimmy lets out a shortened laugh. “Well, all I have to do is take some Tylenol and drink enough water and snore several times a day. Before you know it, I’m back on my feet.”

I tilt my head. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you sick.”

He finishes sipping his coffee. “I was sick last year. Remember? It was the game before Christmas break. Whole bunch of us had to sit out because of the stomach bug. I didn’t end up getting it.”

A confused look makes way onto my face. “But you just said you were sick.”

“I was,” he reiterates. “I didn’t actually catch the bug, like, throwing up constantly and stuff like that. It was basically just chills and nausea, which, believe me, did not feel good. Thank goodness for Pepto Bismol.”

I laugh. “So, what, you just laid on the couch all day?”

“Pretty much,” he replies. “Watched the game, though. Still managed to pull out the win.”

“Sucks you weren’t there to actually celebrate,” I say. “All of your absences were definitely noticeable.”

“Good to know.” He sets his mug down. “Did you even miss any games at all last year? I’m sure I always heard your voice around one way or another.”

I’m trying so hard not to blush. “Honestly, I think I had grade A attendance.”

“Seriously?” Even he can’t believe it. “All 82?”

I nod, smiling. “The key is to not get hurt or sick.”

“Now why didn’t I think about that?” He taps his fingers on the countertop. “And yet, you still weren’t nominated.”

I shrug. ‘I don’t care about that. I don’t need an award to prove I’m good. And neither do you. We’ve been able to showcase our ability without a shiny trophy.”

“It’s not even the shiny trophy that’d mean the most,” he tells me, winking.

The blushing is noticeable now. “Yeah, well, who knows when that’s gonna happen?”

“It will.”

“Yeah, but it’s all a matter of when. We can’t just sit around, waiting for it.”

“That’s what this year is for.”

I drag my fingers along the mug handle. “I just want us to have a good year,” I tell Jimmy. “Forget postseason for a minute. I’m more than okay with a good regular. We’re already gonna have a target on our backs, you know, from the media and everything, about how this year is different for obvious reasons and what we’re gonna change and blah blah blah. I can already predict the antagonizing questions we’re gonna be asked.” I lift up my mug to take another sip. “I’m ready to tell them I’m declining.”

A soft chuckle elicits through his mouth. “They’re definitely gonna give us a run for our money.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll just tell them to put it where their mouths are.” I jump off the chair and walk over to the sink, rinsing out my mug and washing it out with dish soap and the soap pad. I turn to look at Jimmy, who’s leaning against the island. “Seriously, though. I’m not gonna have time for their bullshit.”

“Of course you won’t,” he agrees, “but you gotta remember they’re just doing their job.”

I sigh. “Yeah, I know, but some of their questions make my ears bleed. Here I am, sitting in my stall after a shit game, and the first thing they’re gonna ask me is what went wrong. Why don’t you tell me that?”

“I know it’s just stating the obvious, but that’s what they’re trained to do. You can’t give it away on your face that it’s a bad question, though.”

My face scrunches up. “I don’t do that.”

He whistles quietly, looking out at the window, watching the leaves fall from the trees, courtesy of the wind. “Hate to break the news, Abb, but you do. You have a tell.”

I let out a laugh, placing my clean mug back in the cabinet. “I do not.”

“You zone out past the cameras and then add a scoff for the extra flair.” He gives me a smirk in return.

“Sorry I don’t hide my irritation that well,” I retort. “I’m waiting as to who’s gonna ask a question about Ryan. That’s when I’ll break their neck.”

“I can totally see you doing that.”

“Yeah, just don’t piss me off and I won’t have to,” I reply back, smiling.

“You ain’t gotta worry about me, though,” Jimmy says, moving to the sink to rinse his mug out. I step back toward the pantry to give him space. I didn’t even realize I was still standing there.

“I know I don’t,” I tell him. “You’ll be up and ready to defend me.”

“Like always,” he replies. “Hell, maybe I’ll even sneak a bit of attitude in there.”

I expose a sly smile. “Time to bring out the Boston bitchiness.”

He laughs. “I mean, I don’t consider myself to be rude, but hey, I’m just like you, in terms of needing to act that way in certain situations.” He looks at me. “That includes telling off the press, not by giving them an attitude, but more of just trying to steer the conversation in another direction.”

I pretend to analyze what Jimmy just said. “Now I know why you won the Good Guy award, like, three years ago,” I tease.

“And now I know why you’ll never win the Lady Byng,” he retorts back.

“The Lady Byng is a scam anyway,” I claim. “It’s basically an award given to the one player that was always cooperative with the media and blah blah blah. There are a bunch of guys that could easily win it and they still don’t even end up getting a nomination.”

“Like who?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “This guy named James Vesey or something. I hear he’s the politest man you’ll ever meet. He loves having the cameras and microphones shoved in his face, pretending he’s some sort of movie star when he’s just subject to the last line on his team.”

He just stares at me.

“Oh, and don’t forget he never plays close to 11 minutes per game,” I continue on. “Basically getting paid to sit on the bench. At this rate, he should just be sent down to the minors if he’s not gonna average a decent amount of time over the span of a week’s schedule.”

He still doesn’t answer, and for a moment, I’m wondering if I accidentally roasted him a little too much.

But by the saving grace of God, I watch his dorky smile appear, flashing the tiniest bit of teeth. “This is why you’ll never be a reporter,” he says, walking past me and into the bathroom.

I follow him like a lost puppy and stand outside the door, watching him lift his toothbrush from the cup and cover the bristle in toothpaste before running it underneath the water and inserting it into his mouth, moving it around from side to side. “I could never be a reporter,” I defend myself. “Some of their questions can be so stupid that I feel like I’m being transported to another planet.”

“True,” I hear him say while brushing his teeth. I’m surprised he keeps all of the toothpaste in his mouth. I took him as the type of person to let it escape at some point and have it dribble down his chin. However, there’s already a lot of things he’s proven me wrong about. I’m sure there’s more that I’ll discover in the future.

I turn away and look toward my room so he can somewhat have privacy when rinsing. He stands back up from leaning over the sink and turns off the light. “No more coffee breath,” he says. “Wanna smell?”

I make eye contact with his skeptical looking face. “You want me to smell your mouth?” I make what I hope looks to be a repulsed face. “Absolutely not.”

Jimmy puts his hand on his hip. “Damn, such a weenie.”

“I am not,” I argue. “I already found out how it tasted. I don’t need to fall into another trap like that.”

His eyebrow pulls away from above his eye. “A trap?”

“Yeah,” I mutter.

A lightbulb pops up over his head, fluorescent light illuminating on all sides. “We agreed it was just a one time thing.”

“And it is,” I tell him. “I just want to make sure you’re reminded of that before you start making jokes.”

“Fine,” Jimmy says. “I’ll go on and pretend it never happened, like it didn’t mean a thing.”

“Good. Didn’t mean a damn thing to me either.”

That familiar feeling of awkward silence infiltrates its way throughout the apartment.

“Anyway,” I say, stepping back toward my bedroom door, “what are you doing with your day?”

“Well, I’m definitely not going out,” he says, gesturing toward the window. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“You think it’s too early to turn on the fireplace?” I throw out as a suggestion.

“It’s never too early,” he tells me, sending another wink my way.

I furrow an eyebrow. “See? You just want another replica, don’t you?”

“Abb, we just had this conversation,” Jimmy exasperates, rolling his eyes. “Who’s the one trying to rile me up now?”

I give him a proud smirk. “Now that is what I call a trap.” I head toward my room.

“And what are you doing with your day?” He calls after me.

“Nothing involving fire,” I respond, shutting the door, hoping I don’t hear his footsteps quickly approach.

For now, he remains in the kitchen, and I look around my room, unsure of how to occupy my time. It’s too early to start lounging in front of the TV. Hands on my hips, I scan every inch of wall, coming up with a plan.

When I’ve finally thought of one, I walk over to my closet and open the door. I’ve decided on cleaning out my summer clothes. You know, tank tops, dresses, shorts, sandals, the whole shebang. The only issue I might have is figuring out where to store all of it. I didn’t bring any storage containers while moving in. I lugged everything back in boxes. That was poor planning on my part.

I open my door and walk back into the kitchen to see that Jimmy has disappeared. I turn around and find his bedroom door cracked open. I quickly knock on it before I just barge in, because well, that would be rude.

Fortunately, I hear his voice perk up. “Yeah?”

I open up the door all the way and slowly trudge in, watching him prop up the pillows on the bed. “Do you by any chance happen to have storage containers lying around?”

He puts down the last of his two pillows and looks at me with a questionable face. “I don’t believe so, no. You can check in the closet if you want.”

Feeling the tiniest bit hopeful, I open up his closet door and peak inside, looking around in the dark. All I see are shirts and sweatshirts on hangers, suit jackets on hangers, button downs on hangers…you see where I’m going with this.

On the shelf above lie his neatly folded dress pants, sweats, all of that shit. I don’t know how he’s able to fit all of that and stack it without it tumbling down every time the door opens. And I, for one, would prefer to not test that theory.

Right below his main line of clothes, there’s some decorative storage boxes. He’s got some filled with trophies and plaques, others with hats, and one with what looks to be Christmas decorations. Well, at least I know he’s not boring when it comes to celebrating holidays.

And then I notice a tiny cardboard box. It looks like there’s a bunch of miscellaneous stuff just thrown in there. I guess the feeling of having to actually organize something freaks him out.

I peak in a little closer, and my heart skips the slightest of beats.

I see the pamphlet from Ryan’s funeral service, along with the memorial card.

I see the knife he pointed at me. He probably “got rid of it” so he could fool me into thinking it was still out in the kitchen somewhere.

This one makes me grip on the closet frame to prevent myself from falling.

The razor.

My eyes widen to the point where I feel they’re going to pop out of their sockets.

He kept it?

Why would he do that?

My initial thought would be Wow, okay, yeah, he’s got some serious issues. Now that I can somewhat think a little more clearly, it would only be rational to think It’s true he does, in fact, hold a grudge.

Abby, don’t even think about it.

I see a large piece of what I thought was paper stick out of the bottom. I turn around in hopes that I don’t get caught snooping. Technically, it’s not, since I’m not rearranging anything, but I don’t want to have another meaningless argument with him.

He’s not in here, probably stepped out into the kitchen or something. I make it very quick. Just a quick peak.

I wiggle the initially thought paper out of the bottom of the box. Only it’s not paper.

It’s a sympathy card.

Because my brain can’t stop myself, I open it. I scan the right side of the card.

Dear Jimmy,

We are so sorry to have heard the news about Ryan. We know that he was an incredibly valued teammate and friend. The tragedy itself is just terrible, perhaps close to being indescribable. You’ll probably receive this by the time of the funeral, so by what you told us about Abby staying with you for the time being, please, just be patient with her. She’s grieving this loss too, in a way that she once saw as impossible. Give her space, don’t force a conversation that both you and her know doesn’t need to be had, look after her, see if anything starts to change. She’s going to need a lot of help, and the fact she chose you is nothing short of an honor, when she could’ve chosen anyone else. It’ll be a long, difficult road, and it is painful now, but believe us when we say it will get easier. Let Abby know that, too. Reassure her. Just be there for her. She might not be able to express it right now, but we know deep down she is grateful to have you by her side. Tragedy brings people together. It doesn’t matter how, but it always does. Sometimes, it brings people together in the way you’d last expect. Keep that in mind. 

We’re always a phone call away if you need anything. We love you, always.

Love,

Mom & Dad

I shove the card back in the box, staring at the storage containers. This is a shrine.

It’s my shrine.

It’s a shrine he made to hold all of his grudges instead of actually talking to me.

And I never knew.

Lucky for me, I’ve started to grow thicker skin. I shut the closet door and turn around again. He’s still not here. Did he leave and not tell me?

I quietly walk across the carpet and out the door, turning into the kitchen/living room area. Completely empty.

I turn back around and pop my head in the bathroom. I shouldn’t have even bothered because the lights are off.

My last resort is my own room. I take several steps in, looking all the way up, down, and around. I even walk past the curtains to look out at the balcony. Nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking hell, where are you?” I mutter under my breath. I walk back out to the kitchen. His phone is on the countertop. But his keys aren’t.

At this point, it’s a lost cause to even predict where he is. 

Before I can even get a prediction in, the door unlocks and he emerges through the doorway. He’s carrying two large storage containers. “You couldn’t find any in there?”

I shake my head. “Nope.”

But I did find something else.

Jimmy places the containers on the floor. “Well, I went down to the laundry room and found some unused ones.” He looks at them intently. “They’re in decent shape.”

I take a step back. “The laundry room has containers?”

He shrugs. “Guess so. Will 2 be enough? I can always go back down and grab another one if you’ll need more storage.”

It’s my turn to pick up the containers. “That’s something I can do, don’t worry about it.” I try to look at him over the lid. “Thanks, though.”

“Yeah, don’t mention it. You need any help?”

My brain quickly short circuits.

‘She’s going to need a lot of help, and the fact she chose you is nothing short of an honor, when she could’ve chosen anyone else.’

I sigh contently. “Yeah, actually, if you don’t mind. You wanna take the top container and just bring it to my room?”

He walks over and lifts the container off the other one, holding the handles in his hands. “Sure thing,” he says, moving past me.

I follow him with the other container and re-enter my room. He’s placed the container on the bed. I’d rather have it on the floor, but in all fairness, I didn’t tell him where to put it, so I follow suit and put my container down next to the other one.

Walking over to my closet, I start taking everything off the hangers and pile it all on one arm, turning back to the containers and opening the lid with my free hand. I move them over to the side to make space for my clothes and start folding, placing it inside and stacking it neatly.

I decided to have one container for my shirts and dresses and the other for my shorts and extra sweatshirts I had due to the A.C. always blasting. That container is filled before I can squeeze in the last of my shirts. I lift the side handles to keep it shut and lift it off the bed, placing it down in the back of my closet.

Jimmy turns around from looking out at the balcony, watching the rain continue to pitter patter on the sliding doors. “You forgot about that one,” he points to the bed.

I stare down at the dress I wore out to our dinner at the vineyard. “I didn’t forget,” I tell him. “I’m gonna get rid of it.”

His face transitions into confusion. “What? Why?”

I stare down at my feet on the carpet. “I don’t know. Just don’t really like it too much.”

“I like it.”

I lift my head back up. “You do?”

He rolls his eyes. “Abb, I told you that.”

“No, you said that Ryan would’ve loved the dress. You never said anything about you liking it.”

I hear a nervous gulp make its way down his throat. “Well, I’ll repeat myself in case you didn’t hear me the first time, which you obviously did. I like that dress.”

I move my eyes from side to side. “Thanks,” I say meekly.

“Besides, you could save it for casino night or something.”

“No, I’m planning on getting a different dress for that. This one’s too bland.”

“It’s not.”

“It’s definitely not meant to last an entire night, either.”

Both his eyebrows shoot up. “What, what do you-”

“Like, I can’t wear it for four, maybe five hours or it’s gonna start irritating me. The straps start digging into you and it’s not like I can just let them hang or anything.”

I can see a sense of relief wash over his face. He thought I meant it another way. Well, that’s true too.

“It’s too tight on me as it is, anyway. I’m sure another woman could fit into it better.”

He continues looking at me, a hint of dissatisfaction in what I’m saying.

“But at the same time, it’s too big. A size 6 makes it bulge out everywhere.”

“Abb.” He stops me from speaking. “I think you pull it off pretty well.”

I fail to match his energy and shrug my shoulders. “Eh.” I lift it off the bed and fold it neatly, placing it on my throw blanket.

“You do.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not,” he deadpans.

Given the tone of his voice, I can’t help but think if maybe when he helped me with the zipper that night, he dragged it all the way down. He could’ve easily danced his fingers across my back. He could’ve gently pushed the straps off to each side of my shoulder. He could’ve guided me back into him, into his own body, me already a third of the way naked in front of him at his own expense. He could’ve reached his way inside and placed his hands anywhere he pleased, hoping to get a reaction out of me.

But he didn’t.

Only because he wanted to be respectful.

And now, after the kiss, I’m sure past occurrences of what’s deemed as “helping out a friend” was just a warmup for having to help me out of my own clothes.

Am I overthinking it? Yes.

Do I have a valid reason? No.

I shove the thought to the back of my mind and regain the focus on Jimmy, who’s now leaning against the dresser. “It’s up to you,” he says. “I just don’t know why’d you wanna waste an outfit like that.”

I sit on my bed, my right leg dangling off it. “Because I just don’t like it anymore.”

“And how could that possibly be?”

“Because it’s not me!” I shout. I didn’t mean to. It’s a heat of the moment thing.

I stare down at my hand grabbing onto my comforter. I look up to see him crossing his arms, staring out past the door.

I scoff. “God, why are we getting so worked up over a dress?”

He doesn’t respond.

“You know what? Fine. I’ll keep it.” I stand up, folded dress in hand, only for it to slightly tilt and undo itself. I wave it in front of him, holding both straps around one hand and motioning back to the closet, opening the door back up and reaching in to drag out my shirts and dresses container, opening the lid and placing it in on the very top before shutting it and pushing the container back until it hits the wall. I shut the door again. “Now you know where to find it,” I snap back. “Feel free to cut the straps.”

I turn around only for hands to grip me at the curve of my elbows and push me back against the closet, eliciting a breath I didn’t even know I was holding. I look up to see him staring down at me. It’s not a feeling I enjoy.

I do my best to look past him. This is like what happened in the bathroom, only with the tiniest amount of worked up nerves. I happened to get on his last one, apparently.

He pins me to the closet as he steps forward, invading what’s left of my space. He moves his head down to my level and rotates his mouth to line up with my ear. “I wasn’t gonna admit it that night,” he whispers, a tinge of anger present in his voice, “but I somewhat stumbled over my words because I thought you looked incredibly sexy.” His breath bounces off my ear, and I can feel my knees somewhat bend. 

“But now that everything’s changed,” he rasps, “I can admit that now. I’d love for you to wear it again.”

I swallow. “When?”

“Anytime you want.” His voice sounds like melted butter, all smooth and strung out. “Keep it for me, yeah?”

“I, uh, I don’t know-”

“He might’ve not seen you in it, but I got to. That counts for something, right?”

“No, it does not.” I attempt to say it confidently. “It’s only to excite you.”

“Boy, was it exciting,” he murmurs, pulling away to look back down at me. 

“Okay, I am definitely not wearing it again now.” I let out a puff of air.

“I wouldn’t doubt that just yet.” He winks and releases his hands, not saying anything else as he walks out of the room.

I stay fixated to the closet, trying to process whatever the hell that was. Flirting? The slightest bit of jealousy, even though there’s nothing to be jealous of? Something he’s keeping from me?

Whatever it is, he’s only digging himself a bigger hole by deflecting it.

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

It’s the last preseason game of the month. It just ended. I’m in the locker room after a 4-1 win over Boston. I’m exhausted. All I want to do is take the bus ride home and sink into my own bed. I didn’t get on the scoresheet tonight, but I did have 15 minutes of ice time. Take that, Jim.

I had a quick shower and changed into my arrival outfit. I kept it casual with a blue and white striped button down and white tapered pants. Thank goddess my period ended 2 days ago, otherwise everyone would be seeing red. Quite literally.

I’m sitting on the bus with my earbuds in, doing my best to fall asleep. Of course, the challenges arise when you’re not even sitting on something comfortable, let alone the fact it’s noisy, let alone the fact you don’t have the energy to talk to anybody. All you can worry about is just getting the hell back to where you like to be the most.

Home.

Except that’s not what it is.

It’s more of a hotel stay. Temporary. Unfulfilling, well, in my perspective. Torture. Uncomfortable. A last resort.

And the irony I was going back to it.

Before I can do my best to drift off, my home screen lights up with what I think is a meaningless notification. That’s until I realize it’s a text and my intuition gets the best of me. Of course it’s from you-know-who.

You played great tn

I swipe up to unlock my phone and reply.

thanks

I see the three dots appear, indicating he’s got more to say.

Want me to wait up?

I type on the keyboard.

no. you can go to bed

The three dots appear again.

Ok. Door will be unlocked

Once again, I end it.

k

It’s anticlimactic, but what else is there to say? It’s just a compliment. Nothing else to it. I drop my phone in the front pocket of my bag and place my earbuds in, ready to drain out the rest of the night.

-----------

I can already feel the blisters from my sandals as I walk down the hallway, approaching the door. I place my hand on the knob and turn it in hopes of it to open.

But it doesn’t.

I fiddle with the knob again, twisting it all the way. That doesn’t work either.

I have two choices. I can text Jimmy and let him know he “accidentally” locked me out, or I can knock vigorously on the door.

So I knock vigorously on the door.

It’s not even an entire 30 seconds before I hear the sound of a lock being detached and the door swinging open, him already in his pajamas, but not looking fully sleepy. He must’ve been starting to drift off. “The hell are you doing?” He says gravelly.

“What do you think I’m doing?” I say as I push past him, turning on the kitchen light. “You didn’t leave the door unlocked.”

He just stands there, taking in my presence, not saying a word. 

“Guess I forgot.”

I scoff, leaning my hand on the countertop. “And you told me it’d be unlocked. You got fuckin Alzheimer’s or some shit?”

“Why are we getting worked up over a locked door?” He repeats my words I shot at him a few days back. I am enraged, but don’t have the willpower to argue. It’s already a quarter to 3 in the morning. It’s a four hour ride back. No one else is awake in the world right now except us, which brings me to my next theory, given that he doesn’t look all tired. He probably did wait up for me. I literally told him not to.

I take a deep breath, tightening my grip on the counter. “Sorry.”

His gaze makes me feel small. “Don’t be. I’m the one that didn’t do it.” He walks backward onto the rug. “C’mon. Get to bed.”

I walk over to the door and shut it all the way, lifting the latch. Since I’m already over there, I turn the light off and pick up my bags, lifting them over my shoulder and walking straight down to my room. I’m expecting him to pin me to the wall. The irony he loves pinning all of his emotional problems on me.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t. I don’t even bother turning on a light, so I just place my bags down by the closet and toss my shoes down on top of them. I go to shut my door until I’m met with a tall shadow standing in the doorway.

“Fuck’s sake, what do you want?” I’m not even pissed off anymore. I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s hard to even look at him since I can barely see his face. He just stands there, occupying the doorframe.

“Goodnight,” I tell him, placing my hand on the knob and shoving the door in front of me to create a barrier.

Only for him to scare the crap out of me by slamming it back open to the side.

I dig my fingers into my palms. “You’re gonna rip that thing off the hinges if you do shit like that.”

“Maybe that’s the plan,” he mutters.

“Okay, seriously, what is your problem?” Why can’t this just wait until the morning?

“I don’t have a problem.” He still hasn’t moved from his spot.

I scoff. “Sure giving me an attitude for someone who claims they don’t have one.”

“Forget it.” 

“Well, if it’s gonna come up at this time of day, then please, Jimmy,” I narrow my eyes up at him. “Enlighten me.”

A frustrated breath comes out of his mouth. Then he turns around and walks into his room, slamming the door. He speaks from behind it. “I would never go through your dead boyfriend’s sympathy cards.”

Guess I wasn’t as sly as I thought. Damn, he really does notice anything.

“Or did you throw all of those away too?”

I lean against my doorframe. “I never got any sent here.”

“Lies.”

“You would’ve given them to me,” I retort back.

“For them to be ripped up,” he says from behind the door.

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” I’m over it at this point.

“Quite a lot for putting up with you for this long.”

I roll my eyes. I know he can’t see me, but I don’t care. “This is not what this is about.”

“What’s it about then?”

“I don’t know, Jim.” I take a brief pause. “You tell me.”

Nothing.

“Maybe you should be the one in therapy. You’re a grown man that can’t even communicate how he feels. It’s unbelievable.” I choose to not go any further, so I shut my door and lock it, giving him less of an opportunity to invade my space.

I unbutton my shirt and untuck it out of my jeans, leaving me in my bra and underwear when I hear his door open and a knock on mine. No. He is not going to see me under these circumstances.

I don’t respond as I turn around to my closet to take out a t-shirt and then to my drawer to retrieve a pair of sweats, stripping myself completely as I change.

“You awake?” He sounds sad.

I don’t breathe nor move.

He’s at his own last straw by attempting to even open the door.

“GO AWAY!!!” 

I would say it was a built up reaction. My throat hurts. I can’t help him if he doesn’t tell me what’s wrong.

The sound of his door shuts again. It worked this time.

I crawl into bed, raising my quilt up to cover half of my face. I stare at the curtains, concentrating on the uptick in my heart rate.

And then I start thinking:

Given the current reality, I’m afraid he’s suppressing himself so that he can be there for others. All I know is that I would not want to be there when, and if, he blows up. I’d be scared.

It’s just beginning.

I know exactly who his target is.

It’s me.

What’s his plan? I don’t know.

But it’s going to end in my current healing heart being broken again.

I don’t even need to guess.

Now that’s a trap you’re stuck in.