#you get Matty too its a 2 for 1 deal

[dandunn]

kaz 94?

94 - unadvised

(art by bromantically/beanies-doodles)

"What?" Kazuya said, turning his head to the dragon at his side. The stifling heat of evening was starting to make him feel like a large shellfish, being gently steamed in a pan with white white and onions. He could barely concentrate on what his boyfriend was saying.

"I said that this is a stupid idea," Matty said, his muscular arms crossed over his chest. "You don't have to impress me, I already love you." 

Kazuya snickered and grinned, showing all of his teeth. Matty loved his smile. 

"Can't your aunt make us some kind of ice magic to keep us cool?" Matty said, waving the leaf-shaped fin on his tail in his face. He had been doing it so much that his tail was on the verge of sprain. 

Even for cold blooded dragons, the heat in London that summer was unbearable. Staying in the tiny one-bed flat with its dinky fan and no air conditioning was out of the question, leaving the pair of dragons wandering the London streets at night, desperate for some way to cool down. 

“Auntie Iris works all day making magic for her job, I’m not gonna show up and bother her at this hour.” Kazuya grumbled.

“I think she might prefer being bothered over us both getting a breaking and entering charge.”

It was a very good point, but Kazuya’s mind was already racing ahead, single track mind with one goal: get out of the heat.

"What's one more? My brain is melting," Kazuya moaned, the crest on the top of his head extended out as far as it would stretch in a desperate attempt to cool down, "can't think, let's just go." 

A pair of deep red eyes set in a scaled black and crimson face rolled at him. Matty looked like a dragon who had crawled out of a fantasy story, the ones where evil gold-hoarding dragons destroyed villages and tried to roast little halfling people with hairy feet. 

Until you got to know him, the first thing Kazuya had seen him do was attempt to pull off a skateboard trick and almost de-bollock himself on a railing. 

You might have called it love at first sight.

Matty was a total idiot, which made him a perfect match for Kazuya, because he was also an idiot. Together they coasted along in the kind of serenity that only complete brainlessness can achieve.

They were moving through a tight alleyway, towards the back entrance of a  large ice skating rink.

They snuck past a night guard, and Matty pressed himself against Kazuya, using his chameleonic scales to blend them both into the side of the building. 

Another guard passed by, one that Kazuya didn't see coming. Matty beamed as the guard passed, allowing them to sneak into the building through a degraded old back door. 

The ice rink was deserted, smoothed out and scratch-free, ready for the next day of hundreds of people to loop and whirl around on its surface. 

The air inside was deliciously chilled and Kazuya's scales sang in relief. He was so excited to feel the cold ice of the rink on his body that he broke into a sprint, vaulting the barrier. 

Matty burst into loud crackles as Kazuya's feet went out from underneath him. 

"Hey shut up!" Kazuya cried, tears springing in his eyes as he continued to slide on the ice, his clawed feet either side of his head. "You wouldn't be laughing if I'd cracked my skull open!" 

"It would take a lot more than that to crack your fat head open." Matty called back, holding his stomach as if he were afraid his guts were about to burst out. He grabbed the sides of the rink as he stepped out onto the ice, talons slipping and sliding until he bore down on the ice with his claws. 

"See, it's easy if you don't rush." Matty made his way over to Kazuya, using his claws like snow shoes and taking wide, looping steps. He was doing pretty well until Kazuya grabbed his ankle and pulled him down. A surprised yell and a thump later and Matty was lying perpendicular next to him. 

"Oh look, you fell." Kazuya said flatly. Once he had unhooked his feet from around his ears he sighed. The ice felt damn good against his back. 

"Huh, would you look at that?" Matty replied. He too groaned a sigh as he rubbed his scales against the ice, making scraping sounds as his many spikes and spines perforated the surface. "I hope that wasn't part of the 'you trying to impress me' thing."

"What would you say if I said it was?" 

"I'd say of course you impressed me babe, well done."

"Fuck you."

They lay there, nuzzling each other affectionately before deciding to do a few loops around the ice. They managed to get in a few complete circuits before the police came, tipped off by the silent alarm on the door they had snuck in through. 

"Hope it was worth it." The cop said as he slipped into the front seat, after handcuffing them both and dumping them in the back seat. 

Kazuya and Matty snickered, covered in ice and still feeling the delightful residual coolness from their time on the rink. 

"Hey mate, we don't have any taxi fare, could you drop us off on the corner? We'll walk back home, it's fine." 

"Shut up!" the cop snapped. 

#ask a cowboy #my writing #my ocs: Kaz #you get Matty too its a 2 for 1 deal #idiot dragon boyfriends #again art is not mine I had it commissioned #I havent drawn Matty yet I probably should

[youunravelme]

nothing happened in the way i wanted part 2

author's note: okay so here's part 2! sorry for making you wait, i like the anticipation lololol

summary: a year has passed and you are no closer to understanding why matt ended things and you have every plan of avoiding that thought until he comes back in town for the offseason, then suddenly he's everywhere.

pairing: matthew tkachuk x reader

warnings: ANGST, friends to lovers to exes to lovers, mention of sexual assault, attempted sexual assault, drinking, depression, panic attacks, let me know if i missed something! (these include the trigger warnings from part 1)

before

a piece of plastic should not be that big of a deal.

but it is when there are two pink lines staring back at you.

weren’t you and matt careful? he always wore condoms, you were on birth control, you two were so careful all the time—

wait.

shit.

except for a few weeks ago.

you were wearing a red bikini at a pool party and matt had tugged you into the guest bathroom. he didn’t have any condoms and you assured him it was fine.

but maybe it wasn’t fine.

because there were two fucking pink lines staring back at you. and the worst part? matt wouldn’t be home for another two hours or so.

you were hyperventilating, surely. that’s why you felt like you couldn’t breathe?

oh god.

you were going to have to figure out how to raise a child while matt was on the road. oh god, what if he didn’t want the baby? what if you didn’t want the baby? what if he didn’t want the baby or you?

you were pacing back and forth in your living room when matt came home, arms full of bags from his workout. they immediately dropped when he saw the look on your face.

“what’s wrong?” he asked. “what happened? did someone die?”

you shook your head and burst into more tears. it was a mere second before you were wrapped up in his arms, one of his hands stroked your hair while the other stayed firmly put around your waist.

“baby, you’re scaring me.” at the sound of the pet name, you sobbed even harder. baby. there was a baby.

“i’m sorry, matty, i’m sorry,” you managed to get out between cries.

“what’re you sorry for, huh? you haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”

your hands were shaking as you pulled back from him, opening your palm to show the piece of plastic in your hand.

“what—” but matt seemed to have lost his voice at the sight of the pink lines staring back at him. “oh,” was the only thing he found fit to say.

“i’m sorry, matty. i thought it would be fine, but i went to the dollar store because i didn’t have any money and this was the only test available and—”

matt tugged you back into his chest. “it’s okay. we’ll figure it out.”

“we’re too young!” you wailed. “barely 20.”

“it’s one test, we’ll take another and if it’s still positive, we’ll go to the doctor,” he murmured against your hair. “wait,” he started. “where did you say you got the test?”

you pulled back, confused as to why his voice took a sudden turn from concern to something you couldn’t quite place. “dollar store, why?”

matt laughed. he threw his head back and laughed. “baby,” he started. “you chose a cheap test, it could be a false positive.”

you blinked. “is that how that works? i didn’t think—”

“let’s get another test, and we’ll take it, together.”

matt drove you both to the pharmacy, his hand on your thigh the entire ride. he went in alone, grabbed a box of clear blue and a bag of sour patch kids before he came back out. you almost burst into tears at the sight. as you ripped into the bag, matt’s hand found its way back to your thigh, his thumb rubbing soothing patterns into your pants leg.

the sour patch kids had done the job of calming your nerves for the moments leading up to retaking a pregnancy test. matt held your hand while the two of you waited for the timer to go off.

“whatever the result is, i’m with you,” he mumbled against the side of your head. and when the timer went off, matt was the one to check it, you were too overwrought with nerves. he didn’t even check the test, wanting you to see the result first.

negative.

a sigh escaped your mouth. your shoulders sagged as tears came to your eyes. relief wasn't a strong enough word to describe how you were feeling in that moment. matt pressed a kiss against your temple and wrapped you in his arms.

“one day,” he said. “just not today.”

after

maybe you were a bit of a coward, waiting for tuesday to come around before you texted matt a good time to meet. you waited until the last two minutes of your lunch break before you sent him a message. the second you heard the whoosh sound, you put your phone on do not disturb and shoved it in your bag so you could forget about it.

frankie popped his head into the studio while you were hunched over a canvas, carefully scraping away the back side of it to clean.

“you busy?” he asked.

you looked up before glancing down at the giant canvas in front of you. “i can take a small break, my back is killing me. do you need me to clean up? how long do you need me?”

frankie shrugged. “not long, so you don’t have to put anything away. i just wanted to talk to you about your future.”

your stomach dropped. “is this a segue into firing me?”

“you’re so dramatic,” frankie chuckled. “no, you’re not being fired. i’m more so trying to get you in a place where you can be compensated fairly one day.”

you blinked. “are you not compensating me fairly right now?”

frankie rolled his eyes. “you have a lot of talent, and unfortunately, i can’t pay you any more until you get a graduate degree in art conservation.”

confused, you nodded. “i know,” you said. “i started here for experience to use on grad school applications.”

“and have you applied anywhere yet?”

you opened your mouth and then promptly shut it again. no, no you had not.

frankie sighed and placed his hands on his hips. “look, you’re talented, i’ve said that plenty of times already and i want you to be successful, whether that’s as a conservator or an independent freelance painter. what i don’t want is you staying in st. louis forever in this job waiting around for something to happen.”

waiting for something to happen.

waiting.

what exactly were you waiting for?

frankie continued. “i’ve emailed you some of the best conservation programs in the states if that’s a route you wanna go. i honestly think you could do conservation or freelance painting, you’d be great at either, but that’s a choice only you can make. if you want to go to grad school, i will gladly write as many letters of recommendations as you’d need, i’d even help you by asking clients for some if that’s what you want, but the ball is in your court.”

for a moment, you were floored, truly astounded that someone would go through those lengths to help you figure out your life. for now, all you could manage to say was a “thank you.”

“anytime,” frankie replied.

he left the studio room shortly thereafter so you could continue the mindless scraping once more.

when the work day was finally done, your hand was sore from the constant repetitive motions and your back ached from hunching over. but at least the scraping was done.

you grabbed your bag and car keys and headed out the front door. the aux was the first thing you reached for after locking yourself in the car. it wasn’t until you searched your bag to grab your phone that you remembered the text you sent matt earlier that day, the reason why your phone was on do not disturb.

you:

what does your week look like?

matt had responded two minutes after your initial text.

matty:

i’m free tonight, or any other time you’re free.

you rolled your eyes but couldn't stop the smile on your face.

you:

i just got off work, let me go home and change and we can find a place to meet.

you barely managed to get the music flowing through the aux when your phone buzzed with a text.

matty:

you can always stop by the house? mom, dad, and taryn would love to see you. we could go on a walk around the neighborhood...

your stomach churned at the thought, it felt a little too close, too familiar. but there were very few places in that city that wouldn’t spark some sort of memory for you. you grew up there, you grew up there with matt. there were seldom spaces that weren’t deeply intertwined in your co written story with him.

you:

that’s fine.

neither of your parents were home when you got there, which was probably for the best, it meant you wouldn’t get asked where you were going or why you agreed to talk to matt after all this time.

you made the drive to his parents’ house. it felt as familiar as putting on the old t-shirt you’d stolen from your mom before you left for college. you didn’t need the gps, even after the time had passed.

you parked in the same spot you always did when you finally got a car to drive to matthew’s. it wasn’t like that spot on the street was used very often, not when you were dating at least. matt hated making you drive, especially when his car was newer and better and by all of his standards, safer than yours.

by the time you made it onto the front porch, taryn was opening the front door and smiling so wide, her eyes were squinting.

“you’re here!” she shrieked. it was only a matter of seconds before you were wrapped in her arms. “what brings you here?”

your mouth opened to respond, but you were promptly cut off.

“she’s with me.”

matt appeared over taryn’s shoulder looking every bit the man you fell in love with all those years ago.

taryn pulled back from the hug, her eyes wide. “what? she’s with—”

“not like that,” you smiled gently. “just came to talk, figure some things out.”

“are you staying for dinner?”

you looked at matt, unsure if that was something he’d even want. “it’s up to you, i won't force you to stay,” he said.

you shrugged. “we’ll play it by ear.”

matt nodded and moved past taryn. “you good for a walk?” he asked, eyes never once leaving your face. and you couldn’t help but stare back, getting lost in the pools of blue that once were your whole world. you felt yourself nod right before following him down the stairs and off the porch.

neither of you said anything until you were both sure his family couldn’t see you from their house anymore.

“thank you,” you said. “i should’ve said that the other night.”

matt shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. “you don't need to thank me for that. i’m sorry that happened.”

“you couldn’t have done anything to prevent it.”

“i could’ve told the bartender to stop giving him drinks when i saw how drunk you were.”

your head whipped to the side to look at him, but matt wouldn’t return your stare. his jaw was tightly clenched. “how’d you even know i was there?”

mat shrugged and kicked a rock out of the way. “i always notice you, even when i don’t mean to.”

there were no words coming to your mind, nothing you could say could add to the conversation. so you nodded and looked ahead of you.

“i wanted to apologize—”

“matt—”

“for everything.”

you stopped walking altogether. “don’t,” you said. “don’t say that. don’t apologize.”

matt’s brows pulled together, the corners of his lips turned down. “why?”

“because i don’t want it.” words you thought you’d never say.

did you mean them? it felt like you did. for months, you’d waited for a moment for him to apologize, to admit that he regretted it. but now that you were faced with this decision, you weren’t sure it was an apology you wanted.

“what do you want, then?” he asked, earnestly this time.

you looked down at your beaten up hokas, the ones you bought after moving back to missouri, needing something that didn’t used to stay in the apartment you shared with matthew. the shoes were only a few months old, but they were discolored and dirty. you wore them to work, and often got droplets of solvent or paint on them when you weren’t paying attention.

matt’s foot nudged your own. “what do you want?” he repeated.

“did you cheat on me?” your eyes were still trained on the ground, so you didn’t see the look of hurt in matt’s eyes. you only saw the way he stepped back immediately.

“what?” he asked, pain clear in his voice. “why would you think that? i would never do that to you. you have to know that, please know that i’d never cheat on you.”

you shrugged, still not making eye contact. maybe you were scared if you did, you’d start crying, and he’d seen you cry enough times since he’d been back in town. “you broke up with me over a five minute phone call, matt. it was out of the blue, didn’t make any sense. the only reason i could think of was that you got tired of me and found someone better.”

matt scoffed. “i could never find someone better than you,” he said. “and never in my wildest dreams or thoughts did i ever even consider cheating on you.”

you finally met his eyes. the once bright blue irises were now darker, whether in pain or anger, you didn’t know. you weren’t sure how much had changed with him since the break up. “then why’d you end it? why’d you wait until you were traded and nearly halfway into the season to tell me it’s over?”

“because i didn’t want you to move to florida.”

you figured as much, but it still stung hearing it confirmed.

“why?” you asked.

“because you kept putting off your life for me! i hated it!” matt was pacing now, shoving his hands through his hair.

at the same time, your head tilted. you wanted answers. you wanted the reason why he'd ended things out of nowhere and the reason he just gave you wasn’t enough. “what’re you talking about?”

matt stopped moving long enough to fix you with a look. “you wanted to go to ucla until i committed to notre dame. and then when i signed with calgary, you transferred after a year.”

“so?”

matt scoffed. “so?”

“i wanted to do that!”

“and i wanted you to be yourself, i wanted you to chase your dreams without worrying about me, without altering your life just to stay with me!”

you stepped back. “so you didn’t want me with you?”

“that’s not what i said!”

“then what are you trying to say, matt? we’re just not compatible? headed in two different directions?”

“i—” he groaned and ran a hand down his face before shoving that same hand through his disheveled curls. “i wanted to do right by you. you are so gifted, and you could’ve gone to any school you wanted, but you followed me. i didn’t want to be the reason you never got to do what makes you happy.”

“so you took the one thing i wanted away from me?”

“you weren’t going to choose yourself! you were never going to choose yourself, so i did.”

“that wasn’t your choice to make, matt!” you couldn’t help but want to rip your hair out. who was he to think he could make decisions for you?

he took a step closer to you before immediately stepping backwards and pacing. “i have known you my entire life,” he said. it was an exaggeration, you both knew it, but as you both got older, it was harder to remember the years before you were in each other’s lives. “you are the kindest person i know, the best person i know. you have made more than enough sacrifices for me, for this game i love. but i was tired of being the only one living out their dream. you love art, or at least you did. you loved it, you painted all the time growing up. but when you moved to calgary? you stopped. you went to my games, galas, team events, instead. i wanted you to have something that you loved just as much as i love hockey.”

“and what if that was you? what if i was okay just supporting you?”

he shook his head adamantly. “you deserve more than that. i love you too much to let you live like that.”

you furrowed your brow. “live like what? supporting the love of my life as he lives out his dreams?” you tentatively took a step closer to him, imploring matt to look at you. “why is that such a bad thing?”

“because what if it’s not enough?” he looked up. you were shocked to see tears brimming in his eyes. “what if one day, you wake up next to me and resent me for dragging you all over the continent for a stupid sport?”

“it’s not a stupid sport—”

“it is when i’ve seen it ruin people, ruin their relationships.”

“but you ruined ours when you broke up with me, matt. how does that make any sense?” his mouth opened and shut once, twice, three times before he avoided your eyes altogether. “matt, how does that make sense?” you took a step towards him, slowly but moving. “matt?”

“i could handle it if you hated me,” he said. “i could learn to live with it if it meant you got to be happy in the end.”

your heart broke, your face crumpled as you watched the man you’d loved for a decade shuffle shoe around what he was actually trying to say. “why couldn’t i be happy with you, matt? why isn’t that possible in your mind?”

you waited for him to say something. it felt like you waited forever. but you would’ve waited for the cows to come home if it meant honesty from him.

“because i’m never gonna be enough for that.”

you thought the phone call from six months ago ripped your heart in half, you fully believed he’d done the most damage then. if your heart was going to be broken again, surely it would be when you would inevitably see another girl hanging off his arm at brady and emma’s wedding.

but there you were, standing in front of the man you still loved, heart breaking even worse because he believed he wasn’t enough. he wasn’t enough.

“matt—”

“to me? you’re everything. you’re literally the smartest person i know and you’re so talented and kind and considerate.” he laughed a little under his breath. “i still remember you shaking in the goal while i practiced my shots. i was waiting for you to say you didn’t want to do it, but you did it because you knew how much it meant to me.”

you smiled as you remembered the moment he was talking about. you were eleven and your crush on matt was just starting to form. you would’ve done anything he asked even if it meant flinching every two seconds.

“breaking up with you was the worst thing i’ve ever done, but if it meant sparing you the life of forever being forced to follow me around, it would be worth it.”

you stepped closer to him, uncaring that the two of you had been having this conversation in the middle of the sidewalk of his neighborhood. “who put this idea in your head, matt? was it me? was it—”

“your parents.”

you barely even heard the “what” leave your lips, so you were unsure how matt did. he looked as uncomfortable as you felt.

“i was gonna propose when you moved to florida. i bought the ring before the season ended and over the summer i had every intention of asking your dad for his blessing.” matt cleared his throat before finally looking up at the sky. the sun, thankfully, was beginning to set, golden hour was coming soon. “you’d gone out with our moms, emma, and taryn, and i went over to your house to talk to your dad.”

you weren’t liking where the story was going.

“he asked if i would quit hockey for you.”

your stomach dropped to your feet.

“when i said i would in a heartbeat, he didn’t believe me.”

your stomach was in the core of the earth.

“matt...”

he swallowed and looked at you. “i would do it, you know. if you’d asked me, i would’ve given hockey up in a heartbeat to keep you.”

“i know, matty, i know,” you said, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. “what else did my dad say?”

matt shook his head.

“matt,” you implored.

but he didn't relent.

“matthew.” you took a step closer, finally, after months of little to no physical contact, your hand cupped his cheek. and like he had no control over his body, like he was acting on pure instinct, he leaned into your palm. “what did he say?”

he shook his head again. “i can’t.”

“you can.” you stroked your thumb along his cheekbone.

“he asked if this was the life i wanted for you. the moving around, the fighting, the crazy schedules, the tweets, all of it. he asked verbatim if that’s the kind of life i wanted you to live, if i wanted you under a microscope for the rest of our lives. he told me that he knew why i was there, and that if i thought you’d be happy to a life like that, then he'd give me his blessing.”

your hand shook a little, but matt’s hand steadied it against his face.

“it’s not that i thought you were weak,” he clarified. “it’s not that i didn’t want you, because i did. i just didn’t want you to be stuck with me for the rest of our lives.”

“is that what he said? that if we got married, i’d be shackled to you?”

matt shrugged, but in his silence, you found the answer.

“matty,” again, the nickname slipping out before you could stop it. “i’m sorry, you should’ve said something—”

“and cause problems between you and your dad?” he shook his head. “you love him, i wasn’t gonna come between that.”

you could’ve cried at that sentiment. after all this time, he was still looking out for you. “thank you, matt. thank you for being honest.”

he gave you a small smile, one that broke your heart as much as it mended it. “you staying for dinner?”

the temptation was there, to go inside and sit in your old seat next to him, to feel your shoulders brush like they used to when the two of you were still together. maybe you’d laugh at something brady said, maybe you’d compliment chantal on her cooking.

but there were bigger fish to fry at home in the shape of your father.

so you shook your head no. “i think you know i have to go.”

matt nodded. “i get it.”

the two of you turned around and started walking back to your car. in the end, you didn’t walk very far so you were standing next to your vehicle in a matter of minutes.

“thank you for agreeing to talk,” matt said, his hands shoved deep in his pocket.

“thanks for telling me the truth.”

matt opened your door and braced his forearm on the roof of your car while you got in. “i’ll see you around?” he asked.

you smiled. “don’t be a stranger, tkachuk.”

he laughed and knocked on the roof of your car before shutting the door. you watched him in your rearview mirror as you drove away. all the years you were together, there were only a few times you could remember walking away from him.

the drive home was quiet, you were stewing on what you'd say to your dad when you got back. you were pissed, upset, angry.

but most importantly, you were in agony.

the man you loved your whole life let you hate him for six months so you wouldn't hate your dad. he let you make him into a villain so you had the support of your parents.

and maybe it was that thought process that had you throwing your car in park and storming up to your childhood home and all but slamming the front door wide open.

your mom and dad were sitting in the living room, neither of them interacting with the other in any meaningful way. no, this wasn’t the tkachuk house. your parents weren’t in love anymore, they were content with the idea of not having to find anyone else.

“matt was gonna propose to me?” you asked, chest already heaving from the anger coursing through your body. your eyes were on fire, if looks could kill and such.

your dad, to his credit, managed to catch onto what you were talking about immediately and put his book down.

but your mom cut in. “sweetheart, what're you—”

“ask him,” you interrupted, but didn't spare her a single glance, something you'd apologize for later. “go ahead, ask him what i’m talking about. ask dad why matt broke up with me out of nowhere.”

“honey....” your dad started. you waited for him to continue, to justify something, to say it was a huge misunderstanding, but he said nothing.

“alan, what is she talking about?”

you still wouldn't look at your mom. your eyes were fixed on the figure of your father who sat still in his recliner. “i went to talk to matt today, get some closure, figure out what went wrong with us. dad convinced matthew that i would feel shackled to him if he proposed, if we got married. he planted this idea in matt’s head that he wouldn’t be enough to keep me happy.”

that seemed to be enough to get your dad speaking. “you have so much potential, honey, i didn’t want to see it wasted chasing him around.”

you rolled your eyes. “i was happy to do it. he was everything to me.”

“and you should’ve been everything. you should want to be great, you should want to be a great painter, you should want to accomplish great things.” your dad gestured between himself and your mother. “you think we want this for you? to choose a partner just based on love? what happens when that love runs out? what happens when you get married, have kids, and matthew get bored on the road? what then?”

your stomach twisted at the thought. “matt would never.”

“maybe not, honey. but you have to understand, i was looking out for you.”

you scoffed before you could stop yourself. “looking out for me? you literally held me while i sobbed a few weeks ago and told me that maybe matt had changed when you knew damn well the reason things had ended.” you ran a hand down your face and laughed bitterly. “do you wanna know the worst part about this? you let me believe the worst things about the man who has loved me most of my life.

“you let me hate the man who wanted nothing more than to protect my happiness. and then you had me going on absolute bullshit pep talks to myself every morning where i’d tell myself i’m fine, that matthew brendan tkachuk was just a guy i dated for almost half my life and that there are plenty of fish in the sea to choose from. and that i’m a woman, a strong, intelligent, and capable woman that any man would be lucky to have! but i went on a date the other night and something really awful almost happened, but matt was there and he made sure i was okay. he took my vitriol in stride, he protected me without ruining my life, something you can’t seem to do.”

your dad, to his credit took your spewing words with a straight face. he didn’t interrupt you once.

your shoulders were heaving with the force of breaths you were taking to get all those words out. your heart was pounding in your chest. you were angry. angry. angry.

until it dissipated at the look on your parents’ faces.

tears replaced the anger quite quickly.

“i get you were trying to protect me, but you should’ve seen the look on his face when he told me. dad, i love you, but you damn near ruined my life.”

your father nodded, a shattered look on his face. “sweetheart i—if i’d known—” he cleared his throat. “i’m sorry. i thought i was doing right by you, trying to keep you from making the same mistakes.”

“and what mistakes are those? falling in love? getting married to the person you loved? getting to live the rest of your life together?”

“falling complacent,” your mother said. “getting too comfortable, becoming roommates instead of lovers.” your mother was picking at her nail beds, refusing to look at either of you. “i was not a part of the conversation your dad had with matthew, but i will not lie and say that your behavior didn’t concern me, because it did.” your mother held a hand up when you opened your mouth. “you didn’t have any ambition! you were sacrificing your dreams for him, aimlessly following him.”

“mom—”

“i have found myself lost before, lost in this marriage, lost in motherhood, lost in my job. i did not want that for you, neither of us did.” your mother stood from her seat on the couch and walked towards you. she placed her hand on your cheek. “i know you love him, and maybe he’s your person, but we did not,” she cleared her throat, “i did not want you to grow up regretting and resenting matt because you were too young to know what you wanted.”

your mom’s thumb traced your cheekbone. she stared you down with the eyes that matched your own. “do you remember when you were younger, you would draw these beautiful pieces with your colored pencils?”

you nodded.

“you don’t draw anymore, sweetheart. your art supplies are still in a box in the attic where they have been since you've moved back home. from my viewpoint, i see the little girl i raised chasing the man she loves and neglecting herself in the process. you’ve spent most of your life following matthew, but what about you? when will it be your turn?”

your bottom lip wobbled.

you were nine years old again, showing matt the self portrait you did and watching his face light up.

“you should draw me sometime!” he said.

and you did. all through middle school, high school, undergrad, all of it was matt matt matt matt matt. even if it wasn’t his face, even if it wasn’t hockey related, it was matt. the colors swirling together, the passion beneath the oils, all of it reflecting him.

you were so pissed at your dad, for telling matt what he did, but you were pissed at yourself as well, for neglecting who you were.

who were you anyway?

the fight left you pretty soon after your mother’s words were spoken. the hard truth of them still lingered in the air.

you went to bed that night and stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine what you would paint if the surface was a canvas instead.

before

you would’ve never picked up your phone had you known what was waiting on the other side of it.

the day started off simple enough. your apartment was a mess, usually at that time of year, it would be covered in christmas decorations and presents would be wrapped under the tree you and matt picked out from a tree farm. this time, there were boxes strewn about the room in anticipation of the move you’d be making to florida in just a few weeks. the plan was you’d fly into st. louis and have all your belongings that you didn’t need to survive, shipped to your new home in florida.

you were in the middle of packing up the last of your summer clothes into a box when matt called. it felt like a flip had been switched, because any exhaustion that was set deep in your bones from the work week disappeared the second you saw his contact photo on your lock screen.

“hey!” you said, smile so wide, your cheeks ached. “how’re you doing?”

“hey,” he replied, but his voice sounded off.

“everything okay?” you asked. “i saw the game last night, i’m sorry about the loss.”

“don’t worry about it.”

“oh,” you said. “well i have most of the apartment packed up, just need to put the rest of my clothes in my suitcases. i’ve already arranged the rest of our things to be shipped and—”

“i don't think you should move to florida.”

all the words in the world and all you could say was “what?”

matt sighed over the other end of the phone. “i didn’t mean to say it like that.”

“but you still meant to say it?”

“look, this isn’t easy for me to admit but, i don’t think it’s a good idea for you to move to florida. i don't even think it’s a good idea to keep this going.”

“keep what going?”

he sighed again. “this, us, our relationship. i just don’t think it’s working.”

well that was news to you.

you swallowed, your hands were shaking. it wasn’t until you couldn’t see straight that you realized you were crying.

“since when? i thought we were fine! what did i miss? what can i do to fix this?”

the battle of alberta had nothing on matt’s silence ringing through the phone. with each passing second, you felt the hope of repairing and fixing your relationship dwindle.

“i don’t think there’s anything to fix.”

the world had stopped spinning, even as he continued on, talking about the next steps you'd need to take, how he would continue to pay the lease, he’d cover the moving expenses to switch destinations of your things.

it all made you want to vomit.

how could he speak about the logistics of your break up when you felt like you couldn’t get past the actual reality of your breakup? your world was caving in and he seemed fine.

at the end of the call, he apologized. “i’m sorry,” he said.

all you could say was “okay.”

five minutes, your phone said when you looked at the call log.

matthew tkachuk had ruined your life in five fucking minutes.

after

frankie had to be the weirdest boss you ever had. when you called him and said you needed a few days off to sort things out in your personal life, he jumped at the chance to tell you to take a day or two off immediately.

“i can’t pay you for those days, but if it means you feel better, go ahead and take off. we’ll be fine.”

which is how you ended up sitting in your room for eight hours, staring at a blank canvas.

your hands shook anytime you reached for a paintbrush. what if it was the wrong brush? the wrong color? what if it was bad? ugly? what if you hated it?

you'd communicated those same thoughts to simone over the phone when you called on her lunch break, trying to keep yourself from crying over a blank canvas.

“it’s gonna be difficult at first,” she started. “but you have to start somewhere, even if it’s just a dot in the middle of the canvas.”

and you'd repeated her words in your head, yet you couldn’t force yourself to do anything about it. this was supposed to be about you, yet everything you were doing reminded you of him. it was the particular blue you used to mix together to represent his eyes. it was the red from calgary. it was the yellow that reminded you of the t-shirt you wore when matt first kissed you.

what would you even paint? the living room of your first shared apartment? saddledome? this was supposed to be about you, so why did you keep wanting to make it about matt? what was wrong with you? your parents were right, you lost yourself in trying to be the most supportive girlfriend around.

the second day didn’t produce much results either and when you finally went back to work, you looked and felt like you hadn’t rested at all.

“that bad, huh?” frankie asked.

“i didn't think it’d be that hard to paint, it’s literally never been that hard before.”

“you gotta just let it go.” when he didn't say anything else, you gestured for him to continue. “stop expecting it to be a masterpiece or to be meaningful, art is about you, not perfection.”

“but—”

frankie held a hand up, just like your mother had. “when you're here, it’s about doing right by the painting, the art itself. when you create though, it’s about doing right by you.”

you floated through your workday, your fingers itched to do something more than scraping dirt and grime off the back of a canvas. they longed for the oil based paint to stick to them. they longed for the cramping in your hand that came from holding a brush too long.

but you started.

you turned on some classical music and started.

you weren’t even sure what you were painting until you were staring back at the ice rink in front of you, empty, just like you were feeling. you should’ve known it would've had something to do with ice.

maybe it was foolish to believe you could completely get rid of matt in one painting. you'd known him longer than you hadn’t. but frankie’s words kept echoing in your head.

it’s about doing right by you.

so instead of painting matt or his number, or the curls on top of his head, you painted something else entirely. blurred figures raced past a lone frame standing completely still. the slumped shoulders of the person in stuck in one place, the lack of proper equipment, no ice skates, no sweater.

after days of painting and plotting and painting and waiting, it was finished. an ice rink with a person completely stationary while life moves around her.

it wasn’t your best piece, but it was your most honest.

it was like a dam had been broken because you couldn’t stop painting the silly little pieces of your feelings. you were losing space in your bedroom, and your phone had been neglected for two weeks.

now, you still responded to texts in the bridesmaid group chat, and you texted simone frequently. but your brain was taken up by this reawakened, once dormant, passion of yours. it was all you could think about.

your fingers were practically permanently stained with paint. you hadn’t changed out of your paint clothes all weekend, living in the spandex and one of your dad’s old t-shirts. the past few days, you’d been a hermit, only leaving the house to go to work. and while you weren’t completely anti social, you weren’t going out of your way to get in contact with people.

your parents were out on a rare date night while you were up in your room adding little details to your painting. the music playing through your phone’s speakers had lulled you into another world. you were all but lost to reality.

thump.

you paused, brush poised over the canvas. you listened again for the sound but heard nothing. so you continued.

thump thump.

you glanced at the window just in time to see a rock hit it. before you could stop yourself, you sighed and chuckled.

you felt like you were in high school again.

when you opened your window, sure enough matt was standing outside with a handful of stones in his hands. “you busy?” he asked.

at the sight of his boyish smile, your heart leapt. “what’re you doing here?”

he shrugged. “just wanted to see you.”

be careful, your head warned you. he’s not yours anymore.

but your heart didn’t give a shit. try as hard as you might, you were almost positive you’d love matt the rest of your life. “you couldn’t knock on the door?”

he shrugged again. “i tried, you didn’t hear me.” he shifted on his feet. “so are you busy?”

you glanced back at the painting you'd been obsessing over all day and decided you could leave it for a little while. “gimme a sec.”

very quickly, you cleaned up your art supplies before you ran down the stairs. you snagged your keys out of the basket by the door and locked the front door behind you.

matt had moved off your lawn and was now propped up against the passenger door of his car. “wanna go for a drive?”

how could you deny him anything when he looked so happy to see you?

“you’ve been busy,” he said as soon as he pulled out of the driveway. you did your best not to pay attention to how good his arm looked behind your head rest as he backed out into the street.

“how do you figure?”

matt put the car in drive, but before he pulled away, he gestured to your forehead. “you have paint, everywhere.” you could feel the heat crawl up your neck as you opened the sun visor to look in the mirror. sure enough, streaks of paint covered your cheeks. matt reached over and shut it with one hand. “stop it,” he said. “you look great.”

“even with the paint?”

“especially with the paint. you look happy again.” a beat passed. “are you?”

you thought about it for a moment. a few weeks ago, you were in the trenches, suffocating in the unknown, drawing in questions that had no answers. and while you were still single, even as you sat in the passenger seat of the man that you still loved, you felt capable. you felt like you could handle life. no longer were you floating, waiting for a strong breeze to blow you away from your reality. you still might depend on having wind in your sails, but at least you were a boat with a steering wheel instead of a helium balloon.

“i think i’m getting there. i’m not as angry anymore, i’m painting again.” you gestured to your face. “though you could probably tell.

“what have you been painting?”

how could you explain it? how could you possibly articulate that while you were still searching for what it meant to be you, you had somehow uncovered fragments of yourself that you’d lost along the way?

“myself.”

matt smiled, his eyes crinkled in the corners. “that’s what i like to hear. you enjoying it?”

“more than i thought i would, once i got over the fear.”

“fear? what were you scared of?”

you picked at the dirt under your fingernails. “not being good enough.”

matt made a sound between a scoff and a snicker, like the words coming out of your mouth were so incredibly stupid it was both alarming and hilarious. “are you fucking with me? you’re the most talented person i know!”

you rolled your eyes before you could stop yourself. “you play with some of the best athletes in the world—”

“and none of them could hold a candle to you.” he braked easily when you came up to a red light.

and you weren’t sure why you said what you said next, maybe it was the intimacy of the environment or maybe, when it came down to it, you wanted matt to hear all your updates first.

“i think i’m gonna apply to more grad schools again. i talked to frankie, he gave me some information and said he’d write as many recommendations as i needed.”

you wanted to be brave and look at matthew, you wanted to see his reaction in real time. but you couldn’t bring yourself to. whether that was because the moment felt too intimate for eye contact between exes or the you were afraid you'd see real time disappointment, you weren’t sure.

“is that something you wanna do?” his voice was soft. you could feel his eyes on your profile.

that was a question you'd asked yourself over and over again. was it something you were legitimately interested in? or were you like every twenty-something who applies for grad school when they don't know what else to do?

“i think there's just as much beauty in restoring as there is in creating.” in a split second, you decided you could be brave, so you looked back at him. “i don’t think i should have to choose between one of the other.

matt nodded, his hands white against the steering wheel. “do you think everything deserves a chance at restoration?” he asked, his blue eyes filled with a sincerity only he could replicate.

“i think anything can be fixed if someone cares enough to try.”

feeling bold, you spared him a glance from the corner of your eye. matt had his head down for a brief moment, a small smile on his lips.

there were words that hung in the air like the car freshener on matt’s rearview mirror, yet neither of you spoke them. both of you were more than content to bask in the silence rather than answer unasked questions that you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

before

matt wasn’t at school that day, and you were the reason why. he hardly ever missed, even with his busy hockey schedule and his dad’s games, chantal always made sure to have her kids in school. if they weren’t rich, you’d assume his parents had the same thought process your grandparents did: they weren’t forking out all this money just for their kids to be absent all the time.

which brought you back to your original thought.

matt wasn’t at school.

and you were the reason.

well. that wasn’t entirely true. matt’s decisions were his own, even if the two of you were in fifth grade, you were both mature enough to own your mistakes.

and he made a big one.

it started at the beginning of the school year when jared, a new kid, started bothering you during class. you'd done what your parents had taught you and told the teacher. but mrs. wright just looked at you with a condescending smile and said:

“aw honey, he just has a crush on you!”

you were met with the same excuse each time you told her.

you’d tried to keep it to yourself, done your best to get over it, but he was too forward. on monday, he teased the way your uniform looked, which was a sore subject because your parents couldn’t afford to buy you a new uniform and your grandparents were being stingy with money in an effort to manipulate your mother. you were old enough to start recognizing that now.

on tuesday, jared criticized your doodles on a sheet of scrap paper, saying they looked childish. wednesday was no better, he snickered and pointed at you when you messed up a note playing hot cross buns on your recorder. thursday was when things took a left turn.

jared hadn't been at school for long to fully understand the dynamic between you and matt, not like the other kids did. he was smart enough to approach you when matt wasn’t around for the most part. maybe it was the confidence of the lack of punishment and accountability from your teacher and school administration that made him bold enough to tug on your hair and push you down during recess right in front of matthew.

you didn’t have enough time to shed a tear before matt was on jared.

to put it simply, physically fighting someone was grounds for suspension. it probably should’ve been a longer suspension had you and your parents not said jared had been harassing you for weeks now with no consequences.additionally, the amount of money the tkachuks sewed into the school probably helped lessen his punishment too.

“you shouldn’t have beat him up,” you said. the two of you were sitting on the back porch of matt’s house. originally, you expected matt to be grounded from seeing you as a punishment, but given the context, keith and chantal both said it would've been unfair.

matt shrugged. “he should’ve kept his hands to himself.” his words sounded similar to the ones you heard from his father earlier that day when you and matthew were sitting outside the principal’s office. 

“mr. tkachuk, we do not condone violence at this school.”

“but you do condone harassment? bullying? my son was doing what your administration failed to do, and that’s protect his best friend.”

“i don't like it when you're in trouble.”

“and i don’t like seeing some jerk hurt you.” matt nudged your knee with his own. “besides, i’ll be back on monday. ‘s not like i was expelled.”

“just don’t make it a habit.”

“no promises,” he said. “i’ll always fight for you.”

after

the wedding approached faster than you thought it would. you spent the last seven months dreading emma and brady’s big day, scared of what seeing matt in a tux would do to your heart. originally, you didn't think you could handle it, you never thought you'd actually get to the wedding day and not want to cancel last minute.

but now you were standing in the bridal suite adding finishing touches to your makeup in the vanity feeling every bit of happiness for emma that you were faking just months ago.

life was starting to turn around for you. just last week, frankie had helped you finish your applications to some grad programs in art restoration and conservation. you were holding out hope for nyu, but didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“how’re you feeling?” taryn came up behind you where you were lined up in preparation to walk . 

“ready for some wine and the reception,” you answered honestly. “i’m so excited.” and you were telling the truth for once. your smile felt genuine.

“matt will be excited to see you,” she said. “you look so pretty.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile from forming on your lips. “oh hush, this isn’t about us, not even remotely close.”

taryn rolled her eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “maybe...” she trailed off before the wedding planner was moving her into position.

your hands shook as you held the bouquet. lily, one of the other bridesmaids looked back at you and mouthed “are you okay?” when you nodded and gave her a shaky smile, she turned around.

you weren’t nervous for a good reason, but walking in front of crowds always scared you. what if you tripped? what if the heel of your shoe broke? what if what if what—

but then it was your turn to walk down the aisle and every anxious thought went quiet the second you saw matthew.

it really wasn’t fair, how he could put you at ease so easily, without even saying a single word. how his blue eyes would meet yours and the racing of your heart would beat for a different reason. sure, there were moments where you were anxious around him, around the feelings that came with dating for ten years, but the truth was you never felt more safe than you did in his arms.

you kept your eyes locked on his as you walked down the aisle. not once did you stumble or fall. though, you nearly laughed out loud when he winked at you. a flush creeped into your cheeks when he smirked. you’d known him most of your life and you were still reduced to a school girl whenever he looked at you. when you made it to the end, you took your spot next to lily, taryn eventually took the spot next to you.

personally, you loved weddings. you cried every time. so obviously you were wiping tears with brady when emma walked down the aisle. it was almost surreal, watching the boy you knew as when he was eight years old was now marrying the love of his life. when did you grow up? when did that happen?

you met matt’s eyes over brady’s shoulder. in another life, it would've been you two getting married. the very thought sent an ache through your chest, but it didn't hurt the way it did a few months ago, hell, even a few weeks ago.

sure, you might not have ended up with matt, but you reconciled. he would still be in your life, even if it wasn't in the same capacity as before. that thought used to be debilitating, now you were just thankful he was around at all.

the crowd cheered as brady kissed emma. you could barely see them through the tears. you managed to wipe most of them away in time to walk back down the aisle. you were supposed to be linking arms and walking back down the aisle with quinn hughes. so when matt was standing there and holding his arm out, you almost stumbled back out of sheer confusion. in a haze, you took his arm.

“you weren’t supposed to walk me,” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

matt scoffed and pulled you a little closer. “like i was letting hughes walk you back down the aisle. that’s my job.”

“you messed up the order.”

he shrugged like the idea didn't bother him in the slightest. “brady will get over it, if he even notices.” the two of you had just walked down the aisle when you went to pull away, but his arm tightened around yours. “you look beautiful,” he said before releasing your arm and walking off.

it felt like you were stuck, rooted where you were standing, until the wedding planner ushered you along to take photos.

you were floating through the pictures, only barely remembering to smile and look at the camera. matt’s words floated around in your head in an endless loop. 

when it was time for dinner, you entered with quinn like you were supposed to (and to matt’s chagrin). brady and emma did not want to confuse the dj who was announcing everyone. quinn indulged your excitement and twirled you under his arm as the two of you walked out. there was a huge smile on your face at the sheer fun of it all, a smile that didn't dissipate until you were both seated with the rest of the wedding party.

you were happily chatting with quinn, asking him about how his girlfriend was, and eating your dinner when emma’s maid of honor stood up and started her speech. to be quite frank, you knew it was a beautiful nod to her friendship with emma, but you weren’t fully paying attention, too enraptured with the food and wine in front of you. though, you did clap where you were supposed to and laughed when everyone else did.

it wasn’t until matt stood up to give his speech that you were dialed in. and maybe that made you a horrible person.

you knew matt well enough to know he didn't prepare a speech, not like the maid of honor did. he'd told you so once brady and emma got engaged.

“are you not gonna write your speech down?”

“nope,’ he said, popping the p.

“but he's your brother.”

“the only one who is getting a planned and fleshed out speech is you, when i propose and when we get married. everyone else gets the improvised speech.”

so you weren't surprised when he didn’t have a slip of paper in his hand like the maid of honor.

“thank you all for coming to celebrate the marriage of brady and emma with us. i know it means a lot to them, to see the support they have all around,” he began. “i’ve known brady his whole life, obviously. so i know better than most that he’s a menace to society. both on and off the rink. but seeing him with you, emma, well you’ve brought the little bit of good out in him.” the crowd chuckled at the slight, you even cracked a smile, especially when brady flipped him off.

“love is the best thing this world has to offer,” he continues. “who are we without it? what is life without it?” matt looked around the room until his eyes settled on you, locked in. “falling in love is, dare i say, better than the game itself. once you experience it, there is no game that could hold a candle to the feeling. i’ve found it, and i’m happy that you, brady and emma, found it too. just hold onto it, don’t let it go. not when it gets hard, especially not when things look bad. it’s those times you hold on tighter.” 

maybe it was the lighting, but his eyes looked a little misty.

matt cleared his throat. “so here’s to the bride and groom, may you have nothing but good years ahead.”

you swallowed the lump in your throat and clapped along with everyone else. but matt’s eyes never left yours. you could feel his gaze on your face even as you talked to quinn. but he was on the other side of the table closer to brady.

it wasn’t until the dancing started that he even approached you.

outkast’s hey ya blasted over the speakers when matt found you. his hand immediately slid into yours as he tugged you closer.

“great speech!” you shouted over the music. “did you prepare it beforehand?”

matt spun you around. “you know i didn’t. i’m saving prepared speeches for special occasions.”

you expected the answer but played dumb anyway. “your brother’s wedding not a big enough occasion?”

he scoffed, like the very idea was offensive. “not even remotely close. only the love of my life deserves the written speeches.” he pulled you a little closer. your stomach twisted at the thought of him falling in love with someone else, but it didn't hurt the way it would've months ago. “but considering i broke up with her before i could propose, that’s not happening any time soon.”

your heart lurched in your chest, yet you felt yourself stepping back. “matt....”

he sighed like he knew what you were going to say. “i know we need to talk, and that this isn't the time, but can i just dance with you tonight? like nothing changed?”

and in the end, you wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

you allowed him to spin you around and hold you close when the music slowed down. you allowed yourself to pretend all of it was real. you allowed yourself to live in this fictitious world where new jersey was the happiest place on earth simply because you had matt. the last seven months hadn't happened, you were still together, your future was certain, and maybe one of these days, he'd get down on one knee and ask for forever.

you played pretend even when the night was coming to a close. even when you were all waving goodbye to emma and brady. even when you gathering your things, matt was there, holding your bags for you and walking you to the car you rented.

“when do you fly back to st. louis?” he asked.

“tomorrow. i have work on monday.”

he grimaced. “frankie wouldn't let you off?”

you rolled your eyes and smiled. “some of us don't make millions of dollars and need to pay our bills, matt.”

“right,” he said. “forgot about that.” he cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. “do you think we could get coffee when i get back in town? i really think we should talk.”

you reached out and took his hand in yours. “just let me know when you’re back.”

and he did. days later when you were back at work on your lunch break, you got a text from him. before you could stop yourself, a smile lit up your face.

matty:

just landed, when are you free?

the two of you met at a park not too far from your homes, deciding that you two needed privacy to talk and sitting in a coffee shop where matt’s face was well known wasn’t ideal. it felt like it used to, with the two of you walking side by side, matt walking a little slower to match your pace. your arms occasionally brushed.

“everything okay?” you asked when the silence started to make you anxious.

matt looked at you and smiled. “yeah,” he said. “just wanted to talk.”

“about what?”

“us. what happens next.” when you didn't say anything, he continued. “i wanted to apologize—”

“there’s nothing to apologize for, matt. i understand—”

“but i should’ve just communicated with you instead of letting my insecurity and the pressure get to me. i should’ve done better.”

you bumped your shoulder into his bicep. “you did what you thought was best, i can’t blame you for that.”

matt ran a hand down his face and sighed. “i wish you wouldn’t be so understanding,” he said. “i wish you'd just say that what i did sucked.”

“but i get it—”

“i get that you get it, but i need you to be honest with me.”

“okay,” you said. “i’ll be honest. i hated every single rose you've ever gotten me, but i was too afraid to say anything because you looked so happy to give them to me. and i know it’s what your dad would bring home to your mother after roadies. i hated that you never remembered my coffee order, you changed it every single time, but i accepted it and tried it because i saw how proud of yourself you were and how much it meant to you that you got me a drink. and i hated that you ended things over a phone call with no explanation. i hated that i spent seven months agonizing over what i did wrong.” you swallowed the emotion bubbling up. “but i understand why you did it, and in another life, i might have done the same.”

matt’s hand brushed yours. you thought he was going to leave it at that, a gentle touch, but he grabbed your hand and interlocked your fingers “i wish you would've told me you hated roses.”

you smiled and shrugged, squeezing his hand in yours. “seeing how happy you were outweighed the hatred for roses. it was the thought that counted.”

“so what is your favorite flower?”

“red anemones.”

matt pulled out his phone and typed something into his notes app. “what’s your coffee order?” when you told him, he typed something else into the note. “i do care about that stuff,” he said. “i didn't mean to seem dismissive.”

“you remembered the important stuff like anniversaries and my birthday. you remembered that i hate driving in snow, you used to pick me up from school every time there was more than an inch on the ground.” you squeezed his hand again so he'd look at you. “you weren’t a shit boyfriend for forgetting the little things, matt. in fact, you were a really good boyfriend until you broke up with me.”

he didn’t say anything for a moment, choosing to bask in the summer sounds of the park. “do you think we could try again one day?”

it was a question you'd asked yourself multiple times since the conversation where you found out the truth behind the break up that nearly ruined you. could you two do it again? do it right this time? there was no way to know.

“i don’t know.”

a beat passed. “would you want to?”

would you? being with matt was all that you dreamed about but would you want to risk the heartbreak again? would you want to take the chance that it wouldn’t work out a second time?

yes. it was an easy yes.

heartbreak was inevitable, but you wouldn’t want your heart to be broken by anyone but matt.

but you could love him and also want to prioritize yourself and your wants and desires. you had a plan for your future that didn’t involve him for once. maybe he’d be there years later, but there was no guarantee. if you got into grad school, you wouldn’t be moving to florida. and while long distance had worked before, there was no assurance that things would again.

so you said “maybe one day,” and gave him a smile.

“one day,” he replied. “in the meantime, can we be friends?”

one more time, you squeezed his hand, tugging him a little closer, his arm bumping into your shoulder. “i’ll always be your friend at the very least, from here on out.”

after what looked like a moment of hesitation, matt pulled you closer and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

after

when matt flew back to florida for the season, you fully expected him to stop talking to you. with distance being a factor, it was easy for you to assume he'd text whenever he wasn't tired or out partying.

but he texted you every waking and unoccupied minute of his day. in all honesty, you were worse at replying than he was. everything felt like high school again, in the days leading up to your first kiss.

you felt like you got your best friend back.

it started with him telling you about his day, asking about yours, and evolved into him telling you a joke he'd heard that day, a tiktok that reminded him of you, remembering your schedule. 

god your heart leapt every time he texted you. it was pathetic, but you loved it.

you loved him. 

it wasn’t a scary thought, you’d never stopped loving him even after the breakup. to act like you ever stopped was crazy.

and when you got into grad school? he was the first person you called.

it was nearly a year after he ended things, and there you were, calling him on the phone. you waited for him to pick up, for a moment, you were scared he wouldn’t answer. the phone kept ringing and your anxiety built up as the seconds went on. maybe he was busy or his phone was in the other room. or worst case scenario, he was ignoring your call, out with someone else. what if you annoyed him? what if—

“hey!” his cheery voice sounded over the phone. “everything okay? you usually don't call at...” he trailed off. “...3pm?”

you could’ve cried at the sound of his voice, the relief hitting you all at once. “i got in,” you replied.

“what—” he choked. “you got in? nyu’s program?”

you nodded before realizing he couldn't see you, stunned at the news and the fact that he immediately knew what you were talking about. “i did.”

he sighed over the phone. “god, baby, i’m so proud of you.” your heart swooped at the pet name, no longer angering you like it did months ago. “what did your parents say?”

“i haven’t told them yet,” you said. “i just found out.”

he paused. “and you called me.” he didn’t bother asking.

“and i called you. maybe that makes me a horrible daughter for not telling my literal parents but i just wanted to tell you first.”

he paused again. “why?”

your stomach twisted with nerves, your hands felt sweaty. “you know why.”

“i need to hear you say it. tell me there’s still hope.”

“matty—” you cut yourself off with a shaky inhale. “matt, we shouldn't.”

“why not? i love you, i’m sorry but i love you. i fucked up and lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me because i was scared.”

“matt, we shouldn’t be having this conversation over the phone...”

“then i’ll book a flight.”

you closed your eyes and smiled. this was a side of matt that you knew, someone who’d drop anything for someone he loved or the game he adored.

“you have games and practice,” you reminded him.

you could practically hear the scowl through the receiver. “we play the blues in a week. can we talk about this then? i’ll take you out to dinner.”

“you usually get dinner with your parents.”

matt scoffed through the phone. “i see them enough, i want to be with you.”

you smiled because you just couldn't help yourself. “we’ll talk about this in a week,” you agreed.

matt whooped over the phone, the glee evident in his tone. “i’m really proud of you,” he said, changing the subject back to the original point of the call. “grad school is a big deal. you worked so hard to get here.”

“thank you, matty.”

“i’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

the week leading up to the panthers vs. blues game was agonizing. you kept thinking of his confession over the phone:

i love you, i’m sorry. i love you, i’m sorry. i love you.

his words rattled around in your head like the cartoon birds that would fly over a concussed cartoon character.

five more days.

then four.

then three.

two.

tomorrow.

today.

matt bought you tickets to the game, one that you offered to simone, but she declined saying she “wouldn't want to be in the way.” when you told her she wouldn't, that you would like her company, she laughed.

“honey,” she said. “there is no one else in the room whenever you and matt are around each other.”

you’d flushed when she said that, but didn't deny it.

your mother and father were seated in the living room when you came bounding down the stands to head out to the game. “you going to see him?” she asked. there was a fond look in her eye, one that only brightened when you smiled and nodded. “have so much fun, honey.”

you looked to see if your dad would say something, but he just nodded and went back to reading his book. it was fine, you were past caring what other people thought of you. in a month, you'd be moving to new york for school and out this cycle of mediocrity and settling. you bid your parents goodbye and left.

there was no time to waste when you got to the arena. you immediately made your way to the seat matt paid for and waited. you were a bit outnumbered in your panthers jersey (again, courtesy of matt), but he was no stranger to the st. louis crowd.

you were sitting close enough to the glass to be spotted when matt came out for warm ups. he tossed a few pucks to the kids next to you, but his eyes never left yours. the smile on his face eased the anxiety about coming, the anxiety about the conversation you'd have afterwards.

seeing him beam at only you? the world could've stopped turning and you didn't think you'd even care.

the game, unfortunately, did not turn out in their favor. with a 4-1 loss, you were two seconds away from asking matt to reschedule. the conversation both of you needed to have shouldn’t be done when he was coming off a loss.

nevertheless, your phone vibrated with a text.

matty:

where’d you park?

you replied with the vague location of your vehicle and headed that direction. you weren’t sure how he beat you out there, but he was propped against your driver’s side door like it was a luxury car and not the used vehicle you’d had since you were sixteen.

he held his hand out, and to anyone who didn’t know any better, they might think he wanted to hold your hand. but you tossed him your keys and he caught them mid air. 

matt unlocked the car and threw his bag in your backseat while you got in the passenger seat.

“where are we going?”

“waffle house.”

suddenly, you were seventeen again, sitting shotgun in matt’s car at 2 am when neither of you could sleep. sometimes, you'd go to a 24 hour drive through and sit in the parking lot to eat. but your favorite moments were spent in a waffle house booth that had a half ass wipe down and food prepared by people who’d rather be anywhere else.

it was the best food you’d ever had every single time.

the bonus was that no one asked any questions, no one batted an eye at the son of keith tkachuk sitting in a waffle house at 2 am.

matt knew the drive by heart and minutes later, you were entering the establishment, trying not to slip on the greasy floors.

both of you slid into a booth and picked up the menus.

“didn’t think you could eat this stuff, with your diet and what not.”

matt shrugged. “it’s the holiday season, i’m allowed a few cheat days?”

you quirked a brow, remembering a time in calgary where you fixed dinners based on the diet given to you by the team nutritionist once she realized matt didn’t and couldn't cook. “i didn’t think that was allowed.”

“what they don't know won't kill ‘em.” he gestured to the menu. “what do you want?”

“you mean you don’t remember?” you teased.

matt rolled his eyes and gestured to the waiter. he recited both of your orders with an alarming amount of accuracy, given the fact the two of you hadn’t eaten at a waffle house in over a year.

“what?” he asked when he saw you looking after the server walked away.

“how do you remember that but not my coffee order?”

he blushed a little. “i feel like your coffee order changed with the seasons—”

“because they have seasonal drinks, matthew!” you exclaimed with a laugh.

“your waffle house order is simpler, easier for me to remember.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face but accepted his answer. you sipped at your water and stared at him. “so what did you want to talk about?”

matt flinched back, like the sudden change in topic slapped him in the face. “what? you didn’t wanna wait until we got our food?”

you shrugged. “i’d feel less anxious if we just talked about it now.”

matt reached across the table and grabbed your hand in his own. it felt like being twenty-two again, living with matthew in calgary and holding hands under the table when you hung out with him teammates. his palm fit perfectly in your own.

“you don’t need to be anxious, i’m not gonna pressure you into anything.”

“i just wanna know what's’s going on in your head.”

matt’s thumb stroked the back of your hand. “you are all that’s in my head right now,” he confessed. “i get it, i fucked up by breaking up with you a year ago. and if i could go back, i would in a heartbeat. i would tell you everything i told you a week ago. that i love you and i’m sorry. i’m sorry that my insecurities got in the way, that i made a decision for you and in doing so, made you doubt my love for you.”

he continued. “but if you hear nothing else, hear me when i say i love you from the deepest part of my soul. if you asked me to give up the game and move with you to new york, if you asked me to request a trade to the fucking rangers, i’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“i would never ask you to do that,” you whispered.

“i know, but i would. because i love you, and if you’d let me, i’d like to be with you again. i’d like to marry you like i should’ve years ago. i’d like to have babies with you, however many you want. i wanna grow old and live in a house big enough to fit all of our grandkids for holidays. i want all of that with you,” he said. “what do you want?”

there were so many things you could say, so many things you wanted to say. but with watery eyes, and a heart that raced faster than a treadmill at full speed, you couldn’t vocalize any of it.

your mind raced with thoughts.

i wanna know the nicknames you gave your teammates. i want to use that specific combination of paints to make your eye color. i want to stick my cold feet between your legs and laugh when you pull away.  i want my birthday to be your passcode again.

“i want you” you said, unable to say anything more. it was a miracle you even got those words out, your voice cracked on every syllable.

“yeah?” he asked, eyes shining with hope.

you nodded. matt immediately leaned over the table and kissed you, you met him halfway. and it felt like every question you ever had was answered. it felt like the best possible ending of your favorite tv series.

he felt like home, more than st. louis ever could. more than calgary.

when you both pulled back, neither of you could keep the smiles off your faces. “what do you say to doing long distance again? just while i’m in school,” you proposed.

matt’s smile could’ve lit the entire city. 

“baby, for you? i’d do anything.”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk #nhl blurb #nhl imagines #nhl imagine

[abiiors]

being on tour with them for ur birthday and there’s a show that day so everyone’s busy but ross goes out of his way to still make it special like maybe u go to breakfast just the two of u or wake up extra early to walk around whatever city in the world your in or just something. and so it’s nothing crazy or over the top romantic but he makes sure u feel appreciated and loved :)) (and maybe he tells matty to have the crowd shout happy birthday or something and embarrass u)

ps happy bday!!

god this is so adorableeee! also thank you 🥺💕

anyway yes, you know your birthday this year is going to be so hectic with all the travelling and the show that's happening on the day itself so you don't have much hopes of it being a Whole Big Deal. and you're okay with it because ross makes all 365 days of the year so special for you that having less than usual attention on your birthday this year is not something that you're upset about. plus you already are travelling the world with him, surrounded by your friends so it's not like the day will totally suck anyway. but then you mention this to him in passing and he is like OH HELL NO! he will hear absolutely nothing about you having a birthday that is less than stellar and even when you try to convince him that it's okay, you're happy that you're here in japan (not the canon timeline ik but that's the place i want) with him and that's good enough, he's like 'absolutely not! what do you mean good enough?? you need the best!' and you roll your eyes at him but you also can't stop the smile that makes its way onto your face.

anyway at the stroke of midnight, there's a ruckus outside your hotel room and ross looks at you with a very big grin on his face. you almost gently scold him for making them stay up so late when they've got a show but he is too busy picking you up and spinning you in a circle while singing happy birthday before another impatient knock sounds at the door. and as soon as ross opens the door, in comes matty with a soft sleepy smile on his face, rubbing his eyes a bit. followed by george carrying a beautiful cake. followed by adam carrying a few bags of presents. and you instantly want to burst into tears at how they still found the time for this even when everything is so chaotic but everyone gives you a lil hug and sings happy birthday while you blow out the candles and cut the cake (matty definitely goes full singer, ross asks if he should pull out his bass, george has already started finger drumming on the table while hann plays air guitar) anyway you fuck around for like 20 minutes, opening the presents and eating cake and drinking just a bit of wine/champagne before you kick them out because 1) they need rest and 2) you need ross (👀👀)

SO ANYWAY the morning after you're there lying content, half naked and still half asleep in his arms, and he keeps kissing your face every two seconds telling you how much he loves you until both your stomachs start growling and it's inevitably time to head out. you're under the impression that you're just grabbing breakfast at the hotel restaurant but he's practically bouncing on his heels announcing that he saw the cutest cafe and he wants to take you there so of course you quickly hop into the shower and put on your super cute outfit of the day before you leave the hotel, hand in hand just leisurely walking the streets and pointing at new things, laughing about silly stuff etc until you reach the cafe. it is super cute! just like he said with adorable pink and white furniture and ross, the giant that he is, dwarfs the chair which you find hilarious and makes you launch into a 2 minute laughing fit while he tries to sit there with a straight face. anyway once you've calmed down, you both stuff your faces with very VERY fluffy pancakes and a bunch of other things. since you're so full, you decide to keep on walking and stroll around for a bit until it comes up to around 11 at which point you know you need to get back to the hotel because the guys need to leave soon for sound checks and other pre-show prep. ross is all 'sorry i am going to have to leave you now because of everything else :(' and he genuinely feels bad for not being able to shower you with attention all day long but you shut him up with a kiss before telling him that being here with him is more than enough and that you simply can't wait to dress up and go watch the show. also you've already made plans to go out for a nice dinner the next day when they don't have a show. but he's still like 'your birthday's not tomorrow, it's today!! and i can't believe you're gonna spend it here alone till the show starts :((' and you have to tell him at least three times that you really do want to have a nice relaxing day and that you have a spa appointment booked at the hotel before he reluctantly leaves.

as evening approaches, you excitedly get ready and text him when you're about to leave and he responds instantly with a 'can't wait for tonight. love you xx' which is a bit suspicious but you figure he's running around, only half-focused on the text. anyway you're engulfed in a massive hug as soon as you get there followed by him asking you to give him a twirl so he can properly see what you're wearing. and he asks all about your day, listening intently while cuddling you close and being sickeningly sweet which you absolutely bask in before it's time for them to go on stage. as always they are all simply electric! and you don't even realise how easily time flies until it's literally right before their last song before matty starts speaking into the mic. at first you think it's just a part of the show so you take this time to drool over your man looking sweaty and undone until you hear the words "birthday" and "special friend" in one sentence and snap your attention back to matty who's looking at you sitting at the side of the stage. even ross has a wide cheeky grin on his face as the first notes of the crowd singing happy birthday fall on your ears. it's weirdly touching because they can't even see you and yet you hear the love in their voice so you mouth a 'thank you' at matty who extends it to the crowd and look at ross just in time to see him blowing you a sneaky lil kiss and laughing at your flaming face <3

#asks #birthday asks #the 1975 #ross macdonald #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader #ross macdonald fanfic #ross x you #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald fluff #ross macdonald x you #the 1975 fluff #fluff fic

[hellskitchenswhore]

#angst (Volume 1)

Please note, this list is a WIP. Its not perfect and, like a shelf in a library, there's probably stories here that belong elsewhere. If you find mistakes or have input please lmk!

➸ “even if you don’t love me anymore” by @matt-erialgirl - #stitches

➸ Not Again by @mvtthewmurdvck

➸ Always by @imaginesfordifferentfandoms

➸ Feel You by @titan-sl8yer - Matt loses his hearing and you comfort him

➸ hurt by @shrikeyryn - #savior!Matt x vigilante!Reader

➸ protected by @catholicdaredevil

➸ make amends by @honeycombstrawberry - Matt isn’t there in time to stop you from getting hurt

➸ you weren’t here by @multiharlot

➸ love on the moon by @multiharlot

➸ "What we had was so special, and you walked away from it" by @weareallstoriesintheend

➸ The Last Time and Worth It by @weareallstoriesintheend - Matt pushes you away, but finally realizes how much he needs you. #smut

➸ I Don’t Want to be Holy by @modern-vellichor - little #fluff, little #angst, lot of #religious imagery

➸ Tragedy by @modern-vellichor

➸ The Deep Cut and Lover, You Should Have Come Over by @itwasthereaminuteago

➸ Devil Upright w/ Matt by @raelwrites - toxic relationship, #angst, some #college!Matt 

➸ Silence by @peterman-spideyparker - Matt loses his hearing and you comfort him

➸ Fall Asleep in My Lap by @pastafossa - You comfort Matt after a long day

➸ The Devil’s Lullaby & The Devil May Cry by @wint3r-h3art - You wake in Matts arms having not seen him since college

➸ Sick Twisted Fantasy Pt 1 & Pt 2 by @multiharlot - Age gap fic w/ reader meeting Foggy & Karen for the first time 

➸ Devil In Me by @waspswidows - #stitches, #angst, #smut

➸ not able to lie by @mvtthewmurdvck - #hurt/comfort, you get beat up to send a message to Daredevil

➸ “You’re my family, too” by @thirstybitchs - softness and comforting Matt

➸ anyone but him by @dameronology - murdock v castle and jealous!matt

➸ red and blue by @dameronology - murdock v castle, #angst

➸ stupid love by @thatfangirl42 

➸ Staying With Me by @americancowgirl19 - You get sick and Matt hates that he didn’t see the signs sooner

➸ calling me out by @starduststevie - Matt has been away from you for months and you’ve finally had enough 

➸ Screaming the name of a foreigner’s God by @raelwrites - Matt copes with your death

➸ Morally grey vigilante!reader & working with frank by @raelwrites

➸ "I’d live for you.” by @murdocksluvrr - Matt comforts you

➸ stitches Part 1, Part 2 by @megthemewlingquim - Matt comforts you after a kidnapping, #smut in Part 2

➸ Polarize by @shedaresthedevil - Reader deals with sleep paralysis

➸ Would you pray before you twist the knife? by @shedaresthedevil

➸ "Why are you so scared of loving me?" by @what-the-hell

➸ Whatever's After Forever by @m4tthewmurd0ck - Avenger!reader, fighting and make-up

➸ Not Your Martyr by @amchapel - Matt doesn't sacrifice his moral code to save you

➸ "It hurts when you're not around" by @hail-matty

➸ (Un)Stealthy by @ellephlox

➸ The Marks Left Behind by @courtforshort15 - Matt thinks you're horrified the first time you see his scars, #comfort

➸ Sleepless Nights by @carters-things - Your worry over Matt has been keeping you up

➸ done by @serendipityrogers - you lose it after another bad night, fighting and make-up

➸ Under My Skin by @everlastingdreams - One day your abuser walks into Nelson & Murdock, tw sa, tw child abuse

➸ Under the Light of the Moon by @saintmurd0ck - you're matt's girlfriend and the vigilante being blackmailed to take down daredevil

➸ The Silence Between Us by @marvelswh0re - Matt lets you down again, #breakup

➸ Privilege by @courtforshort15 - #tw sexual assault

➸ Fragile by @devils-dares - sometimes matt slips into a headspace after a bad night

#masterlists #angst #mega angst #hurt/comfort #hurt no comfort

[paleiido]

AHEM. Abi: 💐,🎡,🌈 ,❤️ Gabe: 💥,🌙,📣,❇️,💘  Mari: 🌠,🖍️,🎵  Miguil: 🙉,🌱,🔥,💚. Pick and choose. teehee

AHEM 🦅 (swoops down on you)

🐈Miguel:

first of all sicko. Honestly, he's pretty unbothered most of the time, but when it comes to his love it would be a hard hit. Anything diminishing it or implying it to be false would be bad.

But from Kitty specifically? I don't love you. He'd simply lose it and cry and throw up. Cuz, 1) why would she lie about that, 2) did she ever?

Peace and love to you.

Age 6, new girl on the playground, and her laugh rings out above anything else. With the setting sun her hair almost glows and she's laughing with his sister. She sees him looking and invites him to play with them.

He remembers thinking it was the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen, and he's lucky he still get to see the same smile everyday.

How fucking dare you 👺

Just like his big sister, he makes himself pass last. Could he better if he took opportunities thrown his way? Yeah. But he doesn't want to be better at the cost of people he cares about, and he doesn't want to lose them. He does truly think that and he's not that scared of the future but it's also an excuse.

He's reckless when emotional (jjoeblush) He's not used to being emotional so it leads to him making bad decisions but usually nothing ever lasting because he can get a grip on himself fairly quickly. But he tends to isolate a lot and not fighting, just leaving a situation.

Uhm being known and knowing :) Depends from people to people, but he's happy when he knows they're trying their best for him. Just knowing that I.e Matty saying sorry means a lot to her and its hard for her to do but she does for him. Or like Mari's presence is often enough because he knows she always has his back.

Otherwise he needs big hugs where he can hide his face , Kitty is smaller than him but generally hugs where he can hide his face in the crook of her neck :) She's the one who offers him comfort most of the time. REST UNDER DA CUT ✂

💌 Mariana:

She'd wish to never lose anyone without having to choose :) She wants it all, she knows she can't! But maybe they can make it work .

god. Hmmmm stop running before you have to. You might find you're better suited for it than you think.

I dunno enough artists to be like syeah she has a favorite one HAHAH

but ahem she has one here , the song i associate with her the most always changes :)

💘Gabriel:

Anger and sadness. He doesn't feel them often nor linger on it. But those who can make him feel them makes it..harder to deal with. With age it became easier but he was def punching walls in High school. rip eric's locker door ig

Heh. His greatest wish is for Eric and Kitty to be happy and being part of that happiness. He has a family in them and they're getting farther away and it scares him. He's not willing to push Kitty's boundaries for it but he'll push on Eric's because he knows Eric doesn't want to lose his daughter. (His ultimate wish was that Piper never died but lol. just...being all happy together. He would have loved to see it.)

Very loud! (heh 😏) His voice carries easily! He just has that presence about him. Talks semi polite like, too casual for business but not rigid. No voice claim for now...will think about it... He has a similar accent to everyone in town. Still talks hindi with his family a lot.

Something Kitty did at school and she sent over to him. He gushed over it to her for hours on phone . It looks so shit now but he loves teasing her about it and it's still really important. Meant the world to him that she thought about him. Otherwise, there's a gift from piper he keeps close and a gift from his parents when he graduated.

He does believe in attraction at first sight. Not so much love now.

In a relationship, he looks for understanding. Being able to communicate openly is very important to him. As long as they can work through stuff everything will be fine. He also needs someone who can understand they won't always pass first for him, especially for family.

🌞 Abigail:

sicko

White chrysanthemums - truth, loyalty & honesty

White orchids - humility, innocence, elegance , etc

Cyclamen - feelings and sincere affection

Red carnation - Love & affection

Hydrangea - gratitude for being understood Hydrangea and orchids being her favorite :)

It's not something important or that she thinks about. but she WILL HEH. Before Damo, no. Doesn't think it's anything special and it's not like she had the occasion for it. BUT! I think she will giggle and blush if Damo asks :) She's happy to indulge him.

To not lose herself.

So I thought it was word of affirmation but did a lil test and apparently its physical touch and quality time close second ♥.

#xvii.a #miguel rivera #mariana rivera #abigail rivera #gabriel sukarto #this is so long for what.

[astoryinred]

"Trese" and the truth in the fiction

In short: why the actual monsters in Trese don't have horns, wings, or summoning rituals

Finally the Netflix anime adaptation of the Filipino graphic novel/comics series "Trese" has dropped. It is available in several languages such as English, Filipino, Japanese, Spanish...just to name a few. It is not a perfect work, both in technical terms as well as an adaptation of the source material, but it is worth a watch. Go watch it. Please.

That being said, there is so much to unpack about the series, and I do not mean in terms of the voice-acting and the ethnicities of the persons involved, or just how crunched together the writing is. I will leave that to the critics. What I am writing here is a view as to the real life truths woven into the horror/supernatural threads of the "Trese" episodes, and why these are important. It's because for a lot of people encountering "Trese" at this point, the actual every day monsters of the tale (or at least of the first 4 episodes) are even more distant than the aswangs, tikbalangs, nunos and other supernatural beings that populate the anime.

This will go into spoilers below the cut

Episode 1: The series opens with a train stopping right near the "Guadalupe Station", and some of its passengers being attacked by aswang as they walk along the railroad tracks. During the course of investigating this and another case (that of a ghost murdered on Balete Drive), Alexandra Trese learns that other spirits using this train line have recently perished in a fire or have also been murdered by aswang in league with a politician.

The squatter/informal settler community mentioned in this episode is based on a real one. That area has gone up in flames from accidental and not so accidental fires over the past few decades. Some of the settlers have moved on, but a good many have stubbornly stuck around despite the land being eyed by a large property developer. That area is a symptom of the inequality that plagues that particular part of the metropolis, since it is only less than a mile away from some of the country's swankiest gated subdivisions. While the powers that be are (probably) not involved in selling anyone for meat, they still have a long way to go to address the woes of that community when it is not election season.

As for the other murder in the episode? There have been several cases of women associated with or married to prominent politicians who have died in mysterious circumstances, with some of these deaths ruled as suicide. In many cases, the truth has been hushed up, or simply swept under the rug.

Episode 2: While Alexandra is pursuing the trail of a tikbalang running wild in the city, she also is called to investigate a mysterious series of electrocutions in a gated village. Along the way she discovers that this is a form of human sacrifice to the bagyons manning the electricity providers of the city.

As reprehensible as the bagyons are, what is truly sickening is the seeming indifference of the people in Livewell Village. It's mentioned more in the comics (but also given a line or two of exposition here by the Nuno) that the people regularly offer an outsider, usually a skilled worker in charge of maintenance, to ensure that the bagyon will bless them. In real life there is the callousness that some people exhibit towards essential workers such as yes, repairmen and electricians who have to endure heights and storms just to ensure the "comfort" of consumers. Although the Philippines isn't a country crawling with litiginous folk and "Karens", there are enough of this sort to make essential workers' lives miserable on a daily basis.

Episode 3: This is a difficult one, both in the comics and the anime. One of Trese's cases leads her to cross paths with an actress named Nova, who is later revealed to have had her child left to die (hence making her a target for a specific type of monster). Nova's story is admittedly not easy to deal with and may be considered incredulous, but there are two important contexts to remember when watching it.

The first is that abortion is still illegal throughout the Philippines. It cannot be legally offered by any clinic or medical practitioner. There are clandestine alternatives available, but at a steep price.

That being said, most Filipinos regardless of where they stand on the abortion issue will still consider the abandonment or murder of an infant to be beyond the pale. Yet this does happen. Every month one can expect to read a story or two of babies being tossed in the trash or left in bathrooms---and those are just the stories that make it to the press. There have been exposes about mothers who have sold off their infants to "adopters" willing to pay thousands of pesos or dollars for an under the table transfer of custody. These happen because of desperation, poverty, and lack of resources to support mothers. Maternity leave is only up to 120 days here in most cases, and there are few resources to support mothers with PPD, mothers abandoned by their partners, or those with just too many mouths to feed. Questions of "bodily autonomy" are not first and foremost in the mind of many women who do the worst to their newborns; the question is food on the table for the next day or the day after. Survival is key. Not independence or empowerment.

With these in mind, it is not surprising that Nova is considered one of the most disturbing and reprehensible characters in this episode. From what we see, her choice of abandoning her child stems from vanity and pursuit of a glamorous career. We can see that this is not because she would be out on the streets if she had a child to care for, or because she was escaping something. It's just portrayed as pure selfishness.

It is interesting that Nova is introduced here almost as a juxtaposition to another mother, Ramona. Ramona, the mother of Crispin and Basilio, is an armed insurgent who engages in a ritual to avenge herself on the military men who forced her to murder her own comrades. It is also implied earlier in the season that it was not just murder involved, but that Ramona had also been a "prize" given to the soldiers who captured her. And yes in this context, it can also mean rape. The Armed Forces of the Philippines does not have a shining record when it comes to its treatment of women dissidents and prisoners. This backstory does not justify what Ramona does for the remainder of her screentime, but it does show why she has absolutely no sympathy or mercy to give to anyone outside of her two children. She is part of a cycle of killing that makes any peaceful resolution of the insurgency in the Philippines so difficult to achieve. Both sides behave abominably, and civillians do get caught in the crossfire (or explosions).

Episode 4: Much of this episode revolves around the events in and surrounding a certain police station located near a large public cemetery. We see that the police chief Captain Guerrero has his hands full with cases and keeping his subordinates in line. The cops in the precinct range from the innocent apparent newcomer Tapia to the more stereotypical "asshole" cops Reyes and company. Later it is discovered that the bodies apparently "stolen" from the graves are resurrected zombies who are being directed to attack the station for a specific reason...and it has to do with how the police run their often bloody operations.

The real life neighborhoods surrounding the cemetery have seen their share of violence and "extra judicial killings". In some houses there are still candles and placards calling for justice for family members killed in raids or accused of having been drug suspects (almost a death sentence in the Philippines 2016 onwards). Eyewitnesses and CCTV footage show members of the police force taking part in these raids and clandestine operations. The worst part? The neighborhoods surrounding that particular cemetery haven't even seen the worst of it. Other disadvantaged communities in the north of the metropolis have seen even more deaths of this sort...with some of the deaths being those of children. Google the name of Kian delos Santos as a test case. Kian's case was one of the few to have extended media coverage, and even then the resolution has been rather wanting.

It is tempting to go into the "all cops are bastards" line of thought with this episode, but I do like how Captain Guerrero is forced to interact with someone who he is trying to save in the station, since as it turns out this person has recently lost a family member to this form of senseless murder. Captain Guerrero and the audience are led to remember that these victims have names. They had families. They had lives. They are more than body counts and statistics. That scene is one of the most humanizing of the series, and shows that while not all cops are bastards, there is enough rot in the institution to make it a problem.

Episodes 5-6: I would go more into Episodes 5 and 6, but those deserve a whole new treatment into the nature of truth, compromise, and even gaslighting (even I am not sure how much of a certain character's narrative is true, and how much is just meant to confuse Alexandra with regard to what she knows of her father). The context she does face before those harrowing revelations is a very real one though: things going wrong in a penitentiary.

The penal system of the Philippines is alarmingly punitive and full of inequities. Privileged inmates like politicians do receive special treatment (including media coverage and becoming leaders of factions) while less privileged inmates languish and must struggle to survive the brutal social hiearchy in some institutions. And yes it has happened that inmates have been sent out to do "jobs" of murder and arson in the outside world, often being snuck in and out. A movie that tackles this aspect better is "OTJ (On the Job)" directed by Erik Matti. That one will keep you up at night.

The ending of Episode 6 is rather ambiguous, and it remains to be seen what Alexandra really experienced during her trials prior to becoming a detective, and what her father really did to her and her sibling. We'll have to wait for another season to get to the bottom of that. But if the anime will continue to draw from the comics themselves for stories/case files, we can count on seeing more societal demons and baddies alongside the supernatural ones. And those are the villains that Alexandra Trese cannot just readily beat; it will take a heck lot more than a babaylan na mandirigma to handle those!

#trese #tw:infanticide #tw:gore #tw:abortion #tw:horror #tw: suicide #tw: implied rape

[your-eternal-muse]

All I Wanted (Was You) Pt. 2

Part 1

Summery: Reader finally gets to talk to Spencer about the events of their relationship

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: Swearing, description of an arrest, manipulation, signs of a toxic relationship, JJ slander, slapping,  reader isn’t a good person in anyway shape or form, just you wait

Pairing: Criminal!Reader x Eventual Criminal!Spencer

A/N: Hey....it’s been a second...how y’all been? So this has been burning a hole in my google drive for weeks now, and I’m gonna be honest I’ve just been too damn lazy to post it. I truely started my new job, and guess what? I got covid, so that was real fucking fun. Plus I’ve been dealing with some personal shit that has not been entirely good for my mental health, but do not fret! I am doing much better than these past few weeks and weather its because of the iron supplement I’m remembering to take daily, or the fact that because I had covid, means the chances of me getting it again are slim, and I just don’t have it in me to care anymore is up in the air. And I do care. I wear my mask and social distance, but when it comes to me personally.....I couldn’t give a fuck. Anyway here it is, the long awaited part two. There are already four parts I have planned, so yay! Another series! Enjoy!

I’ve decided. I hate this fucking room.

I’ve also decided that I hate Agent Jareau. Or A.J. Or whoever the fuck she was.

I openly glare at her from across the table, since I can’t actively do the things that I want to do to her.

The man sitting next to her introduced himself as Agent Hotchner.

He’s the one that pulled Mathew back. Or Dr. Reid. Fuck.

“Ms. Y/l/n and I have spoken, and she has agreed to answer any and all of your questions. You have her full cooperation. On one condition.”

The annoyed grimace spreading across Jareau’s face slaps a smirk on my own.

“What’s the condition?”

I speak now, staring at my reflection in the mirror before moving eye contact back to Hotchner.

“I want to speak to Mat- Dr. Reid. Alone, with no surveillance, for a half hour.”

The room runs cold.

“No.”

“I will answer anything you ask. But only after my own questions are answered.”

I lean forward onto my elbows, still smirking. “You gotta give a little, to get a little.”

“We can answer any questions you have.”

“That’s not what I want. This is my one condition. You don’t give me this, you aren’t getting shit from me.” I spit, wishing I could grab her collar and throttle her.

“Listen here you little-”

“Stand down, JJ.” Hotchner has his arm outstretched in front of her, keeping her from jumping across the table.

“Yeah, JJ. Stand down.” I purr, and her jaw sets.

A cell phone rings.

Hotchner picks up, breaking eye contact with me for a second while he quietly asks, “Are you sure?”

Someone answers, and he doesn’t respond before ending the call and turning back to me.

“He’ll do it.”

Is it bad my heart jumped?

“What?” Jareau is staring at the side of Hotchner's face, but he keeps eye contact with me.

“You get a half hour. And if anything happens inside that room-”

“I don’t appreciate you threatening my client when she has just agreed to cooperate. Now, will you please uncuff her so she can go to the designated room?”

His face is a stone, barely showing any sign of his thoughts.

But he reaches into his pocket, and pulls out the keys while moving around the table to where I sit.

They fall from my wrists, and I pull the sleeves of the sweater Sheila gave me down to cover the red skin.

“Follow me.” he says, and I stand, free for the first time since this morning.

Running only crosses my mind for a second before I follow him through the hallways, glaring eyes burning into my back.

He opens the door to another small conference room, allowing me and Sheila to enter.

“We’ll send him in once you’re ready.” he says and without another word, he closes the door.

Sheila turns to me. “Are you sure this is what you want?” She takes my hands in hers.

“Positive.”

“Okay. You get a half hour. Use it wisely.” She lets go of my hands.

“That’s the plan.” I shove them into my pockets.

She nods, before opening the door, and leaving.

My heart pounds in my chest.

I wring my hands.

The door closes.

He stands, staring.

“Hi.”

I swallow, anger rippling through my bones.

I storm forward, and I see him hold out his hands to try and stop me, but he doesn’t put up much of a fight.

My open palm meets the skin of his cheek and fire eats at my fingers.

We’re both quiet for a moment before I reach forward, feeling his chest, his sides, his pockets.

I feel a bulk under his shirt beneath his waistband on his back.

“Are you fucking serious?” I pull up his shirt, grabbing the phone from his hip.

He doesn’t meet my eye as I see it’s on a call. With a certain agent's name flashing across the screen.

I throw it to the ground, stomping into it with my heel until I hear it crack before picking it up and opening the door.

“Y/n please..”

I throw it into the room of agents.

I meet the eyes of the person who made the initial call.

“You’re fucking lucky the deals still on, Jennifer. Or those people's deaths would be on your hands. So thank your lucky stars that I want to prove my innocence because if I didn’t give a fuck, you would have a lot to fucking explain right now.”

I slam the door shut, locking it behind me. 

I stand, heaving, staring at the swirls in the wood of the door.

I wait until my breathing is less erratic to speak.

“You must think I’m fucking stupid.” My voice is oddly calm for the anger burning through my veins.

“I don’t. I’ve never thought that.” He moves to stand a few feet behind me. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

I turn then, moving into his face.

“How the hell was it supposed to happen!?”

I hear footsteps approach me as I stir the creamer into my coffee. 

Hands are on my waist, and I barely have time to set my spoon down before he’s turning me around, and capturing me in a bone crushing hug.

I laugh nervously, hugging him back. “Good morning to you too.”

He pushes me back a little bit, and his eyes are red rimmed and frantic. 

“Hey,” I cup his face, running my thumb over the apple of his cheek. “Talk to me baby, what’s wrong?”

Different scenarios run through my mind, all of them terrible.

None of them are what he actually says.

“If I asked you to run away with me, would you?”

My thumb stops. “What?”

His eyes dart back up to mine, and the sheer glow of urgency shining in his pupils makes my heart rate pick up.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” My hand starts to fall from his face, but his hands come up to grip my wrists.

“I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Matty, just talk to me. Whatever it is, we can fix it, I can fix this.”

His eyes dart to the clock on the oven behind me, and his breathing picks up. “Shit.”

He licks his lips. “I-”

My front door slams open.

I jump back, hitting my coffee cup on the counter, spilling the contents.

Officers spill in and my stomach drops to my feet.

“Y/n y/l/n?” An officer comes forward, gun lowered, but finger still on the trigger.

I slowly raise my hands. “Yes? What’s going on? Matty, what’s happening?”

His grip on my arm is like steel, but officers come and pry him away from me, twisting my arm behind my back. His eyes dart between me and the people swarming.

“No! Please, this isn’t-, stop!” He’s shouting, looking around at the officers pool into my house.

I am acutely aware of the gun aimed at my chest.

My arms are pulled behind tight behind me, and it’s instinct to fight.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!”

“Y/n y/l/n you are under arrest for-”

I don’t hear the rest. All I hear is Matty’s voice, his fight to remove himself from the officer who was trying to cuff him.

No.

“Let him go! He didn’t do anything!”

He looks annoyed and frightened and tired all at once.

I’m being pulled away from the scene towards my front door.

“No! No Mathew! Don’t touch him!”

My wrists pull against the handcuffs, burning into my skin.

“Stop! My name is Dr. Spencer Reid! I’m an FBI agent with the behavioral analysis unit.”

I stop.

The officer stops.

The world stops.

“My badge is in my back pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.” He reaches back into his pocket and pulls out a leather badge, opening it to show the officers.

One nods, and they back off of him, letting go of his arms.

“What?” It’s broken and barely a whisper.

His eyes meet mine, and tears are freely rolling down my cheeks, and I blink to try and get rid of them, but it doesn’t work.

“You- You’re a-” I can’t breath. “What?”

My chest hurts.

“Y/n-”

I’m out the door.

The world is in slow motion.

Black coats and red and blue lights are everywhere.

I’m in the back of a police car.

He’s in the yard.

Staring.

“It wasn’t even supposed to. I got the call 5 minutes before they came. I didn’t have any time, I couldn’t do anything.”

“You couldn’t do anything?” I look at him in disbelief.

“You could have, I don’t know, not have lied to me?”

“It’s not that simple.”

His cheek is red.

I fight back the urge to reach forward and hold it against my palm.

We didn’t move, and I realize that this was not the best idea.

I move past him, going to stand by the window.

I never realized  how high up we were.

He turns with me, watching me as I go.

“Who are you?”

I hear him shift. “I’m Dr. Spencer Reid. I’m an agent with the Behavioral analysis unit.”

“Doctor? What are you a doctor of?”

A doctor? A friggin doctor?

“I have 3 BA’s and PhDs in mathematics, chemistry and engineering.”

 I can’t help but let my mouth fall open.

I see a small smile twitch on his face. “I also have an eidetic memory and can read 20,000 words per minute.”

I shut my mouth and scoff. “That just proves that I know absolutely nothing about you.”

I start to pace, wanting to scream from the silence.

I go back and forth inside my head, wondering which question I should ask next. So many bubbled inside my head, it made my brain hurt.

“Why did you go undercover?” is what I settle on.

“We wanted proof that you had part in the murders. We couldn’t get that without inside information. I volunteered because from watching you, I know you’d take pity on me. It’d be believable that I didn’t know what I was doing. You wouldn’t feel intimidated by me.”

His hands are on my shoulders now, stopping back in front of the window. 

He’s close enough now that I can feel his body heat against my back.

I hated that he was right.

“You get defensive around women you consider a threat, and you don’t trust men bigger than you. I was a good middle.”

I really wish he would talk louder. It’d make me feel like he didn’t care. The soft tone he was using was sending comforting signals down my spine.

I don’t want to be comfortable.

I want to be angry.

“So it was all for your case then? Everything you told me, everything we did, all those promises was a lie?”

I take a chance, and turn to face him.

I wish I could stop crying.

“Was anything you told me true?”

“Yes!” His hands tighten around my shoulders, startling me. Realization flashes over his eyes and his hands hesitantly remove themselves from me.

He takes a breath. “At first, work was all it was. I was just supposed to observe you, your behavior and report back to my team. But after a few weeks, something changed. You were fragile, and compassionate. When I looked at you, I didn’t see a cold-blooded killer, or a sociopathic dominate. I saw you. I saw the way you cared for people, how you stood up for your clients, and I couldn’t help myself. I feel in love with you.”

His hands are back on me, now resting just above my elbows.

“I love you. Everything I told you about us and what I wanted to do, that’s the truth.”

I wipe my tears away with my fingertips.

“You asked me this morning, before they took me away, if I wanted to run away with you. Do you still mean it, or was that just a ruse?” I worded the question carefully.

“I mean it.”

I sigh, finally looking up into his eyes. “You don’t think I had anything to do with those murders, do you?”

He shakes his head.

I set my jaw. “I want to hear you say it. It’s the least you owe me.”

He swallows. “No. I don’t think you do. I never did.”

My fingers play with the fabric of his shirt. “Spencer suits you.”

He smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“What are you going to tell your team?”

“Nothing. I can’t. And even if I could I wouldn’t want to.”

“Why? I would think you’d want to tell them everything.”

“Usually I do. But they don’t see you like I do. It’s just better if they don’t know. For everyone.”

I can’t help it.

I lean my head against his chest, and let his arms wrap around me.

We stand like that for what seems like years before I feel wetness on my hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

I just hold him tighter.

I know that he’s talking about the present situation. But I can’t help but agree for an entirely different reason.

If he hadn’t been the one to come in that day, we wouldn’t be here.

He wouldn’t feel guilty.

I wouldn’t be licking my wounds, going over every conversation we’ve ever had, trying to figure out what’s true and what’s not.

I’d be sitting in a jail cell, wondering where I went wrong, and he’d be helping his team, with no personal connection to me.

I’d be alone.

I hug him tighter, closing my eyes wishing I could be anywhere else with him.

My pocket feels heavy.

There’s a damp spot on his shirt when I pull away.

“I’m bad for you, Spencer.” My voice breaks.

“Is it bad that I don’t care?”

“You should care. I’m not a good person.”

He places his hands on either side of my face, swiping away me tears with his thumbs.

He doesn’t respond.

He just leans down and kisses me.

Kisses me like it’s the last time he’s able to.

Which may very well be the case.

There’s a knock on the door and he breaks, still keeping his hands on my face.

Another knock.

He drops his hands, sighing, before walking over to the door.

His hand hesitates over the knob.

Another knock.

He unlocks it, and opens it. 

Agent Hotchner stands there, stone faced and slightly angry.

Spencer keeps eye contact with me, until Hotchner speaks.

“Reid.”

He looks down, and then turns and walks away.

Sheila walks in after they leave, closing the door once more behind her.

“How did it go?”

I shove my hands into my pockets. “I just want this to be over.”

She walks over, pulling me into a hug I don’t reciprocate. 

“It’s about to be.”

I remove my hand from my pocket, and set the recorder on the table.

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#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid x criminal!reader #criminal!Spencer reid #criminal au #mob au #criminal minds #criminal minds series #All I Wanted (Was You)

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Behind Closed Doors

Keanu Reeves x OFC (Emma Mathers)

Masterlist Prologue

Warnings- Tiny, tiny bits of angst, but not a lot.

Chapter 1 The Pancake Disaster

2 Months later

The mattress dipped gently, though, it was a small body flinging itself on top of hers that awoke her, just past seven am. A tiny, though excitable voice shrieking, “Emma!” Right into her ear was enough to finish the job, and with a suppressed groan, she turned onto her back, careful not to let Matt fall off her, even if he’d really only be hitting the memory foam.

Groggily, Emma wiped the sleep out of her eyes, coming to her senses. Stretching and yawning, she found it hard not to return Matt’s little smile, "Good morning,” she smacked her lips, trying to wake herself up some more, totally not prepared for him to leap back into her lap, “What’s up kiddo?” It wasn’t like the twins hadn’t woken her early in the morning before, she’d been living with the Reeves’ for going on two months and she’d found that kids seemed to enjoy awaking with the sun. Though, it was odd for Matt to bound into her room with such urgency, with his teeth already brushed and without his sister.

“Daddy’s making pancakes,” he jumped up excitedly in her lap, and Emma had to hold him at the hips to ensure he didn’t toss himself off the bed by accident, “But he’s terrible at it!” Crawling out from the safety of her embrace, Matt crept to the edge of her bed, nearer to her side, jumping off and proceeding to tug on her hand encouragingly, “You need to come help him, or its gonna be a disaster!”

Chuckling quietly, Emma shook her head, running her free hand through her caramel highlighted hair, kicking off the sheets. Swinging her bare, tan legs out of bed, it was almost a struggle to keep up with Matt without stumbling over her fluffy slippers, “Slow down Matty, I still have to brush my teeth.”

“Ugh,” Matt pouted deeply, as if she’d just ended his world. Though, his expression perked up soon after and he let her hand go, “Okay! But you have to come soon, before daddy burns the kitchen down,” he made a few explosive noises gesturing wildly with his tiny arms, and Emma couldn’t help the splitting grin that painted her features. They’d come a long way since that first meeting; Matt had been the first to warm up to her, and now, there was very little that he didn’t want Emma around for. And Poppy, while it had taken her a couple weeks, she’d more or less broken out of her shell, probably finding it nice to have someone to do her hair and who’d let her paint their nails. By then, it went without saying that the children absolutely adored Emma, and she’d be lying if she said that she didn’t feel the same. Matt and Poppy had filled a void that Emma didn’t even know was there until they’d made her laugh. Time spent with them was incomparable, and every time she’d though she couldn’t be amazed by them, they'd do something so beautiful that she couldn’t help but adore them even more.

And then, there was Keanu. Like his children, he had a colorful personality, never ceasing to amaze her. Though, the affections she’d grown for him……they were different. In quiet moments, Emma had found that she’d lost an hour or two just thinking about him; how bright his smile was, how his deep, rumbling chuckle warmed her heart and how even the slightest of touches could make her stomach flutter, and when he was around, watching him with his kids was almost enough to make her heart burst. He wasn’t around very often, owning a successful company and being a movie sensation did eat up a lot of his time, but when Keanu was there, he was always putting out his best for those two.

“Emma!” Matt broke her thoughts, and Emma hadn’t realized that she’d just been lingering near the door of the adjoining bathroom. Her bedroom at Keanu’s house was near triple the one she grew up in back in Nevada, and the one in her old apartment might have been a matchbox compared to it. The room was beautifully decorated too, modern minimalism matching the rest of the house.

“Yeah,” she shook off her thoughts, “Sorry hun. Why don’t you go wait in the kitchen and I’ll be out in a few.” With a quick, purposeful nod, Matt ran out of the room, his light footsteps barely audible. Shaking her head, Emma just chortled softly at his behavior, eccentric, much like his father’s.

In the bathroom, she made short work of quickly freshening up, deciding that she’d head out in her pajamas, an oversized cable knit sweater and a pair of shorts, and shower after she’d been covered in flour, batter, syrup and whatever else they’d decided to get into in the kitchen. Grabbing a hair tie off the counter, Emma maintained eye contact with her reflection on the awning mirror over the sink as she piled her hair into a messy bun at top her head, tendrils carelessly curtaining the sides of her face and the little diamond studs adorning her ears twinkling lowly. Free of the moisturizer she'd worn to bed, Emma dabbed a nearby hand towel below her eyes and on her cheeks, soaking up whatever water had remained after she’d rinsed her face, and finally, when she was finished, she headed out, intent on the kitchen downstairs.

Downstairs, Emma was almost stunned by what she’d walked into. The typically blindingly white and ever spotless kitchen was far different that it had ever been since she’d moved in. Clutter adorned the counter tops and the marble island, while there was a growing mountain of dishes in the deep farm sink. There was a spill on the floor too and all in all, the kitchen looked as if a small tornado had wreaked havoc on the room. And something was definitely burning. After the initial shock had passed, Emma rediscovered her voice, though her tone was still laced with an air of confusion, “What is happening in here?”

As if caught in the act of doing something insanely criminal, Matt, Poppy and Keanu all looked up at her from where they’d gathered around the island. Keanu was at the electric stove, a frying pan on one of the flat burners, while the twins were a safe distance away from the action, attempting to help by taking turns stirring the batter and both perched on the counter. Their printed pjs, Poppy’s with Disney princesses and Matt’s with race cars, were messed up with flour, and Keanu’s face was the same.

“We’re making you breakfast.” Surprisingly, it was Keanu who’d spoken up, looking bewildered and far out of his element. Then, smiling sheepishly, he cast his head down, “But I guess we’re just giving you more work, aren’t we?” He sighed, clearly embarrassed that his sweet gesture had gone awry, “I’m sorry-”

“No,” Emma blushed, she couldn’t believe that he’d thought of her, gone out of his way to try to make her breakfast for no foreseeable reason. “Its okay,” she reassured, cautiously approaching them, “I am so, so grateful that you thought of me, and tried to do something so sweet, really,” gently, she touched Matt and Poppy’s faces, quickly pecking them on the foreheads, “But maybe I could help too?” And by help, Emma actually meant take over so she could do some damage control and save Zelda, the housekeeper, the task of a huge clean up.

Before Keanu could oblige or protest, Poppy spoke up, telling the whole truth as children usually did, “It was daddy’s idea Emma! You should thank him!” She beamed, all but hopping onto Emma’s waist.

“I…..” Keanu stuttered, visible parts of his cheeks going tomato red, “I just- it’s just…..You know, you do so much for us. You’re up early every morning, making us breakfast. You take care of us, I just thought that we should do something nice for you,” he rambled on, avoiding her gaze. It was true though, while Emma had been hired to care for the children, preparing their meals, getting them ready for the day, watching them when they weren’t with their tutors and everything in between, she'd started picking up after him too. Tossing his laundry in with the kids' and making him meals so Zelda wouldn't have too. “Maybe we should have just taken you out,” he finally concluded with a quiet laugh, "Would have saved you the trouble of having to come in here and dealing with this disaster."

"Its okay," tentatively, Emma squeezed Keanu's surprisingly firm bicep reassuringly, and when he glanced at her, the moment feeling more intimate then she'd intended, her breath hitched. Still, her hand lingered, and Keanu didn't seem bothered enough to pull away. Emma held his gaze, her heart jumping after he turned a bit more, the space between them almost becoming mute and his chest close to her face, his stare penetrating. "Um," she cleared her throat quietly, knowing that the kids were watching and that their behavior was borderline inappropriate. They were too close, she was holding on for too long. But getting lost in his eyes seemed so much easier than letting go.

“It’s okay,” Emma repeated, trying to shake off the feeling that came with being in close proximity to her boss, “Why don’t I finish this, and you can……”

“Make coffee,” Keanu interjected when Emma trailed off, “And start cleaning up. I can do that without,” he gestured widely with his hands, the way Matt often did when he was flustered or excited, “Burning it.”

Smiling giddily at his erratic behavior, almost mesmerized by Keanu, Emma nodded stiffly, “That’s uh…..” Emma laughed breathlessly, vaguely aware of Matt striking up some harmless mischief off to their sides, but knowing that they only had a matter of minutes before……

A distressed scream erupted, followed by Poppy’s despondence, “Daddy! Emma! Matt put pancake batter in my hair.” When they turned, lo and behold, Poppy’s dark strands were streaked with the batter, some of it already on her pajamas and in her hands, while she was on the verge of tears.

“Matt!” Emma and Keanu scolded in unison, and immediately, she slipped past Keanu, scooping Poppy up on her hip, walking over the sink to start washing the sticky batter off before Poppy could really start crying. “Why’d you do that, Matty?” Keanu continued behind them, his stern side coming out. “You need to apologize to you sister,” he explained, lifting Matt off the counter, setting him on the floor, “We’re not supposed to pull mean pranks on each other, remember.”

“Yeah,” dejected, Matt dragged himself over to where Emma had just set Poppy down, parts of her hair still wet and a frown still painting her face. “I’m sorry Pop,” as she leaned on the sink Emma folded her arms, watching with a soft smile as the siblings made up, the sweet moment between them making her wish she had a sibling, and worse yet, making her want kids of her own. It wasn’t quite in the cards for her just yet though, Keanu paid well, but not that well, she lived in his house and it would be exceptionally hard to raise a kid when most of your time was spent taking care of someone else’s.

Still, for as long as it lasted, Emma could make do with doting on Matt and Poppy, feeling a swell of pride when they did something so magical that it reminded her of the purity of children, like when the two decided to hug it out, quickly forgetting how upset they both were. That was one of the greatest things about kids; they were so innocent that the notion of holding grudges was completely foreign to them. It was so…….untainted.

As he wiped down the counter, trying to clear a decent work station, Keanu found himself occasionally stealing glances at Emma, leant on the sink with her arms folded. She looked beautiful, almost ethereal, with her hair up in a bun, wispy honey hued strands curtaining her flawless features, oversized beige sweater guarding her perfect curves, and tiny shorts that boasted her smooth, tanned legs, the light sheen of lotion still present. Keanu thought that he'd ever met a woman quite so naturally stunning.

She's too young for you, was what the voice in the back of his mind protested, along with several other valid arguments. But for some reason, tearing his gaze away had continuously proven to be a trying task. Keanu didn't want to look away, as corrupted as it was, he wanted to hold Emma; trace his thumb over her pink, plump lips, feel her hot breath fan his cheek, know what it was like to have her satiny skin brush against his.

He wondered if she knew her effect, what it did to him when she swayed her hips as she walked, or gnawed on her lower lip between thoughts. Keanu wondered sometimes, how easy it would be in another situation, to have her all spread out under him. Or simply, to just have her company, listen to Emma talk about whatever she wanted, be the man she went to for the most intimate of reasons, a shoulder to cry on, when she wanted someone to make her laugh.

A crush.

That's what he might have called it twenty something odd years ago. But at his age, Keanu thought of it as more of a fantasy. A very cliché one at that; lusting over the nanny. Maybe if she wasn't the nanny………. Oh, but she was. The one that his children, the apples of his eyes, his pride and joy, the two best people in life, adored to death. Keanu wasn't sure if they knew it themselves, but he could tell; Poppy and Matt were growing affections for Emma that ran past likenesses, they loved her.

The relationship that Emma had grown to share with his children was one of the more unadulterated things that had fueled his ridiculous attraction to her. They adored her, and she them, and it was warming to see her laugh with them, care for them, the way a mother might. Still, there was so, so much more than Keanu liked; her laugh, that little half smile she’d offer him when they bumped into each other in passing, the way having her around felt. Like she made their home more complete, the one missing jigsaw piece that was so satisfying when it was slipped into place.

Hoping she wouldn’t notice his lingering stare, Keanu carried on with clean up, a grin ever present on his rugged features as Emma continued without much concern; getting the kids to help set the table without fuss and finishing the pancakes while she was at it. It felt so normal, so domestic, Keanu was usually so busy getting ready to leave that he was often left grabbing what she’d carved out the time to pack for him, kissing Matt and Poppy just as he left. But that Saturday morning, he got the chance to live almost the way he’d hoped to with Diane; the twins’ mother, before she walked out on them.

Before the painful memories could wash over him, Emma was calling everyone to sit for breakfast and Keanu once again sank into the present. Laughing when Matt and Poppy did something cute, smiling brightly when Emma doted on them and eventually, when it was over and they’d hurried off to the TV room, feeling a sense of giddiness that accompanied being alone with her. “Did you do this a lot when you were a kid?” Keanu probed as he and Emma finished up in the kitchen.

She was busy clearing the table, collecting the jug of orange juice to be returned to the fridge, “I guess,” Emma shrugged dismissively, her expression troubled, and Keanu was worried that his seemingly innocent question had struck a nerve, “My parents weren’t around a lot when I was a kid.” Swallowing thickly, she continued shuffling around the large kitchen, “Making ends meet wasn’t always easy for them, you know?” Gathering the plates, she moved over to the sink, “My mom stayed home to take care of me, and the house, and my dad worked two jobs. He worked really hard for us, and….”

“Em,” Keanu frowned, noting her tormented expression as she dumped leftovers from the children and packed the dishwasher, “If it's too hard to talk about, you don’t have to tell me. And I didn’t mean to upset you, if I’d known-”

“It’s not your fault,” she turned towards him, straightening up and smiling faintly so he could be reassured, “And it’s fine really. It's just hard to talk about, but I don’t mind telling you,” moistening her lips, “I was around six, when my dad died, he was at work; fell off a scaffolding and had a heart attack on the way to the hospital,” it was easy to tell how hard she was fighting the wave of emotion, the way she struggled to contain tears while biting her lower lip. But still, he was grateful that she felt comfortable enough to open up, it felt like they were closer. “After that, funeral expenses blew our savings, and my mom had to work. She hated leaving me with my grandmother, but she had to.”

Slumping his shoulders, Keanu yearned to reach out, pull her into a hug and let Emma know that she was always welcome to find comfort in him, but seeing her the way he did was already crossing so many lines, he didn’t think he could trust himself to take her into his arms. “That must have been hard,” he sympathized instead, “And you were just a kid.”

“Yeah,” she forced a watery smile, probably hoping to ease his worrying, “But life’s like that right? He left us way sooner than anyone would have liked, but I’m glad to have had him when I did. Both my parents, they taught me that sometimes you’ve gotta bust your ass for the good life, but that just makes it even better when you get it,” she sighed quietly, “I wish he could have been here for the big things, birthdays and graduations,” she sniffled, “But I’m thankful for what I did have, and I hope one day, I can be that kind of parent for someone else.”

“That’s beautiful,” Keanu hummed with a soft smile. It couldn’t have been easy growing up without her father, but Emma still seemed so content with what she’d gotten. Grief, it hurt people, it could change them too, and he knew that all too well, but Emma had been so young that it had shaped her instead. Molded her into the kind of person that was caring, kind and driven. Someone you wanted to trust and whose presence emanated warmth. “You-” Keanu leaned back, expecting to brace his hands on the counter, though swearing loudly when his left hand landed on the top of the stove. “What the fuck?”

In an instant, Emma was at his side, weaning Keanu’s hand out of his own grasp, hissing empathically at how the base of his palm had taken on an angry red tint, “Shit,” her hands were so soft and smooth, her touch soothing, “We need to get some ice on this,” when she moved away, grabbing a dish towel as she headed to the fridge, Keanu’s face fell further, already missing her touch. Though, when Emma returned, a couple blocks of ice wrapped up in the patterned fabric, pressing it to his hand as she held it up between them, Keanu’s eyes fell on her once again. With her head downcast, it was hard to decipher her expression, though, he could see her brows knitted in worry, “Does it hurt like this?”

When she glanced up briefly, their eyes meeting, Keanu stumbled on his words. He wasn’t expecting to be that close to her that morning, or, well, at any given point. He liked it though, maybe too much. “A little, but it's no big deal,” he shook his head slightly, his gruff voice low, “Thanks Em.”

“Of course,” she swirled it ice around a bit more, “You know, the kids love having their boo boos kissed,” Emma teased lightly, not thinking too much of it, “Think they get that from you?”

Chuckling quietly, Keanu replied, also without much of a protesting thought, “Maybe.” And just like that, the moment unfolded, so quickly that it felt completely natural, like her soft, supple lips were meant to touch him. They weren’t too warm on his skin, and could hardly be considered medicinal, but Keanu swore his hand felt ten times better when Emma pulled away, once again laying the ice on top of the burn. Simultaneously, they raised their heads, that time, their jaws slackened as their eyes met. “Em….” he groaned quietly, knowing that if he leaned in any closer they’d be no point of return, yet Keanu ached to. He wanted to kiss her, feel her mouth respond against his. But he couldn’t, and more importantly, he shouldn’t.

At the very last minute, right when Keanu swore that Emma was leaning up to meet him halfway, her pupils dilated, her breath slow and ragged and his chest just and inches away from hers, he rediscovered his self restraint, abruptly turning his head away. Clearing his throat, Keanu shoved his feelings down, irrationally disappointed when Emma stepped back, easily reading the shift of the moment, “Matt has swim practice today right?” It was honestly just a ploy to make professional conversation, change the topic so they wouldn’t need to have an uncomfortable conversation.

“Uh,” flustered, Emma seemed unsure of what to do with herself, and if Keanu wasn’t mistaken, there was a disappointed glint in her dark eyes, “Yeah, at three.” Gnawing on her lip, she fiddled with her fingers, “I should go see if his bag is ready, I can't remember if I packed it or not.” Keanu knew it was a lie; Emma didn’t forget things like that, and worst yet, he was almost sure that he’d hurt her. Yet, she didn’t give him a minute to apologize, or say anything really, hurrying out of the room with nothing more, leaving him tormented and feeling more guilty than ever.

*****

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea

#keanu reeves #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x ofc #fanfic #ff #fanfiction #nanny au

[refinedbuffoonery]

Why 5x10 is So Good

I’ve been saying this since the episode aired, but this episode is written so well, and it can actually teach you a lot about conflict and plot. This is not a ship thing. This is a writing thing. Full breakdown under the cut because this is super long:

Where the episode starts:

Codex is underground

Phoenix team finally at a healthy + trusting place

Mac wants to take the next step with Desi

These are our three plot lines. I’ve color coded them to show how these develop and effect each other throughout the episode. 

Introduce Conflict #1: 

Reasonable suspicion that Codex is stirring >> team needs to investigate

EFFECT: interrupts Mac’s plan to propose to Desi

Conflict #2: 

It’s not Codex. It’s Murdoc. 

Murdoc threatens to kill a whole bunch of people via earthquakes if Mac doesn’t play his game. 

RESOLUTION = by end of episode

This is the “main” episode plot, aka the problem the Phoenix team is trying to solve. But, this alone would make a boring episode, so the next level of conflict (Murdoc spilling secrets) is what initiates character development and makes the episode interesting. 

Conflict #3: 

Murdoc hacked their comms + now knows 3 months of secrets

RESOLUTION = by end of episode

Something to note here is that the writers chose not to have Riley get blamed for not noticing the hack. That’s a logical train of thought someone might have, but the fact that no one blamed her shows the team’s growth as a unit. (Side note: if someone did blame Riley, I’m it would’ve been Russ. However, this would be a backward step in terms of character development for him.) 

Conflict #4 (aka Secret #1):

Murdoc reveals Matty worked with Elliot Mason

EFFECT: tests Mac’s trust in Matty

RESOLUTION = immediate

Murdoc’s secrets are an easy way to build tension. He reveals one at a strategic time, and then the Phoenix team has to deal with the fallout. Here, Mac has a choice about how to handle this news. He takes the understanding and forgiving route, which makes this secret lose all of its power. Forgiving Matty means that this secret can’t break the team apart in the way Murdoc wants it to. So, this conflict is quickly resolved (unlike the episode-long conflicts). 

After this conflict is resolved, the audience (and the characters) get a quick break before the tension starts building again. We’re back to “let’s stop Murdoc from killing people” (which is the main plot). But this doesn’t last long. 

Conflict #5 (aka Secret #2):

Murdoc reveals Riley’s feelings

EFFECT: world shattering news for the love triangle

RESOLUTION = semi-resolved

Arguably, this was the most impactful instance of raising the stakes in this episode. Certainly, it was the most emotional one. Even if you don’t ship MacRiley, every one can feel empathy for Riley in this scenario. (Poor thing.) 

This plot thread is part of the long-running romance/relationship plot that began in the WW2 bomb episode in season 4. To have an interesting TV show, there needs to be a smaller plot that begins and is resolved in one (or occasionally two) episodes, as well as a season-long plot (or multi-season, in the case of romance). 

Conflict #6: 

Surprise. Andrews (General Ma) is here too. 

EFFECT: job got a lot harder with two psychos on the loose

RESOLUTION = end of episode

In my opinion, this reveal isn’t super impactful, mostly because Andrews isn’t established enough as a big villain for me to immediately fear him the way I do Murdoc. This one is more build-up for future stakes-raising than anything else. 

Conflict #7 (aka Secret #3): 

Murdoc forces Russ to reveal Leanna’s death to Bozer

EFFECT: Bozer is pissed >> continued trust issues between Russ and Bozer

RESOLUTION: actively resolved in following scenes + end of episode

While this revelation felt like a knife to the chest, it doesn’t actually do a ton for the overall plot. Leanna’s death was about cleaning up loose ends, but it did present an opportunity to develop Russ and Bozer’s relationship. Clearly these two still have some work to do, although Russ definitely learned something by the end. 

Conflict #8:

This is an execution. And a Codex power grab by Andrews.

EFFECT: progression on the Codex plot

RESOLUTION: end of episode

This is the high point of the episode plot. The team is trapped in Murdoc’s clutches, and now Mac is going to be executed on an evil Zoom meeting in Andrews’ attempt to elect himself as Codex’s new leader. But, Bozer saves the day. 

The Fallout:

Murdoc + Andrews thrown back in prison

Codex officially dismantled

Relationship development between Russ + Bozer

Team now grieving Leanna

Riley + Mac talk (still in Mexico)

Mac back where he started, thinking about how to propose

Now that we’ve reached the end of the episode, most of the conflict is resolved, but some of it isn’t. More specifically, the episode-specific plots are all resolved, but the longer running plots are not. Russ and Bozer still need to work some stuff out, and Mac and Riley really need to work some stuff out. Also, Mac now has to figure out where he and Desi go from here. 

Which leads to...

Conflict #9: 

Mac goes to Riley’s apartment that night (not Desi’s) and asks if her feelings went away

EFFECT: Riley has to choose whether to finally admit her feelings or continue lying

RESOLUTION: none; cliffhanger ending

Besides making every MacRiley fan absolutely lose their mind, ending the episode by introducing a new conflict serves as the catalyst for the next episode. While we feel satisfied that Codex is finally out of the picture, not resolving all three plot lines makes fans want to watch the next episode. (In this case, it makes fans very desperate to see what happens next.) 

So, what can aspiring writers learn from this?

This episode clearly illustrates how to introduce increasingly intense, but still logical, conflicts that continually raise the stakes of a story. All too often, people write insane plot twists for shock value, rather than grounding their twists in the story they’ve already written (as this episode does). In addition, managing multiple plot lines is hard. It’s all too easy for one plot to outshine the others, so it’s important to find the right balance between them and not let the subplots overtake the main one. 

My Advice: When you’re planning your next story, try outlining it in terms of conflicts, like I did above. Not only will this help you come up with a complete plot, but it will also teach you the importance of cause and effect in writing. Every action has a reaction, and once you learn how to use that, your writing will improve tremendously. 

#IF YOU ARE A WRITER OR WANT TO GET INTO WRITING READ THIS #I'M ABOUT TO TEACH YOU SOMETHING #macgyver #season 5 thoughts

[nriacc]

OKAY IM READY

1. omg alex is there first thing in the chapter i needed warning AND THEYRE AT HER SPOT AND THEYVE BEEN SPENDING SO MUCH TIEM TOGETHER COULD THIS BE IT????? HE MADE HER ANOTHER SAFE HAVEN AWAY FROM HOME STOP

2. i too would like to know who bestie is dating

3. oh god a letter from matty when he was in rehab is not going to be fun / oh my god he’s going back to the night at the hospital oh my god / ME & YOU TOGETHER SONG TEASE AH / OH MY GOD THIS IS SO MUCH AND ITS STILL JUST THE BEGGING

4. OH okay this is what we’re doing okay uhhhh unexpected really, not too mad about this reunion i mean i have said that i felt like there was some sort of closure needed with matty… / OKAY FINE THIS IS VERY SWEET BUT IM WORRIED ABOUT ALEX OKAY I CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM / OKAY I SAY THIS WITH NOTHING BUT LOVE BUT MAN FUCK YOU IM CRYING HE WAS HER FIRST REAL LOVE DUDE // shower sex. yeah… that was hot.

5. OKAY UNEXPECTED A GIRL I GUESS GABY OKAY WASNT EXPECTING THIS OKAY

6. AHHHH OHMYGOD WHATTHE FUCK WHAT NO NO EXCUSE ME!! AM I???!!! HEARING THIS!!! PROPERLY???? YES WHEELS YOU SHOULD GIVE HIM A SHOT OH MY GOD YES MATTY HEALY HAS JUST SAID TO GIVE ALEX TURNER A SHOT HOLY SHIT OH MU GOD IM ABOUT TO EXPLODE IM. LITERALLY GOING TO COMBUST I CANNOT DEAL HOLY FUCK

7. and he’s loved you since i can remember IM IN SHAMBLES YES JUST LET YOURSELF BE HAPPY. WITH ALEX.

8. 2 months have passed 😭😭

9. OH MY GOD ITS THE SCENE OH MY GOD WERE GONNA KNOW WHO IT IS OKAY OKAY EVERYBODY GET READY

10. CHARLIE OH MY GOD OHHH MY GOOOOD

11. please please PLEASE JUST KISSS

12. wait the 🗣🗣🗣 meant matty and wheels talking??? i just figured that out

13. THEY KISSED ITS HAPPENING OHMYGOD LETS GO GIRLS GIDDY UP AND THERES SOMETHING BETWEEN THEM AND SHE WANTS TO RUN WITH IT OHMYGOD IVE WAITED 24 CHAPTERS FOR THIS MOMENT AND I MIGHT DIE RIGHT NOW AND NOT LIVE TO SEE IT COME TRUE

14. IM DYING THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL THEYRE HAPPENING AND THEYRE GRINDING ON A BUNKBED THANK YOU JESUS FOR THIS

15. THEY BOTH FINALLY MADE IT HOME STOP IT NO WAY YOURE SO TRYING TO KILL ME OH MY GOD

THOSE ARE ALL MY THOUGHTS I WILL NOW BE PASSING AWAY AND YES CURLY IS FORGIVEN I CANT EVEN TRY TO BE MAD ANYMORE I LOVE THIS SO MUCH AM I FINALLY GETTING MY WHEELS AND ALEX ??? MY HOPES ARE UP WILL THEY BE DESTROYED? ONLY TIME WILL TELL.

i seriously truly genuinely loved this so much i can’t believe you wrote that holy shiiiiit

Can I just say your reactions were fucking brilliant and they made me smile sooooo much so thank you for that!! Here we go:

1. I absolutely love the two of them in her spot, it makes me feel all warm and gooey inside 🥺🥺🥺 and legit he made his home her home I can’t 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺💜

2. Hahahahaha I hope you liked who he was!!

3. Mate how saddddd was the letter😭/ the hospital bits made me sob writing it/ yasssss me & you together song ahhhhhh/ IT REALLY WAS JUST THE BEGINNING AHHH

4. How can we be mad at wheels for doing what’s right for herrrr 🥺/ HAHAHAHA I KNEW ID GET YOU ALEX STANS ALL IRRATE AND THEN YOUD ALL LOVE THE ENDING HAHAHAHA/ IM SO SORRY FOR MAKING YOU CRY IM SENDING MUCH LOVE YOUR WAY💜/ I’m glad you thought it was steamy, that was a last minute addition🔥

5. I knowwwww but I love her couldn’t not have her in this fic

6. AHHHAHAHAHAHA KNEW ID GET YOU!!!!! YOURE HEARING HIM RIGHT!!!! HE ACTUALLY SAID IT!!!!!! CAN YOU BELIEVEEEEE!!!!! I STILL CANT AND I WROTE IT!!!!!

7. SAME AHHHHH ITS SO CUTE I CANT COPE HE JUST WANTS THE BEST FOR HER I LOVE HIM SO BAD 🥺💜🥺💜🥺💜🥺💜💜💜

8. Imagine how tough that first month was for alex 😭

9. AHHHHHH DID YOU GUESS RIGHT!!!!

10. WE 🥳 LOVE 🥳🥳 CHARLIEEEEEE 🥳🥳🥳

11. Ahhahahahahahahha I made you wait so long😂😂😂

12. 🗣 yessss it was literally talking 😂😂😂😂 everyone was overthinking 😂😂😂

13. THEY FINALLY KISSSEDDDDD AHHHHHHHHHHH THERE ALL SO CUTE AND GOOEY TOGETHER I CANT FUCKING COPE IM SO HAPPY GOT THEM TOO!!!!!!!! PLEASE DONT DIE I NEED YOUR AWESOME REACTIONS FOR THE REST OF THE FIC😂

14. THEY ARE SO SO SO HAPPY🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰 and horny apparently 👀😂

15. AHHHHHHHHH TWO HEARTS AND ONE HOME 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

THANK YOU SO SO SO MUCH FOR ALL OF THESE REACTIONS YOU MADE ME SMILE SO SO SO MUCH WITH EACH AND EVERY ONE!!! HERES HOPING NOTHING GOES WRONG BUT ITS NRIACC SO DONT BANK ON IT 💀💀💀

I’m so thrilled you enjoyed it thank you so much💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

#nriacc ask #part 24 ask

[somestansomewhere]

Debbie Gallagher: ALL Love Interests RANKED

Okay! I tried to rank all of Debs’ love interests and it was hard to do because I am not set on that ONE PERSON that I ship her with above all else, but these are my thoughts! Keep in mind that these are all MY OPINIONS and you are entitled to yours as well! Let’s talk about it! If you read all this ILY.

Here we go:

...................................

23. The Guy At The Pool (Season 5)

He thought Debs was special needs and she tried to flirt with him...

22. Kelly (Season 9-10)

I LOVE Kelly so much but she was not into Debbie! I really love her with Carl and Debbie should not have tried to interfere! I will however say that I really really REALLY enjoy their friendship and I wish that that would have continued on. They had some really good moments together.

20/21. Eugene (Season 6) & Board Game Guy (Season 7)

Alright so these two don’t technically count because Frank tried to set Debbie up with Eugene so that she’d be written into his will. And the Board Game Guy was from a deleted scene as one of Debbie’s “life partners” from that flyer she made. So enough said.

18/19. Tyler (Season 6) & Erika (Season 6)

Again, Frank attempted to set Debbie up with Tyler and while that “potential relationship” wasn’t as bad as what happened between her and Erika, I am grouping them together because Debbie wasn’t technically into either of them and it was set up to fail right from the start.

17. Larry (Season 6)

The pregnancy fetish guy! I’m not quite sure what the intentions were for this character in the long run but it was a funny joke in the episode he was in. Even in the beginning Larry gave off red flags, but Debbie was happy... until the truth was revealed. Weird.

16. Jared (Season 11)

Another irrelevant love interest: the gay guy that cheated on his husband with Debbie after giving her cocaine. Obvious issues with this encounter/plot line aside, I did feel that their interactions at the bar were flirtatious and I didn’t hate him.

15. Calista (Season 11)

ANOTHER irrelevant character that was used and never brought back!!! I didn’t totally hate her either, she was upfront about her ex-girlfriend and that whole situation. She helped Debbie and didn’t take advantage of her but the second she came on screen; I’m sorry but I did not give a fuck. Her last episode built up a potential friend/relationship opportunity for Debbie and they just did nothing with it. Idfk what else to say, not a fan but I did appreciate Calista trying to take care of Debbie when she clearly was drinking too much.

14. Sandy (Season 10-11)

Oh boy, everyone’s favorite partner of Debbie’s... Yeah, Sandy is so low on this list not necessarily because I didn’t like her for Debbie, or that I have beef with Elise (b/c I love her as an actor sm). I personally just hate the sheer fact that this character EXISTS in the first place. I never understood the hype, but I know that people only like her because she’s a Milkovich ie. related to Mickey. That’s the hard truth this fandom isn’t willing to admit. My disliking Sandy should be a post of its own but lemme get into her relationship with Debbie.

You could tell that Emma and Elise liked working together so the chemistry was sorta there (definitely not soulmate shit tho). Each time that they interacted in s10 I was over it. S11 was better in the sense that whether I would like to admit it or not, they did have some “cute moments” (mainly just Sandy calling Debbie babe/babes). The second shit hit the fan in regards to Sandy’s history, I immediately understood Debbie’s issue with her and why her character would not want to be with Sandy. But, with that being said, Debbie was also in the wrong because she made everything about herself throughout the entire course of this relationship! Sandy did call her out, ex: “who was supposed to take Franny to school?”, and things like that were nice. HOWEVER I am sorry to say, this relationship felt like a massive waste of time and it felt like they were trying to force something that shouldn’t have existed to begin with. I don’t have the patience to even analyze this anymore, but maybe down the line because clearly there is SO MUCH to delve into!

13. Alex (Season 9)

Omg I did not like this relationship/plotline at all. Alex had issues but Debbie was so inconsiderate! I never saw the appeal here! It was nice that Alex had the decency to go and help Debs with Ford after the fact. I just feel “meh” about this tho. They had moments but ultimately I personally wasn’t into it and Debbie’s random newfound self discovery of “lesbianism”.

12. Kyle (Season 3)

Emma Kenney’s first kiss! Kyle was a one episode character that did have the potential to be more than that. I didn’t hate the kid as Debbie’s love interest, but there also wasn’t anything special about him. He was just kinda there and then he left. Debbie really seemed to like him though, spelling his name in her peas, etc.. I do like that one line about cigarettes that Kyle had but again he was such a short lived character and when he turned out not to be related to Kevin it became unnecessary to keep him around... even if the episode alluded to him returning. They were sorta cute!

11. Claudia (Season 10)

So I didn’t like this relationship much either but there was a certain kind of stability in the relationship that felt organic and nice. Partly because I enjoyed watching Constance Zimmer and she made Claudia likeable. Do I ship it? No. Was it a problematic dynamic? Yes. Was it a tolerable relationship? Eh. I didn’t hate it entirely though. Debbie, being a Gallagher, eventually fucked it up. And while I did like the drama, Debbie wasn’t REALLY into Claudia as much as she may have believed she was. So, it totally felt like a one off that would end with Claudia not returning... and it was. So there was no time for an investment of any kind.

10. Hedi (Season 11)

Gosh... Debbie’s endgame(?). Hedi was introduced too late for me to care enough about her (At this point it would have made sense for Debbie to wind up with Calista because at least she was already introduced!). I don’t necessarily like Hedi as a character and quite frankly it was a “who tf does SHE think she is” kinda deal for me. At first I was interested and didn’t hate her (and I don’t), but then she “thought she was Jimmy” and I instantly got annoyed (LOL I GUESS it was a nice nod to him tho... I guess).

My (several) problems with Hedi as a character aside, there IS something about Hedi being presented as this “dangerous badass” who is (somehow) WORSE than Debbie, that worked well. I’m not a fan of the ship, but it is an interesting dynamic in the sense that Debbie could potentially be “living on the edge”. I fear for what trouble this could cause Debbie BUT it’s like Frank referenced: Monica vibes. I don’t think it’s “true love” like Debbie said to Franny. A constant storyline for Debbie has been “why can’t anyone ever love me” and so she falls in quickly. Maybe Hedi will leave her but that’s the thing, “she’s done worse” so idk, either way I don’t think it’s meant to last! But I guess I don’t mind them being together! Karma’s a bitch! Will Carl tell her what Arthur found? Would it even make a difference?

9. Julia (Season 10)

I would have actually rather preferred her with Carl too! It was never love between Debbie and Julia, but the relationship did create good conflict for my viewing pleasure. UNPOPULAR OPINION, I didn’t mind Julia as a character at all. She was fine for me. I also enjoyed how ultimately SHE was only using Debbie in the end. Julia does admit later on that she was experiencing with her sexuality so maybe she did have feelings for Debbie at one point, which I thought was interesting. Debbie got herself into this one. At least Julia was more age appropriate than Claudia... (which is ironic since Debbie got in trouble for being with Julia when the age gap is MUCH bigger between Claudia and Debbie LOL I love it)! I also found Julia annoying Debbie to be amusing, that’s not to say that I liked her a lot either cuz I don’t!

8. Matty (Season 4-5)

Man do I feel bad for Matty! Debbie raped him and it was horrible. From the get-go when Matty was introduced the relationship was hella awkward!! And not only that but Debbie was a MINOR! Matty did do the right thing and said they couldn’t be together but a part of me will always feel strange that he WAS INITIALLY attracted to Debbie before learning her age. That to me is still wildly inappropriate. He shoulda cut it off. He did try to be her friend and took her to that dance which was cute but ahhh this was just a MESS all around. Cringe. At least he didn’t take advantage.

7. Henry (Season 4)

Speaking of Matty and that dance, Henry was supposed to take her. He asked her as a joke in order for Seama to inflict revenge on Debbie. If that weren’t the case however... DAMN THEY WERE CUTE! The potential that this relationship could have had! If only it wasn’t all an act! It was a “day worth of love” and sure that’s not enough for two people to REALLY be IT, yet there was something charming about their connection that I wish was real. Or idk maybe Henry could have reconnected with her later and apologized and it could have been revealed that he did actually like her... but that wasn’t the case. Fuck him!

6. Simon (Season 1-2)

Debbie was NOT interested in Simon at all but at the time he was almost like the male version of her. Their banter back and forth was fun to watch and he probably would have treated her well. It’s unfortunate that we didn’t get to even see their friendship progress. Their interactions were funny and he was a good guy!

5. Batiste (Season 10)

Y’all may not understand why this guy is so high on the list but a part of me wishes this character wasn’t a one off. Batiste is the dude Debbie tried to return her “unused” shoes to. If you can recall, he wanted a blowjob to take advantage of her. While this was a dick move (and the plot went nowhere) a part of me would have liked to see more! He did have an arc where he acted like an ass and realized that it is wrong to degrade women. I just think it could have been built upon and Emma may have had chemistry with this actor. There was something here that I didn’t hate and I felt it could have been expanded upon.

4. Little Hank (Season 2-3)

Debbie’s first real crush! It was interesting to see how he didn’t like her at first and then a “friendship/relationship” slowly started to develop after he gave her flowers. IT JUST NEVER CONTINUED! Little Hank was in no way the most upstanding, but it was cool to see Carl have a friend that Debbie crushed on (when she was little she wasn’t intentionally taking something away from Carl ie. Kelly, so I support it). Their interactions were fun to watch too! The fandom definitely has a soft spot for Little Hank! And at one point everyone was rooting for them to be together. Too bad we never discovered what ended up happening to this character!

3. Neil (Season 7-8)

The bathtub scene tho! Adorable! There was a short moment within this relationship that was super cute where the two of them really did seem to care about each other and may have both been in love. It goes without saying that Debbie was only using him, but they did have SOME potential and they found a common ground where they each benefited each other’s needs. Debbie once again was TOO controlling and self absorbed to make it work, but I don’t think she was entirely happy in a relationship with him. He deserved more respect!

2. Derek (Season 5-8)

Baby Daddy! I really did enjoy them together until Debbie took advance of him and Franny came into the picture, but at the same time that’s one of the reasons that Derek, as a character, has a deeper connection to Debbie and the audience. I always enjoyed their flirting back and forth and the relationship they had (the deleted scene with the card/push up game ahh my heart)! Debbie really did mess up due to her desperation to “belong to a family”, which is another one of her consistent character traits. She just went too far and tried to trap him. Then shit got messed up between their families. Derek did eventually ask for parcial custody and did have a desire to be a part of Franny’s life. Debbie said no and that plot line died until s10. Pepa!! Ahh! RIP to Derek, it was sad to me that he died. Definitely a character and relationship that I wish was incorporated more because I truly enjoyed them together.

1. Duran (Season 8)

Besties with benefits! Stop! Nobody talks about my guy Duran! Sure they both said that this relationship was of a sexual nature and that they were just a couple of friends but damn! The chemistry and dynamic was palpable! It is truly a shame that we didn’t get to see more of this friendship! They were on common ground and really did care about each other! I don’t know why but I really just LOVED them together! Duran was also in her friend group with Farhad and that was a group that seemed to have a positive impact on Debbie as a person. S8 Debbie was cool! These two complemented each other so nicely! Duran wasn’t by any means the best influence on her because he almost lead Debbie down a “Monica path” but come on, Hedi is worse in that department. He was getting his life together like Debbie was with her profession. Just think of the hair convos Duran and Tami could have had Lol. Idk, I just like Debbie with him a lot! It was healthy to an extent and he was supportive of Debs with Franny.

#I could write so much more for each of these but I’ll spare you #guys nobody talks about the AMOUNT of love interests Debbie had over the course of this damn show #I miss characters with a lot of depth! #I want to do more of these relationship lists for other characters #my lists #my favs #shameless #gallavich #debbie gallagher #franny gallagher #sandy milkovich #debbie x sandy

[the-ace-with-spades]

(5/6) the best is yet to be

five times someone realized Ronan and Adam were basically married and one time they actually were

Part 1 │Part 2 │Part 3 │Part 4 │Part 6

Read on ao3

Declan wasn't surprised when Ronan told him he was gay, in fact, he didn't react at all, just shrugged and asked if Ronan would eat dinner with him and Matthew.

Declan wasn't surprised easily.

There was no big deal. Declan wasn't one of those Catholics and Ronan wasn't on the way to become a saint, if not for the obvious faith in God,  Declan would say he was closer to becoming a satanist, really. If anything, this was less explicit and less worrying than picking him from the police station again or finding out he was dropping out to become a farmer. And it wasn't like Ronan was hiding it — Declan confirmed the suspicions the moment he moved in with Gansey but he suspected long before that.

He supposed this was what happened when your little brother leaves gay porn magazines just out in the open on his bed and you're the one hiding them from your homophobic father. Not that he would tell Ronan that, the experience would be equally traumatising and embarrassing to both of them and Declan didn't like to share the burden.

Adam Parrish was a fucking surprise.

Declan knew of Adam Parrish because of school, first. He was the quiet scholarship kid that didn't attract much attention except for his obvious poorness. Well, he was quiet until he was destroying Declan in the debate club. He still didn't talk much about himself, not like every Aglionby guy who thought he was the best thing since sliced bread, but Declan could understand that. He could understand that because he knew that sometimes you hide so many things that you no longer know who you are.

But that didn't make him less suspicious. Parrish joined the merry Gansey gang of traumatised misfits suddenly and without trying — so Declan did a background check on him.

His suspicion became deeper. He didn't like Ronan to think this was a friendship and not a transaction — Parrish had to have ulterior motives. He seemed to be a person that would definitely have less to give and more to take.

But then he didn't take anything.

The night Declan went to the police station with the knowledge that Ronan bit Robert Parrish, he thought it was the end, that this was the final charge that money won't be able to drop and that Ronan will have to be bailed out and smuggled out to Canada to not go to jail.

And then Declan came in and the police officer told him that Robert Parrish is being charged and they needed Ronan to testify to make the charge stick and he couldn't testify without a legal guardian present.

No one said anything about Ronan getting arrested because Adam Parrish admitted to his deepest secret.

And Declan was sure this was the end of niceties from Parrish, that he was going to use it as an excuse to move into that warehouse Ronan called home and sponge off on Gansey's kindness and Ronan's guilt.

And then he fucking didn't. So Declan gave him the pass.

And then, months later, Ronan told them he was gay.

The next Sunday, Parrish came to the Mass with him, wearing a secondhand suit and Ronan's tie.

"This is my fucking boyfriend," Ronan told him and Matthew on the steps to St. Agnes. "Deal with it."

Declan rolled his eyes. Adam rolled his eyes fondly. Declan frowned. Adam raised an eyebrow.

Matty asked if Adam was Catholic. Declan raised an eyebrow — he knew he wasn't.

"No," Adam answered. "I'm the emotional support."

True to his word, Parrish didn't pray, didn't kneel and didn't move during the sign of peace offering. Instead, whenever Ronan sat down next to him, his hand would wander to Ronan's on its own, like it was natural for him, and Ronan wouldn't oppose, just curl his fingers over his knuckles and caress it with his thumb.

There was, Declan found out over time, a huge amount of hands involving the two.

They walked out of the church holding hands too and held them together when Declan drove them all to the cheap diner Ronan insisted on. Parrish insisted on paying for his food an hour later and it became obvious why Ronan wanted to go to this exact place.

It was strange to see Ronan care about somebody and care enough to think about this kind of details — he knew Ronan did care, even if never about Declan, but it felt strange on another level. Like he had seen it before but didn't realize.

Declan tended to erasure Adam Parrish from his mind most of the time — if anything, he was safe for the Lynch family.

Parrish was a good influence if one compared being smitten to being influenced. Declan tended to use it to his own advantage — although Ronan would often refuse for the sake of refusing, he refused Parrish less than anyone else. He encouraged Ronan to modernise the farm — with a promise that he'll fix anything that breaks for him, or so Matty had heard — and actually, somehow convinced him to pay taxes, which was in itself a miracle — Declan felt like buying him a car just for that. He had to cover up enough tax fraud thanks to their dad and he wasn't going to do it again.

So Parrish was a good influence and when Declan didn't feel like dealing with Ronan's snark, he would text or call Parrish.

Not gonna be in church tomorrow, was a text Declan got one Saturday, waiting for Matty to get back from an outing with his lacrosse buddies.

He had to blink a couple of times because he hadn't had an unprompted text from Ronan in over two years. He wondered whether Parrish wrote it out of courtesy — or because he didn't want to deal with Declan either.

He called Parrish. He didn't pick up. He called Ronan. He didn't pick up. He called again.

A text came.

Fuck off

It was definitely Ronan.

The next day, Declan considered the option that Ronan was joking. Out of all the things, Ronan would never miss church, he couldn't recall even one time — Ronan would sooner come drunk or hangover to church than not come at all.

He didn't show up. So Declan left Matthew in a restaurant and drove to the Barns.

No one came out even when the Wolvo roared in front of the house. Declan left the car, ready for a disaster.

He hesitated before coming in.

He didn't visit the Barns that often but it was often enough that he had seen Ronan and Adam in enough compromising positions that made him wish he could burn a hole in place of those memories. He was never to see the kitchen counter the same and definitely never again prepare food on it. Knocking was safer.

He knocked. No one answered. He knocked louder.

There was a terribly loud screech behind him and Ronan's awful bird from hell landed on the balustrade of the porch, staring at him in the same way Ronan would if he was pissed. This was another reason why he never visited the Barns — everything, including his brother and his brother's boyfriend, crept him out.

He knocked again, louder and longer. No one opened.

He looked around, ignoring more screeching. Both Parrish's fugly car and Ronan's BMW are tucked behind the closest barn.

He banged on the door. Shouted, "Ronan, open up. For fuck's sake, I know you're inside," and banged again.

The door opened and Ronan, looking more pissed off than he had seen him in a long time.

"You fuckface," he said, which in Ronan-language meant a greeting. "Shut up."

Declan opened his mouth but articulated nothing before the cries came out from the inside of the kitchen. He frowned.

"What was that?"

Ronan groaned and went back inside, not bothering to close the door in Declan's face, which was a red flag in itself.

Declan went after him, straight to the living room.

The cries were Opal's. She was currently tucked into Parrish's arm, her head curled under his chin and bailing her eyes out. Parrish wasn't just holding her — he was making shushing noises and rocking her back and forth.

"It's alright, sugarplum," he was saying, in the sweetest tone that sounded so out of place on him. "It'll go away, I promise."

Ronan's whole body softened with every step he took towards Parrish. He reached out and brushed Opal's curls in a gesture that Declan often, as a child, would seek from their mom.

"Did you get it?" Adam asked over Opal's sniffling.

His eyes moved around Ronan's face and noticed Declan, standing a couple of feet away.

"No, got sidetracked," he said. When Parrish sent him a look, he added, "But I'm going to, right away."

"Grab the baby Tylenol while you are at it."

Ronan went without a word, disappearing behind the corner to the foyer and the stairs.

"How is your toothache, baby?" Adam asked. "Any better?"

Opal answered him with a sob and buried a snotty nose into his t-shirt.

Parrish looked up at him like he expected Declan to say something.

Kids weren't Declan's thing.

Parrish adjusted Opal in his arms, rocking back and forth again, until Ronan came back downstairs, holding a tube of tooth gum gel and liquid Tylenol.

Parrish adjusted Opal again, this time holding her under legs so she was sitting up more in his arms. Ronan didn't even stop, just unscrewed the Tylenol and gave her a spoonful — she opposed a little, hiding under Adam's chin, but gave in easily enough after he shushed her again.

Parrish rocked her some more when Ronan went to the sink and washed his hands and put some of the gel on his finger.

"Come on, you little gremlin," Ronan said, calm. "You know that's going to help."

Parrish caressed her hair but she still shook her head, whimpering.

"Open up, munchkin," Ronan added.

She did, after three or so tries, and Ronan actually managed to coat her gum in the gel.

As soon as he was done, she flattered in Parrish's arms and Ronan brushed her hair again.

Opal, for most of the time, wasn't exactly a normal child — she didn't need the constant attention, could eat a lot of weird stuff without a trip to ER or could be left alone for long periods of time. She wasn't a baby, so she couldn't be anyone's baby.

But for some of the time, she was an actual child, living with Ronan and his boyfriend, being partially dependant on them. She wasn't a baby but they were parenting her.

"You could give her some ice cubes," he said because nothing else came to mind. His common sense screamed, You're nineteen, you can't parent a child together, but he said instead, "That's what mom used to do."

Ronan went to the fridge immediately.

Opal fell asleep fifteen minutes later.

After Ronan took her from Adam's hands and carried upstairs, Adam, in shortly, explained.

Opal bit something, yesterday's evening, and ruined two of her teeth, which for a creature that hadn't felt any major pain yet was traumatising. Ronan went to get a baby Tylenol and tooth gel from the closest open pharmacy while Adam stayed with her. She just fell asleep when Declan came by.

"Ronan called every dentist within twenty miles but no one had any appointments left for today," he said. "So we're taking her to the dentist tomorrow morning."

We.

Declan probably should be protesting, should be intervening, should be doing something. But somehow, he just felt proud.

Ronan was impulsive, greedy and selfish. Probably shouldn't be trusted with himself, not to mention a kid.

But he wasn't screwing up, yet, and Declan hoped he would never screw this up. Whatever this was.

#pynch #pynch fic #the raven cycle #trc #TRC #declan lynch #outsider pov

[lambourngb]

he’s got a smart mouth but a good heart - Michael Guerin

It’s Day 2, celebrating characters, and much to my own surprise, at the end of season 2, Michael Guerin decided to move into my brain and take up residence. Obviously I still love Alex Manes (He lives first and foremost in my brain since 1x08), but there was something about how Michael buried his own pain about his mother to help everyone in season two that rang pretty true to my own life right now. I didn’t always like what he was doing in season 2 but I understood it.

Anyway, when I find a story that celebrates how complicated he is, I cheer and rejoice- so here’s a few of the stories that I have gone back to again and again.

Truck stop knives and other assessors of childhood @angsty-aliens (13,200) I can’t lie, I love a good trope story, and I especially love a good sci-fi trope story, so this story hits all of my buttons. It takes our two science nerds, Liz and Michael, mucking around, and accidentally creating a version of Michael- but not just any version, but the child who hitchhiked to Fosters ranch, completely over humans and desperate to find his family. The kid who was feral from neglect and abuse... he was the cutest thing and the most mortifying thing that ever happened to Michael to be displayed and shown. This story takes the de-aged trope and turns it on its head, and oh yeah, there’s a sweet backdrop to Michael and Alex getting together.

Implicit Memories of You by @ninswhimsy (3464) - So this is an amnesia story canon-divergent story set after 2x11 basically, where they use the mind erasing drug on Michael. I know, I’m reccing this about Michael characterization, but it’s so solidly him after all the memories are stripped away and he’s acting on instincts, locked in a room to torture Alex with before death. There’s so much going on in so few words, something that Nin is a master at, especially the ephemeral remembrances of his mother that Michael has- oof right in the feels.

Maybe this time (he’ll stay) by @hannah-writes​ (7700) This is a sequel to one of my favorite stories I recced last year, dealing in alternative timelines where in one world, Michael is lost and alone and has pushed Alex away, and in another world where Alex came home from Iraq in a flagged draped coffin. It answers the question, what about Mikey? Where’s his happy ending? The confirmation of the multiverse means there’s an Alex out there who needs him- and through trial and error, Michael finds him. The world building in both stories is top notch, because for every action, there’s a reaction and reason shaping Michael.

Constant as the northern star by celzmccelz (53,000) - don’t know the tumblr here - This is an Mpreg, and it starts solidly after 1x13 and goes AU from there. But what if in the 100 mile drive home from Caulfield, Michael and Alex share a grief-induced moment of insanity where they fall back into their oldest language- sex for comfort, and then Michael does everything he does in the finale, including turning toward Maria, what if there was a souvenir? Despite the trope of mpreg, this is just how I see Michael, deeply in love with Alex but unable to trust that Alex feels the same depth in return. The friendships in here are also top-notch, from Kyle being a baby-doctor, to Isobel having her own Max-related spiral unable to let go of her brother only to refocus on Michael, to Liz fucking off with Rosa for the first half of the story because she’s caught up in her own grief (which turned out to be canon!). And there’s a whole plot here! With Jesse Manes being the worst.

Leave the light on by @sabrinachill​ (36,900) - Confession time- I love fake dating as a trope, I know, shocked right? But I especially love it with RNM because Malex are exes by 1x03. Mattie nailed the dynamic of pining and the assumption of unrequited love so well in this story. Although the POV switches here a bit between chapters, (and Alex is fabulous) what I really really loved was how she wrote Michael, in love but convinced that he’s messed up too much for Alex. Aware of his faults but not in a sullen way, but an acknowledgment that he was in a bad place and Alex hasn’t always been the best remedy him in the past. It was a very mature take on the “give me another chance” trope in Malex reunion stories, where both sides had a share of blame. The plot was suspenseful and tight (how do people do that???) with a climax that honestly shocked me! I really enjoyed rereading it while I prepped my rec-sets, and I won’t be surprised if this story isn’t mentioned by everyone doing ‘Creators Week’. It’s worthy of all the love.

Temporary wounds by @prouvaireafterdark​ (7800) - How many times can I rec this story? Hopefully you’re not bored by my adoration of this Lynne.  So even though it’s set post-season 1 with the assumption that Michael/Maria will fizzle out while Alex/Forrest date- it’s actually perfectly set for season 3 (an author who is psychic??). As a rule, I hate jealousy as a trope, but this story has the only type of jealousy I want to see on screen- where Michael wonders what was missing inside of him that Alex didn’t want to be public during their long affair (even with the acknowledgment that Alex was too scared before)- like that type of sad pining is my catnip!

The first who ever did by nostalijinks (33,000) post season 1, but really it also stands pretty well after season 2.  There was an interview during season 1 I think that talked about how all Michael really wanted was to be a hero to Alex (the way he stepped in front of Jesse as a kid)  but he thinks he failed at it since Alex enlisted. That failure soured him in ways but he never stops trying, for Alex. This is a really well done 5 times plus 1 story, with an overreaching arc of reconciliation between Alex and Michael, starting as teenagers, then as adults while Michael is with Maria, then as friends, real friends, trying to support Alex as Alex dates. The whole emotional journey of maturity that Michael takes here is so well done, where there’s no real villains in the friend group. I just love it. I wish the author had written 100 more like this one, but as a standalone work it’s epic.

The person that you’d take a bullet for is behind the trigger by @iwontbeyourmedicine​ (25,000) Ly has a very large body of work, that you could spend days paging through on AO3 or tumblr, but this one hits two of my kinks hard- the amnesia story line and true love conquers all. So three fandoms ago I was huge into Steve/Bucky, that iconic moment in Cap 2 where Bucky breaks through the brainwashing has never left me. This story takes my love for that moment, and makes it Malex. Alex gets programmed by his family and set loose on his friends, on the aliens and it’s a shitshow bloodbath since he’s really fucking good at kicking ass. Michael is caught between keeping everyone safe and trying not to hurt Alex, and the tension is just top-notch. I love how it’s not an immediate fix either, the way they circle each other in the aftermath, wanting to come home, but home would be a totally new step for both of them. Just chef’s kiss good at joining action, angst, and romance together.

Into the palm of your hand by @haloud​ (5900) hal is a treasured friend, so I am admitting some bias here, but we both enjoy talking about how wonderful and sad Michael is and how desperately we enjoy poking at that softness and then wrapping him up with love again... so this story was written pre-shamegate (and if you know what that means, I’m sorry) but it matches my head canon of what the history of hiding does to someone. The internalization of believing maybe there’s a reason behind the hiding that has nothing to do with homophobic townies. Alex has an ex boyfriend come to town, and he doesn’t tell Michael. And omg the journey hal takes us on with Michael’s spiral and Brave Little Toaster act was so wonderful and painful and real. The communication between these two was top notch as they worked through a road bump from the past, and let’s face it, once we get our malex back, these things are going to happen, and it will either tear them apart or bring them closer together- I prefer to believe it will be closer together.

There is beauty in a failure by @jule1122​ (2400) There’s been a few Greg and Michael stories to pop up on my radar after 2x10, and this one was one of my favorites. This is a Greg who pulls no punches in exposing his brother’s past to Michael, but also gives Michael the space to work through what he wants. It’s an AU from 2x12, that allowed Michael to break up with Maria for basically the same reasons that Maria used on him in 2x13. The way Michael is able to what he wants and communicate it Alex in the end- so good! We can only hope to see something similar in season 3.

I don’t know what to think (but I think of supernovas) by @queersirius​ (3900) This story is a delight from start to finish- I mean frustrated cursing turns the console on into a hologram who then takes the most pleasing form to Michael’s eyes? SIGN ME UP for those shenanigans. I fucking loved how Isobel saw it first too. And then the comedy of Alex discovering it? And what happens afterwards? Oh it’s so delicious. Now of course, full disclosure, this light-hearted romp through the feels also inspired me  to think up a much much sadder version of Michael building an AI for companionship considering how isolated he ended up being at the end of Season 2 and we all know Michael needs friends, badly.

Innuendo by the Roswell anon (6000) written for @bisexualalienblast​  the roswell anon is my favorite treasure in this fandom, I could pretty much list all of their stories as examples of some very fine Michael Guerin characterization. This one was one of my favorite post-season 1 fix-it fics though, because it has some of the most real 28-30 year old guy dialogue I’ve come across- from the crude jokes, to the sharply self-deprecating observations- this is Alex and Michael stripped down, all edges but what’s left is fatigue and love. The resolution at the end, where Alex observes that yes, Michael has tried the last 10 years but this is their first chance to try together- to pull in the same direction? It just lays me flat on the ground with how true that is to canon.

Whenever You Want to Begin, Begin by @foramomentonly (3200) - this is a sequel, and the first story is dynamite- don’t get me wrong- but it moves from the hopeful side of an ending to legit Happily-Ever-After here, and I devoured every word. First of all, having Michael turn to photography as a way of self-improvement is fucking genius. Photographers are always at the center of every happy event, but never the focus, and that screams Michael to me, the way he lives on the outskirts of the 9-5 job and literal outskirts of town in his trailer. The other thing is photographers are revealed by their work, and that’s also something I head-canon with Michael just in the mundane- he’s good with his hands, he wants to leave a car better than he found. Anyway, this story is gorgeously written, moves a bit like a really good bottle of wine- heavy but soft, as you watch Michael become Alex’s friend, and even more importantly, Alex becomes Michael’s friend. Fantastic- I’ve read it about four times now since it was published.

#rnmcreate2020 #malex fic #malex fic rec #MALEX FEELS #michael guerin #alex manes #fandom positivity #worship our great authors in this fandom #will this show up in the tags? #probably not with my luck

[parvuls]

fic: in the space between (2/2)

word count: 6.6k

rating: teen

tags: space, science fiction, enemies to friends to lovers, pre-relationship

notes: due to length and tumblr's formatting, reading on ao3 is recommended

(part 1 | part 2 | read on ao3)

-

    “Just a month till we’re home, boys,” Holster announces as he climbs into the bottom bunk across from Eric, addressing the dark room at large. Eric can hear him shift around in his bed, sheets rustling with his movements. “Can I get a hallelujah?”

“You can get pizza,” Ransom replies dreamily from the top bunk above him. “Because Holtzy -- The Real fucking Pep God. You and me, Matty Matheson pepperoni. One month.”

There’s one month left until landing back in Houston and disbanding for three weeks of leave. It’s been creeping up in conversations for weeks now, nestling itself in crew breakfasts and mission briefs and downtime. Shitty waxes poetry about things like dipping his toes into the ocean and breathing that sweet Terra air as often as he talks about smoking three joints at once the moment they set foot on the ground. Holster and Ransom talk about the heaps of food they’ll be shoveling to compensate for a year of outer space cuisine. Jack doesn’t talk about much other than the missions, and Eric thinks about organic chemistry and molecular modeling on good days, thinks about crying on bad ones. He talks about almost anything else to distract himself and hopes to Jesus that no one can tell.

The picture frame on the shelf by his bunk wobbles on its back stand as the ship tips into Krer orbit for the night. Krer itself is dim and murky, obscuring the shining lights of its neighboring planets and cloaking the crew quarters’ portal window in darkness. Jack said that the last mission of this tour should be coming in from Flight Director Hall sometime during the night.

Eric sighs quietly, turns onto his side, and stares blindly at the blank white of the wall as he mentally runs through the primary structure of proteins once more. Holster and Ransom are arguing about the best Toronto pizza in the background, the sound of their voices weaving in with the beeps of the ship’s machinery and the creaking noises of it when in motion.

“You gotta come too, Bittle,” Holster says, drawing Eric’s attention. He rolls his head to the other side, watches Holster’s blurred figure move in the dark to lean over the edge of his bunk. Eric must’ve missed a change of conversation. “Getting together over leave? We spend the last day before launch together, all of us. Y’know, hitting some bar, maybe watching a game, then catching the plane to Texas in the morning. Last time we went to Shitty’s -- man, that was fucking wild sauce.”

“And you gotta meet Lardo,” Ransom adds. “Crew bylaws. Sorry, rookie, everyone’s in.”

There are ten densely-printed pages about prokaryotes crumpled in the back of Eric’s personal locker, that he’s riffled through maybe twice. Eric chews his lip raw, tries to think of a carefully-masqueraded way of brushing the invitation off, but Holster grumbles lowly before he can. “Well, not everyone.”

“Right,” Ransom says, his enthusiastic tone turning slightly hesitant. “But. Us and Shitty and Lardo and probably her trainee Ford. It’s almost everyone.”

It’s almost everyone, plus ground team. “But not Jack,” Eric concludes, unintentionally dismayed. He should know better by now than to be disappointed, probably. He should, but doesn’t.

Holster sighs and throws himself back onto the mattress, bed springs groaning loudly. “Jack doesn’t really do social things. He’s too cool for them. Which -- whatever, man, who cares, it’s probably more fun for us that way. So you in?”

What Eric’s in for is a world of trouble. Eric’s in for the sweltering heat of the Texan desert, he’s in for submerging in textbooks all the way up to his ears, he’s in for never being quite enough for this world. He turns his head back to the other side, facing the wall, and stifles a sigh.

“I’ll think about it,” he promises, and knows that he will, also knows he’d never be able to say yes. He doesn’t leave them enough time to round up on him before he adds, “Now shut your pieholes, gentlemen, some people need their beauty sleep. And by some people I do mean y’all.”

“Really, he means you,” Ransom tells Holster, and there’s the distinct sound of Holster reaching up and whacking the top bunk with a pillow. Eric buries his face in his sheets and tries to think distracting thoughts loudly enough to drown out the constant screeching noise of his worries. That, at least, is something he’s an expert at.

.

Eric wishes he could say that he spent his entire life looking up to the stars. That would be a lie.

He spent most of his childhood looking at the ground, instead. At the toe picks beneath his feet; at the dough rising in the oven; at the floor of his school’s hallways, trying to avoid eye contact. The sky in Georgia was ordinarily clear, stars blinking in and out of view, but they’d never held much of Eric’s interest. He wouldn’t have known what to search for even if he’d tried.

Eric, aged eighteen, went to college mostly for the going and less for college. New England was as much an escape as it was a destination. He liked some of his classes, didn’t like others -- remained undeclared for most of junior year, bouncing around between classes about food and culture. He put off doing his work for too long and preferred baking to writing essays too often, but it was fine, most of the time. His days were filled with more people than papers and he found that it was exactly the way he liked it.

College was the point Eric realized that, once he’d stopped being too afraid to try, he was really good with people.

“You could charm mountains into moving for you,” his sophomore year roommate told him, not without a hint of exasperation, when Eric fretted about meeting his first boyfriend’s parents. “Literally everybody likes you.” 

And Eric laughed nervously, said, “Come on now, that is certainly not true,” because he couldn’t charm thirteen year old bullies out of forcing him across the state, couldn’t make small-town Georgia like him for who he really was. Those seemed a lot like immovable mountains to him.

But people flocked to his vlog, kept telling him he was so charismatic, and his hockey team kept turning to him for advice with their problems, and in November of junior year he reviewed his credits, expecting to see every food class his college had to offer, but found Populism and Norms and Deviance and Inequality and Social Change, instead.

He got his B.A. Got his master’s, too, not particularly fond of academia but not too keen on leaving the shelter it provided, either. He accepted an offer to work as a consultant for a big company right after grad school, spent a year expertly tailoring trade relations and marketing techniques to partners and customers from foreign cultures. He understood people, liked people, and people, apparently, liked him. It wasn’t the job of his dreams but it was a decent start, and once the one year mark came and went he began considering PR work, maybe putting his people skills to a smaller-scale use. He was twenty-five and definitely not unhappy and his eyes were, always, firmly on the ground.

And then -- well. Then, one day, NASA called.

.

Jack gathers the four of them outside the flight deck to inform them that their crew has been tasked with the last Human-Islik Intergalactic Treaty info exchange of the quarter, in time for the summit meeting at the end of August. He tells them Flight Director Hall is counting on them, tells them to wear clean suits, and when Holster and Ransom begin chanting last mission, last mission, last mission, he sternly reminds them that being assigned to the Treaty IE is an honor. Still, when they all scatter and the two of them practically skip down the bridge, Eric thinks he sees the corners of Jack’s mouth twitch.

The mission takes four days, requires a series of security checks before entering each room and short transmissions to Houston for green lights at every step. Islikaru has the largest concentration of humans outside of Earth, but protocol must be followed nevertheless. Eric shakes hands, shakes paws, shakes tentacles, makes pleasant small talk and smiles brightly and lets Ransom ramble about science and Jack deal with bureaucracy. It feels at last like a familiar dance, and Eric tries not to think about how much he doesn’t ever want to stop dancing.

By dusk of the fourth day Shitty convinces Jack to wrap it up at a local eatery, the crew crowded around a small table in a pressurized O2 pod with their helmets thrown on the seats by their thighs. Eric finds himself squeezed between Jack on one side and Shitty on the other, a cool syrupy drink emitting translucent wisps of steam in his hand. Holster orders for all of them in rusty Isli that may or may not actually result in food, but they’re all just too jubilant to care.

“Alright boys,” Shitty hollers, banging his coaster on the table several times for effect. The glass containers holding all of their drinks jiggle with its force, creating a cheerful ringing sound. “A toast to this fucking beaut of a year. Being stuck in a cramped metal case floating in nothing for three hundred sixty-five days has been a great pleasure with your rockin’ bods for company. Fucking cheers!”

Ransom whoops, Shitty pretends to wipe a tear, Holster belts out the chorus of Cheers’ theme song passionately. Eric watches them, helplessly indulgent, and thinks: he’s actually making a home here. 

On his other side, Jack shoves one of the food baskets towards Eric with his knuckles and says, “You should try the octo-bacon, if you haven’t.” His eyes meet Eric’s for a brief moment, make Eric’s lungs expand in his chest. He can’t remember the last time Jack spoke to him for no good reason. 

Jack’s face is uniquely relaxed, his jaw convulsing as he fruitlessly tries not to laugh at something Shitty says, and Eric’s former thought continues, completely unbidden: gracious, I’m going to miss these boys so much. Their bickering and their worst habits and their dumbest moments. Holster’s booming voice, Ransom’s midnight thesis writing, Shitty’s insistence on nudity, Jack’s continual ability to confuse him. 

“Holy shit, man,” Ransom says, slamming his emptied drink onto the table and staring at its last drops in awe. “What the fuck is this shit. I need another one ASAP.”

“Not it!” Holster calls, and then stretches his arm across the table, fingertip of his index finger pointed mere inches from Jack’s face. “But I just know our commander would love to buy his best crew another round. Right, Zimmermann?”

“You’re my only crew, Birkholtz,” Jack rolls his eyes, mostly good-natured. Holster’s wiggling finger and Shitty’s foot kicking at his shin beneath the table must goad him into action anyway, because he puts his helmet back on, disappears out of the pod and towards the service counter without further protest. 

While Eric watches him go, Shitty slides closer in the booth and flings his arm around Eric, tugs him right into the crook of Shitty’s body. 

“This is it, Bittle,” he sighs, eyes closing dramatically. “Once this tour ends, you will no longer hold the title of rookie. Finally, you will graduate to the same titles everybody else gets -- mainly bro, or fucker, or, if I’m spectacularly schwasted, yo, what’syourname. This is a monumental day for all. You might even get a nickname. Are you appropriately emotional?”

Eric is emotional about many things. He can't stop thinking about this crew and what they've come to mean to him, can't stop hating keeping secrets, can't stop dreading the moment they cross back into Earth. Eric is emotional about the possibility of seeing his mama again, and what it'll mean if he does; Eric is emotional about life in general, right now, so he says, “Sure thing, Shitty,” and shoves a ring of octo-bacon into his mouth. It seems, for lack of a better option, like the smartest response.

From above Ransom’s head, Eric spots Jack reappearing just beyond the glassy walls of the pod, carrying a tray with four containers between both hands. He then keeps watching, helpless and open-mouthed, as another astronaut rises from a nearby booth and slams into Jack shoulder-first, tipping the entire tray sideways and nearly knocking its contents over and to the floor.

“Oh shit, sorry mate!” the man exclaims, immediately reaching out to catch Jack’s hands and help stable the tray. His Australian accent is thick, the ASA pin decorating the shoulder that knocked into Jack glinting under artificial lights. The two of them grab the tray with three hands, containers sliding back into place still intact, before the man’s eyes flick up and catch on Jack’s face. He then jerks back, his eyes widening and his hands yanked away from Jack like he’s afraid to catch on fire. “Fuck, Zimmermann! I didn’t see it was you! Fuck my life, uh -- here, I’ll pay for the drinks --”

Eric watches, crestfallen, as Jack’s previously relaxed expression gradually darkens back into his usual scowl, lips disappearing between his teeth. “It’s fine, don’t --”

The other astronaut shakes his head vehemently, shoving his gloved hand into his utility pocket and fishing out some local coins that he then throws onto the tray haphazardly.

“Fuck no, mate, I’m not taking risks with you,” he hurries backwards, flat palms raised up, like he’s under some kind of threat Eric can’t read in Jack’s distressed body language. “For real, it was an accident, don’t get your dad to kick me off the program, yeah?”

The man backs off, scurrying back to his pod and to his whispering crewmates. Jack remains standing, shoulders rigid and tray held in clenched white knuckles, vacant stare fixed on the floor. Eric glances away from Jack for the first time since he saw him approach and notices that his whole table is silent and tense. He catches Shitty’s furrowed eyebrows and Ransom’s worried look, and becomes slowly conscious of the fact that unlike him, everybody else already know what just went on in front of them. 

Jack’s mood seems to fracture, then. He steps through the pod’s sliding sealing and sets the tray down on the table too forcibly, glass containers knocking together. He doesn’t sit back down. Shitty parts his mouth to say something, but Jack latches his helmet closed before he can, muttering, “I’m done for tonight. I’ll see you guys back on the ship.” 

His face is almost blank, valiantly trying for imperviousness, but Eric has never seen him look so decidedly miserable before. Instinctively, he reaches out to grab Jack’s wrist; he doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know what just happened, but he does know that Jack shouldn’t leave like that. He manages to stammer out, “...Jack --” before Jack tears his hand away from Eric’s grip with the same excessive aggression that rattled the drinks, and says curtly, “Excuse me.”

Eric stares at his back stalking off until he's entirely out of view, feels unjustly hurt and primarily very confused.

.

Jack Zimmermann is --

Jack Zimmermann is one of NASA’s Arctic Project’s best pilots and ship commanders, Eric learned his first year in the program. He’s exceptionally committed to his job, loyal to his crew, unwaveringly focused on the mission. He’s direct, sometimes brutally so. He’s good at following orders, makes tough decisions under pressure, and never takes the opportunity to rub elbows with the higher ups. He just loves what he does, and does it notably well.

The name and the legend is a lot to live up to, but when Eric met Jack he realized that the man is exactly as he’s advertised. Jack, in the role of Jack Zimmermann, is straightforwardly that: an amazing astronaut, an amazing ship commander, an amazing pilot.

It’s unfortunate, then, that Jack in the role of a human being is sometimes an enormous asshole.

.

The ship’s lights are all off when the boys straggle themselves back on board later in the evening, their boots dragging sluggishly against gravity. When Jack left, the celebratory mood followed his footsteps out the door; no one seemed the least bit inclined to talk about it, so Eric didn’t ask. Though the four of them did their best to recover, cracking halfhearted jokes and staying for another couple of rounds, even Shitty’s mustache seems to droop lower than normal by the time they finally find their way back to the ship. 

Shitty passes airlock and walks straight towards the pilots’ quarters without saying a thing, so Eric wordlessly follows Holster and Ransom into their own quarters, brow still creased with puzzlement. He watches as Holster starts stripping by the door and Ransom sits down on the bottom bunk to take off his gear, and waits, and waits, until the silence is just too strange to handle.

“Alright, can anyone tell me what in the deep-fried hell was that?”

Holster glowers, rips off his support strap with gusto. He doesn’t answer, so Eric turns his frown at Ransom, who sighs as he removes the tough overshoe off his boots. “Ignore him, Bittle. Jack just gets real bitchy when people mention his dad. Which happens pretty often because, you now, his dad.”

“His dad…?” Eric prompts, desperate, because it seems like he should know something that he doesn’t. It’s not in the least a foreign feeling these days, when concerning space and science and always, always Jack.

Ransom looks up at him, one boot dangling from his left hand. “Yeah, you know, his dad. It’s a lot of pressure, living up to that. It’s probably most of why Jack is how Jack is.”

Eric doesn’t believe daddy issues are any excuse to be so surly, and he thinks, rather bitterly, that he would know something about the matter. But he pushes, still, because it’s always one step forward and three steps back with Jack, and any scrap of information making his commander seem a little more human could go a long way right now. Or even not human; Lord knows Eric can figure out nonhums just fine. “What does he have to live up to?”

Holster pauses peeling off the suit’s hard upper torso to squint incredulously at Eric. The lower torso assembly of the suit pools around his thighs. “You don’t know who Mad Bob is?”

“Uh,” Eric deflates, taking a tentative step back, the crown of his head hitting the frame of the top bunk. The tone of conversation begins to sound a lot like the time he disclosed that he doesn’t really know the periodic table or has, at any point of time, known it at all. “No. I don’t.”

Ransom throws his other boot to the side and leans forward, elbows resting on his knees and face contorting into an expression that closely mirrors Holster’s; surprised, scandalized, disbelieving. “He’s like -- Mad Bob. He was the first commander in the original Avalanche Project. He was the first pilot to leave the Solar System and come back alive?” 

“They say he was the first to meet extraterrestrial life!” Holster gestures grandly with his hand, yanking off the EV glove to have free use of the other hand as well. 

“That’s actually not true,” Ransom clarifies, “No nonhum races were recorded until almost a decade later --”

“Not the point, dude,” Holster waves him off. “The point is, Mad Bob is a legend. His ship nearly burned on the way back to Earth and he totally saved everyone on board. Made the first round trip, you know? He’s a big fucking deal. Can’t believe you’ve never heard of him.”

Eric blanches, digs his nails into his skin to hold his instinctual reaction at bay. Eric spent the first twenty-five years of his life with his feet planted firmly on the ground, his eyes never straying upwards. Later, Eric spent every moment of his time at Houston scrambling to prove his worth in an environment so wholly alien to him that the irony in the metaphor was no longer funny. Eric wouldn’t be able to tell Neil Armstrong from Adam, just like Eric can never really remember the difference between Newton’s and Einstein's theories, doesn't know the primary structure of proteins even now. Eric doesn’t belong here, and he’s quickly running out of time to pretend like he does.

“Oh,” he says finally, weakly. Holster and Ransom haven’t looked away from him yet, so he averts his eyes, turns to face his bunk. “Must’ve just missed it somehow.”

He can almost hear Holster and Ransom hem and haw for a few long, silent moments, before the sound of nylon rustling resumes. Eric takes a deep breath, and does his very best not to regret ever asking. It’s made worse by the fact that this hasn't really helped him understand Jack any better than before.

.

So Jack had spent most of Eric’s first few months on the ship treating Eric like an inconvenience. That was okay -- it hadn’t been the first time he’d been perceived like that, and it wouldn’t be the last. He hadn’t been a fresh-faced teenager from the South in a long while; he’d been older, tougher. He’d been places and had met people, nicer people and smarter people and even meaner people than Jack Zimmermann. He hadn’t really needed a pat on the shoulder or an encouraging smile, just the opportunity to do his job, and do it well.

The real problem was that Eric had always been good at his job because he understood people. And Eric, despite his best begrudging efforts, cannot make sense of Jack.

Jack, who clearly had not understood Eric’s job at all until, suddenly and out of nowhere, there was Evor. Jack who, after Evor, told Eric good work and sounded like maybe he even meant it. Jack who, after Evor, was sat by Eric when Lardo radioed to tell them that Jack’s report had made the deputy administrator call to congratulate Eric specifically. 

Jack who, also after Evor, stopped meeting Eric’s eyes unless absolutely necessary. Jack, who Eric sometimes caught staring from the corner of his eye, looking lost in thoughts. Jack, who roughhoused with Shitty in the flight deck, and arranged Holster a private DSN connection for his mom’s birthday, and listened to Charlie Rich on late night piloting shifts -- but whose glimpses of personality disappeared the moment Eric tried to study them for too long.

Missions transformed into something different in the aftermath of Evor. A month after the crew’s return to action they were sent to do testing on the magnetic field of Pladora, and Jack put Eric in charge of communication with the local scientists without preambles. Eric choked, floundered, but grabbed the opportunity with both hands; he still couldn’t shake the weight of Jack’s gaze on his shoulders whenever he spoke with the Pladoran team.

Later, Jack pulled him aside and asked, “Are you capable of confidently explaining to me the exact kind of testing we’re doing here?”, stared at Eric until he was fidgeting uncomfortably in place. “It’s important that you can do that,” he added, like Eric didn’t already know, like Eric didn’t think about it every night before he fell asleep, like he needed Jack’s eyes on him for that, making the nape of his neck burn and his palms tingle with sweat. But Jack frowned at him, then, took a step back, like he didn’t understand why Eric was flushed with embarrassment. It almost seemed for a moment like he wasn’t actively gunning for humiliation.

And then it happened again. Two weeks after that they were helping ESA fix a satellite on a German space station, and Jack left Eric to discuss mission parameters unattended, but also ordered him to watch Shitty install a new GPS chip for three hours. During the strategy session for a recon mission in the Austra System, Jack insisted on hearing Eric’s opinion, but also accosted him after it to demand that Eric read about the complication with the wavelength disturbance. In a charged encounter with destitute merchants from a dead galaxy, Jack remained two steps behind Eric’s right shoulder and let him conciliate them, but when Eric later babbled about the civil turmoil caused by the demise of the galaxy, Jack asserted that he should understand the astrophysical process leading to such death.

So Eric generously thought: maybe Jack was trying, poorly. But three months after Evor the two of them returned to the ship frazzled and peeved, had spent most of the day wrangling with diplomats on Uzeru, and Eric scrubbed a hand over his face, resolved to try one more time. He offered Jack a friendly, tired smile, and said, “Wanna share bad coffee in the kitchen to drown our sorrows?”, but Jack only shook his head once, sharply, before immediately walking away.

The inability to make any sense of it consumes Eric's thoughts for much longer than he's comfortable with. Jack pushes and then pulls, hovers over Eric professionally but disappears the moment it’s interpersonal. A week before they're off for leave Eric looks up from his plate to see Jack taking his dinner into the flight deck, ignoring Shitty’s offer to join him, and thinks that maybe he can never peek past Jack's mask because Jack makes sure to turn away whenever it comes off. He thinks that maybe this is what loneliness looks like, thinks that he should still know better than to care, thinks for the first time that maybe Jack’s silent treatment is nothing more than not knowing what to say to Eric after Evor. Thinks that maybe Jack’s inept solution to not knowing what to say is to just say nothing at all.

.

The impact crater chipping Vylos’ surface is visible from two-hundred thousand miles out. It’s the nearest planet to the jumping point back to Earth, and its crater serves as a parking lot for all ships on their way to or from there. Its chaotic layout strongly reminds Eric of the QuikTrip station just north of Atlanta, but he bites his tongue and keeps that to himself. Jack and Shitty have probably never seen a QuikTrip, anyway.

Jack grumbles about finding a parking space on the night before leave, body curved over the control wheel and eyes squinted at the windowpane. Shitty leaves him to it, drapes his legs sideways on his armrest to tell Eric about the long claws of capitalism stretching into the cosmos, and how this has resulted in Vylosian beer being the best there is this side of the Milky Way, “Even though it’s like, totally not a real beer, dude, but -- marketing ploy!”, and how its atmosphere was chemically engineered, “To be breathable for all us Earthly suckers passing by ‘cause of the jump point. Filthy fucking marketing plot, I tell ya -- and the beer costs like my goddamn kidney.”

“Your goddamn kidney’s not worth much with the amount of Vylosian beer you regularly consume,” Jack interjects, lowering the ship into a vacant spot skillfully. Vylos’ terrain, reflected at Eric from the three surrounding windows in the flight deck, is grainy and blue.

The Vylosian bar Shitty buoyantly pushes them into is decorated in mismatched memorabilia, posters of Uma Thurman and Justin Bieber and a life-size stormtrooper suit personally signed by George Lucas looming by the wall. The AI pouring the drinks is a hologram in the shape of a Western saloon bartender, the beer is thick and neon green. Eric’s been outside the Kármán line for nearly a year and feels caught by surprise, still, almost daily; but tonight he gets to wear denim shorts instead of nylon spacesuits, gets to clink his glass against Ransom’s, gets to pretend that tomorrow isn’t possibly the end of it all. It has to be enough, he thinks, and takes a determined drink.

Their group starts out leaning against the wooden countertop, skin sticking to its surface. Later, Holster and Ransom chat their way into the table of two local girls, and Jack disappears from view. Eventually, their group winds up scattered across different corners of the bar, red-faced and loose. Eric catches himself repeatedly looking up from the bottom of his glass to the open door, at the pale glint of the sky just outside it, and after a thorough sweep around he takes his drink, gets up, and starts walking.

.

The bar overlooks the vast expanses of the crater sprawling beneath it, and Eric finds himself sitting outside at the edge of the cliff, thighs bare over the rough azure dirt and beer glass tilting in his hand. Vylos’ three moons are out of sync, rising and peaking and setting in a simultaneous cycle, and Eric is busy watching them when he hears heavy footsteps coming up behind him.

He’s surprised to find Jack standing there, suspended in motion with his hands deep in his pockets and his hair windswept, figure backlit by the lights of the bar twinkling behind him. He seems just as startled to see Eric; his expression wavers out of its usual stoic façade to betray some semblance of emoting.

“Oh, Bittle, I -- I thought you’re inside with the boys,” Jack blinks, a hint of a frown wrinkling his forehead. 

“No,” Eric blinks in turn, unsettled by this strange creature wearing the face of his commander. He looks so different in jeans and an AsCans training program t-shirt, out of the bulky spacesuits they spend most days in. “Uh -- no. I’m not.”

“Right.” Jack nods stiffly, glances at the ground and then at a spot somewhere over Eric’s shoulder. His body language is guarded, and he looks misplaced, painfully awkward. They still haven’t exchanged more than two or three sentences in private since Evor and Eric, typically the chatterbox, wouldn’t even know where to begin. “Well, uh, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll go.”

“You’re not interrupting,” Eric says, before he can think too carefully about why the heck he’d say such a thing. Before he can recall the snapshot memory of Jack turning to eat dinner in the flight deck, alone. “I mean. I’m just sitting here. Drinking alien beer,” he raises his glass, the bright green liquid sloshing around, leaving traces of neon on its rim. The ridiculousness of the situation may be slightly lost on Jack, but not on him. Space still is, and probably always will be, kind of weird.

“Right,” Jack repeats, the line of his back tightening and his eyes narrowing at Eric. “Be careful with that. Don’t want you to throw up during descent tomorrow.”

Dear Lord. One step forward and three steps back. “Yes, Commander,” Eric sighs, swallowing the chagrin out of his voice. His shoulders sag as his body curls towards the view, away from Jack. God forbid Jack Zimmermann think about anything other than the mission for a single flippin' moment. Eric should know better than to be disappointed, but the sour churn of his stomach is unmistakable. Eric should, but doesn’t.

The footsteps behind him pick up again, and he expects to hear Jack walking farther and farther away. Instead, he’s shocked into silence by Jack sliding into his peripheral view, sitting down beside him on the cliff. His shoulders are rigid, his mouth pressed thin. His expression looks like he’s as bewildered as Eric by his own actions.

“Are you excited to go back?” Jack asks after a long, uncomfortable minute, during which they both sit mutely and watch the pits of Vylos before them. Its second moon has finished a full rotation and is now shining down in soft lilac beams. Jack’s voice is tense, flat; this boy, Eric thinks almost pityingly, really is terrible at small talk.

He’s been asked this question a dozen times that month, but mustering his practiced fake enthusiasm now seems hard. Maybe it’s the alien alcohol; maybe it’s that Jack could regress into not speaking to him again at any moment. “I guess so. Home sweet home, ‘m I right?”

Jack shrugs one shoulder, a short and angular movement. “It doesn't feel like going home to me,” he says, honest and plain. “I spend most of my time out here. It’s more like -- a summer vacation. Some people go to the Caribbean and we go visit Earth.”

Eric nods, absently, unsure of how to respond. He brings his glass to his lips and takes a long swig of it, tastes green all the way to the back of his throat. It’s almost impossible to imagine that in twenty-four hours he could be drinking locally-produced white wine in the Washington Corridor. Earth feels so darn far away.

“What’ll you do on your vacation, then?” Eric asks after another long stretch of silence, mostly out of politeness that his mother persistently lectured into him over years. 

Jack’s attention is fixed on the moons, his profile sculpted by the sharp lines of his nose and cheekbones and chin. His eyes are so pale under the lilac moon -- big, slanted, annoyingly beautiful. He remains quiet for a moment, leans his weight on his palms and considers Eric’s question. His gaze is still flickering over the view when he says, finally, “I usually go see my parents. Read. Buy groceries.”

Eric snorts inelegantly. If he didn’t know any better, didn’t know Jack any better, that could almost be mistaken for a joke. “Buy groceries?”

“Yes,” Jack says, perfectly serious. His eyes flit over to meet Eric’s, and Eric holds them for only a moment before quickly looking away. His cheeks grow inexplicably warm. “I don’t really miss anything when I’m up here -- I mean, not really -- but I guess sometimes it’s nice to remember people. Stupid human stuff, eh? Supermarkets. Banks. I always think I'd catch a movie in the theatre but somehow I never do.”

He appears to be uncomfortable with his admission, face closing off once the words are out of his mouth. The sharp lines of his features twist back into a familiar scowl, but Eric watches them, him, thoroughly transfixed. The authentic snippet of personality cannot disappear under the reapplied mask this time; Jack has put something truthful on the table, a hint of something charmingly sentimental. A mundane humanity space can't recreate, newspapers and laundromats and coffee stands and taxes. Grocery shopping. Eric doesn’t know if the fast, erratic beating in his chest is at the sweet tinge of it, or the mere thought of Jack paying attention to such things.

“You should,” Eric finally finds his words somewhere in his strangled windpipe, slowly facing forward. Jack, and his continual ability to confuse. He can see Jack from the corner of his eye, turning his head to subtly raise both eyebrows at Eric. “Go to the movies. You should do it this time.”

“Yeah. Maybe I will,” Jack says after a long pause. “I'll tell you how it went when we’re back here.”

“If I come back,” Eric sighs before he can catch himself, and then freezes, fingers clenching around his glass. Dang it. Dang it all to hell.

“What?” Jack asks, confused, and when Eric refuses to meet his eyes, shoulders squaring and chin dropping to his chest, Jack’s voice sharpens and he repeats, “What? What do you mean? Bittle. What do you mean.”

Eric exhales unsteadily, rubbing his forehead with the back of his free hand. He thought he'd have more time. He thought -- like he always does, and is always wrong -- that he’d successfully outrun his problems by denying their existence. He could try shoving those four incriminating words back into his mouth, but Eric can feel Jack’s intense attention focused on the side of his face. Once Jack stepped back into the professional boots of Commander Zimmermann, no denial will make him let this go. 

“I’m spending all of my leave in Texas. I gotta pass evaluation for the clearance to come back here with y’all. These past six months were my test run -- I’ve never passed the written exam.” Eric drags his shoe through the sandy ground, watches as the grooves he makes are swept away. “Y’all know I’m no good at the sciency stuff, Jack, alright. I don't need to hear it from you as well. If I don't get an adequate score I'm off the program for good.”

Eric chews the inside of his cheek and chances a side glance. Jack looks outraged, his thick brows drawn down and his entire face devoid of color. Eric’s immediate reflex is to flinch away, but Jack speaks before he can make a move. “What subjects?”

“What?” Eric asks, thrown completely off-balance. He was expecting a thundering reprimand at worst, an indifferent dismissal at best. He doesn’t know what the quiet, heated response he's gotten even is. 

"What subjects are they testing you on?”

Eric hesitates, body still braced for the blow that isn't coming. “Uh. All of the introductory subjects. Basic physics, geobiology... mostly modern astronomy. But I swear --”

“Alright,” Jack cuts him off with a single sharp nod, his chin sticking out slightly, like Eric has somehow pushed him to make up his mind. His expression, typically impassive, is now staggeringly transparent. “I’ll help you study for the written exam.”

“What?" Eric blinks several times, glances down to see if he's had more to drink than he thought, but the glass is still half-full and Jack's figure is still corporeal by his side, intense expression still in place. He doesn't fade away like the hallucination Eric is so sure he must be. "Jack -- what --?”

Jack doesn't seem to pick up on the astonishment that has Eric stumbling over his words. “We’ve got two and a half weeks, right? You need entry level stuff to pass that exam. If we study hard, you can do it.”

Eric thinks he might be gaping, his mouth hanging open and growing dry in the arid air, but he apparently isn't capable of collecting his jaw off of Vylos’ ground. “But… what… but you’ll be in Canada…?”

“I’ll stay in Huston,” Jack looks determined. “Bittle, we're a team. You should’ve told us before and we would’ve helped you. You’re a strong crew member, you’re smart, you’ve got an edge that none of us has got. If that’s the only thing holding you back we’re going to get you over it. Study clinic, day and night.” He pauses, the self-assurances faltering for only a moment, and the lines of his mouth soften somewhat. “Just trust me, okay?”

Eric is absolutely floored. The only foolish thing that manages to leave his mouth is, “What about going to the movies?”

Jack almost smiles. Eric has spied that expression on rare occasions before, but never directed at him, and never from up close. It does something to Jack's face that Eric can't put in words. “I’ll catch one on the next leave. Which you’ll be taking as well, ‘cause you’re not leaving the program. We've got each other's backs, Bittle.”

Under the moonlight, purple shadows carving his face from marble and a mellow half-smile twisting the corners of his mouth upwards, Eric could almost let himself admit how handsome Jack is. Jack rubs the dirt off of one palm and slowly curls his fingers, holds them up in a silent offer. Eric can see the thin veins beneath the surface of his skin. He looks at the hand, looks up at Jack, and lets a tentative smile blossom on his face. He brings his clenched hand up to meet Jack’s, and bumps his fist.

#zimbits #omgcp #omgcheckplease #zimbits fic #it is the space fic! they are in space! #i cleaned up the first chapter if anyone wants to reread or catch up #check please! #jack x bitty #pavfics #okay great this is a series now. i'm SORRY

[dizzymoods]

1. For a long time now I've been seeing a problem with the advancement of digital image manipulation technology. I've seen a trend that as the tools which allow filmmakers to make digital adjustments to their images become more powerful and accessible, the reliance on these tools has increased to the detriment of the quality of the image.

2. In the days where the photochemical process allowed much more limited control over the graduation of hues, much more of the work of producing the final image happened on set. The quality of the frame was more directly determined by the quality of the light which was reflecting off of the subject.

3. Light is the crux of the image making process. You can't have a good image without good light full stop. It doesn't matter what you do after the image is captured, if the light you captured doesn't work, it can't be made to work by any means.

4. As these technologies have progressed I've seen such a dramatic drop in creativity in the way that light is utilized. I can't help but think that some part of this is due to a shifting attitude in the way that the image making process is conceptualized because of these technologies. Especially when I see things like the incredible popularity of Patreon grifters selling access to their corny LUTs.

5, People are eating that shit up. It seems like its playing into the homogenization of culture. Like it's a homogenization of the visual language of media which is being catalyzed in part by the accessibility of incredibly powerful tools that aren't strictly necessary to the image making process in the hands of an entire generation uncreative hacks who have risen to popularity through means other than the merit of their work.

I think the key to what you’re responding to is what you call the homogenization of visual language in media. I think the problem isn’t the technology per se but the industry that incentivized the use of  the technology to maintain the carbon copy standard of the Hollywood look while also being used to save on money/time onset. && the developers who equally became incentivized to make the technology easier to be used in such a way by the industry & prosumers as well. That’s where I locate this problem. There’s a kind of echo chamber where the images that gets you hired fit into this rigid easily replicate-able formula and the technology makes it easier to make said images.  I see this reverberate outside of technology and into the arena of corporate production and aesthetics. Which of course loops us back to the homogenization of visual language.

I see this homogenization in the work of DPs who started in the late 90s/early 00s. I’m thinking about Matty Libatique in particular who started out doing unique visuals in  Pi and Requiem for a Dream. Even though I don’t particularly like the look of these movies they did have personality.  It’s hard not to notice how on trend, flat, and boring Matty’s recent movies have been.

& I use Matty bc he moves between Big Studio pictures (Venom, A Star Is Born, Birds of Prey) and boutique indie films (Chiraq, Mother!, Native Son). & part of this echo chamber is that the technology is now relatively accessible and cheap and can produce a quality that rivals Hollywood. So now there isn’t much of a visual distinction between a $100mil film and a $10mil film in terms of image quality outside of maybe vfx.

Indie films aren’t an alternative to the Hollywood look anymore. They are now either boutique bootlegs (a24 or Annapurna) or generic knockoffs.  The indie scene is a kind of testing ground for new directors and DPs: can you follow the Hollywood formula on a limited budget? That’s why today’s indie wunderkinds get scooped up into Hollywood bc they can achieve these boring corporate approved looks on a budget. Vastly different from say PTA  or Malik Sayeed in the 90s.

This mimesis is at the heart of film education too. & I say film education bc you find it not only in institutional training (film school/residencies) but also on film sets interning and in the most easily accessible online resources (youtube, forums, patreon grifters, books, etc). All film education follows the model of Recognition and Recreation. Recognize the elements of this image/look and reproduce it as best you can. Film education produces technicians not masters of craft. There is no artist development. You have to sneak your pov into this small rigid mold. 

And this echo chamber discourages seeking out history and alternatives bc they are either obsolete or not profitable. Ppl think photographing black skin is a relatively new development when photographers like Van Der Zee were doing in the 1920s. & what Van Der Zee was doing in his photography in the 20s is wildly more technically difficult than dragging an effect onto a photo or applying a filter. The New Black Vanguard photographers are particularly annoying about claiming to be the “first” to do something even though they’re consciously (but badly)  copying 70s-90s fashion photography that was circulating on tumblr (usually by Rashida & Bri) ca. 2011-2014

I’m not mad at these insta photographers or these other visual artists who might not be talented but are adept at social media/sliding the HSL scale. Its the media and tech industries manufacturing the ability to do so and the manufactured need to work this way. Now that so many ppl can do this and the tech is demystified it makes it easier to replace workers. As a photographer/DP you aren’t bringing a unique eye to the project like Vadim Yusov or Jack Cardiff. You’re bringing the ability complete the task quickly and cheaply.

Something that I don’t ever see talked about wrt the homogenization of visual culture is how around 2007 Fincher & Soderbergh started saying the dreaded digital look will be as good and eventually better than celluloid. & with the RED One and Arri Alexa it became an achievable reality. So now instead of a meaningful difference in the visual palette between celluloid and digital we now have what essentially amounts to celluloid and imitation celluloid.

i do think there is value in this post manipulation technology. I just think that it needs to embrace it’s artifice. So much of this digitally  produced corporate look has some tether to reality/physics. I try to imagine how Dziga Vertov or Seijun Suzuki would have used it. I think it would’ve been exciting We got a glimpse of how Obayashi was using it.

While I agree that the visual degradation of the image is annoying and worrisome. I think more importantly is the end to which images are used. What is the meaning or purpose of this image? There’s also a degredation and flattening of meaning in these images as well. I think #RepresentationMatters is a big reason for this. Everything is now selling us capitalist aspirational images of women presidents and black board members. They really don’t mean much more than those “Anything is possible” posters with the balloons on them in first grade classrooms.

Since going to HU I’ve been increasingly less interested in placing value in the graphic quality of an image but rather its meaning/purpose. The Dario Calmese/Viola Davis cover kinda sealed that deal lol. But I do agree w the sentiment here. I don’t think there’s a point to working in a visual medium if everything you’re making looks the same.

Shameless self plug of an online grifter: I’m planning on covering cinematography more generally but this specifically is central to that topic in September’s episode of Niggas Eatin.

TL:DR: the technology is more of a symptom of the absolute disease that is hollywood’s corporate slog of images than the actual problem.

#cinematography #photography #long post #Anonymous #I hope this makes sense

[the-daily-multi-fandom-post]

The Anchor part 2

[part -- 1 ]      [Part -- 3 ]    [Part -- 4 ] 

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4,166 words yall I didn't mean for it to be this long

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ( Y/n POV )

I turned around, seeing Elena and Caroline staring at Jeremy and I. Then I saw what they were staring at my hand was still on Jeremys. I pulled my hand away from Jeremys. "Sorry." I said quietly. "There's no need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." Jeremy said. I looked back to see Elena and Caroline still staring at me. "Are they making you uncomfortable?" Jeremy asked looking at me then the girls. I was about to reply but Matt texted me. "I'm sorry I got to go get Matt. Do you need me to take you home or are you going with Elena?" I asked getting up and grabbing my jacket and bag. I laid the money for my meal and stuff on the table. "Its alright. Elena is taking me home but thanks for the ride over." Jeremy said hugging me. 

( 3rd POV ) 

Y/n walked out to her truck. She drove to the school since practice was over. She got out and looked for Matt. She walked to the football field and Saw Matt and Tyler talking. "Hey Matt." Y/n said making her presents known. "Hey, (Your nickname)." Tyler greeted with a small wave and smile.  "Hey, Ty." Y/n replied with polite smile. "So Matty, Are you ready?" Y/n asked messing with the keys in her hand. "Yeah we have to give Tyler a ride home so I'm driving and your in the middle." Matt Said taking the keys out of his older sisters hand. "Okay." y/n replied with ease.  Tyler and Matt looked at each other with shock. Usually Y/n with fuss and groan. -She didn't really  seem to care for Tyler too much. He was nice sometimes, but other times he can be an asshole.  They all walked to the truck, but unlike what they thought Y/n jumped into the bed of the truck and sat down, a satisficed smile on her face as she sat down leaning her back on the cab of the truck. "Your unbelievable." Matt said getting in the truck with Tyler following suit. 

The ride back was fine. Y/n liked riding on the back of the pickup. It made her feel normal. Other than seeing ghost all the freakin' time. They pulled up at Matt and Y/n's House which confused her but she got up and jumped off the bed of the truck. She walked up to the door and Unlocked the door. She walked to her room and sat down at her bed. She started to do her homework, Until Someone interrupted. TYLER. . . . 

"Tyler What can I help you with?" I asked as I got off my bed and put my homework off my bed and on my desk. "Well I wanted to know if I could take up out to dinner sometime?  I asked Matt and he said he didn't care. So what do you say?" Tyler asked very hopeful. 

- Its not that she didn't like Tyler, she just felt like he only wanted her for Sex or to make someone Jealous.  "Fine." I said as I laid on my bed. "So tomorrow after the game, I'll take you to the grill?" Tyler asked with a slight smile. "Yes I will see you tomorrow at school. I'll be at the game since my Brother play. So after the game is over you can take me out." She explained with a smile. Tyler nodded with a smile. "Alright, see you tomorrow." Tyler said leaving  with a smile. After I talked to Tyler I laid back on my bed and started to do my homework. After hours of torcher I finally finished.  I put my homework in my bookbag and got a shower.  After my shower I  got dressed In my PJs, did my night time routine and then went to bed. '~~~~~~~~' The next morning y/n woke up to her alarm clock ringing. With a groan she rolled over and hit the snooze button. She laid on the bed trying to go back to sleep, but it didn't work. It rung again and she  cut it off and went to my closet. She got dressed wearing a black V-neck t shirt, Black skinny jeans, her converses and her jean jacket. After she got dressed she washed her face and brushed her teeth. Then braided her hair into a Dutch braid. She smiled after she was done, she grabbed her  phone, charger, and bookbag with all her school work and papers, then went down stairs to get her breakfast. 

"Moring (Your eye color)." Matt said mentioning (Eye color) eyes. y/n smiled grabbing a apple from the small yellow bowl off the table. "Morning Matty." Y/n  replied taking a bite of the sweet apple, sitting at the table as he fixed his food.  "So what do you have practice tonight?" Matt nodded as he took his eggs out of the pan, putting them on the glass plate. "Yeah, I do. I also have a game tonight, so you have to be there." Matt said looking Y/n with a stern look. "Fine." I said with a smile. "So how are you? You know since Vikki left?" Matt asked looking at y/n with a concerned look while starting on his eggs.  "I'm okay." She lied. -I'm not okay honestly. How can you be okay if you don't even know what happen to your sister?  How can I be okay when I seen my only sister and she told you she was dead? How do you tell your brother your sisters dead? "Really? Look I know its hard with her leaving and stuff, but you should move on. You know, maybe she didn't want to be here. I mean look at mom, she left us, she hasn't came back in a long time too. She'll show back up eventually." Matt said looking at his little sister with a sad smile. Y/n looked at her brother as tears formed in her eyes. "I miss her, Matty." Y/n said honestly. 

She hated crying, she truly did. She always thought she had to be strong. She always thought she had to put on a show, instead of showing what she was really feeling. . sad. Like all the time. Which is why she turned to drugs when Vikki was there. (And if she's gonna be honest she still did drugs. She just didn't tell Matt that). She thought the drugs would make her feeling better, and they did. They made her feel happy. The only time she was happy without the drugs was with Jeremy, and that was if he wasn't chasing Vikki around like a lost puppy. 

Matt nodded as he pulled his sister into a hug. "Its alright. I miss her too. " He said as he held her. He felt horrible that he couldn't say when Vikki would be back. He knew Y/n and Vikki were close. They worked together and hung out together, even though they were a couple years age difference between the two sisters. "Everything's gonna be alright, She'll be back once she get hungry."  Matt said with a chuckle, making y/n sniff and giggle. "She's never going too far. She loves me too much." Y/n scoffed hitting her brother on her shoulder. "You too I guess." He joked as she pulled back from him. 

"Okay, I know we're having a Brother sister moment, but if we don't go to school we'll be late." Matt said as he pulled away, giving his baby sister a smile. "Yeah, I cant be late anymore. They told me if was that id go to ISS (in school suspension, if yall didn't know)." Y/n said as she looked at her brother. "We just started school a month ago." Matt said looking at Y/n shocked. "How?" He questioned as he grabbed his bookbag. "Well, Jeremy and I skipped school for a little while." She mumbled as she looked down at her feet. "What were you and Jeremy doing for that little while?!" Matt raised his voice, getting into older protective brother mode. "Nothing too bad. We went out to the falls and hung out. Drank some beer, talked, may or may not have took some stuff Vikki gave us, but I promise it was only like twice." Y/n said looking at her brother. "I thought you said you stopped." Matt said looking at his sister. "I have, that was literally at the beginning of school." Y/n answered her brother with a innocent smile. "I cant deal with you." Matt said shaking his head with a smile. "Lets go, punk." He said grabbing the keys from the table. Y/N nodded throwing the apple core into the trash. She grabbed her book bag and followed Matt out to the truck. 

Once they got into the truck they made their way to the school. It was a comfortable silence as they drove 15 minutes down the road to the school. Once they got there they went their separate ways. Y/n went to find Jeremy and Matt was going to find Tyler. She walked out of the car lot and to the tall oak tree in the front, right where she seen Jeremy sitting by himself on his phone.

"Hey Jeremy." Y/n said sitting down beside him. "Hey Y/n." He said with a smile, putting his phone down. "How are you?" Y/n asked with a smile sitting her book bag in the table beside them. "I'm alright, have you stopped?" He asked looking at Y/n with a knowing look. "The drugs?" Y/n whispered looking at him confused. He nodded looking at her with a worried look. "Yeah, I've stopped so far. I've been trying to stay strong. I don't know how you do it." Y/n said with a chuckled shaking her head. "I don't know, but if you need someone. I'm here for you. You know that right?" He asked looking at her with a smile. "Yeah, I know." She said giving him a friendly smile. "We better get going if we don't want to be late for class." Y/n said as she heard the bell ring. Jeremy nodded grabbing his book bag. Y/n grabbed hers and the two walked to their classes.

Later on that day Y/n walked out of the school with her bookbag looking for Matt. She needed the truck keys that he had. So she walked out to the football field where he and a few other guys off the football team were talking. She  walked over to them and stood quietly while they talked. She was different from matt. She was more quiet and a bit introvert then matt. Sure he was quiet at times, but she was actually really quiet compared to him. She was more to herself then him. 

Once Matt was done talking to the guys he, Tyler and I started talking. "How was practice?" Y/n asked as she leaned against the bleachers. "It was good, did you know Elenas boyfriend did football?" Tyler asked looking at Y/n with a shocked looking before looking over at Matt. "Yeah, I seen him in the court yard the other day. Quite an arm he has on him." Y/n said with an nod. "Any way, the game isn't for a while and I want to go home before the game. So are you going home with me or what?" Matt asked looking at Y/n. "I was planning on going to the Grill right after I came to you." Y/n spoke looking at her brother. "Well, you can go. If you want I can drop you off." Matt offered looking at Y/n. "Alright." Y/n said looking at him with an nod. "But you have to be at the game where I can see you. Remember what happen last time?" He said looking at Y/n with a smirk. "What happen last time?" Tyler asked looking at the two Donovan's.

 "The last game, My poor, sweet, baby sister decided to she was going to take the truck on a little ride with a few of her friends." Matt said looking at Tyler and then to Y/n. "That doesn't seem so bad." Tyler spoke looking at Matt with unsure face. "Well, when they go a couple hours away and decided they wanted to get drunk that's something different. Y/n looked at her brother and rolled her eyes. "No, that's what Vikki told you. Tyler you were there. You were drunk, but there.  It was literally, Vikki, Jeremy, Tyler, Sarah and me. We went out to the falls which is thirty minutes away. I was sober and I was making sure nobody was not going to have alcohol poisoning." Y/n said looking at Matt with a serious look. "Oh right. Your right. I remember I busted that party. Yeah I remember when I got there you had left. You had took Jeremy home and Vikki was there with Tyler drunk." Matt said with a nod. "I don't remember this." Tyler said looking at Y/n with a serious look. "Man, you were well beyond drunk." Y/n said looking at Tyler with a laugh. He gave Y/n a flirty smile and Y/n blushed. 

"Lets go. I need a shower." Matt said looking at Y/n and Tyler. "Oh, I didn't know Tyler was coming." Y/n spoke as they started walking to the truck. "Yeah, I thought I told you." Matt said as he and Tyler threw their football stuff in the bed of the truck. "No, you didn't." Y/n said as she got in the middle seat of the truck. "Well, you know now, princess." Tyler said with a smile. "I'm not a princess." Y/n said looking at Tyler with a smirk. "What are you then?" He asked looking at her as she smiled. "A mother fucking queen." She said making Matt and Tyler laugh. "Okay, Queen Y/n." Tyler said with a smile. 

After a few minutes Matt and Tyler dropped Y/n off at the grill. She sat in one of the empty booths and ordered her food. As she was enjoying her food she seen someone walk up to her. Looking at them she seen Stefan standing there with a smile. "Hey, Y/n." Stefan said with a friendly smile. "Hi, Stefan, right?" Y/n asked looking at Elenas new boyfriend. "Yeah, may I join you?" He asked pointing to the empty seat in front of her. She nodded with a friendly smile. "Go ahead." She said with a polite smile.  

After a few minutes of casual small talk Stefan slowly brought up Vikki. "So I heard you saw Vikki, How is she?" Stefan asked taking a sip of his soda. "She's umm. . She's fine." Y/n lied not making contact before she took a sip of her drink. She honestly didn't want to tell Stefan her sister was dead, before she had told her own brother. "I feel like your lying." He said lowly as he leaned forwards. Y/n looked at him with a confused look. "Well, I'm not. I don't mean to be rude, but I need to get back to the school. Matt dropped me off so I need to be going." Y/n said putting some money to cover her food and tip onto the table. "Nice, talking to you Stefan." She said as she started to walk out the door.

Y/n walked out the door and was starting to walk through the parking lot when Stefan called out her name. "Y/n, do you want me to give you a ride? I have to be there too. I'm playing tonight." Stefan offered pointing to his red ford sports car. "Sure, Thanks." She said with a small smile. 

The ride to the school was quiet between the two. Y/n planed on telling Matt about Vikki tonight after the game. She couldn't  deal with not letting him Know. They pulled up to the school. "Thanks for the ride Stefan, Good luck with the game." Y/n said getting as they went different ways. "Thanks, if you hear from Vikki let me know." He said looking at Y/n. She looked at him confused as she started to speak. "Not to be rude, but Stefan why do you want to know about Vikki? Did you know her?" Y/n asked just out of curiosity, not even in a rude way. "She seemed nice, and I just seen where she disappeared out of nowhere. I just know she doesn't seem like that type of person." Stefan said looking at Y/n with a concerned look. "Oh, well I'll let you know if anyone has spoke to her." Y/n said with a nod going to find a good spot for the barn fire that they do before the game. 

At the end of the game when everyone was leaving She found Matt and was on their way to the truck when she heard Jeremy yelling. Her and Matt ran over to the yelling and saw Tyler and Jeremy fighting. "Are you wasted?" Tyler asked looking at Jeremy? Jeremy got made and shoved Tyler then the two started fighting. That's when Jeremy picked up a broken glass bottle and went to hit Tyler with it. But Stefan stopped him. It looked like it would have cut his hand. "Y/n, Matt can you take Jeremy home for me?" Elena asked looking at Y/n and Matt. "Sure." Y/n said quickly going up to Jeremy and grabbed his hand. "Your gonna help the drug addict?" Tyler asked looking at Y/n. "I guess it takes one to know one." Tyler said looking at Y/n. Y/n let go of Jeremy's hand and went over to Tyler. She looked him in the eye and smiled. Then she took her hand and punched him straight in the jaw, hard enough it made him stumble backwards. "next time you say something about me. I swear you better have life insurance." Y/n threaten as she grabbed Jeremys hand and walked to the truck. matt decided he was going to be riding home with Tyler in Tyler's car. 

"I cant believe you punched him." Jeremy laughed as Y/n got him into the truck. "I've been wanting to do that for a while." Y/n said with a smile. "Have you told them about Vikki?" Jeremy asked as Y/n got into the drivers seat. "No, but I'll tell him when I get home." Y/n said looking at Jeremy with a smile. "You know, you have really pretty eyes." Jeremy said looking at Y/ns (Your eye colors) eyes. "Your drunk, jer." Y/n said as she started the truck. "Its true. I knew it before I was drunk. You have always been pretty, even when we were little kids. I've always thought you were beautiful." Jeremy said with a smile. "I still think its the drunk you speaking." Y/n said as she started going down the highway. "I swear, I really do mean it. I like you. Like, Like you, Like you." He admitted truthfully. Y/n chuckled as she glanced over at him. "Tell me that when your sober." Y/n said with a smile.

 - She likes him to, but she just didn't want him just to be saying that because he was drunk. If he was really into her, then she wants him to mean it. Y/n looked at him and smile as she pulled into their drive way. "You're home, jer." Y/n said as she looked at Jeremy who was just staring outside of the truck. "Will you walk me in?" Jeremy asked looking at Y/n with a smile. She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, come on." She said with a smile. He nodded as he opened the truck door. "Come on big guy." Y/n said as Jeremy started stumbling. Y/n giggled as she put his arm around hers and started walking to the house. She looked at him and sighed. "House keys." She said looking at Jeremy. "In my pocket." he said as he pulled them out of his front pockets. he handed them to Y/n as she still held onto him. She unlocked the door and put the keys into her pocket, continued to help him up to his room. 

As she struggled to get the teenager that's bigger than her up the stairs to his room, she felt tired. "Jeremy, you need to take off your shoes before you get on the bed." She said as Jeremy started to lay on the bed. He huffed and sat up throwing his shoes off, putting them beside his bed. He laid up and the bed and sighed. "Thank you." he told her with a smile. She nodded as she smiled. "That's what a friend is for." She said as she sat beside him on the bed. "Will you stay with me? Just till I go asleep? I just don't want to be alone." Jeremy said as he started getting choked up. "Of course." she whispered. She stood up taking her shoes off and walked over to Jeremys draws. she grabbed one of his shirts and his sweat pants. She went to the bathroom and changed into them. When she went back into the room from changing Jeremy was in the bed with just sweat pants on and shirt less. 

She pulled back the covers and laid right beside him. Jeremy faced her before he chuckled pulling her into him. "This brings back memories." Y/n said with a smile. "Good ones I hope." he said with a smile. "They are. It reminds me of when we were little when we did little sleep overs. We would just hang out and play video games." She said with a smile. "And we cuddled." He said with a smile. "yeah that too." Y/n said as she looked into his puppy brown eyes. He smiled looking into her eyes, then glanced at her lips then back to her eyes. "I really want to kiss you." he whispered. She nodded as she looked at him. She didn't say do or say anything but leaned forwards, giving him just a small kiss. "Goodnight." she said putting her head on his chest. "Goodnight." He said closing his eyes. 

A couple hours later her phone rang. -Matt was calling her. "Hello?" She asked  lowly as she stepped out of the bedroom. "where are you at?!" Matt yelled at his sister. "I'm at Jeremys." She answered. "Well, you need to come home." he said with a strict voice. "Alright, I'm on my way." She huffed rolling her eyes. "See you when you get here." Matt said hanging up the phone. She walked back into Jeremys room writing him a small note. Telling him she would come by in the morning to check on him. She grabbed her clothes and changed back into them putting the clothes she wore back where they belong. She started going down the stairs when Elena walked in looking like she was freaking out.  

"Elena, are you okay?" She asked quietly, not to wake anyone up. "Yeah, I'm fine. Is Jeremy in his room?" Elena asked. "Yeah, I got to go. Matt called me sounded a little mad." y/n said as she pointed out the door. "He just wants to make sure your safe I'm sure." Elena said looking at Y/n. Y/n nodded as she looked at Elena. "thank you for watching out for Jeremy. I appreciated it." Elena said hugging Y/n. "He is my best friend. Its my job." Y/n said with a smile.   So Y/n got in the truck and went back to her house. Where Matt and Tyler were talking on the front porch.  "What's wrong?" Matt asked looking at his sister. "Well you know how I believe I can see ghost." Y/n said as she sat on the porch swing. "Yes, but I really don't think you can see ghost I think its just your imagination." Matt said leaning against the wall beside Tyler. "Well anyway umm... Matt.... I saw Vikki." Y/n said quietly. "You saw Vikki?" Tyler said with a hopeful smile. "Yeah, But Matt Vikki died." Y/n said with a sad look on her face. "Your just think that (Your nickname, You probably just dreamed that or you strung up on more drugs.." Tyler said with all seriousness. He didn't want to believe that his Ex girlfriend was dead. 

"But the thing is she really is dead. She was attacked I saw her she came to me and told me she was dead. She told me to look out for you. Because there was bad stuff in this town." Y/n tried to get them to believe her but the look on their faces told her all she needed to know. "Fine you don't have tp believe me." Y/n said getting off the tail gate and started to walk home. Ignoring the calls of Tyler and Matt who were calling her name. She didn't want them to tell her she was crazy that she was just imagining seeing Vikki. 

She was walking when she felt someone grabbed her. Then everything went black...

#the vampire diaries #The originals #TVD #TVD x reader #tvd imagine #Matt Donovan #damon salvatore #Stefan salvatore #tyler lockwood #alaric saltzman #Caroline forbes #Jeremy Gilbert #elena gilbert #Bonnie bennet #Mysitc falls #kai parker #Klaus mikaelson #Kol mikaelson #Elijah mikaelson #Rebekah mikaelson #marcel gerard #davina claire