#troy never left. they are both happy. everything is good. shut up

[lesbianwithchainsaws]

Filtering out every single moment where something sad happens to either Troy or Abed from my brain, and pretending it never happened in the show and that my blorbos are happy actually

[danielxricciardo]

Where do we go from here

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

Chapters: 1/?

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 3,015

Playlist for the series

It was your fault when you agreed to go to Monaco. After what happened the last time, you swore you would never go back there. Because it fucked with your mind and soul. You were crushed and your best friend had to scrap you off the floor for weeks, he had to remind you to shower and to eat. Knowing he will be so pissed you chose to go back to him, you didn't tell him you were leaving for a week until you were on the plane. His reaction was everything you were expecting, he called you a bitch and he advised you not to get back to him with a broken heart to cry on his shoulder then he hung up on you. Sure, you both knew you will cry on his shoulder after this week.

The entire flight you were questioning your life choices. How did you get there? You wanted - you needed to know how you allowed yourself to become dependent on a piece of affection from Daniel. You were trying to figure out when you became a sucker for him but you couldn't, maybe because you always were.

You'd always been good friends, ever since he moved from Australia to Europe. You were his first non-Australian friend and he was always been grateful for you and your friendship. You were with him even when he didn't ask you to and even when he told you he wanted to be left alone. That was your first choice. You went with him to almost all the junior competitions, until he reached Formula 1, you cried with him when he had a bad race and you partied with him on a podium or a win. Fuck it, 9 years later, you were still with him. Red Bull Racing was the team that helped him discover himself as a driver and gave him confidence that he could get far. After only one year in the team, he finished third in the drivers' championship with 238 points and secured the first fastest lap of his Formula One career at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix.

But all this has consequences. The fact that he was so good and became so well known attracted many girls who wanted to meet him and be affiliated with him for increased media attention. The worst part was that he liked all the female attention. Who wouldn't like it? He could have a new girl every day and they would still not end. But Daniel was not the type to take such advantage of his name and his position in society, you thought at the time. But that was exactly what he did. At the end of the 2014 season, days would pass without hearing from him because he was too busy to enjoy the female attendance that crossed his threshold.

After a few months, you already had a pattern. For 5 days you would not hear from him and on Saturday morning he would call you with a guttural voice, asking you to come to his place. And you went there with some headache pills and for a few hours, you would listen to everything that had happened during the week with different girls. At first, it hurt a lot. To hear how your best friend and the person for whom you develop some romantic feelings, has fun, and fucks with different girls is not very ok, but over time the whole situation had become repetitive and you became immune.

But you didn't realize you became a regular girl in his bed too. The only difference between you and the tens, maybe the hundreds of girls before you, was that you warmed his bed on Saturday and Sunday. It was just you, all weekend, every weekend. You felt special. He gives you his full attention all weekend and you hope he doesn't need anyone but you, except that Monday was coming and you could see that to his right was another model looking for fame. But have you ever told him what bothers you? No. Because you'd rather share him with so many girls than not have him in your life at all.

So what happened when you ended up crying for weeks without eating or taking a shower? Daniel told you that he is done with all the girls and he wants to focus on his career. This is after in 2015 he finished the season in 9th place with only 92 points, without a victory, and only twice on the podium. Of course you were happy! Daniel was going to have only you in his life. But he told you that what was between you before, sex and everything else, must end as well. I mean, you had to go back to being just friends. But how do you go back to being just friends with the person you've shared the bed with so many times? Friends don't know the way you taste. Your luck was that you had to go for a visit to your parents for 2 weeks and you didn't have to see him. You had 2 weeks to lick your wounds and return to him without a broken heart. Troy, your best friend, was with you and he tried to put your heart back together. Just when he succeeded, you had to go back to Daniel as if nothing had happened. Broken heart? Who?

Making your own decisions makes you responsible for what comes out of that decision whether it was a positive move or not. Making your own decisions also allows you to make your own mistakes and learn from them. It was your decision to go back to Daniel, to your friend. It was hard to look at him and not want to kiss those fleshy lips but you could manage it.

"There she is!" you heard Daniel say as soon as the Nice Côte d'Azur airport gates opened. He was wearing his merch purple hoodie that you wore so many times before and a pair of black jeans. He had a pair of sunglasses on to keep him away from the press. You smiled. It's been 2 weeks since you've seen him and it's as if your heart has tightened in your chest. You really missed him. You ignored his calls because you didn't want to hear his voice and start crying on the phone and all the messages he sent you were deleted by Troy. You don't even know what he wrote to you.

"Hey, Daniel!" you said and hugged him. You were enveloped by the smell of his perfume and you smiled. He was your safe place. "Missed you."

He hugged you back and the force he put in that hug was enough to crush your bones. But it didn't hurt you. You wanted to be one with him, to be absorbed by him. Everything platonic, of course.

"Missed you too, Y/N."

The road to your house was not a long one but at that moment everyone seemed to be on the road at the same time as you so what needed to be a 45-minutes road trip was now more than an hour, and you were still in the car. The small talk already finished about your parents, your brother and your best friend, Troy, and about all the new things from your home town and at the moment in the car was an uncomfortable silence which none of you knew how to break.

"I tried to talk to you these 2 weeks, you know?" Daniel said and you swallowed loudly. You knew that at some point he would ask about why you didn't talk to him for two weeks, but you hoped it would take some time until then - you hoped you had more time to think about a pretty good reason.

"Yeah, sorry, I just wanted to focus on my people there, you know?" you bit the inside of your cheek until you felt the metallic taste of blood. You hoped it would be a pretty convincing reason but you knew after so many years of friendship that Daniel is not the type to press you if you don't want to say something.

"Yeah, I get it, I'm the same when I'm down under, y'know?" you both laughed, and for the first time in a long time you felt good around him. You felt yourself, no labels and no shoes to fill.

In front of your apartment block, after Daniel took all your luggage out of the car trunk, he leaned against the car, his hands folded, and looked at you.

"Aren't you going to help me get them up to my apartment?"

"Yes, in a minute," he says, still looking at you. "Would you like to do something tonight?"

You shrugged. You weren't tired after the flight, so you could have done something but you had so many questions. Just the two of you? Was anyone else coming? Any friends of his? Some girl? But you couldn't ask him, even if you were friends, you didn't want to give him the feeling that you were jealous. Were you jealous? You didn't have a reason just yet but you could become one.

"Sure. Do you have something in mind?"

"Remember Jay? He just opened a nightclub. Actually, tonight is the opening, he asked me to swing by for a few hours, want to go?"

"Yeah, sure, sounds like fun."

Daniel took two suitcases and passed you to enter the block, but he walked with the wheels over your toes.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at him and immediately laughed. Daniel turned to you, laughing too. You didn't realize when you said it, but that was the exact phrase you told him when you first met.

You got out of the cab in front of the restaurant and slammed the door shut, despite the pleading of the driver to be gentle with his darling car.

You arranged your dress on your body and put your hair behind your ear. You were ready for this blind date that Ellie, your co-worker, planned for you. Of course, there were better things for you to do on a Friday night, such as drinking a bottle of red wine watching a few episodes of your favorite show. But you were there, prepared for a shitshow. You took a few steps towards the big glass door until someone hit you hard and made you unbalance and break a heel.

"Hey, idiot, watch where you're going!" you yelled at the boy that hit you. A tall, dark guy that made you lose the little balance you still had. A small amount of his curly dark-haired was peaking out under the white hoodie he was wearing and his brown big eyes were looking at you like you were a statuette that broke.

"So sorry," he said and the thick accent made your legs soft. Whatever accent that was, you knew you wanted to hear him talk non-stop. "Was looking for an address, I'm fucking lost."

"That's fine, maybe I can help you," you smiled at the boy and you took off your heels. One was already broken so there was no point in wearing them at this point.

"Oh, no, it's fine, you look so elegant, you must be dining with your boyfriend or something," he laughed and then saw the broken heel. "Bloody, I just broke your shoes, I'm so sorry!"

You laughed even harder at the panicked boy in front of you.

"No boyfriend, just a blind date I didn't even want to go in the first place so you saved me, I'm the one that should say thank you. Where do you need to go to?"

He came closer to you with a map in his hand. He showed you where he had to go and you explained to him that he was in the wrong part of the city but you were more than happy to show him the right way. But after you stopped at a boutique to buy a 5 euro pair of sandals.

"This city is not so big that you get lost in it," you told the boy, whose name is Daniel Ricciardo, he told you so. "How long have you been here?"

"Ugh, just a day, and I thought it was a good idea to go out and see the city, I even took this stupid map, but I still got lost."

"Okay, but why did you go out by yourself in the evening and not in the morning or, at least, when is sunny, y'know?" you ask him and point to his left, where you had to go.

"I woke up two hours ago. I slept for eleven hours with the whole time zone, jet lag, and shit and when I woke up I was hungry. I went to get some food and to visit the surroundings because why not," he shrugged.

"But where did you come from?"

"Perth, Australia, baby!" he smiled and leaned back, pulling his chest forward. Anyone could see how proud he was of his hometown.

"This is you!" you announced when you arrived in front of the apartment building, his final destination. He smiled so wide and hugged you.

"Thank you so much, you saved me!"

"No biggie," you smiled at him and then waved. "Bye, Daniel Ricciardo."

"Hey, hey, let's meet tomorrow for a brekky!" he casually announced.

"For a what?"

"Oh, sorry!" he laughed. "Forgot for a second you're not Australian. For breakfast."

"Sure, I'll come here at 9 so you won't get lost again. Bye, Daniel Ricciardo!"

"Bye, Y/N Y/L/N!"

"I'll come and pick you up at about 10 o'clock, ok?" Daniel announced just as he was about to leave your apartment after he got up all your luggage. "Sounds good?"

"Yep. All good."

"And wear something sexy!" he yelled as he was closing the front door. Something sexy? Why would he request a sexy outfit for a night out from you? His best friend. Sometimes Daniel made your head spin, that was one of those occasions, you didn't pay much attention to it, you just went to grab a shower.

The night had come too fast. Sure, you had enough time to put on makeup and do your hair, but you had no idea what to wear. You were sitting in front of the bed in your underwear, with three dresses lying on the bed when the clock struck 10 o'clock. You heard the front door open and close but you did not hurry to put something on yourself so that Daniel would not see you in your underwear; he saw you even worse than that.

"Hey, are you ready? Whoah!" he says and turns his back on you, with his hand covering his eyes. "You should have told me you were naked!"

You scoffed at him.

"Cut the crap and come help me pick a dress for tonight, Ricciardo."

Daniel removed his hand from the eyes and looked at you and swallowed hard. The underwear you were wearing was almost a silky one, black, that hugged your curves just right. He couldn't take his eyes off you and you loved all the attention.

"Stop drooling and come help me. Do you want to go to this club or not?"

Daniel came near you, his eyes were now on the push-up bra that lifted your breasts, making them fuller and bigger than they really were, and at that moment Daniel wanted nothing more than to touch them and play with them. But he remembered who was in front of him. He told his best friend that the sex games were now over because he was focusing on his Formula 1 career. That was not a lie at the time, but he just wanted to throw her in bed and make her forget the words he said that evening. He coughed a few times to regain his voice and then looked at the three dresses lying on the bed.

"That one," says the brunette and points to the short black dress that fits perfectly on your body. You would have chosen that one too.

"Ok, I'll be ready in a few minutes," you said and went to the bathroom to put the dress on. You adjusted your make-up and grabbed the bag and you were ready for a night out with Daniel. Or so you thought.

No one can see the dance floor, it's wall-to-wall people dancing to the club music. There's no room for any more but somehow Daniel was pulling my hand to where he knew Jay was sitting. The music vibrated in your ears and you were tempted to move to its rhythm, but you had to follow Daniel. After going through the whole room you reached your friend, the owner of the club. He told you that the drink for you was on the house and wished you a good time. Daniel announces that he is going to have a drink for both of you and leaves you alone among hundreds of strangers, driven by the same inner desire to get rid of inhibitions for a few hours that night.

The DJ moves everybody in ways no one has ever done before. Mixing the loud music on the turntables to the beat you desire to hear, the DJ watches the half-naked bodies of young men and women dancing around as if something has possessed their bodies. Men are wearing an undershirt, or no shirt at all, and pants. They eye the women who strut around in tank tops and tight dance pants or skirts, and who are smiling, and letting all their worries go away. A smile appeared on your face and look at the line at the bar for Daniel and you were pleasantly surprised to see that he was already looking at you. When you saw his smile you realized that the night will not end with you two still being just friends.

————————————————————————————

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[slumberpartysongs]

S.O.S.F. 余命二年

Oomori Seiko - S.O.S.F. 余命二年 (S.O.S.F. Two Years Left to Live )

Tacky, Machiavellian, Troy, the Future [1] I will, I will, I will, I will Depart to my death day with a time machine If I only had two years left, I would, I would, I would, I would speed up to the point that I could finish all the things I’d left undone in two years’ time

“It’s a good thing that that’s the same way you live now” You told me that! So I'm the winner! My dream dream dream dreams Give me a big head THANKYOUADHD

Two years left to live, today I stood right under a meteor shower as dawn broke I become melancholy thinking about speed limits I don't agree with the famous depictions of sadness. Sadness doesn't disappear if you go to protests, or use hashtags, or surround yourself with people.

Love, romance, that ardor, this coda, shut up　 [1] It’s male ,it’s female, who is it? I am me.　 The person I love and the person I hate are both me I’m about to die, so I guess now’s the time to shine so bright that I could never disappear Cracking open the night

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance, danc Stance

An epic tale goes on too long, a Trojan horse, bumbling drone [1] Look into my, my, my ,my eyes, and see the hungry demons running wild, please

Immediately make everything around you into a masterpiece Picture perfect is all in my eyeballs, they’re degenerating so yank them out and throw them away And yet the very moment after that you’ll still stare Two years left to live, my visa ran out. If I'm not my songs, I'm nothing I can't get enter into your borders I spend all of my birthdays As if they’re independence day. I want to be able to comprehend history and culture, and the fireworks they shot into the sky on the night of the revolution It’s disgusting to say sorry for not understanding you I’m glad that I kept on living, cuz this really hurts Storming the city with a blitz of love  [2]

Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance, dance, dance, dance, dance, dance Dance danc Stance

I’m in a relationship, my family is kind and only annoying sometimes, and I have friends I have money, I upgraded my car and my house with a loan, but even if in my old age my pension rains down from the heavens I’d rather die now, at a time when I must always be able to feel my heart pounding in my chest Although I should have tied up all those loose ends first Thinking practically, this is all just so cold I want to be satisfied by normalcy, I want to see what it’s like to want to be happy You can get super popular by being full of emptiness I know that I’m stupid, but I want to hurt something, I want to love I want to jump off a roof, I want to destroy, I want to do all these things even if you feel the same I want to be beat up without sympathizing with the other person I want to fist fight There’s no way I can do all these things [3]

S.O.S.F　A.D.H.D　 S.O.S.F　 S.O.S.F　A.D.H.D　 S.O.S.F

Tacky, machiavellian,   Traumerei Return me me me me with my time machine back to when you exist  

The value of living and the reason for dying Are more than just myself [3]

NOTES

The title is a combination of the acronym SOS (used the same as in English, were it refers to a state of emergency) and SF, which is used to refer to science fiction in Japanese. In this interview she explains (rough translation): "through music you can create an outer space realm within yourself, where time flows differently and you can meet people you otherwise couldn't meet, etc...and that if your mental health is at such a point that you can create that world, you're probably constantly in a state of emergency"

(I believe I also read somewhere that the SO also refers to Seiko Oomori?)

[1] In the Japanese all these words share syllables/sound similar. In English, they do not.

[2] The word she uses here is rarely used in everyday speech, it's kind of rough yakuza language

[3] these are all the spoken word parts

[epicene-humanoid]

some trans Jeff thoughts:

he realized he was trans in elementary school and just went fuck it I'll just start introducing myself as Jeffery and see if anyone decides to stop me (as we know, jeff winger can get away with almost anything)

he got top surgery the second he could afford it (around the same time he started at his law firm), and probably bribed someone to keep it a secret

"I'm jeff winger and i would rather look at myself naked than the women I sleep with" are the words of a man proud of his transition

he's really insecure about his fashion sense, which is why he mostly dresses like the douchey guys at his firm in the start of the show, he thought you can't go wrong with the sleazy lawyer look

he will never admit it but he feels super good about the dean hitting on him, because the dean is a (cis) guy, acknowledging that Jeff is more manly than him

i think he starts out stealth and comes out to everyone one by one, probably starting with abed because he knows abed won't judge him and will probably just see it as an interesting backstory.

abed just says it's cool and maybe worth a prequel exploring Jeff's transition, and jeff asks him to predict how all of the members of the group will react to him coming out.

abed's predictions:

britta will be over-the-top supportive and do a ton of research about trans history, probably put together a slideshow just to prove how progressive she is, and jeff will be a little bit weirded out, but also touched that she did all that for him, though he would never let her know that

shirley will be confused, because she doesn't know how someone she trusts and knows so well could be part of a group she was raised to hate, but ultimately realizes that there's nothing actually against the lgbtq people in the bible, and, as a cool character development arch, starts to advocate against use of the bible to justify bigotry

troy will just think it over and decide that Jeff's physique and coolness are even awesomer knowing how much work he'd had to put in to be like that, and respects Jeff's manliness even more

annie will give him a hug, say something sweet about how she'll always love him, and worry about his health, because even she read somewhere that taking testosterone makes you more likely to have a heart attack, jeff will explain that the risk is still only as high a cis guy, and she'll be the one to always remind him to take his shots

peirce will say at best say "jeff winger used to be a chick?" and at worst call him a slur, either way there's sure to be a lot of misgendering from him, and pestering to know Jeff's deadname (needless to say, Jeff just doesn't tell peirce)

the whole group goes out of their way to keep their beach trips a secret from pierce (the girls don't want him there anyways, he's too liable to be creepy) even though jeff knows that even if pierce saw his scars, all he would have to do is make up a story about some childhood accident and pierce would never question it

sorry this ended up being super long. can I hear some of your headcanons for him?

YES ALL THIS!!! yes yes i’m fully accepting this as canon oh my god

i’m about to type a whole ass ESSAY at midnight because i have been DYING to talk about this for months ajfdksljk,,, this is going to be obscenely long and i might end up adding even more to it as i continue to rewatch the show because there is truly no shortage of trans jeff content (especially when you’re trans and see transness in every little thing ajdkslfkjs)

spoiler warning for literally everything about this show under the cut <3

i 100% agree, i feel like he realized he was trans super young, especially since in the show we see him as a little kid a couple of times. 

like look at little jeff with the oversized sweatshirt and little ponytail!! that’s childhood trans fashion. not to be dramatic but part of me thinks that jeff’s dad left before he fully came out to his family (which gives him even more angst about it, because until that one Thanksgiving episode, he’s never able to prove to his dad that he’s a better man), but part of me thinks that his dad left after he came out (which adds that spicy i-should-have-stayed-in-the-closet guilt that he has to work through). 

either way, because his dad wasn’t there, he had to base his concept of masculinity on something else, which was becoming a lawyer!! there’s some line that’s like “after the dust and divorce papers were settled the only man i looked up to was [the lawyer guy]”. like, replacing your father figure in your mind with the concept of “a job where you can talk your way in and out of anything and distort other people’s concept of reality”? that’s trans.

 and the fucking THANKSGIVING EPISODE... i struggle to watch it without crying hehe <3 yeowch! the dichotomy of willy jr. being the “wrong” kind of man because he’s “too soft” but jeff also not being enough despite adhering to all the social standards of masculinity... fuck!! this whole scene of him telling his dad “i am Not well adjusted” and talking about how he gave himself an “appendix surgery scar” when he was a kid and he still keeps the get-well-soon letters from his classmates under his bed? oh my god. the implication of people loving him not despite his scars but because of them?? trans. i can’t think about this episode for too long or i’ll start yelling.

OH and this scene? where he talks about how his mom got him a girl costume for halloween?? and everyone said “what a cute little girl” and after a few houses he stopped correcting them?? and “once the shame and the fear wore off, i was just glad they thought i was pretty”?? THAT’S TRANS... the man needs validation oh my god... and then in all the halloween episodes we see he has these ultra-masculine costumes (a cowboy, David Beckham, one of the fast and furious guys even though he never watched the movies, a boxer with his DAD’S boxing gloves... god) costumes are about becoming something else and he always chooses to be hypermasculine and that is trans.

THE PHYSICAL EDUCATION EPISODE!!!!!!! being uncomfortable during P.E. is a queer experience. period. but him being specifically uncomfortable in the clothes someone else is assigning to him? trans. “are we gonna talk about clothes like a girl? or use tapered sticks to hit balls around a cushioned mat like a man?” TRANS. and him eventually stripping in public? celebration of transness. and the fact that he eventually becomes comfortable in both the uniform and his own style!! trans!! god i love this episode. 

AND AND AND!!! the gay dean coming out episode!!! where it’s the three of them discussing the best way for the dean to come out as gay despite not entirely identifying with that label!! so we have both frankie and the dean who are sort of ambiguously queer, and jeff who’s a stealth trans man who’s probably only out to only the study group at this point. this scene where the dean and jeff have this like eyebrow communication while frankie is talking is just so cute. queer-to-queer communication. “I am so curious” “oh?” “intellectually.” “oh...” ajfdksljfk this scene just screams high school GSA to me and i love it so much.

and SPEAKING of the dean!! i totally see you on that. i feel like jeff has some internalized homophobia/biphobia (like he’d throw punches over someone else, but when it comes to himself he has a lot of shame). and also seeing the dean so confident in all his different outfits/costumes has a weird affect on him bc it’s like “okay, the dean, a cis guy, can do that, but i as a trans guy could Not because that’s Breaking the Rules”. which, like, throwback to the halloween thing. of course there’s no right way to be masculine, but mr. winger does not know that.

another thing!! the episode where their emails get leaked? that includes his emails with his therapist. fuck!! he was outed to the whole world in that episode!! no wonder he was so fucking angry!! this whole episode (and really any time he mentions his therapist) is so interesting when you think about them as a person he talks to about his transition. OH which adds to the thing with the dean!! “and you told your therapist you wanted to be alone this weekend” and “not you jeff, i know you’ll be visiting your dad” ”I told you to stop reading my emails”. luckily his study group has his back and just makes fun of him for emailing astronauts lmao

and WHO can forget “they’re giving out an award for most handsome young man!!!!” what else is there to say about this line besides: he’s trans. you know he didn’t get awarded enough for being a handsome young man when he was a kid, and no amount of compliments when he’s fully-grown can really make up for that. some people crash a kid’s bar mitzvah to cope with the fact that they struggled to be seen as themselves when they were a teenager <3

also his weird relationship with pierce? where he kind of hates him (understandably lmao) but at times has this almost-friends-almost-father-son relationship with him? especially in this episode where he’s forced to bond with him and ends up having a good time by accident (at a barber shop no less, the perfect place to Be A Man with your Man Friend). idk what to say about him besides the fact that pierce says his mom wanted a girl when he was born and made him dress like a girl (and his middle name is anastasia!) so if they’re gonna do any bonding over transness it’s gonna be that. 

okay one last thing and then i’ll shut up for the night. this episode kills me (and almost kills jeff hahahahelpi’mcrying). it’s a very Trans thing to not be able to visualize your future self, it just is. growing up trans at the time he did? i don’t know what kind of future he saw for himself, but i’m so happy that he ended up with a group of friends who became his family and love him the way they all do. i’m so emotional over this asshole it’s ridiculous. 

in conclusion:

they’re trans, your honor <3

[sweetfierceimagines]

PART1/ It was supposed to be simple.  Ricky x Reader (HSMTM)

Hello everyone, I’ve been trying really hard to write lately, and it has been very complicated. I think you all understand, when everything is not ok in someone’s life, that someone kind of loses it.

But I decided to fight that, I least trying !

I discovered the series High School Musical the Musical and even though I’m 24 and supposed to be over this kind of drama, I’M CLEARLY NOT.

Synopsis : Reader is a student, she’s not technically involved in the Musical like everyone else, but she helps with costumes making and set management. Ricky gets to know her and even though he really wants to get Nini back and has a whole plan for it, life decides to mess with him, and he gets involved in a new sentimental obsession.

Warnings : none. Probably not my best writing, please be kind to me.. Just a lot of fluff and teenage drama ! Enjoy <3

Tell me if you want this to carry on ! I’ll be glad to write a part 2 if you like it :)

RICKY POV/

Here he was, playing Troy Bolton in this Musical. He would never have done it if it wasn’t for Nini.

He understood her, understood her pain, understood why she chose that stupid E.J. But he was not going to abandon. It was not because he didn’t reply that he didn’t mean it. 

So he enroled (quite amazingly by the way) in this musical. He was dancing, singing, acting.. He never thought it could actually be this fun and exhausting. He seemed to be reaching Nini’s heart more and more each day, as she was also realising that EJ was not as perfect as he pretended to be.

But something was about to mess up all his plans.

READER POV/

The school was all about that Musical. It seemed as if every other activity and class was less important and didn’t deserve that much attention. Y/N was not a singer, not a dancer. She didn’t play any instrument, she didn’t like to be under the spotlights.

She was all about reading, writing and creating. So when the art class shut down for “fund purposes” (basically meaning this musical was costing the school too much), she had to find another way to create. 

So she went for it. Asked Miss Jenn if she needed someone for her costumes and decor management, and simply started to work on the set. She wasn’t the only one working on costumes and on stage management, but she clearly was the best of the team.

And it was appreciated.

After just a few weeks, she was named “stage and costume director”, whatever that means. Even though she was pretending she didn’t care, it sort of made her feel validated, and allowed her to create as much as she wanted to, which was pretty amazing. 

RICKY POV/

It was one of these days.

Everything seemed to fall apart. His parents were ending their relationship, his mom would probably leave for a long time, Nini still supported EJ even though he was making mistakes for which she would have dumped him..

He felt like everything he was doing was not good enough and it was hard to deal with. He was not usually shy with his feelings, but this time he didn’t feel like sharing. So he stayed late, very late, at school, and waited for everyone to leave stage to show up.

He was sure no one was there, so he let his emotions speak and just let it out. He started by talking to himself, making moves and being loud. He was talking about his family, his fear of being abandonned, his fear of never being loved again, the pain of knowing he lost Nini because he didn’t deserve her back there, the impression that EJ was a better man than he was.. he could go for hours.

And then he started singing.

A couple sentences from numerous songs. Songs about love, songs about pain, songs about courage. He closed his eyes and sang his heart out. It was beautiful, strong, sincere. It would have tear anyone’s heart.

And it did.

READER POV/

Y/N was staying late, as usual. She had a special authorisation from Miss Jenn and the Dean to stay extra hours backstage, working of costumes or just on personnal projects.

At school at least, she didn’t have to deal with noise, with family issues of with anything that could poison her creativity.

She was painting when she heard a noise.

Startled, she sort of went in panic mode, imagining a hundred scenarios in which she would get in troubles. She walked smoothly to the stage entrance and remained out of sight while looking at the boy who played Troy basically loosing his mind on stage.

She could have told him that he was not alone, she was actually about to signal her presence out of respect for what he was revealing, when he started singing.

It made Y/N go numb, as if she left her body and could feel her soul burning of compassion. His voice was everything, his face was everything.

She didn’t realise, but she was crying silently.

After a couple minutes, she realised she was actually holding her breath. She breathed heavily and stumbled, making Ricky realise he was not alone at all.

The boy jumped and fell down, hurting himself quite badly.

Y/N came rushing at him, feeling terribly sorry for what happened.

RICKY POV/

- Man ! Couldn’t you say you were here?!

Ricky was flaming red, embarrassed that someone heard everything. He looked at this girl’s face and it honestly took him a few seconds to remember who she was. Yes, she was on stage pretty much each day, but at some point he got so obsessed with the Musical and Nini that he completly forgot about the environment he was evolving in.

She was pretty, her Y/E/C eyes looking terrified and guilty, and it seemed as she cried recently, her eyes a bit red.

He stood up and winced, lifting his shirt a bit to realise he was going to get bruses all over his chest and stomach.

- I’m so sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt or even listen. Seriously, I was going to tell you, i’m not a creep. Well, not that kind at least..

- Yeah? You were going to? Seems like you had plenty of time.

He sighed and headed backstage to inspect his clothes and body in the miror, assessing at bad it was.

Y/N followed, staying a few meters away to give him some space. She didn’t say anything, feeling guilty enough.

Ricky took his shirt out completly, looking at his body. Y/N could tell he was contracting a bit his abs and arms and let out a silent laugh. She observed for a couple minutes and finally talked.

- You riped your shirt a bit.

Ricky turned, facing her, looking anoyed, and lifted his arms.

- No joke ! Who’s falt is it?

- You’re the one who fell dude.

He opened his mouth to answer right back but her cheekiness cheered him a bit, and he simply nodded his head.

- Yeah, I’ll blame gravity next time I see her. A real troublemaker that one.

He looked at his shirt and sighed. He didn’t know anything about sewing and his mom would probably have other things to do. Too bad, it was his favorite old school shirt.

Y/N stretched her hand toward him and he gave her his shirt. Still shirtless, he looked as she sat down where it seemed like she was staying most of the time, in a corner with painting all over, needles and fabric. She grabed one needle, easily got the thread in and started sewing, with a hand technique that showed how used to it she was.

He looked around, noticing one painting that seemed to still be in progress. He got closer, reaching his hand to it.

- Don’t ! It’s wet, I was on it when I heard you.

He turned around, looking at her in another way. She was pretty impressive, painting stuff, sewing shirts and managing a stage so well people didn’t even realised she was here.

- That’s sick.

He said with a smile.

She looked back at him and nodded, smiling at him too.

- Thanks. I usually plan what I’m going to do but this one.. it just came to me.

He looked closer, noticing a female silouette, somehow looking cut in some parts. Not cut as stabbed, but cut as split in different sections.

- What do you think it is?

Y/N said while carrying on her sewing. She acted as she was not looking at him, but each time he got his attention back at the painting, she would look at him, trying to anticipate his reactions.

- Hum.. It’s a.. it’s a woman? Right?

He would turn to her, as if he was looking for her validation for each word he said. She simply nodded, encouraging him to carry on.

- It’s a woman, and this woman is split. She.. Maybe because she went through a lot, maybe the different sections represent different emotions? Different moments of her life?

He remained silent for a second and looked with intensity at the painting. His eyebrows frown and he suddently looked sad.

- Maybe because she can’t be whole again. She has to be split. She has to try to deal with these conflicting emotions, these ups and downs. Maybe people tell her she should be grateful, and happy, and she should move on. But she can’t, because life cut her in several pieces.

And a tear rolled down his cheek.

Y/N stood up, mooving carefully toward him, and put a gentle hand on his (still naked) shoulder. She could feel him shaking a bit, deeply moved by what he felt from the painting. 

- Ricky.. it’s ok.

He turned, facing her, his eyes still filled with tears. He didn’t quite knew why, but he didn’t feel like looking anything but himself with her. After all, she knew how he was feeling, she heard what he said, and she felt what he felt.

The way she was looking at him.. Conforting, warm, yet terrifying. She understood.

He put his hand on hers, squeezing it as if it would make him feel better. He was here, facing her, hand on hand, eyes to eyes.

Suddenly, the speaker went on, the voice of a security guy telling “Miss Y/N, time to close the school. Sorry”

This sort of broke the moment. They broke the physical contact and she gave him his shirt back. They both gathered their stuff and silently headed to the front door, thanking the security guard for his patience.

They smiled at each other and Ricky waved goodbye, whatching as she was quitely leaving of her bike.

[pucksnsticksnhockeyboys]

all my focus on you

summary: all of your focus is on Jake, and yet you can’t see that he loves you.

warnings: mentions of injury

word count: 3.2k

note from the writer: this is the first thing I've posted in months and I really like how it turned out. let me know what you think! also I didn’t edit it so sorry ahead of time.

“Who’s Tuna?”

You had heard the nickname tossed around a lot. At least, you were pretty sure it was a nickname. You were new to the world of hockey, having only really paid attention to the sport in the past few months as a result of your roommate, Jess, dating professional player Brock Boeser. Through him, you had met Elias, Quinn, Thatcher, Troy, and a whole assortment of others. But, Tuna still remained a mystery to you. Apparently, he was going to be joining your group out to the bar that night.

“You’ll like him.” Brock declared, giving you the same response he always did whenever you asked, while Elias’ smile turned the special kind of mischievous that only he could ever pull off. You didn’t have the chance to question how he could have been so certain, because Jess called your name and insisted that you start getting ready to go.

You’d never, not once in a million years, admit it that Brock was right.

You did like ‘Tuna’. A lot more than you probably should have. He was fun and outgoing from the moment Brock introduced you to him at the bar. Your heart stopped in your chest when you realized that Tuna was Jake Virtanen, your secret hockey crush. When Jess started seeing Brock, she showed you the entire Canucks roster. Jake’s piercing blue eyes struck out to you from the moment you saw his picture, but other than a ‘oh he’s cute’ and a mental note of his name and number, you kept quiet.

Now, he was standing before you, handing extended for you to shake with a dazzling smile that nearly made you forget your own name.

“I’m Jake.” He said brightly, and you offered your own smile in return as you slipped your hand into his meekly. Your face warmed at his touch, and if you possessed the ability to look away from Jake, you would have seen the shit-eating grin Brock wore. But you couldn’t, and instead you saw the way Jake’s gaze stayed on you, his own cheeks turning red. “What’re you drinking? I’m buying tonight.”

And thus, an amazing friendship grew. Which, for whatever reason, Brock seemed to loathe.

He was insistent that there was something more between you and Jake, which you vehemently denied, and each time your cheeks would burn brightly. It wasn’t as if you didn’t want anything more with Jake, in the few months that you had gotten to know him, he had become one of your closest friends and the person you told everything too.

And your secret hockey crush turned into full blown feelings. Most of your time was spent with him, even if you felt nothing but butterflies in your stomach whenever he was near. Only a few short months after meeting him, you couldn’t imagine your life without him. He was a constant presence in your life, as sure as you were that the sun would rise, you knew that Jake would be there for you.

With a schedule as crazy as a professional athlete’s, you jumped on any opportunity to spend time with Jake and any of the guys on the team, who all quickly became good friends of yours, along with their partners. Currently, you were at a diner, getting a quick lunch with Jake, Petey, and Brock, the two blondes sharing a side of the booth opposite of you.

Jake was in the middle of animatedly telling a story, and you watched with your undivided attention. Well, nearly undivided, since he had swung an arm around your shoulders shortly after sitting down and the simple contact had your heart beating like crazy. Petey had sent you no less than three shit-eating grins, and Brock was openly chuckling at how flustered you were. You were just thankful Jake was as oblivious as he was.

“You’re coming to the game tonight, right?” Jake asked, jostling you with the arm that was around his shouler to get your attention as soon as he finished his story. You nodded, taking a sip of your drink to cover up the fact that you had been openly staring at him as he spoke. “Perfect. Alright, I’ve got to run. I’m supposed to meet with my nutritionist.”

There was a chorus of ‘goodbyes’ as he tossed some cash on the table, enough to cover both his bill and yours, since he always insisted on paying for you. Before he could slide out of the booth, though, he pressed a quick kiss to your temple, an innocent act that had your heart doing cartwheels. You avoided Petey and Brock’s gazes, trying to will the heat in your cheeks away. It was only when the bell chimed on the door signalling that Jake had left, did someone speak up.

“Oh, come on!” Brock groaned, and you shot him a curious look. He ignored you, turning to face Elias, who was grinning in amusement. “I’m just going to tell her. It’s painful at this point.”

“Tell me what?” You question, nerves seeping into you, watching Elias shrug and grin wider. Instantly, your mind thought about the worst, like someone was getting traded or something similar, but nothing could have prepared you for what Brock said next.

“Jake is in love with you.”

“What? No, he’s not.” You spluttered, eyes wide and cheeks warm. Brock rolled his eyes at you, a scoff leaving his lips as if he thought his teammate’s apparent affection was obvious.

“He talks about you all the time.” Petey offered, and you fell silent. Elias wasn’t one to mess around with something like that. Sure, he made sly comments that had you laughing everytime, but this was different.

“He thinks you could never like him back, so we have to listen to him complain about it.” Brock’s tone was serious, but you could hear the subtle chirp. You pursed your lips, dropping your focus onto your plate to avoid meeting either of their gazes.

“You guys are ridiculous.” You settled on saying, though just because you dropped the conversation, it didn’t mean that you stopped thinking about it.

Even hours later as you were walking through the doors of the arena, you were still thinking about it. Though, you were quickly distracted as Jess led you through the crowd to find your seats and watch warm-ups.

Despite your inner turmoil, the Virtanen jersey felt right on your shoulders, now a regular part of your wardrobe. When Jake had found out that you had no idea about hockey, he had bought you the number eighteen Canucks sweater, along with tickets to just about every home game, claiming you were his good luck charm. When he gave you his jersey, he stated that it was to make your hockey experience complete—thought now you weren’t so sure.

Brock’s words from earlier in the day were still bouncing in your head. You had a hard time believing they were true, but then you thought over nearly every interaction you had with Jake. They all had a common theme—Jake was always looking at you with a softness to his eyes that you had, at the time, chaked up to his friendliness. Now, thinking back, you recognized the look. It was the same look you gave him.

A look of utter adoration and total love.

You settled into your seat to watch the game with a wide smile on your face, borderline giddy with the conclusion you had come to. You decided that after the game, when you would be going back to Jake’s for a movie night and a sleepover, a tradition that had been established after celebrating a win too hard one night and you spent the night at his place, and at the following brunch it was decided his guest room would be yours after any home games. Though, if you played your cards right, you wouldn’t be sleeping in the guest room.

Your happiness only lasted until halfway through the first period, and quickly dread formed in the pit of your stomach. The game was back and forth, neither team able to keep possession of the puck for very long. Petey scored first, and you cheered loudly, but clamped your mouth shut when a player on the opposite team—you couldn’t see a name on his jersey, and even so, you didn’t pay attention to any hockey team outside of Vancouver—started shoving Jake. Of course, Jake was running his mouth and shoving back, and it was only when a ref skated between the two players did you let out a breath of relief you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Apparently, Jake pissed off the other team a lot more than you originally thought.

You would have sworn he was being targeted. Everytime he was on the ice, it seemed, that an opposing player would check him into the boards. He wad getting hit hard from all angles, he got tripped twice but only drew a penalty on one—and if you screamed bullshit! at the ref, then who would have blamed you—and got into a fight late in the second after an opposing player shoved into Thatcher.

It was the third period when things really went awry.

It was the final minutes of the period, Vancouver up by one, thanks to Bo’s goal at the end of the second. The Canucks were fighting to hold on, maybe score an extra point to cement their victory, while the other team was getting desperate. And they were playing dirty, too.

You didn’t really register the gasp that fell from your lips as some unknown opponent slammed Jake into the boards, head on, with clear intent to injure him. You did remember jumping to your feet, as if that would make everything better.

Jess, who you hadn’t really acknowledged was sitting next to you in your stress, gripped your arm tightly. You watched in horror as Jake stayed down, hands holding his head as the athletic trainer jogged across the ice with the assistance of Troy Stetcher. You couldn’t tear your gaze away from Jake, but if you could, you would have seen Brock looking worriedly from his injured teammate to where he knew you were in the stands.

It felt like years later when Jake finally stood, and while leaning heavily on his trainer and Troy, he went down the tunnel. You sat down stifly into your seat, leg bouncing in nerves and fingers tapping an unknown pattern as you anxiously waited for the game to be over so you could check on Jake.

Five minute major, game misconduct.

Good, you thought, but you kept your mouth clamped shut as nausea swirl in your stomach. Distantly, you heard Jess say that the opposing player was most likely going to get fined for his actions. You knew hockey was a hard hitting sport, but that was terrible. You had seen Jake hurt before, blocked shots, highsticks, and the sorts—but not once had it taken him that long to get back up.

You couldn’t focus on the rest of the game, you were pretty sure that at some point Quinn had scored, but eventually Jess was leading you down to the tunnel where had to meet the other players. Holly, Bo’s wife, had tried to assure you that Jake would be fine the moment she saw you.

“He’s got a thick skull.” She tried to lighten the mood, but all you could muster was a weak smile and a laugh that sounded forced and foriegn to even your own ears. You listened to the other wives and girlfriends of players chatter about who knows what—certainly not you, you were staring at the door you knew the boys emerged from—for minutes. The girls knew you, how you were always around Jake, acting like a couple but not once taking that extra step, so they knew how stressed you were, waiting for the verdict.

Elias was the first one to exit the room, heading straight to you with a tiny, reassuring, smile on his face. Your arms were crossed tightly across your body, an indicator of just how uncomfortable you were in the moment.

“He’s fine. He’ll be out in a few minutes.” He told you quietly. Though it helped calmed you slightly, you couldn’t get the imagine of him laying on the ice out of your head. You nodded your head in thanks, before he patted your shoulder comfortingly and departed. Quinn was next out, shooting you a pitiful smile. Tanev, Toffoli, and Edler all came out before finally, the brunette you had been waiting for emerged with Brock at his side.

He looked terrible, his tie was loose around his neck, hair a mess from the quick post-game shower he had just taken. His shoulders were slumped, and he looked so tired that your heart clenched in your chest.

“How are you?” You asked quietly once he stopped before you. Jess and Brock left to give you some privacy, but you didn’t notice in the slightest. Your focus was on Jake—like it always was.

“A little beat up, nothing I can’t handle.” He waved off his injured like it was nothing. You pouted for a moment, knowing he was playing down the severity of it. He seemed to sense your disbelief, because he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his chest. You sank into the embrace, reciprocating the hug with a deep sigh.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again.” You threatened into the fabric of his suit, wrapping your arms tiger around his middle. He chuckled lowly, holding you just as tight in return. Your heart was thundering in your chest, your stomach a lightning storm of nerves.

“I’ll try not to.” He assured you quietly, dropping a kiss to top of your head. You thought back to your decision before the game, how you were going to confront both his feelings and yours, and decided that it could wait just a little bit longer.

“Come on, let’s get you home.” You mumbled, pulling away sightly. He nodded and you, and you were pleasantly surprised as he slipped his hand into yours, threading your fingers together, as you headed in the direction of his car.

You insisted on driving, and Jake only protested slightly. The ride was quiet, and you could tell something was bothering him, but chose to stay quiet and let him come to you when he was ready. Or at least until you got back to his home. Instead, you listened to his music play softly from the car as you weaved through the streets of Vancouver, taking the familiar path to Jake’s place.

When you finally arrived, he slipped into his bedroom to change into something more comfortable, and you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he returned, he was in a Canucks hoodie and pair of grey sweats, and instead of sitting next to you on the couch, he laid across it so his head was in your lap. Instantly, your hand threaded though his hair and you scratched at his scalp, something you knew he loved. His eyes fluttered shut at the action, and he hummed contentedly.

“You scared me tonight.” You said softly after a moment. You tried to will away the tears that welled up in your eyes, remembering how it felt to see him laying on the ice, injured. It tore you in two, you had never felt more sick to your stomach at a sight than you did when he was down.

“I know.” He sighed queitly in response. Not trusting yourself to keep your voice steady, you chose not to respond right away. He reached a hand up, grabbing yours out of his hair and pressing a kiss to your palm, before threading your fingers through his and resting it on his chest.

And then, you couldn’t stop the words from tumbling past your lips—

“I love you too much to see you get hurt like that.” You hated how your voice cracked, and most of all you hated how you confessed your feelings. You wanted to do so during a happy moment, one shared with smiles and he’d tell you he felt the same, but no, you were holding back tears on his couch as he tensed, your words registering.

“What?” He questioned, sitting up abruptly. You would have thought that you had screwed everything up, if it weren’t for the near-death grip he had on your hand. Still, you couldn’t meet his gaze, and instead focused on the coffee table. Gently, with his free hand, he cupped your jaw, turning so you were facing him. It was then that you realized that you were crying, silent tear tracks running down your cheeks that he brushed away carefully as he studied your face intently. “What did you just say?”

“I love you.” You choked out, voice tight. “And I’m new to the hockey thing, so I’m not used to seeing hits like that and I—”

Your ramblings were cut short as Jake surged forward, connecting your lips to his. It took you a moment to react, but your free hand eventually moved to the back of his neck, your other still gripped in yours. The kiss wasn’t heated, but loaded with so much passion and emotion it made your head swirl. Months of casual flirting and innocent touches built to this moment, and you would be lying if you said you were aware of how long you actually were pressed against him.

Eventually, he did pull back, a wide and dopey grin on his face. You smiled just as brightly, the hand on the back of his neck toying slightly with the strands of hair there. Chasing your lips for a few quick pecks that your readily complied with.

“I love you, too.” He hummed, seemingly unable to tear his focus from you. You didn’t mind, not one bit, considering he had you attention from the moment you had met.

“I know.” You grinned, watching as his brows pull together in confusion, a silent question and urge for you to elaborate. With a giggle, you explained. “Brock told me.”

“Of course he did.” Jake groaned, tipping his head back. You chuckled at his dramatics, looking at him with the same fond look you always did. Only this time, you didn’t have to worry about him finding out. Your hand moved from behind his head to his jaw, thumb brushing across his cheekbone. You smiled as he brought his attenton back to you, and you leaned forward to press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. “You know, he’s been trying to set me up with you this entire time.”

“Yeah, he told me that I’d like you the night we met. He and Petey were planning this.” You explained, watching as he lifted your joined hands and kissed the back of yours, a barking laugh leaving him as you finished your sentence.

“Was he right?” He asked cheekily, swinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest so he could cuddle you. You admired him with a soft smile, watching as he grabbed the remote on the couch beside him to put on a movie. Never in a millions years would you admit that Brock was right, but you with the way Jake was smiling, you decided to make an acception.

“Definitely.”

[anotherplaceintheuniverse]

risotto (portwell first date fic)

As requested by anon, a look at Portwell’s first date

read on A03 here or below the cut

“Ash?” Gina knocked on Ashlyn’s door nervously. Ashlyn knew something was up. Not only did Gina never knock, she always felt more than comfortable telling her absolutely anything and everything.

“What’s up?” Ashlyn placed her guitar down at the foot of her bed. “Are you okay?”

“Um...EJ kind of asked me out-”

“Oh my god! That’s so exciting!” Ashlyn noticed Gina’s long face. “That is exciting, right?”

“Yeah,” Gina sighed. “I just...I’ve never been on a real date before and...I don’t know what you wear to this sort of thing.”

“Say no more,” Ashlyn placed her hands on Gina’s shoulders. “I know exactly who we need to call.”

Before Gina knew what was happening, Kourtney and Nini were running around Gina’s room assembling the perfect look. “Where is he taking you?” Nini smiled as she perfected Gina’s eyeliner.

“Um...we’re getting risotto actually.”

“Risotto?” Kourtney laughed.

“What is with you two and risotto?” Ashlyn giggled.

“It’s a funny story actually.” Gina smiled just thinking about the memory. “Remember when we took our little field trip to North High?”

“Who could forget?” Kourtney grumbled as she held up a shirt before deciding against it.

“Well, when I was standing watch, this guy came up to me and I guess I kind of froze. I didn’t know what to say but EJ swooped in and called me babe and asked if we were getting risotto.” Gina trailed off; the story suddenly felt embarrassing as she shared it aloud.

“What did the guy say?” Nini laughed.

“He just left but EJ and I figured if we were going on a date we could actually get risotto.”

“Okay this might be stupid but what even is risotto?” Ashlyn questioned from her spot on the bed.

“I don’t really know,” Gina whispered which caused all the girls to burst into a fit of laughter.

“You really like him, huh?” Nini smiled at Gina in the mirror.

“Yeah, I do.” Gina nodded slowly. “Is that okay? Like...will that make things weird with us?”

“Don’t worry,” Nini shook her head. “I haven’t thought about EJ in that way in a long time. I’m happy for you.”

“Alright. Enough yapping.” Kourtney held a hanger out to Gina. “This. This is what you should wear.”

“Thank you.” Gina smiled. “All of you. For everything. You guys are the best friends a girl could ask for.”

“Anything for you,” Nini wrapped her arms around Gina’s shoulders from behind.

“Get changed!” Ashlyn squealed. “EJ will be here soon!”

Gina rushed to the bathroom and started to change her clothes. “Guys?” the others heard her call.

“Oh god, what’s wrong?” Kourtney rushed to the door.

“What do you talk about on...you know...on a date?”

“What do you and EJ normally talk about?”

“Everything,” Gina sighed. “He’s just so easy to talk to.”

“Then tonight won’t be any different.”

EJ arrived at Ashlyn and Gina’s house about fifteen minutes later giving Kourtney and Nini just enough time to add finishing touches before being rushed out by Ashlyn. Gina paced around the room until they both heard a knock on the front door. “You got this!” Ashlyn gave her a thumbs up.

Gina slowly made her way to the front of the house fidgeting with her hands all the while. She opened the door and the second she saw EJ’s gentle smile, all her nerves melted away. “Hey,” he bit his lip. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” Gina smiled. “You clean up nicely.”

“Only the best for you, Porter,” EJ chuckled. “Don’t tell anyone though. Don’t want anything to damage my reputation.”

“Of course.”

“Ready to go?” EJ offered his arm. Gina easily linked her arm in his. It was like they were made to be there Gina thought.

“Ash, I’ll have her home by midnight!” EJ called.

“You better!”

Like a true gentleman, EJ opened the passenger door for Gina and made sure she was comfortable before slamming it shut and rushing to the driver’s side. “Music?” EJ smiled at her handing her his phone.

Gina skimmed through his Spotify playlists which were as she had expected: one for studying, one for working out, one for driving. The one that surprised her, however, was his musical theatre playlist. “I didn’t realize you were such a theatre nerd,” she giggled. 

“Yeah, well,” EJ chuckled.

“Is it weird that I want to listen to Beauty and the Beast? I kind of miss it.”

“Haven’t you heard it a thousand times at this point?”

“Yeah but I guess it’s more about the memories. Like the first time you and Big Red performed ‘Gaston’ in your full costumes. I’ll never forget everyone’s reaction to your eyebrows.”

“Hey! You said they weren’t that bad!”

“They weren’t!” She squealed. “You can make anything look good, Caswell.”

“Thanks, G,” he smiled at her. “You’re an amazing dancer, you know?”

“So you’ve said-”

“I mean it. You have this passion and the way you smile like it’s the best performance you’ll ever have but you just keep topping yourself.” He glanced over at her. “You’re just full of surprises, Porter.”

Gina smiled nervously finally settling on “Something There.” EJ laughed when he realized what song was playing. He reached his hand over the center console interlacing his fingers with hers. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze as focused his eyes back on the road.

When they reached the restaurant, Gina was surprised by how fancy it was. She obviously knew what she wanted to order to eat but when the waiter came to ask what they wanted to drink, she had to think for a moment. “Would it be terrible of me to order punch?” She tried to stare at EJ seriously before breaking out in laughter.

“Only if you promise not to pour it all over me this time.”

“Oooh. I don’t know if I can do that. I might-”

“Your order?” The waiter was growing impatient which made Gina to want to laugh even more.

“Two fruit punches please,” EJ replied for the two of them. “Thanks.”

As the waiter walked away, Gina couldn’t hold back her giggles any longer causing her to snort. EJ cackled in response. The two knew that everyone was staring at them; this was no way to behave in an establishment like this. But Gina just couldn’t find it in her to care. Everything felt easy with EJ.

“If you two can’t pull yourselves together, we will have to ask you to leave,” the waiter snarled when he returned with their drinks.

“We’ll behave,” EJ nodded biting his lip to hold back his laughter.

When they finally calmed down, EJ shook his head. “You’re something else, Gina Porter.”

It was late when they finally stepped outside again. The restaurant had been packed and between all the talking and laughing, they were at the table for hours. Then, EJ had insisted they get the supreme brownie dessert which ended up being much larger than either had planned. EJ wrapped his arm around Gina’s shoulders as they made their way to his car. “This was fun,” Gina sighed when they finally got in the car. “You make everything fun.”

EJ smiled as he tried to find the perfect song to play. He laughed at himself as “Music in Me” from High School Musical 2 filled the speakers. “You were a good Troy, you know?” Gina said softly.

“Oh yeah for the five minutes I got to be him.”

“I’m serious,” Gina smacked his arm lightly. “You were so...vulnerable. It was kind of awesome.”

“Just wish the Wonderstudies got their show. The world deserved to see you as Gabriella.”

“I’m kind of happy with the way it all worked out as hectic as it was.”

“It wouldn’t be an East High production without a little chaos, right?”

“And it brought us here, didn’t it?”

They sat in a comfortable silence the rest of the way home. When they weren’t sneaking glances at each other, EJ was thinking about what Gina had said. Sure, High School Musical and Beauty and the Beast had their flaws but they were theirs. And no one could take those memories from them. 

When they finally got to the Caswell-Porter residence, EJ put the car in park and sat there for a moment. “I’m really glad you came back, G.”

“Me, too.” Gina went to open her door.

“Call me in the morning?” EJ asked grabbing her hand.

“Of course,” she nodded. “Thanks for tonight, Eej.”

EJ bit his lip contemplating whether or not it was appropriate for him to kiss her. Before he could think too hard though, Gina leaned over the center console and gave him a soft kiss.  “I’ll see you later.”

“Bye, Gina.”

Wanting to relish in the moment for as much as she could, Gina slowly exited the car and made her way inside the house. EJ made sure she was inside before he drove away. Ashlyn rushed to the living room the second she heard the front door open and close. “So? How was it?”

“It was...awesome,” Gina sighed.

“Yeah?” Ashlyn pulled Gina onto the couch. “Tell me everything.”

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 22

A/N:  So this chapter actually marks the end of the plot line of the movie “The Devil Wears Prada” -- I’m sure the dialogue after the Zamboni driver game from last chapter and the “By all means, move at a glacial place, you know how that thrills me” line was a bit of a hint.  Also, we’re striking that last scene where Andie apologizes to Nate in the restaurant because she had absolutely nothing to apologize for 😤 ANYWAYS, this means that from this point, up until maaaaaybe the final FINAL chapters (whenever this thing ends, because I still don’t know when), all content and storyline is original and not based on the movie, although it will still obviously be inspired by it.  We love consistency!  Have a great read, and enjoy!  Let me know what you think as always!

February 24th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom watched as Brendan and Kyle were answering phones left, right, and centre.

Seriously.  At one point, Kyle had three on his ears.  He didn’t have three ears.  All because of the damned trade deadline.  And it was still only 9:30 in the morning.  

The room was set up the way she was told to set it up; prepared how Brendan wanted it prepared.  Every major voice for both the Leafs and the Marlies was in the room – Brendan, Kyle, Brandon, Dave, Reid, Leanne, Sheldon, Paul, Dave, Andrew, Jim, Troy, and even Laurence, Mike, Greg, AJ, and Rob from the Toronto Marlies.  At the front of the room, on the whiteboard, there were the names of all the players – even those in the system – glued to magnets so they could move them around.  On the other side were magnets with names of some other players from teams that they’d been looking at bringing in through a trade.  Three phones were hooked up in the room, and Brendan and Kyle were on their cellphones a lot.  There was a TV set up for video playback and hooked up to Reid’s laptop.  Brendan would exit and enter the board room at will while he was on his phone.  So would Kyle.  Kyle was dealing with most of the possible cap stuff.  There were worksheets everywhere.  

And in the back of Aberdeen’s mind, all she could think about was Tyson Barrie.

He’d been on her mind since the drive home, really, and since all the ramp up for the trade deadline started.  And she couldn’t help but wonder if Brendan and Kyle knew of him wanting to be traded and him being unhappy.  Did Brendan and Kyle concern themselves with the private lives of their players?  Even if the player said nothing?  That was the ultimate question Aberdeen needed answered, because now that she recognized all the clues, it was glaringly obvious to her how much Tyson wanted out.  She hadn’t said anything, obviously.  His name magnet wasn’t moving around much, but she knew how much he wanted to be moved.  She was conflicted.  

“This motherfu…” she heard Brendan mumble as he looked down at his phone.  “Can someone post a memo to the entire fucking league that we’re not trading Nylander, for fuck sakes,” he announced to the room.  “The core isn’t on the fucking table unless Connor Mc-fucking-David is in the mix.”

Aberdeen let out a shaky breath she didn’t know she was holding in.  William being traded was not, for some reason, a worry of hers, if only because everyone knew he was having a banner year and Kyle had made explicitly clear that he wasn’t going to be traded so long as he was GM.  

Kapanen.

Johnsson.  

Gauthier.

Holl.

Ceci.

“It’s not in his contract but Spezza won’t go anywhere.  He wants to be here.”

“If Johnsson goes it’s one less player we offer up to Seattle when the time comes.”

“Can Kappy go?  He’s good bait.  He’s got a friendly contract.”

It didn’t help that everything ended at 3pm.  It also didn’t help that they had a charter flight waiting for them at 4:30 to take them to Tampa for their game tomorrow.  Aberdeen didn’t know how they were going to handle this timeline.  What if they made a blockbuster trade?  What if someone was shipped off to the west coast at 2:59pm and had to uproot his whole life?  Everybody in the room wasn’t exactly calm, but she didn’t know how they could take about trading these players as if they were cattle being moved.  She knew this happened in all sports, but now that she was a part of it (well, in the room – it wasn’t like she was making decisions), it made everything more complicated for her.  

“Tyson’s staying.  Tyson – no – Tyson – Tyson is – Tyson is staying,” she heard Brendan repeating to Kyle, in what looked like a semi-private conversation.  She couldn’t hear some of the other things he was saying, but some words were said loud enough.  Contract.  Avalanche.  Kadri trade.  Defense.  Rielly-Barrie.  

Happy.

Aberdeen gulped.  Did Brendan think he was happy here?  Did Kyle?  Because she knew the exact opposite.  She knew Tyson wasn’t, but she was sworn to secrecy by Tyson that she wouldn’t say a word to Brendan.  But Brendan was wrong.  Tyson wanted out.  

Should…should she say something?

She liked Tyson.  She wanted to see him happy.  It was complicated, though, because she had no loyalty to him.  She did, in a way, as an acquaintance – as someone who overheard a private conversation and then was asked not to share the details of it – but she had more loyalty to Brendan.  Her boss.  The guy who was trying to build a team that would win the Stanley Cup.  The guy that her job depended on.  

“Aberdeen.”

Like, who was she loyal to the most?  If she actually said something to Brendan, would Tyson hate her forever?  Would the entire team turn their back on her and hate her forever too?  Because she couldn’t shut her mouth?  Because she was a tattle-tale and exposed—

“Aberdeen.”

—exposed a secret of one of the players to the boss?  But that secret was tied to his mental health.  It’s not like she saw a guy hook up with a teammate’s girlfriend or escort or do blow off a toilet seat or something.  This was integral to the well-being of a player—

“Aberdeen!”

She snapped out of her thoughts to see and hear Brendan calling her over.  She jumped out of her seat and ran over to him.  “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.  Sorry.  What do you need?”

“I think Chipotle is in order for lunch for everyone,” he said.  “Do you mind taking everyone’s orders?”

Seventeen Chipotle orders later, Aberdeen was waiting in the restaurant at a bar table, most definitely holding up the line that was starting to form due to her massive order.  She took out her phone and saw that William had texted her a heart earlier but she hadn’t seen it.  He had the day off.

how bad does tyson want out of Toronto? be honest

how do u know?

i overheard him and emma talking when they drove me home once is it really bad?

can i call u?

no

it’s not that he doesn’t like it here bc he loves the guys and he likes the city well he really didn’t like babs i think that’s a given but he found it really hard to transition from colorado to here like he couldn’t adjust and support wise he didn’t or doesn’t feel he’s been supported enough and he’s trying his hardest to mesh within the lines and be the guy he was in colorado but he just can’t and it’s driving him crazy

Aberdeen felt herself take a deep breath.  Not that she thought the conversation in the car was out of the blue or a one-off, but at least she had confirmation from another source now.  She couldn’t help but wonder if Tyson talked to the guys on the team about it.  Like, was it an open secret between them?  

why r u asking minskatt

She knew she’d have to lie about that one.  Even though William was her boyfriend, she couldn’t reveal any secrets of what was happening in that war room.  If she did, Brendan would probably put her head in a guillotine.  

all i see on twitter and the sports channels is us moving him they think they’re in the war room with us but they’re not and it’s just funny to me that they already think it’s a done deal

welcome to the toronto media i am getting traded too, haven’t u heard 😉

Aberdeen smiled.  He was such a little shit.  

you’re never leaving me.

never, minskatt ❤️

“Alright, I got seventeen bowls!” the cashier yelled, and Aberdeen knew that was her cue.  They were all stuffed into multiple bags and labelled appropriately, so she handed over the company card to pay.  Holding the four bags in both hands, she made her way back towards the office.  

When she got back, it was very chaotic.  The reports were now everywhere.  Half the people in the room had left to do God knows what.  Kyle was frustrated on the phone with someone.  And Brendan was nowhere to be seen.  “You might want to find him,” Kyle said as Aberdeen handed him his burrito bowl.  His hand was covering the receiver.  

Aberdeen nodded frantically.  She stopped putting all the burrito bowls on the table where people had been sitting, but for some reason grabbed Brendan’s before she began running around the halls, popping into rooms to search for him.  He was nowhere.  She tried texting and calling.  Nothing.  She thought about screaming his name down the hall.  Her mind was getting the best of her.  Why did Kyle need him?  Who was he on the phone with?  

Were they about to make a trade for Tyson?

She needed to find him.  She needed to tell him.

After circling the halls twice, she finally saw him walking, his winter jacket on, phone to his ear before ending the call and walking towards the board room.  “Brendan, Brendan, wait.  I need to talk to you,” she scurried to his side.  “Tyson Barrie wants to be moved.  He told—I overheard a conversation between him and his girlfriend in the car once when they were driving me home after a flight about how deeply unhappy he was here and how he sort of knew he was going to get traded or at least wanted to get traded somewhere so he wouldn’t have to be here and have the pressure on him and maybe be happy again and I promised him I wouldn’t say anything to you but now I am because I thought that maybe if I told you, that you could fix it—”

“Do I smell chicken?” Brendan asked suddenly, taking off his jacket.  

Aberdeen stopped.  Her brain felt like it just short-circuited.  “What?  No.  I—I specifically told them the beef bowl for you—”

“If I have chicken in mine, I will be very disappointed,” he said, taking his burrito bowl from her hands and giving her his jacket instead before disappearing into the conference room, leaving Aberdeen standing there in shock.  

***

The New York Rangers traded Brady Skjei for a first round pick.  The Edmonton Oilers acquired Tyler Ennis, who Aberdeen knew was one of Bee McTavish’s best friends.  Patrick Marleau went to the Pittsburgh Penguins.

But the Leafs stayed quiet.  Calle Rosen came back.  That’s it.  Tyson wasn’t moved.  He was staying a Toronto Maple Leaf.  Aberdeen wondered what he was feeling right now.  She wondered if he and Emma already had their bags packed for nothing.  As everybody went home, Aberdeen cleaned up the boardroom.  When it was time to go to the airport, she went to her desk to grab her suitcase.  Brendan was waiting outside his office.  

The walk to the town car was quiet.  The loading of their suitcases into the trunk was quiet.  The getting into the back of the car together was quiet.  The sitting there as Lou drove through the downtown streets and onto the highway to get to the airport was quiet.  

“You thought I didn’t know…” Brendan began, his voice low as he stared out the window.  When she heard his voice, Aberdeen turned her head slowly towards him.  “I’ve known what was happening for quite some time.  It just took me a while to find out what to do with Tyson.  A few teams were interested, and were probably willing, come July, to make him absurdly overpaid that he would have jumped at it.  But I had to tell everyone he was unavailable.”

Aberdeen felt a shiver run up her spine.  Unavailable?  If Brendan knew Tyson wanted to be moved – if he knew how unhappy he was – then why wouldn’t he move him?  

“The truth is, there is no-one available in the league right now that can fill his place on our team, regardless of how unhappy he is,” Brendan continued.  “Any of the other players would have found this job impossible and the team would have suffered.  Especially because of the way the media is here.  The list of writers, journalists, media personalities, analysts…they eat the players alive.  It takes a very special type of player to want to play in Toronto.  That’s why it was, and is still, such a big deal that John came home.  Hockey is a business, Aberdeen.  I’ve known for a while he was unhappy.  But I couldn’t trade him.  I couldn’t reconsider.”

Aberdeen took a deep breath.  And there it was.  Tyson Barrie was more valuable deeply unhappy here than he was happy somewhere else.  The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.  Hockey was a business, just like Brendan said.  Despite her best intentions, good people had to make tough decisions – Brendan’s was to keep Tyson on the team.  Brendan wanted to win more than anything, and he still thought he could do that with Tyson.

“But I was very, very impressed, by how intently you tried to warn me,” Brendan continued, finally looking at her.  Aberdeen found it hard to meet his eye, not showing any emotion on her face.  “I never thought I would say this, Aberdeen, but I really…I see a great deal of myself in you.  You can see beyond what people want and what they need…and you can choose for yourself.”

Aberdeen shook her head slightly.  “I don’t think I’m like that.  I – I could do what you just did to Tyson.  I couldn’t do something like that.”

“Hmph…but you already did,” Brendan said.  “To Peter.”

Aberdeen’s eyes bulged out dramatically.  “That’s not what I – no, that was different.  I didn’t have a choice.”

“Oh no no no, you chose,” Brendan said sternly.  “You chose to get ahead.  You want to be successful in this life, those choices are necessary.”

Aberdeen felt like she was about to cry.  She could feel her cheeks redden.  “But what if this isn’t what I want?  I mean, what if I don’t want to live the way you live or be in a career the way you conduct your career?  Not caring about people’s happiness and only caring about success.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Aberdeen.  Everybody wants this.  Everybody wants to be successful.  Even writers.”

Aberdeen hadn’t even noticed Lou had stopped the car because they’d arrive at the airport.  She could only watch as the door unlocked and Brendan slipped on his sunglasses for the bright winter sun, getting out of the car and walking back to the trunk to get his suitcase.  Aberdeen took a minute to process everything.  What Brendan had just said.  What he revealed to her.  

Dumb.  She was so dumb.  And she still had so much to learn.  

Aberdeen was quiet as she walked into the airport with Brendan.  She was quiet as they checked in, quiet as they walked to their private hangar, quiet as she saw some of the boys and quiet as she plopped down into a seat, stuffing her headphones into her ears.  She knew she should be thankful to be spending her 22nd birthday in Florida, but now, all she could think about was the conversation she’d just had with Brendan.  Even William arriving almost didn’t even register with her.

She napped on the plane, not wanting to deal with hockey for at least an hour of her day.  

***

The hotel was taking too long to get the key cards and reservations sorted for everyone.  Aberdeen tried not to huff and puff, but she was tired.  She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to out for dinner.  After the stress of the last two days, and especially today, she just wanted to get under the covers of her bed and sleep.  Sleep would make her happy again.  More than anything, she wanted to be in a good mood for her birthday tomorrow, even if she was working.

“Ab-er-deeeeeeeen Blooooooooom,” the way-too-perky helper called out her name.  Aberdeen approached her and got her room key, mumbling a thank you.  She was on the 5th floor.  

Auston had followed behind her, grabbing his as well.  When they rejoined the loosely assembled group, he took a look at her.  “You look really tired, Aberdeen,” he commented.

She glared at him.  She couldn’t believe the audacity of him.  She’d just been up for almost two days straight because of the stupid trade deadline.  Lucky for him that he didn’t have to work the last two days.  And lucky for him that he didn’t have to worry about being traded like most of the other guys on the team.  He could at least sleep at night knowing he wasn’t going to be traded for the next five years.  “You can just say I look like shit, you know,” she deadpanned.  

Auston’s eyes bulged out.  “No no no—I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever, Auston,” she grumbled, shaking her head.  “I know I look like shit, alright?  I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Aberdeen, I didn’t mean it like that at all—”

“It’s fine,” she shook her head again, grabbing her suitcase and dragging it behind her as she stomped away from him.  She didn’t have time for his excuses or for him trying to cover up his tracks.  She practically punched the elevator button so she could go up to her room before everybody else.  Screw waiting for everyone.  

She was barely able to unpack her toiletries into her washroom before the first text came through on her phone.  Of course, it was William.

saw u stomping away what happened?

She wasn’t exactly going to tell him what Auston said because God knows what he would do.

I’m just tired Willy.  I’ve practically been up for 48 hours.

but u need to eat

I’ll order room service, but I’m not going out for dinner.

She left it at that.  She heard her phone buzz a few times afterwards but she made a conscious decision not to answer it.  She needed to be alone with her thoughts instead.  She didn’t need to be around Auston telling her she looked tired.  She didn’t need to be around Willy who would be staring at her all night.  She didn’t need to be around Mitch and his hyperactive puppy personality.  She didn’t need to be around Tyson who was probably sulking at the fact that he wasn’t trad—

A knock.

She took her sweet time going to open it.  When she did, she was greeted with Jason Spezza and Jake Muzzin on the other side.  She almost wanted to shut the door in their face but knew that would be the rudest thing she’d ever done.  “We’re going for tacos.  You in?”

“No.”

It was actually Jake who looked more taken aback by her statement than Jason.  She figured it was because Jason knew better.  “No to tacos?  I think that’s the first time in my life I’ve ever heard anyone say no to tacos.”

Aberdeen cracked a half smile.  “Have fun guys, but I’m exhausted.  I’ve been up for like two days because of the deadline.”

“That’s all the more reason for you to get a healthy meal in,” Jake pressed.  

Before she could politely decline again, she saw two figures out of the corner of her eye walking down the hallway towards them.  One was William – she could figure him out from miles away just by how his hair looked – but once the other came into focus, a lump formed in her throat.  Tyson was with him.  

“We goin’ for tacos or what?” Tyson asked.  There was a smile on his face.  A fake one for sure, Aberdeen thought, all things considering.

And then it happened.  She felt the blood and emotion rush to her cheeks, and she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt and responsibility for the man that was standing in front of her right now.  She’d tried to help him and her attempt failed.  And in that attempt to help, she betrayed him.  She couldn’t even look him in the eye.  “Please, just go,” she shook her head.  

“What?  What’s going on?” Jake looked in between Tyson and Aberdeen.

“Will you guys just leave me alone?” she pleaded, her voice strained as she felt tears well in her eyes.  “Please.  I’m so tired and I’m so—”

“Inside your room, now,” Jason pointed to her bed, not even waiting for her to make the first move, and instead just walking in himself.  Everybody followed – everybody except William – who took his spot leaning on the doorway so he wasn’t actually in her room.  But he was watching.  And every muscle in his body wanted to walk in with everyone.

“What’s going on?” Jason asked softly.  “What’s the real issue here?”

Aberdeen shook her head.  She still couldn’t look Tyson in the eye, but when she could, she almost broke down.  It took every ounce of strength in her not to burst out crying and maintain some type of composure.  “I’m so sorry.  I tried, I really tried—” she began.

“Tried what?” Tyson asked.

She hesitated.  “Listen, I know – I’ll understand if you hate me forever because of this – I know you told me not to tell Brendan what I heard Emma say in the car, but I couldn’t help it,” she began.  Tyson’s face visibly softened.  “I thought that maybe if I told him he’d actually deal you out, and you could be—you could be happy again, you know, or at least somewhere where—”

“Aberdeen—”

“—but he couldn’t, and he didn’t, and I just feel horrible for betraying you by telling him and I feel so responsible now for everything that happened and I can’t live with myself—”

“—Aberdeen, are you apologizing right now because I wasn’t traded?” Tyson asked.  Aberdeen didn’t respond.  “Aberdeen, come on.  You’re not the general manager or the president.”

“But I could have helped—”

“No, you couldn’t have,” he shook his head.  Though his words were short there was a softness and a sentimentality in his voice, even a hint of surprise that she’d even go so far as to feel responsible for not being able to deal him to another team.  He understood what she was getting at, understood why she was mad and was feeling this way, but ultimately, he was shocked that she was getting so emotional over it.  “You’re not responsible for that sort of stuff, Aberdeen.  I know you were trying to help, and I thank you for that, but the responsibility of what happens on trade deadline day falls on absolutely nobody in this room, not least the personal assistant to the president.”

She sniffled slightly.  “I just thought that if I told him he’d be more inclined—”

“It doesn’t work that way,” he shook his head, looking her in the eye.  “But thanks.  I appreciate what you did in its own way.  Just remember that it’s not your job to write the narrative.”

He was telling that to an aspiring writer.  Go figure.  But Aberdeen took in the words, really took them to heart, as she nodded her head quickly.  “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.  And I don’t hate you,” Tyson said.  “I see where you’re coming from.  Just maybe don’t try to do it again.”

She let out the slightest of chuckles.  “Yeah, I think that’s best.”

“William?  What are you doing in Aberdeen’s room?”

Everybody whipped their heads towards the doorway to see Brendan Shanahan peeking in.  Aberdeen thanked the fucking Lord (and would probably pray the entire rosary tonight) over the fact that she was able to control her emotions and not cry during the interaction, and also that two of the men currently in her room were married with children and the other had a serious girlfriend or else it would all look very suspicious.  Brendan took a few steps in and saw Jason, Jake, and Tyson.  He didn’t look suspicious, but he didn’t exactly look happy.  He had a neutral look Aberdeen couldn’t make out.  “I’m not sure if I like four of you in Aberdeen’s room like this,” he said.  

“That’s my fault,” Jake piped up immediately.  “I was forcing her to come out to eat with us.  I was making sure she had at least something to eat since she kept saying no.  Tys and Spezz followed to make sure, too.”

Brendan’s look became much more neutral at Jake’s words.  “Hmm…I get it.  Healthy meals and all.  But she can order room service if she doesn’t want to go out.  She’s been up for the past two days almost.”

Jake smiled.  “Her words exactly.  We were literally just on our way out.”

“Have fun boys,” he said, dismissing them.  “And I’ll see you tomorrow, Aberdeen.”

She nodded.  Everybody filed out of her room, each one of the giving her one last look before leaving.  William was last, of course, letting his look linger for longer than the rest before letting the door close behind him.  She let out a deep breath.

love how that was the closest we’ve ever been to getting caught and i wasn’t even in ur room

The text came from William not even two minutes after he left.  Leave it to him to make light of it, she thought.  But it was the following text that got her thinking.

can u tell how the boys wouldn’t say a word now?

[kingbuckley]

Alright you guys this turned into an absolute monster of a fic rec. It’s organised by word count in descending order, and ALL FICS HAVE A HAPPY ENDING!! i don’t read fics that don’t end happy so even if a fic seems scary you can rest assured it ends fine if it’s here.

Special shoutout to @thisissirius (same ao3 handle) and @getbvcked (attolians (annber) on ao3) i have all their fics bookmarked so i didn’t include them individually in this list but you should check them out because every fic they put out is amazing. 

the rest is under the cut:

Breaking and Entering by AngelCuttingOnions (g/1k): Have you ever been terrified to lose something that isn’t even yours? Digging helplessly at the mud with your bare hands, so determined not to let go, not to give up. Your heart going so fast you think it might just beat out of your chest.

in any place you'll allow by barelyprolific (m/1k): Cleaning duty has never looked as good as Evan Buckley waxing floors.Or, Eddie Diaz finally makes his move.

Care and Keeping by BlackRose (m/1k): Eddie's alive, but he almost wasn't. Buck's determined to keep him safe now more than ever. Eddie, wants Buck to feel seen.

Cool for the Summer by Onlymystory (e/1k): Buck comes over to apologize to Eddie. It's a very good apology.

fireworks have nothing on you by inkandella (nr/1k): Buck’s tears had dried not too long ago, but his hands still shook as he wrung them. Bobby had just left to deal with, well, everything, but Buck remained by the truck, refusing to drag his eyes from Eddie for even a second. Eventually it was just Hen and Chim that remained, and Buck could finally see Eddie clearly. The man’s face was streaked with mud, dirt, and blood, his shoulders were bowed and eyes stared blankly off somewhere ahead of him. Buck bit his lips, but it didn’t really help him from asking again. “Is he okay?”Or; Buck finally does something about it.

Hotel Complaints and Grievances Raised by asexual-fandom-queen (m/2k): After a night out with the 118, Eddie wakes up with Buck naked in bed, and a barrage of feelings to face.

fight so dirty/love so sweet by homewrecker (m/2k): Buck and Eddie go for the title.

YOUR MOUTH IS HEAVEN by AgnesClementine (t/2k): A tongue piercing. Buck has a tongue piercing. Which is fine. Totally fine. Eddie is absolutely not going to lose sleep because of that information.

Zoom Into My Heart by Shaniamr (m/2k): Buck didn't know that zoom shared your private chats at the end of the meeting, but he's about to find out.

collisions in the dark by Marcia Elena (marciaelena) (e/2k): Eddie and Christopher spend the night at Buck's. Coda to 3x09.

What do you need? by RealOrFiction (e/2k): Buck has needs. Needs that haven't been met in a while.

Great Game by LovelyLittleGrim (e/2k): Buck’s watching him, waiting for some type of response. “Scared, Diaz?”“I don’t have any reason to be scared, Buckley.” He meets Buck’s eyes, lips quirked and murmurs, “I always come out on top.”

Buck Wild by Ithinkwehaveanemergency (m/2k): Eddie accidentally finds out that his best friend, coworker, and secret crush has done gay porn.

no greater joy by elisela (g/2k): When he wakes again, he finds Buck and Christopher out in the backyard, snuggled into the hammock that Buck had brought over months earlier, the day after Christopher had offhandedly mentioned that he’d been in one during a camping trip once and liked it. Buck was fooling no one when he said he’d happened to find it in storage, and Eddie had helped him set it up immediately, basking in the second-hand glow of Buck’s complete adoration of his son.

No Rest for the Wicked by Wassereis (e/2k): Eddie gets home early. What he finds wasn't what he expected.

people who love the same by templemarker (t/2k): Buck was just reheating a plate for Eddie when he heard a very familiar snort behind him."Okay, what now," he said expectantly."So," Hen drawled, "you have one plate on the counter, steaming, already had a couple of bites. And now you've got a second plate," she gestured at the microwave to the reheating lasagne, "and we all know who that plate's for."Buck looked at her, tilting his head. "I mean, I always make a plate for Eddie," he said, confused.

One Week by elisela (g/3k): Christopher's week revolves around Buck.

wherever I'm with you by anonymous (g/3k): In which Buck can't settle down in his own apartment until he realizes the true meaning of the word home.Or; Sleeping is easier when it's with Eddie.

To Be Whole by mansikka (t/3k): They say that when you and your soulmate are ready to meet, whatever they write on their skin will appear on yours, and vice versa. Which Buck thinks is bullshit. Right up until words start appearing on his arm.

Pull The Pin by islandgirl (g/3k): Everything they've been feeling and not saying is like a grenade between them and damn it all, Buck is ready to pull the pin, let the explosion happen and for everything to fall into place.

Long Overdue by mansikka (m/3k): Eddie realizes his feelings for Buck are more than platonic; what's he supposed to do now?

you could write this love in stone by chocolatebirdie (nr/4k): "Whatever happens, after tonight, I just want you to know that your friendship has meant everything to me. You’re my best friend, Eddie. You and Chris are – are like family to me. And I’m really grateful to have met you both.”“Why does this sound like you’re breaking up with me?” Eddie asks. The confusion-amusement ratio has started to skew towards the former, with an added dose of concern. Well maybe if he’d shut up and let Buck talk, Eddie wouldn’t be so puzzled.Did he have to use the phrase “break up,” though? Buck’s not sure he can stand the implication.

you can always be found by chocolatebirdie (nr/4k): Abby's back in LA, and she keeps trying to get in touch with Buck. The only problem? He's literally always with Eddie.

Until the Dancing Ends by suyari (g/4k): It’s been the strangest day of his life to date.Or the one where everyone's seen the footage of the rescue but Eddie.

when the hardest part is over by Anonymous (g/4k): “It’s okay,” Buck rasps out, tight against Eddie’s ear. “We got you back. We got you. You’re safe.”It sounds like he’s reassuring himself as much as Eddie – might even be saying it for Christopher’s sake even though the boy is blissfully unaware of what’s happened tonight. A mantra spoken to the night like a victory speech, a reminder that it could take nothing away from them.

Not Done by red_to_black (nr/4k): Buck volunteered to get into the ambulance with him, knowing the risks. He's pinching the guy's skin and saying, "Take it out," and Eddie, for the first time since leaving the military, feels it - a connection. A kindred spirit. A purpose that tethers him to reality. A person relying on him to get the job done.(or - a list of things Eddie Diaz couldn't give up on, including himself.)

Talk About It by DoneInLove (e/4k): You want to send me your dickpic?Just to see if it looks okay. Buck starts sending Eddie his dick pics before he sends them to other people.Eddie doesn't know why he decided this was a good idea.

Guessing Game by Arsenal (t/4k): Buck overhears Eddie telling his mother that he has feelings for someone and drives himself nuts trying to figure out who is possibly could be. aka yet another oblivious Buck fic

Happy Buck Day by Jecari (g/5k): After pushing the balloons tied to Christopher's crutch away, Eddie finds his best friend frowning, mouth agape. Buck looks adorable."It's not my birthday," Buck points out after shaking his head."We know," Christopher laughs.

Buck Is My Warrior by elisela (g/5k): “We’ll be filming a special edition of American Ninja Warrior,” Troy announces after the introduction to the current contestant ends, “focused on our brave first responders. Go to our website to find out more details and how to submit your videos.”Oh.“Buddy,” Eddie says, “I don’t really know if that’s my thing.”Christopher looks at him, then down at his feet and mumbles something.“Didn’t catch that, kiddo,” Eddie says, reaching out and pressing two fingers under Chris’ chin to tilt his face back up.“I said,” Christopher says, “I want to nominate Buck.”

Eddie Diaz and the Cat-astrophe at the 118 by SquaresAreNotCircles (g/5k): It’s Chimney who rescues her from the tree, but it’s Bobby’s arms that she curls up in on the drive over to the vet to get her checked out. Right from the start, it’s as if she knows who she needs to cozy up with to secure her spot at the station.“Come on, that’s crazy,” Buck says, but he does so while laughing not at Eddie, but at the grey tabby cat trying to get her claws on the fake mouse on a string that Buck bought with his own money, so Eddie doesn’t put too much stock in his opinion.Or: The firefam adopts a mascot and Eddie has a minor crisis about it.

Evan Buckley and a Series of Unintended Consequences by Shaniamr (e/6k): Buck has been hurt on the job and has lost the ability to use his hands while they heal. Eddie jumps at the opportunity to help Buck with anything he needs. Anything.

Love Language by red_to_black (nr/6k): The one in which there's too much pollen around, Eddie pines, and Buck is oblivious.Or - Eddie's love language is acts of service, and Buck doesn't totally get it.

The Other Woman by MomentsOfWeakness (t/6k): Buck has been unlucky in love lately and he can't figure out why. It takes a phone call from Eddie and an interrupted date for him to finally put the pieces together.

My Favorite Place Is Inside Your Hug by Lopithecus (e/7k): When Eddie gets stuck in a hole while trying to rescue a kid, he remembers Afghanistan and how many people were lost. Luckily he has Buck in his corner to help him get through the memories.

give me strength so i can see by see_addy_write (t/7k): After the tsunami, Buck is sure Eddie won't want him anywhere near Christopher -- or himself. Both of the Diaz boys have something to say about that.

haircut to the heart by itsmylifekay (nr/8k): 5 times Buck cuts Christopher’s hair and 1 time Christopher helps cut his.

In the Aftershock by hideeho (t/8k): When Eddie is injured on the job, Buck is forced to face the fallout.

Slow Your Thinking by an_alternate_world (e/10k): Eddie has the itch to fight, the discomforting unease of needing to release all his negativity again making it difficult to concentrate on the calls. Buck suggests an alternative: surrendering his need for control to Buck for a while.

Just For This Moment by suyari (m/10k): “Take your time,” Carla said sternly. “Don’t rush this because you’re worried, Buck, do you hear me? Any change in your scent could just set him off.”“Yes, thank you, I know how to deal with Alphas,” he drawled.“Yes, but Eddie’s not just another Alpha and I think it’s time we acknowledged that.”

You Are Safe (With Me) by BabylonsFall (g/10k): Or: 5 times Eddie waltzed into Buck's apartment like he owned it, and 1 time Buck tried

you waltz through my bloodstream by wayfarer (t/2k): Buck gets a boyfriend and Eddie is totally fine with that. Really.

can't fight that feeling by Anonymous (e/11k): “We have to keep this quiet,” he realizes.“That’s,” Eddie starts, his eyebrows tilting inwards adorably. “I mean, yeah, if that’s what you wanna do, then—”“Not for long,” Buck protests. “I’m thinking until tomorrow.”The eyebrows rise with interest; the eyes beneath get their spark back. “Yeah?”“It’s Maddie and Chimney’s wedding day,” Buck says, slipping his hands down the last bit and entwining them with Eddie’s. “Today should be solely about them, about their love. You and I can have tomorrow. All the tomorrows.”

Just Hold Me Well by Lobotomite (m/11k): It was meant to be a fun little trip with his 118 family; no stress, no drama, and certainly no sexuality-redefining fumbles that make him realize his more than platonic feelings towards his best friend. But, well, when has anything ever gone according to plan for Buck?

a leaf falls on loneliness by iimpossible_things (nr/11k): Buck doesn’t think that if he were to say, “I’m in a bad place”, that anyone would turn him away. Really, he doesn’t. The 118 has too many good, kind people for that.But every time he wants to open his mouth, to say something, to reach out to Eddie or Bobby or Hen or Chim, he hears Eddie yelling, “you’re exhausting.”—you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting, you’re exhausting—So each day he does his job and he laughs and he jokes and he pretends he’s the care-free goofball he’s always been. And each day he packs away his bruises and his worries, takes them home to his empty loft with its quiet rooms, and licks his wounds in silence.

Darling It's Better (Down Where It's Wetter) by Onlymystory (e/20k): "Who the hell is that?" asks Buck. Like he doesn't know exactly who that is. Like a week ago he wasn't enjoying one of the best fucks of his life with Eddie Diaz. Or the reason for Buck's surprise at the new recruit isn't quite for the reasons everyone thinks.

i think i might've inhaled you by ariquitecontrary (m/20k): How do you tell your best friend that you're actually in love with them? If you're Evan Buckley, you don't.

dancing under red skies by dayswithout (g, 30k) Buck hates Eddie Diaz on sight.aka, a soulmate au. (Eddie’s POV; g/15k)

dancing under red skies by dayswithout (g/30k): Buck hates Eddie Diaz on sight.aka, a soulmate au.

The Education of Eddie Diaz by mansikka (e/30k): Eddie doesn't really know how it happened. One moment the 118 are drunk in a bar after a hard shift, confessions slipping from his mouth as he playfully kisses Buck on the cheek. The next he is on Buck's couch, taking up Buck's offer of an education that could be asking for trouble. But it's just sex, and they're just friends; it doesn't mean anything to either of them. So why is his time alone with Buck the highlight of his week?

Guess We'll Just Have to Adjust by CocoBadShip (m/30k): No, Buck does not have a damn crush on Eddie fucking Diaz. No, Buck is not thinking about Eddie's stupid smile or his stupid hair or that obscene sound he made when he pushed the couch the way he did.Having a crush would be weird. And dumb. And the last thing Buck needs in his already fucked up life.

tagging those of you who requested @lafdbuckley @casscent @googoodreamers

and some mutuals because why not @eddiediazs @judsonryder @fierydeans @buckleystrand

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 27

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, mention of weapons 

A/N:  more musical references ... who would’ve thought? but now i’m also adding disney references bc referencing is my passion (unless it’s for essays, then screw referencing). also i’m very sorry for being late with this chapter something happened last night and i couldn’t finish it. i hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

    - Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six ...  - a choir of two voices echoed through the reading room in the Forrest household with one being significantly deeper while the other much higher and almost baby like. However if asked, Y/N would solely deny that being.5 made her a baby and she would constantly put five fingers up in pride of her young age. Accompanying the two voices, there was the soft sound of the very old piano which had been with the Forrest family for more than a century - sept, huit, neuf.

   - Fantastic. Play the last three notes for me by yourself this time. - Daniel smiled at the much younger Y/N dressed in a hand-me down white ruffled dress with her hair pushed out of the way by a velvet white string. Y/N giggled, her babyish laughter echoing through the room before she could concentrate on the keys of the piano, her fingers pressing the same combination as just before. 

   - Sept, huit, neuf ... Sept, huit, neuf. - her fingers played through the keys as her still very badly spoken French came through but that was the life of a lady who was to grow up to stand next to an heiress; educated in the arts and languages, polite and classic, a picture and reflection of true perfection. Fake it until you make it, it’s what her governess told her constantly. - Sept, huit, neuf. 

  - One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. - Daniel joined in with a lower key, quickly playing through the keys and ending at the nine making Y/N smile in relief. Whenever he changed to English it normally meant the lesson was over and while Y/N loved music, she didn’t enjoy it for three hours straight in the early morning. - You know birdie, whenever you don’t wanna be somewhere try to pretend you do.

  - It’s too early. - she whined, head leaned against the keys of the very expensive shiny black instrument. 

  - Alright, birdie, go on a do whatever it is you do in your free time.

Before he could even shut down the piano’s hood, Y/N was already on her feet, the small sounds of new tiny shoes becoming further and further as she exited the reading room and bolted towards the attic. At 5 years old, the young handmaid had mastered a way to get the high door open by using two tennis rackets tied together with one of her hair strings. After doing this, the stairs came collapsing down allowing her to climb them into the attic. 

Looking around like a squirrel afraid of being caught, she returned to the pile of boxes she had found when she was rummaging through whatever had been left there. She wasn’t entirely sure who it belonged to or what it was but she was convinced that it was filled with something that looked pretty enough to belong to a princess. Opening the first box she came face to face with a gold coloured head piece. Curiously, she grabbed it from the box rushing over to a pretty old mirror with already dark spots and a bit of browning. Curiously, she lifted up the headpiece, placing it on her head. Her eyes seemed to wander around her reflection before the headpiece started to slide down, a bit too big of her. Before it could reach the floor, however, Y/N grabbed it, noticing a few letters on the in the piece. 

 - Y/N, the French tutor is here. 

 - I’m going. 

Y/N watched as Sebastian in awe as he cooked her cheese toastie. Sure, a cheese toastie wasn’t a culinary masterpiece and it was the furthest thing from being a hard task, still she was just entranced by the sight imagining what things could be. Dreaming is a dangerous two edged swords allowing you to envision everything your heart desires yet having the power to keep it as further yet close enough to reach but never have. She could almost see it, she could almost see and hear the future that would never be. With eyes wandering to the piano in the living room, she could see and hear being sat at the piano teaching her child how to play while Sebastian made his cheese toasties in the kitchen. Yet again dreams aren’t reality, reality is much more bitter and unforgiven. 

    - Look at that, unburned. - Sebastian slide a perfectly white porcelain plate towards her containing the delicious snack. 

    - I’m rather scared that burning is your only evaluating tool for cooking. - she tried to hold in a little child-like smile but her muscles had more strength. - Thank you.

    - Well, angel, unless you can cook better than me I believe you have no right in criticising. - he took a seat very close to her, choosing to instead stare at her rather than eat along with her. At that comment Y/N scoffed, giving him a look that made him question his statement and wonder if she was some sort of hidden stellar cook. 

   - I would say I can, at least, cook better than you. 

   - What can’t you do? You’re like this untouchable Edwardian woman. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is so effortlessly ready to be in high society.

   - I don’t belong in high society. - she seemed to stare blankly at the wall of the kitchen and how perfectly straight the back splash had been placed. Every single square perfectly placed yet not noticeable by its own, unless bringing perfection to the whole piece itself. - You just have to pretend you do. No one in this business is gonna give their daughter up to be standing next to someone who’s bound to inherit an empire ... you said yourself, if they shoot at an heiress they’ll shoot at you too. It’s more like picking someone off the street and dressing them up just good enough that you believe they’re untouchable. 

   - You don’t give yourself enough credit. 

   - I think you just see me through rose coloured glasses. - she took a bite off the sandwich. - You know what? That’s pretty good. 

   - Thanks, angel. - he kissed the top of her head. - Hey, how about we do something you really like tonight? 

   - No. - she held his hand. - Let’s do something you like to do. We never do something you like to do, why don’t you pick?

   - Angel, I don’t think you’d enjoy it. 

  - It can’t be that bad. - she put what was left from the sandwich in the plate, wiping her hands clean from the grease. -  You do what I want all the time. 

  - I like making you happy, angel. - he leaned towards her, placing a soft and quick kiss on top of her nose. - Besides, you haven’t made me do anything particularly torturous. 

  - No. - she crossed her arms at him, jumping from her high seat. - We are doing something you like doing tonight. 

  - Okay, angel. Let’s go then. 

There was no denying her, or at least he hadn’t built a backbone to deny her yet. Nevertheless, he took her back to the garage yet instead of walking into the unit they had just been in, both of them kept walking and walking passing various units with various numbers, probably belonging to other tenants. He finally stopped in front of an abnormally large unit which had a pin code pad. Quickly and almost mechanically he put the code in which made the door unlock allowing him the open it up. Stepping inside, this unit was way more organised than the last one with what looked like a small version of a shooting range. A mob boss liking to shoot ... original. 

  - Do the neighbours not complain about the noise? - she wondered out loud. 

  - Soundproof walls. - he gave her his regular pearly white smile, taking a pair of noise cancelling headphones and googles from the wall. - Besides, it’s my building. 

  - I’m sure someone probably has complained. - she teased as he put a pair of googles on her face. - Have you ever shot a gun, angel?

  - I did archery in school. - she shrugged. Gwen and Dan usually went for the shooting range back when they were younger but Y/N was always one to take that time to herself and stay home either practicing for her lessons or reading. Besides, she was entirely sure she didn’t even know how a gun worked. - Didn’t have a good aim.

 - Well, this it’s not entirely like archery. - he opened a black panel, grabbing a matte black revolver before handing it to her. Y/N, however, stared at it untrusting of the object. - You’ve grown up with the mob, don’t tell you’ve never touched a gun. 

 - They told me not to and I enjoy following rules. - Y/N crossed her arms, defensive of her statement which made Sebastian smirk. - Besides, what if I touched it and it accidentally shot me? 

 - It’s locked, angel. - he placed the revolver in front of the circle target so he could put the noise cancelled headphones on her, leaving it just spaced enough so he could still talk to her. - Besides, maybe you should know how to defend yourself.

 - Okay. - still a bit guarded, she picked up the weapon, placing herself in line with the target while Sebastian was by her side. 

 - It’s a quick-lock system. - he helped her unlock the gun. - Now, regularly most of the ones in the mob have a quick-lock system so if you’re eve ...

 - I don’t wanna think about it. - the memory of the gunshot from earlier had her not in the mood to think about danger. Maybe there was imminent danger to avoiding the probability of her being hurt but half her mind wanted to believe that people wouldn’t shot at her. Sebastian tightened his lips, changing his narrative. - What if it shoot you by accident?

 - Angel, that is pointing nowhere near me. - he tapped her elbow. - Eyes on the target and pull the trigger. 

Y/N swallowed in dry, looking up from the gun to the bullseye before pulling the trigger. The sound didn’t hit her as hard due to the headphones but she still took a step back out of surprised followed by an upset moan due to the fact the bullet had hit the furthest place from the target. 

  - Right... - Sebastian placed himself behind her, arms coming up to her, almost mirroring her position so he could move her arms and overall aim in the right position. - Take a deep breathe, pick your target, concentrate and shoot. 

  - Okay. - she took a deep breath, feeling his skin too close to her in a way which almost made her too weak on the knees to concentrate on the target. Nevertheless, she focused on the bullseye, pressing the trigger which caused a back/forward motion and the bullet when straight into the target making her eyes and smile widen as her ego swelled up with pride. She turned around, pulling Sebastian into a hug. - I did it!

Sebastian locked the revolver, placing it back on the table before returning to a very enthusiastic Y/N yet not very excited to do it again. Nevertheless, Sebastian was happy she at least knew how to use a weapon, just in case. As he opened his mouth to say something, his phone started to ring. God, just fantastic. Sighing in defeat, he put his phone on to his hear, a fairly familiar yet annoying voice coming through. Y/N watched in confusion, not entirely sure who was at the phone but from what she could manage from his words it seemed like he was getting an invite which he was very against. After what felt like a good 5 or 10 minutes of speaking on the phone, begrudgingly he turned his phone off, looking at Y/N with a look which was very indescribable.  

  - Are you okay? - she took a few steps forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, one of her hands coming to brush his hair soothingly. - Who was it?

  - Gwen. She’s spending New Years at the Ritz and she wants you to go. 

  - The Ritz? I thought she was going to Monaco. 

 - Seems like she decided to stay in New York and wants you and me there for good measure. 

 - I know for a fact she does not enjoy your company? Why the sudden change of heart?

 - We are getting married in two weeks, angel. I would call it PR but then again, what hasn’t been PR with the two of us?

 - Oh ... right ... the wedding. - sometimes Y/N forgot that she was very much involved with a man stuck in his engagement. It wasn’t like he could break it, that was a death sentence and probably the biggest mistake he could make. However, she still didn’t know how she was gonna handle it. Maybe Mr. Forrest was right, maybe she should go to Paris after all of this was over, maybe she should just start to distance herself but how could she distance herself from someone who is just so magnetic without even trying? How do you ignore a magnetic pull? - Well, I guess we should pack ... again. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​ @xoxohannahlee​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​ @nikkipea​ @madisonpillstrom​ @cevans98​ @thelostallycat​ @sideeffectsofyou​ @anxiousdreamersworld​ @captainchrisstan​ @lookiamtrying​ @sarge-barnes-sir​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​ @nsfwsebbie @strangerliaa @emzd34 @everything-is-awesomesauce @dreams-in-blxck 

[ghosttotheparty]

when everything falls into place and youre finally within reach

Abed takes another deep breath, blinking at himself in the mirror. His fingers rub on the fabric of his hoodie, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth over the subtle ribbing on the cuffs of the sleeves. Sleeves that belong to his hoodie, not Troy’s, though the hoodie he wore yesterday was Troy’s. And the day before. And the day before. And most of the days before that too. He knows Jeff and the others noticed, but he appreciates them not saying anything, not pointing it out. 

He also knows it must have been hard for Britta to not say anything, to not use her master psychology skills to talk about the effect his missing Troy has had on him. (If she did talk about it, it would take hours. If she wrote a thesis on his missing Troy it would be encyclopaedia length. Pages and pages and pages and pages about him and the damn hoodies, him and the photos on the walls, the photos he took with him to L.A. for a year and then took back, because he couldn’t handle being away from a place Troy had called home.) 

He’s counted the days. And the hours. 

He spent four hundred seventy days, twenty hours, and twenty-four minutes in L.A. 

It didn’t feel like home for a second. 

He does miss it on occasion, just specific things. The park near his apartment building that has geese. The water pressure in his shower. The nice old lady that worked at the cafe, that always handed him his coffee with a smile. But he doesn’t want to move back. It was noisy. There were always more people than he anticipated, especially at the grocery store. He ended up buying earplugs to use on his grocery runs, to muffle out the radio, the people talking and laughing, the sounds of cards squealing on the tile floors and bumping into each other, the electric buzzing of the lights and refrigerators. Overwhelming. 

And it’s been one thousand, seven-hundred, thirty-seven days, nine hours, and thirty-six minutes since Abed saw Troy last. 

Too long. 

Abed started to ache just a few days after he left, a soft ache in his heart and in his arms. An ache he could only describe as longing, if he had described it to anyone out loud. It’s a persistent ache, and he still feels it as he takes yet another breath, listening to the voices outside the bathroom. Britta and Jeff’s bickering, Annie whining, “You guys…” and Shirley saying “Hands off,” aggressively, presumably to Frankie, who, Abed has discovered, has a propensity to sneak bites of food before it’s ready. 

He feels happy, even with these aches and anxiety, happy that Shirley is back, even just for a visit. Her hugs are warm, and she always smells good, even if the scents are strong and overpowering to Abed. She squeezed him around the middle when they reunited, and he had giggled, letting her sway them back and forth before letting go and letting her pinch his cheeks. 

And he’s happy Annie moved back too. He remembers saying goodbye to her at the airport, hugging and watching, unsure of what to do, as she wiped tears from under her eyes. She had been smiling as she cried, though, which only confused him further. She seemed to understand. “I’m going to miss you, Abed,” she’d said. “Promise you’ll email?” And he’s hooked his pinky around hers, nodding and pulling her into another hug, finally letting go and watching her disappear before finding his way to his gate. She’d squealed loudly when they reunited, much like Shirley, and she’d jumped, tackling him in a hug. 

Abed is startled out of his memories when Frankie calls his name gently from the hallway. 

“Abed? You okay?” 

“Coming!” he calls back, not breaking eye contact with himself, and his mouth twists as he adjusts his hoodie, unzipping it a little, trying to look… at ease. 

His heart hasn’t stopped pounding since this morning, since Britta and Frankie arrived. His therapist (not Britta) says excitement and anxiety often feel the same: racing heart, shaky hands, breathlessness, restlessness. It’s frustrating. Abed knows he should be excited; Troy is coming home for fuck’s sake. Finally.

But as he walks to the kitchen to join the others, he can’t help worrying. 

What if he doesn’t like how Abed redid the apartment? (It’s the same apartment they lived in before Abed went to L.A. It’s different, though; there’s no blanket fort, the photos are rearranged on the walls, the TV is in a different place.) 

What if he doesn’t like Inspector Spacetime anymore? (The thought of it runs a jolt through Abed. He doesn’t know how he would deal with that.) What if he’s just different? Over four and a half years. He must be different. They’ve emailed, of course, and Troy even sent Abed postcards, from Venezuela (Troy said on the back that he finally got the opportunity to use some Spanish), Morocco, France, and Italy (“You would love the pasta here, Abed.”).

Abed forces a smile onto his face as he enters the kitchen, looking from Annie’s beaming face to Shirley’s focused face as she rolls out some dough. Jeff and the others have given up on the whole baking can’t be a personality trait thing. Shirley’s pies are too yummy. Abed looks at Jeff’s face, and Britta’s face, and Frankie’s face, which smiles when their eyes meet. And Chang, who somehow became invited. (Abed thinks it was something like a default invitation.) They all appear to be excited, which just pulls the knot in his stomach tighter. Why is he the only one feeling nervous? Frankie doesn’t even know Troy, shouldn’t she be the nervous one? She’s at a Welcome Home party for a stranger. (Though a part of Abed disagrees. Abed loves Troy, and Abed loves Frankie, so really, they’re a family, even if they’ve never met.) 

“Smells good, Shirley,” he says, leaning against the counter and tucking his hands in his pockets. “What time is it?” he asks Jeff before Shirley can respond. 

“Almost six-thirty.” Jeff takes a sip from his glass of scotch. “He should be here any second.” 

Abed’s stomach takes another dive and he nods as Annie squeals. 

“I’m so excited,” she says, bouncing up and down on her feet. 

“Me too,”  Britta says from where she’s perched on the counter. “I bet he has a ton of stories of crazy adventures and--” 

“He’s been on a boat for four years, Britta,” Jeff interrupts. “Let’s calm down.” 

“Storms, Jeffrey.”

“Yeah, true.” 

There’s a knock at the door, and Abed thinks he might throw up. 

Britta and Annie both scream, and Britta jumps off the counter, stumbling as she lands on the floor, trying desperately to beat Annie to the front door, and Shirley squeals, rushing to rip off her oven mitts and untie her apron, and as Jeff yells, “Trooyyy!” Frankie moves out of the way, pressing herself against a counter as she laughs. Abed hangs back, following Shirley into the living room to watch as the front door opens and--

Cool.

Cool cool cool.

Troy is standing there, grinning with his shoulders hunched, his arms already raised slightly, ready for Annie to leap into, and Abed is sure everybody in the building can hear her high voice exclaim, “Oh my god!” 

And Abed is frozen, watching. Noticing. 

Troy’s hair is longer, tight curls circling his head like a halo, and he has a short beard, scruffy and soft-looking. It’s still Troy. Effortlessly beautiful.

Abed is jostled out of his trance by Shirley, accidentally pushed as she sprints to the door, shoving Britta out of the way to jump on Troy, screaming. 

Frankie steps up next to Abed, and he can feel her eyes on him but he can’t look away, still staring at Troy, and everything in him is crashing together, his heart is beating and beating, and every thought he’s has in the past one thousand, seven-hundred, thirty-seven days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes, every beating and pulsing thought of Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy Troy is standing there in front of him. 

He faintly hears Jeff say something, some teasing comment about how Troy is a real man now that he has a beard, about how Jeff needs to shave so they don’t match, and his eyes catch on Troy’s lips, curving into a bashful smile. Abed’s breath stutters in his throat and he accidentally coughs, trying his best to keep his heart beating because if he doesn’t try he might just fall dead to the floor. 

RIP Abed Nadir

Cause of death: Troy Barnes’s existence

And then Troy is in front of him, and it’s quieter than it’s been in the apartment for hours, and Abed can feel not just Frankie’s eyes on him, but also Shirley’s, and Britta’s, and Annie’s, and Chang’s, and Jeff’s, but none of that matters, because Troy’s eyes are on him too, locked on his, soft and dark and gentle, and Abed doesn’t know what to do.

“Hey, buddy,” Troy says softly, and Abed finally exhales, feeling his heart pound away in his chest. 

“You sailed around the world,” he says, in a more chipper voice than he thought he could, and Troy grins. 

“Yeah, I did.”

“...Awesome.”

And then their hands are slapping together as their other hands hit their own chests, and Troy is giggling and Abed is grinning, and Troy’s hand catches Abed’s pulling him into an embrace. 

And Abed sinks into it. 

His arms wrap around Troy’s neck and Troy’s arms wrap around Abed’s waist, squeezing him and pulling him closer, ignoring everyone else watching them. 

“I missed you so much, Abed,” Troy murmurs, just for Abed to hear, like it’s a secret, and Abed buries his face in Troy’s neck. They sway slightly, and Abed squeezes his eyes shut. 

When they finally pull away, after seconds or minutes or hours, Abed doesn’t know, they both take a breath and smile at each other. Abed staps back, looking behind himself to see Frankie, looking oddly sentimental, and he says, “Oh.” 

He points a finger and says, “Frankie.”

She steps forward. 

“Hi,” she says, extending a hand to Troy, but he opens his arms slightly and shrugs. 

“Study group family right?”

She laughs, stepping forward and embracing him, saying, “It’s so good to finally meet you, Troy.” Abed moves back, watching with a smile on his face, his fingers laced in front of himself. Everything is falling back into place. Everything makes sense. 

“Oh,” Shirley exclaims, clapping as Frankie and Troy part. “I need to check my pies!”

“Pies?” Troy says excitedly and Jeff steps past him to grab his suitcases from the hallway. Shirley goes into the kitchen and ABed hears her hum a happy “Mm-hmm!” 

“Hiii…” Chang steps out from the kitchen shyly and Troy points at him, confusion painted across his face.

“Uhm…?” 

“Oh, don’t worry about me!” Chang says, holding his hands out in his defence. “I’m on three antipsychotics and I have biweekly therapy.” 

Troy pauses, still staring at Chang in confusion (and Abed suspects a little worry), before dropping his hand and saying, “Good for you, man,” and Chang steps forward, holding his arms out for a hug. Troy obliges and looks at Abed with wide eyes and a smile over his shoulder. 

“I made some yummy pies,” Shirley says as they all enter the kitchen area, Jeff dropping Troy’s luggage in the living room, “because I thought it would be a nice par-a-llel, as Abed would say--” (she shoots him a glowing smile), “to when you and Abed first moved in here. You remember, the house-warming party, and Jeff tried to trick us all with the dice, and--”

“We danced to Roxanne for longer than is reasonable,” Annie finishes for her. 

“Yes, that was fun.” Shirley sets the pies down and Abed leans against a counter, sticking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. Troy stands next to him, bumping his shoulder and then resting his back against the counter, their arms pressed together. “Well, no one really ate the pies that night but I suppose I was just getting started with baking, maybe they weren’t that good.” 

The others, except Frankie and Chang, exchange glances, silently agreeing to secrecy. 

“They smell delicious, Shirley,” Troy says and she beams at him. 

--- 

Jeff ordered pizza a while ago, and rather than using a die to choose who goes down to get it, Frankie volunteers. She comments on how weird the delivery man was but says it’s worth it because of how hungry she is. They eat around the dining table, and Troy sits next to Abed. As Britta asks about his “adventure,” (she wiggles in her seat as she says it), Troy’s leg presses to Abed’s.  At first he thinks it was an accident, but when Abed shifts his leg, Troy’s doesn’t move. 

“I mean,” Troy says, pausing to swallow a bite. “We were only captured by pirates twice, and other than that it was mostly smooth sailing.” 

Britta lets out a loud “A-haaaah!” and reaches across the table to high five him while sticking more pizza in her mouth. Jeff rolls his eyes and it takes Chang a second to process it before snapping and cackling. 

“Wait,twice?” Frankie says, lowering her slice and looking at him, her expression scandalized. 

“Yeah, once in the Gulf of Mexico and the other time somewhere in the Pacific I think, I don’t really remember.”

“How’s LaVar?”Annie asks. 

“ He’s good!” Troy’s leg hooks around Abed’s under the table. Abed almost wants to reach under the table and hold his knee or his thigh, but he doesn’t, leaving his hands on the table and letting his other leg drift until it tangles with Troy’s. “I asked if he wanted to come but he said he was just gonna take it easy tonight.”

“Do you think he’ll want to come another time?” Jeff asks. “I was thinking we could have a small party back at Greendale, at the study room. We can retake that photo we took before you left.” 

“Oh, yeah!” Troy says excitedly, grinning. “Can we invite the dean too? I miss that funky little dude.”

“...Sure?” Jeff swirls his glass and takes a sip.

There’s a moment of silence as they all dig into their pizza, and Troy sighs happily. 

“It’s good to be back,” he says, looking around at all of them. “I missed you guys so much.”

Shirley and Annie both let out their signature “Awww,” and Jeff jostles Troy’s shoulder like a little brother. 

“What’s new with you guys, though?” Troy asks. “I mean you told me a lot in your emails but what else?”

“Shirley spun off,” Abed says, pointing a finger at her, and he revels in the way Troy grins at him.

“That’s… true, I did.” Shirley folds her paper napkin and places it delicately in her lap. “I told you about that detective I cook for.” 

“Yeah. That’s so cool,” Troy says, leaning forward with emphasis. 

“And Annie kind of spun off but she came back,” Abed adds. 

“Didn’t you kind of spin off too?” Frankie asks, and Abed shrugs. 

“I guess, but I think I kind of knew I was coming back.” 

“I am still doing the internship.” Annie clarifies, bouncing in her seat. “It’s just… different. Most of it is  virtual, like online and stuff, but every other weekend I go down to the headquarters to work.” 

“You’re gonna save the world someday,” Troy says. “Don’t forget about us when you do, okay?” 

“Troy, you sailed around the world for four years and I didn’t forget about you.” She pauses. “And you didn’t forget about us either.” 

“Of course I didn’t forget about guys, I could never.” Troy looks around the table, at all of them and their greasy pizza. Chang seems more focused on the pizza than anything, but the others are listening intently. “You guys are my family.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Jeff says before Shirley can get an Awww in. They all lift their glasses, and as Jeff says, “To family,” dramatically, Abed feels Troy’s fingers squeeze his knee under the table. 

---

Britta suggests they watch a movie, and Troy asks if Abed still has The Breakfast Club. 

“Do you guys remember the day we met, and Abed got us all to shut up by reciting a scene from The Breakfast Club?” Annie asks as they migrate into the living room. 

“Yeah,” Jeff says, sitting in the middle of one of the sofas. Abed has always wondered how someone can be comfortable like that, legs out, feet planted on the floor, lap empty. But to each his own, he supposes. “Because you guys were arguing so loud the only thing that got you to be quiet was Abed saying ‘No Dad, what about you?’ like young Judd Nelson.” 

“He slammed his hand on the table first,” Britta says, flopping onto the sofa next to him “That’s what got our attention.”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“You guys were already arguing then?” Frankie says. She sits on Jeff’s other side, crossing her legs. 

“Day one,” Troy says, sitting on the other sofa. Abed hadn’t replaced the armchairs they used to sit in. Part of him wishes he had; maybe things would feel more normal. But another part of him doesn’t care, because Troy didn’t sit at the armrest, and he nods to it when Abed faces the sofa. Abed sits between him and the armrest, and his weight on the sofa makes the cushion cave, and he and Troy fall into each other. Neither of them move. “One of the first interactions we had in that room was all of us yelling over each other.” 

“And you still argue to this day,” she said in wonder. 

“Like a true family,” Jeff says in that I’m being sarcastic but you can take me seriously if you want voice with a matching, arrogant smile. 

Shirley lets out a sweet, “Yeah,” and she grins. 

Abed pulls his legs up on the sofa, his knees bent in front of him as he leans against the armrest, and Troy’s shoulder bumps him gently before staying, pressing. It stays there as the movie starts, as the others quietly talk, and Abed doesn’t tell them to be quiet, because if he’s honest he’s only half paying attention anyway, his mind too focused on the feeling of Troy’s shoulder against his.

It shouldn’t affect him like this. Before Troy left, they were constantly touching: shoulders pressed together as they next to each other like now, hands clasped as they navigate crowded hallways. Troy always went to find Abed’s hand. Once he accidentally grabbed Annie’s and despite her flustered blushing and giggling, he simply said, “Oh, sorry. Thought you were Abed. There you are, buddy!” and pushed past Annie to reach for Abed’s hand. They’d even cuddled, especially after Abed had had a particularly hard or exhausting day. There were some days he just dropped his bag on the floor and climbed into Troy’s bed, waiting until Troy changed into his pyjamas, or finished his homework, or ate dinner, until Troy climbed in next to him and wrapped his arms around him. They knew about the rumours. (Rumours that everyone in the study group had the decency not to bring up. But Abed suspected Pierce somehow never caught wind of them. Thankfully.) 

But now it makes Abed’s heart beat too fast. It makes his hands shake. He clasps them in his lap. 

He realises the room is dark, and Chang sits on the floor next to Annie, who’s holding a bowl of popcorn. (When did that happen?) She smiles and holds the bowl out for Chang to take a handful, and Shirley sits next to Troy. 

“Abed,” Troy’s voice says quietly, and Abed is shaken into himself.

“Hm?” 

Troy’s eyes are soft on him, dark and shining with reflections from the TV.

“You okay?” He’s whispering, and Abed nods, smiling. Troy hesitates, smiling back, and he leans forward, bumping their forehead together lightly before shifting in his seat, moving so he can lay his head on Abed’s shoulder.

As the movie goes on, Abed’s heart slows down until it’s somewhere near normal. He sighs, dropping his head onto the back of the sofa and letting it roll until it’s resting on top of Troy’s head. His hair is soft, and it tickles Abed’s face, but he doesn’t move. He wonders if his beard is as soft as his hair. 

“Hey Abed,” Jeff calls across the room as the characters dance on top of a table. “Remember when we did that with the pizza guy?” Abed can hear his amusement in his voice, can hear him grinning.

“Vaguely,” he says back. 

Troy’s breathing evens out. Abed thinks he might be asleep, and he doesn’t blame him. But after a few minutes there’s a gentle brush against Abed’s finger, his hands curled up between his chest and his legs, and he looks down to see Troy’s hand resting between him and Abed, his finger ever-so-slightly touching Abed’s. Abed uncurls his hand, extending his fingers just enough to pull Troy’s, tugging his hand into Abed’s lap and clutching Troy’s thumb in his fist as Troy’s fingers brush over the back of his hand, sending chills through his veins and down his spine. 

Troy sighs, and lightly rubs the back of Abed’s hand. 

Abed is almost falling asleep by the time the credits are rolling, and Jeff loudly states, “Well, I should be off.” He stands and shuts off the TV with the remote, which Abed forgot he had, and Troy lifts his head from Abed’s shoulder. “I have work in the morning.”

“Me too,” Frankie says. “You’re not special.” 

“And I have class,” Britta says, standing as well. 

“Me too,” Shirley and Annie say simultaneously before looking at each other and saying “Ohh,” in high-pitched voices. 

“Me too,” Chang says, pushing himself up from the floor. He accidentally hits the bowl of popcorn, and it tips, spilling kernels on the carpet. Abed shakes his head. 

“Ben, what do you even do at Greendale?” Jeff asks. (Troy mumbles “Ben?” next to Abed.)

“Uhm…” He finishes standing, about as ungracefully as humanly possible, and dusts his hands off on his legs. “You should ask the dean when we get there because I honestly don’t know.”

Everyone seems to collectively decide to let that pass as an answer. Annie shrugs and steps to the sofa, holding her arms out to Troy. Troy’s hand detaches from Abed’s, (who forgot they were holding hands. It feels so natural. Like it’s how their hands are supposed to be.) and he stands, hugging Annie tightly before she steps back and Britta takes her place.

“You’ll come by Greendale tomorrow right?” she asks as they rock. Jeff hands Annie her jacket behind them and he pulls his own over his shoulders.

“Yeah, of course,” Troy says, letting go of her. Shirley reaches up with grabby hands and Troy chuckles, wrapping his arms around her. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Haaaaaah,” Britta, saying, tugging her leather jacket on. (Abed doesn’t think it can keep her that warm.)

“It wasn’t that good,” Jeff says, shaking his head, and she makes a face at him. 

Troy even hugs Frankie and Chang before everyone leaves, after drawn-out goodbyes, I’ll see you tomorrows, and more I’ll see you tomorrows. 

When the door clicks shut, the apartment is silent, and Abed takes a breath before turning away from the door, to where Troy is standing. He’s smiling when Abed looks at him, looking like he’s waiting, and Abed steps closer, hearing only his and Troy’s quiet breaths and the gentle whir of the television. Abed doesn’t realise that Troy is moving closer too, until their forehead are pressed together, and they’re breathing the same air, and Troy’s arms are wrapping around Abed again and Abed’s are wrapping around him.

Abed’s eyes close again, and he hides his face in Troy’s neck, and Troy sighs, humming quietly, and Abed wonders why people question existence, because this is it. This is everything.

They stand there for a while, holding each other like they’re scared to let go, like if they let go they might fall apart, or Troy might disappear for another one thousand, seven hundred, thirty-seven days, until Troy’s arms slide so his hands are holding Abed’s waist, gentle and strong, and Abed pulls back, looking at him. 

“Can I touch you?” he whispers softly, looking back and forth between Troy’s dark eyes, and Troy smiles, a soft, sleepy, almost lazy smile, and nods, so Abed places his hands on his cheeks, gently brushing over his beard with his fingertips. He was right. It’s very soft. 

Abed can feel Troy’s thumbs brushing back and forth over his waist, slow and gentle, like Abed is fragile, and he realises he’s staring at Troy. It’s probably been too long, Abed thinks, but he doesn’t stop staring. He can’t. Usually, when he stares at people for what they consider to be too long, they get weird. They make faces at him, faces that confuse him, or they walk away, disgruntled or miffed. They scoff, wave, ask What? in rude voices. Even if Abed is staring because he thinks they’re beautiful. But Troy doesn’t seem weirded out right now. He’s still smiling, and he looks sleepy. Eventually, as Abed’s fingers gently scratch over his cheeks and jaw, Troy’s eyes drift shut. His thumbs don’t stop moving on Abed’s waist.

“Troy?” 

It takes a second, but Troy’s eyes open, hazy, and then they focus on Abed, and his smile grows.

“Mm-hmm?” 

“Are you tired?” 

Abed would understand, It is getting late, and Troy has been through a lot. Reunions with six people, and meeting a whole new person, even a person he’s heard about, would take a lot out of Abed. 

“I’m happy,” Troy says, like that explains it, and Abed hums. “Do you want to sit? Hang out?” “Sure.”

Troy pulls at his waist, and they go to the sofa, and Abed is a little disappointed because it means he has to stop touching Troy’s face. Troy sits first, looking up at Abed, and Abed can’t not smile at him, because he’s finally here.

Home.

He sits next to him, facing him with a leg bent between them, and Troy looks at him, and Abed smiles. 

Abed asks, “Can I touch your beard again?” and Troy says, “‘Course,” and Abed smiles.

He touches his beard, first with the tips of his fingers, before smoothing his hand over his jaw, and Troy’s eyes shut again, and Abed smiles. 

Troy bites his lower lip, letting his head fall back, and he looks so happy that Abed smiles, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles. 

“Talk to me,” Troy says finally, turning his head slightly so he can look at Abed, and Abed cocks his own head, thinking, brushing the back of his hand over Troy’s cheek.

“I’m officially diagnosed with autism,” he says, watching as Troy’s eyes fly open and he looks at Abed, grinning. 

“Yeah?” “Mm-hmm.” Abed sighs. “I talked to a psychiatrist in L.A. Jeff was right.” 

“That’s great, buddy!” Troy rests his head on the back of the sofa, still looking at Abed. 

“But they don’t use Aspergers as a diagnosis anymore,” Abed continues. “Apparently the guy it was named after was a nazi or something.”

“Oh. Gross.”

“Yeah. I doubt Jeff knew that when he said that to me, though.” Abed looks away from his eyes, watching his own fingers brush over Troy’s jaw. 

“I mean, I doubt anyone in the study group really knows much about it in general.”

“Britta.”

Troy furrows his brows. 

“Really?” “Yeah, when I told the group she was super excited and did a ton of research. I think she knows more about it than I do.”

Troy chuckles, subtly shifting so he’s closer to Abed on the sofa. 

There’s a beat of silence and Abed looks up from his hand to Troy’s eyes, and they lock. Troy’s eyes are smiling.  

“I thought about giving up so many times,” Troy says. “Giving up and just coming home.” “I’m glad you didn’t.” 

“Why?” 

“I know how important it was to you. That you go out and become your own person, cement your own existence. Like a coming of age film but… in your early twenties.” 

Abed hesitates for just a split second, and then moves, setting his hand on Troy’s shoulder and lifting a leg and moving so he’s on Troy’s lap, his legs on either side of him. Troy’s hands wait in the air until he’s settled, and then they’re on him, sliding up his thighs until they’re on his waist, slipping under his jacket and pulling him close. Abed touches his hair, closing his eyes as he feels Troy press his forehead to Abed’s chest, just under his throat. 

“I thought about you every day,” Troy murmurs, and Abed tugs softly. A rush of warmth goes through him, and he knows Troy can feel his heartbeat. “Every fucking  day.” 

“I counted them,” Abed admits. Troy lifts his head, looking into his eyes. 

“How many?” he whispers, just a breath.

“A thousand, seven-hundred, thirty-seven. And nine hours.”

Troy exhales, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Abed’s throat, as high as he can reach. When he pulls away, the spot gets cold.

“Troy?”

“Yeah?”

“May I kiss you, please?”

“Please,” Troy breaths, his eyes dropping to Abed’s lips. “Please, please, please, please, ple--” 

So Abed does. 

Their mouths crash together, and Abed’s hands trap Troy’s face, his palms pressing to his jaws, tilting his head for a better angle, and he feels Troy’s hands press into the small of his back and pull him closer. Troy gently bites his lip, and he licks into his mouth, and it’s nighttime and buttered noodles and Inspector Spacetime and Pulp Fiction and a warm jacket and a pretty die and the colour blue and it’s everything Abed loves and has ever loved right on Troy Barnes’s tongue. 

And all Abed can think is finallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinallyfinally. 

That this is what they should have done the night before Troy left, instead of just laying together, their arms wrapped around each other, their legs entwined, neither of them really sleeping because neither of them wanted to wake up and find that they had run out of time. That this is what they should have done before exchanging hoodies so Abed could keep Troy there with him and so Troy could bring Abed with him, before zipping up Troy’s bags.

That this is what they should have been doing for years and years, that they should have found each other in the world before Greendale, before Spanish class, before that chapter, just so they could do this sooner. 

But every single thought is pushed out of Abed’s mind as Troy pulls away for a gasp and pushes back in, running his tongue over Abed’s lips, smiling gently as Abed buries his fingers in his hair, as Troy lifts a hand from his waist and places it on his face, touching him so gently, carefully, thoughtfully that Abed thinks he might cry.

He doesn’t realise he is crying until Troy is pulling away and gently, carefully, thoughtfully, wiping at his cheeks and under his eyes, murmuring “It’s okay,” and “I got you.” 

Abed’s fingers are suddenly clutching at Troy’s hood, and he can’t see because the world is underwater, and there’s a soft whining sound that he realises is him when Troy quietly says, “I know, baby.” 

Troy pulls at his neck until their foreheads are pressed together, and Troy is warmwarmwarm and Abed can’t stop. His mouth is talking without his brain telling it to (“Please don’t, just-- Don’t--”) and his hands are shaking, and everything is falling down and falling into place. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Troy says gently. “I’m home.” 

And then he’s pushing Abed’s hair back and pressing his lips to his forehead, and his cheeks, and his nose, and then his lips, lingering until he pulls away and Abed subconsciously leans in, trying to catch him. 

“I love you so much,” Troy whispers when Abed finally stops crying. “So fucking much.”

Abed slips his hands over his neck, brushing his thumbs back and forth over his jaw. He closes his eyes, pressing his lips to Troy’s before pulling away to breathe and resting his forehead on Troy’s, feeling his hands run over his back and his hips and his thighs and then back again like they’re mapping him out. 

They stay there, while the stars and street lamps and stop lights shine outside, while cars and motorcycles and bikes speed by, while the wind blows and the rain falls, they breathe and breathe and breathe and exist and exist and exist. 

Home.

[barnesandrogersfanfics]

Ocean Eyes - Part 7

When we finally arrived at Sue's house Chris walked with me to the front door... i nearly tripped at one point but luckily he managed to grab my arm and keep me upright! I had whispered a quiet 'thanks' before knocking lightly on her front door. Sue opened the door ushering us inside and leading the way to the living room where i saw Mason curled up on the sofa. He was asleep but he looked white and sweaty, there was a bowl on the floor beside his head incase he was sick again.

"He hasn't been asleep long, i think he wore himself out crying"

"Chris can you get Mason please? I can't carry him like this...."

"Yeah sure, i got him" he quickly moved forward and scooped Mason up into him arms.

"Mama...." Mason moaned looking around for me.

"Im right here baby, your dads gonna carry you out to the car".

"God you weren't kidding bout that fever" Chris added looking down at Mason in concern.

"Im gonna get him home, thanks for watching him Sue"

"Sure thing hon, hope he feels better soon. Here, take the bowl incase he gets sick on the drive home" she smiled passing me the plastic bowl that had been next to Mason.

The drive home i had Mason cradled against me as he slept, the seat belt going around the both of us being as we had no car seat in Chris's car!!

God i felt like a crappy mom tonight!

When we got home i sat with Mason on the sofa and stripped him down to his underwear to try and cool him down.

"Chris could you get me a cold washcloth please, there should be some in the pile of laundry on the table"

"Sure" he rushed off to grab the cloth, Mason was just laying against my chest, whimpering slightly.

"Here you go" Chris passed me the cloth and sat beside us "i got him some water too, he should be drinking plenty of fluids"

"Thanks" i smiled before folding the cloth and laying it over Mason's forehead. He moaned at the coldness but soon settled again clinging onto me, it didn't take long until he was asleep. I sighed in relief and carefully moved forward in my seat so i could lay him down.... i was desperate for the bathroom!! Mason stirred and held on tighter, for such a little thing he had a grip on him.

"Can you try taking him i really need to pee!" I looked at Chris with desperate eyes. He chuckled and managed to pry Mason off of me and into his arms.

While i was in the bathroom i wiped off my make up and tied my hair up before getting changed into my pyjama's.... it was gonna be a long night. Once i was done i headed to the kitchen and made coffee, hopefully it would help sober me up a bit more.

"Ah fuck!" I cursed as i sloshed the coffee onto the floor while making my way back to the living room "i made coffee, you might still have some left if you're lucky"

"Thanks" Chris looked up and smiled, i didn't miss the way he looked me up and down either.

"Does he still feel hot? If his temperature doesn't start to go down soon we'll have to try a lukewarm bath maybe give him some Tylenol...."

"Yeah his still hot, but it doesn't seem to be getting worse"

"This is so unlike him, Mason never gets sick. I can literally count on one hand the amount of times his been sick" i shook my head "i'm so close to freaking out right now you have no idea...."

"Calm down sweetheart, he'll be fine"

"Thank you for staying with us, i probably would've been calling my mom in hysterics if you hadn't been here"

"There's no where else id rather be" he said looking down at Mason lovingly.

"Right.... i should probably text Scott let him know we're home" i got up to grab my phone from my purse and started a text to Scott. We had dropped him at his place on the way to collect Mason.

There was a message from Derek on my phone too which i quickly skimmed, he was saying how much he enjoyed meeting me and wanted to know if i wanted to get dinner with him sometime!! I decided i'd reply to him in the morning and put my phone on the table, Mason was the only thing i could deal with right now.

I applied a fresh cloth to Masons forehead and checked his temperature, slowly but surely it was going down. I sat beside him and Chris on the sofa and sighed in relief.

"Looks like his fever is easing off finally" i said yawning and letting my head fall back against the sofa, we'd been up for hours now keeping watch on Mason.

"Yeah, thank god" Chris mumbled as he carefully tried to move Mason in his arms.

"You want me to take him?"

"No no, i'm good, my arm has fallen asleep is all" he smiled.

"You sure? i don't mind...."

"We're all good".

We sat in silence with the TV on low for some background noise and i couldn't help but look at Chris and how natural he was at being a dad.

"You should get some sleep, you look exhausted" Chris suddenly said interrupting my internal thoughts!

"You trying to tell me i look like shit Chris?" I asked raising my eyebrows at him.

"What?? No!! I didn't mean that..."

"Im fucking with you relax" i chuckled shaking my head.

"You looked beautiful tonight" i heard him say quietly, maybe i wasn't supposed to hear him but i did.

"Its amazing what you can do with some make up and clothes that aren't sweats and t-shirts"

"You look beautiful without make up even wearing your sweats and a t-shirt, i just meant that you looked good. I personally prefer this version of you"

"Haha, now i know your just trying to make me feel better....i'm a mess!"

"Prettiest girl i know" he said giving me that smirk of his.... my god damn weakness!!

"Are you just saying this because you think i'm drunk and wont remember?? Because i'll have you know i have mostly sobered up by this point"

"Im well aware, i just..... never mind. You should try and get some sleep".

I nodded agreeing with him, the conversation was about to turn awkward and i wasn't ready for that!

"Wake me up if Mason needs me...?"

"Of course".

When i woke up again i had somehow ended up cuddled up against Chris! He had his arm around me, my head resting on his chest, Mason still sleeping on his other side. To anyone who saw us and didn't know better we looked like the perfect little family. I felt myself start to panic..... i shouldn't have let myself get this close to him! It was too easy to fall back into that comfortable routine we always had..... but we didn't have that anymore, at least i didn't think we did. I carefully eased away from him making sure he was still sleeping and made a quick exit to the kitchen, he didn't need to know about this!

As i started making some coffee and toast i heard the soft voice of my baby boy. As i stuck my head round the door i saw he was sitting up talking with Chris, he looked so much better this morning thank god.

"Where's mom?" I heard him ask and i stepped into the living room giving him a smile.

"Im right here bud, how you feeling?" I asked as i sat in front of them on the coffee table, i reached over to hold the back of my hand against his forehead "looks like your fever is almost gone"

"Im hungry"

"I bet! But its dry toast for you buddy. You've gotta go easy for a little while.... are you still feeling sick?"

"No, not anymore"

"Okay thats good!".

"Dad are you staying for breakfast?" Mason asked.

"Um...."

"Pleaseeee" Mason begged looking at him with those eyes that were exactly like his dads, Chris looked at me waiting for my say so.

"Its fine with me, if you have time..."

"I do! Yeah of course!" He said quickly nodding his head with a huge smile.

After we had all eaten Chris took Mason for his bath after Mason insisted he go with his dad. While they were gone i sent a text to Scott with an update and saw a missed call from Hannah, i sat at the kitchen table and quickly called her back.

"Hey! Hows Mace?? My mom said you had to come get him last night"

"Yeah it was eventful, he had a fever and was being sick" i sighed "Chris stayed to help out with Mason... i had had so much to drink Han"

"You let him stay..."

"To help with Mason yeah"

"Hmmm of you say so" she laughed

"Shut up, what happened to you last night, huh?? You disappeared with Troy"

"I know, im sorry but did you see him?? I knew you were okay with Scott. So what about you and Derek?? He seemed very interested"

"He was nice" i nodded "he texted me last night but i haven't had a chance to reply yet"

"But your gonna right??"

"Yeah...."

"Y/N text him back!! That man was gorgeous!!"

"I will"

"Don't make me come round there"

"Oh god Han, your so pushy" i laughed.

"Only because i love you"

"I love you too, i gotta go though i'll speak to you later".

When i walked into the living room Mason was sat on the sofa watching cartoons and Chris was gathering his things.

"Your leaving already?"

"Yeah i've got a meeting at 11:00am..."

"Okay, well thanks for last night"

"Sure, anytime" he smiled "hey, i was wondering if next weekend i could take Mason to meet my mom? She's been asking when she can meet him...."

"Um.... yeah sure"

"You can come too if you want? I know my mom would be happy to see you" he said with a smile.

"Okay" i nodded "it'll just be us though right? I don't want Mason getting overwhelmed with too many new people"

"Yeah of course, maybe Scott too if he finds out you know what his like"

"Thats fine" i nodded with a smile knowing exactly what Scott was like.

"Thank you, i should go.... can i come by later though? Id like to check in on Mason"

"Sure, i'm sure he'd like that"

"I'll see you later then" he smiled before heading over to Mason "bye buddy i gotta go to work for a bit but i'll come see you later"

"Okay, bye dad".

Everything taglist: @jesseswartzwelder @dumblani @barnesandrogersworld @patzammit @rynabarnesrogers-reading @rainbowkisses31 @rororo06 @supernaturalwintersoldier

Ocean eyes: @supraveng @michelehansel @melissaglenn5 @denisemarieangelina @mrsjeffwittek @mery-be @marvelfansworld @cmalass @capstopavenger @fallenoutofrose @kelbabyblue @biebsmylife95 @loser-alert @traceyaudette @w3lissax @jennmurawski13 @ford66steal @saiyanprincessswanie @christocrave

[hood-ex]

I know DC won’t do a good job addressing Dick’s issues post-amnesia arc, sooo I decided to go ahead and write a lil fix-it fic where Dick talks to Clark about how the batfam treated him as Ric. 

Read on AO3

Summary:

“Pretty much everyone has. Missed the old me, I mean,” he says distantly, incapable of keeping the bitterness from bleeding into his tone.

Unfortunately for him, Clark’s emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on it.

“I miss you every day, no matter what name you go by,” Clark says, jostling him slightly.

Dick leans further away from him so he can look Clark in the eyes. Clark’s expression is as genuine as ever, blue eyes roaming over Dick’s face in concern.

Dick’s throat feels tight. “If that’s true… why did you never come see me? Why didn’t you try to help me?”

Dick finds himself sitting on the ledge of a building in Metropolis one Tuesday night in July.

He’s in the midtown district that’s a halfway point between the downtown and suburb area. It’s always been Dick’s favorite part of Metropolis other than Clark’s apartment.

Most of the businesses in this area are family-owned. They’re decorated with fresh coats of white paint, green plants, pretty lights, and handpicked decor that gives each place it’s own unique feel. It’s the type of place where the owners know you by name and bend over backwards to get you what you’re looking for.

It’s that personal connection that Dick loves the most. It gives the whole place a very welcoming and homey vibe that reminds him a lot of the circus. It’s nothing at all like the fake illusion of community that holds Bludhaven together like an overused piece of scotch tape.

The only downside is that it’s a little too humid for his liking, but the warm breeze that keeps ghosting through his hair makes it bearable. Plus, the fairy lights that are strewn between a lot of the restaurants across from where he’s sitting are mesmerizing to look at. They make it easy to forget about things like the weather.

Dick wishes the restaurants were still open at this time of night. The longer he eyes the Mexican restaurant down the street, the more his stomach starts to rumble insistently. He hasn’t eaten anything since lunch and he’s starving. A few tacos and some salsa would really do wonders for his mood.

Dick crosses his arms over his increasingly loud stomach.

“Sh!” he hisses at it in the same way he hisses at his teammates when they’re being too rowdy.

He clenches his fingers in the fabric of his shirt and lets out a shaky breath, chest feeling too tight for comfort.

Teammates. Friends. Right. He had those once.

He doesn’t want to think about that. About his friends. Or what’s left of them, anyways.

He came here to forget about that stuff. To forget about everything that happened to him in Bludhaven. The destruction of Gotham and his family. The loss of...

“Shit.”

Dick forces the image of Alfred’s smiling face out of his mind. He already cried about Alfred this morning. And yesterday. And the day before that. And a lot of days before that.

He’s tired of crying. Tired of feeling like he’s a stupid piece of Swiss cheese that’s got too many holes in it. Too many pieces missing. He’s just…

So tired.

Dick threads his fingers through his hair and pulls it back out of his face. The more he soaks in the tranquil atmosphere of the street, the more he feels like disrupting it by screaming into the night. He won’t do it, though. It may be Troy Bolton’s style, but it sure isn’t his.

“Thought I recognized your voice.”

Dick looks up, not all that surprised to see Clark gliding down towards him in his Superman gear. Clark’s eyes are warm and friendly, just like how they always are whenever it’s just the two of them. Dick’s glad that at least that hasn’t changed.

“Supes,” he says, sporting a genuine smile. “Long time no see.”

Clark returns the smile easily and floats closer until they’re face to face. He holds out his blue-clad arms in invitation.

Dick feels himself hesitate for a split second. He’s never been hurt by those hands. By a lot of other hands, sure. But never Clark’s.

He dives forward and wraps both his arms around Clark’s shoulders, pressing his cheek into the crook of Clark’s warm neck. Clark hums in happiness and returns the embrace, leaning his head against Dick’s.

Clark is bigger than Dick. Always has been. Getting hugs from him feels like being engulfed by an impenetrable teddy bear. It’s… nice. Feels safe.

Dick likes feeling safe.

It takes a long, long time before either of them pulls away. And even when Clark moves to sit on the ledge, he stills keeps his arm around Dick’s shoulders, pulling Dick close into his side.

Dick lets Clark take all of his weight, and he sighs in relief, feeling the tension drain out of his shoulders.

“I don’t mean to get all mushy on you,” Clark says through a laugh that sounds a little too wet. A little too fake. “But I’ve really missed you.”

And just like that, Dick suddenly feels cold inside. Detached. Like he has to shut his emotions off before he explodes.

He’s heard that same sentence uttered by his family ever since he got his memories back. Part of him understands what they mean. They were emotionally attached to Dick Grayson, not the person he became after he got his brains scrambled. Obviously, they would miss who he used to be.

The other part of him, the more fragile part, feels rejected by them. Because for a period of time, Ric was all he ever was. The only thing he ever knew. The only thing he could be. And his family rejected that part of him. They didn’t want him around unless he was the person they knew.

Even Babs, who had been there when he was learning how to walk again, only showed up in Bludhaven to try and get him to remember who he was before the accident. She didn’t want to support him as Ric. She wanted what was best for her, not what was best for him.

Dick still remembers every detail from those days. It’s not easy for him to forget how his family tried to make him step back into his old life rather than help him move forward into a new one.

Even though he’s had his memories back for a few weeks now, he’s still not over it. He’s not sure he’ll be over it for a long time, if ever.

Clark’s arm suddenly tightens around Dick even more. Shit. Dick must have spaced out. He does that a lot more now these days. That, and he gets really intense headaches a few times a week. Side effects from brain damage and all that.

“Pretty much everyone has. Missed the old me, I mean,” he says distantly, incapable of keeping the bitterness from bleeding into his tone.

Unfortunately for him, Clark’s emotionally intelligent enough to pick up on it.

“I miss you every day, no matter what name you go by,” Clark says, jostling him slightly.

Dick leans further away from him so he can look Clark in the eyes. Clark’s expression is as genuine as ever, blue eyes roaming over Dick’s face in concern.

Dick’s throat feels tight. “If that’s true…why did you never come see me? Why didn’t you try to help me?”

Dick knows it’s not fair to ask that to Superman of all people. Clark can’t save everybody. He can’t be everywhere at once taking care of other people’s problems, especially when things have been so crazy lately with his own son and all the hero deaths...

Fuck. He’s got tears burning in the corners of his eyes now. He refuses to let them fall. Refuses to let himself crumble when he’s spent weeks trying to put himself back together.

“I visited you once while you were in the hospital,” Clark admits with a color of remorse. “Bruce didn’t think it was a good idea for anyone to come see you once you woke up.”

Bruce. Typical.

“He told us you were having a hard time adjusting. Said you didn’t want to be around your family and friends.” Clark eyes him closely. “I’m guessing it’s more complicated than that, isn’t it?”

Dick’s laugh falls flat. “Isn’t it always when it involves Bruce?”

“Touché.”

Dick pulls part of Clark’s cape into his lap and rubs the fabric between his fingers. He’s been sitting up here for way too long. He can’t help but fidget under Clark’s arm.

“You know what he did the first day I got home from the hospital?” Dick asks, focusing on the cape instead of Clark’s gaze. “I didn’t even have time to change out of my hospital gown before Alf—they shuffled me down to the batcave.”

He remembers how confused he’d been at that time. How awestruck he was at the very idea that he apparently grew up in a mansion with a butler. It didn’t make sense to him back then. Not when he only had a few select memories from the circus days and nothing else.

“Imagine my surprise when a man in a bat costume greeted me by jumping down from the goddamn rafters.”

He feels Clark’s stare burning into the side of his head.

“He did not,” Clark says in a tone that’s part disbelief and part oh my fucking god my best friend is a moron.

“Yup,” Dick says with a pop. “Right after that, I was treated to a video of me getting my brains blown out.”

Clark’s mouth drops open in shock. “What the hell?”

“My thoughts exactly. I booked it out of there and never went back.”

“He can’t just… why would he…?”

“Listen, I’m just happy to know that you’re acting like this isn’t normal. Everyone else was perfectly fine with it, and I thought there was something wrong with me for thinking it was insane to watch one of the most traumatic experiences of my life fresh out of the hospital.”

Clark groans and rubs his hands over his face. “Jesus Christ. There’s nothing wrong with you . Bruce on the other hand…”

“A real piece of work,” Dick nods in agreement. “He wanted me to be the same as I was before a bullet snatched my entire life away from me. Everyone did. That’s why they showed me that video, and that’s why I didn’t want to be around anyone I knew. They were only interested in getting me to remember stuff I had no chance of remembering. Shit sucked.”

And it still does. It really, really sucks.  

Clark takes a second to process all that. “I can’t even imagine… I’m really sorry, Dick. Really, I am.”

Dick finally raises his head to lock eyes with Clark. He almost does a double-take when he realizes how upset Clark looks with his furrowed brows and deep frown.

“I didn’t know all that was going on. If I had, I would’ve checked on you even if Bruce didn’t want me to. Even if you didn’t want anything to do with me at that point, I still should have tried. I could’ve at least pestered Bruce into helping you more. I never was very good at trying to fix things between you two, though.”

Dick smiles sadly. “No, I guess not. That’s not part of your job description anyways.”

Clark squeezes the back of Dick’s neck. “It’s my job as your friend to give him a kick in the ass for you. How about that?”

“I think I could get behind that. Just… go easy on him, alright? He’s been dealing with a lot of shit lately.”

Clark gives him a pointed look. “You’re his kid. Your health and safety should have been his priority. Not getting your memories back. He needs to know that.”

“I know, I know,” Dick grumbles and crosses his arms. “I just think that with everything that’s happened recently, he’s not going to give you an explanation you’ll be satisfied with. There’s a lot of things he’s lost control of, and honestly, catching the third degree from you probably won’t register with him in a good way right now.”

Clark whistles short and low. “Even when he’s the one in the wrong, you’re still looking out for him. You amaze me Dick Grayson. Always have. You mind if I start sending Jon your way? I think he could learn a thing or two from you. ”

Dick feels his cheeks get hot at the praise. When he was younger, he always felt like a million bucks whenever Clark complimented him. Brain damage or no, that still hasn’t changed.

“From me? I’ve got nothing on you.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my favorite hero like that,” Clark says, booping Dick on the nose.

Even though Clark is probably just teasing him, Dick can’t help but soak in the happiness at the very idea of it.

“And don’t worry about Bruce’s problems right now,” Clark says, voice taking on a concerned tone once again. “If he needs help… I’ll do my best to help him. But I’m still going to talk to him about all of this because he needs to hear it.” Clark’s blue eyes are so intense that Dick almost looks away from him. “You just focus on yourself, alright?”

Dick wants to laugh at that because he’s so tired of thinking about himself. He spent practically an entire year having an identity crisis as Ric, and now that he has all of his memories back, he feels lost all over again. It’s like a rollercoaster he can’t get off of.

“Thanks,” he says anyway, because what the hell else is he supposed to say?

Clark claps him on the back, and just like that, the atmosphere suddenly feels lighter.

Dick feels lighter too. Kind of. Maybe it’s just the humidity making him feel a certain way.

“You know,” Clark says as he peels himself off the ledge and starts floating, “Lois cooked up a mean lasagna earlier. We still have half a pan left. Think you’d be interested in finishing it off with me?”

Dick’s stomach growls at the mention of food. He’s had hunger pain for hours now, and he can feel it reaching a peak. Even if Clark had just asked him to eat a seasoned rat, his answer still would’ve been the same.  

“Hell yeah.”

He pulls himself to his feet and jumps forward, knowing that even if he’s uncertain about everything else in his life, the one thing he can rely on is that Clark will catch him.

And he does.

[x--daughters-of-darkness--x]

Evanescence: “Guitarists need to be honest. Use your voice. We don’t need fake – we need humanity and real people”

Jen Majura and Troy McLawhorn wax lyrical on the high-octane gear, influences and themes behind the band's upcoming fifth album, The Bitter Truth

The Bitter Truth, the fifth full-length from Evanescence set for release in March 2021, will be their first album of new material in a decade. The American arena group led by singer/keyboardist Amy Lee had already released three singles, though the record’s completion was stalled by the virus pandemic that dominated headlines for much of the year.

The first sessions took place at the beginning of 2020 with rock super producer Nick Raskulinecz [Foo Fighters, Rush, Alice In Chains] in his Nashville studio, spawning the tracks we’ve heard so far – Wasted On You, The Game Is Over and Use My Voice. Then, of course, came Covid, putting an end to safe travel and forcing virtually all plans to change.

For the members in America, it was incredibly problematic. For German guitarist Jen Majura, who joined in 2015, it was an absolute nightmare. Nevertheless, the group kept chiseling away and fleshing out their parts for album number five.

When Guitar World tracks down Majura and co-guitarist Troy McLawhorn towards the end of 2020, things are still very much in the process of being finalized...

Looking back now, that session in Nashville must feel like a very long time ago!

Majura: “Definitely! What hit me so hard was that we’d recorded that first chunk of songs and waved goodbye at the airport, thinking we’d be back in a couple of weeks. And then suddenly this pandemic hit, airports were all shut!

“I had never felt more apart from my friends in the States than since this all started. It’s so unnatural for me not to be there! I’m very old-school – I like my tube amp and 4x12 cabinet. I like to sit in the studio with the humans I’m working with and creating in the moment.

“Being away from Amy and the boys while working on material has felt so unnatural to me, but that’s the we have to do it and we have to make the best out of it. The time we spent with Nick in Nashville was the happiest ever.

“It felt amazing to see these songs coming to life – you have this idea but when you are all in a room creating, things change and become better, you end up trying out different ways. It’s such a vibrant and beautiful way of working. But I get it, there’s this thing called corona, so you know…”

This will be your first album working together on new material. How do you go about splitting guitar parts?

McLawhorn: “Whenever we’re jamming, if someone comes up with up something cool, they play it. There’s no set thing. So far I’ve probably played the majority of the lead guitar – if Jen comes up with something she is always welcome to play whatever it is. It’s a good working relationship. The first batch of songs, the first three that came out, were done in one session before the coronavirus hit. We were all together for those ones.

“But then Jen flew home back to Germany and we were supposed to tour in Europe, but it all got cancelled. Everything we’ve done since then has been without Jen with us, we’ve been kinda flying sessions back and forth. I probably played a lot of the guitar on the album, but she’s been coming up with cool ideas and putting her stamp on it too.”

The Game Is Over definitely feels like the heavier side of Evanescence…

McLawhorn: “There’s a lot of good stuff like that on this one, stuff that people will be surprised by maybe. There’s a fair amount of that aggressive type of music, but it’s a good mixture. So far everyone’s heard the lighter side of the album, like Use My Voice and Wasted On You… but then there’s The Game Is Over. It was a lot of fun to play and there’s more heavy stuff on there too!”

Majura: “That bridge is so heavy, I love it! It’s going back to the real rock roots and having lots of fun. When you have a low-tuned guitar you have to be a bit careful – you can’t just smash your strings but they will warp a bit.

“I remember forcing myself, especially during the bridge, to play gentle even though it had this badass attitude. It took me a couple of takes… the first ones were completely out of tune [laughs]!”

Jen, it must have been a rollercoaster five years for you. How did you end up getting the gig?

Majura: “What happened was that I was playing bass in another band, not really being happy as I’m a guitar player. We happened to play two festivals, one in Germany and one in the Czech Republic. And it turns out Testament were playing the same days as us.

“I’m a huge Alex Skolnick fan, so we ended up talking and keeping in touch. A couple of days later, I got this very mysterious email from him saying, ‘Jen! Some friends of mine are going to contact you and I can’t reveal too much but I think it’s something you should say yes to!’ I was wondering what the hell he was talking about…

“And then a day later, I got this email from Evanescence’s management asking if I would be interested in… and I didn’t even finish reading the email. I just immediately replied ‘Yes!’ and sent it. That was a total no-brainer.

“So this was around July 2015 and the next evening I was on the phone with Amy talking. She invited me to come visit her in New York and hang out. I thought, ‘Okay… cool!’ and three days later I was on a plane flying to fuckin’ New York wondering if this was really happening. It was insane.”

Did you bring your guitar?

Majura: “I didn’t! I asked her if I needed to bring one and she said, ‘Nah, I know you can play, I’ve seen plenty of videos – let’s just hang out!’ And that’s exactly what we did for the next three days. Hanging out, long walks and talks, going out for dinner or to a concert. Becoming friends and getting to know each other on a more human relationship kind of base.

“I realize now that’s the biggest deal when you have to replace a member. A band is a family. I’d like to quote Rob Zombie on that, because he said it in the movie Hired Gun!

“Finding a good player is the easy part – the world is full of virtuosos. You also need someone who can commit to touring, being on the road and that whole lifestyle. The third and last thing, also the toughest, is that you need people you can stand hanging out with 24/7.

“Concerts are only 90 minutes – what about all the other hours in the day? You need to all fit together. Within those first few days with Amy, I realized we both had a strong work ethic and know exactly what we want, which is beautiful.

“She’s a very strong character. I appreciate her musicality and personality too, she quickly became one of my best friends because we laughed about the same things and then figured out we both love Sex and the City [laugh]! I am so grateful and thankful to have experienced everything I have with her and the boys.”

Troy, you’ve been a member of Seether and filled in for Sevendust on some tours, but you’ve been an on/off member of Evanescence for over a decade now…

McLawhorn: “Yeah, to be honest, I never really left Evanescence. We have big breaks between albums. When I did my first tour with the band, Amy told me she was taking a long break, probably around four or five years. I just went out to find something to do in the meantime and ended up playing in Seether for a few years…

“When it was time for me to leave, it coincided with Amy being ready to do another album. And it was a huge coincidence. I ended up in New York and went to Amy’s house. I was having trouble in Seether and wasn’t happy there, and she said she’d love me to come work on the new album. That’s how it all went down.

“There seems to be some pretty long breaks in between albums with this band but I think that’s part of Amy’s creative process. She likes to take her time when she’s writing the lyrics. The final product always turns out really nice that way, so why mess with it?”

What can you tell us about the gear responsible for the guitar sounds on this album?

Majura: “I signed up with Synergy Amps in November last year. When I joined, I think Steve Vai was the only big name working with them, but I figured if it’s Steve Vai it’s gotta be fucking great. So I went over to check their amp out and I was very skeptical. It looks like a tube amp but with all these holes and parts missing!

“But I plugged in, hit one chord and realized it was actually phenomenal. They’ve sent all the different modules to me, like the Diezel, and the perfect solution for me was the Friedman HBE. It has the perfect rock and roll sound for my solos but it also has the mighty depth of high-gain stuff too – which are all frequencies you need for Evanescence.

“I was originally expecting I’d go with the Diezel one, but the Friedman felt more right for me. I’m very open-minded when it comes to technology. You have two modules, each with two channels, so you get a four-channel amp made out of your favorites.

“For example, I could combine a Vox AC30 Brian May sound with a Diezel VH4. It’s phenomenal what they’ve managed to open up for us musicians in terms of sound options. It’s been my tour rig and studio rig ever since.”

McLawhorn: “I used a combination of different things on this album. On The Game Is Over, it was basically my live setup which is an Orange Rockerverb 100, with an analog pedalboard.

“A big part of the tone I get from the amp comes down to a 10-band EQ I use to boost the mids on the lead channel. That’s about it – I don’t really use overdrive pedals or anything like that and probably use less gain than most modern guitarists. I almost use EQ to find a modern sound, instead of more gain.

“I also have a Fractal Axe-Fx III, which I’ve used here and there on the album, especially for clean parts – it’s really good for that. I’ve done some overdubs with the II as well, stuff that has a lot of effects or sounds really wet – Axe-Fx is great for that, too. I also have a 1969 Marshall Superbass 100 which we split with a Bogner Ecstasy or Uberschall, and used for the rhythm tracks on a couple of songs.”

And how about for guitars?

Majura: “I’ve been with Ibanez for many years now and I’m very happy. They deliver the most perfect instruments. You pick up an instrument and either like it or not. Some of them seem to instantly merge with your system – you become one – and that is true of most Ibanez guitars, at least for me.

“Of course I’ve played Les Pauls and other things, but they’re really not my style. I have so many Ibanez guitars now. I think the AZ series was such a smart move – the family is even bigger and better now… Look at players like Tim Henson, who is just amazing. He makes me feel so old. He’ll be nailing it and I’m at home just playing along to AC/DC or something!

“For pedals, I stick with the Line 6 Helix pedalboard because I remember at my first rehearsal in 2015, they would tell me certain parts would need a chorus or flanger or this or that. At the end of the rehearsal I had a battery of pedals in front of me and realized I couldn’t do it. I’ve never been a pedal dancer. I went to Line 6 asking for a solution and they were just about to come out with the Helix… it was perfect.”

McLawhorn: “I was using a baritone PRS SE. I changed the pickups out, but that’s it – I love the guitar and how it plays. I tried a few different sets, most by Seymour Duncan. One of my seven-strings has a Seymour that my tech put in on the road and I don’t know which one it is! He just found it in my guitar coffin and asked if we should throw it in. It stayed for the rest of the tour – it was probably a JB, who knows!

“But the one on the record is the Distortion (SH-6). I really like how they sound. At first, they were a little hot for what I like – I tend to prefer somewhere in between modern metal and classic rock. It felt like really high gain, way too much, especially when switching from my other guitars. But he really lowered the pickup down and that fixed everything, making everything super-tight and adding some nice mids.”

Use My Voice has a really powerful message behind it…

Majura: “Yes! Another thing that connects me and Amy very strongly is that we both went through moments in our careers where males would tell us, ‘You’re just a girl – what do you know?’ It’s time for strong women – in rock or wherever – to stand up and say being good at a craft has nothing to do with gender. It’s been happening for way too long.

“That feeling of our voices being suppressed needs to change, because every voice matters. We’re all the same. It does not matter if you are male or female or transgender… humans are humans. I think we should spend more time understanding why we’re the same. Use My Voice is an important message for women to stand up and be heard.”

Where do you think your influences differ as guitar players?

Majura: “The first guitar hero I had at around 10 or 11 was Steve Vai. He was so revolutionary in terms of what he’s done for the guitar world, both sound-wise and crafts-wise. Electric guitar wouldn’t be what it is today without Steve Vai.

“I respect him so much for how he feels and talks through his instrument. He’s influenced my thinking about a lot of things. He’s an amazing person, not just an amazing musician.

“Then I got into Nuno Bettencourt, who plays for the sake of the song instead of showing off. Which is what I tried to do on my first solo album, Inzenity, everyone expected a shred album and it wasn’t. I played for the song. If it didn’t require a guitar solo then fine, I’d just leave it. I didn’t need to prove to the world how good I was.

“Nuno also has the percussive style of playing, which brings this tone that I really like. And finally, Angus Young. I’ve been playing in an AC/DC tribute band for four years and I love his playing.”

McLawhorn: “A lot of them for me were the classic players while I was growing up. So Ace Frehley for sure… KISS were like Slipknot for us who grew up in the '70s [laughs]! Then there’s Jimmy Page and Jimi Hendrix. Tony Iommi as well, he was a massive influence on me as a kid.

“Eddie Van Halen was a huge influence on me, too – it was very sad that we lost him so early and so young. When Van Halen came out, I started taking guitar very seriously. The bluesy side of his playing always appealed to me but he also had all that technical prowess, too. A very inspiring guitar player for so many people.”

What advice can you offer anyone out there hoping to become a good session player?

McLawhorn: “You need to know how to communicate with people. I’ve done sessions with some Nashville guys that have this shorthand way of writing music. Reading music and knowing theory is always important… I wish I knew more myself.

“It puts you at ease walking into a session knowing you read and play anything back. I can’t really do that – I just really really listen and learn things by memory. I can read some music but that’s going back to trumpet at high school [laughs]. So I rely on communication always!”

Majura: “I think guitar players need to be honest. Use your voice. Be real. Be pure. We don’t need fake, we need humanity and real people. What I love about people like Mattias IA Eklundh is he’s just himself. He’s pure and innovative in a really interesting way.

“I’ve gotten to know guys like him, Guthrie Govan, Richie Kotzen and Jeff Waters – they’re all awesome and very honest players. I think one should never think one has seen it all and learned it all.

“We need to keep in mind we’re all on a journey in search of becoming better. In terms of advice, I always have to say being open to different styles is so important. There’s something to learn every day. You should never stop trying to improve to make the world a better place. You should never stop learning… that’s what makes you human.”

[george-mackay-macfine]

First Kiss

"She here yet?" I turned to Andy, my best mate. We were throwing a small party at our flat tonight. I was lurking across from the door waiting for the girl I'd fallen head over heels for to show up.

"Not yet." I turned back, bringing my corona up to my lips eyes not leaving the front door, as another group entered. Still no Y/N.

"What are you going to do when she shows up?”

"I dunno.”

"Talking to her would probably be a good step. She's still writing that script, why don't you talk to her about that…"

"Do you think she'll want to talk about that?”

"Sure, don't see why not." Andy leaned on the wall. "What if she doesn't come.”

"Then I'll probably end up getting hammered and walking to her flat.”

"Again." Andy chuckled. "At least last time you weren't that drunk that you couldn't think on your feet.”

"It still wasn't the best excuse," I mumbled, already knowing where Andy was going with this. "But she brought it, for the most part.”

"And what was the excuse again?" Andy shrugged his shoulders. "I seem to be drawing a blank…"

“Andy."

"I'm serious, just want to make sure that you don't use the same one again.”

"Why are we mates." I groaned and threw my head back against the wall. "I believe it was something like, 'I'm sorry I thought this was my house.'... God, I'm an idiot.”

"Nah, just a lovesick fool. Look who just walked in." My eyes snapped open, walking through the door was Y/N and Elissa her best-friend. They were laughing already. Y/N had a bottle of whisky in her hand, carrying it down by her side as she greeted one of our many mutual friends. God, she looked perfect, hair curled down her back, and her outfit, the thing I liked about Y/N amongst others is that she always looked amazing. She never overdressed, but she never looked too casual. "She looks fit tonight.”

"Andy..." Andy held his hands up in defence against my warning.

"I'm just saying." He chuckled. "ELISSA, Y/N." He hollered across the room. "Welcome ladies." The girls started to make their way over to us, pushing through the crowd.

"What the fuck are you doing," I whispered harshly.

"Shut up. I'm getting you closer to what you want." Andy held his hands out waiting for both girls to tuck themselves under his arms. "Look at you two, looking lovely as always.”

"Thanks, Andy, George" Elissa smiled wrapping an arm around me in a quick hug. "Good to see you back in the motherland.”

"Yeah, good to be back." I released her and looked at Y/N. "Hey Y/N." She smiled and unwrapped from Andy and launched at me. Arms wrapping around my waist.

“Ned Kelly, is that you?" She joked before pulling back to look at me. "It's so good to see you again." I chuckled as she kissed my cheek. "How are you, Georgie?" I nodded my head, not trusting my voice.

"How about a drink? I've got four shot glasses in the kitchen with our names on them." Andy grabbed onto Elissa. "Follow me.”

—-

—-

—-

—-

"Just go up and talk to her George." Elissa, Andy and I were sitting on the lounge, looking right at Y/N being chatted up by none other than Troy, a half friend of mine and Andy's. The guy you invite him to parties, but not the guy you really want the girl you're interested in chatting to. "What have you got to lose?"

"My dignity," I mumbled picking up another corona. I took a swig as I watched Troy help Y/N up so she was sitting on the kitchen counter, legs dangling off the edge.

"You lost that the night you showed up to our flat, off tits," Elissa muttered. Andy chuckled under his breath. "I'm sorry I thought this was my house..." Elissa mimicked me, falling into a round of laughter with Andy.

"Why am I friends with the two of you." Andy wrapped an arm around my neck and pulled me into him.

"Because Elissa and I are the types of people who'll go distract Troy over there so you can snake some time with Y/N." Without another word the pair got up and walked over to Troy. Elissa started their conversation, jumping right in. She ran a hand up and down his arm, laughing at all the things he said while Andy placed himself between them. I watched as Andy made a drink motion to Troy and Elissa, practically dragging him away from Y/N.

"Fuck it," I muttered standing up, corona left forgotten on the floor by the lounge. "Carpe Diem," I mumbled remembering something Charlie once told me on the set of The True History of the Kelly Gang. I walked up to Y/N smiling as I stood in front of her. “Shot?"

"A shot with the George MacKay, who am I to say no." She giggled, winking as she picked up two nearby shot glasses. I reached around her and grabbed a bottle of Whisky and a bottle of Vodka, holding them out for her to pick.

"Whisky, definitely the whisky." I unscrewed the cap and made quick work of pouring the two small glasses to the top

"Salute." We chanted before throwing the shots back. "Another." She demanded, legs swinging on the bench. We repeated the process three more times before we switched to a slightly less potent mix. "I'm glad your back Georgie, London hasn't quite been the same..." She held onto my hand. Eyes wide with excitement. "But you don't seem happy. What's wrong?”

"What was Troy talking to you about?" I moved in closer to her, so she could talk without needing to yell. Her mouth rested by my ear, breath tickling the skin every time she exhaled.

"He wanted to ask me something." She replied, her legs wrapped around my waist and pulled me into her. Her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. "I'm sorry, I need a George hug, it's been far too long. Being deprived of the best hugs in the world..." She whispered into my ear.

"What did he want to ask you." I pried further hoping she was drunk enough to tell me without asking questions trying to ignore the sensation of her skin lighting mine on fire with every touch.

"He wanted to ask me out." That piece of utter shit. "I told him I couldn't because I would be too busy." She continued.

"You're busy these days then?" I mumbled, holding onto her. She smiled and nodded her head.

"Too busy being infatuated with you.”

“What."

"I like you George, as stupid and as blind as you are, I really like you." I pulled away, watching her.

"You like me?" She nodded her head, biting down on her lip.

"A lot." She looked down at her outfit, the tight jeans and the deep plunging shirt. "Why do you think I'm wearing this obscene thing for? It's not just cause' I've got great tits." I looked down at them, smirking as she spoke. She did indeed have a great rack. "Its because I was hoping that somewhere in that beautiful head of yours you'd realise that you like me as I like you.”

"I do like you." I held onto her face, running my thumb over her perfectly plump lips. "I've had this nagging bloody crush on you for the last year." She giggled. "Do you know how annoying it was when you were dating Trevor." I pushed some hair behind her ear. "I mean what kind of fucking name is Trevor.”

"Let me tell you, moaning George is a lot more fun." I took a step back, shocked by her admission.

"And how would you know that?" She shrugged innocently. Bottom lip slipping between her teeth for only a second.

"I have to keep myself busy while you're away somehow." She giggled again. "No point flirting if I didn't get to flirt with you."

"Are you saying." I spared a quick look around, making sure no one could overhear the words I was about to say to the woman in front of me. "That late at night, when I've been away you've touched yourself thinking of me.”

"If you don't kiss me, I think I'm going to have to go off by myself and take care of myself again." She didn't even flinch when my arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer to me than I thought I'd ever get her. She didn't offer up any protest when my mouth attached to hers, god it feels so right that everything around us melted away. The loud thumping of the music, the laughter. Nothing else existed. Just her and me.

I could write novels on the way her tongue drags against mine; gently, but with an urgency and neediness that sends shivers through me. And when she moans against my lips it's like a symphony she's performing just for me.

I was the first to pull back and glance around us. Most people are too busy mingling to notice and the thrill is enticing, but she pushes me back, dropping to the floor before tugging me over to my bedroom door. I push it open and push her through the door, hands finding her hips as she pushes me back against my own door.

"This private enough for you?" I ask she musters up a quick nod before she's moving back in, running her fingers through my hair as I deepen the kiss.

----------

A/N: If you have a prompt you want to be filled let me know. 

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Stark’s New Intern” Chp. 19

"When I first saw you You had a sparkle in your eye Like the stars at night High in the sky

How I wish That you were mine 'Cause to me You're one of a kind

When I look at you It seems so untrue How someone like you Can make me feel the way you do"

Cameo—"Sparkle"

"Erik, you here with us, man?"

Walter's keen dark eyes took in Erik's solemn face as they sat in a popular and busy diner on Pico and La Brea eating pancakes and thick cuts of Canadian bacon. Maria and his Aunt Shavonne shared nail care tips to prevent chipping as his Uncle Bakari cut up his food and ate with a contented face.

Erik pushed circles in the maple syrup on his plate and checked the thin cell phone near his half-empty cup of coffee. Devika still wouldn't return the ten or so texts he sent her.

"My mind is scattered, sorry."

Devika ignoring him, and Tony being cryptic had him on edge. He deleted messages from Giselle and Athena wanting another Ménage a Trois encore and looked Walter in the face.

"You still trippin' about earlier?" Walter asked.

"Nah. I'm over that. It's just…I was foul with that and I hurt my girl."

"Your girl? Which one?" Walter joked.

"Shut up," Erik said giving his friend a grin.

Walter's braided hair was pulled up into a palm tree bun.

"My dude, you've always been messy. Nothing's changed. You've leveled up though."

"Leveled up? I ain't never been with any questionable…"

He almost said hoes, but his Uncle was listening.

Walter leaned in closer and whispered.

"You did them both at the same time?"

Erik gave a subtle nod.

"Man…"

Walter chuckled and ate more bacon on his plate.

Erik glanced at his cell again.

"Expecting a call?" Bakari asked.

"Nah. Just checking for work messages. Sometimes Stark sends mass alerts. Gotta keep on top of stuff there. Even on the weekends."

"You look good. We're proud that you stuck with it," Bakari said.

"It turned out better than I thought," Erik said.

His stomach got tight and Maria glanced over at him. He caught her eyes sliding over to Walter.

"How's school man? We spent all this time talking about my internship, what's poppin' back home?" Erik asked.

"I quit."

Walter popped his last piece of bacon in his mouth.

"Walter!" Shavonne scolded.

"Why?" Erik asked.

"It's not for me. School was always your forte man, and I know my parents wanted me to be like you, but my talents are in fashion…textiles."

"Are you a designer?" Maria asked.

"Yeah, I am," Walter said holding her gaze, "I dropped out of SFSU and enrolled in the Fashion Institute. Going to start my own brand of sportswear. Merge tech and clothing together."

"Dope," Erik said giving Walter a pound.

"Call my parents and tell them that," Walter said.

"When we were in grade school, this fool designed bullet-proof clothing for elementary kids," Erik said pushing back his plate.

"A lot of shootings were going down, and I wanted to stay safe."

"That's, wow…that's kind of sad," Maria said.

"That's how it be in the East Bay sometimes," Walter said.

"Everywhere," Shavonne chimed in.

"I start in the fall and I have already lined up my own internship with Trekfit. They're new, hungry, and I can parlay my talents into maybe getting my own stuff out in three or four years."

Erik and Walter shared a joke in Korean and Maria watched them both.

"You speak Korean?" Maria asked Erik.

"Passable—"

"Barely," Walter said.

"Good luck with the educational changes," Bakari said. He stared at his watch, "Are we all ready to hang out at the pier?"

Bakari drove them all in a rental car, and Erik found himself sitting in the middle of a conversation between Walter and Maria. They had only been together for two hours but they already acted like an old married couple. Divisive opinions on anime, gaming, and sticky rice flew across his lap since he sat in between them in the back seat.

The weather was almost perfect, a little too hot as the temperature raised above eighty degrees, but Erik enjoyed strolling on the pier and talking with his Aunt and Uncle. Maria and Walter had paired off to ride the carousel and Erik kept checking his phone.

"Just call her," Bakari said.

His Uncle snacked on chocolate and vanilla soft serve ice cream as his Aunt Shavonne tried to shoot fake ducks for prizes with water guns.

"I saw how she looked at you when she stood at the door. I damn near had a flashback to your Pappy back in school. You actually had the same look on your face. What's her name?"

"Devika."

"You sure do like 'em grown," Bakari said winking at Erik.

"Everyone is older than me there, so I don't really have control over that."

"Walter is right too, those were some boss looking babes. The legacy continues."

"It is what it is Unc. But I didn't mean for that to happen. I was supposed to go see her last night and I just…messed up."

"Protecting yourself?"

"Always."

"Respecting them?"

"Yeah."

"But this Devika?"

"I got caught up and forgot to communicate with her. I wasn't expecting her to show up like that. I'm actually not supposed to be seeing her."

"Why not?"

"She's um…she's Stark's secretary."

"Erik…boy, I tell ya…"

Bakari ate his ice cream and Erik watched his Uncle's face.

The man was heavier in the face and body, and he was happy with Shavonne because it shone all over his face when he looked at her. His uncle treated his wife the way Erik's father treated his mother. Like they were one of a kind. And that was true. He learned how to treat women from his Dad and Bakari. His uncle raised him for six years a couple of years after Erik's parents died. Bakari gave Erik a foundation to rebuild his life when he floundered in the streets and foster care. His uncle begged his Grandpop to give him guardianship so Erik could leave Oakland and be somewhere that wouldn't remind him of the pain he suffered. It worked.

His aunt and uncle made sure Erik stayed connected to Walter and even his friend Shawn whom he met in juvenile hall. Flew them both out every summer and made sure they traveled to Martha's Vineyard for vacations and also allowed him to go to Brazil yearly to visit his cousin Marisol. They gave him life again, and he was eternally grateful. They also made sure to remind him of the special bond his parents had, and if Erik had the same romantic tendencies of his father, Bakari constantly reflected on honest communication.

Devika was beginning to feel special to him, and he couldn't understand how he could be so careless with her. All he had to do was call her and say he was spending some time with the other women and…

He had no real excuse or reason for his behavior. He did want to see her. Craved her even, especially with Tony Stark telling him what he couldn't have. But pitchers of Margaritas and pretty faces hemmed him up. The sex was everything, but now he regretted it.

"I like her Unc. She's been good to me the entire time I was here. She's fine. Smart. I don't know why I fucked up. Sorry for cussing."

"Young people make mistakes."

Erik put his phone away. He wanted to focus on his family.

The rest of his weekend was pleasant and he spent much-needed quality time with Bakari and Shavonne.

Walter spent quality time with Maria.

It was all good.

###

Erik picked out his best new blue suit to wear to Stark's office. Whatever was going down would happen with him looking his best.

He had a fresh line up and brand-new cologne. Eyes tracked him in the lobby of the Stark building and even Valentina did a double-take when she saw him walk past her on his way to the private elevator.

His confidence faded once he reached Stark's floor and he saw Devika through the glass office walls.

Damn that woman beautiful.

She wore thick wash and go curls all over her head, and her make-up was smoky and smooth like her skin. Erik took a deep breath and walked into the room.

"I'm here for Stark's eight—"

"Go in, he's expecting you."

She cut him off without looking at him. He stepped closer to her desk.

"Devika—"

"He's waiting for you."

"I don't have a good excuse. I'm sorry."

Her eyes finally took his in.

"Don't worry about it. We're good."

"It doesn't feel good. You wouldn't even talk to me this weekend."

"You were with family, remember?"

He chewed on his lip trying to keep himself from saying something smart ass to dig at her. He was shocked at how much he wanted her forgiveness. Anyone else he would be tossing to the side like, "Oh well", and then be on to his next conquest, but Devika snuck up on him emotionally. While he had been busy chasing after Giselle and falling in easily with Athena, Devika was just…there. Always there.

All the little things she did for him, the corny jokes they shared each time he was called up to see Stark…reminders to eat or drink water. The donuts to keep his blood sugar up when he worked late…she was a constant source of calm for him during the entire internship. He would be crushed if she iced him for the rest of his time there.

"Just tell me this, is Boss Man about to kick me out?"

"What are you talking about?"

"He called me after you left my apartment and told me my time in the internship was over."

Devika's nose crinkled up and her eyes were full of confusion.

"I haven't heard any talk about putting you out."

That made Erik breathe easier. Devika was the pulse of Stark. Right after Pepper, Devika knew the man better than he knew himself.

"Devika, have you heard from Stevens yet?"

Stark's voice came through on the desk intercom.

"He's walking in now."

She pushed him toward the door.

Entering, Erik was surprised to see Janine and two other upper-level suits sitting in the room.

"Take a seat," Stark said pointing to the only available chair in front of his desk.

Erik unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down with his legs wide apart. Stark fussed with a small touchpad and then finally stared Erik.

"How do you think you've done here, Stevens?" he asked.

Erik's eyes flitted to the other three people next to him and their eyes didn't shy away from his. No one looked down or fidgeted with their hands. Good sign thus far.

"Excellent." Erik shot back at him.

"Excellent? You sure?"

"Yeah. My last eval was stellar. Janine can tell you that. She wrote it up."

A smirk went across Janine's face.

"Do you want to add any addendums to that, Janine?"

Stark folded his hands in his lap and leaned back in his chair.

"No, Sir. The eval speaks for itself."

"Good. Stevens, I'm pulling you from the internship and placing you in the Stark Fellowship starting today. The Fellowship runs for a year and at the end of that year you will be offered a position with Stark Enterprises—"

"Wait, I start M.I.T. next month."

"M.I.T. is willing to defer your entry for next year. You are still a full-ride scholar."

"I would take what he is offering, Erik," Janine said. For once her eyes looked gentle.

Erik sat back in his chair.

Stark's eyes regarded him with amusement.

"Every intern in this entire building would give me their first-born child for the offer I just gave you. And yet you sit here like a lump."

"I appreciate the offer. I just want some time to think about it."

"Think about it?"

One of the suits glared at him.

"Unbelievable," the haughty suit grumbled.

"There's a paid salary, so you'd have to get your own place. No more Oakwood. You'd work directly with me and there will be a lot of travel, covered by the company of course. You have been a stellar young man. The last person to have this opportunity now runs one of my satellite offices in Hong Kong. It's a great opportunity and I want you to have it."

"How much is the salary?"

Tony pushed a blue and silver folder across his desk. Erik picked it up.

"That much, huh? With benefits…health/dental. Paid gym membership…"

Erik's eyes read the offer to the very bottom.

Why not?

Take advantage of being at the side of one of the most powerful and influential men on the planet. Get paid for it, and get access to tech that could help him figure out the vibranium he had stashed in his apartment.

"I'll do it."

"Wise decision young man."

Stark stood up and held out his hand. Erik gripped it firmly.

"Welcome aboard, Stevens. I'll have H.R. get paperwork set up and we'll get you transferred over tomorrow. You'll report to me in the Cypress meeting room tomorrow at ten a.m. I need you to pack up clothing for a week because you are coming with me to Monaco after the Intern party on my yacht."

"Thanks, Mr. Stark."

"Janine, say your goodbyes now, I'm stealing him from you," Stark said.

Janine stood up and gave Erik her hand.

"Keep up the exceptional work," she said.

"If you'll excuse us, Stevens, I need to meet with these folks. We'll talk tomorrow. Clear out your things from Janine's and go see Happy in security to get new clearance."

"Okay."

Erik took the folder with him and walked out of the office.

Devika worked on her laptop and her eyes flickered over to his when he stepped back into the outer office.

"I was offered a new position for a year," Erik said.

A smile. A slight one, but he caught it on her face.

"Congratulations," she said keeping her voice cool.

"I have to go gather my stuff from Janine's floor."

He turned away from her.

"Erik."

"Yeah?"

Devika reached into the large bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out a bag of donuts for him. He took them from her.

"You worked your ass off all summer. You deserve this opportunity, Erik."

"Thanks."

They stared at one another. Her eyes took in his suit and there was a twinkle in those dark irises. All he could think of was that glorious weekend he spent with her after he got his ass kicked in her home.

He held the donuts up toward her.

"Thanks for this. You're always looking out for me."

"Better get going…get that desk cleared out," she said.

There was awkward staring once more.

What he would give to be brave and kiss her right there at her desk.

"He's taking me to Monaco with him…what was that look for?" he said.

Devika shook her head.

"What?" Erik pushed.

"Monaco is…well, Monaco is a place where Tony tends to get a little wild."

"Is it that bad?"

"No, but it's a playground for the ultra-rich, and the ultra-rich are very different from the basic rich. Put it this way. Millionaires are the double-wides of that set. Multi-millionaires are the working class. The lower working class."

"It's like that, huh?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Maybe you should give me lessons on how to maneuver that world."

"You don't give up, do you?"

He smiled at her and she rolled her eyes.

He walked away from her desk and took a big bite of a hot glazed twist once he was in the elevator headed down to his work-station.

His cell vibrated in his jacket pocket. Taking it out he checked for Stark Alerts. There was only one personal text.

"You are forgiven."

He didn't bother to text her back.

Rushing back up to Stark's outer office and Devika's desk, he grabbed her hand.

"Erik! What are you doing?"

Devika's startled face made him smile.

"Taking you to breakfast, and then we're going back to your place. I have some making up to do."

Chapter 20 HERE.

###

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