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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Remus gets injured in a game. I have literally read everything you have written but i'm not sure if you have wrote one like this. If you have, ANOTHER PLZZ

Hello anon! I wove this together with a couple different prompts, listed below:

1. Coops argument

2. Prompt 21: “You need to eat something”

3. Remus gets in a fight with Snape

4. Protective Sirius

5. Coops going home grumpy after losing a game (see link)

Sweater Weather credit goes to @lumosinlove! TW for fights, blood, bruises, arguments, and someone getting called a wh*re

Snape’s cheek gave easily beneath Remus’ fist, which was a tad bit surprising. He wrapped his other hand in the neckline of his jersey, yanking him back in to land another punch to the side of his head—that would leave a nasty bruise in the morning. Stars sparkled in his vision as Snape got a lucky shot in and he doubled down, ignoring the thin line of pain that trickled down his chin.

“Break it up, boys, that’s enough!” The referee’s whistle blew as he and another pried Remus’ hands off Snape’s jersey; someone took him by the shoulders and pushed him away from the fight. Pots.

“Say it again!” Remus shouted at Snape as the refs and their teammates continued pulling them apart. “Say it again and I’ll knock your fucking teeth in!”

James’ hold on him faltered for a second as another person skated over and tried to join the melee. “Cap, no!”

“Move, Pots.”

“Loops won the fight, it’s done. Let’s just keep playing.” James shoved both their chests hard enough to send them back a few inches, but Remus’ blood boiled as he ground his mouthguard between his teeth. He glanced up at the clock—3:16 left in the third, Snakes up by two. Their win was almost guaranteed and Snape was still pulling this bullshit.

He skated quickly over to the bench and mumbled his thanks to Hestia as she pressed some gauze to his lip and ice to his cheek. “Lupin, you’re in for the rest of the game,” Coach Weasley said, tapping him on the arm with his playboard. “Anything broken?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then get your ass back out on the ice and score some points. We need some speed.”

He could feel the fury rolling off Sirius as they wove through the Snakes’ defense, shooting again and again to no avail. Frustration built up in every nerve—he was worried about the win, of course, but mostly he was pissed. Pissed at Snape, pissed at James for pushing him, and pissed at Sirius for butting into the fight.

Remus scored a final goal just as the buzzer sounded. Hissing filled the stadium, even though it was a home game. Snape smirked at him as he skated past and the only thing keeping him from dragging him right back in by his greasy hair was the possible suspension.

The shower was cold, because of course the fucking shower was cold. Remus shoved his stuff in his duffel and waited outside the locker room, silently fist bumping the guys as they left. God, he hated losing games. It was inevitable, but it always felt shitty.

“How’s the lip?” Sirius asked when he finally came out, bag slung over his shoulder.

“Fine. What the fuck was that?”

“What was what?”

“You butted into my fight. Nobody asked you to.”

Sirius’ eyebrows rose. “Re, he called you—”

“Yeah, I know what he called me,” Remus snapped, practically slamming the door to the parking lot closed. “I was there.”

The only reason you’re on this team is because you’re the captain’s whore, Snape had sneered. He bit the inside of his cheek as his anger flared at the memory. “I was just trying to help,” Sirius grumbled.

“Well, you didn’t. You proved his fucking point.”

“I didn’t prove shit!” Sirius scoffed as they got in the car. Immediately, Remus felt claustrophobic.

“I had it handled, Sirius!”

“You’re still bleeding!”

Remus ran his tongue along his lip—sure enough, the salty tang of blood filled his mouth. He swore under his breath and held his sleeve to his lip; his cheekbone throbbed and he knew it would be swollen in mere hours.

“Here.”

“I don’t need that.”

“You’d rather stain your sleeve than accept a tissue from me?”

“It’s a black sweatshirt, it’s fine.” Sirius muttered something. “Care to share with the class?”

Sirius sighed as he turned off the freeway. “I said it was your idea to keep these here in the first place. I don’t know why you’re being all pissy with me. We’ve lost games before.”

“I’m pissed because you don’t think I can handle myself in a fight.”

Sirius took his eyes off the road for a half second in shock. “Excuse me? Why do you think that?”

“I just told you!” Remus said, exasperated. “Snape was being a dick, so I punched him. I didn’t need your hero complex to swoop in and save the day.”

“Re, I didn’t even get a hand on him. Pots—”

“Oh, I’m pissed at him as well,” Remus snorted, staring out the passenger window at the blurry lights against the dark. “If someone calls me a whore, I’d rather get the message across that they can’t do it again.”

“Would you rather have gotten a penalty?”

“Yes.”

“That is unbelievably selfish.”

Remus laughed without humor. “Y’know, it’s really funny that you’ve never had this conversation with Logan, the king of the penalty box. Is it because he’s not a delicate flower like me?”

“Wh—” Sirius clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, Remus. I have never seen you as a—a delicate flower. For your information, I have chewed Logan out on multiple occasions.”

Remus gritted his teeth and trained his gaze firmly out the window. He heard Sirius sigh next to him and it took every ounce of willpower to keep his composure. The next ten minutes were dead silent and deeply uncomfortable, which was a rarity with them; even after losses, they would talk through the errors or try to lighten the mood.

Both of them closed their doors a little harder than necessary when they got to the house and Hattie trotted over hesitantly when they came inside. “Hey, Hatters,” Remus murmured, crouching down to her level and holding a hand out. She licked his cheek and let him bury his face in her thick fur—Sirius scratched her ears as he walked past. “Did you have a good time while we were out? Huh, baby girl?” He looked up and saw the tail end of Sirius’ eye roll. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Sirius, it doesn’t work. I’m giving the dog a hug because I’m still pissed at you.”

“There is literally no good reason for you to be pissed at me!” Sirius finally said, tossing his keys into the bowl by the door. “Holy shit, Re, I don’t even think you’re mad at me!”

“Oh, yeah? Then who am I mad at, oh great and wise captain?” Remus practically spat, shouldering past him into the kitchen and wrenching a cabinet open. “Please enlighten me.”

“I wish I knew!”

Remus slammed the bread down on the counter and glared at him. “Then maybe you should shut the fuck up if you don’t have anything to support your claim.”

“Acting like this is a goddamn debate club isn’t helping. Your lip is bleeding again.”

“Fuck.” Remus ripped a paper towel off the roll and dampened it, holding it to his lip with a wince. Sirius opened the freezer and dug around for a moment with another paper towel. “I don’t remember you getting hit.”

“This is for you, you stubborn fucker,” Sirius said as he walked over and pressed it gently to the side of Remus’ face. “Better?”

“…a bit.”

The tension on Sirius’ face began to fade; he just looked concerned as he pulled the ice away and checked the bruise. “Your eye might swell.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you actually want to talk now, or should we yell a little more?”

Remus sighed and felt his anger abate. He was beyond exhausted, and still upset, but having Sirius nearby was like balm on a burn. “I don’t know.”

“I’m going to make some sandwiches. Hold this.” Sirius tapped the ice towel and moved to the abandoned loaf, grabbing some peanut butter and jelly as he went.

“I’m not hungry.”

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

Sirius glanced over his shoulder and gave him a look. “I know you, Re. You’re not going to feel better unless you get some food, and neither will I.”

“I hate it when you’re reasonable.”

“No, you don’t.”

Remus’ lack of response was enough of an answer. The pain stretched to his forehead and he grimaced, prodding his lip cautiously. Sirius whistled for Hattie and spread the leftover peanut butter from the knife onto a clean spoon, holding it down for her to lick. A smile tugged the corner of Remus’ mouth. “Cute.”

“I can be cute on occasion.”

“You’re always cute.” There was a beat of quiet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. I’m sorry for yelling.”

“Not for interrupting the fight?”

“Nope.”

“That’s fair.” Something tickled at the back of Remus’ throat. “I fucking hate Snape.”

“Me, too.”

“Surprisingly enough, it feels pretty shitty to be called a whore. Who would’ve thought?”

Sirius turned and faced him, sleeves rolled to his elbows. His eyes were soft. “You know that’s not true, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Remus. What he said wasn’t true. You have nothing to prove to anyone on the team, least of all to me. You earned that spot on the roster fair and square, and Snape’s just freaked out because there’s another player who could grind him into the dust without breaking a sweat.” He stepped closer and leaned on the counter next to Remus, leaving a few inches between them. “I don’t think you’re a whore, if that means anything.”

Remus laughed softly. “Of all the people out there, I think you’re the only one who could reliably make that assumption.”

Sirius didn’t smile. “You’re my best friend and also my fiancé. The sex is a great bonus, but my favorite part of being with you is just being with you.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Remus muttered, though the sharp edges began to smooth in his gut. He closed the distance between them and laid his head on Sirius’ shoulder. “Love you.”

“I love you, too. Can I take a look at your lip?”

“Sure.” Remus peeled the towel away and Sirius bent slightly, poking the area around it. “Ouch.”

“That’ll probably take a week or so to heal. He got you good.”

Remus pouted. “No kisses for a week?”

Sirius did laugh that time, bright and sunny enough that Remus nearly made his lip bleed again with the answering smile. “I said nothing about no kisses.” Warm lips trailed from his unbruised cheekbone to the edge of his mouth, leaving tiny tingles in their wake.

“I really am sorry about what I said. You were right, I wasn’t angry with you, and I had no right to go off like that.”

Sirius shrugged. “It happens.”

“It shouldn’t.”

“Then let’s agree to talk first, bite heads off later, okay?” He held his pinky out and Remus linked it with his own, kissing it quickly.

“Deal. Are the sandwiches done? I’m starving.”

Wordlessly, Sirius handed him a sandwich and hopped up to sit on the counter, scooting over to make room for Remus to join him. They ate quietly, swinging their legs as the calmness of the kitchen crept back in once more.

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nachohypno · 3 years

Text

Pine’s Football Jocks (Rewritten) - Ch. 1

Little heads up: This one is a weird thing. It’s a rewritten version of the original Pine’s Football Jocks, but it contains spoilers for the college series, so it should still be read after reading the other ones (Original included) first, like a sequel.

-----

Past Pine’s POV

"I'm awake!" Mike stated, as I started kicking the sleeping bag he was sleeping in. The bad part of the big guy sleeping on the floor was that he occupied a good chunk of the room.

If he didn't move soon, I'd have to do acrobatics in order to leave.

"I'm happy for you, but I need you to get up rather than just wake up. We'll be late!" I replied, as he stretched his arms. I took advantage of the little space he left for me as he did so and started walking around him.

"Gotta admit, bro," My best friend started getting up. I had to look away, reminding myself that he was shirtless and wearing shorts.

I don't lust after him, he's like a big brother to me (A second one, I have one of those already) but Mr. Morning wood couldn't help himself if I looked at a buffed guy. Last thing I needed was Mike mocking me for being hard in front of him.

"That was one hell of a videogame!"

Yeah, he convinced me to have a 'videogame night' due to this new one coming out for his Switch. I shouldn't have agreed, due to having school today and now we were going to be late. Fuck, I hated being late!

"All right, it was fun, but now you got to get dressed and we're lucky if we have time to get some breakfast-"

"Chill out" At least he was putting on a shirt now. He reached out for his school bag and grabbed some jeans. "It's okay, the principal likes your high grades and the coach likes... he doesn't like anybody, but I'm sure he'd be able to save me if we get into trouble."

'Save *me*. Well put there, big guy.' I thought, as I changed my pajama tee for a more appropriate one. Blank blue shirt with no logos, perfect.

"Whatever, I don't want to risk it." I mumbled my answer, but I noticed he didn't like it.

"D'aww, Am I hearing wrong here?" Oh, no. I looked at him, as he held his hands towards me with his fingers moving. "Sounds like someone needs some... fun"

I grabbed my own school bag and used it as a shield. "Stay away, first warning"

"One..." Mike took a step towards me, a naughty smile on his face.

"Mike, I'm serious we got to hurry!" I tried to remind him, but he's just very chilled about it.

"...Two..." He was a few inches away from me now. I took a deep breath, ready for what was coming. "...Three!"

The big guy jumped towards me and started tickling my belly and ribs. I tried to take him off from me but it was useless, a second or so later I was laughing like a maniac.

Even if I tried to push him away, the size difference played against me. It was like a cat and mouse game where he would always win!

"HAHAHAHAH... STOP MIKE HAHAHAHA. CAN'T BREATHE!" I pleaded, and he let go of me after that. He stood up, then blew some air on his fingers.

"Never fails, bro."

"I hate you"

"Careful there, or I'll give the baby another set of my *electric fingers*. Pew pew pew!" He finger gunned at me, before going back towards the sleeping bag on the floor and grabbing his own bag. He started picking up his stuff after that. His Switch, shorts, etc.

"Come on, there's no time to get ready if we want to be on time." I said, firmly.

Mikey stood at attention and gave a military salute, along with a "Yes, sir! Heh, Brent would be so pissed if he saw me doing that."

"Why's that?" I didn't care much about his teammates. The big guy brought them up sometimes to mock them off.

"His dad's buggin' him to join the ROTC if I recall correctly. Any mention of the military service gets him really pissed really fast. Guess what's the new coach's strategy to get him to play aggressively?"

I rolled my eyes, and motioned for him to follow me out.

"Oh, wait!" I returned quickly and grabbed his varsity jacket from my closet. He put it there to avoid carrying it all day. "Here's your outdated varsity jacket."

"Hey, not outdated. You wouldn't believe how many chicks find this thing the hottest thing in the world." He defended his precious jacket.

Red on the torso and white-ish yellow on the arms, letters and numbers. The thing had a big 'W' on the right pectoral. On the back, "Mike" was written on the lower part, beneath his football jersey's number.

He wasn't lying, those things were really hot, especially when the jocks are part of a very strict healthy regimen to maintain a nice body. Not very inclusive nor good for a teenager's mind, but our coach isn't known for playing by the rules when it comes to training.

Hell, I'd even be surprised if those guys manage to think of something else rather than 'football football football' by the end of the year.

Before Mike tried to convince me to stay chilled and have breakfast, I was already heading for the front door as soon as we walked downstairs.

"Wait, I want a sandwich, bro-" Mike said, grabbing my shoulder and pointing towards the kitchen.

"We're going to be late and I'm going to be pissed all day. Just... be quick about it."

"You're the best." The big guy gave me a nice thumbs up before turning around and walking towards the kitchen. I checked my phone's clock as he did so. Still a bit of time, c'mon... "Hey, Ms. Carter!" Well, shit. Now he was going to socialize with my mom.

Mom liked Mike, everyone did. He's like this guy that's so likeable you can't escape from being friends with him. I guess I'm just lucky to be his childhood's best friend, I can't tell why he's excited by the idea of hanging out with me to this day to be honest, but I'm not complaining. He's a nice guy!

Five minutes later, (Which we could have used to get to school in time) the big guy came to me with two sandwiches. "Never gonna get tired of coming over, your mom is so great, bro."

He passed me one sandwich, which I gladly accepted, before saying a loud "Bye!" and leaving the house, jock behind me.

That was our chemistry to my eyes. He was a nice fun friend and I was the guy who tried to push us towards our responsibilities.

I examined my sandwich and noticed it had mayonnaise, which I disliked. "Oh fuck," Mikey said, looking at what I was doing. "That one's mine, here." Then we exchanged our sandwiches.

The walk towards school was nice. Winston (Our hometown) was a relaxing place. It changed a lot depending on the season, yeah, but even then, it was still the same boring town.

It's not like something interesting happened here, don't get me wrong. Our goals are the same, for every guy or girl in town: Get the high school degree, apply to a good university, leave and buy a mansion.

As long as I could leave and don't feel so... exposed every time I turned around, I was okay to be honest.

What do I mean with 'Exposed'? Everyone knows everything, especially in our school. Which makes me glad no-one found out about my homosexuality. I don't know if Winston is a homophobic place and I prefer never getting to know.

And then I made a huge mistake!

"Hey, Mike?" I said to my best friend, as I noticed him focused on the road.

"Someday, I'm gonna buy a Ferrari" He mumbled, as he watched the same old lame cars passing by.

"What?" He took me off my train of thoughts with his randomness.

"Huh? Did I say that out loud? Sorry, what were ya saying?" Mike gave me a nice smile. He was my best friend, I thought there wouldn't be a problem with this. He was always so good and caring when it came to me, which really helped break the football jock stereotype that went around in our school. He was... the best. No questions asked.

"Let's... assume that someone you know has this big secret..."

"Mmhmm" He mumbled, to assure he was listening.

"And they tell you about it. What would you- Oh, and it's a biiiig game-changer secret, the kind of secret that could kill you if you know it."

"Is it something bad?" He asked, eyeing me from top to bottom. He was thinking, he always did that when thinking. That or zone out. He's not dumb (In fact, he manages to maintain a good G.P.A without much worries! Although I do help him a little...), but he has a weird way of focusing on subjects.

"Depending on your thoughts on the matter, I think."

"But like, it's a personal thing, right?" He asked, and I nodded. "A'ight, I'm all ears, bro."

I was a bit surprised. Did he know something already? I may not be the best at keeping secrets, as I thought? "What?"

"If you wanna tell me something, don't leave me on the edge of my seat. What is it?" He grabbed my shoulder and shook me a bit, jokingly.

"First, promise me you won't freak out or treat me differently. Got it?"

Mike rolled his eyes, before holding his hand high as we walked. "I, Michael Travis, promise still be Pine Carter's best friend even after he tells me whatever secret he may have." Then he patted my back. "C'moooon, the curiosity is killin' me, bro-"

"I'm gay," I blurted out. And Mike froze mid-sandwich bite. It was quite funny to see and I would have loved to take a picture of his face at that moment, but it was a serious thing so... I restrained myself.

"No joke? Like full on gay?" I appreciated he didn't even call me fag. I never heard him use the slang 'fag' actually! And he was reacting quite well so far. He stared at the floor like he just saw a penny, but after that he smiled and answered a jovial "Yup, makes sense!"

"Wait, what?"

"Thought I never noticed when you looked away every time a guy was shirtless near us? Or when you did stare at a shirtless guy, you stared for longer than anyone else would do" After that, he gave me a hug. "Glad you decided to tell me, though. You're the best bro ever."

He ruffled my hair, before we continued walking together. It was nice, a huge weight off my shoulders, knowing that I could count on my best friend for *anything*.

Hey, this wasn't as bad as I thought it would be!

And luckily, the rest of my school day went as smooth as silk. Nice classes, some lunch, and back home alone. Mike had football practice so he told me to go on without him. I’m kind of surprised he manages to be in that team, to be honest. Not because he’s bad at football (In fact, he seems to be really good at it? I don’t know much about football) but because the coach and some of his teammates are really awful.

They are like the polar opposite of goody-two-shoes Michael Travis. I mean, I don’t know them personally but… they all follow their leader like little bitches. If the big one says ‘Time to bother this one’ the rest of the team will repeat like little parrots. That’s how it goes.

Mike usually doesn’t follow them around, unless he ‘has’ to. And even then, he tries to keep himself away from the bullying and being obnoxious. He’s just too innocent!

Or, at least, I thought so!

As I walked into the school a day afterwards. I suddenly felt a few stares on me. You notice that when you’re not used to social contact. I’m not trying to sound overly dramatic, but I felt a bit naked right now. What was up with all the stares?

I kept walking forward, trying to ignore that weird feeling. If I managed to find Mike, maybe I could get him to calm me down. He was good at doing that.

I bumped into one of the jocks, who pushed me away. “Look where you’re going, faggot” My stomach sunk.

I could feel my eyes getting watery as I walked faster now. Fuck, I knew I shouldn’t have done anything. It was a dumb choice to make. I had to talk to Mike now, figure out what the fuck did he do yesterday and why one of his teammates called me faggot. Maybe I was being really paranoid?

Rushing into the bathroom, I looked at myself in the mirror. “Everything’s fine. It’s just a big misunderstanding…

Garrett entered the bathroom as I washed my face, leaving my glasses next to the sink. Just what I needed now.

Garrett Basch, one of my classmates, and one of Mike's teammates.

Dark blond, built, nice jawline, only the best apparently for the king of the corridors. Better leave him space when he's walking, because those arms can give you an awful beating if he picks you as his new objective.

He stopped beside me, and looked at the big mirror in front of us. "Hey, bro" Were his words. I didn't answer, of course.

"Heard about your little problem... I mean, the whole school heard about it already." The jock opened the faucet, without looking at me, then started washing his hands. 'It's not a problem... But yet, he doesn't really look menacing...' I thought. Would have loved to shut my ass.

"But hey, you come in just in time" Wait, what? I didn't look up and just kept washing my hands anxiously. He did finish doing that and stared at me. "Always wanted a personal punching bag, and I highly dislike nerds, let alone faggots so... You're in for a good time, man"

"Wait, you can't do that-"

Garrett wasn't known for being nice though, but he placed a hand on my shoulder and started pressing. It hurted, and I whimpered a bit. I felt like I was about to cry again, which was already an embarrassing thing to do in school.

"Don't worry, not gonna hurt you. Not today, I guess. Not feeling in the mood, quite generous today actually, am I right?" He let go of my shoulder and patted it for a bit. "C'mon, stop cryin' like a little faggot bitch and go thank Mikey. He's the one who came up talking about it with the team, heh."

Fuck, I was so mad at the moment that I didn't notice he tried to put me against my best (and apparently only) friend at the time.

Garrett grabbed me by the shoulders, and my glasses from the sink. He threw them to my hands, and I was surprised I managed to catch them before they fell to the floor and probably break.

"And don't show your face around me, faggot. Actually, do. I like boxing from time to time!" The guy shouted before shoving me off the bathroom. What was up with him, anyway? I mean, I was glad he didn't beat me up on the spot but...

I had to find Mike.

Walking around the school, hoodie on like some kind of weird skater guy, I searched for my best friend, finding him next to his locker.

"Michael!" I silently called for him, as I tapped his shoulder. I was angry, not going to lie.

He turned around with a nervous smile.

"Look, I fucked up, I know. I just-" Mike started, trying to sound chilled. He knew he fucked up, that's how he started

"No, don't come at me with that 'bro' shit. How the hell does the whole place know about my sexuality surprisingly after I told you about it *yesterday?!*" Luckily, people were too into their own business to hear us discuss.

He looked around, and I could tell he was growing sadder with each word I said. Mike doesn't cope well with discussions; he prefers to avoid them at all costs. But sad for him, he couldn't avoid this one.

"I wanted to make you a favor and ask my football bros if they knew anyone... y'know, gay too..." That was enough for me. He admitted fucking up and letting anyone know about what I trusted to him.

I turned around and started walking away.

"Pine, wait." He followed me as I walked towards my locker. "Bro, please, just lemme..."

"Mike, no. You know I trusted you something really important for me, and you didn't even wait A DAY to not only tell someone, but especially the football jocks, which are knowingly the dumb and aggressive ones-"

"Y'think I'm dumb and aggressive?" He frowned at me. "I thought I was being a good friend, just trying to get you someone to date now that you were out-" But I wasn't done.

"And you're even trying to turn around the situation. You know what? Fuck you, Mike. Just simply follow that simple instruction and fuck you. Or not! Since you're so good at reverse psychology!"

After that little rant, which I was sad nobody paid attention to, I went away. I felt like Mike was too mad to answer, or sad, or whatever.

But hey, this could be fun, right?

Being out to the school can't be that bad, and maybe I was just harsh on my jock friend because I was mad...

...Right?

---

Present Pine’s POV

"What happened next?" Mike asked me, as I stopped reading. "I knew this part already, but it was nice hearing your side of the story, bro. Why did you write about our sleepover, though? Or like, so far behind when you said it all started?"

I shrugged, as soon as I noticed my little pause. "Uh... don't know. Maybe to add more context? Like, to remember why you were in my house and stuff like that. The outing is not nice to remember, but it still adds more to my story, right?"

It wasn't an excuse, actually. I wanted to be detailed when I wrote this down, to remember as much as possible if I ever came to forget it.

Not possible, apparently. I remembered my senior year like it happened yesterday, but reading the already-written material was easier than being all "Uhm... and then this happened and... uh... this next..." It's awful, I'm not fond of continuous speaking.

"Well... what happened next?" Mikey said, pointing to the screen. I appreciated him not reading onwards and just listening to me like some kind of story-teller, it was cute.

"Wait, first..." I pointed to his body. Mike was still wearing his outside clothes, a red tee and some jeans. "I told you this was a bedtime story, and you're not even in your pajamas."

"I knoooow," He tried to excuse himself, before pointing to the cast on his forearm. "But this shit's itchy, and your story distracts me quite a lot from that. I swear I would break this fuckin' thing..."

I sometimes don't know if he forgets I have mind control powers or what. A simple command sent over the mind link we shared ('Ignore the itchy cast.')

Mike here got a broken bone during a 'friendly' football game. The player apologized a lot because he apparently lost his cool, but Mike kind of ignored his apologies and is just... bitter against his newfound rival.

Kind of understandable, his professional football career now hangs over a thread, and if the doctor tells him he's not able to play anymore, my big guy will be really sad.

He does have a backup plan, that's why he's studying to get a biology degree, so that's cool.

"Hey, not itchy anymore. Buuuuut, could you continue pleaseeee?" The jock held his hands together as if pleading.

I sighed, before putting some power on my words. "I want you to do as I say," I started, admiring his face as it went blank. Glazed eyes looked really good on him.

"I will do as you say..." My boyfriend repeated, and I noticed his mind going blank as he waited for more orders.

"Go get ready for bed, I'll wait for you here." I told him, patting his shoulder before he moved away from the bed to obey.

"Yes, master..." The jock mumbled as he walked away.

While he was out, I started reviewing the following entries of my senior year journal.

'Ooof, this gets really dark here... I even forgot about this bit. Yeah, no need to tell Mike about this part, he'll just feel really guilty. Let's move forward a month or so... There it goes' I thought, as I skipped a good chunk of filler-ish bits from when I was powerless and got bullied a lot. I just had to wait for the big guy, it would be mean if I started reading without him.

A few minutes afterwards, he lazily walked in the room in his underwear. Just in his underwear, full muscular body on display. I made him 'wake up' via the mind link.

Mike didn't react at all, he just suddenly seemed more alive and then jumped on the bed, next to me.

I had to catch my laptop, but after that, we were ready to continue.

"I did a little time jump, if you don't mind. I thought it would be more interesting to jump closer towards the action and stuff like that."

"Hey, you're the story-teller. You're in charge, bruh." He said, getting himself comfortable and covering his almost naked body with a blanket. “How long is this time jump anyway?”

“A month or so…” I mumbled, before going back to narrating. "Alright, so... where was I..."

“Oh, fuck. I think I’m not going to like what comes next” He mumbled, leaning a bit to read my laptop’s screen.

“Sorry, I was pretty pissed when I remembered this. I’ll try to avoid the details of you not helping me, okay?” I said, pushing him back down as he nodded like a happy baby. “Now, back to the story.”

---

Past Pine's POV

I left the classroom, looking around at the corridor as I did. While heading to my locker to leave the books I just used, I got shoved into a random set of lockers, making me fall straight to the floor.

Lots of deep laughter as my tormentors walked away. I looked ahead and noticed a mini version of the incredible hulk staying away from his group and walking towards me. ‘Oh, shit. Here we go again…’ I thought, as Mike offered me his hand.

“Need some help?” He asked, before I used the lockers to help myself up. The jock in front of me sighed as he looked around.

“Nope…” I tidied my clothes and got my glasses back in place, before looking at him with an impassive look. The kind of look you give to someone you know is guilty, but can’t do a shit about it. I mean, c’mon. He even was with them and didn’t do anything to stop them! What can you save from that?! “Just a scratch. You know how it goes.”

“Very funny, bro. I can tell when you’re lying to me.” Him calling me ‘bro’ was quite annoying. It’s been a month since he outed me to his team, and a month since they started torturing me under the guidance of Coach Asshole and his bitch Garrett. The coach doesn’t care about what happens to me, and Garrett looooves that! “…Sorry about that again, by the way.”

He apologized every freaking day, each moment that the jocks went after me, he would be there afterwards to apologize again. Was this hell? Did I die and never realized that?

I gave him the fakest smile I could, followed by a “Don’t worry. They’ll come to understand later on, right?”

Mike frowned at me. I liked making him frown. Even when ‘angry’ he still looked funny. “They’re more aggressive due to the upcoming game… Y’know that’s a lot of pressure especially with that cunt of a coach… Speaking of which, I’d like to tell you something. Maybe you’d like to come home for that, though? It’s been quite a while-”

“Homework. Lots of it.” I excused myself.

“I know, that’s what you always say…” He mumbled, before rolling his eyes. I would have punched him if my arms weren’t spaghettis, but even if that were the case, I wasn’t the violent type of guy. I usually try to talk my way out of things or just… accept my fate, whatever it is.

I stared at him, not saying a single word. He stared back at me, and this just turned into a really uncomfortable staring contest between two ex-best friends who barely talked anymore. “Need something else? I need to reach my locker so…” I motioned with my hand for him to move and he just looked around nervously.

“I miss you, bro…” He started, but I wasn’t in the mood for yet another apology with my arm hurting after being shoved to a locker.

No answer from my part, and he sighed. “See you in a while, bro.” Mike mumbled, before jogging off to catch up his football bros.

I sighed, celebrating in my mind. Hey, it’s not standing up against Garrett, but he was the closest one I could stand up against, right?

By… standing there silent without doing nothing. Yeah, no clue why would they want to beat me up. Fuck, I’m really an easy target.

Just had to focus on my classes, graduate, then kiss goodbye to this town.

---

Present Pine’s POV

Wait, Mike?

Mike fell asleep. How rude! Just when I was about to get into the night I got my powers…

Well, telling him the story would be pointless if he wasn’t listening. I’m glad he fell asleep though, he needs rest and I’m not going to wake him up just to continue narrating.

I closed the file, turned off the laptop and left it on my night table. After that, I laid down and hugged my jock boy. A little kiss on his cheek, then closed my eyes.

------

Author’s note:

Yeeeey, I’m back! Sort of! Hoping to publish more frequently after my big writer’s block!

I was especially hesitant to publish this chapter because of this dialogue choice I made, that makes Garrett sound like a wonky mean disney-ish character. But, it’s just for one scene, so... Here’s the first chapter! Hope you guys like it!

#PinesCollegeJocks #PinesJocks #mind control #straight to gay #gay hypnosis #hypnotized #brainwash #brainwashed #brainwashing

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toplinetommy · 4 years

Text

You Bring the Moon and Stars to Me (Part Two) - Tyson Jost

Synopsis: A Soulmate!AU where your soulmark only appears once you fall in love with your soulmate

Words: 4.8k

Part One

September 2017 - Denver, CO

NHLers + 1 Tucker: heard you got a job in Denver Tucker: you know who else got a job there Y/N: what are you going on about Brock: tyson jost plays for the avs Brock: you should catch a game when the szn starts Y/N: he barely knows who i am Tucker: he thinks youre cute *Brock emphasized the message* Y/N: that was months ago Brock: whats the worst that can happen Y/N: hes literally a pro athlete Tucker: im a pro athlete and I still talk to you

You set your phone back onto the patio table, changing it out for your margarita. You were sitting on your new best friend and coworker, Caitlyn’s, back deck enjoying margaritas in the early Denver fall when she said a name you hadn’t heard in months.

“So, when were you going to tell me you know Tyson Jost?”

You nearly spit out the alcoholic beverage, choking as it goes down the wrong pipe. “Uh, because I don’t? He played hockey where I got my undergrad, not a big deal.”

“Then how come I’m scrolling on Instagram, and Tyson Jost shared to his IG story a picture that you, my friend, are in?” She pushes her phone across the table to you and you look at the picture. Sure enough, it’s a picture Brock had shared to his story, that Tyson had reshared, from the 2017 senior banquet. You’re standing between Brock and Tucker in the back of the photo, barely seen as you were tucked in a large group of hockey players. You weren’t even tagged and yet, somehow Caitlyn had been able to pinpoint you, with none other than Tyson Jost standing right in front of you.

“I’ve had maybe three conversations with him? He only played the one year there and I wasn’t tutoring him.” You shrug, not getting what the huge deal was.

“You were a tutor?”

“Yeah, for athletes, but towards the end I was mainly tutoring the hockey team. That’s why I’m in that picture, I was pretty close to a few of the guys. That was their senior banquet my senior year and I went as one guy’s date, and no, it wasn’t with Tyson or Brock. It was with a guy named Tucker, he plays for the Jets actually.”

Caitlyn asks a few more questions about your college life before the sun starts to set, and the hockey conversation gets dropped.

“Trust me, I’m not ‘immersed’ into the NHL community or whatever. I just have a few friends in the league that I don’t even talk to that much besides sending memes in a group chat.” You say closing out the topic, choosing to move onto something else.

“Anyways, tell me more about Jack! How come I haven’t met your soulmate yet, huh?” You ask giddly. Soulmates were one of your favorite things to talk about, mainly because you were a hopeless romantic at heart; always fantasizing about the day you’d meet yours and listening to other people share their stories about it.

“Well we met in March when we were at a tech conference while he was still going to school, but I had already graduated and moved here. He still has another year before he graduates and he plans on coming out once he does, depending on if he can get a job in the area.”

“Do you think he’ll move to Denver?”

“I think so, he loved it here when he came and visited over the summer. He loved this house, and he loves the outdoors. I don’t really want to leave, either. I mean, Denver’s my home.” She says, smiling at the thought of her current surroundings.

Hearing others talk about their soulmates kind of made you envious, but you were happy for your friend. Watching her face light up as she talked about Jack was something you only wished for and couldn’t wait to experience for yourself.

Two days later, you’re back over at her place for your weekly Taco Tuesday’s - a tradition the two of you had started not too long after you met at your job a few months back. You hop out of your SUV, noticing the moving truck next to your friend’s house, and definitely not missing the large group of burly men unpacking it.

Walking into the house you shout, making your appearance known. Entering the kitchen you set the grocery bag on the counter. “Did you see that people are moving in across the street? Looks like it’s a group of guys.”

Caitlyn shrugs before continuing, “Took ‘em long enough to sell the house. That house was up for sale when I moved here in June.” She starts walking around the island, back towards the front of the house to further inspect the new neighbors, you close behind. A few of them have their shirts off, even in the brisk fall Denver air, and even with the distance, the both of you can tell there’s some serious man-candy going on across the street.

The both of you retreat back to the kitchen, getting ready to make your weekly tacos, catching up on work, friends, drama, and what had happened on this week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy. As Caitlyn was finishing up the taco meat, you went to get beers from the fridge in the garage when you heard a voice other than your friends’ in the kitchen on your way back.

Walking into the room you’re shell shocked at the group of men in front of you. No, scratch that. Shocked at one particular man in front of you. Your jaw drops as none other than Tyson Jost looks right back at you.

He marveled at the sight of you, “y/n y/l/n?”

“In the flesh” You laugh lighty.

“You live here?” He inquired, with a hint of shyness in his voice.

“No, Caitlyn lives here, but I live in the area” you respond pointing over to the blonde standing in between the two of you. You look around at the rest of the guys, remembering that it’s not just the two of you standing in your friends kitchen, having what seems like a reunion of sorts.

A deep cough comes from next to you, pulling you out of your confused, yet awe-struck state. “Hey, uh, I’m JT,” comes from the burly redhead standing a few feet away from you, “This is Alexander, Nate, and then Tyson, who I guess you already know?” He points to everyone as he says their names, a hint of question in his tone when he goes over Tyson’s name.

At this, Tyson jumps in, “She went to North Dakota, too. She knew the hockey team.”

“Oh?” JT asks, eyebrows raising towards his hairline in question.

“Uh, yeah, I was one of the tutors.” You explain briefly.

“You still talk to any of them?” Tyson asks, centering the conversation around you rather than the relationship between the two of you.

“I talk to Brock every now and then, and I’m still pretty close with Tucker.” You answer, not wanting to give too many details about your friendships with other NHLers. Tyson nods his head at you, before JT speaks up once again, steering back to the original reason of the conversation.

The boys had stopped by because they saw the open garage and needed a pair of scissors. Something you assumed a group of guys would have when moving into a new house. As the conversation came to a halt, and the boys started to leave, wanting to let you guys get back to your dinner, Tyson stops on the front porch to continue talking to you.

“So, you ended up in Denver, eh?” He asks, shoving his hands into his short pockets.

“I did, and I like it a lot so far. I got offered a job as a project manager for a company that has their corporate offices here. Couldn't pass up the opportunity to move to a new city.” As you finish talking, you realize you had started rambling a little bit, a slight blush rising to your cheeks.

Tyson smiles widely, noticing the joy and passion in your voice. A voice in the distance calling out for Tyson breaks the moment you two are having. “I should probably get back, but, uhm, if you ever want to catch up or anything don’t hesitate to text me or something.”

“Uh, yeah, for sure. I’ll let you get back to moving.” You exclaim with a hint of nervousness. You weren’t sure if you should hug him goodbye, but you were a big hugger, so you awkwardly go in for a hug, to which Tyson happily consumes. The two of you go your separate ways as Tyson jogs across the street back to his house.

Walking back into Caitlyn’s kitchen, you’re snapped back to reality by the look on your friends face. Dropping your shoulders, you groan, “What?”

“I don’t know Tyson Jost, she says. We just went to college together, she says,” she mocks in a high-pitched tone. “That interaction had way too much something in it for you two to have just been acquaintances or whatever you were.”

“I promise you I barely know him. I just always thought he was cute like everyone else did and the guys loved to make fun of me for it. He’s also four years younger than me.” You reveal embarrassingly, a small smile coming to your face thinking back on some of the memories you had. “Like, my senior year, they made me show up to a jersey party at the hockey house wearing his jersey. I think I was the only one at the whole party even wearing something NoDak related, too. It was just dumb, little stuff.”

“Aw, that’s kind of cute.” Caitlyn gushes, taking a sip from her beer. The two of you start to make your tacos, and sit in a comfortable silence while eating.

It’s halfway through dinner you realize you don’t even have Tyson’s phone number, contemplating on whether or not you want to text him. “Should I text him?” You ask. “I barely know him and now he’s an up-and-coming professional athlete.”

“You’re both new to the city, so I don’t see the harm in it?” Your friend reasons.

You nod in agreement, trying to figure out how you’re even going to get his phone number. Picking up your phone, you go to text Tucker.

Y/N: would you happen to have tyson josts number :-) Tucker: thought you didnt want it Y/N: yeah funny story actually Y/N: i guess he lives across the street from my coworker now Tucker: ur kidding Y/N: i wish i was Tucker: i knew you two would somehow find each other Y/N: whatever

Tucker ends up texting you Tyson’s phone number a little bit later, and after a lot of typing and retyping you finally settle on a simple “hey” with a simple smiley face, letting him know it’s you.

Once you had sent the first initial text to Tyson a few days ago, it seemed like the two of you had been friends all along. Conversation flowed easily between the two of you, only texting one another when you really had the time to.

Part of you was nervous that the two of you had really never hung out, apart from those few occasions back at school, but even then it was never just the two of you. You had contemplated asking Caitlyn to come over in case it got awkward. In the end, you didn’t let your nerves get the best of you and you went through with going over to his house to meet up with him.

Knocking on the front door, you twist your hands together in anticipation.

The large wooden door swings open to reveal a very smiling Tyson, “Hey!” He moves to the side to let you in but as you pass him he opens his arm signaling for a hug.

You wrap one arm around him, half leaning into his side for a side hug as you greet him in return. “How are you?”

“I’m doing great, development camp just ended. I got the letter saying I made the opening day roster, so still trying to get used to that.” He answers with a small laugh. His hands are resting in his front hoodie pocket, and you notice how nice his posture is. You look over him, also noting that his legs look much thicker than you remember and his chest is much broader, even under the expanse of his hoodie.

“That’s great” You compliment, feet planted to the ground once you slip your shoes off. The two of you are still standing in the foyer of his home. The air around the two of you almost makes it feel like one of those ‘we met online and we’re now meeting each other for the first time’ moments.

Tyson starts walking, leading the two of you to his kitchen before asking if you want anything to drink.

“Water would be awesome.” You answer, moving to take a seat on one of the barstools at the kitchen island.

Tyson closes the fridge, handing you a water bottle. “So how long have you been in Denver?”

“Since June, so three months?” You say, counting on your fingers. “I got the job not too long after I graduated but I went on vacation with some friends before moving. What about you?”

“I actually came down in April after the UND season ended, but only for a few games. I just got back, like, two weeks ago.” He starts, leaning his elbows down against the counter in front of you. “I was in a hotel until you saw us moving in the other day, actually.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, knitting your eyebrows in confusion.

“So like, the way it works is that you have to make the team during development camp and if you don’t you’ll go back to wherever you were playing before. I already lost my NCAA eligibility when I left, so if I didn’t make the team I would’ve gone down to San Antonio where our AHL team is.” Tyson explains, hands moving around in the air as he speaks.

You nod your head as he speaks, starting to understand the process of how one makes the NHL. “Well, I think you’ll love it here. I’ve only been here for a few months and I can’t stop thinking about how perfect this place is.” You gush.

“Yeah, I’m really excited for the season. The guys are all really nice and welcoming already.” He muses. His eyes crinkle a little bit, a sure sign of happiness as he smiles.

You smile in response, “From what I remember back at school, you were pretty good, too.”

A small blush rises on his tan cheeks and the tips of his ears. He pushes a hand through the curls on the top of his head with a shrug. “You majored in marketing?” Tyson asks, changing the subject. He was never one to talk about himself too much, even with all of his accomplishments.

“I did!” you exclaim, surprised he even remembered that about you. “I’m a project manager, so I basically manage a few different projects at a time at a marketing firm. I like it a lot so far. That’s how I know Caitlyn, the girl across the street.” You point in her general direction, gesturing to the house across the street.

“What part of the city do you live in?” He asks curiously. He stands up straight again, leaving his hands resting on the counter.

“Over in Westwood, in a townhouse.” You answer, once again stunned at his ability to remember small details from previous conversations. “It’s just southwest of downtown and like, 20 minutes from here.”

“I haven't really gotten the chance to really explore the area too much, so I have no idea where that is.” He laughs.

You laugh along with him, “We can always figure it out together if you want, because I haven’t done too much either.” You freeze up slightly at your request, not really knowing where your bravery came from.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” He agrees. “Being around a bunch of hockey players all the time can be a little much. Besides, it’s nice to have familiar faces around, eh?” He quirks his eyebrow at you.

“For sure.” You agree, taking another sip from your water. “You have any other plans for the day?”

“Other than this, no.”

“I was thinking,” you start, “we could order food or something? I can start showing you the best food places around.”

“Yeah, I’m actually getting kinda hungry. What’re you thinking?” He asks, making a show to rub at his belly.

“I found a really good ramen place a few weeks ago that I really liked if you’re down to try that?” You suggest, pulling your phone out planning to pull up the menu for the two of you.

“Sure, I’m down to try anything.”

You stand up from where you were sitting to move over to him, placing your phone on the counter so both you and Tyson can look at the screen. He moves closer to you, shoulders now touching as you both look down at the phone in front of you quietly. He’s comfortable enough to scroll on the website on his own, even with the newness of your friendship.

As you move to fully stand straight up next to him, the brush of the side of your upper arm against his sends a sort of static through your body. You shrug your arm, moving a few inches away from the man next to you.

“Do you know what you want? I can call and place the order.” You suggest, gesturing towards your phone. He pushes the phone over to you, telling you what he wants before saying he’ll venmo you for his part.

A little while later, once you’ve driven to downtown Denver and back, you have ramen in front of you as the two of you sit out on the back deck trying to enjoy the last of the warm weather.

The two of you sit across from one another eating in the quiet when JT walks out. “You guys got food and didn’t ask me if I wanted any? I’m hurt.”

Your eyes gaze between him and to Tyson, before Tyson speaks up, “Not my problem you weren’t around when we ordered it.”

You chuckle lightly at the interaction in front of you as JT rolls his eyes looking for a response. Instead of verbally responding, he walks over to take a seat next to his roommate, giving him a shove as he passes by him.

“So, y/n, have you found your soulmate yet?”

“Bro, what is with you and your need to ask every single person you know that?” Tyson groans, dropping his fork into his bowl.

“What, it’s fascinating!” He exclaims, leaning back into his seat.

“Yeah, because you basically already know who yours is.”

“You already have a soulmate?” You ask, swallowing the bit of noodles in your mouth.

“Technically, no,” He starts, dragging out the ‘no’. “But I’m convinced I know who it actually is.”

“He met this girl over the summer and felt some ‘connection’ to her or whatever.” Tyson says, doing finger quotations around connection.

“Shut up,” JT groans. “I swear the world stopped when we made eye contact and then we talked and I was just blown away.”

You look at him as he talks, but you notice Tyson next to him, mouthing the words JT is speaking. You giggle a little, causing Tyson to smile.

“I think that’s great, you’ll have to keep me updated on it all.” You say with a smile on your face. Tyson and JT continue to bicker like the best friends you're starting to see they are, as you sit and continue eating your ramen. The way Tyson easily chirps him and laughs makes your stomach do tiny little flips.

January 2018 - Pepsi Center, Denver, CO

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best friend ever?” Caitlyn exclaims with glee.

You laugh loudly, holding open the door to the Pepsi Center for your friend to walk through. “You mean have you ever told me that you love that I’m friends with NHL players so I can get good tickets? Once or twice.”

The Winnipeg Jets were in town, meaning Tucker would be playing Tyson for the first time at the NHL level. Tucker had let you know a few weeks ago that he would be in town briefly to play the Avs, and what he didn’t know was that Tyson had also told you the other day about the game. Tucker offered to get you and a friend tickets to the game, which you happily took.

Now, the both of you are walking around on the concourse level, looking for a good place to stop and get drinks before puck drop.

Caitlyn turns to you after you both get your drinks, “Does Tucker know that you’re talking to Tyson?”

“No, I’d thought I’d let him figure it out on his own. I mean, he was one of the guys that always pushed us two to get to know each other so I don't want to make a big deal out of nothing yet.” You shrug.

“Didn’t you say we’re all getting brunch tomorrow though? Won’t he know then?”

“He knows, yeah, but he doesn’t know that I know Tyson will be there. Just a little payback for all the pranks he pulled back in college.”

You guys finally locate your seats in the lower bowl, drifting your conversation to the game itself. You knew Caitlyn was a big hockey fan, her being from Michigan and all, so you were happy you finally got to see her in her element.

The Avs scoot by with an overtime win, not seeing too much action from either Tyson or Tucker on the official score sheet. As you guys exit the arena, you shoot a text to both Tyson and Tucker individually, letting them know they played good games.

The next morning both you and Caitlyn are running a little behind getting to brunch, catching an odd amount of Denver traffic on the way to the chosen restaurant.

Walking through the glass doors of the restaurant, you wipe your snow covered feet off on the mat before looking up trying to either spot the mop of curls atop Tyson’s head or Tucker’s broad shoulders.

You catch Tyson’s eyes before Tucker spots you, giving him a small wave and smile before you and Caitlyn make your way over to their table. Tyson stands to give you a hug before Tucker can and when you pull away, you see a look of confusion on Tucker’s face. You move to give him a tight hug, letting him know how much you’ve missed having him around.

Once Caitlyn introduces herself to Tucker, the two of you take your seats across from them in the booth.

“I feel like the two of you are all grown up! My two not-so-little NHLers,” You squeal jokingly. Tyson laughs with a slight blush at this, while Tucker, who’s across from you, rolls his eyes.

“No no no, we’re not doing that.” Tucker laughs. “You can see how we’re doing with one google search. How’re you? How’s work?”

“Very good!” You exclaim, “Caitlyn and I have this really innovative project coming up that we’re super excited for.”

“The one with Finish Line?” Tyson jumps in, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Yeah that one!” Caitlyn answers. You can tell she’s about to explain it further with the way she leans forward over the table.

Tucker cuts her off before she can continue to explain it, “What the fuck? How did you know that?”

“She was telling me the other day about it when I was at her place.” Tyson answers quickly.

“You were at her place?” Tucker asks, growing even more confused.

“Yeah, he was helping me with my new desk. Caitlyn was out of town so she couldn’t help.” You answer without hesitation.

“Oh! You got it set up?” Caitlyn asks the two of you. “You’ll have to send me a picture when you get home.” The way Caitlyn jumps into the conversation doesn’t help Tucker’s confusion one bit as he stares at the three of you blankly,

“So you’re telling me the two of you, like, hang out?” Tucker asks, pointing between the two of you.

“Mhhm,” you hum with a tight-lipped smile. “Not too often, though.” Before Tucker can muster up a response the waitress appears to take your breakfast orders.

“We’ve only really hung out a few times since we reconnected a few months ago,” You continue once the waitress walks away. “Like, maybe two or three times?” You look at Tyson for confirmation to which he nods his head with a quick ‘yep’.

“So, you actually ended up texting him?” Tucker asks you.

“Uh, yeah? Why wouldn’t I have?”

“You literally avoided him all of spring semester.” Tucker states. Realization of what he’s talking about hits you and you sink back into the cushioned booth, your stomach tightening up with nerves.

Tyson, who looked like he was just checking something on his phone, whips his head up to look at his old teammate next to him.

“I did not,” You stutter, eyes shooting daggers at the Jets player across from you. “He drove me home from the bar once and then I didn’t see him again until a few months ago.”

“And you guys hooked up and then we never saw you in the same room again.” He says casually, reaching for his glass of water and bringing it to his lips. You choke on your coffee at his remark, going into a fit of coughing once you set your mug back down in front of you.

“Dude,” Tyson warns roughly and slaps at Tucker’s chest.

“What? No one knew where the two of you went and you wouldn’t really say anything about it when we all asked!”

“You told everyone we hooked up?” You ask, staring blankly at Tyson in disbelief.

“I literally told the whole team that some asshole spilled his drink on her and drove her home and then ended up going home right after instead of back to the bar.” Tyson says through gritted teeth. His stern gaze turns from Tucker towards your face, eyes turning soft when he sees your mouth slightly agape.

“I swear I never said anything happened between the two of us.” He promises to you, eyes locked on yours. Your eyes stay focused on him for a while longer. The breath you didn’t mean to hold in is let out a huff of air once you see the sincerity behind his eyes.

“Tucker, that was literally just a coincidence that we never saw each other, and besides, Tyson told me he left school to come down to Denver right after the banquet.” You say, turning your attention back to him.

“Okay, sorry about the assumption.” Tucker apologizes, moreso to you than to Tyson. A smirk plays at his lips and you know exactly where he’s taking this conversation. Before you’re able to derail him and switch the topic to anything else he opens his mouth once again. “Everyone knew you guys were attracted to one another so it wasn’t a stretch to think.”

Your previous embarrassment comes back full force with your cheeks heating up. You pick up your coffee mug once again taking a sip, this time to hopefully hide the pink tint on the apples of your cheeks. You take notice at how Tyson doesn’t move to discount Tucker’s comment this time and especially notice the tips of his ears turning pink.

It’s almost like you’re saved by the bell as the waitress walks up the table, arms full of your food. The rest of your brunch is spent catching up and telling Caitlyn all about what it was like at UND, while she shared stories about herself as well as her soulmate.

All throughout brunch, you couldn’t shake the feeling of the pull you felt towards the man that was sitting kitty-corner to you. Even as you and Caitlyn parted ways from the guys once you left, you swore you felt a part of yourself walk away with them. It may have been a feeling you couldn’t shake, but you still chose to ignore it as the two of you walked back to the parking garage Caitlyn’s car was located.

tag list: @REAVENEDGES-LIES (if you want to be added just let me know)

#tyson jost imagine #tyson jost #nhl imagine #alex writes #ybtmastm fic

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words-for-holland · 4 years

Text

The Songs in Our Life: It’s Not a Date

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Y/N & Tom learn more about each other on their night out together...but remember it’s not a date.

Inspired by: I Wanna Know You - Hannah Montana & David Archuleta

Album Description | Track 1 | Track 2 |

Waiting. It’s the action of staying where you are to delaying something until a certain time has come or something happens.

For instance, Y/N and Tom were due for a date at 5:40pm, and the wait was almost unbearable for them. Not that it was ever an official date....but the idea of seeing each other again the very same day brought a feeling of excitement. Something that neither had felt in a very long time. Seconds, minutes, and the remaining hours passed. Y/N had clocked out of work, shoved her laptop in her bag, and made her way down to lobby to meet Tom. As she approached the area, her steps slowed and ultimately stopping in her tracks. Seeing Tom, casually waiting brought a new found feeling. She smiled at him, already thinking about the possibilities of the if’s and’s & wants in her future, but immediately shook out the thought.

“C’mon Y/N it’s way too early to be thinking like this. You haven't even gone on a date with him yet and you're already thinking about a future. Jesus.” Y/N muttered to herself, verbally smacking some common sense into her brain.

As she continued to walk towards Tom, he looked up to meet her eyes and started walking to her direction. “Fancy seeing you here, darling.” he greeted with that boyish smile. He offered his hands, gesturing to allow him to carry her bag, but Y/N simply shook her head and declined the offer. “It’s okay. I got it.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Of course, but would it be okay if we stopped by my apartment to drop this off?” Y/N replied to him. “I really don't want to be carrying this around while I blow your mind with the best food in the city.”

Tom hadn’t replied to Y/N’s question, he was too busy thinking about..well...her. In his mind, he would have been more bold and responded to her question like ‘Aw, here I was hoping you were just going to invite me in to stay there and I can show you a really good time’. Or ‘Nothing blows my mind more than you’.

Instead what came out was “Yeah, sure that’s fine.” he smiled back, mentally slapping himself for not being able to pull off something smoother.

“Okay, let’s go. It’s not that far.” Y/N lead the way, with Tom following behind. There it was. That awkward-but-not-so-awkward tension coming up as the two walked in silence to Y/N’s apartment. Both knew it wasn’t an official date, so why was it hard to just strike a conversation? Y//N and Tom fought with their inner conscious as they tried to figure out how to make the first move. It was then when both Tom and Y/N, took a deep breath and said out loud their questions the same time.

They laughed at their failed attempts to strike a proper conversation, and tried to make it better by saying “You first.” in unison and then “No you.”

Tom gestured to Y/N to speak first. “So how was your press interview? Did you get in trouble for being late?” Y/N asked as they continued to walk the streets of 34th Avenue.

Tom looked at Y/N’s way, recollecting their first meet up. Indeed Tom was extremely late, but if he hadn’t been he wouldn’t be in this position right now with her. “Yeah it went well. I just got in a little bit of trouble, but it’s okay. Sometimes you’ve got to live a little dangerously.” he winked, which made Y/N’s cheeks display the most delicate shade of pink. “What about you? How was work?”

Y/N shrugged at his question. “Can’t complain. Im still new to the company, but the projects are fun and everyone’s welcoming and a pleasure to work with. Just hoping I dont mess it up.”

“Im sure you won’t. You dont seem to be that type.” Tom responds truthfully.

Y/N looks at him and smiles. “Oh? And what type do I seem to be?” She challenges him, but before he could speak, they make it to Y/N’s apartment.

She jiggles the key in and opens the door for Tom, allowing him to enter first. The first thing that catches his eyes are the cream colored walls and soft blue furniture accents. Papers are piled up on a table, and pictures of Y/N with her friends and family placed decoratively on the walls. Candles were lit and the T.V. was softly playing in the background. “Wow...this is really cozy.” Tom reacts, intaking the surrounding. “Though I must say I usually get invited inside the house on the second date.” He laughs at his sorry joke.

Thankfully Y/N’s sense of humor was extremely easy tonplease, and she laughed along with him, playfully hitting his shoulder. “Oh stop, I told you I need to set my stuff down. I —”

“Hey Y/N I was wondering what—” Y/N’s roomate and best friend comes in to the living room seeing a rare sighting of Y/N with a man. “Oh...I didnt know we had company.” She smiles, trying her best to contain her excitement for her best friend.

“Oh right.” Y/N closes her eyes briefly in hopes that her best friend doesnt embarrass her. “Um Tom this is Kaitlyn, she’s my best friend and roomate. Kaitlyn this is Tom H—”

“Believe me. I know who you are.” Kaitlyn smiles widely. “It’s...wow..a surprise really. Nice to meet you.”

“And it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tom greets back shaking her hand.

“So are you two like...” Kaitlyn gestures as she squiches her hands together. “On a date?”

Both Y/N’s and Tom’s eyes widen, both of their cheeks turning a deep shade of pink. They knew it wasnt such a bad thing to consider, them being on a date and getting romantic. But they just met, neither wanted to risk the chance of screwing it up. “Of course not. I was just planning to show Tom around the city, since he’s not from here.”

Tom would be lying if he said his heart didnt drop just a little, but he wasnt going to let that show. Even though he wanted it to be so much more than a hang out. “Yeah, I figured why not....since we’re friends.” There it goes again..that awkward silence.

“Uh huh. Im sure you both will enjoy your friendly hangout. Y/N knows all the best places to eat.”

“I wouldnt doubt it.” Tom smiles.

“And we should get going...uhh Kaitlyn you’re welcome to join us if you want?” Y/N interjects as she and Tom get ready to go out.

“Oh. It’s fine! You two go out. Im good here.” Kaitlyn rejects and winks at Y/N.

Y/N rolls her eyes as she leads Tom out. Not far from her home, the two make it to Chelea’s Market, where they indulge in all things Italian. From the flavorful pasta, to the fresh steamy focaccia bread that comes right out of the stone oven. It was Y/N’s go-to place to impress anyone visiting. The food was great and the scenery outside was beautiful.

While the food was incredible, Tom’s prescence was where the real magic came to play. She could only imagine what hanging out with a celebrity would be like, but Tom was another story.

She took in how engaged he was with her stories about growing up in a small town in New Jersey with her family, how Kaitlyn and two other friends had stayed together since they were 6, and how her life had felt so barred until she moved here in the city, feeling free for the first time ever.

He was interested in all of it. Tom’s eyes looked at her with endearment, and his smile grew the more he heard about her most heart touching memories, his laugh becoming more robust and joyus when she told him a funny memory. He was falling for her, even though he didnt want to admit it just yet. While he got a good chunk of her life, he wanted to know more.

Y/N on the other hand, wanted to turn the tables. “So what about you?” She asked, as they both made their way to the High Line, warm latte in hand.

“What do you mean?” He questions back, displaying a coy smile.

“C’mon you know what I mean. What’s your story? And when I mean story I dont mean how you got famous.” Y/N explains as they continue walking.

Tom looked down at the ground, thinking. He couldnt remember the last time a stranger wiuld ask about his life, and not just the story about his career. “Well, I have 3 younger brothers. A set of twins named Sam and Harry and a younger brother name Paddy but we like to call him Padster. I lived with my best mate Harrison for 4 years. Love sports but golfing all time has to be my favorite. Ironically, Im terrified of spiders and I hate cheese.”

Y/N took in his 5 minute biography, and thought about how genuine he was. Just like she did, Tom gave stories about his brothers and best friend, and the more he talked the real he felt to Y/N. Their friendship was blossoming and in this moment nothing felt out of place. “Wow, you hate cheese?! Cheese is single-handely the best creation on this planet. I feel sorry for the girl that had to deal with that.” Y/N stopped her tracks, realizing what she just slipped in. She didnt mean to mention about a potential girlfriend he did or didnt have, it just...happened.

“Haha Im sure she doesn’t mind. She doesnt particulary like cheese either.” He plays along, but Y/N’s spirit started to lower. So there was a girl after all. She should have known.

“Oh, so there is a girl. Isnt there?” She speaks in a monotone.

“Of course! Tessa shes been with me for awile. Cheeky little dog, but I love her so much.” Tom laughs as he takes a sip of his coffee.

Y/N shook her head as she caught on his words. Dog? Upon realization, she shook her head looking down at the ground hiding her embarrassment.

“Sorry. I had to.” He continued to laugh, “but your face and attitude was priceless. Its almost as if you we’re jealous or soemthing.”

“What?! Me jealous?! Please.” Y/N tried miserably to play off.

“C’mon I saw those lips purse and that cute nose scrunch. You looked wee bit jealous.” Tom stated as he lifted her chin to meet his eyes. The moment was tense and silent but not akward. They took in each others features, lips getting closer, eyes slowly closing until... “It’s getting late.”Y/N whispered. Both let down by the moment being ruined.

Tom pulled away with a look of disappointment. “Yeah...you’re right. I’ll walk you back? My hotel is not far from your place.” He offered.

“Of course it’s not. It’s the tri-state area. Everything here is 30 minutes or less.” She jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “I would like that a lot.”

They continued to walk back home, side by side with light conversations. Almost forgetting their almost-kiss on their unofficial date. As they reached the steps of Y/N’s apartment. The two bid their farewell.

“Well I had a lot of fun tonight. Thank you Y/N.” Tom said smiling at her as he held her hand.

“Likewise. I cant remember the last time I had this much fun.” Y/N admits, hoping that this wouldnt be the first and last time she’d see him. “Maybe we can do this again?” She bravely suggests.

“I’d love that. See you soon, darling.” With that he kissed her goodbye on the cheek as he made his way to the hotel, but not until he made sure, Y/N got inside safely.

Proceed to Track 3.

Taglist (Send an ask or message to be added):

@horanxholland @peterspideyy @stan-ish230403 @averyfosterthoughts @eridanuswave @greatpizzascissorstaco

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

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stonecoldjerseyfox · 4 years

Text

Jersey on my mind (part 27)

Daryl places three soft knocks on the passenger door’s window of the old Chevy pickup. The lock clicks and Mila opens the door, letting out the faint sound of Bob Dylan singing:

“-Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood, when blackness was a virtue the road was full of mud. I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form. Come in, she said, I’ll give ya shelter from the storm-”

“Hi.” Mila greets him, halfway through a bottle of Stolichnaya. Juri’s lying in the passenger seat, resting his head in her lap.

”Having a party?” Daryl leans up against the car and looks at the tired, blood stained woman in the driver’s seat, looking back at him.

”Celebrating another day of being alive, I guess.” Mila replies. ”Hop in.”

She scoots over and Daryl gets in, shuts the passenger door behind him. The worn buttons and wheels of the radio shine faintly in the darkness.

“You missed me?”

“Yeah.” Daryl adjusts in the seat, as Mila lifts his arm and puts it around her neck, rests her head at his shoulder. Juri continues to sleep, breathes calmly in her lap. A heavy odor of vodka surrounds Mila and the half full, half empty, bottle tattles that she’s not sloshed, but seems like planning to be.

As the fire spread over the pond in the middle of the community, like a bonfire on the 4th of July, and the walkers started to drag their feets towards it, Daryl climbed down from the truck’s roof. He’d seen Mila in the middle of the sea of rotting limbs and melting scalps, covered in blood and seemingly dead tired, with her arms hanging along the sides. A demeanor he had not seen before in her. Despite the distance between them, he saw that something was wrong. Mila seemed distracted. Deranged. When he landed on his feet on the ground, he stabbed his way through the crowd, struggling to reach her.

Was she injured? It was hard to see at a distance and her being spattered with blood, that could just as well be the blood of the walkers. When he finally reached her, she had awoken from her trance-like state, returning to slaughtering, but her mind was still stuck in another galaxy it seemed. She was there, just not present, like if she had to empty her system a bit, by killing off the remaining walkers. She walked around the grounds, managed to find twelve bastards hiding out in nooks and crannies, until the last of ‘em was annihilated. Daryl walked up close to her and said, as soft as he could, that it was over now.

“They’re dead. All of ’em.”

If he believed his words would pull her back to the present, to make her feel better- damn, he was wrong. Instead he managed to lose sight of her as soon as the others gathered up around him, Abe, Sasha, Glenn, Maggie and Enid. It was Carol who pointed out where she, and Juri went, when things had calmed down.

Mila holds up the bottle for him. He takes it.

“Ya’ fought well, back there.” Daryl unscrews the lid. “Like goddamn’ Rambo.” He says and hopes it will make her smile.

“Yeah, I had to let off some steam.” Mila says in a husky, ‘half a bottle of vodka’-voice. “It was a bit much… all of it.”

“Ya’ okay?” Softly, yet steady, Daryl turns her face towards his, with his hand on her chin. “Ey, Jersey-”

The big blue eyes, not even slightly hazy from the vast amount of alcohol Mila’s devoured herself in, looks back at him. They’re gleaming like a sky full of stars, like she has been crying recently. He hasn’t seen her like this before, something between sad and almost afraid of her own feelings, exhausted with the strong combination of emotions.

“I froze.” She manages to utter, raspy. “I- he could’ve died. Carl.” Mila sighs. “If I- I was scared. For the first time in-” her voice cracks. “Since I killed him.”

“Ey, Ya’ didn’t kill him. He’ll be alright.” Daryl says, in an attempt to cheer her up. “Carl’s a strong kid.”

“That’s not-” She pauses. “The flashbacks- It was like I was back at that motel in fucking, shitty Missouri. Killing Jim all over again. I- I panicked.”

Daryl’s astonished to see her like this; vulnerable, afraid even. She must’ve drowned her sorrows pretty good, while being on her own with the kid, after killing that guy. Jim.

His throat burns as he sweeps the last drops of the clear colored beverage in the bottle. Mila reaches for a new bottle, cracks it open and pours a mouthful sip onto her system, without making a face. She then hands him the bottle. Daryl, in the mood to unwind, takes it and drinks.

“Ya’ had to do what you had to do.” Daryl says husky, as soon as he has swallowed. “I- I killed my brother.” He lets the bottle rest on his leg. “Merle.”

The memory of Merle looking at him with that dead gaze, has haunted him ever since. Not everyday thank fuckin’ god for that, but sometimes he can see the face in his dreams. He wasn’t there, yet he moved around, his body moved around, tried to attack him. But it wasn’t Merle anymore. The sight of him made Daryl feel it all; grief, anxiety, anger, and boy it hurt. And he didn’t know how to handle it, except with unhealthy amounts of booze, like Mila.

“Sorry.” Mila says.

”Nobody liked him anyway.”

What a lousy fucking excuse.

”How so?” Mila asks.

“He was a jerk. An ass.” Daryl huffs. “Saved us back at the prison though, the last thing he did before- yeah.” Mila leans her head on his shoulder, intertwines her fingers with his, to the raspy tunes of another Dylan folk-song. ”He saved me-” Daryl continues, fixating his gaze on the dashboard. ”-more than once. Treated me like fuckin’ shit sometimes but- I owed him a lot. Guess he didn’t know better.”

Yeah, Merle always kept an eye on him, ever since when they were younger, in one way or another; well, except when he was sent away to juvenile prison. Despite being the teasing big brother he sometimes stepped up and helped him fend off their old man, beating him, doing things- They never talked about what they’d been through, not back then or later for that matter, instead they kept it to themselves. The secrets, the shame- everything oppressed to the point of no return, Daryl thought for a very long time, until he couldn’t carry it inside anymore. So he began to act out. Drink, fight and steal. Let off steam. What difference would it make? He was damaged. He only had Merle, who, despite the arguing and the fights, was the only person he relied on. Not that it was uncomplicated, hell no! Merle could be cruel, which made Daryl’s feelings against him ambivalent if anything. His brother was a huge reason why Daryl more than often found himself in fucked up situations and couldn’t establish contact with anyone, least of all women. Merle taunted him for it and Daryl went deeper into shame and insecurity, closing more and more, until he created an invisible, but armor thick shell where no one could reach him.

“Ya’ ever been with a chick, little brother?” Merle once laughed at him, badly sloshed, so the whole bar they hung out at heard it. “Ya’ boned any of ‘em ladies, huh? Or ‘ya a damn virgin, ya’ pussy?”

And he laughed even louder, followed by a bad attempt to apologize for his so called ‘joke’. Well, it wasn’t funny and the damage was already done. Daryl felt humiliated down to his core. No fuckin’ wonder he’d never tried to find himself a girlfriend. Not that he’d ever wanted to or tried. Who would want to have him? As far as he was concerned back then, he was trash. A nobody.

Daryl looks down at Mila, whose blue eyes are locked at the steering wheel. Well, until now, he thinks.

“I killed him.” Daryl continues, still focusing on the dashboard panel. “I killed Merle. He’d already turned and I killed him. We’ve all killed someone that just... felt more- worse.” He can’t find the right word. “Ya’ know ‘bout Beth?”

“Maggie told me.” Mila replies and nods slightly, while continuing to look at the steering wheel.

“She was my friend, and I couldn’t save her. Failed her, failed Maggie.” Daryl says and throws a glance out of the window. “Ya’ didn’t fail Carl. He’s alive.”

The tips of Mila’s fingers run gently up and down his arm. Her touch is the most tender he has ever felt. He felt it the same moment he took her hand the first time they met. The fact her touch didn’t make the hair on his body stand upright in discomfort as if he was a frightened deer, was proof enough Mila was special.

“Come on, gotta get ya’ to bed.” Daryl nods towards Juri. “Can’t sleep in the front seat of a goddamn pickup when there’s plenty of beds.”

Daryl gets out of the car and walks around to the passenger side, where he lifts the sleeping boy from the long seat, placing the blonde head carefully on his shoulder. Mila stumbles out of the car and shuts the door after her with a thud, holding on to her trusted rifle and the vodka bottle. She walks around the car, over to him.

“That... zhopa, the wolf-guy’s dead.” Mila says while caressing Juri’s limp leg. “Wish I’d killed him when I had the chance.” She lets out a dry chuckle and steers the big vodka bottle to her mouth. “That’d cheered me up. Is that fucked up?”

“Nah. Can’t blame ya’.” Daryl lets his hand find its way around her waist, placing itself towards the soft leather in her jacket, to steer her in the direction of the houses and to prevent her from tripping over some walker’s bodies. “Let’s go Jersey- Ain’t carrying both of ya’.”

“Don’t have to.” Mila says doughty and frowns a little. “ I’m not even half drunk.”

Talk about strong Russian genes, Daryl thinks to himself. And the stubbornness, is that part of the genes as well? He inhales the cool night air deeply into his lungs as they walk to the house. It’s calm, quiet and the air is different. Even though the threat isn’t eliminated, not by far, everything feels somewhat at ease for now. They have posted guards at the breached wall and will start to fix it first thing in the morning. Daryl hands the sleeping toddler over to Mila at the stairs to the porch, looking after her as she announces that she’ll be back as soon as she has tucked Juri in. He sits down at the stairs and leans up against the pole holding the roof up. When Mila returns, she has changed her t-shirt to one without blood and guts all over it. She sits down next to him and looks out over the empty street, sprinkled with bodies.

“Ya cold?”

Mila meets his gaze and shakes her head, making the long hair sway around her face.

“Got all I need here.” She nods at the bottle of vodka placed next to her boots, meaning that sooner or later she’ll be intoxicated to the point where she doesn't feel the cool breeze. “I’m Russian- used to much worse.”

Ain’t a good enough answer. Daryl gets up, walks into the calm and quiet house, and grabs the worn, but warm, Navajo poncho he’s managed to hold on to for quite a while now.

“Here-” Daryl says and places the warm garment over her shoulders. “-Ya’ ain’t that drunk yet, Jersey.”

Mila smiles a little at him as he sits down again, moves closer and wraps the poncho around her shoulders.

“Started to think you bailed before.” She says and meets his eyes through the dark, giving him a cheeky smile. “You took your time, Dixon.”

Daryl grunts a little, smiles faintly.

“Ya’ seemed to have everything under control.”

“I always do.” Mila leans against his arm and the amazing scent of her hair surrounds him, wraps him in a sense of security, drowns all other scents around them; sweat, blood. Daryl inhales her hair deep into his nose, it makes him all warm inside. It’s a complex composition of flowers; he can smell magnolia, he thinks, and something woody, like cedar or sandal. It’s a soulful mixture, it embodies her. He could recognize the scent of her from miles away, he’s sure of it. “But I’m glad you're back.” She sighs and cuddles up even closer against him, turns her head and looks up at him.

“Well, I ain’t going anywhere now.” Daryl says, almost in a whisper, leans his forehead down against Milas. “I promise.”

Her breath smells like a solid 40%, but it’s of no importance, he wants her anyway, more than anything. He clenches to the soft leather in the worn biker jacket she wears, not wanting to let go. From not wanting any human contact at all for decades it seems, it feels like he can’t be an inch away from her; she’s the final piece of the ship after a shipwreck. Daryl has to cling to it, or else he drowns.

”I can’t lose ya’-” he says quietly, knows that he’s more vulnerable than ever when he does so. ”I can’t-”

”You won’t.” Mila whispers softly. ”You won’t.”

”I won’t let anything happen to ya’.” Daryl mumbles, his voice hoarse from vodka. He needs to be closer to her, in the haze of the initiated jagg he feels an urge to pour his heart out to her, this magnificent woman. ”I care for ya’, so much-” He met her eyes. ”I like this. Just, being with you. And the kid.”

Vodka really does wonders, Daryl thinks to himself as he draws in the young woman by his side. Or is he this goddamn’ talkative and honest because he’s so sure, more sure than he’s ever been about something in his life, that this is what he wants, more than anything?

As if she could read his mind, answering all of his questions, Mila says:

“You remember what I said about choice in life? How I said that I made some stupid ones?” She takes his hand, hugs it. “This is not one of them. I want you too, Daryl.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #daryl x oc #twd fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fandom #the walking dead fanficition #jersey on my mind #twd daryl #twd fanfic

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aion-rsa · 4 years

Text

The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments

https://ift.tt/32fYYqM

The Sopranos’ genius was in telling structured stories with well-established themes, while still aping life in all its dirty, disorganised, contradictory, open-ended glory. The show wasn’t a drama, or a comedy, or a tragedy, or a farce. It was all of them. It was none of them. It was life.

Creator David Chase and his crack team of writers never lost sight of the essential truth that no matter how cruel, harrowing or horrid life becomes, it’s always laced through with laughs: oftentimes the laughter and the horror rise in tandem.

Here, then, are some of The Sopranos’ funniest moments, most of them enmeshed with the macabre, the monstrous and the melancholy.

South of the Border

S1, E9 ‘Boca’

In the machismo-drenched world of the mafia, even going down on your girlfriend is seen as a sign of sexual weakness, and quite possibly – in the non-PC words of Uncle Junior himself – ‘a sign that you’re a fanouk.’

Apparently, ‘they’ think ‘if you’ll suck p***y, you’ll suck anything.’

Whoever ‘they’ are.

News of Uncle Junior’s oral talents reaches Tony from a gossip chain, the final link in which is Carmella. Tony’s reaction, and the way in which he baits Uncle Junior with the intel on the golf course (culminating in Tony singing ‘South of the Border, down Mexico way’) is equal parts childish to hilarious – but funniest of all is how this schoolboy teasing serves as the pre-cursor to a Mafia war.

As Tony later tells Carmella: ‘Cunnilingus and psychiatry brought us to this.’

Guess Whose Back?

S1, E10 ‘A Hit is a Hit’

Christopher sets Adrianna up in a recording studio to help realise her dream of becoming a music mogul. Things don’t go well. Her new band – the woeful Visiting Day – is ready to walk after a long and soul-sapping session during which they’ve produced nothing of worth. Christopher wastes no time taking up the mantle of manager to convince them that the show must go on. It’s fair to say that being motivational doesn’t come naturally to Christopher. Or, rather, it does, it’s just that his methods of motivation are rather more violent than most. First, Christopher throws the ex-addict lead singer a bag of crystal meth and orders him to take it. When that doesn’t work, he takes the only reasonable course of action left open to him and smashes a guitar over the man’s back.

There’s No Place Like Home

S2,E4 ‘Commendatori’

Paulie is incredibly excited to be visiting the motherland, and arrives full of romantic notions about Italy. All of these are systematically stamped out, mostly by Paulie himself, of whom an Italian gangster remarks at dinner, after Paulie requests tomato ketchup for his spaghetti: ‘And you thought the Germans were classless pieces of shit.’

Paulie’s beatific little smile as he drinks in the squalor of New Jersey on the ride home from the airport is pitch perfect.

It’s the Jaaaccckkeett!

S2,E8 ‘Full Leather Jacket’

From the moment Richie Aprile is released from prison he’s on a collision course with Tony. In classic Sopranos’ style, though, the torch paper isn’t lit by Richie shacking up with Tony’s sister, or paralysing their mutual friend Beansie, but by the fall-out from a spurned jacket. Not just any jacket, though: ‘the’ jacket; the one Richie took off Rocco di Meo after an adolescent scrap.

‘Cocksucker had the toughest reputation in Essex County, but he never came back after I got through with him,’ Richie tells Tony, as he gifts him the infamous garment.

‘He later died of Alzheimer’s,’ adds Junior.

The look on Tony’s face as he tries to look grateful for ‘the jacket’ is almost as funny as the look Richie later wears in Carmella’s kitchen when he notices the sainted jacket hanging from the shoulders of the maid’s husband.

I Ain’t Afraid of No Ghost

S2, E9 ‘From Where to Eternity’

When Christopher briefly dies on the operating table after an assassination attempt, he returns from the brink of death with visions and dispatches from the afterlife. Paulie takes these reports to heart, divining in them a supernatural threat. Not only does Christopher tell Paulie that the souls of his many victims still follow him everywhere he goes, he also brings back an oblique warning: ‘Three o’clock’.

This cryptic curse has Paulie slamming bolt upright in his bed each night with a scream on his lips. First he visits Tony, who tries to lead Paulie back to sanity.

‘You eat steak?’ Tony asks.

‘What the fuck you talkin’ about?’

‘If you were in India, you would go to hell for that.’

‘I’m not in India,’ says Paulie. ‘What do I give a fuck?’

‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. None of this shit means a goddamn thing.’

Unconvinced, Paulie visits a spiritualist psychic, who ‘confirms’ that Paulie is being stalked by ghosts. ‘That’s satanic black magic!’ rails a terrified Paulie, ‘Sick shit’, before hurling a chair at the ‘ghosts’ and screaming ‘Fuckin’ qu***s!’ at them. Finally, he visits his priest to tell him he’s cutting off his donations to the church on the grounds that he should’ve been protected from hauntings. I defy you not to chuckle at the baleful glare Paulie gives the Virgin Mary on his way out of the church.

A Very Un-woke Wake

S3, E2 ‘Proshai , Livushka’

Livia Soprano – Tony’s murderously manipulative mother – proved just as divisive in death as she was in life, her demise precipitating a wake that was as awkward and corrosive for the characters experiencing it as it was rich and funny for us schmucks at home.

Tony never wanted any of Janice’s ‘California Bullshit’ at the gathering he and Carmella hosted at their home (or ‘that house, up on that hill’, as Livia would have called it). Janice being Janice, though, vetoes her brother’s ruling. She asks each of the assembled guests to share a thought, a memory of their mother, which – given that Livia was a sharp-tongued, anti-social harridan – doesn’t produce heart-warming results. No wonder the unknown man descending the stairs in the background behind them all decides to about-turn and get the hell out of there.

‘She never minced words,’ says Hesch, trying his hardest to accentuate the positive, ‘Between… brain and mouth… there was no interlocutor.’

Movies

The Sopranos: saluting the greatest TV drama ever made

By Jamie Andrew

The Sopranos: Explaining the Final Scene

By Jamie Andrew

Christopher’s rambling, drug-fuelled, ad lib on the nature of existence, rebirth and doppelgangers is a treat, the sort of new-age snash David Brent might have conjured up while fully sober. The silence doesn’t last for long, though, not least because Carmella has spent the duration of the tense memorial knocking back booze like a cooze-hound on Spring Break, and is ready to unleash hell.

Merry Stressmas

S3, E10 ‘…To Save Us All from Satan’s Power’

In the absence of Big Pussy Bonpensiero – taken on a long boat-ride to oblivion – the amply proportioned Bobby Baccala is the natural choice to become the new Satriales’ Santa. Except he doesn’t want to do it. He’s too shy.

‘The fucking boss of this family told you you’re gonna be Santa Claus,’ Paulie tells Bobby menacingly. ‘You’re Santa Claus. So shut the fuck up about it!’

The surly and reluctant Bobby proves a lacklustre substitute, an observation that’s articulated perfectly by Paulie when he says, ‘Fuckin’ ho hum if you ask me.’

It’s not just Bobby’s mafia colleagues that like to drop the F-bomb at Xmas. Even a little boy, unimpressed by Bobby’s schtick, issues a heart-felt: ‘Fuck you, Santa.’

God bless us. Every one.

Two Assholes Lost in the Woods

S3, E11 ‘Pine Barrens’

The Pine Barrens was the episode that cleaved most closely to all-out comedy, pitting hot-headed anti-survivalists Christopher and Paulie against a runaway Russian they’d failed to kill. The darkly comic shit-show unfolded in the unforgiving, snow-filled foliage of the eponymous Pine Barrens, where Tony and Bobby were eventually summoned to rescue the hapless pair.

It’s hard to pick a comedy highlight from this episode, as it’s chock-full of them, but highlights include Tony losing it at the sight of Bobby Baccala’s hunting attire (if James Gandolfini’s laughter seems particularly genuine here, try googling some behind-the-scenes facts – you won’t be disappointed); Chris and Paulie noshing down on sauce sachets like they were a gourmet meal, and the following misunderstanding between Paulie, Chris and Tony thanks to poor mobile reception:

Tony: (garbled, on phone) It’s a bad connection, so I’m gonna talk fast. The guy you’re looking for is an ex-commando! He killed sixteen Chechen rebels single-handed.

Paulie: Get the fuck outta here.

Tony: Yeah, nice, huh? He was with the Interior Ministry. Guy’s some kind of Russian green beret. This guy cannot come back to tell this story. You understand?

[line breaks]

Paulie: (to Christopher) You’re not gonna believe this. He killed sixteen Czechoslovakians. The guy was an interior decorator.

Chris: His house looked like shit.

You Talkin’ To Me?

S4, E6 ‘Everybody Hurts’

Artie Bucco, Tony’s boyhood best pal, is a regular, hard-working chef. Even so, he’s frequently seduced by the luxurious criminal lifestyle he sees lapping around the fringes of his wonder-bread world. When a business deal to promote ‘the new French vodka’ goes awry and Artie finds himself $50k out of pocket to a swindling huckster he decides to channel his inner Mafioso and get his money back the Soprano way. Unfortunately, his inner Mafioso is no more ferocious than that possessed by any average member of the show’s audience – as much as proximity to Tony might convince us otherwise – and he gets the crap kicked out of him. Before that, though, his little Taxi Driver moment in the mirror, complete with mid-life crisis ear-ring and mobster posturing (‘Fucking shoes you’re wearing. What are they? Designer?’) is at once endearing, pathetic and very, very funny.

The mirror is no accident. He’s looking at us, looking at him, looking at ourselves.

Telephone Tough Guy

S4, E9 ‘Whoever Did This’

While Ralph Cifaretto is probably most widely remembered as a sort-of gangster Loki – a mirth-wracked trickster with a penchant for mayhem – most of his misdeeds were so loathsome that even the wider mafia disapproved: cheating on his grieving partner, beating a young pregnant girl to death, burning a horse alive (come on, of course that was him). Still, he did make us laugh, though, didn’t he?

No more so than when he pranked Paulie’s dopey-yet-adorable old mother in her nursing home (‘It’s a retirement community!’), announcing himself as Detective Mike Hunt, Beaver Falls, from the Pennsylvania police department. Not only did Ralph claim that Paulie had been caught pleasuring a cub scout in a public bathroom, but also that a small rodent had been discovered in Paulie’s rectal passage. ‘A gerbil, ma’am’.

Ralph laughed his head off.

Tony later removed it.

A Truth Injection

S4, E10 ‘The Strong, Silent Type’

Drug interventions are worthy and solemn rituals – they certainly aren’t supposed to be funny – but there’s something delicious about a room full of self-involved sociopaths with no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure assembling to pass judgement on Christopher essentially for having no impulse control and an insatiable appetite for pleasure. Christopher is at least self-aware enough to lobby this back in the faces of his supposed rescuers, pointing out that Silvio likes to sample his sex-workers; that Paulie’s hot-head almost dragged the Newark family into war with the Russian mob, and that Tony’s epicurean compulsions will probably kill him more quickly than Christopher’s drugs.

From the moment a bewildered Christopher emerges from his bedroom to find both families – blood and work – camped out in his living room, the laughs just keep coming, all the way through to the (inevitable) explosion of violence at the scene’s climax.

Christopher instantly recognises the host of the intervention, Dominic Paladino, as ‘the guy who broke into Stew Leonards that time and stole all those pork loins.’

‘Yes,’ replies a sheepish Dominic. ‘But… that’s not why I’m here today.’

Especial mirth-based mentions must go to Silvio and Paulie (the latter’s reaction to Christopher’s narcotic-related manhood problems is priceless), and their refusal to play along with the ‘care-frontation’.

‘When I came to open up one morning, there you were with your head half in the toilet. Your hair was in the toilet water. Disgusting,’ says Silvio, reading awkwardly from what is possibly the most unnecessary aide de memoire ever written.

Leave it to Paulie to lay the smackdown on this particular brand of ‘California bullshit’: ‘I don’t write nothing down,’ he says, ‘so I’ll keep this short and sweet. You’re weak. You’re out of control. And you’re becoming an embarrassment to yourself and everybody else.’

Drugs are bad. Mmmkay?

Dead Good Food

S5, E7 ‘In Camelot’

When Junior realises he can get respite from his house arrest through attending family funerals he starts to exaggerate and exploit ever more spurious links to get him out of the house for a few hours. While all around him are wracked with grief, his is the only face with a smile on it, enjoying the change of scenery, enjoying the food, wondering why everyone has to be so maudlin.

In a darkly funny scene he happily extols the virtues of the spread while attending the wake of a teenage boy. ‘Chicken’s nice and spicy, huh?’ he beams at a fellow mourner.

A Grave Error

S5, E9 ‘Unidentified Black Males’

When Tony agrees to pick up the tab for the headstone of a New York soldier who was slain, unbeknownst to him, by his own cousin, his men manage to add insult to injury.

We see the headstone. At the graveside. During the funeral service. And it says:

Peeps.

‘Peeps?’ spits Tony. ‘It’s a fuckin’ nickname! His family name is Pepperelli!’

Silvio hunkers down into full middle-management mode. ‘They’re gonna re-do it. Fuckin’ J.C. He’s dyslexic.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’ asks an incredulous Tony.

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You could fill a book with The Sopranos’ funniest moments – Paulie’s rant about shoelaces, Bobby B botching a publicity shooting, Silvio’s poker-table tantrum, Little Carmine’s malapropisms, to name but a handful – so by necessity we’ve had to leave a lot out. What are some of yours?

The post The Sopranos’ Funniest Moments appeared first on Den of Geek.

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rachelkaser · 3 years

Text

Stay Golden Sunday: A Little Romance

Dorothy and Blanche are surprised to learn Rose’s new boyfriend is a little person, but Rose is the one really struggling with it.

Picture It...

Sophia is packing for a trip, stuffing clam sauce into her suitcase. She’s supposed to visit her son Phil for her grandson’s college graduation, but doesn’t trust his family to feed her. Rose enters, dressed to the nines for a date, and offers to drive Sophia to the airport. Blanche and Dorothy want to know who her new squeeze is, and she says he’s a psychiatrist at her grief center named Jonathan Newman. She’s strangely evasive when the other Girls ask when they can meet him.

BLANCHE: Dorothy, I’ve just discovered a great new way to meet more men. SOPHIA: More men? You’re gonna need a turnstile in your bedroom.

Some time later, Rose is furious with Blanche, who invited Dr. Newman to dinner at their house without discussing it with Rose first. Blanche says Rose kept putting it off, which Rose denies before stomping out with a scowl. While setting the table on the lanai, Blanche tells Dorothy that how Dr. Newman analyzed her dreams and deemed them “sexual.” What a surprise. There’s a ring of the bell, and Blanche initially mistakes the person on the doorstep for one of the neighborhood kids.

The bell rings again, and Dorothy answers this time. Now the caller gets to introduce himself: Dr. Jonathan Newman. Dorothy’s initially disconcerted to see he’s a little person, but quickly composes herself. Blanche, however, thoroughly embarrasses herself by accusing Rose of hiring a little person to “teach her a lesson.” (Apparently not one in sensitivity.) Dorothy takes Blanche away to collect herself, and Blanche is determined to be a good hostess from then, but flubs it when offering Jonathan shrimp. Jonathan, for his part, says he looks forward to teasing Blanche.

DOROTHY: Why don’t we just start dinner? JONATHAN: Oh good, what are we having? DOROTHY: . . . short ribs.

Later that night, Jonathan entertains the Girls with anecdotes after dinner, and impresses them with his positive attitude. Blanche inadvertently makes another bad joke, and Jonathan teases her about it. He tells her not to be self-conscious in front of him, as he’s perfectly content with who he is. He goes into the kitchen with Rose to fix coffee, and Blanche and Dorothy express their approval.

Sophia unexpectedly returns home: Phil’s son failed, so there was no graduation to attend. Jonathan enters and the Girls introduce him. Sophia says, “I hope this doesn’t sound rude,” which leads to Blanche, Rose, and Dorothy preemptively cringing in horror. But she just says that she’s very tired, so won’t be up for socializing, and asks Jonathan to excuse her. Jonathan departs, asking Rose if they can have dinner the next night. Rose drops the bomb: She thinks Jonathan is going to propose marriage to her.

They ask how she feels about that, and Rose admits that she’s embarrassed about his height, and she’s not sure she can get past it. Blanche tells a story about being in a relationship with a man she was forbidden to date as a young lady in the South. Dorothy assumes Blanche’s date was Black, but no: He was from New Jersey. Rose, meanwhile, still doesn’t know what she’s going to do. She goes to her room, and the other Girls leave her alone. Rose falls asleep.

Cue the dream sequence. It’s Rose’s wedding day, and Blanche and Dorothy go to fetch her from her room. Rose is still not sure about whether she should marry Jonathan. Blanche and Dorothy profess they’ve never noticed Jonathan’s size, while Sophia enters in a priest’s outfit, as she’ll be performing the ceremony. Then someone else arrives (from Rose’s closet, apparently): Rose’s late father. Rose is surprised to see he’s a little person, and Daddy Lindstrom says this is because he’s making a point about love. He tells Rose to follow her heart, as no one can predict the future.

ROSE: Wherever we go, people stare at him. DREAM!BLANCHE: Maybe they’re staring at you, honey. ROSE: At me? DREAM!BLANCHE: Oh, only a good friend would tell you this, Rose, but that color you dye your hair? Honey, that hasn’t existed since they discontinued the Ford Falcon.

Blanche suddenly announces that there’s someone at the wedding who can: Psychic Jeane Dixon, making a cameo appearance. She proceeds to spout some predictions about the future that, as of 2021, are not likely to come true before being hustled offscreen. Jonathan enters, and says that he and Rose can face any problem together. Rose makes up her mind and agrees to marry him. The other Girls come in to wake her up, and she tells them she’s decided to keep seeing Jonathan.

The next night, Rose and Jonathan have dinner at a French restaurant, and Jonathan tells her they need to talk about a problem with their relationship. He says that, while he cares about her, he doesn’t think their relationship can go on without acceptance. Rose protests that she doesn’t care about his height. Jonathan, on the other hand, meant something else: He can’t see Rose anymore because she’s not Jewish. Rose flips out, shouting at Jonathan in view of the restaurant, until he cracks a joke that has them both laughing. She apologizes and says she’s going to miss Jonathan, and he’ll miss her too. A waiter then comes over and asks precisely the wrong question:

WAITER: How was the shrimp? ROSE: Unfortunately, I’ll never know. You see, he’s Jewish and we can’t see each other anymore.

“May I take your height-- HAT?”

Let it be known that, when it comes to episodes of the show that cover minority issues, LGBTQ topics, or people with disabilities, I will do my darnedest to find reviews or analyses of them from people who fall within those categories. For example, there’s a lot of material from the gay and lesbian fandom regarding the episodes that showcase gay and lesbian characters, and I’ll link to and quote their work in the respective recaps rather than attempt to insert my own opinions for the most part.

This is because I realize that, as a non-disabled, heterosexual, cisgender, white woman; I am not in a good position to review any of these issues. My voice on these topics counts for very little.

That being said, I scoured the internet looking for a review or analysis of this episode by a little person, and I couldn’t find one. If you know of any analyses made by anyone with better knowledge on the topic than I have, please send them to me in a DM and I will happily revise this recap.

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So yeah, this episode pretty much revolves around Dr. Jonathan Newman being a little person. It’s the sole source of conflict from Rose’s side in their relationship, and it was at the root of most of the jokes. To the episode’s credit, most of it is at the expense of Blanche and Rose, rather than Jonathan himself. If this were made in a perfect world, his height wouldn’t come into play at all, but the episode tries its hardest to mitigate any accusations of ill intent by making him such a lovely character.

Jonathan is surprisingly gracious and good-humored about the Girls’ less than sensitive remarks, teasing Blanche to help put her at ease. While Rose’s concerns about their relationship are portrayed seriously, the episode makes it very clear that she’s the one with the problem, and not Jonathan. I would have liked to have his religion foreshadowed a bit earlier but at least it adds a little depth to his character. Even Sophia, whose whole B-plot this week is basically just “Phil’s family is weird” is polite to him.

DOROTHY: Ma, why are you taking all this food to Phil’s? SOPHIA: Because the only time your brother’s wife goes into the kitchen, it’s to get a cold beer. DOROTHY: Ma, she has no time to cook. She works all day. SOPHIA: Welding. My son married a welder. Too bad she didn’t weld his zipper shut. They got ten kids they can’t afford.

In fact, he’s almost too good. It’s as though, even at the time, the writers wanted to counterbalance the reliance on his height in the jokes by making him one of the most perfect men ever. He’s interesting, funny, positive, well-educated (he mentions going to Harvard), and most importantly, he assuages everyone’s fears about making any comments about his height. It’s as if the writers are giving themselves permission to make the jokes by making the character around whom they are based as wonderful as possible.

That’s not to say the episode handles it subject matter in a completely inoffensive manner. The most tasteless joke of the episode, I think, is the “How was the shrimp?” line, but a close second is probably this one from Sophia, when she comes to check on Rose after her dream and sees Rose clutching her pillow:

SOPHIA: What’s going on? BLANCHE: Oh, Rose has decided to keep on seeing Jonathan. SOPHIA: Fine. *beat* We’re all adults here. Let the man out of the pillowcase. We don’t mind if he sleeps over.

You know what’s really weird? This is not the first time Rose has referenced dating a little person. Remember that pin I put up a few episodes ago? Let’s take it down and address Rose talking about Eddie. While Sophia is the only person to refer to Jonathan by an offensive slur, they use it liberally in this clip, so consider it a trigger warning:

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It’s beyond weird to me that they have this whole joke about Rose dating a little person that they play completely for laughs, only to take it seriously a few episodes later. That’s a very specific scenario to repeat -- especially since Rose says she didn’t reject Eddie because of his size at all, but because she couldn’t date anyone in show biz. So what changed, huh, Rose?

There is one thing about this episode that bugs me irrespective of Dr. Newman’s height: Rose thinks Jonathan is going to propose to her even though they aren’t yet seriously dating and (if her last line of the episode is any indication) haven’t even slept together. This is something that I find weird about these ladies’ relationships. Kate got married after only six months of dating, Blanche was prepared to marry Harry after only one week, and now Rose thinks her beau of three weeks with whom she’s only been on five dates wants to marry her.

I mean, were the 80s really that different? Did people really go to the altar so fast that this seems plausible to anyone? I’m genuinely asking because, for all I know, this was common at the time.

I love how weird the dream sequence is in this episode. It made sense, in the way that some dreams seem to follow some kind of recognizable sequence, but there are really weird parts too. The fact that Sophia and Mr. Lindstrom enter the room through Rose’s closet, Blanche and Dorothy speak in chirpy voices, and there’s a weird celebrity cameo. It definitely feels dreamlike to say at the end of the scene, “WTF was Jeane Dixon doing there?”

By the way, it’s too bad none of Dixon’s predictions will come true. It would have been very interesting to see Brooke Shields and Lady Diana in a Broadway musical comedy.

Episode rating: 🍰🍰🍰🍰 (four cheesecake slices out of five)

Favorite part of the episode:

You really can’t beat Blanche’s awkwardness.

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#golden girls #sophia petrillo #rose nylund #dorothy zbornak #blanche devereaux #stay golden #picture it #stay golden sunday #s01e13

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arthurjdrake · 4 years

Photo

TIMING: Simultaneously with the finale chatzy. LOCATION: Arthur’s House PARTIES: Arthur & @humanmoodring SUMMARY: Nadia and Arthur finally have a heart to heart about the ghost that continues to haunt her memories and discuss the healing possibility that help from others might lend with ZERO interruptions.

TW: Vomit, Descriptions of injury & Blood

With Nadia coming over for a meal and general catch-up Arthur had taken the time to speak to Elena (as best as he could converse with the ghost) about staying upstairs if possible. She hadn’t seemed too happy if the message on his fridge was anything to go by, but judging by the lack of interference he had to his cooking he figured he’d convinced her well enough for the time being. The food was just in the oven - chicken parmigiana wrapped with parma ham, smothered in a homemade tomato sauce and mozzarella with a side of jersey salad and creamy mashed potatoes. He’d also gotten out a bottle of red to share, keenly aware of the fact they had also talked about discussing her mysterious history. Life had taught him one thing, and that was such talks were often helped along with the fortification of a good drink. He was just grabbing the plates out of the cupboard when the doorbell rang, hurrying through the house he pulled the door open with a smile. “Hey there, come in, come in” he ushered stepping back “not too tricky to find me I hope?”

The first thing Nadia noticed when she pulled up to Arthur’s house was that it was really fucking nice. Not in, like, an ostentatious way, but still impressive. She let out a low whistle as she got out of her truck and brushed off the front of her sweater a bit nervously, the material soft and comforting and nice even if the weather was getting pretty warm. Sweaters always seemed like an extra layer of protection to Nadia, and she felt like she needed it. Not because she thought Arthur was going to judge her harshly; she didn’t think that at all. But she’d never had this conversation in person. Not really. However, she wanted to tell Arthur in person. After everything he’d done for her, he deserved it. More than, really. In person was a bit more vulnerable, though, forcing her to deal with emotions, her own emotions, when writing allowed her to kind of distance herself from that. Still, she needed to do this. She smiled at Arthur as he let her in. “Not tricky at all. Nice house, by the way.” She looked around at the open space, relaxing a bit. It suited him, warm and inviting just as he’d been for as long as she’d known him. She shot him a look of concern. “How are you feeling, by the way? All healed up?”

Arthur could understand the use of clothes to help present the appearance and persona you wanted the world to believe and see you for. People, regardless of how good or non-judgemental they claimed to be, all formed first impressions by sight even if it was subconscious. Unlike the more formal appearance he presented at work, typically opting for suits and far more formal attire here in the space of his his home Arthur’s attire was by far more casual. A white tri-blend tee layered under a black and white flannel check shirt with the sleeves folded up above the elbow left intricately monochrome inked (and typically covered) arms free to play host. “Thanks,” he grinned warmly, “not bad isn’t it? Here, take your shoes off… I’ve got food on.” Though the moment of concern softened his grin to a smile, naturally inclined to settle other people’s concerns with words or general physical affection he reached out touching her elbow briefly though the heat of his skin always came as a shock to most people considering his body temperature averaged around 120°F. “All fixed and in working order, promise. Come on, wine and food that I hope you won’t judge too harshly considering your mum’s standards, yeah?”

It was nice to hang out with Arthur in a more laid back setting. Not that working stopped him and Nadia from teasing each other, but there was still always the added factor of them making sure to spend time researching. But the relaxing atmosphere was helping her considerably. It was cool to see Arthur’s tattoos, to see him as a young man and not just a wise, immortal being. This could almost be considered normal, if he wasn’t actually a wise, immortal being and she wasn’t here to tell him about her life. They were just two colleagues, two friends, eating dinner and catching up after a series of hectic weeks. “It’s fantastic, Arthur. And it suits you, too.” She unlaced her boots and sat them neatly near the front door before following him to the kitchen. Arthur’s touch was warm, hot, really, but she didn’t mind. She never felt warm anymore, hadn’t much since she woke up, so the heat was nice. “I’m glad you’re doing better.” Nadia followed him to the kitchen, where the food he’d prepared already smelled wonderful and, she had no doubt, would give her ma a run for her money. “Dude, I’m sure it’s gonna be fantastic. Especially if those cheesecakes were any indication.”

There were certain boundaries that had to be maintained at work, but it was nice to just step back and relax. “A part of me wonders if it’s too big… But in comparison to where I was it’s so much better,” Arthur explained as he wandered through to the kitchen while Nadia unlaced her boots. “It’s not really surprising, I patch up fast even from the worst of states,” there was mild humour in his tone even if the topic wasn’t the most cheery. By the time she joined him he was already pouring a couple of glasses of wine out, setting them on the counter as he went to plate up the salad. “Maybe, can’t say I’ve ever had to compete with someone’s mother when it comes to cooking though.” He grabbed a tea towel, folding it over and pulled open the oven to grab the baking tray out “where did you grow up? What was your life like before… All this supernatural shit? Can’t say I’ve ever asked.” After all, tonight was about getting to know one another.

It was a lot of space, probably too much for Nadia, but that didn’t make it any less homey. Touches of Arthur were all throughout the place as she looked around, eventually wandering to the kitchen. Even though she trusted his words, she looked him over closely. She couldn’t see any noticeable signs of damage. She gave a nod, pleased that he was better. “Those tears really do work wonders, huh?” She took a glass of wine and watched as he dealt with the food, wondering if she should help. “I mean, you stand a fighting chance. It’s been years since I’ve eaten my mom’s cooking.” God, could she even remember what it tasted like? “Do you need any help?” She could probably help him get plates and utensils if he showed her where everything was. As for her past… “I mean, the here and now’s always been more vital, dude.” She felt awkward; after months of giving the bear minimum, she was now having to figure out how to share about her life again. Like she’d ever done it before. Even back before White Crest, before the possession, she’d been shit at this kind of thing. “Uh, I’m from Phoenix, Arizona.” She smiled a bit. “Sometimes it’s kind of funny that I work for an actual phoenix. Can’t really lose my roots, I guess. But, uh, my dad’s Cuban. My mom’s Italian-American, from Chicago. How the fuck they ended up in the fucking desert of all places is anyone’s guess, but…” That was very little about her, about her life. “I mean,” she laughed drily, “my life kind of sucked before I woke up here. I was a lonely kid, a lonely teenager, only one real friend in college. Then, she left, and I went a little wild for awhile and,” and she got possessed, but the words were thick in her mouth. She took a drink. “Yeah. But what about you? What’s this life been like?”

“Bring you back from the brink of death more or less, last I heard they’re one of the rarest commodities on the black market… Not easy to get your hands on them. Phoenixes are rare to come upon and even harder to pick out of a crowd.” Arthur didn’t mind, it wasn’t the most complex meal but it tasted good and that was what mattered. “I think I’m alright here, could you grab the knives and forks out that draw there? Second one down,” he pointed out a drawer not far from where she was. “True, but it’s nice to know where people come from,” he countered lightly not in a prying sense but a simple sharing of opinion from someone that liked to get to know others. “Huh, go figure,” he laughed quietly at the irony but grew quiet as Nadia spoke.

Taking the plates over to the table nearby and setting them down he nodded along, but his expression grew sympathetic as she trailed off and he didn’t press for the time being. He settled in his chair, contemplating the answer “it’s been… I’ve been lucky, Mercy’s always tried her best whenever I’ve had to be rehomed… Always tried to put me with good people” it didn’t always work, but she tried and that’s what counted in his mind. “I was adopted by a couple from London, stayed there most of my life - school, the works. I was an only child which had its perks but I think I would’ve liked a sibling... My parents had… big expectations for me, and it was hard not to cave under the effort of trying to carry and live up to them.”

He took a sip of wine seeming to grow quieter, “I’m thankful for every opportunity they gave me but it was hard - coming to terms and trying to understand what I was without anyone there to help me understand…” he rested his chin on his hand “thought I was losing my mind when I started getting flashes of all these past lifetimes. Doctors couldn’t figure out what was going on. Did every scan under the sun… Eventually I knew better than to mention it… Until it eventually came back what I was.” It hadn’t been the easiest journey but he’d gotten there. “Anyway, how’s the food?”

“You need to keep safe, then.” Hearing that his tears were incredibly rare and valuable did nothing to help soothe Nadia. Worrying about Arthur getting attacked because of what he was added itself to her list of things to look out for when it came to her friends. She grabbed the silverware and helped him set the table before they sat down, a lot on her mind.

She smiled a bit as he mentioned how Mercy made sure he was well taken care of. “She’s a good friend, I can tell.” She remembered the older woman’s request, trying to think about how to best go about asking him what he wanted for his birthday. She’d figure out how to do that later. At the mention of him being an only child, she nodded. “I was an only kid, too. I was enough trouble on my own, and I was the kind of kid that wanted-- well, needed to be alone sometimes. Both my parents came from big families, though. I’m sure they wanted more kids, but I was a handful, I guess.”

She took a bite of food, savoring the flavor of it. She couldn’t remember her mother’s cooking. She couldn’t. It was a bit depressing to think about, but she figured that if Arthur’s cooking wasn’t just as good, it was a close fucking second. There were so many things from her life in Phoenix that she was beginning to realize that she was forgetting. The taste of her ma’s cooking, the type of beer her father drank, the color of Brooke’s eyes. She knew what it was like to get flashes of things that she didn’t understand, even if it was for different reasons that Arthur. “I think you’ve done a good job with getting from where you were to where you are now, for what it’s worth,” she told him. She took another bite of food. After she swallowed, she said, “It’s fucking fantastic.”

“I’m as safe as houses, barely anyone knows about me - besides you, Evelyn and Mercy… That’s it. And it’s how I’d prefer to keep it.” Arthur often got frustrated when people treated him with kid gloves because of his physicality, and it occasionally led to random acts of attempted heroics to try and prove them otherwise - which almost always ended up proving their point that he was extremely breakable. “Plus,” he added as an afterthought, “out of most supernaturals phoenixes are usually the ones that blend in the easiest… Except for the pinfeathers. But other than that we don’t have weird feeding habits, we don’t prey on people… We just… live.”

“She is. A pain in the ass at times, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything,” he admitted fondly. It was nice to be able to relate to someone in a way, “it’s weird, I get flashes of my first life - fragments really, but I had loads of siblings and I hated it… Yet now I hate not having them,” he supposed it just went to show what you took for granted at times. “Ah, yeah I was always too worried to act up as a kid… Felt like every moment had to count for something or else I’d somehow failed…” not the healthiest mentality for a child to have, but looking back he could recognise his faults. “But I get that - wanting to be alone, silence is good when you just need to recharge but sometimes you need people to balance that…”

He ate a few mouthfuls, a comfortable silence settling over the room between the clinks of cutlery and occasional sip of wine. Nadia’s remark broke the silence and he gave her a smile, “you too… You’re a long way from home,” it was an idle remark, made in passing contemplation of the little information she’d given “ life isn’t easy, but we all make the best of what we have don’t we? It’s what we do with it that truly counts for anything.” His smile broadened at the compliment, “if that’s the verdict on the dinner no clue what you’ll say about dessert.”

“That’s good,” Nadia said, glad she’d been cautious when talking to people about Arthur. If anyone guessed anything about him, it was probably that the man might be a spellcaster of some kind. She really had thought he was, like, a wizard or something after the way he’d healed after their first meeting, with his more bookish tendencies, and, as he’d mentioned, his mostly human facade. “You blend in pretty well. I don’t think I’d have guessed what you were if you hadn’t told me. I mean, I knew a bit about phoenixes in mythology, but I don’t know if I’d have figured you out.”

She smiled at the way he fondly talked of Mercy, reminding her of the way the woman referred to him online. They cared about each other, and it was nice to see. Nice to be able to feel, though it was muted and muddled. “I mean, you two have known each other for forever. Literally.” What was it like to know someone for that long? She couldn’t imagine. She also couldn’t imagine siblings. “I think it was for the best that I grew up alone.” Though, who knew? Maybe she’d be better at the emotions thing. Or, possibly, she’d be worse. “I didn’t act up too much. I kept my grades up and was usually quiet, even though I listened to the wrong kinds of music. My father and I got frustrated with each other a lot. He was always mad, and I always wanted to know why. When I couldn’t figure it out, I gave him reasons.” She took a drink, feeling like she was talking too much. She was talking too much, and about the wrong things. This wasn’t why she’d come here.

Nadia was a long way from home. She was as far away from home as she could be while still being in the same country. She missed home sometimes so much that it ached. But she knew she couldn’t go back. The few people that had she’d known and loved didn’t feel the same about her. “We’re both a long way from home,” she said quietly. She raised her glass to him. “You’re right. We’ve just got to make the best of it. Personally, I’m glad to be here. In spite of how I got here.” She grinned. “If deserts better than dinner, you might be stuck with me. Sorry, but you’ve provided me with a job, good conversation, and stellar food. I’d be a fool to leave.”

“That’s how I’d prefer it to be, most people make the mistake… I’m happy to let them believe it.” If not for certain other traits it was vaguely passable and Arthur would happily stick to that story because it meant keeping him off people’s radar for what he truly was.

“Yeah, kind of crazy when you think about it. She’s barely ever missed a birthday or like-- anything. Even though I can’t even remember my original one now.” It was part of what kept them both sane and in touch with the world around them. “Though doesn’t mean she doesn’t drive me mad at times,” he huffed, but regardless the words were spoken fondly. “You think?” who could say what anyone would be, circumstances and situations played a role in affecting how a person turned out. It didn’t do to dwell for long, but it was a curious thing to contemplate occasionally. Hearing Nadia explain her dynamic with her father caused him to cock his head a little, “it’s hard. Parents are just trying their best to stop kids falling into the same traps they did… But often I find in trying to avoid them they often help steer a path directly towards them anyway. Sometimes you just need to know when to be upfront.”

“True…” he raised his own cup marginally, “to finding new homes” and new families. Though that was left unsaid. “Yeah? I’m still not sure I’m sold - like on one hand it’s great to be in a place with so many other supernaturals but the risk of death or serious maiming is a big damper on truly enjoying it. You know?” He finished up his plate, looking humoured by the remark “well, offer’s always there if you need a place to crash and there’s always food to spare in my kitchen.” Gathering the plates up he headed back to the kitchen, dropping them in the dishwasher before returning with a plate of coconut and passion fruit slices. “Come on,” he waved her over from the dining table towards the lounge and the vivarium situated to one side of it where his tortoises roamed. “Get comfy.” Then they could sit down and talk.

“It’s certainly a good way to protect yourself,” Nadia said, still thinking about what Arthur mentioned about his tears being valuable on supernatural black markets. She dreaded to think what would happen to her friend if someone captured him to use just to make a few dollars.

“Birthdays are pretty important,” she said with a grin. “Speaking of birthdays, when’s yours?” She knew the answer thanks to Mercy, but it’d be best to hold off on that information. She still needed to figure out what he might possibly want, both for the valkyrie and for herself. She wanted to get him something nice, too. Even if she went with what she told Mercy and went the more homemade route. Time, effort, those were the kinds of gifts she’d appreciated when she actually gave a damn about that kind of thing. Birthdays hadn’t been a big deal for Nadia in years, though, even before the possession. These days, she’d appreciated being about to not think about it, drink a little by herself, and then not sleep. It’d been an average day of a birthday, and that had been what she wanted. She appreciated Arthur’s approach to talking about parents. It gave her a good out. “Yeah, everybody says they want better for their kids. Sometimes they just, like, go about it the wrong way, I guess.”

That was the kind of toast she could get behind. She took a drink and laughed, thinking about all the shit she’d been through during the last few months. “Oh, White Crest is hell. Like, probably literally? I was getting sent giant pallets of salt by a company run by demons. But I’ve felt more comfortable here than I have anywhere else, even back home. I have a job that I’ve always wanted and more friends than I’ve ever had in my life.” She grinned as they moved to the sitting area. “I might not crash on your couch, but don’t tempt me to come raid your fridge, Arthur.” She got situated, looking around for the tortoises she’d heard so much about. She was putting off the inevitable, really.

“It’s worked this long, though so far as the hunters I’ve met in town… Most don’t really seem all that good at their jobs, which… isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” Arthur remarked thoughtfully. “But yeah, it’s worked so far so… I’ll keep on that track.”

“Mine? Depends, the original - I can’t remember but apparently it was sometime in winter but in this lifetime it’s around the twentieth of June… That’s the day I’ve celebrated though it might be out by a little bit.” Considering there was a period between him coming back and Mercy finding a family to place him with but more or less that was the way it had always been. It worked well enough so no point trying to fix what wasn’t broken. “How about you?” It’d be useful to know for himself, so he could try to arrange something for Nadia when hers did come around. It seemed like the right and good thing to do after all.

“It’s been referred to as a hellmouth in most of the texts I’ve read soooo… take that one how you will” he huffed, this truly was one of the most weird and interesting places he’d ever lived in his life. “By demons? You didn’t sign any contracts right?” He shifted as he settled on the sofa, folding a leg up comfortably. “You’re welcome to it, always spare food. I’ve got four spare rooms going upstairs as well if you ever do feel the need especially to escape those uh, screams…” But that was beside the point, he took a bite of the dessert square looking over at her. “So… You don’t like ghosts?” it was a gentle prod to hopefully lay the path for the true conversation this night was meant to be about.

Snorting a bit, Nadia thought about the hunters that she personally knew. Alain and Kaden were both good guys, even if she didn’t believe in the same things as them. She couldn’t imagine them hunting Arthur down just to sell his tears on the black market. But, then again, she didn’t really know them while they were hunting. Better safe than sorry. “Yeah, that’s smart.”

She nodded. “Twentieth’s pretty soon,” she said with a smile. “You know I’m gonna get you something, right? You could help a gal out, you know, give her a hint, maybe?” She twirled the stem of her wine glass slowly. “I mean, it was back in February. The twenty-third. I didn’t really celebrate.” She shrugged. “Wasn’t that big of a deal.” All things considered, it had been an alright birthday. It had just been a regular Sunday, which is exactly what she’d wanted.

“Hellmouth is fuckng right,” Nadia muttered. “No, no contract. Someone signed me up for a subscription. It’s been, like, cancelled now, though.” She relaxed a little, taking another drink of her wine. “I’ll definitely keep it in mind. My apartment’s mostly scream free… Mostly.” She grimaced a bit, thinking about the essential oils subscription and what a bitch that was going to be. “On second thought, I might be over here, like, once a month. Just when she gets a package delivered.” She picked up a desert square of her own, but, with his question, she wasn’t feeling too hungry. Nadia gave a slight laugh. “Not really ghosts so much as one in particular. But they,” she paused, “scare me.” She ran a hand through her hair. “One of them kind of, like, ruined my life, so.”

“It is,” Arthur agreed to the date being near, but really what did it matter? It was just another year and another birthday. “Honestly, I don’t have much I want. I’d be happy with anything you got me you know? The sentiment is more what matters… Really I’d be happier with like… people coming over, having a meal and just a nice ordinary night you know? Pizza and beers, maybe a barbecue - I haven’t had a good barbecue in ages.”

“Signed you up for a subscription? What are they? Fae? They love their deals, almost as much as spellcasters do” he groaned as he leaned back into the sofa pulling one leg up and tucking it comfortably under the other that still hung off the cushions. “Mostly? She hasn’t done anything recently has she?” he paused gauging Nadia’s reaction to his next question “I’m guessing you know about her… supernatural thing right?”

But talk turned to ghosts, and Arthur tried to be tactful in his line of conversation. Though there was no easy way to let a conversation like this come about. “Right… I got the impression… Do you… I know it’s hard for you,” he started sympathetically, “do you want to walk me through what happened?”

Well, that was absolutely no help to Nadia for Mercy, but it did solidify her thought that he’d probably enjoy something with thought and effort over something expensive. “You know, a barbecue doesn’t sound like a bad idea. I still have leftover fireworks from a thing,” she said. Which, she’d told Erin it’d be for a barbecue. This would certainly make it less of a lie.

She laughed a little bit. “She thought she was doing something nice. It’s the thought that counts. And, like, at least I can look back on it and laugh, now.” Of course, she wasn’t laughing any time Regan’s subscriptions came in and the screaming started, but still. “I mean, she can get a bit… loud sometimes,” she said, wincing a bit. “Yeah, I know about her thing. It’s the worst kept secret ever.” She couldn’t say what Regan’s thing was since she was still bound by Deirdre’s promise, but she figured, if Arthur was mentioning screaming, then he knew. Really, the fact that Arthur knew wasn’t even surprising. At the rate things were going, everyone was going to know about Regan before Regan even knew.

Nadia took a bite of her desert square. It was good, but it still stuck to her throat. She swallowed tightly. “Yeah, yeah, I can walk you-- I mean, there’s really not too much to tell.” She laughed breathlessly, humorlessly. “I was, like, a junior in college. Everything was shitty. We-- me, my parents, my single friend-- we thought I was depressed, which, I mean. But I was getting some bad blackouts, sometimes for days at a time. My friend, she-- I mean, she left. Whatever.” She took a long sip of wine. “It got worse, nothing was helping. I’d wake up and not know where I was, who I was, what I was doing.” She could see herself in a mirror, covered in blood. Whose blood? Whose? “Then, I don’t know. I woke up in White Crest in late December a few months ago,” she said quietly. “Some kids had helped me out. A human soul’s worth thirty thousand dollars, in case you were wondering.”

“A thing?” Arthur inquired curiously, though considering how often fireworks were used for things in America it wasn’t all that surprising of a thing to hear someone say. “Well, if you want to come along you’re more than welcome to.”

“I guess so, though salt seems like an interesting thing to be signed up for…” Useful for ghosts amongst other supernatural things he supposed but he could see how bulk orders could soon stack up to be infuriating. “It is, Kaden accidentally told me but I wasn’t planning on mentioning it to her considering how she gets whenever that sort of stuff comes up in conversation.” It wasn’t surprising how entrenched people could become when the foundations of their very reality of life seemed to be under threat. In a way, Arthur felt bad for her but equally it was important to recognise the danger her denial posed to those that were around her. “The issue is, the longer her denial goes on the more harm she poses to those around her - including you, which unfortunately doesn’t sit very well with me.”

As Nadia spoke, Arthur remained quiet occasionally taking a sip of wine but otherwise he left her to tell her tale not wishing to interrupt her already staccato rhythm. “Do you know anything about the ghost that possessed you?” from the fragments of an overall tale it was clear enough to him that was what had happened. He set his glass aside, sitting forwards and reaching for Nadia’s hand slowly. A quiet show of support and reminder that he would always stand in her corner no matter what. Though he knew in a town like White Crest it wasn’t easy to say she wasn’t at risk again? “Has anything else like that happened while you’ve been here?” he asked, rubbing his thumb in a small soothing arc over her hand.

“I ended up not using them in the way I thought,” Nadia said breezily, not bothering to explain what exactly her “thing” was. Probably best to not mention blowing up the mime restaurant only to end up with the town invaded by mimes for weeks. Especially when those mimes ended up landing him in the hospital.

“Yeah, you ask a neighbor to borrow some salt one time, and you’re stuck with a reputation.” Not an unjustifiable one, though. Nadia kept salt lines up around her house for months, even after the banishment had been put up. She laughed a bit, thinking about just how Arthur bringing up Regan’s banshee-ness would go in a conversation. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best. But she’s really not dangerous. Not intentionally. And as long as I can predict when something might upset her,” she flinched a bit, “which, okay, not the easiest, but she’d only really hurt me in person, and I can-- I’m a-- I feel people’s emotions-- empath, so if she starts getting upset or whatever I can kind of prepare for things.”

This time, when Nadia laughed, it was sharp and insincere. “She was a fucking criminal,and she made me a criminal, and she ruined my life for six fucking years.” She sagged a bit under Arthur’s touch, one knee pulled up to her chest and her head resting on it. She didn’t know why it was both relieving and exhausting to tell him this. Maybe it was because it was in person, and his comfort felt real, and having him be here and listen to her meant so much. She should tell him the truth, that she was scared about getting possessed again, that it’d happened more than once, that she knew her ghost hadn’t given up quite yet. Instead, she gave him a watery smile. “It’s been a bit touch and go for a while, but I should be in the clear, ghost wise, now. Just lingering shit, you know? I’m sure your ghost is great.”

“Well, I love fireworks and anything fire related so you’re welcome to bring them along if you want. We can annoy the neighbours with them.”

Arthur laughed at the sentiment, it was kind of funny to hear her say that out loud and the idea of these ridiculously cursed subscriptions was a little bit funny. “Who else got one? I’m curious to know what hellish gifts people were getting from this company.” Nadia did her best to dissuade his concerns, unfortunately, he was schooled enough to know that glass wasn’t the only thing a sound that loud could damage. “Do you know how sound breaks things?” it was a question of genuine curiosity but he explained anyway slipping easily into his more studious nature “it makes things vibrate. The pitch influences how fast those things vibrate and if it’s high and sustained enough things break because of that….” He paused, Nadia might have faith in Regan’s control but Arthur wasn’t quite so certain on the topic “the control is what concerns me… From the stuff I’ve seen people posting online about damage and stuff she doesn’t have it. And depending on what kind of decibels those screams are hitting… If someone’s stood too close they could be seriously injured and they could potentially die. There’s not much that can prepare you for death - and that’s me speaking from experience.” Perhaps it was a solemn subject to touch on, but he wanted to make sure Nadia was truly prepared for the potential consequences of continuing to associate with Regan. Perhaps it was unfair, Arthur knew it wasn’t her fault but Nadia’s well-being was of more paramount concern to him presently.

As she sagged, Arthur continued to hold her hand rubbing the calming pattern into her skin. “What is it you’re afraid people will judge you for?” she’d mentioned it online before they’d arranged this, but Arthur wanted to try and help her work through some of her concerns regarding the things that ahd happened to her - which in his opinion were far beyond her own control. But admitting that was hard and scary in itself. In the kitchen his phone buzzed, but he ignored it. He’d call whoever was phoning back later. He didn’t prompt her to look up from where she’d rested her head, curling into herself in a protective fashion he’d seen countless times across his lifetimes. “Is that what haunts you at night?” the question was softly spoken, “or is it the fear of what this ghost would do if they did come back?” It could very well be both, despite their similarities they were distinctly separate. One concerned the past, and one the future. Her watery smile earned a sympathetic look, and he shifted to wrap his arms around her pulling her in for a tight embrace of comforting warmth that radiated from him. “I get that, but there’s no need to be ashamed of being scared… Possession is… it’s a violation of your person. Your very rights. Being scared of having your control taken away is one of the most valid fears anyone could ever experience - and I’m sure this is something you already know, but it takes time to adjust to life after experiencing something like that…” He pulled back a fraction looking at her with a steady and intense look, “but-- I want you to know if you ever need me. I’m here and I’ll always have your back, no matter the time or how bad you think things are. I’ll always be in your corner. Hm?”

“You know, I don’t know if it was a subscription, but a woman in town was getting sent mayo and bones.” Nadia shivered just thinking about sticking her hands in that fucking mayo, the demon with the goat eyes’ voice in her head. “And you probably saw that Kaden was getting sent large baguettes. That was fun.” She sighed, knowing that what Arthur said about the vibrations was true. Still, she had faith that Regan would figure it out. “I know that her denial is… concerning. But she doesn’t want to hurt people, and I think that’s almost enough to, if not stop the denial, then to at least put her in the frame of mind to accept help. I’m hoping she’ll talk to someone.” She paused, thinking it over. Hanging out with Regan was high risk, high reward. High risk because it could kill her. High reward because she was Nadia’s best friend, and she was easy to spend time with. Besides. Nadia was beginning to enjoy taking risks. “I know she could kill me, but it’s not going to happen. One because that would be such a shitty thing to do to her. Two because I’m going to be careful, I promise. I don’t have a death wish. I’ve got six years to make up for.”

Six years-- almost seven, really-- that she’d never get back. Her relationship with her parents was gone. Even if she could somehow get all the charges against her dropped, it didn’t matter. There was a stain on her now, one that would never go away. She felt it like a ghost, saw it in the mirror every time she passed by. What was she afraid people would judge her for? She was scared they’d see her the way she did late at night when she could do nothing but think. “I’m afraid they won’t-- I’m afraid they’ll just see a criminal or worse. They’ll just see someone to be pitied.” One day, someone was going to look too close and see that something was missing. Maybe the only reason she saw it was because she knew who she was supposed to be before all of this. “I dream about what I did while-- or what I might’ve done. What I could've done.” Everyone died, usually, in her dreams, and she’s left alone all over again. Arthur’s arms around her was the last strike against her resolve. She gripped him tightly, tears in her eyes. “I don’t know who I am, these days,” she said roughly. “But thank you for trusting me and being in my corner.”

“Bones in mayo? Or both separately?” Arthur questioned in mild concern, “see the bones I wouldn’t mind so much… The mayo, eugh” he contorted his face and stuck his tongue out. Definitely not a fan of condiments. The mention of the baguettes made him laugh, “I saw that… Didn’t realise it was Regan’s doing - that’s even better,” he couldn’t help the laugh it was unfortunate but it was kind of funny as a bystander to watch the torment. Even he wasn’t above a good laugh occasionally especially considering the baguettes really didn’t seem like that bad of a thing to receive.

His mood grew a tad more serious “doesn’t want to, doesn't equate to won’t Nadia.” Ultimately, it wasn’t his job nor his position to lecture her or anyone else, but he would advise caution where he felt it was needed. Not that this wasn’t something she had no doubt considered, but he had to at least give himself the peace of mind of saying it out loud. Making sure she heard him and understood his concern for her well-being. “Fine… But it doesn’t mean I don’t think that this isn’t something she needs to come to terms with. Is there no one that can help her with it?”

“Which is understandable,” he said softly, “but sometimes pity, sympathy, compassion - whatever you want to call it from other people isn’t the worst thing in the world. Sometimes it does us a world of good to let someone else feel sorry, step in and help take care of you…” That wasn’t to say it was easy, “taking down those walls that you’ve built if only for a little while will probably help you find some peace and time to recharge.” He squeezed her hands affectionately, “being vulnerable takes a great deal of strength and mental fortitude… To be open to letting other people listen and help and the fact you’re here, that you’re talking about it is a step in the right direction.”

Arthur kept Nadia hugged tight for a long while, pressing her face to his shoulder as he rubbed his other hand over the curve of her spine. “You will. With time, I’m sure you will,” he assured her quietly holding on for a little while longer before he eventually pulled back his hands resting on her shoulders. “I’m proud of you Nadia.”

“Separately,” Nadia said. She pause. “I think? The bones and the mayo were equally bad because they were apparently human bones and had to be examined.” Honestly, after putting her hands in the shit, she planned to never even look at mayo ever again. Laughing along with him, she said, “It’s funny now, and I know she was just being nice, but damn. It was the fucking worse.”

She sighed. “I know. I know. But I trust her not to hurt me. Not intentionally, and I’d never blame her for an accident.” Nadia pinched the bridge between her nose. She didn’t want to keep talking about this. She appreciated Arthur’s words and the fact that he obviously cared for her. It was touching. Still, she was a big girl, even if she didn’t remember six years’ worth of life experiences. She knew how to be cautious, and she could make her own decisions, even if they were fucking stupid sometimes. “It is, and she will, eventually. She’ll get help. It’ll be alright. I believe that.”

Taking in his words was hard, even if Nadia knew they were true. Because she felt all of it—pity, sympathy, compassion— so vividly from other people, and she knew when they were sincere about it, but that didn’t change the way she was. Part of it was the way she was raised: distant parents that wanted to help her but didn’t know how when time after time nothing they did seemed to help. Part of it was also experience: everyone she’d let into her life before left, sometimes cruelly. Countless arguments and phone calls and conversations that led to heartbreak and disappointment weren’t worth it, in the end. She didn’t see her walls as walls; it was more like a suit of armor, and once someone found the flaws and worked their way in, rust was more likely to set in. At that point, armor’s less of a protection and more of a hindrance. She laughed a bit, even though she was crying. She hated the weakness, though she wouldn’t say so. “Being vulnerable sucks major ass, bird boss, but if this is a step in the right direction, then I’m willing to work on it.” Even if it led to more hurt in the end.

They stayed there for a bit, and Nadia allowed the rust to set in. One day, maybe she’d lay her armor down, wouldn’t need it. Maybe in White Crest was different than Phoenix in that way. She was finding comfort and warmth here that she’d never felt before, and that meant something, despite the shit show the place seemed to be. As Arthur leaned back, she wiped her eyes a bit. “Thank you, Arthur.”

As Nadia chose to insist again Arthur fought against the urge to roll his eyes. “Fine,” but it didn’t mean the worry didn’t linger after the fact. But he didn’t want to push too far into that conversation tonight. It wasn’t worth delving into.

Arthur knew his words probably weren’t new. But the lesson of building walls or plating armour plate on top of plate could keep the world and new experiences from ever coming into your life. They could keep you safe and warm but when you waded into waters too deep armour would only weigh you down until you ended up being swept away by the currents. Not to mention their capacity for keeping people at a distance and protecting yourself from hurt was perhaps one of the oldest things he’d seen people do but in the end they had always been left wanting and lonely. That wasn’t something he wanted to see happen to Nadia and if it meant working to keep her safe, to see her through to those better times then he’d happily put the graft in to help where he could. “I know and it might mean down the line you’re opening yourself up to hurt… But you’re opening yourself up to love as well and if there’s one thing I’ve learnt it’s that love is always worth the pain.”

“Ah, least I could do…” he smiled at her fondly, before moving to take his near empty wine-glass. “I think we’re in need for a refill.” With that he got up and headed back to the kitchen but not before ruffling her hair affectionately.

It was mid-pour in the kitchen that it happened. A heat throbbing from the scar on his left palm, the searing pressure as if some invisible force had taken him by the throat as though intent on collapsing it in on itself. He gagged, choking as he felt his air supply cut off, as if it had suddenly been sucked out of the room. The glass and bottle fell, seemingly in slow-motion but in reality it was mere seconds, the crimson swirl glistening preceding the ringing crash of his glass smashing into hundreds of shards on the stone floor. His hands grasp his throat as he staggered, falling as black spots swam across his vision. There was a brief moment of respite, before the pain caused his body to lurch and the cry of pain was stifled into a weak gurgle.

Arthur could never claim to know what it felt like to drown, he’d never been in water for as long as he’d existed. But the shock of icy brackish liquid was instantly debilitating. Strangely, he supposed it was the nearest thing he could imagine to being set on fire, though this was not the familiar warmth but a blistering heat that felt like every one of his cells was being set alight. He gasped for air, but seemingly swallowed only water. Over and over he gasped and gulped greedily, for any hint of oxygen yet the act only served to allow more and more deadly water to be inhaled and swallowed. Hold your breath! He tried fighting for as long as he could until every cell screamed let me breath; his mouth was forced ajar once more gasping again as the phantom water forced its way into his mouth, up his nose and into his bursting lungs.

Tears burned like vinegar as they ran down his cheeks. It hurts. He thought. Why does it hurt so much? Please, please make it stop. Please, I beg of you.

In his last conscious moments, he tried to open his eyes, to see something familiar, but all he saw was the inky darkness of eternal night and a name upon his lips. “Freyja.”

As Nadia sat waiting for Arthur to come back with their wine, she thought about the night’s events, how they went better than she could have expected. Maybe she needed to stop expecting people to hate her for all of this. No one, not a single person she’d talked about this with, blamed her for what happened. She knew, deep down, that she was the victim in the scenario, as much as she hated it. She’d been the one to be possessed, she’d had her life taken from her. She didn’t remember any of the things she’d done, didn’t know how truly awful they were. Still, there was a part of her that expected to be stronger. She had always thought that she could fight off whatever problems came her way. Metaphorically, of course. She wasn’t a big fighter, otherwise. Obviously, the fight had been taken out of her for six years.

She was startled out of her thoughts by the sounds of glass shattering. Nadia jumped up from the couch and rushed into the kitchen, not sure what to expect. Certainly not Arthur, on the ground, water gurgling from his mouth, the corners of them burning from it. “No no no nonono,” she cried out as she ran to him, sliding on her knees a bit as she got close. She wiped away the water from his mouth, the tears from his cheeks. His pain, his fear and confusion, all of it was loud and awful in her head. She couldn’t imagine how bad it must be for him since she knew she didn’t feel everything. As he called out for Freyja, for Mercy, she pulled him into her lap, trying to make him comfortable. “It’s okay, Arthur, it’s okay.”

Closing her eyes, she begged for it to be okay. Because, truthfully, she didn’t know. For several minutes, she did her best to calm him and herself down. Before he passed out, he was acting like he was drowning, but he didn’t keep showing the symptoms once he was asleep. All she could do was offer him comfort, trying to assure him that he was alright. She moved them away from the spilled wine and waited for him to wake up. “Please, please be okay.”

Arthur wasn’t sure how long he was out for, seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time seemed to crawl to a stop as the darkness clouded his vision and a fatal liquid spilled from his mouth; corrosive like acid turning his mouth into a frothing grey mess and cracked his lips until they blistered and bled. His body contorted before it grew still, eyes unseeing and for a moment there was nothing.

He returned to consciousness with a rasping gurgled gasp, flopping over onto his side as he hacked up inky brackish water streaked with blood and spittal. His mouth burned and blearily he could make out someone else in the room with him. But only one thought was on his mind. “Mo-” he tried to say, but the word was cut off by another hacking cough that splattered beads of blood over the floor leaning over on his hands that crunched into the shards of glass on the floor.

“I-- mobile now” he felt faint, as if the world were about to spin away from him again if he moved too fast. But the world hardly mattered if the hollow ache that radiated from the palm of his hand was anything to go by. The lack of familiar warmth and connection from the person invisibly tethered on the other end. He slipped, tripping and catching himself as he blindly searched on the counter for his phone with a trembling hand.

When his fingers latched on, the device was wrenched off the counter and Arthur sank once more to the ground his back pressed into the cabinets. Hands shaking as he saw the missed calls and set about playing the voicemail she’d left. Fresh tears tracked down his face, stabbing the redial button and holding the phone to his ear. “Pickup pickup pickup. Pleasepleaseplease,” there was a strange desperation in the words.

It went to voicemail.

“Fuck!” he spat, jabbing the button again and waiting. Again, and again, and again.

Eventually, on the seventh try Arthur let the dial go through lines of healed skin contrasting to the gruesome maw of his mouth from the connection to Mercy’s death. “Frey? Frey! FUCK Please pick up, pleasepleaseplease. I need you to pick up right now and tell me you’re okay. I felt– it can’t– You didn’t–” he thumped his hand on the ground, blind to the glinting shards that pricked his skin and bled fresh trails of crimson through his fingers. “PICK UP. DON’T YOU DARE! PICK UP RIGHT NOW!” Did it matter he was screaming into the receiver curling over it to make his voice heard wherever she’d gone? Would she hear him then? He pressed the phone harder to his ear, a sob that shook the very foundations of his person working its way up his throat, voice breaking when he spoke after the extended silence. “Please… We only just found each other. I can’t– I can’t lose you now. Please come back, come home. Just one more time… One more time. For me. We’ll make it work. It’ll be different. I promise this time it’ll be different. I’ll be different.” He exhaled, blinking past the tears “I never got to tell you I lo- No. I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you when you come back. Please come back…”

By the end of the call he was left staring in anguish at the photo ID on the call his breath short and sharp, shaking as he ended the call. Too fast. Too much. It was all too much. A trembling hand pressed to his mouth, trying to stifle the pain that settled in his chest as he shook his head against the overwhelming realisation of what had happened.

Yelping as Arthur started coughing and leaned over, Nadia sat back to give the man some space. The blood was concerning, and she didn’t have any time at all to process what was happening as he scrambled for his phone. Mercy, something was wrong with Mercy. She could tell before he made the call, before he started screaming into his phone. When he leaned against the cabinets, she moved closer to him, hoping to comfort him with her presence. She didn’t know what else to do. She really didn’t. So Nadia did what she could. She sat with him. His pain was like nothing she’d ever really felt before, but so was the love that was causing it. God, it was miserable. It felt so miserable, and she could barely process it.

When Arthur started breathing too fast, his words tapering out, she grabbed his hands. “Hey, no, hey!” She made him look away from his phone and towards her. “Hey. I don’t-- I don’t know what’s happening, okay? But it’s-- Mercy can’t die, right? Not easily. Right? So it’s--” Fuck, she didn’t know how to do this. “It’ll be-- She’s gotta be okay. She’s going to be okay.” Nadia really, really hoped so. Mercy, in the short time that she’d known the woman, was probably one of the toughest people out there, and the only thing that could kill her was having her head cut off. There was a brief moment of fear, the thought of Arthur choking because of some weird connection with Mercy that made it to where he couldn’t breathe, but he had seemed like he was drowning, not just suffering from no air.

The tables had turned, and Nadia found herself wrapping Arthur in a hug instead of the other way around. She couldn’t affect other people’s emotions; only feel them. But she tried to put as much comfort out as she could, hoping that somehow it would help. Hoping that, somehow, Mercy was okay. “It’ll be alright, Arthur. It will. I promise.”

#p: nadia #para #potw #ever leering eye #falling to pieces #// simultaneous thread to the last chatzy #// NOTHING BAD HAPPENS #AT ALL

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puckngrind · 5 years

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Skating Lessons part 2

Summary: You are the mother of a 4 year old that Josh has been skating with during his down time and you start a friendship of your own.

Warning: swearing (It’s Josh Anderson, do you expect anything less?).

Word count: 2793

Series Masterlist

Josh: Do you like Mexican food?

You: Is that even a question...

Josh: um...yeah...do you want to grab Mexican Friday?

You: Josh, I. WAS. JOKING. Yes, mexican would be great Friday. When should I meet you?

Josh: I’ll pick you up. 7pm.

You: I have to drop Mason off at my parents so I’ll meet you.

Josh: I’ll pick you up at 6:30 and we can drop him off.

You: um...ok...your car big enough for a booster seat?

Josh sends a snap of himself in his Audi SUV to verify the fact that nothing you said was going to stop him from picking you up and taking Mason to your parents...your parents. Your parents were going to meet Josh. Yeah, if you hadn’t already had a mild meltdown about the fact that you were sorta going on a date with a professional hockey player the fact that said hockey player would meet your parents on the same night may just set you over the edge. You sent a quick text to your mom so she could tame your dad before Friday.

The thing was you didn’t really think of Josh as being a professional athlete while he was skating around with Mason or texting you. He was sweet, kind, funny, and didn’t seem to mind that you had major (yet adorable) baggage.

Friday came and you could NOT focus at work. It may have been the sheer amount of texts you received from both Josh and your dad. Your dad wanted to know so many things you could not answer because you just did not know. Did Josh like you? You assumed but then you doubted it because of who he was and who you were. While you got ready Mason sat on top of your counter in the bathroom. Asking lots of questions which helped your nerves settle. Then the doorbell rang. Mason ran towards the door. Josh must have assumed Mason was going to answer because he was bent down as the door swung home. “ANDY!” Mason yelled and threw up his fist for a fist bump. Watching your son’s tiny hand giving Josh’s giant fist a bump made your body tingle.

“You ready to hang out with your grandparents dude?” Josh swooped down and lifted Mason up. Mason shook his head so excited. “Is it okay if I take your mom out to dinner?” Mason looks over at you and back at Josh then back at you.

“Yeah, that’s cool. I get to spend the night with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandpa said we will make s’mores too.” Mason smiles at Josh who puts him down and looks are you with a devilish look you’ve never seen.

“Slumber parties are the best! I’m jealous dude!” Josh answers. “So what do we need to load up?” He’s now looking you up and down and maintaining your eye contact.

“Oh, um...Just us, Mason’s booster seat is right there, and...” You look around for Mason’s teddy bear which you cannot seem to locate.

“Bauer my favorite bear!” Mason chimes in and runs towards his room to return with his very loved bear that has a Seth Jones onesie on. Josh eyes the #3 and then back to you.

“Looks like you need some 77 gear huh?” Josh smirks and then laughs a little.

You load up in his car and head to your parents. As you turn down their street your stomach flips like you are in high school taking your boyfriend to meet your parents. BUT, Josh is not your boyfriend and you are far from high school. Josh beats you to the back seat and grabs Mason out of the back. When the door shuts Josh has Mason’s hand and leads you by the small of your back which makes your face flame red by the time you reach the front door. Your mom had clearly been waiting for you and her face said it all without her saying anything.

“Sooooooo, you must be Josh?” Your Mom says as she swings open the storm door ignoring your red face and where Josh’s hand is placed. Josh drops his hand that is behind you and reaches out to shake your mom’s hand.

“Yes, ma’am. Nice to meet you.” Josh notices your dad walking towards the door as you walk in and before you can say anything Josh jumps in. “Mr. (y/l/n), Nice to meet you. I’m Josh Anderson. (y/n) and Mason have told me all about you.”

Your dad was on his best behavior and didn’t question Josh within an of his life. You stood there as Josh seemed to easily talk to your parents and manages to juggle Mason’s hyped energy without skipping a beat in the adult conversation. You stood in awe of this man and how in the world was he standing here in your world was beyond you.

You kissed Mason goodbye and gave quick hugs and pecks to your parents before heading out the door. Josh opened the car door for you and you slid in. The car ride to the restaurant was easy. Josh looking over at you every time he was at a stop light and his elbow almost touching yours which sent electric shocks through your body. When you go to get out of the car, Josh practically jogged over to you with a look like he was upset. You wrote it off and headed towards the door. His hand is back on your lower back as he lead you through the door and to the hostess. She leads you towards a booth tucked into the corner and you could swear she gave Josh a wink as she turned around.

“So, do you get noticed a lot around town?” You didn’t mean to start the conversation off like that but you were sure the young girl recognized Josh.

“Yeah, sometimes. Not as much when I’m by myself but when the boys are in a group we usually get approached.” He runs his hand through his hair and it lands on the back of his neck which he starts to rub. You get caught up in ocean of his eyes that you don’t realize the server had come up. “(y/n), what do you want to drink?” Josh snaps you out of your daze. You order what he ordered and went back to your conversation.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean that to come out how it did. I just meant, like, um...” the words could not form into a sentence. Josh laughs at you. “You are making me nervous right now.” You honesty caught him off guard and you could tell. Your bottom lip slips between your teeth as you look up at him.

“Why (y/n)? You are the wittiest, kindest, warmest person I know and not to mention the way you are with Mason is seriously the cutest thing under the sun. You are sarcastic and make me laugh so hard and our conversation is so easy. So please tell me what about this makes you nervous? You are fine the times we’ve been at the rink or texting?” Josh motions around then places his hand centimeters from yours. The electric feeling radiates through you again. You meet his eyes and find your words.

“Josh, you are famous. Like famous famous around here especially. People know you. Girls throw themselves at you. Kids look up to you. And I’m Mason’s mom. Average Columbus gir-”

“You are NOT average!” Josh abruptly stops your self doubt thoughts that were spewing out of your mouth with no filter. “And yes, I get noticed, and yes I’m ‘famous’ but I’m just a guy from Burlington who just happens to play hockey. You, you are a rockstar. How you do what you do and look the way you look and keep me on my toes in the short time we’ve known each other is beyond me. You are amazing which is why I asked you out on this date. You caught my attention before I even met you. I had to know you. And I’m still shocked you agreed to have dinner with me.” Josh stops, grabs your hand and his cheeks turn pink.

“Josh, like this is a date-date? Like you are into me?” Is all that can come out of your mouth.

“Yessss. What did you think it was (y/n)?” Josh gives you that smirk that melts you into a puddle. You keep thinking about all the things Josh just told you.

“Wait, what do you mean even before you met me?” Your mind went back to when Josh came up the ramp at the rink and your realized he had said he saw you two and came out early. “You said at the rink..but...how...when?” Josh looked like he just got caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar.

“m’kay, so yeah. You caught that huh?” Josh’s pink cheeks are now beat red. He looks at you and starts into his explanation. “The first day when you and Mase were at the rink I was up in the offices talking about my next community outing. There is a glass wall and I caught a glimpse of Mason first and how fast the little dude was. Then....” Josh clears his throat and looks down breaking eye contact with you, “then I saw him skate up to you. You kissed him on the top of his helmet and he skated off again. I knew I needed to meet you. (y/n), I’ve never felt like I had to meet someone like there is a magnetic force driving me to you.” Josh has looked back up at you. Sheepishly he continues, “I hope that doesn’t scare you off. I really hope I didn’t just fuck whatever this is up.”

“You didn’t.” You practically whisper as the man sitting in front of you leans in to the table like he felt the weight of this information was lifted off his back. “Would you want to go back to my house and watch a movie? You can watch me eat ice cream?” You found your voice and your nerve. This was just the boy that you had hour text conversations with almost every night. The one you chirped while he was skating with you son. The one you actually missed on the 2 small road trips he went on since meeting but wouldn’t dare tell him that.

“Hell yeah! That sounds perfect.” Josh grabs your hand and leads you out of the restaurant.

When you get out of Josh’s car at your house you realize that he’s not following you. You look back to see him waist deep in the back of car. “Um, Josh, what are you doing?” You just stayed where you were as Josh stayed in his trunk for another moment.

“I was just grabbing my sweats from my hockey bag and I had something for you.” Josh quickly makes up the space between his car and your door where you were still standing. He follows you in and hands you a sweatshirt. “So I bought this for you the other day and kept forgetting to bring it into the rink.” He hands you a navy hoodie. It has the 3rd jersey symbol on the front. The same one on the flag hanging in Mason’s room.

“Oh, Josh. Thanks. I’ll be sure to add it to the rotation.” You place it on the counter as walk further into your home.

“Oh good. So, where can I change? This isn’t exactly the best movie watching outfit?” He motions to his current outfit. The tight buttoned down shirt that looks like if he sneezed buttons would start popping off and skinny jeans that didn’t leave much to the imagination. You hadn’t taken Josh all in and really had only seen him in gear or sweats. His legs were huge and muscular. And not to mention his ass was so perfect you tried not to stare at it multiple times already this evening. You showed Josh your guest bathroom and you grabbed your new sweatshirt and headed to your room to change too. You decided to throw on leggings and the sweatshirt he just gave you. As you slipped it on and caught the back of the sweatshirt. You flipped around and looked in the mirror. 77 with ANDERSON running down your spine. You had to laugh. Of course he wouldn’t just give you a Blue Jacket sweatshirt. You guessed that he had a jersey or something for Mason too.

“Soooo....” You laughed as you came back out to see Josh sitting on your couch with your remote in hand. He looked up and smirked at you. He didn’t say anything but just swirled his finger around. And you complied.

“Yes! If you are going to use my seats you better represent me well!” Josh laughs deeply and pats couch. You retreated to the kitchen instead and came back with wine and Halo ice cream for you. “Is that coffee I smell?” His eyebrow moved up while grabbing the wine out of your hand. You sat with your feet under you and slightly leaning towards Josh.

“I’m making iced coffee. And I’m using your seats? This is news.” You take a mouth full of ice cream and you slip back into the ease that you have had with Josh since following on top of him that first time on the ice.

“I mean...yeah...I figured you might as well take Mase and your parents if you want. You don’t have to go to every game. My parents and siblings don’t come often so my tickets just kind of go to waste unless I give them to one of the other guys...” He trails off in thought then comes back. “Do you feel like we’ve known each other longer than the few weeks?” Josh places his hand on your knee and you turn to look at him.

“We we talk about games later but yes, Josh, I feel like you and I are easy.” He leans in further and grabs your spoon to swipe some ice cream from your carton. “HEY! Is this on your ‘approved diet’?” You start laughing so hard that you almost drop the ice cream. “It’s healthy ice cream..I’m good.” He leans in for a second spoonful and you swat at his hand.

“Mine!” You almost yell at him. And you see his eyes darken with a mischievous look and you know you started something.

“Oh really?” He cocks his head to the side and tries to grab the ice cream out of your hand. You dodge his advances and then his eyes shift to the kitchen and he’s almost sprinting to your fridge. You practically jump off the couch and are at his heels.

“Hey! It’s expensive and MINE!!!” You yell as he pulls open your freezer looking for more Halo ice cream. Your foot hits the stainless steel and slams it shut. Josh turns to you and feel the electricity in the air. Something you’ve never quiet felt before and with someone you’ve really just met. Josh closes the small distance between the two of you and grabs your hip. His look has softened slightly but his cheeks are flushed and his bottom lip is tucked in his teeth. He leans in to crowd your space even more and you don’t back down. You just keep staring at his eyes lost in the words you two are not saying.

“Do I have permission to kiss you?” Josh asks while placing his other hand on your jawline and moving his thumb up and back. You don’t even get the word yes out fully when he crashes into your lips. Soft but powerful. He’s gentle with a dominance that makes your knees weak. You place your hands on his chest as you break for air. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do it? I’m pretty sure Seth is tired of me talking about wanting to kiss you. I just didn’t know if you felt what I felt and it seemed silly to feel what I feel so quickly. I kind of freaked out and spilled all the beans to Seth one night on the road.”

So many things were running through your head. The slight buzz of from the wine and all the things Josh had told you this evening. The feelings you had that you pushed away and the ones that you let bubble up telling yourself you weren’t good enough. This man made everything seem right in the world.

“Josh, we feel the same way but we need to talk about some things before we just fall into whatever this is...” You trail off and lead him to the couch.

#josh anderson #josh anderson imagine #my andy man 77 #skating lessons fic

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justkimberley · 4 years

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HSMTMTS Thoughts Episode 7

Episode 1 Episode 2 Episode 3 Episode 4 Episode 5 Episode 6

This one is also kinda long (~2200 words)

Nini and Ricky doing a fantastic job harmonizing in Start of Something New

the dance routine around them is absolutely crazy and all over the place

So it seems that Seb is just their resident piano player (side note, who ended up getting Kelsey??)

Big Red with the flashlight trying so hard to keep it on the disco ball

EJ interrupting because of the bell. Does anyone really love Thanksgiving that much??

Also I always forget that American Thanksgiving is like a month later than Canadian Thanksgiving and I was hella confused for a second.

Ricky is so surprised that Nini is complimenting him

Ashlyn as Robotics Team captain! (side note Big Red gives her an impressed look after he overhears that she’s the captain)

Also: debate team, baking club, high priestess of the Renaissance Faire

We love a multifaceted lady

Miss Jenn/Mr. Mazzarra trying to have a ‘my horse is bigger than your horse’ banter except neither of them have the horses they claim to have

“With whoever could possibly love you,” lol ok Miss Jenn went for the head

“Late night party” - party starts at 8 that’s adorable

“Small group or…” “PARTY AT ASHLYN’S HOUSE!”

It’s really interesting learning about Nini’s Lola (? I think that’s how it’s spelled, which is what I believe Filipino people call their grandmother’s), and her story

I’m just really proud of Ricky’s Dad. Like he was in such a bad place 2-3 episodes ago and now he’s taking care of himself and Ricky (even if it isn’t a grandiose Thanksgiving) he’s trying and I think he’s doing great

“We roll hard” I just really love this line

“I suppose if you’re lonely, you could always just… randomly text my drama teacher,” “Too soon… RIck,” “... yeah okay”

That was pretty funny. Also, it seems like Ricky’s okay with his dad dating?

Ricky’s mom waiting for him to call

I don’t know how I feel about this to be honest. I feel like maybe she should have tried to call him first and then if he didn’t answer or want to talk to her, that she should wait for him to make the next move then.

EJ’s truth arc is very funny to me

Big Red and Ashlyn

“I promise not to steal your phone if you promise not to throw a basketball at my face,” “No, the only thing I’d ever throw at your face is a brighter spotlight cause, I like the way you sing

Oof they’re so cute, we love little crushes

Also this might be an unpopular opinion but y’all need to calm down about the whole ‘Ashlyn and Big Red are GAY and they only THINK theyy like each other’ thing. #1 It was never confirmed for them to be gay. #2 You can still have wlw and mlm head-cannons for them! Bi, Pan, and other multiple gender attraction oriented people exist, even if you forget about us sometimes.

They are a cute little pairing of people who are always looking out and taking care of other people. It’s okay for them to do things for themselves.

Ricky debating calling his mom, it took a lot of courage and then Todd picks up.

Hangs up immediately, it almost looked like he was going to have a panic attack. That would be so hard, such an extreme shift

I guess the reason he was more okay with his Dad dating was that his Dad was open and honest with him about it. Calling your Mom only to find out that she has a boyfriend that a. She never told you about b. He knows about you and c. is trusted enough to be left alone with her phone while she showers? Is a lot, and probably means that she started dating him before the split was official.

Ricky going to call Nini and then deciding against it. Why doesn’t he feel like he can talk to Big Red about this kind of stuff? Why does he always go to Nini first?

Gina shows up, those are good looking cupcakes

She made him a hat!

She looks so hesitant before she gives it to him!

Gina’s like ‘look dude, I know something’s wrong, spill the beans’

Ignore it and push through - I understand where she’s coming from but you really shouldn’t ignore your problems, it usually just makes them worse

“Do what makes you happy,” “... Give me that hat,”

Adorable, also do what makes you happy is good advice so we’re a little all over the map here

“That’s too big,” “I’ll grow into it,” (adorable)

Miss Jenn and Mr. Mazzarra’s whole interaction is hilarious.

Don’t burn down my shop! - holy shit, foreshadowing buddies

Ashlyn is so cute! She’s so happy when people compliment her

“I highly recommend not telling someone you love them for the first time on instagram” - yup! That’s what I said in the first one of these I did.

Carlos - “The party may begin!” - I totally thought he said “The party made me gay,” the first time I watched it so uhh yeah

Big Red is lactose intolerant

Carlos’ board game is amazing

“High School Musical the Choosical,” - fantastic name

Everyone is so accepting

Ashlyn and Big Red choosing to be on the same team

“South Side Knights -” “It’s the West High Nights,” “the West High Knights”

Ej is like a compulsive truther now. And it’s kind of hilarious

His face when he says “She laughed!” is hilarious and kind of adorable

“I gotta go join the party, and admit some terrible things, you ladies, catch up!” - I wish we got to see what he was admitting to, I find this whole thing quite funny

I’m glad that Emily and Nini got some reconciliation, I know Nini felt guilty even though it wasn’t her fault

That is not a good cockney accent

Why did Ricky enter alone when him and Gina walked together?

And he left her to open the door on her own with all those cupcakes?

“Buddies,” “We,”

Ricky and Gina both laughing about YouTube, cuties

Look, feelings are feelings and you can’t help what you feel, but pushing someone away and insisting to remain only friends means that you shouldn’t be upset when he makes a new friend

Mr. Mazzara and Miss Jenn

The plug socket is in the frame, more foreshadowing

“He won’t.. Not… fall” this show loves it’s double negatives huh? I don’t not love you, he won’t not fall etc.

“Ok but the center of gravity is off,” YES to different kinds of intelligence being helpful in fields other than the main one people associate them with

Carlos thinking people are going to keep judging him and the theater people being as accepting as possible

EJ is a gleek

What I’ve Been Looking For to the rhythm of Get Your Head in the Game is hard! (Catch me on the piano later trying to figure it out lol)

It just turns into a terrible rap

EJ - “That was terrible,” Seb - “I’m so happy”

EJ vs. Ricky - “without laughing… or killing each other,”

This is a good parallel to the basketball scene, once again they get kind of aggressive, but this time they also joke around and no one gets hurt

Also I would love to see them become friends, I mean they both need to grow a little before that happens, but I have hopes

They missed the ‘neeee howww’ part of it, I really wanted to hear them do the high voices

EJ’s little “mehh” that sounds like a duck kills me everytime

Gina and Nini awkwarddd

“I do have high hopes for a junior year at East High” oof babey :(

“It must be nice sometimes though, right?” - nini does not understand

This actually gives us an insight as to why they don’t understand each other. Nini would love nothing more than to start a new life with no drama and Gina would love nothing more than to have a life that lasts longer than a couple months before being restarted.

Gina/Nini apology very exciting, hopefully they can actually become friends

“It’s all good,” from Nini seemed disingenuous, I don’t know if it’s because of the Wonderstudy thing or the Ricky thing.

The sleepover thing I was so worried that it would be a mean spirited thing but I’m so glad it wasn’t

Nini sits on Ricky’s lap when she goes back to the game room and I don’t know if it’s intentional or not but it’s kind of like she’s trying to lay her claim back on Ricky.

Gina looks so happy when a. Carlos calls her in and b. the happy dance about the sleepover! (why’d they have to ruin the happiness??)

Mr. Mazarra returning the favour

“It’s beautiful,” “Math often is,” dudde I feel you I fucking love math

“I cannot stress to you enough how uncomfortable that would make me feel,”

“You know what we should do?” “Break off eye contact sometime soon?”

I’m dying

“It’s about a robot!” this is… pretty adorable. She just wants to make a genuine connection with him

Also are they going to do a romance route with these two? Because I can see them setting it up but also imagine if they just become like… best friends? I feel like they’d be unstoppable.

Musical Choosical Handbook of Rulesicals

“I thought you had never actually played this with people-” “Honey not today of all days,”

Carlos and Seb are the only couple with no bad drama and I’m living for it (please let them just stay happy)

Oops! I knew that jersey question… also it’s definitely the answer Big Red would now because he’s only watched the movie with no words (at his allergists office)

“And do people usually talk like that?” “No they do not.” - gold

EJ the compulsive cheater and also compulsive truther makes a comeback (I seriously find this so funny I don’t know why)

“I love to pop and lock and jam and break,” oh GIna

She’s so happy about winning

Not realistic, you know that the second she called her mom at least someone would be like “pass the weed,” (you know because friends are awesome and also terrible)

“Can you take me off speaker”

Some people are like ‘oh no is she in trouble?’

I kind of hate that it looks like Nini looks sort of happy about Gina’s mom asking her to take her off speaker - I really don’t want Nini to turn into a catty person.

Ricky is concerned

Why did her mom tell her this right now? She should have waited until the next morning, like that wouldn’t have hurt anyone and it would have let them form stronger bonds. And Gina would have had her first sleepover and also they might form strong enough bonds to try and stay in contact with her

Ricky is worried for her, he’s like, ‘You made me feel better, so I’ll go make you feel better’

Nini’s looking upset that Ricky’s being emotionally aware for once? Like dude, he’s grown up a lot since BEFORE summer break? That’s like six months ago I think at this point?

Ricky just wants to help Gina feel better because she made him feel better

She doesn’t understand that they can stay friends even if she leaves and I just :(

“Please don’t do that” he’s so overwhelmed

“My mom moved out two weeks ago and she’s already got a new boyfriend, sound familiar?” Oooh low blow Ricky bud.

“Really don’t need advice from a .. buddy right now,”

Ok but then who does Ricky want advice from? I’m so confused. This boy needs to get a better support system and learn how to use it. Romantic relationships should not be your only outlet for your problems.

Red and Ashlyn

“I hope Gina’s gonna be okay,” - Big Red is so sweet!

They’re so cute

“Hey Big Red? Don’t forget your dip,” - oh she was so going to ask him out and then lost the nerve

Write something for yourself.

It’s a hard thing to do, dude. It’s also hard to let yourself feel so vulnerable, even if it’s only you that’s going to hear it

Gina packing, I feel so sad for her, she’s finally made some good friends and now she has to leave again. She kept the badge! :(

EJ losing followers and being cancelled, at least we know why now

It seems like a lot of EJ’s self worth comes from how others think of him. So losing followers is probably a pretty big hit. I wonder if he’ll keep going with his whole truth thing when it has these consequences or if he’ll just go back to what he was doing before. I hope that he has a positive arc but, will it go downhill from here? I hope not.

Ricky about to apologise to Nini (why did he erase it, he probably should have sent that) - side note: their conversation before was them asking each other if they were going to the party

It’s interesting that Nini had pictures of EJ and Ricky up still

Gina’s crying face is making me cry

“Hey mom, it’s me, I miss you so much,” tears

Nini hanging up pictures of her grandma and the musical. She’s really trying to move forward from boys huh?

Is nini going to apply to the theater school??

Electrical fire???????? WHy??

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #episode 7 #kimberleysthoughts #mypost #kimberleyreacts #feel free to come yell into the void with me about this show #the void is always open #(the void is the name of my askbox lol)

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