#sports bars in Manhattan

[infinityguests]

Top 5 Sports Bars in Manhattan, New York

In search of a fresh location to catch the big game? On our list of the best sports bars in Manhattan, you’ll find boisterous beer halls, low-key hangouts with craft brews, some of the city’s best dive pubs, and even a pub with a focus on all things Canadian.

[dingochef]

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x You (OFC)

Warnings: Swearing, Smut (MDNI 18+ Only), Protected P in V, oral (female and male receiving), age gap, CougarOFC!, mentions only of mommy and daddy kink, mentions of cheating

Summary: A chance encounter at a bar with a man on the young side leads to a delightful night.

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.5k

On the Prowl

You saddle up to the bar, sighing as you try to expel the frustrations from stupid negotiations you've had to deal with today. You were trying to make a deal between your aerospace company and another to be the exclusive suppliers of the next versions of the F-whatever fighter for the Navy. You order a Manhattan hoping the sweet burn of the vermouth and whiskey will sooth away your frustration.

The bartender has barely slid your drink across on its coaster to you when a man approaches, about your age. You snort internally to yourself, there is nothing about your overall air and appearance that makes you approachable. Your hair is frazzled, your giant laptop bag is slung on the stool next to you, and you're pretty sure your residual resting bitch face is dialed up to an 11. Still, the prospect for a possible quick romp in the sheets and the slim possibility of an orgasm, makes you turn ever so slightly as he sits down next to you.

“Tough day?” he offers to you, after ordering a drink.

“You could say that,” you humm, noncommittally and take a sip of your drink.

“Well, I'm all ears if you want to talk about it,” the man replies, offering his hand,

“I'm Mike, and you are?”

You take his hand and tell him your name.

“Pretty name for a pretty lady,” Mike responds. You stifle your eye roll at the cheesy line. The drinks arrive and you fall into a light if stilted conversation of small talk. The usual topics are covered the weather, why you're both in town, and a few sports references. You're pondering if you want another drink when Mike leans closer to you,

“So this bad day. You want to talk about it,” he says as his hand sliding out to catch your wrist, “Or do something about it?”

He rubs his thumb over yours and you catch the glint of a wedding ring that you had missed earlier. Any thoughts you had of maybe seeing where this could go are immediately stopped.

“You're married,” you state, flatly.

“It's complicated,” he counters.

You let out a long exhale,

“Not complicated enough that you didn't even go through the smallest bit of effort to hide the fact. I'm not interested in being the other woman. A little too recent experience from the other end of “it's complicated.”

Mike nods, properly chastised and walks away with his drink.

You sigh and lean down on the bar with both elbows, letting your head hang down as you feel more frustrated, the possibility of some distractioning sex long gone now. A disappointing thought forms in your brain as you remember that you did indeed forget to pack your vibrator. But somehow you remembered condoms and lube, ever the optimist. Not a hopeless situation, but would have been better with some “assistance.”

You're brought out of your pity party by a slight southern twang delivering this line,

“A woman so beautiful deserves to have a smile on your face and I'm just the man to do it.”

The line is accompanied by the dazzling smile of a very handsome blonde man, definitely younger than you and with memorable green eyes.

“Has that line ever worked?” you ask, your patience strained by your interaction with Mike the Adulterer, as you survey the man in front of you.

“You tell me,” he replies smoothly, the corner of his mouth tugging up into an endearing smirk. He's gorgeous but young enough it's a little beyond your usual range in men. Tired by the evening so far, you take a harsher tack back.

“You're out past your bedtime, baby boy,” you volley back, drinking the last bit of your drink and chewing on the cherry.

“Baby boy? I assure you I'm all man, I could be the man of your dreams if you let me,” he counters, smirk still firmly in place. You contemplate your next move as you chew on the cherry from your drink.

“What do you want with me? I'm sure Addison or Kayla and her other twenty something friends would be more than willing to be wooed by a cheesy line and nice smile,” you say, flicking your head towards the gaggle of giggling coeds at a high top table near the windows. He looks over and shrugs,

“There's a difference between women of quantity,” he tips his head towards the giggling girls, “And a woman of quality,” he waves his hand at you.

You laugh,

“Okay, that's smooth. What's your name baby boy?”

“Jake, Lieutenant Jake Seresin,” he extends his hand, “And you are?”

“Y/n,” you reply, setting your hand in his.

“Nice to meet you, y/n, can I buy you a drink?”

“Sure, why not,” you shrug.

The bartender comes over and you order,

“Manhattan with rye, please.”

Jake nods and says,

“The same.”

The bartender walks away to make the drinks and you consider Jake.

“So, what's your game here, Jake? I'm a little old for you if you haven't noticed,” you state.

“You're beautiful and you're not that old. What 35, 38 tops?” he replies.

You laugh,

“Try 45, I use sunscreen. What are you, like 28 maybe? Can you even rent a car?”

Jake laughs in response,

“32, I use sunscreen.”

His parroting response makes you laugh. He slides his hand into yours, running a soothing circle with his big thumb on the pulse point of your wrist in an understated gesture.

“And my game is that, you are gorgeous and everything about you screams that you're in control. The tailored business suit, the designer bag, expensive shoes, and a watch probably worth more than my first car,” he pauses for a second,

“Let me guess, you're an upper level executive in a high stress industry in town for a conference, because I for sure would have remembered you if you've been here before. So, here's my bet, you're either a woman who knows exactly what she wants in bed and leads the way or….,” he leans in closer, “Needs someone to boss you around and take control, so you can let go.”

He leans back and gives you a brilliant smile.

“Either way I know I'll have a hell of a night.”

Before you can answer, the bartender reappears with your drinks. You take a sip and consider your response, Jake doing the same with a quirked eyebrow in question.

“You're a confident little shit, I'll give you that.”

He smiles, wide and bright.

“And yes, I'm in San Diego for business. Yes, I'm a COO for an aerospace firm. As for the other question, that's something you'll have to figure out.”

“I'm up to the challenge,” he replies.

You take a moment to consider the man before you. He's tall, broad shoulders, dark blonde hair, and a delicious amount of stubble that you can already conjure up the feeling of on your inner thigh. He's wearing a dark brown leather jacket over a navy blue button, dark jeans, and charmingly, cowboy boots. All in all he is gorgeous.

“Allright, Jake, I'm game,” you say, leaning into him, close enough you can smell his aftershave, a cedar wood smelling aroma. He grins and takes another sip of his drink.

“A few deal breakers to get out of the way. Married?”

“No. You?

“Recently paroled.”

“Congrats on your newfound freedom.”

“Girlfriend, or other romantic entanglement, such as it's complicated?”

He laughs,

“Nope, I don't have anyone or anything tying me down. I don't even own a houseplant.”

“Good, protection is required. I have some in my room.”

“Agreed.”

“I give what I get, if you want me to suck your dick, you'll need to eat me out first, and be good at it.”

“Don't think that's going to be a problem, sweetheart. I'm a man of many talents.”

“And finally, you will not call me mommy or any other similar derivative. If that's an itch you need scratched, then maybe Addison and her friends would be happy to call you daddy.”

He laughs,

“Not my cup of tea, darling. So where's this hotel of yours?”

“Right across the street,”

“Then by all means lead the way,” he says, as he pulls a fifty out of his wallet and leaves it in the bar.

Jake offers his hand to you as you step down from the stool. He grabs your laptop bag and easily slings it over his shoulder as his other hand finds the small of your back. The walk to your hotel is quick, Jake has pulled you close to him.

The lobby is relatively empty and the echo of your heels clicking across the marble floor fills the space. Once you're In the elevator, Jake sets your bag down and pulls you close for a kiss. It starts out soft, he is almost tentative, a surprising contrast to his unmatched confidence earlier. But now you crave a different energy tonight; after a day of frustration you're going to get what you want.

You run your hands through his perfect hair and lick at the seam of his lips, begging for entrance as you press your whole body against his. You back him up to the wall of the elevator. A heavy roll of your hips against his makes him moan and your tongue slides in next to his, finally.

His hand slides from the chaste placement at your waist and grabs a firm handful of your ass as he shoves his tongue down your throat. The heat between you escalates but before you start fucking in the elevator the bell dings announcing your floor.

You step back and appreciate your work.

Hair askew, your dark cherry lipstick smeared across his mouth, Jake looks ready to fuck.

“You look good like that. It's a great color for you,” you tease stepping out of the elevator with a quick glance over your shoulder

Jake snaps out of his lust induced trance grabbing your bag and trotting quickly to catch up with you. He places a trail of kisses down your neck as you press the key card to the handle, a warm hand kneading at your waist.

The door opens and you almost tumble in,

Jake is quick to drop your bag as you lock the deadbolt.

When you turn he closes in on you and backs you up against the door. He initiates another kiss that you eagerly return. The same heat from the elevator returns and burns brighter as you start to pluck at each other's clothes.

You push Jake's jacket off and start to work at the buttons of his shirt. Lips never leaving each other finally he is shirtless in front of you and it is a glorious sight. All hard planes of pure muscle with a delicious amount of chest hair.

“Aren't you just the prettiest?” you coo, obviously checking him out, manicured hand running down his sternum and teasing at his belt buckle

He simultaneously preens and blushes at the praise.

“On your knees,” you order and he quickly complies, one eyebrow raised in question, just enough attitude to make it interesting. He looks up at you while you unbutton your blouse and drop it to the floor, revealing your black lace La Perla bra. He kisses the hem of your skirt, green eyes blown with lust watching your every move. You raise your left foot and put your Louboutin on his denim clad thigh and ask him,

“Help me out of these heels, sweetheart.”

The last word is said with a little bit of mocking, a bit of manufactured twang. Jake smirks at your teasing and unbuckles your shoe, setting it aside. You switch sides and he repeats the motions.

He thumbs tentatively at your skirt awaiting your permission

“Go on. Let's see those skills, pretty boy,” you taunt. He slides your skirt up and groans when he sees the matching garter belt and stockings to your bra and no underwear,

“Fancy lingerie, too,” he says, his mouth close enough to your bare mound you can feel the gentle puffs of air against your skin.

“Enough talking, get to it,” you order, the earlier frustration of your day seeping back into your mood.

He nods and places a firm hand on your stomach to anchor you to the door. His other hand slides along the seam of your stocking clad leg starting at your ankle gently lifting your leg up to rest your thigh on his shoulder, granting him even more access to your glistening cunt.

“You smell so good, I bet you taste even better, sweets,” he coos.

Before you can implore him to hurry the fuck up he dives in, parting your folds with his tongue to begin his attack on your clit. The intensity knocking your breath out of you. There is no warm up, just all the way to 100 right away. Your heartbeat speeds up to match the fast strumming of his tongue against your clit. You card your fingers through his hair to ground yourself just as he teases your slit with his finger.

Jake circles around your opening with his thick finger, a mischievous look in his eyes as he looks up at you, tongue never ceasing on your clit. You roll your eyes and push your hips down desperate to get his finger inside you just as he relents and slides his finger in quickly followed by another. The stretch is more than you've had in awhile, no thanks to your ex and busy schedule that makes dating difficult, but it is exactly what you need right now. And then Jake curls his fingers just right and sparks blur the sides of your vision. He earns the privilege of having you pull harder on his hair and moan a breathy,

“Fuck, that's good.”

He raises his eyebrows down below you, smugness apparent even when his mouth is full of your pussy.

“Don't let it go to your head,” you say back, lacking the bite you had hoped for.

He laughs into your cunt, but continues his mission. Fingers pumping away at you. The band inside of you starts to pull taut, that exquisite build up to release starting to form deep in your belly.

“You better not fucking stop! Fuck, right there,” you shout. Looking down you catch Jake's eyes and his gaze is as unwavering as his rhythm is steady. He continues his assault on your clit and cunt, the sounds of your arousal and his tongue obscene in the quiet darkness of your hotel room. You've always been loud when you come and tonight is no exception, the words rolling off your tongue,

“Fuck, so good. I'm close, Jake. Make me come, pretty boy.”

He responds by thrusting his hand harder and faster and lapping at your clit at even higher speed. He just grazes his teeth on your clit and you're gone.

“Fucking God, I'm coming, don't stop. More,” you shout as the bliss breaks over you, grabbing Jake's hair and holding him to you. The pleasure is so much that you go up on the balls of your feet before you come back down and continue to grind your pussy on Jake's face. Jake complies and keeps up the intensity and soon another climax is barrelling down on you. This one is so intense that when it crests, you practically collapse over Jake, your knees having gone weak as the pleasure ebbs through you. He catches your hips and guides you down to his lap. He holds you as you catch your breath, sweetly kissing your temple as your chest heaves.

Breaking the silence he asks,

“Did I earn that blow job?”

He earns a dry chuckle from you as you turn to straddle his thighs.

“I think that was at least adequate,” you mumble as you lean down to kiss Jake, licking the taste of yourself from his chin. He deftly unclasps your bra from behind and drops it to the floor.

“Been wanting to see these beauties since I saw you at the bar,” he murmurs as he slips your nipple into his mouth, his rough hands cupping your breasts. Your hands again find themselves in his hair, pushing him harder into your chest, your tits heavy and full with desire. As much as you enjoy Jake's efforts, the marble floor of your hotel suite is cold against your overheated skin.

“Get on the bed and get naked,” you command Jake after harshly pulling him away from your chest by his hair. You notice the wave of pleasure wash across his face from the pain. Confidently, you get up and walk over to your bag, making sure to sway your hips in an enticing way. A quick search of the bag and you find the condoms you're seeking.

When you turn back Jake is on the bed, on his back completely naked. He is gently stroking his hard cock as he watches you stalk towards him. Throwing the condoms on the nightstand you lower yourself to the bed near his feet. Like a lioness on the prowl, you crawl up the bed towards him.

“I knew you'd have a big dick. No one is that confident without one,” you say as you get even with him. He grins in response, his hand slowly stroking his cock as he watches you approach. You settle yourself so your wet cunt is on his abs, achingly close to his dick but so far away at the same time.

“I know my assets,” he says, reaching up to pull you down for a kiss. You slide your lips along his jaw, trailing a path of kisses down his neck and across his chest. You lap at the hard buds of his nipples as you grind yourself on his rock hard abs. Jake lets out a whine as you continue your efforts. You stop all your movement and look up to Jake where he is clenching his jaw.

“You want something, pretty boy?” You taunt, sliding your pussy just a bit lower. The movement occupies the last two brain cells he has available and his words come out in choppy mess,

“Want–need your mouth. On me, suck me please. Fuck, please.”

You laugh condescendingly as you pretend to ponder his request,

“I did say I give as good as I get and you did get me off. I suppose I could be nice and return the favor.”

He visibly relaxes, the worry flowing out of his face. He pushes himself up on the bed so he is in a sitting position, primed to watch your every move.

You position yourself so you are kneeling between his legs, his delicious cock standing proudly at attention.

With the faintest of touches you let your fingers trail up and down his dick. Surprisingly he stays stock still, waiting for you to move at your pace, his dick twitching at your feather light touches.

“Look at you, pretty boy. So ready for it, hmm?” you ask as you grip him a little bit harder. His eyes roll back as you start to stroke him, the throbbing veins in his cock gliding along your palm.

When you lean over and start to kitten lick the ruddy tip and Jake snaps open his eyes, not wanting to miss the splendid sight in front of him. The groan you pull from him when you spit to aid the glide of your hand is one of the best things you've ever heard. Your grip gets firmer as you slide your hand up and down, increasing your pace. On the next downstroke you follow your hand with your mouth, lips matched with your fingers.

It doesn't take much for Jake to hit the back of your throat and you relax to take him down your throat.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Jake pants as you work to diligently suck his cock. Your eyes locked with Jake's as the pleasure rolls over him.

“So good, you look so good sucking my cock,” he drawls, his accent getting a bit thicker with arousal. You're about to change up your technique when Jake cups your chin and pulls you up to him for a kiss.

“As much as I would like to come in your mouth. That pretty pussy needs to be fucked,” he says, flipping you on your back as he reaches for a condom. He quickly rips the wrapper and rolls the condom down on his hard cock.

“You ready for this?” he asks, gliding his tip along your clit.

“Yes, just fuck me aleady,” you answer, a little exasperated.

When he finally slides home, you're glad that you had the little warm up with his fingers against the door. He's huge, probably the biggest you've ever had and it is amazing. He goes slow, dragging out the experience, a low moan escaping his mouth when he bottoms out. A gentle rhythm forms between the two of you as he starts to thrust and you roll your pelvis to meet him each time.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” he grunts.

You laugh,

“Thank my pencil dicked cheating ex-husband. Didn't give it to me for over a year.”

“What a fucking tragedy, this beautiful pussy needs to worshipped,” he agrees, thrusting particularly hard into you causing you to cry out.

“Give it to me good, pretty boy,” you scream, wrapping your legs around his waist as he sinks deeper into. Every thrust hitting deeper and deeper.

“Harder! Jake, harder,” you cry out.

“If you want harder, you'll get it, sweets,” he pants.

He pins your hips to the bed as he pulls out earning a discontented squeal from you. Before you can express the thought, Jake flips you over with ease and you land on your stomach. He is quick to grab your hips and pulls you flush to him as he kneels on the bed.

“Hold on, sweetheart,” he grunts as he slides back into your warmth. His strong grip on your hips the right side of too much, you clench around him at the thought of bruises tomorrow, aching slightly as you sit through hours of meetings and negotiations. He slams into you and bottoms out quickly. His pace is relentless as he pounds into you. The exquisite way your pussy flutters around his cock is pushing you closer to the edge. Each slap of skin from his strong thighs against your bare ass ratcheting up the growing tightness in your belly.

“Can feel you getting close, darling. Just when I thought this pussy couldn't get any tighter, you're strangling my cock,” he grunts out between harder and harder thrusts.

“Less talking, more fucking,” you volley back, meeting each of his thrusts with your own. Jake lets out a low chuckle,

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

On his next thrust he extends his hand to wrap around your shoulder pulling you against him abruptly, your back to his chest.

“Fuck,” you pant, this new angle hitting all the right spots deep inside you. A strong arm wraps around your waist as Jake's free hand snakes over your garter belt and parts your folds. When his rough finger contacts your clit you cry out, arms and hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Jake guides your arms up and arounds his neck, your hands tangling themselves in hair.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he grunts in your ear, “So fucking tight, can't wait to feel you come on my cock.”

All you can do is moan in agreement as he circles your clit with practiced and precise motions.

“What a beautiful pussy,” Jake pants, his ability to speak now impressive,

“And fuck I'm glad you gave the me the sweet, sweet privilege of fucking you tonight.”

He pinches your clit and the building wave inside you crests as you come apart clenching hard on his cock.

“Oh fuck, fuck, I'm coming,” you scream, definitely loud enough to be heard by your neighbors.

“That's it, give it to me. Fuck, you feel so good,” he grunts.

He maintains his rhythm as he fucks you through your orgasm intensfying each aftershock. Jake is holding you up as writhe in pleasure seeking his own, hips pistoning away. You tug hard on his hair as you command him,

“Come for me, Jake. Come for me.”

All of it comes together and Jake holds you hard against him as he spills inside the condom, a long low groan rattling up from his chest. Your mutual rhythm slows like a swing coming to rest and you fall to bed, Jake following, flopping on his back next to you.

The silence after is filled with yours and Jake's heavy breaths, willing your heartbeat to slow down. Jake is lying with his forearm over his eyes, a light sheen of sweat on his chest.

You roll over and pull his arm down, and ask,

“Did you figure out your answer?”

His brow furrows as he contemplates your question,

“That I lead or let go in bed?”

He laughs,

“You're definitely in charge and I'd let you lead me anywhere,” he replies, laughter in his voice. He gives you a quick peck and slides out of bed to take care of the condom. You stretch and sit up and start taking off your stockings. Jake is picking up his clothes and watches you shimmy out of your garter belt. He puts his clothes back on as you get ready for bed, starting with removing your makeup.

He comes to stand behind you as you swipe the cloth over your face, his full clothing a nice contrast to your naked skin. He kisses your shoulder gently,

“As much as I'd like to stay for another round, I'm due at base early tomorrow.”

“No hard feelings, pretty boy. Thanks for a good night,” you reply, turning around for one last kiss.

He sighs when your lips part and gives you a kiss on the cheek as he breaks away. Turning back to your nighttime preparations, the sound of the door opening and closing filtering from the main room, you smile to yourself. As you slide into bed, you see the note on the hotel pad,

“Call me if you want some more company.

–Jake.”

A phone number is written under the note.

The next morning finds you holding a latte and being shown around hangar after hangar at North Island. What this is supposed to do for your negotiations, you don't know but it beats sitting in a stuffy conference room. Admiral Simpson is droning on about the fighter weapons school when he catches the eye of someone behind you.

“Ahh, here is one of the test pilots for the new F-series,” he says as you turn around and meet some now familiar green eyes,

“Y/n, meet Lieutenant Jake Seresin, call sign Hangman.”

That goddamn smirk is firmly in place as he shakes your hand.

@kmc1989

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered

@mamachasesmayhem

@callmemana

@dempy

@hangmanscoming

@lanie-k

@callsign-viper

@senjoritanana

@djs8891

@atarmychick007

@memoriesat30

@midnightmagpiemama

@mygyn

[stuckysbike]

All Or Nothing

A/n: All mistakes are my own. Written on my phone.

Pre-Stucky x Reader, pre-Bucky x reader, Stucky, Steve x reader

AU: Bucky wants his boyfriend back, but his boyfriend is your husband now. And the father of your child.

Warnings: angst, eventual smut, 18 plus only please, fluff, implied cheating (but not really) mob!Bucky, mob!Steve, presumed unrequited love, polyamory, MMF, bisexual Stucky.

I hope that’s everything!

Part One

You wanted for nothing.

There was a tall Brooklyn Brownstone, a Manhattan Penthouse, a sprawling Hampton Mansion. Further afield was the Aspen Ski Lodge, the Montana Ranch. Overseas was the Mediterranean Villa, the Irish Cottage and the Romanian Castle.

Yes, he owned a castle.

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was the only male heir to three very successful brothers who built themselves an empire. He and his three sisters had been given the keys to the kingdom when his father, the youngest of the three and the last surviving brother, died.

The first thing Bucky did after securing his position was to track down the only person he wanted to share his life with. Trouble was, that man Bucky was in love with was your husband.

You met Steve Rogers five years ago. He ended up in a bar fight defending a woman getting unwanted attention from a group of guys. Feeling lucky you joined in, cracking a bottle over the head of one of the pricks. You had been together ever since.

Steve talked about Bucky to you, he kept no secrets and you knew he had ran to save his life. When you discovered you were pregnant Steve proposed.

“I love you so much honey,” Steve had promised as you hesitated. “You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

Three days later, you were wed.

You wanted for nothing.

There were private planes, helicopters, luxury SUV’s, sports cars, motorcycles, a yacht and other various pleasure boats.

Steve loved anything with an engine that gathered speed, and Bucky was happy to indulge Steve’s whims. Money was no object, and you soon found that Bucky had been loyally taking care of Steve’s ill mother whilst he was on the run, getting her the best healthcare.

Bucky adored your precious Belle, the apple of Steve’s eye. She looked just like her father and had that stubborn streak of bravery just like he had too. You had never seen love at first sight until you saw Bucky meet Belle. Her face lit up and his eyes gentled and an instant bond was formed that terrified you.

Your wedding band meant nothing. Bucky belonged to this family, slotted in perfectly by charming your husband and delighting your daughter.

You had hung back, nodding in greeting and watching your family slip away.

So here you stood, in a designer dress and heels wearing jewellery worth more than you had ever earned watching Steve and Bucky waltz around the vast ballroom with Belle between them, her squealing with delight.

You wanted for nothing except the days before Bucky Barnes turned your life on its head.

Part 2

[pucktoxicity]

Best places to run into players in Jersey or Philly? is that weird to ask…. Honestly feel like I’m so oblivious I wouldn’t even notice if a player was in the same place as me lol

i don’t think it’s a weird ask. i think if you said where do they live, i’d be concerned, but asking for public places? that’s totally fine to me 🤷‍♀️

in philly:

- 100% barstool sansom street. jamie and cam are there so much people joke they secretly own it. it’s a really easygoing bar, good food, very laid back environment, and most younger philly athletes like it for that reason.

- any games for other Philly sports teams. the flyers’ guys are pretty frequent fliers of phillies games, and 76ers games, eagles games sometimes but they’re usually up in the famous people suites lol

- pretty much every nice/boujee bar in the city

in nj:

- philly players are all over the surrounding suburbs out there, they’ll usually be seen everywhere in the wealthier suburbs of philly in south jersey (alec bohm, brandon marsh, and bryson stott from the phillies are seen around a few towns out there all the time, for example)

- any bar or restaurant in jersey city, hoboken, and the surrounding cities that are all clumped together right across the river from manhattan

- there’s a lot of parks, and pickleball courts, and outdoor areas on the water, the guys will usually walk there (outdoor kings), especially if they have dogs

honestly i stumble across athletes when i’m not trying to, and have been somewhere and not even realized oh, fuck, that’s jack behind me for, like, several minutes before i see him and then go chat with him. we’ve all got that that’s-an-athlete blindness sometimes! 😭

[avamhollis]

context: generic manhattan bar with: open!!

She's been nursing the same watered-down drink for over half an hour, index finger absentmindedly tracing the edge of the tall glass.

Her focus? The TV above the bar playing non-stop Olympics footage. Ping pong switched to synchronized swimming switched to golf switched to--

"They got the channel wrong," she says out loud though it quickly becomes evident that they didn't and yes, breakdancing is now an olympic sport.

Like any other level-headed person, Ava has thought about what her discipline of choice would be and she thinks she'd amount a large following of Twitter girlies if she went into shooting like that one lady. You know who she's talking about.

To the person at the table behind her, she turns and nods at the TV when it switches back to figure skating. "You look like you could beat them. Ever thought about trying out?"

[scratchybongvt]

All locations of Sidemascots episodes

Here are all canon locations where the Sidemascots episodes take place.

Note that an asterisk (*) denotes a fictional place.

Trailer

- Sumi’s bedroom*, Whistler, BC, Canada

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada (where all intros and outros take place)

- The Canucks’ Bar*, Vancouver, BC, Canada.

- Thunderbird Sports Center, Vancouver, BC, Canada (where all Sidemascots boxing matches take place)

- Whistler Amateur Recording Plant*, Whistler, BC, Canada (where the diss track was recorded)

Auditions

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

- Sumi’s bedroom*, Whistler, BC, Canada (where Vinicius and Sumi auditions everyone via video calls

- Miraitowa and Someity’s Apartment*, Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan

- Wenlock’s flat*, Stratford, London, England

- The Phryges’ House*, Paris, France

- Soohorang, Bandabi, and Moongcho’s wooden house*, PyeongChang, Gangwon, South Korea

- Aokigahara Forest, Honshu, Japan

- Lee Garden Service Apartment, Beijing, China

- Powder’s bedroom*, Salt Lake City, Utah, United States

- Copper’s bedroom*, Salt Lake City, Utah, United States

- Borobi’s house*, Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia

- Chenchen, Congcong and Lianlian’s Apartment*, Hangzhou, China

- Mascot Academic Growth and Integration Center*, Mascotverse*

- Roy E. Disney Animation Building, Burbank, California, United States

Episode 1

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada (intro and Outro)

- Manchester Regional Stadium, Manchester, England (100m sprint challenge)

- Elstree Film Studios, Borehamwood, Hertfordshire, England (Winner stays on challenge, the set is the same as Who Wants to be a Millionaire)

- Thunderbird Sports Center, Vancouver, BC, Canada (Boxing challenge, the only event not to be held in England)

- University of London Canteen, London, England (Bingo challenge)

- The Boleyn Tavern, Upton Park, London, England (Foosball challenge)

Episode 2

- Varsity Stadium, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

- Sumi’s bedroom*, Whistler, BC, Canada

- Toronto Chess Club*, Toronto, BC, Canada

- The Hotel*, Pyongyang, North Korea

- Thunderbird Sports Center, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 3

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

- Another leased studio facility (formerly owned by CTV)*, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Episode 4

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

- Varsity Stadium, Toronto, Ontario, Canada (the planning segments)

- The Rubro-Negro Pub*, Rio de Janeiro, RJ, Brazil

- Sumi’s bedroom*, Whistler, BC, Canada

- Central Park, Manhattan, NY, United States

- Bloor Street, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

- Toronto Courthouse, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

- Another, more larger studio facility (formerly owned by MrBeast), Greenville, NC, United States

Episode 5

- Stade de France, Saint-Denis, Ile-de-France, France

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 6

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 7

- Varsity Stadium, Toronto, Ontario, Canada (Poll results, 100m sprint, Finish or forfeit, follow the car, meditating challenge)

- Elstree Film Studios, Borehamwood, Hertfordshire, England (Who wants to be a Millionaire)

- London Stadium, Stratford, London, England (Pole Vaulting challenge)

- Wembley Way, Wembley, London, England (Eating challenge)

- Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan (Reverse Boccia challenge)

- The O2 Arena, Greenwich, London, England (Darts challenge)

- Thunderbird Sports Center, Vancouver, BC, Canada (Boxing challenge)

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 8

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

- Varsity Stadium, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

- Borobi’s house*, Gold Coast, Queensland, Australia

Episode 9

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada (intro, outro and fake courtroom)

- Sumi’s bedroom*, Whistler, BC, Canada

- Thunderbird Sports Center, Vancouver, BC, Canada

- Ebisu Bridge, Osaka, Japan

- The San Siro pub*, Milan, Italy

- Another, more larger studio facility (formerly owned by MrBeast), Greenville, NC, United States

Episode 10

- Local park*, Whistler, BC, Canada

- Salt Lake City Public Library, Salt Lake City, Utah, United States

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 11

- Studio 130, Saint-Denis, Ile-de-France, France

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 12

- BC Place, Vancouver, BC, Canada

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 13

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 14

- Varsity Stadium, Toronto, Ontario, Canada

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

Episode 15

- The O2 Arena, Greenwich, London, England

- The leased studio facility (formerly owned by Warner Bros.)*, Vancouver, BC, Canada

[boroughshq]

Welcome to the community bulletin board! Here are some events happening around the Boroughs this month:

August 8: Puppy Olympics @ Bark Park, Manhattan

August 10: Clearance Sale @ Antiques, Queens

August 11: Silent Auction @ Haze Gallery, Brooklyn

August 12: Jaymie & Teddy's Birthday Extravaganza @ Glow, Brooklyn

August 13: 90s Night @ Songbirds and Sangria, Staten Island

August 16: Singles Mixer @ Puzzles, Manhattan

August 18: 10 Things I Hate About You @ Prospect Park, Brooklyn

August 20: Bobblehead Night @ Yankee Stadium, the Bronx

August 23: Angel's Night @ The Tool Shed, Staten Island

August 24: Devil's Night @ The She Shed, The Bronx

August 29: 10 Year Anniversary @ Casa De Tacos, Queens

August 8: Puppy Olympics @ Bark Park, Manhattan

The event of the season is finally here for the members of Bark: Puppy Olympics! Members are welcome to bring their furry friends to participate in a series of obstacles meant to replicate various Olympic sports. While only the top ranking dogs in their "sports" will take home a medal, every dog who participates will get to enjoy delicious, dog-friendly peanut-butter muffins that'd make even the Olympic Muffin Man jealous!

August 10: Clearance Day @ Antiques, Queens

As new pieces are put on the shelves, a large array of older antiques have been significantly marked down, and only for the day! Now's the time to drop by and buy that silverware set or vinyl you've been eyeing before it's gone!

August 11: Silent Auction @ Haze Gallery, Brooklyn

The dilettante's of New York's elite are sure to make an appearance at Haze's Annual Silent Auction. The collection of Autumn-inspired pieces were created by New York's finest artists for New York's finest clients, with every piece expected to be sold by the night's end.

August 12: Jaymie & Teddy's Birthday Extravaganza @ Glow, Brooklyn

Come and celebrate the Warren way! The twins are turning 30 for the third year in a row and they've bought out GLOW for the occasion! Starting in the late hours on Jaymie's birthday and sliding straight through midnight to the seedy morning hours of Teddy's, they've decided that they want to have a Mamma Mia! themed party. Come out and celebrate with free drinks, an all-night ABBA karaoke room, and projected screenings of both films! The Warren twins are aging up in their classic, overindulgent way, so don't be afraid to get dressed up as your favorite character and have a great time! All are welcome.

August 13: 90s Night @ Songbirds and Sangria, Staten Island

It's 90's night at Songbirds and Sangrias! If it's not from the decade, it's not allowed to be sung! And don't forget the raffle - order one of the few specialty cocktails for the night to enter into the raffle to win a nostalgic trinket from the 90s!

August 16: Singles Mixer @ Puzzles, Manhattan

What better way to make a connection then over the no-pressure environment of board games and beer? 21+ singles are invited to enjoy refreshing drinks and get a chance to meet their potential match at this ticketed event!

August 18: 10 Things I Hate About You @ Prospect Park, Brooklyn

Bring a blanket and a friend and come watch a feature film under the stars! Tonight's feature is the rom com classic, 10 Things I Hate About You. The Lawn opens at 6, and the movie starts at 8!

August 20: Bobblehead Night @ Yankee Stadium, the Bronx

The first 18,000 guests to enter for the Yankee's home game against the Guardians will be gifted a special Joe DiMaggio bobblehead. Go Yankees!

August 23: Angel's Night @ The Tool Shed, Staten Island

It's Angels Night at The Tool Shed! Guests are invited to don their most angelic attire and engage in a fun night of drinking and mingling.

August 24: Devil's Night @ The She Shed, The Bronx

Where there are Angels, there must be Devils - at least that's how The Tool Shed's sister bar sees it. Guests are invited to don their most wicked attired and engage in a fun night of drinking and mingling.

August 29: 10 Year Anniversary @ Casa De Tacos, Queens

In celebration of 10 years of successful business, Casa de Tacos will be running a specialty deal for their anniversary - order 10 tacos (pastor, chorizo, carnitas, or pollo) for only $10! Business is expected to be booming, so make sure to come early if you want to secure a plate!

[goodlucktai]

give me something that’ll haunt me when you’re not around

chapter ten: standing here hoping it gets to you

rise of the tmnt pairing: leoichi (leonardo / usagi yuichi) word count: 3k title borrowed from message in a bottle by t swift post-movie

(previous) (next)

read on ao3

x

Free-climbing up the side of a high rise in downtown Manhattan might be considered an extreme sport in most other circles, but Yuichi doesn’t know anything about those circles. They sound boring.

It’s drizzling a little, and the next window ledge he reaches for is slicker than he’s expecting. The second his grip slips, a huge green hand shoots out and catches him by the wrist.

“Thanks, Raphael,” he says when he’s found a better foothold. His heart skipped with the close call, but otherwise he isn’t fazed.

“You’re gonna have to break and call Raph by a nickname sooner or later,” the eldest turtle says, playfully stern.

Yuichi busily looks down at his hands as he climbs, flustered. It makes Michelangelo laugh, ringing and bright.

“I can’t believe we used to think you were scary,” the spotted turtle says. He’s perched on Raphael’s shell like gravity is a neat concept in theory but not one he’s particularly interested in.

“Come oooon,” Leonardo’s voice calls down from the roof. “¡Vamos hermanos! Hey Cottontail, I thought rabbits were supposed to be fast!”

“Hey Stripes, I thought turtles were supposed to be quiet,” Yuichi calls back without missing a beat.

There’s an immediate chorus of “oooh”s at the burn, and Leonardo makes offended squawking noises, and Yuichi is smiling when he finally pulls himself over the parapet onto the flat rooftop.

The view from here is breathtaking. NYC at night is unlike anything else Yuichi has ever seen. The blinding lights and the rumble of traffic and the kinetic energy of millions of humans going about their night.

It’s absolutely bursting with life, and they’re sitting above it all, a part of it and apart from it.

Yuichi’s muscles are pleasantly sore from the workout and he stretches out to cool down and get his breathing back. A nudge at his side makes him glance to the left to find a mechanical arm offering him a water bottle. Donatello doesn’t acknowledge his thanks, but he also gives Yuichi an energy bar.

It’s one thing to know that the Hamato siblings are ninja in theory, and it’s another thing entirely to see it in practice. None of them have broken a sweat, not even Casey.

“Do you guys do this a lot?” Yuichi wonders aloud.

“We try to patrol once every week,” Raphael explains, then seems to catch himself. He glances at Leonardo and gets a thumbs up before he goes on, “Otherwise, Donnie has alerts set up for suspicious activity, and we go check it out if it’s our brand of weird.”

Leonardo’s family has an impressive number of adversaries, though none they really seem to take seriously. The ones they call “mutants” all have a grudging understanding with the turtles—from the tone of the stories they tell him, Yuichi secretly thinks it’s pretty likely that these grown-up yokai just don’t want to deal with a handful of teenagers any more than they have to. There’s a mantis that runs a junkyard they’re at constant odds with, but in the manner of a grumpy old man chasing annoying kids off his property. And apparently they got invitations from the hippo and the worm to save the date for their upcoming wedding.

There’s some dissension among the siblings about this, but if Yuichi is understanding the thread of the argument entirely, it’s not a matter of whether or not they’re going. It’s a matter of the gift registry, and why the hell they should subject themselves to Pottery Barn for those guys when Target is right there.

The ones that call themselves the Foot Clan are another story. They’re a hereditary enemy, and the ones responsible for the invasion in the first place. The turtles and Casey all have dark looks on their faces when the Foot comes up.

It’s nice to have people to blame for the shadow that passed over Leonardo’s light. Yuichi unwinds his yo-yo a few times, sparks flying off the reinforced string, and looks forward to meeting the Foot on the street sometime.

“I’m glad Cass got out of there,” Raphael is saying. “What’s she up to now?”

Casey answers dutifully, “She told me when we went to lunch yesterday but she swore me to secrecy. She said ‘if you know, you know.’”

“Goddammit, it’s world domination, I know it is.” Donatello puts his head in his hands, staring into the middle distance. “She beat me to it.”

“I’m good with that,” Michelangelo says blithely. “When she’s finally running the show, we can take a vacation. Tahiti, baby!”

Leonardo is sitting on the edge of the rooftop, legs dangling over the side, with what would would be considered reckless ease for anyone outside his family. Yuichi sits next to him, because he’s exactly the kind of reckless idiot who would risk a thirty-story fall just to sit next to a cute boy.

In the back of his mind, the absolutely certain knowledge that he’s completely safe with this cute boy—this insane, amazing family—thrums like gravity, constant and steady and unspoken. It doesn’t even occur to him to be afraid of falling.

It feels like this is where he belongs.

“You know,” Leonardo says suddenly, staring up at the stars he can’t see through all the light pollution, “I keep thinking of something the General said.”

The atmosphere changes immediately. Yuichi can feel the overwhelming, undivided attention of a small ninja clan sharpening into a point. Leonardo is freer with his words now than he was two months ago, but he still generally doesn’t offer information about the Krang unless he’s pressed.

Yuichi shifts his hand across the concrete, feeling the rasp of it through his fur, until it bumps Leonardo’s.

Leonardo still doesn’t look at any of them, but some small line of tension in his shoulders bleeds away.

“Oh yeah?” Donatello asks in a tone that anyone who didn’t know him might mistake for mild.

“Yeah. He said, uh. ‘Strength always prevails.’ He said a lot of stuff, but that’s what I keep thinking about for some reason.”

Michelangelo looks like the only thing stopping him from flinging his arms around his immediate older brother is the quelling hand Raphael has on his carapace. His amber eyes are big and wide but he manages to sound halfway normal when he nudges carefully, “How come, Leon?”

“‘Cause it’s funny, isn’t it?” Leonardo says, as if anything about that day could possibly be funny. But Yuichi is watching him closely, and only sees wry good humor in his face. “If strength always prevails, and he’s gone and I’m still here, I guess that means I’m stronger than him.”

No one speaks. It seems like everyone is holding their breath. Yuichi is the one who says, “Well, yeah, Leo.”

Leonardo grins. It’s a little shaky, but it finds its footing  the longer it goes. He stands on the edge of the rooftop and throws his head back and faces the empty sky again.

The thought occurs to Yuichi, unbidden: Now I know why his brothers call him Fearless.

“I’m still here!” he screams. “I won! Fuck you! You’re gonna die alone and you’re never gonna hurt me again and I’m going to forget all about you!”

Casey laughs out loud, a harsh, relieved sound. Michelangelo slumps forward, hands pressed to his own plastron, but he’s beaming in a way that takes up half his face.

There are unselfconscious tears on Raphael’s face. Donatello’s staring at his twin’s back with vicious satisfaction, golden eyes glowing in the low light.

Someone lounging on a fire escape a few stories down, indistinguishable in the dark, lifts their beer and shouts back, “Yeah, fuck him! You’re better off, babe!”

Leonardo stumbles backwards off the parapet, laughing so hard he can’t stand upright. Yuichi reaches out to catch him, and finds himself caught up instead as this ragtag, war-torn little clan clings to each other and dissolves into hysterics together. The kind that starts from the bottom of your stomach and works its way up, scrubbing you clean. The healing kind.

Afterwards, it feels like a party. They want to celebrate this nameless thing shaped like recovery. So they go to Run of the Mill.

They’re a rowdy crowd clustered around the hostess stand, just by virtue of their personalities. There’s a table opening up in the back of the dining room big enough for all six of them.

From behind the bar, Qiao gives Yuichi a very knowing look—seeing the group he’s lumped with and Leonardo’s arm draped comfortably around his shoulders—and he has to fight not to hide behind his ears at their smug scrutiny. 

Sunita and April are here already, sharing a basket of garlic knots, and they both smile warmly when they see who just walked in. Kitsune and Gen are at a booth in the corner, wearing the world’s worst attempt at disguises and peeking at the foyer over their menus.

Señor Hueso is the one who seats them, looking annoyed by all the noise but making absolutely no move to subdue them.

He lays a hand on Leonardo’s shoulder, his sunken eyes soft with fondness if you know what to look for. The skeleton yokai says something in Spanish that Yuichi has no hopes of translating. Leonardo’s cheeks darken and he responds in kind, his tone rapid-fire and flustered. Señor Hueso confirms whatever he said with a perfunctory nod and then gathers a handful of menus and leads the Hamatos toward their table, leaving his honorary nephew sputtering behind him.

(“Podrías haberlo hecho peor.”

“Espera, ¿él o yo?”

“Sí.”)

Leonardo catches Yuichi by the sleeve before he can follow. He looks agitated, shifting his weight from foot to foot, and blurts, “Can you hang back? For a sec?”

Yuichi blinks and turns to face him. This doesn’t do wonders for Leonardo’s nerves, for some reason. The striped turtle glances anywhere but at him, and then finally darts a desperate look at Casey.

Across the room, the human lifts both his hands and gives him a double thumbs up.

“Okay,” Leonardo says. “Okay,” he says again, finally daring to look at Yuichi again. That only lasts about two seconds.

“Hey,” Yuichi interjects, tilting his head to the side. Concern is a little wriggling fish in the back of his mind, but he refuses to give it room to swim unless there’s real reason. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”

He puts out his hands, an offer. He doesn’t know if it helps or not, because Leonardo snatches them up quickly, but he only looks more miserable by the second, in a vaguely seasick kind of way.

“Are you—” His cheeks darken. He’s still studying the polished tile beneath his feet like it’s the most interesting thing for miles. “I mean—if you’re free, whenever—would you—”

Yuichi sees the moment this cobbled-together courage starts to fail him. Give Leonardo a grenade to fall on and he’ll do it in a heartbeat. He’ll hold the line at the end of the world, he thrives in the eleventh hour. But an honest conversation? Way more terrifying than any of those things.

That’s okay. Maybe Yuichi can be Fearless this time.

And he wants this to be what he wants it to be. He’s willing to risk looking like an idiot if he’s wrong.

It wouldn’t be the worst thing, really. Leonardo is his friend. There’s real love between them already, no matter what shape it may take in the future, no matter if the edges of Leonardo’s feelings don’t quite match up to Yuichi’s.

It’s like sitting on the edge of that rooftop, feet dangling over cars that looked like toys in the street. He won’t fall. Leonardo would never let him fall.  

“Yes,” Yuichi says, calling on all the bravery that belongs to his name, every inch of the samurai spirit he inherited from Miyamoto himself. “I am. I would.”

Leonardo’s head snaps up, eyes like headlights. “What? Really?” The sweet expression on his face falters before it even has a chance to settle. “Wait, are we talking about the same thing?”

This idiot. Yuichi loves this idiot.

He squeezes Leonardo’s hands, a mirror of what his heart is doing. He tugs the turtle in a step closer, so there’s hardly any space left between them except for the space they need to breathe, the slim margin left open to keep holding hands.

Leonardo is staring at him, and Yuichi recognizes the look on his face. It’s the way Leonardo has always looked at him, since that first golden afternoon at Run of the Mill, but Yuichi didn’t know him well enough to read him back then. Not the way he knows him now.

And now he sees warmth in those eyes. Admiration. And powerful, precious hope.

That hope outlasted the apocalypse. It’s outlived every night terror and panic attack and strangling episode of self-doubt since. Yuichi wishes, absurdly, that he could pick it up and hold it close and carry it safely the rest of the way through the world.

He’ll have to settle for meeting Leonardo’s gaze squarely and telling him, in no uncertain terms, “I’m talking about going out with you. What are you talking about?”

“Samesies,” Leonardo breathes, and then closes his eyes, like he’s just pained himself beyond recovery. It’s ridiculous. He’s adorable. “I mean. Yes. That’s what I—that’s what—please make me stop talking.”

Finally. Yuichi leans in to do exactly that.

There’s immediate uproar from elsewhere in the room, because of course there is. Leonardo’s siblings and Yuichi’s friends waste absolutely no time making complete nuisances of themselves, hooting and catcalling and shushing each other in turns.

But the only thing that matters is Leonardo kissing him back.

It’s brief. It’s clumsy, a little self-conscious. Neither of them know what they’re doing, they’re both really nervous. It’s better than Yuichi ever could have imagined.

“Took you long enough,” Yuichi whispers. He feels light as a feather, like the slightest shift in the weather might blow him clear away. “That’s what I get for waiting on a turtle.”

Leonardo scoffs, breathless and flustered. He’s flushed all over by now, and when he rolls his eyes it’s clearly just an excuse to let his eyes dart away. Then he spots something that makes him groan.

“Oh god. Look.”

Yuichi follows his gaze to his siblings’ table, where they’re clearly straining to listen in on this conversation. Sunita and April have abandoned their bread basket to attach themselves to the ninja huddle. When Leonardo gives them away, only Raphael, Casey and the girls have the decency to bury their faces in a menu and pretend otherwise. Michelangelo and Donatello are outright staring.

“Ugh, they’re the worst,” Leonardo says. “I literally can’t imagine life without them.”

“I get that,” Yuichi replies honestly. As they watch, Gen and Kitsune slink across the dining room to join the Hamato clan, and they all begin having what looks like a very animated, very involved conversation, occasionally gesturing in Yuichi and Leonardo’s direction. That can't be good.

Sometimes retreat is the better part of valor.

“Hey,” Yuichi says, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper, “you wanna get out of here?”

The cheesy line is rewarded in a heartbeat by Leonardo’s blinding smile. He clusters in a little until their foreheads bump. He loves a scheme, he loves to be in on it. They’re back on solid ground together.

“Let’s do it. Where do you wanna go? Anywhere in the whole world.”

There’s something very earnest in the question, behind the chaos gremlin energy, the giddy good humor. He’s vulnerable, laying himself out for Yuichi to see plainly.

His ninpo is such an intrinsic part of himself, the thing that houses his soul, and he’s saying, Use it. I’ll let you use it.

It’s not a hard choice. Given his pick of any destination in the world, Yuichi has his mind made up in about five seconds. He doesn’t even really have to think about it.

“I kind of want to go to Hungry Burrito and try those carne asada fries you never shut up about,” he admits.

It’s the right thing to say. Leonardo tips his head back and laughs, and it sounds exactly like the very first time Yuichi ever heard it. Before the invasion, before the months-long recovery, before the monster that tried to ruin him and every good thing about him. Back when it had no reason not to be the loudest, brightest thing in the whole room.

Spirits. God. Yuichi isn’t ever letting this boy go.

The turtle reaches over his shoulder for a sword. The spinning blue portal opens right there in the dining room, and one of Leonardo’s brothers squawks in alarm, and there’s a ruckus of upset dishes and screeching chairs behind them, but Yuichi and Leonardo are faster.

They make their escape hand in hand. The whole thing feels equal parts silly and daring. The whole night feels that way.

They put their phones on airplane mode and eat spicy loaded fries on a fire escape in Queens and sit close enough that their knees and elbows bump every other time they move. They race each other over the rain-slick rooftops and wipe out a couple of times each and almost lose their voices in the cool night air from laughing too much.

As far as first dates go, Yuichi has no notes. He wouldn’t change a thing.

It’s time to head back when Leonardo’s eyes glow white between one blink and the next, and he sighs, like someone who just got a disappointing text.

“Curfew,” he says. “Let me take you home.”

“Are you going to survive your brothers tonight?” Yuichi asks fondly.

“God, I don’t know. Pray for me.”

In the blue light of the portal, when Yuichi is standing in the middle of his bedroom, Leonardo leans through after him to press a quick, shy kiss to his cheek. Then he flails a haphazard wave and disappears.

Ugh. Ugh. Yuichi can’t with this guy.

He collapses into bed, dizzy and breathless. He’s smiling so hard he’s half-afraid it might leave a permanent impression on his face. He feels drunk. He feels perfect.

He’ll have a lot of shit to answer for when his friends inevitably show up at his house tomorrow, furious at the missed chance to embarrass him in front of his brand-new boyfriend (!!). They’ll definitely rat him out to Auntie, and the cousins will eavesdrop like the monsters they are and never give Yuichi or Leonardo a moment’s peace for being gross and in love, but that’s entirely future-Yuichi’s problem.

If he’s very lucky, it’ll be a rest-of-his-life problem.

The last thing Yuichi does before he falls asleep is reach for his phone.

Usagi: Let’s do all of it again tomorrow.

The reply rolls in immediately, every bit as if a certain someone was waiting with their phone in their hands.

Leo💙: it’s a date!!!!!

[junikicker]

Scarface - Hope van Dyne x fem!reader

Scarface - Hope van Dyne x fem!reader

Pairing: Hope van Dyne x fem!reader

Warnings: implied smut, alcohol, mentions of scars

Summary: Stark throws yet another party where you meet Hope van Dyne.

Note: Unpopular opinion: Hope w short hair looks hot.

Tony Stark. He and his stupid parties. You had just gotten back from an exhausting mission yesterday and would have loved to just take some more rest. But apparently, Tony had made other plans and insisted that you made an appearance at the party. And not just for an hour or two. He was really passionate about this one, hell, he even made Nick come.

You were never one to sport a dress and heels, and you were also not one to dress up, so you decided to keep it rather casual, rocking a dark blue pantsuit with a white dress shirt underneath, leaving the top three buttons unbuttoned. Your hair was put in place with some hair spray and you finished off your look with some jewelry and a pair of white sneakers.

“Y/l/n, you better be up here within the next ten minutes.” Tony’s voice echoed through the room. “I was just about to leave, Stark.” You replied through gritted teeth. “In that case, I didn’t say anything.” Was the only thing he said before his voice was gone as quickly as it had come.

You sighed and left your room. Walking through the hallway, you accompanied Maria who seemed to be on her way upstairs as well. Together, you got on the elevator. “Hill.” You acknowledged her presence. “Y/l/n.” She responded. You weren’t on a first name basis yet. There were a few moments of silence until you spoke up again. “How’s Tasha?” You asked. You hadn’t seen her since you had come back from your mission, you had spent quite some time in the medical wing, getting checked up after being exposed to some unhealthy fumes on your mission.

“She’s good,” Hill replied, not meeting your eyes. “Wait- how do you?” She asked, now turning towards you. “I just do.” You winked at her and exited the elevator which had now reached its destination.

You saw Natasha behind the bar and decided the first thing you needed to survive this party was a drink. “Tasha.” You greeted, sitting down on the stool in front of her “Hey there, Scarface.” Natasha teased and you smiled. She was the only one who was allowed to call you ‘Scarface’ without possibly losing a limb.

“I saw your girlfriend on the elevator.” You beamed at her, smiling. “She’s not my girlfriend.” She replied sternly. “Well, she seemed pretty flustered when I asked her about you.” You smiled like a little kid. “Okay, we slept together one time. But that doesn’t mean anything.” She insisted as she poured your whiskey into a glass. You just looked at her sternly, eyes narrow. “Okay, maybe it was six times, but who’s keeping count.” She shrugged it off as if it was nothing. “She is your girlfriend.” You stated, leaving no room for Natasha to argue as her attention shifted to the person approaching the bar.

“A Manhattan, please.” The voice requested and Natasha got to work. You turned around on the stool. Facing the woman who had just ordered her drink.

You were met by a stunning brunette in a pitch-black jumpsuit, the top secured around her neck, leaving her arms bare. The top had a cut-out that showed a few of her inner breasts. Her heels matched in color. “Hope, this is Y/n Y/l/n. Y/n this is Hope van Dyne.” Natasha commented from the side, setting the Manhattan in front of the woman whose name you had learned was Hope.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Van Dyne.” You said, shaking her hand, smiling. “The pleasure is all mine.” The slightly smaller woman had replied. Natasha winked at you and then disappeared towards Maria who was standing a few meters away.

You talked for a while, getting to know each other. You couldn’t help your eyes drifting to the cutout piece on her top every now and then. “My eyes are up here, honey.” She chuckled and you blushed, scratching your neck awkwardly. “I’ll let it slide.” She smiled, shifting closer to you. “...If you tell me how you got that one.” She raised a hand to your face and gently caressed the scar that went from above your left eye to about mid-cheek on the same side.

You smiled and got a hold of her hand, placing it in yours on the counter of the bar. “Let’s say, I flirted with death.” You started. “Wanted too much too fast, thinking I was stronger than I actually was.” You suggested. “Knife?” She inquired. You shook your head. “Dagger.” You corrected, chuckling. “An old friend of mine used to say Love is a dagger, it’s a weapon to be wielded far away or up close. You can see yourself in it, it’s beautiful until it makes you bleed. But ultimately…when you reach for it…” You resigned. “It isn’t real?” She finished your sentence.

“I suppose love is as real as one wants it to be. If you don’t want it to be real, then it won't be. If you want it to, it will. It is a dagger, it is beautiful and it will make you belled. You decide how deep the world is going to be.” She spoke.

“I think it’s a bit too early for a conversation like this.” You sighed, downing the rest of your drink. “May I have this dance, Scarface?” She asked in a teasing but still sweet tone, getting up from the stool, and offering a hand to you. You reached for your hand and the two of you made your way to the dance floor.

The dancing was playful at first, you sun Hope around her and there and she would playfully push you back, her hand against your chest when you were shoved towards her by someone else on the dance floor. When Smack That starts playing, you playfully wiggled your eyebrows at her and she laughed in response but from then on started to ‘accidentally’ grind into you whenever you spun her around.

With the next song, you find the courage to make another move and pull her closer and her hips flush with yours. She gasped in a teasing way, “Bold.” She teased but you just shook your head laughing in response.

Where have you been started playing and your hands on her hips encouraged her to roll hers with yours. Then your eyes met for yet another time, but now it was different. Your bodies continued to move, and your eyes stayed focused on the other’s. You didn’t hesitate and leaned in. What was the worst thing that could happen?

Hope was surprised at first but kissed you back as soon as she realized what had happened. You kept your hands where they were, on her hips, while hers traveled from your neck to your face, cupping it, gently holding it in her hands. You weren’t sure if it was a whistle you heard from somewhere but you couldn’t care less. You let your arms wander down her body until you reached her ass and gave it a squeeze. She gasped in response to your actions, which gave you the opportunity to gain back control. You pulled away a moment later, the need for air had your lungs burning. But it was a good burn.

“Should we get outta here?” You proposed and she nodded. You grabbed her hand and pulled her after you and into the elevator. As soon as you were in the elevator, she had you pressed to the wall, hands pinned up over your head. She made sure you knew she was in control and you had nothing against it. The doors closed as your make-out session continued on the way down.

The door opened and you freed your wrists, grabbing her by the hips, leading her out of the elevator backward. As you reached the door to your room, it was your turn to pin her hands above her head. “Oh, this is gonna be fun if you think you’re gonna be on top.” She breathed out as you peppered kisses all over her neck and throat. This was gonna be one heck of a night.

[hangmanbradshaw]

Having just watched Jason Kelce retire, what age do you think the kids are when Jake retires? How many Super Bowls has he won? Does he go on to coach or help Bradley run the restaurant empire? Does he go into broadcasting?

I have this sooooo thought out. I just kinda answered part of this in another ask but! Here's more on retirement:

Jake retires relatively young for a QB, while he's still in good health and arguably at the top of his career. Around when he hits 39. It shocks everyone, but he knows he wants to quit while he's on top, not when his body is too destroyed to have a good life after. He wants to spend time with his husband and kids and be there for their lives. And one day he just looks at football and realizes he's done what he wanted to do, and he loves it, but he'd rather spend more time with his family. He has around 3 Super Bowl wins under his belt, another 1 or 2 he's lost, and he's content. So the kids are probably around 8 or 9 (the oldest) and the twins are maybe 6 or 7ish. He takes over the whole PTA/Carpool Drop Off/Sports Dad thing so Bradley can go back to work part time, cuz Bradley decides he misses work (he'd kinda semi retired to raise the kids and be a stay at home dad- his choice. Basically he'd let Callie and Reuben take most of the reins and he's just the owner, not full time day to day manager.) So Bradley opens a fancy restaurant in Manhattan as a passion project, right down the street from the apartment Jake lived in when they met on the Upper East Side, and he names it Hangman's Perch, after Jake. Anyways they still have SO much more time together, and Jake LOVES being a stay at home dad. He has way too much fun bringing the kids by to see Bradley at the restaurant or signing up to coach little league, and he loves being home every night with his husband and kids, and how they cook together without fail, and play games in the yard, and have movie nights, and sit together and help with homework.

THEN Bradley and Jake open up a family type sports bar in their little suburb out of the city together. It's Giants and Mets themed and everyone knows a bunch of famous ex Giants players hang out there, but it's normal. There's picnic tables outside and cornhole and they have watch parties for the games. Eventually he maybe does some broadcasting or correspondent work, after the kids are grown and off in college.

[literatureatthebowofnails]

A/N: Finally got around to finishing this one.

Series masterlist

Pairing: Loki x reader

Summary: The Avengers conspire to keep love alive

You stand on the train exhausted, travel mug hanging from one hand, your second cup of coffee gone before its time. Head lulling against your arm, you're jostled against fellow commuters as you mentally review your "To Do" list.

Two weeks left to decide whether or not to renew your lease. You're seeing a couple of places after your shift. One's in the South Bronx, just a few stops down from your current place. It would make these early morning commutes direct and reduce travel time to Avengers Tower, where you spend most nights when Loki's between missions.

The second place is higher rent, but it's waking distance to the cafe and about half the ride time to the Tower. If you manage to get either, it would be an improvement, though moving is always a headache in and of itself.

Your keys jingle as you unlock the shop and turn on the lights. You make yourself a third cup of coffee before beginning the morning routine. Ovens preheating, kolaczkis waiting on their baking sheets, register filled, counters and tables wiped down. You're just sliding the first sheet of pastries into the oven as the owner, Bramborslav, arrives.

The warm, stocky man greets you in his jovial manner. His Slavic accent is thick, and you have yet to witness him in a bad mood. On the whole, he exudes the comforting nature of well-seasoned potatoes.

"I have someone coming in for a meeting about an hour after we open. I trust you can handle the end of the rush on your own?" he asks.

"Of course," you slide a second sheet of kolaczkis in the oven with the first. "What's the meeting about?"

"Some sort of proposal. He hasn't said much beyond that." He unlocks the front door and sets out the sign before disappearing into the back to continue food prep.

As things slow down, the last person you expect saunters into the cafe. "Tony?" your greeting is rife with confusion. "Is there something I can get you?"

"Ah, hey princess. Thought I'd find you here."

"You know I work here, right?"

"Exactly. I'll take a double expresso, and you can tell Mr. Kaschak I'm here."

Your eyebrows draw together. 'Bram's meeting with Tony? What on earth could they have to talk about?'

"Uh, sure, I'll go get him." You poke your head into the back. "Um, Bram? Tony Stark is here for your meeting?"

☕

A couple hours of hushed muttering pass before the men stand and shake hands.

"I'll extend the proposal to our third partner today," Tony gives Bram his signature charming smile. "Assuming everything goes as planned, the notaries should have the paperwork signed and sealed by the end of next week."

Bram seems pleased and Tony takes his leave with a wave in your direction. "Later, princess!"

"What was that about?" you ask Bram.

"He's investing in the business."

☕

After work you walk to the Yorkville apartment. The manager, a curvy woman in her early 30s, keeps a running monologue as she shows you through the building and into the unit.

A tiny studio that hasn't been updated since the 70s, the industrial space features original hardwood floors and slanted ceilings. A slim loft for storage, efficiency kitchen, and a bathroom in dire need of scrubbing.

The barred windows look into an alley, providing an impressive amount of natural light. You'd be able to keep a few plants on the sill; might even squeeze in half your living room setup.

When you get up to the South Bronx, you find the unit there is almost twice the size of the first. The owner is brusque, walking you through the unit, asking about your credit, listing the rent and amenities as though he's late for a much more important meeting.

The space is recently updated by comparison, sporting late-90s granite countertops and a subway tile backsplash in varying shades of brown. Commute aside, it would be significantly more comfortable than the Manhattan suite.

You're still pondering your options with a yawn as you unlock the door to your apartment. A text beeps from your phone.

Loki: Mission concluded early. See you tonight?

You grin despite your exhaustion and tap in your response. Just need to grab clean clothes and a few necessities.

☕

Upon your arrival at the tower, you find a construction crew working on the ground floor. You wave a hello and make your way to the elevators, wondering what Tony's latest addition entails.

FRIDAY lets you out on the Avengers' common floor to find the whole team standing around a transparent projector screen.

"Hi?" you look around at the group, "Am I interrupting something?"

"Not at all, darling," your lover strides out from around the display.

"We have a proposal for you," Tony announces, pulling up a model of the tower. Two points glow orange against the otherwise blue display.

"It's come to my attention," he continues, "that the tower is lacking. Missing something coffee pods cannot compensate for."

Pepper cuts in, swiping all but the ground floor from the screen. "I've had some designs worked up, which I think you'll be pleased with.

"We would like you to open a Domácí Kuchyně location here." She expands the view of the lobby.

"A cafe?" your eyes widen and you turn to Tony, "Is this what your meeting was about?"

"That's right, princess. And you're going to manage it."

"Now, if you accept the proposal," explains Pepper, "we'll of course have to work out all the details. We spoke with Mr. Kaschak, and he's agreed to make you a partial owner."

"This is," you gape. "An owner? I can't believe you did all this for me."

You walk around the model to get a better look. After you've had a moment to get a sense of the design, Loki comes up behind you. He holds one arm around your waist, the other reaching out to pull the upper floors of the tower back into view.

"Darling, I do realize the business Stark has proposed would significantly lengthen your commute. I've been thinking about this for a while," he expands the other orange area, "and I'd like you to move in."

You turn to face him. "Loki, I..."

"We've set aside space on the 43rd floor for you," Pepper notes, drawing your attention back to the screen. "The two of you can design it to fit your needs, and when you're ready, we'll send a team to help you move."

"A team?" you laugh as heat seeps up your neck. "I don't know what to say. This is...thank you! Thank you so much." Tony pops behind the bar and you throw your arms around Pepper.

A/N: Thanks as always for reading. Feedback and reblogs are the greatest blessings.

@peaches1958, @javagirl328, @loopsisloops, @goblingirlsarah, @buttercupcookies-blog, @lovelysizzlingbluebird , @cakesandtom, @ladymischief11, @km-ffluv, @coldnique, @glitterylokislut, @eleniblue, @lokiprompts, @lokisgoodgirl, @muddyorbsblr

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist

Next part

Main Masterlist

[ofduskanddreams]

Tell me about "u up?" 👀

Oh boy so this one is complicated because it’s the idea I have for the Modern AU Azris longfic I’d love to write one day.

Basically the idea is that Rhys and Eris are neighbors growing up in Westchester NY and Azriel moves in with Rhys in middle school (Cassian is already living there) and he starts going to school with them. So Azriel and Eris know each other but they do NOT like each other through middle school and high school.

So, college. Az goes to NYU. Cassian goes out of state on a (insert sport here) scholarship. Rhys and Eris are at Columbia. Azriel and Rhys live together. Sophomore year Azriel starts exploring hi sexuality and hits up a gay bar. Who does he run into—Eris. They end up having their first real conversation ever and are surprised to find that neither is as the other expected them to be. They run into each other there again… then again. Things heat up. A one time thing turns into two into four into every Friday night, turns into Saturday mornings and then Saturday morning showers and then breakfast gets tacked on. It slowly spirals until they both realize they mean more than a hookup to each other.

Which obviously terrifies them both and they inject distance. So much distance that, by the time they graduate, they’re not even really speaking anymore.

Fast forward 8 years. Eris Vanserra, now the majority shareholder and CEO of Vanserra Technologies (headquarters: Manhattan) after his late father’s passing the previous spring. Azriel Cantor, one of the founders of an incredibly successful tech start-up in Silicon Valley. He and Eris are reintroduced when Vanserra Tech makes an offer to acquire Azriel’s company.

Though Azriel ultimately decides to remain independent, he and Eris start talking again. First emails but then texts which turn into the occasional phone call which turns to frequent phone calls which turn into coffee when they’re on the same coast turns into drinks at hotel bars turns into hotel rooms after the bars… you get the idea.

But now that they’re adults with fully matured brains maybe they’ll actually end up giving themselves a real shot together <3

[tigerdrop-official]

tigerdrop, i wrote you something

he got his ass beat today. 

it was nothing much, just a bar fight he had no part in. a brawl he couldnt keep his paws out of once he overheard a big guys noble fight for bubblegum pink. or hubba bubba bubblegum. 

actually, he still isnt sure. but he fought a losing battle.

and now he walks home. alone on the streets of manhattan, bruised. eyes downcast, one blackened, and one sporting a shallow cut. hands tucked into the pockets of his oversized hoodie; puff of hair peeking out from under a beanie.

he comes to the last crosswalk of his journey. out by the edge of the city, ethereal in the light of 2am.

he looks up to the glowing streetlights. the colors of midnight traffic.

its silent out. he doesnt bother waiting for the friendly figure of the walking indicator.

“AAAAA-”

tigerdrop - at least, the man he is during the day - suddenly lays on his ass, stranded like a flipped turtle.

“OH MY GOD!”

who is yelling at him?

springing to his feet in one motion is easy muscle memory by now. he ought to roll to his feet like nothing. but he only feels the phantom of the movement.

his body isnt listening. his brain reels, grasping for why hes still down here.

his… assailant, for lack of a better term, leans over him. her face, even under shadow and mask, is written with worry. frantic worry.

“ARE YOU OKAY? YOURE NOT OKAY I GAVE YOU A BLACK EYE.”

“you can stop yelling.”

“I PARALYZED YOU TOO DIDNT I.”

“my ass is not moving.”

“I’M SO SORRY." 

honeybee squats down. she wraps her arms around his middle - "HUP!” - and lifts him like a sack of flour, over her shoulder.

its kind of hot, but he can question his sexuality later.

“citizen,” she begins. if it weren’t for the paralysis, he wouldnt be able to take her seriously. hed write her off as a stoned cosplayer. “let me escort you home.”

he goes to lift his arm, only to be met with a buzzing numbness. “across the street,” he forfeits without a fight. should honeybee have his home address? sure. why the fuck not, right?

“with my love and kindness, i will nurse you back to peak health!” she declares, and begins sprinting across the street.

it is going to be a long night.

TUMBLR USER TIGERDROP FAN MAY I OFFER YOU MY HAND IN MARRIAGE

[seydaseven]

❝ HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO DREAM WITH ALL THIS STATIC IN MY HEAD ❞

STATS:

Name: Şeyda Seven

Age: 30

Face Claim: Hande Erçel

Occupation: Owner of Nirvana

Neighborhood: Carriage Falls

Gender & Preferred Pronouns: Cis female & she/her

BIOGRAPHY:

trigger warnings: none

Growing up a first generation American in Manhattan, New York had been incredibly challenging for Şeyda Seven. She was the youngest and only daughter to ambitious entrepreneur immigrants who took the opportunities their move from Ankara, Turkey presented them. Arriving with money in their pockets helped, and so did the experience of their success back home. With a clear vision, Şeyda's father wanted to expand upon the small hotel chain he owned throughout Turkey. He had big dollar signs in his eyes and even bigger dreams and plans in his head wanting to put a Magnolia Hotel in the major cities of America, with the first being in the city that Şeyda was born.

The wealth and the status meant that Şeyda was put into the best private schools, sitting amongst New York’s elite and most prominent. Academically, Şeyda was capable of holding her own. She not only had the intellect, she also possessed the discipline. In the Seven home, the dynamic was very strict and structured. For her and her older brothers, only the best was expected and if things weren’t perfect then they were forced to keep trying until they came as close to the ideal as possible. While her father built a four to five star hotel in the illustrious Manhattan, Şeyda's day was planned out by the minute. From school to extracurriculars and sports, she was a dancer, she had no real time to be a kid.

When she reached her teens and began to rebel against the structure a little the threat of boarding school loomed. For Şeyda it was a punishment that worked because she loved what New York had to offer. She was desperate to explore outside of the boundaries her parents had put on her and see what life was really like there. The heavy rule in her house created a very crafty and calculated teenager in Şeyda. She knew how to build a lie and get around the rules that had been set, all in order to go deeper into the city and parts her parents forbade to get up to things with her friends. They went to clubs, parties, ventured beyond the city to catch shows and mingle with artists — something that on the surface just looked like teens having fun but really it went deeper than that. They were looking for life.

It wasn’t until Şeyda was in university and out of her parents home that she actually did things like dating. Albeit she was attending the university of their choice, Columbia, there was a sense of freedom that she hadn’t felt before. Şeyda studied business and language as she was expected to be a part of the family business once she graduated, but her real dream was to open up her own club one day. While she was sure the business side of it wasn’t all fun and games, Şeyda wanted to offer others the escape from life that night clubs had given her. Even if it were just for a few hours a night, getting lost in the music and dancing.

From age 18 towards the tail end of her university degree, Şeyda had found herself in a serious, committed relationship with someone that was an opposite of her. He was rough around the edges, came from a different class, but none of it mattered to her. She had fallen in love and with a guy that her father would never approve of and Şeyda went along with the wild ride for as long as she could. It wasn’t until a prison sentence that sent her boyfriend away that Şeyda saw the future she had in her heart go up in flames. With her head and heart a mess, Şeyda did the worst thing she could do and that was to run away. He went off to carry out a sentence behind bars and it spooked her, leaving her to break up and then run off to California and fall back in line with her father.

At the time, a Magnolia hotel was being built in Los Angeles, and her father and brothers were looking at locations east and in the south, such as North Carolina. Even though Şeyda had reluctantly come back into the family fold, she was still punished for wanting to do her own thing and be her own person. She was given a position and title within the company but it was really only for appearances sake. For she was a part of none of the decision making or even seated at most of the meetings. It went on that way for two years before she came across something that changed the dynamics between her father and herself forever. Şeyda had caught onto his money laundering scheme and confronted him about it, and as long as she promised not to tell the rest of the family how dirty the patriarch’s hands were then she could have what she wanted.

Which was to open her own night club, Nirvana, in Wilmington. Close enough but a bit of distance from Charlotte, where the next Magnolia was being built. In the end her father agreed and she was sure it was likely to keep her out of the way and out of his business, thinking she’d be too busy diving head first into running a prominent nightclub. For the most part, he was correct. The first year of ownership Şeyda was in over her head. Learning business in university and playing a part in her father’s company was one thing, actually immersed in a business and it all resting on her shoulders was quite another. Eventually her feet found solid ground and she was able to fully take the reins and handle the nightclub as she’d always dreamed. Now, after five years, Şeyda is at ease at the helm and also has returned a watchful eye to her father’s affairs. Though, she’s not the only one watching. Her father and brothers have their eyes on Şeyda, as well as their very dark and powerful associates. What she’ll come to know is that she’s only scratched the surface of her father’s criminality.

[letsgetsquiggly]

Dandy Boy

Written for @flashfictionfridayofficial 243rd prompt.

Word count: 538

Audience: General

Themes: musical performances, emotional responses, slice of life

Descending the stairs, I approach the disco pop hell hole that has imprisoned my attention this last week. Such posh places were usually beneath me. I am much too old for curated vibrancy that only attracts young, flighty patrons with fleeting attention. This particular pocket of technicolor hell held an anomaly, however. A vast soul caged in a vapid gig.

I breathe in a deep puff of cotton candy cloud and snort the exhale at the no vaping sign that nobody follows at the bottom of the stairwell. I place my hand on the gaudiest velvet-clad door and push into the offensively neon venue. As an old woman, I trail an aura of grey through the pastel energies of today's youth gathered in this snug club. I don't belong, and I don't care. All I care about is that, in this unexpected place, is where the music happens. Not this spliced and sliced chords and bars pieced together by software and black boxes that I had grown accustomed to in the slog of shows I must sit through daily, but actual, grassroots composition born from tube amps, strings, and profound sadness. Pushing against the collection of confused stares, I make my presence known at the 10-seat wood top tucked in the back of this flashing sign and velvet box. I order what I've ordered the last four days I've been here; a Manhattan is burning, which, while cleverly named, was all flare and no flavor. I found myself at my corner booth, where I just sipped and waited.

It was mere moments before the object of my obsessions stumbles onto the cramped corner stage. A shy swallow who chirps an enchanting melancholic melody. He was a dandy dime, all glitter and blues. He has big, slick black hair and dark skin, a beautiful contrast to his foil-textured white fitted suit top sporting a deep v and a thoughtful gaze that never leaves his lifted-heeled boots. His Epiphone 8 string, a shimmering baby blue, plugged into a burnt orange tube amplifier. He drips with a brilliant shyness and sorrow, dressed in an awkward guise of confident colors and attire. I hold my breath while waiting for his set reveal, ready to be infected with his unexpected sparkle.

And then, he sings. He strums. The warm reverb of the transistor tubes worms through the pastel plain and hits my grey. He fills the room and turns it bold. Turns it blue. His performance erases the neon, coats the velvet, and masks the humanity of the room. All is him, and he is all. A deep baritone voice, crass and uneven, solid and vibrant, blends with the strings' vibration. His music is home, love, heartbreak, and loss. His music holds life and tells of change. This utter stranger has given me things I never knew I needed and showed me there is life I am missing to live.

At the end of the set, I release myself from my viewing station and approach the stage, money in my hand to show proper appreciation for the once again visceral performance. Throwing the cash into the open guitar case, I address the only thing in the room with soul.

"Excellent work, Dandy Boy."

[jack-kellys]

Platonic sprace hurt/comfort plz and thank u (maybe in a modern au when one of them got bullied?)

tbh surprised i didn't put more hurt into it but we move

send me a request for smth short!

It’d taken forever for all the families to leave, and even longer for Race to force his own to wait for him back at home. Graduation had been much too emotional for his liking, his Mama crying tears as an official empty-nester while Jack had refused to let go of him for what felt like twenty whole minutes. Charlie had been calmer about it, since he’d only graduated high school the year before, but now all three of them had done it. His brothers had left it in the dust, but Race…

He bit his lip as he made his way over to the now-abandoned bleachers that occupied the asphalt city courtyard, plastic bottles and cups strewn underneath like old fallen snow. Only one girl sat on the highest row, back to him as he approached from behind. Her navy graduation gown sat beside her, fingers putting something to her lips. Race quickened his pace. 

“Took you long enough,” Spot scoffed as Race clambered his way next to her. The roasted, earthen smell of weed encased them both once he was close enough. “You were gone for like an hour.”

“You know how my family is,” he shrugged, grinning and wiggling his fingers for her blunt. “They just can’t get enough of me.” 

They passed it between them a few times, staring up at the northern outline of the city, backs to Spot’s home of Brooklyn. Race’s loose button down fluttered against the coming summer wind, and Spot’s red-and-black vertical striped jumper did the same. 

“You know,” she murmured, “I really did hate it here.” 

Race laughed, quieting when she turned to him with unamused blue eyes. 

“Uh, here?” he clarified. “Manhattan? Or…”

“This school. Come on.” It was her turn to laugh, though it wasn’t as bright as Race’s. “All those entitled bastards whining their way into colleges and through classes. It’s all done now, Racer, we can do what we want.”

Race frowned, leaning back onto his hands after passing her the blunt back. 

“I dunno,” he admitted. “Wasn’t all bad. I have a lot of good friends here, good sports. Good trouble, too.”

He nudged her side with a small smile, but Spot didn’t budge much. Instead she turned to him head on, swinging ones of her legs over the other side of the bench and looking at him. 

“High school sucked,” she stated, matter-of-factly. “Most of the people? Sucked. Teachers? Awful. Never any student support, ever.”

“..Okay, fine, got me there,” Race said, doing his best to chuckle. “The bar for a good high school experience’s pretty low, I thought. What, you think it was gonna be like the movies?”

“No,” Spot retorted, glancing away. Race watched her fight the urge to cross her arms, squaring her shoulders instead. “I thought it wasn’t supposed to be.”

Race felt his expression scrunch, confusion betraying him. Spot’s gaze flicked back to his, and her eyebrows raised.

“Oh, wow,” she snarked. “Racer, I didn’t pin you for that oblivious, just because the whole school loved you.”

“No they didn’t,” he laughed. How could they? He was this antsy, loud-mouthed, whiny–

“The funnyman charismatic outgoing sports guy is trying to tell me the school didn’t love him,” Spot muttered. “Isn’t the goal to grow up after graduation, Higgins?”

“Shut up,” he hissed, and Race felt heat rise to his cheeks. “That’s not who I am and you know it.”

“It’s who you were,” Spot shot back. “And I wasn’t. I was the.. the- the responsible, staying-in, talking-back Black girl who tagged along.”

“Spot, don’t-”

“Be hard on myself? Feel bad about it?” She shook her head. “Cause I don’t. I was myself through high school and people were assholes about it, just cause I wasn’t like you. And that’s fine, but it’s true, so high school sucked. Got it?”

Race pressed his lips together, wanting to argue.

Spot was the strongest person he knew. She protected her group of friends, always stuck to her beliefs, was never afraid to act tough, never afraid of anything, or at least refused to let it show. To him, she seemed impossible not to like, but… when she’d had to stand next to Race’s play-to-the-crowd attitude, the contrast of treatment made a disheartening amount of sense. 

He hoped one day she wouldn’t have to be so unmovable, unbreakable, that she could find a way to crumble and build back up again.

“My life would’ve been absolute shit if you were anything like me, but especially if you weren't anything like you. Do you got it?” Race finally mumbled.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, eyes on her shoes. “Lucky to have me, ain’t you.”

“Of course I am,” Race scoffed. “And I’m lucky to leave this all behind with you, too.”

Race sneakily pulled his friend into his side, Spot only squirming a few moments before chiseling herself just enough to allow her friend room in her rocky form to hold her.