#well when the second name that comes to mind is new kids on the block that's

[britneyshakespeare]

mandy moore is the best-selling musical artist to be from the state of new hampshire

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When They Call You Clingy So You Distance Yourself| Maknaeline Pt2

Warnings: Cursing, Mentionings of Death, Mentioning of Needles in a Medical sense

Pt1 Pt3 Hyungline  (xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JISUNG|

"Please leave your message after the tone."

Jisung sat on the couch, his leg shaking anxiously. Minho sat next to him and tried calming his friend, as Felix walked in with a cup of hot chocolate, setting it down in front of Han.

"I'm sure its just the silent treatment." Minho comments, leaning back into the couch. "See one time I told my wife she talked to much and so she had the audacity to stay silent the entire week...she would only talk to the cats." He said. "I'm sure it's probably the same thing."

Changbin walks into the room and joins in the conversation. "Yah! You got it all wrong! She's probably crying because of her hand and can't come to the phone."

Hyunjin pipes in, poking his head up from the couch where he was trying to take a nap. "Yeah! So that means you have to go apologize. Grovel Jisung. GROVEL!!!"

Jisung's leg is still shaking, and he starts to gnaw on his thumb nail. "Somethings not right..." He mumbles. "I can feel it...it's a different type of anxiety...something...something isn't right."

Chan comes into the room and his face is pale. "Jisung...come here for a moment?"

The boba eyed boy felt a pit drop to his stomach as he walked towards his hyung.

"What's the make and model of Y/N's car?" He asked quietly.

"It's...it's a foreign car...Lin...Lincoln...its...blue. Why? Why are you asking."

Chan licked his lips nervously. "Jisung...they could be wrong but a staff member said they had seen...there was...its..."

"What? They saw what!" Jisung's right hand found his other, and he started twisting his finger, picking at himself anxiously. "They saw what hyung?!"

The aussie boy's face was grim as he spoke. "There was a pretty bad accident near the hospital. The staff member had said they weren't sure but thought they saw Y/N's car. They were pretty certain since there aren't a ton of cars that look like her's..."

"Sh-she's not..." Jisung mumbled.

"I'm gonna go grab the car." Chan said quietly, walking past the rest of the members, who stared into the kitchen with confusion.

"Hyung...?" Jeongin called out quietly sounding like a lost kid as he watched his leader walk to the key dish. He looked back at Jisung who looked as if a little piece of him just broke off. He looked numb. Jeongin turned to the rest of the members who were all watching in concern as well.

Minho walked up to Chan and asked him something lowly, his posture straightening in shock when he heard the news. Minho looked at Jisung who was silently sliding on his shoes.

He motioned for the rest of the members to leave the room and he followed suit right after, too scared himself to look at his younger friend as he walked by; afraid he would see his heart break even further every second that passed.

"Hyung...what's going on?" Seungmin asked when Minho entered in the living room. He sighed and waited to answer until he heard Chan's car drive off.

(////////////////////)

The smell of the bleached floors and sterilized surfaces were the only thing keeping Jisung grounded in the present moment when him and Chris walked into the lobby of the hospital.

"Excuse me, is there a Y/N L/N here?" Jisung tried to block out the quakiness in Chan's voiced. He viewed you as family as much as everyone else in the group. And if Jisung gaslit himself into believing that Chan wasn't scared - then he could easily gaslight himself into believing that you were safe and sound. The receptionist looked through the system and shook his head.

"My apologies but I don't see a Y/N...L...L-L...L/N..." While struggled to pronounce your name; Jisung felt his mind go down all the worst possible scenarios.

What if Y/N is at the morgue. What if on impact she- what if she...

"Excuse me but do you have an unidentified foreigner?" Chan asks. "From a car accident."

The receptionist immediately perked up in understanding. "Yes! There was a lady she was pulled from a blue foreign car! They were trying to find her point of contact. She was brought to that win-"

He was interrupted by a small group of nurses and a doctor running down the hallway and a scream down the hall.

"She's flatlining!" Jisung couldn't even comprehend his feet moving as he followed the team of medical professionals down the hall- even though Chris called out for him to wait.

He pushed his way through the crowd of people into the room and couldn't even hear the monitor give one long continuous over the thumping of his heart as numerous nurses and doctors tried to revive the lonely patient on the bed. You had left to give him distance. Something he had asked for.

It was his fault. His fault entirely.

He couldn't breathe and as one doctor announced time of death another turned to see the chubby cheeked boy stumbling back and falling onto his floor from shock. The doctor rushing over to tend to him as he started to black out.

No...No. She's not. She can't be. God, no. Please. Please. It's my fault. I asked her to leave. She can't be gone. I asked her to leave. I only meant a minute, not for the rest of my life. Please...please.

I'm sorry Y/N. I'm sorry.

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FELIX|

"I shouldn't have yelled at her." Felix mumbled to himself as he turned into the dorm days later. 3 days to be exact.

He had felt frustrated after work due to arguing with Hyunjin over something he couldn't even pinpoint now. And it was even more stupid because Hyunjin didn't even remember, and they agreed to amount it to the stress they were facing with some rumors and controversy started up by toxic netizens as they reached closer and closer to their comeback day.

They had to play so much damage control that all Felix could do - and any of the members really - was think about how to keep things in control until the higher ups could completely clear everything before things got out of hand.

"Yeesh!" He groaned banging his head against the headrest in front of him, the driver shooting a concerned look in the rearview mirror before parking the car and unlocking the doors.

Felix nodded his head in thanks and walked inside immediately going to his room with his belongings, ignoring the "welcome home"'s and "your back's from the other members.

He closed his door, and poured out the contents of his shopping bags.

He had gotten the replacements he needed for his gaming setup.

And head also gotten you a ton of gifts.

He placed out five different plushies, one white teddy bear with a black and gold bow, a baby chicken plushie, a toddler sized stuff lamb that was also rather coquette, and plushy of a smiling taco and lastly one of a green and blue boba.

Which one would she like best...all of them maybe?

He then started sorting out all your favorite treats, some self-care products you liked a lot, the collector's edition of your favorite book and movies series, a gift card to your favorite coffee shop, a couple of notebooks and other little miscellaneous items you liked. He had also been able to persuade your bias from another group to give him a rare pc of them since he had heard you mention it before.

Should I just give them all to her?

He groaned again as Seungmin walked in looking for him.

"Passing a kidney stone or something hyung?" He asked as he closed the door behind him.

"No...just trying to figure out how to apologize after I insulted my girlfriend's intelligence and mental development, yelled at her, cursed at her, mocked her, and dismissed her genuine care and concern for me in under thirty minutes of me walking into her home." Seungmin's eyes widened and he looked to see keyboards new keyboard sitting neatly in an amazon box.

"Over a game? Damn, I didn't know the stereotypes were accurate." He said, arranging some of Felix's gifts into the basket he had gotten to transport them to you.

"I'm sure Y/N-ie is feeling rather hurt though...but you've been acting off ever since you left her house earlier this week. And usually you're a sensitive overthinker when it comes to her. I would have assumed you'd have been at her door crying within the hour after it happened."

Felix sighed. Why do you think I had a puffy face at practice the next day?" He mumbled. "I went back a couple hours later because I was mean Min...she...I haven't seen Y/N look so scared before. I was scared. That maybe it had made her see me differently. So I waited a couple hours to make sure everyone was calm but when I went in she wasn't there... she wasn't there."

Felix sat down on the bed and played with the end of the ribbon on one of the plushies.

"To be honest...I found a bunch of rags in the trash. I could have sworn she had bought them last time we went shopping which wasn't too long ago...but they were frayed and almost to the point they were just a loose thread. I mean...she took varnish off the table Seungmin..."

His voice began to wobble.

"I got so frustrated that I yelled at her. And she had never heard me like that before so it scared her into manic frenzy?" He let all the tears he had been holding back stream down his face. "I horrible Seungmin. How could I do anything like that to someone I love?"

T?he puppy like boy wrapped his arms around his usually bubbly hyung and sighed. It only made Felix cry harder because he knew that physical affection wasn't something he normally got from Seungmin.

"It'll be okay. Y/N loves you. You'll be forgiven. This is the first time. The first major fight is always hard. You just have to recognize it won't be the last. And you have to figure out how to pull through."

Felix nodded as Seungmin pulled away. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me, we're brothers." He said, patting Felix on the head twice.

"And it is my brotherly duty to tell you that Chan- Hyung asked for you to do the dishes, but that I'll do them so you can go see Y/N in exchange for you cleaning the bathrooms for me later."

He had a devious smirk on his lips and Felix didn't even hesitate to take that offer.

He'd take any offer, make any deal, in order to lead him to making things right with you.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

SEUNGMIN|

It was getting to the point that Stays were noticing it.

Seungmin didn't have that life in him that he usually did on stage and the fans easily surmised it to be because him and you were fighting.

It was a simply thing to deduce really when no one spotted you at the concert - but you were still the only other account Seungmin followed minus those of his members and the band as a whole.

And with the way you and Seungmin's chemistry was almost palpable, the fans were more than assured that you guys hadn't broken broken up do to his mood being low but not rock bottom.

Well...they were almost assured. But it seemed to be growing less and less by the day due to you not being sighted anywhere.

Due to you wanting to be petty, and hurt Seungmin, even just the tiniest bit.

Which completley backfired.

Seungmin was onstage and the atmosphere was electric. He silently applauded his members and the crew since the sixth show was an absolute success. But the minute the blaring music, the bright lights and the scream of fans died down as Chan spoke to the audience he couldn't hold it back anymore.

The thoughts that had been flooding his mind in the quiet hours of the night had surfaced and he couldn't help but break down right then and there.

Changbin walked over, simply thinking Seungmin was crying from the overwhelming sense of love and joy he felt for his fans- but immediately identified it as something else when his younger friend squatted down, pulling his arms straight out in front of him and ducking his head as he cried.

He immediately bent down with Seungmin and he looked up as he cried desperately.

"H-Hyung p-please don't let her leave me alone...I'm lonely without her...Please...I don't wanna be alone..." Changbin shielded the boy from the prying eyes of fans, and Hyunjin catching the drift came over as well, while the other members did things to keep the audience from wondering why Seungmin was wailing with a brokenness many of them were fortunate enough to not understand.

You on the other hand were rotting away on your bed.

You had been replaying the interaction you had with Seungmin over and over.

You felt like being petty and purchased a ticket to a group Seungmin was well aware of you stanning long before Stray Kids.

The same group which contained a member you biased long before you even set eyes on Seungmin.

A member which made Seungmin somewhat self-concious. While you always called him beautiful, and gorgeous, and intimate names that held the same deep feeling as you held for him; he couldn't help but watch you giggle over a guy that wasn't necessarily what you would consider beautiful - but was evidently dripping in sex appeal.

It had always worried him that you didn't find him desirable in that way, but just romantically. Even if you assured him countless times that it would only ever be him that you were interested in, and he fully believed you he couldn't just shake that seed that had planted itself there.

The concert was on the day of their last destination. And you felt like it would be the perfect jab at him for dismissing your complete adoration for you to a "burden".

But the more you sat at home thinking about it the more you realized you never wanted to hurt Seungmin purposefully.

That even if he hurt you a thousand times over you would still run back to him because he was both the pain and cure.

And deep down you knew he loved you just as much - if not more - than you loved him.

He loved you enough to risk his entire career to ask you out, when you hadn't known each other very long and there was a high chance of you saying no.

But you could never say no to Seungmin.

You pressed the heels of your hands to your eyes to stop the tears you had in your eyes but it did nothing but rub the eyeliner you had on into your eyes causing a painful irritation.

"Shit," You mumbled grabbing your phone to use the cameras as a mirror. But as you were picking you nail scratched your eye. "Fuck! Ahhhhh!" You whined feeling another rush of tears coming.

You tried seeing if your eye was okay when you got a notification on instagram.

It was soon followed by a bunch more and a bunch of message requests.

You clicked to see what the post was and nearly felt your heart sink as you watched your boyfriend breaking down on stage.

You had never seen him so distraught; nor did you know him as one to cry much.

You immediately sat up in bed, ignoring the pain from earlier and watching the screen intently.

I hurt him. You thought to yourself.

I hurt him. I got back at him...didn't I want this? For him to feel what I felt that night?

You looked through the countless messages, all asking if you and Seungmin had broken up.

Some stays even pleading with you to not hurt their precious idol.

But it was much too late for that.

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

JEONGIN|

"Hyung can you drive faster?"

Jeongin anxiously bounced his leg up and down in the back seat.

He had been crippled with anxiety for the past six days as he had waited to return from filming their boys trip.

Especially after Changbin had informed him that you had been put in the hospital.

Although no matter how hard he begged the staff that had accompanied them for filming refused to let him leave due to the "importance of this specific filming venture".

He had called you over 100 times by now he was sure of it. Each of his calls deflected.

He had called the ITZY girls on numerous different occasions as well to see if you were doing okay, if they could tell him what was wrong.

But each time the conversation was cut short due to a strange reason, without much detail given other than-

"Y/N is fine."

"We haven't been able to visit since our staff won't let us rearrange the schedule. But she's fine."

"She's fine, just resting."

Fine. What the hell is fine supposed to mean? They sounded guarded; as if they knew something and just refused to tell me.

The minute Jeongin started seeing lots of foot and automotive traffic he felt his heart quicken.

"Hyung just drop me off at Y/N's house first."

"Shouldn't you go change? And maybe by a few gufts as an apology? You were an ass." Changbin comments as he scrolls through Amazon looking at different protein powders.

"I just want to see her." Jeongin said gripping onto the head rest that was behind Hyunjin's head.

Chan mumbled in the back, stirring from his sleep. "Just drop Innie off...it'll help soother his anxiety." He said turning back towards the window and putting his head against it for a couple more minutes to nap.

Hyunjin typed your address into the GPS, and redirected his route to head over to your place.

Jeongin settled back into his seat, his knee still jumping up and down until Chris put his hand on it squeezing it gently to get the maknae to stop.

"It's okay..." He murmured sleepily. "She's okay...just be there for her...I bet its hard." His cheek pressed against the window and he started to doze off again.

The hidden meaning of Chan's words was something that Jeongin wasn't able to interpret, but it just made him want to see you more.

To get down on his knees and beg you to forgive him for being so careless.

So heartless and insensitive.

You had reaached out to him for help, and maybe if he would have helped you in the moment - instead of tearing you down then everything would have been okay right now.

He could only imagine you laying sick in your bed. Cold and lonely.

He wanted to run to you, comfort you and be able to hold you as you cried into his arms.

He wanted to be the boyfriend he usually was, the one you could easily embrace. The type of boyfriend who would go to the ends of the Earth to protect you; or to find someone who hurt you.

He wanted to be enough.

But in order to do that he had to apologize first.

So as he stood at your door, tyoing in your passcode (your guys anniversary), he ran through all the things he would do to apologize.

Do I apologize before I hug her? Or do I hug her first...she might be crying since she's so sick maybe I should-

When he opened the door, he was not expecting to see you lounging on the couch with a bowl of assorted candy in your lap as you watched a 24 minute long compilation of Gojo edits.

You looked at Jeongin with wide eyes, an airhead mid bite in your mouth.

If it were any other cirucumstance Jeongin would have laughed at the oddity of the situation.

But instead his chin started to tremble and he began to cry.

You instantly rushed over to him, because no matter how petty you wanted to be you couldn't stand seeing the adorable man you loved so much cry.

"Innie- why..."

"I thought- I thought you were..." He couldn't even finish his sentence for the next few minutes as he just sat in your foyer crying.

You rubbed his back, even though you still felt a little annoyed by his antics of the previous week. And that he had interrupted your you time.

Which reminded you of something.

"I'll be right back Innie." You said as you headed towards your bathroom.

But with the amount of anxiety Jeongin had dealt with for the past week he couldn't stop himself from following you moments after.

You didn't notice that he had, so you proceeeded to do as you had been doing ever since you got home from the hospital.

With the click of a button, a small needle pricked your middle finger, and ruby red blood pooled from the small space.

Then a much lengthier needle pierced its way through the insulin bottle you had kept in your medicine cabinet and you pulled up the length of your shorts up to inject the liquid into the fattier part of your leg.

You winced in slight pain, still trying to get used to this new change in pace; in lifestyle.

When you took the needle out, putting it in the makeshift biohazard bin you had made, all the other needles clearly visible, you heard a soft little sniff.

You turned around to see Jeongin, staring at you, his brows furrowed and twitching slightly as he watched you with concern, the slightest hint of betrayal, disappointment and pain in his face.

"Jagiya?"

(xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx)

@sleeping143 @artist2181 @abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jaythegay26 @gay-littlemushroomlover @armystay89 @sara6767776 @wildtokay

@kyrennetwork @stay-tiny-things

@piscesrising01 @0325tiny @hannamoon143

@chimchxmni

@ka0ila

@jazziwritesthings

@skzstannie

[emphistic]

"I'm Lactose Intolerant"

Things Reader Should Acknowledge: I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS ALREADY BECAUSE I FORGOT TO SAVE IT AS A DRAFT, i have yet to get the hang of tumblr, yuuji hasnt been born yet, the itadori parents neglect their children so grandpa takes care of them, waaaaaay later is when yuuji is born, sukuna gets his tattoos when he is older

Prologue: As summer nears its end, and autumn takes its place, you find yourself in quite the situation. A new family has arrived in the neighborhood, and your parents have tasked you with greeting your new neighbors. A wacky grandpa, a gloomy tween. Seriously, could things get any worse?

A/N: Sukuna is 10 years old, while reader is 9 years old. However, Sukuna was held back a grade, so guess who is joining your class this year? *cue the confetti*

Please REFRAIN from REPOSTING MY WORK (REBLOGS ARE EXEMPTED FROM THIS RULE)

PS: i know little kids shouldnt be walking the streets alone, but lets just pretend the world is a better place

Chores are boring. Errands, on the other hand? Well, not so much.

You shielded your eyes from the rays of the sun as you walked down the street, avoiding the cracks on the pavement. The sky bled as the sun set and the songs of the birds started to come to a halt. It was a typical Saturday, help get the groceries, head home, and assist with dinner as much as possible. However, what wasn't typical was the fact that there was a moving company's truck blocking your way home.

Wow, there's definitely a better way to go about this, you sigh. Mindlessly, you kick a pebble aside and tighten your grip on your tote bag as your stride continues.

Several men in navy colored uniforms carry boxes as another man, who you estimate is a septuagenarian, surveys the workers from the front lawn of his new house. The man, who you also assume is your new neighbor, has his hands clasped behind his back and wears a green wool sweater.

Deciding to be polite, you clear your throat, neaten up your braids, and slowly approach the man, cautious as you try not to give him a heart attack. At nine years old, one may not know much, but one might know that killing your elderly neighbor is a pretty wack first impression.

The man looks quite surprised to see you approach, and even raises a white brow.

Okay, maybe this is a bad idea, you think as your palms start to sweat. You go through several introductions through your mind just to go with the most lame one.

"Hello, sir. My name is Y/N L/N. I'm your . . . uhh, new neighbor," you cringed at yourself before holding out a hand to the man.

"Ah, wasn't expecting to meet my neighbors on the first day here. I am Mr. Itadori, pleasure to meet you," his voice sounded like that of an old man's, yet, it had such a warm, cozy feel to it. He took your hand and gave it a firm shake.

"Likewise," you say, after a few seconds of silence.

"Should a girl, — pardon my rudeness — as young as you, be walking out here alone at this time?"

"Aha, my parents trust this neighborhood enough. And anyway, I was only getting groceries from the store, it's not too far from this block actually." You pointed a finger in the direction of said store.

"Wow, you must be pretty responsible for your parents to be sending you out for groceries, huh? Good to know some children in this neighborhood help out their families," Mr. Itadori turned to face a boy, probably not much older than you, who was carrying boxes into the house when he put emphasis on the word "some".

The boy had pink unruly hair, that was slicked back and spiky. You held back a giggle at the sight.

"Grandpa, I'm literally moving furniture into the house. What are you looking at me for?" The boy grumbled, but he didn't stop as he moved the boxes.

"I never said you didn't help out. I was just simply telling Y/N here, about how some children help out their families. No need to get upset now, Sukuna." Mr. Itadori gave a small chuckle, before abruptly turning to face you.

"Oh, right! How rude of me, I haven't introduced you to my grandson."

"Oh, no worries. You guys are probably busy—" You began, before being cut off.

"Nonsense! Sukuna! Come here, boy."

Sukuna muttered something, and dropped off a box by the front of the house before moving over to you and his grandpa.

Now that the boy was closer, you could make out his red eyes, and the frown on his face. Looking back at Mr. Itadori, you noticed he did not share the same qualities as his grandson, and instead had brown eyes.

"What are you waiting for? Introduce yourself!" Mr. Itadori lightly pushed Sukuna closer to you.

The taller boy stared at you for what seemed like forever, before averting his eyes to the ground and keeping them there. "Name's Sukuna."

"Y/N. But I think your grandpa already mentioned that," you tried to lighten the mood.

You swear you heard him say something along the lines of "pretty name" under his breath, but before you could ask, Sukuna retreated to his boxes. His grandpa looked displeased at that. Actually, that's quite an understatement. He looked furious with Sukuna, but he didn't do anything other than sigh and bid you adieu and good night.

You slowly walked back to your house, your arrival being a little later than usual, which your parents questioned you about, to which you explained that there was a truck in your way.

When it was time for bed, you did as you usually did. Showered, changed into your pajamas and watched a movie before cleaning up and preparing to actually go to bed. As you moved to close your window blinds, you noticed something you hadn't seen in a long time — considering no one's occupied the house next door since it was put on sale — there was a window right across from yours, and the light was on.

You didn't plan on becoming a creep at such a young age, but due to curiosity, you didn't peel your eyes away from the window. It surprised you to see that the room across from yours was a bedroom belonging to none other then Sukuna. When you saw the pink spikes of his hair come near the window, you quickly shut the blinds.

The next morning, your mom shook you awake.

You groaned, "Mom. . . What is it?"

"We have new neighbors, honey! I've already started prepping for baking an apple pie for them—" You let her ramble on while you were still half-awake.

Oh, right . . . you never mentioned your meeting with the Itadoris. Now you have to introduce yourself to them, yet again.

"—I just need you to grab a few ingredients for me, if you don't mind."

"Sure, Mom. No problem." You stretched out your arms and yawned.

"Perfect! I'll let you get ready then. I'll give the list on your way out." Then, your mom got up, and shut the door.

You yawned again and rubbed your forehead. This was definitely going to be an interesting day, to say the least.

You met your mom downstairs and she instructed you on the ingredients you needed to purchase. "Uh huh, got it. Thanks. Bye, Mom!

Still half-asleep, you slowly slipped on your sneakers and headed out through the door. The sun warmed your face, yet sent a chill down your spine.

Apples and lemon.

Apples. . .

And lemons.

You hummed to yourself as you walked down the street, passing by the Itadori house.

Apples and lemons—

"Gah!" A little rock got in your way, and you were about to faceplant onto the sidewalk when you felt a firm hand on your shoulder reel you back upward.

You turned to see who your savior was, and cocked your head to the side in surprise.

"Sukuna? What are you doing out here?"

"No 'thanks for saving me, Sukuna'? Also, contrary to your belief, other people in this neighborhood get out the house too, y'know?"

You scoffed, jutting out your bottom lip, "Thanks."

Sukuna held a smug look on his face.

"So . . . you gonna take your hand off my shoulder, or should I do that tor you?"

He looked taken aback, and swiftly returned his hand to his hoodie pocket. "I have to go get groceries. My grandpa sent me, because our house is basically empty?" Sukuna acted as if that was common knowledge.

"What did you have for dinner last night, then?"

"Ordered in."

You mumbled, "Figured."

"Anyway, Grandpa told me you know where the closest grocery store is? I need . . . directions."

"Oh! Right," you scratched the back of your neck. "I'm actually heading there right now. You can come with." If Sukuna didn't want to go with you, he certainly didn't show it (surprisingly).

"So you're actually going to turn this way, down here, across this weird looking house or something — I actually don't even know if it has someone living in it — then go in front of this—"

"Stop talking, and maybe we'll get there faster," Sukuna muttered.

You turned around to face him; he had his hands in his pocket and wore a bored look on his face. You huffed.

"Go have someone else show you the way, then. Y'know, I was actually trying to be nice to you and all. I'm even showing you the shortcut. And now look at how you're treating me." You turned away from him.

"'Trying to be nice'? Please. You haven't asked me how day was going. 'Trying to be nice' my ass."

You ignored his use profanity at such a young age, and you came to a skidding halt; Sukuna even bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly.

"What is your problem!? So what if I haven't asked you how your day was going? SO WHAT? You haven't asked me either. If you don't like me just leave. me. alone!"

"People are so uptight these days," Sukuna shrugged.

"Uptight? UPTIGHT? Please, be my guest, and show me how I'm the uptight one here." You couldn't believe this dude. He's the only other kid in this neighborhood — besides your sibling — and he refuses to be cooperative, kind, nonetheless, a decent person.

The rest of the walk to the grocery store happened in silence. And believe me, the silence was loooouuuuddd. You wholeheartedly believed Sukuna would leave, but he didn't. Which made you even more mad.

The bell above the door chimed when you stepped in the store, out of pettiness, you didn't even hold the door for Sukuna. He scoffed at that, and you turned around to face him. "Well, here you are. The grocery store. Happy now?"

"I'm never happy."

Wow, he must've been dropped on the head as a baby, because he certainly did not get the personality from his grandpa.

You walked through the aisles one by one and searched for the items your mother requested.

Apples and lemons.

You didn't even bother placing them in a bag, insisting on carrying them yourself. Meanwhile, Sukuna was still trailing behind you, much like a lost puppy. His groceries were all in a bag, and he looked ready to pay, but he was still behind you.

Finally, you got sick of his weirdness, and peered over your shoulder to get a look of his face, which was frowning, "Why are you following me?"

He looked like he was pondering, thinking of a way to answer your question. "Girls shouldn't be walking around alone. Especially you."

"Ugh, there you go again. Always thinking you're better than everyone else. And, whaddya mean 'especially me,' huh? You don't think I can handle myself? Are you here to protect me or something? Swooping in to save the day, my knight in shining armor? Seriously, Sukuna."

He groaned, and dragged his free hand down his face, "I came from a not so safe neighborhood. Can't you see I'm just trying to look out for you? If some man came up and harassed you, and I was shopping in some other aisle, would you blame me too?" His voice softened on the last part.

"Forget it, you're right. I'm wrong," you sighed and walked to the register.

When you got home, your mom ushered you inside and hurried to start on the apple pie. You bit your nails as she worked, and she quickly took notice of that.

"Something wrong, sweetie?"

You shook your head, and mouthed a simple "no".

While you were upstairs reading a book, you heard the beeping of the oven, signaling the completion of the baking process. Before you could even put down your book, your mother called out to you from downstairs.

She welcomed you in the kitchen and took great care in wrapping the freshly baked pie in tinfoil and sending you off to the Itadori house. But before that happened, however, she made you memorize your speech, reminding you to inform your next door neighbors of who originally made the pie. And with a soft pat on the back from your mom, you were off.

It was a quarter past 12 o'clock when you finally found the courage to knock on your neighbor's front door. You heard a "coming!" from inside the house, and returned your hand to its side.

Loud footsteps came closer until finally the door was flung open. You were greeted by the sight of Mr. Itadori in a fluffy red robe, and equally fluffy slippers.

"Ah! Y/N. What a pleasant surprise to see you here."

You stuttered a bit, "Hi, Mr. Itadori. My mom and I wanted to formally introduce ourselves, and welcome you to the neighborhood — I didn't mention our very much brief meeting yesterday."

"Oh wow! You can tell your mother I appreciate her kind welcome." He turned his head into the house, and called for, "Sukuna! Come here, boy."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to be a bother—"

"Agh, you children. Always the same. Nonsense, Y/N. Utter nonsense."

Sukuna stood behind his grandpa in record time, his speed surprised you. "What's she doing here?" He sneered. You offered him a glare in return while Mr. Itadori was oblivious.

"Don't be rude to our kind neighbor. She's here to formally introduce herself."

"Again?"

"Yes. Again."

"Whatever."

Your eyes flickered back and forth between the Itadoris' banter. "I've brought some apple pie — my mom baked it."

Mr. Itadori's eyes lightened up as you presented the tinfoil covered dish to him. "It smells delicious! You really didn't have to, my dear."

"It was no big deal, I promise," you laughed (nervously).

"I will put this on the counter, one second," Mr. Itadori walked away, leaving you and Sukuna alone. The taller boy crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway.

"Apple pie? Really? Are you trying to kill me and my grandpa? I'm lactose intolerant. We're lactose intolerant. He just didn't want to seem rude, so he's putting it away."

"Oh. . . uhh, I didn't know that—"

"I can tell. You didn't think to ask first? How considerate of you, Y/N."

You stumbled on your words.

"I'm just messing with you. Apple pie is his absolute favorite."

Your jaw dropped six feet, before you came back to your senses and rolled your eyes, "Did you have to scare me like that?"

He laughed aloud, "Duh. Shoulda seen the look on your face. Priceless!" He continued to laugh, while your expression remained stoic, trying not to laugh as well. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was actually funny.

When his laughter subsided, he cocked his head to the side. "What's with the face? Girls don't know how to joke around or something?"

You frowned.

Mr. Itadori returned to the both of you and patted his grandson on the back. "Well! Thank you again, Y/N. Tell your family I say thanks and appreciate their kindness."

"Of course. I'll be going now." You waved to Mr. Itadori — feigning ignorance to Sukuna — and walked back to your house next door.

When Sukuna and his grandpa sat at their newly assembled dining table, they both couldn't believe how good the apple pie tasted. Sukuna even asked for a second slice.

Mr. Itadori broke the silence, "So, school starts tomorrow."

Sukuna glanced at his elder, and raised a brow.

"Since you don't know anyone else at your new school, you can ask Y/N for help. She'll be in your grade anyway."

Sukuna sighed, "Grandpa, why are girls so difficult?"

"Ohoho," Mr. Itadori's laughter boomed throughout the house. "You're a funny one, Sukuna," and he ruffled his grandson's unruly hair, messing it up more.

[neysaadept]

Prometheus Chapter 4

Emily Prentiss x Female CIA Reader

Chapter 4 - Socially Blocked

Little different chapter style. Hope you enjoy. Also, I have no beta so mistakes are all me.

Tags: Limited use of y/n but established last name. Swearing, mentions of the pandemic and human and sex trafficking. Canon typical violence. Sexual innuendos. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.8k

AO3

Chapter 3

You had joined Prentiss in her office several hours ago to go over the forensic evidence that had come in. Laptop balancing on your thighs, you compile the data and cross reference missing persons with the families that Lewis had been gently consoling until the lab techs worked their magic. This was your nightly ritual with the section chief since joining; identification and providing closure.

What you did during the day was follow her around like a fucking assistant. You were now well versed in FBI budgetary matters, regulatory concerns, and how long new policies would be put into practice. You knew there were countless mind-numbing meetings, but this was insane. Most of the meetings could be cut in half, be done over Zoom, or just not happen at all. Just fucking email one another.

Then there were piles upon piles of paperwork to sort, sign and scan and files to review sent by local law enforcement agencies asking for FBI assistance. Just briefly glimpsing some of the cases made you wonder how one could decide which case mattered more. Go after one psycho but let the less of a psycho go free for the state to handle? Some requests had to be denied general FBI involvement due to a jurisdiction juggling nightmare that needed to be sorted first.

If this was a section chief’s life, how the fuck did Brian survive being the director of the entire CIA?

The more pressing question on your mind was why Prentiss was doing her damnedest in limiting time between you and the rest of the team. Okay, yes, Prentiss didn’t know anything about you, and yes, it was difficult to delegate work to you without knowing all your capabilities, but being a special agent in the CIA meant something.

You just gave the BAU a ton of money! Least you could do something more than be a glorified secretary! Not like you expected time out in the field, you totally understood that was out of bounds, but it’s been three days like this, and it was getting on your nerves. Why were you familiarizing yourself with FBI manuals if all you were good for was be a gopher for Prentiss?

Day 1

1145

Prentiss had given you a quick tour of the bullpen leaving the conference room for last. When you enter, excited to present your sweet offerings, you saw the team was already standing and ready to break. Introductions were made quickly, with almost every team member thanking you for the food and grabbing something.

Luke grabbed a chocolate frosted long john with a grin. “Can’t wait to catch up with you when we get back!”

You blink. Back from … what?

JJ grabbed a handful of macarons with delight, already stuffing one in her mouth as she left. “Dis isz weally nice ov ya!” she said, covering her mouth to not accidentally spew crumbs at you.

Rossi was far more debonair and rounds the choices with an index finger before plucking out a glazed twist, flashing a smile. “Thanks, kid.”

You saw Garcia slipping out quickly without making eye contact.

The hell?!

You open your mouth to say more, but he looks apologetic. “We’ll talk more later. Gotta lot going on right now, but we’ll make time.”

At least Tara had the decency to stop for a few seconds to exchange simply pleasantries. “So nice to finally meet you! Rebecca says nothing but good things.”

You raise a brow and chuckle. “Really?”

Prentiss looks unconvinced as well.

She shrugs and steals a macaron. “Yes, for real. I’ve gotta lot of family interviews and sessions lined up today, but we’ll chat more later.”

Patting you on the shoulder, Tara starts to exit the conference room backwards, pointing at you with promise. “You’re gonna have to tell me all you can about that HSC* in Saxony. Later!”

You sigh with close eyes and your head falls back. These little tidbits were not helping without context for your new boss. Even before you open your eyes to look at Prentiss, you just know she is staring at you with contempt.

Yep. There it is. Just missing an eyeroll.

Without being asked, you take a seat at the table and shove the box towards Prentiss. “We were tailing ISIS members. One decided he could get away when we moved in and learned how very wrong he was about it.”

1315

Prentiss left you to read FBI procedural manuals while she went to meet the deputy director. She had thought it prudent to delay you two crossing paths for as long as possible considering he was not happy with either of you. It was nice to hear that you had something in common with Prentiss. The tiny scrap of connection was something, no matter how pitiful. And you knew Prentiss was happy to upset Bailey.

This leaves you alone for a short time and you decide to use it wisely and check in on Garcia. It was really bothering you why she ignored you earlier today. Yeah, the team was busy with the Sicarius case, but everyone else had acknowledged you as they hurried off. Surely the bold color choices of her ensemble meant she was outgoing and not shy. You didn’t even make polite eye contact.

So, you go by instinct and grab a few left over macarons and position them with purpose on a white paper plate before heading to what you learned was The Lair.

Aware of not barging in on a tech’s work, unless you wanted to have your head bit off, you knock and wait.

“Entrer!’ you hear through the door and smile.

You open the door and poke your head in with a playful grin. “Hey, Garcia.”

The flurry of typing abruptly stops and you see her stiffen. Your grin quickly falls into a frown.

“I’m sorry.” You fully move into the room, noting the same outlandish decor that matches Garcia’s clothing. “I hope I’m not bothering you?” you say hopefully.

“Nope!” She pops the p and goes back to typing. By a cursory glance on what was on the screens, yeah, you had no idea what she was working on.

Garcia said nothing more but the stiff body language and her outright ignoring you once again, made it clear you upset her. Pushing her at this moment would only cause the divide to widen. You barely know each other.

“Well, I saw you didn’t take any treats and brought them to you. Probably hard getting away while you’re …”

“Cataloging important data,” she said quickly, still not looking at you.

“Yeah, so …” you look around and see an open spot on the table to her right. You are careful to not move anything when you put the plate down next to a fuzzy neon green turtle. “Enjoy when you-“

“Hey Garica, I’m jus-“ Prentiss’ fond tone quickly dissolves to accusatory. “You’re supposed to be in my office.”

“And I took a break. That a problem?” you challenge, taking in Prentiss confident posture, hand out before her with the other in her suit pants pocket. She cut quite the authoritative figure.

Garcia keeps typing away but slower so she can concentrate on you and Prentiss.

“No, but I’d appreciate you leaving the team alone while they’re working.” The words sound like a suggestion, but the tone was an order.

“Yeah, sure,” you concede, again, not wanting to cause an unnecessary argument. But first, you bow to the back of Garcia sitting in her chair. “Bon appetit!”

You rise and move pass Prentiss, both of you locking gazes and it ticks you off you had to look away since you were the one leaving.

“Oh, darn it!” whimpers Garcia. “Why?!”

Alarmed, Prentiss walks over to her with concern. “What’s wrong, Penelope?”

With a deeply etched sullen look on her face, she shows Emily the plate you had left. It was a macaron smiley face. One eye was pink, the other blue, and the smile was purple. You chose the bright colors on purpose.

“Why'd she have to do something this cute?!” she complains. “I’m not supposed to like her!”

1750

You roll your head working out the stiffness that settles in your shoulders from being hunched over most of the day on Prentiss’ couch going over manuals and signing off on orientation documents. You had tried various positions to find any source of comfort once joints began to ache. You sat on your ass with feet on the floor, legs on the couch, cross one leg, then the other, then had to stretch them along the couch. Then you said fuck it and placed the laptop on the cushion and laid supine while working and then to top it off, you sat on the floor with the laptop on the couch like a desk not giving any fucks what Prentiss thought.

She offered the couch, not her desk, to work on, and you didn’t want to get all up in her business setting up shop across from her. She’d probably shoot you if you decided to leave for a desk in the bullpen. And oddly enough, when it appeared you were going to get up, she engaged in questions about what you were reading or if you had any concerns. All sterile and by the book, but with suspicious brown eyes trying to figure you out.

It was only day one and you were willing to play the game, not letting her get to you. All in all, it really was a typical first day of boring bullshit. Just without a cubicle.

Eh, you had suffered far worse with even more irate coworkers and direct supervisors. But this felt different. Maybe Brian was right and you weren’t made for the general population. And yes, that meant the people at Quantico.

You weren’t kidding that Prentiss was a legend when you made that quip. Faking her own death to protect that kid and her team was a brilliant self-sacrificing move that you deeply respected. Then as you dug deeper into the team’s background, you gained a deeper respect for the BAU’s work, dedication, and the trauma they’ve been through to keep the people of your country safe.

Of course, you honed in on Prentiss’ work since she was your superior. One assumed if you were CIA or former CIA everyone knew each other and that simply wasn’t the case. While Prentiss was infiltrating Doyle’s criminal organization, you were gathering intel in Afghanistan on al-Qa’ida's operations. You two worked very different operative circles.

Despite your specializations never intersecting professionally until now, on paper, you two should at least get along and have something to talk about then just … whatever this was in her office right now. You both were driven, intelligent women who were dedicated to the people on your team and would protect them at all costs. Your skill sets were complementary and overlapped with being seasoned international operatives, you spoke several languages, focused on counter terrorism, and were awarded many commendations for mission successes and demonstration of skill sets.

But here you are, sitting on the floor of her office like you were her kid finishing homework.

“You should probably head home.”  

You glance over your shoulder and scowl, seeing Prentiss was looking down at a file and not you.

“I don’t mind staying and catching up with all this. Same thing I’d be doing at the apartment. The lab reports are important to review ASAP.” You didn’t want to correct her about what home was and wasn’t.

You look at the files cluttering the desk and cross your lips in thought. “Need any help? Granted, I’m not savvy enough yet on all the FBI lingo but paperwork’s still a bitch however you cut it.”

That made her look up at you. She was motionless as she considered your proposal and your earnest face.

“Thank you, but no.” She looks down again. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Aye, aye, Cap’n.” After you salute, you stand up and stretch, hearing your knees pop. You then grab your laptop and manuals, tucking them under your arms securely.

Note to self, bring a backpack.

You are polite as you walk by, offering a nod she didn’t appear to see. “Night, Prentiss.”

She hums noncommittally but as you drag your eyes away from her desk, you notice something that provides a glimmer of hope.

On a napkin that had been tucked out of view near one of the file stacks was a half-eaten red macaron.

Day 2

0630

You came to Quantico early with a bottle of Diet Coke in hand and your black and grey backpack secure around both shoulders, ready to tackle the day before anyone else got here.

Yet you see a movement coming from Prentiss’ office window and have to stop. She was already here? You squint in thought and presume she had stayed late and came in early – basing this assumption on her work ethic and how every good leader worked themselves ragged on little sleep.

You down some more pop and climb the stairs to her office, gently knocking. She opens the door and you raise a brow at her because she was wearing yesterday’s clothes.

“What are you doing here?” she asks with surprise accusation.

“Wanted an early start. What’s your excuse?” you probe gently.

She thins her lips and steps aside as a silent invitation to come inside. “Sicarius.”

Prentiss didn’t have to say anything further for you to understand the unspoken. She had no one to go home to, so why worry about time and just bury herself in work. And by the time Prentiss realized what time it was, she might as well stay in her office and sleep. She probably had a change of clothing in the closet, and it was easy to freshen up in one of the locker rooms. It was a more productive use of her time than driving home to do the same thing and come right back here. Avoid all that traffic.

You should know. You’ve done it yourself many times.

“Fair enough,” you say without judgement as you drop your backpack on the couch. “Does the team know?”

She reaches for the white FBI seal decorated coffee mug on her desk and frowns. “Know what?”

“That you stay here sometimes.” You knock back several gulps of pop before setting the bottle down on the side table.

After a moment of consideration while sipping her coffee, she looks to you with a narrowing gaze. “No.”

You nod, understanding the silent request. “Secret’s safe with me.”

1233

You were grabbing a cup of coffee for an afternoon pick me up, when you hear slow purposeful footsteps coming closer.

“Like a little coffee with your cream there, kid?” Rossi jokes, coming to stand beside you.

You chuckle. “I do. Bonus if it’s French Vanilla.”

He regards you with wizened eyes, but you could tell he was exhausted with how often he blinks. “How long have you been CIA?”

Oh here we go.

“Long time.” It wasn’t a precise answer, but it also wasn’t a lie.

“Sounds like me and the FBI.” His eyes twinkle with mirth.

“Hey, I’m not that old,” you answer with a grin before taking a sip of coffee.

He laughs as you swallow and continue. “You know, it’s probably not a surprise I know your work, Mr. Writer.”

Rossi acknowledges with a nod. “No, this does not come as a surprise at all.”

You hum, nodding. “Broken Child was the first one I read. Though, I did follow your work with the Gideons closely.”

He smiles with delight. “Really?” Rossi pauses and gestures for you to follow him to continue this conversation elsewhere. You could tell he was fascinated by this. “How far back?”

“Oh, pretty far. As you know, your guys’ work wasn’t all BAU related.”

“True. The CIA did take part of our research for profiling training. And to use for psych evals on operatives.” He smiles. “Am I getting close?”

“Definitely warm.” You smile back. “It was part of my training.”

“You’ll have to tell me more.”

And just as things were becoming interesting with a non-Prentiss member of the BAU, she has to come and ruin it. It’s like the woman had a sixth sense when you were getting too close to one of her teammates.

“Hey, Dave. I need you in the conference room. JJ and Luke have an update on our unsub in Texas.”

“Right.” He holds out his hand, which you take, and he gently squeezes. “I look forward to continuing this later.”

Your smile was bright. Working with Rossi was a perk of agreeing to this. You never thought you’d have the chance to have face to face time with someone who wrote the blueprints for training you, again.

“Yeah, me too.”

He keeps your hand for a moment longer before letting go and looking at Prentiss. “You sure the kid can’t just listen in?”

You try not to look eager and utterly fail. You just know you got the sad puppy dog eyes going. Which, of course, doesn’t work on the leery section chief. “Whitlock has promised to help me with paperwork. Isn’t that right?”

Fucking hell! She’s using generosity from last night as an excuse to keep me busy. ARGH!

Of course, you’re not going to call her out on it as you really did offer to help and meant it. You manage to keep the disappointment hidden from your voice and raise your cup to her. “Indeed, I did.”

“You can start with scanning the reports on top of my desk calendar.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” you salute carefully with your coffee hand and wander off.

As you are leaving, Rossi looks to Prentiss with a knowing look. “You do know she might be able to help us with the case. You just don’t want her to.”

Emily heard the unspoken question of why. “We barely know anything about her. I don’t need a wildcard fucking anything up.”

“Emily. Come on. She’s a seasoned CIA operative. We could pick her brain while she’s here instead of hiding her away in your office. Actually use her as a consultant.”

“You just like her because she read your books,” she fires back sarcastically.

“Well, yeah, but that’s not the point…”

1435

Whitlock: I hate this place

You were chatting with Brian on the CIA secure network on your laptop instead of your phone to avoid making Prentiss press as to what you were doing. You even silenced the chat notifications

Korogoth: It’s only the second day.

Whitlock: All I’m doing is reading and paperwork :(

Whitlock: Prentiss keeps socially blocking me!

Korogoth: What does that even mean?

Whitlock: I’m stuck in her office all day and when I need to go do something, she’s always up my ass. And when I’m free and have time to chat the team up, she magically shows up and stops it. It fucking sucks!

Whitlock: Stuffs coming in with the big case and I get to know nothing.

Whitlock: So all I do is read the FBI shit, which I know I need to do and scan in shit. I’m a over qualified secretary

Whitlock: UGH

Korogoth: Regretting it?

Whitlock: Yes

Whitlock: No

Whitlock: Maybe. Helping the families find closure is important tho.

Whitlock: And … I got to speak to Rossi for a sec

Korogoth: … and?

Whitlock: I told him I was a big fan :D

Korogoth: LOL really?

Whitlock: Why is that so funny?!

Whitlock: :P

Korogoth: What did you talk about?

Whitlock: That I read his books and papers.

Whitlock: With the Gideons

Korogoth: *facepalm*

Korogoth: Tread carefully missy.

Whitlock: ;)

Present Day

1145

JJ had returned earlier this morning with Luke and was now sitting with Garcia at her desk in the bullpen. They were focused on whatever was on Garcia’s computer and were animatedly discussing something about a message app behind a weather one.

You start to head over there but Prentiss comes in with Bailey and the deputy director makes a bee line right for you.

Ah, fuck.

You beat him to the introductions and hold out your hand towards him. “Hello Deputy Director Bailey. Special Agent Whitlock.”

“Yes, I know who you are.” He does not take your hand, and you curl it into a fist before dropping it. “I’m surprised it’s taken us this long to be formally introduced.” His tone was dripping with malice as he scrutinizes Prentiss.

Before Prentiss can react, you jump in to defend her. You hate high profile dickwards like him. “Well, there’s a lot going on with orientating me to FBI standards. Can’t go all CIA on your protocols.” You smile patronizingly. “Gotta be by the book, right?”

“Despite her unorthodox addition to the team, it’s prudent her training remains up to FBI standards,” Prentiss adds while Bailey attempts to stare you down.

He wasn’t even pathetically cute. Just … pathetic. The deputy director’s appearance was far too clean cut and pristine. He didn’t have that disgruntled tone that revealed years of field work that jaded an agent. There was no desensitized look in his eyes, just bureaucratic contempt.

“I’m glad to hear that. It takes months for an agent to go through training at Quantico, Whitlock. You wouldn’t want to diminish their hard work with the quick pass you’ve gotten.”

You smile sweetly.

What an asshole.

“We’re all on the same side, even though we’re on different teams, Deputy Director.” You lean forward with promise. “I won’t besmirch the good name of the FBI.”

Then your eyes drag over to Prentiss’ and soften. “I’m here to help.”

1345

You see the team assembled in the bullpen and have no idea what they’re talking about because you are in Prentiss’ office sorting paperwork. Your sincere invitation for Prentiss to trust you when Bailey was here was ignored.

1437

You are slowly dying inside sitting in on a budget meeting with Prentiss …

1634

… and then an advisory meeting with the DOJ. Too bad Rebecca wasn’t here but then that would be socializing.

You two chatted briefly after your first day and made a promise to properly catch up when you could. With your schedules, it’ll be difficult but with how things are going. Well, more her schedule than yours …

1930

You come back from your introspection that had occurred over the last few days and try to focus on the unfinished email you were drafting for Lewis. The problem is that the words remain blurry, and you are unable to concentrate to type the rest of your thoughts. Your thoughts are swimming around the fact that in the three days you have been at Quantico all you've been is snubbed by the woman currently ignoring you at her desk.

You close your laptop and rise to take a seat across from Prentiss. Her mouth hangs open, with what you presume would be a line of questioning as to where you were going to go, and instead found you seated before her. Your boldness took her by surprise.

“Ah, yes?” she asks cautiously. “Something wrong with the lab reports?”

She was well aware if you had an issue with the reports, you would have said something from the couch. As you have done before.

“No. Just, you.”

You know you should be more patient like Brian encouraged you to be. Let Prentiss take the lead and integrate you into the unit. But you weren’t stupid. You can read the room, and the room wanted you far away from the members of the BAU.

Prentiss straightens up with wide eyes at the audacity of your words. “Excuse me?”

“No, you’re not excused. Not unless you can tell me why you’re keeping me all to yourself,” you respond flippantly.

She licks the back of her bottom teeth before it drags along her lower lip. Oh yes, Prentiss is ready to throw down with you. You see how her pupils blow wide at being provoked and she caps her pen before her. “All right. You want to do this? Let’s do this.”

The pen drops, as does the pretense before you.

“I don’t know you. But I do know I can’t trust you. Anyone I can’t trust is a danger to my people and therefore, you get to stay the hell away from them.”

You throw your hands up in celebration. “Finally! A real conversation.” You lower your arms and lean back, resting a leg over the opposite knee. “I’m sorry I can’t be completely forthcoming about everything about me. But that’s not my call. My shit’s sealed for a reason but it’s not because I did anything illegal. I'm sure that's what you're worried about."

“Then why did you need a lawyer?” she presses.

Fuck.

“I can’t say.”

She shakes her head with displeasure. “Of course you can’t. Because good agents don't need help covering up their messes.”

“Oh come the fuck on, Prentiss. Wilson’s a good person. A good lawyer. She helped me because …” You grit your teeth because you need to collect your thoughts before you say too much. You inhale deeply and uncross your legs to lean forward, gesturing with open hands for understanding. “… because it was a call I had to make. Follow orders and have people die. Or I did what I did. Which I was absolved of, ya know. That's gotta count for something?"

Without knowing the exact circumstances of what you did, you weren’t sure if Prentiss would care or not. You could have disobeyed orders because they were truly the wrong call or your superior was compromised in some way, or this was a cover up because you fucked up. You are hoping that she thinks the former because of dropping Wilson’s name as a good person and lawyer. Which is all true!

You watch as she subtly shakes her head, at war with her thoughts. “But there’s nothing about you. You barely exist. I can’t just accept you if there's nothing to back up your claims. So, you’re a means to an end for me. For the BAU.”

Wow. Pretense is so gone now ...

“You know, I’ve been thinking of myself as your highly paid secretary, but hey,” you roll your eyes, “let’s go with CIA sugar mama.”

“See that,” she points at you with indignation. “That right there’s why I can't take you seriously. You’re fucking lack of respect. Making jokes that are way outta line.”

“Oh fuck you and your wine addiction.” Yeah, you went there, gesturing to the half empty bottle. The woman downed a one a night and that was only what you saw. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had more. “Least I use humor to mask the trauma of my past instead of drowning it with alcohol and work.”

“How dare you make fucking assumptions about me,” she snaps, voice raising to meet yours.

You audibly scoff and rise, Prentiss doing the same. “You’ve been doing it the whole time since we met, let alone profiling me. Which I get, since you don’t know shit about me. But at least I was trying to get along with you despite the fucking cold shoulder. I ain’t expecting to be best friends but you don’t need to be a bitch about the situation.”

You turn around to grab your things, knocking over several empty Diet Coke bottles that you balanced on the couch arm.

“And where do you think you’re going?”

“Leaving your delightful presence.” You stuff your backpack with your laptop and books. “I’ve had more than enough of this shit.”

You miss the moment of panic on Prentiss’ face since your back was turned. Her mind was reeling with the ramification of what this could mean. Are you leaving for good? If you weren’t working with the BAU on paper the contract would be in breach. Pride kept her from asking you to clarify as she watches you storm off and slam the door behind you.

Emily grits her teeth as she leans over her desk, trying to stop her hands from shaking. She gives up, the anxiety of the situation she finds herself in too much and pulls the top left drawer open of the desk to get the pack of cigarettes stashed there. She quickly lights up and takes a long drag off the cigarette, unable to fight her trembling lips as she blows the smoke free.

“Fuck…”

What was she doing to do?

*High Speed Chase

Chapter 5

[sheepispink]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑬𝑺𝑪𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑶𝑪𝑶𝑳 ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: First Impressions

wc: 2.7k

It’s been three months since you first started your job at the division of security operations, a dream you’ve had since you were little. You’ve always wanted to be part of something meaningful, even if you were just a small function in the code. Speaking of code, you hoped to be on the technological side of things, never having really been a hands-on person—well, at least not confrontational hands-on like this job requires. You’d figured it was the perfect choice; what job wasn’t desperate for another programmer? The research you did on this place was insane; you wanted to make the best impression and land a job straight out of university, and your hard work paid off because pretty soon you got that letter. It was an assistant position for some random manager. Okay, maybe it wasn’t exactly what you hoped, but everyone started somewhere. Besides, experience gets you places you were sure you’d learn something in the time you spent working under them. Right?

Wrong. You rock back and forth on your chair for the third time that hour, absolutely bored out of your mind like a little kid restrained from toys. Sorting out the filing cabinets was suddenly the least of your problems when they gave you access to at least a hundred emails to read through. Not to mention your manager practically gave you permission to respond to them however you see fit (not without a glare and warning if you said something stupid, though). Every day you clicked a stupid delete button, the more you started wondering if this was an internship or just absolute hell. Once you hear your manager’s footsteps approaching again, you sit back up with a long sigh, knowing you could either continue this work or sit in a toilet stall and play games on your phone. The latter was looking more tempted by the second, but you quickly reminded yourself that you’re 23 now, and this is work! Clicking on the first email, you’re quick to delete another empty report from an intern.

Your eyes flitter over the next few emails, clicking away mindlessly before you pause..an escort is needed? Only two emails in, and this one seems a little different from the usual data assignment in an Excel document. This one was addressed by another manager, and damn, their title sounds fancy even if you don’t know what the hell it means. You sit up in your seat as your finger runs against the mousepad of the laptop, scrolling down the page. This could well be the stupidest thing to consider. Who would actually consider being an escort to some random agent all the way to Miami?? And stay there until he’s done?? In your own hotel?!

You, that’s who. You didn’t care if he made you carry his luggage or if you did paperwork for the whole plane trip. This could be your big break, working with an actual, experienced agent. If you could just help him out a smidge, that could take you a mile in your work! Peeking over your desk, you make sure your manager isn’t looking before quickly writing back the most sophisticated response along with a quick mention of your name as a candidate. You’d probably be screwed if he did find out you practically promoted yourself on his behalf, but realistically, he won’t. The chair creaks as you lean back again, groaning softly as you remember that an email response will definitely take a week to come back.

Before you know it, you're already switching departments and knee-deep in a tonne of new documents to fill out for the trip. Why the hell hadn’t this agent gotten his passport renewed?! ‘Does he never go on holiday?? Is he an overworker or just the biggest shut-in ever??” You weigh up all the options as you step your way into the small desk space they allowed you to occupy, your hands preoccupied with a laptop, papers, and way too many things in your head. Oddly, this busy office block feels like home, like the corridors of your university cafeteria. This also means you know how to manoeuvre through this situation with ease, getting to your desk quickly and efficiently with no awkward interactions. Though you used to take your time and wish you’d bump into the love of your life and he’d pick up your books, you wanted this job so badly that it was out the window. Thankfully, this had been one of the best first weeks you could have so far; it was practically second nature—

You bite your lip so hard that you can’t tell if the pain is from the blood on your teeth or the hot coffee seeping through the back of your new shirt. Groaning softly, you turn to face the culprit, hoping that they’ll be nice about it like you were. Accidents happen, you think; maybe he just slipped. After all, there’s probably a bunch of interns here too; they’d be in a much worse position than you. But there's no culprit waiting to say sorry or offer to fix your shirt—only a man swerving through the crowds with a suspicious coffee mug that is only half full as he rushes through. Great. Not even a prince charming who will pay for your dry cleaning.

It’s only a few days later when that same man walks by again, and again, and again, until eventually he stops in front of your desk. You lift your eyes from the small little corner you own, stacks of paperwork before you, just because the agent you were escorting was that important.

“Hey- you’re my escort, right?”

And unfortunately, that agent was this man before you. Yes, you would have thrown a fit about the coffee; yes, you would have refused to work with him or forced him to apologise. But damn, you just really wanted that job.

You nod your head, sitting up a little straighter as you push away any of the burning distaste for him and give him a polite look. “Yes, I’m your escort.”“You sure..? I mean.. you kind of just look like any odd intern, no offense. Actually, the interns get a better desk than you.” His blue eyes pierce into you, one hand rubbing at the stubble on his jaw as he raises an eyebrow at you. Only now have you actually gotten a full look at him and his well… unkept appearance. His hair is tousled, stray pieces fall over his face, and dark bags tug his eyes down. If you had to predict his future, you’d be sure he’s on the path to being the embodiment of a die-hard metal fan. You also had a pretty confident guess he’d end up being the boyish lazy agent upon seeing how he grabs one of the sweets off your small pot and pops it into his mouth.

“I can show you the documents, Mr. Kennedy, if you really want—I’m pretty sure I'm your escort.” His words had annoyed you a little, but you couldn’t just get angry at him. He’s practically a veteran agent, and it’s clear that he doesn’t even know you existed before today; no one really has.“I’ve had enough of doing paperwork; I’m just glad you’re doing mine. So, what have you got planned for me, escort?” He’s a little sassy, it seems, definitely not what you had expected, but you just had to remember to stay professional and keep to expectations. You stifle a sigh as you begin talking again. Maybe this really was a bad idea.

At first it didn't seem to be too bad; you’d carry his important documents stiffly as you escorted him to the meeting with another high ranking official or the like. Even if they were boring, you had to remind yourself that life had its stepping stones, and you’d just have to work yourself through this one to be able to comfortably pay your rent this month on top of chasing your dream. He’d disappear some days off on a mission before he’d come back looking far more grouchier than before. It only seemed to worsen as you soon came to realise that, in the simplest words, Leon had just as much hope left for himself as Chris Redfield did—which was in the depths of hell. You’ve watched him be shouted at numerous times in the passing days over lost work, unfinished reports, denial of missions, and straight up.. slacking off. It was concerning to say the least, and you’re starting to regret all of this already. Most days he barely even had a routine, too hungover from last night’s drinking session to think twice before he started another one at midday.

“Um.. Mr. Kennedy?” You have to speed walk just to catch up to his long strides as he heads towards the exit of this DSO building, already beelining for the bar. “What?” His voice is sharp and barely restrained as he slightly turns his head only to catch a glimpse of you and your meek face trying to ask him something. “Oh, it's just you, escort. What do you want now?” He raises an accusing brow at you as if you had just interrupted something so very important with something that seemed to have the significance of the size of an ant.

“Well, I need you to fill in these documents—“ You begin before he cuts you off, rolling his eyes at your words. “So? Just put it on my desk. Can’t you escorts do anything right?” That only makes you grit your teeth in anger— how dare he insult you because of his grouchy behaviour? “Mr. Kennedy, you told me that last week, and you still haven't done it!”

“Exactly, I told you to do that. So just do it.” With that, he reaches the double doors that lead to exit the building, pushing past into the evening air and leaving you dejected in the lobby.

You couldn’t just let that go, obviously not, so you’d return to his desk every day and slap down another high stack of paperwork onto his desk. If that's what he wanted, so be it—he can deal with it when he practically can't see over his desk. You have a smirk on your face as you contemplate that, imagining him huffing as he goes through the stacks.

However, you’re only met with horror as you realise he’s not even at his desk, already heading down the corridor with a bottle of beer in his hand again. What the hell? You want to scream right now because there is no way you could have landed a job this badly. Yeah, you’re a bit of a hard worker, but this is the DSO—you have to be one. This occurs more and more frequently, watching as he just saunters down to the bar again or maybe to the balcony for a smoke; either way, he doesn't intend to look at a single word of the work set out for him.

It gets to the point where you have Chris coming for you too, asking where the hell the mission reports are, but all you can do is show him the place where Leon’s desk is, the reports overflowing. The agent begins to dislike you after that, scolding you for “snitching” him to Chris and then stating he’s had enough of your persistence. So, instead, he tries to annoy you and slaps twenty dollars in your hands. “Go buy me a bottle of beer, and then i want you to go to that diner down the road, order the special, but specify that I want no mayo in the burger and a seedless bun”

So of course, you trudge yourself down the road to the diner, pickup the food all while cursing him out before returning only to be met with another twenty dollars and another order. This repeats again, and again, and he seems to seethe each time you give him that same unfazed look upon your face.

In the past four weeks of this job, somehow you had dropped from earth to hell and then lower. It was like he was actively trying to kick you out of this place, and if you didn't have the paycheck and a dream right now, you’d go in a heartbeat.

You didn’t realise the severity of the situation until you’re panicking on a Monday morning, trying to find him because you both have to be at a meeting in ten minutes and he still hasn't clocked in for his shift. You’ve practically begged every security employee to tell you if they see him, knowing that Chris might just have your head if you don't get there in time. It’s even worse that the meeting is twenty minutes away from the DSO building you’re always at—this is a guaranteed failure. The phone goes to voicemail again, so you reluctantly decide to just attend the meeting anyway. You usually weren't allowed to sit inside with him, but the least you could do was give them an apology to save the DSO some face. Even if they wouldn't take ‘I have no idea where he is’ as an excuse.

You stop outside the building, cheeks flushed from the cold since the traffic was so bad outside you had to jog over to the building. Taking the lift up to the meeting room, the other attendees give you a dirty look, assuming you were some stupid intern in the wrong place. Their looks almost made you cower, but you know you aren't doing anything wrong. “Excuse me, sir.”

You stand awkwardly in front of the meeting’s host, your body awfully rigid from your next words. “Yes?” He looks at you with disdain, not expecting to be spoken to by some kid.

“The agent I'm escorting here, Mister Kennedy, will be a little bit late or may as well not turn up at all. I.. uh, hope you understand?” You attempt to explain, not really sure how to word this.

What you didn't expect was for the man to grow furious, slamming his hand against the wooden table, which immediately made the entire room stop their menial chatter to stare. “What do you mean he’s not coming? He’s our top agent.” He barks out, and you have no idea what to say, backing up from him as you fumble.

“I’m sure he’ll be here soon, but—“

“You’re only sure? What kind of escort are you?”

The red that coats your cheeks is humiliating, deepening with each second the silence continues on for. You grit your teeth, muttering out apologies as fast as you can before he eventually dismisses you, and you’re halfway down the stairs before you know it. The back of your hand wipes your face, small tears forming in your eyes at all the gazes fixed on you.

If that hadn't taken the cake, you didn't know what did. To think that he was getting away with all of this was a severe understatement; he was slowly deteriorating his own life from his habits. He’d been kicked off missions permanently now, and then work for him started slowly dwindling. It sounded good—less work right? Wrong. He was practically a week away from being fired altogether, which also kissed your job bye bye. The interns had already begun to snicker about it, even going as far as to ask you questions about him as well. As much as you hated his guts for his behaviour, you hated the sneers on their faces even more. It was the third time you’ve given them a dirty look now, even going as far as silencing one with a sharp glare. You couldn't help but scoff, a mere intern trying to mock an experienced agent? Who the hell did they think they were?

However, after another week passes with little to no improvement, you couldn't deny that the longer this continued, they wouldn't even have someone to mock anymore. The issue was, what the hell could you even do? Chris had fully given up on him at this point, as had most of the operatives here, and as much as you hated it, it seemed like you were his last hope.

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Next Series Masterlist

[fantasticallyfruity4]

Thinking about a coffee shop au where Steve works at Joyce’s coffee shop and I’m ngl It’s a little unhinged.

So Steve stays working at Joyce’s coffee shop, and when he starts he learns one of the resident regulars is a young pre teen girl named Max. She never orders anything, she just comes in, waves to whoever’s working (says “hi Jon” and “hey Joyce” by name but doesn’t seem to know the rest of the baristas like that), and sits herself down at a small table and starts her schoolwork.

By the second time Steve sees her and sees (what he realizes is a daily routine) Joyce bring her either some fruity sweet iced tea lemonade concoction, a matcha, a chai latte, or a mocha and give her a kiss on the cheek, he understands there’s some kind of relationship there. Which is confirmed when he watches Jonathan go sit beside her on his break and crack jokes, catching up with her (and bring her a snickerdoodle) the second time he sees her.

And he knows Joyce’s 3 kids, will, Jonathan and el. By name by story by photo. So he knows this isn’t Joyce’s kid.

So he asks Robin, one of his new co workers he’s become fast friends with.

And so he’s slowly filled in.

“The red head- Oh, max! Yeah. She’s Billy’s sister”

“Who the fuck is Billy?” Steve asks, even more lost. They don’t work with a ‘Billy’.

Robins eyes look uneasy, before they come back.

“Okay, so max is el- you know Joyce’s girl- els best friend. Her older brother is a guy named Billy”

Steve’s even more confused. Joyce’s younger kids- the twins- don’t spend much time in the shop. So why does Els friend hang out here? Well-

“Well, billy works a lot. He’s in college-the one a few blocks away- and he has a full time job and he has a part time job on the weekends and sometiems he even helps out here if joyce needs it, so he’s really busy and not home alot. And because Billy’s a broke college kid with a kid to raise he’s pretty broke so they don’t live in like, the best part of town. So Billy worry’s about her being home alone all afternoon. Sooo she comes here after school. Usually billy picks her up, sometimes Joyce takes her home, but she’s a really good kid. She stays here just so joyce can keep an eye on her and give Billy some peace of mind.”

Steve’s still confused. “Okay… but like where’s their parents? Weird situation don’t you think?”

That uneasy look is back.

“So um. Billy’s actually her step brother, ex step brother? I don’t know. But he’s got full legal guardianship and custody of her at this point and that’s the big thing that matters. Maxs mom kinda fucked off and started drinking herself to death, and Billy’s dad-“.

Robin took a deep breath. “He’s serving a few decades for domestic violence, domestic abuse, child abuse, battery and attempted homicide charges. Most of that shit on billy.”.

Him and max don’t really talk to much. It’s not that he has beef with a 12 year old he just doesn’t know her. And it would be kinda weird to go around making friends with little girls.

But one day he’s making a grilled cheese in the back, and he turns around to green eyes boring into his soul.

“Hey max. You okay?”

“Yeah. Whatcha making? It smells good?”

Steve chuckled.

“Mozzarella, Swiss, bacon and cheddar on sourdough. Fancy grilled cheese. Do you want half?”

And her eyes light up.

“Really?”

“Yeah, of corse”.

And just like that Steve is her best friend. And he makes her a sandwich every day. He understands joyce and Jonathan now. It’s very easy to just adore this sweet kid.

And when els around?

They’re the cutest thing. Young, 12 year old puppy love. It’s the cutest thing on earth. Just all giggles and smiles.

But it takes months for Steve to meet Billy. Usually he either clocks out before Billy arrives (and he now says goodbye to max by name) or when he closes it happens to be Joyce’s nights bringing her home.

So when he first meets Billy, he simply doesn’t know he’s meeting Billy.

A gorgeous, but exhausted looking fella comes in one evening, Steve’s breath is taken away.

“Hey”

“Hey”

“Can I get an americano with a pump of caramel and an extra shot”.

Steve nods. “Any dairy?” “Still have oat milk or out for the day?”

Steve looks in the fridge. “You’re in luck, handsome”

The man looks up with surprised blush.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it. What I owe ya?”

“Don’t worry about it” Steve winks.

“I told Joyce to stop doing this; she does too much for us” the pretty man chuckles and sighs and a moment of confusion hangs before Steve’s eyes light up.

Joyce? He knows- us? Too much for- oh-

“Oh my god! You’re Billy-“

And Billy looks confused. “Maxs brother, yeah? “

“Yeah yeah that’s me. Um-“

“Sorry- sorry had no idea. Sorry wasn’t a joyce coffee on the house thing that was me trying to flirt with you. I’m sorry-“

“Don’t be sorry- you were hitting on me?”

They’re both taken away from the conversation by maxs voice as the girl walks out of the bathroom.

“Billy?” “Hey shortstack” he greets, welcoming her hug. Or her flinging herself onto his back. Oh. Aww.

“What are you doing here?”

“Night class got canceled, figured I’d come getcha as a little surprise and we’d have a girls night, some scary movies anddddd some Mac and cheese?”.

And it’s kinda sweet, you know. Billy’s canceled class was clearly a surprise. To max and Joyce too. He coulda taken the night for himself. Go to a bar, a club.

But he’d rather have quality family time with his kiddo.

Steve’s a goner. He knew from those big blonde curls the second they walked in the door but now he really knows.

[canonsinthehead]

Naruto Modern AU/Hollywood pt.1 - The Uchiha Family & Sasuke.

All types of reasons have led certain people to the level/status of celebrity. We will explore it in this Modern AU of Naruto. Oh yes, starting a new project (regardless of all the stuff in the drafts) as a means to share my lore and practice digital art.

They are your typical influential family/lineage/clan in the world of celebrity-dom and Hollywood. Taking their root foundation in Madara Uchiha who made a lot of money exploiting the land’s abundant minerals along with Hashirama Senju when they created Konoha. He built the foundation block of the Country’s central bank and police department. Yes, Madara lost most of his wealth through the years to the sin of gambling and failed business ventures. To this point of being a historical comedic fact of the past, his descendant Fugaku Uchiha had to rebrand and start with a "fresh foot" in a different industry; Technology & Scientific Lobbying/Investing. Along with ownership in the industrial prison complex but he’s not telling you the second part.

Finances magazine "The Ryô Treasury" loves to paint Fugaku as a self-made businessman who worked hard and won the investment lottery. These types of publications love to omit to the public the fact that anyone in the Uchiha clan born after Madara is technically a trust fund kid/nepo baby. Fugaku included since like most of his close and distant relatives were born into the higher class regardless of the money Madara lost throughout the years.

Many historians and the media do their best to conceal the depth of the influence Madara had on the country of fire and cover it up with the "billionaire gone broke" narrative because he had controversial political and social views that led to his fall apart from Hashirama Senju centuries ago.

Many industries go to the higher clans like the Hyuuga, Uchiha, Aburame & Senju for funding since they own a lot of the country’s resources and various entities. It’s hard to tell because it is well concealed on purpose like how the cheap wine you buy at the grocery store comes from a vineyard owned by a Senju who operates under a different surname.

With all that status and money, Fugaku married Mikoto (from an unknown background) and created the main and most popular unit of his clan with his two sons: Itachi and Sasuke.

Let’s Start with Sasuke:

He lived, along with his older brother, the typical luxury childhood with a large main mansion, a cottage summer home in France, maids, going to a 7-star school no one can find on Google Maps &, etc. The intense security of such a sheltered childhood created a rebellious fire in him. So, out of the blue at 18yo packed his bags and left his parents' house without warning. He settled on the rough side in the major city of Konoha to reinvent himself. After discarding his surname and blow-drying his hair, he dived into one of his hidden passions; music. With his dad’s funds, purchased a few guitars and started to compose music. Not only for pure love for the art form but in the hope of making a name for himself, to stand on his own feet and not hide in his brother’s shadow anymore. The fact that Itachi’s career was taking off around that time was pocking at his justified sibling inferiority complex (but he’ll never admit it).

After many trials and errors, he was able to befriend a few people while still refusing to disclose his identity. Like a random young guitarist coming up from the struggle, he created the punk rock band Taka along with Suigetsu (2nd guitar), Karin (bass), and Juugo (drums). They went from performing in small clubs to selling out large venues and becoming the most recognizable punk rock figure of their era and sending them on tours across different cities and countries.

Keep in mind they were able to pierce the market in Iwagakure due to the large rock music scene bringing a new sound standing out from the traditional heavy metal of the country of stone. They couldn’t say the same about other large cities like Sunagakure and Kumogakure who were at that time close to the outside musical influences until recently.

Sasuke took pride in his achievements accomplished without his father’s connections. The band was extremely popular among teens and young adults for their good music, edgy aesthetic, and participation in the punk/emo subculture.

 Let’s not lie, a lot of their female fanbase was in love with the handsome lead singer Sasuke. He was an iconic punk/emo fashion icon for his legendary smoky under-eye makeup and spiky hair. All the members rocked some type of spiky haircut as well who were immensely popular at the time. Regardless of the focus on Sasuke, many of their fans love Suigetsu with his unique looks, great sense of humor, and certified crowd-hyping skills. Karin, the one and only e-girl punk girly, and Juugo, the sweet muscular teddy bear drummer who composed a lot of the band’s songs along with Sasuke. Their sound is akin to Red Jumpsuit Apparatus’s Don’t You Fake It and early day Paramore.

Unfortunately, the band disbanded 5 years later for many reasons. First, punk rock’s popularity fell by the wayside and was outshined by rap & hip hop from Kumo (this era was short-lived). Also, Sasuke realized that all the members were growing apart in different ventures for their lives:

- Sasuke: By mistake, his family name was discovered. Somehow, he avoided the fraud accusation but realized he didn’t want to be a singer all his life. He outgrew it Also his father finally reached out to him and promised to guarantee his son’s future career venture if he came back so they could play into the "influential family" unit image Fukagu wanted to create (think of the Kardashians). Being interested in modeling, Sasuke complied.

- Suigetsu: Always wanted to do something in his hometown (Kiri). He kind of went off the spotlight, rumors say he is working with artists from Kiri and is a DJ wearing a full-face helmet, so we might never know…

- Juugo: Always known he had a talent and passion for photography, so he pursued it as a career. After putting a few portfolios out here, he was recruited by the renowned fashion, designer Orochimaru and it’s in his circles where he met A-List fashion model, Kimimaro. They are now engaged.

- Karin: She is now a bass and guitar instructor at the most prestigious music Academy in Konoha. The breakup was tougher on her for many reasons but the fact that Sasuke started dating and is now married to the professional wrestler and fitness influencer Sakura Haruno played a huge role in it at the time but she’s now comfortable with their relationship, and she became the godmother of his daughter.

All these things happening at the same time made the disbandment a little smoother to digest for them but was a huge shock for their fans.

Sasuke is now a model operating under Orochimaru. His handsome looks, talent, and father’s connections allowed him to make a name for himself. He keeps lending juicy contracts left and right. For some reason, he has regained pride in his family name and wears it publicly. Despite his efforts, he is back to being the Young brother in his parents’ eyes, but he doesn’t care anymore. Him and Itachi are 2 distinct entities at this point and get rarely mentioned together in most professional settings.

Sasuke is now busy and married with a daughter named Sarada. He can’t let these ideas get to him since he has a relatively good public image and enjoys his privacy (he doesn’t share too much about himself or his family with the public). He has blatant rudeness towards paparazzi, interviewers, and anyone talking to him. Pretty privilege allows him to be labeled as an introvert and keep it pushing.

next part

[tigerdrop]

Got any fun thoughts to share about Ford and Bill?

they drive me crazy dude. i have a lot to say about them so im putting it under a readmore

ive been billpilled for 1 million years dog. hes like the Blueprint. bills the perfect entity to me: terrifying shapeshifting demon who can slip into every corner of your mind and read all your thoughts and memories. and also hes a cartoon character with noodle arms and a cute shape. and hes a pathetic worm whos hung up on his human ex. and hes a funny little guy whos playful and mean and delights in tormenting you but juuuust enough so that he doesnt break you. Hes so awesome

like. listen. this isnt going to be a surprise if youve read literally anything ive ever written. but if bill possessed ford and slammed his hand in a car door and got a kick out of it and put him in a funny little outfit id be fine about it. ford was literally in a 24/7 freeuse lifestyle with him so why WOULDNT he

yeah im kind of a masochist. Why do u ask

put his ass in a horny neurotic guys body and see what happens. hit his dick with a cartoon mallet for fun. slap him around a little. feels cool and neat! like "human bodies are so responsive, huh" said while blanfords about to jam a fork into an outlet (thats my name for it btw. Im not looking it up)

what if i hurt you?? what if i dropped you??? Just kidding :-)

i dont know how much genuine sexual pleasure bill would get out of it so much as the thrill and novelty of a new human sensation but i think that could be fun in and of itself. jacking off with another guys body in a weirdly distant way like Haha Wow. Im getting kind of flustered here! (actively jamming a coke bottle into his pussy)

and the thing that really drives me crazy about ford is how much fetish shit he thinks about/makes inventions for/has inflicted upon him. i think in the series finale hes tied up like 3 fucking times. its insane. he wants to give up control of his body so fucking bad dude!!!!! (exhibit A: ford going limp like a kitten whenever hes picked up. it happens more than once.)

and theres even more contrived bondage bits in the deleted scenes! its maddening. hes an insane obsessive bdsm-lifestyling pervert and hes likethe ideal guy to match bills freak

hes soooo fucking easy. its so much fun to me. theres something really erotic about the way bill makes him feel special about his hands......like.......its naked flattery but its also kinda true. its weird. he likes weird shit. and ford falls for it soooo easy. drives me nuts

now walk with me. think about how easy that same interaction would transfer to ford being transgender. and your not allowed to get mad at me bc this is just my thing now

its so strange! kind of captivating. bills been around the block but the western conception of transmasculinity is so recent that for him it might as well be a blink of the eye. so i think it would be new to him. especially given when he actually makes a deal with ford. just another special thing about his special little guy. he *knew* there was something about ford

and to be frank i think that if you were a transmasc pervert in the 70s and a dream demon came along that understood you inside and out and can make all of your bizarre fantasies come true. well. you would have been fucking stupid not to fuck him

i need to read the book of bill so fucking bad bc the extra context of bill being super hung up on ford drives me CRAZY!!!! i love bitter lovestruck jerks. i love divorce. and i think they could and should hook up again. bad guys that are reluctantly forced to stop being so bad are so much fun and fords huge fucking ego didnt go anywhere. i think bill could convince ford to give him a second chance. at least just to hook up for old times sake

anyway. im making a bill itabag. Gotta go

[lanawrx]

Hi! A request for initial d. Getting a drunk confession from Keisuke. Thanks :)

A Drunken Confession || Keisuke Takahashi || GN!Reader

a/n: heya!! sorry for the wait! I just got done with my second chem exam of the semester lol. I <3 chemistry but it also kicks my ass fr. women in stem problems!

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You and Keisuke had been friends for what felt like forever. From the days when he was the loudest, cockiest kid on the block, running around with that reckless streak, to now—still just as bold but somehow calmer, more grounded. There’d always been this… thing between you. Neither of you ever acknowledged it out loud, and maybe you liked it that way, the secret thrill of a friendship with hints of something more. But tonight, all those years of playful flirting and unspoken feelings would surface.

Keisuke leaned against the couch, cheeks flushed from the few drinks you’d shared, a grin plastered across his face as he looked at you. “You know,” he slurred, sounding unusually tender and sloppily dramatic, “if I weren’t so amazing, I’d say you’re the most amazing person I know.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a new one. Are you actually calling me amazing, or is that just the beer talking?”

“No, no,” he said, waving his hand dramatically and almost tipping over. You reached out to steady him, and he grabbed your hand, squeezing it tight as he looked into your eyes. “You’re, like, really amazing. Best friend I ever had. And maybe… maybe more.”

Your stomach did a small flip, though you tried to brush it off with a laugh. “Is that right? Well, someone’s had too much to drink tonight.”

Keisuke just gave you that cheeky grin of his, half-lidded eyes sparkling with some wild mix of admiration and sincerity. “I mean it,” he said, squeezing your hand a little tighter, and then—out of nowhere—he pressed it to his chest, right where his heart beat fast and hard beneath your fingertips. “Like, you’re all I think about, you know?”

You laughed nervously, not sure where to look, and feeling the heat rise to your own face. “Okay, Casanova. Just how many times have you practiced this speech?”

“Only… like… every day,” he murmured, his voice lowering as he suddenly grew quiet, gazing at you as though you were the only thing keeping him grounded. He brought his hand to your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin with a gentleness that made your heart clench.

But before he could say another word, he slumped forward, the weight of the alcohol taking hold. He muttered your name with a. tenderness that sent shivers down your spine. “You know, I… I…”

He looked like he was fighting his way through a fog. With a little sigh, you realized he was too far gone to be having this kind of heart-to-heart. He needed to get home, and there was only one person you knew who could wrangle him out of this.

You took out your phone and dialed Ryosuke, who answered in his calm, even tone, “Hello, everything alright?”

“Hey, uh… sorry to call, but Keisuke’s kind of, um… well, he’s really drunk, and I think he needs a lift. Would you mind coming to pick him up?”

Ryosuke sighed, sounding slightly amused. “I’ll be there in ten. Don’t let him break anything while you wait.”

When you hung up, you turned back to Keisuke, who was gazing at you with a kind of intensity you rarely saw in him, even when he was sober. “Hey,” he whispered, sounding almost painfully earnest, “do you ever wonder why we never did anything about us?”

Your heart skipped a beat. His words hung in the air, charged, fragile. You wanted to answer, to tell him everything, but before you could say a word, there was a knock at the door.

“Saved by the bell,” you muttered, feeling the warmth drain from the moment as Ryosuke stepped in, his gaze flickering over Keisuke, then back to you.

“Seems like you two had a good night,” Ryosuke observed with a smirk, as he looped Keisuke’s arm over his shoulders. Keisuke let out a sleepy groan, eyes still locked on you with a strange mix of longing and regret.

Keisuke murmured your name as Ryosuke helped him to the door. “Don’t...don't forget what I said, okay?”

You gave him a smile, nodding as your chest threatened to burst with the feelings you've been holding back for so long. “I won’t, Keisuke. Get some rest.”

Ryosuke gave you a nod as he steered his brother out. You closed the door, heart pounding as you leaned against it, replaying every word, every look, every moment.

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Keisuke blinked awake, his head pounding in time with his heartbeat. Squinting against the early morning light, he groaned, rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. Every muscle in his body felt like it had been twisted, and his throat was dry like he’d swallowed sand.

But as he lay there, pieces of last night started trickling back. Drinks. Jokes. You. And then… his heart dropped.

The memories sharpened as he let out a strangled groan, now wide awake. He remembered slinging his arm around you, saying things he’d only ever thought late at night, telling you just how long he'd felt something between the two of you. Then Ryosuke showing up, looking around at Keisuke passed out on the couch and likely figuring he’d had one too many drinks.

"Damn it," Keisuke muttered to himself, sitting up and rubbing his temples. He didn’t remember everything perfectly, but the look in your eyes when he confessed… that stayed with him. What was he thinking, springing all that on you, especially when he was just barely holding himself together? He wanted to call you and apologize—maybe just laugh it off and hope you’d do the same. But what if it was different this time? What if he’d crossed a line?

A few minutes later, Ryosuke’s voice echoed up from downstairs. “Keisuke, you’re actually up early. Surprising after last night.”

Keisuke winced, muttering under his breath, “Yeah, well, someone had to pick me up.”

“Next time, maybe don’t drink yourself into oblivion.” Ryosuke’s words had that usual sharp edge, though he didn’t seem to know about the confession itself.

As Ryosuke’s footsteps faded down the hall, Keisuke’s hand hovered over his phone, considering what to do. Call you? Text you? Apologize?

“Coward,” he muttered, scolding himself as he finally picked up the phone and started typing a message:

Hey, about last night…

Keisuke hovered over his phone, staring at the words. Deleting, typing, and deleting again, he finally settled on something simple:

Hey, about last night… sorry if I was out of line. Let’s just say I was way too gone.

Hitting send, he tossed the phone onto his bed, running a hand through his hair. Part of him was kicking himself for even saying anything, but the other part—the one that had wanted you to know—was still there. He had no idea how you’d respond, but he could feel his heart beating faster just at the thought of it.

Minutes passed with no response, and he was ready to drive over to your place just to check that you weren’t avoiding him when his phone finally buzzed. He practically lunged for it.

Your message was… short, but maybe that was a good thing?

Haha, yeah, you were pretty gone. No worries, Keisuke.

Keisuke felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment. It was vague, but at least you didn’t seem angry. His fingers flew over the screen before he paused, second-guessing himself. He wanted to say something real, something more than just brushing it off. After a deep breath, he typed out a response and hit send before he could change his mind.

Still meant it, though. Just thought you should know.

This time, waiting for a reply felt like an eternity. He paced around his room, glancing at his phone every few seconds, his heart in his throat. The phone finally buzzed, and he almost dropped it in his rush to open your message.

We should talk about it, Keisuke. How about after the next Project D meeting?

Keisuke felt his heart skip, a strange warmth spreading through his chest. He had no idea where this was going, but he couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips. It wasn’t the outright rejection he’d feared. If anything, it felt like a step forward.

“Alright,” he whispered to himself, his voice steady with a confidence he hadn’t felt in ages.

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[onyourfifi]

childish | lee taeyong

▣ | pairing : classmate!taeyong x reader

▣ | genre : fluff, confession with lego flowers + building something with you

▣ | word count : 860

you've loved lego ever since you were a kid. you remember getting your first lego set, it was one of those lego friends sets. you loved the idea of being able to create anything with the little blocks. to this day, you find yourself buying a small set and building in your free time.

during class, taeyong overheard you and your friends talking about the lego sets you wanted to buy. just like you, he liked building legos.

"have you guys seen all the lego botanical sets? they're so prettyy" your friend asks.

"oh my god yes, those lego flowers are wayy better than real ones. they can last forever" you say excitedly.

lego flowers huh? taeyong thought. he's been thinking about asking you out for a while now. after seeing your beautiful smile and the way you talk to your friends so happily, how could he not like you. after learning about how much you like lego, just like him, he thought it was the perfect way you guys could go out together.

after class, he goes out to the lego store to buy you the lego flower bouquet you talked about. as he looks around, you enter the store and walk in his direction. he catches a glimpse of you in the corner of his eye and can't help but stare. you're in such a casual outfit, sweatpants and a hoodie, yet you still looked so beautiful to him.

you catch him staring at you, "oh hi taeyong! didn't think i would see you here"

"oh hey, yeah just looking around. what are you doing here?"

"oh i just came to buy another set to build. i go through them so quickly, my wallet hurts" you both laugh. you look at the shelves that taeyong was around, "the lego botanical sets huh? i never saw you as someone who would like those."

"oh no, it's not for me" please don't ask who it's for.

"oooo is it for someone speciallll?" you tease.

"n-no nothing like that" he stutters, you caught him off guard.

you giggle, "well, i would recommend the cherry blossom set, they’re new and they're so pretty, they're on my list to buy"

"oh okay, thank you."

"of course! you can talk to me about lego anytime, it's my whole personality"

taeyong goes home with the cherry blossom lego flowers and another set for you two to build together, the bonsai tree set. as he builds the flowers, he remembers how relaxing it is to build these sets. he liked seeing the progress and how it slowly turns into the final product. his mind then wandered to you. he can imagine the both of you building the set together, listening to music, laughing, getting to know each other, and just being able to do something you both love, together.

he comes to class the next day with the flowers and lego set tucked in his bag. he wrapped the flowers as if they were real with paper and some white mesh. he planned to catch you after class and finally ask you out.

the bell goes for lunch and as you walk out of the class you hear your name being called.

"y/n! can i talk to you for a second?"

"hey taeyong! of course, what's up?"

"so, i know how much you like lego sets and stuff, and, gosh i don't know how to say this..."

he pulls out the lego flowers from his bag and holds them in front of you. you could feel a smile grow on your face as he explains to you how long you've been on his mind for.

"honestly, your love for legos made me fall in love with you even more. you get so excited over all the new sets and you get so passionate. not only that, but lego brings out my inner child and i feel like i could be so free and childish with you."

you could feel your cheeks warm, and your smile has never been brighter.

"gosh taeyong... this makes me so happy, you have no idea. i've been building sets with my friends, but there’s something so different when you build something with someone you love. the connection and atmosphere are so much more different. i would love to experience that with you.”

taeyong’s heart was beating so fast. you wanted to experience the same moment with him, that same connection he wanted.

“oh right, about that,” he pulls out the bonsai tree set, you gasp, “i also got this that I was thinking we could do together?”

“i would love to do that with you.”

later that week, he came to your house to build the set. you showed him all the sets you have and where you usually build them, though the two of you opted for the floor. just like taeyong imagined, you two were laughing and talking to each other comfortably. you finally had someone who you could be a kid with again. you felt freer and more loved than ever.

“thank you taeyong for asking me out like this, you did it so perfectly.”

“you’re welcome love.”

a/n: lowkey hoping someone brings me lego flowers one day. D:

[peachiseas]

okay i am very new here, so i need a through introduction to your mcs! like eve for example, pls post his whole biography o(╥﹏╥)o

fr tho, tell me anything and everything :D

TOOK SO DAMN LONG SINCE I WANTED TO DRAW A STEP ONE REF OF EVE BUT ITS GONNA TAKE A MINUTE so here are the sketches,,, Anyways- gonna introduce the main two mcs/ocs you'll see here: Eve Cortez Williams and Aaliyah Dubious

(dont mind my ipad scribbles on the screenshot iofqiowogi) Lemme put this under a readmore actually so yall dont get slammed with a long ass post:

Starting with Eve:

He's my Tamarack MC, but I figured since uh. all my art that was a given

He has a strained relationship with Qiu in step 1 but they become besties by step 2 and by step 3, they are like family to each other. If no one got Eve, Eve knows Qiu got them, amen 🙏

He comes out as transmasc by step 2, and by step 3 he gets top surgery and starts taking testosterone and firmly identifies as a butch lesbian

He's from the southern part of Miami, Florida. He's Golden Grove's residential florida man

He practices martial arts religiously, he's a big fan of Goku and Dragonball in general so he wants to be like his idol

His story deviates a bit from the OL2 generic mc story, he did have a dad! Opal and his dad wanted a kid but they both didn't want to get married and since the two of them were best friends, they decided to have a kid together (or well two but we'll talk about that later)

What's important to note from above is that his dad isn't around anymore because his father passed away a few months ago due to a car accident and Eve was hospitalized as a result

So by the time he's at Golden Grove, he's in anger stages of his grief and he doesn't want to be bothered. Which sucks cause hes neighbors with the two loudest kids on the block

Doesn't help he's a ESL speaker (English as a Second Language) and Golden Grove's population is majorly white so he has even harder of a time adjusting to it

He gets into fights in step 1... a Lot. Someone will look at him funny and they'll get punched in the face

He does adjust but he still doesn't like Golden Grove by step 3 but funnily enough, he moves away at the end of step 3 for treatment but moves back in step 4, crazy how that shit works huh

He has two emotional support bunnies; Bulma and Chi-Chi! He gets them in step 2, Qiu and Eve bond over them LMFAO

As for Aaliyah:

She's my Qiu MC, to the shocker of no one. Tamarack is also her best friend <3

Aaliyah is from New Orleans, Louisiana! She's full blooded Haitian and she has family in Haiti

She's also transfem! She passes for cis in step 1 thanks to hormone blockers and some makeup and then starts taking estrogen in step 2 and onwards

Her being black and transfemme is integral to her character and how she navigates around Golden Grove, she doesn't tell anyone she's trans until near the end of step 1. By step 3, the girl gang and Qiu knows shes trans

^^ That's because she had a very negative experience coming out to her community who previously loved her but flipped on her just as fast

So moving to Golden Grove was supposed to be a fresh start for her as herself but by that point she feels like she has to keep up her "cis-sona" lest she gets bullied again

She still gets bullied for other reasons in step 2 though (being a pretty black girl and the one person who has a crush on her is the most popular kid in school... its rough! 😭)

By step 4 though she is proud to call herself trans and will let people know!

She lovessss animals! And the animals love her back! She feeds them all the time and keeps animal food on her for that purpose when she goes to the park to read by herself, she got a flock of crows and stray cats that like to follow her

She has a cat named Kiki!!! Kiki loves everyone except Qiu though, Aaliyah doesnt know that though-

I hope that was enough of a info-dump! If anyone has anymore questions please ask i have so much lore please-

[starshine-hockey-girl]

The Invisible String

Summary - Rocky is from Texas, looking to make it big as a tattoo artist in NY. What happens when Rocky meets NY Islanders forward Anthony Beauvillier and two people so unalike discover that they have more in common than they think. Will their invisible string lead to love or friendship?

This is my very late entry to the summer fic exchange. Yes, I am aware that it is the middle of October. The "No results and a story" excuse is that I got a huge case of writer's block followed by an ass-whooping of self doubt. However, I powered through it, and then the story just grew into this massively long piece. (17.2K- yikes)

This is written for @jarmorie who requested a reader insert or OC (she/her preferred). fluff, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers pls I would die with Anthony Beauvillier. Jarmorie is also a big Taylor Swift fan so I tried to incorporate as much Swift content as I could.

Acknowledgements and thank yous-

@laurenairay, I can't thank you enough for pinch hitting for me when I missed the deadline. I am incredibly thankful for your endless encouragement. I hope you enjoy your brief, but pivotal cameo

@cellythefloshie - Thank you for the encouragement and embracing my verbose nature.

@dreamofstarlight and @fallinallincurls for sharing their Swiftie knowledge. I hope that I do that I did Queen Taylor justice.

@wyattjohnston - one for organizing these fic exchanges. It's a tiring and thankless task. Thank you for understanding my struggle and not shaming me.

@jarmorie I am sorry that the story was so delayed. I really wanted to write something that give you everything that you wanted.

@pattiemac1 and @penstxgal1968 for being the best support system ever. Seriously, they both deserve writing credit for all of their ideas.

Gorgeous

Inked On Ice Tattoo Shop -  Long Island, NY

“Inked on Ice, how may I help you?” Daisy yawned as the shop’s computer fired up and she settled into her chair. 

“Uh yeah,” the deep voice on the line answered, “My buddy and I want to get some ink today. Do you have anyone available?” Daisy glanced at the artist's calendars. 

“Well, it’s going to depend on size, subject and budget. What do you have in mind?” she answered quickly. After a brief discussion, Daisy honed in on available artists. “Do you want to do back to back appointments or get inked at the same time?” she asked. 

She could hear a discussion on the other end. The bland voice in a spirited discussion with another voice with a slight French accent. “Barzy,” the second said with authority, “I do not need you to hold my hand while I get a tattoo. We can get inked at the same time.” 

Daisy’s ears perked up at the name Barzy. “Can I get your names?” she asked as casually as possible as New York Islanders Mat Barzal gave his name along with Anthony Beauvillier. The tattoo shop was owned by Cameron Davies, a former New York Islander. Daisy knew that Cameron would want the pair treated with kid gloves. She examined the schedule again and made an executive decision. She would schedule the more complicated tattoo, Anthony, with JD Porter, master tattoo artist, who just had a last minute cancellation. She would schedule the simpler design, Mat Barzal, with Rocky, JD’s apprentice. . 

“So Tito is with JD and I am with Rocky? Sounds good,” the NHL upstart stated as they confirmed details, “See you at 6 PM.”

In the cozy one bedroom apartment, Rocky picked up the phone and quickly read the text from Daisy. “Yes….” Rocky whispered to no one in particular. As a tattoo apprentice, paying customers were difficult to come by. The last minute addition would give her just enough to pay her share of the rent. Given that most of her time at the shop was unpaid, Rocky’s contribution to the rent was more symbolic than practical. Kelly made enough to cover their expenses and then some, but Rocky insisted on contributing, even if it was essentially meaningless.

“Rocky!” Kelly screamed, “Are you even listening to me? We need to leave in fifteen minutes if we are going to be on time.” 

“Of course, I’m listening.” Rocky replied, “Listen- don’t be mad, but I can’t go with you. I gotta to work tonight. I scored a last minute tattoo.”

“An actual tattoo?” Kelly mocked, “or will it be another night of cleaning and wiping up after the professionals?” 

“Ouch,” Rocky replied, “You know that is part of apprenticeship. I have to pay my dues.”

Rocky’s tattoo apprenticeship was a source of contention in their relationship. The couple had moved to Long Island from Dallas as a stepping stone in Kelly’s financial services career. Together since high school, Kelly disapproved of Rocky’s fascination with all things tattoo. The financial analyst with the fast-rising career wanted a partner that would fit into the corporate world. Rocky decidedly did not fit that mold even if Kelly couldn't admit it.  The apprenticeship highlighted their vastly different career paths and their relationship bore small fissures as a result. 

“Listen,” Rocky pleaded in an attempt to head off another fight about the apprenticeship. Kelly was convinced it was going nowhere. “It’s an actual tattoo so I will get paid,” Rocky explained, “Also apparently these two guys are some sort of VIPs. The fact that Daisy and Cameron are giving one of them to me to ink is a good sign. I can’t turn it down.”

Kelly stood in disbelief and tried to summon anger at Rocky and none came. Honestly, it was a relief to put off introducing Rocky to conservative co-workers a little longer. “Fine,” Kelly said bitterly, “I’ll see you when you get home.”

Two hours later at the shop, Rocky waited patiently to the side as JD inspected the set-up of her station tucked away in the smallest room in the shop. As a mentor, JD held Rocky to a high standard. An Apprenticeship endorsed by him would carry weight within the tattoo community and JD wanted Rocky to be prepared. He gave a nod and Rocky let out a sigh of relief. Together they walked out to the lobby. 

Cameron stood talking to the two athletes about his glory days with the Islanders. Rocky could tell right away that both had passed from polite attention to “oh my god, get us out here” by the tone of their voices. After the third “that’s crazy,’ uttered by Barzal, Cameron noticed JD and Rocky standing there. When he waved them over, Barzal and Beauvillier turned to look over their shoulders. Barzal blinked and gulped while Beauvillier offered a shy smile before looking down at the floor. 

Rocky approached Barzal and extended her hand to him, “Hi, I’m Rocky. I think that you are with me tonight.”

“You’re…..You’re….. “ Barzal stammered, “a woman.” Rocky took a step back and dropped her hand in disappointment. JD and Rocky exchanged a glance before Rocky let out a sigh. Usually any pushback she received came from men much older than Barzal so she was honestly a little shocked. Mat looked stunned. “Wait, I am getting tattooed by a woman?” he asked out loud. 

“Is there a problem?” JD asked as he looked Barzal in the eye. 

“Look, I don’t want to sound sexist here, but…..” he started to say, “I just was expecting a man. I am pretty sure the girl who made the appointment said "man.”

“I did not,” Daisy interjected, “I know for a fact I said no such thing.” When Rocky began as the first female tattoo artist in the shop’s history, Cameron and crew did not anticipate the push-back from their largely male clientele. Most guys came in because of the hockey/Islanders connection and well, their views on gender roles were not exactly progressive. The shop had adopted the policy of referring to all of the artists as gender-neutral as possible. Daisy, Cameron’s wife and partner, was especially intentional about it. Other than a few clients shocked to be facing a petite, brunette pixie of an artist, there had been no issues. 

Rocky looked to Cameron and back to Barzal. She knew that Cameron would want to keep Barzal as a client but also did not want to face the wrath of Daisy for caving in. She was about to speak when Tito Beauvillier spoke up. “She can do my tattoo,” he spoke softly at first to everyone’s surprise. Rocky turned to face the blonde and studied his face. He gave a gentle smile and spoke louder, “Yeah, I think I want her to do my tattoo.”

“I have to let you know that she is still in her apprenticeship. Just so that you are aware, she may not be able to give you the tattoo that you want,” JD explained. A pained look flashed in Rocky’s eyes and Tito took notice. Rocky hated the implication that just because she was still in an apprenticeship that she was less talented. She sucked in a deep breath that she hoped went unnoticed. She was mostly successful with the exception of Tito. He recognized the frustration of being underestimated. 

Then JD turned to Barzy, “It also means that you are going to pay more for my time. It’s up to you.”

Barzal began to hem and haw. His mouth had gotten the better of him and he had stuck his foot so far into it that he didn’t think it would be possible to retrieve. Even if he changed his mind and selected Rocky, the damage was done. Finally Tito spoke again firmly, “No way Barzy. You had your shot at her and you blew it. I want her now.” His eyes fell onto Rocky’s face and he gave a slight nod. 

Rocky laughed out loud, “Well then, let’s get to work.” 

The tiny brunette led Tito to her small section of the studio. She pointed to the table and chairs in the corner. He sat down as she picked up a notebook to take notes. “I have a few questions,” Rocky began as the scent of his cologne wafted into her nostrils. She inhaled and let out a small moan before she realized it. Tito cleared his throat and Rocky blushed in response. “The notes say that this is your first tattoo. Is that correct?” she asked in earnest, “What made you decide to do it today?”

Tito blinked slowly and thought. He hadn’t anticipated the question and was stumped for an answer. Finally he spoke, “I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but never got around to it. When Barzy said he was coming, I decided that I would go ahead and do it.” Rocky nodded her head as she listened. 

“So do you have a design or an idea in mind?” she questioned. 

“Yeah, I found this on the internet and thought it would be cool,” he answered as he fished his phone out of his pocket. Rocky waited patiently as he scrolled this phone. Finally he found the picture and held his phone out to her. She took the phone and looked at the picture. 

Rocky blinked slowly and zoomed in on the picture. Internally, her mind raced with thought “No fucking way”, but her reasoning kicked in. Technically, it would be a challenge which pleased her, but something just didn’t sit well with her. 

She looked up to see him looking at her with hopeful eyes. “Do you like it?” he asked. Rocky flashed a smile similar to a mother gave a child when presented with a treasured piece of artwork. 

“You don’t like it?” he questioned. 

“I didn’t say that,” she replied quickly. 

“You didn’t say it out loud, but it’s what you were thinking,” he countered. 

“It doesn’t matter what I think,” she responded, “You are a paying client. If you want that design, then that’s what we will do.” Rocky bit her lip and paused before speaking again, “Let me talk to JD and get his thoughts. I want to be sure about some of the technical aspects.” She was trying to buy time to think of ways to politely talk Tito out of his design idea. Rocky walked over to JD’s station just as he was placing the stencil on Barzal’s arm. 

“Hey, before you get started,” Rocky started, “Can we go over his design?” They walked away and began an animated conversation. 

Tito looked down the hall at Rocky and watched intently. Her hands gestured wildly as she spoke with passion. He couldn’t make out the words, but whatever she said, it was said with conviction. Barzal nudged Tito with his arm, “So she is…… uhhhh…. different.” Tito continued to stare without answering. “Beau!” Barzal said loud enough to draw the attention of JD and Rocky. 

Tito was caught staring at Rocky before he quickly turned around to face Barzal with a scowl. “Did you have to yell?” he spoke softly. 

“You weren’t answering me,” his friend replied with a laugh, “I don’t like to be ignored.” 

Tito looked back over his shoulder quickly before he answered, “Technically, it wasn't a question, but a statement. Yes, I agree. She is quite unique. By the way, what was up with your attitude earlier? You think she can't tattoo because she is a woman?"

"No, that’s not it,” Barzal shot back, “I had a big, burly guy named Rocky in my head so when the pixie queen of tattoos came out, I was surprised. I put my foot in my mouth.”

Tito began to respond but noticed the duo of tattoo artists were walking back to them. 

Rocky gave what could be best described as her “customer service” smile and gestured to Tito to go back into her section. He gave a shrug to Barzal and followed her. Then he turned around to Barzal who watched, “You know what you need to do.” Barzal nodded and followed JD back to the table. 

The sound of Barzal’s soft yelp and the buzz of JD’s tattoo needle floated into Rocky’s section as they sat down again. 

“Soooooo…” Tito smiled. 

“So now that I had the technical questions I had about the design answered. I can certainly do it for you,” she smiled. 

“Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ hanging in the air?” Tito smiled. 

“There is no but, you want the design then I will give you the correct one,” she replied coolly. 

“Rocky, tell me the truth,” Tito urged her to answer. 

“How does he know I am lying?” she questioned herself. She looked into his eyes and saw his genuine concern. She paused and thought about her answer. For some people tattoos were just not that deep, but she got the sense that Tito wasn’t one of those people. She decided to flip the script. “What is it about the design that you like?” she asked. 

“Well, I like the black and gray,” he began. When she nodded in understanding, he continued, “I liked the logo because I play for the Islanders” When her nose scrunched ever so slightly, he asked, ”What do you not like about the design?”

“This is a design for every wannabe hockey bro that wasn’t good enough to make it to the NHL,” she blurted out, “Why do you want to look like every other Goomba out there? This design tells me nothing about you as a person. It’s bland and generic and that’s not you. You’re not bland and generic.”

Tito laughed, “Tell me how you really feel.”

Rocky’s eyes flashed up and held his gaze, “Look, maybe I should take the easy money and give the tattoo you want, but that’s not the kind of artist I want to be,” she answered with passion, “I want my work to mean something, both to my client and to me. It’s probably not going to make me “successful”, but that’s really not my goal anyway.” She sighed dramatically, “And that’s not even the most obvious objection to it.” 

“And what’s the most obvious objection to it?” Tito questioned as he studied the design again. 

“When is your contract up? Do you have some sort of non-trade clause?” she asked plainly. He blinked slowly. She continued, “Seriously? When is your contract up?”

“2024,” he said softly as he began to process what she was saying, “I have another season and a half.” 

“And you’re sure that they are going to re-sign you?” she prodded, “I don’t know too much about hockey so I don’t know if you are good or not. I do know that tattooing your team name on your body seems like the hockey equivalent to tattooing your girlfriend or wife’s name on your body. It’s a lovely gesture at the moment, but what do you do when things go south?”

Tito gulped and spit out, “I see your heart and soul is as black as your jet black hair.”

Rocky sat up straight, “Would you rather me not say anything?”

“No, you’re right,” he laughed, “You’re totally right. It looks like I am not getting a tattoo, at least tonight.” They sat silently and looked at each other. Both of them sizing the other up. Finally Tito spoke, “So if you think this design is trash, what design do you think I should get.”

“Something unique, something that tells a story about you,” Rocky pondered out loud. 

“Unique? What’s unique about me? I am just a guy who plays hockey,” Tito challenged. 

“Nah, you are so much more than that,” Rocky answered a little too quickly. 

“How can you tell?” he quizzed. 

“That twinkle in your eye,” Rocky smiled, “There is a whole world hidden behind the twinkles in your eyes.” 

Tito leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “I could say the same about you.” 

Rocky blushed momentarily before the vibration on her phone drew her attention. It was a text from Kelly letting her know that he would be home late. His department decided on dinner after drinks. Rocky shook her head and silently admonished herself. She wouldn’t exactly call her behavior flirting, but it definitely wasn’t strictly professional. Rocky looked up into Tito’s soft blue eyes again. She was right. There was a whole world hidden in there. A world that she wanted to know more about. 

“I could design something for you,” she blurted out before she processed the thought.

“I would be honored,” he answered quickly, surprising himself. 

“So tell me about yourself, Mr. Beauvillier,” she leaned forward and put her chin into her hand while her elbow rested on the table. 

“Well, I was born in Quebec….” he began. 

She held up a finger and grabbed a pen and paper to write notes and sketch ideas. She motioned for him to continue and he did. Every once in a while he would lean forward to sneak a peek at what she wrote down or doodled. She pushed him away with a playful shove and smile

An hour later Rocky jumped at the sound of JD’s loud knocks. “Hey,” he said with a frown on his face, “We’re done in here.” Tito looked up with a smile. JD. grunted and turned around. 

“What’s his problem?” Tito nodded his head at the door. 

Rocky shrugged her shoulders, “He’s probably pissed that he is going to miss his cut of my fee.” Tito tilted his head in question. “Since he is my mentor, he gets a cut of my fee along with the shop,” she explained, “No tattoo, no fee.” 

“If it’s about the money, I am happy to pay,” Tito offered

Rocky neatly piled up her things. “He’s probably pissed too since he told me just to do the damn design.” she added. They walked out together and waited as Daisy cashed Barzal out. 

“Beau,” Barzal popped off, “What? Did you wimp out?”

“Nah,” Tito answered, “I convinced her to work with me on a custom design. I am thinking of a half sleeve to start that we can add onto later down the road.” JD’s eyebrows raised and Rocky shrugged her shoulders. Barzal turned to them, “What do you think? Pretty badass, huh?”

Rocky suppressed a giggle, “Oh, totally. You’re like the Lion King. Should I call you Simba?” Tito guffawed until Barzal shot him a look. 

“Hurry up so I can pay, Simba,” Tito joked. Barzal casually flipped him off and turned to pay.

“Pay for what? You didn’t get a tattoo?” Rocky said in a stunned voice. 

“Yes, I do need to pay. We were in a consultation. JD, what’s the price per hour for consultations?” Tito looked over to ask Rocky’s mentor. 

“One fifty,” he answered tersely. Rocky bit her lip. He quoted a rate that was double her normal rate and Tito hadn’t blinked an eye. Of course, she knew that JD’s reasons were not altruistic at all. A higher rate meant a higher cut for him and the shop. It also meant that he could now charge Barzal double his normal rate for the basic tattoo he did. Rocky admired his hustle, even if she felt guilty about Tito paying more than necessary for it. 

After Barzal paid, Tito cleared his throat loudly and nodded to Rocky. Barzal shot him a look of confusion. Tito muttered under his breath, “apologize”. Rocky’s head shot up and she looked at Tito who shrugged his shoulders. Barzal nodded in understanding. 

“Uhhhh, Rocky?” Barzal started, “I apologize for earlier. I really wasn’t trying to knock you as an artist. I really was just expecting a big, burly guy based on the name. No offense meant.” Rocky smiled and looked down as she contemplated how long to make the hockey phenom squirm. “Seriously, I am not really a sexist pig,” he continued, “I have much respect for women.”

“Sure you do,” Rocky laughed.

“I swear I do,” Barzal squeaked, “Tell her Beau.”

Tito paused to allow him to sit in his discomfort, “I can attest that Barzy is a great admirer of women who happened to stick his foot so far into his mouth that he is choking on it. I am not sure if it's because of the nasty toe jam or God-awful odor.” Barzal’s mouth dropped open in disbelief.

Rocky giggled, “It’s okay, Simba. I am just busting your balls out of amusement. A little bit of friendly fire, I suppose.”

Barzal shot Tito a glare. “Thanks. It looks like I may need new friends these days,” he smiled as the group walked toward the exit. Rocky and Tito exchanged numbers, which did not go unnoticed by Barzal. When he questioned Tito in the car afterwards, Tito dismissed his comment. “It will be easier to set up time to go over ideas directly with her.” 

“Whatever you say,” Barzal retorted, “I am sure it has nothing to do with the puppy dog eyes you make when looking at her. No, not at all.”

Inside the tattoo parlor, Cameron buzzed about the potential exposure the shop would receive if Barzal posted his new tattoo on social media. JD looked like a deer caught in headlights. While a master tattoo artist, JD was woefully behind the times on social media, considering it an unnecessary evil. Rocky shook her head, “I’ll take care of it.” 

Kelly was sitting on the couch when Rocky arrived back at their apartment. She walked over and kissed the top of his head as he watched Squawk Box on CNBC. “How did the dinner go?” she asked softly. She began stripping as he watched the television. 

“Huh?” he answered as he glanced over at her bare torso as she stripped off her leggings. 

“I said how did the dinner go? Were you able to talk to Ross about your idea?” she asked as she walked into the bedroom to grab one of his large t-shirts to sleep. 

“Oh yeah,” he answered, “We just need the go ahead from Grant and we will be good to go. Hey, I brought you dessert from the restaurant.” 

Rocky walked back out and smiled, “That’s great. We both got good news tonight.” Kelly had turned his attention back to the television. She sighed and walked into the kitchen, opened the take out bag and stared at the cheesecake in the container. It was covered in strawberry syrup. She looked at Kelly in disbelief and then shook her head. Rocky’s favorite was, indeed, cheesecake, but she was allergic to strawberries. She had been since childhood. Kelly knew this, or at least had been told at least a dozen times. He probably scanned the menu, saw the cheesecake and ordered it in hurry. It was the little details that he ignored that drove her crazy. When he was in his "work zone", he lost all focus on anything else.

She placed the cheesecake into the refrigerator. She mumbled something about going to bed. She glanced at her phone and saw the text notifications. 

Rocky looked at her phone and her eyes widened. She had almost 1,000 new followers including Tito, Barzal and a half a dozen other Islanders. 

Thursday- Inked on Ice- Long Island

JD did a double take when Rocky passed him on her way to her station. Rocky’s de facto uniform for work days was a vintage concert or slogan t-shirt with distressed jeans. Today, however, she wore form-fitting black leather pants paired with a crisp white button down shirt. The shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a hot pink spaghetti strap camisole. Her hair had also been artfully piled atop her head with a hot pink bandana in the “Rosie the Riveter” look. Most of the staff had a similar reaction. 

“What?” she questioned when Daisy let out a low whistle, "I just felt like dressing up."

“I hope you are comfortable because you are now officially booked solid," Daisy smiled. 

Rocky blinked and swallowed deep. She was finally coming into her own as a tattoo artist. She was still doing smaller and less intricate designs but her technique improved with each one. She took her schedule and got ready for her first appointment. 

Seven hours later, Tito walked into the shop. Daisy immediately greeted him, "Rocky is wrapping up a tattoo. It should be a few minutes." Tito took notice of Rocky's neatly labeled portfolio. The contents mainly consisted of small tattoos that she had done in a variety of styles. The mix was split evenly between color and gray. In the back were larger, more intricate designs.

He was lost in thought when Rocky approached from behind.  "See anything you are interested in?

"They are all great," he said after he collected himself, "I like these landscape ones. That one reminds me of my days playing on an outdoor rink."

Rocky leaned forward to confirm which drawing he meant. Her breath felt warm against his neck and he inhaled her perfume. "Oh, that one? Let's go talk in my section," she said softly, oblivious to his reaction. She turned around and walked back to her small room. Tito gulped and turned to follow. His eyes involuntarily swept over her body as she walked in front of him. 

She was already sitting down when he entered. He stopped at the door and observed her as she pulled out her sketch pad and pencils. "Either come inside or go get me coffee," she joked.

"Coffee?" he asked, "What's your order?"

"Unsweet iced coffee with an extra shot and skim milk, 2 pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup, 2 Splenda and light caramel drizzle," she answered without looking up.

"You know I have zero shot of getting that right," he smiled.

"Beauregard, if you can remember the draft line-up of your draft in order, then you can remember this," she looked up and flashed a smile. He laughed softly. "Or you could just tell them Rocky's usual," she smiled wider, "Whatever is easier."

"You’re a regular over there?" he asked as he began to leave.

"Yes, and I tip very well. Don't ruin my rep, Beauregard," she warned, "Go and let me work. I am inspired."

"Beauregard?" He stopped, "You can't call me Tito or Beau like everyone else?"

"Do I look like a woman who does what everyone else does?' she retorted.

"Silly me," he sighed, "and to think I am paying to go be your coffee bitch." He waited for a response but she had focused on her paper again. 

When he returned with her iced coffee, music was playing. She expertly added shading to the drawing while she sang. https://open.spotify.com/track/1ZY1PqizIl78geGM4xWlEA?si=eebcaf1014c24c38

But if you're single that's honestly worse

'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts

(Honey, it hurts)

Ocean blue eyes looking in mine

I feel like I might sink and drown and die

You're so gorgeous

I can't say anything to your face (to your face)

'Cause look at your face (look at your face)

And I'm so furious

At you for making me feel this way (this way)

But what can I say?

You're gorgeous

He watched her for a moment before he involuntarily started singing as well.

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have

You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad (mmh)

You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah

There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have and

Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats (yeugh)

Alone, unless you wanna come along (oh)

Rocky looked up when she heard his voice and smiled. Tito gallantly presented her with her complex coffee order. He glanced over at the picture before teasing, “So you’re a Swiftie? That’s surprising.” 

“Why?” she asked. 

He made a hand gesture up and down. “The hair, the tattoos, piercings all scream metal goth girl, but here you are jamming away to basic white girl music while drinking basic white girl coffee. Color me confused.”

“That’s what you get when you judge a book by its cover. You miss the complexity of most humans,” she said philosophically. “By the way, I did notice you jamming along. Are there a lot of Swifties in the NHL?”

“Nah, my ex, Tiffany, was one," he answered, "I became one by osmosis."

"Really?" She replied, "My boyfriend just mocks me."

“Ahhhhh,” Tito, “He doesn’t know what he is missing. Taylor Swift is a musical genius.”

"Well, well, well," Rocky whistled, "Look who is the basic white girl now.” 

“Shut up and show me the sketch that you have been so focused on,” he answered as he rolled his eyes. 

She slid the sketch pad over to him and looked up at him with hopeful eyes. “I tried to incorporate everything that we talked about last time,” she said quietly. Rocky wasn’t sure as she was filled with apprehension suddenly. Her art was one of the few areas of her life that she was sure about these days. 

Tito gingerly touched the sketch pad and took in each detail of the illustration. He was surprised by the lack of color, but it was so effective that he couldn’t imagine the piece in anything but simple black and gray. It was the embodiment of everything that they had discussed. 

“What do you think?” she asked. 

Tito swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the tears filling his eyes. “I think,” he started before pausing to steady his voice, “I think it’s perfect.”

“Really?” she smiled tentatively, “You really like it?”

He looked up at her and stared for a moment. Underneath the heavy make-up and tough exterior, he saw her sweet spirit. She was more complex and multi-dimensioned than anyone he had ever met despite practically being a stranger. She had put her heart and soul into this drawing and the magnitude of that action was not lost on him. 

“Yes,” he smiled, “I wouldn’t change a thing about it.”

MIDNIGHT RAIN

The next few weeks were a blur to Rocky. Her days were filled with appointments and consultations. Word of mouth began to spread as client after client posted their ink on social media. Glowing reviews accompanied each post, and Rocky’s reputation began to grow in the tattoo community. Pretty soon, some pretty big name artists began following her, including Catarina Vandewahl, who was a pioneer female tattoo artist. 

 With her growing popularity came sacrifices and hardships. Rocky worked hard to capitalize on the buzz around her work and kept herself booked solid. It meant less and less time at home with Kelly.  They became like ships passing in the night. He was going to bed as she got home from a long day at the shop and left before she woke up for the day. On the rare occasion they were together, they both struggled to find the connection that had bonded them in their youth. Kelly worked feverishly on his work project while Rocky sat on the couch and watched hockey. 

The texts between Tito and Rocky began as strictly business. Short and brief texts to schedule time to work on his tattoo. It was a task that was becoming more and more difficult to complete due to their hectic schedules. However, somewhere along the line, the tone changed from professional to borderline flirtation. 

They scheduled his six hour session two days after Taylor Swift’s Midnights album release. It was a rare day off for Tito and Mondays were usually light for Rocky so she was able to make adjustments to her calendar. The plan was for the duo to experience the album together so they swore to each other to remain as “spoiler free” as possible. 

In the meantime, Rocky began to follow the Islanders closely. Growing up in Dallas, she was a casual fan of the Stars. She knew the basics of hockey, but not the finer details. She grew frustrated trying to watch Tito play. Eventually, they developed a routine of Tito picking a game on his “off” nights, and they would text back and forth throughout the game. Of course, it was all in the name of teaching Rocky about hockey. However, the subject quickly opened up to broader discussions that almost touched on the philosophical. 

Tito kept her updated about life on the road and humorous stories of adventures with teammates. Rocky threw in stories from the tattoo shop. From there, the subject of relationships bubbled up. Tito was shocked to find himself revealing his frustrations in finding a woman that was willing to put up with his unusual schedule while maintaining her own identity. Most women seemed more than ready to give up their own “careers” to make themselves available to NHL players. Tito found it tedious and boring. 

Eventually Rocky found herself venting to Tito about how Kelly and her were on almost completely opposite schedules and how isolated she felt from him. Almost immediately, she regretted it and walked back her statements. Internally she scolded herself for crossing some imaginary line. For his part, Tito avoided the subject and redirected back to the game they were supposed to be watching. He couldn’t even think of a reason why he felt the need to change the subject. They were both venting about essentially the same subject. Still he felt a sting as he listened to her vent and he pictured her domestic life with her boyfriend. The sting was especially strong as he looked around his nondescript hotel room and remembered that there would be no one waiting for him when he returned home at the end of the road trip. 

The cracks in Rocky and Kelly’s relationship began to deepen the weekend before Tito’s appointment. With his big work project complete, Kelly looked to reconnect with his long-time love. He made a reservation at a romantic restaurant and booked a suite at the Plaza. It was the sort of restaurant that demanded a level of elegance and style that was out of Rocky’s comfort zone. 

“Quit fidgeting,” Kelly smiled as they followed the hostess to their table at the back of the restaurant. His hand was on the small of her back as she smoothed her hair down. She had just dyed her hair a vibrant red that morning and spent an inordinate amount of time curling it to achieve the perfect vintage fifties vibe she was going for. 

“People are staring at me,” she said quietly. 

“Please,” he joked, “You don’t dye your hair that color while wearing that dress if you don’t want attention.” Rocky flinched internally at his words. After they sat down, she quickly picked up the menu to study it. The fact it also shielded the tears that welled up in her eyes was an added bonus. 

“Hey,” Kelly said softly, “Let me see your face.”

“I’m deciding what to eat,” she said as she willed her voice to remain steady. 

“Rox,” he whispered, “Let me see your face.” She bit her lip. He only called her Rox when he was being sweet and kind to her. While she couldn’t say that he had been unkind recently, there had been a dearth of sweetness over the past couple of months. Slowly, she lowered the menu to let him see her face. “Rox,” he sighed.

“Do you think I dress the way I do for attention?” she murmured, “Do you think I am that kind of person?”

Kelly reached for her hand and grabbed it before she withdrew it. “I think that you can’t dye your hair fire engine red and cover yourself in tattoos and then be shocked when you get attention from normal people.”

“Normal people?” she questioned as she raised her menu again, “I am not a normal person? Since when?” 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he said flatly, “I don’t want to argue. I like the hair and the dress. You look beautiful and unique. You should rock the hell out of it while you can.” 

“While I can?” she asked after the server took their order, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Rox,” he said, “Don’t overthink it. I just want to have a romantic night with my girl.” 

Something inside of her bristled at the comment “his girl”. She tried to focus on his intent or at least what she believed to be his intent. Kelly wasn’t a malicious person. He was actually quite thoughtful and caring. In fact, it was one of her favorite qualities about him. She looked at him and smiled. "So do you want to hear about my week?" He nodded in affirmation and she began telling a funny story about a misspelled tattoo. 

Back in their hotel suite later, they had exhausted all subjects of conversation. Rocky pulled out her phone as a distraction and saw the notification from Tito.

Rocky quickly typed out a reply.

Rocky- Hey…. Quit cheating

Tito- Who? Me?

Rocky- Yes, you - Beauregard

Tito- #sorrynotsorry. I am bored in the hotel room. Staying spoiler free is hard.

Rocky- Quit being a spoiler whore and go to sleep. You will need your energy for Monday.

Tito- That's right- you're going to pop my cherry. Be gentle with me.

Rocky stared at the screen. She knew full well that he was referring to his first tattoo experience. However, suddenly, a very graphic image of her sliding down onto him filled her mind. She could almost hear him whisper in his light accent, "Be gentle with me." Rocky dropped her phone which drew Kelly's attention. He gave a funny face and she scrambled to grab the phone to prevent Kelly from seeing the content. Then she remembered that it had only been a figment of her imagination and not anything that could be read

Tito- Rocky?

Rocky- Sorry, dropped phone. Yes, I will be gentle with you. I gotta go. We’re headed to bed. TTYL.

Tito stared at the screen. "Headed to bed?" he thought. A vision of Rocky riding him while throwing her head back filled his mind. He tried to imagine just how much of her upper body was decorated with ink. He stared at the screen, then put the phone down. He turned on the TV and willed himself to not look at the phone. “Fuck it,” he groaned as he picked up his phone again. Without thinking, he found himself on her Instagram page scrolling through pictures. “Don’t hit like, don’t fucking hit the like button,” he reminded himself as he stalked. It was mainly tattoo photos with an occasional selfie. He scrolled back up and stopped. “Damn,” he whispered to himself, “Damn.” 

Before he could stop himself, he responded with a flirty reply. He saw Kelly’s response and exhaled in disgust before clicking on his profile. His posts consisted of mainly “bro” activities - hanging out with friends, tailgating at Jets games, trips to the shore, etc. Tito noticed that they were only rare pictures of Rocky, at least recently.

Pretty soon, he had spent an hour down the rabbit hole of Kelly’s profile. He had pieced together a rough timeline of Rocky’s relationship with Kelly. It started off strong in high school with nearly constant photos. Things definitely cooled in college as Kelly morphed from slightly emo/goth boy to total finance bro . There was a direct correlation between their individual transformations and their relationship-at least based on what you could see on social media. Tito would bet that Rocky's tattoos and fashion style were an issue. The more she got, the less he posted her picture. A couple of years after graduation, other than holiday and anniversary posts, she was non-existent on his timeline. It wasn't as if Kelly was necessarily hiding his relationship with Rocky on social media, but he wasn't exactly shouting it from the rooftops either. He did a similar deep dive onto Rocky’s page and reached the same conclusion. 

He scrolled back to her post from that night. How could the things that he found so fascinating about Rocky be an issue for this Kelly dude? He didn’t understand it. He didn’t understand it all. Tito gently touched the screen with his thumb. Her smile made him feel things. Her eyes, he thought to himself, her eyes were bright on the surface, but underneath there was a world that he wanted to know. He wanted to know what made her happy and what made her sad. He wanted to know what she thought about the new Taylor Swift album. He wanted to know her thoughts about everything. 

Back at the Plaza, Rocky sighed heavily as she tried to get comfortable in the oversized hotel bed.  As much as she appreciated the thought and effort that Kelly had put into making the night special, something had fallen flat. Even their lovemaking had been lackluster with them both going through the motions without any true passion between them. Muscle memory elicited perfunctory orgasms for each of them before both they rolled in opposite directions to sleep. Rocky tried "fluffing" her pillow before grabbing her phone. 

She glanced at Instagram and smiled at Tito's comment. "Can't sleep?" Kelly said sleepily.

"No, maybe it was the espresso martini at dinner?" She replied.

"Rox, you mainline coffee all day long. How can an espresso martini affect you like this?" he challenged. She shrugged her shoulders. "Come here," he held out his arm to her, "I'll try the head thing." Rocky rolled over and snuggled into his chest. They laid in silence for a minute. Kelly's fingertips ran up and down arm gently in slow, methodical fashion. He could feel the tension oozing out of her pores. "Rox, talk to me," he finally asked, "I know that something set you off tonight."

"Well, first you said I wasn't normal," she started meekly.

"Normal wasn't the right word," he interjected, "Average is more accurate. It wasn't meant as an insult, Rox. You should know that you stand out in a crowd. You are special and unique….."

"Why do I sense that there is a but hanging in the air?" She questioned.

"There is no but hanging in the air…." He snapped back.

"What did you mean when you said I should rock the hell out of my look while I can?" she lifted her head and stared into his eyes. 

"There it is. That is what you have been stewing over since dinner," he sighed, "What I meant was that eventually you will need to dress more appropriately. Wait, appropriate is not the right word. Hmmmm, maybe I should say….ummmm, subdued."

"Subdued? Why do I need to be subdued?" She shot back.

 He sighed, "because eventually I will need you to be a partner. I can't become a CEO without a good partner."

"CEO?" she balked, "Since when do you want to become a CEO? What happened to the 'work as hard as we can fo the next ten years so we can retire and travel the world" plan? When did that change?"

Kelly blinked, "When I started and discovered that I actually liked it. I am good at my job and I can go further than I thought I could. I know it doesn't mean shit to you but I love it. If you gave it a chance, you might like it too."

Rocky searched into his eyes to gauge his seriousness. Her gaze was met with an expression of such earnestness that she felt actual pain in her heart. "Tell me more about this plan," she said softly before she laid her head on his chest and he wrapped his arm around her to pull her close. She listened as he explained his fifteen year long route to CEO. It included getting married within two years and having their first child two years after that. Everything was mapped out in such detail that Rocky was beginning to wonder when exactly the original plan changed and when he was planning on telling her.

"You're being awfully quiet, Rox," he said at the end as he wrapped up.

"It's a lot to take in," she whispered, "It's a lot to take in."

"You'll at least consider it? Will you at least consider it for me?" He asked hopefully.

"Yes, I will think about it," she sighed. 

Kelly kissed the top of her head, "You're the best. I love you."

"Love you too," she yawned, "let's get some sleep."

TWO DAYS LATER- INKED ON ICE Tattoo Shop

Tito winced and gritted his teeth as Rocky worked on the outline of the complex tattoo design they had settled on. “How are you doing there, Beauregard?” Rocky asked cheerfully. Tito had been sitting stoically for almost three hours. The session started out strong. They started with listening to Taylor Swift’s Midnights, but after two times they grew restless. When Rocky suggested switching to Speak Now, he readily agreed. 

He groaned, “Why on earth would you willingly do this multiple times?”

Rocky smiled, “I don’t know. The art is worth the pain, I suppose. Of course, it could also be that I am tougher than you and can take the pain. I would have thought a hockey player would be tougher but then again Barzal cried like a little bitch too.”

“Hey,” he whined, “Would you like me to tell you all of the injuries that I have played with?”

“Will it make you quit whining?” she countered, “If so, then by all means, tell me how tough you are.” Rocky knew that it would draw his focus away from the tattoo and therefore the pain. Sure enough, the conversation bought Rocky about forty five minutes of productive work time. When he began to lose focus again, Rocky tapped his leg. “Hey, we are at a good stopping point for a break. You rest and I will go grab us some lunch from next door. The lasagna is top notch.” Tito breathed a sigh of relief. Within minutes, Rocky had prepared his arm enough to move freely. “Stretch, move around and relax,” she instructed, “We have about another four hours to finish it. Think you can handle it?” She looked at him with concern. It was his first tattoo and she wanted to be sure that he didn’t tap out before she finished. Also, she wouldn’t admit to anyone, but part of her wondered if she could take another four hours on trying to focus on tattooing while she ignored the intrusive thoughts in her head. 

When she returned with the food, he was casually scrolling through his phone. He graciously accepted the lasagna and bottle water. “What do I owe you?” he asked. 

“You don’t need to pay me back,” she insisted. 

“I am not used to women buying me food,” he blushed. 

Rocky blinked, “Beauregard….. What kind of women are you dating? They don’t even do the courtesy to reach for their wallet? Where are you finding them? Puckbunnies.com?”

“Hey,” Tito cautioned, “Tap the brakes there.”

Rocky immediately hung her head, “I am sorry, Beau. Truly, I am. I am just dealing with a personal thing and it’s got me extra “fight the patriarchy” right now. 

Tito’s face immediately softened, “Something personal? With your boyfriend? What’s his name again- Kelly?”

Rocky sighed, “Yeah, something with him. Hey, how did you know his name?”

Tito blinked. He didn’t want to admit to the stalking of Instagram. “Ummm, didn’t he comment on the picture the other day?” he answered casually. 

“Oh yeah,” Rocky smiled, “I forgot about that.” 

They sat in silence for a moment. The unanswered question hung in the air. Finally Tito asked, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Rocky fought the impulse to open to him. “He’s a client,” she told herself before she took another bit of lasagna. She looked out of the corner of her eye to find Tito staring, waiting on an answer. “Beauregard, I appreciate the offer. It’s nothing earth shattering or dramatic," she offered as an answer. When his eyes didn't move from her face, "Stop staring at me. You're being weird," 

Tito looked down and thought, "Was he being weird?" Then he shook his head and looked at her. Her eyes held a silent plea to drop the subject. He waffled between pushing for an answer, absolutely hoping for any news that the relationship had cracks that could be exploited and letting her tell him without pressure. He grimaced at his mind that jumped at the opportunity to "exploit" any weaknesses in her relationship. No, if they had a future together in their destinies, it would happen without manipulation or pressure. He smiled and deflected, "So, ummmm, where did Rocky come from? Did your dad just really want a boy?"

She was thankful for the deflection. She wasn't ready to put her emotions into words yet. Rocky grinned widely, "It's short for Raquelle. My younger brother, Gabriel, could only say Raq and not Raquelle. Alexander turned it into Rocky after I beat him up." Tito's eyes widened. "Well, he deserved it. He stole my Nintendo DS," she explained. 

"Remind me never to get on your bad side, Raquelle," Tito smiled.

There was something about the way that he said her name made her heart leap with joy. She felt blush overcome her cheeks and she looked away. Tito thought she never looked more beautiful. "Yep, I am going to call you Raquelle from now on," he teased casually.

"Whatever you say, Anthony " she countered. Both of them scrunched their noses immediately. "Nope, Beauregard is better," she declared. She glanced at the clock. "Now eat up, Beauregard," she ordered, "We are going to start in ten minutes and keep going until we are done."

"Yes, Raqueĺle," he cooed, exaggerating each syllable in his slight French accent. Rocky bit her lip and took a bite of lasagna. "I will let you torture me again in ten minutes." he laughed.

Rocky's plan to carb load Tito worked. When they began again, he got into the zone. He sat back in the chair and closed his eyes. His body entered into a trance like state and they powered through together. They were reaching the finish line when "Midnight Rain" started. https://youtu.be/Odh9ddPUkEY?si=IRMd5VC86a0xnQ77. Taylor's voice filled the room

Rain, he wanted it comfortable

I wanted that pain

He wanted a bride

I was making my own name

Chasing that fame

He stayed the same

All of me changed like midnight

Rocky's head popped and listened to the song that seemed to encapsulate the current state of her relationship. When the words "Cause he was sunshine, I was midnight rain,.He wanted it comfortable,I wanted that pain" floated across the room, her eyes filled with tears. Unable to see, she lifted the needle from Tito's skin.  The lack of sensation reached into his brain but did not penetrate. It was the tear that splashed down on his forearm that got his attention. He looked at the wet mark and then lifted his eyes to look at her face

 Tears streamed down as she stared into space. "Rocky? Are you okay?" He sat straight up in the chair. She glanced at him and cried harder. "Rocky, what happened?" He questioned. "Mon ami, what happened? Did you make a mistake?" She shook her head vigorously. 

"He is sunshine and I am midnight rain. He wants comfortable and I want pain," she said out loud to no one in particular.

"Who?" His hand went to her cheek, "Kelly?" She nodded her head. "What happened, Mon Ami? You were fine," he soothed. 

"The song," she choked out.

He listened as the song ended. "Which song?" He asked.

"Midnight Rains," she whispered.

"The breakup song?" He asked in the tenderest voice. 

Rocky wiped her tears, "He has a fifteen year plan now. He wants to be a CEO and he wants me to be the good little corporate wife." Tito's mind raced. "Can you imagine?" She whined, "Can you imagine me at the country club."

"No, no I can't." He answered honestly. "How do you feel about that?"

"Terrified," she blurted out, "What if I can't do it? What if I lose myself in the process?

"Do you even want to do it? He asked sincerely, "Is that the life you want?"

She stared at him like he had three heads. Of course, it was Kelly. He was her future. He had been her future since she can remember. She hadn't considered what she wanted. 

He wiped her tears that still flowed." It is just a song," he whispered, "It doesn't have to mean a break up." Internally he screamed at himself to shut up, but he couldn't stop himself. No, if she was going to end things, she would do it without his interference. It was clear that she wasn't ready to let go. "Rocky…." He continued as she stared into space, "Raquelle…." Her head snapped in direction. "It's just a song," he explained, "You get to decide your future. You can have any future you want."

Rocky inhaled deeply, "You think?"

"I know," he smiled back.

"Thank you Beauregard," she smiled, "You're a good friend to me." Her breath hitched as the word came out of her mouth. 

"It is my pleasure," he smiled, "It's.honor and a pleasure to be your friend. However, if you don't finish this ink soon, I am going to come to my senses soon and I will never let you near me with a needle again."

Rocky glared, "No way you are tapping out now. Buckle up Beauregard.".He sat back and closed his eyes. "Alexa, play Shake It Off."

Thirty minutes later, Tito stood and admired the design. "It's perfect," he praised, "I can't wait to post it." 

Two weeks later - USB Arena

Kelly held the ticket stub in his hand as they walked around the concourse of the USB arena. “Rox,” he said suddenly, “These are lower bowl seats. I think these seats are pretty close to the glass. Where did you get them again?”

“I told you,” she said sweetly, “A client gave them to me as a thank you.” Kelly led them down the stairs to the seats which were right next to the Islanders penalty box. Rocky took the seat nearest the box. Kelly had a thing about having an easy exit out of crowded places and would have felt boxed in. The music in the arena was loud and pulsating. Rocky looked around and absorbed the vibe. She was lost in thought when a loud horn sounded. She looked up to see the Islander team taking the ice. She hadn’t even noticed that she held her breath until she saw Tito step out onto the ice following Barzal. She smiled and exhaled as her eyes stayed glued to him. 

She couldn’t help but notice the difference in him. His face was devoid of expression and his eyes focused on the ice in front of him as the group began to make laps around their end of the ice. Gone was the friendly, but somewhat introverted Beauregard that she knew. In place was a determined and focused warrior. Rocky was tempted to bang on the glass when Barzal took a position in front of her seats to begin his stretches. She decided against creating a potential awkward moment. Instead she searched for Tito, she found him on the opposite side of the ice, stretching as well.

A high pitched squeal of "Barzy" penetrated the air and he leisurely looked over his shoulder to find the source. A gaggle of college girls stood behind Rocky holding a sign that said "Barzy- You can go 5 hole on us." He smirked and shook his head before noticing Rocky, who very obviously focused on something that had her complete attention. He had a hunch on the object of her focus. It was confirmed when he followed her sight line that went straight to Tito. 

He almost shouted across the ice, but thought better of it. Instead he waited, they stood next to each other for a drill. "Hey Tito, why didn't you say anything about Rocky being here tonight," Barzal remarked casually, "Those are better seats than we normally get to give away. Did you ask for extra nice ones for her?"

Tito's head spun around in surprise, "What? Where?"

Barzal pointed to Rocky's location. Tito looked and saw her staring in his direction. He felt his stomach flip while a smile spread across his face. He waved shyly and Rocky felt her face flush.

"Did that player just wave at you?" Kelly asked. He turned to Rocky who waved back to Tito before she turned to face him. 

“Yeah, I know him from the shop,” she answered evasively. Immediately she felt a pang of guilt hit. Between her earlier fascination and not completely honest answer, she walked the boundary of both her relationship with Kelly AND Tito. She added, “I actually did a tattoo for him a couple of weeks ago.” 

“Oh,” Kelly turned to assess the hockey player, “So that’s why your schedule has blown up recently. You are tattooing ‘celebrities’ these days. Good for you.”

Rocky turned to Kelly with her arms folded. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Did I say that it was a bad thing?” Kelly questioned incredulously. 

The couple stood and stared at each other.. The stare down lasted long enough to attract Tito’s attention. His eyes widened slightly when Rocky’s angry expression registered. He started skating before his brain engaged. A guttural instinct took over. Someone had upset his Raquelle and that- it was just unacceptable. He hit the boards immediately in front of Kelly with enough force to knock Kelly’s beer off the ledge he had left it sitting on. The beer splashed Kelly’s jeans while the sound of the hit reverberated through the area. Kelly looked down at his pants, then to Tito who stared him down on the other side of the glass. “Hey!” Kelly yelled as Tito looked at Rocky who stood with her jaw dropped. 

Her mind raced to imagine a justification for Tito’s actions and she could find none. Her look of confusion felt like a stab in the heart to Tito. Rocky turned to Kelly who burst out laughing. The reaction of the crowd in the section was the rousing cheer of approval and amusement. Tito winked at Rocky before he skated off to the bench. “Hey Jake,” Tito called the equipment manager, “You have any money?”

“Why?” the assistant equipment yelled back.

“I knocked that guy’s beer over. I need to buy him another one,” Tito explained.. “Come on, you know I am good for it,” Tito cajoled. Jack turned to delegate the task to one of the team interns when Tito yelled again. 

As he made his request, Jake looked on incredulously. “You owe me, Beau- you owe me,” he laughed as he walked away. 

In the brief time between end of warm-up and puck drop, a hapless team intern came bounding down the steps toward Kelly and Rocky. He stood at the end of the row and yelled down to them. “Hey, Tito bought you a beer to replace the one he knocked over,” the intern said cheerfully as he passed the cup of beer down the row. Then he passed down the large coffee cup and added, “This is for Rocky?” Kelly eyed her suspiciously as Rocky waited for the cup. When she received it, she glanced to get confirmation. It was her ridiculously complicated drink. Tito made someone go to Starbucks and return with a coffee specifically made for her. 

“Can you tell him thank you?” she smiled at the intern. 

“You can tell him yourself,” the intern responded, “He wants me to bring you down to the locker room after the game. Wait here and I will come get you after the third period.” 

“Wow,” Kelly quipped, “That must have been one hell of a tattoo you did for him. You’re getting VIP treatment.”

Later, toward the end of the second period, Rocky leaned forward and intently watched the faceoff taking place in front of her. Kelly had made an early exit to beat the line at the concession stand. The Islanders were in a tight, chippy game against the Dallas Stars- the score tied up at one. Tito lined up against Jamie Benn who acknowledged him with a head nod. Tito looked back over his shoulder and glanced at Rocky but then returned his focus to the task at hand. Benn laughed, “Is that your girl? She looks like fun.” 

Tito responded with a shove to Benn’s chest, “Shut up.” Benn retaliated with a stick poke and a smile- content with the knowledge that he had found a way to get under Tito’s skin. Both resumed position again but began jostling sticks back and forth. When the puck dropped, he used his stick to upend Tito. 

 The move drew the ire of the Islander crowd and Rocky stood up and yelled, “Hey, you can’t do that.” Benn smiled even bigger as Tito got up and launched a shove into his opponent’s chest. The captain grabbed a hold of the stick and they jostled for a few moments before Tito dropped his gloves and reached to pull Benn down into a headlock before he started swinging. He landed several punches before the bigger man was able to pull him down to the ground. Refs separated them. Tito ripped off his helmet as he got back to his feet and shook his head. . 

Benn smiled, sure that he had instigated Tito into a penalty. During a tie game, drawing a penalty was crucial. His smile soon disappeared when he realized that it was he that was getting the extra penalty for his trip. Tito gave him a smile, “Thanks for the power play. It will come in handy.” 

He entered the penalty box casually, sitting down on the bench and placing his helmet beside him. He wiped his face with the towel as Benn yelled from his box. Tito looked over lazily as he caught his breath. “Lucky you,” the captain yelled and pointed. Tito turned around to see Rocky staring intently at him, her brow furrowed slightly. She quickly smiled as he turned around. 

Tito scooted on the bench so that he was closer to her. Suddenly, he forgot where he was and focused on her smile. “Fancy meeting you here, Mon Ami,” he greeted  her. 

“Beauregard…..” she spoke in an exaggerated drawl, “I’m not a hockey expert, but I do believe that you are supposed to stay OUT of the penalty box.”

“Raquelle…..” he began with a little more accent than necessary. Rocky felt her cheeks begin to flush. Tito stared at her face, “If I stayed OUT of the box, then we wouldn’t have this chance to chat. You know that chatting with you is my favorite thing in the world.” Rocky leaned forward and grinned. 

Somewhere in the TV control room, a producer proclaimed, “Are you guys seeing this?” The director looked up as the producer shared the camera view into the Islander penalty box onto the large screen. There, in the picture, were Tito and Rocky shamelessly flirting. Within seconds, the shot was on live TV with the Islanders TV announcers commenting on it. 

“Butch,” Brendan Burke chuckled, “It seems like we have a bit of an off-ice situation happening here.” 

Back in their bubble, Rocky joked, “I knew you were trouble when you walked in…”

Tito retorted, “It’s me. Hi, I’m the problem it’s me.”

“At tea time, everybody agrees,” she finished. 

Back in the control room, one of the female interns shouted out, “Holy shit, they are quoting Taylor Swift to each other.” 

The director yelled, “No fucking way!” He suddenly had visions of a viral moment. The information was relayed to the announcers. 

Tito moved on to another song, “Best believe I’m still bejeweled, When I walk in the room I can still make the whole place shimmer.” 

Rocky picked up, “And when I meet the band, They ask “Do you have a man?” I can still say, ‘I don’t remember’” 

Inside the control room, the announcer's booth and the entire Islanders liveblog tag on Tumblr, people watching were losing their collective minds. Comments flew back and forth- “Do you think he even knows that there is a game still going on? The moment was interrupted by the penalty box attendant who tapped Tito on the shoulder, “Fifteen seconds, dude.” 

Tito’s head spun around and he remembered where he was. He quickly gathered his equipment and stood by the door. He turned to Rocky and smiled. She started “I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew I was enchanted to meet you.” 

The door opened and Tito skated onto the ice. He glanced back and saw Kelly returning to his seat. He handed Rocky a bottle of water and she looked like she wanted to melt into the floor. The voice inside Tito's  head finished the lyric, “Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” He felt the sharp pain in his abdomen like a punch to a gut. It pulled him out of dream-like state and back into the reality of the game. “Use this,” he said to himself, “Use the pain as motivation.” 

His eyes returned to the play and he saw his opening as he gained speed. He knocked Miro Heiskanen off the puck and took it onto his stick. He weaved his way through the two defensemen and circled the net. He passed the puck to Barzal who shot it at the net. Jake Oettinger coughed up a juicy rebound that landed on Tito’s stick. He lifted the puck up and over Oettinger’s shoulder into the net. It took a second for Tito to realize what had just happened. He was swarmed by his teammates as the arena erupted in cheers. 

He looked over to see Kelly pick Rocky into his arms and swing her around. He quickly turned to accept congratulatory pats on the head from his teammates. Rocky’s head spun while in Kelly’s arm to find Tito. When she found him on the bench, she swallowed hard. The focused expression on his face had returned and he stared directly in front of him. It was Rocky’s turn to feel the gnawing ache in her stomach. The period ended and she watched him walk to the tunnel without looking back. 

The Islander locker room buzzed with excitement of the new lead. Round of "Thatta boy, Beau, spread around the room. Tito didn't respond. Instead he replayed his time in the penalty box -the ease of talking to Rocky, the way she pulled him out of the game, the butterflies he felt when he looked into her eyes. He could have stayed lost in that moment for the rest of his life.

His thoughts were interrupted by Anders Lee's voice. "Sooooo who is the girl and can we buy her a beer?" he joked.

"Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you," ran through his head. The memory of her hug with Kelly flashed in his brain. Tito gritted his teeth and shook his head. "She's nobody- just the woman who did my tat," he spit out, 'She's nobody." With that, he got up to find the intern from earlier. Barzal watched in silence before getting up and following him. The rest of the team looked at each other in confusion. 

Barzal caught up as Tito finished his conversation. "Are you sure" the intern asked. Tito nodded his head.

"Sure about what?" Barzal questioned.

"Sure that I don't want her to come down after the game," Tito answered emphatically.

"Why?" Barzal questioned as they walked back to the room.

"Because I said so dumbass," Tito muttered as he put on his gear.

Upstairs,the intern made his way to Rocky's seats. Kelly looked confused when the intern gently explained, "Tito is not going to be able to see you after the game after all. There is a mandatory team meeting that he can't miss." 

Rocky blinked. She knew it was a lie but didn't want to argue or appear too eager to see Tito.. "Oh okay- well, tell him that I will see him around I guess.” She tried to hide the disappointment on her face, but Kelly knew her well enough to spot the fake smile. They rode in uncomfortable silence back to their apartment. 

Later in bed, they faced opposite walls with their backs to each other. “So that’s who you've been texting recently?” Kelly asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” she said softly, “He has been teaching me about hockey.”

"Clearly it worked. You were really focused on the game. I am glad you had a good time. You deserved it." Kelly yawned "Good night Rox. Love you."

"Ditto, Kels," she replied softly. Rocky's phone began to buzz. She picked it up.

Daisy: Girl…

Rocky: What?

Daisy: You're viral.

Rocky: What? How?

Daisy sent her the link to SportCenter and the segment about Tito's time in the penalty box. Rocky watched in a combination of sweet memory and horror. She thought back to what she felt in the moment. The feeling had been so pure and she struggled to name it. It finally dawned on her- joy. 

"What's the problem with joy?" She asked herself as the dread and horror spread around her body. It had been so long since she had experienced true joy. She couldn't remember when the last time was. One thing she knew that it wasn't with Kelly- the person who she should share joy with.

She looked back at Kelly with a wistful look. "I have to be better," she said to herself, "He deserves better." She rolled over and watched the clip again. The feeling of joy returned as she watched Tito's face and a thought popped into her head, "Don't you deserve better?" She pursed her lips and turned off her phone.

Barzal/Beauvillier condo- Long Island

"Fuck you, I would have made that shot,," Tito yelled out to no one in particular as the NHL22 game played. Barzal gave him a side eye and continued playing the video game.

After Tito added "motherfucker,"  Barzal paused the game. Tito protested meekly before Barzal cut him off, “What in the hell is your problem dude?”

“I don’t have a problem,” Tito countered. 

“Don’t lie to me Beau. It insults my intelligence,” Barzal challenged. Tito began a pithy response, but stopped when he saw his roommate’s expression. The concern was apparent and completely out of character for Barzal. “Does it have something to do with Rocky?” Barzal asked quietly. Tito leaned back and let out an exaggerated sigh. “I am going to take that as a yes,” Barzal continued, “Want to talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about. I misread her signals,” Tito spit out, “I thought there might be something there, but clearly I am wrong.” 

“I am not so sure about that dude,” Barzal sighed. The brunette turned and studied his roommate's face. He pondered his next words carefully.   "Look, I was going to wait and let you find out tomorrow, but there is something that you need to see." He pulled out his phone and started the video of Tito and Rocky from the penalty box.

Tito smiled involuntarily at Rocky as his finger went caress her face on the phone screen. He wanted to push the feeling down but it swept over him like a tidal wave. Barzal chuckled, "Dude, you have it bad. You are so into her."

"Too bad she isn't into me," Tito whined.

"Look, she may have a boyfriend, but she is into you," Barzal countered. Tito began to shake his head but Barzal interjected, "Look at her face when she looks at you. She desn't look at her boyfriend that way. I watched her during the game. Trust me there is something there, Beau. It wasn’t just during your penalty. Her eyes were on you the entire game.."

"So what should I do? She has a boyfriend," Tito asked.

"Be patient until she figures it out," Barzal suggested, “I don’t know much but I know that she doesn’t look at him the way she looks at you.”

"So business as usual?" Tito asked. Barzal nodded his head. "One Sec," Tito held up his hand. He reached for his phone and typed a quick text to Rocky,

Tito: Hey sorry we couldn't connect after the game, but it was great to see you. 

Rocky: I thought you were mad at me.

Tito: Never mon ami

Rocky: You sure?

Tito: 100% sure 

Rocky: You wouldn't lie to me, would you Beaugard?

Tito: Raquelle, you wound me 

Rocky: Sweet dreams. Great game by the way

Tito: Thanks- good night

Three days later-INKED ON ICE Tattoo Shop

Rocky tidied her work station and eyed the door.  She had received a terse text from Kelly during her last appointment that simply said "We need to talk. I am working at Starbucks. Let me know when you can chat.” She responded with an equally terse "It will be fifteen minutes as I finish up. It can't wait until tonight?"

"No- I don't want to have this conversation after midnight," was the response.

Precisely fifteen minutes later, Rocky looked up when she sensed his presence and their eyes locked. Her soft smile was met with pursed lips. "Hey," she said as she kissed his cheek before he settled into his seat. His hands held a to-go coffee cup that she was certain contained her order to perfection. "What's up?" she asked casually.

Kelly studied her next design before he sat down. His eyes looked at her askance. His mouth opened and shut several times. With each time, Rocky felt a knot in her stomach develop. "Rocky….." he began, "...... you know I love you. I have loved you since kindergarten when you walked up to me, the new kid, and announced that we were going to be best friends." Rocky smiled at the memory. He continued, "You were the girl, Rocky. You were the girl I was going to love forever. You were my past, you were my present, and you were going to be my future."

Rocky gulped, "Were?"

Kelly swallowed hard, "Yes, were. You have to know that we haven't been working for a while. We lead completely different lives with completely different goals. I don't think it's fixable, Rox. I don't think we can make it work now.

"Kelly, I love you. You know that. There is no one I love more than you," Rocky gasped. 

"I know, Rox. I love you too. You are my favorite person but somewhere along the way, we fell out of love with each other. It doesn't make you the bad guy and it doesn't make me the bad guy. We are just two best friends whose lives are on separate tracks," he spoke in a hushed tone. "I tried to ignore it but I can't anymore. I deserve to be in love and you deserve to be in love.” Rocky stared at the ground as his words sunk into her soul. Her head popped up when he said, “Honestly, I think you are in love."

Rocky stood up, "What are you talking about? There isn't anyone but you. You think I am cheating on you?"

"Tito," he stared into her eyes, "I saw it when I saw the video."

"We were just goofing off and being silly," she exclaimed.

“During a game? A game that he is passionate about?” Kelly countered, "And when was the last time we goofed off like that?" Kelly sighed, “I can’t ignore the evidence. I mean it went viral.” 

"I didn’t mean for it to go viral," she countered weakly, “We’re friends I swear. Nothing else. He just gets me. Kelly- he and I are just friends.”

"I believe that you think that," he stood up to walk to her, "I believe that you are doing everything in your power to honor your commitment to me. You are denying what your heart is telling you."

"And what do you think it's telling me?” she whispered.

"That you are not in love with me anymore and if I were out of the picture, you would fall in love with him," he reached for her hand. "Look, I could tell at the game. It's there and I would be a fool to try to deny it."

"I don't want to hurt you," she cried, "I don't want to break your heart."

Kelly intertwined his fingers into hers. "It would break my heart to settle for less than we deserve. You deserve to be in love. You deserve someone who wants the crazy lives you two lead." He stopped and inhaled, "And I deserve someone who wants the white picket fence, the PTA and the ordinary life I crave. I deserve someone in love with me." 

Tears streamed down Rocky's face, "I'm sorry."

Kelly wiped her tears with his thumbs, "Don't be. Don't be sorry for being you. I love you. I love you enough to set us free."

"I love you, Kelly," she leaned her forehead into his chest, "I'll always love you."

"I know, but now it's time to love each other from a distance," he kissed the top of her head, "One day we can be best friends again."

"I would like that," she looked up at him, "So we're over? We're really over?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "at least as lovers."

Out in the lobby, Tito held his finger up to his lips as he entered the shop to keep Daisy from announcing his arrival. In his hand, he held a large coffee and protein box. He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks. Kelly stood with his arms wrapped around Rocky’s back. Her face was nuzzled into his neck. Tito’s body lurched like he had been punched in the stomach. “I love you Rox,” Kelly smiled as he set her down and kissed the top of her head. He then turned around to walk past Tito. He glanced at Tito, who stood frozen, and smiled. Rocky watched the exchange in numb silence. Tito watched Kelly leave the shop and then turned his head to look at Rocky. She gave him a soft smile. Internally, Tito’s mind raced. He didn’t have an agenda when he decided to drop by and see Rocky, but he certainly didn’t expect to witness such a tender moment. “Snap out of it, Beauvillier,” he told himself, “You got the wrong idea. She has a boyfriend- one that she loves even if you can't make it make sense to your brain.” 

“Hey Beauregard,” she stepped toward, “To what do I owe this surprise?” She fought to keep the tears out of her eyes and her voice smooth and steady. They exchanged a look and Rocky watched as Tito’s expression hardened before her. 

“I, uhhhhh, was in the neighborhood, “ he began. He couldn’t think of a singular good reason why he would be here that didn’t involve a fervent desire to kiss her. So like all good men when forced to face an uncomfortable emotion, he lied. “I wanted to be sure that you were still eating,” he stammered, “You need to eat so you can keep doing good tattoos. I vouched for you and uhhhhhh, I don’t want anyone who listened to me to be disappointed by a sucky tattoo because your blood sugar level dropped.” 

He thrust the coffee and food into her hands. Before she could protest, he was half-way to an escape. “Thanks for the coffee, Beauregard,” she called out to him. She could see his body flinch but he kept moving. Rocky watched in despair as he made his retreat. 

What had happened? After their post-game chat, Tito had been reserved but still friendly. Now he was running away because of why she did not know.  Rocky replayed Kelly’s words in her brain. “If I were out of the picture, you would fall in love with him,” he had said. She sighed bitterly and added, “Yeah, but Kels, clearly he will not fall in love with me.”

 She turned to walk back into her section and looked around. She had two consultations and three appointments scheduled. She went to her table and sat down. She started the music but quickly turned it off when the starting notes of “Lover” began. Impulsively, she picked up her sketchbook and threw it across the room. Loose papers and notes tucked into it scattered on the floor. “Whoa,” JD whistled as he entered her section, “What happened here?” 

Rocky got down on her hands and knees to gather the papers to her chest. She placed her hand on a blank piece of paper and flipped it over. It was Tito’s tattoo design. Tears filled her eyes and she sat back on her heels. JD looked at the paper and then back at Rocky. Her face dissolved into tears. “Rocky?” he questioned, “What happened?” 

"Kelly broke up with me," she cried.

"What? Why?" JD resigned himself to getting down on the floor and sat next to her.

Rocky wiped her nose with her arm. "He wants sunshine and I am midnight rain," she explained to JD as if he would understand. The words brought Tito to her mind and she started sobbing again. "Beauregard would understand," she thought to herself. 

JD sat patiently and waited for a break in the sobs. He had not been sure when Rocky had shown up at the shop, boldly asking for an apprenticeship. He found himself unable to say no despite the fact that had never mentored anyone before her, something he had taken great pride in. However in the almost year later, they had formed a unique friendship despite their age difference. 

"I am going to assume that was some sort of Taylor Swift reference," he said drolly, "Care to explain it to the non-Swiftie?"

"He was this whole corporate life with the house in the suburbs and PTA wife," she sighed. "I was going to try to make it work," she continued, "but things changed and he didn't want to try anymore." 

"You mean he didn't want to try to force a relationship with a woman clearly in love with another man?" he asked gently. Her jaw dropped and she started to protest. "I saw Beauvillier leave," he added.

"Yeah, you saw him leave. He couldn't get out of here fast enough," she cried, "Clearly he isn't interested."

"I think the evidence points to the contrary," JD countered, "but his loss if that's true." They sat in silence for a few minutes. "You know, I think you are ready to end the apprenticeship."

Her head shot up, "Getting dumped twice in one day. That has to be a record."

"I am not DUMPING you. I am telling you that you have freedom to choose your next path," he explained. "You are ready, Rocky," he nudged her shoulder.

"You think I am ready to go solo, really?" Rocky asked in earnest, "What if I fail?"

"I have a feeling that you are going to fly," he leaned over and kissed the top of her head.

"What should I do about Tito?" She asked.

"I think that you shouldn't go from one man to another. If you are going to go solo, then go solo," JD spoke, "but potentially? Yeah, I saw you on Sportscenter and ship it. That's the right word, right?"

"You're learning, old man," Rocky joked.

 Daisy poked her head in the room, "Ummmm, I didn't mean to eavesdrop but I overheard about Kelly." Rocky looked up at her. "I canceled the rest of your day and tomorrow," Daisy added, "Pack up your stuff. I am taking you home and we're having a meeting of the 'Boys are stupid and they suck' committee. No arguments, Rocky. We are going to laugh and we are going to cry until you don't need to anymore." Rocky's eyes filled with tears. "See, you've already started." 

Hours later, Rocky stood in the guest bathroom of Cameron and Daisy's large home. She looked at her face. Her eyes were puffy from tears but she felt a wave of peace wash over her body. Daisy and she had discussed her future and what she wanted. As much as she felt a pull toward Tito, she could not shake the feeling that she needed time. JD was right. She couldn't jump from one man to another man. Rocky had spent her entire adult life committed to Kelly. It was time to spread her wings and fly. She felt confident that even if she crashed and burned that she was strong enough to make it on her own. 

She took a deep breath and picked up her phone. She noticed two things- no communication from Tito and a text from Kelly. She opened the text and smiled, "Rox, I miss you already but know that our destiny lies as best friends. I will be here waiting to see where your destiny takes you. You are capable of greatness. I'll love you forever."

She typed out her response to Kelly. Then she hit the dial button.

"Hey Rocky,” the voice on the other end answered.

"Is that job offer still good?" Rocky asked. 

"Yes, are you considering it?" The voice asked.

"If you still want me," Rocky responded.

"Pack your bags. I have a guest house you can use until you get settled. Can you be here in a week?" Cat smiled.

"See you then," Rocky smiled.

STATE OF GRACE

A WEEK LATER- ISLANDERS PRACTICE FACILITY

"Hey Tito," Kelly called to him as he exited the ice after practice.

Tito stopped and stared, "What the fuck does he want?" He thought to himself. 

Kelly held out a cardboard tube and Tito, "It's from Rocky."

"A delivery? From Rocky?" He called back, "Why didn't she deliver it herself?"

"I think you know why," Kelly replied dryly. Tito thought about the multiple texts and calls from her that he had ignored. "Just read the card," Kelly added before he turned to walk away.

Tito ripped the card open and read it quickly. 

Beauregard-

I hope this note finds you well. This is not the way I wanted to tell you but I am moving.

Tito's eyes snapped up, "You two are moving?"

"No, just her," Kelly explained. Tito tilted his head in question. "We broke up last week. In fact, the day I saw you at the shop, " Kelly added.

Tito thought back to the day. He had been so quick to jump to the wrong conclusion. "You idiot," he told himself, "You fucking idiot." He continued to read.

I tried texting and calling several times, but those have not been returned. I have decided to make a fresh start in a new city. All of my adult life has been bending myself and sacrificing my dream to allow Kelly to pursue his dream. I am going to some place brand new and testing my wings to see if I can fly on my own.

Tito smiled to himself, "Oh mon ami, Raquelle, you can fly. Oh how high you will fly."

I am sad to leave you and our friendship. I didn't want to leave without saying two things. First, I am thankful that fate brought us together as friends. Your friendship reminded me who I am, the part of me that I had hidden away to fit into the mold of what Kelly wanted and needed. I am Midnight Rain and that's okay. Thank you for accepting me and all my quirks. Not only did you accept them- you embraced them which helped me embrace them too. 

Second- I am thankful for the joy that you brought back to me. It had been so long since I felt the joy that I felt with you. I love you, Beauregard. I don't believe that our journey is over. In fact I think that you are just at the beginning of a wonderful life full of adventure and more importantly, love. You will bring so much joy  to the life of the woman who you love and she will be so lucky. So long for now. In the words of our Queen Taylor- "And when you find everything you looked for, I hope your life leads you back to my door. Goodbye, Mon Ami." 

He pulled out the sketch of his tattoo out of the cardboard tube. She had written- "Never forget the joy of hockey. Keep it in your heart forever just like I will keep the joy of you in my heart forever." 

"Goodbye Mon Amour," Tito whispered as he placed the drawing back into the cardboard tube, "No, not goodbye-see ya later."

THREE MONTHS LATER- BEAN AROUND THE WORLD COFFEE SHOP-VANCOUVER

The coffee shop was crowded with the morning rush. The barista greeted Rocky with a smile. In the three months since she had moved to  Vancouver, she had become a regular so there was no need to give her order.

"So what's your day look like?" Lauren, the barista from England, asked cheerfully. 

"I have an easy day today. Only two appointments and a consultation," Rocky answered with a grin.

"Ahhhh," Lauren winked as she rolled her sleeve so her new tattoo was prominently on display, "I'll advertise for walk-ins." Since getting inked by Rocky, Lauren had fed a steady stream or referrals over to the tattoo shop. The large black and gray realistic wolf was a showstopper and customers complimented her on it daily. 

"Keep that up and I'll have to give you a discount on that sleeve we discussed," Rocky quipped.

"Don't tempt me," the Brit joked. Rocky moved down to the pick up counter to wait for her drink. She faced away from the crowd and studied her phone.

Further down the line, Elias Pettersson stood with his new linemate. They had just completed a practice and workout. "So you are set in your airBNB?" The Swedish superstar asked, “No issues?”

Tito looked up as they moved up to the counter, "Yeah, I'm all set." Tito had been traded to Vancouver earlier in the week in a trade that the hockey media dubbed "The Bo for Beau exchange".  His first game was the next night, "I really like the area. It's got a cool vibe." Canucks players segregated themselves - the married players sought the comforts of the suburbs while the single guys stayed close to the active nightlife by the arena.

"What can I get you, Petey?" Lauren asked the Swede. After he gave his simple order, she turned to Tito, "and you?"

Tito rattled off his order, "Unsweet iced coffee with an extra shot with skim milk, 2 pumps of sugar free vanilla syrup, 2 Splenda and light caramel drizzle."

Lauren looked up in disbelief. What were the odds that TWO people would have that same, very specific coffee order? "Can you repeat that?" she asked. Just then the other barista that made the coffees called, "Order for Rocky." 

Tito shook his head in disbelief. Surely he had misheard. They hadn't said Rocky and if they did, it couldn't be HIS Rocky. He turned to see the petite pixie walking toward the door. Her hair was now a pastel pink but there was no mistaking that it was indeed HIS Rocky. He immediately chastised himself, "You have no claim on her, especially with the way she had left." Undeterred, he started weaving his way through the crowded shop while his mind raced. She was here in Vancouver. He was here in Vancouver. His path was blocked at every step. He stopped and yelled "Raquelle!"

She stopped and turned. It sounded like Tito but it made no sense. Why would he be in Vancouver? "No," she told herself as searched the sea of faces unsuccessfully, "You're imagining things." She turned back around and headed down the crowded street. 

Tito felt the air leave his lungs when she turned at the sound of his voice. She was here. It felt like a dream so he gave chase. Petersson  called after him, "Beau!!" The call landed on deaf ears as Tito made it out to the street.

Fifteen minutes later, a dejected Tito entered the coffee shop. He found Petey sitting at a small table with a bemused smile on his face. "Where did you take off to?" The platinum blonde asked as he handed Tito his coffee.  

"A girl," Tito spoke breathlessly,  "A girl I knew from Long Island."

"Let me guess. Her name is Rocky?" The Swede said although he had pieced together some info.

Tito took the coffee and sat down, “Yeah. I can’t believe she is here. What are the odds that we would be here at the same time?” 

“So this girl- is she an ex or something?” Petersson.

Tito paused before answering, “It’s complicated.”

Petersson raised a single eyebrow, “Men and women are not that complicated unless you make it complicated.”

“She’s the one that got away,” Tito sighed.

“So go after her,” the Swede replied. 

“You saw me try. She vanished. I searched, but if I didn’t know better, I would think she was a figment of my imagination. 

Now that the rush had subsided, Lauren walked through the shop- straightening tables and greeting customers. “Who is a figment of your imagination?” the beautiful brunette asked with a smile. 

Petersson answered, “The elusive Rocky who apparently is the owner of Beau’s heart.”

“You know Rocky?” she replied in her delightful accent, “it makes sense now.”

“Wait, what makes sense?” Tito questioned. 

“It makes sense you know each other. You have the same coffee order,” Lauren pondered, “You are the only two people with that order.”

“You KNOW Rocky?” Tito practically jumped out of his seat, “So she is a regular here? She LIVES here in Vancouver?”

“She moved here a few months back. She’s been a regular since starting at the tattoo shop- Pink Ink,” she answered, “She did my wolf.” She held out her arm for Tito to examine. 

Tito looked down and studied the tattoo. It was Rocky’s work all right. There was no mistaking her technique. He could tell immediately it was her design and work.  He head spun with this newfound information. Electricity ran through his body. Rocky- his Raquelle- was here. She was so close he could feel her pull him to her like a magnet pulling a piece of metal.

 Lauren studied him quietly but the realization hit her. “Wait a minute! You’re the guy from that video. The hockey one with the penalty box. Bloody hell, that’s you?….. And she’s the gal, right?” she exclaimed.  Tito smiled and nodded his head yes. 

“But that doesn’t mean anything now,” Tito said, suddenly filled with apprehension. They hadn’t ended on good terms. Well, more specifically he had acted like an idiot. What if she had moved on already? What if she had sworn off men altogether? Did he still have a chance?

When Tito looked up, she saw the questions in his eyes. “She said she had unfinished business in Long Island with a guy. I didn’t recognize her with the new hair. By the looks of it, her unfinished business must be you.” Tito’s jaw dropped when she continued, “Don’t just stand there. This is True Love. You think this happens every day?”

“Princess Bride!” Petersson exclaimed- proud that he caught the pop culture reference. Tito glared at him. “What? I am a man of many layers,” the Swede continued. 

“Where is that shop?” Tito interrupted as he stood up and started walking towards the door. “What’s the name of it?” He heard her answer, Pink Ink, and Googled as he walked. He smiled when he realized how close the shop was and hit the call button on his phone. 

Rocky puttered around her station, getting ready for the day. She overheard Emily, the receptionist, answer the phone. “Pink Ink where we specialize in sarcasm, good tattoos and fighting the patriarchy. How can I help you?”

“Hi….uhhhh,” Tito stammered, “I’d like to get a tattoo. I have heard good things about a Rocky?” 

“Oh yeah, Rocky? She’s one of the best,” Emily answered, “When did you want to come in??” Rocky stopped in her tracks to listen to the conversation. 

“Now?” Tito hesitated. 

“Sure, I’ll let her know that she has someone coming in,” the receptionist responded. “Can I get a name? Okay, great- see you soon.” Emily got up and walked to Rocky’s room. “Hey you have basically a last minute tattoo.” Rocky nodded her head in understanding as she finished lighting her candles and started her playlist. “Yeah, some guy named Beauregard,” Emily called as she headed back to the front. 

Rocky spun around and walked out to the hallway, “I’m sorry. What did you say the name was….” Her head turned as the front door chimed and the door opened. “Did you say Beauregard?” Rocky questioned. Tito walked in and Rocky’s jaw dropped. 

“Raquelle!” he exclaimed as he walked in, “Fancy meeting you here.” 

Rocky stood frozen in disbelief. She willed her mouth to say something. She willed her body to move. “Do something!” her mind screamed, “Do something.” She watched him walk towards in what felt like slow motion. Suddenly the message hit the message center of the neurons that controlled her body and her body launched into motion. She sprinted to him and threw herself into his waiting arms. 

“Beauregard,” she cried out, “What are you doing here?”’ Her brain raced for answers. “Do you have a game here? How did you find me?” she quizzed, “I don’t care. I don’t care. You’re here.”

“Well, you did say you hope my life leads me back to your door. So here I am,” he laughed as he swung her around. When he stopped to keep from getting dizzy, they stared at each other. Breathless, they stayed glued to each other- their lips nearly touching. 

Rocky’s eyes scanned his face. His bright blue eyes sparkled as she searched for any clue as to his thoughts or feelings. Internally, she questioned “What if he doesn’t feel the same? What if he is just glad to see his friend?” The doubtful thought was immediately met with the equally loud thought, “Take the chance, Rocky- take the chance.” She brought lips to his lips in a tentative kiss. The electricity jolted through their bodies and together, they deepened the kiss. 

“Mon Amour,” he moaned, “Raquelle, mon amour.” They kissed in the hallway, oblivious to their surroundings. 

Finally, Rocky broke the kiss and he set her down gently. She took his hand to guide him to her room. When they stepped inside, she turned to him and asked, “Wait, did you say Mon Amour?”

“Yes, I did,” he pulled her to him, “Rocky, I love you. I have loved you from the moment you shot me down and told me that you saw a whole world hidden behind my eyes.”

“But I live here now, Beauregard,” she protested. 

“So do I,” he kissed her, “So do I.”

“Wait, what?” she questioned, “You live here? In Vancouver?”

“Oui, I was traded earlier this week. Life literally brought me to your door, or coffee shop, to be exact.” he answered. When she looked confused, he told her the story about their almost meeting at the coffee shop. 

It was Rocky’s turn to kiss him, “Remind me that I owe Lauren that sleeve.”

“I owe her everything,” he smiled.

“Did you really want a tattoo or was that a ploy?” she smiled as she studied his face. 

“I definitely want a tattoo,” he laughed. 

“Oh?” she took a step back. 

He pulled up his shirt and pointed to his chest. “I am thinking of getting Raquelle right above my heart in a fancy script. Think you can do that?”

“I mean it’s the kiss of death for relationships. How long have you been with this Raquelle?” she mocked. 

“For about sixty seconds, but I have a good feeling about her,” he teased. 

“Maybe you should at least wait until after your first date,” she poked his chest before inhaling sharply as she caught sight of his abs. 

“That’s a good idea. I have an idea for the perfect first date,” he quipped as they fell into the easy rhythm of their banter. 

“What’s that?” she quipped back. 

“Have you ever heard of Taylor Swift?” he laughed, “She has a concert this summer near here. You might like her.”

Rocky laughed, “You are going to make me wait until July for our first date? So rude.”

“Fine,” he kissed her before he continued, “How about hockey? I know a guy who can get you into the Canucks game tonight.”

“Perfect first date,” she returned his kiss. Suddenly the words of JD rang in her head- Don’t jump from one man to another. Rocky pushed off of his chest and took several steps back. 

“Raquelle?” he questioned, “Did something happen?”

Rocky studied him for a moment, trying to verbalize her thoughts. "Beauregard, I like my life. I have a good job. I have good friends. I worked hard to create a life that makes me happy, and I am absolutely not changing it to fit into yours no matter how much I adore you."

"Raquelle, I don't want you to change anything for me. You're perfect exactly the way you are. Don't change a thing."

"I mean it Beau. I am not giving up my passion for you,"  she says as he inched toward her.

"I would be disappointed if you did," he said and took another step.

"You're really here in Vancouver?" she said, “Like for real?”

"Yes, I am," he said. 

“And you want to be with me?” she asked quietly.

“Yes, I do. I want it more than anything I have ever wanted before,” he continued. He placed his hand on her cheek as she smiled, "It looks like all along there was some invisible string tying you to me."

"You think quoting her majesty Queen Taylor will help your case?" she whispered as he stood inches from her mouth.

"I would call on the hockey gods if I thought it would help me," he smiled.

"Shut up and kiss me," she started to quip back. 

"Yes, Raquelle, yes Mon Amour" he cooed before he kissed her.

[therealjackdsaf]

warning me being stupid and dumb about things I like under the cut

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Angel McCarthy, regarding their time missing between the months of January and April, 2012. Original statement given May 15th, 2013. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement begins.

ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)

I… I guess, erm, I should just start, then, right? All right. Ahem. This happened a few months ago, um, New Year’s Eve, exactly. Back in California, USA.  I had been working on my writing, a novel about deities and succubi, when I was struck with a rather severe case of writer’s block. It was late, but I decided to venture out into the forest surrounding my home. I lived with my father, at the time, a rather rude old bastard, but for some reason he… he never minded me leaving, if it was for the forest. Ahem.

I walked out the front door, the crisp, pre-spring air filling my lungs. It was a familiar scent- I grew up playing with my siblings in that house, and- Oh. I’m getting off topic. Right, so, I ventured into the forest, making note of things I could incorporate, or, y’know, use in my story, when I suddenly realized- the part of the woods I had gotten to looked… strange. Different.

Now, that was unusual, since I knew the forest like the back of my hand. I knew the path I had taken well, due to the fact I used to go fruit picking down this path with my brother and sister. It had the same elements, but it had a weird feeling to it: like it was fake, y’know? I’ve had derealization episodes before, but this… it was different. Nonetheless, I steeled myself, and continued.

And for a while, it stayed normal. Or, well, you know, not normal, but, unchanging. I figured I had just had an episode due to the argument I had with my father hours prior. I figured it was just my anxiety acting up. I figured the brighter shades of green flickering on the trees was a trick of the light.

I had only realized something was off when I looked at one of the trees: it looked like a bad model of a tree, like from a 3D game that just didn’t land the mark correctly with its rendering.

And as I progressed, I realized that the trees, and ground, got more pixilated and fake looking. I finally decided enough was enough, so I turned around, but there wasn’t… a forest, anymore. No.

It was a green door. A large green door, with blacked, tinted windows, and golden J-shaped handles. Then I turned around. The same door. I was starting to feel stressed out, but I tried to steel my nerves and think logically. There was probably someone inside. Someone who could help. Maybe.

There wasn’t.

The second I walked inside, I knew something was wrong. There was a strong scent of… Grease and something sour. It made my skin prickle. I almost vomited. I slowly stepped inside, looking around. It seemed to be an arcade. There were huge arcade boxes, air hockey tables, things like that.

I was already regretting going inside, when he showed up.

He was tall. Far too tall to be human. Not that he could’ve been human. No. The only thing humanoid about him was his frame. He was like a figure drawing. Something an art student would sketch up, except, he didn’t have a face. Or rather, he did, but it wasn’t… normal. It was like a bird. Or, maybe, a plague dictor mask. And he was completely hollow. I could see right through him, literally.

His voice was loud, bitcrushed, and seeming to come from everywhere in the arcade, almost as if he was the arcade. So, I asked who he was, and where we were. He laughed, a sort of, ‘Jeheheh’ if that makes sense. J seemed to be a common theme for him. Along with green.

He told me his name was Jota, and we were in Jota’s arcade, a place where “Fun Spreads Like The Plague!” Macabre theme, I muttered, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He took me to a room- It looked like the main dining room to a greasy kid’s pizza joint. Do they have Chuck’E’Cheeze here? Unimportant. It was sort of like that, you know, and the smell of grease seemed to get stronger. He told me to take a seat, and that I had caught him on a good day, not everyone gets such a pleasant interaction with the owner. That’s what he said.

And I could tell he meant it. He definitely had a threatening aura around him. One of his arms was severely… glitchy. Yes, it looked glitched. His fingers on that hand came to sharp, green points, and he carried a green scythe with him. Almost like a god of death.

What I asked next seems stupid now, but I asked him if I was dead. He simply laughed, his Jehehe,  and shook his head. “Far from it. This is the single most alive place you’ll ever be.” He told me, and I felt a shiver go up my spine as I felt he meant it.

I asked how to leave. His expression seemed to falter.

I decided not to ask about it again. I don’t think I would’ve made it out if I asked again.

And then he asked me to play a game. He said it was simple, a short game, it wouldn’t take long. I had a terrible feeling, and… I’m sorry, I can’t do this, I- I have to go.

ARCHIVIST

Statement ends.

Angel attempted to leave, stating that they feared “he was watching” and that “they don’t want him to find [them]”.

I’m honestly not sure what to believe for this one. It’s highly likely that Angel had a long term hallucination, but it doesn’t explain why they were missing for months, with no sign of them being in the woods. 

We cannot question their father for the details, nor either of their siblings, as Michael, Delilah, and Gabriel McCarthy have all sadly passed since then. Angel also refused to come to London for further questioning, which, makes sense, considering the distance and the fact they wish to put all of the happenings at their house behind them. They’ve settled with a wife, Lilith Potter. Hm.

I have a few other statements from them made on the same date, most of them starting with ‘I’m here, might as well’, but as far as I could tell the only mention of that plague doctor was once in an earlier statement, and surrounded by nonsensical ramblings about mirror people, and gods. I know that we don’t need anything getting into the religious territory. Not anymore.

Ahem. Well, I suppose that’s it, then. Though, one thing did come across as strange… I have been able to find a page on the website tumblr that bears striking similarities to the place Angel described. I might have to look into this further. Hmm.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[spoiler1001]

Tether

Sonic vanished through the portal, landing back in his own time, leaving Shadow behind to deal with whatever made itself known. As he traveled, images flashed through his mind: A spear of light piercing through his chest.

Sonic brushed off the vision, placing a hand on his chest, feeling a solid mass of muscle. Sonic let out a breath and frowned in concentration. This was… well not new but something that was going to be pain to take care of. 

------

Shadow saved Sonic from that gray hedgehog. He really had come a long way from trying to destroy the world. SOnic could see the hero that Shadow was becoming maybe…

The image of the spear flashed through his mind again. Iron filled his mouth. This adventure was turning into a bigger issue than anything the doctor could do. 

-------

“Shadow may I have a word?” Sonic asked quietly. He gestured behind him, away from the others. Shadow looked a Sonic, his head cocked to the side just a fraction. The two walked away from the prying eyes of the others. 

“Normally you are not one for subtlety. What seems to be the issue.” Shadow asked. 

“Tails.” 

“Is the boy hurt? Injured? If he needs rest, Omega carries a blanket for when Rouge has missions that take multiple days.” Shadow’s head turned to look over at the fox boy who was talking with knuckles while sitting on a desk, kicking his feet outward.

“No, no. it’s just that he’s still a kid, if something were to happen to me, he’d be alone.” Sonic wrapped his arms around himself. “He’d have others but-” 

“You’re his brother. He’d be losing family. All of his family. I’d keep an eye on him, keep him safe if something were to befall you.” Shadow nodded. 

“Thanks. Shad, I don’t want to worry about him being left behind.” Sonic chuckled. 

“Just don’t try to get yourself killed. The doctor would be insufferable if he even thought he defeated you.” Shadow deadpanned. 

“I wouldn’t deny the world a chance at seeing my beautiful face.” Sonic grinned. 

Shadow ignored him and walked away. 

------

Sonic thought getting stabbed would hurt more. The spear went through him; he felt the wind get knocked out of him. Elise’s scream bleed into a high pitch ringing. Iron  filled his mouth as he tried to breathe. As the world got dark around the edges he hoped Tails wouldn’t take it too hard. 

-------

Shadow looked around at the ground around him, the chaotic vortex of time swirling around him. His speedy mind moving as fast as it could- stopping when he detected a darkly familiar scent. Rouge and Shadow shared a look. 

Tails hadn’t seen it. Knuckles cried Sonic’s name out. Tails turned to look but Shadow was faster. Kneeling down, Shadow placed his hands on either side of Tails’s head. It blocked out the sides of his vision, and locked his eyes foreward, forcing him to focus on the hedgehog. Tails’s eyes were wide and tears were building. 

Rouge and Omega rushed to the body. Her sharp gasp told Shadow how bad it was. Tails struggled in Shadow’s grip to look over his shoulder, but the hedgehog didn’t budge. Shadow watched Rouge pull the silk blanket out of the hidden compartment in Omega and wrapping Sonic in it. It was a tense couple moment and Shadow felt every second. 

Rouge stepped back. She turned to look at Shadow and nodded, her gloves stained red. She clasped her hands behind her back as Shadow let go of the fox. The fox couldn’t rush to Sonic’s side quickly enough. Shadow closed his eyes and turned away at the cry that Tails let out. He was so young… Shadow wished that the young fox boy could have gone longer without feeling this pain. 

-------

The Chaos emeralds were truely a miracle. Sonic floated above them, the wounds on him closing. Tails looked up at his brother with wide eyes, a small smile on his mouth. His eyes shone with awe. His tails, normally moving ot twitching were completely still. Shadow stopped as he passed to kneel and wipe the tears from the younger’s face. Sonic nodded at Shadow as he finished his walk to Sonic, golden light beginning to radiate from Shadow’s fur.

-------

Everything was normal. Time fixed itself. The festival went off without a hitch. No Eggman in sight. It was that way for weeks. Sonic relaxed, the ghost sensation of getting stabbed with the spear fading with time. He thought it was done and over with. No one showed evidence of remembering what happened. Not even Tails or Shadow. 

Until the first thunderstorm after they had killed the god of time. Sonic had been sleeping in a spare bed in Tail’s current worksop. It was cozy. Warm. 

Sonic was awoken by his door creaking loudly. He looked up to see the fox peering from the doorway. His eyes were distant, staring through Sonic. 

“Hey bud, bad dream?” Sonic mumbled, already moving to make room. Tails was pressed into Sonic’s chest before he even finished asking the question. Tails was tense, shaking. Sonic took a deep breath. “Hey, it’s alright. You’re ok.” 

Sonic scratched between  Tails’s ears. Tails finally relaxed as exhaustion took over. Minutes passed as the two sat in silence. 

“Hey, Sonic?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Did you get hurt in Soleanna?” Tails’s question got his attention quickly. Sonic felt the spear dig into his back for a moment, before he gave Tails a reassuring smile. 

“What makes you ask that- is that what your nightmare was about?” Sonic kept his voice even as he talked. Tails just nodded in response. 

“Well, don’t you worry about that. I’m here and I’m ok.” Sonic promised. Tails seemed to accept that, drifting off to sleep next to his brother. Sonic stayed awake collecting his thoughts.

[kerink]

the attic liveshow live react

you can always go in the same way you go out. well. not always. i can think of one time thats not true such as....life

this too shall pass reprise

thai food and mario kart tournament and sawa dead body

listen up to not hurt cecils feelings

wendys built the brown stone spire?!

sniffs cecils lapel sniff sniff

AQUARIUS TRICKING A LEO INTO A CAVE FKDKDKFK

looking at family pics instead of doing the news

a photo of mom and cecil and abby <333

abby and cecil are gonna fall into the big hole...

cecil collected animals..

BEAVER PEED IN ABBYS BBED

named the snake after his mom...

tamikaaaaaa

cecils stuffed animal TT_TT

NOOOO HE LEFT IT BEHIND

"she could be cruel i suppose" ill say cecil

JACKIE FERRO MENTION POG

wretched gretchen: she hesrd your wish

"kids with their tiktok dances" cecil talk to your husband

michelle helping people become musicians?!

oh ok shes my queen never mind

theyre mouthing yergent lmfao

ah. the picture of cecils mom. ah

oh they just keep making new trauma up for him

lee macin best known for being 30 years old

WHEN HE WAS A YOUNG MAN ONLY 30 YEARS OLD 💀💀💀

cecil going to sleep cuddled up to his radio listening to leonard 😭😭😭💕💕💕

cecils face when kip was insisting the shirt was a card almost killed me

carlos please take his credit card away

AUOTE GET REAL

kip trying to take cecil soul... this already happened to him

CECIL YOU DID PLAY BASEBALL AS A KID COME ON

well he played with earl so it makes sense why he wouldnt rememebr

CRANOR PUT ON THE T SHIRT

qhen he shook his head and mouthed no about meditation 💀 he was so cute

he freaking teleported us to san fransciso

BALDWINS LITTLE POSE WHEN HE STARTED THE SECOND WENDYS PART THE WAY HE KICKED HIS LEGGIE

THERES A MAN PLAYING MYSIC

disperitions little nod

CECIL POKIG AT SDISPERITIONS STUFF

cecil was sooooo cute at the keyboard 😭😭😭

larry leroy shooting birds‼️‼️

cecils little sad/scared uhhuh was so cuuuute

cecil dismissing a book not holding up TO TAMIKA girl howd she not kill you

SHE CALLED HIM CEECCEE

CECIL WENT BACK TO THERAPY oh its an iguana

"nobody has repressed more stuff than me" baby we know

this is condos 2

THERE WAS NO FAMILY TRIP TO THE GRAND CANYON

we should see something of this country but we only made it a few blocks

abby and i sat in the dark holding hands not knowing what game was being played only that we were losing it

wendys is no bed bath amd beyond when it comes to interdemensional magic

perfection isnt human

"i cant change the pain of my childhood past"

CARLOS AND CECIL ARE TAKING ESTEBAN TO THE GRAND CANYON

"as soon as i figure out how to get out of night vale" 💀

I ACCIDENTALLY STARTED A PREMATURE CLAP AT THE SF LIVE SHOW 🙈

[thebabblingbrookenook]

Powerful

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader (Modern AU)

Summary - Your best friend’s eldest brother has always been a bit of a problem for you. He’s always been around to provide his particular brand of torture, but always just out of reach. What happens when that reality gets blurred?

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: 18+ smut, dirty talk, oral, finish inside, power swap

Author’s Note: Alright... This is a new one for me lol. Huge thank you to @colettebronte for giving this a once over and helping me iron out some of the kinks. And for the title suggestion! 

“You have gotta be freaking KIDDING ME?!?!” you exclaimed, barely refraining from shouting expletives through the busy city streets. 

This had been the week from hell. You know what, scratch that - The entire month had been the stuff of nightmares. Ever since you had started this new job you had developed the taste for violence. Your boss was such a controlling, condescending prick. Nothing you did was ever to his liking. Even when you crossed every T, dotted every I, and turned in work well before their deadlines, he could still find something to complain about. 

His most recent form of entertainment was assigning you tasks with very specific instructions. He never told you why he insisted on multiple unnecessary steps, but you had an inclination that his reasoning was completely arbitrary. He just enjoyed watching you get flustered. Testing the limits of your patience was a sport to him. When you inevitably turned red-faced and fought to contain your tears, he would lean in just a little too close and tuck your hair behind your ear. 

His voice always held a patronizing tone. “Now, now… don’t get upset. This type of work doesn’t come naturally to everyone. Some people need practice utilizing common sense. I’m sure you’ll improve soon with my guidance. Now, take a moment to compose yourself before you go back to your desk. We can’t have the rest of the staff impacted by your ineptitude. Do you think you can handle that, Sweetheart?”

He made your skin crawl and your blood boil with rage. You hated who you were in his presence. You had never been one to second guess your worth until you had started working for him. You were qualified for this job. In fact, you were probably over-qualified, but somehow he still held this bizarre power to influence your self-esteem. 

Every morning when your alarm sounded, you debated with yourself on how much you needed this job. On one hand, you counted every moment until you could punch out and go home.On the other, you had gotten this job on the recommendation of a close family friend. You didn’t want to tarnish their credibility by telling the head of the company to fuck all the way off in front of his entire team. 

In the end, your discomfort never outweighed the injury to the Bridgerton family name. That was what you reminded yourself when your boss sent you out on your third coffee run in an hour.

According to him, your listening skills were atrocious, which must be why you could never get his order right. In reality, it was because he changed his mind about his order before you had made it back to the office. Instead of calling you to inform you of the change, he waited until you had walked the four blocks, there and back, to his favorite cafe. 

You had just rounded the corner, with what you were praying was his last coffee order, when an oblivious man on his cellphone barreled right into you. Hot liquid poured down your white dress, leaving a dark brown stain. Your assailant didn’t even stop to offer you a hand up from the pavement. 

Heat swelled behind your eyes. The tears were coming and there was nothing you could do to stop them. Your emotions had betrayed your logic, and you were left feeling helpless and exposed. 

There you stood, crying and wet, in the middle of the street, frantically trying to dab yourself dry. The only comfort being that the situation couldn’t possibly get any worse. 

At least, that’s what you thought..

Mortification washed over you when you heard the familiar, warm voice. “Pip? Is that you?”

Shit. Anthony Bridgerton. You’d know his voice anywhere. Your best friend’s oldest brother has always been a bit of a problem for you. His smug smirk riled your anger but his deep, molten eyes inspired another heat entirely. Being around him was unnerving. You were always highly aware of your own body, and how he influenced it with the slightest movement of his own. 

Aside from your boss, Anthony Bridgerton was the last person you wanted to see right now. He represented everything that vexed you at the moment. He was powerful, well-connected, and wielded control like a lethal weapon. He was intoxicatingly masculine and you were furious at how predictably you reacted to him.

You knew it was never his intention, but he had a way of making you feel untethered. It was hard to find yourself when you were with him. From childhood, you had a larger than life perception of him that left you feeling intimidated. But that was a self-inflicted insecurity and unfair to project on him. 

He was never anything but kind to you. He treated you like one of his sisters and you were just realizing that was the problem. Even though he was almost nine years older, you wanted him to see you in a different light. You wanted him to see you as someone who could be his equal, someone who held value. You didn’t want to be Pip.

You hated that nickname from the moment it left his lips when you were seven years old. Pip, short for Pip Squeak. All of the Bridgerton brothers had taken to calling you that. You were small, and easy to tease. The name fit so well that it was impossible to shake.

Most of the time, you wore it with a badge of honor. When Colin or Benedict called you that, it made you smile. Even Violet adopting the endearment made you feel loved. But not Anthony. It had, and always would bother you coming from him. 

Taking a deep breath, you straightened yourself and turned around to greet him. “Anthony…”

The smile dropped from his face as he took in your appearance, tear-streaked and coffee-stained. He closed the distance between you in seconds,cradling your elbow with his steady grip . “Good God, Pip! Tell me what’s happened!”

“It’s nothing. I’m fine,” you lied. 

Your choice to withhold clearly irked him. “You don’t seem fine. You’re a mess.”

His observation stung more than you cared to admit. “Oh, gee… Thanks Anthony. I don’t know how I could have ever figured that out without you.” You pulled your arm from his grasp. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t need you to fix me. I’m not helpless. I can do things on my own!”

He stared at you in stunned silence. You had never spoken to him like that before. You had always been Daphne’s friend that looked at him with hearts in your eyes. This new version of you didn’t align with his version of reality.

His eyes searched your face in contemplation. The heat of his gaze gave you the urge to run, but you were bolted where you stood, unable to break away. Nerves sent your heart soaring through the stratosphere and your breathing accelerated to an exhausting pace. 

You saw hurt flicker across his handsome face. “I never meant to imply that you couldn’t. Of course you can do things on your own. You’re a very capable woman.”

His declaration stole your breath. Stepping closer to you, he softened his voice. “I only meant that you didn’t have to do so. I’m here for you. Always, Pip. I hope you know that.”

There was that damn nickname again. “Ugh! Stop calling me that! I’m not a little girl anymore.”

He stepped so close that his nose almost grazed your own. “I am well aware of that.”

His pupils dilated, somehow blackening his already dark eyes.

You dug in your heels obstinately. “You could have fooled me. God, I am so sick of you treating me like a child!”

His arms crossed defensively over his chest. “Well, you’re certainly behaving like one right now. How else should I treat you?”

Your fists clenched painfully at your sides as you readied yourself for an argument, but he beat you to speaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… well, it’s just that..”

You never knew him to be one to stumble over his words. That was usually reserved for you. 

“Just what?” you challenged. 

“You’ll always be Pip to me,” he admitted.

You wanted to be stronger. To have more resolve. But your irritation was being eclipsed by disappointment. He was only confirming what you already knew. You would always be Pip. Just Pip.

This was a dangerous conversation to be having in your current state of mind. If you wanted to preserve any semblance of a relationship with Anthony, you needed to get away from him before you said something that you couldn’t take back.

“Right,” you conceded. “Just a little pip squeak. I can’t hear this right now Anthony. Please step out of my way so I can get back to work.”

He looked over his shoulder in the direction of your office. You could practically hear the clues clicking together in his head. “Has Reed been a good mentor? He assured me that you would get the very best training under his tutelage.”

The mention of your boss brought new waves of dread. You had spilled his coffee. You’d have to go back. Again. There was no way you were walking into his office empty-handed. 

This wasn’t something you wanted to talk to Anthony about. You scrambled for a lie. He would just get mad and try to fix it. And the worst part was, that was exactly what you wanted him to do. He was very good at swooping in to rescue you, but maybe it was time that you stopped letting him. It wasn’t doing anything to help separate how you felt about him. 

Your silence alarmed him, lighting his fuse. “Pip, is he mistreating you?!”

You didn’t know what to do. This was delicate. Anthony could be unpredictable when his temper flared. 

The edge to the conversation had left him short on patience. “Fuck this! I’ll find out for myself.”

Quick on his feet, he turned away from you to stalk towards the building where you worked. In desperation, you reached out and clasped your hand around his wrist. “No, don’t! Anthony, stop. You can’t!”

“Like hell I can’t,” he warned. “Either tell me what is going on, or let go of me. You decide.”

People were starting to notice your spat. Tugging on the wrist you still clutched, you pulled him around the corner into the alleyway. “If I tell you, will you calm down?!”

“That depends on what you say. I make no promises.” He was dead serious.

You were quickly approaching your limit. “See, that’s exactly why I don’t want to talk to you about this. You’re not going to understand. You’ve never had to.”

“Try me,” he pushed arrogantly.

“You’ve always been you, Anthony. You were literally born for authority. You give the orders, not take them. Men like you and Reed have never had your worth reduced to how pleasing you look sitting at a desk, or how quickly you can serve someone. I bet you’ve never handed in a proposal that took you weeks to complete, only to have your boss set it directly in the rejection pile without reading it. Have you ever been asked to go home and change on your lunch break because the person who holds power over you wants you to look sexier for meetings with investors? Until you can say yes to any of those scenarios, you are not the person I want to confide in. I get enough high handed pity in my day to day, I don’t need it from you too. Especially not from you. I don’t want to associate that feeling with you.”

He gently encouraged you to continue, “And what feeling is that?”

“That I’m powerless. Inconsequential. A pip squeak…” you forced yourself to look him directly in the eye. 

A war was clearly being waged in his mind. About what, you weren’t sure, but eventually there was a victor. He huffed a determined sigh, “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

He started walking away, foolishly assuming that you would blindly follow. Had he not been listening to a single word you said? “Anthony, I can’t just come with you. It’s the middle of the day. I have to go back to work.”

His shoulders visibly tensed, but his expression was schooled when he turned around. “You will not be going back in there. If you want power, take it. Fuck that job, and fuck Reed. He won’t be employable for much longer anyway…”

His words hung ominously in the air, “I will gladly argue with you about this later, but for now,” he extended his hand for you to take, “Will you trust me?”

Maybe he was listening. He was giving you a choice. You could say no, go back to work and be miserable. Or, you could reach out to him and take a chance. You tried not to let the thought of lacing your fingers with his cloud your judgment, but you were losing that fight.

You were about to cross a line for yourself that couldn’t be undone. It would probably mean nothing for Anthony, but this would fuel your infatuation for the next twenty years.

“Pip?” his voice broke your trance. “Will you trust me, yes or no?”

You inhaled a deep breath to steady yourself. It was now or never. Curiosity won out over trepidation. Your hand slid into his and something inside you came into focus. “Yes. I trust you.”

His responding smirk held a danger that made you feel not quite as sure.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Anthony, what are we doing here?” you asked as his car pulled up in front of his apartment building. You had never actually been inside before. All of your adult interactions mostly happened when visiting Violet or on a night out with Daphne and Simon. 

He turned to look at you before removing the key from the ignition. “I want to prove to you how capable you are at taking control.”

Wait, what did he just say?! You didn’t have time to over-analyze before he was opening your car door and looping your arm around his. He tossed the valet his keys and escorted you to the elevator. His strong, skilled fingers punched in the code for the penthouse level. Your eyes lingered on them shamelessly. There was another button you knew they would press well.

The elevator doors dinged open, revealing a gorgeous open concept layout. The entire back wall was made up of floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the cityscape. The colors that ran throughout were deep and inviting. It fit him perfectly.

You felt him chuckle at your side. “Do you like it?”

You blushed, fully aware that he had caught you stunned and open-mouthed. “I do. It’s very you…”

“Hmmm,” he questioned. “Does it stand to reason that if you like my home because it is very me, that your affinity might extend to me in general?”

“Umm,” you gulped. He was standing closer now. “Are you asking if I like you?”

His answering smile was dangerous. “Oh, I know you like me. I’m asking if you like me enough to do anything about it?”

“Anthony…” you were stalling.This couldn’t possibly be happening. 

He took another step, effectively securing you between his body and the kitchen island. He wasn’t touching you, but you could feel the heat coming off his solid chest.

He backed up, distancing himself slightly. “Was I mistaken? Has it been all in my head for years? If so, my apologies. I shouldn’t have been so presumptuous.”

. Panic clawed its way up your chest, propelling your hands forward. They gripped the soft material of his sweater and pulled him back to you. 

“No!” you exclaimed, embarrassed at your outburst. “I mean… No, you didn’t misunderstand. But if you knew, then why…”

“Why are we just now having this conversation?” he asked, finishing your question. 

A nod was all you could manage to give him. 

He sighed and continued. “You mean a lot to me. That meaning has shifted over the years, but you’re no less important. I would never abuse the power I hold in this relationship. It had to be something that you decided you wanted for yourself. It still does. You are under no obligation to explore this.”

Explore this… His words had injected themselves directly into your bloodstream. You both looked down at the bunched material of his sweater that you had clutched in your fist.

 “So, I’m going to say this one more time,” he warned. “Do you like me enough to do anything about it?”

Your answer was almost a whisper, “Yes…”

A rough finger pushed your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “That wasn’t very convincing. Shall we try again?”

He was goading you now. He always knew exactly how to get a rise out of you. Maybe by the end of this, you would learn how to get a rise out of him. Preferably over and over again.

Your body took action before your mind had even decided. Twenty years of pining for someone can do that to a girl. 

He was so close and he smelled mouthwatering. Tugging down on his sweater, you pulled his lips to yours. Electricity buzzed blissfully through your body at the feel of him pressed against you. You were needy for him.The heat was already spreading between your thighs and he hadn’t even touched you yet. 

His mouth was perfect. Hot and wet, his lips danced with yours seductively. His hands snaked down your body and cupped your backside, hoisting you to the countertop behind you with ease. You opened your legs to welcome him in. 

His lips made their way to your ear and down the side of your neck. The stubble that lined his jaw made you shiver with delight and you felt the warm chuckle vibrate in his chest. 

“Did you like that?” he asked. “Do you want more?”

“Please…” your body wiggled to meet his hips.

A thrill shot down your spine at the noise he made in response to the friction. 

One strong hand came down to squeeze your hip, halting your movement. “I will give you whatever you want. Anything…”

His lips came back to your neck. His breath tickled your skin when he spoke. “Today is about you.” Another kiss. “I want you to feel fucking powerful.” His teeth grazed your earlobe. “Take it. Take the power. Tell me what you want. Show me how strong you are, Pip.”

You shied away from him, “I can’t do that. I won’t know what to do and I’ll make a fool of myself.”

“Not possible,” he shook his head. “I can assure you that anything you do is going to bring me to my knees.”

You don’t know what came over you, but a wicked smile inched across your face. “You promise?”

“Trust me, darling. I’m halfway there already,” he winked. “Now, tell me where you want me.”

Where did you want him? What did that mean? Where did you want him to touch you? Where did you want to touch him? What room in the house?! The possibilities were endless. You could feel yourself getting overwhelmed and you didn’t want to get it wrong. 

You didn’t think you could tolerate any more humiliation today. Especially if Anthony was the one to witness it. 

Just relax. You trust this man. You’ve known him your whole life. 

Inspiration started to take form in your mind. If you were going to experience what it meant to be powerful, you wanted to do it in a place that you associated with helplessness.

“Take me to your study,” you commanded.

Recognition flickered behind his eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

He helped you from the counter and led you down the hall to the door you passed on your way in. Inside was exactly what you imagined. There was a huge, ornate wooden desk at the center. Behind it sat an oversized, well-worn leather chair. The room smelled of the books that lined its walls, but held a trace of the familiar, spicy musk that was Anthony. 

You gave an appreciative whistle. “So professional. It’s almost like you’re a real businessman or something.”

“Something like that,” he teased. 

Silence settled between you. Each of you is waiting for the other to pick up where you started. He looked like sin incarnate standing before you. His arched eyebrow clearly declaring his challenge. 

Bastard. He wasn’t backing down. If you wanted this, it had to be you. Your choice, your desires. You walked toward him, pushing him back until his legs hit the desk, then pressed down on his broad shoulders. He was perched on the edge, watching your every move intently.

Spinning away from him, you pulled your hair over your shoulder and offered him your neck. Looking back, you ordered, “Unzip me.”

Without hesitation, his deft fingers found your zipper, and slowly peeled it down your spine. His knuckles glided over your bare skin, prickling it with goose flesh. The fabric pooled around your waist, begging to be slid over your hips. 

He was silent behind you. The only sound, his labored breathing. Leaning forward, his lips wisped over the skin at the bottom of your spine just above…

Confidence was building within you. Bending over at the waist, you wiggled your dress down your thighs. His small gasp of surprise sent a rush of power flooding through your veins.

Your breasts were fully exposed when you turned to face him.

“Fuck,” he admired. “You’re definitely not a pip squeak anymore. We might have to rethink that nickname.”

“No,” you protested. You had decided to fully own it. Embrace it even. “You gave it to me. I want to hear you say it.” He gulped and nodded his head in understanding. “Now, didn’t you make promises of being on your knees?”

His pupils were blown wide open. Dropping to the ground in front of you, he looked up through his annoyingly beautiful eyelashes. He was waiting for your consent before crossing this final boundary.

When he found what he was looking for, his nose inhaled your scent before nuzzling you through the soft cotton of your underwear.You wound your fingers into his hair to steady yourself. “Take them off, Anthony.”

You were naked before him in seconds. “Mmmm,” he purred, licking his lips. “Can I taste you?”

“I’ll allow it,” you giggled. 

His hands went to your hips and he kissed his way down your tummy. You felt delicate under his large palms. His nose nestled into the small thatch of hair covering your mound, and he inhaled again. Deeper this time. “You smell amazing. Good enough to eat.”

You flashed him a cheeky smile, “Bon appetit.”

The heat and the vibration from his laugh made you clench. This was going to be good.

Softly, his lips brushed over your swollen clit. Your body melted into him and he hummed his approval. His tongue darted out and licked a tantalizing circle around you. He was taking his sweet time and the pace was torture. After all these years of pent up lust, you were likely to explode at any moment. 

One of his hands lifted your right thigh and placed it on his shoulder, opening you up and leaving you vulnerable to his assault. He licked your slick folds from bottom to top, sucking your clit between his lips. 

“Oh my gosh. Anthony… Mmmm.”

Your sounds of appreciation fueled him on. His mouth explored with more urgency. His tongue spread you wider and plunged deeper. The slurping, wet sounds were explicit. Your whole body burned from the blush spreading across your skin. It was all so brazen. You, in all of your glory, and him, still fully-clothed. 

You tugged on his hair, pulling his head back so he was looking up at you. His lips were shiny with your desire. “Stand up and take this sweater off. We’re about to make a mess. I like the way this looks on you and I don’t want to ruin it.”

The sight of his toned stomach made you ache as he pulled the sweater over his head. His skin was so beautiful and smooth. It always kept a hint of the sun, coloring him with warmth. The hair that dusted his chest was too much to resist. Your fingers splayed through it and you placed your palm flat on his chest over his heart. You could feel it beating. Calm and steady, just like him.

Reaching down, you started to undo his belt. You opened the front of his trousers but you didn’t push them down. He was rock hard against your palm. He watched you in awe while you traced your finger above the waistband of his briefs.

“These stay on for now,” you informed him. “Now, where were we?”

“I think we were right about here.” His fingers slid between your folds and rubbed languid circles around your clit.

“Get back down there, Bridgerton. We’re just getting started.”

“Whatever you want, Pip. Whatever you fucking want,” he pledged.

He moved between your legs with a newfound vigor, driving you to within an inch of your sanity. It was getting harder to stand on your own. Your legs were shaking with need but you would rather die than for him to stop now. 

Your fingers entwined desperately with his soft unkempt curls, pushing his face rougher against your core. You were so close now. So close it was almost painful. His voice pushed you even closer. “That’s it, baby. Ride my fucking tongue. Take what you want.”

“Anthony!” you begged.

“Come on, Pip. Come in my mouth. I want to taste you. I won’t waste a drop.”

One thick finger curled inside you and you were lost. 

“Mmmm, yes,” he groaned. “Keep going. I’ve got you. Let go.”

You didn’t recognize the sound of your own voice as you spasmed around his finger in fits of ecstasy. His tongue was still relentlessly lapping at your entrance, collecting every drop as promised.

Tremors rolled through your body as he coaxed every ounce of pleasure he could find. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders, silently asking for mercy. It wouldn’t be long before your legs gave way. You were beginning to suspect that was precisely what he wanted.

Slowing his magnificent assault, he started to inch his way up your body until his tongue traced around your hardened nipples. The feel of his stubble dragging across your chest was such a contrast to the gentle ministrations of his lips. This man was perfect. Maybe not for everyone else, but perfect for you. 

“Mmmm,” his teeth bit into your neck. “That was so good, Pip. You came so hard for me.”

Aftershocks of the mind-augmenting orgasm he provided were still rippling out to touch the very ends of you. Speech was proving to be harder than you remembered. You wanted to tell him thank you. To offer him the universe. But you couldn’t. You were too busy relearning how to breathe.

His laugh was light and free, synching your heart closer to him. “It’s okay, love. You don’t have to speak. Just hold on tight.”

With impressive ease, your legs lifted from the floor and were wrapped securely around his waist. The lean muscles in his back moved deliciously under your fingertips as he carried the two of you over to sit in his leather desk chair. The throbbing bulge in his trousers rubbed against your sensitive clit, slowly bringing you back to life with the sway of each of his steps.

The chair easily accommodated both of your bodies. Your knees straddled his thighs, spreading you perfecting over his straining cock. His jeans still hung open loose, allowing your fingers easy access to roam. He twitched in your hand, flexing his hips up to meet your teasing. 

“You’re so hard, Anthony,” you whispered in his ear. “So warm and thick. So useful…”

“Ohhhh, fuck!” he moaned as you ground your hot, dripping pussy down onto his lap. 

His hands clung to your hips for dear life, guiding your movements in a delicious rhythm. The material of his underwear was adding to the friction against pushing you towards your second orgasm of the day. You were aching to feel him buried inside you, but you were determined to draw this out as long as possible. You had already waited years, what was a few more minutes?

A warm, sticky fluid was leaking from his tip, dampening the deep red briefs that hung beautifully on his hip bones. It was begging to be tasted. Devoured. 

Gently, you slid your hand inside the elastic and circled your thumb around his sensitive head. He shuddered beneath you, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes tracked your movements in disbelief as you brought your thumb to your mouth and sucked off his salty-hot desire. 

“Mmmm. So good,” you opined. “I want more.”

Your hips moved again with a vengeance. Chasing your own ecstasy, you enticed him to join you. Your circles spun faster and rougher against him. “Oh, God! I’m going to come again, Anthony. Don’t you fucking move. Stay there. Just like that!”

A growl vibrated in his chest at your words. “Holy shiiitt! Slow down, Pip. I’m too close. I don’t want to come like this.”

Your hair hung wildly around his face when you leaned in to kiss him. “What if I want you to? What if I want you to come from the feel of me rubbing myself all over you until I scream? Don’t you want me to get everything I want, Anthony?”

His eyes were wild as he took in your expression. Longingly, he nodded his concession.

“Good boy,” you praised. “But don’t come yet baby. I want you to watch me first. Watch what you do to me. Feel how needy I am for you.”

Taking his hands in yours, you led one to your puckered nipple, and the other to the soaked opening between your thighs. “Do you feel that Anthony? Do you feel how much I want you? I’ve been thinking about this for so long.”

He slid two thick fingers inside of you, curling upward and pulling back against the wall of your channel. You rode his hand as you continued to use his body for your own pleasure. His ragged breaths and whimpers were lighting you on fire. It wasn’t long before you were exploding around him.

“Yes, yes, yessss,” he applauded. “You’re squeezing my fingers so tight. Keep going, I’m so close.”

Stilling your motions, you reluctantly removed yourself from his lap. “Oh, no. You didn’t think I was going to let you finish yet, did you Ant? Not before I’ve felt you in my throat.”

Dropping to your knees, you yanked the remainder of his clothes off, setting free his achingly beautiful erection. He was mouthwatering. Nothing in this world could have kept your tongue off him now. 

Your fingers gripped around him firmly, getting a feel for his girth. The skin there was soft and smooth. A delicateness contradicted with the pulsing, imposing vein that ran the length of his shaft to meet his swollen head. On impulse, you brought him to your lips and kissed it.

“Aaaahhh,” he winced with pleasure.

His head was thrown back, eyes clamped tight. His abdomen rose and fell with each harsh, staccato breath. 

“Anthony,” you called. “Don’t look away.”

Lust simmered in his fathomless chocolate orbs. His bottom lip was trapped between his teeth, resisting the urge to hold your face down on his cock until you choked.

A hint of his arousal spilled over the tip and dripped down his length. It was too much to resist. Your tongue darted out to catch it, licking all the way from bottom to top and wrapping your lips around his sensitive head. It made sense for a man like him to taste like such a delicacy. You wanted to drink him dry.

Placing your hands on his thighs, you took more of him into your mouth. You let your tongue lead the way, wetting him with your saliva. All the whimpers and muted curses under his breath were driving you insane. They only served to make you more brazen in your actions.

Finding a less languid pace, you bobbed your head up and down in his lap until you were able to touch the tip of your nose onto the sweat slicked skin of his lower stomach. He was resting perfectly at the back of your throat. Spit covered him as you gagged blatantly on his dick. 

“Holy fuck, you’re good at that,” he praised you.

One errant hand wandered from his thigh and reached below to cup his balls and massage them lightly. He wasn’t going to be able to handle much more of this. He hardened more and more by the second on your tongue.

You let your throat relax a little more and hummed around him. The muscles in his thighs tensed up with the anticipation of his release. Heeding his body’s warning, you removed yourself from him entirely.

His gasp sounded almost painful. “No, don’t stop. I was right there. Please…”

False innocence covered your face when you gave your reply. “I’m still going to make you wait, Ant. I want to see how well you follow orders. I don’t want you to come until I say so. If you’re getting close, I want you to tell me so I can decide if you’ve earned it yet. Do you think you can do that?”

The challenge was clear on his face, but he gave his consent nonetheless.

“Good,” you replied. “Let’s see how gracious you can be about it along the way.”

Your mouth found him again with a new vigor, this time with the assistance of your hands. You were making a sopping mess of yourself. The sounds you made were purposefully obscene. All notion of shame left you, and you embraced the heady feeling of bringing him this much pleasure. 

“Pip… Pip, slow down. I’m gonna…” his hand gripped frantically onto yours.

Slowly, you peeled yourself away from him. Sitting back on your heels, your rested your hands flat against your thighs, patiently waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Tell me when you’re ready, baby. I can wait,” you cooed.

Truthfully, you were having trouble waiting too. Once you had gotten a taste of him, felt the heat of him, you could think of nothing other than having him inside you.

“I’m ready,” he pleaded. “Come back to me.”

The five seconds it took for you to reach him felt like an eternity. On the floor, at his feet wasn’t nearly close enough, so you chose to climb onto his lap instead. Your knees found their home on either side of his hips.

The feel of him, bare and pulsing, so close to your entrance released a fresh wave of intoxication, and the evidence flooded down the inside of your legs and onto his lap.

“Ohhhhh God,” he moaned, holding you firmly atop him.

He glided between your folds with ease as you rubbed yourself all over him. Every few strokes, you could feel his tip align with your entrance. It took every ounce of willpower you had not to sink down to meet him.

His breathing was strained from the force of your back and forth rocking. His eyes only left your face long enough to watch the spot where your bodies rubbed together mercilessly

Another orgasm was starting to build in your belly, but the next time you came you wanted to be filled with him. 

His fingers were digging painfully into your hips, marking you as his. 

“Pip…” his voice was quiet and vulnerable.

When you looked at his face, you saw a single tear fall down his flushed cheek. Leaning forward, you kissed it, running your tongue out to catch the salty drop.

Your experiment with power was over. He had handed you complete control without a single complaint. He had more than earned his release.

You took his face between your hands and waited until his eyes focused on you. “Fuck me like you mean it, Bridgerton. Like it’s the last time I’m going to let you.”

Conflicting emotions creased his brow as he considered your words. The thought of this being the last time he could touch you this way was devastating him, but he had already said this was for you. If finding pieces of yourself with him today was all he could give you, then he would comply despite what he hoped for himself.

Abruptly, he stood from the chair and sat you down roughly on the flat surface of his desk. Your legs opened wide in anticipation. 

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded. 

With one swift thrust he was stretching you beyond comparison. You had never, not even once, been this satisfyingly filled. The vein in his cock dragged along the inside of your walls,

Your ankles locked behind his perfectly toned ass and pulled him closer. 

He growled out his approval, “Yessss… Good girl, Pip. Pull me in deeper.I don’t want to leave you until I’ve known every inch of you.”

His heavy panting and filthy words spurred you on. “I want to come inside you. I need you… I need to feel you flutter. Come on my cock so I can spill myself inside you.”

Your head was spinning from his last request. Sounds were muffled, your vision blurred. All you knew was the feel of him pounding into you. When his thumb bore down on your clit everything went white. Heat radiated out from the center of your being and touched the tips of your fingers and toes. Ringing sounded in your ears, leaving Anthony’s voice a faint echo.

“Fuckingggg hell!” he screamed as he stilled and emptied himself into your needy, and insistent embrace.

His movements slowed but he continued to push gently, reveling in the feel of you.

“You take me so well, darling. I just want to keep fucking my cum deeper into this perfect cunt.” His debauched words colored your mind.

Too soon, you felt him withdraw from you.. He licked down your face, along your neck, and over your collarbone, stopping to kiss the skin between your breasts.

Your legs were still wrapped securely around him, pinning him to you. Your hands came to rest in his hair, running soothingly through the strands as she nuzzled into your chest.

“Anthony…” you questioned.

“Mmmhmm,” was his sated reply.

“How do we taste together?” You felt him twitch back to life between your thighs.

His hand snaked down your body to reach between you, but you stilled his wrist, shaking your head in disapproval.

“No,” you clarified. “With your tongue.”

The sound he made was inhuman. It made you feral.

His head dipped below your belly button and his tongue savored the evidence of your combined orgasms. 

When he finished, he didn’t speak. Instead he brought his lips to yours and let you experience for yourself. His mouth bribed yours open with the promise of his tongue. Deep and sensual, he explored you. 

“Tastes just right to me,” he opined.

Tugging you gently from the desk, he settled back into his leather chair with you cradled in his lap.

Your hair stuck to your face in sweaty strands, and he pushed back behind your ear.

His face took on a curious expression. “Was that really the last time you’re going to let me fuck you?”

You laughed at the utter absurdity of that question. “Not even close, Bridgerton. Not even close…”

And it wasn’t.

It wasn’t even the last time that day.

@faye-tale @colettebronte @eleanor-bradstreet @bridgertontess @angels17324​