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cellythefloshie · 5 months

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;; Mama Bear Dedicated to myself. Because this has been my passion project.

Summary: With her son Parker set to skate in his first NHL game with the Boston Bruins, Katherine Stacy travels to Boston. When her plans are derailed by her ex-husband, Katherine is forced to spend a night on the town alone where she meets Jeremy who is more than willing to show her a good time. Kinks & Tropes: Age Gap (22 v. 40). Divorcee. Alcohol Consumption. One Night Stand. Oral Sex - Fem Receiving. Mirror Reflection. Protected Sex. - If I missed something, yell at me. ABOUT THE OC’s: Katherine: AKA Katie. Face Claim: Bryce Dallas Howard. 40's. Mother of Parker Waylon-Stacy. Parker: Face Claim: N/A. Boston Bruin's Rookie. Dorthey: AKA Dottie. Face Claim: Kate Hudson. Best friend of Katherine. Word Count: 12k+

A/N: Would you believe me if I said that this fic was 4 months in the making? @hagelpoint-3821 and @hockeyboysimagines -- I do not know how you have put up with me teasing this fic for so long. This fic is one that ignited a fire of excitement in me, and to be able to share that excitement with the two of you is something I will always appreciate. You both know that this fic could have easily become a full length novel - and I did have to cut back on this things to assure I could get this out before the new year. I won't have to but you guys with persistent updates about the progress anymore! Thank you so much for your ongoing support and encouragement. With that said, this fic is not going to appeal to everyone. It is unlike anything I have written before, and is unlike anything I have seen in this community before. So please consider liking and relogging if you enjoy, and if doesn't end up being your cup of tea - thank you for giving it a shot. And please note that I did not do a full edit of this fic. I will be editing any mistakes I see upon rereads. I hope you all enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.

As a woman traveling alone, there was one thing Katherine Stacy made sure to do: she created a detailed itinerary. Everything from her flights to hotel check-in times and the sights she was planning to see in the great city of Boston were listed in detail on two neatly organized pages. And she made sure to print 3 copies. One for herself, that she carried in her black Kate Spade purse. One for her ex-husband, Ronnie, who was meant to join her on her trip. And the last, for her best friend, Dottie, who remained back home in Toronto - but was the one person she knew she could count on if something did not go according to plan.

Which was why, as Katie called her from her dimly lit hotel room in the middle of the day - when she was supposed to be touring the Museum of Fine Arts - Dottie answered with such urgency you would have thought her home was on fire. Her mass of blonde curls was the first thing you could see when she answered the video call. They fell into her face that was too close to the screen, her words rushed so close together they slurred into one. “What’sgoingon?Whyisitsodark?Thisisnottheartmuseum.”

Katie propped her phone up against her suitcase, the camera obstructed by the bag’s handle as she rushed to get one of the lights, a string of apologies leaving her lips. When she returned to the end of her bed, she fixed the camera just right before her hands dipped into her bag and she continued to unpack her belongings and store them away in the hotel room’s dresser. It was only then, with her hands busy and a heavy breath rocking her shoulders, that Katie told Dottie why she was calling.

“He brought her.”

That was all Dottie needed to hear for her eyes to be sent wide in disbelief, “He. Did. Not.” Dottie was always nothing short of eccentric and supportive, but that support only had grown stronger since Katie’s divorce. And since Ronnie started dating again.

Not even a year into their separation before their divorce was finalized, he had started dating Monica. A beautiful, blonde, twenty-something, esthetician from Etoboike who had weaseled her way into the Waylon family before Katie could even realize what was happening. Which included joining Ronnie on their trip to Boston. Which was supposed to be just the two of them. One where they were coming together as parents to celebrate the success of their son, Parker Waylon-Stacy, who was set to play his first game in the NHL the next evening.

Worst of all, he hadn’t told her she was coming. Monica had been a nasty surprise when she met him at The Westland for lunch. Katie knew the young woman could see the shock all over her face when she spotted her, and while her attendance was an unpleasant surprise, she had tried to be civil. Yet, Katie could only tolerate so much.

So she canceled their dinner reservations at the Citizen Public House & Oyster Bar and did not make her planned trip to the art museum. Instead, she had taken a taxi back to the Courtyard by Marriott where she was staying for her short visit in Boston. What she was going to do now, she didn’t know, but Katie knew she needed to call Dottie.

“I knew you should have just come with me Dot-”

Dottie cut in, her words strained by her frustration. “I would have ripped his testicles off with my bare hands-”

“Dot!”

“What?” Dottie was taken back, her brows furrowed.

“He’s allowed to be dating, we aren’t married.” She and Ronnie hadn’t been together since their son had turned sixteen. That was almost two years ago now, and Katie didn’t miss a single minute of being married to him. She never would.

“But this trip was supposed to be a family trip,” Dottie reminded, her hand coming up to run over her face with a sigh, “for Parker.”

“Well,” Katie chewed at the inside of her cheek, her hand coming up to push her long red hair back out of her face, “he’s marrying her.”

All Katie could hear was a long, low growl of a no, the video call going dark as Dottie either dropped the phone face down onto a surface or accidentally turned her camera off at the shock of the news. When the sight of her returned, her hand was over her mouth, and her eyes were wide.

“You should have seen her ring,” Katie told her, her hands wringing the fabric of one of her blouses in her hands like a wet rag, “it was, wow.”

The band was gold, and the diamond was big. Bigger than what she had on her engagement ring and wedding band combined. It was so big it was almost gaudy and hard to miss. It was eye-catching with every single one of Monica’s movements, and all Katie could think of at the sight of it was: Does Parker know?

It was a question that haunted her as she put down her blouse, pulled her pajamas from the bottom of her bag, and began to undress with little care that Dottie was still on the other end of the call. They had been friends since middle school. There was little Dottie hadn’t seen or didn’t know.

“Whoa, whoa,” Dottie spoke, the shock fading at the sight of Katie stripping out of her jeans, “what are you doing?”

Katie stepped out of her jeans, leaving them in a heap on the floor as she held her satin bottoms in her hand, “Turning in?”

“NO, you aren’t going to let that selfish prick ruin this trip for you,” Dottie spoke in a firm tone, her finger pointing right into the lens of her camera.

“What am I supposed to do, Dottie?” Katie sighed, throwing up her hands in defeat and accidentally throwing her pajamas across the room, “I’m just going to order room service and watch some paper view-”

“No, no. You’re going to go out and enjoy yourself.”

A sigh rocked through Katie’s entire body, her hand falling into her hands as she fought back a frustrated sob. She’s a divorced mother in a city she doesn’t know. Her son was off with his teammates doing god knows what on a team-building outing. Her ex-husband was off celebrating his engagement. And she was alone.

Hot tears pricked at green eyes in the shadow of her hands, but Katie didn’t let them fall. Deep, heavy breaths from years of hiding her frustrations with her husband kept them at bay, but Dottie noticed. She always noticed.

Which was why her voice had softened when she spoke again, “Show me what’s in your suitcase?”

“My suitcase?” Katie croaked out, her hands coming down to rest against the pale freckles skin of her thighs.

“Yes, your suitcase.”

Stepping forward, Katie took her phone in her hold and flipped her camera around for Dottie to see. The suitcase was mostly empty now, save for the jacket she had packed at the bottom. The rest of her clothes she had tucked away in the dresser drawers. She had packed just enough clothes to last the three-day trip. Her main outfit was a pair of jeans, boots, and a t-shirt she planned to wear under a jersey to the hockey game the following night. Everything else was meant to be worn during sightseeing, or on the flight home. And every bit of it was practical.

“No, no, love. Why do you do this to yourself?” Dottie sighed, her shoulder slouching forward. Dottie, herself, was a bit of a fashionista. She always wore the latest trends and was always seen in the brightest colors. Because, well, Dottie liked to be seen. “Where is the sext shit we bought last time we went out?”

“Back home?” Katie spoke in more of a question, her brow raising as if where it was wasn’t already obvious. “I wasn’t coming out here intending to seduce my ex-husband, Dot.”

“You’re in Boston, Katie! A city full of eligible bachelors you can forget about the moment you fly home.”

“Dot-”

“When was the last time you got laid, Katie?”

Her stomach sunk, her mouth going dry at the question. Dottie already knew the answer to that question, but she was trying to use it to motivate her now, even if Katie hated it when she did that.

“You would have heard about it if it happened.”

“You’ve been divorced for over a year, Katie - separated for two. It’s time to ditch the vibrator.”

Katie let out a long, frustrated huff, fighting the urge to toss her phone onto the pillow. She knew exactly where this was going. “I’m not using that stupid dating app-”

Tinder. Bumble. Plenty of Fish. Hinge. If it was a dating app, she was on it, and failing miserably at it. Dottie’s daughter, Megan, had set her up with the accounts. Helped her pick every flattering picture and even wrote her biography to cater to the current dating scene. And it had only led her to two types of people, men just like her husband who were divorced and looking for their next way to mother them, or were young men - too young for her to comfortably consider - with mommy issues. And both had gifted her far too many unsolicited pictures of their cocks.

Just the thought of opening the app made her want to gag.

“Then don’t,” Dottie spoke, her tone assuring and not forceful. “Just do this one thing for yourself. Go buy a nice dress and a pair of underwear that haven’t seen postpartum. Something sexy. Something to make you feel confident, and go out to dinner. Take yourself out. Hell, even if it’s just the hotel bar. Get a drink and try to have a little fun. For me.”

Dottie dipped her chin down and pouted her lips. Growing up, it was always how Dottie had gotten her way, and sometimes it still worked. Just like it had then.

“Fine.”

“Good, now, I gotta go,” she spoke, and her screen was suddenly a rush of color as she was on the move, “The twins have a game tonight.”

Dottie was a mother of three. Megan, 18, the same as Parker, was off at university, but the twins were only 12. And had a very extensive hockey schedule to maintain, which kept Dottie’s schedule busy and her hands full.

“Alright, alright, I won’t keep you,” Katie waved her hand at the phone casually, “Tell Brandon and Brayden Auntie Katie is cheering for them-”

“Don’t think this gets you off the hook,” Dottie added quickly, “I want a selfie of you looking sexy at the bar. Love you. Kisses!”

Shopping alone was something Katie loathed. Nothing ever fit her proportions right, especially after the rollercoaster that was going from a size 2 to pregnant to struggling with her weight postpartum, to a grueling weight loss journey that brought her to a weight that she could be both healthy and happy with. But Katie wasn’t skin and bones. She was soft and curvy with an ass that was maybe a little bigger than she would like, and breasts that didn’t match the fashion industries’ standards of what her body was supposed to look like. It was that fact that left her rotating out of each boutique's change room, trying on one dress and then the next before she found one dress that fit her body just enough for her to confidently make the purchase.

It was a little black dress that stopped just below the knee. It was sleeveless, and the deep vee neckline showed off her cleavage with a little help from some strategically placed fashion tape. The dress hugged her curves without restricting her stride and left her feeling sexy as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror and took her time to do her hair and makeup for her night on the town.

Aka. Her night at the hotel bar.

It was only a short walk from the elevator to the bar's entrance. The dark bar filled with the warm amber glow of the lights that hung above each table, and along the high traffic points of the bar. Normally, she wouldn’t consider going to a place like this. Katie liked to be able to see what she was eating and drinking. But tonight she was desperate. Desperate and alone with no thought in her mind that the latter would change. Besides, she just needed to be there long enough to take a few pictures and leave without an empty stomach. With those two facts in mind, Katie walked into the bar with the confidence only a mother could have and seated herself down the bar.

It’s the most lit area of the establishment, her seat was right beside one of the beautiful bronze light fixtures. It set her face aglow, her bright red lipstick and dark mascara framed eyes illuminated so fully she feared she might look like a clown, but she tried not to focus on the insecurities of dining out alone. Instead, Katie pulled out her phone and texted a quick picture of herself to Dottie. She looked a little more anxious than sexy, but it proved she was out. Then, she took a picture of the light fixture before placing her phone screen down on the bar top and welcomed a menu as it was placed in front of her.

The barkeep was nice, and if she was younger she might have mistaken his kindness for flirtation. But Katie knew better. It was his job to be friendly. Good service meant better tips, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t need the confidence boost. It, at the very least, left her smiling as she looked over her menu and ordered a drink to start: a Negroni Sbagliato.

It would be the first of two during her meal. The first left her more comfortable being out in Boston alone. The second gave her the confidence to lift her phone from the bartop. Her fingers hovered over the darkened screen before she awakened its brightness with the single click of the home button. Her eyes had to squint at the harshness of its light, her eyes having adjusted to the bar’s moody atmosphere before she could be greeted with the series of notifications from Dottie.

She was at her son’s hockey game, but she had taken the time to respond to the photo with a series of flame emojis. Quick, but effective support that had Katie’s finger leaning towards the Tinder app that she had tucked on her last page of applications.

The screen came to life with an even harsher light, leaving Katie to flinch in her seat as she tried to hide her screen beneath her arm. At her age, there was nothing more embarrassing, in her mind, than being on a dating app. She looked down at the first profile carefully as she brought her phone down to her lap, her thumb swiping left on the first eligible bachelor who didn’t look all that eligible when she was sure the woman in the picture was his wife, and not his sister or a friend. Then the second, third, and fourth men in her radius were all at the bottom of her age range and looked all too young.

In her position, Katie knew she shouldn’t be so picky. She was in Boston for only a few days. Alone for one night. If anyone wanted to meet her for a drink, or at the very least provided a pleasant series of text messages before ghosting her when she found out she was a mother, she would be able to label the night as a success.

With each passing profile, Katie fell further into defeat and accepted that she would be enjoying her night alone. And she accepted that as she sipped at what was her second drink, only for it to gently choke at her throat at a soft, unfamiliar voice spoken at her side.

“I’d swipe right on you.”

The words sent a blossom of heat through Katie from her heart to her cheeks and the tips of her toes. Unsolicited, they should have flooded her with dread. But they were flirtatious and left her giddy before she could even offer the man more than a glance. It had been a long time since someone hit on her at a bar, and it left her sitting taller in her seat. Confident.

That was until she looked right, and to the man who had greeted her with his flirtatious words. Her stomach was left unsettled. He wasn’t ugly. Far from it with his tall, lean stature, chestnut brown hair, and eyes a warm brown hue that could so easily tempt her into comfort if she let them. But he was young. Younger than anything in her age range on any of the dating apps on her phone. He looked older than her son, but she may have mistaken them for the same age if it wasn’t for the beginnings of a beard along the angles of his jawline.

As quickly as her stomach fluttered with butterflies, she was flooded with disappointment. She wouldn’t even entertain a man as young as he was. But Katie was too polite.

“That’s very flattering,” there was a hint of a smile in her voice as she looked down at the bartop to hide the blush that still threatened to creep up on her cheeks. “But I’m pretty sure I’m old enough to be your mother.”

The statement seemed to amuse him, his smile growing as he stepped up to sit on the barstool next to her. He, whoever he was, was getting too comfortable. It left Katie shifting in her seat, suddenly all too aware of how her heels hooked on her stool and how her thighs pressed together uncomfortably as her ass was cradled by her seat.

“I don’t believe it,” he wore a boyish grin as he turned his body just enough to give her all of his attention, “You here, looking like that…”

Katie could feel his eyes drag up and down the length of his body, admiring her figure and how it looked in her little black dress.

“Being anyone’s mother would be a shock to me,” he finished his train of thought, his words still on the verge of flirtation.

Katie wanted to accept it. To feel flattered by his interest however great or mild it may be. But there was an anxiety that bubbled deep in her stomach. One that left her paranoid that this could be a joke. Shifting in her seat, Katie did a glance around the bar. Looking from table to table she looked for anyone that the man beside her could be associated with. But the bar was quiet. There was a table with what looked like a bridal party that would be pregaming before hitting the town. Then, there was a table of old-timers who may have been regulars or retirees visiting the city. Neither were crowds he would be a part of. That was unless he was homosexual. But, if he were, he wouldn’t be seated beside her at the bar, hitting on her.

“You’re too kind,” she spoke slowly, trying to be polite.

“What can I say, my mama raised me right,” he smiled a boyish grin, “which is why I’d like to buy you a drink.”

Katie’s heart fluttered in her chest at the offer, her head cocking to the side as she spoke; “You don’t have to.”

“I insist.”

Katie had to give him one thing, he was confident. She could see it in how his dark eyes didn’t tear away from her, and how his shoulders remained strong instead of slouching with each of her flattered but deflective responses. He could have taken her brief remarks as being disinterested - which in a way she was disinterested if only because of his apparent age - yet, he persisted.

Reaching up with his hand, the mystery Bostonian flagged down the bartender and met him with a smile. He ordered himself a drink, before nodding towards Katie and requesting another for her as well. Then, he offered him his credit card. Katie’s eyes lingered on the piece of plastic as it was passed from one man to the other. It was just a typical credit card. Nothing fancy that would indicate that he was a man with exceptionally deep pockets, and her stomach filled with dread as she realized that she had probably let some poor college student pay for her drink.

It left her mouth tasting sour as her third drink of the evening was placed in front of her. So sour, that she almost rejected it. But it was already paid for, so she accepted it and decided that if he ordered a second for himself, she would pay for it.

“Thanks,” she spoke across the short distance between them, her body turning to be a little more open to a conversation.

Talking to him was the least that she could do.

“What brings you to Boston…” he started, his words trailing off. He wasn’t done with his question, yet, he was asking her for something already.

Blankly, Katie stared at him, unsure of what exactly he was fishing for until it hit her. He wanted to know her name. She could feel her face go red with the realization, and redder when she hesitated when she almost said her full name, Katherine.

Katherine felt old. Stale. Everything she was trying to avoid being, so she gave him her nickname instead, “Katie.”

“What brings you to Boston, Katie?”

“Visiting family,” she kept her answer brief without the messy details. And without the mention of having a son that she was sure was only a few years younger than him. “What about you…”

“Jeremy,” he was quicker to answer, his hand reaching out halfway. She smiled at the gesture, reaching out and meeting his hand with hers in a simple handshake before she withdrew to wrap her fist around her glass.

“What brings you to Boston, Jeremy?”

“Nothing too exciting, just work.”

Just work. Such a simple answer. Straightforward. No details. And she could have asked for more, but he met her level of secrecy - of mystery - all the while making his intentions known. He didn’t need to disclose his life to her, or her to him, because he couldn’t care less if he was just looking for a woman to take back to his room. But before she could confirm her theory to be true, he pressed her for more.

“If you’re here to visit with family, why are you alone?”

Katie wasn’t sure what she heard in Jeremy’s voice when he asked that question. If it was merely curiosity or pity, she hadn’t known him long enough to know. But it left her smile wavering as she answered him, “Busy schedules,” she shrugged her shoulders to give off a feeling of carelessness even though it was still bothering her, “I’ll see them all in the morning.”

“How early?”

If she had been taking a sip of her drink, Katie would have choked again. “You aren’t very discreet.”

“I can’t afford to be. A beautiful woman like yourself, you could fly off tomorrow and I’d never see you again. At least I can know I took my shot.”

Katie cocked her hair to the side, her bright auburn hair cascading down between her shoulders as her eyes looked at Jeremy in disbelief. He was the very definition of a golden retriever. Happy, waiting with the greatest anticipation that if he was a dog, his tail would be wagging. And he was waiting for her to throw her a bone.

Biting her lip, Katie placed her drink down on the bartop and her gaze followed after. She shouldn’t have been considering it. Yet there she was, her hands came to rest around her phone and gripped it tight as one thought was clear in her mind. She needed to call Dottie.

“Can you excuse me for just a moment?” she asked slowly.

Jeremy answered with a curt nod, his smile unwavering as he watched her with his wide brown eyes.

With his permission, Katie couldn’t get out of her chair fast enough. She slid from the stool, and her heels slipping on the hardwood. It left her unsteady for a moment, her hand reaching out to catch herself on the bar, but before she could reach the polished wood a pair of large, warm hands had wrapped around her waist.

The heat of his touch blossomed through Katie’s belly, sending her breath to hitch in the depths of her throat. She wanted nothing more but to hide her surely reddened face in her hands with embarrassment. She wanted to curse herself for her clumsiness, but she was frozen in his hold as he breathed out a whisper she could barely hear but could feel against her cheek; “Don’t worry. I got you.”

His touch.

His words.

It was almost enough to make her shudder. But with one shallow, forced breath Katie found her composure and gave his arm a careful squeeze and a thank you that he might not have been able to hear. Then, she was drying back, her steps quick as she moved for the privacy of the woman’s washroom. It was there she was able to pull out her phone and call Dottie. But Jeremy’s touch was not forgotten, it’s warmth remained deep in her belly, lingering.

“Where’s the fire?” There was an alertness in Dottie’s voice, nothing but the peaks of her face visible on the screen as she lay in the dark. Katie could only see more of her tired features as Dottie squinted and brought the phone closer to her face. “Wait,” her tone was one of disbelief, “are you still out?”

“Yeah,” Katie’s voice was uneven as she reached a hand up to tuck her hair behind her ear, “and I think I have a problem.”

“If it’s your card, I told you so. I knew you should have called the bank before you went-”

Shaking her head, Katie cut her off, “No, no, there’s a guy?”

Dottie perked up, any sign of sleepiness void from her face in an instant. “A guy? What are you calling me for? Take him to bed!”

Her excitement was contagious, not even the complaints from Dottie’s tired husband who lay beside her in bed could spoil the mood. Katie wanted to be able to revert back to her younger self. To squeal with excitement over a man. A man who thought she was sexy - who wanted to sleep with her with no strings attached. But it wasn’t that simple.

“It’s just that,” Katie chewed her lip, a heavy sigh rocking her shoulders, “he’s young.”

“How young is young?” Dottie asked slowly, and cautiously as they waded into dangerous territories together.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “they didn’t card him. Maybe, twenty-five. No more than thirty.”

“Shit,” Dottie cursed, the single word drawn out and earning another grunt of disapproval from her husband, “he cute?”

“Very.”

“Well, I mean… Thirty isn’t too bad.”

“That’s IF he’s thirty, Dot,” she emphasized, her eyes wide as she dropped her voice lower at the sound of someone entering the washroom.

“What’s the worst-case scenario?” Dottie asked.

Katie thought for a moment, her teeth chewing her lip as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. As a woman, there were many horrible scenarios a woman could end up in when dating. Ending up dead was the worst of the worst, but she didn’t take it to that extreme. “Worst case? He’s a twenty-one-year-old fuckboy like the ones we warned Megan about before she went off to college. And I end up with the clap.”

Dottie’s laugh was lost on the flush of the toilet in the stall next to Katie, and the rush of the sink as the stranger in the bathroom washed their hands. It was a mess of noise, but Katie could still make out Dottie’s next question, “Best case?”

Katie hesitated as she threw her head back to rest against the stall. She was embarrassed by the answer.

Dottie answered for her, “Best case you get laid for the first time in what is it? Two years?”

Hearing it outloud sent her stomach sinking? Had it really been that long?

Katie cursed under her breath, her head hanging low. When had she let her life get so pathetic? For years, her life had one priority, raising her son. And she had done a good job, he was successful, about to play in his first NHL game after starting his season with the Bruins’ AHL affiliate. But she never really moved on from her divorce, and from being a mom. Her ex-husband was engaged, and ready to start a new family. But she hadn’t even fucked someone anyone since her divorce. Even then, she and her husband hadn’t even shared a bed before their divorce. She couldn’t even recall the last time they slept together, even if she wanted to.

From her throat erupted a long, unsatisfied groan. Her mind quickly fell on a decision that she may come to regret.

“Dot,” she sighed, “is it fucked up if I take him back to my room?”

Silence hung between the two of them for a moment. Dottie processed the decision, and Katie waited anxiously for her friend to tell her if she was making the wrong decision.

“Teach the kid a thing or two,” Dottie spoke, the playful nature of her words lifting a weight of insecurity from her shoulders.

“Dottie, thank you,” she spoke quickly, one hand going to the lock on the door while the other ended the call.

With the decision made, with a little help from her friend, all Katie could do now was hope that Jeremy had waited for her at the bar. If he hadn’t she couldn’t blame him for leaving. Maybe she was older than she looked from a distance. Or he had just come to the bar to kill time before a night out in Boston, and she was merely the entertainment. She couldn’t let herself get too hung up on him if he were gone, but thankfully, she didn’t have too. Jeremy remained at the bar. Standing instead of propped up on his stool, his hand slipping something into his back pocket on her approach.

And Katie, she didn’t waste any time being coy. “I don’t have reservations until 11.”

The smile that was beginning to feel like a welcome constant on Jeremy’s features grew at her words. Katie wasn’t sure if it was the question he was expecting, but it was clear that it was the one that he was hoping for and it flooded her stomach with butterflies.

She was going to do it.

She was going to take this attractive young man back to her room.

“Let me just pay my tab,” Katie told him, her hands already on her purse to dig out her credit card. She merely pressed her jump against the thin, cold plastic card when the bartender threw his towel over his shoulder and raised his hand to reject her payment. He didn’t want it. Katie’s brow furrowed, then it hit her. It had already been paid for.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she was quick to quip. Katie knew she should have been thanking him, but she couldn’t help but feel a little insulted. She was a grown woman. Successful in her own right. She was more than capable of paying for her own meal.

“It’s nothing, really,” Jeremy shrugged it off, his arm sliding behind her to rest on her back so effortlessly it was as if they had come to the bar together.

“Let me pay you back,” Katie insisted, earning the gentle pressure of his hand against the small of her back as he began to lead her out to the lobby. She almost scoffed. As if he knew where her room was - because she wasn’t going back to his. If this was going to happen, it needed to happen on her terms. That also meant, shoving her hand into her wallet and shoving a fist full of American money in his direction.

Jeremy continued to refuse, his one hand reaching out to guide her hand back towards her open wallet. “And why would I do that?”

“Because I’m more than capable of paying for my own dinner-” She voiced, ready to fight him on it further, but his answer stopped her in place.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should.”

Katie stood in the middle of the hotel lobby, her head slightly cocked to the side as she slid out of Jeremy’s reach. He only took a few strides before looking back at her with such warmth in her eyes she thought she might melt. Jeremy was sweet. Too sweet. Acting in every way he had wanted her husband to when they were married, and he was just a young man. It was a cruel thing in a way. For the universe to taunt her with him, but she would let herself enjoy him, if only for the night.

“Come on, I’m up on the fourth floor,” as she spoke, Katie’s words softened. She wouldn’t be fighting him about her bill again. If he wanted to be a gentleman, she was going to let him.

They boarded the elevator together, Katie drawing her key card and moving to the right, and Jeremy boarding and leaning against the far left wall. Scanning her card, the elevator doors shut, the two of them alone together for the first time as the elevator began its slow ascent.

The movement made it feel as if her heart was sinking to the depths of her stomach, her anxiety building, as she leaned back against the right side of the elevator directly across from Jeremy. He was smiling still, watching her, admiring her. And she couldn’t help but smile too. It was contagious.

Her smile had him smiling wider.

Then, he pushed off the wall of the elevator and closed the short distance between them. He moved so quickly her anxieties didn’t have enough time to worsen, nor did they ease. Her heart raced in the depth of her chest as his hands found her waist, drawing her in from the cold support of the elevator wall and into the strength of his body. He was lean, maybe even a little too lean for her liking, but she could feel how strong he was as her body was pulled flush with his. Katie could feel it first in his grasp, as Jeremy’s fingertips pressed into the curves of her waist. Then again, as her hands braced against his chest, her own careful touch sliding up - feeling his pectorals flex in the process - and around before linking behind his neck. Her tough welcomed Jeremy in, and with him came his kiss.

Katie had to press up onto her toes to meet it, even in her heels. Teetering on the toes of her heels as Jeremy leaned in and pressed a slow kiss to her lips. She had expected it to be a desperate kiss. One that was sloppy, and would leave her face wet and her eyes rolling, but she was wrong. Jeremy kissed her slowly, both hands on her hips for one moment, the next one had risen to stroke over the soft skin of her cheek. His thumb dragged over the smooth flesh, and down to catch on her chin, drawing her mouth open. Katie had to choke back a moan at the feeling of his tongue slipping in between parted lips. The warm stroke of his tongue infiltrated her mouth, the depth of the kiss leaving her legs weak as the elevator door chimed.

They had reached her floor.

red

She licked her lips as she drew back, her hands falling to her clutch to fumble with its contents for her room key. If she was fumbling with her purse, she wouldn’t have to look up and risk anyone else seeing the red lipstick that quickly became a mess on her face. She could feel how it was smudged off her lips, and she was sure that if she looked to Jeremy who now followed behind her like a shadow, that it would be smeared over his lips as well.

But she didn’t look up. Not until she got to the door of her room and she took a deep breath. Once she crossed the threshold, there would be no going back. The thought left her on the verge of vomiting as she heard the lock click, and her hand reached for the door handle. She was nervous, more than that. Anxious. She was anxious. But there was an excitement that left her shivering as she led Jeremy into her hotel room.

If he was going to kiss her like that, she couldn’t wait to see what else he intended to do with her. But first-

“Do you want another drink?” Katie asked him quickly as she came to stand in front of the small console table in the entryway. She placed her clutch there, and her key and had intended to peel away from it to move to the small bar in her room, but she found herself trapped between it and Jeremy’s body as the door shut behind her.

Hands splaying out over the table, Katie braced herself there as Jeremy’s hands returned to her body. One snake around her waist, easing her to lean back into him while the other carefully pushed her loose auburn curls away from the pale skin from her neck. Her eyes went wide, fixated on the horrible piece of art that hung on the wall as his hot breath encroached on her neck. It washed over her in heated waves. The hot moisture was almost enough to make her sweat, but instead Jeremy left her melting. His kiss was slow against her neck. Peppering at first before his lips were dragging down her skin, leaving hot trails down to her collarbone and back up again.

Her heart fluttered. Then it pounded. So loudly, all Katie could hear was her heartbeat in her ears. It left her eyes fluttering shut, her mind focused on nothing but the kiss of his lips and the touch of his hands on her body. He caressed her curves, gripped at her flesh and kissed every bit of exposed skin on her neck, throat and shoulders. And it all left her melting, her mind fuzzy, and any bit of inhibition was ready to leave her and let him do as he pleased with her body. That was until she left his hand encroached on the hem of her dress. The warm touch of his hand on the sensitive skin of her thigh sent her head into a panic.

This was the beginning of foreplay.

Katie should have expected it, she should have been looking forward to it. But it left her nerves raw. In all the years she had been married to Ronnie, foreplay had been forgotten. Sex was an obligation and it was quick. A mere tool used to please her husband while she was left to finish herself off in the shower or beside him after he had fallen asleep in bed. Back then, it didn’t matter if she was dressed in lingerie or pajamas. If she had a fresh shave, or hadn’t shaved for weeks. Ronnie didn’t care - or atleast, he always said he didn’t. But now, as a stranger’s hands were so eager to explore every inch of her body, it left her self conscious.

“I’ve got whiskey at the bar,” Katie breathed out quickly, her knees weak as she stepped away from him and quickly moved for the bar.

She was met by Jeremy’s low chuckle,“I’m not that bad looking, am I?”

“No - no, it’s not that - I’m sorry,” Katie apologized, her hand grasping at one of the little bottles of rum from the bar, “I haven’t done anything like this in a long time. I’m just a little nervous.”

“How long’s it been?” His words were casual, his confidence unwavering even as she found her so close to plummeting.

“Since when?” She asked slowly, seeking clarification if only to bide herself more time. Katie didn’t want to have to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t a liar.

“Since you’ve had casual sex?”

“You really don’t want to know,” she countered.

Omission was not the same as lying.

Looking up from the bar top, and the bottle of whiskey in her hand that she had yet to uncork her eyes rose to look at Jeremy who had found his way to the end of her bed. He had seated himself down, his shoes kicked off his feet, and he leaned back on his elbows, lounging casually in the bed that had yet to be slept in.

While he laid back, so casually, that he could have let his head lul back and let himself stare at the ceiling. But even as he relaxed there, waiting for her nerves to be put at ease by a little liquid courage, his soft brown eyes were fixated on her. Her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle, a quivering breath coursing through her body as she held his stare. It was soft, alluring in a way that left her ready to answer anything he may ask of her and it left her curing under her breath. It was a dangerous thing, just how easy to trust he was.

Pouring her drink, straight whiskey into her glass, she sipped the room temperature alcohol back and let it burn. Then, under the blaze of it consuming her, Katie answered, “Twenty years.”

“Bullshit.”

Katie’s lips pressed together in a small smile, the shock on his ace coaxing an innocent shrug from her shoulders.

“You don’t look a day over thirty.”

“Now that is bullshit,” she pointed at him, her lips spreading into a wider grin now.

“You look incredible. That dress, your body. What can I say? You caught my attention. But I bet that dress looks even better on the floor.”

Katie swallowed back the lump that quickly formed in her throat as his words. She was very self conscious about her body. It changed drastically over the years. Once she was skinny, flat and narrow in no way the healthiest version of herself. But it was also the one that had carried her child, and left her with curves she didn’t want and scars only her ex-husband had seen. And now she was going to share it with Jeremy, a man who she was sure still had so much to learn about a woman’s body. It was a terrifying thought. One that hung in the back of her mind as she abandoned her drink on the bar and stepped out of her heels.

Barefoot, she took careful strides towards the bed, her demeanor caught somewhere between confident and terrified, but it caught his attention all the same. Katie knew she had caught his eye when his smile tested the limits of how far it could spread over his cheeks as Jeremy sat up from where he leaned. He moved slowly to the edge of the bed, his legs spreading just enough for Katie to stand between them.

With a careful, final step, Katie stood between his legs and looked down at him. Her heart pounded deep in her chest, so hard and so rapidly she thought her ribs were about to rattle. And in her chest, she could feel her very last inhale struggling to creep its way back up her throat in the calm of an exhale. It burned in her lungs, the nerves of undressing in front of him smothering her. That was, until she felt the warms of Jeremy’s hands find her body, and in an instant she calmed.

She exhaled slowly through slightly parted lips as her eyes fell shut. In the darkness it brought, Katie fixated on the warmth of Jeremy’s touch. It dragged over her curves, tracing each rise and fall with his fingers and palms before each of his hands settled on her broad hips. There, he gripped her gently and guided her steps in a small circle so she stood with her back to him.

Katie raised up her arms slowly, her hands dragging up her own neck and tangled into her auburn strands as she drew them away from the zipper of her dress. Her breath hitched again, but only for a moment, in the back of her throat as she felt his fingers pinch at the zipper and drag it down. He inched it down slowly, and Katie could feel the black fabric begin to fall away from her skin. And as the warm fabric fell away, the cold air of the room kissed her skin. It sent a shiver coursing up her spine, her entire body shuttering as the fabric hit the ground, leaving her in nothing but a pair of black lace pair of panties.

They were brand new. The tag was in the trash bin in the bathroom. And Katie would be forever thankful that she had bought them when she bought the dress instead of wearing something she had packed. If she had been wearing anything else, she may have recoiled from his touch, but instead, as she turned in place to face him, Katie radiated confidence.

He could see almost all of her, from her stretch marks to the freckles on her skin. Yet, Jeremy’s touch didn’t recoil, his hands continued to explore the expanse of her body and his dark eyes didn’t look away. Instead, they traced her every curve on the way back up to her face that was left blank from the nerves that came from waiting for his reaction. Katie was sure that Jeremy hadn’t seen a body like hers before. So old, so flawed, so-

Her thoughts were broken by Jeremy’s slow, soft spoken words. “Yeah, looks much better on the floor,” Jeremy punctuated his words with the slow swipe of his tongue over his lip as his warm gaze dragged up and down the length of her body. His complement dissolved any feeling of nervousness, of insecurity, that had consumed Katie. Her joints had been weak, and her heart racing, but he brought her calm.

In that calm, Katie found her confidence. Her teeth bit down on her lower lip, her mind racing as she tried to determine what exactly her first move would be – and then she took it.

One step, and then another, Katie brought her legs up to kneel on the bed, the mattress shifting beneath her weight as she straddled Jeremy’s lap. The denim on his dark jeans was rough against the inside of her thighs as his hands helped guide her down into his lap. Jeremy’s arms constricted around her, drawing her nearly naked body flush to his. Katie could feel his hot breath against her cheek, her inhale drawing in the sweet scent of alcohol before she stole a kiss from his lips.

Katie wasted no time with sweetness or caution. Instead she kissed him with such an insatiable hunger, she knew tasting him on her tongue wouldn’t be enough. But it was a start. Each deep kiss and stroke of her tongue against his left his stubble to drag over the sensitive skin of her jaw and cheeks. It was rough, scratching against her skin and contrasting the tender movements of his hands as his warm touch moved up over the curves of her body. Jeremy’s touch settled on the broad curve of her hips, his fingers digging into the soft and supple flesh. And it was the only encouragement she needed to coax the subtle roll of her hips over the roughness of her jeans.

Quickly, Katie became intoxicated by his kiss, by his touch and the very feeling of him between her legs. It began with the friction of his fly against the crotch of her panties, the subtle friction sparking the beginnings of her arousal. And then she felt him. His cock stiffened in the confines of his jeans, growing and becoming a thick outline that pressed up into the thick denim that divided them. Katie dragged her core up and down his clothed length, a shudder taking her body as a soft moan was coaxed from her lips. And it left Jeremy smiling as he pulled back just enough to tug off his t-shirt.

Her eyes looked him up and down in a quick glance. Jeremy was fit. With his chest muscles flexing, the outline of his abs clear and his biceps building as he tossed his t-shirt aside, Katie almost tucked her tail and ran. He wasn’t an Adonis of a man, but he was intimidating in every way. Especially, while she was no idyllic beauty herself.

“That’s just,” she exhaled a long, desperate breath, “not even fair.”

Jeremy’s grin grew wider, his hands gripping her hips a little tighter, as he picked her up and flipped her to lay back against the comfort of the bed. The action left her breathless, her hands scrambling against the bed to ease herself upright until she felt Jeremy’s hand flat against her stomach to keep her in place as she lay just beneath the comfort of the hotel room pillows. She lay there panting for a moment, her hair a mess against the bed and her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she felt the bed shift, and Jeremy settle between her legs.

“Just take a second, relax,” Jeremy’s hot words washed over the inside of her thighs, and her core clenched.

The room around her seemed to spin as she lay there, her lips parted in disbelief as she felt his fingers hook on the black lace of her panties and dragged them down the length of her legs. She could feel the warm, wet puddle of her arousal as it dragged down against her inner thigh, and her stomach knotted as she felt the warmth of his breath encroach on her needy core. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had been between her legs - if one had been at all, because she knew her husband never had been. But Jeremy didn’t hesitate.

He lay on the bed on his stomach between her legs, his one hand sliding down from her hip, over the red curls of hair that trailed down over her pelvis and down to the slick folds between her thighs. He stroked her slowly, with two fingers barely brushing her slit before parting her with his fingers and tracing the sweet arousal at her core. Jeremy teashed her there, her heart racing as she tried so desperately to be calm. Her heart pounded, and her teeth care down on her lower lip in a firm bite, the pain a little distraction from the insecurities that threatened to consume her. She in no way felt prepared for this of all things. It was supposed to be a quick fuck, but then she felt him. The warmth of his tongue stroked over the entrance of her cunt and she moaned.

It ripped up her throat before she could stop it, the heat and wetness of his long tongue a stark contrast to the colder temperature of the hotel room. And the sound only seemed to fuel him. He delved into her as if he was dehydrated and she was all he had to drink. His tongue parted her folds, and delved into her core leaving her cunt dripping with his saliva. His hands wound around her waist, one moving over the thick red curls of her hair as he blindingly fumbled for her clit as his face was buried between her thighs.

Reaching down, her hand took hold of his carefully. Her fingers slid along his, gripping them carefully as she guided him to just the right spot. But once she guided him there, Katie’s touch didn’t leave him. Her hand remained resting over his. It kept his pressure even, and his motion just right as he rubbed her in slow circles. The action wound her up, the pleasure building like a wind up toy. Each stroke of his tongue, and every rotation of his fingers left her burning pleasure to coil in her stomach and soon she was seeing stars. She was so close to the brink of her pleasure, that her toes were curling against the sheets and her thighs threatened to close in on his ears. But that was where he left her, on the verge of her climax, as he trailed sloppy kisses down the inside of her thighs before he could push up and pull as his belt.

Pushing up onto her elbows, she watched as she pulled his belt free, and worked his jeans and his boxer briefs down his legs together. It was hard not to stare, to admire the muscles of his body as she fished through his pocket or his wallet, and then the condom that was tucked in its folds.

The wrapper became discarded on the bed beside her, and he worked the latex onto his cock, ready to take his place between her legs again, but she didn’t let him. Katie felt too guilty, selfish even, for having his face buried between her legs, and it had her pushing up from her place with a sudden surge of confidence. Her hands found the strength of Jeremy’s chest, a playful shove knocking him back to lay against the bed so she could climb into his lap once more. She took in a steady breath, her nose wrinkling for a moment as it crossed her mind that she may be too old for what she had in mind, but it didn’t stop her.

With a single hand, Katie reached down between their bodies and took hold of his cock in her hand. She stoke it slowly, once and then again before she brought it to the entrance of her core. The mere pressure of the tip of her cock threatened to send her legs trembling before she could take him. If it were anyone else, Katie might have given up and let him take her plainly on her back knowing full well it would get the job done for her. But Katie persevered. She eased herself down onto him slowly, her eager core accommodating him so effortlessly it left her moaning. And once she felt his warmth against her ass, and had consumed him into the depths of her core, Katie began to ride him.

Her hands braced herself against the slender strength of her chest as her hips rolled. She moved in a slow and steady rhythm, the friction sending pleasure boiling through her entire body. Katie became lost in the feeling of hip hips rising to meet her body in a gentle pound. It was all she could fixate on, even as her legs began to tremble and the muscles in her legs began to burn. She could hear each subtle impact, the meeting of skin, and it became a symphony of sounds that mixed with her desperate breath and the soft sounds that she coaxed from Jeremy’s lips. He reeled on the bed beneath her, his warm eyes admiring her body as his hands gripped her hips and fingers sunk into the flesh of her ass. He encouraged her every move, guiding her up and down his cock, but she couldn’t hide how her legs trembled.

Jeremy grinned wide, his head leaning back against the pillow as he let out a trembling breath of words, “Look so pretty taking my cock, you wanna see?”

Katie found herself at a loss for words as she slid down the length of his cock and froze with him deep inside her. Her breaths quaked under each uneven breath, and her mind was left fuzzy by the mere feeling of being so full of him. And all she could do was nod.

Carefully, Jeremy eased her from his cock, and guided her to rest on all fours on the bed. In front of her at the end of the bed was the dresser, her empty bag still resting on top of it, but it wasn’t enough to block the view of the mirror that hung on the wall above it. She could see her reflection there, her auburn hair left mused and her face was almost just as red as it was flushed and smeared with her red lipstick. She could see her body too. Her skin was fair and freckled and so exposed. Her breast hung in two small swells, and from behind her shoulders she could see the swell of her hips and Jeremy positioning himself behind her. His eyes were fixated on her ass, as were his hands that kneaded at the soft flesh.

Katie could see his lips move in a silent curse that was lost on her as he pulled he positioned her just right. And when he had her just where he wanted her, the careful glide of the tip of his cock found her entrance again, and her thrust deep inside. The first thrust left her mewling, and the second left her fingers to grip at the bedding below. She met every single one of Jeremy’s thrusts, the mass of her ass quaking from each impact. But she didn’t watch herself, Katie’s eyes did not leave Jeremy. She watched as his face softened, and his muscles flexed. His eyes even closed from the time as he became lost in the feeling – but when they opened his stare met his gaze in the mirror.

Jeremy tutted her gently, a single hand leaving the soft flesh of her hip to travel up the length of her back. As he moved, she could feel more and more of his body against her. Then, his hand found her throat. He held it carefully, without pressure, and guided her up to kneel. There she could feel his entire body against hers, all the while his cock was buried deep in her core. His thumb rested along her chin, and his forefinger stretched out along her jaw, and Jeremey held her gaze there, on her own feeble expression as he fucked her until her throat was raw, and her core clenched desperately around her cock. It was under the pressure of her core’s embrace that she felt his breathing quicken,the rush of air hot against the back of her neck as he reached the very peak of his climax.

His hands fell away from her lip ribbon, and Katie fell back onto her hands and knees. Her entire body trembled as she lowered herself down to the mattress. The soft twitches involuntary as she was left panting and void of Jeremy as he eased his cock from her. She was seeing stars, her head or the room spinning as the rush of being fucked began to fade. Katie was left exhausted, ready for sleep, but satisfied - feeling euphoria for the first time in years. But before she could sleep, she needed to take care of Jeremy.

“You’re welcome to shower before you go,” she offered as she lay sprawled out on the mattress. It was the least she could do.

“I’m going to take you up on that,” Jeremy carded a hand through his sweaty curls as he nodded towards what he thought was the bathroom door.

Katie nodded in confirmation, and watched as he disappeared through the bathroom door. She did not move until she could hear the water tattooing against the shower floor. But she didn’t go far. She reached out to the dresser, and she pulled open the dresser drawer. She had left her pajamas on the very top, the same ones she was going to wear before Dottie had convinced her to go out, and she dressed slowly. Her body ached in the best way as she stepped into them. Then, she joined Jeremy in the bathroom.

The room was full of steam, the mirror fogged over as she moved to stand in front of it. A single hand cut through the fog, revealing her tired reflection, but best of all she could see the silhouette of Jeremy in the shower behind her. She stood there, brushing her teeth, her eyes admiring his body as it was obscured by the steamy glass.

Leaning forward, Katie spat a mouthful of toothpaste into the sink.

“I’m going to turn in, you can let yourself out when you’re done. Use all the hot water if you want, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t steal my wallet while I slept.”

Jeremy’s laughter filled the air as effortlessly as the plumes of steam from his shower. It drew Katie's eyes to his blurred silhouette, a small smile curling up on her own lips. She could get used to that sound, and the warm fuzzy feeling that came with it. The joy and amusement it embodied was one she needed to embrace herself–

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. Goodnight, Katie.”

–And for a moment she frowned as she moved for the doorway, her eyes fixated on the ground, as she realized it was a laugh she wouldn't hear again.

Sweaty palms threatened the integrity of a single slip of paper as Katie held it firm in a single fist. It was a pale yellow posted note, one that she had found stuck to her bathroom mirror when she had woken up in the morning. It was left there to be found by tired eyes, the message: For if you ever find yourself alone in Boston. Paired with Jeremy’s phone number, it had made her smile as she tucked it into her purse before she had gone out for brunch with her son, Parker, her ex-husband and his new fiance. But it had also left her panicked when it had fallen out of her purse when she pulled out her wallet as she insisted on paying at least half of the bill. It rested on the table face door for a moment, Katie had frozen completely and Parker was quick to try and retrieve it for her, but she had acted quickly. She had grabbed it before he could, and then she had conceded. Parker paid for their meal, and the paper had remained secured in her hand as they left and parted ways.

Even as she walked alone in a park she couldn’t remember the name of, the slip of paper remained secure in her hand. In the other she held her cell phone against her ear as it rang. She needed to call Dottie. She needed to know everything.

“He left me his number.”

“That’s my girl. Rocked that boy’s world.” Dottie encouraged her with a holler.

Katie looked down to her feet, her face flushed with color. She couldn’t remember the last time she had done anything like she had with Jeremy, and if it had been anyone else Katie would have bit her tongue. But she could trust Dottie more than anyone. They were best friends, practically sisters, Katie could tell her anything.

“I think he had to be older than I thought. He was actually really good in bed,” Katie smiled a little too wide as she spoke. It had been too long since she had a real girl talk. “Like really good. And his body, Dot, I couldn't have pulled a guy like that when I was twenty.”

“What did he say he did for work?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t ask-”

“Maybe he’s a porn star,” Dottie joked but Katie didn’t laugh.

She could only shrug. “I mean, it would explain a lot.”

“You used a condom, right?”

“Yes mom, of course I did,” Katie rolled her eyes.

“Good girl, are you going to text him?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Katie looked away out over the park as if Katie could see her on what was merely a voice call. The prospect of reaching out to Jeremy was a pleasant thought in her mind. He was attractive, kind, and so good in bed. He treated her the way that she wanted to be treated. She should want to call him, but he was young. Too young to be anything more than a one night stand.

She could never see Jeremy again.

“Fuck, no,” she assured Dottie, “number went into the trash,” her words were rushed as she lied, and rushed further to assure Dottie wouldn’t question her on it. “I gotta go, I’ll call you after the game tonight. Kisses!”

TD Garden was unlike any arena Katie had ever been in. The fans were loud, so loud she swore her bones rattled in her body with every intense cheer. And the atmosphere left her sitting on the edge of the seat since before the game could even start. Or maybe that was just the nerves as she sat beside her ex-husband as they watched their son Parker Waylon-Stacy erupt from the tunnel to take his rookie lap.

Her hands came together over her heart, her eyes fixated on him, and then the jumbotron above as the camera followed his path along the side. The threat of tears burned at her eyes, her lips parted in a breath that fought back of heartfelt sob that erupted when his name was plastered across the screen with his stats from the AHL. Parker Stacy.

Stacy.

Her last name on her back, not her husband’s last name or the hyphenation of the two. It left ehr on the verge of tears throughout the night, and they did spill as it came down to the third period when she shot up from her seat as her son assisted on what would be the game winning goal. Katie cried into her hands, her husband’s arm patting her back as the crowd erupted around them. There was no greater pride than celebrating her son’s success in that moment with her husband, and the strangers around her that even offered her some napkins as her mascara began to run.

“That’s my son,” she sobbed with pride, and the crowd of college kids around her celebrated with her. Some jumped, others spilled their beer, Katie even received a hug, but they all cheered, “Stacy's Mom!”

Katie remained in her seat after the game, reveling in the silence as the seats around her and her family cleared. And she only moved from her palace when she received a text message from Parker. He wanted them to come down to the locker room. It sent her through what felt like a maze of the arena, but with the help of a member of the security team, she found her boy.

Katie ran to him, her arms enveloping her only son in her arms and pressing a kiss into his sweat drench hair. There the tears began to fall in hot streams down her cheeks, “I am so proud of you,” she told him as she drew back, her hand cradling his cheeks. Parker’s face was red, surely embarrassed by his mother’s affections, but he didn’t stop her. He had always been a mama’s boy, and that wouldn’t change even if his teammates gave him a hard time about that later.

Parker wore a boyish grin, his hand raising to push through his wet hair. He was already showered and dressed, even if some of the other players around him were still half-dressed in their equipment. Parker was ready to leave, but first he wanted to make the introductions he felt he may never be able to make again. “Mom this is Patrice Bergeron-”

Katie turned in place, a smile blossoming over her face as she reached out to shake the Captain’s hand. She had every intention of being polite. She wanted to introduce herself, to make the small talk as she was prompted to. But her words were lost as hoots and hollers of the nickname Bulldog filled the room. The players were welcoming their rookie goaltender back into the room after completing his post game interview. Confidence embodied his every stride, and it drew Katie’s curious eye.

The player was still dressed in his equipment, his back to her as he stood in front of his stall. SWAYMAN was sprawled across the back of his shoulders, framed by his shoulders. A single large hand reached back, peeling it from his body before it was tossed into a pile with the others. Katie’s eyes moved back to the Captain, a small awkward smile on her lips as she listened to him talk about the pleasure of mentoring her son. But his words were lost on her ears as they perked up at the sound of all too familiar laughter.

Katie’s blood ran cold, her eyes searching for the sources of the laughter. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach jumping up into her throat as she was left on the verge of vomiting. There, standing in his stall, laughing along with his teammates was Swayman, who no longer stood with his back to her. He was completely shirtless now, and his face was all too clear to see. She knew those warm brown eyes, and that soft confident smile. The sight of them was one that would be etched into her memories for the rest of her days.

Swayman was Jeremy.

She stood there, petrified, her eyes unmoving from his as he leaned back and flexed his chest muscles. It was there, with his back leaned against his stall, his warm gaze rose and his face softened with recognition. If he was panicked he didn’t show it. And while she froze, Jeremy acted. He stood up slowly, Katie had to fight not to let her eyes wander, and he approached with a casual stride.

“I didn’t realize we had guests,” Jeremy smiled as he came up to stand beside his Captain, but Katie could barely hear him over the pounding of her heart in her ears.

The room around her seemed to move in slow motion, her head suddenly feeling light as Patrice introduced her as Stacy’s Mom. It was then she thought she might actually vomit, the bile burning at the back of her throat as Jeremy looked to her with slightly parted lips and a slight glimmer in his eyes. Her palms began to sweat, so much so that she had to wipe her hands along the seam of her jeans before she could reach out to shake Jeremy’s hand as he offered it to her.

“Stacy’s Mom?” Jeremy spoke with such disbelief that Katie almost believed her, “You don’t look a day over thirty.”

White she had heard that same flattery before it made her heart race all the same. But this time, she couldn’t show it.

“You’re too kind,” Katie forced a smile, struggling to remain composed as the feeling of her hand encased by his left her heart racing just as his touch had the night before. It was enough to bring her to her knees.

Jeremy made her weak, and he would for the rest of her days. She would crave him, in every sense of the word. Katie wanted to hear his sweet laughter. She wanted to feel his hands on her body, and enjoy every piece of his that he could offer her. It was a hunger that would rage and burn in the depths of her, but it was one that she could never fulfill. Not now, not that she knew who he was.

Standing there, the chaos of the room became an echo in her ears as her hand fell away from Jeremy’s hold. She watched as he met her ex-husband, his smile consistently pleasant and was the only thing keeping her from spiraling right there in the locker room.

Katie would be seeing Jeremy Swayman again. At games, during breaks. Often. So often it would pain her. And she could only pray that she would have the strength to refuse him, or that Parker would find himself on a new team before her will could break.

Katherine Stacey could not fuck Jeremy Swayman.

She wouldn’t.

Not again.

Surely, she wouldn’t be able to get away with it. Not without complications.

Could she?

Taglist: @mp0625 @starshine-hockey-girl

#jeremy swayman #boston bruins #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #hockey rpf #hockey smut #hockey imagines #hockey romance #age gap romance #nhl writing #jeremy swayman x original character #nhl smut

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gotham-ruaidh · 5 months

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14B: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O’ Mine,” Guns N’ Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

Now and then when I see her face She takes me away to that special place And if I stare too long, I'd probably break down and cry

- Guns N’ Roses, “Sweet Child O’ Mine” (1987)

Tucson || July 1988

It didn’t matter what Colum or the label or anyone else said – all recording studios looked the same on the inside.

Sure, there were always small differences. The really comfortable couches at Sound City in Los Angeles. Electric Lady in Manhattan still had the really cool paint scheme that Jimi Hendrix himself had designed. Muscle Shoals in Alabama oozed coolness.

But this studio, whose name he couldn’t and didn’t care to remember, nestled down a back street in Tuscon was…tired.

Almost as tired as Jamie.

The “quick three week tour” had stretched to eight weeks, with no end in sight. Theater shows had been upgraded to arenas. Playing to thousands and thousands of ecstatic fans. Pouring their hearts out night after night after night, and squeezing in radio promos and sound checks and business meetings during the day.

Fucking exhilarating.

Everybody wanted a piece of Print – their music, their story. Jamie still hadn’t granted too many interviews this tour, but the press ate up every word he said about sobriety and music and forgiveness. Insatiable for details about the woman he had met in rehab, and written all the new songs about, and refused to name publicly.

Print was making more money than they knew what to do with. The label had sprung for a private plane, and nobody in the band missed the rickety and smelly tour bus (except Claire, because it was still all so new to her, which Jamie added to the list of thousands of reasons why he loved her). Their hotel rooms were bigger. Catering in the dressing rooms was much nicer.

Fucking exhausting.

So many people wanted a piece of Jamie every day. Ian and Angus, to run through the new material that just kept pouring out of them. Colum, to talk ticket sales and adding second and third nights in each city. The suits from the label, who kept finding them in Dallas and Kansas City and Detroit, slapping Jamie’s back and pushing terrible ideas for duets with pop stars or contributing to a movie soundtrack or pleading to do the acoustic set in a special for MTV.

And on top of that, some dirtbag reporter from the National Enquirer had figured out who Claire was, somehow got a hold of her personnel file from the hospital, and tracked down her shitty ex-husband for an exclusive interview. Splashed her life all over the tabloids, complete with very grainy photographs of the she and Jamie together, holding hands, on a rare day off in Nashville when he took her to a few honky-tonks. The one saving grace was that thankfully, nobody at The Ridge had said a word about anything about her time there, or the time they shared together.

Claire took it all in stride. She always understood. Holding him in the bathtub of their suite in Denver as he shook from another panic attack. Smiling over a three AM hamburger at a diner in Topeka. Whimpering as he came off stage in Atlanta, sweaty and keyed up from singing about her, hoisting her in his arms for a long kiss against the lighting equipment at side stage, heart stuttering to see his eye makeup smudged against her cheeks.

The man he was on the last tour – unhappy, unfulfilled, so deep in an addition he didn’t care to acknowledge – would not recognize the man he’d become on this tour.

“In ’86, we played seventy eight dates. We had a number one record. I bought my house, and my motorcycle, and my car.” Quietly he sipped coffee in their suite in Seattle, watching the city wake up, running his thumb over Claire’s shoulder as she settled against him in front of the window.

“You had everything you had always dreamed of.”

He snorted. “I was a mess. All I could think about during every show was how to find a girl or a bottle or a baggie as quickly as possible. And the crew would always do that for me.”

The crew respected his – and Claire’s – request for no drugs or alcohol backstage this tour. What the techs and roadies and production crew did on their own time, in their own hotel rooms, with whoever they wanted to – Jamie didn’t care. But for everyone to help with, to respect, his sobriety was a gift. And he never stopped saying thank you.

“If only those reporters could see you now – Jamie Fraser swaggering off stage for an Evian.”

He smiled. “And to kiss this beautiful doctor who for some reason keeps following him around. Because he loves her, more than any man has ever loved any woman.”

He wanted to provide for her. To shelter and protect her. To never leave her side ever again.

She didn’t need him to do any of that, of course. They’d talked about it many times. But she wanted him to do that. And the fact that she chose him, kept choosing him…that was why they kept going. Kept each other sober. Kept holding each other up.

They’d agreed that this time on tour was for her to understand this part of him – and to help both of them decide how and where they would live once the tour was done.

Which is why the radio silence from Boston, four weeks after mailing the letter from Philadelphia asking, politely, just what the hell was going on…was so fucking crushing.

The stress of that – and the grind of touring – did make it just a bit more difficult every day.

Thankfully Colum had scheduled a week-long break at the end of the month. Angus was already planning a trip to Aruba with the two groupies, who truth be told had grown on the rest of the band. Ian was planning to spend the week with his wife, Jamie’s sister Jenny, and their kids.

And Jamie and Claire – well, they’d be getting married.

Only a few people knew, with good reason. Ian and Jenny, of course. Alec and Faith, in New York. Colum. Dougal MacKenzie and his wife Gillian, who had helped both Jamie and Claire so much at The Ridge. Uncle Lamb, who would officiate. And Claire’s friends Joe and Gail Abernathy, who had quite literally saved her life by getting her to The Ridge in the first place.

The service would be simple. Exactly what they wanted – what they needed.

And after that…well. They would truly be husband and wife.

But there was a lot to do – a lot to take care of – between now and then. Not the least of which was, wrapping up this recording session.

The time laying down acoustic tracks in Philadelphia last month was very well spent. They weren't so rusty. But the guys were eager to hear the songs in electric form. And since they were in Tucson, and Colum knew Bobby Higgins – who not only owned this studio, but who had also produced that really killer Ratt album in ’84…

“OK, Jamie.”

Jamie took a deep breath, and looked up through the glass at Bobby, hunched over the console in the control room.

“Ready for take two?”

Jamie looked left, to Angus – and right, to Ian.

“Yup.”

“OK – this is In My Veins, take two.”

Jamie grit his teeth.

Caught Claire’s eye in the control room.

She smiled.

He relaxed.

Angus counted in on his drumsticks, and then started the heavy beat like they’d discussed.

Four bars – and Jamie’s guitar and Ian’s bass joined in.

“That was really, really great, Jamie.”

Claire handed him a new bottle of water, cap already twisted off. He drank it in four deep gulps.

“I know you’re not shitting me. So thank you.”

Quickly she looked over her shoulder – Angus’ cheeks were being loudly kissed by the groupies, and Ian played around with his bass, and Colum and Bobby were deep in conversation in the control room.

“Where are you?”

She had pulled him away before, when the panic attacks were coming, and he knew she’d do it again right now if needed.

He wiped his mouth with the back of a sweaty hand. “About an eight out of ten.”

“Do you need a break?”

He met her eyes. “I need a meeting. Been thinking about my old friend Jack Daniels all day.”

“Did you see something?”

He sighed. “I’ve only played electric a handful of times since I got back from The Ridge.” He looked down at the gorgeous Stratocaster strapped across his chest, fist flexing. “I got this guitar because the black tone and white trim matched the label on the bottle. Stupid, I know. But it’s all I could think about today.”

“Not stupid. We’ll deal with it. You should call Alec. And I can find you a meeting.”

He leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’ll call him. And I need to sell this guitar.”

She nodded. “We’ll find a charity.”

He kissed her again. “I love you.”

She kissed him quickly, and returned to the control room.

Grateful that Jamie had turned away to talk to the guys, when Colum tapped her on the shoulder, and slid over an envelope postmarked Boston.

“Mail call. Do I want to know?”

She shook her head, folded the letter, and slid it into the back pocket of her jeans. “Is there a Yellow Pages I can borrow?”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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t0omuch4you · 10 months

Text

gold rush | Quinn Hughes

Warnings: Slight mention of blood and alcohol.

"Everybody wants you, but I don't like a gold rush..." inspired by Taylor Swift's song gold rush

When Madeline first met Quinn she started crying, not because she disliked him, but because he had stepped on her hand with one of his skates. Of course, there wasn’t any blood because he still had his skate guards on, but 5-year-old Maddie didn’t know.

From there, their meetings became a much more constant thing until the point where 13 years later they were in his dorm room, preparing for his draft day.

“Are you sure you’ve got everything in there?” Maddie asked Quinn, doubting the boy’s packing skills.

“Yes Mads, I’m sure. You can stop worrying about it”—he said, caressing the crease between her eyes with his thumb, relieving the stress he noticed she had accumulated in the past few days.

“I know, I know. But I can’t stop worrying, it’s the most important day of your life so far and I’m not gonna be there”

“I already told you it’s fine, You’ve got work here, and besides, you will be with me” Quinn assured her.

"Yeah but through the TV" she sighed, stuffing her face against her hands.

“Hey, no moping around. I need you to be happy”

“I am! I swear. Now you gotta go, or you will never catch your flight” she said standing up and pushing him out of his room.

“Fine, I’ll go. Promise me you’ll be fine” he said, wrapping his arms around her shoulders.

“I should be the one telling you that, but yes. I will be fine” the sound of her voice coming out muffled by his chest.

When the next day came, Maddie was all over the place. Every time they showed Quinn on the TV she felt how her nerves grew and another feeling she couldn’t quite decipher yet, but she brushed it off as Vancouver was the next team to select.

When they called Quinn’s name, Maddie couldn’t contain her happiness as she watched her best friend climb the steps of the stage and put on his Canucks jersey. She couldn’t be prouder. Her best friend was selected 7th overall, he was going to play in the NHL, and he was going to fulfill his dream.

A few hours later, Maddie was in her room yet to hear a response from Quinn when her phone rang signaling the arrival of a text, she couldn’t help but get excited when she thought it was from him.

But her smile nearly dropped as she saw that it was Jack who had texted her. Opening the text she felt how her stomach dropped. It was a video that Jack took, clearly after taking one too many shots, but that wasn’t the issue, the issue was at the back of the video as she saw Quinn dancing with a gorgeous girl with her arms draped around his shoulders and his around her waist.

She didn’t want to watch the video anymore so all she did was like it. That’s when she deciphered the feeling she was having earlier, she was in love with Quinn Hughes. She had always been in love with him, but she hadn’t noticed until now when she thought it was too late.

She then realized that she would never have a chance with him, let’s be honest, he just got drafted into the NHL, and it was a matter of time before he had thousands of gorgeous girls dying to feel his touch, wondering what would be like to love him.

Meanwhile in Dallas, Quinn was too intoxicated to see that the girl he was dancing with wasn’t his Mads. The Mads for whom he had always felt more than a friendship.

In a lucid moment where the alcohol lowered its effect, he realized the girl wasn’t Maddie so he excused himself and decided to put an end to his night. He went to the hotel with his family to finally rest and then return home to Maddie.

When the Hugheses returned to Michigan, Quinn could only think about going to Maddie’s house and spending time with her. So when he finally arrived at her house he was more than disappointed when he saw that Maddie was acting distant.

“Mads, look at me. Are you okay? Did something happen while I was gone?” he said putting two fingers under her chin so she would look at his eyes.

“Uhm…I wanted to tell you something. I know you just got drafted and that you’ll be staying here for another year and all that, but I feel that the best thing for us would be to distance ourselves, you know so your departure doesn’t hurt as much in the future” she said still trying to avoid eye contact because she knew that wasn't the truth, the truth was she couldn't handle being with him and not doing anything about her feelings.

“Where is this coming from? Do you think I could go to another country without you? Mads, I was planning on taking you with me” he said worried about her reaction, thinking it would be too much for her.

"I don't think I can Quinn," she said playing with her bracelets, a habit that Quinn didn't let go unnoticed since she did it every time she lied.

"I know you're lying! Just tell me what's wrong, I'm here for you" he pressured her to the point where she couldn't handle it anymore.

"I saw you after the draft dancing with that girl Quinn, and I know I don't have any right to be like this but I'm out of my mind in love with you, and-"

She couldn't finish her sentence as Quinn's lips crashed against hers. It was like everything they both had ever desired was there, everything was as it was supposed to be. It was the kind of kiss to create stars and they would climb into the sky and light up the whole world.

That kiss made Quinn know that he would never be as happy as he was kissing his Mads, the girl he had always loved.

"God I've waited a whole lot of years for this" Quinn confessed as he pulled his lips from hers, closing his eyes to savor the moment.

"Wh-what do you mean? What about the girl?"

"I'm gonna sound like the shittiest human alive but I thought that was you. Mads, I've loved you since you read that corny poem about butterflies in 3rd grade. At that moment I noticed how your eyes twinkled so beautifully that I swore I could drown in them"

"God you're cornier than that poem," she said as she giggled.

"I don't care, I finally have you," he said while pulling her into another kiss. "I've never felt or seen love as pure as ours, Mads. I love you"

"I love you too, Quinny. Now keep kissing me, you've got a lot to catch up on" she said smiling, never being as happy and loved as at that moment.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes angst #vancouver canucks fic #quinn hughes fluff

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 1 year

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Wrong Number (Part 2)

Summary: The reader has second thoughts about meeting up with Jensen in person until he comes up with a plan that works for them both...

Part 1

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Word Count: 2,200ish

Warnings: language, previous bad marriage

A/N: Look what I found hiding away in my drafts!

By the time lunch had rolled around, you were wondering what the hell you had agreed to do that night. Fly to Austin? Meet a complete and total stranger?

Who knew if the guy even was who he said was? Maybe he was just some guy that had hacked you and was manipulating you and was going to drag you off to who knew where.

You were ready to text Jensen, or whoever he was, and tell him no way you were going, just as a call came in from him.

“Hello?” you answered, leaving your desk and ducking out the side door of the building.

“Hey, Y/N. Uh. About this weekend...can we reschedule? I really, really want to see you but Cati is moving some of her crap out of the house apparently and I’d really rather not get you involved with that basket of crazy.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s totally cool. I uh,” you said, leaning back against the brick building. “I was actually going to call you and cancel before you got a flight for me.”

“Oh. I feel not so bad then. You get roped into work?” he asked. You very easily could lie and he was nice enough to not say anything. But a part of you didn’t like lying with him. You hadn’t so far and he was still there.

“No. I uh, got sort of nervous. Flying down out of the blue to meet a guy I’ve never met,” you said.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice gentler than you were expecting. “If I was you, I’d be pretty skeptical of me too. If you never want to meet, that’s okay. I’d never want to make you uncomfortable.”

“How do I know you’re real?” you asked. “That this isn’t some scam or something.”

“Next weekend there’s a convention in Dallas. How about I book you a flight for that, a hotel room and everything, get you hooked up with a badge and all that and Saturday night, if you like how the concert goes, we can go out on a date afterwards. Plenty of people around, I’ll stay away until you know I’m not pulling anything. How’s that sound?”

“What do you mean about the concert?” you asked.

“Well, you’re concerned I’m not really who I say I am, right?”

“I’m being stupid. I mean, I can tell by your voice that-”

“Ah, ah. You’re right. I went too overboard with the asking you to stay over my house thing. This is my do over. So, you tell me to wear something on Saturday night and when you see me with it on, then you’ll know it’s really me,” he said.

“Or we could just facetime?” you asked.

“Oh, come on. My way’s more fun and cheesy and romantic,” he chuckled.

“I can pick whatever I want?”

“Go for it,” he said.

“Alright. Let me think about it and I’ll text you the next few days,” you said.

“Alright. I guess I’ll see you next weekend then.”

“I guess you will, Ackles.”

One Week Later

“Hi,” you said, nervously tapping on a security guard dressed in a black suit on the shoulder. They looked down at you and your swallowed. You held up your badge like Jensen had told you to do earlier in the day and the guy talked into a radio for a moment before he waved you back.

Carefully you wandered into a back hall, someone showing you down to a back room. They stopped you outside of it and you paused, the person going inside. A moment later they exited, followed by Jensen, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hi,” you said.

“Hi. You are...fuck, you’re pretty,” he said. You smirked and he shared one of his own. “I pass the test?”

“I like your pink bandana,” you said, Jensen laughing as he pulled it from his back pocket.

“I so knew you were gonna pick something pink too,” he said, holding it out to you. “To be honest, I got a little nervous you weren’t real either.”

“Yeah well, I thought we decided you’ve been hurt enough lately,” you said. “No tricks.”

You tied the bandana around his wrist, Jensen smiling back at you.

“Let me say bye to my friends quick and then we can get out of here,” he said.

“Take your time,” you said. He ducked inside and was out less than thirty seconds later, clasping his hands behind his back. “So. What do actor rockstars do for first dates?”

“I could go for some dinner and a drink,” he said. “I know a good hole in the wall place. You like steak?”

“Who doesn’t?” you said.

“I knew there was a reason I liked you,” he said. “You enjoy the show?”

“Yeah. You’re not half bad,” you said. He rubbed the back of his neck and you swore you saw a bit of blush on his face. “So this place close by?”

“It’s probably a fifteen minute walk from here if that’s okay,” he said.

“Yeah. No problem. I’m not one for heels unless I know I’ll be able to sit,” you said.

“Really? I thought you worked in an uppity uppity office,” he said.

“I do. I kick them off under my desk constantly,” you said. “I wasn’t really sure what the dress code was so I stuck to the basics.”

“Basics are always a good bet,” he said, holding open the door for you, the cooler night air refreshing after being in the hot room the past few hours. “I dig the neon orange sneakers.”

“Thanks,” you said, taking off your badge and shoving it in your purse. He was quiet as you made your way to a street corner, waiting for the crossing light. “Jensen?”

“Hm?”

“We do know each other. Can we get over this awkward thing in the air?” you asked.

“Yeah. I’d much rather get back to teasing you over how you call heating frozen waffles cooking dinner,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he chuckled. “Even on 14 hour work days, I still made a meal.”

“Well I can’t cook. You knew that coming into this relationship,” you said.

“Oh, relationship?” he teased, getting a hip bump from you. “You’re hot. I can handle your bad cooking in exchange.”

“Such a guy,” you said, the light going green. You started to walk but Jensen held out a hand, a car rushing through the red. “Not used to a city.”

“You get used to it. I much prefer the suburbs for living,” he said, the two of you starting to walk again. “Weren’t you thinking about renting a small house instead of that apartment?”

“As much as I loathe the one bedroom, size of a shoebox place, it’s cheap. Houses are expensive,” you said.

“Yeah but it’s not in a great neighborhood. You work late sometimes. Isn’t there that skeevy guy outside always?”

“I’m not worried. I honestly will probably get a promotion to the New York City or LA office soon. I’m not killing myself for nothing,” you said.

“But do you like it?” he asked. “Being a financial spy.”

“Financial investigator,” you said with a laugh.

“Same thing,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets. “I don’t know. I’ve worked the long days so I know they suck. But I got breaks and I love what I do.”

“Then why end the show?” you asked.

“Cause I love it and I didn’t want it to go to shit. Five years from now, they get in another writer, I’d sign on for a movie or miniseries in a heartbeat,” he said. “We’re just going on a break in my mind. Jared’s too. But I got another job lined up for the fall. Not everyday is perfect. No job is. But I do love what I get to do. I don’t know if I could do that with a job I hated.”

“When I was a kid, I wanted to be an architect. Then an engineer. Then a heart surgeon. Then I went to college for business and finance because it’s a safe bet. The world always needs those kinds of people,” you said.

“They need those other kinds of people too,” he said. “I guess even nerds have to love the finance jobs.”

“I sorta hate it,” you said.

“I know. You vent about it sometimes. Plus your boss sounds like a dick.”

“Don’t remind me. He was mad cause I used a single day of vacation time. Not like I have a gajillion hours saved or anything.”

“Would you ever go back? School?”

“I’ve been out of college eight years. No way would I survive another four.”

“I think you could. But I’ve never been so who am I to say,” he said. “You should take more time off.”

“Now you sound like my mom,” you laughed. “My parents have always owned their own business. I don’t think they quite get it.”

“Maybe not. Still. It’s good to take some time every once in a while,” he said. “You have to fly home tomorrow?”

“Yeah. Flight’s at 7:30. I gotta run after your panel,” you said.

“I feel like I made you come all the way out here for a few hours together,” he said.

“I’m enjoying the convention,” you said. “And the company.”

“Want to know how the show ends?” he teased. You whacked his shoulder and he laughed, a devilish smile on his face. “I can’t tell you that. I wouldn’t spoil it.”

“Yet you’re up for more. I wonder what that tells me,” you said.

“I’m also going to be taking more time off,” he said. “Try to have a lazy day every now and then.”

“Good. You work too much,” you said.

“So. You wanna take some time off with me?”

“I’ve known you for a grand total of seven minutes.”

“We’ve known each other more than two months. We talk every day. It’s been a lot more than seven minutes,” he said. You were quiet for a beat, Jensen’s hand bumping yours a few times before he curled a finger around yours. He slid his fingers through yours, lacing your hands together.

“I know I’ve said this a million times but you didn’t deserve what she did.”

“I know the cheating wasn’t my fault.”

“You know I’m talking about the other thing.”

“I know that one too,” he said. “I’m glad she fucked around to be honest.”

“Why?”

“Because I’d rather dump her before we got into the whole kid situation.”

“I thought she fucked that up with what she said and all.”

“She definitely tried. But I got a good lawyer and he found enough evidence to prove it wasn’t true. So we came to a deal.”

“Really? I hadn’t heard of that.”

“It happened this week when we finalized everything. As of Tuesday, I am 100% officially divorced. Yay,” he chuckled.

“She got the house, didn’t she,” you said.

“Actually, she didn’t get anything. I let her keep her stuff, like clothes and her car but that was it. She didn’t get a dime. It was part of our deal. Amazing how much you can keep when you have the threat of prison time over the other person,” he said.

“It still sucks you had to go through all of that,” you said.

“My sister says I was a sucker from the start. She always thought Cati was a bitch and I never got it until I caught what Cati was up to. Mac picked up on evil chick radar way better than I ever did apparently.”

“S’okay to be a sucker. It means you’re kind,” you said.

“I thought you never had a legit boyfriend you said.”

“I haven’t. Doesn’t mean I haven’t been a sucker,” you said.

“That guy the reason you never went and had one?”

“Pretty much. Much safer in your own personal bubble,” you said.

“True,” he said, giving your hand a squeeze. “Hard to find someone you trust to not just not hurt you but also somebody that makes you feel safe.”

“Cati ever do that for you?”

“No. I thought she did but I can tell the difference now,” he said. “I just started seeing this girl. I think I might trust her.”

“Oh? Well I can tell you she might trust you too,” you said.

“Y/N.”

“Yes?”

“Quit that stupid job. Get out of that office and away from freaking Chad. I know it eats you up.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said. “Got any more cons for awhile?”

“Not for about two months,” he said.

“Maybe some weekend you could come visit,” you said with a shrug.

“Maybe next weekend,” he said, a big smile plastered on his cheeks. “If you’re free.”

“I am,” you said.

“Good. It’s a date then,” he said.

“Assuming this one goes well,” you said.

“How am I doing so far?”

“Pretty decent. I don’t want to give it away just yet.”

“And I’m the one that teases in this relationship. Right,” he said, slowing his walk as you approached a restaurant. “Ladies first.”

_______

#spn #supernatural #jensen x reader #spn series #jensen ackles #rpf #jensen x #jensen ackles fanfic #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #au

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boltupbitches · 1 year

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Being a kecle and dating nick bosa and having both brother give her the silent treatment or they blow up on her till. nick goes and talks to them like after each time he's played them so he wouldn't even talk to Jason til the championship game

Welcome to the Family - Nick Bosa x kelce!sister

(sibling cold shoulder stuff; SFW)

His girlfriend didn't make the trip to Philadelphia to see him play against Eagles. She was back at their home in Santa Clara, nursing a bad cold and holing herself up in guest bedroom away from Nick to prevent him catching her cold during the playoffs.

Nick thought it was ridiculous. She was very sick at first, causing him to consider not even playing in the Dallas game until she chewed him out for it. He was worried about her and the cold she caught, but couldn't seem to shake off.

He was moments away from contacting Mrs. Kelce when his girlfriend finally let up and allowed him to come in the room if he promised to keep a distance and didn't try to kiss her.

Now, she was feeling much better and he was relieved about that, but he was still worried about her. Thankfully one of his teammate's girlfriends, who didn't make the trip either for personal reasons, stopped in to check on her.

He was now in the middle of chatting to his mom and brother before it was time to head out of the hotel when he heard a woman's voice call his name.

He turned around to see the warm, smiling face of Donna Kelce staring back at him.

He was surprised at the sight of her before smiling and accepting the hug she offered him. "Hi, Mrs. Kelce! Great to see you."

She chuckled and chided him, "Now Nick, we spoke about this the last time you saw me. You can call me Donna."

Nick turned and looked to his mother and brother who were watching on curiously. "Mrs. Kelce - Donna, this is my mother, Cheryl Bosa, and my older brother, Joey. Guys this is Donna Kelce. Angie's mom."

Both parties greeted each other warmly, Nick's mom complimenting the split jersey Mrs Kelce was wearing in support of both of her son's playing today.

"I spoke with Angie on the phone a bit ago. I had no idea she was sick!"

Nick nodded and sighed, "Yeah she's been stubborn about it all. She kept herself locked in the guest bedroom the last two weeks, but finally let up about it this past week and let me in to take care of her. She thinks she picked it up at work since it's going around."

Mrs. Kelce nodded, knowing just how stubborn her youngest child was. "Yes, that's definitely something she has in common with Travis. Well - Jason too. They're all stubborn brats at times." She joked.

Nick nodded, saying nothing to the last part, but agreeing whole-heartedly.

His relationship with the Kelce brothers was odd. Her parents were friendly and greeted him with open arms. Her brothers did not.

Travis was the first to finally accept and come to terms that his sister was dating a fellow NFL player, and approached Nick after the 49ers loss earlier in the season to the Chiefs.

Travis had approached him and shook his hand after the game, saying, "Tell Angie I'm stopping by tonight before we fly out tomorrow."

Nick nodded and they parted ways.

That night, Travis sulked a bit at the couple's kitchen table as his sister chewed him out for being an asshole the last couple of months. Nick said nothing and stayed out of it.

Neither man was surprised when she then got to serving dinner and asked to say grace together. That was just Angie's way.

Things were good after that. Sure, they weren't best friends, but an understanding and respect formed between the two of them with Travis even occasionally reaching out to congratulate him on his team's win.

It was just Jason.

Who was still being, "a stubborn asshole whose ass I will kick," according to Angie.

Nick had yet to meet the older brother personally, but knew the man didn't care for him.

Mrs. Kelce gave him another hug again, telling him good luck and saying goodbye to his family as she made her way out of the hotel.

His mom complimented her decision to stop by and greet him.

He appreciated it too.

-----

Nick was deeply upset and hurt as he limped his way off the field. It was crushing to lose so badly like this.

It was if the well oiled machine of the 49ers just came apart in the span of minutes the second Brock went out and Johnson came on.

Everyone there or watching knew it too.

They injury on his ankle was just the icing on the fucking cake.

Just as he was getting ready to leave the field and find refuge in the locker room, wanting so bad to just go back to his girlfriend, he was interrupted by a hand clapping his left shoulder.

He looked up in irritation, both at being interrupted from his gloom and at himself for not realizing someone was likely calling his name just moments ago.

He was surprised to see the serious face of Jason Kelce staring back.

Both were quiet for a moment before Jason held his hand out to him, "Good game, man. I'm sorry it didn't turn out in your favorite tonight. You guys have been killing it all season."

Nick cleared his throat and accepted the handshake. "Thanks. Yeah.. I guess that's just football." He said awkwardly, not knowing what else to say to his girlfriend's oldest brother.

He had overheard the phone argument that day she had with Jason, and had heard the stuff Jason said about him.

He was pissed for the longest time over that, but soon realized that it wasn't really about him at the end of the day personally, but just a man trying to look out for his baby sister.

Still, this was awkward.

"Look," Jason stared away for a minute before looking back at him, trying to ignore the loud cheering of the stadium around them. This wasn't the best place to hold a conversation, but he clearly wanted to do it now and Nick, while exhausted, knew it was pretty important too. "I've been an asshole. I'm sorry for the shit I said to Angie about you and your character. I'm sorry I upset her and made her cry too. She's my baby sister and I am always prepared to step in when necessary. I know that's not much of a consolidation in all of this, but I am sorry for causing any strain on your guys relationship. It wasn't right."

Nick just stared at him for a moment or two, processing what he was saying, before responding back, "I get it dude. I really do. Things have been tough and if I had a younger sister, I couldn't imagine how protective I'd be too of her. Just know she means a lot to me and I'd never go out of my way to cause her hurt."

Jason nodded and reached his hand out once more, "I'm glad we could talk a bit. I don't want to hold you up any longer as I see cameras coming this way. I'll reach out to Angie tonight. I know she's going to have a shit ton of stuff to say to me when I do, but I'm ready for it. We'll need to link up at some point."

"For sure." Nick said.

They shook hands again and parted ways.

Nick was still in his head as he made it off the field and to the guest locker room, muting out the noise around him as he thought about what just happened.

He knew the cameras were recording for a distance as both of them spoke, and he knew Angie was likely watching from home and saw it too.

He was sure his phone was blowing up with texts from her.

After he finished showering and changed, he took a seat in front of his locker as he watched his teammates solemnly pack up and change quickly to get the hell out of that stadium.

He had a few minutes before he had to go talk with the media.

He opened his messages and immediately saw Angie's at the top.

Angelina 🤪 I'm so sorry baby. :(

What did Jason say to you? I will fly out there and kick his fucking ass! Let me make sure I pack my inhaler tho

That was over an hour ago and Nick for a split second was worried that she would be crazy enough to fly out here just to rip her brother a new one.

He quickly texted her back.

Nicholas 🐻 Thank you, babe. And he actually was apologizing. He said he'd be calling you later to see about getting together to clear the air.

You feeling any better?

Her response was immediate

Angelina 🤪 I am feeling a bit better than earlier. I'm glad to know it wasn't him being an asshole. Cause he knows I will come out there if I have too.

Nick quietly chuckled a bit to himself at that, knowing how true it was.

Just then his name was called to go out and speak to the press. He sighed and slipped his phone into his pocket as he got up.

While his season was now over as well as his team's chance at the Super Bowl, he'd take the personal win of making amends with his girlfriend's older brother.

Now, if only Angie doesn't kill him when he tells her his plans of not attending the Super Bowl..

#nick bosa fanfic #nick bosa imagine #nick bosa imagines #nick bosa one shot

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matttgirlies · 15 days

Text

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of drugs

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 22

I had just walked into the living room where I found Matt and James arguing about Colonel William. “Goddamn, Dad, call and tell him we’re through. Tear up the goddamn contracts and I’ll pay him whatever percentage we owe him.”

“Listen, Son. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Goddamn right I am. I hate what I’m doing and I’m goddamn bored.”

Matt stomped out the front door, never returning that evening nor the following few. We were mystified. For the first time he was traveling alone—without even one bodyguard. Matt didn’t even know his own phone number; nor did he carry cash. How was he going to get around? Arrangements had always been made for him.

According to Jerry Schilling, Matt caught a commercial plane to Washington, D.C., with the intention of meeting President Nixon. When he arrived he had a sudden reaction to penicillin he had taken for a bad cold and decided to fly to L.A. He called during a stopover in Dallas, asking Jerry to meet him at LAX with a doctor. He wanted treatments for the reaction. Matt rested two days in Los Angeles and then continued his journey back to Washington, D.C., along with Jerry and a fivehundred-dollar check that Jerry arranged to have cashed.

During the flight Matt befriended a young soldier just returning from Vietnam. The soldier must have told him his life story. Before the plane landed Matt asked Jerry for the five hundred dollars and handed it over to the young man, wishing him good luck. Jerry said, “Matt, that’s all we have.” Matt responded with, “Yeah, but he needs it worse than I do, Schilling.”

Later in the flight, he asked the stewardess for a pen and some paper. Matt was never much of a letter writer, but he now wrote President Nixon a letter explaining how he could assist the youth of today in getting off drugs. It was an impassioned plea, mistakes hastily scratched out and corrected as he poured out his thoughts.

Jerry arranged for a limo to pick them up at the airport and drive them to the White House. It was 6:30 a.m. and Matt was dressed in black, including his black cape, sunglasses, his large gold International belt, and a cane. He approached the gate looking, as Jerry put it, like Dracula. His face was a bit swollen, and Jerry feared that his appearance would arouse suspicion.

As soon as Matt explained who he was and that he had a message for the President, he was promised the letter would be given to President Nixon by nine that morning. Matt then had Jerry arrange for him to see John Finlator, Deputy Narcotics Director in Washington. Matt truly wanted to help kids get off street drugs. Another purpose of Matt’s trip was to try to acquire a Federal Narcotics badge for himself.

Matt was an avid badge collector. He had detective, police, and sheriff badges from all over the nation and the narc badge represented some kind of ultimate power to him. In Matt’s mind that badge would give him the right to carry any prescribed drug he had on his person. The badge would also give Matt and his Boston Mafia the right to carry arms. With the Federal Narcotics badge he could legally enter any country both wearing guns and carrying any drugs he wished.

His obsession with obtaining this badge was triggered by a private eye named John O’Grady whom Matt had hired to handle a paternity suit. O’Grady showed Matt his Federal Narc badge, and Matt’s mind started clicking immediately: How could he get one himself?

John O’Grady mentioned that John Finlator was the man Matt should see.

Matt told Jerry to wait at the hotel in case the President called while Matt himself went to see Finlator. Within an hour, Jerry received a call from Matt, saying that his request had been denied by Finlator. Jerry was surprised at Matt’s emotional state. He sounded near tears when he said, “He won’t let me have the badge.” Jerry was able to lift his spirits by telling him he’d just received a call from the White House. “The President read your letter and wants to see you in twenty minutes.”

Walking into the White House was no easy feat, even for Matt Sturniolo. The guards were friendly but cautious as they checked him out. Jerry too was searched before entering the Oval Office along with Sonny West, whom Jerry had called to join them. Sonny had been mystified by the call and was awestruck when he realized he was about to meet the President of the United States.

Matt was led separately into the Oval Office. Jerry and Sonny were told they had to wait outside, though there was some slight chance they’d meet the President later. According to Jerry, they were brought into the Oval Office in less than a minute. Jerry knew that if there was a way to get them in, Matt would do it, and he had come through. Not even the President was immune to his charm.

When Jerry and Sonny entered they saw that Matt had made himself right at home. He introduced everyone and encouraged the President to give Jerry and Sonny cuff links, and was not shy in asking for mementos to take home to their wives. By the time he left the Oval Office he had added this most important badge to his collection. He emerged smiling, a different Matt from the one who a few hours before was emotionally upset. Nixon overruled Finlator’s decision and had the badge sent to the Oval Office, where he could present it to Matt.

The argument about Colonel that started this escapade was never mentioned again.

Our marriage was now part-time. He wanted freedom to come and go as he pleased—and he did. When he was home, he was attentive and loving as father and husband. But it was clearly understood that I was mainly responsible for the parenting of Charlotte.

An incident occurred which made me realize that I needed to spend more time with Charlotte. She, Matt, and I were about to sit for a family portrait. I was dressing her while her nurse combed her hair. Then, as I started for the set, Charlotte refused to go with me. “What’s the matter?” I asked. “Come on, honey.”

“No, no,” she kept saying, hanging on to her nurse. When she started to cry, I got nervous and short-tempered, taking her by the hand and urging, as if a child could decipher my logic, “But you’ve got to be happy Char! You’re going to take pictures with Mommy and Daddy.”

Each shot was an effort as we tried to coax her to laugh. For a moment we would be successful but then tears would reappear. She even cried sitting on her daddy’s lap as I bribed her with toys and little dolls to get a smile.

That’s when it hit me. My God, she’s so attached to the nurse that she doesn’t want to leave her. Now I knew I had to find more time to be with her. She had been affected by my own predicament. Busy centering my life around Matt, even during his absences, I had neglected not only my needs but my daughter’s as well.

I was torn between the two of them. When he was home I wanted to be with him, without other responsibilities, but I also wanted to be with Charlotte, knowing how much she needed me.

I began taking Charlotte to parks, afternoon parties, and daily swimming lessons at the YWCA, and I convinced myself that soon I’d no longer have to fake it with toys and lollipops and ice cream cones to get her to smile at me.

She would sit between Matt and me at the dinner table, squeezing spinach through her hands and smearing it on her face. Matt tried to convince himself that he found all this adorable, but the fact of the matter was that he was finicky about his food. With a goodnatured laugh he would excuse himself, telling the maid, “We’ll be eating in the den. Char will join us after she’s finished playing with her meal.”

When Matt was away from home, which unfortunately was most of the time in those days, I continued to dispatch my regular care packages full of pictures and home movies documenting every inch of Charlotte’s growth. When he was with us, I encouraged him to participate in Easter-egg hunts and other outings, inviting Nate, Amber, their children, and other family friends to join us.

Charlotte and I visited him in Vegas for her birthdays, having huge parties in the suite, where she received everything from slot machines to two Saint Bernard puppies (a gift of Colonel William’s) to an entire room filled with balloons—everything, in short, a two- or threeyear-old shouldn’t have and couldn’t appreciate.

It was important to me that Matt be home for Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, but he’d invariably call and say he couldn’t make it, then try to compensate by bringing home extravagant gifts like a marble jewel box filled with diamond rings, necklaces, and earrings, or a whole wardrobe of handpicked designer clothes from a boutique in Vegas. But that wasn’t the point. I didn’t want the furs and jewels—I had all I could possibly use—I just wanted him home. It was a constant effort, single-handedly trying to keep up family traditions.

Although Matt much preferred to spoil Charlotte, he did discipline her from time to time. Once he paddled her for writing all over a beautiful velvet couch with crayons. Then he immediately went into a panic, wanting me to assure him that he’d done the right thing and that Charlotte wouldn’t hold it against him. When I told him, “If you hadn’t spanked her, I’d have,” he felt better. The only other time he touched her in anger was after we’d repeatedly warned her not to go near the pool and she did.

By the time Charlotte was four, she realized she could manipulate the help. Whenever one of them refused to do something for her, she’d threaten, “I’m gonna tell my daddy and you’re going to get fired.” Since none of them wanted her going to Matt, they’d let her get her way, from staying up until all hours and skipping nightly baths to staying home from school. The result was that Charlotte had trouble learning what was right and wrong and what she could and couldn’t do.

“You don’t treat people that way,” I told her. “It’s abusive. Yes, they work for your father. But you don’t go around threatening them.” Used to seeing people jump at her father’s command, Charlotte took years to overcome this habit.

Since Matt had started performing again, our home on Hillcrest had become so public that we could scarcely get in and out of the drive. Photographers actually concealed themselves in our backyard, making their presence known at the most inopportune moments. Once, we were relaxing at the pool, sunbathing, when I leaned over and gave Matt a lingering kiss. He whispered, “What’s that noise? Shhh, be quiet. Sonny! Jerry! It’s a goddamn camera clicking off!” Matt jumped up and they all headed after the poor man, Matt leading, shouting obscenities and threats. This was one member of the press who I’m sure never returned.

In our three years on Hillcrest, we’d gradually outgrown the house. Charlotte and her nurse shared one room, Charlie had the other, and Patsy and Gee and their new baby occupied the cottage out back. Matt felt we needed more room; he wanted Sonny on call and close by. Discussions about a new home took on a new urgency.

When a couple of old regulars, broke and jobless, showed up at our door, Matt took pity on them and put them up in our living room. I awoke in the early morning to the sound of blaring music and found the two had passed out from drinking Jack Daniel’s and Coke. Half-empty glasses were strewn about the room and ashes littered the carpet. I felt my home was being turned into a boarding house.

“They have no respect for anything,” I complained to Matt later that day. “What if they fall asleep with cigarettes in their hands? We’ll all go up in flames. How long do you intend for them to stay?” I was making no secret of my disapproval. “I don’t want Charlotte around this.”

“You’re right, Honey. Maybe I’ll just head out for Palm Springs tonight.”

The search for a new home led us to Holmby Hills, an exclusive area of sprawling estates between Bel Air and Beverly Hills. We found a traditional two-story house, well-situated on a hill, surrounded by two acres of wellmanicured lawns and orange groves. It was larger than our other Los Angeles homes, with a high fence and forbidding gates to assure our privacy.

I had hoped that this home would redirect his attention to the family and that his weekends away in Palm Springs would now be spent with us. He had his own office, his own den, his own game room, his own theater, a breakfast room for private meals, and a dining room for family and friends. It was my intention to decorate this home exclusively to his liking, with ideas carried over from the Hillcrest house, which had been his favorite.

The house cost around $335,000, a little over the budget that we had in mind. With some persistence on our part, James warily let me hire a professional to help furnish it. This would be the first house I’d decorated from scratch and I found it tremendously exciting—having plans drawn up, choosing color schemes, fabrics, wall coverings, and antiques. I loved hunting for special pieces of furniture: a china cabinet that concealed a television set, old trunks to be used as coffee tables, and antique vases to convert into lamps. I was so excited with the project that I persuaded Matt not to look at the preliminary stages and to wait until everything was completed. Decorating became my passion. I found the challenge so absorbing that I was able to forget my worries over our relationship. Instead of pondering my loneliness, I was engaged in constructive work that required all the flair, imagination, and organizational ability I could summon.

At this time another fulfilling and liberating force entered my life—karate. It had been Matt’s love and hobby for years, and when I first took it up, it was just another of my efforts to get his attention and approval, as in the past when I’d enrolled in French classes because he liked the language, took flamenco dancing because he was an aficionado, and ballet because he adored dancers’ bodies.

He had long admired kung fu expert Ed Parker, whom he’d met years ago. I began taking private lessons under Ed’s guidance three times a week. I soon learned there was much more to this art than violence. It was a philosophy. I became even more involved when Matt cheered my progress.

On our return to Boston, he slept throughout the day and I enrolled in another oriental discipline, the Korean art of Tae Kwan Do. I became as obsessive as Matt in dedicating myself to this art. A mandatory requirement was memorizing forms, katas, and stances in the Korean language as well as learning the history of Tae Kwan Do.

The training was incredibly exacting. Over and over we’d execute the same movement until perfected. Perspiration poured into my eyes and yet, if I wiped it away, it would mean one hundred pushups under the watchful eyes of the entire classroom, a humiliation I did not desire and managed to avoid.

Now I could understand Matt’s enslavement to karate. It was an accomplishment, an achievement of confidence and physical mastery of self. In 1972, while Matt was performing in Vegas, I met one of the top karate experts in the United States at the time, Mike Stone. On this particular evening he was acting bodyguard to a prominent record producer. After the show they came to visit Matt backstage. Everyone was more impressed with Stone than with the boisterous tycoon he was protecting. Matt was complimentary and he, Sonny, and Red had numerous questions. Several years earlier we had watched Stone at a tournament in Hawaii and we’d admired his fighting technique.

Later that evening, up in the Imperial Suite, Matt encouraged me to train with Mike. “He has that killer quality. Nothing on two legs can beat him. I’ve been impressed with him since the first time I saw him fight. He’s a real badass—I like the cat’s style.”

Back in Los Angeles I made arrangements with Mike to drive out to his studio later in the week and sit in on one of his classes. It was a long forty-five-minute drive.

Elvis was right. Mike exuded confidence and style, as well as a good deal of personal charm and wit. A deep friendship would develop. Because of the distance, I decided to continue my training with a friend of his, Chuck Norris, who had a studio closer to my home. Mike would sometimes come to Chuck’s studio as a guest trainer.

I was emerging from Elvis’s closed world, becoming aware of how sheltered my existence had been. Mike and Chuck introduced me to popular Japanese martial-arts films such as the Blind Swordsman series, and with Mike I attended karate tournaments locally and in neighboring counties, taking home movies and still photos of top karate fighters. I wanted to capture their individual styles so I could share them with Elvis, hoping this was something we could enjoy in common. In the end, though, I made a whole new circle of friends with whom I felt accepted for myself. The martial arts gave me such confidence and assurance that I began to experience my feelings and express my emotions as never before. Accustomed to suppressing my anger, I could honestly vent it now without the fear of accusations or explosions. I stopped apologizing for my opinions and laughing at jokes I didn’t find amusing. A transformation had begun in which fear and indifference had no place. Along with this new confidence, off came my false eyelashes and heavy makeup, the jewels and flashy clothes. All devices that I’d depended upon for security I now shed.

I was seeing myself for the first time, and it was going to take a while for me to get used to the image. I had a chance to observe marriages outside our immediate circle, where the woman had just as much say as a man in everyday decisions and long-term goals. I was confronted with the harsh realization that living the way I had for so long was very unnatural and detrimental to my well-being. My relationship with Mike had now developed into an affair.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd. This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - i feel like u guys will kill me after the next chapter.. all im saying is get ur tissues!🎀

#matthew sturn #matt stuniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #nick sturniolo #Spotify

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harlowsbby · 2 years

Note

what about something with you and jack at the after party and you’re in your own little world the two of you because you’re so in love!

Just the two of us

You loved going to the club but you loved spending time with Jack more. You didn’t really want to go to the club but you were tired of being stuck in the hotel most nights and Urban and Drama were hosting an after party after the show in Dallas, Texas tonight.

Jack and You decided to keep it causal but cute he wore some black cargos with a black hoodie paired with his new balances and you just wore a black one piece with some panda dunks it was cute but casual.

“You guys ready to party tonight?!” Drama yelled inside the suv.

“I’m ready to take some shots back to back.” Urban said and Neelam raised an eyebrow at him.

“Urban now you do know you’re hosting this right? Meaning you can’t go getting too drunk.”

“Wait what? I thought all I had to do was show my face and that’s it.”

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or being serious right now?” Neelam asked him and he smacked his lips the two of them now bickering with one another.

“This is how the night is going to go?” You smiled up at Jack and he shrugged his shoulders looking back down at you.

“It looks that way baby girl.”

Eventually Neelam and Urban stopped bickering and you all arrived to the club, Jack’s hand tightened on your hand slightly whenever the two of you were in the club he had to have you near him he didn’t want anything happening to you, or if you wanted to go get drinks with Neelam he’d be watching you the entire time or have his security go with you.

“Urban let’s go we have to go introduce ourselves to the club and then meet the mangers.” Urban nodded and him and Drama went to go introduce themselves.

“I’m going to go with Cozane to get some drinks you two want anything?” Neelam asked Jack and You but the two of you denied not really in the mood to be drinking tonight.

Jack was leaned against the club wall in the vip section with your back pressed on him you smiled looking around the club and waving at a few fans that waved at you and Jack.

“You having fun baby girl?” Your turned around and Jack leaned down in order to here you and every-time he did that it had you pressing your legs together.

“Yeah I am but I’d rather be in the hotel room with you right now.”

“Oh really baby?”

“Hmm just laying in bed and watching movies together and doing other stuff.” He smirked his blue eyes shimmering with mischief.

“What other stuff?”

“You already know what that other stuff is so I’m not about to go into detail especially at the club.” You sassed back, he threw his hands up in defense.

“My fault for wanting to know what you want me to do to you baby, how am I suppose to know what you want me to do if I don’t know.” You knew he was acting dumb it was something Jack always did he loved teasing you that way.

“Stop playing with me Jack you know what I’m talking about.”

“No I don’t baby. I really do think you should tell me what you want.” He whispered in your ear and started kissing on your neck making you moan slightly in his ear before pushing him back, he threw his head back in laughter.

“Yes you do Jackman now stop it right now.”

“Not you calling me by my government name now.”

“Maybe if you stop acting like a tease and clueless I wouldn’t have to.” You sassed back and the two of you started play fighting and bickering at one another the whole time you didn’t notice a few fans were recording the two of you, the found it so cute how in a room with a bunch of sweaty people and loud music the two of you still managed to be wrapped up in your own little world as if nobody was around.

The entire night was spent with Jack and You just acting goofy with one another you both taking silly videos of one another with filters on your faces and posting them on your Instagram stories just being so wrapped up in one another.

Eventually you got tired and fell asleep while sitting on Jack’s lap he was honestly amazed at how you just fell asleep especially with how loud it was in the club.

He rubbed small circles on your back and looked up seeing a now drunken Urban and a very annoyed Drama and Neelam.

“What happen with him?” Jack laughed as Urban flopped himself in the booth and started shoving his face with the fries and wings.

“He got way too drunk and almost started arguing with some other fool in the club.” Neelam scolded Urban who waved Neelam off.

“She fell asleep?” Drama asked Jack while looking down at you resting peacefully on Jack’s chest.

“She sure did I’ll just carry her out.” Drama nodded and went back to lecturing Urban with Neelam. The next day there was tons of videos of Jack and You all over theshaderoom and other celebrity gossip pages saying how cute the two of you were.

#jack harlow #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow x reader

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mariacallous · 9 months

Text

Thousands of Airbnbs and short-term rentals are about to be wiped off the map in New York City.

Local Law 18, which came into force Tuesday, is so strict it doesn’t just limit how Airbnb operates in the city—it almost bans it entirely for many guests and hosts. From now on, all short-term rental hosts in New York must register with the city, and only those who live in the place they’re renting—and are present when someone is staying—can qualify. And people can only have two guests.

Gone are the days of sleek downtown apartments outfitted for bachelorette parties, cozy two- and three-bedroom apartments near museums for families, and even the option for people to rent out their apartment on weekends when they’re away. While Airbnb, Vrbo, and others can continue to operate in New York, the new rules are so tight that Airbnb sees it as a “de facto ban” on its business.

Short-term rentals can bring noise, trash, and danger, and they can price local residents out of their own neighborhoods. Some landlords in New York are prolific and have hundreds of Airbnb listings. But other New Yorkers who have listings on Airbnb are trying to make ends meet, either leasing their place while they’re out of town or renting half of a duplex to help cover their mortgage costs.

Airbnb is also popular with some of the 66 million visitors a year looking for accommodations that are cheaper and sometimes larger than hotels. In 2022 alone, short-term rental listings made $85 million in New York. The city might be a relatively small slice of Airbnb’s global market, but the new rules show how local governments can effectively stamp out short-term rentals overnight and lessen their impact on dense residential areas. And New York is just one of many cities around the world trying to calm the short-term rental gold-rush.

And everyone is taking a different approach. Dallas has limited short-term rentals to specific neighborhoods to avoid disruptive and dangerous parties. Elsewhere, the Canadian province of Quebec and Memphis, Tennessee, among others, now require licenses for short-term rentals. In San Francisco, the amount of time someone can list their entire residence for rent on Airbnb is limited to 90 days each year; Amsterdam puts that limit at 30 nights per year, Paris at 120 days. Berlin previously banned nearly all Airbnbs but walked the decision back in 2018.

Airbnb’s attempts to fight back against the new law have, to date, been unsuccessful. The company sued New York City in June, but a judge dismissed the case in August, ruling that the restrictions were “entirely rational.” Airbnb did not comment on whether it would appeal the decision. Hosts are also fighting for the right to list their apartments as short-term stays by meeting with city officials to try to change the law.

The rules “are a blow to its tourism economy and the thousands of New Yorkers and small businesses in the outer boroughs who rely on home sharing and tourism dollars to help make ends meet,” says Theo Yedinsky, global policy director for Airbnb. “The city is sending a clear message to millions of potential visitors who will now have fewer accommodation options when they visit New York City: You are not welcome.” Yedinsky says Airbnb has a goal of working with the city on “sensible” home-sharing rules, but he did not elaborate on the company’s next steps.

The change will make short-term rentals “a lot less attractive” for many people coming to New York, says Sean Hennessey, a professor at the New York University Jonathan M. Tisch Center of Hospitality. And in a city where hotel rooms are small and expensive, it could “make the city a little less accessible.”

There are currently more than 40,000 Airbnbs in New York, according to Inside Airbnb, which tracks listings on the platform. As of June, 22,434 of those were short-term rentals, defined as places that can be booked for fewer than 30 days. Many Airbnbs are concentrated around downtown Manhattan, along the Upper East Side, and in Williamsburg and Park Slope in Brooklyn. While the number of rentals may be small compared to New York City’s population of 8 million people, Murray Cox, founder of Inside Airbnb, says some desirable neighborhoods are overly burdened by short-term rentals, which can result in housing shortages and higher rents. The new law, in theory, could open these homes to local residents. New York City is facing a housing shortage that has increased rents and rates of homelessness.

The implementation of the law shows “very clearly you can cut down on short-term rentals,” says Cox, who was part of the Coalition Against Illegal Hotels, a group that advocated for the registration law. “You can make these platforms accountable.”

There’s an older law on the books that prevents short-term rentals of entire apartments for less than 30 days in New York, but it’s been difficult to enforce without the registration mandate that takes effect Tuesday in place. Compounding the sudden shortage of Airbnbs in New York is another piece of the new law that allows landlords to ban entire buildings from short-term rental platforms. As of July, nearly 9,000 buildings across New York City were on the list. New York’s laws on short-term rentals exempt certain entire apartments on rental platforms that are zoned as hotels and boarding houses, meaning there will still be some entire units advertised on rental platforms.

Some small-time hosts feel the law unfairly loops them in with professional landlords. Margenett Moore-Roberts rents out a two-bedroom apartment in her Brooklyn brownstone; she lives in the home’s other unit with her husband and teen daughter. She says she doesn’t want to rent the apartment to a full-time tenant and lose the flexibility to host family and friends there, or, as she did during the pandemic, use it as a home office. But because her family doesn’t occupy the second two-bedroom unit, it can no longer be listed on Airbnb for stays of less than 30 days.

Restore Homeowner Autonomy and Rights, a group of homeowners in New York, is advocating for amendments to the regulations that would allow owner-occupied one- and two-family homes to register their units with the city and do away with capacity limits. They believe people like Moore-Roberts should be able to rent out units, and that they don’t fall into the same category as bigger landlords.

Moore-Roberts says she isn’t against the rule change entirely, but she wants to see the law reworked with more nuance to protect renters with just one property, like herself. “They’ve used a very blunt object when they should have used a scalpel,” Moore-Roberts says. She is currently out of work, and she says a drop in income from the short-term rental compounds that financial stress. “Putting us all in that same bucket of players is really unfair and not helpful.”

Airbnb says it is canceling and refunding reservations in unregistered accommodations from December 2 onwards, but those up until December 1 can remain in effect to lessen the impact on hosts and guests. Guests won’t be penalized if they book and stay in an unregistered rental, but hosts and the platforms they advertise on could be as of September 5.

Airbnb also says unregistered stays were blocked from future bookings past September 5 as of August 14, but a search showed dozens of entire apartments for more than two people still available to book beyond September 5. These listings should not pass New York’s registration requirements for short-term rentals. Airbnb did not comment on why these are still on the platform. Vrbo declined to comment for this story. Booking.com did not return a request for comment.

There are 3,250 short-term rental hosts who had submitted applications for registration by August 28, according to Christian Klossner, executive director of Office of Special Enforcement in New York City. More than 800 applications had been reviewed, and the office had granted 257 registrations, returned 479 to seek additional information or corrections, and denied 72. As of Tuesday, the office will focus on working with booking platforms to make sure they are using the verification system for registrations and that they are not processing unverified transactions, Klossner says.

A growing number of cities might be trying to clamp down on Airbnb rentals, but the company continues to grow. It made $2.5 billion in the second quarter of 2023, up 18 percent year-on-year, with the number of nights and experiences booked on the platform growing by 11 percent in the same period.

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mooncherrv · 2 years

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Meet the Family: Part 1 - Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Character(s): Jake "Hangman" Seresin x FlightAttendant!Reader Genre: Fluff and some smutty undertones maybe Summary: In which Jake takes you to meet his family when you have a 3 day layover in Dallas. Author's Note: i just AHHHHHH ok anyways Masterlist | Part 2

"I can't believe you're ditching me to go hang out with your hotshot pilot boyfriend." your crew mate said as the two of you exited the terminal. "Hey. Not all of us can see our boyfriend constantly plus next time he's in San Diego he'll be on base so I won't get to see him much." you said as you dragged your suitcase behind you. "Fine fine. At least introduce me to him then. You've been together for 6 months and not once have I met him." she said. You turned and gave her a look. "What?" she asked. "You were there when I met him. What do you mean you never met him?" you pushed her lightly in the side. "Oh my god he's the airplane guy? YOU ARE DATING THE HOTTIE FROM THE ONE FLIGHT?" she said, rather loudly, causing a few people to look at her. "Yes. Now, go to your hotel loser. I'll see you on the flight back to SF." you told her. "Send me photos of you and airplane hottie! And be safe kiddo. Wrap it before he taps it!" she said in a sing song voice before walking off.

Jake: You look beautiful today ❤️

You looked at the text on your phone and began darting your eyes around to find Jake, eventually spotting him towards the exit and running towards him, now earning yourself a few odd looks from tired travelers. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss on your forehead. "Missed you darling" he said as he grabbed your suitcase from you. "Would love to hold you longer but the cops are gonna yell at me for taking the spot for too long." He said as he held out his hand for your to hold and led you to his car. One you two were situated in his car and on the highway he glanced over at you for a second before turning his attention back to the road. "So airplane hottie huh?" Jake smirked. You looked over at him wide eyed. "You heard that?" you said as you put your hands over your face. Jake laughed. "Your friend said that a bit loudly. So did you give me that name?" Jake questioned. "Maybe. Maybe not." You responded with a smile. Jake looked over at your with a smirk and shook his head. "You are very cute when you get a little shy." Jake said. "Hmm we can talk about the nickname later, now, eyes on the road mister."

Once the two of you arrived at Jake's house, the second he closed the door his hands were all over you. "Calm down Jake, I'm not going anywhere." Your arms wrapped around his neck while his hands found their way around your waist before he rested his chin on your shoulder. You pulled away and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. "Let me go take a shower and then I am all yours for the next 3 days."

One thing about Jake was that he is very observant and does many things for his partner without even mentioning it. You offhandedly mention you enjoy a specific meal? He learns how to make it. You seem to enjoy a specific candy? He gets it for you next time he sees you. In this case last time Jake was at your house in San Diego he took a photo of the shampoos, conditioners, body washes, and even lotions you used and he bought them and out them in the bathroom you used when you were at his house in Dallas. When the two of you decided to go from casual dating to a more committed relationship he immediately cleaned up his drawers and closet to make room for things you wanted to leave at his house. Despite all of this he never expected you to do the same, though you ended up doing similar things for him as it felt less lonely going home and seeing some of Jake's things laying around the house to remind you of him.

Returning from a shower you see Jake sitting on the couch watching the highlights of a recent football game. As he hears your footsteps his head turns and he smiles at you. "Enjoy your shower?" Jake asked with a smile. You nodded in response and sat next to him on the couch, leaning your head on his shoulder. "You got the stuff I use at home. Didn't have to do all that for me." Jake only hummed in response before he turned off the TV and faced you. "I have a question." Jake says. Your head tilted "I may have answers." Jake seemed nervous as he rested his hands upon yours. "Do you want to meet my parents tomorrow? I mentioned you would be in Dallas for a few days and she really wants to meet you. It would just be tomorrow and then it's just me and you for the other 2 days you're here." He held eye contact with you as he spoke. "I'd love to meet your parents Jake. It would have been nice to know in advance so I could have packed nicer clothes though." your arms wrapped around his neck and he lifted you onto his lap before he kissed your cheek. "It was last minute. She called me while I was driving to the airport." You lightly slapped his shoulder which resulted in a small "ow" to fall from his lips. "What did I say about talking on the phone while driving, Lieutenant." you said sternly before soft laughs left both of your mouths. "I've done worse while driving before love, you would know because you were there." he said with a smirk. "Pervert." you coughed. "What was that? Didn't quite catch that." Jake said as he pulled your body closer to his chest. "Huh? Nothing. Must have imagined that." you said with a sweet smiler, the smile. The smile he fell for the first time he saw you for the first time. "That's what I thought. Now, let's go to bed. It's late and you've been working all day." He said as he stood up, carrying you in his arms. "Jake, I'm not tired. I wanna spend time with you." you mumbled into his neck. "Oh, sweetheart, I can make you tired don't worry"

#top gun #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader

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thewisemankey · 11 months

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Completing the Path to the Yellow Dragon: A Report on RTX Austin 2023

What's got the voice cast of Team RWBY acting up in a tizzy? Find out the answer and more under the cut!

Preface:

So anyone who knows me, knows that I'm heavily into RWBY by Rooster Teeth. And as such I have an emotional attachment to the show and its' characters, especially Yang Xiao Long. So much so that Volume 3 definitely affected my emotional and mental health when Yang lost her arm to the bull bastard. If you can recall how I tried to cope with that.

But with that particular chapter long behind us all, there came a point where I made it a personal goal to meet the main cast of RWBY, whether individually or one at a time. An opportunity arose when Tampa Bay Comic-Con announced Barbara Dunkelman was going to be in town that year for it. All things considered, she's the one I wanted to meet the most. UNFORTUNATELY that year happened to be 2020. And you know when happened then. So it didn't happen for all the obvious reasons.

The following year, I made another attempt to meet all four of them when Florida Supercon announced them as guests in Miami. Which worked out on certain fronts since both my dad and my uncle live there. But once I had already purchased my ticket, they all ended up pulling out. And there was no refunds. So I basically wasted money and begrudgingly attended the con, knowing all I could do was basically just bumblescrewing around. Especially considering they didn't announce any GOOD replacements for them. At this rate, all I could settle for were video chats with Barb, (And at one point Barb AND Arryn) so that they would at least know my name and my face.

Another year passed to 2022, and to my utter disappointment, neither TBCC nor Florida Supercon ever bothered to make good and attempt to bring any of them back. So with my trust gone from local cons, it was then that I decided what needed to be done. After taking care of other business with Wrestlecon in Dallas, I would instead go directly to them at RTX the next year knowing they're consummate guests who can't pull out from there since they all practically LIVE and work there with Rooster Teeth. Because it became more important to me than ever to meet them all, especially Barbara, to make myself feel spiritually whole.

And so began my Path to the Yellow Dragon.

Day 1: Discounts at Diner Bar and The Grey Market? HAHA, BET.

Waking up to the sound of "Dangerous Dreams" by LeBrock, I made the early morning flight to Austin with more baggage than I had ever packed before and a new backpack to carry lots of necessities with me.

Arriving at the Fairmont hotel, I unpacked and settled in as quickly as possible. I was surprised to find I had my own bathrobe! So I decided to get my Damien Sandow on:

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After taking time to relax, I made my way to the Austin Convention Center for what was dubbed "First Night." Which was essentially their "Welcome to RTX" panel, which included the RTX 2023 theme song! (Said song ended up being "Higher" by Creed except with more Rooster Teeth centered lyrics, lol.)

After that, it was the various talent of Rooster Teeth, including Geoff Ramsey and Gus Sorola giving us the lowdown on the weekend events, not to mention making announcements for stuff like new episodes of Camp Camp and A Simple Walk 2. We were also treated to Face Jam recommending several local eateries for those of us not familiar with the area, as well as constantly reminding us of getting discounts from Diner Bar and The Grey Market with our RTX badges. While I didn't partake in those place, I DID scope out Via 313 pizza as a means of securing a dinner for the weekend, so good on them for telling us about THAT place.

Not much else after that, so I packed it in, grabbed some room service for dinner, played a bit of Tears of the Kingdom before calling it a night.

Day 2: A Perfect 10 out of 9

With the OFFICIAL first day upon me, I made it a personal mission to make sure my attire was repping Team RWBY throughout the weekend. So combined with my camos, it came out something like this:

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There was definitely more of certain colors than the others, but let's be honest, with how many people were out there wearing similar colors after Volume 9, would it matter? XD

Regardless, since I had a Platinum badge, I was allowed one-hour early access to their main hall! And they had PLENTY to do inside of it! Including...

Achievement Hunter Golf and other games of skill!

The F*ck Face Exhibit!

The Face Jam Rat & Grackle Pub! (My finger slipped in the shot there, whoops.)

And then there was the 20 Years of Rooster Teeth Museum!

T'was full of different props and signed stuff. Some that were off limits, and others you could interact with. Like sitting on the Always Open Couch, or even pose with a replica of the Crescent Rose! Since that was the case:

I took the opportunity to practice Kozuki Oden Two-Sword style! Although Crescent Rose is definitely a LOT heavier than it looks.

Then there was the All Good No Worries Park!

Just a simple place to sit back, relax, play a few yard games, and even scribble messages on the completely free spaced walls that was in the center. Having THAT kinda freedom, I decided to Gol D. Roger it up:

Suffice to say, there was PLENTY of fun to be had. But aside from awaiting for the Shop to open up, (which I couldn't immediately get because access wasn't allowed until Noon for those who didn't have the Ultra Badge) there was a VERY unique activity to do at the RT Animation Fan Zone...

The chance to speak with Ruby Rose herself! In VTuber form, Ruby appeared before us all for a "fireside chat" following her latest adventures. These happened in short sessions throughout the day, so I managed to attend two of them during the weekend. Here's some tidbits that happened while I was there.

-Despite how she acted towards them in Volume 9, Ruby IS very happy that Blake and Yang got together and very excitedly approves of their new relationship. She noted that it was very unlike Yang to dance around her feelings, so she was glad it all paid off in the end for them both. Good thing I asked THAT question!

-When asked what kind of Pokémon trainer she would be, she stated she'd have a mix of Grass and Flying-type Pokemon. And throw in a Pikachu.

-SOMEONE had the gall to ask if she had any loves in her life, (which got quite the reaction from the crowd, including myself who pointed my bat at that person and said "YOU WATCH YOUR BOUNDARIES, MISTER!") and her answer was she has only ONE love: Crescent Rose. XD

-On the subject of favorite food besides cookies, she said that she's always wanted to try pizza. Apparently it DOESN'T exist in Remnant which is a damn crying shame. Hopefully someone gets around to inventing it once Salem's permanently out of the picture...

-If she could swap her semblance with anyone else, she would switch with Yang, due to her being a little clumsy and running into things. So she would like to get a little stronger when THAT happens.

-While she's more familiar with DC Superheroes, someone asked who she likes from the Marvel side of things. To the delight of many of us, she said she'd like to meet Miles Morales since he wears red and black like her.

-Another person asked about if Zwei has any family, and she said he did come from a large litter. When things settle down for Remnant at large, she would like to find his family. (They'd probably have to go to space to find his big brother, lol.)

-Since I'm such a huge One Piece dork, I asked what kind of Devil Fruit she would like to eat. Apparently there's a similar story in Remnant called "Single Bit," and she ultimately chose the Gum-Gum Fruit. (Wonder if she knows about the truth behind THAT one...)

And in what was a surprise to us all, Neath Oum himself made an appearance! He asked a simple question how she felt coming back to Remnant. I took the opportunity to shake his hand, just as a sign of goodwill to him and his family.

Soon after that, it was time for the official RWBY panel!

We basically got news about merch, the V9 Soundtrack and home video release dates, thoughts and reactions about the recent season, and even got treated to a sneak peek at Volume 10! (Won't spoil it here, but someone did record and paste to YouTube, so have it that if you really wanna see it.)

Nicest part about this panel was all the free stuff they literally tossed out to the crowd before it started! I managed to snag some new swag in the process:

Having done all that, I packed it all in to eat, sleep, and get ready for the most important day of my life so far...

Day 3: The Good, The Elite, and The Bumbleby

After grabbing breakfast at a nearby iHop, I ventured once more to the convention center. After more random things, I first showed up for the life RWBY Grimm Campaign session, with Lindsay Jones guest playing as "Taco Cat!"

The mission was to find a hitman known as "The Bengal" in a nightclub. In true to life fashion, there were great rolls, and more then several mistakes and jokes being made. XD I clearly missed out on a lot with their previous experiences.

After that came the Death Battle panel!

This had it's share of crazy AI-generated Death Battle mad libs, a big Q&A session, and a preview of the oncoming fight between Darth Vader and Obito Uchiha. I took the opportunity to give a shout-out for having my friend @akumath on their team, and AGAIN reassuring them that they were right about Yang vs. Tifa, before asking if they'd do a Death Battle based off their DBX episodes. Since some of the results of those left me a little more than disappointed. But because I got chosen to ask a question, I was given a free Death Battle shirt!

Having done all that, the time finally came to achieve my ultimate goal for the weekend and personally meet the cast of RWBY. Definitely took a bit of patience on my part, as the line was understandably long, not to mention we were allowed only ONE item to have signed because they had to stick to a schedule. But eventually the time came for my turn to step before Lindsay, Kara, Arryn, and Barb. So I first gave them a proper greeting:

With whatever time I had to speak to all of them at once, I made sure to tell them all how much the show and their characters have meant to me over the years and are still special to me today. It wasn't easy, I got a little emotional doing so, making sure not to completely lose my composure in the process.

Having said as much as I could while they signed my poster, I made sure to inform them all about some gifts I had for them. Unfortunately I couldn't pass them off personally, but I made sure they all knew they were getting art prints of RWBY pics I commissioned previously. However, I had something SPECIAL in mind for Arryn specifically...

YOU CAN STOP SCROLLING NOW IF YOU SKIPPED EVERYTHING ELSE. XD

To explain, as someone who had been crushing on Yang ever since the day the Yellow trailer debuted, I wanted to symbolically and spiritually concede defeat in that Blake was always meant for Yang and not me. (Or my RWBY OC, rather.) And while technically I could hire people to write fics and draw pics of me getting down and dirty with them both, realistically I had to do the right thing for myself so I could wake up with a clear conscience going forward so that they know I fully support Bumbleby being canon.

That being said, I gifted Arryn with a special item that I dubbed "The Beekeper." And clearly it made quite an impression from the looks on their faces there. XD

What exactly IS "The Beekeeper," you ask? Well, I'm going to keep it as a surprise. Want to make it a "you had to be there" thing between me, them, and whatever witnesses happened to catch my special gift. I will however, reveal "The Beekeeper" if Arryn herself happens to show it off on her socials. Maybe it will help if the same pic gets more likes on IG? Until then...IT IS A MYSTERY.

After that, I got my prize shot!

Having done all that, I made sure before departing to have some personal words with Barbara. And left with my complete reward:

Having cleared another dream in my life, I retired for the night before flying back home.

Epilogue:

So here we are. Me having achieved another personal dream of mine, despite how many times I had to deal with the brick walls that were put up in front of me. And thanks to the shirt I ordered from the RT Store ahead of time combined with some purchases I made at the con, I even have a nice little Bumbleby collection going on:

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I don't want to sound TOO stereotypical for how I want to put a bow on this whole thing...but I might as well wing it as best I can:

If you want something bad, as 3 Live Kru once said: Do the damn thang. No matter how long it takes and what you gotta spend to get it, the payoff will ALWAYS be worth it in the end. And once you've done that, move onto the next goal with all the time you have in the world. You never know when it'll be your last.

This is Gregory Prytyka Jr. saying: Goodnight from the sunshine state.

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bcacstuff · 10 months

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Good morning Bcacstuff, first I want to say that I love your blog because it is factual and honest. You share your opinions without being ugly. I saw my pictures on your post last night responding to the anon that stated Sam smiles more with thin blondes than others. I’m not sure how I feel about being an example of a big fat middles aged woman that Sam may or may not have smiled with. Looks kind of in between to me like an I am exhausted smile can’t wait until Austin is done. I shared on Twitter because there are other fans that mutually follow and we are social media “friends”. While I didn’t see any overly negative comments on your blog, I feel open the ridicule because people on Tumbler tend to be more negatively vocal about Sam’s fans. I’m not a shipper or a mommy or someone that follows him around the globe at no expense. I’m just a girl that lives near Dallas that had the opportunity to see him for the cost of gas, a hotel room for the night and a bottle of gin. The little statue by the way is from the Thistle and Roses chess set mad by Beneagles whisky out of Scotland back in the 1970s. That piece is Robert the Bruce. More than likely, it will end up in the trash somewhere but for my part as the giver, I put thought and heart into it. I think I would prefer that you take my picture off your blog. I know that I look a ridiculous sight and would be very hurt to read judgmental comments. Thank you.

Hi, @weebuddycat I want to thank you for your message here and perhaps try to set some things straight. Thank you for the appreciation for my blog. I always try to be as honest and factual as I can, and be clear about where it concerns speculations. I receive a lot of Anons, I can't even post a good amount of them, and don't even want to post a good number either. I do not necessarily agree with the ones I post and sometimes even flat out disagree. I try to keep my wording as respectful as I can, or just stay in the neutral. I keep an eye on the comments, as I do want my commenters to stay respectful as well, towards each other, towards people in the pics I post, and towards myself as well. On some very incidental occasions I might contact the commenter in private and have a small discussion about a comment.

I went back to see, as I was fairly sure I didn't put your picture in the post where this Anon thought he smiled more with skinny blonde fans. I purposely searched out 2 pics from the latest events (one from Houston, one from Chicago) for that post where there was no fan in it and one where there were more people around him. As I didn't even want to put anybody as an 'example' on that post.

To me, and I truly am honest about that, it was in no relation with your picture that I posted in another post with a number of others. I actually hope you would agree to just leave it there, as I think you can and should be proud of it. And anybody with half a brain can imagine standing in line for a long time while it is hot and humid, nobody really would look at their best. Together with that, I say, don't we all look at our own pictures and think ugh.. I wish I had... or something similar. Anyway, to me you look perfectly fine and happy meeting him and gifting the little statue. As do all others.

Yes, someone asked in the comments what that was. And now that you've told us what it actually was (thank you), I think my reply was quite close. I looked at it, and just thought it looked a bit like a knight, and a chess piece and had some association with the chess scenes in Harry Potter. That wasn't meant rude in any way, as well as ending up on his book case shelf, as we've seen a number of times in his home videos that he puts some of the stuff he gets there. Not really sarcasm, if there was any sarcasm in it, it's for what he puts there on the shelf to show when he does these home videos.

Finally, I just want to point out that in the comments of the Anon about him smiling more (or less for that matter). I didn't agree, and I don't think anybody in the comments agreed on it. He's just doing his job, smiling for the picture with the fan. And that's all there is to it.

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angrycowboy · 6 months

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Writing Patterns

Rules: Share the opening of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

I was tagged by @dr-lizortecho <3

i'll save you a seat

“What was so important we needed to meet up here?” Maria asks as she approaches where Alex is sitting on the steps of the gazebo in the middle of town.

this life is sweeter than fiction

Liz places a milkshake on the table in front of him, but doesn't leave. Instead she stands there, hand on her hip, waiting for him to acknowledge her. Carefully, Alex glances across to Michael, who's brow is furrowed in adorable confusion as he glances back and forth between the two of them.

all the stars aligned

Maria stares at the unfamiliar woman standing in front of her, a strange familiarity to her features that Maria can’t quite place. It was as if she was looking at someone she knew, or perhaps a photograph she’d memorized long ago.

every guitar string scar on my hand

Alex stood still, chin raised as Maria fixed his tie. There was a crinkle to her brow, a look of intensity that felt like it wasn’t just directed at his accessories.

to hide would be so dishonest

Ever since he was a child, Alex has loved the snow. It wasn't something that happened often in New Mexico, and they didn't get a ton of it like he'd always seen in movies - but it was enough to build a small snowman and have snowball fights with his brothers. And there was always something magical about it too, the way it fell from the sky in tiny individual flakes and covered everything as far as the eye could see.

a love like this

They’re three days into their planned week-long honeymoon when suddenly Michael’s cell phone goes off - text message after text message, one notification after another. Alex can’t remember a time where he’s ever heard Michael’s phone go off this way, and grabs it from where it’s plugged into its charger on the nightstand next to the bed. Neither of them have looked at their phones for at least six hours, spending the morning after breakfast wrapped up in one another and the bedsheets.

held on as tightly as you held onto me

They're barely inside the door of the hotel room before Michael is on him, dropping luggage out of his hands, and pushing him gently up against the wall. Alex laughs as their mouths collide, hands reaching out to grab on to Michael's waist, lips sliding together, tongues dancing. This is the part that has always worked for them, the part that didn't need to be worked on because from the first moment they'd kissed in the museum at seventeen, everything about the way they moved together felt innate and deeper than words could describe.

'cause i've waited my whole life

He can hear Maria and Dallas behind him, sees out of the corner of his eye as Kyle and Isobel slow dance together. He’s not sure where Liz and Max are, but he’s sure they’re around. Eduardo and Sanders are up at the pool tables, looking like they’re trying to one up another. He lets his fingers play with the curls that hang loose and long at the back of Michael’s neck.

we make the rules

Being back in their house for the first time since getting stuck in alien hell, Alex notices the smallest differences as he walks through. Michael's black cowboy hat hangs on a hook by the front door. The fridge is full of Tupperware leftovers from Michael cooking more than enough for one person. Michael's toolbox is sitting on the floor next to the door that leads out the garage, as if he'd been using it before coming to find him. Textbooks and notebooks piled on the dining table for subjects that Alex certainly has never had an interest in. He'd seen the closet separated between their clothes for exactly one day before he'd left, and now it's starting to look like a bit of a mix - Michael seemingly becoming more and more comfortable with moving past the rigidity of my side and your side and making it theirs during the time in between. His fingers drift along the shirt and jackets, his plaid mixed with Michael's patterns, a smile spreading across his face.

and i hope i never lose you

The handprint shimmers across the skin of his chest, above his heart. He watches as Michael’s fingertips trace around it, igniting the connection with each movement. Lingering feelings of regret, determination, fear, and love all mix together, and Alex doesn’t think he’s ever going to get used to the feeling.

Oh jeez. These are... a lot. I can definitely see a pattern!

Anyway, tagging @haloud @im-the-punk-who @portraitofemmy @nellie-elizabeth @beautifulcheat and anyone else who wants to partake in this! <3

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic #notso writes fanfic #writer meme

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natlacentral · 3 months

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DALLAS LIU SEES YOUR TIKTOK THIRST-TRAP EDITS OF HIM

Dallas Liu may be playing the Zuko in Netflix’s live-action adaptation of Avatar: The Last Airbender, but you won’t catch him with the Fire Nation prince’s restrictive, gravity-defying ponytail in real life.

“I would never, ever out of my own personal choice rock the ponytail. It’s a haircut that not even cosplayers are willing to take on,” he tells NYLON. “I can gladly say that I would not recommend it to anyone.” But the 22-year-old actor does admit to what fans of the original animated series have known since the show debuted back in 2015: “The ponytail does look super badass on screen.”

Liu says he knew the challenge of bringing such a beloved character to life, but not only did he grow up watching the animated series and loving the Fire Nation prince for his fierce loyalty, but the show inspired him to start practicing martial arts. Ahead, Liu takes on the NYLON 19, revealing his thoughts on ghosts (or “spirits,” as he prefers to call them), TikTok thirst-trap edits of himself, and more.

1. WHAT’S YOUR ASTROLOGICAL SIGN (AND DO YOU BELIEVE IN IT)?

I am a Leo! Unfortunately, I don’t believe in it because of my experience meeting people with the same birthday, but us being different personality-wise.

2. DO YOU BELIEVE IN GHOSTS (AND HAVE YOU EVER SEEN ONE)?

Yes, most definitely. Although I think the word “spirits” would be a better way to define it. I’ve never seen one — thank God — but I have felt uneasy in very old hotels or rooms that have a very long history.

3. WHO WOULD BE THE THREE HEADLINERS OF THE MUSIC FESTIVAL OF YOUR DREAMS?

Dominic Fike, Beach House, and Sade.

4. WHAT'S A BAD HABIT OF YOURS THAT YOU'VE BEEN MEANING TO FIX?

Honestly, I’m so bad at parking my car. Not that I’m bad at driving, but when it comes to parallel parking or even in a parking lot, I don’t put much thought into it.

5. WHAT WAS THE LAST INTERNET RABBIT HOLE YOU WENT DOWN?

I spend too many nights doom-scrolling on Instagram or TikTok, but it was probably a compilation of Avatar: The Last Airbender lore.

6. DESCRIBE YOUR WORST DATE IN THREE WORDS OR PHRASES.

Short, McDonald’s, Black Ice Car Freshener

7. WHAT WAS THE LAST DM YOU RECEIVED?

My friend sent me a TikTok thirst-trap edit of myself this morning which was interesting.

8. IF YOU COULD BE IN ANY MUSIC VIDEO, WHAT WOULD IT BE?

I would have to say either the music video for Bow Wow’s “Let Me Hold You” or Chris Brown’s “Yo (Excuse Me Miss)” just because the music videos in the ‘00s were just built differently.

9. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CONCERT, AND WHAT ARE YOUR MEMORIES OF IT?

Daniel Caesar performing in LA for his Case Study 01: Tour. It was my first one, so I remember everything about it. At the time, he was taking the music industry by storm and I was a major fan, so that concert was everything to me. I also was introduced to how much of a different experience listening to live music is.

10. WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE MOVIE AS A KID?

The Polar Express.

11. WHAT'S YOUR FAVORITE MEME/INTERNET JOKE AND WHY?

The personality that comes with wearing a fedora. It’s always funny to me and forever will be. Maybe one day I’d get to play a character that wears a fedora. Maybe Zuko.

12. WHAT'S YOUR GO-TO BREAKUP SONG?

“I Gotta Find Peace of Mind” by Lauryn Hill.

13. WHAT IS ONE THING EVERYONE SHOULD BUY THAT IS UNDER $10?

A sweet latte with oat milk from Blue Bottle. A must. Just try it. It’s so good. I could live off of it.

14. WHAT PIECE OF CLOTHING FROM HIGH SCHOOL DO YOU WISH YOU KEPT?

My vintage Green Day shirt. It had the perfect shade of a faded black and the fit of it was immaculate.

15. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE PAIR OF SHOES THAT YOU OWN, AND WHY?

Military boots because they look the coolest.

16. WHAT IS YOUR GO-TO SAD SONG?

Anything by Elliott Smith or Duster.

17. WHAT REALITY SHOW WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO APPEAR ON?

Love Island UK.

18. WHAT IS YOUR BEST BEAUTY TIP OR TRICK?

Korean skincare products.

19. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE FAST-FOOD PLACE, AND WHAT’S YOUR ORDER?

Wingstop: four lemon pepper classic and four original hot classic, all flats. Lemon pepper seasoned fries cooked well done. A side of ranch and bleu cheese. Root beer.

#natla #atla #netflix avatar #netflix atla #avatar the last airbender #dallas liu #avatar netflix #atla netflix #nylon #interview #fun & games

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starsinthesouth · 4 months

Text

“For the first overall pick in the 2024 NHL draft, the Dallas Stars proudly select, from the Canada development program, Sloan Drysdale,”

And the rest was history

Every memory from last night blurred together, hugging my brother, meeting new teammates, partying harder than I ever have before.

But one moment stood out

Meeting him.

Obviously she has seen him before. Him and Jamie were friends when they were younger. But never like this, never had more than a hello, never felt his hands around her waist, never got to put her hands in this hair. As soon as she did, she knew it would change her life forever.

But you could imagine her surprise when she woke up in his hotel room, wrapped in his arms, breathing in his scent, basking in him.

“G’morning princess,”

“Good morning,”

“How long’ve you been staring at me,”

Her face flushed with embarrassment

“Oh, I don't mind, stare as much as you want to,”

And she did. She stared a lot. She knew, of course she knew, that doing this with a future teammate was a terrible idea. She knew, but did she care. Absolutely not. If it meant she got to have more moments like this with Wyatt, it was all worth it.

"hey princess, we should probably get up," he gently roller her away, "your brother'll probably call soon."

groaning, she slowly sat up.

he smiled at her, that gorgeous smile, that smile that she saw for the first time in a long time last night but had already found a way into her heart, that smile that was beginning to light up her world.

she saw a name flash across her phone screen on the other side of the room.

"you hand me my phone?"

"mhm," he unplugged the phone and tossed it to her.

INCOMING CALL PAJAMAS

"pajamas?" his beautiful face contorted into confusion.

"ya'know, Jamie to Jomies, Jomies to Pajamas," she smiled wide and answered the incoming call.

She was met with Jamie's tired voice

"you want breakfast"

"yeah"

"meet me at the starbucks down the street"

"sure"

"k, z'll be there to"

"cool"

"k"

and the call was ended

"well, i guess i'll see you back in Dallas," she frowned

"yeah, Dallas,"

"oh can i get your number?" his eyes full of hope.

She passed her phone over to him. He took it with a wide smile, clicked a few buttons and passed it back.

Wy ;)

"thanks,"

"of course,"

"well, see you in Dallas,"

"see you in Dallas"

and at that moment she realized that she did have to say goodbye because that's not what this was. this wasn't a goodbye, an i hope i see you again. It was a promise.

Just wait 'till Dallas

#starofthesouth #starofthesouthau #dallas stars #wyattjohnstonxyn #wyattjohnston x reader #wyatt #wyatt johnston #nhlau

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mangoshorthand · 9 months

Text

Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch11 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

There's enough of you left to not want Aoife to see what's about to happen.

Final chapter of this part

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter Eleven: Fugue State + Epilogue

Five stands outside room 218, dreading the encounter within. The fact her room number is one away from The Handler’s that time he visited her in Dallas in the teenage body does not escape him.

He psychs himself up, shaking out his limbs. He’ll go in, grab the baby and leave. If she tries anything weird, he’ll blink. He’s in charge here.

He raises his fist and knocks.

“Come in.” it’s Bert’s voice and Five breathes a sigh of relief.

He enters to find Bert sat on one of the room’s twin beds, holding a book of crosswords. He gives Five a small smile.

“Morning, Five. Great day yesterday. Lovely ceremony.”

“Yeah, it was, thanks. Is Aoife here?”

“No…” he looks almost baffled- as if he’s wondering why the baby would be here, of all places?

“My sister-in-law says Geri has her?”

“Oh. Well Geri never came back here after breakfast. You can try her cell.”

“Huh. Well, I’ll go look for her.”

As he leaves, he sees a phone on the bedside table and picks it up.

“This yours, Bert?”

He looks up from the crosswords, “Ah no, Geri's left hers here- she doesn’t always take it with her places. I don’t bother with technology myself.”

Great. Now he has to search the hotel for the mother-in-law who wants to grope him…maybe this is one for his wife to deal with.

There’s enough of you left to not want Aoife to see this.

You grab the unplugged curling iron, scattering the cosmetics left on the dressing table. Holding it in one hand, you grab your mother by the front of her blouse with the other. You shove her through the bathroom door. As she falls against a tiled wall, you raise the curling iron like a truncheon, breathing hard. It will serve to beat her to death. Otherwise, the wire can garotte her.

Her screams are genuine now. You place a hand on her chest, drawing yourself up to your full height. You feel your head tilt and jaw set. When you speak, you sound like him too.

“You don’t know who you messed with, Mom. It may be thanks to Five that the world’s here, but he’s got a pretty high body count too. Did you know he once murdered twelve people with an axe?”

Her eyes go even wider.

“Yeah. Cool, isn't it?" you lean in, lowering your voice, "Do you even get to know people before you try to grope them, Mom?”

She squirms, pushes against you and tries to object but you just push her shoulder more roughly into the tiles.

“Not that you ever call me, but if you had and managed to not talk about your-goddamn-self for two minutes, I might have told you that he was training me to fight. To kill if I need to.”

Her begging, whines and supplications fall on deaf ears. She winces, shrinking away from your improvised weapon. As you bend your head closer to hers, your voice lowers to a biting whisper.

“Not nice, is it? Being backed into a corner? Trapped.”

As he walks towards it, Five hears the scream from the bridal suite. He blinks in there from the end of the hallway, emerging from the portal a little unsteadily in his haste. He takes a quick survey of the room. There’s Aoife, screaming on the floor by an upturned chair. He overrides his instinct to go to her: she's upset, but safe. The ruckus comes from the bathroom. He wrenches the door open to see you standing there, looming over your mother.

It's a bizarre sight but his reflexes don’t fail him: he grapples with you, bashing your fist against the wall until you’re forced to release the curling iron with a yell of pain. Immediately, he pulls your arms up and behind you into a full nelson.

“What the FUCK are you doing?" he yells into your ear.

“PROTECTING YOU.”

“Protecting me?”

“Get OFF me!”

You struggle against him, trying to loosen your shoulders in order to slip out of his grip. Not that it would work against him given that he taught you that move. You make a frustrated sound and fight against his restraining arms, trying to stamp on his feet. Right now, you don't care if you hurt him as long as you're able to mash your mother's head into a meaty pulp.

At last, his words in your ear get through.

“She’s not the Handler!”

Your struggles fade and you sag. Now he’s holding you up instead of holding you back. Tears come. As your mother whimpers, all your recently acquired Five-ish mannerisms melt away.

“You’re my husband.”

He shakes you more roughly than he intends.

“And you think I want this for you? To go down this road!?”

Considering the danger sufficiently averted, he lets you go. You slump against the bathroom wall and cry, head in hands.

“Help me!”

Geri’s wail echoes unpleasantly off the tiles. She's holding out her arms as if she expects him to sweep her into his and carry her away Officer and a Gentleman -style. He turns his eye to her with disgust.

“Go fuck yourself, creep.”

This elicits a horrified gasp- apparently being instructed to fuck herself is more offensive than being threatened with a curling iron. Five turns back to you and places a hand on your upper arm. His touch makes you spin around, eyes fixed on your mother, a little slice of the all-consuming rage firing up again.

“I never want to see you again. You stay away from us. You fucking hear me?”

The crocodile tears erupt again.

“What is wrong with you? You're insane! You can’t keep me from my granddaughter.”

“Don’t pretend to give a shit about her, Mom, you met her a month ago and you just hit her head!”

"Why is everything always my fault?”

“Because it IS!” you shriek. “You suck, Mom! You only give a shit about yourself. Just get out! Or, I swear, I WILL kill you this time."

Five pulls you bodily out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, giving Geri the space to remove herself.

“You heard her Geri. Get out. She’s right: I can’t promise to stop her next time. Hell, I might even help her.”

She scrambles to her feet, sobbing. Five pulls you away from the suite door. Neither of you look at her as she leaves, letting the door slam behind her.

When he lets go, you hurry over to Aoife, scoop her up, and rock her. You’re reeling from the reality of what she was nearly present for.

“Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma” she cries, red-faced.

“I’m sorry sweetheart. I’m so sorry. It’s ok. Mommy’s got you. I’m sorry.”

You repeat variations on these phrases until she puts her arms around your neck and cries loudly into your chest. She’s clearly picking up on your poor emotional state. Five inspects her bumped head before moving away, satisfied of its superficiality. He roots around in the diaper bag and emerges with her favorite stuffy.

“Hey Aoife, do you want Mister Bear? Dov'è il Mister Bear, tesoro?”

He takes her off you, pulls her onto his hip and passes her Mister Bear.

“Beh” she repeats, downheartedly. Though she’s still upset, being in the arms of a calm parent is helping.

“Mia bambina coraggiosa." he twists gently at the waist to rock her, kissing her sore head while she rubs her nose into the bear, "That’s right. You cuddle Mister Bear and I cuddle Mommy.”

He walks over to the end of the room, kisses her and places her on the floor. She stands there, wobbles and then bumps down on her diapered butt.

“Oh!” she says, in surprise. She looks at you both, sadness and pain forgotten. She smiles and gives a high-pitched giggle hoping you’ll share the joke. You both smile back at her, you still teary-eyed.

Five approaches you, guides you onto the bed and places an arm around you.

“Well, that was cool.”

“What?”

“You were about to commit matricide for me. It’s hard not to take that as a compliment. But trust me, angel, you don't want to go there.”

He takes your hand in his and kisses it gently across the bruises already forming where he bashed it off the tiles.

The smell of hay mingled with blood. He'd told Herb she was definitely dead and, while that had been enough for Herb, Five couldn't trust his own conviction. He crept- no- strolled, (he didn't creep anywhere). He strolled into the barn with the briefcase held at his side. There she was. Still crumpled where she fell.

A few feet away, he had lain on rough floorboards, pumped full of her bullets. His breath had rattled as one or both of his lungs filled with blood. He had been certain he was about to die in a Dallas barn dressed in shorts and knee socks. He had been sorry to die staring into her face; hers again to use and dispose of as she pleased.

Yet he was the one standing over her now. She still lay on her side, having collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. Her eyes were wide with her final gasp, shocked that somebody would dare to take her by surprise. He waited to feel satisfied, at peace: hell, to feel something.

He extended a leg and turned her onto her back with his foot. It made her head loll yet, grotesquely, her hat stayed on.

Yes, there she was. Definitely dead. One hundred percent dead. As dead as a door nail, having kicked the bucket, shuffled off this mortal coil and waved her big Adios. It was over.

… So why was he still there?

"I hope hell's hot enough for you," he murmured, though without believing in any such place. His barely-broken voice cracked as he said it.

He turned as if to leave but stopped upon noticing that one of her shoes was askew, only held on by her toes. The heel stuck out at an odd angle, like a jutting tooth.

S tilettos...even now. Part of him had to admire that. She'd put together this outfit for their final showdown and thought, 'Killing Five Hargreeves on a Dallas farm, right? What else but stilettos?!'

He gave a short exhaled laugh at the thought.

He bent and righted the shoe before he left: irritated with himself without really knowing why.

The memory flashes in the moment he holds his lips to your final bruised knuckle.

“Killing doesn’t help. Vengeance, I mean. I caused The Handler’s death: I watched her die- twice, actually- it’s not cathartic; it doesn’t fix the damage somebody did.”

You watch Aoife pulling Mister Bear’s ears and hold his hand tighter.

“And…you gotta ask yourself,” he continues, “how much of that was about me, and how much was about you and her?”

You truly think about this. Vengeance for Five beat in your blood while you held her there but it didn’t exist in a vacuum.

“Probably fifty-fifty.” you say, as honestly as you can. He nods sagely.

“Exactly. And is someone being irritating, neglectful and manipulative worth fifty percent of a death sentence?”

You lay your head on his shoulder. You don’t need to answer his question. It answers itself.

“Never kill unless you absolutely have to. I will never get rid of the stain of all the lives I've taken; of what she turned me into. It's with me now, forever." He takes a second or two before continuing, listening to Aoife's babble.

"I’m proud of you though. For cutting her off, I mean. Not for nearly beating her to death."

“Hey, look.”

He looks where you’re pointing.

Aoife was a late walker and still prefers to butt-shuffle when at all possible. But now, she’s running unsteadily across the room after a thrown Mister Bear. What happens next makes you both gape: Aoife disappears into a spatial portal with a fffssht and reappears beside the toy.

“Did you blink?” says Five

“Bih!” she exclaims.

“Blink, yeah! Well done baby!” you smile at her.

Five blinks to her himself, picking her up and smiling all over his face.

“Did you see that? Papà è molto orgoglioso di te!”

As he kisses her cheek, she looks over at you with his vivid green eyes and smiles her gappy, eight-toothed grin.

Five tries to carry you over the threshold of the Academy, but you refuse. That’s too far in your estimation.

Klaus insisted on cooking for you the night you got home. He’s Avant Garde in his cooking style but surprisingly always produces amazing results, even if the kitchen invariably looks like a bombsite by the time he's finished. Luther pulls Five aside when the rest of you head down to the kitchen.

“Hey, Five…can we talk?”

“Sure?” As Five’s eyebrows lower, Luther looks nervous. He draws Five into the seclusion of the attic stairwell.

“How was the honeymoon?”

“It was…really great.”

And it was…even considering he spent most of the three weeks in varying stages of trauma-response.

“I…noticed…at the wedding.” Luther shuffles from foot to foot. “Geri.”

“Yeah.” Five folds his arms.

“You said she was weird to you before as well?”

“Yeah.” He repeats. If Luther has something to say, Five’s going to let him come to it himself.

“I wanted to say…I’m sorry. I was your Best Man a-and your brother. I should have been more on the ball and…stopped it.”

Five looks at him a little incredulously, arms unfolding and hands falling into his trouser pockets.

“And what were you supposed to do, Number One? Go hulk? Beat the shit out of her?”

“I don’t…I don’t know. B-but…” Luther looks at the ground for a second and then back up at Five, “it wasn’t ok. You know that, right?”

Five allows himself a small smile at Luther’s expense,

“Really? There was I thinking the Mother-of-the-Bride trying to get under the Groom’s clothes was normal.”

Luther scowls at him.

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“I wanted to tell you…you can talk to me,” his blue eyes are earnest. “about anything like that…because I’ve been there.”

Five meets his eye and considers him, all trace of irony dissolved. Does Luther mean what he thinks he means? He puts a hand on Luther’s massive upper arm.

“I’m…sorry,” it’s both an apology for his levity and a mark of sympathy, “you know, I may just take you up on that. I have…other stuff in that… area. Maybe we can talk our stuff through together some time.”

Five squeezes his fingers around his bicep, thanking and reassuring his brother in the same action.

Luther smiles, relieved and touched, but he knows instinctively to change the subject now. There’s plenty of time stretching out ahead of them.

“Did you like my speech?”

“It actually wasn’t terrible.”

This, from Five, is as good as a panegyric.

“You were the best Best Man…and you’re a good brother.”

Luther hugs Five tight. Five extracts one of his hands and rubs him across his broad back.

After a dinner including shredded banana skin cooked in barbeque sauce and topped with cheese, (it tasted good- who knew?) Five disappeared into his father’s rooms while you sat in the lounge with the other Umbrellas. Now, Santi sits on the floor with Aoife, building Duplo towers with her that she knocks over quicker than he can fix. Lila’s head is on Diego’s shoulder, Luther and Viktor talk quietly in the chairs by the fireplace while Sloane and Klaus hang out by the bar. This is your family now, by marriage, choice and affection.

You stand and make to leave the room in search of Five but Lila grabs your hand to stop you.

“Five told me what happened with your Mum. Well done, Chicken.”

She smiles up at you and gives your hand a squeeze.

“Next time, if he tries to stop you killing her, he’s shittest at protecting his legs. Go for his knees.”

When you enter Reginald’s study, you find Five behind the desk at his own computer, an empty glass at his right hand.

“Hey,” you say.

He meets your salutation with a single upheld finger. After a few more seconds tapping away, he looks up and smiles.

“Sorry- just needed to get that down.”

“What are you doing?”

He pushes the chair backwards and pats his lap. You sit on his knee and he turns you both to the screen. He has an open spreadsheet, a list of names, addresses and numbers with fields filled in beside them.

“So: this is a list of the best psychotherapists, psychiatrists, phycologists and therapists in the city. I think Cognitive Processing Therapy sounds like what I need, at least to begin with, so I got a field for if that’s a specialism of theirs. My situation’s rather specific but I think someone who specializes in veterans or solitary confinement victims might have the best chance, so I got a field for that. Plus, long term, medication might be on the cards so I want someone who can prescribe if necessary. That’s what this field is for.

Once I’ve built the master list, I’m going to start cross referencing provider reviews to create a shortlist, (I got that idea from how you and Klaus found that Klein guy who used to work for JUICED). Considering all these factors and their relative importance to me, I should be able to work out a mathematical ranking order based on who’s most likely to be able to- mmph!”

He can’t finish his sentence with your lips around his. He tries to break away and continue with the explanation, but you hold his cheeks between your hands and don’t let him. When he starts to kiss you back, you pull away.

“I love that you’re trying to beat your mental health issues to death with a spreadsheet.”

“It’s a perfectly logical way forward.”

“Exactly!” you laugh.

He furrows his brow and continues. One day, that line that appears between his eyebrows won't disappear when his face unrumples.

“Once I got my ranking, I’m going to set up meetings with maybe the top five and see who I get on with best. I was reading that sometimes you have to shop around until you find someone you click with.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He usually scowls at anything like this, but today he doesn't. The smile appears gradually on his face like a developing polaroid.

“Thank you, dearest...I realized that it’s not just about me. You and Aoife suffer too.”

You both fall silent; you can hear Aoife shrieking with laughter from a few rooms away. The clock on the wall ticks peacefully. You stroke his hair out of his eyes, running it between your fingers. Momentarily, he closes his eyes, as if melting into your touch. And then looks at you, his sharp, slightly tanned jaw angled in harsh relief.

You've come so far together, you and him; a long way from kneeling on your apartment floor with his gun to your head. This man: now as necessary as air to your existence, now your pole star. You could never tire of looking at him; he who you could love in any form.

"I love you."

He fixes you with a complacent, wry look, hair flopping slightly as he tilts his head.

“Who can blame you?”

His finger and thumb grip your chin and he pulls your face towards his. You breathe the beguiling eucalyptus scent of his cologne. He blinks slowly, languidly, cockiness fading to be replaced by something else. His eyes search your face, gliding between your eyes and lips with the corners of his own turned up.

He closes the gap and lays his mouth on your mouth. It's not like the kiss you just gave him, (ecstatic, grateful, boisterous); it's delicate and reverential.

You inhale his breath, feeling the gentle warmth of his skin as you kiss him back. He makes a sound and opens his mouth against yours, soft-lipped and keen. You can taste the sweet smokiness of bourbon still in his mouth. His pulse beats rapidly in his neck under your hand.

When he withdraws, he still holds your chin, smiling in the soft way he saves just for you and Aoife.

"I don't believe in much, but destiny's had a way of kicking me up the ass so much that I can't deny it exists."

He leans his forehead against your temple, lips grazing you. He loves you with faith he thought lost in childhood; lost long before he himself was. With all his trials, sharp edges and broken parts, he loves you.

"I think I was meant to fuck up the jump to 2019. Now I got this whole second lifetime to love you in; to raise our daughter in. To maybe...atone. And I promise you now, I'm not going to waste a single moment of it or take it for granted. I'm going to cherish every moment with you.: I wanna go on road-trips, I wanna do our taxes and argue over what to have for dinner. I want to see Aoife grow up, be happy and maybe give us grandkids,” his breath hitches a tiny amount, “I want to grow old and I want to die together.” You can feel his earnestness in the steady press of his head. You hold one of his cheeks in each hand and kiss him again, your tears comingling with his.

"That was so sweet until you said you want to die with me."

He laughs shakily, "Well...eventually."

You lower your voice to a creepy whisper,

"I want to die together."

He tries to look severe but his dancing, tear-filled eyes give him away.

“Jeez, that's the last time I try to pour my heart out. Grow up, lady."

"You first."

He kisses you again, partly to shut you up. It's nice.

The End

-Epilogue-

When Five enters via the atrium he thinks the living room is deserted at first. Despite his hulking size, he initially doesn’t notice Luther, sat on the chesterfield and staring into the empty hearth. When he turns on the light to illuminate him there, it makes him start.

“Woah.”

“Hey Five.”

Something in the tone of Luther’s voice makes him pause before heading through to the study.

“You like sitting in the dark, big man?”

“Lost track of time.”

Feeling his brow contract, Five joins him, sitting in one of the armchairs at right angles to Luther’s couch. Clasping his hands between his knees, he leans forward to place himself in Luther’s eyeline.

“Where’s Sloane?”

“At home.”

“Why are you here?”

“Just…needed to think.”

Five, though still concerned, couldn’t resist this bait.

“I wondered why I could smell burning.”

Luther’s mouth twitches and he exhales laughter from his nostrils. He turns his head to Five.

“Where you been?”

“Visiting a friend.”

“You got friends?”

Now it’s Five’s turn to smile, “eh…less of a friend and more of an…employee.”

“Since when did you have employees?”

“Doctor Robin Daley. They're a shrink.”

Luther’s eyebrows raise and he stammers a little as he replies.

“Oh. Good for you.”

Five rolls his eyes and sits back in his own chair and crosses his right leg over his left, letting his ankle shake slightly in mid-air. He chews the inside of his cheek and uses one of Robin's favorite lines:

“So…what’s been eating you?”

Luther looks up at him.

“Do you and the shrink talk about your…stuff?”

When Five looks into his eyes, he knows it’s time. They’d both known this was coming: the jolliest of brotherly chats about their shared experiences of sexual abuse.

“It’s not our focus right now. We’re focusing on coping methods and dosage before we go too deep into talking therapy. But we might, one day.”

Luther nods and looks down at his feet. Five prompts him.

“Do you want to talk about yours?”

Another nod.

“Okay. Let me get us a drink.” As he strolls to the bar, he quirks an eyebrow back at Luther, “I think this calls for a vodka gimlet, myself.”

“Sounds good.”

There’s silence as Five prepares the drinks, ice in the shaker the only sound in the vast living room. When Five returns and hands Luther a glass, he chinks it with his immediately.

“To stuff,” he says, clapping Luther bracingly on the knee as he sits back down.

Both of them take a sip of the drink.

“Too much syrup,” murmurs Five, disappointed in himself.

Luther shakes his head in negation before speaking as if picking up from an earlier conversation.

“I can’t talk to Sloane about it, you see.”

Five cocks his head, silently questioning.

“Because it happened when we were together and it’s…” he takes another sip, “complicated.”

“It’s always complicated, Luther. Sorta the nature of the beast. But how so?”

Luther chews his lips.

“She…rumored me.”

Five takes in a slow breath, brain blank for a second. Allison? Allison?

“Ah shit.” Five raises his hand to his own cheek, “Luther…Jesus.”

Doctor Daley will sure as shit be hearing about this in talking therapy.

His mouth, though he doesn’t know it, hangs open. Before he can wrap his head around it, Luther spews the rest: the dam broken.

“She was upset. Over Ray and Claire. It wasn’t her fault.”

“Wasn’t her fault?”

“She was vulnerable. She’d been drinking in the hotel. I hugged her, she tried to kiss me and I turned her down. I mentioned Sloane and she got angry. I told her it wasn’t fair- that she couldn’t use me like that- she couldn’t expect me to just be there when she wanted to. And then she said that she could, if she wanted.”

“Fuck.”

“She rumored me to stay and then she rumored me to want her.”

“Oh.” it comes out low in his throat, halfway between a word and a groan.

“I tried to fight it, but it wasn’t me. You know what it’s like: you can fight and fight it but you can only hold it back so much. I kissed her-”

“She made you kiss her.”

“Shut up a second. I was on top of her but it didn’t go any further than that before she stopped it. She stopped it. She knew it was wrong.”

“She knew it was wrong but she did it anyway.” Five muttered.

Luther made a sudden, frustrated movement, spilling half his drink.

“Can you not? Can you just listen!?”

“Sorry buddy. Sorry.”

Five blinks to the bar and back. He hands Luther a bar towel and refills his glass from the shaker.

When he sits down again, he nods at Luther to go on.

“I wanted…that for so long, from when we were kids. And when I got it, it was all wrong.”

Five nods.

“It was the loss of control. She…took something from me. She didn’t do it on the spur of the moment, she threatened me with it, and then she did it. You’re right, she thought about it and then she still did it. She was going to use me like a…like a…”

Five nods again, wincing in sympathy, he knows what Luther means without him needing to say it. He puts out a hand and rests it on Luther’s upper arm as he continues:

“And then she would have just thrown me away again. She can just pick people up and drop them like action figures. Thank god there was enough decency in her to stop it. If she hadn’t, then god knows what I’d do.”

“You’d manage,” murmured Five, venturing a comment now, “believe me.”

Luther eyes him but Five keeps the subject, for now, firmly on his brother.

“I’m…sorry. Am I the first person you’ve….”

Luther nods.

“Then I’m honored…but I don’t know what to say, other than I understand. And I’m a little…hearing that was hard, so I’m sorry if I can’t give you what you need. She’s our sister: I don’t like to think of it,” he screws up his eyes momentarily, in feeling something between anger and disgust, “But I get it, the loss of control,” he smiles, “you don’t need to be rumored to feel like that.”

“Sometimes I have dreams that I’m stuck inside my body while it does stuff. Like I’ll be working out, or at the store but my mind can’t control it.”

“Me too.” Five smiles, amazed, “I’ll dream I’m making coffee while my mind’s just a passenger in the body. It’s awful: it always adds milk for some reason and I can’t stop it.”

They catch eyes and laugh slightly, for joy at this confluence; this similarity.

“Let me guess: you feel guilty about it as well?” Five asks, “guilty for putting yourself in the situation or for giving her the wrong idea or whatever?”

Luther nods, the smile only slightly fading. Five nods in return, knowingly. This is…weirdly nice.

They both take a few seconds out before Luther says, “what about you?”

“What, this a ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ -type deal?” smirks Five, playing for time.

“It doesn’t have to be. Maybe another day.”

“Nah. May as well bite that bullet. You remember the Handler?”

“Lila’s Mom? Wasn’t she your old boss?”

“Yup: raped me. Around ten times over the course of three and a half years. Threatened me with dropping me off back in the apocalypse if I didn’t let her.”

Luther gapes. Five keeps his voice light, conversational.

“It got pretty…violent at times. Bit of a sadist, actually. And she was the first, so that was…that was a doozy. It was a long time ago now but, suffice it to say, they’re not memories I look back on fondly. It messed me up for a few years in the…bedroom department.”

Five finishes the rest of his vodka gimlet and pours himself another while Luther sits there, dumbfounded. He runs his fingers through his close-cropped hair.

“I got off lightly.”

Five’s eyebrows lower, “The Handler wasn’t my sister. The trust that Allison broke: that’s sick. You hear me? It’s fucking sick.”

He looks into Luther’s eyes sternly, willing him to get it: to not go down the road of comparing stuff. There’s too much shame in his eyes already.

“I hear you,” he muttered.

“Good. You should consider telling Sloane, you know. It’s not your fault.”

Luther shakes his head, still getting his mind around what Five told him. “You were raped ten times?”

“More or less, yeah.”

“My God. I just can’t imagine…you?”

Five looks irritated again, “Yes, me. It can happen to anyone. You’re not exactly the picture-perfect victim yourself, built like a brick outhouse, but you were.”

“I know. I don’t mean-”

“From experience: you should tell your wife.” Five interrupts, “It was the best thing I ever did for myself. You got nothing to be ashamed of. You didn’t cheat.”

Luther scowls, skeptically,

“Listen dumbass, you flip the genders and how does it sound? Sloane comes to you and says a guy did that to her while you were together. What do you do?”

“I make sure she’s okay and then I kill him.”

“And do you have reason to believe Sloane will feel any different?”

He shakes his head slowly.

“No, but that’s worse. What if she runs off to LA and kills her?”

Five exhales through his nostrils. Luther’s right. Sloane had been raised like the rest of them, and Five knows exactly what he’d do in her situation.

“It’s complicated,” he concedes, “maybe we try and get you your own therapist? Someone who knows what they’re talking about? Maybe they can help with Sloane?”

Luther considers, “I…maybe. But not now.”

“You take all the time you need, little brother.”

Five studies Luther’s face for a few moments before heaving himself from the armchair to sit beside him on the couch.

“You okay?”

In answer, Luther bends from his considerable height to rest his head on Five’s shoulder. Five, inwardly rolling his eyes at his eternal need for a comforting father-figure, puts one arm around him and holds him for a while.

“This is nice,” murmurs Luther.

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t believe that. You’re a big teddy-bear underneath it all.”

“Better than a big monkey-boy.”

Luther chuckles, breaking the embrace and leaning back into the sofa. His eyebrows raise ironically, and he lowers his voice suggestively.

“That whole thing didn’t mess you up too badly in the bedroom department, based on what I hear.”

He laughs further at Five’s confused scowl.

“Every time I’m in this damn house you seem to be boning. And that’s with me avoiding the attic.”

“Oh okay,” says Five, standing up and making as if to leave.

“It sounds like a wounded hippo covering a Slipknot song sometimes. Should I be worried?”

Five can’t help but laugh at this, stopping with his hand on the doorframe.

“You know, Luther, for you that was actually a pretty good zinger.”

“Thanks,” he says, his trademark dopey grin spreading over his face.

“Don’t mention it. Now, I suggest you focus on your own sex life. Go home, big man.”

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