#so many of them just tint way too pale and pink but luckily it fits these so :D

[skitskatdacat63]

Downloaded a bunch of overlays and am now having a moment™

[sleepdeprivedheretic]

Those Shoes (Ch.3)

Song Inspired: I Want You by Savage Garden

Notes: @youtubequeens Hope you stay hydrated and have a lovely time! <3 Here’s this bit for now :3

Warnings: Creepy people, not getting the hint that a person’s uncomfortable, unwanted flirting, and talk about emotions bc honestly what are they?

He smiled as Eijirou took a bite of his onigiri, Tamaki sighed softly at his younger brother, as said boy had specks of sticky rice on his face.

It was a lazy Sunday morning, the boys were home from school, and Taishiro was enjoying his day off.  

“Did ya have a good day at work, Papa?” The ruby-eyed boy inquired, and Tai smiled, ruffling his hair.

“Ya bet I did, kiddo.”

 He didn’t tell his boys what he had exactly did for a living, but he promised himself that he would, in the future. So far, all they knew is that he was a professional dancer.

“Dancing must be hard.” Tamaki broke the silence after chewing on his scrambled egg, and his father laughed.

“Nah. It takes a lotta practice. Did you boys had fun at yer day at school?” He pondered, sipping from his cup of coffee.

“Yeah! There was a nice new boy who was shy! There were some mean kids, but I protected him!” Eijirou rambled excitedly. Taishiro chuckled, and then looked at Tamaki.

“Mirio fell in a puddle. Face first. I had to take him to the nurse.” He shrugged, yet Taishiro didn’t miss the soft glint that speckled in his eyes. He smiled.

“That kid’s pretty resilient, huh? Anyways, eat yer breakfast, then we’ll head out to the park, alright?”

………………

It was a pretty November day. Skeleton trees hovered beneath the rich blue sky as your shoes crunched up against the fallen colorful leaves. Although it hasn’t been a week, yet, you were slowly re-adapting to your hostess job, and nit and tucking the dancer’s clothes.

You were surprised on how many had requested your services, staying absolutely still as you kept a cool facade, keeping the pointed needle from digging into skin as you measured, cut, and sewed loose fabric. You believed in your abilities, yet it felt as if it didn’t matter.

You weren’t good at holding the obvious flirty conversations that somehow were being thrown at you out of nowhere. They would giggle, and you had to still your hand so that you couldn’t accidentally jab their shaking bodies, whilst trying to be polite.

Where did the sudden interest come from? You wondered. Your mother, undoubtedly, was on high alert as she noticed it, too. The flirting, joking, the inquiring questions. Luckily, the fitting room had a camera, and thankfully, your patients had known it too, so they were extra careful in not doing anything that was against the regulations. Your mother was watching, you all knew.

Speaking of which, she did not try to make things better. She would wink, or make subtle little jokes, as she explained that it was good for business. You couldn’t help but press your mouth in a firm line.

You worked so hard, finding the perfect materials, ignoring your own discomfort as you bit the bullet and tried to focus on making the outfit snug and resilient, while the owners ignored your tense shoulders and set jaw. You were appalled, as they used alluring honeyed words, directed your attention to a “loose” fabric between their thighs, and so on.

You, feeling a surge of retaliation, growled out that it would cost extra for you to fix certain areas, and preferred that the outfit was on a mannequin, instead.

Your spitfire attitude had certainly weeded out a few of the unwanted customers, but, gained some more who thought it was a challenge. You didn’t miss the look of sheer pride from your mother, however, as she sported a wicked grin.

“That’ll teach them. Might make your blond a little less jealous.” She winked, and you paled in question. He was jealous? Of what? You were only doing your job, charging the dancers a certain amount, and giving your mother, your boss, a small part of the revenue as she requested. Although a thorn in your side, she was also a beautiful rose, and you knew that she was helping you in her own way, thus, opening your eyes more to the situation.

It didn’t take you long to realize, that yes, he was jealous, and you were too busy to acknowledge the possibility, until your mother had to basically tell you. So, you took your time to observe your surroundings.

Daggers for a stare had met each and everyone of the customers who had followed you into the fitting room, you’ve seen. While hosting, you started to take breaks to watch him, much to the oddly placed chagrin in the other dancers. His style was a little different, more suave and seductive, rather than downright dirty. Back against the pole, he slid up slowly as he jutted out his chin, staring at you through blond lashes while sucking suggestively at one of his suckers, hardly minding the crowd as he gave you a show that was basically personal.  

He was addictive, you couldn’t help but think. His outfits, dances, and downright attitude made the other’s shadow in comparison.

 It brought you back to the present. Your feet shuffled against the dirt as you pushed yourself on the swing, breathing out huffs of warm air that meshed with the chilly atmosphere.

 He didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable, either. He did make a request, to tuck in a few strings into his nurse outfit, you remembered it so clearly. He had strutted into your office around the right time, white fishnet stockings and heels blended in nicely with the light aqua blue fabric that left very little to the imagination.

“Jus’ some strings near the neck, Sugar. Might even give ya a sucker if ya behave.” He winked, and you couldn’t help but laugh at how corny it was, earning a smug smile and tinted cheeks. Although a little flirty, he stood perfectly still as you fixed the frayed mess that was near his clavicle, feeling his warmth resonate around you as you couldn’t help but seep it in. You hoped that he wouldn’t say anything about it. How you could feel a thundering, fast-paced heartbeat underneath your fingertips, despite his cocky facade, your face blushing immensely, or how the atmosphere seemed as if it might just break from underneath the metaphorical weight between the two of you.

However, true to his word, he began letting out pieces of information.

“We actually go to the same college.”

 You stopped to stare at him with full surprise.

“What? Really?”

“Well, ya graduated before I did, but I live near the campus. I…kinda saw ya every day. Not as a stalker!” He rushed before you could think of anything.

“-as in, my road to the school kinda passes your road, and I couldn’t help but not look away when ya were…ya know…It’s a very connected town, so I’ve seen ya…around.”

Then it hit you.

“Ah, so you must’ve seen me doing volunteer work?” You murmured, and he nodded.

“Well, yeah. You’re a familiar face. Couldn’t really ignore ya, ‘specially when you’re bein’ so wonderful half the damned time. Ya don’t know me, and I know it might be a lil’ creepy, but I promise ya that I don’t mean to be.” He babbled, face tinting a little more pink, and your ears burned from the forward acknowledged statement.  

So he noticed your volunteer work, and where you lived, and yet you didn’t really see him creeping around the bushes, or any tall figure of his build stalking around, for instance.

“So…is this why you have a sudden interest?” You asked, and you heard him swallow thickly.

“Pretty much. Doesn’t help that you’re kinda allurin’. Like a magnet.” He finished lamely, eyes shifting as he bit his bottom lip, and you couldn’t believe the shy signals that he was giving off as your own cheeks burned.

“Ah. Um…yeah.” You couldn’t help but say, and he snorted. You jutted your chin up and was about to give him a piece of your mind.

“We’re both kinda terrible at this. Anyways, that’s what I wanted to tell ya. Been seein’ ya around and makin’ the world a better place, an’ so I couldn’t help but like ya.” He waved off your short-lived glare as your expression softened.

“I don’t understand? You’re shy but not?” You questioned, nipping the small extra thread that you’ve already tucked in.

He shrugged.

“Emotions are emotions. Ya do things to me that I can’t explain, and I make ya into a flustered mess, and vice versa. I was at first too fuckin’ scared to really say or do anything, because the last thing I wanna be, is to be a creepy stalker in yer eyes.”

“I think I understand. As I don’t believe that you are a stalker…um…how do you? How did you-”

“Body language is a dead giveaway. Studyin’ to be a therapist. Plus, it’s relievin’ to get another validation that ya don’t find me creepy. ‘Specially after hearin’ my story.” He grinned, and your shoulders relaxed as you finished up your work.

“Ah, all done?” He pouted, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“You have another appointments, as well as my number.” You reasoned, and his eyes lit up.

“So, I could call ya?” He asked hopefully, and you found yourself nodding before you could comprehend what he said.

“Awesome. I’ll see ya around, Chickadee.” He hummed, digging into his wallet as he paid you upfront, letting his hand brush against yours, and yet you didn’t mind. All too fleeting, he sauntered away, but not before giving you a final look.

“The ball is in yer hands, in whichever ya want this to be. Although, I gotta up my game, if I wanna keep the competition at bay.” He winked, and then turned to leave the room. The wheels in your head had seemed to stop, before whirling again with realization.

So, he was aware of it all? The flirting and unwanted attention that you were gaining? As if he had to compete against anybody, you couldn’t help but think.

He wasn’t like the other “suitors” who were more aggressive and rude, you couldn’t help but think, your chest fluttering at the idea of him being your partner.

It’s been three days after that. You did shoot him a text, and almost immediately, he responded. He was forward with his interest, and you were still in a bit of confusion, why he, still a stranger, had decided to pursue you so quickly. You couldn’t help but think that the stars must have aligned in the both of your favor, or that it must have been fate, for you couldn’t help but start to like him, as well.

His forward approach, his respectful nature, the duality of his emotions, on how he could be so forward, and yet somehow kind of shy, he hunted at a distance, not too close or disrupting your boundaries, while never failing to look for you, or put on a show.

An excited voice rambled you out of your thoughts, a very, familiar excited voice, and your attention snapped towards the direction at the upcoming person, or people.

……………………………….

He sucked. He was a sucker, and he let his emotions get the best of him. Why did he have to spill out everything? Now she knew that he was an eager fool, and he didn’t mention the most important part; his two boys. Although not biologically his, blood didn’t matter, they were his sons.  

Of course, while in his interest in pursuing, he was so caught up with classes, dancing, and raising his kids, a lot of things had passed his mind. He remembered laying in the darkness of his bedroom, staring up at the ceiling as his heart clenched.

What if she was only attracted to his dancing? The two of them had never made plans to meet outside of work, and if they did, would she be turned off by his more shy attitude? His more softer, meeker side? Unwanted thoughts swirled within his head.

He was making a mistake, he was putting too much time into a woman who he barely knew, and if she did like him, would she like his boys? They would always be his first and top priority, he could never lower their needs before a potential future partner.

Growling, he picked up his phone, searching for her contact. He began typing, and re-typing as he made sure that the sentence sounded perfect.

Me: I know it’s late, but do ya wanna go to the park, tomorrow around 9 am?

He bit his lip and pressed send. It’ll just be a hang out, he told himself. He’ll bring his sons, and if she reacted negatively, he would stop cold. Maybe move to another club. It was his fault for not mentioning that he had kids, and he didn’t blame her for not wanting to deal with him for not telling her in the first place. She was an adult, she could make her own decisions, and children might not be her priority, and he could respect that. The fated ding of his phone pulled him out of his thoughts.

Chickadee: Sure. It’s supposed to be chilly, tomorrow, so wear something warm.

His cheeks felt like fire as his heart warmed up from the thoughtfulness. A chuckle escaped his throat. Even while texting, she still used proper grammar, and he couldn’t help but find that adorable. He kind of hoped that she wouldn’t be upset that he had kids, and he wouldn’t force her into anything that she didn’t want, if he did break it to her that he wanted to see her as a partner.

He was a dumb mess, he told himself. However, he wouldn’t mind to have her as a good friend, if anything else. He couldn’t help but like her, and she had a blunt, straight to the point attitude mixed in with that sweetness.

……………….

    “-lunch lady?!” A voice gasped in shock, the three familiar figures caught your full attention. Time stood still as you recognized the two small boys instantly, and behind them, stood none other than Taishiro. Surprise had hit you, but you couldn’t help but feel joy as little arms wrapped around your leg as you stopped the swing, seeing Eijirou glanced up at you with a toothy smile and bright eyes.

You couldn’t help but smile, pinching his cheeks a little as he giggled.  

“Hey, um, small world?” Taishiro asked, breaking you out of your trance.

“I volunteered at the orphanage a while back. That’s amazing, I’m so glad to you two, again.” You explained, looking at the boys.

“It’s good to see you, as well.” Tamaki said softly, and you smiled at the slightly older boy who gripped Taishiro’s jacket.  

“Oh, that’s pretty neat. Ya were in dietary?” He asked, sitting down on the swing next to you, Tamaki following closely. You looked down a bit shyly.

“Um, yeah. They were kind of short staffed, that year, and I was a pretty familiar face, so they asked, and I said yes.” You rambled, and he chuckled.

“You’re right about the pretty part.” He winked, and you huffed out a surprised laugh.

“Do you ever not flirt?” You inquired, and he grinned.

“I don’t flirt as much as ya think. Anyways, I wanted to know, if ya like to hang out with us, for the day?” He murmured softly at the end, and you felt yourself smile a little.

“I’d like to. It’s been a while since I’ve seen the boys. Although I missed the children, I couldn’t really stay, had college to go through, you know? It’s good that they’ve been adopted.” You rambled, watching Tamaki push Eijirou gently on the swing next to yours, the shyest of smiles graced the raven-hair’s features as the two were basically in their own little world.

“When I first came to this town, I didn’t really have anybody. So I took some time to think it over, and decided to adopt. They’ve been the light of my life for three years, now. Can’t imagine bein’ without ‘em.” He said softly, and you felt a burst of warmth envelop you.

“It’s good that they have a good dad. Do they know of your-?” You let the sentence hang, and he shook his head.

“Later. I doubt that they’ll judge, but I don’t want ‘em to know, just yet.”

It surprised you on how easy it was to make small talk, each of you opening up a little bit more. You fixed Tamaki’s coat, brushing the hair out of his eyes slightly when Taishiro had offered the group to get hot chocolate from the coffee shop that was near, chuckling as Eijirou’s eyes widened with pure glee.

Tamaki gripped your hand, Eijirou gripped Taishiro’s, and Taishiro held your free hand as the four of you crossed the street, and you couldn’t help but feel warmth at the domesticated atmosphere within your little group.

You wouldn’t mind if these sudden feelings stayed a little while longer.

[easier-5sos]

Okay so there's this video (if you look up 'ghost of you luke crying' on youtube its the first one) of them performing ghost of you and Luke looks ROUGH. Like he's kinda shaking and he's all sweaty and pale looking, which is probably just the lights and stuff, but he looks nervous or like something's wrong. So could you write something about that? Like he has to perform with a fever or something?

heLLO!! He cried during Lie To Me at my MYT concert- highkey I wanted to jump on stage and hug my poor baby :((

(this has some comedy to it, which I thought was fuckin hilarious dONT JUDGE ME I HAVE A SHITTY SENSE OF HUMOUR LMAO)

-

Luke woke up in the hotel bed feeling rough- rougher than he had the day before. It was pretty cold in Sweden the last few days, and the band had been travelling in Europe during the colder months to perform their shows for the Meet You There tour. He sniffled his nose, rubbing it against the backs of his hands to hopefully clear them so he could breathe easier.

It was no hope.

He huffed out in annoyance, rolling round to face your sleeping body in the bed beside him- jealous that you could sleep easy, and he didn’t have a chance.

When it came to being sick, Luke was a wimp and you knew it. He was a baby when taking his medicine- always complaining that the taste made him feel worse, even if it did end up making him better; the poor boy cried when he threw up, tears running down his pale face; and he always wanted to cuddle you, even if what he had was contagious.

Finally, after a few more minutes of Luke sulking, feeling sorry for himself, and huffing angrily at the fact that he couldn’t breathe too well, he sneezed right in your face. You jolted awake, rubbing your tired eyes as Luke’s own blue ones apologetically looked toward you.

“Thanks…” You grumbled, pressing your face into the pillows to wipe away the snot and spit that landed there- it was a rude awakening.

Luke pouted, “I can’t help it! I think I have a cold…”

You nodded in agreement, reaching your hand up toward his forehead to check his temperature- to your surprise, he was hotter than the sex you both had a few days ago.

“Maybe a fever, bubs” You pointed out.

Luke whimpered, running a hand through his golden halo of curls. He was due to perform later in the evening, but performing whilst sick was a hassle he hated dealing with, especially since no one would let him take a day off. The managers had had enough of Luke complaining recently, especially when it came to something Luke wasn’t too happy with- you found it rather rude that management never took what Luke said on board, especially given he was the lead singer of the band.

A few hours later, and Luke’s fever had gotten much worse. He was sweating, dampening the golden curls that framed his face; his nose was red, even though it looked cute like that; and Luke wouldn’t stop complaining that he didn’t feel great, which the mangers were getting sick of.

“Baby…” Luke complained, arms wrapped around your own as you all but struggled to walk down the halls of the venue, “I don’t feel good…”

“I know bubs- you’ve told me so many times today. But you’ve got to. Management can’t afford to replace the date this late” You softly smiled toward him, knowing how Luke hated being sick, especially when he was due to perform for a few hours in the evening.

To accomodate Luke being sick, you took over the stylists and make-up artists job- since they didn’t want to catch whatever Luke had, and hearing him complain was driving almost everyone away from him, he was basically a gigantic baby. 

You’d found the lightest shirt Luke owned- one that covered everything he wanted to cover, yet was still light enough for someone running a fever to wear- which happened to be his almost sheer leopard print shirt; you forced him to put on pants that unfortunately didn’t match anything, however the flare at the bottom would keep his legs cool; and his boots without the heel, so Luke wouldn’t somehow fall over and sprain his ankle because of his shoe choice. In all fairness, you were pretty proud with the outcome of the outfit, tying it all together with a nice belt that adorned a large silver buckle in the middle- it was very Luke. 

Next, you tried your hardest to make Luke look more alive- as his skin was deathly pale, his nose was red, and his cheeks were tinted pink. You sat on the counter in the dressing room, Luke sitting on a chair between your legs, his sweaty hands on your thighs in a deathly grip he wasn’t willing to let go of. Letting the inner make-up artist inside you flourish- from watching all the beauty gurus on YouTube, and deeming yourself worthy of being a beauty guru- you dashed on some glittery pink eyeshadow to Luke’s eyelids, however highlighter wasn’t needed as he was already sweating so much from the fever.

You watched as Luke’s eyes grew heavy, blissfully falling asleep as you tried your hardest to pat his forehead down- his skin was burning, and the usual excited glint in his diamond blue eyes was gone, which was a telltale sign that Luke was well and truly sick.

In the back of your mind, you worried that Luke would collapse on stage during a song, maybe because he didn’t drink enough water to begin with, or because he was exhausted from the fever- and you hoped it wouldn’t happen.

Luke slowly sat up from the chair, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand as he gave you a weak smile. You were tempted to storm down to the tour managers and complain that Luke wasn’t fit to perform- however you knew they wouldn’t listen to you, you were just dating the lead singer, no big deal.

Slowly, the sick, lanky blonde made his way to where the rest of his band was situated, waiting for the signal to get on stage. He didn’t look great.

“Luke, what’s up man? Are you good?” Ashton inquired, tapping out a beat on the wall with his drumsticks.

Luke shook his head, wiping at his forehead again.

“Personally, I think he shouldn’t perform.” You butted in.

“Yeah- he doesn’t look at all lively” Calum pointed out, nodding in agreement.

Michael nodded too, “We should go talk to someone”

“They won’t listen. We tried this morning, but Luke’s fever got worse.” You sighed in annoyance.

Calum rolled his eyes, “Of course they didn’t.”

“Listen, I’ll get more water bottles from the dressing room, but can someone continue to remind Luke to keep his liquids up?” You raised an eyebrow toward the band, as they all hummed an agreement.

Luke whimpered, arms wrapping around one of yours once again, “Y/N I wanna go home…” nuzzling his face into your neck.

“I know bubs, I know- but you can’t. Fuckin’ management won’t let you.” You grumbled, getting tired of how management was pushing these boys to the extreme.

In under ten minutes, the band was out on stage- with Luke flopping around the place, a small smile on his lips as he tried his hardest to keep up with everything else around him. Lucky, no one had noticed his lack of enthusiasm just yet- as the first break rolled around. You’d managed to let the managers give the band a few more breaks than usual, as they’d noticed the lack of fire in Luke’s performance.

Luke immediately made a B-Line for you, almost collapsing his entire body onto yours the second his skin made contact with your own. You stumbled backward, falling onto a chair that was luckily behind you.

“You alright bubs?” You asked, hand soothing his wild curls.

Luke shook his head, “I can’t do it…”

“You’re doing amazing Lu! I’m so proud of you, okay?” You tried your hardest to give him positive reinforcement, so he’d be more willing to go back on stage- you knew that once Luke got comfortable, he was less likely to get off you again.

Only a few minutes later, he was all but dragged on stage by Michael, who let Luke sit down on the mini stage for Ashton’s drum kit- a water bottle in hand as he forced Luke to drink it.

Another break rolled around, and Luke was looking worse than ever. He stumbled toward you, and you let him collapse on you once again- being prepared by already sitting on the chair.

He whimpered into your ear, “I wanna go home…. Can’t do this…” once again.

“Only two more sets to go bubs, and then we’ll be on our way back to the hotel! You got this!” You smiled, watching as he rubbed his eyes- the eyeshadow going absolutely everywhere, tainting his hands in pink, glittery shadow.

Once again, the band dragged Luke on stage, and he performed at the seat of the piano- a microphone set up so Luke could sing from the comfort of the seat, instead of in front of the entire crowd, so they weren’t able to see how sick he really was. There was sweat trickling down his forehead, pink eyeshadow all around his eyes, and his hair was a mess- but he kept going.

That was, until the last break.

Luke came stumbling toward you, tears picking at his eyes and pink, glittery eyeshadow on almost every possible patch of skin on his face. You knew that this was the last straw for him, as he slouched down on top of you again.

You pulled out all the stops, “I don’t think he’s going to make it. I don’t want him collapsing from exhaustion on stage. I’m taking him back to the hotel.” You all but demanded.

Even though the situation was the opposite of romantic, Ashton made a comment about how much he adored the fact that you cared so much for Luke, as Calum awed- even though you knew Calum, of all people, didn’t believe in love.

Letting Luke slouch against your entire body, you made your way through the backstage hallways, ignoring the managers that shouted at you to give them the lead singer back. You’d have to explain it all in the morning, but for now, they’d have to do without the lead singer- who wasn’t capable of finishing the concert tonight.

Finally, after an hour of arguing with the security guard, who instructed you to take Luke back on stage, and another twenty minutes driving in an Uber to the hotel- you had Luke back in the hotel room. You pulled the sweaty clothes from his body, feeling just how hot his skin had gotten from performing and the fever on top of it all. The eyeshadow was no longer on Luke’s eyes, but all around his face instead, as you lightly chuckled at how much of a toddler Luke looked like. His golden curls were drenched in sweat, as you tied all the curls into a bun- making sure to massage Luke’s head in the process to calm him down, which always worked a treat.

After all that, it didn’t take long for Luke to pass out on the hotel bed, before sneezing in your face one last time- as a thank you, for helping him, you assumed.

[queeniewriteshockey]

can i get a sad carter where hes crying and having a panic attack after a game and you have to calm him down, thank you in advance girly! also love your writing!!

Warning: Panic AttackWord Count: 1866

You’d missed the game but you’d heard about it. You wished you could have been there, but you’d been called into work on your day off and couldn’t say no to your manager. Luckily you hadn’t had tickets wasting away in your pocket. You’d simply planned on sitting at home and watching the Flyers on TV. It was hard, though. Going into this particular game. The Flyers had hit another losing streak, five and counting. Carter was in the goal for three of the five and you could tell that it was starting to wear on him. 

It wasn’t his fault, not really, but you understood the stress. He was a goalie, after all. The shots he let in ultimately decided the game. Even when he only let in one goal, if he own team couldn’t find the back of the net, the loss fell on him. You’d watched this happen time and time again in the last few games. Carter let in one maybe two goals, but for the life of the team, they couldn’t score. Which meant losses. 

The last game you’d been in the stands for, you’d watched Nolan throw an absolute fit at the end of a game. He’s scored, it would have tied the game up. Only it didn’t count. The replay had shown it was an offside goal and they’d reversed the call. He hadn’t been the only one pissed off about that. You could see the frustration on everyone's faces, not just Nolan’s.  

Tonight’s game had been equally as brutal from what you had heard. You’d kept up with the score on your phone, but each goal Carter let in made your heart sink and your insides twist. At the second intermission, it was 4-0 them and you decided not to check on the game again. It was stressing you out and you were at work. You could only imagine what the boys were going through. 

When the game ended, and you heard the final score, you knew you had to get home. You knew, with every bit of you, that Carter wasn’t going to be taking this loss well. It was one thing to lose by a large margin. You could see that one coming and you knew what to expect, but it hadn’t been a large margin. The game had ended at 4-3 and that one goal Carter had let in had been the game-deciding play. 

You didn’t know what to expect when you got home. He wasn’t prone to anger, but you’d seen it before from him. He was so mild and calm, so level headed, that the one time you’d seen his anger flair, you’d been so shocked all you could do was sit there in silence and watch. It had come after he’d been pulled from a game the first time and you completely understood why it had morphed the mild-mannered man into something more akin to Nolan’s rage monster. 

Walking in the door, initially, nothing seemed off. Nothing was out of place, everything was quiet. You could hear the water running in the master bathroom, but it was faint from the living room and figured Carter was just washing off the game. Sometimes a hot shower was the best recipe for that. You made your way to the kitchen for a drink and grabbed a snack on the way out. 

“Hey babe,” you called as you set down the drink on the side table and finished your food. There was no reply from the bathroom, but the door was open. You figured he hadn’t heard you over the water running. You decided to poke your head into the bathroom, to say hi and make sure he knew you were home. 

The cheerful greeting you’d expected to give him died on your lips when the sight of him met your eyes. The large glass shower stall in your bathroom left nothing to the imagination, though often it was fogged over with the steam of the water. There was no steam to the water, no warmth in the bathroom and the sight that met your eyes made your blood run as cold as the water in the shower. 

“Carter,” you said quickly, pushing yourself into the bathroom and over to the shower. He was sitting, naked on the floor of the shower, water running down his face, eyes empty and unseeing. Fear pulled at your mind, worry and horror filled your heart. It was all you could do to reach in and turn the fridged water off, to at least stop the barrage of ice from flowing. 

His eyes blinked once. Twice. Three times before his head tilted up in search of what had suddenly changed. He couldn’t really see, his eyes unfocused on the here and now. All he saw was the scoreboard. The loss. The anger from the stands and the fans. He could hear the fans jeers in his head. The ones screaming that he sucked. That he needed to be pulled from the game. A few telling him to go back to the AHL. He wasn’t good enough to be pro. 

His hands came up to cover his ears, to block out the noise of the angry crowd and he closed his eyes. He needed to get away from the game, away from anger. It was all his fault. He’d let the goals in and they’d lost. Because of him. Six games. Six straight games. Four them his fault. Maybe they were right, maybe he did belong back with the Phantoms. Or maybe. Maybe he should hang the whole thing up. Walk away and do something else with his life. 

The thought tore through him like a muscle tearing from bone. It left him gasping for breath, the pain of the idea strangling him. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t think. He just watched as the life he’d worked to build crumbled in his hands. He was insignificant, standing on an empire made of sand. He was helpless to stop the tide as it rolled in and washed him out to sea. 

“Carter!” 

Warmth touched his skin for a moment, shocking him like electricity to his heart. Forcing him to focus his eyes a little. 

“Carter, hey, I need you to look at me.” Your voice was panicked as you spoke but you saw, the second his mind came back to you and your sighed. You expected to see a bit of his anger, but this… this was a completely different side of Carter, one you hadn’t expected or ever wanted to see. 

Tear tracks ran down his face where the water hadn’t hit his skin and it broke your heart to know that this loss had gotten to him so much so that he’d actually cried over it. He was always the first one to remind you that it was just a game, but even he had his limits when it came to losses. 

“Y/N?” He asked.

Hearing his voice, empty and hollow as it was, both made your heart soar and break at the same time. You lacked the ability to define the relief and horror you felt when he said your name. How many times had you heard him say it without having a reaction at all? Too many to count, that was for sure. 

“Yeah, it’s me, baby. I’m going to grab a towel. You need to get out of the shower.” His skin was even more pale than normal and there was a purple tint to his normally pink lips. He’d let the water run too long and the sub-zero temperature of the winter outside had not done wonderful things to him. 

“What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?” He asked, not acknowledging that he’d even heard what you said about a towel. 

“It’s nearly midnight,” you told him, fingers running through his sodden hair, pushing it out of his face. “You know I get off at 11:30.” That meant he’d likely been sitting blindly in the shower for at least an hour. Your heart broke even more. “I’m getting a towel. I’ll be right back.” 

You let go of him, even if you didn’t want to. You knew you needed to get him out of the bathroom and warmed up, but the act of walking away from him was the hardest thing you’d ever done. You were thankful it wasn’t a long walk to the cabinet, you could keep your eyes on him the entire time. 

“Come on,” you said once you had the towel and were back over by him. “I need you to help me get you up. I’m not that strong.” You tugged at his arm, hands grabbing his wrists in an effort to spur him into movement. 

“Y/N?” He asked again. “When did you get home.” 

Concern etched your features but you didn’t give it voice. “Not long ago,” you told him. “A few minutes ago, maybe. Can you stand?”

“What?” 

“Can you stand? I have your towel, but you’re too heavy, I can’t pick you up.” You probably could, if you had to, but you wanted him to try on his own. You tug at his arms again and this time he adds his strength to the mix and you’re able to get him standing. You took your time wiping him off, ridding his skin of the water that had clung to him before you wrapped the towel around his waist and guided him out of the shower. 

“Did you see the game?” He asked, breaking the silence as his bare feet touched the soft bathmat on the floor. 

“No, I was working. But I caught the highlights.” 

“What highlights? The game was awful.” 

Your eyes flicked up to his and your face fell. The green, so mossy and beautiful was dull and empty. “Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, distracting him while you directed him out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. 

“No.” 

You had expected that answer. You were okay with that. “Okay,” you told him with a nod. “What do you say we get ready for bed?” 

He nodded in response, but you weren’t convinced he had it in him to get dressed. It fell to you to get him ready for bed. You didn’t might, though. Getting him dressed was easier than getting him out of the shower. All you had to do with slip a pair of boxer briefs over his legs and get him tucked into the cozy bed. When he was situated you took the time to get yourself ready for bed and then joined him. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, a shiver ran through your body the moment his cold skin touched yours. You placed a kiss on his cheek and molded yourself around him. “You’ll get ‘em next time, Babe. I know you will.” 

You finally let yourself relax when you felt his fingers thread through yours and the press of his lips against your knuckles. “Thank you for believing in me.” He said softly. 

You gave him another kiss on the cheek and bury your face in his shoulder. “I’ll never stop.” 

-Fin-

[sunflower-fish]

@charankofucker69 here ya go. Hope you like it btw! (Ngl, it's been a while since I've wrote something like this)

It had been a few weeks since Garou had turned himself in, and a whole week since he's been under house arrest. Bang had him do all the housework, like Charanko had to do when he was the only student there.

Things were quiet, even when Bang was gone. Garou didn't talk, his head was usually down, and he would just do whatever chore Bang sent him to do, Charanko boredly watching him when he was supposed to train pretty much each time he could get away with it.

Today was one of those tired days. Bang was out with Demon Cyborg and Caped Baldy, most likely out for a monster attack. Charanko was lazily "reading" a manga about a martial artist who had gotten his crush to notice him, while Garou was doing the chores their sensei had sent him to do for that day.

Today it seemed to be laundry, dishes, floors and fixing the table that Caped Baldy broke somehow, which he was currently working on in silence. Charanko never really took Garou as the "fixing type", but there he was, fixing the damned table like he knew what he was doing. He looked back into his Manga Volume, listening to the sounds of wood and screws. He peaked up again, seeing Garou look the table over and huming. For an obvious first try, the table didn't look too fucked up. The legs were in the wrong places, but not something too noticable.

An hour later he watched as he cleaned the floors of the dojo, the manga volume resting on his thigh, other hand on his chin. For Garou not doing any vigourus work, he seemed to keep his physique up. How he did it, Charanko had no idea why. Maybe he worked out in the middle of the night? Would explain why he's so tired during the day.

"We should get drinks," Charanko commented, eyes wandering down to Garou's hips. "Bang's not supposed to be here until late night. So he wouldn't really know"

"I can't leave the dojo," Garou replied.

"I can get them and come back," Garou sighed. "I'm not hearing a no,"

"Better be good," Charanko grinned, getting up from where he sat.

"I'll be real quick," Garou nodded, focus still on his chores.

Charanko opened the door to the dojo, two 12 packs in hand with a bag with two bottles, and five cans hanging from his mouth. A hand quickly grabbed that one before it could fall, Charanko nodded his thanks, quickly heading to the sleeping quarters, hearing the door shut behind him.

Garou joined him a few minutes later, using his mouth to pick a sliver of wood out of his hand. God damn his hands, Charanko hated them and liked them at the same time. They were nice hands, but being beaten by them plenty of times made him loathe them.

Charanko looked away and opened one of the boxes, quickly opening a can of not-so-cheap beer and taking a swig as he handed Garou one, hearing it open.

Like things used to be, Charanko tried to turn it into a challenge of beer chugging. Garou seemed to be in the challenging mood as well, since he didn't let off either.

For a few minutes it went like that, them seeing how quickly and how many beers they could chug first. The empty cans being thrown into the now empty bag.

Of course Garou was winning.

Like usual.

Charanko coughed on his 9th, taking the can from his mouth and just letting the coughing fit go on. He was surprised to feel a hand on his shoulder, which he tried to wave off, but it didn't budge.

"Wrong tube," He croaked.

"Maybe we should just drink," Garou suggested, moving his hand when the coughing fit was over and just casually started drinking. Charanko nodded in agreement and followed suit.

So that's what they did, was just drink normally in silence, Garou tapping lightly on his can, looking down, thinking.

"What'cha thinkin about?" Garou looked up at him. Charanko would've found his expression cute, his face was flushed from the alchohol, features relaxed as they could be, hell even that scar on his face made him look cute.

Charanko quickly looked away and chugged the rest of his beer, grabbing another, trying to keep his thoughts away. They sat in awkward silence for a few more minutes, before Garou stood up, placing his empty can in the bag.

"I gotta piss," he commented, heading out of the room, a little unsteadiness to his walk, making Charanko look at how many cans the blonde had drank.

"Holy shit, I should let him off a bit," he muttered, looking at the twenty empty cans. He quickly looked up when he heard a thud, hurrying to his feet to investigate the sound. Only to find Garou leaning against the wall. "You okay?" He was expecting an 'im fine' not a hand reaching out to him, which he took and grabbed a hold, soon sliding up to his arm.

Oh damn.

He knew Garou was well muscled, but damn, seeing and feeling are two completely different experiences.

Charanko helped Garou sit down, sitting a bit closer to him than last time, grabbing the last sake bottle, and taking a drink, handing it over to Garou. At least this way he could control how much he drank. That is if he drank more of it. Sure enough it worked, and Charanko ended up finishing the bottle with a big swig.

He tensed when he felt a weight on his shoulder, looking down to see a very wasted Garou resting his head, eyes tightly shut.

"You okay? Need a bucket?" He asked, not wanting to be puked on. Though as great as a blackmail it could be, he was more worried. Garou sluggishly waved his offer away, shoving his face more into Charanko's shoulder, tips of his ears burning red. "You sure? I can quickly get you one,"

"I'll be fine," Garou mumbled. Charanko hummed, grabbing his phone from his pocket to check the time, hoping it was a late enough to get Garou to his futon before falling asleep on him. "y'know" Charanko looked away from his phone, looking at the white fluff on his shoulder. "You're not that bad,"

"You're just drunk," Garou lifted his hand in a shushing motion.

"Le'me finish," Charanko rolled his eyes, but waited. "I hated you. Yeah. But now. Now your not bad," he grabbed Garou's hand from moving, hearing him mumble something incoherent.

"You done or you got more to say?"

"You're cute. Okay," Charanko shrugged Garou's head off, looking at him.

"Next time remind me not to let you drink as much," Garou's eyes narrowed.

"I'm serious," Charanko rolled his eyes. "I think I like you," Garou let of a quiet 'oh' as he almost fell. "A lot,"

"You are really fucking drunk,"

"I-"

"Nope. Bed time," Garou pouted at him as he took up, hand out stretched. "c'mon" The blonde sighed and grabbed it, being helped up to his feet and walked over to his futon. He dropped ungraceful into it, arm over his closed eyes. Charanko didn't bother with the covers, quickly leaving to grab a bucket and placed it right beside Garou's head, quickly heading to his own futon fpr the night.

The next day Charanko was waken up by Bang, who wasn't even trying to wake him up. Garou was still passed out, his futon a complete mess, Bang proding him with a damn cane.

"How much did you two drink," he muttered, looking at Charanko. "Try to drag him off the futon at least," Charanko nodded, getting up and quickly needing to lean against the wall, when he felt stable enough he did as he was told.

Bang returned with a bucket of cold water, dumping it over Garou, who quickly woke up, groaning as he placed his head in his hands.

"Change and meet me outside," Bang ordered, leaving the two alone.

"He didn't seem happy," Charanko commented, gaining a sharp look from Garou. "And you look like shit," He grinned when Garou flipped him off.

Bang simply scolded them, surprisingly only for the mess they've made last night. Demon Cyborg and Caped Baldy where there, the later helping occasionally to keep Garou standing, who looked like he was about to pass out. Like a sleepy kitten. Bang ended up having him off, going to talk to Garou alone.

"How much did he drink?" Caped Baldy asked, helping Charanko set up the table. "We could hear Bang all the way out there,"

"From my scans it showed he shouldn't have more than 6," Demon Cyborg stated. "Though my scans also say the same for you sensei," Caped Baldy shrugged, but looked back at Charanko.

"So?" He sighed.

"He had twenty and lil bit of one of the bottles. Tried to drink most of that though," He told. "I didn't realize how much he had until he left real quick,"

"Damn," They went quiet when the door opened, Bang walking in, a hand under Garou's arm, who's hand was covering his forehead.

"Sit," Bang ordered, Garou doing as he was told. The elder left briefly, returning with a cup of tea, handing it to the blonde.

During breakfast, Charanko couldn't really focus on what Bang and his friend talked about. His mind kept going to the drunken confession from last night. He was sure with how Garou acted he didn't remember a thing, but whenever he saw Charanko staring he'd quickly look away, pale face taking a pink tint.

"Hey," Charanko said, hoping that theyd ignore him like usual. Garou looked up at him, and luckily the rest didn't notice. "Where you serious? Or was that the beer talking?"

"Does it matter?" Garou replied.

"Kind of," Charanko crossed his arms, waiting. He never did get an answer. Not until night time at least.

He found his futon fairly close to Garou's, the blonde already alseep and huddled into his comforter. Charanko smiled, crawling underneath his own, grabbing an uncovered hand. He opened his eyes when he felt them twitch, gold eyes perring from under the comforter.

"Too much?" He asked. Garou shook his head, closing his eyes again. Humming when Charanko gave a peck to his forehead. "Love ya too,"

[indiaemporium1]

The Joys Of Made To Order Outfits!

I am not a fashion designer, although my daydreams are mostly about fashion and clothes and accessories. Even though I am not trained in fashion design, I am someone who would like to think that I know a lot about what works and what doesn’t. I mean, one looks at someone and I can tell whether the outfit they are wearing is right for them, whether they have accessorised it properly and of course, how the ensemble could have been made to look better. I had always wanted to create my own outfit, and while I spent a lot of time playing around with small design ideas with my local tailor, I knew that none of them were at the same level as truly designer wear.

And then came that time – the time I had been waiting for! My brother was getting married! Although I was aware of the fact that it was his wedding and that he would be the centre of attention, I knew that I would get a fair share too. A little voice inside my head was telling “create your own costume” and I was sure that this was the time for me to shine. However, another thing that was lingering in my mind was how much of a dent I could put in my savings. If I even ventured near those big designers or boutiques, I would probably have to be happy with just one outfit, but because this was my own brother’s wedding, I had to look good for every event. That meant that I needed a total of four outfits – one for the engagement, one for the sangeet, one for the actual wedding and of course, one for the reception.

This was the time for me to get truly creative and not only get outfits that were befitting the sister of the groom, but also pocket-friendly. Now, I had three options – one was to sit down with my local tailor and use material that I could find in the local markets to create something that vaguely resembles what you can see in a fashion magazine. The second was to walk in and out of several stores and boutiques, trying to find the outfit that I would want to wear. And then the third choice was the internet – which is the one I was most sceptical about, because how do you know what you are getting, without seeing it first.

I decided to be brave and get at least one customized outfit online – luckily for me, I had plenty of time before the engagement and of course between then engagement and the wedding. This meant that even if something did go wrong, I would have time to find another outfit. I decided to head straight to India Emporium, because I had heard some good things about them. When I first went to the website and found out that they offered the services of a professional fashion designer I was pleasantly surprised. What surprised me even more was the fact that the first consultation was absolutely free of cost! A quick chat with her and she had a pretty good idea of what I had in my mind – within a few hours, she had emailed me a sketch of the outfit – a stunning anarkali. With my photo and measurements in hand, she helped me choose the right colours and the embroidery. You will not believe it, within three days, she sent me a swatch of the embroidery, asking me whether I was ok with it or not. Every step of the way, the designer kept me posted and before I knew it, my made to orderoutfit was ready and delivered to my doorstep.

On the day of my brother’s engagement, I can’t tell you the number of complements I received on how wonderful my outfit looked and I couldn’t believe how well it fitted me! The outfit was a dream come true on so many levels – one, I had gotten an outfit that was really designer, two, it was couture because this outfit had been designed exclusively for me, three, it fit me so well and finally, it had not burnt a hole in my pocket. Now, I was absolutely sure that I was going to get all my outfits for the wedding made through India Emporium.

Over the next few weeks, I was constantly in touch with the design team at India Emporium, and well before the wedding festivities started, my entire wardrobe had reached me. I had customized ethnic wear, unique and designed especially for me, for each event. For the sangeet, I had a lovely flowy lehenga with a long tunic like top in dark pink, and I was able to dance the night away in it. At the wedding, I had a designer saree in pale gold – a net saree with embroidery all over the pallu and the base. The tints of dark blue in the embroidery went so well with the dark blue sapphire jewellery I had borrowed from my mother! And then for the reception, my design team at India Emporium had this stunning teal gown with silver embroidery. The silk used for the gown made sure that it looked almost ethereal and the fit was incredible.

Shopping with India Emporium made me realise that shopping online has evolved so much – gone are the days, when you just had a few outfits and you had to choose from them. Today, you can have your outfit designed, created with care and then delivered to your doorstep!