#that huge space between the big drawing- the little guy- and the text

[gabi-theladylover]

ASS PANCAKES‼️‼️

[13uswntimagines]

New Friends (Kellex x Little!Reader)

Request: dino Roary an origin story of where the reader got him? You can pick which team moms you want to use 

Author’s Note: This is in the little Problems universe and is a prequel to Little Problems. 

Rest days felt like they were few and far between as of late. Stress levels were at an all-time high as your team prepped for the Olympics, and it was nice to have a day away from the constant pressure. 

It was even rarer that you got to hang out with your three best friends alone. It wasn’t that your girlfriends didn’t trust you- but Rose, Mal, and Emily were Little (technically you were too, but you didn’t acknowledge that) and they always said it wasn’t a good idea for the four of you to go out on your own. 

Something could happen to make one of you slip, and that could cause all four of you to slip and before you knew it you could have 4 very mischievous littles left to their own devices. 

So you were excited to get to spend the day, window shopping with your friends, away from your girlfriends. They tended to hover, and you really just wanted to have fun. That’s how you ended up at the mall, wandering around aimlessly. 

“Alright, I believe it’s my turn to pick the store?” You said, rubbing your hands together. 

“It’s only fair. You did just spend an hour looking at running shoes and sandals with us,” Rose nodded thoughtfully. Sure you had gotten pretty fidgety towards the end, but you hadn’t complained. At least you hadn’t started trying to play hide and seek in the aisles this time (how you didn’t think you were little, she would never know). 

“At least they weren’t sketchers,” Emily snorted, throwing an arm over both you and Mal. As your oldest (both big and little) friend, it was her job to look after you two. 

“We promised we’d never talk about that again,” Mal grumbled, shoving a cackling Sonnett off of her. Emily stumbled, bumping into Rose and nearly sending both of them into a potted plant. 

You shrunk slightly at the security guard's glare, using all of your strength to prevent your thumb (or your shirt) from finding its way to your mouth as it so often did. 

“How bout Spencer’s? They’re supposed to have the new Harley Quinn merch,” You mumbled, scratching the back of your neck. 

Emily wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. “And they have toys in the back,” 

You blushed. That wasn’t why you wanted to go there, plus Kelley and Alex would not be happy if they found out you went perusing through the sex toy section without them. 

You glanced at Mal and she seemed to be having the same thought. 

“Are you sure we’re supposed to look at those?” She asked, fidgeting just like you were. 

Emily shrugged, rolling her eyes. “There’s only a ban on it when we’re little,” 

You squinted at her. She was the ringleader of your little group, and she had a habit of leading you all into trouble. But Mal nodded thoughtfully, satisfied with the loophole. 

You bit your lip. If Mal was ok, then you should be too. “Otay,” you mirrored Mal’s nod, the collar of your shirt slowly beginning to find its way to your mouth. 

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” Rose smiled wide, wiggling her eyebrows, looping her arm with Mal, and beginning to drag the younger girl towards your chosen store. 

Emily took off after them, throwing her arms around their shoulders barely checking back to make sure you were trailing after them (Alex and Kelley would be very upset if she lost you after all). 

****

You had promised your girlfriends that you would stay with Em, Mal, and Rose. You swore that you wouldn’t leave their sights. And you hadn’t meant to, but all of the stuffed animals in the window looked so lonely. You needed to go say hi to them. 

That’s how you found yourself roaming the isles of the toy store, one set of fingers gently pressing over all of the animals’ fur and the other finding their way to your lips. 

You didn’t usually let yourself slip this far, not around other people at least, but something about being surrounded by so many stuffed toys felt safe. They were like a magnet drawing you to them, and you didn’t wanna fight it. 

You paused in front of a section of dinosaur-shaped stuffies, your eyes gliding over the colorful selection. You didn’t just want one. You needed one, with every fiber of your being. 

You weren’t sure how you knew, but you were sure that one of these buddies was meant for you. 

“Hey sweetie, are you here all by yourself?” A very soft voice asked from behind you. You turned towards the brunette, squatting down so her green eyes could peer into yours. 

You shook your head, “No, wit Emmy, Mal, and Rosie,” 

The woman’s lips ticked up at your little voice, even if it was muffled by the thumb between your lips. But it was still troubling that you were in this store all by yourself while you were little. 

“Good. Are they here in the store with you?” She asked softly, as to not scare you. 

You bit your lip, suddenly finding your shoes very interesting (but not as cool as the light-up buzz light year ones your ma-. Kelley. Not as cool as the ones Kelley had gotten you). 

Maybe you should have told your friends that you wanted to say hi to all the stuffed animals, but they were too far ahead of you. And they probably would of had to call your girlfriends (stuffed toys were a pretty big trigger for all of their little spaces). You hadn’t wanted the day to end or to admit that you wanted something that other littles wanted. 

“No,” You mumbled sadly, afraid that your time in the store was going to be over before you got to greet your new friends (and that you were gonna get the mom looks from your girlfriends when they found out about this). 

The woman sighed her eyes softening at your chastised expression. She shared a glance with the blond woman beside her before placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Alright sweetheart, what’s your name?”

You nodded, your chest-puffing slightly. You could do that. “Y/n,” 

The woman smiled at your adorableness. “My names Lena, how about we call your friends?” She asked softly. 

“but I gots new frens,” You pouted, gesturing towards the wall of stuffed animals with the hand not currently in your mouth. A very particular red and yellow Dino standing out to you. He looked so soft and cuddly. You couldn’t just leave him behind. 

“Ok kiddo. Let’s call your old friends, and then we can get you one of your new friends while you wait?” The blond woman asked. You nodded excitedly. You always liked new frens and it would be fun to introduce them to your old friends too. 

*****

“Holy shit, you scared the crap out of us. We turned around and you were gone,” Mal’s arms wrapped around you the second she saw you. 

You buried your face into her neck, wrapping the arm not holding your brand new friend around her. “Sorry, wanted ta say hi,” You mumbled, clutching the stuffed triceratops as tightly as you could. Mal froze, pulling back and holding you at arm’s length, her eyebrows furrowed. 

They all knew that you were supposed to be little, but they had never actually seen more than a glimpse of little you. It was a tricky situation because they didn’t want to discourage you from being little, but at the same time, it was dangerous because it could cause the rest of them to slip too. 

Emily turned to you, eyes wide. “Oh fuck,” 

You frowned, pouting at Mal. “Emmy sayed a bad word,” 

“Yeah, we heard,” Rose sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was not a good situation, and it certainly meant the end to their day out. But maybe she would be able to convince her mama and aunt Lindsey that you all needed a play date… 

“I maded a new fren,” You said softly, holding up the Dino that Lena and Kara had bought for you while you waited for your friends to show up. 

“I see that,” She shook her head, already reaching for her phone. 

She knew the rules, she was definitely going to have to be the responsible one and call a caregiver, lest you all (well maybe not you specifically) earn yourselves a punishment. 

Lena eyed the group of women before her critically. Taking in every twitch of a hand and tilt of a head. There was no way she was going to let the four of you scamper off. It would be dangerous and irresponsible, especially considering that seeing someone in little space was often a huge trigger to other little spaces. 

“Thank you so much for looking after her. We were so worried when we realized she wandered off,” Emily mumbled, smiling shyly at the woman.

Lena nodded back, “It was no problem, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for the four of you to be wandering around all by yourselves, especially if she’s little,” she said, gesturing to where you were excitedly introducing Mal to your new stuffed toy. 

You froze, barely looking away from your friend to huff out an “I not little,” 

Emily rolled her eyes. Even now, when it was obvious, you would deny it. 

“Right, we were just going to head back to the hotel anyway,” 

“You sure you can make it back alright?” Lena asked with a raised eyebrow. She didn’t envy whoever had to keep the four of you in check as you seemed like a very large handful.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Thank you again,” Rose said, sharing a look with Emily. They were the two oldest and it was their job to get you guys back safely. 

Rose turned and gently grabbed your hand, so she could guide you out of the store and make sure they didn’t lose you again. 

You waved at the woman who had helped you as you left (big you would text them a thank you later as Lena had left her number in your phone). Emily made a mental note to talk to your girlfriends about how friendly little you was (it would be good for them to know in the future) and thanked their lucky stars that you were too far in denial to freak out when you were suddenly little. (It was also rather shocking that you had allowed yourself to slip for this long anyway). 

*****

They were almost there. Almost back at the hotel. Just a few more steps through the door and they would be home free. You paused as you approached the hotel, the tip of the stuffed dinosaur’s tail finding its way to your lips. 

You didn’t want to go inside. It was fine for you to be like this with Em, Mal, and Rose, they understood. Even with Alex and Kelley’s gentle nudging, you couldn’t let go of the fear that they would look at you differently. That the (amazing) adult side of your relationship would change forever. 

“Come on y/n,” Rose said softly, carefully pulling the Dino’s tail from your mouth with furrowed eyebrows. 

You shook your head rapidly, tears suddenly welling up in your eyes. “No,” 

“What do you mean no? We have to go inside, it’s almost curfew,” Emily asked, joining Rose hunching in front of you to look you in the eyes. 

You shook your head again, rubbing your nose in the soft fur of your new friend. Just holding him was so comforting (it was almost as good as snuggling between your girlfriends). 

“No. No wan Al and Kell ta see me, when I like dis,” You mumbled, gesturing towards yourself with your free hand, completely missing the looks Emily, Mal and Rose shared. 

“When you’re like what? They’ve seen you in worse states, trust me?” Rose snorted. 

It was true. Your girlfriends had seen you drunk, and sick and happy and everywhere in between, but as far as you knew they had never seen you like this. 

Sure, you let yourself slip just a little in the middle of the night when you were cuddled up between them, or when both of them were away with their respective club teams. But it would be different for them to actually see you little, and you just couldn’t seem to make yourself big now. 

“Not while I little,” You mumbled miserably. 

Rose sighed. “Babe, they know you’re little and they’re totally ok with it,”

It wasn’t like you could control the test results, and Kelley and Alex had been doing everything in their power to make sure you knew they were there for you. 

“I-...” You choked on your words, your mouth opening and closing several times. You just couldn’t seem to make your brain say the words that plagued you since your results came. 

Emily reached out a gentle hand to rub your shoulder, a small idea about your hesitance forming. “Y/n look at me. You know Lindsey loves me yeah?” You nodded at the defender, your eyes wide. “And how Sam loves Rose?” She waited for another small nod.  “Those two will love you just the same. Being little is a part of who you are, and it’s not going to change how they feel about you,” 

You frowned, subtly leaning into her hand. “But what if they don’t like my friend?” 

Rose and Emily quirked up a smile at you. 

“I’m sure they’ll love him,” 

******

Kelley stopped short as she entered your shared hotel room, her eyes bulging at the sight of you cuddled up with a new stuffed animal, your thumb between your lips, watching blues clues. 

“What the fuck Kell,” Alex hissed, barely catching herself before she plowed into Kelley’s back and shoved both of them further into the room. 

Kelley turned and pressed a finger to Alex’s lips. “Shhh,” 

“What?” Alex mumbled against her finger, her eyes following her shorter girlfriend’s gaze. Her eyes widened and she couldn’t stop the “Awww,” that left her lips. 

You looked over at the sound, your eyes tightening just a little. You slowly raised the hand holding your new Dino and offered your girlfriends a tiny wave. 

“Hey babydoll, mind if we join your cuddle session,” Alex asked carefully, stepping around Kelley and closer to the bed. She bit her lip at how adorable your thinking face was. 

They waited for a few bated breaths while you considered, idly rubbing your nose in the dinosaur's fur. You were terrified of being little, and they didn’t want to push you, especially with this being one of the first times they had seen you fill in headspace (they had gotten fleeting glimpses before but nothing quite like this). 

“I not mind,” You mumbled thoughtfully, shyly looking over at your girlfriends.

Alex and Kelley’s lips ticked up at the expression. God, you were adorable (they could only imagine how much cuter you would be when you were comfortable). 

Both women nodded, and very slowly joined you on the bed, sandwiching you between them. You snuggled into Alex’s side, sighing happily as the warmth of your two favorite people enveloped you. 

It made you feel safe and oh so small. 

“What are we watching?” Kelley asked after a few minutes of watching you. She gently reached up to remove your hand from your mouth, making a mental note to order you a soother off the internet. 

“Boo’s coo’s,” You mumbled, blinking up at the woman. 

She smiled brightly at your wide eyes. “We love that show short stack,” 

You mirrored her smile, wiggling happily (barely noticing that Alex moved your thumb away from your mouth again). You giggled when Kelley made a funny face at you before the blue puppy on the screen took your attention again. 

Alex and Kelley shared another look when you began to babble quietly to both your new stuffed toy and the screen. They shouldn’t have been surprised that you were this little. Even in the little glimpses, they had caught, they knew you were going to be smaller than Emily or Rose. 

They also shouldn’t have Em been surprised that your resistance finally slipped. It was a stressful time for the team, and they were frankly shocked you had held out as long as you did. 

“Hey babydoll, can I ask you a very important question?” Alex asked softly, brushing an errant curl from your eyes. You nodded, your eyes never leaving the screen.“How old are you right now?” 

You paused for a second, Seemingly considering the question before you gave them a little shrug. Big thoughts were too difficult right now. 

Kelley smiled indulgently at your little pout,  brushing your cheek. “That’s ok sweetie,” 

You leaned into the touch, settling back against Alex. They let you watch the screen for another few minutes, keeping a close eye on you. As the show went on, your new dinosaurs tail slowly made its way back to your mouth. They let it go for a few minutes, again making a note to talk to big you about getting something more appropriate to suck on. 

Alex very carefully reached up and pulled the red tail from your lips. “Who’s this little guy?” She asked softly, tapping the triceratops on the nose. 

“My new fren, Lena, and Kara gots him while we waited for Emmy,” You said. 

Alex’s eyebrows furrowed. You were waiting for Emily? With people, you didn’t know? There had to be a story there, and she fully intended to get it the next time she saw the defender (and make sure that the group had followed the rules their caregivers set for them- including staying together). 

“Does he have a name?” Kelley asked, making eye contact with the forward. 

“No,” You huffed, pulling the soft Dino to hide your eyes. 

“Well, friends have to have names,” Alex nudged the back of your shoulder. You squinted, looking between the red stuffed animal and Alex, your tongue poking between your lips. 

Names were a very big decision, and your Dino hadn’t told you his yet. You lifted the toy up, examining him carefully. 

“I not know,” You said, dropping your arms and squeezing him closer to your chest. Kelley and Alex both awed at how adorable you were. 

“You want some help?” 

You squinted at Alex for a second, before nodding slowly. “Yes please,” 

(Both women swallowed their praise for your good manners- they didn’t wanna cross a line as this was still a very new development). 

You passed the dinosaur to Kelley, who turned him over in her hands and carefully examined him before passing him to Alex who did the same.

“Well, do you know how dinosaurs say I love you?” Alex asked, passing your new friend back to you. 

“They say rawr,” You rawred at Alex, laughing when she rawred back and tickled your belly and Kelley joined in. 

“How about you name him Roary so every time you hug him, you’re reminded how much we love you,” Kelley suggested, blowing a zerbert into your neck. 

You giggled loudly. It was the perfect name for your new friend. It was also a reminder that your girlfriends would be with you through it all, even if you happened to be little…

[qianoir]

IT3D 1 - Hua Mulan

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: college students!WayV x Chinese fem!reader

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, college au

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 18+ (Do not interact if you are under 18)

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy cursing (censored), mentions of sex, nudity, love octogon, foreign humor, overbearing parents

♡ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.3k

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭: @eggbutnotyolk @d1nne @fanficbitchwhowriteskpop @staysstrays

Preview < 1 < 2 < 3

"I've only been in New York City for 15 hours, Xuejiao. And it's huge! I don't know these streets you're telling me!" You shout, ignoring the side-eyes from the passerby city slickers that give New York it’s bad stereotype.

"You're going down 96th Street right? I told you to keep going down. It's a long a.ss street. You'll find the campus eventually- look for the dome!"

The connection breaks as Xuejiao finishes the call, "I gotta go now, I’m trying to get in my astrology professor’s pants after class!" The line goes silent and you huff, opening up GPS to lead you down the forsaken 96th Street. Distracted with directions, some guy crashes into you with his bike.

"What the hell!? Watch where you're going!" You yell picking up your fallen bag- which scattered all of my weeaboo s.hit.

"Maybe if you didn't stand in the middle of the street, you wouldn't have wrecked my bike! You're lucky you didn't get killed by a real car!" You looked up at the ignorant voice and found a young, orange-haired Asian boy. Maybe Chinese, like me?

"I wrecked your bike!? You're really unbelievable.." You placed everything back into the bag and took out your wallet. "Look, I don't have time for this. I'm sorry for damaging your tricycle, or whatever- here." You threw a fully punched Xing Fu Tang loyalty card at the kid’s dumbfounded face and walked off.

It's 9:57 AM, your o-chem class starts at 10 and you still can't find the campus. Why did my parents even make me leave Hong Kong? Because of the government, the pollution? Both countries are f.ucked. I choke there and I choke here.

Finally, I'm here.

You ran to the STEM building and up the stairs to land in a spacious lab room. You hurried to an empty seat near the top row. 9:59 AM.. Thank goodness.

In the midst of the lesson, the door opened to reveal the same clumsy jerk you had encountered a few minutes ago. He rushed to an empty seat, you going unnoticed by him.

Your first 50 minutes of college went by pretty quick. Nothing more than a syllabus review and a small question/answer session.

"I know it is the first day, but you are all in big kid school now, so I am assigning a semester project you will work on for all of this first term with a partner." Each array of your peers groaned at this announcement.

"You will use your knowledge from high school chemistry or an equivalent to complete it." The professor continued, "I will choose your partners and you are both expected to be responsible with it all semester."

"Remember your partner's name so that when I'm done, you can come down to get each other's contact information."

"Man Wol and Ji An.. Ha Jin and Hae Soo.."

The professor continued to call out names as you were caught up in texting Xuejiao about the kid who crashed into you earlier this morning being in your class, only half listening until you heard your name being called.

“Y/N and Yangyang.." Did I miss a racist joke or something? What the hell is a Yang Yang?

You kept texting Xuejiao, deciding to deal with it after class.

"I know it's a lot to take in on the first day, but on the bright side, you don't have to do the project," Some idiots celebrated, "but know that I will judge you harshly on it and I will be teaching at an Ivy League while you get kicked out of an Ivy League, never achieving your dreams." He fakes a sad face and the same idiots fuss.

"Now come meet your partners and have a good rest of your first day!" Your first professor dismissed the first class.

You put your phone in your pocket and stumbled to the bottom of the classroom, calling out for "Yangyang," the name feeling awkward as it rolled off your tongue.

"That's me." You spun around and were met with the trike guy from earlier.

"IT'S YOU!" You exclaimed in unison with him, the space between you two silencing for a second, before you spoke again.

"Oh my God I can't believe I got such a d!ck as a partner." You rolled your eyes with crossed arms.

"Hey! It takes two to d!ck!" Yangyang argues back. You stared at the fellow Asian boy in disgust and dismay.

"What the f.uck!?"

Both of you suddenly broke down laughing, your huddled classmates peeking at you with judgemental stares.

Yangyang calmed down and talked more comfortably with you, "Thanks for the boba by the way. I drank it deliciously.. before I dropped it because I crashed again."

"That's what you get for being a pr!ck to me." You scoffed.

"Oh baby that wasn't being a pr!ck. That was simply getting you warmed up to want me." He tapped your chin to bop your head back while giving a creepy stare.

...

"You're a f.ucking crazy person."

"Like it or not, Mulan, you're stuck with me for an entire semester." He stuck his tongue out at you.

"Mulan?" You questioned.

"Yeah. You're a Chinese b!tch, right?" You glared at him, but had to nod ‘yes’ anyway.

"Cool. I'm Taiwanese.. I need to get to the other side of campus so give me your number so we can work out the details on the project. You wanna meet up at the library tonight?" You agreed and gave him your number.

"Great. See you tonight, Mulan." He winked and jumped out of the room.

Shaking your head at the ironic situation, you walked to the next class with a little over 10 minutes to spare, so you stopped for coffee at the Starbucks on campus.

The shop was pretty small and there weren't a lot of people inside. As you were about to enter, another Asian boy held the door open. "Thank you." You smiled, bowing your head in gratitude.

"Anything for a girl with such a charming smile. Can I buy you a coffee?" He asked.

"No, that's ok!" You replied, not wanting to inconvenience this guy- and besides, he might just be trying to get in my pants.

"Please I insist! Get anything you want!" You decided to take his offer because in the end, it’s free coffee. He was also pretty charming himself, and seemingly harmless.

"Could I get an iced Americano, please?" You ordered. "I'll have the same." The boy told the barista.

You both stood to the side of the bar, talking while the identical drinks were being made. "Thank you for paying, you really didn't have to." "No no it's really fine. I wanted to.. I'm Dejun Xiao by the way, I think I'm in your chemistry class. What's your name?"

"I'm Y/N." "Oh are you Chinese!?" You nodded. "I'm Chinese as well. Are you from China?" "I'm from Hong Kong." "That's so cool! I'm from Guangdong." "Oh nice, nice.." The drinks were handed to you and you walked out together, strolling into the center of the campus.

"What class do you have next?" Dejun asked, sipping at his coffee. You took out a crumpled paper to examine the schedule printed on it. "I have biochem next." "Oh we have the same class!" Dejun announced. "That's crazy! Are you premed?" You asked him. "No, I'm studying forensic science. I want to be a homicide detective.”

Wow this guy is impressive. "Wow, that's awesome.. I want to be a heart surgeon.”

“That’s so cool!” "Thank you." You laughed at his energy. The two of you walked in the direction of your next shared class, conversing and giggling with each other along the way.

You reached your next classroom and found empty seats next to one another. “You can call me Xiaojun, by the way. I think it’s cooler than Dejun.”

“If you have to say your name is cool, then it’s not cool.” Another Asian man walked up to your row.

"Hey man! You're in here, too?" Xiaojun asked. "Yeah! It was a lucky draw." Xiaojun then motioned over to you, "This is Y/N. She's my new.. friend?" He smiled at you, looking for confirmation. Returning his smile, "Yes I am. Nice to meet you." The other male shook your hand and introduced himself. "Nice to meet you, too. I'm Kun."

"She's from China, like us!" Kun was surprised. "Really? Why did you come to America?" "My parents made me." You shrugged. "Wow mine did, too." Kun chuckled and sat down in the row of you and Xiaojun.

I left China, but China came to me. Maybe this year is destined to be good..

To be continued…

𝘲𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘳

[onceuponaloonatic]

Can you update the misahyo au?

of course !!

In the nearly twenty years of being with Sana, Jihyo had never come home to her crying. Sure Sana had cried plenty once she was home, and while she wasn’t at home, but never once had Jihyo come home to Sana sobbing. It seemed today was a day of firsts.

After dropping Nayeon off, Jihyo had taken her and Nico home, too far into her head about what Sana had told her to really listen to Nico and engage with her on the ride. Once they got home, Jihyo helped Nico out of her car seat and brought her inside. She helped her with her shoes and then told her she was going to check on Sana and Mina. As awful as it made Jihyo, she just needed to see Sana. She needed to see how her wife was and she needed to hold her. Even if it meant she left Nico by the entry to their house, standing awkwardly by the locked front door. (Jihyo had made sure to check that it was locked the minute she and Nico were inside. Jihyo finds Sana on the couch. She’s curled up in a ball, and a mess of tears. She meets Jihyo’s eyes and Jihyo can feel her heart shattering at the sight of her wife so absolutely destroyed. Sana looked so scared. Jihyo was with her immediately. After a quick check to make sure Sana was okay with a hug, Jihyo wrapped her up so tightly. She didn’t want to let go. She ended up holding Sana. She needed to be here for her. Of course she wished Mina was here too, but right now she could only focus on Sana.

“Mama?” The moment is broken when Jihyo sees Nico standing there staring at the two of them. She looks like she’s about to cry.

“N-Nico.” “What’s wrong with mommy?” Sana sobbed harder at the questions, cuddling closer to Jihyo. “It-it’s nothing baby. Why don’t you go play upstairs? Mommy is just a little sad about… Big kid stuff.” “Mommy okay?” Nico asked, the tears spilling over as she watched Sana fall apart. Jihyo’s heart somehow broke even more at the sight. “Just go upstairs please.” Jihyo knew she was being too harsh, but she couldn’t keep three people from completely falling apart. “Mommy… Mommy okay?” More tears spilled out from both Nico and Sana. Sana shook in Jihyo’s arms while Nico stood in front of her, both on the verge of getting much worse. “Nico- please just go upstairs.” Jihyo sighed.

“No!” Nico screamed, more tears coming out as she started sobbing. “Mommy okay?” “Nico…” Sana muttered from Jihyo's arms. Nico stayed for a few more seconds before running off, and Jihyo made sure to follow her long enough to know she went upstairs. Jihyo sighed as Sana shifted closer to her. She was still shaking in Jihyo’s arms. “Babe can you-go make sure she’s okay?” “I will in a bit but I need to make sure you're okay first.” Sana shifted closer to Jihyo, burying her face into her chest. Her breathing was starting to even out, and Jihyo couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Sana calming down a bit.

“I’m fine.” Sana insisted. “No love you're not, and that’s okay. It’s really scary. And you need to feel that fear and sadness. You are a mom, but you're also a person Sana. Burying your emotions even if it is for Nico isn’t going to be good in the long run. It’s going to hurt you and Nico.” Jihyo started drawing small shapes on Sana’s back, pressing kisses to her head as she thought about what to say. It was scary, for all of them. In Jihyo’s arms, Sana took a few shaky deep breaths, slowly regaining control of her mind. “You’ve been a mom for as long as I have, how are you better at it?” Sana muttered once she was calm. As she came down, she felt exhaustion creep in. “I’m not better at it.” Jihyo muttered between kisses to Sana’s hairline. “I just think we need to be our best for her. And sometimes to be our best we need to take some time for ourselves.” “Look at you, such a good mama. I married the right person.” Sana joked, settling against Jihyo and closing her eyes. “You and Mina.” “Mina….” Jihyo sighed. “I’m-” Jihyo and Sana were both surprised when the doorbell rang. Jihyo felt Sana immediately tense up again, all of the tension returning to her body and her face went from sleepy to scared in seconds. Jihyo took a deep breath, knowing it was probably not Sana’s parents. They had no way of knowing their address. Momo’s mother wouldn’t tell them and it’s not like they had talked to Sana since they got arrested. Even with that knowledge though, she still couldn’t help the tension building up inside her. Jihyo made Sana stay on the couch, and the minute she’s gone Sana is grabbing a throw pillow for comfort. Jihyo had to get on her tip toes to properly see through the peephole and Sana would have laughed at her if she was in a better mood. “It’s just Nayeon and Momo.” Jihyo announced to Sana, seeing her wife relax. She couldn’t blame her, Jihyo felt relief flood her as well as she opened the door. “Hey guys, now’s not a great time so-”

“I know. I’m here for Sana.” Momo looked like a woman on a mission as she interrupted Jihyo. “My mom told me what was going on and to check on her.”

“She’s in the living room.” Jihyo knew Momo could be protective, especially when it came to Sana. They had been friends for so long, and Momo was some of the only biological family Sana had left. She knew Momo was one of the best people for Sana right now. “And I’m here for Nico.” Nayeon announced. “Nico?” Jihyo asked. “I’m guessing you guys upset her.” Nayeon moved inside to take her shoes off and Jihyo closed the door behind her, immediately making sure to lock it. “I-how did you know?” Jihyo asked, genuinely surprised. “We have a special bond.” Jihyo looked at Nayeon accusingly. “Alright alright, Mina texted me she was really upset.” “Mina?” “Apparently she went to Mina after you told her to go upstairs. She told Mina what happened and Mina told me.” Nayeon explained. “I can take Nico if you want to talk to Mina… I know you're trying to give Mina her space, but I think it’s time you guys talk.” “Did Mina say anything to you?” Nayeon sighed and nodded no. “She doesn’t have to. This is one of the longest episodes she had in a while, and it’s affecting all of you. With this stuff with Sana’s parents going on, I think you guys need to sort out what’s going on with Mina like now. It’s hurting all three of you, and it’s hurting Nico. This is one of her first times being around Mina when she’s like this- I’m sure she’s confused and scared and it’s stressing her out. When you add Sana on top of it, god I can only imagine how scary it must be at her age.” Nayeon explained. “Maybe that’s why she was so upset earlier when Sana was crying…” Jihyo thought aloud. “I have a feeling that contributed. I think it’s also pretty disorienting to come home to your mom having a breakdown and your other mom basically telling you to go away. She’s three Hyo, she isn’t exactly capable of completely understanding things like anxiety and depression and breakdowns. You did the right thing sending her upstairs, but I also think you could have handled it a little better.” Nayeon sighed. “But that’s okay. You guys are learning. A big part of parenting is learning. You're going to make some mistakes along the way and Nico’s going to be mad at you or upset for a bit, but as long as you make it right it will all workout.” “Thanks Nayeon Unnie…” Jihyo sighed. Nayeon really was one of the best people in Jihyo’s life. As much as she complained about the older girl, she and Jeongyeon had always been Jihyo;s rocks. “It’s easy to have perspective on stuff like this when you are on the outside. But really as hard as it is, at the end of the day it’s up to you to make the decisions you think are right for Nico.” Nayeon put a comforting hand on Jihyo’s shoulder. “Now, I’ll be upstairs with Nico. You might want to give Momo a minute alone with Sana, you know and I both know Momo knows things about Sana neither of us will ever understand.” Nayeon explained.

“Yeah, you're right, I’ll go check in on Mina… I’m sure she’s rattled.” Jihyo sighed.

“Sure. And Hyo, make sure you don’t take on too much. You tend to do that sometimes.” Nayeon sighed, letting go of Jihyo’s shoulder. Jihyo followed her friend upstairs, Nayeon immediately went to Nico’s room. Her door was open, and in passing Jihyo could see her with her face buried into her giant stuffed bear Sana had insisted on getting for Nico’s third birthday. On a trip to Costco, Nico had seen the giant stuffed bears and absolutely fell in love. Convincing her to let go of the bear was one of the hardest things in the world to do. She had thrown a huge fit and Jihyo had to take her to the car. After a full blown meltdown, she had an asthma attack in the car. After that, Nico seemingly forgot about the bear. When her birthday was coming up, Sana had decided it would be a good gift for her, despite the fact they had already picked out quite a few gifts for their little princess. Nico had nearly died when she saw it on her birthday. She jumped up and down and almost had another asthma attack when she came downstairs and found it in the living room.

“Mina…” Jihyo found her wife in the bed. Mina looked like she was crying, her form shaking under the covers. “Love, it’s me again.” “I’m starting to think you might live here.” Jihyo could’t help but crack a smile at that. At least Mina could still crack a small joke. “Maybe I just really like the girls that live here.” Jihyo responded, moving closer to the bed. “Nayeon’s with her right now. Momo is with Sana.” Jihyo sat on the edge of the bed. She reached a hand towards Mina, but stopped herself midway. “Hey love… You don’t have to talk about it yet, but we- we can’t keep this up. Nico can’t- I can’t- I don’t want to rush you my love but we can’t do this forever. Maybe just, can we talk about making things a little better?” Mina was quiet at that, snuggling closer to the covers. Jihyo hates seeing the tears on her love’s face. “I- Nico told me something was wrong with Sana.” Mina’s voice was hoarse. Jihyo made a mental note to grab her some water later. “Yeah… But it’s- we should talk about you first.” Jihyo sighed. “Please my love… It hurts all of us to see you this way.” “I-I’m sorry.” Mina started sobbing some more. Jihyo hated it. She hated knowing Mina was in so much pain. “No no baby it’s okay. It’s okay to be sad. It’s okay to feel like this. We just- we love you. And we want to help you feel a little better.” Jihyo muttered, tangling her fingers in Mina’s hair. “You don’t have to be perfect Mina. None of us expect that from you. Me, Sana, Nico, none of us expected you to be perfect. You know that, right?” Mina’s silence was the answer to Jihyo’s question. “Love, none of us expect you to be perfect. You’re already doing so good. We are all so proud of you.” “Nico too?” “Of course. Nico thinks the world of you, but she knows no one is absolutely perfect.” Jihyo muttered. “She loves all of us so much. She loves you so much.” “What about today?” Jihyo gently moved all the hair stuck to Mina’s face away. “You and I both made mistakes today baby. But it’s okay. She’s fine- I should have texted you and warned you she was in a fragile mood. The last few days… Haven’t been ideal for all of us, her included. Nayeon is with her right now. She told me everyone is going to make mistakes and part of parenting is learning. None of us really know what we’re doing… Do we?” “No.” Mina couldn’t help but giggle. Her crying had stopped, and Jihyo was more than relieved to see the small crack in Mina’s face “Exactly. We can make things better, but we both need to put in a little effort, okay?” Jihyo swiped her thumb across Mina’s cheek. “Mm-kay.” “Okay?” “Mm-hum.” Jihyo continued swapping her thumbs across Mina’s cheeks. “I want to see Nico.” “You don’t have to love.” “I want to.” Mina sat up, reaching for one of Jihyo’s hands. Jihyo immediately held it. “Okay.” Jihyo smiled. “Let’s go.” Mina held tightly to Jihyo’s hand as they made the short journey to Nico’s room. Her door was closed, so Jihyo knocked on it. At Nayeon’s “come in” Jihyo slowly opened the door, keeping eye contact with Mina to make sure she was okay. At Mina’s insistence, Jihyo opened the door. “Hello.” Nayeon greeted them. Nico was in Nayeon’s lap, her face buried in Nayeon’s stomach. “Hey Nico, we have some visitors.” She seemed calmer, sleepily cuddling with Nayeon. “Hey sweetheart.” Jihyo led Mina to sit next to Nayeon and their daughter. “I’m sorry about earlier. I know you were worried about Mommy. And that was sweet, but um the thing with mommy, it was adult stuff. I know you want to help and that’s really sweet of you.” “And I’m sorry too baby, I- haven’t been feeling well lately and I shouldn’t have gotten mad. Can you forgive Ka-san?” “Katsu?” Nico looked up from Nayeon, tears still lingering on her cheeks. “You want Katsu?” Mina couldn’t help but giggle. “Uh-hum.” “Alright, you can have all the katsu curry you want.” Nico brightened a little, reaching a hand out from Mina. The two held hands and Mina brought Nico’s hand up to kiss it. “I love you.” “I love you too ka-san.”

[nerdypanda3126]

City of Love

Happy Valentine's Day and happy birthday @crescent-woods! I'm your @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Secret Admirer! 😁

The prompt that I chose was: "They both host foreign exchange students who are dating, and end up getting dragged along on their dates and fall in LoOoOve"

Or rather, that prompt chose me because this thing took off and ran with me trailing along behind and hoping I can keep up 😅 I hope you like it!

As a side note: because there's a bit of a language barrier, there will be minimal French used throughout with definitions provided in the end notes, but the characters are speaking English unless otherwise mentioned. 

Read on Ao3 

First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Marinette paced by the door of her apartment, waiting for her new roommate to arrive. She had offered to go to the airport to pick her up, but the woman—Tikki, that was her name—had insisted she could find her own way. Marinette was clutching her phone, waiting for the inevitable call. Paris was confusing, after all, for those not familiar with it, and it was so easy to get lost, and what if she couldn’t make it? 

Just as she was starting to bite her fingernails, there was a knock at her door and Marinette ran to it, flinging it open to find a small woman—shorter than Marinette, even, which was quite a feat—in a bright red sundress with black polka dots and a huge sun hat big enough that the brim flopped over her face. When the sun hat tipped up, Tikki had gorgeous, wide blue eyes, and a black pixie fringe with red feathery highlights peeking out.

“Marinette?” Tikki asked, out of breath from carrying her bags up the many stairs to the apartment. Marinette nodded and Tikki squealed, dropping her bags to the floor, all fatigue seemingly forgotten as she swept Marinette up into a hug. She smelled like something sweet, although Marinette couldn’t place it. Some sort of pastry, maybe? She started yammering in rushed English, her sprawling American accent making some of the words run together in Marinette’s ears.  

“I just know we’re going to be the best of friends! I’m so glad I made it, those streets are so windy, you know, windy, like—” she made a motion with her hand, like a snake, back and forth—“but there was this nice man who pointed me in the right direction and—oh, désolée!” When she slipped into French, the tiniest hint of her accent remained. “J’ai oublié, this is supposed to be immersive, n’est-ce pas?” 

Marinette was taken aback, but smiled at the mashup of language. “C’est vrai,” she agreed, “but English is fine for now.” She stooped to grab Tikki’s bags for her, but Tikki smacked Marinette’s hand away and picked everything back up herself. Marinette almost giggled at the ridiculous contrast between the tiny woman and the wealth of luggage she’d brought. Tikki was stronger than she looked, though, because the weight didn’t seem to bother her a bit. 

“Your room is this way,” Marinette said, gesturing as she walked, intending for Tikki to follow her. On the way, she pointed out the kitchen and the bathroom they’d share. Tikki ooh’ed and aah’ed enthusiastically at everything, then squealed again when they got to the room Marinette had laid out for her and instantly dumped her bags on the bed and opened the curtains to let the sunlight stream in. 

In the smaller space, the scent surrounding Tikki was more concentrated and Marinette finally placed it. Cookies. Tikki smelled like chocolate chip cookies. It pulled Marinette back to living above the bakery with her parents. How was she the one that was homesick? Tikki was an entire ocean away from her family and would be for the next few months. 

Although Marinette's homesickness was rather the point of her signing up to host a foreign exchange student for the fall semester. She'd spent the spring semester looking for busy places to go so she could draw or study; her apartment was too quiet when she was used to living above a bustling bakery and with her parents. But it was her first year at University and she was determined to make it work. When she pulled herself out of her thoughts, Tikki was still looking out the window with absolute awe written across her delicate features. She started when she noticed Marinette watching her.

“Everything is so pretty here!” she gushed. “How do you say it? Jolly?” 

“Joli,” Marinette corrected kindly, emphasizing the ‘ee’ sound at the end.

“Right, c’est trés joli.” Tikki repeated carefully with a flounce of her hands. “I want to see absolutely everything.” 

Marinette did giggle at that. She supposed Paris was pretty, when it wasn’t something you saw every day. Tikki’s enthusiasm was infectious. 

“I was planning to take you out to lunch, if you wanted to go? There’s this little place—”

Tikki flopped her sun hat down on the bed and unzipped one of the smaller bags to pull out a crossbody purse and a pair of black flats. She ruffled the short ends of her hair, fluffing them on top where they’d gotten flattened by her hat, unfolded a pair of sunglasses and set them on top of her head like a headband, and grinned at Marinette. 

“Allons-y!”

***

Luka tapped his foot along with the music in his earbuds as he waited for the exchange student he’d be hosting to get off the plane. No thanks to Juleka, he had a picture to go off of and that was it. Although he assumed this guy had a picture of Luka and would be looking for him, too. 

He flicked through his phone absent-mindedly, keeping one eye on the gate. Juleka had been texting him the entire time, asking questions he couldn’t answer and telling him to be nice. This was all her idea; quite frankly he was a bit anxious about the whole thing. 

He was expected to chauffeur this guy around the city and show him all the French culture and, as Juleka had so kindly pointed out, “It’s not like you have anything else going on.”

“You need to make friends,” she’d wheedled near the end of the spring semester, shoving the brochure in his face.

“Friends that are forced to hang out with me and then leave after a semester? Yeah, sounds awesome.” He’d ripped the brochure out of her hands and thrown it back at her, but she didn’t give up. 

“Come on, all you do is go to that stupid club and whine about not being in a band yet! You should be breaking out of your shell, isn’t that what Uni is all about?”

“I don’t have a shell,” he’d muttered as he stuck his earbuds in. Juleka had rolled her eyes at him, but picked the brochure up from the floor and left it on top of his music theory book. She’d given him a pointed look as she flounced out the door. 

And then she went and signed herself up as a host for the fall semester anyways without telling him, somehow making it his job to pick their new roommate up from the airport. “Because you’re the one with the motorcycle,” Juleka had reasoned. And of course he had to stay in Luka’s room with him, because “he’s a guy, and so are you.” 

Whatever. It was one semester. How bad could it be? 

The guy who matched the picture ended up being the last one off the plane, and Luka wrapped his earbuds around his phone before stashing it in his pocket. As Luka’s new roommate strolled up, he had one bag on his shoulder, one rolling behind him, as if he were on vacation instead of about to stay in someone else’s home for the next few months. He was a head shorter than Luka, with russet skin and sleek black hair, pulled back into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck. He took one look at Luka, adjusted his bag on his shoulder, and walked towards the airport door. 

It took Luka a second to process what had happened before he was jogging after a great view of the guy’s shoulders straining against his teal T-shirt. What the hell was his problem? 

“Hé! Attendez,” Luka grabbed at his backpack and the guy turned with an unamused frown deepening by the second. “Uh, salut?” Luka stuck his hand out for a handshake, but deep brown eyes underneath heavy black brows just flashed down to Luka’s hand, then back up to his face. 

“Anglais?” he asked, drawing out his ‘s’ the slightest amount. Luka nodded. “Cool. Look, I’m only here because my girlfriend had her heart set on ‘Paris,’ okay?” He rolled his eyes as he made air quotes and pronounced it “Pari.” He shrugged, adjusting his bag on his shoulder again in the same movement. “I’m not here to make friends, I couldn’t care less about discovering your culture, and I don’t plan on being around much. So, thanks, but no thanks, you know?” 

The way he was pronouncing his “th” as a soft “t” and the subtle lilt to his voice, added to the consistently drawn out sibilants gave him a serpentine accent that made Luka pause before he realized what he’d actually said. 

“Your girlfriend?” How was it that this guy had just shown up in the country—with a bad attitude, no less—and already had a girlfriend? A scowl started to pinch Luka’s face although he had little motivation to stop himself. No way he could be friends with this smug little shit.     

Said smug little shit nodded, although his shoulders shrugged along with the movement, making him look like he was a cobra assessing whether to strike or not. “Tikki. We’ve been long-distance for a while. Pen pals, you know? Decided to come here, meet up, see the sights. She’s a bit of a Francophile, you know what I mean?” 

Luka blinked at him. He’d joined a foreign exchange program, flown who knew how many miles, would be staying away from home for months… for a girl? He hadn’t met yet? Was he insane? He shook his head in sympathy and shoved his hands in his pockets. “All right, well I’m Luka.” 

“Yeah, I gathered. Are you gonna show me the way to your place, or what?” He turned again and started back for the door. This time Luka was able to keep in step with him. 

“You got a name?” Luka asked, only slightly irritated by his apparent dismissal. 

“Not a French one. How about you just decide on something and I’ll answer to whatever.” 

“How about ‘ass’?” Luka grumbled. 

“What was that?” 

“Sass. I said ‘Sass,’” Luka amended quickly. 

He stopped again and leveled a look at Luka, narrowing his eyes to little more than dangerous slits. “Weird, but sure,” he said finally, adjusting his grip on his bag again. “So are we walking or what?”

Luka dug his keys out of his pocket and flashed the lights on his bike. It was an older model Yamaha; sporty, reliable, slim enough to wind through the narrow streets of Paris on deliveries, with an extra seat behind the driver for the times Juleka needed a ride. He’d bought it used and kept good care of it, other than the fading midnight-blue paint job. And the brakes. And the sputter it made when it started up. He'd meant to get that into the shop sometime soon. 

For the first time, Sass cracked a smile. “Now that I can work with.”

Translations:

désolée: sorry

J’ai oublié: I forgot

n’est-ce pas: is it not

C’est vrai: it is true (that's right)

Joli: pretty

c’est trés joli: it's very pretty

Allons-y: let's go

Hé! Attendez: Hey! Wait

salut: hi

Anglais: English

[louezem]

Saying Yes - Brothers

Summary:  Katniss and Peeta had a bitter break up years ago and went their separate ways. Katniss knows nothing of Peeta's life now, until a stunning blonde walks into the exclusive bridal salon were she works, to buy her a dress for her wedding - to Peeta Mellark.

Written for @promptsinpanem

Part 5 - Brothers

Eight Weeks Later...

Part 5 - Brothers 

Eight weeks later:

“Good evening, Mr Mellark, it’s nice to see you,” the doorman welcomed him with a tip of his head.

“Good evening,” Peeta returned the welcome. “I’m here to meet my brother for dinner but I need to go upstairs first. When he arrives can you send him to The Arena?  I’ll meet him at the bar.”

“Of course, Mr Mellark, I’ll let him know.”

Peeta strode through the hotel lobby, acknowledging staff members and guests alike with a nod or a smile before using his keycard to access a small private elevator that rose directly to the penthouse he’d shared with Glimmer.

It felt a little weird being back in this space.  He’d moved out of the hotel and into a very nice apartment a short distance away a couple of weeks earlier.  The views weren’t as spectacular and there was no room service or overnight dry cleaning at his new place, but he was enjoying having a space that was just his more than he’d expected.  He liked displaying his own art on the walls of his home and cooking in his own kitchen again.

He opened the sliding doors to the patio and stepped outside, glad that none of the Glimmer’s personal staff were around to observe him as he said a last goodbye to the place that he’d called home for quite a while.  He walked to the infinity balcony and leaned over admiring the view over the city and listening to the faint sounds of the crowds and the traffic far below.  He could feel the autumn chill in the air, the days getting noticeably shorter.  It was almost sunset, so he decided to stay and watch from this vantage point one last time.

The media attention had been pretty brutal in the weeks immediately following his and Glimmer’s break up, usually casting him in the role of a gold-digging gigolo who’d used Glimmer to further his career in her Grandfather’s chain of hotels and then broke her heart.   They didn’t let up until a couple of photos of Glimmer and her entourage of girlfriends started showing up on online as they partied their way across Europe.  When a photo of Glimmer dancing closely with the sovereign prince of some small European principality showed up on twitter the interest in Peeta finally began to fade.  He smiled to himself, knowing Glimmer most likely leaked the photo herself to draw the attention off him, if the winking emoji she’d text him around the same time was anything to go by.  But she’d never admit it to anyone else.

In the bedroom he gathered the last few personal documents and books he’d forgotten into a box and dropped his keycard in the drawer of the bedside table, switching off the lights on his way out.      

He felt sad that this chapter of his life was over but not heart-broken like he thought he was supposed to be.  He should be on his honeymoon in Europe right now, for god’s sake, but instead he was single again.  He kept waiting for some stronger emotion to hit him but the simple truth was, he was okay.  If anything, he was a little excited about the future and the new opportunities that were already presenting themselves.  It wasn’t like back when…

An image of a pretty dark-haired girl with tears running down her face came into his mind, immediately morphing into a more recent memory of a gorgeous woman with flashing silver eyes climbing into a taxi and driving away…

He shut down that train of thought quickly.   Dr Aurelius had said no good would come from letting his mind wander down those paths.  In the weeks since he’d bumped into her again, Katniss had made a reappearance in his dreams, costing him more than one night of sleep lost to restless tossing and turning.  So much so that he’d started painting in the small hours of the morning again.

He dropped his box of things off in his office downstairs and headed to the bar where he immediately spotted a head of blond wavy hair almost identical to his own.  

“Hey Rye,” he greeted his brother and slipped onto the barstool beside him, letting his eye run over the room.  Like everything in the hotel the restaurant exuded sheer luxury - from the long polished mahogany bar to the more private dining areas with deep seats upholstered in sumptuous dark blue velvet and tables set with the finest sterling silver cutlery and cut crystal glassware.  The only thing he didn’t personally care for were the large displays of snow white roses, but they were something of a trademark for the owner, Coriolanus Snow who insisted on them in all his hotels.

“Peeta.” Rye welcomed him with a pat to his shoulder and raised his finger to catch the attention of the bartender. “What are you drinking?”

“My usual please, Finch,” Peeta smiled at the bartender who came to serve him, a slender natural red-head with fox like features and pale eyes, “and whatever my brother wants.”

“A double on the rocks, and put it on his tab.” Rye winked and raised his glass.

Peeta chuckled and Finch gave them a closed lipped smile before scurrying off to get their drinks.

“This is some place,” Rye commented.  “It’s a far cry from the spit and sawdust of Abernathy’s bar, back home.”

“It is,” Peeta chuckled.  “Is the old man even still alive?”

“Sure is, and as surly as ever.  But enough of small town news, tell me how’ve you been,” Rye looked him up and down.  “We haven’t talked much in the last few weeks.  You don’t look too bad, all things considered.”

“Thanks, I’m doing okay,” Peeta lifted his drink and clinked it off his brother’s glass. “I’ve been busy with events here in the hotel and moving to my own place.  Next time you’re in town we should meet up my new apartment instead of the hotel.  I’ll cook you a steak.”

“It’s a deal,” Rye agreed. “I’ll bring the beer.  None of your fancy wines, thank you very much. You got a big TV?”

“I’ve got a regular TV and sports on cable,” Peeta laughed. “I prefer to use my walls for my paintings, not a huge flatscreen.”

“You can spare at least one wall for a decent 60 inch. The one in the suite we stayed in upstairs before the wedding was awesome.  We did you move out anyway, I thought you could live at the hotel for free as a perk of your job?”

“There is a private suite that comes with the package but with Glimmer due back in town soon I thought it was best to find my own place.   Better to keep a little healthy distance between us until things settle.” 

“Probably wise.” Rye agreed.  “Have you talked to her at all?” 

“Sure, a couple of times.  Honestly, we’re fine with each other.  I mean, yeah, it feels strange being a single guy again.  I miss her company and I miss sleeping beside someone at night.” He let out a small chuckle. “I even miss Caesar, but all things considered we’re good.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Glimmer is a great girl,” Rye sipped his whiskey, a thoughtful look on his face.  “Stupid dog, though.  Give me a mutt over a pampered pooch any day of the week.”

“Hey Caesar is great.  He might be small and fluffy but he has the heart of a great dane,” Peeta chuckled.  “The little dogs always do.  Besides—” Peeta stopped. 

“Besides what?”

“I think Glimmer may have done the right thing by calling the wedding off.” Peeta confessed. He cleared his throat. It was the first time he’d admitted as much out loud to anyone.  “Moving out will make everything less awkward in the long run, when she starts to see someone new.  I don’t think she’ll be single for long.” 

“Does it bother you?  The thought of Glimmer with another guy?”  Rye was watching him.

Peeta knew if he tried to lie, his brother would see right through it.  No one knew him the way Rye did.  He considered his response carefully, as he’d asked himself the same question a million times.

“No.” He answered truthfully.  It was the first time he’d fully admitted it, even to himself, and with it came a sense of relief.  “It really doesn’t bother me and that’s that thing.  It should, shouldn’t it?  I mean, I should be turning green with jealousy at thought of Glimmer with someone else, but I’m not.  All I want is for her to be happy.”

“Hmm.  What about you? Have you had any thoughts about moving on yourself?”  Rye raised an eyebrow. 

Peeta shook his head.  “No.  Relationships are the last thing I’m thinking about right now, and maybe not for a long time.”

“Who said anything about relationships? You have needs. You’re a young reasonably good looking guy—”

“Gee, thanks!” Peeta laughed at the back handed compliment.

“—all I’m saying is the ladies love a guy like you, and there is nothing wrong with a little healthy no strings attached fun.  Or a lot of healthy no strings fun if you prefer.  How about Finch over there?  She a bit of a fox and she keeps looking at you like she sees something delicious she’d like to eat.”

“Delicious but toxic,” Peeta snorted, shaking his head.  “I don’t do casual hook-ups but if I did I’d never choose someone at work.  It would be unprofessional.”

“But dating the granddaughter of your employer wasn’t?”  Rye laughed out loud.

“That was different, I was working someplace else when I met Glimmer.”

“Okay fair point,” Rye conceded, tipping his head.  “But tell me why you just described yourself as toxic?  Don’t tell me you bought into all that bullshit the media accused you of.”

“No, but look how my last two relationships ended.  The love of my life cheated on me and broke my heart, then my next serious girlfriend dumped me on our wedding day.  Even if—"

“Wait.”  Slowly Rye rested his drink on the bar and turned to face his brother, all former joviality had left his face. “Peeta, do you still believe Katniss Everdeen is the love of your life?”

“That’s an odd question to ask,” Peeta frowned.

“Humour me.”

“Fine then, the answer is yes,” he gave a slight nod of his head. “Yes, I believe Katniss is the great love of my life.  Hopefully not the last love. But the great one.  I loved Glimmer but it wasn’t the same.   I don’t think I could ever love anyone again the way I loved Katniss.”

Rye let out a deep sigh and ran a shaking hand though his hair.  “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Peeta’s frown deepened. “Rye, what’s wrong?  You’re acting weird.”

“Peeta, there is something I need to talk to you about.  It’s been playing on my mind for some time, since long before the wedding was cancelled, if I’m honest.”

“Okay.  This sounds ominous.  It’s nothing to do with your health is it?  Or Graham, or Mom? The business back home is doing okay? Because you know I can help with that if you need—”

“No, no – calm down, the business if fine, Mom and Graham are fine, or at least they were, last time I spoke to them.  By the way, Mom said to tell you how foolish you were for letting a prize like Glimmer slip through your fingers.”

Peeta rolled his eyes. He could care less what his mother thought of him or his life, not when she couldn't even bothered to come to his wedding.

“Stop deflecting Rye.  This isn’t the first time you’ve hinted you had something on your mind and you’re not usually the type to hold back, so whatever it is, spit it out.”

“I worried if I do you’ll punch me in the face.”

“Rye, so help me—”

“Look, let’s move over to a table.” Rye threw back what was left in his glass and nodded to the bartender for another.  “We might need a little more privacy for this conversation.”

Once the brothers were resettled in a quiet corner with fresh drinks in front of them Peeta sat back and waited.

“It’s about Katniss.” Rye began nervously.

“What about her?” Peeta frowned.

“It’s about what happened between her and Gale Hawthorne the night of Madge’s party.”

Peeta looked at him, his frown deepening.  That was not what he’d been expecting to come out of Rye’s mouth.

“I already know what happened Rye.  I don’t need to hear the sordid tale of how you caught my girlfriend making out with another guy again.”  His tone was dismissive.

“Peeta, did you ever wonder why Katniss gave up trying to contact you after you broke up with her?” Rye’s voice shook a little as he spoke. He was nervous.

Peeta met his brother’s worried gaze with a now stony one of his own.  “I reckoned she figured out it was pointless to keep trying.  You caught her red handed and she knew that I’d never forgive her. Cheating is a deal breaker for me.  She knew that.”

“Okay, that’s reasonable.  But did you ever stop and ask yourself why you didn’t see her around at school later on, when she had a full ride to go to Panem U?”

“Yeah, she had, for tuition.” Peeta nodded. “We’d planned to live in the dorms for freshman year, and if we could find roommates we liked to share expenses with us, we’d rent a place and live together off campus after that. For the first month or so after school started I did look out for her.  Fuck, every time I saw a girl with olive skin and dark hair I hoped it was Katniss.” Peeta grabbed the whiskey bottle Finch had left on the table, and tossed back a shot.  “But after a while I figured out she must have gone somewhere else.  I guess she decided she didn’t want to see me either.”   

Rye locked eyes with him. “Before I tell you this, I need you to know that I’m really sorry. I want you to keep that in your head and remember it when I’m finished.”

“Sorry for what?”  Peeta eyed him warily.  “You’re starting to freak me out now, Rye.”

“I fucked up and got it all wrong, Peeta.  Katniss didn’t cheat on you with Gale the night of Madge’s party.  Or any other night.”

Peeta sat deathly still, his face impassive, as he stared at his older brother. The only reaction he showed to the grenade his brother had just launched at him was the darkening of his eyes from blue to black.

“What the fuck are you saying to me, Rye?  You’d better explain what you just said.  Fast,” he growled.

“Okay hear me out.  I need to start at the beginning.” Rye put up a placating hand.  “You remember that I had a massive thing for Madge Undersee, right?  I even thought I might be in love with her, but she only had eyes for Gale Hawthorne.” 

“Sure, I remember.  You always had a thing for blondes.”

“Still do.” Rye laughed dryly, but with no humour.  “I ended up crashing Madge’s party that night with a couple of the guys I used to wrestle with back in High School.  Cato and Marvel.  It was already late when we got there and Katniss was there hanging out with Madge and Gale. They’d all had a few drinks and looked pretty comfortable with each other.  Katniss and Madge were dancing and Gale was watching them both.  I didn’t think anything of it.”

“Katniss and Gale were friends since they were kids,” Peeta interrupted. “Madge was her best friend in High School.  Off course they were friendly. The only reason I wasn’t at the party too was because I was due at the bakery the next morning at 4am to finish a wedding cake, so Katniss tagged along with Gale instead.”

“Anyway,” Rye continued. “As the night went on I drank more and I managed to corner Madge on her own in the kitchen away from her friends.  I asked her to go out on a date with me, begged her to give me a shot, but she turned me down flat. I kept trying to charm her until she got pissed off told me to leave her alone, that she liked someone else.”

“Let me guess, that someone was Gale?” Peeta asked.

“Yeah.” Rye confirmed with a nod. “So I backed off with my tail between my legs, grumbling all the while to the guys about what was so special about Gale that made him so popular with the ladies, and what had he got that I hadn’t got.  They laughed, saying he had quite a reputation with the ladies and he was well known for frequenting the slag heap with different girls, but lately he’d been there a lot with a certain Seam girl.  They were looking at Katniss when they said it.”

Peeta raised an eyebrow at this.

“Anyway, by then I was drunk and feeling pretty sorry for myself.  A little while later I decided to call it a night and left to walk home when I heard some rustling and caught sight of Gale back in the trees.  At first I thought he was taking a leak, but then I realised he was leaning up against a tree because he had a girl backed up against it.   This kinda made me see red because Madge was back at the house waiting for him to make his move and he was here, wasting time with another girl.”

“Katniss.” Peeta growled, downing another shot.  It might be ten years ago, but it still hurt.  

“Yes.” Rye nodded.  “It was Katniss.  I saw him bend down and kiss her, but she must have seen me because she shoved him away and came running after me and we argued.   She tried to say what I’d seen was nothing, that she’d only gone outside to check on Gale because he was drunk and he came onto her.  She swore she never invited it.”

He took a deep breath. 

“I was so angry I couldn’t think straight.  I yelled at Katniss to get the hell away from me and to stay the hell away from you and told her she wasn’t good enough for you.  Gale came over and tried to throw a punch at me for yelling at Katniss, but he was a drunk as I was and he missed and we both ended up on the ground.  Then his friend Thom and Madge came out of the house and broke it up.  Katniss was crying and Madge took her inside.”

“I know this part Rye.” Peeta’s icy voice cut across him abruptly.  “But you never said anything about her shoving him away before.  You made it sound like she was a willing participant, that she was all over him.”

“I know.  I know I did.” Rye threw his hands up in the air. “I thought she shoved him away because she saw me, but I only found out years later that I was wrong about all of it.  After what Cato and Marvel had told me about Gale and a Seam girl at the slag heap, I put two and two together and made five.”

“When did you find out you were wrong?”  Peeta spat out, his head spinning.  The repercussions of what Rye had done were huge.  The whole path of his – and Katniss – life had changed because of what Rye said he saw that night.

“Not until a few years later.  Believe it or not, it was Gale who confronted me.  He and Madge were engaged, and I had long moved on.  They came by the bakery to order a wedding cake.  While Madge was distracted talking flavours and buttercream with Dad, Gale asked could he have a word with me outside.”

“At first I thought he was going to bring up my old crush on Madge, but instead he started talking about that night. He basically said he wanted to clear the air and Katniss’ name, and he confirmed everything Katniss tried to tell me years before was all true.”

A heavy silence fell between the brothers and Peeta sat stiffly as his brain tried to process this new information.

“But if he had feelings for Madge, why was he trying to kiss Katniss that night? That makes no sense!” Peeta burst out. 

“I asked him the very same thing.  He said his feelings for Madge were new and he never expected a girl like her would look at a Seam guy like him, let alone date one.  He was confused by what the true nature of his feelings for Katniss were.  They’d been friends for so long and everyone including his  family told him they’d end up together eventually but then she started dating you and he was worried he’d missed his chance.  So when one presented itself, he took it. He said he had to do it.  Just once.”

“And the seam girl he’d been sneaking around with at the slag heap?”

“Leevy Collins.”

“I can’t believe I’m only hearing about this now,” Peeta muttered dropping his head into his hands. “You should have come to me with this when Gale first told you, Rye.”

“I know.” Rye shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “Gale told me Katniss gave him hell afterwards.  He felt bad when he found out that you broke up with her. They didn’t speak for a long time, but Madge invited Katniss to the wedding hoping they could patch things up.  Gale told me I should try and encourage you to go as well.  He hinted that Katniss wasn’t seeing anyone.”

 “Wait, so Katniss and Gale didn’t speak again until Madge’s wedding?”  Peeta exclaimed.  “That was years later!”

“I guess so.  I don’t know all the details. Katniss and Prim moved away when Prim finished High School. I guess they moved to the city then.  I didn’t keep tabs on her.  After you left she wasn’t on my radar.  I heard her Mom had died—”

“Wait, what - Mrs Everdeen died?!?”  Peeta's head shot up in shock and he suddenly realised just how far he’d distanced himself from his home town if this news never reached him.

“Yeah, I think it was the winter after you left to go to school that I heard a rumour about Katniss’ Mom.  Talk around town was she was really sick.  By then Katniss was working double shifts in Sae’s diner but she got another job working evenings in Abernathy’s.  Mrs Everdeen died about a year later.  Cancer, I heard.”

So Katniss finished raising Prim alone. Peeta thought. She had no one.

Why didn’t you tell me any of this back then?” Peeta clenched his fists tightly. He’d had arguments with his brothers before but he couldn’t remember a time when he’d ever felt so angry with Rye and it hurt.  Rye was his big brother, the one he could depend on who always stood up for him and been there for him. Deflected their mother’s rage onto himself when she would beat up on Peeta too hard.  “You never said a word.”   

“I didn’t think it would make any difference.  You never mentioned Katniss again, I thought you had put it all behind you.  You were living this amazing life in the city, you’d a great job, travelling all over the world in private jets, you had a gorgeous, sexy girlfriend.  I thought it best to let sleeping dogs lie.” 

“You could have told me some things, Rye.  I would have liked to know.  I would have sent flowers to Mrs Everdeen’s funeral.  I liked Mrs Everdeen, she was troubled but she was kind to me.”

“I didn’t want to make things worse for you, Peeta.” Rye’s tone had taken on a slight edge of annoyance.  “Don’t you remember what you were like back then?  After you left home any time anyone tried to talk to you about Katniss, you snapped their heads off.  You made it very clear you didn’t want any information from back home, Everdeen related or otherwise.  So in the end it was best not to say anything.”

“I was hurting, Rye.  I was devastated and angry, thinking my girlfriend had cheated on me and lied to me.”

“I know Peeta, and I get that now. I’m sorry. I take full responsibility.” Rye looked away, his guilt and shame written all over his face.  

An uncomfortable silence settled between the brothers, neither knowing where to go from there.  Even through the haze of his own anger Peeta could see how deeply upset Rye was.

“No.” Peeta eventually broke the silence. “It’s not completely your fault Rye.  It’s mine too.  I should have trusted my girlfriend when she told me she loved me instead of believing the worst of her.  I should have listened to her version of events. Maybe if I didn’t always feel like I wasn’t good enough for someone like her to love, we could have resolved it.  I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop, testing her feelings, hoping if I showed her how much I loved her she would be more demonstrative when it wasn’t in her nature.”

“Back at the hotel, the day before the wedding, she said…” Rye trailed of, shaking his head.

“Back at the hotel she said what, Rye?” Peeta prompted.  “Don't stop now!.”

“She asked me if you were happy.  She made me promise to take care of you, for her.”

Peeta swallowed deeply, tears stinging behind his eyes.  Even this tiny sign that she still cared for him was too much.  

“Is there anything else, I should know? Any more surprises?” he cleared his throat, almost unable to speak.

Rye nodded hesitantly.  “There is one more thing,” he said, obviously troubled. “I promise this is the last of it.”

“Go on.”

“Somehow Mom found out about what happened, I don’t know how. Maybe she overheard me talking to Dad. She threatened Mrs Everdeen with Child Protective Services if Katniss went to the same school as you.”   

“Jesus Christ.”  The tears behind Peeta’s eyes finally began to fall.  He knew the threat of CPS would have terrified Katniss.  She’d confided her fears about her mother’s mental health to him many times, and was worried about leaving Prim to go to school.  He knew, with absolute certainty, that his mother making such a threat would have been enough to stop Katniss leaving for school, even if they hadn’t broken up.  She would never risk her sister ending up in foster care.

“Peeta, are you okay?”  Rye put his hand on his shoulder but Peeta shook it off and stood up.

“After everything else, it’s too much.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with all this new information Rye.  I think I need to talk to Dr Aurelius.”  Peeta wiped at his eyes and tried to compose himself, suddenly remembering where he was. 

“Everything you’ve told me tonight has turned everything I believed about Katniss upside down.  I spent years believing the worst of her and it burned a hole in my soul.   It changed me as a person.  Now I find out all this.  Our family destroyed her, Rye.  You, me, Mom.  We took away her chances.  I shouldn’t have let that happen, I was supposed to protect her, we protected each other.  I’m the one who let her down and needs her forgiveness, not the other way around.”

“For what it’s worth, even when you still believed the worst of her, you had already forgiven her.” Rye offered.  “You were ready to let go of the anger.  All it took was seeing her that day, on the steps of the hotel.”

“Maybe so.  But now I have more questions than I have answers.”  Peeta was so confused.  “This changes everything.”

“I think you should go find her and talk to her.  Get some closure.”

“Do you think she would she want to talk to me?” Peeta shook his head. “I didn’t just break up with her that day, I tore her apart, Rye.”  Peeta brought his hands up, rubbing his temples which were beginning to throb.   “I called her unforgivable names and told her to crawl back to the slag heap where she belonged.”  

“Peeta, you have to know how truly sorry I am.”  Rye’s voice shook with emotion. “I never meant to cause—"

Peeta put his hand up to stop him. “I know.  But what’s done is done.”  He pulled out his wallet, throwing a handful of notes on the table.  “I’m going to leave now.  I have a lot of thinking to do.”

He left the table and made his way across bar being careful to avoid catching the eye of any of the other diners.  On seeing him approach, Finch came straight over.

“Please see my brother’s room and tab are charged to my account,” he instructed smoothly.

“Of course, Mr Mellark.  Have a good evening, sir.”  With a smile she retreated to serve another customer.

“Peeta, wait.” As he turned he found Rye was standing closely behind him. “I’m worried.  We’re brothers.  All I ever wanted was what was best for you. Are we going to be okay?”

“I need some time, Rye.  I need to process how I feel about all this.  This… this was huge.  What happened that night changed the course of my life.”

“Fair enough.” His older brother watched with saddened eyes.  “I understand.  Please call me when you’re ready to talk.  I’ll be waiting.”

#Without looking back again, Peeta walked away.  He didn’t remember bidding goodnight to the doorman, or climbing into the cab that took him home.  He let himself into his apartment, chucking off his suit jacket and loosening his tie before heading straight to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass.

Peeta flung himself onto his sofa, exhausted, his arm flung across his eyes as he tried to reconcile everything Rye had told him.  He felt like a steamroller had run over him.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him.  Katniss didn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t real.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him.  Katniss didn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t real.

Katniss didn’t cheat on him.  Katniss didn’t lie to him.  It wasn’t real.

Again and again it went around and around in his head.  How it must have hurt her when he’d taken Rye’s word over hers.  How betrayed and alone she must have felt.  A sob caught in his throat. 

“Katniss, I’m sorry, I should have believed you,” he spoke into the shadows of the empty room, feeling hot tears finally burning a path down his cheeks, whether from sorrow or shame he didn’t know.  “I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry,” he sobbed until he finally passed out.

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[sortasirius]

“Last Call” and Canon Bi Dean

This is going to be very long, very rambly, and very emotional.

Really though, I had high expectations going into this, and quite honestly?  Jeremy Adams blew me away.

This episode is about Dean’s growth, it’s about who he was to Lee, and who he is now, about overcoming his own desire to just stop caring and keep on fighting for the innocent.  But most importantly to me?  This episode canonized bi Dean.

So let’s just get right into it, we know from the beginning that we’re meeting Lee, Dean’s old friend that Sam doesn’t really know or isn’t really close with, but the way Dean leaves?  He doesn’t want to bring down the mood of Sam and Eileen in his post breakup depression funk?  Good grief.

The bar is cool and right up Dean’s alley, and right out of the gate we get the promo scene with the waitress that we were all wigging out about.  And my hunch was right, Dean just kinda rolls right by, which man, Dean from season 1?  Hell no.  She’s just his type, clearly into him, and yet, Dean’s world literally falls away when he sees Lee Webb singing onstage.

You can’t really do justice to the way with words to the way that Dean looks when he sees Lee and realizes who he is, Jensen and Christian have so much NUANCE in their scenes together, and the history behind them is palpable, even though we don’t know the extent of it.  And Lee is just the same way, looking Dean up and down and “Dean Winchester,” just to hammer home that something is going on here and we should not ignore it.

“You got time?”  “Always.”  Bruh. There are so many details that we can pick up on about them, their relationship, who they were to each other.  Even Dean’s little “you sound good,” come on guys, what the fuck?

That’s another thing: why don’t we know the history?  Why do they shy away from talking about why they split apart?  Dean is clearly upset when Lee mentions Arizona, what happened?  Why did John and Dean never mention Lee? And obviously Lee knows John, hell he seems more sorry than Dean does that John’s dead, but then again, the Dean that Lee remembers idolized John, so that’s definitely a big change for Lee, because Dean clearly doesn’t idolize John anymore.

I just want to hear about everything that’s mentioned in the episode in more detail: Lee and Dean went hunting together, presumably alone, since John caught them drunk on a hunt.  What went on?  I think we know. How often did they hunt together? How long had they known each other? D E T A I L S please Jeremy Adams!!!

“I don’t think I have seen you since Sammy was in college.”

“Right.”

“I mean, hell, I thought you were-”

“Dead?”

Also Lee does this little teasing laugh and everything about them is soft and my chest hurts.

“I mean, that’s usually how this ends, isn’t it?”

And what I want to talk about here is Lee’s reaction, because he doesn’t shrug and do the usual “so it goes” that so many hunters do, he looks at Dean, like really looks at him, he sighs and says a simple “yeah” with this look that’s so soft and so full of something and Dean looks away (doing his eye motion thing he does with Cas) and Lee breaks contact too and looks down and smiles and oh my god.  I told yall this was going to be rambly but I didn’t draw breath while typing that lmao.

I wanna know about the Arizona thing, I want to know why it made Dean uncomfortable when Lee mentioned it, and I want to know why it’s glossed over.  These two were like best friends, you can tell, and for them to just stop talking?  Hm.

They swap tales, talking about the triplets that they “split em up fair and square” even though that’s not possible and they had an orgy obviously.  Dean has this look with the waitress again and you can tell he appreciates it but like?  That’s the end of it?  In the next scene she’s gone and it’s just Lee and Dean talking, Dean making Lee laugh and enjoying it, it’s just so...romantic?

And even though, the second that Lee doesn’t recognize someone he should puts all of us, as the audience on alert, it doesn’t even cross Dean’s mind that Lee is doing something wrong, it’s not even on his radar.

“There’s nothing you can’t have, man.”

“Then who’s gonna kill the bad guys?”

“Somebody else.”

And Dean looks away, because it’s clear what Lee is asking.  He’s asking for Dean to stay.

When Lee starts up the band, I was just struck by how much they look at each other, getting in each other’s space, Lee leaning forward, Dean watching him walk away.  Guys.  This happened in front of our faces on screen.

“Can’t sit around lip syncing ‘Eye of the Tiger’ when no one’s watching.”

This is a callback to the ghost sickness episode, but also an intimate moment that no one gets to see of Dean.  Sam catches him in the act of it on that episode, so how does Lee know he does this?

And then, let’s get to the singing.  Dean’s always postured to Sam that he can’t sing (which we all know Jensen has the voice of an angel) and the buildup to him actually singing was so beautiful, because Lee knows he can, he teases him with the “Eye of the Tiger” thing, winks at him, keeps trying to pull him onstage, stands there and bites his lip when Dean’s singing.  I mean.  I’m at a loss to what else you would think about them, it’s just plain as day: they were together.

The whole thing is just so playful, and we never see playful like this from Dean.  It’s flirty and funny and sweet and just such a nice change of pace, so good for Dean to be with someone that clearly wants to be with him, who he has history with (amidst the divorce he’s currently in w Cas).  Even when they sing together they can’t keep their eyes off of each other and the whole thing is honestly too much it’s so fanfic-y and I can’t handle it.

And then, the big thing, Lee slaps Dean’s ass in the middle of the song, and Dean doesn’t blush, he doesn’t stand up straighter like that’s weird or wrong, he grins this huge amazing beautiful grin and says “you son of a bitch.” What else are we looking for here?  He’s bi.  He’s bi.  With the lighting behind him and the bar named Swayze’s and Lee staring holes through him, we finally saw onscreen, canonical proof that he’s bi.  Sure, it’s been hella subtextual before, but this is text, and no one can ignore it.

At the end of the song, one of Lee’s hands is gripping Dean’s shoulder, and Dean’s arm is around Lee’s waist??????????  Help??????

They round it all out with kicking some gross guys out of Lee’s bar, and Lee stares at Dean and says “still got it.” I mean....I’m running out of ways to say the same thing over and over.

“Best friend’s don’t just leave without saying goodbye.”

“They do if they deserve it.”

Hmmmmmmmm, something to think about with these lines.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on okay, but this is not you.”

Compare that with:

“Cas, this isn’t you, this isn’t you.”

Cool.  Fine.  I want to die.

Lee became the monster because he thought there was no point in being a good person anymore.  You can’t stave them off so you might as well “have a little fun.”  Which I think is interesting because of how apathetic and hopeless Dean’s been since Chuck, since Jack, since Mary, since Rowena, but when it comes down to it, he’s always going to care, which is why we love him.

But what I really want to talk about is the way Dean’s face twists when Lee touches him, he turns his head away, his face contorts, like he wanted Lee to touch him, but not like this.  We’ve seen Dean’s heart break so much in this show, he’s lost so much and so many, but this is something so different.  It’s not only betrayal, or a realization that he has to kill Lee, it’s the loss of what he had with Lee, what he felt for him.  It hurts to watch as an audience member, and I can’t imagine how it is for Dean.

Dean’s voice also breaks when he tries to call Lee back, in case you still had any tears left to cry.

The gunfight is intense, but not nearly as intense as what’s coming.

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t Dean?  I am you.  I’m just you that woke up and saw that the world was broken.”

“Then you fix it.  You don’t walk away, you fight for it!”

No double meanings in this episode are there?  Perhaps this is a little bit of what happened between them all those years ago bubbling to the surface?

And then we get one of the best fight scenes in the show, and you know when Dean gets that cue stick, that it’s game over for Lee, but what I wasn’t expecting is the sheer heartbreak on Dean’s face.  They both look down at the wound, like they’re both surprised, and Lee holds Dean, he fucking holds him, and this fucking piano music plays when Lee says “okay” and drops to the floor, and Dean leans against the pool table because fuck, how much more can he lose?

And because not even THAT is enough, ten seconds of divorced Destiel distress?  Where Dean clearly wants to talk to Cas but Cas is still giving him the cold shoulder and it breaks Dean’s heart but he doesn’t know how to fix it????

There’s just so much to unpack here, the show is teaching us new things about Sam and Dean and Cas all the time, and yet I feel like I really know Dean know, I;ve seen a little bit of him that I had never seen before, and I’m just grateful. I’m grateful for Dean, grateful for these writers, grateful for his growth.  I’m grateful for the angst and the happiness he had with Lee, however fleeting, and I’m grateful that I get to leave this episode with the fact that Dean is oncreen bi.  Sure, it can be up to interpretation, he didn’t come out and say it, but that’s because he didn’t have to.  Lee knew, so we knew, and that was all that mattered.

This silly, weird show is important to me for so many reasons, (clearly, since I talk about it all the damn time), but Dean especially is so important to me, I see so much of myself in him, and him being allowed to be him, without some grand coming out scene is even better than I could have ever hoped for.  So thank you, Jeremy Adams, for giving us bi Dean, and one of my absolute all time favorite episodes in the show.

[eerythingisshaka]

Manhattan’s Finest

First Part

[Dr. Manhattan x Black Reader]

Word Count: 2.4K

The crowd erupts after the final song from the play ‘It’s a Bird! It’s a Plane!  It’s Dr. Manhattan!’  Whistles and cheers fill the auditorium as the performers take a bow, receiving gifts from loved ones in the audience.  

You cheer along with them all, having enjoyed the play more than you expected to.  A friend of yours was supposed to come along but flaked out at the last minute.  It’s fine, at $95 a ticket, you would’ve loved to have used their ticket on dinner instead but life is shit.  

You wait for the auditorium to clear out before you get going yourself.  It is much better not walking over people and pushing into each other as much as possible.  When you make it outside, the muggy air makes you instantly miss the air conditioning inside the theater.  Another $95 for a cool breeze would be worth it.

“(y/n)”

You look to your left seeing a man in a suit with a blue mask.  His skin is also tinted blue, somewhere between winterfresh gum and blue raspberry jolly ranchers.

“Hi?  Oh, are you one of the performers?!”  you ask excitedly, running up to him, but being taken aback by how tall he is.  “You were awesome up there.  There were a couple Manhattans but were you the one that sang ‘Blue is the Blood that Runs Cold’?  Because man, I have never heard a vibrato like that.  It was very impressive.”

“I am not a performer in this production,”  he says flatly.

You cock your head to the side, observing his manner.  “But...then why all the blue?  And did I introduce myself, because I don’t remember telling you.”

“You do, later on in the evening.”

You blink a couple times.  “I’m going home to bed after your play.  How could I be talking to you?”

“As I said, I am not a performer or member of staff on this production.  And I am sorry that you cannot afford the dinner with your unrequited love tonight who is making love to his superior right now, but in time it will-”

“Whoa, what the hell did you just say?  His boss?  And what do you mean?  I don’t love him!”

Unshifting, he continues, “I believe love can exist even in one sided instances.  I am finding myself in that position right now by the end of the week.”

You take a step towards him and then to the side, watching him follow your movement.  “Ok, I just had to make sure you have eyes under there.  You’re stiff as hell.”

He gives a small chuckle that makes you laugh nervously.  “Heh, what’s funny?”

“That is what you say to me when we take the train back to your place.  You enjoy public displays of affection, both innocent and explicit.”

You groan with disgust.  “I haven’t done shit like that a day in my life.  How dare you!”

“You do not, because of fear and weak men.  You’ve gone all your life thus far picking unattainable partners because you do not see yourself worthy of the ones that truly excite you.”

You cross your arms, growing all the more impatient.  “Who are you?”

“I am Dr. Manhattan.”

“PFFFFF!  HAHAHA!”  You laugh out loud, causing passersby to stare.  “You are too much!”

He scoffs, making you question him again.  “If I tell you, you will become physical.”

“Try me, nothing is wilder than saying you are Dr. Manhattan.”

“That phrase you said ‘you are too much’, is something you say during the heat of passion as I penetrate you in the foyer of your home.”

Hearing this makes your blood boil, feeling disrespected is something you refuse to tolerate.  You push your hands against his chest hard; he barely flinches, instead lowering his head.

“You’re a perverted bastard is what you are!  Take that fucking mask off coward, so I know whose ass I’m finna beat.”

“I cannot remove my mask.  It would draw too much attention.”

“HA!  But telling a random woman that she’s gonna be stroking your dick by midnight isn’t attention seeking?”

“11:38 pm.”

“What?”  you ask exasperatedly.  

“11:38 pm, not midnight.  It is 10:15 now, with a 20 minute walk to the station and another 20 minute wait after just missing your train added to your travel time, it will be 11:38 pm.”

“I AM DONE HERE!  Have a shitty night!”  You walk away, looking back just once.  “And no one really likes Dr. Manhattan except for his huge dick which I am sure you are lacking!” Your heels clack down the sidewalk furiously with the snap of your heel.  Steam practically rises off of your body as you think back to the imbecile who couldn’t keep it in his pants.  You come up to an intersection and check your phone, which sparks the thought of how he knew about your name and your date bailing and if there was any truth to why he stood you up.

“Is it better for you that I prove myself to be Dr. Manhattan?”

You jump a little too close to the curb, steadying yourself on a nearby pole.  “You aren’t him, just shut up about it.”

“But you are curious, aren’t you?”

You look blankly at the road, running over what he said to you before  again.  “What’s his name?”

“Whose?”

You roll your eyes.  “If you are Dr. Manhattan, you would know who I am talking about.”

“I do, I just...need to hear you ask it,” he says.

The cross signal goes on and you begin to strut across.  “Oh, is there going to be a rip in the space time continuum if I don’t do things exactly as you predict?”

“They are not predictions but current events.  This is already the past.”

You look back at him walking next to you and it unnerves you how he is able to keep up with your hurried stride like a swan on water.  He doesn’t sound anxious or out of breath and his body has no bounce even when he steps.

You stop in a quiet part of the street, taking out your phone to turn on the flashlight, beaming it in his face.  “What is my date’s name?”

“Crawford.  You like that name very much, like Redford or Ashford.”

You pause for a second in silence.  “What does he do for a living?”

“Marketing, not unlike yourself.  He is up for a promotion but his relationship with his superior is making him feel insecure about his worthiness of moving up in his company however he is in love with her.”

Your heart caves in a little at the word love.  You didn’t think an office fling would come to that, so soon.  

“He shared many things with you, vulnerably.  They were truthful, so you should not regret those moments.  However, opening yourself up to him has only led to your heartbreak sooner.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  you ask softly, feeling tears swell up in your eyes.

He takes a beat before continuing.  “You took his vulnerability as a sign of trust and therefore evidence that he loves you but because of his strife, you thought it would take time.  However, he was only using you for his own gain.  You gave him advice that you thought would make him see you as the object of his affection but it instead pushed him further into her arms.”

You scoff, making a tear jump down your cheek.  You turn the phone light off, trying your best to hide your emotion.  “I still don’t believe you.”

You pull up your friend’s phone number and dial him.  The trill of the call ringing in your ear is painful, so you hang up and text him.

“That will be regrettable tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know.  Dr. Manhattan doesn’t have to tell me that for it to be true.”  You walk down the street at a slower pace, allowing him to walk next to you without resistance.  

“Ok.  Manhattan, huh?  I’m (y/n).”

“I know,” he says lightly.

“Of course you do.  So even though you aren’t from the play, you do know what the play is about right?  They didn’t say anything original that everybody doesn’t already think.”

“I find people’s fixation on my purpose to be distracting.  When the world has developed exponentially over the decades and yet resists change in its most basic forms should be infuriating enough to not dwell on me.”

You tweak your mouth, impressed by his analysis.  “I can’t fault you for that.  But a blue guy from space with powers is an interesting subject.  And you’re usually taller right?”

“I don’t need the attention from that,” he says.

“But blue skin isn’t distracting?”  you quip.

“I don’t choose forms on a whim.  There has to be purpose.”

“So what purpose do you have here with me?  Or am I a stepping stone to somewhere else, because that is a popular feature of mine,” you say deflated.

“You are a beacon of positive energy, which is attractive to most.  But not everyone deserves it.”

“So you are going to mentor me?”

“I am going to love you, and you will love me.  In time.”

You throw your hands in the air in frustration.  “How can you when you don’t know me!”

“But I do,”  he says, stopping at the entrance of the train station, to open the door for you.

“Fine.  Dog’s name.”

“Shrek.”

“Favorite movie?”

“The Color Purple.”

“Third grade teacher’s name?”

“Mr. Rideau, and I believe you had a crush on him.”

“NO!  I did not!”  You walk past him in a huff, completely embarrassed that he outed your interest in your teacher in public like that.  You trot down the stairs, expecting your train to arrive in a minute but instead you see that very train pulling off as your hop off the last step.  

“Dammit!”  You collect your composure and plop down on a bench to await the next arrival.  Dr. Manhattan slinks next to you.  

You check him out in your peripheral, looking behind your shoulder.  “You should really not be blue waiting on the train.  No one here knows about the show so you stick out like a sore thumb.”

Dr. Manhattan looks slowly at his hands, before turning to you.  “I could change, if you like.”

You sigh.  “If I had a dollar for every man who told me that.”  Looking straight into the black holes of his mask is unnerving to you, feeling a chill run down your spine makes you shiver.

“It’s probably for the best, because this is freaking me out.”

“What would you like for me to look like?”

You shrug.  “I can just build you piece by piece?”

He nods.  “Essentially.”

You look Manhattan up and down in a complete loss.  “I don’t have time for details.  When I think of a man I just want them tall, big pockets and a bigger dick.”  This sparks a thought in your mind, making you slide slightly closer to him.  “Ok, I know you not about that musical or rumors, but is it true about…”  You point toward his lap inconspicuously.

“That I am well endowed?  Ah well, those measures are up to the individual.  You may see for yourself if you like.” 

Your body rears back in surprise.  “That’s probably what you were looking for this whole time!  You’re ridiculous.”

Dr. Manhattan sits unphased.  “I won’t force you to, but I know you will.  I mentioned it before.  I know this is a fantasy of yours, despite my person being involved.”

“So I can just rub on your dick and it means nothing for you?  That’s almost disappointing...but this night has already been wild, so feeling up a stranger ain’t far off.”  You look around the practically empty station, taking your hand slowly up his thigh until you felt something solid and girthy.

“You’re stiff as hell!”  you exclaim, quickly taking your hand back.

“It is a normal state in which I remain in this form.”

“And it’s blue just like you huh?”

“Correct.”

You shake your head.  “I don’t think I have it in me to look, so I’ll take your word for it.”

An announcement comes on saying your train is arriving soon.  You check your phone; it’s 10:54pm.  

“Listen.  There’s no way I can sit with you blue on this damn train.  So what do you do, hocus pocus into a Black man?”

“It helps to have a reference in mind,” he says.

“You think for a beat before taking out your phone and looking through Instagram.  “If I show you a picture, will that do?”

“Of course.  I can emulate imagery.”

You look through your feed as quick as you can pulling up the profile, and your favorite picture.

“Him.   Can you change into him?”

His face leans into your phone for a moment.  In the time it takes for you to blink, a blue light flashes and before you is the man from your feed.  The rush of air from the train kicks particles in your eyes, and you rub them for relief and proof that this isn’t a dream.  But in front of you is the likeness.  

“This is dangerous,” you say, trying to pick your jaw off the ground.  He looks around and at his hands, adjusts his suit, then looks at you.

“Is this better?”  

You hold your mouth gasping.  “You even sound like him!  A little stiffer, but very much like him,”

His complexion in person is just as clear as his photos with deep brown hue that has nary a blemish.  Strong jaw cloaked in a close trimmed beard that frames the exterior of his wide, chunky lips.  He blinks at you with a gaze of innocence and naivete.

You remember to breathe and answer, “Yes.  It’s much much better.”  The ding of the train alerting its departure snaps you back to reality, grabbing his hand to make it through the closing doors just in time.  

You find two empty seats in the back, sitting next to the window.  You sit next to him nervously, playing with your hands as the train rumbles down the tracks.  You look out over the city passing you both and catch his reflection in the window staring at you.  His eyes look happy.

“What?”  you ask quietly, looking back at him.

[softbiker]

Steve Rogers Oneshot

Warnings: some strong language, mention of super soldier butts

Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Steve Rogers takes a coffee break. It’s good to try new things.

A/N: This is a continuation of Extra Whip - so I recommend reading that first in order to be familiar with who the reader is! It takes place in the same universe as @kentuckybarnes​ Agent 28 and @nacho-bucky​ Agent 41, with permission from both :) At the moment, my plan for these two is a series of one shots; connected by characters and certain events, but not a strong overarching plot. Let’s keep it fun okay? (Can’t believe I’m posting this before I’ve had my coffee but hey, I’m excited). Enjoy! 

A month goes by.

In missions, gunpowder grit beneath his fingernails; in Stark Foundation fundraisers, his bowtie digging too tight at his neck; in karaoke nights - and avoiding karaoke nights, sneaking up to the roof with Bucky for a smoke. Somehow the habit crept back in, between the two of them.  Deeper than muscle, it’s a bone memory - shoulders pressed together on a fire escape, nostalgic for nicotine and other things that won’t roll into cigarette papers. No one knows about their little habit, except for maybe Nat - who cares less about their upstanding reputations than everyone else, and she’ll even share a pack every once in a while. Steve marvels at cigarettes now, the way he marvels at everything that should’ve killed him before he became a miracle. 

So February passes. He eases up on Health Food Reform, satisfied that the good habits seem to mostly stick. 41 continues to slurp on her spinach milkshakes during briefings, and it brings out his big brother smile every time. Every time he wonders who might have made it for her. 

March blusters in with excessive force, with the wind whipping storms on every front and a crisis on every continent. For the first two weeks of the month, Steve doesn’t set foot at the compound, shuffling between safe houses and sleeping on the quinjet, his neck aching in complaint. The team forgoes their long-anticipated weekend retreat to Tony’s cabin in Aspen in favor of a terror attack in Johannesburg. 

“Man, I was not made for this kind of heat,” Sam mutters, tugging at the harnesses of his uniform as sweat streams down his neck and into his shirt. 

“You would’ve been in the hot tub in Aspen, anyway,” Clint teases, taking stock of his quiver, his words slurred by the bubblegum in his mouth.

“Yeah, with a couple of snow bunnies, that’s for damn sure,” Sam bites back, shoving his goggles into a side pocket on his tac pants. 

“Focus, Sam,” Steve sighs over the comm. He’s got eyes on them - opposite rooftop, approximately 100 feet above the epicenter of the chaos. “The sooner we wrap this up, the sooner you can sit in a jacuzzi with your rabbits.” 

Tony’s laughter over the comm line is so loud, Nat has to remove her earpiece for a full minute. 

“What?” Steve turns to Nat, bewildered. She’s got a white streak of dust in her hair. “What? What did I say?” 

She just shakes her head, taming the curl of her lips with a click of her tongue.

“Nobody tell him,” Tony insists, his voice still a wheeze. “Jesus, I am gonna hold onto that for weeks. That’s going in the digital scrapbook - F.R.I.D.A.Y.?”

“Already saved the audio file, boss.”

Steve just hangs his head, resigned. No chance of living that one down. 

Hours later, they pile into the quinjet in beleaguered pairs, Clint propped on Sam’s arm, 28 with Natasha - both dusty and bruised but no major injuries, followed by Wanda and 41, with Tony bringing up the rear. Steve takes stock with a keen gaze as they trudge up the ramp into the jet, Buck slouched in the seat beside him, his flesh fingers blackened with gunpowder. More than 10 hours on the ground, with thousands of safe civilian lives to show for it - but no arrests had been made, no suspects found, no bad guys to put away. Not today. A stalemate, which Steve hates. He loathes the ambiguity, the loose ends of this job, the way the world can just never stay safe. 

A knee jostles against his own, and he looks over at Bucky; he’s got one eye cracked open, narrow window on a sky blue gaze peering back at Steve. 

“You good, Rogers?” he mutters, lazily rolling his jaw. 

“Me? Yeah, Buck, I’m fine.”

“Uh huh. Well quit grindin’ your teeth like that.” Bucky sighs and lets his eyes slip closed again. “The one thing your ma never had to fix, those damn perfect teeth.”

It draws a dull, tired smile, just like he intended, and Steve elbows Bucky in the ribs - the two of them exchanging a couple of tired blows, before settling into their seats, pressed against each other shoulder to knee, like they’re still trying to fit in a foxhole. Steve takes a little of Bucky’s weight as he leans over to let 28 pass them and settle into a seat across the aisle, buckling herself in and sending a tired smile their way. 

He accepts a Starkpad from Tony as he passes by on his way to the cockpit. A swipe of the screen reveals a face - a white man, late 40’s, dark hair with white streaks at the front. Nothing noticeable about him otherwise. Beneath the face is a name: Israel Hayes. He stands and stalks his way up the aisle of the jet, careful not to disturb any of his sleeping teammates as he follows Tony. The Iron Man suit dissolving back into the nanite housing unit on his chest, Tony is left only in a soft black shirt and pants - he looks vulnerable, small, when Steve leans into the cockpit, his shoulders crowding the space. 

“This our guy?”

“Seems like it. F.R.I.D.A.Y. cross-referenced his known aliases with similar activities in Europe and Asia - but he’s good. Never shown his face good.”

“Not even on CCTV?” Steve quirks a brow.

Tony shakes his head, lips pursed. “Nope. My guess? He’s got some kind of algorithm like the one SHIELD instituted for our agents in the backseat. You know how we never know what a SHIELD agent looks like?” He gestures towards the passengers with his thumb and Steve nods. “Same thing. As soon as his face is captured on a camera, his server finds it and scrubs it clean.”

“That possible? For someone who’s not SHIELD?”

“If he’s got the connections it seems like he has? Then yeah.” Tony huffs out a breath. “Not that I’m worried - F.R.I.D.A.Y. has found smaller needles in bigger haystacks.” 

Steve just nods, staring at the man’s picture on the tablet in his hands. 

He stares at that tablet for days - at briefings, at the picture, at news headlines, at the picture, at a Buzzfeed article comparing his butt with Sam’s and Bucky’s (sent in a text attachment by Sam, accompanied only by the peach emoji), and once more at the picture. 

He stares at it till he sees the man’s face behind his eyelids, till he could sketch it on a napkin without looking. And he does, actually, by accident - in the margins of his notes during a security briefing with Fury, he glances down to find his fingers tracing the deep set of the man’s eyes, the dark shadow of his brows. Algorithm or no, he won’t be able to hide forever. 

It’s the algorithm he’s thinking of as he continues to take his notes in the meeting, the sketch staring up at him in stark blue pen; there’s another face he wanted to look for, more than once he’d decide to search the SHIELD records, before changing his mind - just opening his browser and poising his fingers to start the search has him feeling like a damn creep. Like the internet stalker in that show Wanda was obsessed with. His ma raised a gentleman - there’s no way he was gonna be that guy.

The next morning, Sam begs off on their run, and Bucky is mysteriously absent from his room when Steve knocks, so he goes for his run alone. It’s not so bad - he’s got a fancy pair of headphones that Tony made last Christmas, and he loves watching the sunrise over the city. He even turns and crosses the bridge into Brooklyn, making a lap through Prospect Park before looping back towards Manhattan. Not so bad. Good, even. Really, really good. 

He slows down and stretches in front of the tower, propping his legs up on the bench out front and massaging his calves. There’s a little bit of a burn, but it melts at the pressure of his fingers, and the pleasant kind of soreness settles in. The kind he’s enjoyed and lived in since his body became sturdy and strong and decidedly anti-fragile - he’ll never say it out loud, but he still gets a little thrill when he manages to break a bone or dislocate a shoulder, goosebumps of pain shooting down his spine as he pops them back into place with a grunt of satisfaction. 

Hand hovering over the biometric scanner, he’s about to go back inside, take the elevator up to his room and hit the showers, when he sees someone at the crosswalk just a block down. 

Pink hoodie - huge, practically a dress - with a denim jacket tugged over it, bare legs trailing down into white combat boots, a backpack slung over one shoulder. She spares little more than a glance at the cars along the street before striding forward, nose turned up and arms crossed in a way that’s so New York it makes him do a double take. That early morning pout, tired eyes, like she’s not totally awake yet. Her steps firm and determined in those heavy boots, she makes a beeline for the green siren across the street, never once glancing his direction. 

It’s the first glimpse he’s had of her in a month. 

Not for lack of trying, but have you seen his schedule? He’s barely been stateside at all for nearly 3 weeks. Not to mention that one of Tony’s interns is always eager to volunteer for a coffee run, and he’s not sure what he would say, a good reason for him to insist to go by himself. 

With a glance at his phone - not due for a meeting for 3 more hours - he takes a deep breath and marches down the street, hands in his pockets, shoulders tucked. Less threatening to the passersby, who notice him, but say nothing. They’re in his neighborhood after all. 

A bell chimes above the door when he walks in, and the same “Welcome to Starbucks!” greets him, but he’s only half-listening as he scans the cafe. She’s at the register, chatting with the barista there who hands her a steaming white mug. 

“Ugh, thanks Chase, you’re a lifesaver,” she sighs, taking a sip. 

“Hey, it’s all part of the job,” the barista jokes back, adjusting the cap on his head. He’s noticed Steve hovering 3 feet back, waiting his turn, and his eyes switch between Steve and the girl in front of him rapidly. 

Their conversation ends, and the girl - the agent - takes her coffee to sit at a small table by herself, close to the windows, far enough back in a corner that she has a view of the whole cafe. Which she scans now as she sits, noting the two regulars in the opposite corner enjoying their customary flat whites, and…Captain America.

Interesting. 

She waits - he knows she’s waiting when he approaches the table, and she pretends not to know that he’s walking directly towards her, nose still tucked down towards her book, one hand poised at the handle of her coffee mug. 

He clears his throat. 

“Good morning,” she smiles when she looks up, the light from the window back-lighting her eyes, and the glow stuns him. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

“Haven’t been around,” he shrugs. Are his cheeks hot? He gestures towards the chair across from her. “You mind if I sit?”

“Not at all,” she shakes her head. He slides into the seat and she replaces her bookmark, setting the book aside. Valley of the Dolls. He’s not familiar. 

“Here for your morning Cappuccino?” She quirks her eyebrows as her smile stretches, just shy of goofy. Quite proud of herself. 

“Ha ha. Never been a big fan.”

“No?”

He shakes his head. “First thing in the morning? I like a dark roast. Something to really wake you up, you know?”

“Hm,” she muses. “Sure, I understand.” 

“What about you?” 

“Me?” 

“Your coffee, I mean. You, uh…like coffee?” Smooth, Rogers.

“Oh, yeah. Love coffee.” There’s a laugh behind her smile, and he wishes she wouldn’t hold it back. “Here lately, I’ve had a thing for tall blondes.”

The flush on his cheeks inches down his neck.

“Huh?”

“Tall blonde Americano to be specific - you should try the blonde espresso, it’s really good.” She takes a sip of hers, hiding her dimple behind the mug. “And I always add an extra shot. I like ‘em strong.” 

God, even his ears are red, he knows it. The hell did he think he was gonna do when he came in here anyway, sweep her off her feet? He’s never been that good with dames, not even-

“I’m only joking-” she cracks up a little, giggling. “Sorry, the opportunity was too good, I just couldn’t resist.”

He sighs in relief, offers an embarrassed smile, and manages to relax a little in his chair. 

“So…why are you here? Really?” she lifts an eyebrow, leaning one elbow on the table. 

“Well…” and here it is, here goes nothing. “I thought - that is, I wondered, um, if you…might want to…get to know each other a little better.” Ouch. Thank God Bucky is nowhere near here. 

“Get to know each other?” 

“Yeah. Just, I mean, as friends.” 

“Huh.” 

Steve’s smile is sheepish, but it’s the one that always worked on his mother, and it seems to work on her. He can see the suspicion melt from her eyes, the interested quirk of her mouth as her fingers tap against the table. 

“I’m flattered and all, really, but you should know that virtually everything you could want to ask me about…my past, my qualifications, my education, my current assignment-” she lifts her hands in a helpless gesture. “It’s all classified. Probably above even your clearance.” 

“Classified?”

“There’s a reason why we never met, Captain.” He takes comfort in the fact that her smile is a little rueful. 

“Oh.” He sits back in his chair, a thoughtful frown on his lips. Looks out the window at passing traffic as he thinks. 

“Alright, then - how about a recommendation?” he turns back to her, eyes lit with curious confidence that catches her off guard. 

“A recommendation?” she repeats, bemused. 

“Coffee,” he grins, like it’s obvious, a wry quirk to his brows. 

“Coffee,” she echoes again, chewing her lip as she returns his smile. 

“Yeah - I always get the same thing,” he shrugs, eyes dancing. “Figured maybe I should branch out.”

Something she can tell him. Something they can share. 

A quick glance at her watch - 20 minutes before she has to clock in. 

“Alright then.” She stands from her seat, cracking her knuckles. “You wait here - I’m gonna pop behind the bar and make you something.”

He watches as she crosses the cafe, rounds the bar and gets to work whipping up…something. The steamer hisses as the milk is foamed, espresso grinding, and he can see her reach for some kind of syrup to pump into the cup. It only takes a minute or so before she’s done, returning with the cup presented triumphantly to him. The name “Cap” is scrawled on the front of the cup. 

“What is it?” 

“Just taste it first.”

The burst of caramel sweetness on his tongue nearly makes him gag - it’s a lot, whatever this drink is. It’s practically a dessert. Not bad, but he’s not sure how anyone could drink this in the morning. When he says so, she laughs out loud, head tipping back and mouth wide open. 

“I make those for 41 all the time,” she grins. “It’s not an official menu drink - I invented it for her.”

“Yeah I can see this being her drink.” 

“Oh, and when you go back to the tower, will you take her these?” She hands him a pastry bag. “I know they’re her favorite, and we had some that were about to expire.

He glances in the bag - two cookie dough cake pops and one birthday cake.

“I guess it’s not just Clint that spoils her, huh?” 

Across the table, she just smiles and shrugs. 

“I’m just here to make coffee.”

He takes another sip of the sugary concoction. 

“Sure.” 

[chelsfic]

Princess (for @1zashreena1) - Diego Jimenez x Reader - Starz Power Fanfic

I wrote this fic for @1zashreena1, my spirit guide in all things Maurice Compte. Happy months-early birthday, dear! Hope this *very* explicit fic isn’t too weird between friends!? 

Warning: Pure Smut.

“How much did he just charge us?!?”

You stare at your friend, agog at the figure the bartender just charged her for two drinks. You are definitely a long way from home, that’s for sure.

“Relax,” she waves you off and hands you your glass, “It’s your birthday!”

“But you realize we could buy like...four pitchers at Margarita’s for the price of these two tiny drinks, right?” Yeah, the whole idea had been to come into the city and pretend to be rich and glamorous for one night--but you know Lisa’s job doesn’t pay her much and you don’t want to bankrupt her for your birthday...at least not this early in the evening. “Well, I’m getting the next round!”

She nods and turns back to the dance floor, eyes glittering like a predatory cat as she watches the dancers sway, gyrate and generally commit public indecencies. You smirk and let your eyes roam as well. You might be letting your natural sass make you a little contrary, but you have to admit you love this. The music--so loud you can feel it pulsing in your bones, the contagious energy of the crowd...you don’t even care that you stick out like a sore thumb among all these supermodel thin girls and--frankly--out of this world hot guys. You have no clue how Lisa managed to get you into the most elite club in New York for your birthday but...you’re going to make the most of it.

“Should we show these skinny bitches how to dance?”

Here’s the thing: when it comes to confidence? You outshine everyone else on this dance floor. This is your night! You take Lisa’s hand and lead her out into the throng and the two of you move with the music like you were born with silver spoons and not a care in the world other than having a good time. Monday you’ll go back to work, back to daydreams and deadlines, but tonight is yours and you’re not going to waste it.

You’re working up a sweat, rolling your hips with the music and not giving a damn if you look silly, just losing yourself in the dance. 

“Hey!” Lisa leans close and has to yell into your ear to be heard, “There’s a Latino sex god checking you out right now!”

You roll your eyes at her and scoff, “What are you talking about, Lisa?”

“Look! Casually!” she nods her chin over your shoulder and you do a little not-so-casual spin to glance behind you. Okay, yes, there is a staggeringly beautiful man a few feet away who’s currently being worshiped by three female dance partners. Your mouth actually drops open in shock as you look at him and you have to consciously close it while your eyes rake over his body. He is a well-built man. Tall, broad, muscles straining against his black button-down shirt and suit jacket. He’s digging his fingers into one of the girl’s hips and his hands are absolutely huge. You slowly raise your gaze to take in his stubbled jaw, full, smirking lips, wide cheekbones and bottomless, brown eyes. Brown eyes that--yup--are staring right back at you.

You spin back around and collide into Lisa’s arms. 

“Okay!” you yell. “He’s definitely looking over here.”

This guy has three supermodels hanging off of him and he’s staring at you like he wants to eat you up.

“Okay, okay, girl,” Lisa launches into her life coach voice and you groan. “This is your night, remember? You need to go fucking get down on that dick.”

“Jesus!” you laugh and shake your head at her, but you’re already glancing back over your shoulder. He’s still staring and now his lips are curled up in a grin. He raises a hand and crooks his finger at you. Oh, he thinks you’re at his beck and call, huh? You turn back to Lisa and dip down low, jutting out your ass and throwing your wild curls over your shoulder as you slowly, slowly roll upright. 

“He’s gonna have to earn it!” you yell and Lisa is shaking her head in disbelief. 

“You’re something else!” she exclaims.

You throw yourself back into the dance in earnest, but this time it’s different. This time you’re putting on a show. You dip, roll, gyrate and sway, all the while locking eyes with the dark haired stranger across the dance floor. He tries beckoning you over again and you shake your head with a smug grin, crooking your finger back at him. You’re setting the rules tonight. He actually breaks into a full smile at your boldness and you nearly swoon over the dimples in his cheeks.

He finally breaks away from his gaggle of admirers and makes his way toward you. You play it cool, like you couldn’t care less if he wants to dance with you, but inside you’ve got some serious butterflies. The butterflies only ramp up when you notice the two stern, bodyguard-types who break away from the wall and seem to track his movements as he walks over to you. Shit. Who is this guy?

He strolls up to you, inserting himself into your dance space and planting his greedy hands on your hips. His fingers dig into your flesh and the touch sets you on fire. He’s a good head taller than you and he has to lean down to rumble into your ear, “Bonita! You’re gonna make me work for it, aren’t you?”

You smirk up at him and tilt your chin past his shoulder, indicating the dejected groupies still lingering behind him, “I don’t like to share!”

He laughs, letting his hands wander to your backside, squeezing your ass as he grinds his hips against yours. 

“You think you can handle me all by yourself?” he asks with a cocky head tilt. 

You reach up your hands and thread them through his hair, dragging your manicured nails over his scalp, his neck, his chest, lower still. 

“I’m a big girl,” you quip. “I’ll manage. What’s your name?”

“Diego,” he answers and his dark eyes are fixed on the contour of your bust in the tight dress you’re wearing. It takes him a minute to formulate his next words, “What’s your name, bonita?”

You grab him by the lapels of his suit jacket, pulling his face down to yours and whispering your name in his ear. When you draw back he takes the opportunity to grab your face, locking his lips on yours and capturing you in a searing, intense kiss. His hands reach down to cup your butt and lift you onto your tiptoes as he deepens the kiss. The rest of the club falls away and it’s just you and Diego. You let your hands wander over his body, running down his chest, teasing the waistband of his tailored pants and trailing back to make your way up to his strong, muscled shoulders. But you stop short when your hand brushes against the cold metal handgun sticking out of the back of his pants under the jacket. 

Your breath catches and you pull away from the kiss. You feel a warning creep down your spine as you lock eyes with him and he grins, amused at your sudden qualms.

He leans his forehead against yours and growls against your lips, “You don’t know who I am, little girl?”

Your eyes shift to the two body guards lurking nearby and then back to Diego. You shake your head slowly and answer, “Somebody dangerous, I bet.”

Diego’s eyes glint with unhinged humor. He nods his head, running his hands firmly up and down your sides, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your dress. He’s bold. And used to taking what he wants. 

“Si, bonita. I’m dangerous. You still think you can handle me?”

What the fuck. It’s your birthday.

You drag your own firm hands over his body, lingering over his abdomen and then plunging downward to hold him through his pants.

“Diego,” you hiss, giving him the faintest squeeze, “do you think you can handle me?”

***

You feel a little guilty ditching Lisa but in the end she’s the one urging you to seize the night.

“I’ll be fine, girl! My friend just texted me she’s at another club--we’re gonna meet up. Go get that dick! Happy birthday!” she practically shouts the last part and you slap her arm.

You glance over your shoulder where Diego is looking less than patient waiting with his entourage. 

“Okay, but listen. Here’s the address I’ll be. If you don’t hear from me tomorrow--”

“I’ll bust in the place myself, I got you!”

****

Diego leaves the guards behind as you enter the elevator. If you hadn’t already been clued in by his style, clothes, bodyguards and vehicle--well, the outlandishly high class penthouse he lives in really solidifies how out of your element you are. Diego isn’t just wealthy. He’s wealthy and powerful... and used to getting what he wants when he wants it. You’re feeling a little overwhelmed in your knock-off dress, comparing what he has to your own modest apartment back in Pennsylvania...and feeling just the tiniest bit inferior. But you hold your head up as you stride across the marble floor, entering the penthouse like visiting royalty. Something tells you Diego’s attracted to your confidence and you’ll be damned if you’ll let him intimidate you.

“Nice place,” you comment dryly, affecting disinterest while your eyes widen at the view from the floor to ceiling windows.

“Thanks,” he remarks casually before practically jumping you. His hands are everywhere he’s kissing every inch of your face like he can’t get enough. You let out a breathy moan as he inches his fingers under the short hem of your skirt and brushes your inner thighs. His beard rasps against your cheek as he growls, “I’m going to fuck you on every surface.”

He works his fingers between your thighs, rubbing you through your panties with firm, punishing strokes as he grinds his erection against your stomach. For a moment you want to surrender entirely and let this man do whatever the fuck he wants with you. You think about the cool metal of his gun and wonder what it would feel like ground against your clit. This man is doing things to your brain.

But you come to your senses and place a calming hand on his wrist, cursing yourself mentally but instinctively knowing that you need to assert yourself here.

“That sounds like fun,” you say in a firm voice, removing his hand from between your thighs and straightening your dress. “But when I sleep with a man for the first time I expect to be treated like a princess. That means you’ll be taking me to your bed.”

Diego growls in frustration, wrapping his arms around you and molding you against his body. But you can see the look of respect in his eyes even as filthy words fall from his mouth, “Of course, Princess. But after I’ve fucked you to your satisfaction you’re gonna get on your knees for me and beg me to put my cock in your mouth.”

Rather than answer him you simply cup his cheeks in your hands and drag another kiss from his lips. The burn of his stubble on your face is delicious as your tongues clash. Diego pulls away first, his eyes are almost black with lust and his lips are swollen from kissing. This cocky, dangerous, powerful man is coming completely undone for you.

He takes your hand in his and leads you up the stairs to his bedroom. It’s a huge room with minimal decor, which is what you expected based on the rest of the penthouse. His bed is gigantic and covered in a silky black coverlet that probably costs as much as your whole bedroom set. You run your hand over the soft fabric and perch on the edge of the mattress, legs crossed daintily. Diego stalks toward you like a predator. You can see the calculations running behind his gaze. He’s not used to women like you. Assertive, strong, no nonsense. For once he’s the one feeling as if he needs to make an impression.

He drops to his knees before you and wraps his hands around your high-heeled foot. 

“Well, Cinderella,” he smirks up at you, slowly removing the shoe and letting it drop to the floor. He wraps his hands around your little foot and drags his fingers up your calf. “Are you ready for your prince?”

Your breath is coming hot and heavy as his hands inch further up your legs. You try for a smug smirk but when he delves his fingers between your thighs again you let out an undignified moan.

“N-never saw a Prince Charming like you before, Diego,” you pant, falling back on your elbows as his long fingers creep under the fabric of your panties and slip between your folds. 

“No, Princess,” he smirks, dipping one finger inside you without warning. “I think I’m more like the villain.”

He’s on his knees for you but his touch is a reminder of the man he is. He is not gentle. He pumps his fingers into you with brutal force, delighting in the little squeaks and mewls that fall from your lips whenever he slams your pussy especially hard. And his words. His voice. You’ve never been more turned on.

“You like that, Princess? Huh? You like when I fuck you with my fingers? Oh, bonita, you are tight, girl. You don’t know what's coming for you, huh? Are you gonna take my cock like a good girl, huh?”

You’re writhing on the edge of the bed, desperately trying to grind your clit against the heel of his palm and making needy, pitiful noises that are entirely embarrassing, but you don’t give a fuck. 

You try to wrest back control, sitting up suddenly and grabbing the hem of your dress, pulling it off in one motion and (thank god) not getting stuck with it half-way up your body.

You look down at Diego kneeling at your feet, still fully dressed and his expression rabid with desire. You smile and stroke your fingers through his hair. You let your hand cup the back of his head and pull him forward until his face is hovering over your pussy and you can feel his hot breath ghosting against you. 

“I want to take your cock, Diego. But first show me how much you want me.”

He flashes a crooked grin up at you before dipping down between your legs and drawing his wicked tongue through your folds. You let out a hoarse whimper but Diego is relentless. He presses his flattened tongue to your clit, licking and circling the sensitive bundle while dragging the rough stubble on his chin over your sensitive skin. You fist your fingers in his short hair and cry out for him no to stop. Keep going. Keep going. But just as your thighs are starting to clamp down around his head with the force of your coming orgasm, Diego rips himself away and stands up to stalk around the side of the bed. You scramble back towards the headboard, eyes fixed on him as he removes his shirt, revealing his sculpted chest and shoulder muscles. 

He comes up to the side of the bed, looming over you with a wild look in his eyes.

“I’m in control now, baby,” he hisses, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants and underwear fall to the floor. 

Your eyes fall to the massive erection jutting between his legs and you actually whimper in anticipation. 

He stands there staring at you, waiting. When you don’t get it he reaches out and smacks the side of your thigh with his open palm, “Who’s in control now, baby girl?”

You know you’re out of your depth now and everything about this man screams danger, but you find yourself nodding and panting with need, “You’re in control, Diego!”

He turns to his nightstand, grabbing a condom from the drawer and deftly slipping it over his cock. He climbs up on the bed, crawling between your open legs and rubbing himself through your folds. He catches your eyes and leans down to press a surprisingly soft kiss to your lips as he plunges inside you. He wasn’t boasting before. You’ve never had anyone this big, he stretches you to your limit. When he finally seats himself fully you cry out at the pleasant, burning pain of being so thoroughly filled.

He brings his hands up to your face and runs his fingers through your hair. You look up at him and see the muscles in his jaw clenching and his eyelids fluttering as he holds himself back.

“You good, Princess?” he asks with a grunt that sends twinges straight to your core. Watching this man lose his self possession for you, because of you...it’s something you could see yourself becoming addicted to very quickly.

You nod up at him, “I’m good, Diego. I’m good.”

You are. You want to experience this man unleashed and unhinged. You want to know what he means when he says he’ll fuck you to your satisfaction. You don’t have to wait long. At your words he lets out a moan and starts brutally pounding into you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and lays sloppy kisses along your tender skin as his cock grinds into you over and over again. His hands are everywhere--but mostly your tits and ass, let’s be honest. 

He rears back his head and looks down at you with those dark, unreadable eyes and he orders, “Come, Princess. Come like a good girl for Diego.”

You want to hold out just to spite him, but he’s already edged you so close with his lips and tongue that his words are all it takes to crash you into your orgasm. You tremble and clench around his rigid cock as you ride the waves of your pleasure. All the while Diego is grunting and slamming into you with abandon, taking what he wants. When his orgasm follows shortly after he goes rigid for a second, clenching his fingers on your hips to hold you still as he presses into you with bruising force.

“Ahh,” he cries, falling forward and nearly smothering you with his solid body. His skin is slick with sweat and he’s sticky against you. You can feel his cock softening inside you, sending fluttering sensations through your core. He pulls out rather abruptly and you give a little cry of protest. You watch him remove the condom and drop it over the side of the bed before he crawls back over to you and collapses at your side.

“You did well, Princess,” he praises you, cupping his massive hand around the side of your head and threading his fingers through your curls.

“So did you, Mr. Villain,” you laugh, still a little out of breath.

He pulls back and lays flat on his back, breathing heavily, “Now. I think there was something mentioned about you on your knees?”

[chris-evanslover]

Captain Patriotic

Summary: OFC Samara is invited by her friend Carly to a patriots game where she meets Carly’s brother Chris Evans

Word Count: 2.2k

The autumn chill floated through the room as I stepped out of the en-suite bathroom wrapped in a fluffy mint green towel. My (now clean) bare feet padded across the hardwood to the beige, brown and white aztec patterned rug that sat on the floor in front of the painted white wood dresser.

What the fuck do you wear to a football game? I stood in front of the drawers with my hands on my hips contemplating giving my coworker and friend Carly an excuse as to why I couldn’t make it to the game she invited me to with her family.

Speaking of her family, I have met her younger brother, Scott and her mom, Lisa but no one else from the Evans family, even though with all the stories she’s told me about the clan, I feel like I know them already.

Shaking my head I decide this is the perfect opportunity to get to know her family, it’s in public and I can leave if things take a turn for the worse right? (which I highly doubt would happen but i’m prepared just in case). Carly invited me last week to come to the Patriots home game since her husband was away on business and in the spur of the moment I thought it would be fun, but now i’m just downright freaking out.

I pull out an off white cable knit sweater with dark wash skinny jeans and start to change. After changing I put on some light makeup and blow dried my hair before throwing on some light brown booties and a brown jacket, grabbing a banana with Nutella and a to go coffee cup, I got in my car and made my way to the stadium.

Frantically arriving 45 minutes later (thanks to Boston traffic) I park my car and shoot Carly a text that i have arrived. Yay! Waiting for you at the Main Entrance, I’m wearing a red shirt, see you in a few! she replied.

‘Main entrance, main entrance, main entrance’ is all that’s running through my mind as I walk from the parking lot to the larger than life stadium. AHA! I found the huge sign that says main entrance as I roll my eyes not knowing how i had missed it while I was scanning the stadium for the past 5 minutes. As I draw closer I start looking for Carly in a red shirt and I see her already looking at me waving with her left hand, and holding her daughter Stella with her right arm, next to her I see her brother Scott who looks like he’s taking a very serious phone call.

I finally reach the pair, smiling wide giving Carly a hug and one to Stella too who ends up jumping into my arms which makes me stumble a bit but gratefully my clumsiness stays in check, for once. I give Scott, who just got off his phone call, a one armed hug saying our hellos and we’re off walking to the box seats they were telling me about on the way.

Scott turns to me while we wait for the elevator up, “So Samara, have you ever been to a patriots game?” “No actually I haven’t been to any football game, my family was really big on Baseball” “oh really what team” “Yankees, being from New York you have to be a Yanks fan or you’re not a ‘true’ new yorker” you replied with air quotes around ‘true’. “Oh boy, don’t mention that team around Chris, he might just kill ya” Carly muttered.

Ah, the ‘famous Chris Evans’ if you will, Carly has told me a lot about her brothers career, even I’ve checked out a couple of those Captain America movies (for science, had to see if he was worth all the hype). There was no doubt Chris was an attractive man which is why my nerves shot through the roof as the elevator doors opened. The four of us walked into the elevator and were ascending to the box level of the stadium. I tried to calm my nerves silently in my head repeating the mantra ‘he’s just a guy spending the day with his family, don’t be weird’.

The elevator ding shook me from my thoughts as I followed Carly, Scott and Stella as we walk down a long hallway to box 35 with a plaque under the numbers that reads

‘America’s Greatest Captain’

Chris Evans

Audibly swallowing I follow them as they open the door to loud conversations and drinks being poured. I spot Miles and Ethan hanging onto their grandpa, Carly’s dad who I’ve yet to meet but have seen pictures of. Scanning the room I see Lisa coming towards me with open arms, I happily return her hug.

“I’m so glad you could make it Samara! We’re gonna have a great day but just a fair warning, Chris and Scott tend to get a little rambunctious at these games” she winks at me. Speaking of Chris, I see his tall figure behind Lisa facing away from us and towards the field talking to Scott. Jesus Christ his shoulders are the widest i’ve ever seen in my life. Lisa ushers me over to Carly and Shanna who are busting drinks out for everyone.

“So great to meet you! Half of my family loves you so it’s great to finally meet the girl who stole their hearts” Shanna laughs. I laugh with her and tell her that she’s prettier in person and she waves me away telling me something along the lines of she already likes me and i don’t have to be polite. I laughed with her and we were interrupted by her father Robert who comes over to say hello, which I graciously reply to and before I know it were talking about my horrible braces experience, seeing he is a dentist after all.

Chris hadn’t even looked my way since I got here and honestly I was very intimidated by him. I talked to the kids for a couple minutes before Scott waved me over, “Samara, meet Chris, he might look tough but he’s all fluff trust me” with that Chris punches Scott in the shoulder in a friendly way and Chris looks up to meet my eyes. Of course his eyes are just as blue in person. I clear my throat and extend my hand, complimenting him on his wonderful family. I think he was kind of shocked by my gesture because it took him a second to register what I had said to him. He laughed and shook his head and opened his arms for a hug.

“Haven't you met my family, we’re huggers” he laughs. I laugh along with him not knowing how long I should hug him for. I settled on a quick 5 second hug because on the inside I don’t know if my poor heart could handle more than that. I needed to put some space between me and mister Broad Shoulders for the sake of my mental health.

When I pulled away I smiled and looked at Scott who raised his left eyebrow at me and smirked. I shook it off hopefully not sabotaging myself by blushing harder than I already was. C’mon Samara get a grip. He’s a huge Hollywood actor, he hugged you to be nice. sit your ass down and enjoy the game.

The cheers from the stadium started picking up as the game began and everyone took seats, I went to the bathroom quickly before the game started and when i came out I saw that there was a seat open in between Carly and Chris. Great, my plan to distance myself from Chris was coming along swimmingly.

I sat down in the seat and tried to calm myself down so that Chris couldn’t see me mentally bugging out. Carly was a blessing in disguise as she started up a conversation about the players and who to watch for. Chris however had the same idea as his sister. “Are you a patriots fan?” How the hell do I break this to him. “Uh-Um not exactly, I didn’t really grow up around football so I admit I don’t know much” I laughed, slightly nervously. “I’m actually very glad to hear that, now I get to make you love the Pats” he winks at me. Yeah you read that right, he winked at me. Cue the dramatic subconscious faint.

I laughed along with him while he told me about his favorite players and what he likes about the game, Me being, well me, hung on to his every word and watched in admiration as his face lit up talking about the sport. Drowning out his voice I noticed I was staring at his lips. Again for science just, making sure they’re uh, there. I noticed his lips turned up into a smirk and that he was no longer talking about football but smirking at me daydreaming about his lips. Shit. I snapped out of my head and nodded, clearing my throat. “You’re very passionate about the game, You ever play?” He laughs and says he tried but he’d much rather watch than be knocked around out on the field.

The game was in full swing at this point, at the end of the second quarter, Chris stood up and asked if I wanted one of his special cocktails. I told him only one since I drove to the stadium to which he replied “I could always give you a lift and you could get your car tomorrow”. Yeah I didn’t know what to say to that either. I laughed and told him “Depends how good this drink is”. He smiled and got to work at the bar, 2 minutes later he handed me probably the tastiest cocktail I've ever had but when I asked what was in it, “That’s for me to know and me only”

Out of the corner of my eye I glanced at Scott who looked at me then Chris and winked at me. I rolled my eyes and decided that if Chris was going to get flirty, two can play that game. Fake it till you make it right, pushing all my nerves down, “I might have to take you up on that deal after all” taking a sip of my drink while staring at Chris through my eyelashes, I turned on my heel and made my way back to my seat.

Chris made his way back a minute later, drying his hands on his jeans and took his seat next to me. Throughout the game, we talked about football and my life since i’ve moved to Boston. At the end of the game, The Patriots won and the Evans family couldn’t have been more excited. The energy they gave off was infectious and I found myself smiling all the way out of the stadium. Chris had made me two more of his drinks and promised to drop me off at home, although I had the drinks hours ago and could’ve passed a sobriety test with flying colors, I wanted to spend more time with him. I saw what Scott meant when he said he’s all fluff, he really is a genuine guy.

Saying goodbye to the Evans family as everyone went their separate ways to their cars, I followed Chris to his, making light conversation about the game. Chris, ever the gentleman, opened the passenger side door for me and went around the front of the Audi to the drivers side and slid in, starting the ignition. He peeled out of the parking spot and did that thing where he put his and on the back of my headrest to back up and I swear I couldn’t jumped his bones right there but managed to keep myself in check.

I gave Chris directions to my house and found out he doesn’t live that far from me, only about 10 minutes. As we pulled up I gathered my things and turned to say thank you but he was already coming around the car and opened my door, holding his hand out. God, why is he the perfect man? I take his hand and open my arms for a hug which he returns, “Thank you for your chivalry Chris, and for the ride home” “it’s my pleasure, I was thinking-” he scratched the back of his neck, looking slightly nervous. “maybe tomorrow, if you’re around we can get breakfast? I can also bring you to your car so you don’t have to get a cab to the stadium”

“only if we go to iHop” He let out a loud laugh clutching his left pec, they’re really so defined, Okay stop it Samara, you’re probably starring again. “you drive a hard bargain Samara, it’s a date, i’ll pick you up at 10” I started walking backwards towards my front door. “I guess I’ll see you at 10 then” “Have a good night Samara” he smiled and got back into his car while I walked up to my front door and unlocked it, I turned and waved once I was in the doorway and he did the same before driving off.

You closed the door behind you and slid against the door to the floor, you were going on a date with Chris tomorrow and you really couldn’t believe it. You went about the rest of your evening, a smile never leaving your face.

A/N: this is my first fic in a while treat her with love! constructive criticism always welcome, send me requests or just to chat💓

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[awkbo0b]

Two of a Kind: 3

A/N hello everyone! here’s part three. I didnt want to keep you waiting as long as long as i did for part two so here is it is! Here are the other two parts in case you haven’t read those yet, Two of a Kind:1, Two of a Kind:2

I’ve made a tag also for this story! #TwoOfAKind

Warning: Drugs, swearing, vomit, slow burn ;)

~~

The next morning I wake up to Tony running across the room and slamming the bathroom door. She has been up all night puking her guts out. I get up to go check on her. “Need some more water?” I ask through the door. After some dry heaving Tony makes out a small please.

After helping Tony back into bed and getting some water in her, I lay back down on bed i made on the floor. I have my own guest room here but with how sick Tony is, I couldn’t leave her to fend for herself.

Last night plays over in my head, the group of pogues were the best. Really felt like I could be myself around them. Plus once Tony started feeling sick, they all helped me get her home in one piece. Pope even carried her up the stairs so we wouldn’t wake any of our parents. Kie said she could grab our cooler so I gave her my number so she can let me know.

I catch myself thinking about JJ, his little snarky remarks and jokes, the way he was smile when he would catch me looking at him, just they way his lips look when when he’s talking. I roll into my stomach and groan into my pillow.

“sure hope you’re not going to end up sick, because i’m not going to be able to help you,” Tony’s voice is weak from being up almost all night.

“No I smoked so no hangover for me.” i say up to Tony.

“You lucky bitch.” Tony isn’t the one to swear, so her voice of words have me laughing my ass off.

“You jealous bitch,” I’m laying on my back again. Tony somehow picks herself up to leave over her bed to look at me.

“You’re not wrong,” Tony begins to laugh but then  winces, “damn, got a huge headache too.”

“What did we learn?” I ask smiling up at Tony.

“When I say I should wait, i shouldn’t drink anymore.” Tony states then throws herself back into her pillows. “I was suppose to show you around today.” There’s a hint of regret in her voice. I pull myself up onto the end of her bed.

“I’m going to be here all summer, don’t even worry about it,” I say but the look Tony is giving me says she doesn’t believe me. “Besides, I have some inspiration for a drawing so I’ll just work on that today,” I shrug trying to give off the vibe ‘it’s not a big deal’. Tony’s eyes light up.

“You’re going to start a piece of art?” Tony is now sitting up as straight as she can.

“Yeah.” I smile.

“It’s been so long, can i do the honors?” Tony places her hands like she is praying, i give a small sigh.

“Sure, why not?” I hop off the bed and make my way to the gues bedroom that has all of my belongings. I grab my notebook and favorite pen, and head back to Tony’s room. I sit back in the bed and open to a blank page.” The idea I have is going to be horizontal,” I turn the book on its and hand my pen to Tony, “try to stay in the center for me,” Tony takes the pen and begins to make some scribbles. Once she’s finished I take the notebook back and look to see the mess. I then look back at Tony who is holding her head up high and proud, when she instantly goes pale and has to run for the bathroom again. I let out a sigh and follow her.

~

After taking a shower and getting dressed I text Kie, ‘hey did you end up grabbing that cooler? if not i was going to make my way back to that beach anyways!’.

I place my phone facing up on the bathroom counter an begin to apply light make up along with some sunscreen. My phone buzzes, ‘actually I think JJ got it last night, here’s his number’ in a separate text came in containing the phone number. I text Kie thanks and then save the new number into my phone.

‘hey, its Mae from last night, Kie said you might have my cooler?’ I hesitate before pushing send, should I make it a little more flirty? Did I make it seem too flirty? What if he was only being nice last night because I caught him with his friends and didn’t want to come off as a dick? I shake away the thoughts and press the send button, I have never been this scared to text a boy before, I’m not the one to get scared. It’s a weird feeling.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” I ask my reflection in the mirror. I laugh quietly to myself, then jump at the sound of my phone buzzing.

‘Ya I have it, meet me at the boneyard’ JJ’s text read, I smile at the words, trying to push the idea out of my head that I might be into him.

I pack my notebook and some pens and my hammock into my back pack, then my pipe and travel size jar of weed, just incase. I slip on some shoes and make my way to Tony’s room. I open the door to see her still laying in her bed. “Hey dude, I’m going to go out to draw. Text me if you need anything.” I see Tony’s arm shoot up with a thumbs up. I laugh and shut the door.

~

I had set up my hammock and pulled out my notebook to begin drawing. The scribble that Tony had started for me was perfect. It stayed in the center like I asked her to, but it was low enough where I wanted it. I begin to think about the bonfire last night, I take a deep breath and then begin my work. The small curvy lines at the top I begin to shape them to look like flames. Once I did that a couple times I decided I wanted to make a glowing halo above the soon to be fire, and draw an arch about three inches from the scribble. The lines that are harsher and seem to have more corner than curves, I begin to shape them into logs, adding some knots into them. I see a curvy line I haven’t touched yet and the idea with some taller flames came to mind. I start about half way, tracing the curves that Tony has started, then breaking into untouched territory of white space.

“Hey!” I flinch, taking my hand, and my pen, about the arch. I turn to see blondie. “What you doing there?” I notice him squinting his eyes from the glare of the sun from the beach.

“Well, I was drawing until you scared me.” I try to make sure my tone doesn’t come off rude. JJ reaches my hammock, places the cooler down by his feet and looks over to my notebook.

“Damn, I caused that?” He uses his finger to point and to touch the line that obvioulsy goes way to high.

“Yep, you sure did.” I respond slightly laughing.

“Fuck, my bad dude.” JJ’s  face says it all, he really does feel bad. And I start to feel bad, he obviously doesn’t know that mistakes in my art are what make my art so different.

“Honestly, I like it.” JJ’s face is full on confusion. I look back down to the line. I take my pen to the tip and draw downwards completeing a large flame. “I’ll be drawing in some larger flames to match it, not big deal.” I shrug and then close my note book. “Thanks for grabbing the cooler.” I mention looking down at it then back up to JJ.

JJ’s face still seems to be uneasy and unsure where to take the converstion.

“This is when you say you’re welcome.” I whisper trying to lighten the mood. Once JJ catches the hint, his whole body loosens up.

“Oh shit yeah, You’re welcome. Its a nice cooler. It probably would have gotten stolen if we left it here over night.” JJ states then smiles.He looks at my notebook then back to me. “You might get this a lot, but do you mind showing me you’re art work?” JJ’s hand motions to it.

Talking about my art is not my favorite thing to do. It’s like someone asking you to stand there naked while they look at every scar and winkle in your skin. Makes me feel too vunerable.

“How about you show me around and I’ll think about it.” I hope out of my hammock and stuff my notebook into my backpack. I stand up straight to see JJ smirking at me. Oh my god his face is beautiful. I have to refrain from shaking my head, stop Mae you are NOT into him. “What?” I ask.

“Thought you said last night you don’t need a guide.” JJ raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. I roll my eyes trying to come up with a quick remark to put him back in his place.

“Oh please, if I wanted to see touristy sites I would have called up one of the pretty boys from last night. I want to see the heart of this place. So,” I take a step closer to JJ, tilting my head to the side. JJ still has a smirk on his face but I notice him look at my lips. “I’m asking a local.” I make my last word as breathy as I could, then back away to begin taking down my hammock.

“So does this mean you pick pogues over kooks?” JJ ask.

I turn back around to see his face slightly flushed with red. “If that means I can have as much fun as I did last night with you guys, then definitely.” I nod with my hands on my hips.

“There’s a rule among the pogues fyi.” JJ informs, “pogues don’t make on pogues, so,”

“It’s a good thing I won’t have to worry about you hitting on me then.” I cut JJ off and give him a wink. “Now come on,” I place my hammock in my back pack, “You should show me a place only the locals know.” I slide my bag onto my back and wait for JJ.

JJ licks him lips as he looks towards the water. “You are something else Mae,” JJ thinks out loud, “Lets go. I’ll show you around.” JJ points over his back and grabs the cooler with his other hand. “Lets fill this up so we can have some food and drinks for the day.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.” I say and JJ leads the way back to town.

~

Thank you for reading, I hope you are loving it as much as me! continue to like and reblog, the more notes I get the faster the next part will come out!

What are some request that you guys would like to see between Mae and JJ? I’m all ears and will give credit due if I decide to incorporate it into the story! So send some in!!!

Love you guys, talk to you soon!

UPDATE: I HAVE MOVED THIS FANFIC TO WATTPAD, HERE IS THIS LINK! LOVE YOU ALL THANK YOU FOR TE NOTES!

[corvidry]

All About RP Icons For Beginners by Birdy

Hi OP, I’m not sure how experienced you are with all the nonsense surrounding the making and using of RP icons, so I’m gonna come at it as though you don’t have any experience with it at all and I’m sorry if that’s too simplified for you, but also if I’m gonna write many paragraphs about one topic I may as well make it accessible for as many people as possible ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

This post goes into what tools are out there for the popular methods of finding/making RP icons in the first half and my personal methodology for choosing and using them in my RP for the second half. This is a very surface level answer to the question and is not meant to be an in depth tutorial for the more labor intensive aspects of the process, but if you guys want more information and can’t find it elsewhere, please ask and I'll know what I should be talking about next. 

Also I’m also contractually obligated to mention to the masses that I do take commissions both for the drawing of RP icons and the service of capping, cutting, recoloring, and framing canon icons. Sometimes I even post batches of canon character icons for free on this blog so like,,,,, hit me up if you want. But!! You don’t need me, you can absolutely do all of it yourself!!  I go into the broad strokes below.

Question 1: “How do you get icons?” 

This is kind of a broad question and the answer depends on what your needs are. The right answer for you is gonna live in one of two camps 

Find some that already exist that are free to use

Make them yourself / commission somebody else to make them for you. 

What you'll choose is gonna depend a lot on your character first and foremost.  The big determining factor in most cases is whether or not the face you want has been in anything you can take pictures of. 

If you have a canon character who exists in visible media--

--you're in luck! The chances of you finding some resources that exist already is higher when you have a canon character who is in at least a few pieces of media. OP asked about Pearl from Steven Universe, and she's a great example of a character with a lot of resources. Searching for rp icons of a popular character will often yield packs of icons on Tumblr, Dreamwidth, Livejournal, etc. Most of these will be completely free to use or have very reasonable conditions for use (like credit the person who made them for example.)  It's often a good first step to see what preexisting resources are available to you even if you still plan on making your own icons. 

If you have an OC or a character that's not all that popular--

--you're gonna fall into the second camp. If you want icons, you have to have them made. So what are your options?

Help! My character appears in no media! What are my options?

If your character appears in no media you're in a tough spot. Different people approach this problem in different ways. 

Face Claims

One option you have is to choose a face claim to represent your character. In roleplay a face claim or ‘FC’ is a person or character whose appearance you use for the physical description of your character. I personally am not big on doing this, I prefer drawn icons and I tend to RP as animated characters, but some people really like using celebrities and stuff to represent their characters.  When I was playing Angus McDonald he hadn't appeared in any visual media yet, so I sometimes used Bryce Clyde Jenkins as the face claim for certain types of threads.  

If you're somebody who likes to use face claims there are loads of resources out there for finding the perfect one, including here on tumblr. Try searching up RP Faceclaim Directory and playing around with some of the ones that pop up.

DIY RP Icons

The other option you have is to create those icons from scratch. Draw them yourself based on icons you like or commission an artist to draw some for you.   If you can't draw yourself, I've seen some people get really creative with this. Some people create their character in the sims, dollmakers, or their favorite RPG and then take screenshots of that to use for icons.  There's also no law that says every icon you use has to be your character's face. When I was writing a trashy mermaid AU I got a lot of mileage out of icons that depicted harbor and oceanic scenes with no actual faces. Get creative, go nuts, have fun.

Icons Aren’t That Important

The other thing to remember that icons are not a must in many RP circles. It's perfectly possible to have a great time and write cool stuff without any pictures at all. Depending on your platform of choice there are probably also other interesting ways you can make your posts unique to you by formatting the text or using symbols or emojis or otherwise denoting your personal style in text.

Help! My character appears in lots of media! How do I make icons?

Again, there are a million and one answers to this question and it really depends on what tools are available to you and what your preferences are. This section is not a tutorial but it will outline some of the options you can look into.

The icon making process is typically in 2 stages-- stage 1: get all your images of your character, and stage 2: edit all of those images into icons.  

If you have access to the source material, any version of Photoshop, and software that automates the collection screencaps from video (KM Player, VLC, etc) you're pretty much gucci. You're gonna have no problem getting loads of nice icons in a reasonably short amount of time and there are a million different tutorials on how to use those things whichever way you prefer. 

If you don't have access to those things you still have options. 

You can still screencap things manually, and you can screencap in batches by holding down the windows key and pressing PrtSc any time you want to save an image. They should be saving to >pictures>screenshots unless you’ve set things up differently. It’s a good way to take a lot of screenshots without stopping in between.

( EDIT / UPDATE: to say that if you use automation for taking screencaps remember to turn that shit off when you’re not using because it oh mylanta it WILL continue to take images without you realizing. Figured out where all my disk space has been going with this rookie mistake, thanks OP)

Additionally, PhotoScape X is a really great little tool for windows and mac that I've never seen anybody talk about, but I use it sometimes and it's totally free with the exception of a few paid features I’ve never once needed or wanted. This program is not as efficient as using Photoshop but it has presets for cropping images easily as well as batch editing options for some basic borders and color retouching.  While it’s not as powerful as Photoshop, you can get a lot done with it reasonably quickly compared to other choices. You can also take and edit snips of anything on your screen with it, which is really really useful if you don’t have access to the video or image files you would need on your hard drive for other version of this process.  The program looks like this:

Also, not to be like a minimalist about it, but you can also just fucken use Microsoft Paint or whatever you have. Like, whatever, there’s no law. You graphics dont have to be comlpex or deep fried. Half of my icons have been made or edited in paint at some point. It wont be as fast as some of these other methods but a lot of us aren't out here making icons in batches of 100 at a time. 

Anything that you can use to make smallish images of your characters face will work to make icons.

If you want more information about any of these methods of icon creation let me know and I’ll talk about them.

Question 2: “How do you make your icons ‘work’ in posts?”

I'm a little confused on what you mean by "make them work" so I'm gonna cover my bases here. I'm assuming what you're getting at is a sort of sense of cohesion in the icons I use, or having the "right" expression for the scene I'm writing. Either that or them not stretching and looking weird thanks to tumblr. I’ll get to both of those.

And before I go into my own rationale for icon choices I feel I should point out that a lot of people who aren't me do successfully manufacture cohesion out of their images by doing fun stylistic things like recoloring their images all the same way or putting cute borders and stuff around them or making them fun shapes, and that's totally something you can learn how to do if it interests you.  I do this for icons commissioned by other people and I’m not against talking about how to do those things, but I don’t really bother with them for my own icons all that much. That stuff is all fun and it’s a neat thing you could get into that can make your icons all look really nice together.

BUT ANYWAY --

Since the character you asked about is Pearl, I’m going to focus on her. Nearly all of my Pearl icons are completely unedited and a lot of the credit I would have to give regarding icon quality goes to Pearl herself and the consistently good lighting that the show uses. I don’t have a huge need for editing or color retouching beyond making memes or whatever other goofy things I might be getting up to. Pearl is extremely expressive compared to other characters I have written and since she's in nearly every episode, I've managed to collect…

...oh god, that’s too many icons.

Pearl is a main character and I've been RPing as her for over 6 years now so I have a fuckload of images to choose from and I'm not gonna pretend that doesn't help when I wanna “make things work”. She gives me a lot of options.

That said, you absolutely don't need 3000 images to make a good post. The way I've collected and organized these images may be of use to you even if you dont have as many icons. I've done a lot with my setup to make finding the right icon very easy. 

For starters, a minor subset of my Pearl icons are grouped by a particular defining feature. I have one large Pearly folder full of icons and then a few smaller folders inside for icons I thought worth grouping separately. For example, all icons of SUF Pearl in her new jacket are in the same folder. All icons of Pearl in short term alternate outfits are in the same folder. Anything I sourced from Attack the Light is in its own folder. I do this with anything that has a very specific use, such as writing AU content or flashbacks to specific time periods. If I can picture an icon in my head, I usually know where in my ridiculous hell collection to go to find it. 

This folder was originally just for her pre-canon outfit but now all of her outfits that only appeared temporarily are in there.

Perhaps more important for the sake of cohesion is that nearly all of my icons that aren’t squirreled away in some smaller folder are loosely arranged by episode. What that means is that most of the time I have icons from the same scene right next to one another. It makes it incredibly easy to make my RP replies appear as though it's all one cohesive scene even if I use more than one icon. When you do it this way it becomes very easy to choose icons that have the same lighting or that appear to lead from one expression seamlessly into another. Exhibit A:

While the vast majority of my icons are numbered, I do take the time to name ones I find myself using a lot or that have particularly unique expressions. Usually I'll choose names that I'll find descriptive or easy to remember based on the context of the icon. You can have a lot of fun with that and never lose your favorites.

Also don't be afraid to lean on icons you got from weird places if you like them.  The icons of Pearl from the official comics run don’t look like most of what I have. I think them being different would turn a lot of RPers off, but I use them a lot because I like the style and I almost never see other Pearl RPers using them.  It either makes me stand out or it makes me tacky, one of the two, haven’t figured out which, but also I’m not stopping.

And just to reiterate, you can use icons that aren’t your character if they’re thematically relevant or vague enough to look like them. When I’m capping I’ve started saving a folder of miscellaneous environments of interests, hands, and other everyday types of scenery that appear in the thing I’m taking screencaps of.

You can use any size you want for RP icons but the most common is 100x100 or 150x150 pixels.  Any smaller than that and the image gets to be difficult to read and work with in my opinion. That doesn’t stop people, of course, but I’m elderly and need glasses now, so no tiny icons for me.  On that note, I rarely see RP icons larger than 300x300. Any larger than that it tends to get bulky and be in the way of other people’s comfortable internet browsing experience, especially on mobile.  Of course, these are just my suggestions. What you choose will ultimately be up to you, but somewhere in that 100 to 300 px range is pretty safe.

A very tumblr specific thing to know is that any image that is wider than 300 pixels will be stretched to hell, so you probably want to keep it smaller than that.

Thanks, Tumblr, I hate it!

Also, don’t be afraid to make trash images for fun if you’re so inclined. People love that, or at least I do. Not having the right icon can be fun and lead to a very silly solution. Lean into being a shitposter if that’s what you’re called to do. 

So yeah, that’s basically what my suggestions are. Collect your images in a way that helps cohesion and ease of use. Keep them a good size. Don’t be afraid to get unconventional with your choices or make memes or whatever. It’s all for a fun time.

Anyway, that’s all I can think of right now, but more info on any of this can be obtained at the price of one ask, I know it was a lot of different moving parts.

[ivyglow]

Hostage - Jack Eichel | Buffalo Sabres

a/n: Sooooo I took too long to finish this piece, I'm kinda happy with what it turned out and I hope you guys like it. Again, a huge shout out to Naty who proofreaded everything, thank you @tsarinablogs !!! ❤️

word count: 3.5k

warnings: cursing; mention of toxic relationships.

note2: there is a note at the end of the piece. Please read it!! :) thanks. Oh- and you guys can read it listening to Hostage by Billie Eilish or Figures by Jessie Reyez.

Prompt: #11 ”we’re not just friends, and you known it!”

Do you know the line of really good friends but not enough to become best friends? Well, this line was something between Y/n and Jack. They were introduced to each other by a mutual friend and since day one they got along pretty well. He was funny and so was she. As time went by, the hangouts started to involve only the two of them, Jack always stopping by her house to talk, y/n always waiting to have dinner with him and so on. Maybe being able to draw the line was the main reason why Jack suggested what he did and why y/n accepted it. She liked him, more than a friend, but they were not close enough to become best friends and so things wouldn’t be messy if the deal did not work. 

“How was he?” Jack asks while sipping his juice and looking at the TV screen. “I don’t know, he was ok, I mean we liked each other, but there wasn’t this kind of chemistry.” She murmurs, trying to bring back the memories of her first boyfriend. The topic was caused by a scene of the movie about two best friends becoming each other’s first relationship. 

“Do I look like him?” he asks out of the blue, and she adjusts herself, trying to take a better look at his face as he fails to hide the thoughtfulness in his eyes.

“Why do you want to know?” 

“I don’t know..just thinking if maybe you have a type” Jack jokes and y/n puffs the air out of her lungs, while drawing one of her fingers to his face to trail the sharp of his jawline. This close, looking from this angle, laying just like this, he looked like one of the many busts she was studying last week. So methodicly sculptured, sharp jaw, perfect mouth, like it was a work of art with so much mathematics involved, chasing perfection. 

But the thing is: Jack wasn’t a sculpture at all. He was a human being and taking into consideration her beliefs his face was not created by science.

“He had short hair…,” it passes through her lips while still tracing his features, “the kind you can’t even thread through your fingers. And he wasn’t as funny, but he was loud and I thought it was sweet. He wasn’t into arts or movies in general, but, still, I liked him.” 

“So, we’re pretty much different…” he concludes and she shakes her head.

“Even if he had your height, or identical hair, or eyes, you guys would never ever look alike.” Her voice was abruptly deep.

“He had zero empathy with my feelings…” she confesses, it took her so long to realize it, took many breakups until she realized the blame wasn’t on her. “I don’t know how to describe the way he made me feel guilty about my own decisions and…” Jack could not do the same, right?

In fact, she felt deeper when it came to Jack, and so it could indicate that once he hurt her, it would be way worse, but he would not, right?

The hockey player did not press her to keep talking, actually, he didn’t want to talk about the subject, didn’t want to imagine someone as good as y/n being hurt, so he just started curling a random strand of her hair on his finger and shifting his attention back to the TV. 

…

It comes as no surprise that y/n was friends with almost the whole Buffalo Sabres’ team, she would go to every possible game and be able to talk about anything with them. So when they won and went to celebrate, of course she was there, excited to hug all of her friends and make some sassy comments about their game. 

“Wayne!!!!!” y/n squeals to the tall black man in front of her. “That pass was amazing, damn!” 

“You liked it?! Sam almost killed me, saying it was a dangerous move, ugh” he engulfs her small body in his large frame.

“It was not that bad, but mine was better..” Dominik stumbled in the talk putting his arm around y/n’s shoulders. 

“Dom!!! Your game was not that bad today” she jokes standing in her tiptoes to give him a kiss in the cheek.

“What an insane game, I don’t know if I can celebrate properly, there’s so much adrenaline still…” he says while leaning in the bar bringing his friend’s body with. 

“Ooooh, baby’s want to go home?!” Wayne pokes his side and the three of them laugh. 

“By the way, where’s Jack?” y/n asks, already missing his curls and sense of humor. 

She’s not the type of person who gets attached in a way that creates codependency, usually, she’s chill, but somehow with Jack, there’s this constant desire of being close, hold hands, hear his voice or at least know he’s thinking about her too. 

But it’s not something she verbalizes, it’s one of the many things she keeps to herself, scared of scaring him, she prefers to let her feelings eat her inside than share it with him and create the slight possibility of an end of their affair. 

“Hmmm...he’s...I think…” Waynes seems a little stressed to answer and when Dominik squeezes her shoulders she knows something is wrong. “What’s up, guys?” 

Y/n turns to the left-winger player holding her and before she could press him to say something, there’s a loud commotion on one table close to them. The table of the players. The table where Jack just arrived with a girl hanging by his side. 

He’s holding her by the waist, hands a little bit lower and bodies too close together. There’s this flush on his cheeks matching the visible bruise in his neck, none of them are from the game and y/n knows it the second her eyes caught it. 

“Oh-” it’s the only sound she is able to make even though she wanted to say to both boys around her that it was okay, that her and Jack were just friends who sometimes happens to kiss and have sex, and share movie nights, and hold hands at private parties, and sleep together when the night feels lonely. Nothing more, just friends after all.

“Just ignore him, sweetheart” Wayne is not trying to defend his friend and it shows.

Her eyelids feel heavy and her breath caught in her throat like she just swallowed the slice of lemon in her cup. When it feels like her knees are giving it, the drink is not to blame this time. 

“I’m okay” she whispers.

She can almost hear the voice of her girlfriends, telling her to let Jack go.

Oh, but boy, was she a stubborn girl. 

The trio keeps talking and eventually, some other players and their girlfriends join the conversation. Jack and the girl make out for a few minutes and when he leaves the table to get a drink on the bar, he just smiles at y/n like nothing ever happened. 

That night, unlike Jack, she went home alone and cried herself to sleep.

…

It was a Thursday afternoon, one week after the club incident, she had just arrived from class and was filling in her bullet journal, before taking a bath and starting to do her work. Today was a productive day, easily so, her mind was not focused on thinking about Jack or trying to figure out how to talk to him, what to tell him and how hurt she was. Y/n and Clarice, her best friend, went to study at the library. And being the social butterfly that she was, Clarice invited some other friends, one of them was this brunette boy from one of her classes and for the first time they talked about things other than university and due dates. He was a pretty nice guy and they exchanged numbers at the end of the study session.

Even though she had to constantly brush Jack off her mind, it was actually nice to enjoy someone else’s company and feel wanted.

The knocks on her door startled her and y/n left the bedroom, walking straight to the living room, asking herself who it could be.

“Eichel?” she furrowed her brows. It’s like someone punched her right into the chest and for some seconds the air seems far away from her body. 

“Hey, I was just a little worried, you didn’t text me or anything…” he rocks back and forth in his heels a little stunned since she didn’t give space to him to get inside. 

“I was...busy” the words ‘I’m sorry’ almost slipped through her lips. 

“You’re free now?” he furrows his brows and y/n sighs lowly. “I actually got some stuff from university to do...if you don’t mind” the last part is said once his face drops a little. No one would have noticed, but she did because she knew his features like no one else. 

“I don’t...I could use some Netflix and chill and keep you company?!” his lips are stretched into a small smile, the one he usually does when he’s suggesting something and he’s not sure the person is open to it. The one he does every time he fucks up, like he did the other week. The one that usually comes with the big blue eyes staring deep into her soul. The one that always is able to make her give up.

And this time is no different.

She steps aside giving him room to get inside.

“I’ll be in my room, I need some silence to work on this assignment” it’s her best strategy to avoid him or at least be able to have some minutes of productivity. 

“Oh, I’ll be on my phone then,” he smiles, big this time. “You won’t even notice I’m in the same room.” he tries for a light joke but somehow it punches her right in the gut.

It was impossible for him to go unnoticed. At least in her world. He was so close to the center of it that sometimes she asked herself if he wasn’t the sun. 

Well, in this solar system he was the sun and she was mercury, too close, almost melting, unable to receive others. He was the closest she could ever have and cold? She never felt it.

Jack made himself comfortable on her bed while she typed away on her laptop. Or tried to type away, because once or twice he would giggle to his cell phone or get up to get water or whatever. 

“Can you please stop?!” she asked abruptly when it felt impossible to focus on her work.

“Sorryyyy” he smiles -big-, and turns his attention back to the phone. 

After half an hour and three pages, she gets up to pee and stretches her body. Jack was engulfed by his phone, typing eagerly and too distracted to notice she was walking past. Well, who could blame him?! Probably, any other person in his situation would be distracted too, it’s not every time that his hookups are open to send nudes in the normal chat - usually, they would go for Snapchat or something like that. 

“What the fuck?!” y/n stops in her tracks when her brain finally processes the image on the screen of his mobile. “Are you really sexting some random girl? In my house?!” 

“I’m not sexting, we were talking and she happened to send a picture asking my opinion…” 

“Of course, your opinion about how good her new bra looks!” her tone was angry covering how betrayed she felt.

‘Sis, he can’t even be named a cheater since you guys are not dating!’ this tiny voice inside her laughed at her feelings and remembered the bitter truth. 

“Hey, it’s not a big deal, ok?!” he rolls his eyes, suppressing the little smile in the corner of his lips. 

“It is a damn huge deal!” she almost screams. “You can’t be that blind, Jack!” 

“About what? I try my best to listen to you and do as you like and-”

“Oh my fucking god!” she grunts. “How do you pay attention to my feelings and try your best to listen to me after what you did last week?! And oh! That shit happened two months ago too and oh! I almost forgot every time you came up with a new shit that leaves me heartbroken and guess what?! You don’t come to talk to me about it, because you don’t even try to pretend that you fucking care with my feelings!” 

“Oh- what the hell, y/n?! What’s that outburst about?! Are you really fighting me like this because of a random nude?!” he left the bed, standing right in front of her. The phone forgotten on the mattress. 

“You don’t even get it, Jack…” she mutters, lips quivering.

“Well, then tell me and I will. We’re friends, y/n, we’re not supposed to have this kind of miscommunication-” 

“We’re not just friends and you know it!” her voice a few tenths louder. 

“And we’re not a couple either and you know it!” his voice is lower. Almost like he knew how deep that sentence could cut her heart.

‘See?! I told you!’ her gut screams inside her head, her own heart being the target of pity and laughs inside her. 

“Get out, Jack” y/n sights. 

“I’m just being hones-”

“GET OUT!” she screams, tired of his voice, tired of his cold heart, tired of him and most of all tired of how he made her feel. One minute in the top of the world and the other so low that rock bottom wouldn’t even live up to how she really felt.

Jack did not try to talk, or hug her, or say that he was wrong, maybe sorry?! He did nothing besides grabbing his phone and leave her house. 

The indifference kicking hard one more time in the same spot that was bruised: her heart. 

…

It’s been two weeks, Jack was on a road trip with the team and since the incident, he gave no signal of wanting to talk. So there was Clarice trying to make y/n realize that she deserved a lot more than someone like him.

“...And it feels like he’s the sun sometimes. I just feel cold and heartbroken now, you know?” Y/n grumbles laying on her bed and facing the ceiling.

“WhAT?!”

Clarice’s tone startles y/n.

“What?” she asks back.

“You can never ever make someone or something the sun of your system. It’s too dangerous, don’t you see it?!” 

She stays silent for some seconds trying to absorb her friend’s words.

“It’s not like I have a choice though…” the voice that left her mouth was a strangled one, hoarse from all the cry and scream-on-the-pillow-session.

“You do! We always do. We have a choice when we decide that we won’t take that bullshit anymore, we will focus on ourselves and nothing less. Nothing can be the center of your life, not an object, not a goal, not a person and even less so a relationship, cause once some of these things are gone?! You’re broken, too.”

Clarice gives her a sympathetic look before going for a hug, she knew that it was exactly what y/n was needing, to feel warm with anything other than Jack and eventually learn to feel it by herself.  

“I thought he was different…” she whispers.

“We all do, sweetie, we all do…” Clarice runs her fingers under y/n’s eyes trying to stop for some seconds the tears from falling. “But there’s this singer I really like and she says that it’s not our job to be someone else Karma. It’s not your job to fix him, you can help him with that, but first?! First, you need to heal yourself, we can’t lift others if we are on the ground as well.” 

Y/n took the rest of the day to rest and cry a fucking river, as Justin would say. Clarice was staying with her during the week since the two had a college assignment together and y/n could use some company. Especially if her company would make her laugh every possible time and help her with sad thoughts. Y/n spent more time with the boy from her class, Daniel and she was happy to receive all his memes and trash-talk always. 

It was almost midnight and she was deep in reading an article from college when her phone buzzed.

A message from Dominik. 

It was a picture of him holding a really colorful and big cup of drink. The team was probably celebrating one more win.

Dominik: guess the name of this drink?”

Dominik: I’m kidding, don’t.

Dominik: It’s actually ‘Y/N‘, you have the name of a drink here lol can you believe it?!” 

She giggled with her friend’s drunkenness and opened the photo again. He had this big smile, the one that makes your eyes almost close and his cheeks were red probably from the alcohol. In the background of the photo, however, there was a well-known figure laced with a girl.

Jack was kissing her and y/n wasn’t even surprised. She was hurt. 

He wasn’t different at all and she felt silly for believing it for so long. 

…

At the end of the week, when the team just landed in the city, y/n received a message from Jack.

Jack: Hey, just landed. Missing you like crazyyyy.

Jack: Can I go to your place?

Jack: we’re cool right?! 

She sighed. 

Some days without him and she was able to realize how fucked up things have been. 

She was considering a date with Daniel, her classmate, and hopefully this time Jack was not going to stop it, not like he did the other times when she tried to make the “not-exclusive” deal work for both of them. He would always show up at her house and keep her in her bed until it was too late to go out or say so much bullshit she would end up cancelling it. 

y/n: Come over, I need to talk indeed. 

She just started to realize she had been a hostage of a lot of things, college, some feelings from her childhood, her toxic family, etc. So it felt enough of playing the soft one if she was having the opportunity to stop being held against her will. 

It was twenty minutes before the knock on her door. 

He was there, smile in the corner of his lips, just like he would do after messing up. She was going to forgive him because she was trying to love herself enough and to carry hurt was a burden she was not going to put in her backpack. In fact, keep the bad feelings would only make it worse.

She smiled back, slightly, almost invisible. But he saw it, not because he knew her face as nobody did, but because he was paying attention like never before. 

“I missed you,” he mumbles entering the apartment. 

“I don’t wanna take too long, Jack. I just want to be honest with you.”

“If it is about th-”

��No. Please, let me...let me just finish ok?!” 

“Yeah, go ahead” he nodded.

“I don’t want to see you anymore. Not while I’m trying to heal. You can’t keep using me like that, can’t keep acting like I don’t have feelings, acting like seeing you in doubt did not kill me inside. I love you! You’re my friend, Jack, and that’s even worse cause it feels like I’m losing you twice. Just let me go, stop making my feelings hostage.”

“I’m sorry, I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know.” She sights. “But you did. And I’m sorry Jack, but looking at you right now – the only thing I can think of is that you look exactly like him…”

“Who?” he furrows his brows.

“My first boyfriend, the one I once told you would never look alike.”

“And you never told me why you thought we were so different…” 

“Because he didn’t care about me. He didn’t love me as much as I did and still, he kept me, I guess maybe because of the feeling of possessing someone, maybe afraid of loneliness…Still, he kept me hostage for long enough and I’m not letting you do the same.”

She handed him a box with some of his stuff that was at her place. 

It was the first step and it was a small one, but she was trying to leave the place and the people that made her feel worse. 

She was a hostage of a lot of things, some feelings from her childhood, her toxic family, Jack, but one by one, she was going to break the chains. It was enough of hurt and sorrow and madness, if she could stop being held against her will, she would.

.

note3: during this time and because of some events I realized I don't feel 100% ok writing about Jack, I decided to finish and publish this one in respect to the anon who asked (and I replied saying it was ok). So yeah, there's nothing about him in my inbox anymore and I just want to let you guys know that :) thanks.

[lonestarbabe]

Holding Out For A Hero

Chapter 7: Paralyzed (AO3)

T.K.

T.K.’s day didn’t start well. When he woke up at eight am because of his phone vibrating against his nightstand, he knew that he was getting up on the wrong side of the bed. He had every intention of not answering, but when he saw that it was mom, he picked up right away. This conversation will end one of two ways: she’ll lie about looking forward to my show tonight or she’ll make an excuse why she can’t come to the show tonight.

“Mom?” T.K. asked in case he’d somehow misread the caller ID. She didn’t usually call him. She was more of an email person. He’d tried to get her to convert to text, but she said that she already had to send emails for business anyway so it was easier to use one platform. She was one of the few women in America who didn’t want to text him; yet, she was the one who he wanted to text him the most.

“Hi, honey,” she said, and her apologetic tone made T.K.’s heart sink. It’s happening again. Not even my own mom wants to see me. She’d do anything in her power to avoid me because I’m an awful son who she got stuck with.

“When is your flight coming in?” he asked, a hint of wishful thinking in his voice. I’m such a fool. I should know better than to hope. Hope only leads to heartbreak.

“About that…” her voice was sad and slow. It had been that way since 9/11, at least to T.K. She sounded more normal at work functions. It made T.K. wonder what was wrong with him. Why am I the one who my mom can’t stand?

“You’re not coming,” T.K. confirmed, and he wondered whether she didn’t want to come because of a bout of depression or because she wasn’t interested in his career.

He imagined the way she was probably biting her lip and giving him that look she always gave him as a child and she told him that he couldn’t have something that he wanted. He didn’t expect much from her anymore.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. I just have a work thing that I can’t miss.” A work thing usually didn’t mean she actually had a work thing. When she had actual work things, she was always more specific. She loved talking about her job, so when she avoided talking about it, T.K. knew that she was overcompensating for lying.

She always did this, and he let her because she was a grown woman, and he was a grown man. They both had lives of their own, and if their lives didn’t align, that’s just how it would have to be. He’d learned to deal with it, but the sting never went away. He felt it each time she rejected his attempts at having a relationship with her. He couldn’t help but think about how unfair it was that he lost his dad and that he had also lost his mother too. She used to dote on him when he was little. She cheered him on in his kindergarten play. She made him costumes for Halloween. She did everything a mom should do and more, and then she stopped doing all that. She ditched whatever mom duties she could get away with.

After 9/11, he’d spent the whole summer with his dad’s parents, and she’d barely called him. He’d cry until he was sick on those balmy nights because he missed his family, and his whole world felt unsteady. His mom said it was good for him to get out of the city for a while, but even though it had been attacked, the city still comforted T.K. Wounded or not, it was still his home, and his mom was in it, and it made T.K. terrified to not be able to see that she was okay. He followed her around for an entire month after he’d returned home. He’d cry each day when she’d go for work. When school started, he’d go to the nurse’s office and beg one of the nurses to call his mother to pick him up. Eventually, she stopped showing up, so the nurses would give him some soda and crackers until he’d calmed down enough to go back to class.

Whenever his mom went anywhere, he worried that she would never come back. Her brow would furrow as threw another fit and begged her not to go. “I have to go to work, honey,” she would say, tired and lost without Owen. “Please, don’t make a big deal of this.” But T.K. was too scared not to throw a fit. If she never left, he never had to worry about her coming back.

Maybe I exhausted her too much then. I was too clingy, and she got tired of me being around. Maybe that’s why she needs so much space.

“It’s fine.” This was all fine. He wasn’t a kid, so he didn’t need his mom there, and she’d been to plenty of shows before. It wasn’t like she was missing anything that special. But she told me that she would be there. T.K. had been looking forward to seeing her all week. They didn’t get a lot of time to talk, and he’d imagined how nice it would be to have her around for a few hours. He’d gotten his hopes up, something that he should have known better than to do because when you get your hopes up, you can only ever be disappointed.

“Are you sure? Maybe I can catch a later flight and see you after your show.”

“No, it’s okay.” He wasn’t going to make her come if she didn’t want to. “I’ll be tired, and there’s no point flying out just for one night.”

He wanted her to protest and say that it would be a bother to fly out to see him for a few hours, but he heard her sigh in relief. “We’ll get together another time.”

“Any stop on tour I can get you tickets for. I’ll pay for accommodations too.” I’d do anything in my power to get her to a show, but no amount of cajoling will sway her.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude. I know how boys your age like to go out and have fun. I wouldn’t want to ruin that.” If she knew anything, she would know that he only liked to “go out and have fun” when he wanted to forget. It wasn’t something he did for recreation. It was a need. Something he had to do to get out of his head. Before he could answer, she said, “Well, I better go.”

“Yeah, me too.” Got to go wallow a while.

“I love you.” Those words sounded different when they were an apology.

T.K. held back a sigh. “I love you too.” T.K. hung up, and he plopped back in bed. He wished he could go back to sleep and never wake up. Maybe his mom would actually show up at his funeral. Nothing draws a crowd quite like the final show.

Carlos

Carlos’ day started with his air conditioning breaking. He was woken by a huge clunk, an in his drowsy state, it took him fifteen minutes to realize that the noise had come from the vent in his living room. The air conditioning sputtered and then came to a halt. Carlos was surrounded by an uncomfortable silence. He’d gotten used to the sound of the air conditioning always being on, and the quiet had always put him on high alert because when things were too quiet, that’s when he  With his limited knowledge, he tried to get the air conditioning to work, but the couple of youtube videos he watched and the wikihow hadn’t gotten him very far.

He was sweating with the exertion of a job not done when the doorbell rang. Carlos groaned. Who is bothering me this early? His first instinct was to think T.K., but it was 9 am, and T.K. didn’t get up that early if he didn’t have to. It was a show day, though, and everything is different on show day. T.K. sometimes had too much energy to sleep in on show day. It has to be T.K., Carlos assured himself because he hadn’t had the time to make a relationship with anyone else. There’d been a one night stand when he’d first arrived for the job, but that hadn’t been satisfying, and he hadn’t had the care to hook up with any guys since. I have my hands full with protecting T.K.

Certain that it was T.K. dropping in to visit him, as T.K. did from time to time when he was bored and needed entertainment, he didn’t even look through the peephole to see who was at the door. As a former police officer and a bodyguard, he should have known better, but he was hot and tired, making it hard to think straight.

He swung the door open, “Hey,” and the sight of the willowy blonde woman in front of him nearly knocked Carlos off his feet. “Emma? What are you doing here?”

She didn’t wait for him to ask her inside. She brushed past him and sat on the couch, patting the cushion beside her like she owned the place. “We need to talk.” Emma had always been bold, and she had always expected the world to bend to her will. Until everything with Taylor happened and there was nothing she could do to make the situation better.

“It’s been a long time.” Carlos wasn’t sure why she had popped up now. There were plenty of times when he still lived in Austin that she could have come for a visit. He chose to sit in the chair next to the couch, leaving more room between him and Emma. They had never been that close. They had only ever known each other because of Taylor. Even then, they hadn’t been more than acquaintances.

“Michelle’s still looking for her sister.” Emma’s hate for Michelle was probably a big reason why she and Carlos had never become more than two people forced to spend time together.

“She’ll never stop, and you wouldn’t either if it was someone important to you who was missing.” For all her faults, Emma was loyal to the people she loved. She’d do anything for them, which was probably why she’d come all the way to LA to see Carlos. “You’re here for your brother.”

“I’ll never forgive her for dragging you into that whole thing.” Emma hadn’t been so concerned about Carlos. It was more like she had been concerned about what the Iris situation had done to Taylor because of Carlos. “That was the beginning of the end. If you’d never gotten fired—”

“Emma, stop. That’s not what happened. Things were tumultuous before that. Me getting fired didn’t make Taylor do what he did.”

“Michelle makes things worse. She pokes at the fire until it explodes.” More than that, Michelle was a healer, and she did whatever she could to help people. She could become obsessive, but so could Carlos, which was why they got along so well. They both were dedicated to get what they want and protect people from suffering.

“Don’t talk about her like that. She’s my friend, and I offered to help.” It was true that he’d offered his help only after Michelle had begged him to do something, but he had loved Iris too, so he didn’t need much convincing. He wanted to know what happened to her nearly as much as Michelle. “I would have done it for any friend who needed me.”

“She ruined your career.” His career had been ruined for reasons much more complicated than going against orders, but it wasn’t something he’d ever talked much about. What would be the point? Carlos knew that if he had been a white, straight man that his superiors would have let his transgressions slide, but he wasn’t, so one strike and he was out. They’d been glad to get rid of him. Austin was liberal, but there was still bigotry and corruption in its systems. Other officers could commit cold-blooded murder while he’d tried to find a lost life and had been punished for it.

“I was the one who investigated a case I was told to drop.” He had been a young cop, so he’d had no business acting like a detective.

“We all know it was Michelle’s idea.” Emma acted like Carlos was just a puppy who had no autonomy. I make my own decisions. I may let other people influence me, but no one can force me to do something I don’t want or something that I don’t believe in.

“That doesn’t matter,” which was true. Carlos took responsibility for his actions. He couldn’t excuse away what he’d done just because someone else had suggested it. He didn’t even regret his actions. “What are you here for Emma?”

“Taylor isn’t doing well. I want you to come to Austin and visit him. I think it would lift his spirits.”

“I think that would send the wrong message.” He wouldn’t want to get Taylor’s hopes up when he had no intention of being part of his life again.

“You’re the love of his life,” Emma looked desperate, and he felt for her, but he couldn’t help her.

“That’s exactly why it would send the wrong message because he’s not mine. Not anymore.” Carlos wasn’t sure that he ever loved Taylor as deeply as Taylor loved him. Carlos had cared for Taylor, but their relationship was unbalanced.

“You can fake it for just a little while. He’s going crazy without you.”

“He broke up with me, not the other way around,” which had allowed Carlos to get away from Texas and start bodyguarding in LA. It was a blessing in disguise, even if he didn’t consciously realize it then.

“You weren’t going to stay with him.” That was probably true, even though Carlos would never admit it. Their relationship had been too much, and it wasn’t going to survive everything else. Carlos had needed to get away from Taylor for his own sanity, so he’d been relieved when Taylor had ended it first.

“I was never given the chance.” With everything that had happened between them, there was no reason to think that they would have been able to keep going.

Emma crossed her arms and gave him a disbelieving look. “I’m not here to argue about your intentions or what might have happened. All I want is for you to talk to him. He’s been depressed.”

“Listen, Emma. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him, but I can’t be responsible for his mental health.” Not anymore. I need to protect my own mental health. I can’t save anyone by destroying myself.

“Whatever happened to your hero complex?” Emma’s voice was cold, and he knew that she was trying to get a rise out of him. She knew how Carlos was, and she knew how to put his head in a bad place. He didn’t have time for this.

“We were toxic together, Emma. Why would you want us back in the same room?” I can’t let Taylor back in. I get lost in Taylor’s bubble, and I can’t let that happen again.

“Because I want Taylor to stay alive. I’m worried what he’s going to do to himself.”

“He’s in jail. There’s not much I can do to help him.”

“It’s your fault that he’s in there.” As much as Carlos knew that Taylor’s actions weren’t his fault, he still felt guilty about everything that happened. He wondered if he made different choices that things might’ve been different. I couldn’t help Taylor when he needed me the most. I let him down, and the damage that has been done can never be erased.

“He got himself there. I had nothing to do with it,” but the anxious, doubtful feeling in Carlos’ chest made him wonder if he was only fooling himself. Even when he’d said his goodbyes to Emma and ushered her away from his life, he knew that his bad mood wouldn’t lift easily.

T.K.

The feeling of disappointment and rejection lingered as he went about his day, and he knew that he needed to snap out of it because he wasn’t going to be able to perform if he had a rain cloud over his head for the whole damn show. He’d been resisting the temptation since the morning. He’d done pretty well, reminding himself that he needed to keep his shit together, but the more he tried to avoid doing something stupid, the more he imagined doing that stupid thing. The only way to stop thinking about doing drugs was to do drugs. I don’t want to have to think anymore.

It was only 3 pm, but he knew that he wasn’t going to get through this day without a little something extra. If he took something now, he’d be okay for his show at seven. Mellower. Happier. Hopefully. He’d be able to stop thinking so much about how he was unloved by and unimportant to his own mother and anyone else who has had the displeasure of knowing me. The only people who like me are the ones who don’t know that much about me. My fans think I’m great, but they don’t know that I only ever ruin things. The world would be better off with me in it, but here I am. Still here. Still suffering. Still a fuck up.

Before he could think better of it, he swallowed an upper, as covertly as he could, because he’d sworn off narcotics. At least for a while. He’d been pretty good about being sober, facing the world with a clarity that made him feel like he was a ball bouncing two inches from a cliff. Most of the time, but sometimes he just couldn’t stand it. His body itched to be filled. When it came to oxy, it was more than just a psychological itch. It was a physical need. It made him sick to not have it, which was why he was trying to replace with the party drugs that didn’t leave him feeling like shit when he didn’t have them. Nothing was as good as oxy, though, but E was pretty good. It was something, and it would keep his brain from spiraling too much. I really want an oxy. What if I just have one? One was one too many, he knew. If he gave in, he’d keep giving in. He had some control of himself with the stimulants, at least he liked to think that he did, but when it came to oxycodone, he had no resistance.

The restless feeling in the pit of T.K.’s stomach didn’t go away right away, but as the drug hit his bloodstream, his brain started to feel like cotton balls. I need to find Carlos and tell him how good I feel right now. He wanted to share his happiness. Because I like Carlos so much. I want to be someone who he could like back, but that’s not who I am. Too much has happened for me to be anything more than a nuisance. I’m awful, but he’s still so good to me. He treats me with dignity even if I don’t deserve it. He has such a nice smile too. He’s handsome. He’s strong. He’s brave. He’d make a really good hero. If only he could save me.

It took him fifteen minutes to find Carlos around the venue. T.K. had searched everywhere, and there weren’t a lot of places that Carlos could be, but T.K. kept getting distracted. His thoughts were fragmented, but he was too high to care. When he finally saw Carlos, he felt accomplished, and when Carlos saw T.K., he grinned. T.K. beamed back, feeling so happy to be the object of Carlos’ attention, even if just for a moment. I never want him to look away. T.K. had feelings for Carlos that he would never address when he was sober.

T.K. couldn’t help but throw his arm around Carlos’ shoulder. I want to be close to him. I don’t feel close to people often. The feel of Carlos’ sturdy body under T.K.’s arm made T.K. forget all the gapping distance in his life. “You’re so nice, Carlos. You always make sure I’m okay, and you make me laugh when everything seems unfunny.” I love him so much. “I never have to worry when I’m near you. I always hate it when you go away. I hate it when anyone goes away.”

“What are you talking about?” Carlos said distractedly, paying closer attention to the security briefing he was reading than T.K. He didn’t notice the glossiness in T.K.’s eyes or how he was clearly having a mental breakdown muted by a pill that made everything feel good even though life was so gray. Maybe it’s better that way.

“I just really like you because you don’t act like I’m the gum on the bottom of your shoe. I’m, like, the gum in your mouth. You know, a fresh piece of gum that you actually enjoy. Not the gum after an hour when it tastes like nothing and makes your jaw hurt. You make me feel like the five seconds of delight you get from bubblegum.” It was as close to a love confession as T.K. could come. He didn’t even know if what he was feeling was love or admiration. Whatever it was, he didn’t want Carlos to leave him. He’d be devastated when he did because he will. Sooner or later everyone leaves.

Carlos looked up, seeming concerned, and T.K. shrunk in on himself. Maybe he can look away just this once. I don’t want him to see me like this— high, crazy, broken. T.K. felt a sudden pang of shame. He wished he could vanish and take back the words that he’d said to Carlos. They’re too honest. Too insane. I shouldn’t fall in love, or admiration, so fast. I barely know anything about him other than that he’s nice to me. It’s pathetic to love someone just because they don’t treat you like shit.

Carlos

Carlos narrowed his eyes, looking T.K. over, and now that he was paying attention, he could tell that something was very wrong, and it made him sick to think that T.K. was not okay. This is not good. T.K. is not okay. He has a show tonight, and I should have noticed that something was off sooner. It’s my job to protect him, and I can’t do that when he’s so set on hurting himself. “You’re high,” Carlos stated. There was no questioning or doubt in his tone. This was not what Carlos wanted to deal with when he came to work. He was already reeling from his visit with Emma, and now T.K. was on a path of self-destruction, and Carlos didn’t know how to deal with it. How am I supposed to help him? How do I keep him safe from himself?

“I’m not,” T.K. refuted, and his voice sounded weak. “Please, Carlos, you have to believe me. I know I’m acting weird but…” he trailed off, excuses failing to be fabricated. I knew he wasn’t going to get better overnight. This shouldn’t have caught me off guard. I should be better prepared for this. I should know what to say, but I don’t. I just want to shake him and hope that sense settles into his brain and slaughters all the mental illness. That’s not how it works, though. I am powerless. All I can do is stand here and hope that he’s okay. Just like I did with Taylor. I couldn’t control Taylor just like I can’t control T.K. If it were any other client other than T.K., Carlos wouldn’t have felt so strongly. T.K. hit all the right buttons that made Carlos want to shield him from all bad things in the world. I have feelings for him, unprofessional ones, and I’m worried that I have them because of Taylor. T.K.’s so different from Taylor, but he’s just the same in all the wrong ways.

“Don’t lie to me,” Carlos shouted. T.K. bit his lip, and Carlos could see the hesitance on his face. “Lying to me is only going to make me angrier,” and Carlos knew that he needed to hold in his temper. He could feel all the feelings of this day bubbling up and threatening to burst from his body in a slimy, filthy goo of past and present worries culminating into one nasty monster. He tried to keep his tone down, but he was being as loud as he could be without drawing attention to them. He needed T.K. to know that this situation was serious. It wasn’t something Carlos was going to ignore the next day when T.K. had sobered up and was acting normal again.

“Fine, I am. I’m high. What’s it to you? You’re my bodyguard. Not my mom or even my manager.” I care, dumbass, he wanted to say, but he couldn’t form those words on his tongue between all the anxiety and fear that were forming words of their own.

“Why can’t you get it through your thick skull that I am here to keep you safe, and if you’re high, I can’t do that. You making it impossible to do my job, T.K. I didn’t sign up to care what you do in your personal life, but I am getting paid to keep you safe. If you’re going to mess up your life, at least do it on your own time, and don’t drag me into it. I like this job, and I want to keep it.” I like you, and I want to keep you.

T.K. froze, looking startled, and he looked like he was going to try to return a nasty remark, but his mouth opened, and then it closed again. I’m such a jerk. T.K. looked like he might cry, and Carlos couldn’t blame him. Carlos had long ago trained himself not to cry when the hot bubbles of sadness, fear, and frustration pricked at his eyes, but when he was alone, he cried a lot, letting the feeling vacate his body like soda from a shaken bottle.

Carlos couldn’t take the silence so he continued on his tirade. “You have so many people rooting for you, but then you go and do things like this. You can’t keep doing the same old things and expect that the people around you aren’t going to be impacted. You’re entitled to your feelings, but everyone else has feelings too, and you never seem to consider those.”

“That’s not how it is,” T.K. tried to argue, but Carlos was already fired up, and he couldn’t be reasoned with.

“It is, T.K. You hurt other people with your actions, and I’m not saying this to make you feel bad, but you’re unhappy, and you’re dragging everyone down with you. I don’t want to be unhappy.” I’ve worked too hard to get away from my unhappiness to go back.

T.K.

“Stop yelling at me,” T.K. said because he couldn’t take the way Carlos’ words made him feel. Every insecurity T.K. had about being too selfish, too needy, and a waste of space was amping up, and the cloudy happiness of his high was clearing with Carlos’ words, but he was still high enough that the pain of what Carlos was saying wouldn’t strike him until later when his show was over and he had time to think without the assistance of Ecstasy. When he sobered up, Carlos’ words would hurt more than T.K. would ever admit. I must pretend like things don’t hurt because denial is a substance nearly as strong as a pill.

“You’re fucking up your life. You have a show, and you can’t just go around popping pills when you have a job to do.” I’m just a job to him. I am the gum on the bottom of his shoe, after all. I’m the unsatisfying bubble gum that has lost all its flavor. I can’t believe I thought he might care. He’s no different than anyone else. He doesn’t know me. He just follows me around and sees most of my life, but he doesn’t care to look at me more than he has to. I’m just a junkie who is useless and ruins everyone’s life.

“Not for like three and a half hours,” which was a bad excuse considering that once T.K. took a drug, his whole day was set up to be unproductive. He couldn’t get his head screwed back on once he went down the addiction rabbit hole.

“You need to stop this shit.” T.K. hated being lectured. The person who had a right to lecture him was dead, and he didn’t want to care about what anyone else thought. Still caught up on my dead dad.

“It’s not that easy.” Trying to be sober was one of the hardest things that T.K. had ever done. It wasn’t like he could just decide to stop and be done with it. It took time and too much effort. Being mentally healthy required the energy that being mentally ill had taken.

Carlos’ face softened. “I know it’s not, but you still need to try. You can’t keep acting like you’re invincible. This could kill you.” T.K. logically knew that Carlos’ hard words were because he was worried, but that didn’t stop the thoughts of inadequacy from clumping in his head like a blood clot.

“I know that.”

“But you don’t take this seriously.” He couldn’t take anything too seriously without having to do self-analysis that he wasn’t ready to do.

“I do. I went to the therapist that you and Judd wanted me to see.” That was technically a lie, but Carlos doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah, but are you putting the work in, T.K.? Are you trying to do better? Or are you going through the motions?”

“This is my first relapse. It’s not even oxy. There’s no need to freak out.”

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“I wanted to, but I didn’t.”

“What did you take?” T.K. didn’t see how it mattered because it’s not like he could do anything about it now.

“Who cares?” No one should. There’s no reason to care about someone like me.

Carlos gritted his teeth. “I care.” It made him feel like a loser, but hearing the words, “I care,” did something to T.K. It melted some of the rage and stubbornness he was feeling, and it made him want to confess everything to Carlos. To be vulnerable. But only for a second.

“Ecstasy.” He hadn’t premeditated taking it, but he had kept a stash of it just in case. So, maybe it had been more planned than I realized.

“That isn’t good for you either.” That’s the whole point! I like destruction. I like being wasted. I like wasting my life. Maybe my misery will end sooner this way.

“I don’t fucking care.” I care, but I can’t let myself care. Caring only brings pain, and I’ve had enough pain in my life. People have had it worse than me without ruining their lives, and I can’t understand how they do it. I’m not strong enough to be like them. I’m weak, and I’m a loser charading to the world as someone who matters. But I don’t matter, and no matter how many hit songs I have, I never will because no one will ever know the real me.

T.K. felt a surge of rage fill him, and he didn’t know what to do with it. It was going to consume him, and before he could think better of it, T.K. punched the wall, and with the drugs, he didn’t feel the strong as much as he might've, but he could see spots of blood on his knuckles where the skin had been peeled off. Carlos’ eyes grew wide, and without saying anything, he dragged T.K. into the bathroom and sat him down on the closed toilet seat.

Carlos

The day had gone from annoying to horrendous, and it seemed to keep getting worse. I shouldn’t have yelled at him. I’m such an asshole. He’s an addict. I can’t expect that he’ll get instantly better. I know how addiction works, and I know how hard it can be to stop using a substance. Carlos hated seeing T.K. go through this. It never got easier to see someone important to you struggling.“Are you okay?”

Carlos exhaled. “I’m sorry. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have blown up at you.”

“It’s not,” T.K. refuted. “I took drugs before you yelled at me, so pretty sure it’s my fault.”

“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have taken my feelings out on you. I had a hard morning.” He felt like the worst person alive for yelling at T.K. Carlos knew that the drug use wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it could have been avoided if he had been more careful with his words. He should have sensed that T.K. was spiraling before it had gotten to the point that it had, but he had been so caught up in his own shit that he’d not done his job. I need to start acting more like a professional. I should have never lashed out at a client. I’d resign if I didn’t think that T.K. would drive any other bodyguard away. He needs me here, and I need him to be alive.

“Are you okay?” Carlos looked exhausted, he knew, but everyone who was part of the tour got exhausted. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, dude.”

Carlos ran a comforting hand through T.K.’s hair, but he quickly pulled it away because it didn’t make him feel like he was just T.K’s friend. “I’m okay.” He’d been having a lot of nightmares lately, but it wouldn’t be professional to say so. Like any of this is professional anymore. I’ve crossed so many lines. I’ve gotten too close. I’m compromised, but I can’t walk away. “I’m more worried about what happened with you today. Do you need to talk about your relapse.”

T.K. shook his head, looking down at his hands instead of Carlos. “No. I’d rather not talk about that.”

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“You already apologized. What I did wasn’t because of you. I was having a bad day, so wasn’t something you did to set me off. That was the final straw I guess.”

“I’m just saying that you shouldn’t, like, feel guilty about it or anything, and you can’t treat me like glass just because I might slip up.”

“I’ll do better T.K.”

“I’m an addict. You don’t need to do better. I need to do better.”

“Okay,” Carlos said, and he didn’t look convinced.

“You know that moment when you take a bath and dip your head underwater and the world is muted. You still hear sound, but it’s so distant that you can detach it from yourself, and in that moment, it feels like you can finally breathe, but obviously, if you stayed under there, you’d drown. So, you come back up only to crave wanting to be in the water again, even if it kills you.” Carlos didn’t know that feeling, not that exact one, but he knew what it felt like to have your head dipping underwater and bobbing back up when you never know when you’ll be able to breathe and when you’ll have to hold your breath. That feeling lingered. It followed him no matter where he went, and it could be suffocating, but it was never life-threatening.

Carlos nodded sympathetically, “Sometimes drowning feels like a noble pursuit rather than a death mission.”

T.K. sighed. “Yeah, and sometimes a death mission feels like a noble pursuit.”

[chucksbruins]

two ghosts, ch. 7

Author’s Note: So sorry this took so long but hope you guys enjoy!

Things after the party returned to relatively normal between Eliza and Tyler, save for the occasional text from her congratulating him on a big game, or him complaining about having to deal with Meredith and Roope’s overzealous flirting. Eliza wouldn’t call their relationship a friendship, but they were definitely more than just acquaintances. On the few times that Meredith had managed to drag her to a nightclub and the Stars showed up, they exchanged pleasantries but he never bought her more than one drink before his attention was swept away by a leggy blonde or the occasional brunette. Eliza was at least glad he diversified his conquests on the occasion.

Whilst neither friends nor acquaintances, they had certainly never crossed the line of asking the other to hang out outside of an unplanned run-in or group activity. Until Tyler’s name had popped up on Eliza’s phone screen twenty minutes earlier with a simple request.

“Are you busy tonight? I need to see you.”

A million scenarios ran through Eliza’s mind, her emotions ranging from complete confusion to curiosity that couldn’t be denied. She responded to let him know that she was in fact free and asked what time he was thinking.

“9 pm. I’ll come to yours.”

Unsure how he could possibly have remembered her address from the one time he dropped her home, a new sense of worry washed over her. She knew she should have taken an Uber. Pushing her thoughts aside, she quickly changed from her sweatpants into a pair of grey leggings, throwing a knitted sweater over her T-shirt with 10 minutes to spare. Adding a spritz of her favorite perfume, she looked in the mirror and debated putting on makeup but figured her natural look was better than rushing and looking like a clown. Just as she was swiping on a coat of lip balm, the doorbell rang.

The sight of Tyler standing in her doorway was almost comical. Besides the way his broad shoulders just barely fit between the width of the door, his tailored pants and suit jacket screamed money while the peeling paint of her doorway said the opposite. Everything about the picture just seemed out of place and only reaffirmed to Eliza that a guy like Tyler did not belong in her life. His brows were furrowed, but otherwise his face gave no indication of his emotions.

“Can I come in?”

Eliza stepped back to allow him space to get by her, letting out a quiet breath as she shut the door behind him. She followed him, suddenly nervous, as he made his way into her apartment. She couldn’t explain the feelings of anxiety that coursed through her as she watched him take in her small living room and even smaller kitchen. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the memories of the last time she had been in the same apartment as a man out of her mind. Tyler, whilst sometimes and asshole and most definitely a playboy, was not Evan.

“Can I get you anything? Tea? Water?”

Tyler finally turned around and gave her a wry smile. “Got anything stronger than that?”

Eliza laughed. “So, it’s that kind of night, hey?”

Fishing through her top cabinet, she pulled out a bottle of Jameson and set it on the counter as Tyler followed her into her kitchen. Pouring a sizeable amount into two glasses, she joined Tyler at the small table where Tyler was now sprawled.

“So....are you going to explain why you’re here?” Eliza asked, her voice more abrasive than she’d meant.

Tyler stared down at his glass before taking a hefty swig and emptying it. Eliza quirked an eyebrow as he finally lifted his eyes to meet her own.

“I needed a distraction and you were the first person I thought to call.”

Eliza scoffed, using all of her self-control to refrain from rolling her eyes at him. She took a sip of her own drink before continuing on.

“Tyler, we both know that’s just simply not true. I’m sure there are a million and two ‘Ashley’s’ in your phone who would just die for your name to pop up on their screen. Plus, I’m not sure what kind of distraction you had in mind, but I’m not sleeping with you just for you to feel better.”

Tyler stared unamused at Eliza, although she was unsure whether the flush across his cheeks was indicative of the whiskey that was coursing through his system or from her knowingly calling him out.

“Eliza I’m very aware there are other girls I could easily call if all I needed was a fuck.”

Downing the rest of her drink, she stood abruptly from the table, slamming her glass on the counter before turning back to him in annoyance.

“Alright, well if you’re not here to get laid why are you here Tyler. And maybe try answering the fucking question without insulting me this time.”

Letting out a heavy breath, Tyler made his way to Eliza, leaning his hip against the counter and towering over her.

“Hey, hey, hey I’m sorry okay? I came here to talk because you’re the only person in my whole fucking life that I figured wouldn’t care about the fact that I haven’t scored in a month who wouldn’t try to just sleep with me to make me ‘feel better’.”

The accusatory hardness that held Eliza’s features softened, her brows furrowing as her eyes filled with a warmth that Tyler couldn’t deny pierced through his exasperation and spread through his chest. It was a feeling Tyler had been unfamiliar with for a very long time, and everything in him screamed to push her away, knowing he had already admitted too much. He couldn’t explain what had compelled him to text Eliza after their crushing loss and while his head battled with whether or not it had been a good idea, one look in her eyes made him feel calmness like he never had before.

Letting out a sigh, Eliza hesitated, drawing her lip between her teeth before folding herself into Tyler’s chest. As if on instinct, his arms wrapped around her small body as his head dropped onto her head as he squeezed her closer. Tyler truly couldn’t remember the last time he had hugged someone off the rink after a goal, and all of Dallas was enjoying reminding him that that hadn’t happened in far too long.

On the other hand, Eliza wasn’t entirely sure what compelled her to wrap herself around Tyler’s firm torso, knowing only that the sadness and frustration in his eyes were too much for her to handle. The only thing that ran through her mind was her mother’s voice, soft and kind as she would squeeze Eliza’s small body into her own and remind her that ‘Every problem in the world can be made a little bit better with a hug’. As she felt the tension release from his body, Eliza started to pull away, Tyler reluctantly dropped his arms from around her waist although the two remained only inches apart.

“Sorry,” Eliza mumbled, her eyes trained on his dress shoes as a sudden shyness overcame her.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize,” Tyler replied, his voice low and filled with seriousness.

Eliza sighed, turning back to the sink as she rinsed the two glasses before setting them back into the cupboard.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked quietly, her voice heavy with sincerity.

The pair made their way to the couch, falling into the old leather on opposite ends. Tyler took in the room around him; it was small and sparse of photos or mementos but still radiated warmth – much like the girl sat across from him. Leaning his head against the back of the couch, he let out a breath and began.

“I just, when I moved here from Boston I was determined not to be as lonely as I had been there. I mean, when I got drafted I was just a kid, you know? And they stuck me in this big high-rise apartment – the dream – but I was all alone. Didn’t know how to cook, barely knew how to do my own laundry, I was totally pathetic. Obviously, the guys were great, Marchy’s still one of my best friends, but they all had lives. Like they were all family guys or had a rocket of a girlfriend that they’d somehow found before they got drafted or who had stuck around for longer than a few months.”

Pausing, Tyler glanced back at Eliza whose eyes were fixed on him and never had he had anyone appear to listen so intently to the things he was saying outside of the press room. Shifting a few inches closer to him, she gave him a tight smile to encourage him to continue.

“Boston’s a huge sports city, right? So obviously the minute I started scoring goals people started recognizing me wherever I went. Which at first was totally awesome, I was this eighteen year old kid who could get served at any bar I wanted, had like twenty-five year old rockets slipping me their number on the street, it seemed like the life. Since all the other guys were busy with their families or whatever, I made other friends – guys I’d meet when I went out and eventually they became my friends. But the thing is, I was playing better than I ever had – hell we won the Stanley that year – but if I wasn’t out at a club I was alone at home save for the random girl who forced herself home with me.”

Eliza quirked an eyebrow at him.

“Okay fine, who I brought home with me.”

She smiled fully this time, inching ever closer once again.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that Boston was awesome for hockey but awful for me and I swore it was going to be different when I got to Dallas. Don’t get me wrong, Jamie is the best friend I’ve ever had but he’s basically married to Katie and I feel like I’m just right back to where I started. I know I’m not great at the whole adult thing, hell the longest relationship I’ve ever had is with my dogs but now that I can’t seem to score a fucking goal, it’s like I can’t even do hockey right.”

Eliza could feel her heart breaking in her chest, and in that moment she felt like she could see past all the bullshit and bluster that Tyler gave to everyone else. She still couldn’t explain why he deemed her the one he could talk to about all of this, but she immediately felt like she understood why he came off the way he did. Despite all of the fans and his posse of adoring women, at the end of the day all he had was himself and his dogs. And not to say dogs can’t keep the bed warm and aren’t great companions, but sometimes you just need a person. Hell, Eliza could probably understand that better than anyone – in all the months prior to leaving Boston, despite the millions of signs telling her that she needed to get out, she was terrified that she couldn’t make it on her own.

Closing the rest of the space between them, Eliza reached out and took Tyler’s hand in her own and gave him a squeeze. Meeting her eyes, two sad and broken souls finally felt seen.

Speaking softly, Eliza trained her eyes on their conjoined hands before continuing. “Tyler, you have to know you’re more than just a hockey player. There’s undoubtedly so many people who would love you just as much as they do now even if you never picked up a hockey stick.”

“Fewer than you’d think,” he muttered, his eyes still fixed on her delicate features.

Pausing before continuing, Eliza swallowed her nerves and figured her pride wasn’t worth the comfort that the man in front of her so clearly needed.

“I liked you before I ever knew you played hockey.”

Upon seeing the smile that started to creep across his face, she smiled before clarifying, “Annoying, yes. Way too cocky and very much in love with himself? Most definitely. But I didn’t not like you.”

Pulling her closer towards him by their conjoined hands, Eliza’s body was jolted from her position on the couch and fell on top of his hard chest. Weaving his large hand around the base of her skull, he intertwined his fingers in her hair as their foreheads fell together.

“You know something Lizzie? I don’t not like you either.”