#they’d tweet the night before saying a surprise is coming

[booksandpaperss]

y’all wouldn’t it be so funny if for ST day this year they drop episode 1 of season 5 with absolutely no warning bc we all know they have it filmed already

it would be so funny to see the internet absolutely loose their shit lmaooo

[butdaddyilovehim-hs]

Enough For You

Based on this ask :)

Summary: Harry kisses EmRata in Tokyo and Y/N his girlfriend finds out on Twitter

Warnings: angst, sadness, insecurities

Word Count: ~ 2k

“Hi my love. Just calling to say I miss you and I love you more than anything. I know it’s super early for you so listen to this when you wake up and know that I’m thinking of you! Call me when you’re up.” 

Y/N smiles tiredly as the sound of Harry’s low tone rumbles through the speakers. She loved the little messages he left for her to listen to when she wakes, since she’d been missing him so much on tour. They’d been together for almost two years but Y/N still wasn’t quite used to all the time they spent away from each other. Harry was constantly touring and while she tried to join him as often as she could, she had a full time job that she loved and she couldn’t just up and leave. Harry wasn’t due to come back for another 3 weeks but Glenne had let it slip that he had a few days off in Tokyo and Y/N decided to surprise him. She was flying out on a red-eye tomorrow evening and meeting him in the city. 

She wasn’t really sure how she had gotten so lucky with Harry. They hardly ever fought, he’s kind and attentive and he really loved her. She knew he did and he made sure she knew it. They had been nervous being seen together in public because Y/N enjoyed her privacy and she had seen the internet tear apart Harry’s previous girlfriends. But, Harry’s fans had surprised her and been nothing but supportive of their relationship. Y/N even followed a few update accounts on instagram, thinking how sweet it was that they cared so much. Harry liked to joke that they were bigger fans of her than they were of him. 

Jeff however, was not Y/N’s biggest fan. He had severely advised Harry against making things public with Y/N saying that “his image needed someone well known.” That comment had caused a rift between the two men as Harry fiercely and loudly defended his love for Y/N. Jeff had since apologised but things had been slightly tense ever since. Y/N tried not to let it get to her. She knew that it wasn’t strictly personal and he just wanted the best for his client. 

“Hi my love. Daily update for you. I’m about to go on for the last show in Tokyo. I adore it here, wish you could be here with me. We’re heading out for some drinks with the crew after the show tonight. I think Jeff is bringing some people for press and all that. No shows for a few days so at least I can let loose tonight. Mostly a boring update today but I miss you! Talk soon sunshine.”

Y/N blinks the sleep from her eyes as she listens to Harry’s message, before properly looking at her phone. He would have sent that around 7 hours ago and her brow furrows slightly at the plethora of notifications on her phone. A quick glance at her notification screen shows a lot of missed calls, texts and twitter mentions. Y/N’s been with Harry long enough to know that the fastest way for her to get information is on Twitter. 

So she clicks on the notification. Then she clicks on the link. And she immediately regrets it as her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach. Because it’s a video of Harry and a woman she doesn’t immediately recognise because all she can really focus on is the way his body is moulded against hers and the way their lips are attached and the way the video is over a minute long. 

Harry and EmRata in Tokyo last night?!? Did he break up with Y/N??? You guys WHAT IS GOING ON?

Did you guys see the video?

Guys what the fuck?! I didn’t even know they broke up…

Y/N and Harry were together a few weeks ago? Did Harry cheat on her? He looks pretty drunk in the clip

#HarryStylesEmRata

#HarryY/NBreakUp

It’s tweet after tweet after tweet and Y/N sits upright on their bed, silent and numb for a moment. Then she promptly rushes to the bathroom and throws up. 

She calls in sick from work and takes her time in the shower, turning up the heat and letting the water soothe her. It isn’t until after she’s changed and catches sight of her screen lighting up again and again that she cries. Sinks to the floor with a gut wrenching sob, clutching her chest as though her heart is actually going to break. Because she knows it’s him. And he’ll tell her he’s sorry. He’ll tell her he loves her and he was drunk and it meant nothing. But all Y/N can think to herself is “Why wasn’t I enough?”

Y/N isn’t prepared for it her to physically be in pain but she is. The tears flow down her cheeks and it’s almost never-ending as she finally has the courage to pick up her phone and read through her notifications. Some texts are from friends checking she’s alright, wondering if they broke up, one is from Gemma and about 40 are from Harry. He’s called her about 30 times, sent multiple text messages and left voicemails. 

She opens Gemma’s text first, because it’s all she can really bare at the moment. The two women were close and Gemma knew just how much Y/N loved her brother. 

(8:19am) Gem: I’m going to fucking kill him. Y/N I am so sorry for my idiot brother. Are you ok? Shall I come over?

(9:07am) Y/N: No don’t come over. I’ll be ok. 

(9:08am) Gem: Did you talk to him? Please tell me you’re going to work it out. 

Y/N bites her lip as she stares at Gemma’s message. She types and erases before finally sending something in response.

(9:12am) Y/N: We haven’t spoken. He’s called though. And, I don’t know if we can Gemma.

Y/N decides she can’t bring herself to listen to Harry’s voicemails so she opens his texts first.

(5:06am) H: Y/N I need to talk to you about what happened when I went out last night. You’re probably asleep but I’ve tried calling. Just… please call me when you get this.

(5:49am) H: Well there are videos on the fucking internet. Please don’t watch them before talking to me. You have to let me explain my love. Please hear me out. 

(6:16am) H: Y/N I can’t tell if you’re asleep or whether you’re ignoring me. Baby I am so sorry. I had way too much to drink and Jeff arranged for her to be there and I… please call me back. 

There were 6 other texts, which were all similar variations of the same thing before a final one about an hour ago.

(8:19am) H: I’m flying back home to talk to you. Stay in the apartment please. 

Y/N knows that it’s almost 15 hours from Tokyo to London. She also knows that Harry is crazy enough to fly out of the country in the middle of tour. So she waits, wraps herself in blankets and lets the tears dry on her cheeks. 

~

It’s close to midnight when Y/N hears the key turn in the lock and her heart stops. Because he’s here and she’s here and she isn’t sure she’s going to be able to get a word out without crying. Y/N keeps her eyes down as she hears him walk into the bedroom and drop his bags on the floor. She looks up at him slowly, taking in his red rimmed eyes and dishevelled appearance. He stays close to the doorway, his movement slow and calculated as though he’s scared she’ll run if he gets too close. 

“Love, I am SO sorry.” Harry starts speaking, walking towards her slowly and Y/N’s eyes fill with tears. 

“What did I do wrong? Why wasn’t I enough for you?” 

Y/N’s voice breaks off into a sob and Harry feels it like a knife to the chest. She hadn’t meant for that to be the first words out of her mouth but it’s what she’s feeling. Every insecurity she’d ever had, had just multiplied itself by 10 and come pouring out. Harry reaches out to tuck her hair behind her ear and Y/N flinches at the contact. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I fucked up Y/N. Jeff invited her over as a good press opportunity and I had too much to drink and she kissed me.” He moves to sit beside her on the bed and Y/N brings her knees in to her chest. 

“Harry. You kissed her back. I saw the video, you don’t need to lie to me. I… I can smell her perfume.” Y/N feels nauseous again and Harry looks at her with the most broken look on his face. 

“Y/N it didn’t mean anything I swear. I was trashed and I got carried away.”

“Carried away? Harry, I saw the way you were holding her. You were kissing her like you were in love with her.”

“Y/N-”

“You kissed her like you kiss me.” It comes out almost as a whisper. Like a secret observation Y/N had been holding in. 

“That’s not true. All I do is think about you Y/N. I’ve just missed you so much and I-”

“Sorry sorry hold on.” Y/N cuts him off with a watery, bitter laugh. “You missed me so much that your solution was to make out with another woman? Right. Got it.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I don’t love her. I love you. I flew here to tell you that. You’re my whole life. And I will spend the rest of mine trying to make this up to you. Because I can’t lose you Y/N.” He grabs onto her hand and squeezes and Y/N’s heart tells her to forgive him because she loves him. But her mind speaks before her heart catches up. 

“I think you already have.”

A/N: Sorry guys :) Thinking of leaving this as a one shot...

Tags: @lukesaprince @harryspirate @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @lilyrmason12 @styleslover-1994 @stylesfever @kathb59 @indierockgirrl @bxbyysstuff @gills-lounge @lomlhstyles @opheliaofficial07 @behindmygreyeyes @gem1712 @stylesmoonlight12 @babyiamperfectforyou

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twelve

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: This part took way too long to write. Had a bit of writers block ngl, but I managed to get it done last night when I couldn't sleep. Be prepared for a load of fluff but also some surprises. It's a good chapter, I enjoyed writing it once I finally got into it! But I'm also sorry for long wait! Hopefully the next will be along soon.

> Just a reminder! We left off on the red carpet with Mouse and Matty:) You can look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Mouse Updates! @/MOAMupdates 22m ago GFC Charity Event! The gals are currently live and interviewing The 1975! So far we’ve had Jamie Bell, Peter Capaldi, Dylan and Jordan Banjo! 2TIME @/user1 WHAT was that? 102 @/user2  chemistrychemistrychemistry Ugh! @/user3 SHE COOKED FOR HIM?? Soloveme? @/user4 What’s going on at this event?? It’s all over my feed😭 MILK @/user5 Screaming this is honestly all so mental Parisin75 @/user6 Wait so they’re friends now? Or is something else happening?? > Too_shy @/user7 Last time I checked but he seemed so happy on the carpet, and he wouldn’t look into the lens at all. His eyes were always focused just above it, either on Adi or Mouse! >> Drumonmepls @/user8 Couldn’t have been Adi!! She was to the left of Ross on and off screen!

***

It was days after the event that things seemed to finally settle again. For Matty, at least. Me? I was still getting the odd DM and tweet here and there, but I couldn’t complain, not with how it had been at the very start. Hordes upon hordes of people had come to make their opinions known on the stance of Matty and I’s ‘sudden’ friendship; fans had taken to both Twitter and Instagram, they’d called into the show, and a few had even turned up outside of the studio.

Matty had been helpful throughout it all though, mainly just finding ways to take my mind off of it and sending security down to the building just to ‘be on the safe side’. It’d been a nice gesture, sweet even. But had also meant that his management team had cracked down on him and the band, cooping the lot of them up in a recording studio and pressing them to finish up the album they were currently working on.

That in itself hadn’t affected me much, the whole Matty being distracted by work thing, because it had happened around about the same time that prep work for the Christmas period had kicked in. Which was basically a time where Adi and I focused on pre recording a few shows so that we could sail smoothly into the new year.

This year it had been hectic, to say the very least, but Finn had been a Godsend. Offering to pick up Teddy from nursery on the days when we were filming late and even keeping him occupied on the one weekend that we’d lost the previous day's audio- which had been a fucking nightmare.

Today though, was finally a day where I got some time to myself. Well, myself and Teddy, seeing as I’d completely and utterly missed him even with only having been gone a few extra hours in the day than usual. Still, the kid was my little ball of light and without him I’d be utterly lost.

“Alright there, Teds, what’re you drawing?”

It was a Sunday, the 17th to be precise, and so we only had a week and a bit left in the lead up to Christmas. I’d spent the morning wrapping most of Teddy’s presents before he’d woken and demanded sustenance- which, fair enough. But he was always a little moody whenever he first woke up. Bit like me, I suppose. And so, whilst I’d started cooking him his breakfast, I’d settled him down at the table with some paper and pens to keep him distracted, an old album by The Cranberries playing.

“Plane.” The toddler retorted easily enough, tongue poking out one side of his mouth in utmost concentration.

Grinning at the small action, I settled a cup of juice before him and then stroked a hand through his unruly hair. “Is that for mémé then?”

Teddy hummed, nodding his head at the odd angle it was resting at. I chuckled, always enamoured by his every little thing.

“That’s brilliant, bubs! I’m sure she’ll love it.” I assured him softly, trailing my fingers through his hair one last time before withdrawing to finish up with cooking.

“How many days?” Teddy asked once I’d plated everything up and taken my seat beside him at the table, immediately I knew what he was on about- seeing as he’d only asked the same question a dozen times a day since the last time we’d phoned my mum.

I pretended to think about it long and hard. “Um… about this many days.” I said, holding up six fingers.

Teddy’s brow instantly furrowed as he set about leaning as close as he could get over the tabletop to point towards each of my fingers. “One, two, three…”

“Six!”

I beamed once he’d finally got it, clapping along with him. “So good, you clever boy! Six- six days til mémé gets here!”

Teddy repeated the words in a breathy murmur, grinning gummily back at me as he wiggled in his chair. Then it was just “six” over and over again for a short while.

I tittered faintly to myself, shaking my head before we went about the rest of our breakfast in much the same manner.

It was almost ten to eleven when the doorbell went and I frowned at the thought of who it could possibly be.

“Mum, door.” Teddy informed me, still so invested in his colouring. I hummed softly in turn, wiping my hands before getting up to go answer it.

“Remember to put the lids back on.” I reminded him about the pens, tucking his hair behind his ear as I rounded his seat, “I’ll just be a sec, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

I smiled softly at his monosyllabic reply, listening to him mumble to himself as I padded my way into the hallway. From here I could just make out the darkened shadow standing on the other side of the door’s paned glass and flicked through a mental list of who it could possibly be, wondering if I'd forgotten anything that was supposed to be happening today. But I reckoned it could just as easily have been Finn dropping by for an impromptu visit, or Adi even.

Flicking the latch and pressing down on the handle, I opened it up only to blink at the figure that stood before me. They gifted me an impish grin as they pushed away from the door’s stoop and onto steady feet.

“Figured I’d just pop by, say hello.” Matty mentioned by way of hello, fiddling with an unlit cigarette he held between his fingers whilst I continued to stare back in surprise, “Studio’s been booked for the day, so I managed an easy escape.” He added when I made no move to reply, “Thought we could grab a coffee or something- if you ain't busy, that is.”

He tacked that last bit on in a rush, as though he was beginning to understand why I was so silent. He’d really, really caught me off guard here.

“Er, I mean it’s a bit out of the blue and that. Should've really texted, I know. But I figured I'd try my luck.” He blundered again, shifting awkwardly on my front step now, looking enough out of place for it to finally blink me out of my stupor.

“I-” I went to say but was ultimately interrupted by another voice from further inside the flat, one that was approaching on toddling feet all too fast for me to react to its sudden presence.

Matty’s eyes bulged a tad at the little face that poked its way out from behind my knees, and mine followed when it finally hit me what was actually happening. 

“God, sorry! You just- it’s- I just wasn’t expecting you.” I fumbled, arms reaching down on impulse to pick up the toddler by my feet. I forced out a heavy breath before plastering on a big smile for Teddy, who only seemed to have eyes for the curly haired man staring back at him. “Um, you wanting to come in then? I can do tea, I think. Coffee, even.”

I didn’t really give Matty much of a choice in the matter though, in truth, because I was sailing away to escape the sudden scenario that had started on my doorstep, simply so that I could wrap my head around it all. It was just as I made it back into the kitchen that I heard the door rattle close behind us though and then, as I'd perched Teddy back in his seat, I glanced up to find that Matty had in fact accepted the offer of a warm brew.

It was strange to watch it all fall into place for him, his eyes straying over toys that littered the livingroom floor, the tiny bike which sat in the corner, the star-chart that hung on the cupboard above the fridge, all of Teddy’s artwork and clothes that had been thrown about haphazardly over the last day or two.

I swallowed around my anxiety then, not really sure how I felt now that I knew that Matty finally knew. Because see, I had never really been sure. Teddy wasn’t much of a well kept secret amongst my longtime listeners but I didn’t go flaunting pictures around or mentioning him at every turn. For safety reasons and privacy’s sake. So I hadn't been too certain on whether Matty knew of him or not, having noticed that he’d failed to ever mention him in our texts or calls.

“Um, sorry for the mess. Work’s been a nightmare, and this is my first proper day off in weeks, you know? So." I shrugged a little helplessly, looking out at all of the chaos, then decided to pull on my big girl trousers and trek through this mess like I did everything else in life. “Tea, then? Or coffee?”

The small cough that escaped Matty’s throat echoed around the room once he’d found purchase in the kitchen’s entryway and his voice was tinged with a slight rasp when he finally spoke, “Yeah, uh yeah, please. Coffee.”

I smiled mostly to myself as I turned away to refill the kettle, my mind still whirling but finding relief in Matty’s obvious shock too. Whilst it began to boil though I had nothing much to occupy my mind with, so I decided to putter back on over to the table where Teds had started back up with his drawing and attempted to relax my shoulders. 

“Go on, sit down,” I said to Matty, pointing to a chair as I tried to steer us back into easier waters, “Feel lucky you just missed breakfast, this one tends to get it everywhere.” I chuckled lightly in hopes to fill the quiet I was met with.

Teddy glanced up at me then with a prominent pout, obviously not too pleased about my comment.  “No.” He argued and I heard Matty snort as he finally took a seat opposite, leaving Teddy to act as the buffer between us both.

“Uh, yes.” I fired back at the toddler, but little good it did me when Teddy only seemed to maintain his avid disagreement. 

“Uhuh. I eat it all today.” He reminded me, lips pushed out as his brows climbed higher up his forehead, leaning against the table’s edge again on his elbows. “See?” He added on, pointing a finger over towards where a sink full of soapy dishes now laid.

I smiled, unable to do anything but, though it was Matty who actually replied to him, which both surprised me and put me on immediate edge. “I mean, the little guys got a point. If you ate it all then there can’t be any mess, right?” He directed that last bit towards the little rugrat attempting to evade all guilt and I paused in wait to see how Teddy would respond.

Teddy appeared wary for a moment, blinking over at Matty in a startle, probably having not expected to be roped into a conversation, before his lips settled into something more like a grin. “Right!” He mimicked with a short nod of his head, his ‘r’ sounding more like a ‘w’.

Matty all but beamed at the sudden attention he’d drawn and continued to do so once Teddy started prattling away to him at a hundred miles an hour. I just left them to it, listening in as I padded back over to finish making the drinks. 

It was only after Matty had just about knocked back most of his coffee that Teddy grew tired of talking and asked if we could do something fun, eyes drifting over towards where we often kept his wellies. I knew just what fun he was looking to find.

I conceded easily enough, seeing as it was both his day as well as mine, and smiled with a gesture of my chin, “Go on then, but brush your teeth and find some proper clothes, then we can head on over. Alright?”

Teddy’s head shook up and down in rapid succession, already bolting up out of his seat to make a run for his bedroom. Matty wore an inquisitive look once it was just him and I, both of us sat on opposite sides of the table.

“The park.” I informed the singer, fiddling with the handle of my now empty mug whilst my eyes kept sliding back and forth from the counter to Matty himself.

The man simply hummed and leaned back in his seat, I was forced to watch on as he cast his eyes about the rest of my kitchen, taking his fill now that he had a moment to finally do so. I swallowed and struggled with the unforeseen worries of what he might see, what he might think of it all.

I wasn't well off, by any means. But I had a decent income, enough to provide for Teddy and I, as well as live comfortably. Though if the radio show suddenly dipped and we lost most of our viewing, then there’d be a whole different story to be told.

Even so, it was a much different life to the one Matty lived. That much I knew. So it wasn't too strange of me to wonder whether or not it met any of his standards. And how it alone made me feel.

“How old then?”

The question startled me somewhat, enough that I blinked and looked up at him without thought. My brows furrowed a tad and so he continued, “Teddy- was that it?” And at my nod of confirmation, he smiled at me for another answer, “How old is he?”

Caught off guard still, I gaped for a second and then forced myself to reply, “Um, four, he’ll be five soon enough.”

“Wow.” Was what Matty replied with in a soft murmur, his head moving in an ever so slight nod, “A good age though.” At my questioning look, he chuckled, “Or so I’ve been told.”

I hummed, mostly amused, then fiddled with one of the many pens Teddy had left behind at the table.

“They’ve all been good so far- the ages.” I said to him, rather stupidly, and grimaced around a low laugh at myself, “Just, I mean he’s a good kid, is all.”

Matty was smiling at me when I glanced back up, his eyes squinting with the strength of it. He knocked his fist on the table lightly, “Seems it. Just wish you’dve mentioned him sooner.”

I frowned at that, lips pursing as my nose wrinkled. I didn’t much like the way he’d phrased that last bit, because it’s not that I wasn’t proud of Teddy, I was always showing him off, constantly even. But I also didn’t feel as though everyone had the right to see to that. “Yeah, well he’s not a secret I’ve kept hidden. It’s just safer mostly.”

It was Matty’s turn to frown then, seemingly offended by the offhand remark. “What and that includes me, does it? You think that I’d be a danger to him?”

I stared back at him, brow dipped a tad, eyes squinted. Because I hadn’t meant to hurt him, far from, though could he really blame me for being cautious, for having wanted to keep Teddy away for as long as I had? 

“No,” I answered him, and it was an honest one, “But only now, after having known you as long as I have. I mean, you can’t really be surprised by the fact that I didn’t mention him in the beginning, Matty. I hardly knew you! I’d only ever had the picture that’d been painted of you in my head, I didn’t want that around him.”

He scoffed quietly at that and I heard the way his boot kicked out under the table as he shuffled further back in his chair to run a hand through his hair. “Yeah and what about now then?”

He had me there, I supposed. I sighed and raised a hand to rub at my tired eyes, this wasn't a conversation I had planned for yet, let alone on a morning like this.

“It’s hard, okay? It’s hard to know when to introduce him to new people, he’s only ever really known those closest to me, and after that it’s just been his nursery teacher and the handful of kids in his class.” I explained, watching Matty and hoping he heard the truth in my words, “And you’re this fucking celebrity people love, you’ve got places to be, fans to meet! I never once thought that you’d stick around, not for as long as you have at least. Or that you’d eventually pull me into your life.”

He looked up then, expression so carefully made. “And that’s a bad thing?”

I folded in on myself a little at his question. Unsure.

Matty rolled his lips together and dipped his chin in a slow nod, “Right.”

“Matty, it’s not like that.” I tried.

He was quick with his reply though, all but leaning into the table’s edge now, “Then what’s it like, Mouse?”

He hardly ever called me Mouse, from the day we’d met it had always been Squeaks.

I dragged a hand over my face and then into my hair, perhaps in hopes to bide my time, but mainly because I felt cornered. How was I supposed to tell Matty how much I valued him? His chaotic presence in my life, his texts and calls, his friendship. It was something I hadn’t known I’d needed, but he’d come along and surprised me. He had stuck around, even when I thought he wouldn’t, and he wasn’t asking for anything more than just my company. He didn’t have an ulterior motive, some trick up his sleeve. Or at least that’s what I believed.

“Does this change things, knowing I have a son?” I heard myself ask him, it was a genuine curiosity but I also had to know. I didn’t want to be strung along or let Matty into Teddy’s life like I had Finn and Adi, only for him to then up and leave when he finally grew bored of the normality of it all.

Matty simply stared back at me, those brown eyes of his narrowed as they flittered back and forth between my own, his lips parted slightly as he thought the question over.

“Do you want it to?”

And that hadn’t been the answer I was expecting.

Instantly I shook my head, dropping the pen so that my hands could fall limply into my lap. “Of course not, I like having you around, Matty. Me keeping Teddy from you has nothing to do with that.”

He continued to watch me.

Then finally he conceded with a prompt nod and I felt myself breathe in. “So, the park. Is there a spare invitation going?”

I let the air go in a stilted chuckle, smiling at the common ground he’d gifted us but also at the image of Matty messing about in a playground of all places. “Yes, yeah, ‘course.” I assured him, “Just, be prepared for any puddles, alright? He will soak you if you're within five feet of the splashzone.”

Matty finally laughed too, this soft thing I hadn’t really ever heard from him before, not in this way at least, and then grinned, whirling around in his seat when a stomping toddler came darting back into the room.

“Wellies ta!”

My eyes fell closed as I released another heavy sigh, “Please! Teds. Remember? Please, not ta.”

Teddy merely blinked back up at me and so I decided it would have to be a battle picked for yet another day. 

“Fine, go get them then.”

Matty snorted unhelpfully, which brought him to Teddy’s attention once more. “Need help with ‘em, little man?” He asked, raising a brow at me in hopes that it’d be okay.

I swallowed but ultimately nodded, I couldn’t not when Teddy’s curls started bouncing wildly with the nodding of his head at the question.

And so, I watched them go, Matty taking Teddy’s extended hand, praying that I hadn’t made a massive mistake here. Hoping that somehow Matty would prove me wrong and stay, for a little while.

–

The days after Matty’s impromptu visit came with little to no fuss, it was only when the man wasn’t in the studio that was on the phone to me- and by extension, Teddy as well, who’d taken quite the shine to him. Who could’ve known, hey?

Still, it was a massive change of pace. For me at least, I hadn’t managed to get a read on how Matty felt about it all, but I had yet to worry over it. Mostly because of the Christmas period and how stressed I’d been.

“Finn, I swear he’s driving me out of my mind!” I complained down the phone to my best mate, the thing was currently perched between my shoulder and ear whilst I attempted to throw my hair up into a half-arsed bun, if only to keep it out of my face. “The mess! I mean, it’s like a tornado’s gone and ripped its way through my flat!”

“He’s four, babe.” Came Finn’s unhelpful response. I huffed.

“Exactly! Four, how can someone so small create such a massive mess?” I stressed, trying to clear away as much of the clutter my living room was presently made up of as quickly as I could. “Mam’s gonna be here in,” I glanced hurriedly over at the clock on the far wall and felt my anxiety spike, “Just over an hour! I can’t let her walk into a bombsite!”

Finn laughed at that and so I scowled in retort, even if he couldn’t see me through the phone.

“Finn!” I admonished.

“Alright, sorry! It’s just, she’s your mum, babe. She won’t care what the flat looks like.” He tried to soothe me as he moved about on the other side, doing whatever it was that he was doing. “Why’s he made such a mess anyway?”

I gritted my teeth as I stepped on yet another rogue piece of Lego and just dropped down to start rounding everything and anything I could possibly see into a great big tub. 

“He’s excited, wanted to look nice for when mam shows up but also wanted to showcase to her all of his drawings and sculptures.” I told him, grimacing at the penstained action figure I picked up before tossing it amongst the heap too. “I’ve been in the kitchen mostly, cooking for when she arrives, so I didn’t really bear witness to the fact that he’d taken my permission and flipping run with it! You should see my front room, Finn.” I shook my head for the umpteenth time since I’d walked in and blinked at the chaos I’d been met with, “It’s a proper tip.”

I was given a resounding chuckle once more and simply decided to slump there on the floor, glad to note that most of everything had now been packed into the box. Out of sight, out of mind and all that.

“Finn, I don’t even want to go and see what his bedroom looks like as of right now. I can just picture how his wardrobe’s been overturned and all of his clothes have been tossed about the room.” 

I forced myself up onto my feet then, halfheartedly listening to Finn’s reply. I still needed to sort myself out before anything else and that thought alone stressed me out further.

And of course! Of course it would be in that exact moment that the doorbell went.

“Fuck.” I mumbled to myself, but found my feet already taking me towards the door. I paused only briefly by the mirror to catch sight of the mess my hair was in and tugged it free in hopes it’d help somewhat, “Listen babe, sorry for all my whinging but I’d best go. Door’s just gone and I’m guessing it’ll be that parcel I’ve been waiting on.”

“Cutting it pretty late there.” Finn said and I couldn’t agree more. It was the 23rd, Christmas was now only days away and still I’d yet to receive it- even after having ordered it well over three weeks ago!

“Fucking hell, tell me about it,” I groaned, opening the door up to be met with the sight of a big wrapped box blocking my vision. My forehead wrinkled in utter confusion, “Um, Finn? I really am going to have to call you back.”

“Why, what’s happened? Don’t leave me hanging! Who is it!”

The parcel dropped down an inch then to reveal a familiar grin and shining eyes. 

“Surprise?”

I hurriedly hung up the phone and shoved it into my back pocket, the feeling of bewilderment unable to override the instant worries that washed over me about what a state I must've looked. But I bullied those thoughts back down, ignoring the massive part of me that was currently screaming at the entire situation, for whatever reason I couldn’t even begin to really understand, cause it was just Matty, right? And instead propped myself up against the doorframe.

“What’s this then?” I asked, unable to help my smile when he was looking back at me seemingly so pleased with himself.

“Christmas, in’t it?” He replied all too easily, shaking the rather large present he held in his grasp to further the point.

“I can see that.” I chuckled, shaking my head a little at the picture he made, all bundled up on my front doorstep practically dwarfed by the box he’d brought along. “I just thought you were headed home today.”

He shrugged, an action that was made funnier by the large parcel, but continued smiling, “Meant to, just couldn’t leave without seeing you lot first.”

I blinked, startled by his words. But grinned when he merely widened both his eyes in exaggeration.

“It is fucking freezin’ out here, you know! Could invite a mate in.” Matty reminded me, so I hummed, mulling it over. But he wasn’t one to give up too easily and bribery appeared to be his best tactic here, “I’ve got presents. So open up or they’re going back.”

I narrowed my eyes in turn, “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, but darling I would.”

I found myself grinning at him again, something I tended to do whenever he was around it seemed. There was just something about him, I supposed. 

He went to take a step back then and I relented all too easily. “Alright.” I laughed, opening the door up wider to allow him in. Matty all but jumped over the threshold, bringing the cold in with him, and whilst he set about shaking off his coat I went to close the door behind him, only to be stopped by a bright red coat.

“Oh, thanks.” I said in surprise to the postie that managed to time his arrival so perfectly. “Thank you,” I repeated for good measure, shooting my head up from the packaged parcel he’d handed me, “Happy Holidays!” He grinned in return, already taking off back down the steps and parroting the same sentiment to me.

I finally managed to shut the door after that and was met with a ruddy-faced Matty, who was wrapped in a big jumper I was immediately jealous of.

“Last minute present?” He wondered with a smirk and I waved him off.

“Ordered it weeks ago, got here just in time.”

Matty hummed and turned back to glance down at the big box that now rested against my hallway radiator, level with my hip it seemed. “Where is the monster?” He asked me, using the name both he and Teddy had taken a liking to.

My brow furrowed slightly. “You really didn’t have to, Matty.” I said to him quietly, looking down at the present he’d gotten for my son. 

He was having none of it though, rolled his eyes in fact and hunched over to pick the box up again. “Shut up.”

I snorted and couldn’t help but bite back, “You shut up.”

“Real mature, sweetheart. Ain’t you parents meant to be all boring and nice?” Matty quipped as he wandered his way into my living room, I breathed in a sigh of relief when I followed behind and found that my efforts in cleaning hadn’t been in vain.

“Ha ha. Should’ve taken up comedy.” I retorted to him, fixing a few pillows that sat askew on the settee, something to which Matty also rolled his eyes at.

“Nah, band makes more money.” He answered easily, like he’d thought about it before, as he glanced about for the best place to put the box.

“By the tree if you want, or you can leave it next to the chair so he’ll see it when he barrels in.”

Matty laughed and went with the latter. “You been alright then?” He asked me, taking the time to glance at all the holiday cards that rested on the mantelpiece nearby.

“Yeah,” I sighed with a small smile, “Hectic but that’s expected, isn’t it?”

He shot me a warm grin, nodding. “Christmas, babe.” Was all he replied with, which was fair enough, then he went to reach out to pick up a picture frame of me and a very very tiny Teddy. “When was this?”

I stepped closer and smiled down at the photo, “I was still in hospital with him then, my midwife took it.”

Matty hummed, looking down at it with a soft smile. It was then that I heard a thump sound somewhere down the hall, so I released a weighted breath and forced myself to step away, “I’ve got to go check on Teddy, he wanted to dress himself this morning and he’s been way too quiet.”

With another laugh, Matty let me go, nosing through more of the photos and cards which sat along the shelf. Something I could understand, he’d only been here just twice before, but even still, he didn’t care for how blatant he was with his nosing. 

I took the parcel with me as I went, slipping into my bedroom to unwrap and grin down at it. It was Matty’s, which is why its arrival had been so perfect. I'd begun to think that I would have to give it to him the next time I saw him. But now was as good a time as ever.

In a rush, I pulled out a gift bag and some coloured tissue paper, having no time to actually wrap it, and plopped it in. Making my way into the next room to see where Teddy had gotten to.

When I pushed his door open further than it was, I was only slightly surprised by the state of it. The rugrat in question, though, was stood by his wardrobe door, pulling an array of funny faces in its mirror.

“Oi mister, what you been up to?”

Teddy startled slightly at my voice but was giggling when he spun around to spot me. “Got dressed myself.” He stated, pointing proudly at the t-shirt he’d managed to pull on.

“Hm, so you have!” Taking in the jeans and tee combo he’d picked, I then grinned over at him, “Looking good, boyo. Could be a little stylist when you’re older, you know!”

Teddy gave me one of his impish grins and then darted over towards me. “No!” He dragged out in reply, hands clutching at my legs now he was near, his sweet mischievous face staring up at me, “Gone be like you.”

I had to press my lips together then to keep the strength of my smile at bay, his words making my heart swell. “You little charmer.” I chuckled, running a hand through his unruly locks, “Come on though, you’ve got a visitor.”

His eyes widened as he jumped back to rock onto the balls of his feet. “Mémé?” He asked excitedly and I almost felt bad about it not being her, but I knew how much Teddy had also grown to like Matty in the recent days so I wasn't too fussed.

I shook my head, “Not yet, soon though. But somebody else came to see you.”

Teddy’s eyebrows rose as he thought about who it could be and so, knowing that we could possibly be here all day, I started to steer him out into the hallway.

“Finny?” He asked, then, “Santa?”

I snorted, then shook my head to both. “Nope and no. Why don’t we just go see, hey?”

And with that I pushed the door to the living room open wider and watched on as Teddy gasped at the sight of the curly haired frontman standing by our settee.

“Matty!” He all but squealed, practically catapulting himself across the room to make a dive for the man.

Matty laughed, though also seemed startled by the reaction he’d garnered. He swept Teddy up though, all the same, and jostled him around before settling the toddler on his hip, eyes bright with something when they glanced over at me. I smiled, a heavy feeling settling itself in my chest.

“Alright, mate? What you been up to?” Matty asked Teddy, falling back onto the cushions behind them and stationing the toddler next to him.

Teddy replied in earnest, excited to tell Matty all the tales he had stored away since the last time they’d spoken, which had been a few nights previous over a FaceTime call. 

I shook my head in amusement and trailed over towards the kitchen, silenting motioning to Matty to see if he wanted a drink. The answer, as always, was yes and so I set about brewing him his usual, along with my own, taking the time to clean myself up a bit too.

By the time I walked back in, Teddy had just about finished telling Matty all the details of his last day at nursery (they’d had a party), which I’m sure the man had already heard about, but who acted as though it was the most brilliant story he’d ever been told. 

“One coffee.” I said in greeting, placing the two mugs onto coasters before taking a perch on the armchair by them.

“Ta.” Matty replied, grinning madly when Teddy cackled gleefully and repeated the word over and over. I rolled my eyes at the pair of them and took a calming sip of tea, unaware of how much I’d been in dire need of it. Whoever claimed Sunday’s were a day of rest, were liars.

“He spotted it yet then?” I asked aloud, already knowing the answer seeing as how I didn’t currently have a bouncing Teddy on my hands.

The toddler’s face wrinkled in confusion and he shot his head over to see me, I grinned from behind my mug. “Huh?” He sounded.

Matty hid his next snort well but then hummed too, pushing forward in his seat to grab at his coffee. “Oh his present, you mean?”

That had Teddy’s head spinning. “Where!”

“Manners, bubs.” I reminded, and Teddy nodded so quickly I was honestly a little worried about the whiplash he might face before his eyes were back on Matty.

“Please, present?” Teddy asked, pouting up at the curly haired man with a sudden urgency, his words butchered by his missing bottom teeth.

Matty chuckled, glad for the fact that he’d put his coffee back down in the toddler's haste, and then gestured his head over to the right. “You mean that one?”

Teddy’s eyes, if even possible, widened further, eyebrows reaching the tips of his curls and mouth dropping open as he finally spotted it.

“For me?” He gasped in awe, shuffling down Matty’s leg to approach it, all of his movements now slow as if his shock was stopping him from reacting typically. 

I leaned forward to watch on and Matty did the same, obviously nervous for Teddy’s reaction.

“For you, mate. Was walking by this shop the other day and spotted it, thought of you.” Matty told him seriously, smiling too whilst he wrung his hands together, foot tapping anxiously away, though unaware of it.

Teddy looked back at him, chewing on his bottom lip carefully, taking two more steps before he was touching the wrapping. He oohed at it softly to himself but I caught the way Matty’s face brightened at the sound.

“‘pen now?” Teds asked, his eyes drifting away from the gift, towards me and Matty both.

Matty looked over at me then too, the same question echoed on his face. I nodded with a small smirk, “Go on.”

Teddy’s eyes lit up and he spun back around to marvel at it once more, “W’ats it?”

The snort that escaped me at his ask went unnoticed by the pair as Matty moved to join the toddler on the floor. “Gotta open it up and find out, I ‘spose.”

Teddy’s grin brightened and then he fell to his bum so that he could pull the present closer. “Help?”

Matty blinked at the request and I was witness to the way his throat bobbed before he nodded, “Yeah, sure mate. Here, pull this, alright?”

Teddy did as instructed, tugging on a small opening in the wrapping. 

I noted as he began to tear away at it, how oddly wrapped it really was, meaning that Matty had probably taken the time to wrap it himself. My chest tightened again at the thought.

“Box.” Teddy announced once all the wrapping paper had been discarded on the rug behind him, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from outright laughing at the befuddled expression he gave Matty.

The man had no qualms though, simply chuckled at the question and leaned in closer to force one side of the cardboard box up a little, “Gotta open up that too, monster.”

Teddy’s brows drew together in concentration as he followed Matty’s lead, forcing the lid open more before a loud gasp escaped him. Matty went back to wringing his hands, fiddling with the rings on his fingers whilst I moved over to the settee to get a look too.

My expression faltered at the sight of the beautiful gift Matty had given Teddy. Inside the box rested a guitar in an incredible shade of deep blue, it was small enough for Teddy to hold whilst also being big enough for him to grow with. Even with my obsessive love for music, not once had I ever really thought about buying Teddy such a thing, not one of this calibre at least. It must've cost a fortune.

“Matty.” I whispered, but the man didn’t even spare a look my way, eyes trained on my toddler, trying to garner his reaction.

“You know what it is, mate?” He asked after a moment and Teddy’s little head dipped in a slow nod. Because I knew he knew, he danced around constantly pretending to have one in his hands whenever we had the tele or radio on. Where there was music blaring, there would also be a Teddy playing air guitar.

“‘tar.” Teddy stated in a soft voice, both Matty and I smiled at the way he said it, but the former nodded, pulling the instrument out of the box so that Teddy could get a closer look.

“Cool right?”

Teddy nodded silently again, reaching out a hand to carefully touch the wooden neck, blinking and reeling back when a string strummed. Before he then giggled and reached out once more.

Matty seemed to slump in relief, evidently glad that Teddy liked it. But I’d go as far to even say he adored it, never had he ever been so gentle with anything.

“Have you got something to say to Matty, Teds?” I prompted, ignoring the way my throat caught at the emotion I felt. I couldn’t quite wrap my mind around it.

Teddy pulled his eyes away from the guitar to gaze up at Matty as though he was something other. I merely blinked at the reaction and before I knew it Teddy had thrown himself into Matty’s arms, startling the man a tad. Matty welcomed him after a second though, glancing over the toddler’s head to share a look with me.

“T’ank you.” I heard Teddy muffle into the collar of Matty’s jumper then, actually saying the words this time. It seemed Matty knew what that meant too, because he tightened his hold on Teddy’s waist a little.

“You’re welcome, mate.”

The rest of Matty’s visit was used to teach Teddy a bit about the basics of a guitar, managing to play an E minor and get started on an A chord. Teddy listened to Matty with rapt attention, barely sparing anything else a second glance, which was startling for a toddler, let alone Teddy who was constantly go, go, go.

Watching them was all too lovely as well. For someone with such a cool front, Matty seemed to melt around Teddy, succumbing to that of the boy’s charm and easy going nature. It was sweet to see, surprising but endlessly sweet. Had me losing track of time, in truth. Which is why I jumped and cursed the way I did when the door finally knocked. 

“Mémé!”

[batnatscatt]

Eau D’bedroom Dancing

PJHazel: 2.8k

Tags: fair bit of swearing, implied nsfw, autistic Hazel because I say so, they/them Hazel also because I say so, PJ-typical fuckery

Their rings dig into their chin, the feeling somewhat uncomfortable but not enough so to keep them from dozing. Their hand rests under their chin, keeping their head propped up as they drift in and out of the lesson. Another train of nameless meatheads had kept them awake all night, with their hooting and hollering and banging-of-their-mom, something that was getting less and less unusual. It had to have been the third night this week, if their math is right, and its literally only Wednesday. They were already fucking exhausted- add the sound of Mr. G droning away in the background and you have a pretty potent sedative, apparently. They’d feel bad if they could feel anything other than tired; they actually liked Mr. G a fair bit, even found him to be a kind of comforting presence- a fact which almost definitely isn’t helping them stay on this side of consciousness.

“Heads up Callahan.” Fingers wrapping around their wrist are the only other warning they get before their arm is unceremoniously yanked out from under them. Their head connects with the desk with a dull thud, sharp pain blooming in their cheek where vinyl meets a two-week old bruise, probably giving it a new lease on life. The plastic thwack wakes them well enough, scrambling to right themselves and turning to look at the culprit, levelling her with a wounded expression.

“What the fuck, PJ?” Their words come out quiet but pointed, hissed at her in an attempt to not further disturb the class, especially after their face had already done so.

“What? You were like, drifting off or whatever,” There’s a saccharine smile on PJ’s face, hamming up an artist’s impression of something that almost looks like concern or helpfulness, fighting off a grin as she shrugs. “Didn’t want you to miss anything important.”

Her explanation could almost pass for convincing if it wasn’t for how obviously uninterested in the lesson she was, turning back to her handout in order to return to her task: diligently dotting every ‘o’ on the page in order to make boobs. PJ could give less of a fuck about whatever Mr. G was saying, she simply enjoyed toying with them whenever she could, as she always had- that much Hazel understood perfectly.

“Anyway,” she draws out the word as her fingers drum on the desk, seemingly too captivated by her efforts to titty up the page to bother looking at Hazel. “Janitor’s next period?”

That, they understood less. It’s still a relatively new development to their dynamic, one that had left them more than a little confused since the night of the game. Within the space of thirty minutes, they’d made their way all over the map emotions-wise when it came to PJ: annoyance and apathy turning into forgiveness, and forgiveness turning into surprise as PJ pulled them into whatever the fuck that kiss was.

It’s not like they were opposed to it or anything, honestly it was kind of the opposite; it just wasn’t what they had expected from PJ, not by a long shot. For years they’d taken shit from her, they’d accepted that that was their place in the pecking order of whatever small gaggle of dykes they’d managed to muster in their fuck-ass town. And honestly, they were content to stay right there, so long as it meant that they weren’t an outlier. Taking shit from PJ was just another part of their every day, as reliable and consistent as how the sun rises or birds tweet, or any number of other metaphors that fit the bill. Her teasing and borderline negging was something they had their head wrapped around pretty well, but this? The way she’d rip into them in public, only to jump their bones the moment the two of them had any privacy? That, Hazel still needs to do some adjusting to, apparently.

Everything comes back into focus with the sound of a metallic thunk, the thudding of a shoe against their chair leg bringing them back from whatever miniature spiral they’d managed to fall into. The look on PJ’s face is difficult to place as she stares at Hazel, her brow pinched in a puzzled expression as she looks at them expectantly.

“What?” The confusion is evident in Hazel’s voice as they ask, almost losing track of the initial question in their attempts to unpick the bizarre dynamic the two of them seem to have fallen into recently.

“Fucking hell- got your brains knocked out your ears or some shit?” The concerned crease of PJ’s brow is closer to a scowl than anything else now, rolling her eyes at them before speaking slowly and deliberately, sounding out each word. “You- me- closet, yeah?”

Their mouth feels very dry suddenly, the mental picture from her suggestion and memory of the small noise that leaves her when their fingers thread through her hair flooring them, the combination of factors teaming up to effectively sap all the moisture from their mouth. A small nod is all they can offer in return to her question, floundering internally for any other reasonable response.

“Great, yeah- Fucking A.” She huffs out a sigh that Hazel takes as exasperation as she speaks, returning her gaze to the mostly ignored handout in front of her before continuing quietly. “See you then, I guess.”

With that, Hazel is left to their own devices for the rest of the short lesson as PJ finally seems to make an attempt at working through the sheets in front of her, the lack of conversation leaving their mind the freedom to turn the concept over in their head. Whatever PJ actually feels towards them is a mystery, for sure- but they could be content with this, right? ———-

The next period finds them making their way towards the now-mostly-defunct library, the lack of books in the place translating into an equally low amount of foot traffic through the corridor it inhabits. They walk the length of the hallway quickly, their fingers picking at the stitching of the bag slung over their shoulder in nervous preoccupation as they scan the walls for the right door, slowing to a stop as they find themselves outside.

They knock on the door lightly, hardly managing two taps before they have to step back to avoid the door swinging open, a hand darting out to grab them by the front of their shirt and yanking them roughly into the dingy, cramped space. The darkness in the cupboard throws them for a second, blinking rapidly in an attempt to let their eyes adjust to the low lighting as they open their mouth to greet PJ.

“Hey-“

The sentence dies before they have any chance to actually speak, cut off effectively by the insistent press of PJ’s lips against theirs, slightly less clumsy than the first time as she mumbles a muffled ‘shut the fuck up’ against their lips. Hazel responds in kind, letting the rucksack drop off their shoulder as they kiss her back, the bag making a solid thud against the floor as they bring their hands up to tangle in the taller girl’s hair. The action elicits a soft gasp from PJ that makes their cheeks flush red, the sound not so different from the first time they’d heard it, or every time since. They drink the noise in eagerly, even if the way she kisses them softens it somewhat.

Hazel could get lost in this, honestly. They’d thought that every time, almost worried that the press of her fingers against their back might undo them, the touch insistent even through the layers of fabric. They move with PJ as she pulls them with her, letting the girl guide them so that she’s leant against the wall of the closet. They’ve never had any problem with letting PJ take the reigns in their little trysts, more than happy to follow her lead and apparently incapable of denying her of what she wants.

Time moves strangely slowly as she pulls them against her, thick like molasses while she seems determined to meld the two of them together. Hazel groans quietly at the feeling, the contact making their head swim as they pull away to catch their breath for a second. The absence seems to irk the girl, an impatient noise leaving her as she seems almost affronted by the lack of contact, the sound leading to Hazel having to stifle a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up,” PJ whines the words, her head thudding against the wall as she tilts it back in frustration. She looks back at them, huffing impatiently before asking “Don’t you like, have a job to do or something?”

The annoyed tone in her voice makes them feel almost smug, relishing the heady feeling of how obviously frustrated she sounds. They’d take this form of annoyance over her usual any day, preferring it greatly to the general disdain that PJ seems to hold towards them in most contexts. Even so, they find it almost fun to irritate her in this context, cocking their head in feigned ignorance as they speak.

“Not sure- what should I be doing?” They find it hard not to grin as they speak, the corners of their lips twitching with the barely suppressed motion.

The question draws another long-suffering groan of annoyance from PJ, clearly fed up with their shit as she grabs the hand sat on her waist and guides it to the front of her pants. Whatever cockiness that seemed to have possessed Hazel all but leaves them in the moment, their ears almost ringing as she looks at them expectantly.

“Well?”

Words seem to evade them in the moment, instead moving quietly to undo the button there before grabbing the suspenders that hold up her corduroys, the motion bringing a confused look to the girl’s face.

“They get in the way a bit,” The explanation comes out almost distractedly, pulling the elastic slightly as if to illustrate their point. “Like, if you want your pants off, I mean.”

The look she gives them in response makes them almost sheepish, staring at them as if they’d grown an extra head as they wait for her to speak, or move, or do anything at this point.

“Why the fuck would you take them off?” She sounds somewhere between confused and exasperated as she speaks, promptly using her hands to mime exactly what she’d had in mind, the correction making Hazel’s face flush from a mix of interest and embarrassment.

“Oh- yeah, that makes more sense, actually.” They nod as they speak, eager to move on from their blunder as they lean back into her space, pressing a kiss to the skin of her neck in an attempt to gloss over the past thirty-or-so seconds.

Her hands come back up to rest against their back, her fingers bunching in the fabric of their shirt as they kiss her, moving their hands back to where she’d initially placed them. The soft noises that leave her make them think they might’ve gotten away with it, that illusion being thoroughly broken by the sound of her chuckling slightly.

“The fuck were you thinking, anyway?” The grin on her face is almost audible as she speaks. “Gonna go all bush-diver on me or something?”

“I mean- sure, if you’d want me to- I think we’ve got time.” Their shoulders shrug as they speak, somewhere between attempted nonchalance and genuine confidence in the statement.

Their response prompts a surprised expression to pass over PJ’s face, eyebrows raised as she seems to visibly turn the words over in her head. The lack of response makes Hazel sweat nervously, their brain moving a mile a minute as they run through the exchange in their head, doing their best to ascertain where exactly they’d managed to fuck up.

“Shit, Haze- I mean, fuck, why not.” She seems to almost be at a loss for words, her response stilted as she struggles to form a sentence.

It’s almost bizarre to Hazel, the lack of any smart comeback throwing them off almost as much as the unexpected nickname. They can’t think of any other time they’d heard her call them that, but they feel pretty certain in the moment that there’s not much they won’t do to hear it again.

A grin lights up their features at her response, their hands coming back up to rest against her waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric as they double check.

“You sure? ‘Cause it’s okay if not- I’m good with whatever.” The words stumble over each other as they speak, nerves and eagerness mingling and thoroughly fucking their grasp on the English language.

“No- get your filthy mitts off me you little freak.” The genuinely surprised and horrified expression on Hazel’s face gives her pause, sighing as she seems to remember how aggressively earnest they tend to be. “Jesus fucking Christ- I’m just fucking with you, you’re all good, I swear. Go for it.”

“Right- fuck, okay. Wasn’t sure for a sec there-” Their shoulders sag in relief, whatever concerns they’d had easing as they catch on to PJ’s piss-poor attempt at a joke. Any further speech is killed in its cradle as she pulls them back in for another kiss, effectively shutting them both up before either of them can dig themselves into a deeper hole.

Their lips part at the pass of PJ’s tongue, opening in order to deepen the kiss as her fingers creep under the hem of their shirt, the brush of her nails against the skin of their waist making them shiver. The kiss continues in the cramped environment of the broom closet, with Hazel silently thankful that PJ seems to have learnt not to use as much tongue; even if she does seem hell-bent of mapping the inside of their mouth in great detail, it’s nowhere near the full-frontal assault she’d launched on their face during their first kiss.

The kiss breaks as they move to trail their lips towards her neck, their fingers coming up to tangle in her hair as their lips trace her jawline, pulling the strands out of the way in order to clear their path. Their lips connect with her neck, tongue and teeth moving against the smooth skin as they fight the urge to bite, the idea of leaving a mark unbelievably tempting. As much as they know she’d rip their head off for it, the mental image is rather appealing in the moment, the idea of having to deal with PJ’s usual heckling far more palatable with the visual reminder of the way she sounds under their touch.

Any further ruminations are cut short by the buzzing of a phone, the insistent thrumming making PJ groan in annoyance as they reach for their pocket, motioning for Hazel to stop while they pull it out.

“Fuck- Josie.” She holds up the screen to Hazel as she speaks, turning it to answer the call. “What’s up? This better be good-“

She cuts herself off suddenly, her eyebrows rising quickly in response to whatever Josie has to say, her words too quiet for them to be able to make any out from where they stand in front of PJ.

“What- How the fuck? Right- Yeah, I’ll be there.” She speaks quickly, rushing to hang up the phone with a bemused look on her face, the expression prompting their own eyebrow to quirk in confusion.

“What’d Josie want?”

“Sylvie got her head stuck in Tucker’s cage?” She nods in response to the shocked look on Hazel’s face, their eyebrows lost somewhere behind their fringe as the statement visibly floors them. “Yeah- I’m not sure how either, honestly.”

They let out a long breath, sighing through their nose as they try to process the information, snapping out of their reverie at the sound of PJ’s irritated sigh as she moves push off of the wall she’d been leant against.

“Rain check?”

“Sure- of course,” They nod quickly at her question, moving in order to give her space as she rebuttons her pants and does what she can to make herself presentable. “I’ve got a free house later, if you wanna come by, maybe?”

“Yeah- why not, I should be free.” She shrugs as she speaks, shouldering her bag as she moves to grab the closet door, pushing past Hazel in the enclosed space as she rushes to leave and shouting over her shoulder. “See you later, bush ranger.”

She’s out of the door before they have a chance to reply, leaving them in the dark to ponder her strange PJ-specific brand of nicknaming as they bend over to grab their rucksack. Nearly everything about the past hour had effectively thrown them for a loop, something that’s starting to seem like a reoccurring theme in their encounters if their previous ones are anything to go by.

They leave the closet quietly, doing their best to ignore the weird feeling that PJ’s sudden departure had left in the pit of their stomach as they move through the corridors, deciding to spend the rest of their free period on the bleachers. Whatever fuck had just happened, or nearly happened, Hazel wasn’t exactly sure of- it’s near impossible to tell where exactly they stand with her these days.

[f1-stuff]

Girl dad Carlos please!! 🩷🩷

I took a little hiatus on the girldad!carlos fic but trust that there is 14k words written for part two... 😂 and I'm p sure the fic is gonna be more than the three parts I predicted it to be...

Anyway, here's a 780-word sneakpeek of part two for you:

When Carlos is finally released from the meeting, Caco trailing behind him and typing away on his phone, he’s so tired that he almost doesn’t realize Charles is in front of him until he’s nearly running into him.

“Carlos,” his teammate says, voice loud in his surprise. 

“Charles!” Carlos’ panic must register in his expression because Charles’ smile dips, his brows quickly furrowing. “Eh- hi...” 

He clears his throat nervously. Charles glances behind him at Caco, raising a hand in greeting that Caco echoes distractedly.

He’s relieved that they’d run into each other without Ana here, but it’s still hard to look at Charles without spilling everything that’s going on. Although...surely, the team’s told him by now. They can’t expect him to find out from the press release tomorrow, along with everyone else. That would be an extreme oversight, even for them.

Carlos swallows, wondering how to go about finding out, when Caco’s hand lands on his shoulder.

“Carlos, we really need to get back to the room,” his cousin mumbles into his ear in Spanish. Carlos glances at him in confusion, noting the urgency in his tone, along with the insistent look in his eyes. 

His cousin is clutching his phone in his hand, and Carlos realizes something else must be going on. He nods his understanding.

“We will catch up later,” he says, nodding to Charles. But his teammate’s frown deepens, his hand wrapping around Carlos’ arm before he can escape.

“Carlos, we should talk. I-” Charles swallows, glancing around the hallway, before releasing Carlos’ arm. “I know. About...”

He doesn’t finish the statement, but Carlos fills in the blanks. So the team had told him, then.

“Carlos,” Caco repeats, his tone insistent.

“Okay, fuck. Uh-” He doesn’t know what’s wrong, but clearly Caco is worried about something. He can’t just leave Charles here though, when he knows and seems...upset about it. “Come on.”

He drags Charles along with him, despite Caco’s warning look. But it really will be easier for Charles to just- see Ana now, in the privacy of their room, rather than later, in front of prying eyes.

“In here? But I-” Charles starts.

But Carlos is already opening the door, the two of them barely inside the doorway when there’s a small squeal and a loud “Papá!”

He doesn’t hesitate to stride over to the bed, letting out an ‘oof’ at the sudden thirty pounds of three-year-old that barrels into his stomach. His mother sighs from the other side of the bed, where she’d clearly been in the middle of trying to tuck Ana in.

“She’s had a sudden burst of energy,” his mom explains.

He glances behind him, belatedly remembering Charles, who’s still frozen by the door, his lips parted around a silent question. Carlos swallows, a complicated swirl of emotions in his chest at the idea of introducing the guy he’s in love with his teammate to his kid. His teammate who is looking increasingly like he has no clue what’s going on. 

Fuck... Does he not know yet? I thought he said-

“Papá,” Ana repeats, wanting his attention. Carlos looks down at her, smoothing her hair behind her ears. They should really braid it or something before bed - it gets so tangled during the night.

“What is it?”

“Je ne suis pas-”

“Español, Ana.”

“I’m not tired,” she huffs, annoyed. “At all.”

“But we have to go to sleep. Or we won’t wake up on time tomorrow.”

“But I’m not tired,” she repeats, her voice nearing whining territory.

Carlos sighs, but doesn’t even have a chance to respond because Caco is at his shoulder, flashing his screen at Carlos where there’s a tweet showing a picture of Ana in his lap on the airplane. It’s from when the two of them were both knocked out, Carlos’ head resting on Ana’s, both their lips parted in sleep. The tweet is from hours ago, but it’s only now that it’s gaining traction.

“Mierda,” he curses, before he can stop it. His mom shoots him an angry look, so he mumbles a distracted apology for the language. “What do we do?”

“Ah... Just wait for the press release tomorrow, I guess?” Caco says, but he sounds distressed. “People online are talking, though. Maybe we should check in with the team again, get ahead of things-”

Someone clears their throat by the doorway, and Carlos remembers Charles again- fuck. 

He half-turns toward him, Ana still clutching onto his shirt. It means she’s finally able to see around Carlos to the stranger in the room, and he feels her head knock into his stomach, shyly hiding her face against him.

“Carlos...” Charles’ gaze flicks between Carlos and Ana, his eyes blinking in disbelief. “What is going on?”

-

WIP Wednesday

[bajibitch]

Interviewing the cast. actor au.

Ken, Nahoya, Rindou, Yuzuha, Souya, and Tetta

⚅ Ken ⚅

“How do you feel about the fans reactions to your character?”

“I’m the nice guy without weird intentions. I’m the one they’d marry but there’s always something that holds me back, and it’s Emma.”

“I love those! Not only for the angst, but it’s also nice seeing you be a piece of shit every once in a while.”

“Do you know what I’d do to someone who constantly brings up their dead crush? Not only that but the unrealistic expectation to be like them?”

“What would you do?”

“I’d throw their ashes on them and tell them it’s never going to happen.”

“I’m dead!” You smacked the armrest and leaned back in your chair cackling. “Leave the ashes alone.”

“No, a point has to be made.” He said. “But that’s better than beating someone after they lost their sister.”

“Your character lost a lot of my love and respect in that scene! Like, yes he loved her, but that was Manjiro’s sister at the end of the day!”

“I was surprised many people still loved him. That was a hard scene for me to shoot because Manjiro is a good actor. I felt bad swinging at him while he had that look on his face.”

“We know you cry during movies, so this wouldn’t be any different. It’d make sense if it was harder since you’re compassionate.”

“I had to give him a hug after we shot that scene.”

“How do you relate to your character?”

“My mouth gets me into a lot of trouble.”

“Ooo, tell me how!”

“You’re so nasty!” He laughed. “I’m talking about when I taunt people as were arguing. Like that scene where I get stabbed by Peh.”

“I knew his character wasn’t getting much love after that one.”

“It went up after he beat Shion.”

“Cause who doesn’t love a man that can knock someone out with one hit?”

“I don’t. My character got stabbed for respecting his friend's choice!”

“What would you change about your character?”

“I’d have him do his job the correct way. A lot could’ve been prevented if he spoke up, but he was like a bystander. He didn’t try hard enough for me.”

“Yeah, he just went along with it to make his friend happy. He didn’t want to go against them. It’d be fair to say he deserves some of the blame.”

“I get it wasn’t his gang, but he was high enough to give his advice and be heard.”

“He was just following the leader.”

⚄ Nahoya ⚄

“Did you miss me?” Nahoya kissed your cheek and you wiped it just as fast.

“Not really.”

“Don't be mean.”

“Last time we talked, you got me kicked out of an exclusive event.”

“I hated your plus one.”

“You could've avoided them!”

“You should've known better. I've been going back and forth with them online before the event.”

“It was a petty squabble, I thought you’d be over it. Besides it's easy to ignore them online, just block them.”

“Tell me how that block button works when people start blowing you up to hear about your night with Takemichi.”

“I didn't sleep with him.”

“I didn't say you did, but they’ll think so once I tweet it.”

“You bet-”

“Done. And you know Takemichi’s just gonna make it worst.” He laughed as your phone started to go off.

“Ugh. How do you feel about the fans reaction to your character?”

“I love that they know he's vicious and I encourage them to go darker. I love seeing the crazy shit they come up with! Hell, I add my own stories for them to enjoy.”

“Cool, what do you write? Angst, Horror...”

“Anything dark satiates my hunger. I love making the reader squirm and see my character as some monster, but I throw in some fluffy moments.”

“I have to read it sometime.” Your phone continues vibrating and chiming on the table.

“Hehehe. You gonna pick it up?”

“Shut up!” You cut your phone off and put it in your pocket.

“While we're still on it. I hate that people think he’ll just abuse the ones he loves. Like yeah he raises hell when it comes to his enemies, but he isn’t just abusing his brother.”

“You want them to see that he’s capable of love too?”

“Yeah because it adds to his character. He’s a nightmare to his enemies, but he can be a dream come true to his honey. I can be that. I’m not just a player! I love the thought of having a successful relationship!”

“Getting kinda personal aren’t ya?”

“Yes because I’m sick of people cheating on me because they think I’m cheating on them!”

“Haha, you should’ve confessed that before you sent a horde of people to harass me! But seriously, that’s not right. You should have a conversation with them at the start and be honest about your feelings.”

“No shit.”

“Smart ass. How do you relate to your character?”

“We’re everyone's obsession. I'm catnip to my peers, they can't get enough of me! If I ever stopped hanging around them they’d be devastated.”

“You're much more conceited than I remember. Is there anything you’d change about your character?”

“It's not him that's the problem. He needs more screen time and I want to see how he interacts with his twin. Or just outside of the gang shit in general.”

“That would be nice! Especially if he's much sweeter than you.”

“Eh?”

“Sou-sou said you would pick with him when you guys were younger.”

“We were kids. All kids are jerks.”

“He was an angel.”

“Have fun with the press.”

⚃ Rindou ⚃

“How do you feel about the fans reaction to your character?”

“It's funny,” he snickered into his arm. “They give me gifts because they think I get overshadowed by my brother.”

“How often do they send you gifts?”

“I'm always getting fan mail with food, letters, electronics, and accessories. You name it, I have it.”

“Can your fans cook?”

“I’ll never know. I'm not eating anything they send! If I take a bite I might see they put their hair in it or worse.”

“Makes sense, people do get attached to celebrities in an unhealthy way.”

“They do but I want them to know that, in reality, I'm the one that always got spoiled. I could do no wrong in my parent's eyes. Ran hated it, but he blamed my parents so I got to hang out with him still.”

“Aww, you wuved your big brother. He was just the coolest to you back then, huh?”

“You’re teasing, but yes, he was. I thought he was the coolest and no one could tell me otherwise. Even when he was walking around with the short hairstyle from the 1900s, I thought he badass.”

“How do you relate to your character?”

“We’re both sadistic, but that side comes out when I’m spending one on one time with a lucky person.”

“Would you ever do that with a fan?”

“They’d probably annoy me the whole time.”

“How?”

“Saying they can't believe it or asking me to say specific lines like, you're the only person I want to spend my life with. It would be fine if we were together, but they talk as if it's not a one-night stand.”

“What would you change about your character?”

“Hmm. Nothing. I like him how he is.”

“They show just enough of him and don't stretch it based of the fans reactions.”

⚂ Yuzuha ⚂

“Did you have fun with Takemichi? I heard you went home with him after the party?”

“I'm gonna wring that twerps neck if he keeps making a post.”

“He just tagged you in the latest one.”

“Ignore it.”

“He said you gave him a good time and he'd be happy to see you again!” She covered her mouth while she scanned the post. “I thought you hated him!”

“I do! He's wording it weirdly to get attention from the press!”

“Well, it’s working!” She yelled. “What’re you going to do to stop him?”

“I don't know!”

“Poor thing.”

“How do you feel about the fans reaction to your character?”

“I love that they appreciate her, but I don't think she’d agree with a lot of the things they say. I won't get into it unless it comes up later.” She waved her hand and you moved on to the next question.

“How do you relate to your character?

“I’d do anything to protect my family. Not kill them but anything else.”

“Why not?”

“I can't protect them if I'm locked up. I have to be free so I can be there for them.”

“Right. Since you're gone the offender will have a field day?”

“And we can't have that! Not everyone is strong like Taiju. My kicks will damage the average jerk bold enough to hurt my family.”

“You're just strong as your character?”

“Yep, I've always been interested in martial arts as a kid. It's lovely and dangerous depending on the fighter.”

“Is there you’d change about your character?”

“There's no way she had a shred of love for the guy who called her brother, a victim of domestic violence, a loser. That's what I was going to say earlier. I hate that people are still making statements about the situation and saying the wrong things.” She banged her fist on the table as she spoke.

“Yeah, they forget that it's a mental thing too. No matter how strong he was, he couldn't just step up to his brother. The abuser wears down your confidence until you're right where they want you.”

“Exactly! And no matter what they say, he was the youngest. As the older sibling of course I’d let him lie. With the way society is, they wouldn't care that he's the youngest or that he was scared. I wouldn't want them to know either.”

“It's bad enough he's puking blood, but you're gonna add to his trouble by calling him a loser. That helps a lot.”

“But I guess that just shows what they think about real victims because the writer did portray it well.” Her voice was much more cheerful as she gave praise.

“He did because no matter how strong you are, the chances of them being able to act like your character are lower than they think.”

“Yep, that's like when people say they could never be with someone who mistreats them but reality hits and they’re another statistic.”

“Sad really. Nothing will change if they don't try to learn the full extent of abuse and not see it as something you can just fix in a day.”

⚁ Souya ⚁

“It's nice to see you again.” He hugged you before sitting across from you. “I heard about you and Tak-”

“Lies, all lies. Let's not spread rumors. Spread the truth.” He giggled at your reaction. A flash of his silver grill blinded you for a second.

“That's why I'm here. First question.”

“How do you feel about the fans reaction to your character?”

“They’d hate me in real life because I’d...” He pressed his lips and balled his fist.

“You’d do what and why?”

“I’d be fighting because of Nahoya. It's always Nahoya. If he ever flirted with my partner, I’d beat his ass.”

“What if they were flirting, and he didn't entertain it.”

“I‘m the type to hurt those who hurt me. I don't care who you are, don't play with my heart. I don't deserve to be hurt. I'm a great lover.”

“Aww, I’d treat you nice.”

“You promise?”

“You’d want for nothing, but what else would make them hate you?”

“I don't cry every time there’s a problem. I'm vocal about my feelings and I often go too far.”

“Just like that?”

“Only if you're the reason we're arguing. If you do me dirty, I want to make you miserable.”

“I understand. That's why people take a minute to think about the situation before talking.”

“To those of you tuning in, send a text before you get home. Unless you want me to lash out.”

“Don’t warn them!”

“Either way, justice will be served.”

“Sou-sou, how do you relate to your character?”

“I love my brother.”

“Be for real.” You pushed his shoulder and he grabbed your hand.

“Welp. People think I'm rude, but unlike my character, I like it.”

“What?”

“It makes them change how they talk to me. They don't want to upset me because they think I’ll beat them up.”

“I'm sure it has its negative effects. Don't people assume you're being rude and try to argue?”

“Yeah, but I shut it down. If it escalates, that's their fault. They shouldn't assume how I am.”

“Is there anything you’d change about your character?”

“I don't know why he hasn't snapped yet.”

“Why would he? He's such a sweetie. He doesn't even like fighting.”

“He needs to start calling out his so-called friends. They treat him like a nurse but don't spend much time with him. It's obvious Nahoya’s their favorite and that hurts. Can you imagine being a twin and seeing everyone treat them better? And you're supposedly the nice one.”

“I see. Does that happen to you outside the series?”

“No, I'm loved by all my friends. Is that the last question?”

“Yep, we're all done.”

“Wanna grab something to eat?”

“After my interview with Tetta.”

⚀ Tetta ⚀

“How do you feel about the fans reaction to your character?” You asked.

“I don’t care, but it does irritate me since I know why it’s happening.” He rolled his eyes and groaned.

“What are they doing that bothers you, Tetta?”

“I feel as if people like me, who have similar experiences in life, understand what the fans are doing.”

“And what’s that?”

“You know.” He was right, but you wanted him to say it.

“I do, but some of the viewers don’t. Explain it for them.”

“Just know that if Shuji and I swapped roles, he’d have ten times the fans he does now.” The two of you laughed, the cameraman raised an eyebrow. “He’d become everyone’s favorite bad boy on screen. The viewers would make stories about him being the big bad mafia leader that takes care of them.”

“They don’t do that for you?”

“They do, but it's just a handful. However, the majority have me in their non-negotiable.”

“Meaning?”

“They won't write for my character at all. But my loyal follower, Shuji, gets a pass. He loved it a bit much, even got thrills from it, yet avoids the backlash.” You tried to hold back your laughter, but he made it hard.

“How do you relate to your character?”

“I know what it’s like to have the world against you. I grew up in a country that didn’t treat me well. It’s one thing to have other kids being mean to you, but another to have adults join in on the insults and mockery. It’s tough.”

“How did you manage to keep going and not crumble at the weight of their words?”

“My family made sure I knew that I mattered. When I would go home sad, they showed me in different ways that I’m loved. They went behind my bullies and gave me double the kindness. As a kid, it helped a lot. I’m grateful for their love and support.”

“That’s so sweet, you’re gonna make me cry.”

“I’m the one that got bullied. You just heard the story.”

“The memory has me emotional.” You fanned your face with the note cards in your hand.

“Do you want a hug?”

“From you, of course.”

“Is there anything you’d change about your character?”

“Not a damn thing.”

“Language.” You joked.

“Haha, there’s nothing to change. He’s well-written. No matter how people feel or what they say, he carries out his plan because he knows if he puts his mind to it, it’s set in stone.”

“You’d leave him with the trait that has him kill his childhood friend in every universe?”

“Yeah, that’s what gives Takemichi purpose. Speaking of Takemichi, is it true you and him-“

“Thanks for your time. Hopefully, we can chat in the future.”

“No problem, I always have time for you.”

[bangtanagan]

mwahrch day 2: a kiss where it hurts

jihope + idolverse rated T, 1.3k fic tweet other mwahrch fics

“Yah,” sighs Jimin from the doorway. “This hyung.”

He’s been there, Hoseok knows he’s been there, has spared a fraction of his attention to be aware of his presence the way he always is when his members are around, but he startles all the same. 

It’s the tone, really, the long gusty huff and the blatant disapproval. Hoseok falls out of formation with a flicker of irritation and puffs his sweat-streaked bangs off his forehead, where they flop stubbornly back down. He’s wrung out from the crown of his head to the aching soles of his feet.

That doesn’t mean he appreciates the interruption.

“Yah what hyung,” he returns, a touch too sour to be only teasing. Jimin, who knows his private, sullen moods better than anyone—a privilege, he calls it, which makes Hoseok snort on good days and sting on bad ones—tilts an eyebrow and draws away from the closed door.

Hoseok props his hands on his hips and follows his approach in the mirror. He’s overly aware of how hard he’s working to catch his breath after two hours— four hours— after a long day in the practice room. He can see his reflection’s chest heaving, the seeping splotch of sweat across his front that matches the humid-sticky sensation of his shirt plastered to his back. Now that he’s stopped moving his hairline itches, and everything feels swampy and stifling. He wrinkles his nose.

“You weren’t at dinner,” Jimin says, which surprises him only because he hadn’t realized it was so late. The clock has been fixed at 3:23 ever since Taehyung hit it with a basketball, and they’d all agreed that it’s a fitting metaphor for the endless suck of hours spent in rehearsal. Well, Namjoon and Yoongi had agreed. The rest of them had been too tired to protest it.

“Did you miss me?”

“Yes.”

He says it with a smile, simper-sweet, but his gaze is sharper and carries that same disapproval. Hoseok snorts, and he means no you didn’t, and he means you’re one to talk. If they were to tally up the nights spent prioritizing practice over mealtime, Jimin would come out the clear victor.

Jimin’s mouth presses tight, flicker of an old fear of inadequacy, and lets it pass. Hoseok feels bad anyway, but Jimin doesn’t give him time to let it sit.

“How late were you planning on staying anyway?” he asks, coming up so they stand side to side. Hoseok, overheated, cringes a little at the proximity.

“I almost have it,” Hoseok returns. He isn’t talking shit, he does nearly have it. The time is worth something, which is progress and perfection, or as near to perfection as he can come, which trends closer every day, some asymptotic eventuality.

Jimin tuts—as though he hasn’t fed them all the same excuse—and gives Hoseok a long up-down in the mirror. Hoseok tilts his eyebrows, coy, but Jimin only turns and goes to rifle through Hoseok’s bag, emerging with his water bottle. He wiggles it like bait, and Hoseok spares a moment to roll his eyes before he stomps over to snatch it out of his hand.

“It’ll still be here in the morning,” Jimin points out. Hoseok gives him a look over the water bottle and wipes his mouth.

“I’m all warmed up.”

“You’re way past warmed up.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty hot.”

Jimin smacks his arm, and Hoseok gives up on his attempts to stay upright. It’s fine. He just needs a minute to catch his breath. His shorts bunch up under his thighs when he slumps back against the wall, eyes fluttering shut, and the floor of the practice room is gloriously cool against the backs of his knees. 

Jimin makes a low noise, dismayed. Hoseok gives himself a four count to will himself upright, then cracks an eyelid to find him staring down at the blooming bouquet of bruises dappled over his kneecaps.

“Hyung,” he says quietly.

“It’s fine,” Hoseok dismisses, but he can’t pull his eyes away from Jimin’s face, from the frown tucked between his brows and the purse of his lips and the way his eyes go soft with worry. The concern scalds, a little. Hoseok slumps backwards again. “Yah, Jimin-ah, don’t worry so much. I’m okay.”

“Looks like it hurts.”

It does, now that he’s slowed down enough to listen to his body. Everything aches, blisters stinging against his socks and calves throbbing and shoulders sore. His back is one long line of knotted rope, creaking when he moves. It’s good, though. It’s proof of work, of progress. He doesn’t mind hurting too much, not in pursuit of something good.

So Hoseok shrugs. “It’s fine,” he says again. Jimin gives him a look, two parts concern to one part mischief.

And then, little shit, he flops down next to him and smacks his hand down on Hoseok’s sore and smarting knee.

Hoseok swears at him.

“Fine, huh,” grins Jimin. Hoseok pinches him, hard, and he squeals over sideways, still grinning. Brat.

“Well it hurts when you do that,” Hoseok grumbles, smoothing his fingers over the ache, for all the good it does. Jimin’s face softens again.

“Sorry,” he says, and he leans over and presses a kiss to the bruise.

Hoseok flushes all the way to his hairline, drawing his legs up, but Jimin sets a hand on his shin to keep him in place as he drops a fluttering kiss to another bruise, and another. In the mirror, Hoseok is a mess, sweat-streaked and flushed from more than just exertion, staring at Jimin bent over his legs.

“Yah,” he mumbles. “Ah, Jimin-ah, don’t. I’m all gross.”

“Yeah, you are,” Jimin agrees, and then his lips press against Hoseok’s other knee, and Hoseok gives up on deterring him. He leans back against the wall again, eyes fixed on the coif of Jimin’s hair in the mirror.

“What are you doing, Jiminie, hm?” Hoseok asks, futzing with the strands that don’t lay flat, rucked up and tacky with product. He must have had a shoot earlier. Jimin hums and kisses his kneecap again, then sets his cheek against Hoseok’s shin, folded perfectly in half. Flexible fuck.

“Kissing it better, hyung,” he says. “Don’t want hyung to be hurt.”

He must know what image he makes, blinking up at him with those soft, sweet eyes. Hoseok huffs.

“You menace,” he says without heat. The curve of his mouth is all trouble, but his fingers are kneading carefully at one of the knots in his thigh, so Hoseok lets him be. 

“Just wanna make sure hyung is okay,” Jimin returns, beaming. “I think there’s bruise cream back at the dorm.”

Of course there is, Hoseok knows there is, can picture it set out on the bathroom counter where it lives, perpetually halfway empty with all seven of them navigating the aches and pains of idol life. Jimin’s ploy is wafer thin. 

“We can stay if you want,” Jimin says into his unimpressed silence, and he says it like joking but Hoseok knows he would. He’d sit himself right here, or find a practice room of his own, or slip away to bother whoever’s working late until Hoseok decides to leave. His heart softens.

And he wouldn’t mind a massage, some bruise cream, the shelter of their bedroom with nothing but them inside. His knees still tingle where Jimin kissed him.

“You gonna take care of me, Jiminie?”

“Of course.” He sits up, almost insulted. “I’ll take care of your ouchie knees, hyungnim.”

“What about my ouchie feet?” asks Hoseok, wiggling his toes in his shoes. They’re probably a mess. He’s seriously lost track of time.

“Ah, I guess I’ll take care of your ouchie feet too,” Jimin sighs, and he hauls himself upright and holds a hand out for Hoseok. “C’mon, hyung. Let’s go home.”

[pascallllllll1]

I 🤍 MILFS

Pedro Pascal x mom!reader

Summary: Given that reader has a young son, she thinks it’s be hilarious to gift her boyfriend Pedro a shirt that says, “I 🤍 MILFS”. What she didn’t expect was that he’d wear it in public. Fluff.

Warnings: swearing? Reader has a young son

Y/C/N = Your Child’s Name

You couldn’t help the giggles coming out of your mouth while reaching into the backseat of your car for the bag containing Pedro’s surprise, along with a few household items you had needed to grab before heading inside to find your boys. You could hear y/c/n’s yelling and Pedro’s deep laugh as you pulled the door to the backyard open. The sight before you was pure heaven. Y/c/n sitting in the centre of the large trampoline with the biggest smile, Pedro jumping around in a circle bouncing him higher and higher. Thank god I bought the trampoline with the tallest netting you thought to yourself.

“Hey! Look ma’s home!” Pedro says out of breath getting y/c/n’s attention.

“I see you’ve both kept busy.” You reply pulling your son out of the trampoline and in for a hug before setting him down. Your eyes meet Pedro’s as he sturdies himself onto the ground, a smirk forming on his lips before answering.

“Was trying to tire him out so maybe he’d fall asleep early tonight.” Sending a wink your way.

“Mmm smart man-OHHH I seen this while at the store anD OMG PEDRO Look!! FOR YOU!!” The shirt now out held against your body to fully display the large bubbled words.

“What does milf mean, princesa?”

“Means you got a thing for moms, old man.” giving him a peck on the lips. An eyebrow raised he asks,

“So.. since you got me a shirt cause of my thing for moms… does that mean I get to get you one for liking older men?” You playfully slap his arm and both laugh.

“I do love it, thank you baby.” You smile up at him.

“You’re welcome P.”

A few weeks later….

You were awoken by a very hangry toddler that demanded to be fed asap. Coming down the stairs and nearing the kitchen, the sound of twitter notifications were blowing up your phone from its charging spot on the marble counter. Too fucking early for that. After y/c/n’s belly had been filled to his satisfaction he retreated to the couch with his favourite blanket to enjoy Sunday morning cartoons. After taking advantage of this rare quiet and calmness to shower, you decided to check out what the cause of your phone blowing up was. Turns out it was your own doing. Kinda. That damn shirt. While he was stopping for coffee, someone must’ve spotted and snapped photos of Pedro. A few were from before he’d noticed the person and what they’d been doing, but two he managed to pose for.

1. A huge toothy grin plastered on his face, waving, chest puffed out as he was walk out of the coffee shop

2. Said grin turned into a smirk, accompanied by both index fingers pointing to the words on shirt, winking at the camera. Twitter was having a field day. The moms went feral, and because the both of you weren’t publicly together yet due to the age gap, they weren’t afraid to hold back on the thirst tweets. Honestly, most of them just made you laugh more then jealous and some of the really funny witty ones you shared with Pedro to make him smile.

Late that night in bed between your legs and on top of you laid Pedro, face first in your tits your legs wrapped around his waist cock soft inside you. The two of you’ve been like this for a while now just enjoying the warmth of each other.

“Y/n.. I’ve been thinking.”

“About?” Lifting your head to look at him better you try to get a read of his face.

“I want us to be together.”

“P we ar-“ but before you could finish he continues talking softly, refusing to look up or make any eye contact.

“I want us to be together… openly. I want to wear that shirt an other women know I’m talking about you, know that they don’t stand a chance with me because I already have the hottest mom in bed with me right now.” He finishes, chuckling but quickly turns serious again, hiding his face in my chest once again.

“If you’re ready, I’m ready. I love you Pedro.” climbing up to hover over you with both hands on either side of your head Pedro leans down and peppers you with sweet kisses. His lips hover over that sweet spot on your neck.

“Gracias mi amor, you’re end game for me, I want you and the world to know it.” The feeling of his warm wet tongue leaving goosebumps all over your body lips finally against your skin. After he’s sure he’s left his mark he pulls back just enough to whisper in your ear.

“Wanna marry you. fuck a few babies into you.” You snap you head to face him, noses touching, eyes full of lust searching into each other’s.

“Maybe we should try out that second one now huh?”

“I love you so damn much. I’m ordering a ‘I❤️dilfs’ shirt for you as soon as you’re pregnant baby.”

And buy that shirt he did.

[itsclydebitches]

RWBY Ice Queendom Recaps: “Red, White, Black, Yellow”

Hello, RWBY fandom! It feels good to be back.

Technically I never left — still answering the occasional ask, just finished up "The Girl in the Tower" recap — but between the extra long hiatus and my continuing obsession with Our Flag Means Death, it feels like I've been out of the RWBY loop for a while. I wanted to start this post with that acknowledgement because I had assumed that's why I didn't realize that Ice Queendom had dropped the first three episodes. Sure, I got an anon asking my opinion of the reboot (AU? Rewrite? We're all a little unclear about that still), but I had thought that was just in preparation for the July 3rd premiere. So imagine my surprise when I did a bit of googling last night — just in case — and found a new trailer, then a three episode sneak peak, but it weirdly wasn’t on First, but it was on Crunchyroll, and (at the time) it was set to drop on YouTube at 1:00pm today, but only for a short period? Some fans had clearly seen the episodes already, yet there wasn't nearly the amount of posting I'd expect for a community-wide, anticipated drop, and official information seemed to be scarce ... but surely my confusion was simply a result of me taking a semi-break from keeping up with all RWBY info, right?

Ehhh...

This is an excerpt from MurderOfBirds’ tweet thread (URL posted at the end of the recap, in case tumblr is still being weird about links) and, if you've been in the RWBY community for any significant length of time, you'll understand my shock that he of all fans was calling RT out like this. To be honest, I don't have much to say beyond, "This is happening"? From what little I've gathered, fans seem to have enjoyed the IQ premiere — or at least, they haven't called for a salt and burning yet — but RT's relative success in that regard doesn't suddenly erase all the other problems surrounding RWBY as a franchise. RTX planning remains a mess, communication about upcoming projects is shoddy at best, RT's company culture is continually under fire, worries about Volume 9 and the upcoming video game haven't disappeared just because we've had little reason to discuss them lately, etc. Regardless of what we think about IQ as a story, it's coming into a tumultuous IP — to put it mildly.

Again, I fully acknowledge that I haven't been actively seeking out every bit of RWBY info lately, but the fact that I, someone who is generally working to keep up with the story, had to suddenly scramble to figure out how and when and why a big chunk of the new installment was releasing now is... not great. And apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way.

That said, let's get into the story proper. In case it's not abundantly obvious by the title, I've decided to keep these recaps separated by episode, despite 1-3 releasing as a single hour of content. You all know I can write enough for each, even with a lot of this plot being repeated. No sense in giving you all a dissertation to wade through lol.

Let's do it!

We begin, as we did originally, with Salem's voice-over telling us how the humanity of today came to be.

(Oh yay, a nice het-centric creation myth. Look, I really wasn't joking about being obsessed with OFMD right now. After months of canonical queer pirates, I'm feeling a little salty towards RWBY's version of queer rep. I won't get over it, sorry, but I promise I won't bitch about it too much.)

(Actually wait, one more point: I saw a post here — which I’ve now lost — where the author didn't seem terribly enthusiastic about IQ, but they said they'd forgive it if Blake and Yang made out in every upcoming scene and like yeah, joke-y posts are jokey-y, I love them, but AS IF. If IQ confirms Bumbleby I'll just straight up die of shock. You all can @ me in the afterlife.)

(But oh god can you IMAGINE if IQ confirmed the fandom's biggest ship before the webseries? Chaos. Calamity. An actual, defensible position for IQ being better. It would be a complete disaster, yeah... but potentially an entertaining one.)

Anyway, back to the plot. We go through a version of our opening speech and, frankly, I don't think the actress playing Salem sounds nearly as menacing as Taylor does. I've always cared more about the characters themselves than the actors playing them, so I don't have any big opinions on the casting here. This is just a little acknowledgement that, had I been watching IQ prior to RWBY, I never would have gone, "Oh, this is our villain" like I did during the webseries’ opening. At least not until the end of the episode when we get the more threatening dialogue. Regardless, the animation more than makes up for that, showing us not merely the paper-like history of humanity, grimm, and the rise of their combat capabilities, but far more visceral images like a man collapsing amidst a field of flames, very nearly succumbing to them. That sells the idea of humanity almost crumbling back to dust.

But then, “The smallest spark of hope brought forth a great light” and humanity discovers capital 'D' Dust, which allows them to maintain and spread civilization despite the grimm. Salem says that it was through their “power and ingenuity” that they secured it and I'm like... really? Because the animation just shows an almost-dead guy stumbling upon a glowing rock in the ground and presumably thinking, "Hey, that might be useful." Not sure there's much power and ingenuity in randomly finding a magic mineral lol.

With the history lesson out of the way, we find Ruby at Summer's grave with... a military-like march soundtrack? It's an intriguing choice and, combined with Ozpin’s introduction + Weiss' AU design, I'm curious to see how much this story will feed into RWBY's (badly managed) anti-military themes. Though introducing our simple soul protagonist with that vibe doesn't seem like a great start...

What is done well is the character work in this scene. Actually, that's something I want to praise about the episode as a whole: IQ is very good (so far) at developing the cast and the world, something it absolutely has over the original RWBY. Remnant feels lived in, the characters' stories are better intertwined — helped by making this episode a combination of the trailers and “Ruby Rose” — and I actually feel like they have internal lives they're living, rather than just existing as archetypal puppets under the Rule of Cool's strings. Sure, RWBY gets better at that as time goes on — I wouldn't care about the early Volumes like I do if the characters didn't feel engaging to me — but IQ nails it right from the start.

Case in point, Ruby isn't just staring at a mysterious grave that was added last minute because hell, why not. She's really talking to Summer, telling her all about how Yang made it into Beacon Academy and that she "always said she wanted to be a huntress." Such a small line of dialogue and yet suddenly Yang’s motivations better align with Ruby's. Rather than being the party girl just out for a good time (the club scene doesn't even make it into this episode, if it shows up at all), Yang always wanted to be a huntress, specifically — just like their mom. It stabilizes Yang's career path and helps sell the idea that one primary, personal conflict is how Ruby will break away from her sister's shadow: she's talking to Summer primarily about her "sis," she wants to be a huntress just like Yang, she's kinda jealous that Yang is already on her way — a nice detail that makes Ruby feel like a legit person with complex emotions — Tai is worried about his youngest standing on her own, and meanwhile Ruby is asking her mom, “What can I do to be more like [Yang]?” Frankly, this scene sells the idea of Yang raising and influencing Ruby far more than the entirety of Volumes 1 and 2 did. We can see how Yang has become the mother figure that Ruby is desperate to emulate, even as she says she also wants to follow in Summer's footsteps. From Yang and Tai talking about Ruby like they're the parents waiting on their wayward child, to the hug where Ruby is positioned more like the child as Yang holds her and looks to Summer —

I feel like the show has visually told me that Yang helped raise Ruby, episodes before we get to that talk with Blake. Sure, they're absolutely still playful sisters — and Yang calls Summer "Mom." No Raven complications just yet — but IQ changes the dynamic slightly, making Yang come across as more mature and, consequentially, more of a mentor figure for Ruby. Yang is someone Ruby needs to eventually step away from in order to forge her own path.

Also, love that they give them the exact same wink. Again, they're close and we can see Ruby mimicking some of Yang's mannerisms:

However, this is perhaps as good a time as any to admit that I don't really like the character designs? Outside of their normal outfits/distinguishing features, of course. I mentioned weeks back that I find their eyes to be creepy as hell and though I realize now that's a visual staple of the creator's... it doesn't change that I think they're creepy lol. Worse, there's something very doll-like about the models that makes my skin crawl. It's not too bad when we've got a fight sequence going on, but when Ruby is just standing there with her unnatural eyes, glossed lips, painted cheeks, kinda shiny skin like she might be made of porcelain...

Yeesh.

I don't know. I'm assuming this is purely a me problem (no doubt born from too many horror movies in my youth) and not every shot is bad! But some definitely make my brain go, "Nope, nope, nope, NOPE" in a very Uncanny Valley kind of way.

I mean sure, the animation quality is undoubtedly better, but original Ruby just looks more... real to me? You know? Does anyone else get that?

Yeah, I can't explain it well. It’s fine. Just don't let IQ!Ruby into my room at night, please.

We cut to Weiss standing before the garden monument — which I've only now realized is kinda weird. Who gives a snowflake wings? —  and she's approached by Klein who is, for all intents and purposes so far, a totally different character. There's no sign of his semblance (no real loss imo) and he's far more formal — deferential — towards Weiss than he’s ever been in the webseries. Gone is the chaotic, buddy-buddy dynamic they had and in its place is the far more common “Play-by-the-rules butler has a soft spot for the young mistress, allowing for a bit of parental love to shine through.” Think Carson with Lady Mary. Or even Alfred with Bruce. Though I’m personally a big fan of this character type—I’m an absolute sucker for love pushing up against class/social expectations/job formalities—this is a case where IQ arguably moves backwards. Rather than introducing a bit of depth like we saw between Ruby and Yang, we’ve reverted to a far simpler setup. Which, I want to emphasize, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I don’t think Klein is important enough to necessitate that creativity when being a fond, long-suffering butler serves the story just as well. It’s just an observation that they have stripped him of what made him stand out from the butler crowd.  

He tells Weiss that the “arrangements” have been made and they walk together to the ballroom where her final test is to take place. On the way we spot a day-drinking Willow from behind and the shot reminds me a bit of the comic panels:

and we also run into Whitley, still leaning smugly against the wall like he did in the webseries. This time though I’m reading him through the lens of the kid he is, rather than the scheming, Jacques Jr. that both stories seem to be going for. See: Whitley smirking from the shadows while Weiss walks through beams of beautiful light, finally settling between the pillars in the full sun. It’s not subtle.

This is one of a couple split-screens in our opening episode and though it’s a technique the webseries has made use of recently (think the Team RWBY vs. Ace Ops fight), personally it’s something that I think should be used sparingly. Like here, do we really need to get Klein’s reaction and, in the process, see the awkwardness of Weiss with half a face? Or, in a moment, a shot of her boots?

Next to the contrast of Weiss and Whitley, which actually serves a narrative purpose, these just feel unnecessary. Technique for the sake of technique.

We also get a shot of the family portrait as Weiss passes by. Nothing detailed unless you pause the episode, but it's a glimpse of that supposedly picture-perfect family right before we see it unravel. Whitley questions Weiss’ ability to pass this test, she tells him to just watch her do it, and then we get what I think is a damn solid line:

“I’ve always watched you, my fearless, foolish sisters."

We’ve got the story introducing that there's a third sibling before we see Winter at the test. There’s Whitley's quiet admission that yes, he's been watching them (looking up to them) for, presumably, years. Also an acknowledgement of those complicated emotions tied up in their choice to not just become Huntresses, but to use the career as a means of escaping their father's abuse when he, someone without combat skills, can't follow them. Is it foolish then, or fearless? Depends entirely on whether you have that option to begin with. This is a Whitley who, right from the start, feels like a kid struggling under an inability to follow in his sisters' footsteps, despite how the animation paints him as the shadowy antagonist, with the concept of paths and having to carve out your own tying in nicely with Blake's story.

Weiss arrives at the test where both Winter and Jacques are waiting for her. It puts them on fairly even footing — both watching this dangerous battle with detachment, both taking up the same position on opposite sides of the room — despite the fact that verbally Winter is more supportive of Weiss than Jacques has ever been in his life. Still, that parallel combined with Winter being "too busy" when Weiss leaves for Beacon and her cold approach to training her in the flashback makes this version of Winter seem far less welcoming than the original. “The powerless return to dust. That is the law of this world” she tells Weiss after she fails to defeat all of her summons (as seen in the Volume 5 short) and while that is a very cool line that hints at how Remnant's history has influenced the peoples’ philosophy, it’s also a damn bit more dismissive than Weiss promising to do better and Winter saying only that she hopes she can — she'll need it to escape. I can't imagine this Winter playfully batting Weiss' head and demanding information about the friends she's made.

I do want to emphasize that Weiss' entire story is much clearer for the audience though. We're told exactly who all these people are (at least in relation to one another). We've established that Weiss is undergoing a test to get into Beacon. We have a line about Klein releasing the grimm, right on the heels of our intro explaining wtf grimm are, and oh look, now she's fighting it. All of "Red, White, Black, Yellow" flows together more smoothly than the trailers + "Ruby Rose” do, meaning there's no mad scramble to, say, explain to the community that this is a flashback, Weiss got that scar during her fight—look, there’s a bit of blood—she’s singing on her father’s orders, yeah idk why exactly it’s just a thing she does, mhmm the fight is a test to get into Beacon, etc. I didn’t come into RWBY until Volume 3, but I remember finding old posts that worked to clarify the iffy canon of our trailers (and, indeed, acknowledging that some details like Ruby’s strength against the grimm remain in the realm of “Not canon, actually”) as well as explaining what precisely happened in each. None of that is necessary here. The only thing the scene doesn’t clarify is how a suit of armor is also a grimm, but failing to get into the possession abilities is small potatoes compared to the potential confusion we started out with.

Yet despite the obvious benefits of that clarity, the fight itself is just… fine? Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing bad about it—except, perhaps, the weird glyph sound effects that I personally hate—yet even following much of the original choreography, I didn’t have an emotional investment in this fight like I did the White Trailer. I think a great deal of that comes down to the music. Though I’ve always agreed that the soundtrack is a huge part of RWBY’s personality, I didn’t realize quite how much of the emotion it carried until it was gone. The generic battle music of IQ just can’t compare to hearing

Mirror, mirror

Tell me something,

Who’s the loneliest of all?

…I’m the loneliest of all.

while Weiss is framed in front of the broken moon, expression stony, this epic moment inter-cut with her future self belting this lament, all right before she drives through the knight and lands, perfectly confident in her victory.

IQ!Weiss technically has the same combat beats of the original fight (with the exception of the knight’s sword nearly crushing Klein??), but it’s a completely different vibe. IQ!Weiss feels frantic at the end to me and her getting to coldly demand the Beacon reward from her father is a one-up moment that doesn’t jive with, say, Weiss later trying to muster up a fake smile in the elevator to convince her family that everything’s fine. She feels too confident, like she’s already won against Jacques and RWBY!Weiss’ journey (marred as it was by Volume 8) isn’t even on the table anymore. And, you know, maybe it’s not. Though the changes are subtle so far, this is already a very different version of Weiss. Personally, I prefer the theme of loneliness in the original: Weiss standing as the knight is obliterated behind her, bloody face fading into someone who, despite this victory, is still left standing there, alone on stage, performing for her father. She won the battle, but is still fighting the war.

(Gotta love shots like this though. The size difference! The scale! The seemingly insurmountable challenge!)

With a red leaf that looks a lot like a rose petal flying by—nice—we transition to Blake who is…

…Naruto running with Adam?

alksdfjalsjfa okay, cool.

Their section is pretty similar to the Black Trailer, though this time around Blake’s decision to leave feels like it’s really coming out of left field. I mean, she questions whether they’ll be fighting actual people, but Adam reframes that around Blake’s courage and there’s no visual cue from her that he’s wrong about that. Then we get a seemingly sweet moment where she doesn’t even look at the Atlas soldier behind her, knowing Adam’s got her back

and though she’s clearly not happy about Adam crashing the train when there are people on board, Blake doesn’t have that much of a reaction to it. She just walks over to the next car and severs the connection, leaving the audience with Adam’s supremely awkward line, “Are you betraying me? Betraying the White Fang?”

Easily the worst part of the episode for me 😬 You know you haven’t written a scene well when a character has to spell things out in the most heavy-handed way possible.

To be honest, I’ve always found the Black Trailer to be the weakest of the bunch and I don’t think IQ has succeeded in improving on it. If anything, I think having Blake sneak away while Adam is busy with the mech, only for him and the audience to both realize she’s on a different, separated car works better than… this. I suppose neither version really sells me on the idea that this was a breaking point for Blake and if it wasn’t, why leave now, right in the middle of a mission? Compared to the clarity of our other stories, Blake’s remains lacking in some respects.

We get to Ruby’s Dust shop robbery and, given that we’ve just gone through two of the trailers, I’m a little disappointed that the Red Trailer wasn’t included. Certainly it’s the least plot connected of the four and yes, they’ve done away with Yang’s too, but Ruby taking out a horde of grimm under a shattered moon is the defining image of the franchise—at least for me. It’s not just what IQ decided to cut out though. Like Weiss’ fight sending a very different message thanks to the time spent on clarifying her test and its consequences, the development of Ruby’s character pre-robbery means that we’ve lost the appealing surprise of who she really is. What I mean is, outside of the Red Trailer, the moment Ruby turns—tiny, bright-eyed, sporting headphones and a weapons magazine—is our first introduction to her and that particular image contrasts wonderfully with her kicking that goon to hell and back. I mean sure, we already know how such “surprises” work (especially in a combat webseries. It’s not really a surprise), but I still love the (supposed) shock of this child being cornered, but then turning around and kicking ass.

That doesn’t happen in IQ precisely because the show does a better job of developing Ruby beforehand. We’ve already watched her tell Summer about how she might be getting bad grades, but she’s an expert with weapons. She’s already visited a weapons store before popping into the Dust shop.

She’s already gushed over the weapons magazine and even quoted from it, rather than that existing purely as a background detail for the audience to catch. Hell, we’ve already seen Crescent Rose, at least in its compact state, which makes the robbery “reveal” no longer a reveal at all. There’s no, “Oh cool the vulnerable kid is actually a badass fighter! And she’s got a scythe!!” reaction because the show has established that as a firm part of Ruby’s characterization. We know about Yang and Beacon and Ruby’s long-term combat goals. This

just doesn’t have the same impact anymore.

It’s the same with Zwei. Do I love seeing my favorite pupper right in the first episode? Hell yeah. Have we now lost the opportunity to introduce him through the mail—another iconic RWBY moment? Also yeah.

Which, again, is not automatically a bad thing. This isn’t a case of “Choice A works, but Choice B doesn’t.” Although IQ’s timeline is arguably a more productive way to write a long-term story, in inevitably comparing it to the webseries, I can’t help but notice that we’ve lost a certain absurdity and, well, fun that’s a part of RWBY’s charm.

(That’s an awesome shot though. Love the lighting.)

So Ruby works her way through the goons—a combat sequence I quite enjoyed. Very liberal on the crunchy faces. Looked painful—and Roman runs through most of his original lines. This time he does comment, “Semblance? A Beacon Academy student?” when Ruby busts out the window, which both hints at the fact that semblances might be comparatively rare (remember that Roman doesn’t have one) and, by extension, highlights Ruby’s innate abilities. The fact that Roman assumes she must go to Beacon implies that only someone two years older than her could pull that kind of control off. Ruby, as the talented protagonist, has managed this early.

Roman throws his smoke bomb, runs up the building, Ruby follows him… calls him a thief even though technically he didn’t take any of the Dust with him lol. While they’re on the roof, Tai, Yang, and Zwei arrive on the scene, having grown worried when Ruby failed to return home at a normal time.

(Why is that clock so cool and why don’t I own it.)

Again, IQ does a really great job of fleshing out the world and the characters’ relationships, especially in just 20 minutes. I love that Ruby was out looking for a present for Yang (still bitter we never got to see what she bought her in Volume 6), that Yang and Tai have this conversation about Ruby’s growth, Zwei is being used as a bloodhound to track her, the fact that yeah, of course there are other civilians about and the police were called on scene.

Personally, I think there’s a nostalgic charm to RWBY’s shadow people, but it’s still true to say that animating actual characters responding to situations goes a long way towards making your world feel lived in. 

Also, can I just SHOUT FROM THE ROOFTOPS that Tai is out looking for his daughter? I never cared about his character much until post-Volume 3 when the fandom started dragging him for… well, everything. How dare you make a joke your daughter clearly loved. How dare you tell her the truth in an effort to keep her from losing another limb—or her life. (Which, I will always point out now, happened! Yang stupidly jumped in front of Ruby, just like she stupidly charged Adam, and Neo killed her!! You have a ranged weapon, Yang, oh my god—) How dare you fail to follow one kid while the other is at home with severe depression. How dare you not follow both when [checks notes] you’re not a part of the primary plot. Tai really went the way of Ozpin and Ironwood (pre-Volume 8 Ironwood, anyway) where potential mistakes are declared unforgivable sins and… that’s it. You’re Remnant’s #1 Worst Dad. Sucks to be you.

So hell yeah, good on IQ for reminding everyone that Tai, even an AU Tai, is of course worried sick over his missing kid and will do whatever he can to help her. Double kudos for managing that alongside a slight increase in mom!Yang energy.

Glynda (my beloved) shows up and does her thing. Cinder never comes out to fight them, but we still see her piloting the airship, which is interesting. At least, it is to me given that I’d assumed going into IQ that a lot of the larger plot-lines would be dropped in favor of the new story: the White Fang, Cinder’s lust for power, even Salem herself. Obviously that’s not the case, so now I’m wondering if IQ is like an interlude type story? We get a mostly-the-same Volumes 1-2, then a totally new adventure, then the implication that the characters go back to a version of the original tale with Relics, Maidens, la de da? We’ll have to see.

After Ruby DOESN’T ask for Glynda’s autograph (tragic) and she’s getting her lecture while Tai and Yang wait at the station, Ozpin shows up to… salutes?

That’s a choice.

You know how I was saying that Whitley’s characterization feels more in line with where he’ll end up several Volumes later? Well, Ozpin’s characterization feels more in line with where the show says he ends up several Volumes later… even though they never actually wrote that. Meaning, this is an Ozpin introduction that actually implies an ulterior, morally gray motive. This is a guy that does feel sketchy to me.

Let’s tally the details.

Ozpin arrives at the station—now overtly a police station and not the ambiguous closet of the webseries—and is saluted by everyone there. He doesn’t wave the formality aside with discomfort or anything, but takes it as a given. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that was Ironwood walking into the room.

He still gives Ruby cookies, but this time we see that he didn’t arrive with them. Meaning, he must have made one of the officers scrounge them up which, while still potentially just a nice gesture, feels like it has more potential for manipulation. More “Do the work for me so I can look good to the kid” rather than, “I heard Glynda had you in her clutches and brought cookies from home to soothe that :D”

Ruby never gives her passionate speech about wanting to help people like her parents taught her to and how Beacon is her plan to do that. So although the fandom has long assumed that Ozpin invited her partly due to her Silver Eyes—an assessment I agree with—that motivation feels far more prominent without Ruby overtly wanting to come. At least, she doesn’t tell Ozpin she wants to come. Now, instead of making Ruby’s wish come true (with the added benefit of assisting Ozpin’s war) Ozpin offers a place seemingly out of the blue, still putting some focus on Ruby’s combat skills, far more on those special, Silver Eyes. This feels like a recruitment now, not a benevolent gesture towards a family friend’s kid.

Going off of that, there’s no playful banter between Ozpin and Glynda about Ruby getting in early. This Ozpin has very little of the kind, fatherly energy of the webseries.

Finally, we see Ozpin talking to Tai afterwards and though Tai is quite taken with Ruby getting to skip two years, it’s not like Ozpin is asking his permission here. Sure, sure, we could get into the question of how much agency Remnant kids actually have—Blake’s parents are cool with her going off to Beacon after being missing for a time, no one is looking for Oscar, etc.—but the point is that twice, once before meeting Ruby and once after, Ozpin has the chance to offer Tai this opportunity for his daughter, but very overtly does not. He says that he will be speaking to Ruby. He says that she will be attending Beacon. He’s in control here.

The combination of this creates a far less approachable, more calculating Ozpin. AKA, the kind of Ozpin that RWBY failed to write, but the fandom insists is there in an effort to make the fury in Volume 6+ make sense. I’m not sure how I feel about it? On the one hand yeah, I’m glad to see IQ setting the stage for future reveals. This is an Ozpin who really might be puppeteering this war in a way the cast can be justifiably disgusted by. Yet on the other hand, it doesn’t feel much like Ozpin to me. Though small changes have been made to all the characters, they still feel like themselves (Klein being the exception). Ozpin though… there’s no interest in Ruby’s passion, no teasing Glynda, no intimacy with Tai. Seriously, go back and watch “Ruby Rose.” We’ve got Ozpin’s dad-like concern over Ruby using one of the “most dangerous weapons every designed,” his clear fondness for his “dusty old crow,” offering the cookies only after Ruby has explained herself a bit and her actually eating them (comfortable in his presence/trusting what he gives her), the eye-twitch when she talks with her mouth full, fond smile as Ruby gushes about her uncle, laughing a little at her karate chops, “adorable girl,” the very stern “You want to come to my school?” which forces Ruby to clearly state her own goals and desires (that oh so conveniently align with his), THIS

I mean, Ozpin is a dad. I feel like that’s a very crucial part of his characterization. He’s a romantic who settled down, had kids, does the stupid voices while reading his beloved fairy tales… and then his life went to absolute shit. He’s an exhausted dad who is still fighting because he believes wholeheartedly that the world is worth fighting for. He’s exactly the kind of guy who would bring a talented kid cookies and let her skip two years, all while ensuring her happiness benefits humanity somehow.

This guy feels like a creep—and that’s not just because of the weird doll features.

So good for the fandom, finally has a legitimately suspicious Ozpin to embrace? Yay IQ laying the groundwork for future plot-points? But as my favorite character, I wish we had Ozpin back. Especially since he’s only existed as an extension of Oscar for the past five Volumes, one everyone uses as a punching bag.

Maybe his characterization will change in the upcoming episodes? :(

We near the end of “Red, White, Black, Yellow” with a bit of additional worldbuilding slapped onto the trailer content. Weiss learns from Winter that there are hard rules to their totally-not-magic system—“Your Aura can only take a direct attack once or twice at most. The moment you’re hit, you’re finished”—and that’s reiterated by Glynda to Ruby: “Is your Aura strong enough to stop every bullet they fired?”

Cue me CACKLING at, like, every single RWBY fight ever. Will IQ do what the webseries couldn’t and actually stick to its own rules? We’ll have to see…

Blake is off in a… barn? Some isolated place with a bag of supplies now. She gets her admission notice from Beacon and I have to wonder when she took that exam. Was it before she left Adam, thereby making her leaving him feel a little less random? Was it after her escape and she’s been, what? Just running through grimm infested territory since then, popping into Beacon once for a quick test? Why didn’t she ever go home?? Yeah, there are still aspects that don’t quite add up for me. Regardless, Blake gets teary and says that now she’s really able to follow a “different path.”

Klein sends Weiss off with faith that she’ll carry on the legacy of Master Nicholas Schnee and, after Ruby tells Tai that she’ll make a ton of friends at Beacon (that’s a change in characterization), we finish with them all boarding the same transport. We then get a really lovely moment where both Weiss and Blake stare at their reflection on opposite sides of the ship, mustering up a smile.

Watching OFMD grow as a fandom these last few months, I’ve gotten to see a lot of people question certain fandom trends that have popped up, including asking, “Wait, people ship that?” Ignoring for the moment that you obviously don’t need a reason beyond, “I like it,” we can usually pinpoint why fans end up liking that particular duo (or trio). The important takeaway here is that it doesn’t take much—at ALL—to spark that interest. This moment is a perfect example of that. Blake and Weiss are set up to parallel and contrast one another. One is the rich heiress harming the faunus. The other is the (right now reading as) poor faunus fighting the heiress. They’ve got that Romeo and Juliet potential—two houses not meant to join—and yet we also see, right here, that they’re so much more alike than either will initially believe. They’re separated now, haven’t yet met, are literally on opposite sides of the transport, and yet they both go through the exact same motions of sighing in relief at making it in time, catching sight of themselves in a reflective surface, considering who they are, and then smiling. There’s so much potential there! We in the RWBY fandom know that Bumbleby and White Rose are the two heavy-hitters, but right now Weiss hasn’t met Ruby and Blake hasn’t met Yang. I guarantee that if IQ were its own show and we were waiting a week for the next, totally original episode, fans would be all over Monochrome as the primary ship. It would have sunk its teeth into the community from that alone and even if IQ went the way of RWBY, splitting them up and starting numerous moments of other shipping potential (Weiss slowing coming to care for Ruby, Yang opening up to Blake, etc.) there’s a good chance that Blake/Weiss would have hung on like whoa, just from this moment and a week of theorizing alone. Never doubt the power of fans to imagine up the most epic romances from a single, thematically loaded shot.

We’re given our first glimpses of Jaune (vomiting), Nora (hanging onto Ren), Ren (suffering, but he likes it), and Pyrrha—taking up most of the screen as Salem says that “even the most brilliant lights eventually flicker and die.”

I can’t go through this again 😭

At least that’s a WAY better introduction for Pyrrha than being Jaune’s background, quirky girl...

And, of course, we end on a close-up of Ruby as Ozpin talks about small sparks and simple souls igniting the most change.

(I’m sorry she looks so creepy here hOW IS THAT NOT A MURDER DOLL??)

So, just to summarize, there's really good character work throughout this episode. Not only are the introductions tighter and better interwoven with Remnant's worldbuilding, but IQ does a decent job of setting up future themes, conflicts, and — if the plot circles back to canon — foreshadowed events like Pyrrha’s death. Basically, this is what happens when you take your story through another draft. This is RWBY with an eye towards what did and didn't work the first time around.

Yet for all that praise... I have to admit that a certain spark is missing. Yes, the animation is so much better, but as said, there's something charming about RWBY's janky movements and shadow people. Yes, the characters' introductions fit more neatly into the story-world now, but it was exciting to get individual action trailers, unsure at first how they would develop into a plot-driven narrative. No, there's no reason to waste time on silly things like Jaune being Vomit Boy, but the lack of stupid humor in this premiere makes me feel like a crucial part of RWBY is missing. There's no disappearing cookies, or Ruby being chill about Yang kicking men out of club windows, or karate chops, or (and this is a real travesty imo) a cringey "Can I have your autograph??" towards Glynda. Maybe it's that we're nearly a decade out from the original air date and tastes have changed, or maybe it's just straight up nostalgia on my part, but for however good IQ is so far, it doesn't feel like it has the same heart that RWBY did — and I don't think it's capable of recreating that. RWBY was a specific storm of Monty + 2013 + the appeal of a group of fans doing something fun in their basement over something objectively "good," and who knows what else thrown into the mysterious pot of success. You literally can't recreate that, especially when so much of RWBY's fanbase are adults now, unable to return to their teenage years — or even just the eight years younger version of themselves if they were adults the first time around — and the headspace of when they first fell in love with the story. That doesn't make IQ bad by any means (and it may well get its own fanbase of first-time viewers). I really enjoyed this first episode... but I enjoyed it in the way I enjoy lots of other well-made, but kinda generic anime. Without it already being a RWBY story and without RWBY having caught my imagination back when it did, I don't think I would have gotten hooked on IQ in the same way. The premier is good, arguably far, FAR better than "Ruby Rose" ever was, and yet, whether due to time, nostalgia, or something else entirely, RWBY still feels like it comes out on top. It’s just got... something that IQ lacks.

Not that it's a competition, of course, though certain members of the fandom seem to believe quite strongly that it should be. More because they’d like a built-in reason to drag anyone with a criticism of IQ/RWBY than because they actually believe two versions of a story can’t co-exist.

But I digress.

With that, we've completed "Red, White, Black, Yellow"! At a measly 6,000 words, no less. (I’m apologizing now for the inevitable typos. It’s past 1:00am now and I can’t read through this again...) As is abundantly obvious, these recaps take a long time to write and this sneak peek has, quite unexpectedly, dropped the equivalent of three weeks worth of RWBY content into my lap all at once. Normally I'd have no problem buckling down to write the next episode, but I have a number of fic commitments at the start of July that I can't afford to ignore. So writing time will be going towards those, first and foremost, with me continuing to work on Ice Queendom on the side. I hope to have the next episode recapped in the next few days — at the latest — but that depends entirely on how kind the writing Gods are to me this week.

So stay tuned and, as always, thanks for reading! <3

MurderOfBirds' Twitter Thread: https://twitter.com/MurderofBirds_/status/1540414268457340928

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

Grunge-Metal Geralt

Hi, im fucking trash for the idea of Geralt being the front man for a Five Finger Death Punch type band and my brain wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it. This music genre is my bread and butter and I think Geralt’s repressed but highly emotional ass would fit right in. Yes im using another Hozier song, no i dont wanna hear anything about it. I’m a basic bitch and ive made my peace with it

Warnings: i honestly have no idea, its a little horny, little emotional, but theres no actual character interaction?, its at a concert venue? idk yall.

_________________________

Jaskier was… out of his comfort zone.

It’s not that he didn’t like the grunge-metal music, he just hadn’t listened to much and he was not used to the energy. People were yelling and screaming and the opener hadn’t even come on yet. He didn’t feel unsafe, far from it. Several people had checked to see if he was okay, seeing as he was the only person in the entire arena wearing a sweater that wasn't ripped or faded to hell. It was just a far cry from the shows he was used to. 

He played folky-blues. This was nothing like his shows. 

When the lights went down the crowd was deafening, all moving as one to rush the front of the floor, not giving a single fuck about tickets. 

The openers were exciting, and Jaskier was surprised by some of the concepts and messages behind the music. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all and he found himself searching them up on Spotify to listen later. 

Then came The Witchers. 

Eskel and Lambert made their energetic entrance, followed by Aiden calmly walking to his drums and sitting as if he were walking into a college class. But Geralt was nowhere in sight. The one person Jaskier had actually come to see. 

He’d seen a video clip from a previous concert where they covered one of his songs, and he was praying they’d do it again. It was lovely in a haunting-almost-threatening way, and the expression in Geralt’s posture alone was enthralling. He had to see it live. 

But Geralt was still absent as the band started to build a song. First Aiden with the beat, then Eskel’s bass, then Lambert with a melody on his electric guitar. It built and built and built to a fever pitch, taking the crowd with it. People were already jumping and screeching. Jaskier had to stand on his seat to see the stage clearly. 

Geralt’s voice echoed through the venue, low and closer to a growl than singing, but he was still nowhere to be seen.

Jaskier thought he’d been prepared, but his whole body was covered in goosebumps. He briefly wondered if this was what his friends were feeling when they listened to ASMR.

Geralt remained hidden for the whole first verse, getting the crowd even more excited than Jaskier thought possible, only for the band to go completely silent for a whole measure. When the crowd's screams reached their absolute loudest, Geralt dropped from on top of one of the jumbotrons, landing on one of the horse-sized speakers before launching into the chorus. 

Oh fuck, he was even more beautiful in person. 

He was… well he was a beast of a man. Jaskier really didn’t have another word for the way his muscles bulged and how lithe and powerful he looked springing from the speaker to join his bandmates on the main stage. His thighs filled out his black, tattered jeans and there were clear faded spots where his muscles strained the fabric too often. The thin black tank he wore did nothing but pretend the man was semi-modest. It was so tight, the only thing left up to the imagination was tan lines and the color of his nipple piercings. 

Jaskier was most entranced by his long, white, wavy hair falling past his shoulders. As the show continued and he started to sweat, a lot, it got curlier and curlier at the root. Jaskier wanted to give him a mask and some curl cream, but only after a, uhm, rough night of getting to know each other. He’d heard rumors about Geralt from hitting arenas not long after they’d left. He was quite sure they’d have a great time.

As he focused on the lyrics more and more, he was more inclined to want to wrap Geralt up in a hug and worship every part of him until he felt whole again. 

Either he’d been shown the shitty side of the genre, or The Witchers were exceptions to the rule of content. Jaskier was almost moved to tears a few different times.

Finally, about an hour into Jaskier mindlessly feasting his eyes on the front man, Geralt leapt onto another speaker and sat down, breathing hard and grinning from ear to ear. 

“You still with us?”

The unholy screech from the crowd left no doubt they were just as excited, if not more so, than when they’d arrived. 

“Good! Good..” he trailed off, chuckling as he lowered the mic to take a breath, “We’re gonna slow it down for a minute,” he leaned forward and held the mic away as Eskel shouted something up at him to which he laughed and flipped him off. 

“As I was saying, we’re gonna yearn for a minute or two and do a cover. Song by Jaskier called ‘Talk’.”

The crowd lost their shit again, various pride flags popping up throughout the stands. 

Geralt chuckled and raised his combat boot, showing off the bi flag colored treads, earning another round of screams. If this is what the grunge-metal scene was like, Jaskier had been missing out his entire life. Sure his fans were sweet and supportive and loving when he’d come out. But this was electric and feral and completely addictive.

Lambert struck the opening chord to Jaskier’s song and the crowd settled to a gentle hum, setting the tone immediately, as if they all knew exactly what was coming. 

Geralt closed his eyes as he tapped his thigh with one finger, keeping time before his rumbling baritone hit Jaskier like a freight train. 

“I’d be the voice that urged Orpheus when her body was found…”

Jaskier could have collapsed right there. He knew he was staring like a lovesick idiot, but hell, everyone around him was too. When the chorus hit and Eskel came in with a heavy bass line he nearly fell off his chair. Geralt’s intensity raised with the addition of the backup but he didn’t move. He stayed seated, swaying slightly, with his eyes closed as he crooned out the words Jaskier had sobbed as he wrote, broken hearted and miserable. 

It was surreal. 

Sure he’d seen other covers. Sure they’d been lovely. But he wanted to listen to this and only this as he fell asleep for the rest of his life. He’d never play it again if he could only hear it one more time. 

After the last verse Lambert launched into a guitar solo while Geralt jumped off the speaker and meandered to the center of the stage to slot his mic back in it’s stand. He gripped it like a lifeline when Lambert held one last note for as long as his instrument would allow and only started singing the last chorus when it was almost silent. 

“I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we could do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you”

His expression looked hopeless and utterly desperate as he crooned out the last two lines. He let his hair fall to cover his face and Jaskier could just barely hear his panting breath over the sound system as the crowd exploded. Geralt tipped his head back and took two deep breaths before straightening up and getting on with the show but Jaskier was stuck. 

He was vaguely aware of someone taking a picture of him, but he really couldn’t care less. The fact that Geralt moved right on to a song called ‘Burn Motherfucker Burn’ didn’t matter either. 

Jaskier jumped down from his arena seat, whipping out his phone and sending the band a tweet, because apparently that’s what musicians did now?

“Record it. Please. It’s either that or sing me to sleep every night. You choose.”

He stayed for the rest of the show and walked to his car in a haze. Before he backed out of his spot he checked his phone like always and his heart nearly stopped at the two top notifications. 

One public reply: “Both? -G”

And one direct message: “If you’re still here and want to grab a drink, I’m just backstage.” 

[kymbersmith90ff]

Read All About It: Chapter 2

Summary: Using Twitter to ask an actual princess on a date may not have been Killian's best idea - until it was.

The credit for the wonderful banners for this story goes to @hollyethecurious​ and @itsfabianadocarmo​. Thank you both so much!

@PrincessEmma I’m not at all surprised by that.You’re far more beautiful in person than you are in picture.And Anton’s a pretty scary guy too

Apparently, Killian wasn’t the only one who thought the princess might be flirting with him. His phone continued buzzing in his hand, tweet after tweet that ranged from fangirls stunned he was communicating with an actual princess over Twitter, to gossip sites that also seemed to have picked up the news. He cursed himself internally when he saw those mentions in his feed.  He should have known they would spin this into something far more sensational than what it was, and yet, Killian couldn’t bring himself to care enough to delete the tweets. After all, it wasn’t every day that one received personal correspondence from a member of the royal family.  

When he’d finally finished driving himself crazy flicking through a few more of the messages coming into his phone, Killian silenced the device before setting it back onto his bedside table and turned off the light. He needed sleep – especially if there was any chance that the British press had picked up on the news overnight.  

When he woke the next morning, the first thing Killian did was check his phone. Princess Emma hadn’t disappointed, and amongst the many messages he’d received throughout the night, he found the notification of her tweet. Killian quickly opened the app to see what she’d written this time, even though a part of him was already convinced this would be the final message he’d receive from her.

@KillianJones1 Thanks. I don’t think anyone has blamed my looks for making them sweat before. Anton gets paid good money to look scary though :P

He just managed to prevent himself from clutching the phone to his chest like the fanboy he was turning into. Instead, Killian decided to take a shower before replying. It would give him plenty of time to think about Princess Emma – and plenty of time to come up with a response to her message.

When he finally emerged from the bathroom with his stubble trimmed and teeth brushed, he felt confident in what he wanted to say. Throughout the evening, he’d tossed and turned, wondering if such public flirting with a royal was a wise idea. The heat from the shower had cleared his mind. He had finally decided that as long as Princess Emma was replying, he would too. After all, she had a much more public reputation to uphold than he did.

@PrincessEmma He’s nailing the job description.As for U, I’m shocked nobody’s told you that before. What kinda people R U socialising with?

Killian sent the message and quickly closed the app. He needed to get dressed and down at least one coffee before he met his parents in the restaurant for breakfast. As much as he loved them both, they could be a tad overbearing at times. It was almost like they’d forgotten he was thirty-four and still thought of him as their five-year-old son.  

                                                  Thankfully, Killian was the first down to breakfast that morning, so he grabbed a mug of coffee and took a seat in the corner of the room, picking up The Times to read while he was waiting. It didn’t take long for his father to slide into a seat next to him uttering a, “Good morning,” before he picked up a discarded copy of The Telegraph to browse.  

Killian finished flicking through his newspaper, then dropped his attention down to his phone. He couldn’t help the smile that broke over his face at the sight of the Twitter alert lighting up his screen. He quickly thumbed open the app to see what Princess Emma had written this time.  

@KillianJones1 I shall pass along your compliments with regards to Anton’s work. Clearly, walking into you was a blessing in disguise.

Killian’s attention was pulled away from his phone before he could respond by the sight of two bodies filling the chairs around the table he’d reserved for his family. He watched as his mother set a tray of tea down in front of his father, then he turned towards the intruder amongst them. Killian’s brows lifted in surprise at the sight of his elder brother lounging in the seat.  

“Liam? I didn’t know you were joining us,” he gasped, setting down his phone.  

“It was a last-minute thing,” Liam explained casually. “Mam mentioned you were giving them a tour of London, so I thought I would join you guys.”

It was the kind of thing Liam was known for, so Killian wasn’t sure why it had surprised him so much. He simply nodded his head and excused himself to grab another coffee. While he was waiting for the line to move, Killian decided to compose his reply to the princess.  

@PrincessEmma Please do.Im sure people’s memories of Anton are obscured by Ur beauty.I’ll b around London today if you need another blessing

Once he had a steaming mug of coffee in hand, Killian closed out of the app, silenced his phone, and slid it into his pocket. If it continued to vibrate at the rate it had been all night, Liam would pick up on it, and Killian would be outed within seconds.

“So, Mam tells me you ran into someone famous yesterday,” Liam began, as Killian took his seat once more. “Let’s see?”

Killian sighed heavily. Of course, his mother had already said something. She had probably told half of his hometown by now. With great reluctance, he reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and opened up the photo of himself with Princess Emma. Killian quickly turned the device around, and Liam wasted no time snatching it from his brother’s hand.

“Holy fuck, dude! Trust you to run into someone like that.”

Liam’s fingers began fiddling with the screen, and Killian tensed slightly. If his brother deleted those pictures, Killian would make sure he suffered.

“She’s one smoking hot lass,” Liam eventually declared, lifting his eyes to meet his brother’s knowing stare.

“Yes. Yes, she is,” Killian agreed quietly, pulling the phone from Liam’s fingers and locking it quickly to avoid any accidental deletions. Killian then turned his attention to his mother and asked, “So, where would you like to go today?” in an attempt to shift the subject back to less dangerous grounds.  

[yelenasdog]

moving out, moving on (mitch rapp x fem reader)

genre: fluff

summary: mitch and reader are taking another step towards mitch moving on, and it’s bittersweet.

words: 2.2k

warnings: drinking wine, kinda suggestive at times, talks abt katrina, mitch being emotional, my writing being melodramatic LOL

a/n: so. this was written during an all nighter that went to 7 am where i was listening to nicki minaj and eminem (???) for a good duration of it so. i’m very sorry if this is wonky at times! i hope u enjoy either way! mwah 

🥍🥍🥍

The early morning rays streamed through thin fabric, draped above the assassin's window. Dust particles floated about, becoming visible within the section of light cast from the sun. The birds perched outside the small apartment tweeted happily from their branch, their songs beautiful. 

Though, they were quite pesterous to the pair that lay together, wrapped in gray sheets. They reveled in the heat provided by the soft blanket, but even more so by the warmth from their joint bodies.

A mop of dark brown hair stirred, bringing one hand up to softly rub his eyes with his knuckle, the other hand snaking around the waist of the woman peacefully sleeping beside him. He watched with fond eyes as she lightly groaned, rolling to face away from the invasion of bright, turning towards her love. 

Mitch smiled down at her sleepy behavior, reaching out and brushing stray hairs from her forehead. He reluctantly retracted it only moments later, forcing himself out of bed to go and prepare the two of them for their big day as best he knew how: Coffee.

His sock clad feet dragged across the hardwood as he went, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips and groggy-ness (a word Y/n had donned as her own, and Mitch had caught on to) still very prevalent in his entire system. 

The Rhode Island air was frigid this time of year, Mitch allowing a grin to break out on his face upon remembrance of two nights previous, just how cold Y/n had been in the arena of the Providence Bruins hockey team. Nose pink, donned in a beanie proudly showing the team's logo, well, he had found himself a new lockscreen.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of said groggy-ness, his body on autopilot as it made the beverages. He picked out her favorite mug from the cupboard (AKA a souvenir from Dubai he had picked up long ago) that she had adopted as her own, drinking out of it every time she would spend the night, almost like clockwork. He waited for his coffee beans to brew, scratching his stubble along his jaw. He flinched, though, when he felt two arms wrap around his middle. He quickly relaxed into the embrace upon realization of who the supposed assailant was, her head finding its way to rest on his bare shoulder.

“You scared me, there.” Mitch muttered, his larger hand inching towards her’s on his waist. He closed his eyes in content and she hummed in acknowledgment. Mitch allowed her to turn his figure to face her, still residing in her arms, seeing a bright smile plastered across her face.

“Only for a minute though, right?”

She laughed to which he chuckled in response, nodding in false surrender. “You’ve got me there, Y/n/n.” He mused, his eyes lighting up at the sound of the coffee machine beeping. He looked back to her, shrugging.

“I made you coffee, was gonna bring it to you in bed but, y’know.” He gestured to where she had now climbed up to sit on top of his counter, his sweatshirt around her that read “Brown University” across the front in large lettering pooling around her thighs.

“It’s alright, I need to get a move on anyway.” She smiled, hopping down to retrieve the mug, taking the warm ceramic from Mitch’s hands and sighing at the wondrous feeling that had spread through her whole body. She lifted it to her lips and drank, not surprised that her boyfriend had made it just the way she liked, to perfection. 

“Thank you, baby.” She commented, reaching up to plant a chaste kiss on his lips. Her lip curled as she pulled away, Mitch already knowing what she was going to say, a laugh bubbling up in his throat.

“Mitch! Go brush your teeth, for the love of God!” She whined, watching as he scampered off towards the bathroom, snickering all the way. She rolled her eyes, downing the rest of her beverage before following where Mitch had gone.

Once in the bathroom after rinsing her and Mitch’s mugs, she tied her hair up, undressing and turning on the water (practically scalding hot, of course). Mitch had no objections to the temperature, though, seeing as it was his last time showering with her in that apartment, and in that apartment, period. 

The whole thing felt very symbolic to Y/n, at least, seeing it as washing themselves clean for the next phase of their lives together, a sort of preparation. (Maybe not so much for Mitch, who really was just pleased for any excuse to see his girlfriend naked.)

They used generous amounts of soap, as not only were most of them nearly empty (in fact, a few were and if it weren’t for Y/n, they probably all would be), but also that they had decided to simply just buy new toiletries as a whole for their new place.

They giggled at the sight of each other, all lathered in bubbles and suds. Mitch reached a finger forward, wiping it from above her eyebrows and preventing it from falling into her eyes. Y/n brought her arms around his neck, her lips connecting with his. “Much better.” She regarded with a smirk, before leaning back in.

Nearly 40 minutes later, they both emerged from the shower, fresh faced and ready for the day ahead. He didn’t have a lot that needed to be packed up, given that his place came fully furnished, so it took all but 2 hours and 5 boxes to pack up Mitch Rapp’s life. It honestly might have taken even longer than originally would have been needed, as Y/n would stop every time she found something interesting, allowing Mitch to tell her all about whatever stories had been connected to the item.

It had started with the ridiculous bird lamp that sat on his bedside table, once belonging to Mr. Nazir, and ended with his lacrosse stick. (And, a promise that one day, he’d show her how to play. He swore he’d never seen her smile that big.)

They also threw away and donated a lot, some of Kat’s old stuff bringing a pained smile to his face as he would place it in a box simply labeled “Kat” in messy, thick letters. He wasn’t sure if the box would end up in his new closet, covered in dust and unopened, or back with her family. But either way, he wasn’t quite ready to say goodbye to her completely, which Y/n was able to understand.

“Mitch? Did you pack away your coats already?” Y/n called out, opening up the closet near the front door. Her breath slightly hitched in her throat upon seeing all of the photos of Mansur, still pasted to the painted wood, the edges curling up. 

“Nah, not yet, I was gonna handle that while you worked on the cupboards” He responded, busying himself with a text from Irene on his phone wishing him good luck. He looked up and saw what she had been asking about, his phone quickly sliding into his pocket as he made his way over to where she stood, visibly distressed. 

“How long have these been here?” She questioned, feeling Mitch’s arms wrap around her shoulders. She brought her hands up to grasp onto his wrists, leaning backwards into him and biting into her lip.

“Since the beach, when I decided to go after Mansur. When everything happened with the CIA, it was kind of a whirlwind, I didn’t really have enough time to even think about taking it down when I was only even here for hours at a time.” He lightly chuckled, watching as she stepped forward and began to take the pictures down, crumbling them up in her hands. 

She ran her fingertips over the indents left in the door, feeling the splinters against them. She turned back to Mitch, quipping how “Mr. Nazir won’t be too pleased about that.” 

He smiled, joining her in taking all of the images down, ripping them or balling them up in his fists. All of them ended up in one of the old Target bags they had been using for trash, filling up an entire bag (minus a few Dunkin cups sitting at the bottom).

Mitch trailed a few tender kisses down the left side of her next, and though it sounds cheesy, a feeling of hopefulness flooded himself out of most of the bitterness that had been stuck inside for so long. 

She turned her head to catch his lips with her own, and smiled into the kiss, her hand finding the back of his head. She lightly tugged on the chocolate colored strands and he groaned in content, to which her grin only widened. She pulled back, ruffling the top of his head before beginning to pack away the remnants of what was left in the closet. He rolled his eyes, following suit.

They had piled all of the boxes into the back of Mitch’s old decommissioned CIA vehicle (which was obvious that is was such, given that the side was littered with bullet holes and metallic scratches), returned the key to Mr. Nazir (who was glad to see Mitch go), and with that, they were off.

The new place wasn’t too far away, the pair taking a page out of Stan’s book and opting for a wonderful sense of privacy. It was nestled in a rural corner of Massachusetts, where Mitch would be able to come home to a sense of serenity. Y/n had already moved in her possessions, Mitch’s items being the last step. They’d also furnished the cozy cabin, trips to IKEA and Urban Outfitters (along with several other over-priced boutiques) making the place feel like a perfect fit for the couple.

Mitch’s strange and varied knick knacks made the house feel like a home, his lacrosse stick finding a new home by the front door, right under a hanging potted plant that Y/n and Mitch had decided to affectionately name “Charles” after a drunken night watching the X-Men movies. The house was littered in plants such as Charles, in fact, with Mitch’s first response to seeing all of them being “Wow, looks like a greenhouse in here.”

(Still, he’d grown to love the plant babies. Trust me.)

Two tired smiles made their ways to their faces as they both sat on their new sofa, admiring a job well done. Though several boxes still lay on the hardwood, unopened, they felt accomplished enough to pull out a bottle of wine that they had been saving for the occasion. It was an early housewarming gift from Stan, to which they were unprepared to take advantage of, it seemed.

“Baby, did we unpack the wine glasses earlier?” Mitch questioned, his mind slightly foggy of the day's events and early start.

“No, I think they’re still packed up.” She replied, to which Mitch’s eyes lit up, an idea forming and an imaginary lightbulb popping up over his head. He got up from his seat, a wide smile spreading across his face. Her expression mirrored his own, with an added quirked brow at his antics.

“I’ve got a solution, wait here.” Mitch responded, padding over to where he had remembered the new home of the mugs to be. Upon realization of what he was doing, Y/n smiled, rolling her eyes and bringing a hand up to run through her roots.

He shuffled back over moments later, his girlfriend recognizing one of the mugs in his hands as her favorite. He sat down next to her, with the bare skin of her thighs touching his own, jean clad. He bumped his knee to hers with a giggle, pouring out the Pinot Grigio into the mugs. 

She gratefully accepted it as it was handed to her, smiling as she took a sip. Mitch did the same, the two of them leaning back into the soft sofa. Y/n brought her legs up, cuddling into his side and absorbing his warmth. He brought his free hand to her side, a strong hold giving them both a strong sense of comfort as she lay her head on his shoulder.

The box labeled “Kat” remained unpacked along with the others on the floor, dust already beginning to gather. Mitch had come across it a few times that day, each time more thoughtful than the last as he struggled to decide what it was exactly he was feeling towards the objects; or perhaps towards the memory of Katrina.

He had come to realize that it was acceptance he felt, deep in his stomach, settling down. It had been brought upon him in totality over time, today’s events being the final step. A soft smile spread across Mitch’s face, a single tear falling from his eye. Y/n looked up, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Mitch, are you alright?”

He leaned down, connecting their lips in a watery yet nectarous kiss, his hand beginning to rub small circles on her shoulder. 

“Yeah, Y/n/n.” 

The fire they had built earlier was roaring, now, casting a warm glow across the pair’s features. The damp trail down his cheek was highlighted, nearly glistening on his skin like an amber. 

“I’m doin’ just fine.”

🥍🥍🥍

ok btw ik that wine in mugs would be a horrible idea but this is fiction so SHUSH

anyway i hope yall enjoyed! i love writing for mitch and i have lots of future fics for him, so if u liked this, please reblog and follow if ya wanna. mwah, go drink water and have some protein <333

 xx hj

[stillebesat]

Code: Blanket (part 2)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Virgil, Janus, Patton Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn’t stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references, Injuries Taglist in Reblog

Part 1

“Your son is sneaking out.”

If the weight of his husband settling on top of him in the bed hadn’t been enough to fully wake Logan from sleep, the gleeful tone of Remus’s voice in his ear and the words he spoke were certainly enough to do so.

He tilted his head to the side, squinting up at his husband’s shadowy figure looming over him, ignoring how his heart had jumped into his throat, leaving an aching cavity in his chest. “If our son is sneaking out after dark, Sir Night Owl.” He said, working to sound calmer than he actually felt. “Then that’s obviously your influence at work and your problem.”

Remus gave a low chuckle, kissing his cheek. “Lion Kinging me, Messire Early Bird? Fair enough. I accept.” He shifted to roll off the bed, only to pause as Logan grabbed his hand.

“Virgil’s never snuck out before.” He whispered, flinching as he heard the front door close. Why would his son feel the need to do--sure teenagers were known to be rebellious, but he���d been clear that Virgil could talk to him about anything, anytime. To have him just suddenly leave without a word to them, without any indication that anything was wrong--

Remus squeezed his hand. “I heard him say ‘The offer still stands, D.’ as he walked by our door, sooo~ secret relationship?”

Logan pushed up onto one elbow, breath catching. “You heard him say Dee?” He demanded. “You’re certain?” He hadn’t known the two were still in communication. The end of their lifelong friendship last year had been...volatile. Virgil had been miserable for months afterwards.

“Yes?” His husband tilted his head. “You know them?”

Logan nodded, rolling over so he could grab his glasses from the night stand. “So do you. It’s Janus. Son of the Daemons.”

Remus stiffened, hissing like a broken teapot. “What offer could Virgiepoo possibly make to that horrible family of--”

“They were childhood friends.” Logan interrupted his husband before he went off on yet another long winded swearing spree about the Daemons. “Janus didn’t always approve of his parents...antics.”

Remus snorted, pulling Logan to his feet. “Antics? Those Ultra Christian Karens on Manbaby Cheeto Horse Steroids nearly cost both of us our jobs because they couldn’t stand the thought of their son knowing two gay men.”

Logan smirked, shrugging on a robe, placing his phone in the pocket just in case Virgil called. “And how did that turn out? With them facing the best lawyer in the country?”

Remus leaned in for a kiss. “Not good.” He breathed against his lips.

“Exactly.”

“Soo…” Still clad in only his boxers, Remus entwined his fingers in Logan’s, pulling him out of their bedroom towards the front door. “Son of our Enemy. Virgil sneaking out in the middle of the night to see him. What exactly is this offer that he’s offering to the Villains who aimed to destroy our happily ever after?”

An offer that Logan had believed had been firmly taken off the table over a year ago. “Simply put. Sanctuary.”

Which begged the question. What had happened in the Daemon household to convince Virgil to offer their home, after everything the two families had gone through, to their son once more?

“Sanctuary.” Remus repeated like it was a foreign word. “To one of their spawn? Are you serious?”

Knowing how much of a giving and forgiving heart his son had? Logan pulled open the front door, unsurprised to see the two teens standing frozen on the porch.

He had good timing like that.

“Boys.” Logan greeted, attention drawn immediately to Janus as he tried to hide behind his son only to be stopped by Virgil’s tight grip on his arm.

Janus swallowed, a tremor visibly going through him as met Logan’s eyes. “Mr. L.” He whispered, the porchlight throwing his face, and therefore, the stark purple bruise and cuts by his eye into sharp relief.

Sanctuary. He could now totally understand why Virgil had chosen to reach out.

The crumpled state of the boy’s clothes, the mask -an unusual accessory for the known anti-masker, anti-vaxxer family- the greasy hair, all of the obvious signs of neglect, Logan mentally catalogued as he immediately reached out, drawing the boy closer to him. “Janus.” He breathed, hating how the boy flinched at his movement, how he trembled under his touch even as he leaned into Logan’s hand as he cupped the boy’s uninjured cheek. “What happened?”

“Well, I hope what’s happening is that we’re kidnapping the demon spawn for ranso--” Remus cut off, inhaling sharply as he too caught sight of the facial disfigurement. “Lo, lemme see that.” He demanded, gently pushing him to the side so he could take the boy’s chin into his hands, tilting his head this way and that in the porch light.

Virgil relaxed, even as Janus visibly tensed, trembling under Remus’s scrutiny.

For good reason. The young Daemon had to feel like he was stepping into the Lion’s den by coming here.

“It’s okay, Dee. Remus is a surgeon. The best. You’re in safe hands.” Virgil said softly, keeping a firm grip on his friend’s arm as the boy shifted his feet like he was debating about turning tail and running.

Something he’d never thought Janus would do. The boy took after his parents in being willing to face confrontation head on, no matter the odds.

Something definitely was wrong here.

“What happened?” Logan repeated, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

Janus’s eyes flickered between him and Remus, breath hitching as he opened his mouth. “I--I--”

Remus growled, eyes flashing as he turned to Logan, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “What happened?! He’s lucky the wound isn’t infected, Lo! It’s obvious it’s been untreated. Obvious that he’s been neglected, mistreated, abused!”

Janus flinched at every word. “Yes.” The word ghosted over his lips, barely heard.

Virgil shook his head, eyes burning with quiet fury. “It’s worse.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen and flipping it so Logan could see the tweet there. “His parents locked him in their unfinished attic for FOUR months, Dad. And then they left him to go harring off to D.C. to storm the Capitol!”

They…WHAT?!

Logan saw red as Remus swore, his husband pulling Janus into a tight hug, the boy letting out a startled squeak at the action. “I changed my mind, Lo. We’re not kidnapping him, we’re adopting. Surprise, my little rebel. You’re mine now.”

Janus’s eyes went wide, shimmering with unshed tears as he stood stiffly in Remus’s grip, fingers twitching. “Y-yours?” He whispered, in such a small voice that had Logan wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders as well. “I--I--but I’m---I’m--”

There’d been a time he’d considered Janus almost like a second son with how often he and Virgil had hung out at their house as kids. Logan wasn’t at all opposed to rediscovering that sentimeint.

“It doesn’t matter.” He whispered in the boy’s ear. “You have a home here, Janus, for as long as you need one.”

The boy shuddered in their hold, breath hitching as he bowed his head, not quite resting it against Remus’s bare chest. “I--I tried to---I couldn’t get out! I tried everything to bre--to break free and then they just….left me. Their SON. They--” He broke off as Remus pulled him closer, a soft sob escaping as his husband carded his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“It’s okay, Janny-boy.” Remus whispered. “You did what you could with what you had.”

Janus shook his head. “I--i should have---sooner. I couldn’t--I didn’t think they’d actually!! My own parents.”

Virgil pressed in on the group hug, gently freeing the face mask from the boy’s ear. “Dee. You couldn’t have known.”

“I SHOULD have though!” He growled, twisting his head to stare at Virgil, cheeks streaked with tears. “We’ve been friends for years, Annie! I KNOW you and Mr. L. and...and…but when things,” His eyes flickered to Remus and back. “Changed. The pandemic and everything---I didn’t...I sided with them and thought they had to be RIGHT this time, but then things...stuff happened and THEY LOCKED ME UP and treated me like I was A NUT CASE when I--I--” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

Logan exhaled, squeezing the boy’s shoulder as he met his husband’s furious eyes. “I’m sorry, Janus.” He said, keeping his tone soft. “Your parents have had their...good...qualities at times,”

Remus snorted, but kept silent as Logan shot him another look.

“And I know...they’ve only tried to protect you from their perceived evils in the world, but Janus.” He shifted his position so he could cradle the boy’s injured cheek. “What they did to you was wrong. So very wrong.” And bound to be worse when the whole story was told. “It’s monstrous that they chose to treat their own flesh and blood in such an abhorrent and inhumane manner just because you disagreed with them and I will not stand for it. You deserve better and you will be treated much better here than you have been there. I promise you that.”

Janus abruptly twisted in Remus’s arms to cling to Logan, resting his head against Logan’s chest, fingers digging into the folds of his robe, his thin body shaking with sobs. “Don’t make me go back.” He whispered.

Logan shook his head, pressing a firm kiss against the boy’s greasy hair. “Never.”

“I won’t let him.” Remus added, a growl in his voice. “I’ve adopted you, Jan. My word is law. No take backsies.”

Janus looked between the three of them, before focusing on Remus, licking his lips. “But. You...don’t know me--”

“You don’t know me either, kiddo. But no worries. We’ll fix all that.” His husband winked as he gathered both Virgil and Janus under each arm, letting Logan take a careful step back. “But FIRST.” He pointed a finger at the boy’s eye. “I’m getting you clean and stitched up while Logie here makes a little call to his Work Wife to figure things out. With luck, and I am rather lucky, there’ll barely be a scar when I’m done.”

Janus stiffened, glancing over his shoulder to Logan. “Work Wife?!”

Virgil chuckled, twisting Janus’s mask in his fingers. “Not an actual wife, Dee. Dad has a fellow lawyer friend.”

“Rival.” Logan corrected.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Rival that he constantly works with, so Rem calls him his work wife since he’s usually either with him or us.”

That wasn’t exactly true. He did go to other places and work with other people that weren’t Patton or his family. It just so happened that Patton ended up involved in a lot of the same sort of cases as him and so collaboration made more sense than going it alone.

Logan pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “Needless to say. I’ll take care of it, Janus. You can trust me on that.” He smiled to the teen before turning his attention to his son. “Virgil, send me a copy of that tweet as soon as you can. And Remus,” He grimaced as his husband paused, raising an eyebrow. He could see him practically vibrating with the need to stitch the kid up now. “I know you want to treat Janus ASAP, but I need photographic evidence of every single injury and sign of neglect before you do anything.” An unfortunate delay, but he needed the evidence recorded before it vanished. He hit call, placing his phone by his ear. “As soon as you’re done--”

“It’s straight to the shower, JanJan. Or a long hot bubble bath. Either way.” Remus said, ushering the teens towards the door. “We need you to get squeaky clean while Lo here does his thing, and then I can treat those wounds of yours without them getting infected. Okay?”

“I--I---uh...Okay?” Janus asked, sounding half strangled as they vanished inside.

The phone clicked. “Hello?” A sleepy voice asked over the line.

Hopefully Virgil could smooth over any further confusion for Janus until Logan could come back and reign Remus back from going full Mama Bear on the boy. “Hello, Patton.” He said, leaning against the wall, listening as the crickets began chirping again. “It’s Logan.”

“Lo?” He could hear his fellow lawyer and work rival stifling a yawn. “Wassup?”

“My apologies for calling so late, but I need your help with a case. Right now. If you’re able.”

The silence on the other hand wasn’t at all encouraging. But then again. It was late.

“...My help? With a case? Now?”

“Yes.” He’d already said that. Hopefully Patton’s brain would kick into a higher gear sooner rather than later or else this conversation would be lasting ten times longer than necessary. “You remember the Daemons?”

“Mmm….yah? Your fight with them had you fired up for ages with all their nonsense.”

“Exactly.” Logan exhaled. “Their son, Janus, just showed up at my house in an obvious state of neglect. Injured. Possibly abused. More than implied that it was his parents who put him in his current state. And I am, unfortunately, too visibly involved with the Daemons in a negative light to be considered an adequate impartial representative for him, especially if I house him in my home for the duration.”

Patton made a noise of surprise. “House him?”

“Virgil was--is a friend of his and he offered him sanctuary here when he discovered that Janus was in trouble. I’m not refusing him a safe place.”

“Safe? You just said--”

Logan closed his eyes, resting his head against the side of his house. “I know. I’m not on good terms with his parents.” They could go rot in a tar pit for all he cared about them. “But I’ve known the boy since he was six, Patton. He’s been to my house multiple times before. Been friends with my son. I won’t hold a grudge against the child for the actions of his parents.”

“Ha. I doubt his parents would appr--”

“His so-called parents Locked. Him. In. Their. Attic. For. FOUR. Months.” Logan interrupted, unable to hide the fury in his voice.

Patton sharply inhaled. “They WHAT?”

Exactly. It was good to hear his work rival taking the same tone. Patton had a soft spot for kids. “They locked him up and then abandoned him, Pat. I don’t know the exact circumstances just yet on why they felt that this was justifiable behavior, but no child should be treated like a prisoner by their family and no so-called parent’s opinion on where or who their son stays with should hold any weight if they’ve failed to provide decent care for their child in the first place!” Logan took a breath, forcing himself to relax his fingers on his phone before he cracked the screen. “Regardless, if the boy wishes to go elsewhere I won’t fight it. But he needed a safe place to go to and he chose to come here. That has to mean something considering the history between our two families.”

“It--I’d have to look into it.” Patton whispered. “This isn’t--the circumstances--”

“Are abnormal. I understand.” Logan nodded, staring off into the night. “Will you come?”

Patton huffed a laugh. “It’s not every day--ah night--you say you need me, Lo.”

That was true. They were more often rivals in the courtroom than collaborators these days. But still, he wouldn’t want any other lawyer to represent the boy if he couldn’t do it himself. “I need you, Pat.”

The sound of keys jangled in his ear. “Be right there.” Patton promised as the line went dead.

[homerforsure]

Whumptober No. 5

betrayal / misunderstanding / broken nose

(Hockey AU)

***

He’d always thought the night Jay took the picture would be the worst of it.

Buck’s hands were clutching the rails of Jay’s iron headboard, where Jay had wanted them, where Jay had placed them after stripping Buck of his clothes, saying “Don’t let go.” His slow, sexy, predatory smile was the last thing Buck saw before the silky black blindfold was tied in place. Jay was gone after that, climbing off the bed, telling Buck how good he looked and what he thought he might do and Buck had arched into the words until he was begging to be touched.

“Be patient,” Jay had purred, appeasing Buck with a single finger drawn shiveringly down his thigh. Buck could feel that he’d climbed back onto the bed, but Jay was too far away and he wasn’t teasing; he just wasn’t there. Stretching out longer on the mattress, trying to find him, he’d said, “What’s going on up there?”

Then the flash went off, the bright light cutting through the thin fabric of the blindfold. Jay swore, “Shit. Fuck,” and when Buck let go of the bed with one hand (one hand because maybe he misunderstood, maybe it was fine, maybe he’d laugh and put his hand back and they’d-)to push the tie away, he’d seen Jay, crouched above him with his phone in his hand.

If he’d asked, Buck might even have agreed. He liked posing. He liked having his body appreciated. But Jay’s expression was the alarm of being caught red-handed and Buck knew, knew with a sinking feeling of dread and betrayal, that Jay wasn’t just taking a memento to savor later. He was taking a picture of Rangers center Evan Buckley, naked, smirking, and vulnerable, to use exactly the way those kinds of pictures get used.

Buck forced Jay to delete the photo, made him prove that he’d done it, and then had somehow managed to get himself dressed and down to the street to get a ride without throwing up. His face burned the whole drive home and for half of the night.

And that was the worst of it until five years later. In a new city. When Buck was finally playing the way he’d always known he could. When he was finally earning the respect of his team and the hockey world at large. When he started thinking he might stay. That was when the anonymously authored post was retweeted and reblogged and shared and gleefully discussed on all corners of the hockey internet.

MY WILD NIGHT WITH AN NHL ALL STAR

The Good, the Bad, and the Kinky

His agent’s was the first text he saw when he got done with practice: “Do NOT respond yet. Call me first.”

It had taken another couple messages before Buck realized what he wasn’t supposed to respond to and in the meantime, the texts kept rolling in. Half of them from numbers he didn’t even have saved in his contacts.

“Dude, is that shit true?”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you know who it is?”

“You dog 😜”

“You never told me you were into that 👀”

“Ignore it, Buck.”

“We’re all with you.”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Hey if you need something to take your mind off of it💋💋💋”

“Evan, Mike from the Tribune. If you want to set the record straight, please give me a call.”

From the looks on the faces of his teammates as they tried to pretend they weren’t stealing glances at him, they were getting messages of their own. Hen was the first one to start to approach him with a look of concern, but Buck avoided her, grabbing his bag and sneaking out the door without bothering to hit the stationary bike like usual.

“What the hell did you do to piss this guy off?” Geoff said as soon as he answered Buck’s call. “More importantly, what else does he have on you?”

“Nothing!” Buck answered, nearly merging directly into another car as his hands shook on the steering wheel. “What do I do? How do I fix this?”

“I don’t know, Buckley. None of my other clients get up to shit like this. You need to get yourself a publicist. I’m going to get in touch with Grant and make sure they’re not already shopping you.”

His agent hung up and Buck’s phone continued to buzz and chime all the way back to his apartment.

There were cameras outside which there almost never were. Mostly only hockey fans cared about pictures of hockey players and the press was limited to the arena and their official events. Maybe one or two regular guys who Buck knew by name. It was just his luck that he lived in LA where there were almost more cameras than there were disasters to photograph.

“Buck! Do you know who the author is?”

“Have your teammates seen the post?”

“Are you worried about other former partners coming out with similar stories?”

Buck pushed past them, but the questions followed him inside. His phone didn’t stop. His mentions were a nightmare on every platform. He shut Twitter as soon as he opened it and saw his name in the trending topics. The statements put out by the Kings and Buck’s agent condemning the piece and the interest in it were drowned out by outlet after outlet picking up the post and sharing it out wider and wider.

Can you guess this NHL player by his sexcapades? (Hint: It’s exactly who you think)

Hockey players used to be the humble, hard working gentleman of sports. What happened?

Should the Kings trade Evan Buckley? Can they?

Nash should make Buckley sit for embarrassing the team like this.

Aw, man, don’t do that. Sitting’s a little tough for Buckley right now

🤣

And I thought it couldn’t get worse than the time he fucked that mascot in Carolina

{This post may contain explicit content}

😵‍💫

🤮

Excuse you, Gritty has standards

[98 more posts]

Whether from a latent masochistic streak or just because he didn’t want to look away and find that the story had gotten bigger while he was gone, Buck couldn’t stop refreshing the pages. He read Jay’s words over and over again as his stomach roiled. If it had all been lies, Buck wouldn’t have spent the morning pressed into the corner of his couch, hoodie pulled up over his head like armor. If it had all been lies, he could have made a fiery statement, condemning the mystery author and condemning everyone who thought they had a right to consume and critique another person’s sex life.

There were some lies, of course, but it was true enough that Buck’s heart clenched with it. True enough that he could remember how he felt when it was happening, during the three times they’d been together before the photo. Soft and desired and joyful. There was a part of him that was still exposed to Jay, that always would be, this man with the sharp wit and the sharp smile who got Buck bare, begging and biddable all to make him a joke. As he read the smug asides in the unforgiving narrative, he could hear Jay’s voice in his ear.

The sixth time he read it, there was an addition.

Edit: Ha ha wow this really blew up. Doing an AMA at 6 eastern if you’re looking for more dirty details.

And for the first time, Buck felt the burn of tears in his eyes. Furious. Powerless.

The buzz of his phone started making his skin crawl so he shoved it between the couch cushions and tried not to think about it. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped tightly around, rocking just a little as he felt panic creeping in.

What else could Jay possibly have to say? Would he make up more and more audacious lies as long as he had an audience? Would an NHL team want to touch Buck when he was done?

Were there more pictures?

It was the fourth night, the night that Buck caught Jay. Not the first night with the blindfold. What if? Buck shuddered, sinking lower, deeper into the couch, folding himself tighter and smaller, trying to crush the mounting, hopeless fear. He was there for a long time.

When the gentle knock hit his door, Buck jumped and then crouched tighter into his ball. He didn’t answer. There was no one he could face right now.

The knock came again.

Then the door opened.

Buck was up like a shot, nearly falling over the coffee table as he whirled around toward the intruder. Eddie stood in the doorway, holding up one empty hand and pulling his key out of the door with the other.

“Just me.”

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, shoving his hands into the pocket of his hoodie to hide the fact that he’d been digging his nails into his palms for the last hour.

“Well, you took off. And you weren’t answering your phone.”

Hot shame flushed across Buck’s skin. Eddie knew. Eddie had seen the article and the articles about the article and the tweets about the articles and been shouted at by the cameras outside and Buck wanted to sink into the floor.

“Notice you didn’t take the hint.”

The attitude in Buck’s response didn’t faze Eddie at all, “Do I ever?”

And that almost made Buck feel like smiling, because no, no he didn’t. He said, “No. But there’s always a first time.”

Eddie came a little further into the apartment and Buck felt crowded. Eddie always seemed to take up so much space around him. Maybe it was just that Buck felt his presence most strongly than anyone else’s. Especially when he was like this: arms crossed, focused, not letting Buck wiggle out of a conversation that he didn’t want to have.

This time was no exception. When Buck turned and went back to the couch, compulsively refreshing the comments on Jay’s post again as he went, Eddie followed right after him.

“I came by to make sure you were okay,” he said and Buck flinched again, hating that Eddie knew. Hating that the team knew.

“I’m fine,” he answered, keeping his eyes down and away from Eddie. “Coach is going to rip me a new one tomorrow, but my agent hasn’t called me to tell me I’m being traded so yet so I guess that’s-”

“Who the fuck said you were being traded?” His voice was loud enough that Buck looked up, surprised to see the intensity of anger in Eddie’s face.

“THN. NHL Network did a round table on it too, but they didn’t think anyone would take me. Oh, then Kirk Davis did a radio interview.”

Everyone had picked up those soundbites. Even through the heavily bleeped broadcast, the future hall-of-famer’s opinion on Buck had been crystal clear. At least that wasn’t new information for Buck. Davis had all but refused to shake Buck’s hand when he first joined the Predators and was a big part of why his tenure there had only lasted until the trade deadline.

“Kirk Davis is a fucking asshole. There’s a reason they never made him captain.”

“He’s not the only one who said it.”

“Then he’s not the only fucking asshole out there.” When he didn’t respond, Eddie came around the couch to stand face to face with him, noticing the open comments page as he did. “Christ, have you been reading that shit all day?”

Somehow it made Buck laugh. “It’s the same shit I’ve been reading for 8 years. Since I got drafted. Buckley’s a distraction to his team. Buckley’s an embarrassment to the game of hockey. Buckley cares more about getting laid and partying than he does about winning. It’s guys like Buckley that hurt the NHL.”

His voice pitched up as he recited the familiar accusations, staring somewhere over Eddie’s shoulder because Eddie already knew all this about him. Eddie was the opposite of Buck in every way. He would never make himself the center of attention. He’d never do anything to make his teammates ashamed to play with him. He’d never be so stupid as to go home with a guy like Jay.

“Buckley’s finally getting what he deserves.” Buck whispered.

“Look at me,” Eddie said. When Buck couldn’t, Eddie reached out, setting a light hand on his shoulder that got tighter when Buck tried to shrug out of the hold. “Hey. Look at me.”

He moved his head into the space where Buck was staring into the middle distance and waited. Until Buck couldn’t help but flick his gaze to meet Eddie’s. Once he did, he found a furious compassion that startled him.

“You don’t deserve this, Buck. You did nothing to deserve this. It is not your fault. Nobody in our room thinks it is. Bobby doesn’t think it is.”

Buck shuddered under the weight of the words. He wanted to pull himself free and he wanted to step in closer, “My agent told me I should own it. Post a couple thirst traps and a middle finger on instagram and just wave it off like another classic Evan Buckley weekend.”

There was a time when he would have. Times when he had. But this wasn’t a ridiculous paparazzi photo outside a bar, it was… It was private. It hurt.

As if reading his mind, Eddie said, “That’s not what this is. Fire him if he wants to make you pretend this is okay.”

“I just keep thinking if I was anyone else. If I was someone good, they’d all go after him and not me. I didn’t even do anything to him, Eddie. I didn’t-”

Before he could finish his sentence, Eddie tugged him forward and his arms were tight around his back. Buck should have tried to fight it, but he couldn’t help but fall against his chest and cling on. “You are someone good,” Eddie said, making Buck’s breath hitch. “And if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. It’s wrong. They’re wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have trusted him,” Buck confessed into the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt. “I was so stupid back then. I just wanted- I wanted him to like me. And I’m still- It still hurts that he didn’t. How fucked up is that? He did this. And I still just wish he liked me.”

One of Eddie’s hands moved up to cradle the back of Buck’s head. They were swaying, just a little, Eddie rocking them gently. “I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry.”

He managed to keep from crying, but Buck couldn’t stop his breath from coming out in soft, stuttering gasps. Couldn’t keep his fingers from digging into Eddie’s back. If he thought about it, he could imagine this post too (Evan Buckley cried like a baby on my shoulder AMA), but Eddie would never do that. The warm heat of him against Buck’s chest was like a blanket hiding him from the world. It was the most vulnerable he’d been all day and the most sheltered.

Eddie didn’t let go until Buck pulled back and even then he didn’t go far, “Have you eaten since practice?”

“I didn’t think I’d be able to without throwing up,” Buck said honestly.

“Do you want to order something from-”

The timer on Buck’s laptop shrieked and they both jumped. Eddie recovered quickly, but Buck’s heart leapt into his throat. He’d almost forgotten. How could he have forgotten? Pulling away from Eddie, he turned off the timer and refreshed the post, looking for the link he knew would be there.

“Come on, Buck, really?”

Eddie reached out to slam the laptop closed, but Buck shoved his hand in the way. “I have to, Eddie. He’s doing an AMA. I have to-”

“I’m not going to let you torture yourself reading what a bunch of sick assholes have to say, Buck. No way.”

“I have to.”

“No, you-”

“Yes, I do!” He shouted it, standing up to look Eddie in the eye. “I have to read it. I have to see it now because if- if- if I wait and it gets reposted- I have to know if he has- I have to-”

“Buck,” Eddie said, putting his hands on Buck’s arms, trying to rub calmness back into him even as Buck’s heart-rate accelerated. “What does he have? What could be worse than what he already-”

“Pictures,” Buck yelled. “I have to know if he has pictures.”

A dark, dark look came over Eddie’s face and he stopped rubbing Buck’s arms to squeeze instead. “You think he has pictures?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Buck whimpered. He saw himself as if from above, stretched out long and lewd against Jay’s sheets. He imagined ten thousand other people seeing it. “He took- I caught him taking one. Once. But I don't know if it was the only one. I don’t- I can’t let them get out. If he has them, I have to know. I have to report the post. I have to-”

“No,” Eddie said.

“Yes, Eddie. I have-”

“I hear you. Okay? I hear you, but I’m not letting you do that. I’m not letting you put any more of that garbage in your head.”

“Eddie.”

“I’ll do it. I’ll report every goddamn post.” Lifting one hand, Eddie stroked a thumb softly along Buck’s hairline. “Let me do it. Let me protect you.”

Buck swallowed hard, fear and relief and longing fighting for control of the tears that were building up again. He didn’t want Eddie to see any of that. He didn’t want Jay’s words in Eddie’s head. But Buck really really didn’t want them in his own. He wanted someone to protect him. “Thank you,” he said, falling forward again to rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” Eddie replied, rubbing his hands firmly up Buck’s back.

Eddie wouldn’t let Buck sit on the couch while he monitored the thread. He fished Buck’s phone out of the couch and made him answer the important messages. From Maddie. From Bobby. From Hen and Chimney. Then he’d told him to order food from the Lebanese place they always ordered from when Eddie came over, asking for extra of the pickled turnips. All the while, Eddie’s fingers slammed onto the keyboard, that sound the only reaction he gave to any of the posts.

It should have been unbearable, letting Eddie comb through the messages. Even without seeing them, Buck knew what they were like. He blocked people every week for the same kind of thing. But Eddie had a defense against them that Buck never had: he didn’t believe they were true. Not even a little bit. He didn’t believe there was a chance that Buck was getting what he deserved for being a show off, for never being a points leader, for being open and soft hearted, for being himself. Eddie believed Buck deserved to be protected and he was ruthless about it.

“No pictures,” he said, a while later, when Jay had finally stopped replying to every comment on the page. “And the rest of it is… well. It’s nothing new.”

“Really?”

“Really. I think it’s done.”

Eddie closed the laptop as if by making that gesture of finality, he could make the words true. Buck, allowed back on his own couch, let himself believe it too. Let himself lean into the safety of Eddie’s arm over his shoulders, breathing in a deep sigh of relief as they caught the Canucks game.

The next morning, Jay’s story was hardly anywhere to be seen. It was replaced. By an essay in The Players’ Tribune. It excoriated Jay. It called out Kirk Davis by name and hundreds of online posters by their bad intentions. It praised Buck’s grace, tenacity, and backhand shot and it demanded respect and compassion and privacy from anyone who called themselves a hockey fan. And it wasn’t anonymous.

[blueskrugs]

Turning Out | Jack Hughes

long story short: I made myself extremely emotional with this song, told @nazdaddy about it, and together we made it worse. over two months later, this fic was finally born. title from the AJR song of the same name. (are we really surprised it’s a song fic at this point?)

tagging:  @marcoscandellas​ @stlbluesbrat21​ @dembenchboys​ @poltoncarayko​ @robthomissed​ @letmeplaytheblues​ @troubatrain​ @ayohockeycheck​ @blackwidowrising​ @aria253264​ @antoineroussel​ @starswin​ @glassdanse​ @ch-ristiane​ @majdoline​ @nazdaddy​ @hockey-more-like​ @thebestoffanfiction​

length: 3.6k

I thought I'd recognize when love was true But I'm confused

It was summer in Michigan, and you were laying in the hammock in the backyard with Jack. You could feel your nose getting burned, and you were sure his was already on its way to burnt, too. School was out, the summer stretching endlessly before you. 

Well. There was the matter of the draft. It was only a couple of weeks away now, and all conversations led back to it.

“I’m proud of you,” you murmured during a lull in conversation. Your head was on Jack’s chest, one arm draped around your shoulders and the other behind his head.

He laughed. “Wait until I actually get drafted by someone first, eh?”

You scoffed and twisted to look up at his face. He was blushing. “Okay, sure, whatever, Mr. Hotshot Top Prospect,” you teased, reaching up to poke Jack right beneath his arm where he was ticklish. He flinched, and the hammock swung wildly.

Jack grabbed onto your hand and wrenched it away from his side, tightening his other arm around your shoulders.

“You’re so mean to me,” he complained, but he was grinning at you. He didn’t let go of your hand. 

“I mean it, though,” you said.

“God,” Jack groaned. “Stop it.”

It wasn’t that the draft was a sore subject, exactly, but you knew Jack was getting more than a little tired of hearing about it constantly. You just couldn’t resist teasing him a bit more.

“Are you gonna forget about me once you’re off in some big city, being an NHL star?” you asked. 

Jack scoffed a little and wrinkled his nose at you. “I could never forget about you, Bug,” he said softly.

Bug. You called each other that, had for years, but you’d mostly grown out of it. It was nice to hear it again. You poked Jack again, for no real reason, just to get him to squirm, maybe.

“You mean it?” you asked, just as softly. The birds and cicadas were loud around you, but you two were in a little bubble of your own in your hammock.

Jack scoffed again. “You’re my best friend. We’re gonna be together forever,” he said.

Forever was a long time, but Jack sounded so confident, so sure of the future, that you let yourself believe him. 

Am I ready for love Or maybe just a best friend

You might’ve cried a little as you watched Jack get called first overall, but you were still in Michigan while they were all off in Vancouver, so there was no one to call you out on it. Jack texted you almost immediately, just a row of exclamation points, which made you laugh. He called you later, too, but you couldn’t hear much over Turcs and Cole yelling. 

With the craziness of it all, you ended up having to wait to have a real conversation with Jack until after he was back in Michigan, and he ended up at your front door, looking a little like he hadn’t slept since before the draft. 

“Hey, you,” you said, but Jack was already stepping forward and pulling you into a hug, burying his face in your neck, despite the fact that he was definitely taller than you. “Wanna go on a walk?” you asked him. 

Jack grinned and nodded eagerly at you, which is how you ended up strolling through the familiar streets of your neighborhood, not really talking, just a comfortable silence between you. 

Until you got to the local park and Jack flopped down in the grass with a sigh. You laid down next to him, looking up at the white clouds skidding across the blue late-June sky. 

“I thought I’d feel different for some reason, you know?” Jack said finally. “Like being drafted first would change me somehow or something.”

You laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll always be our Jacky,” you told him, just for the way he rolled his eyes at you. Still the same Jack, same blue eyes and floppy hair, same kid you’d known for years. Jack was still looking at you, serious in a way he never was, and you just wanted him to smile again, because then everything still would be the same. “Jack,” you said, made him look at you. 

“You know I love you, right?” Jack blurted, and the words you’d been about to say died on your tongue.

You were going to say that nothing had to change, but maybe you were wrong. You’d fallen in love with your best friend a long time ago, but you’d long since resigned yourself to being nothing more than a best friend. It was easier to keep him in your life that way, rather than risk ruining everything.

“Duh, you’d be lost without me,” you joked instead. It made Jack smile, just for a moment.

Jack sat up then, leaning his weight back on his hands so he could keep looking up at the sky. “I wish you could come with me,” he said quietly.

You sat up and mirrored Jack’s pose. “Absence makes the heart grow fonder,” you tried to joke. It fell flat. You weren’t really sure you knew how to get through life without Jack by your side. Maybe it would be a good thing to get some distance, actually. 

Jack was staring at you. You couldn’t read his face. It turned out that you didn’t need to, because the next thing you knew, Jack was leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours. It was a quick kiss, and you’d barely had time to react before Jack was pulling away again.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said, but he looked more apologetic than regretful. 

“Oh,” was all you could say. 

“It’s not fair,” Jack said, and you weren’t sure where this conversation was going anymore. “We’re gonna be so far apart, and you deserve better.”

You were at a point in your life where you were expected to be more grown up, but Jack had never looked younger. You had never felt more lost. 

“I just don’t wanna break your heart,” Jack said. It was a little late for that, you thought, but you didn’t say that. 

“Yeah,” you murmured finally, which didn’t really make sense, but Jack accepted it. 

He laid back down in the grass next to you, and after a minute of watching him yourself, you laid next to him again.

You say I turned out fine I think I'm still turning out

The first time you visited Jack in New Jersey was over Christmas his rookie year. He picked you up at the airport, wrapping you up in a hug like no time had passed at all. He took you back to his apartment, and it was like you were in high school again.

You went to the game the next night, and meeting everyone else was mostly a blur of names and faces.  It wasn’t until you were all heading down to the family room after the final buzzer that you realized that you didn’t know who Isabella, who’d been talking to you all night, was dating. You never quite got the chance to ask, either, but it didn’t matter in the end. Jack emerged from the locker room and made a beeline for you and Isabella. He gave you a quick hug before turning to Isabella and giving her a hug and a kiss.

Ah, so that’s how it was. You felt your heart stop in your chest, but you forced on a smile and let Jack wrap an arm around each of your shoulders. You’d been expecting this, you could handle it. 

You loved Jack, and he loved you, just not in the same way. He’d fall in love with someone else, and you’d get used to it eventually.

When Jack called you a few months later and told you they’d broken up, you comforted him, tried to pretend that you weren’t a tiny bit happy. You just reminded yourself that there would always be someone else.

I hope you stick around We're gonna figure it out Who can I turn to now?

Your phone was ringing. It was late, and there was only one person your phone rang for after midnight. You fumbled for it in the dark, eyes still heavy with sleep, and answered it without looking at the screen. 

“Hi,” you said, or tried to say. Your voice hadn’t quite woken up with the rest of your body yet. You rolled onto your back, blinked up at the dark ceiling.

You heard Jack let out a sigh on the other end of the line. “I woke you up,” he said. He sounded tired.

The Devils were somewhere on the West Coast, and you’d fallen asleep before the game had ended. You probably didn’t want to know.

“I hadn’t been asleep very long,” you lied. Jack made a noise like he definitely didn’t believe you. 

It was quiet for a moment. Then, “Did you watch?” 

“No,” you admitted. 

Jack huffed. It might have been a laugh, except you knew your best friend, and he was fighting to keep his voice from breaking. “Good,” he told you.

“You should stay off Twitter,” you said mildly, and this time Jack did laugh at you, but there wasn’t any humor behind it.

You’d seen the comments, the tweets, the articles. You know Jack saw them, too, stayed up too late reading them, even when you all told him not to. Jack Hughes: first overall draft pick, USNTDP scoring phenom, underdeveloped, too small, and, well, a bust. 

“What if they’re right, though?” Jack said quietly. You wondered if he was in his hotel room, curled up against his pillows, trying not to wake his roommate, or if he’d wandered out into the hall, found somewhere to be alone. 

“Oh, Bug,” you said. It slipped out really, but you heard Jack’s shaky breath. You didn’t know the last time you’d called him that. 

“I miss you,” Jack blurted. You wiped at your eyes. The Devils had hit Detroit just before healing west, and you’d made the trip down to see them. It had only been a few days. But this was more than not seeing each other for a while. It was growing up too fast, the world changing whether or not you were ready for it, not realizing that everything was different until it was too late. 

You missed Jack, missed seeing him every day, trying to help each other with homework and then laughing too hard to actually get anything done. You missed hockey games and the certainty that you’d be friends forever. Forever was a long time when you were young and naïve. 

You tried not to think too much about forever these days, or how you’d still turn to say something to Jack, even though he hadn’t been by your side in a long time. He didn’t need to know any of that.

“I miss you, too,” is what you said, feeling it aching in your chest. Your eyes burned, and it wasn’t because you were tired. 

I'm a little kid, and so are you Don't you go and grow up before I do

He was always the first person you called. When you failed a test, when you were sick, when you got your heart broken.

You hadn’t stopped to think about where Jack might be, and you panicked a little when the phone rang endlessly. You were about to hang up and give up when Jack answered, just before it went to voicemail.

“What’s up?” He sounded like he’d been laughing, and it was loud around him. You were pretty sure you could pick out P.K.’s loud voice.

He was out with his team, having fun, and you were crying alone over a broken heart. You shouldn’t have called.

“Never mind, you’re busy,” you said, already pulling the phone away from your ear to hang up. You didn’t need to bother Jack with this, not now.

“Wait, wait,” Jack stopped you. He paused, and you heard a door close, and then it was quieter. “I always have time to talk to you,” he said, and you cried harder. “Hang on, are you crying? What happened?”

You took a steadying breath. Tried one last time to get the tears under control. “He broke up with me, Jack.”

Jack swore under his breath. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he told you.

It hadn’t been a great relationship to begin with, you’d always known that. There was no real future in it, but it had been fun for a while, something to distract yourself from the fact that the guy you really wanted to be with was on the other side of the country. But it had fallen apart, just like it always did. Somehow it had still blindsided you, in spite of the missed calls and blown off dates, which is how you found yourself shattered on your bedroom floor now.

You weren’t sure how much longer you could rely on Jack to pick up the pieces.

“Talk to me,” Jack said quietly, and you choked back another sob.

“I hate this,” you murmured. Hated being so far away from your best friend, hated crying over a guy you didn’t even love. “I miss you so much,” you added. You felt like you’d been saying that more than anything since Jack had been drafted. 

Jack hummed, distracted. You could still hear his teammates yelling somewhere on the other side of the door. “You should come visit,” Jack said after a moment. 

You laughed. There was no way you’d be able to drop your life and fly out to New Jersey, no matter how badly you might’ve wanted to. It just didn’t work like that.

“I should let you get back to the guys,” you said instead of answering. Jack made a protesting noise on the other end of the line, but you hung up before he could get a word in. 

I'm a little kid with so much doubt Do you wanna be there to see how I turn out?

Your cap and gown hung on the back of your bathroom door. You stared into the mirror for a minute before you reached to tug them on. It felt strange to be graduating college. You still felt out of your depth most days, and now you were being let loose upon the world. Supposedly you were ready for it now. You weren’t sure you’d ever be ready, really.

You searched the crowd for your parents as you made your way to your seat. You had hoped Jack would’ve come, too, but he’d hit you with some excuse about how he’d still be stuck in Jersey. You tried to pretend like it hadn’t hurt. 

The graduation itself passed in a blur. You hadn’t tripped over anything when you’d gone to collect your diploma, and honestly that was all that mattered. 

You were searching for your family in the madness outside when you heard a voice yell, “Hey! Bug!”

You spun around, clutching your cap to your head so it didn’t fall off. There was only one person who’d ever called you that. Jack was making his way towards you through the crowd, hair windswept and smile bright. 

“Jack!” you yelled back, already launching yourself at him. He caught you easily, sweeping you up in a tight hug. You buried your face in his neck, no longer caring if your cap fell off. “I thought you weren’t coming.”

Jack pulled back to give you a look. “You didn’t really think I’d miss your graduation, did you?” You shrugged, and Jack frowned a little at you. He bent over to pick up your fallen cap. “You dropped something,” he said, but when you reached to take it from him, he just grinned and shoved it on his own head. It was crooked, and the tassel was falling in his face. “C’mon, your parents are over here,” he told you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and tugging you along with him. 

“I’m proud of you,” Jack said later that night, laying next to you on your bed. The TV was on, but neither of you were really watching it. 

“I’m supposed to say that about you,” you said, poking him in the ribs. The Devils had had a good season, led to the first round of the playoffs by Nico and Jack. (They’d gotten their asses kicked, but they’d made it.)

He squirmed away and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them both on his chest. “Whatever,” he scoffed. “You’re all smart and graduated now,” he told you.

It was your turn to scoff. “That doesn’t mean I know what the fuck I’m doing.” Jack turned to look at you, one arm behind his head, and you were suddenly reminded of a moment just like this, so many years before, with the summer and the rest of your lives stretching out before you. “I have no idea what I’m doing,” you admitted. With life, but also right here, lying in bed with your best friend. 

Jack turned fully, propping himself up on one elbow to look down at you. His hair flopped in his face, and you reached up absently to push it back. 

“You should come to New Jersey,” he said, face dead serious. It was far from the first time he’s said that to you. You’d always laughed or brushed it off, unwilling to admit that, while terrifying, back by Jack’s side was the only place you’d dreamed of being for years. 

“I-” you started. You didn’t know what was going to come next. Jack was still staring down at you. You reached up to poke the mole next to his mouth, just to see if you could get him to smile.

He did, but he batted your hand away before you could do it again. “I mean it,” he said. You rolled your eyes. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you said. You tried to roll away from Jack, away from this conversation, but he grabbed your wrist, settled his weight on your legs so you couldn’t escape. 

He was frowning at you. “What’s that supposed to mean? You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Jack’s frown deepened, and the crease between his eyebrows was frustratingly adorable. “I’m your best friend. And that was enough while I was in school, and you were still trying to figure out the NHL.” Jack did let you roll away from this time, and you curled up against the wall, not meeting his eyes. “But I don’t think I can be in the same city as you, watching as you find some pretty girl to fall in love with until you leave me behind. I don’t think I can watch as you become everything I want for someone else.”

“There isn’t anyone else,” Jack said slowly.

You huffed out a sigh. “Not now, maybe. But there will be.” There always would be, for you and for him. 

Jack rolled his eyes at you, and that hurt a little. “There hasn’t been anyone else for me but you, not for a long time, not really,” Jack told you.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry. You were pretty sure he’d had a girlfriend at the beginning of the season this year. It had been years since that day he’d kissed you in the park, long enough that you nearly forgot about it. You didn’t think his feelings had really changed after all these years.

“Don’t give me that look,” Jack said, flicking you on the leg. “I mean it. It just- we were still kids and then I was off in Newark, and one of us always seemed to be dating someone else, and I could never ask you to just fucking move across the country for me-” Jack was rambling, and you cut him off by poking him with your toes. He grabbed onto your foot and looked up at you. “I’m not sure I know how to love anyone else but you,” he admitted.

“You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?” you asked. You reached over to grab a pillow so you could hit Jack with it. He spluttered and looked offended. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, Jack.”

Jack’s face softened. “Did you listen to anything I just said? I had reasons!” he tried, but he was grinning at you now.

“Please just come here and kiss me,” you said.

Jack didn’t need any convincing, and then he was leaning forward and tangling a hand in your hair to pull you in for a kiss. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours to catch his breath; you whacked him with the pillow one more time for good measure.

“Hey! What was that one for?” Jack asked, already trying to wrestle the pillow away from you.

“Got a lot of years to make up for, Jacky,” you said.

Jack gave up on getting the pillow away from you and settled for pinning you to the bed with his hands on your wrists. You kneed him gently in the ribs. 

“I hate you,” Jack sighed, but you knew him too well for that. The look on his face was just fond. You’d seen that look a lot over the years, and now you were realizing that there was something else to it. Love.

“Nah, you don’t,” you said.

Jack smiled at you and bent down to kiss you again. “Yeah, you’re right,” he said. “I could never.”

[beyondthebarrier]

Starker Festivals Summer Bingo

Prompt: Didn't Know They Were Dating | Title: Rising to the Occasion | Ao3

Summary: The media seems to think that Tony and Peter are dating. In fact, so does Rhodey. And Aunt May. And the team...

Don't worry. Tony sets the story straight.

This is my first proper Starker fic so bear with me!

It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to be alone when he woke up, if he was being honest. Tony was rarely still in bed in the mornings, presumably quick to dismiss himself from the actions of the night before. Peter never minded, usually always able to find the man elbows deep in some project that he might be able to pick the genius’ brain about.

“FRI, can you start me some coffee?” Peter asked quietly, his voice a little raspy from sleep.

“Of course. Good morning, Peter.”

“Good morning, FRIDAY.”

Peter got to his feet, finding his sweatpants from the day before and Tony’s discarded Black Sabbath shirt before making his way directly to the kitchen for the promised cup of coffee. It took a few sips for him to realize that he heard voices coming from the living room - he’d assumed he was the only one in the penthouse. He recognized the second voice easily though so he wasn’t shy about heading that way.

“Look who’s awake,” Tony announced with a smile when Peter and his bedhead popped up in the open door frame. Rhodey looked his way and Peter waved around his coffee mug.

“Hope you’re here on your own accord and not because he dragged you for some nonsense, Colonel,” Peter greeted with a smirk towards the man in question.

“I’m not here for damage control this time, miraculously,” Rhodey replied easily, chuckling.

“In that case, I’ll leave you two to it. Tones, I’m gonna shower and head downstairs. It was good to see you, Colonel!”

As Peter made his way back towards the bedroom, Rhodey looked over at Tony and sighed at the look on the billionaire’s face.

“He looks good on you, Tony.”

--

“Here, May, I’ve got it,” Tony swooped in, grabbing the woman’s empty plate before she could fully get to her feet. Peter rolled his eyes but stood as well, his own empty plate in hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve done to him,” Peter started, exasperated. “This man would rather buy new dishes than wash them at his own house and then he sits here and readily offers when we’re over here. Please, I need to know your secret. I’m tired of coffee rings in all the mugs.”

“Oh it’s easy, Peter. He’s scared of me,” Aunt May said in a faux whisper, winking at Tony before she settled on her sofa with the rest of her glass of wine as the boys worked to clean the kitchen. Tony washed while Peter absentmindedly dried and put away dishes, chatting away quietly to the older man. When Peter turned back to face the man, Tony quickly smeared soap bubbles onto Peter’s cheek, grinning. With a laugh, Peter reached into the sink, splashing the man with the water in the sink, despite the expensive suit Tony was wearing. Tony didn’t seem bothered as he grabbed the young man around the waist and pulled him in close for a hug, getting him wet as well. Peter squeaked, making Tony lean his head back in laughter before kissing Peter’s forehead and letting him go. Only Tony noticed the look that May was giving them both and he just smiled before turning back to finish cleaning.

As they left, Aunt May wrapped both men in crushing hugs to say goodbye. As Tony helped Peter into his jacket, he looked over his head at the woman, smiling.

“It’s our turn next Sunday, May. Be at the penthouse at seven.”

--

“I thought the little spider was supposed to be here? I brought ale for him to try!” Thor announced, holding up a large jug full of… well, not even Tony was eager to try the liquid sloshing around. Peter had been excited with the prospect of an alcohol that would give him the proper effects but Thor was right - Peter was nowhere to be found.

“Maybe he’s just running late,” Tony replied with a casual shrug, even as he slid his phone out to send yet another text to the missing member of the team. It was meant to be a little game/movie night and Peter was usually the one coercing him into attending so his lack of punctuality was bothering Tony. However, it wasn’t until Natasha and Steve also pointed out Peter’s absence that Tony excused himself. They weren’t sure exactly where he was going until they saw the suit fly off from the landing deck, heading in the direction of a shitty little apartment in Queens.

When Peter didn’t answer the door, Tony let himself in with his key, calling out Peter’s name frantically. It was a studio apartment and Peter groggily sat up in bed, blinking at the man who had just rudely interrupted his sleep.

“Pete, there you are. You’re missing game night, why are you- You’re burning up, sweetheart!” Tony sat on the edge of the bed, the back of his hand pressing against Peter’s forehead.

“M’cold,” Peter mumbled, trying to wrap the blankets around himself again so he could lay down.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“Not hungry..”

“Okay, you’re definitely sick,” Tony pointed out, jumping to his feet to search the kitchen for food. Peter spent so little time here now that the cabinets were practically barren. There was certainly no cans of soup or really… anything. With a wince, Tony reached for a half-empty jar of peanut butter and a spoon, heading back to the bed.

“Tones, m’not hungry,” Peter whined as he scooped peanut butter out of the jar.

“Sweetheart, you need calories. Just a little bit and some water and I’ll let you go back to sleep. Your body will kick this in no time but it needs fuel to do it,” Tony said firmly, lifting the spoon to Peter’s lips. He opened them, accepting the spoon reluctantly and smacking his lips as he tried to get the peanut butter down. Tony got up, fixing him a cup of water. Between the two of them, they painstakingly got a full eight ounces of water and four big spoonfuls of peanut butter into the enhanced man before Peter gave up, flopping back into the pillows.

“Are you going back to game night?” he asked Tony, a rather pitiful look on his face. Tony shook his head, laying down beside him and wrapping his arms around him.

“No, I’m not going anywhere. Go back to sleep, I’ll be right here,” he assured, running his fingers through Peter’s sweaty curls and kissing his forehead.

--

Peter had decided to leave the tower for his lunch break, the idea of a sandwich from the deli down the block on his mind all morning. It was a beautiful day and he’d been looking for an empty space on a bench when he noticed the pointing in his direction from a few people by a magazine stand. He glanced down at himself, trying to see if maybe his shirt had come untucked or he had trash trailing on his shoe but he didn’t spot anything. However, he did hear the words, ‘Tony Stark’s boyfriend’ come from someone’s mouth and his stomach immediately twisted. He couldn’t stop himself from going over to the stand, dreading the idea of seeing Tony’s smiling face on a magazine cover with some- Oh. It was him. Peter laughed, picking up the glossy booklet. They’d attended a gala on Saturday evening for SI and the photo on the cover was the two of them all dressed up and smiling at each other in front of some rose bushes. ‘Tony Stark and boyfriend, Peter Parker, Rose to the Occasion.’ Peter scoffed at the title, setting it back down and reaching for his phone. He wasn’t sure Tony would find it as amusing as he did but he was just relieved that it hadn’t been someone else on that cover.

Thankfully, Tony didn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He had already known about it, getting the alert from PR hours before, and even seemed a little concerned that Peter might be upset about it.

“Do you want me to put out a statement about it?” Tony asked him over the phone, as if sensing Peter’s slight discomfort.

“You won’t be rude about it or anything, right? Just clarify, sweet and simple?” Peter asked, noticing that he was still garnering a bit of attention. Thankfully, New Yorkers themselves were usually nonchalant about that kind of thing so it was only the tourists that were trying to draw attention to him.

“Of course. I’ll get it out right away,” Tony assured him.

Peter had no reason not to believe him. He thanked him, hung up, and moved further away from the news stand. He muted his phone before digging into his sandwich, taking advantage of the rest of his lunch break before heading back to work. It wasn’t until he was in the elevator going back up to R&D that he noticed his phone was blowing up. He sighed, expecting a tweet or something from Tony laying out the truth but what he found caught him off guard.

Relationship. Tony said relationship. He hadn’t claimed that they were just friends or fuck buddies or whatever. He said relationship. Peter was so hyperfocused on the words that the next thing he registered was FRIDAY’s voice.

“Mr. Parker? Mr. Parker, are you alright? Your vitals are concerning, should I alert Mr. Stark? ..Peter?”

“No! No, FRIDAY, no, don’t alert him, I’m fine!” Peter scrambled to answer, glancing up to see what floor the elevator was at currently. “Please don’t. I’m fine. I’m answering you, I’m fine!”

FRIDAY reluctantly agreed not to tattle just as the elevator stopped at his floor. Peter wasn’t feeling very fine, despite his protests, as he stepped out. He expected lots of stares and whispers, perhaps even direct comments about him ‘dating the boss.’ But there was nothing. Either nobody here had seen it yet or they just didn’t care. That certainly helped matters as he made his way to his table, intending on trying to focus on work but finding himself scrolling through the comments on the post instead. It was full of congratulatory messages from strangers but their friends didn’t seem very surprised. Rhodey, Nat, Ned, even Steve commented, all seeming as if this was barely news to them.

Peter got to his feet, heading back to the elevator to get to Tony’s lab. As the doors slid open on Tony’s R&D floor, Tony was standing there waiting to get on. The man flashed him his signature smile, stepping aside so he could get out.

“I was just coming to see you. May texted, said you seemed a bit out of it. Are you okay? I know the attention can be a lot but if I repeatedly make it clear that I want your privacy to be respected, it shouldn’t get too bad. Trust me, the fangirls will go rabid when reporters get too in-your-face about something,” Tony explained, leading Peter towards his office. Peter didn’t respond, staring straight ahead as Tony closed the door behind them. “They’ll want to protect you at all costs,” Tony continued, heading for the sofa instead of his chair. Peter remained standing, still just staring. Tony finally realized something was up and quirked an eyebrow at him, curious. “Pete?”

“Boyfriend.” Peter said blankly, staring at the man.

“Um, yes? I also have a name you can address me by.”

“Boyfriend.”

“Oookay, that works too. Peter, what’s wrong?”

The younger man started pacing the length of the office and Tony sighed, covering his face with his hands for a moment before regaining composure.

“FRIDAY, diagnose him. Fever? Has he been drugged? Is he having a psychotic break?”

“Sir, it appears that Peter is in a state of shock,” FRI replied easily. “His heart rate is elevated but nothing to be concerned about.”

“Shock over what?” Tony asked, watching as his partner continued to pace. He could practically see the gears turning in the boy’s head.

“It seems that Peter was not aware that the two of you were dating, Sir.”

Tony let out a humorless laugh while Peter came to a halt, his cheeks tinting pink as he stared at the floor. Realizing that there may be some truth in what FRI was telling him, Tony got to his feet, carefully approaching Peter.

“She’s right, isn’t she?” He asked softly, frown lines deeply engraved into his forehead. Peter refused to respond, not even looking up. Tony sighed, cupping the man’s chin and gently lifting it. “Pete? Is she right?”

Instead of answering, Peter’s face crumpled.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, hiding his face in his hands. Tony immediately pulled him into his chest, wrapping his arms around him securely. “I didn’t know that’s what this was.”

“That means I fucked up somewhere, Peter. Not you,” Tony soothed, rubbing the boy’s back. “If it had just been sex, I could understand, but Pete, sweetheart. I go to Sunday dinners with your Aunt. I host Sunday dinners for your Aunt. I take care of you when you’re sick, I let you wear my clothes.. Baby, we practically live together.”

“You never asked! You never used the words dating or boyfriend or-or-or relationship or anything,” Peter defended, lifting his head to look at the older man.

“Eight months ago, we laid in bed and I told you that I never wanted this to end. That I wanted forever with you,” Tony explained. “You agreed. I thought we were pretty clear from there on.”

“I thought that was pillow talk!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m so angry right now that it’s not even funny.”

Tony frowned once more, immediately letting Peter go and holding his hands up in surrender.

“Angry? You’re angry that I thought we were dating?”

“I’m angry that I’ve been holding back for eight months because I thought I wasn’t allowed to have you! I don’t kiss you first or touch you first or cuddle you whenever I want because I didn’t want to be too much for you!”

Tony’s face broke out into a grin, seeming relieved.

“Well, let’s rectify that right away.”