#and jonny is like this is stupid. but whatever. were gonna put it back on earth were not keeping it timothy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

clanwarrior-tumbly · 3 years

Note

brbrbbr i don't have as much of an idea for this but maybe like. reader has anger problems and is easy to piss off so eduardo is not the best person for them to be around but they were dating jon so they dealt with it for him, but now it's after his death and they and eduardo are both trying to mourn so they just start taking it out on each other and mark has to try and intervene before it goes too far (whether physical or someone just says something over the line)

Ironically you've given me an excellent angsty idea :3

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

"I thought she said we were stupid."

"....I'm gonna-"

"Punch you in the face?" You scowled at Eduardo before he could fully finish the threat. "Because that's exactly what I'm gonna do if you dare fucking finish that statement."

He just returned the glare in kind. "You couldn't even hurt a-!"

"H-Hey, please don't fight here." Jon spoke up. He didn't like seeing the growing tension between you both, so he hugged your arm and tried to pull you away. Even though he knew you just had a bad temper, he was scared you'll actually hurt somebody one day.

"Come on, [y/n]...let's forget about these dumb ghosts and spirits and go back inside." He pleaded.

You glanced back at your boyfriend, sighing. "Whatever. He can deal with it on his own."

If it were up to you, both of you would've moved out so you didn't have to see Eduardo's stupid angry face all the time. But Jon insisted on staying, reassuring you that he might just be "jealous" for now..despite Mark telling you that he's always been like this and won't change.

You decided to suck it up whenever you visited them, occasionally bringing over diet cola so Eduardo would shut up and not bother you. Usually it worked, but other times he'd just glare at you and Jon--especially Jon--with envy.

After heading inside and going to Jon's room, you both cuddled on the bed together. Though you noticed he was still pouting as he put his head on your chest, which made you frown slightly.

"What's up, Jonny?" You ruffled his hair. "Talk to me."

"[Y/n], can you..at least try to get along with him better?"

"....I..umm..I don't-"

"I know he's not the best person to be around but..I-I'm just scared you'll leave me because you don't want to deal with him anymore. And I feel like..all the fighting is my fault."

"Wha...Jon, it's not your fault at all." You hugged him closely. "I love you, and there's no way in hell I'm breaking up with you just because of anything that dumbass says. I've been trying to manage my anger better, I promise. He just makes it..hard for me to have self-control sometimes."

"I believe you." Jon snuggled with you more. "But can you promise me you'll try? If I'm not around I..don't want you tearing the place up. Sure, there's Mark but I'd feel bad if-"

"Okay, okay. I promise I'll try to get along with him. For you."

"Yay! Thank you, sweetums." He giggled, smiling as he closed his eyes. "I know Eduardo can be a real jerk but I don't take what he says to heart. I think it's just his own..special way of showing friendship."

'Friendship my ass.' You thought, but you just sighed and tried to relax.

Maybe it was only jealousy. You'll never know for sure.

But if he had faith in you and Eduardo getting along then..you'll believe him.

"You know, if it weren't for him I would've torn this place apart by now."

"Then what's stopping you? It's not like he's gonna walk through the door anymore."

"Don't go there, Eduardo..just don't." Clutching the necklace Jon had gifted you, you glared at Eduardo. He was sitting beside you, just blankly staring into his empty soda can. The bags under his eyes have become more prominent as time passed.

As every day since Jon's death passed.

Even now you could still recall that day clearly: he was dying in your arms, making a joke when Eduardo pleaded for him to say something, before begging you two to get along as his last wish.

Sadly, neither of you got to tell him whether you'll keep that promise.

In fact, given the exchange you two were having now, that promise seemed almost impossible to keep.

Of course, Eduardo had every right to grieve. But you couldn't understand why he's suddenly so remorseful after the fact..only after the damage was done and he couldn't take back what he said to Jon.

"I wish you were dead."

His words were just out of earshot to you, though you knew damn well who he was talking about and chewed him out for saying such things.

Little did you know...that bastard was gonna get his wish granted.

"Look, [y/n]...Jon was-"

"Was what?" Your impatience only grew. "An idiot? Your punching bag? Don't tell me he was your friend when all you've done was treat him like shit..like he was stupid."

"I didn't always treat 'im like that," Eduardo looked equally annoyed. "I valued him as a friend!"

"Well it's too damn bad he never got to hear that." Tears brimmed your eyes as you held the necklace to your chest. "You only care after he's gone...heartless bastard.."

Of course you were going to regret those words later on, but you didn't care. You didn't think the person who wished your boyfriend death had any right to feel this way.

His hands trembled as he held the mug, staring at you with wide eyes. "Y-You think..I'm heartless?!!"

"Yeah, you are! I bet you wanted him dead, didn't you?!" Your voice rose despite its shakiness. "All because you were so fucking jealous that he actually got a date and your lonely ass can't even keep a partner for a month!"

"S-Stop it.." Now you were pushing his buttons, reminding him of things that he didn't want to remember.

"I bet you're happy he's gone, I bet you're happy that explosion killed him-"

"WELL I WISH IT KILLED ME INSTEAD!!" He finally shouted at the top of his lungs, throwing the can to the floor and standing up. With clenched fists he glared down at you, seething red and his eyes tearful. "Every damn day I wish I died instead of him!! I-I may not be a good friend..I'll admit I'm fucking terrible. But god I never hated him or you!!"

You were stunned into silence, never realizing that's how he felt all along.

That he wanted to be the one who died instead..

Although your own hands were shaking, you didn't know what to do or say. But in that moment Mark decided to come in after hearing your argument turning for the worse.

"So much for my afternoon nap..." He rubbed his eyes, before gazing at you two sadly. "That's enough, guys. You can't keep doing this."

"Sh-Shut up, Mark." Eduardo stammered. "This doesn't-"

"I'm still living under this roof, so it concerns me too." The blonde sighed. "Listen, we're all hurt over losing Jon, regardless of how we may have acted towards him. This is not what he would've wanted..to see you two tear each other apart."

He was talking like a disappointed parent would, but there was truth to his words.

Eduardo just sniffled and wiped his sleeve over his eyes, sitting back down while being as far away from you as he could. You averted your gaze to fiddle with your necklace; there was a deep pit of regret in your stomach.

Only now you were starting to see the hypocrisy in yourself: you were hurting him by saying things you couldn't take back.

It never occurred to you until now, but...damn.

'Jon would never want me to turn out like him..'

Mark sat in the space between you both. "I understand you two don't have the best chemistry but..at least try to honor his wish. It would make me happy and less..awkward every time I walk in the room."

As he put both arms around you, he brought you and Eduardo closer. You just exchanged glances, still feeling bitter and sad about the words you've spoken.

Honestly, he could've kicked you out of the house and told you to never come back.

But he didn't.

Maybe he truly does want to get along with you, just as much as you wanted to get along with him.

In due time you might forgive each other and try again.

For Jon's sake.

#o uch this hurt me too ;n;#clanask #anonymous #eddsworld x reader #ew jon x reader #jon x reader #ew eduardo x reader #eduardo x reader #angst

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saucerfulofsins · 3 years

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"Hey, c'mere." They're lying on separate beds in the hotel room. The AC hasn't kicked in yet, or it's broken, either way it's too hot and the air is too thick. Everything's too slow.

It takes him a minute to respond, lungs tight. To pull in the stuffy air and let out a sigh.

"Fucking me isn't gonna fix your problems, man."

The silence after that doesn't do much either though, so he shuffles over and flops down beside him.

For the angst prompts 🖤🤍

TW for cheating in this one!

Patrick hates that he does this. Weak, he thinks. Stupid.

Because it is. It is fucking stupid, alright. Jonny’ll say this crap, think Pat’s gonna come over, and Pat’s been—he’s been saying no.

And then Tazer crawls onto his bed, and Patrick still wants to say no because it’s a bad fucking idea, because there’s something about the way this makes him feel that’s wrong, that’s off, that’s—

Weak. That eternal conclusion he keeps arriving to.

“Fucking me isn’t gonna fix your issues, man,” he says. His voice comes out thick, rough, and Tazer’s arm is already wrapping around his waist. Pat’s body responds, the way it always does—not just the throbbing heat between his legs but his back curling back until his body slots neatly against Jonny’s (perfect) and the way his head twists (so Jonny can kiss his neck) and the way he expects the sound of a drawer, the cap of the lube popping.

Jonny’s gentle hand, because he’s always gentle, always generous, as he slips Patrick’s pyjamas down. Patrick doesn’t even like sleeping in those, he just puts them on because they’re a barrier, make him feel—not safe. This was never about safety. It’s about control, and he has none.

Jonny’s fingers slide inside of him and Patrick tries to ignore the murmurings against his ear. He has a girlfriend at home, and she knows he’s into it. they’ve got the toys, he doesn’t—there’s no reason, here.

Then Jonny presses his body close and they’re naked and Patrick’s entire being moves with him, feels himself open up, and it takes his breath the way it always does. They’re not loud, not the way they were when this started, years and years ago. More than the silence of their mouths, there’s the silence in their movements—the quiet confidence as Jonny reaches around and tangles their fingers together, how he doesn’t ask whether Patrick needs his cock touched cause he fucking doesn’t and they both know by now.

Even his gasps are quiet when Jonny hits the spot, that spot, his breath stalling for a moment. It’s not mechanical the way it could’ve been (the way it’s been with his girl, sometimes, until they introduced new things—and yet this thing with Jonny’s never changed).

It lasts forever.

It doesn’t last long enough. He comes, sticky between the sheets and with Jonny’s lips pressed to the top of his spine. He doesn’t let his girl kiss that place, claims it tickles.

(It doesn’t.)

He’s not sure when Jonny came, only that he did, pulling Patrick close the way he always does, staying inside for a little longer, “just a little longer.”

The AC’s definitely kicked in now, too cold air blasting across his sweaty skin, quickly turning him cool and then cold, shivering hard enough that it becomes an excuse.

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, gathering his clothes.

“Yeah,” Jon says. He doesn’t move, and Pat thinks he’s breathing in his scent, but he knows that by the time he’ll return, Jonny’s going to be back in his own bed and their pillows will have been swapped out and they’ll pretend nothing has happened.

He doesn’t think Jon fucking him fixes shit, and that’s probably the worst part of the situation. That would be an excuse, or better yet, a reason.

Now, there’s nothing. Just something fucking stupid they do, something he thinks about sometimes and realizes he shouldn’t, because whatever this is—it shouldn’t be.

(And next month, they’ll be in Florida, another hotel room, another two beds, another shameful moment once he gets in the shower and feels the mess drip down his legs because he won’t say no and they both know it.)

#cheating #1988 #patrick kane #kaner #jonathan toews #antoewsnio #i kinda hate that tag lmaooooooooo but its a pun so it will probably stay #hawks

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19red · 3 years

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hello, this is me trying to strong-arm my brain into stopping the constant tweaking and re-tweaking of the same stinking 3k so I can write on and get to the good parts of this project namely p and j having all the sex thank you very much

The day after Patrick and Jonny bang a chick together, Patrick wakes to the weight of an alien limb squashing his bladder. The alien limb belongs to a furnace-hot, tentacular mass plastered all along his back. The mass smells oddly familiar, kind of citrusy—as if it stole Jonny’s body wash.

Patrick squints his eyes open. A blade of sunlight filters through the half-drawn curtains and stabs him in the face. Right under the window, Jonny’s suitcase dribbles clothes onto the floor.

It shouldn’t be hard to put two and two together, but Patrick’s really dumb first thing in the morning. Plus, he needs to pee. Bad. Which is pretty distracting.

He paws at the tentacle swung over his waist, fingers catching on—a beaded string. Did the alien mass steal Jonny’s bracelet too? Patrick struggles to lift his head. He wants to see.

The alien mass stole Jonny’s whole arm. What--?

A growl spills in a damp, ticklish huff into the crook of Patrick’s neck as the mass coils itself closer. Something hard pokes Patrick’s ass. His nostrils fill with a waft of scent his hindbrain understands as so viscerally Jonny that recognition smacks him dizzy.

The mass is Jonny. Last night, he and Patrick banged a chick together. That thing wedged between them, growing firmer by the second? That thing is Jonny’s—

Patrick’s heart plummets straight to his dick.

It’s okay. It’s whatever. Patrick isn’t gonna freak over a physiological response. Bodies are also really dumb first thing in the morning.

“Jonny,” he says, wriggling to catch Jonny’s attention. Jonny has always been his go-to guy in a crisis. Except, in this instance, he is also the crisis itself. Jonny’s hips buck forward once, twice—Patrick stops breathing for the handful of seconds it takes Jonny’s sleep-drenched, horny-ass body to lose interest and stutter back into relative stillness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks. Visions of impending awkwardness swarm his brain. If Jonny were to wake up right now, full-mast boner pressed to Patrick’s ass, and discover the tent pitched in the front of Patrick’s sweats, he might rush to conclusions. Their ability to make direct eye contact would definitely endure permanent damage. They’d have to restructure their life with the aim of reciprocal avoidance. Patrick would have to request a trade. Jonny would probably drop out of the NHL. He’d forsake hockey and society at large and end up trampled to death by a giant moose while he hides from Patrick in the Canadian wilderness.

Fuck, Patrick thinks again. When a whole minute drips away and Jonny doesn’t stir, he thanks the hockey gods. With very little, very slow movements, he dislodges the arm pinning him to the mattress. By the times he’s free, the light slanting in from the window changed the angle of its assault to his pupils. Still careful, he slides the covers off himself, sits up, swings his legs off the bed. His feet land on the floor just as a variation in the pattern of Jonny’s breathing alerts him it’s all been for nothing. Jonny is awake. Or, like, as close to awake as Jonny manages to be coffee-free and before noon. Which is not much, thank fuck.

“It’s early,” Patrick reassures him. Jonny gets real pissy when he doesn’t get his full eight hours. Patrick doesn’t want to get stuck with Captain seriously cranky and his legitimately lethal death glare on the flight back to Chicago.

Jonny hums, lids fluttering open and back closed immediately, dark lashes kissing the top of his cheekbones. Patrick expects him to just roll over and sink back deep into snoring, the man is easy like that, instead he plumps an arm over the empty space next to him and mumbles, “Come back,” so low Patrick feels the vibration of it in his belly more than with his ears. Jonny must think Patrick’s some chick, maybe his ex or the one from last night.

“Dude,” Patrick chuckles to clear his throat. This is prime chirp material. Jonny’s such a clingy loser. “It’s just me.”

The side of Jonny’s mouth that isn’t squashed into the pillow tugs up in a smile, then his eyes tremble open, searching the space in front of them for Patrick’s, as if he knew where to find him, as if he weren’t surprised. It’s a bit like being punched but with weird, devastating gentleness. Patrick’s left breathless and dazed, a slow ache spreading below his ribs. “Sorry,” he says, legs moving on their own accord. “Sorry, gotta piss.”

Jonny flops onto his belly and sprawls across Patrick’s side of the bed. With a sigh, he hugs Patrick’s pillow to his face. “Be quick,” he whines—or maybe not. It’s muffled and Patrick is already halfway out the door so he can’t be sure. It doesn’t really matter.

***

“Where’s Tazer?” Duncs asks in lieu of good morning when Patrick shows up at breakfast almost two hours later, no captain in tow.

Patrick chomps on a hunk of strawberry toast and shrugs. Contrary to popular belief, no clause in his contract bids him constant awareness of Jonny’s whereabouts.

Duncs squints, clearly feeling entitled to a degree of eloquence involving efforts of the verbal variety and resenting their lack.

“Don’t tell me he’s sick,” Shawzy says.

The legs of Stromer’s chair screech against the floor as he scoots away from Patrick. He ends up almost in Brinsky’s lap. “It better not be catching.”

“Oh my god,” Patrick puffs the words fat with annoyance. “He’s sleeping. I mean, I guess he...” He is for sure. No chance Jonny is still waiting. If Patrick barged back into his room right now, Jonny would laugh, would tell him to stop trying to make things weird. Patrick knows this rationally. Yet some spiked grip squeezes his insides with the same vicious strength of an anaconda trying to crush itself a snack.

People can’t die from upset conscience, can they? Especially not if the upset is unquestionably misplaced, right?

“I mean,” Patrick snaps after a second, “the fuck do I know.”

Duncs eyebrows shoot halfway across his forehead.

“Whoa,” Stromer gasps.

“Wait,” Shawzy says. “Are mum and dad fighting?”

Patrick grinds his molars. Everyone’s so fucking pressed. It’s not like Jonny is a regular at team breakfasts. In fact, unless attendance is mandatory, Jonny prefers to limit the number of people upon which he inflicts the ghastly spectacle of his slow de-zombification to a minimum.

Patrick casts his mind back to the last time the two of them didn’t resort to room-service during game trips. He dredges up both no recollection of that happening in years and the stomach-sinking hunch that maybe this is weird. Maybe he should have gone back. Maybe that would have been the normal thing to do.

“Shut up,” he says, to the voice in his head and everyone else. He grabs a pitcher of coffee and fills his cup until it brims. “Don’t talk to me. I’m waking up.”

“He’s rubbed off on you,” Shawzy appraises.

He’s more right than he’d probably care to know—nope. Patrick yanks his thoughts away before they can trip over that precipice and splat into the phantom embrace of Jonny’s body and its heft, its warmth, its neediness.

“Shut up,” he repeats, and with big emphatic motions designed to put a period on the conversation, he whips out his phone. He trusts the mindless scrolling will work its time-warping, mind-numbing magic and when he’ll look up next, all the weird will have been purged from this day.

Between sips of coffee, he pores through the stats for the last game, skims the emails in his inbox and rage-reads a review trashing the new Twilight book. He considers sending the link to Erica so he can vent about the snobby assholes who think they’re smarter than everyone else just because all the books they read are boring as fuck, but she’s probably at work already. He scrolls through his contacts. The one of the chick from last night jumps out. Her name’s Chelsea, which is pretty lucky. She was hot, Patrick recons, and thinking that feels normal. Feels safe. Feels like something Patrick would love to feel more of, thank you very much.

Hi, he types, riding the spur of the moment. This is Patrick from last night.

Stupid and risky, his inner Jonny warns. Never give your number to one night stands. Patrick ignores him and for the sake of clarity and glory, adds, The one who made you see god with his tongue.

“Look who’s joining us,” Shawzy’s voice announces just then.

Patrick’s gaze springs up, landing squarely across Jonny’s chest. Patrick knows it’s Jonny’s chest even though he doesn’t let his gaze climb up to the face attached to it for confirmation. The chest is sailing across the breakfast hall toward Patrick. Well, not toward Patrick specifically. Toward Patrick and the rest of the guys.

“Morning,” Jonny mumbles, dropping his scrambled eggs on the table and his ass between Seabs and Crow.

Patrick’s phone chimes.

well hello patrick 😜

“Slept well?” Shawzy probes, feigning innocence. Patrick’s hackles rise.

“I guess,” Jonny says.

Patrick allows himself another quick glance. Jonny looks good, which means like his usual self, which means nothing like a dude who went through the transformative experience of witnessing his best friend o-face. It’s kind of annoying, actually. Patrick’s nerves are all fried. He’s half-convinced in the right light anybody could look at him and simply—tell. Patrick Kane got off with another dude in the room and enjoyed it. For a blink he’s fourteen and trying to fight a guy almost double his size who called him a cocksucker, that slammed him against the boards and told him not to bother standing up since everyone knows he does his best work from his knees.

His phone chimes again.

“Tell me the truth.”

totally hit me up again next time ur back here

“What?”

Patrick’s heart rate spikes. Would Jonny even be up for it?

Won’t be for the rest of the season :(, he types.

Maybe things feel weird because threeways are a novelty, maybe they just have to work up an immunity. People have threeways all the time and afterward their lives go on undisrupted. But if you’re ever in Chicago… his fingers are so clammy they smudge the screen when he hits send. He reaches for his cup.

“Did you keep our Kaner up all night?”

Patrick’s head jerks up.

“What?” Jonny says, flat.

For the first time since Patrick sneaked out on him, they make direct eye contact.

Shawzy drones on in the background, “Saw you trying to score that hot--”

It last precisely long enough for a sip of coffee to get its lanes mixed as it plunges down Patrick’s throat and somehow u-turn its way out of his body through the nostrils.

Patrick’s lungs try their best to turn inside out.

“Dude,” Shawzy says.

Stromer slaps Patrick’s back a couple of times, hard.

Duncs throws a handful of paper napkins in his general direction and winces in open disgust as Patrick snatches one mid-air and uses it to dab at the liquid leaking out of him. “Gross.”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Patrick informs them tartly between fits of coughing. Some treacherous asshole on his right is fucking cackling. He sweeps the table with an encompassing glare and catches Jonny’s eyes again, all dark with concern. The back of Patrick’s neck prickles with embarrassment. “I’m fine,” he repeats, steadier, and Jonny looks away so Patrick does too, hurriedly withdrawing like from the touch of something scalding.

He zeros in on Chelsea’s new message.

might fly in for a couple of weeks around christmas actually

Patrick latches on to the conversation, blocking out his surroundings, trying his hardest to look busy. Fuck everyone and Jonny too.

We could catch up then if you have time ;)

totally 👅🔥🍆🔥, she texts. And after a moment, say hi to porn dick from me btw

Who?

🙄

Patrick bristles. For some reason, the thought of this random stranger sitting around with her head full of pictures of Jonny’s dick makes him hitch. His chest riots with some misguided protective instinct. Jonny would be insufferably smug if he knew, no doubt about it. It’s not that big.

it is! 100% porn worthy

You don’t know what you’re talking about

???

I’m just saying, are chicks even into that? he writes, just to be an asshole but also because he’s pretty sure chicks hate porn. It’s supposed to be a feminism thing. Erica once made him a whole speech about it or whatever.

big dicks? They are

Haha

their also into porn btw this aint the middle ages AND they have way better taste in it then men

Can you prove it? he asks, hoping it sounds flirty and not confrontational. He wants this chick to bang him again but not over the head with a blunt instrument.

maybe if u stop trying to outdick ur bf with ur personality ill send you some recs

“Who are you texting?”

Patrick elbows his cup off the table and scrambles to catch it before it crashes against the floor. “Fuck,” he mutters, shaking his coffee-soaked hand.

Jonny laughs and at the sound, Patrick’s heart stumbles, then sprints up his throat. “You’re a mess,” Jonny says. He stole Stromer chair.

“Yeah, no, fuck off.”

Stromer is nowhere to be found. He and the rest of the guys must have migrated to the lobby. Patrick picks up the phone from where he abandoned it to make the save and shoves it deep into his pocket just as it pings.

Jonny quirks an eyebrow. He’s smiling.

It feels like Patrick trudged around all morning with a lead rib-cage before the universe caught the glitch. The sudden slack from gravity makes him giddy. “Don’t be nosy.”

“I’m not!” Jonny protests, all put upon outrage. He flicks Patrick on the hand. “Just saying, team’s gonna suffer if you sprain a thumb.”

A laugh bubbles up Patrick’s chest, loud and easy, and just a little embarrassing.

For a moment, Jonny looks impossibly pleased but then he catches himself. “Everything alright, yeah?” he asks, turning bashful. His eyes drift to the small heap of crumbs he’s sweeping together with his pinkie.

Patrick nudges his thumb against the back of Jonny’s hand. “Yeah. You?”

Jonny’s lips curl up at the corners. “Of course,” he says, looking up, gaze dark and soft.

Of course, of course, of course. Jonny would never let anything happen to them. Patrick stomach flutters. “Okay,” he smiles, dimples out, and Jonny beams back. Time goes fuzzy as they stare at each other in silence—until the ping of an incoming text makes them both startle.

“Again?” Jonny bitches. A moment later, his forehead creases and he puts his serious face on, “Everything okay with your sisters?”

“Yeah, no. It’s not--” Jonny’s eyes flicks to Patrick’s mouth. Patrick hadn’t realized he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He stops and it tingles, his own breath turning chilly enough to sting as it laps over the bite. “Just-- the chick from last night,” Patrick’s tongue says forgoing any input from his brain. It’s fine. It’s whatever.

“Oh,” Jonny says.

The world keeps rolling. Unfortunately, so does Patrick’s tongue, “Yeah. She’s cool. She was fun.”

“She was okay.”

Patrick can’t believe the understatement. “Okay? Just that? You’ve got some tough standards, man. She was--” as he searches for the right adjective, it suddenly hits him that Jonny has more experience, at least when it comes to threeways. It’s fucking unfair, but entirely possible, the mind-blowingest sex of Patrick’s life would barely chart as okay for Jonny. While he was dating Lindsay, the two of them got up to some kinky shit, Patrick’s pretty sure. Not that he spent any time thinking about it. He licks his lips. “It was hot, right?”

Jonny scoffs. What an asshole.

“Fuck you.”

“It was hot,” he grants. His cheeks are turning pink. He means it.

It feels like scoring the game-winner in the Stanley Cup final. The rush of triumph makes him cocky. “Hotter than the one you had with Lindsay?”

Jonny scoffs again, to Patrick infinite delight. “It was!” Patrick surmises.

“Lindsay’s hotter than her.”

“No way,” he is so offended on Chelsea’s behalf, he barely registers the deflection. Lindsay dumped Jonny. No matter how she looks, her insides must be rotten. Patrick hates that Jonnys is still hung up on her. He kicks Jonny’s foot to make sure he has his attention. “Maybe we should try again. Chelsea’s coming to Chicago around Christmas.”

“Is she?” Jonny kicks him back. “You two move fast.”

“She’s got family there, I think.”

“Sure,” he sounds skeptical. He admitted it was hot, why wouldn't he want a rematch? He and Patrick and some hot chick, she doesn’t even have to be Chelsea, she can be whoever. Small and blonde, like Jonny likes.

“Or we could find someone else,” Patrick says, growing more committed to the idea each second it lives in his brain. “Just go out and see what happens.”

“You think that’s smart?”

Patrick rolls his eyes. “I think you’re boring.” He goes in for the kill, “Captain serious.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d even let you pick, I don’t care.”

“Starting to sound a bit desperate there, Kaner,” Jonny flashes his most punchable smirk, the one that’s a little lopsided and always makes Patrick squirm.

Patrick starts a mental list of ways to wipe it off his face. Maybe if he shoved two fingers up Jonny’s nose… “What?” he asks, kind of distracted.

“I’m just saying, If you want to see me naked that bad, you only have to--”

“Fuck you,” Patrick sputters. “I was being generous. Bros before hoes or whatever.”

“I’m telling Erica you said that.”

The thought is terrifying. “Don’t,” Patrick shrieks, so loud people in their proximity stop mid-munching to give them the stink eye.

It’s their cue to clear off, a pretty timely one, considering they barely make it on the bus. They’d probably be yelled at, if they weren’t Kane and Toews.

Jonny saunters past Colliton’s glare and flops down next to Seabs. Patrick takes the two seats right behind, stretching out until he’s almost horizontal.

He checks his phone. Chelsea sent him a text and a link. The texts says, one of them looks a bit like your boy. you’re welcome. The link-- Patrick slaps the phone face down on his thigh.

“You okay there, Kaner?” Jonny asks, glancing over his shoulder.

Patrick feels his ears burn redder than the Hawks home jersey. “Yeah, no. Real peachy.”

#belle #i KNOW i have a tag for my writing #but rn i'm blanking #??????#stuff i wrote

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schrijverr · 3 years

Text

Spoils of Love

Jonnys partners spoiling him, because they know how much he likes stuff.

On AO3.

Ships: Polymechs, Nastya x Aurora (Nastya is also part of the polymechs, it is what she deserves)

Warnings: none really, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Jonnys partners knew he loved things, especially shiny or expensive things. He tried to hide it of course, but he could never fully hide the way his eyes lit up whenever he saw an expensive store display or how he let his hands run over the nice clothing.

From that it wasn’t such a leap to make that Jonny would love getting said shiny or expensive things from one of his partners, a task they didn’t mind doing.

It started with Ashes. They were usually the one on Jonny-sitting duties while on planet, since they were violent enough that he wouldn't get bored and run off. This also meant that they saw Jonny around stores the most and first noticed the tendency towards shiny and expensive things.

So when Tim took over for them, coming to pick Jonny up after xe’d found a huge bank with what xe thought to be lackluster security, they decided to get him a gift.

The two pillows they picked out were big and soft. Ashes even let the cashier wrap them nicely before they pulled a gun on him and took them without paying. They grinned to themself, Jonny would love the addition to his collection of plushy things for the monstrosity he called a bed.

Back on Aurora, when everyone was done with their violence, errands and other occupations, they found Jonny once more. He was drinking with Tim, TS, Brian and Marius. When he saw Ashes with a wrapped gift, he called out: “What you got there, Ashes?”

Curious little thing he was, Ashes thought. They handed him the gift and said: “I got you a little something, darling. Open it.”

“It’s not going to explode, right?” Jonny asked, poking the gift, seeming surprised when he found it was soft.

“What is it?” Tim asked, looking curiously over Jonnys shoulder to the gift.

Ashes rolled their eyes: “No, it’s not going to explode and you would know if he opened it.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Jonny grumbled as he tore open the wrapping paper gleefully. When he felt the soft pillows, his eyes lit up. He looked up and said: “It’s velvet, the casings are velvet.”

“Only the best for you, of course.” Ashes replied, before leaving a small kiss on his forehead, “Thought they would fit nicely on your nest.”

“Not a nest.” Jonny pouted, but he blushed slightly and there was a small smile playing at his lips. It was a rare soft one, he usually wouldn't allow.

With the mission successful Ashes sat down and poured themself a glass of whiskey and leaned back in one of the chairs. They watched as Jonny petted the pillows, obviously pleased.

After a while of just admiring them, Jonny suddenly got up and said: “I’m gonna put them away before anyone spills something on them.” as he was about to walk out of the room, he turned back and added in a softer voice, “Uhm, thank you, Ashes.”

“Not a problem, darling.” Ashes smiled in return, for once not minding the soft look that would undoubtedly be in their eyes as they followed Jonny while he left.

Then they were distracted by Tim, who sat down in their lap and grinned: “So, when am I getting some fancy pillows?”

“You say this like I didn’t help you steal a machine gun a few planets back. And like you want soft pillows when you and I both know you would much rather lie in Jonnys bed instead of having your own.” Ashes said as they tucked a strand of loose hair behind Tims ear.

Tim was quiet for a moment then xe pushed their face away and grumbled: “Shut up.”

“I know you love me, sweetheart.” Ashes teased.

“Sadly.” Tim replied dryly, before getting off their lap and draping over Brian while exclaiming: “At least Brian will be nice to me.”

“Dramaqueen.” Brian told xem.

Tim rolled off him and clutched xyr heart as xe cried: “Betrayed. Tossed aside. Unloved. Oh, how cruel can faith be. Abandoned by my own lovers- Oh, hi Jonny.”

“What the fuck are you doing?” the newly returned Jonny asked.

“Xe’s being dramatic over nothing.” Marius told him.

“Ah, so the usual then.” Jonny commented, getting a pout-y “Meanie.” from Tim.

But with Ashes gift, the seed had been planted in the brain of the people who had been there and had seen how happy Jonny had been with the small gesture. So it was soon after that Brian decided to give him something.

With the end of making Jonny smile like that, he had slipped the beautifully adorned knife into his pocket. The knife had a hand carved ivory handle with a sunset on it inlaid with gold, while the blade had a cut out of a small town in the middle.

Since he had stolen it and his hands could be clunky, Brian had decided not to wrap it, instead he handed it to Jonny while they were walking to dinner together: “Here, I saw this and thought of you, so I got it. Hope you like it.”

Jonny seemed surprised, then he gently took the knife and inspected it. It was sharp and he cut himself on it, but that only made him smile. He quickly hugged Brian as he said: “Thank you, I love it.”

Then he skipped off excitedly with Brian hurrying behind him to see what he was going to do now. He was slightly too late, because when he arrived Marius already had the knife in his heart as he lay on the floor.

“It works perfectly, Brian.” Jonny grinned, cleaning the knife with Marius’ sleeve. And Brian would have scolded him for that if he hadn’t gotten a peck on his cheek right after, something Jonny rarely did since he hated that he had to get on his tiptoes for it.

Brian got shook out of his stupid happy daze with Nastya yelling: “Where is my kiss, d’Ville?”

“Maybe if you get me something nice you will get one.” Jonny stuck his tongue out at her, but he still gave her a kiss on her temple before he sat down.

However, she later did show up to his door with in her hands a box with a bow on it. He looked at it with a furrowed brow and asked: “What’s that for?”

“For the kiss.” Nastya grinned, “Come on, open it.”

“You didn’t have to do that. I was joking, you know.” Jonny told her as he gently lifted the lid of the box. When he saw what was in it he gasped: “You didn’t.”

“I know how much you enjoyed the satin pjs the doc lend you, fancypants. I figured they must have perished since then, so, you know.” Nastya explained.

“Not a fancypants.” Jonny told her, but there was a twinkle of delight in his eyes as he ran a hand over the satin with a soft grin and red dusting his cheeks.

“Whatever you say.” Nastya said, “Now, go, try it on.”

Jonny didn’t protest that, just pulled her into his room and closed the door as he changed clothes, while Nastya made herself comfortable on his bed, sinking into the thick mattress. She was just contemplating how soft the pillows Jonny got from Ashes were, when Jonny snapped her out of it: “So, what do we think?”

He twirled around, showing off the soft lilac color as the camisole billowed around him, revealing his soft tummy and the shorts with lace on the underside that matched perfectly. Nastya just appreciated him a moment, then smiled: “You look absolutely gorgeous, Jonny.”

For a moment it seemed like he was going to protest, but then the words caught up to him and the dusting on his cheeks intensified as he started spluttering.

“Come here, I didn’t just give you that to be pretty, but also so that you feel nice to hold.” Nastya beckoned him closer.

Apparently his brain wasn’t fully back online, because he crawled onto the bed without comment and made himself comfortable in her arms. She smiled and gave him a peck on his forehead, then a kiss on his lips when he wiggled closer to her.

About an hour later the door slid open to reveal Tim also dressed for sleep. Xe asked: “Can I sleep here tonight?”

“Yeah, of course, Nastya is here too.” Jonny answered.

Tim smiled and bounced over to the bed: “Hi, Nastya-dear, how are-” then xe spotted Jonny, “Oh, wow, you look beautiful this fine evening, princess.”

“I’m still not a fucking princess, Tim, why the fuck do you keep calling me that?” Jonny groused, curling into Nastya grumpily, but mostly to hide the blush everyone knew would be on his face.

“I will stop the moment you stop being beautiful, princess.” Tim told him.

Jonny sighed, then rolled back again and said: “Alright, whatever… And it was Nastya who got me the outfit.”

He sounded happier at the end, he was clearly loving the outfit. Nastya had noticed how he’d kept rubbing the material between his fingers the entire time and with the tone she grinned proudly at Tim.

“Nastya-dear, you make the best choices, I could kiss you right now.” Tim exclaimed.

“Dramaque- hmpf” Nastyas eyeroll was cut off by a quick kiss, before Tim flopped fully down on the bed and made xemself comfortable to go to sleep.

“Idiot.” Nastya told xem, but she didn’t really mean it and just snuggled up to the other two, leeching as much body heat as she could.

The next morning Nastya and Tim had the pleasant sight of Jonny still in the pjs to wake up to, who yawned slightly and blinked his eyes open slowly.

“I know I already told you this, dear, but you really do make the best choices.” Tim commented to Nastya, who just pushed xem over.

But Tim did mean it, Jonny looked soft and sweet, something he was absolutely not, but it did do funny things to Tims heart. So, xe decided Jonny would need to look like that more and Tim was going to make sure he did.

Xe knew Jonny was loathe to part with his usual outfit, but xe also knew his tendency towards soft things if shiny wasn’t available or fitting.

This was what xe kept in mind as xe wondered through stores on the latest planet they were on. Xe had ditched Marius, Ashes and Jonnys attempt to rid the planet of its booze by drinking it and just hoped they wouldn't run into xem. Xe wanted it to be a surprise.

Xyr hand ran over multiple sweaters, feeling how soft they were. Xe was in a fancy uptown store and the store lady was looking at xem judgmentally as if xe couldn't afford to be here. With the way Ashes hoarded gold xe probably could, but xe wasn’t planning on paying.

Mentally xe was picturing how xe was going to kill the store lady when xe robbed the store, when xyr hand touched something extra soft.

The thing xe touched was a white sweater with a tag on it that stated that it was fully desert worm fur imported all the way from the Briar’s Desert Moon. Tim didn’t exactly know what that meant, but it sounded fancy and it was incredibly soft.

With a grin xe took the plushy fancy sweater and made sure it would be a bit oversized on Jonnys already short frame.

Xe made xyr way over to the counter, completely fed up with the judge-y store lady. With fake politeness xe said: “Hi, uhm” quickly reading her name tag, “Karen. Could you please wrap this for me, it’s a gift.”

“Of course.” she replied, equally fake making Tim cringe.

When she was done wrapping, she put it down on the counter and told xem the price. Tim pulled out a gun and said: “So, I will not be doing that.”

Karen was easily convinced to let xem go when xe shot her, but Tim did have a bit of law enforcement on xyr trail by the time xe met up with the others. She had managed to push a button before she’d died, apparently.

Marius saw xem first and called out: “Tim! We’re planning to go to a few more bars, you with us?”

“I’m afraid we have to fucking run, love.” Tim yelled, not stopping just running past them as xyr chasers came into view now as well.

The others cursed and set to running as well, knowing that Nastya would leave them behind to spare damage to her precious Aurora if they weren’t there too. Ashes came up next to Tim and said: “Hope it was fucking worth it, sweetheart.”

Tim held up the gift and said: “I think it is.”

“For Jonny?” Ashes asked and Tim nodded.

“What for me?” Jonny almost fell on his face when he tried to turn around and see what they were talking about.

“You’ll find out when we’re on Aurora, princess.” Tim grinned when xe saw Jonny stumble before grousing something inaudible.

Crashing onto an already taking off Aurora, Marius panted: “So what did you do this time?”

“Robbed a fancy store.” Tim answered.

Jonny perked up, remembering what he had heard on their run back. Curiously he asked: “What did ya get?”

“Why don’t you unwrap and find out, princess.” Tim told him.

Taking it eagerly Jonny didn’t even seem to mind the pet name. He gasped when he felt the softness to pick the sweater up and ran his fingers over the fabric.

“It’s apparently fully desert worm fur imported from the Briar’s Desert Moon, if that means anything to you.” Tim said.

Jonnys eyes got big: “Really? God, we must be before King Cole then, I heard it was super rare and stuff.” he hugged Tim and squeezed xem tightly as he softly said: “Thank you, Tim, I love it.”

“No problem, princess, did it with love.” Tim said, planting a kiss on Jonnys forehead, before the other let go to try the sweater on.

Like Tim had guessed it was slightly oversized. It hung a bit of one shoulder and the sleeves came to Jonnys fingers, something that he didn’t notice for a few seconds. He looked incredibly cozy as he hugged himself and petted the fabric happily.

Ashes leaned over to Tim and softly said: “You are right, sweetheart, completely worth it.”

Then they walked over to Jonny and grinned: “Don’t think you can get away with looking this soft without getting a hug, darling.” before sweeping him up into their arms.

Jonny shrieked lightly and struggled, but the others could see he didn’t really put up an actual fight.

Marius smiled softly at two of his partners, then remarked: “He sure does love getting things, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, did you see the pjs Nastya got him?” Tim asked.

“I did and I felt the knife Brian gave him.” Marius replied, wrinkling his nose.

Tim cackled at that and grinned: “I told you he wouldn't appreciate you calling him doll.”

“But he lets you call him princess. How is doll worse than that?” Marius hissed, displeased but trying to make sure Jonny didn’t hear them.

“You think I was just allowed to do that?” Tim raised a brow, “I died like a hundred times for that pet name. It’s the dedication.”

Marius pulled a thinking face then called out: “Can I get a hug too, doll?”

The last thing he heard before the bullet hit was Tim laughing and when he was revived the hallway was empty.

However when he woke up he had a mission. Marius died about forty times before they reached the next planet, but he hadn’t given up. The last time he’d used the pet name, Jonny had hesitated before pulling the trigger. This was progress.

Marius had also observed that he was nicer after getting a gift, he probably wasn’t used to people getting him stuff with his youth and the fact that people suddenly were was foreign but nice, which put him in a better mood.

This is how he ended up in a leather working store on the latest planet, trying to figure out which of the belts Jonny would like best.

In the end he settled on a broader belt with an eagle buckle. It was a bit large and extra, but that just made it more fitting in Marius’ not so humble opinion. So, he got it and prayed that this would be his in to calling Jonny doll.

He didn’t even know why he wanted to so bad.

No, that was a lie, he knew exactly why. Calling Jonny a pet name was something the whole crew had almost agreed upon. A combination of the blushing and stammering with a small smile, if you were lucky, made it so much fun.

Some of the others had the same reaction and people made sure to exploit that, but Jonnys was the most extreme out of all of them and as the oldest who always wanted to look tough, so extra it was nice. Nice to let him know they loved him in a small way, before he could start to doubt it.

And Marius wanted to call him doll.

It was more fun than calling him something another crew member already did. And if a belt was the way to do it, then that was the way it was. Jonnys reaction to getting stuff, might be up there with the reaction to pet names anyway.

That night when they were hanging on the couch Marius got the gift out of his coat pocket and said: “Doll, I got you something.”

Jonny looked up and the pet name and immediately seemed annoyed at himself that he did. However before he could shoot Marius the rest of the sentence had registered, so he lowered his gun with a suspicious look and accepted the gift.

He was surprised by how it felt and the gun laid forgotten by his side as he unwrapped it curiously.

His eyes lit up at the shiny buckle that glinted in the light and he moved it from side to side, admiring how the light bounced off it with a happy little grin.

“Thank you so much, Marius.” he said with a big smile, looking up to Marius, before busying himself by wrapping the belt around his waist.

“Glad you like it, doll.” Marius replied, waiting for the moment he’d get shot.

It never came, instead he got pulled onto the couch and had a Jonny curling up into his side after a peck on his cheek, then softly Jonny admitted: “Okay, so maybe the pet name can stay.”

Marius grinned proudly. A success.

Farther up the couch The Toy Soldier began: “I Do Not Get It, What Does The Belt Have-”

It got cut off by Tim, who muffled it by putting a hand over its mouth as xe said: “Leave it, teacup, he just got there. I’ll explain later.”

Tim kept xyr promise to explain it later to TS and it was soon after that it came up to Jonny with a gigantic bouquet of roses, must have been over fifty, as it exclaimed: “I Understood That Giving Gifts, Like Flowers, Is A Romantic Gesture And I Have Understood That You Like Getting Them Especially.”

Jonny got extremely red, more so then normal, as he spluttered: “It’s not just- the others also- I don’t- where did you get- why would I like flowers?”

The Toy Soldiers face could not change, but all saw the sadness as it asked: “Do you- do you not like my gift?”

“No, no, I do, I do.” Jonny quickly assured it. Then he bashfully took the flowers and softly added: “It’s just that no one looks at me and thinks of flowers, but really, thank you, TS.”

It looked happier again as it saluted: “You Quite Are Welcome, Chap.”

“Idiot.” Jonny told it fondly as he gave it a kiss on its cheek.

After Jonny had admired the roses some more, he suddenly asked: “Why did you say that I like getting gifts especially? I’m sure the others like getting them too. I mean, Tim was ecstatic with xyr machine gun and Nastya didn’t shut up about the new tools Brian gave her for a month.”

“You Get Soft.” The Toy Soldier explained, “The Others Have Told Me That You Like Getting Them And Have A Fun Reaction To Them. I See And Like It Too. You Get Happier And Soft When Someone Gifts You Anything.”

“Wha- I don’t?” Jonny tried to deny it.

“It is quite correct.” Ivy said from where she was pressed between Marius and the edge of the couch, “Your face temperature increases, causing your skin to get 60% redder and you are in a better mood for the follow week at least. This is a 15% better reaction than our other partners, who still appreciate the gifts, but will not carry the effect around for that long.”

Jonny got even more red as he once again tried to deny it, hiding his face behind the flowers as he whined: “I don’t blush.”

“You do, doll, it’s quite cute.” Marius told him.

“If I didn’t have these nice flowers in my hands, you would be dead right now, von Raum.” Jonny told him, giving him a glare. And with that he turned around, marching of to put the roses in a vase in his room.

After a moment of silence Ivy asked: “Did I say something wrong?”

“No, of course not, m’lady.” Marius assured her, “Jonny just doesn’t like to be confronted with the fact that he has emotions and feels things.”

And that was that, but the statistics of Jonnys reactions to gifts kept floating around in her head. She couldn't help but think that she had upset Jonny and she wanted to make it up to him. However for all her knowledge she didn’t know what to pick.

“Do you really think it’s good?” she asked again.

“Yes, of course, dearie.” Raphaella assured her for the twentieth time.

“You know Jonny loves anything shiny.” Marius agreed.

“I do know that, there is a 89% chance that his attention will be drawn to anything shiny the moment he sees it, but it needs to be perfect. Is this perfect? Do you think he’ll like it?” Ivy replied, still not completely sure.

Raphaella slung an arm around her and pulled her into her side as she said: “He’ll like it, I’m sure. From what you told me he’ll appreciate the gesture alone a lot already.”

“But what if he doesn’t and gets mad at me. There is a 65% chance of that happening as well.” Ivy worried her lip between her teeth.

“I think you’re not taking his emotional issues and need for affection into that calculation, m’lday.” Marius told her, “He likes getting spoiled, it’ll be fine. I don’t think he’s even mad at you.”

“There still is a-”

“Don’t. Stop. Bad archivist.” Raph cut her off teasingly, “Just get the bracelets, dearie.”

“Alright, alright.” Ivy gave in and took the bracelets.

On their way back Ivy listed all the reasons Jonny wouldn't like it and the statistics of him never talking to her again, while Marius and Raphaella tried to distract her and cheer her up. In the end they even robbed a bookstore.

Back aboard most of the crew was chilling in the creatively named couch room where all the couches were. Ivy hesitated in the doorway, stumbling forward when Raphaella gently pushed her: “Come on, dearie.”

Most of the others had noticed the three now as well and Brian asked: “Are you alright, Ivy?”

Ivy nodded, then walked up to Jonny and held out the gift. She said: “Here, this is for you. I don’t know if you’re still mad at me for what happened when TS got you flowers, but I didn’t mean it like an insult, it’s sweet.”

“Oh.” Jonny looked surprised as the took the gift, “Uhm, I- Thank you, but you didn’t need to do that, really. I wasn’t mad, just…”

“Embarrassed?” Marius filled in, getting an elbow in his side from Raphaella.

Jonny glared at him as well, but then admitted: “I didn’t know it was that obvious.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, Jonny. 100% of the crew likes, it, well 88.89% since Raph never saw it.” Ivy said, “What I wanted to say is: don’t be, you deserve nice things.”

“That really depends on your definition of deserve with us being criminals and all that.” Raphaella commented.

“Not now, angel.” Marius whispered to her taking the common sense braincell from her.

Jonny fiddled a bit with the wrapping paper, not replying to Ivys comment nor looking her in the eyes. He unwrapped the gift to distract himself from the conversation, which succeeded when he gasped at the shiny expensive material. His eyes glittered as he let the gold reflect the light with a grin on his face.

He got up and pulled Ivy into a tight hug: “Thank you so much, Ives.”

Ivys cheeks got the same color of her hair as she mumbled something about it not being a problem, but there was a smile tugging at her lips as well.

“Can you do the clasps for me?” Jonny asked her, holding out his right wrist.

“Yes, of course.” Ivy replied, gently taking the bracelets from him and putting them around his wrist before clasping them, “There you go.”

They smiled at each other, a moment that was quickly broken by Tim, who tackled them both onto the couch as xe squealed: “You two are just too cute.”

Jonny grumbled something and trashed lightly, but both of them gave over to the pile, especially when Raphaella jumped on it, causing TS to join as well as Marius, before it turned into a big cuddle pile.

A while into the pile Raphaella crawled over to Jonny and asked: “Can I do an experiment on you sometime in the future?”

“Wha- oh, sure, whatever.” Jonny replied, who was currently getting crushed under Nastya with her heavy blood and trying to fight off Brian holding a tomato while ranting about scurvy, so not really realizing what he said yes to.

“Great!” Raphaella said, before crawling back to Marius who had promised her a back-rub, already planning in her mind.

A few planets later that experiment came to fruition. She’d had to use the clip made by Aurora to get him to come and even died a few times because it was apparently unfair to ask that in those circumstances.

“I still think this is unjust.” Jonny pouted, sitting before a table with sensors on his head and a few cameras trained at him.

“You don’t even know what we’re going to do.” Raphaella rolled her eyes, “Maybe you’ll like it.”

“Not to burst your bubble, but the last time I was here you pulled out my teeth to study them and dissolved my eyes with chemicals.” Jonny told her.

“Well… This is different.” Raphaella assured him.

“If you say so.” Jonny did not sound convinced.

“I do say so, this is a social experiment to see your reaction, nothing physical.” Raphaella said cheerfully.

“Reaction to good or bad things?” Jonny called out, but she had already disappeared into a box filled whatever she was going to show him.

“Okay, so we’ll need to space it out, so that the previous ones won’t interfere with later data.” it wasn’t clear if Raphaella was talking to herself or Jonny as she put down three covered objects near the table.

At this point Jonny had decided to give up and just go with it, so he just sat there and waited for instructions, something he rarely did. He knew Raphaella could get distracted by her science, but she could be nice when you were patient, maybe he could get cuddles out of this.

“Ah, of course, I forgot.” Raphaella turned around, getting three more covered things and putting them down as well.

“So,” she now focused on Jonny again, “I need you to sit there and react to what I show you. That sound good?”

“Sure.” Jonny shrugged, trying to think of whatever she could be showing him.

“Alrighty.” she put down the first object and lifted the covering to reveal a pair of earrings with diamonds in them.

Jonnys eyes widened and he looked to Raphaella with questioning eyes, before back to the earrings. She could see he wanted to touch them and take them, but did not dare do so without her say so, still careful not to mess up her experiment, how thoughtful.

“These are for you.” she said.

“Really?” he asked, gingerly taking the earrings and admiring them in the light, a happy flush on his cheeks as he inspected them, before putting them in and looking at his reflection in the table to see how they looked.

“Thank you!” he grinned, looking up to see Raphaella writing furiously in a notebook. He rolled his eyes fondly and waited for her to finish, when she looked up he did a little pose and asked: “So, how do I look?”

“Very pretty.” Raphaella answered without taking a moment to think or hesitate.

The flush on his face became more prominent as he gaped a few times, before grouchily telling Raphaella to shut the fuck up.

She just smiled knowingly, which he also hated, before putting another item on the table. Jonny looked at it curiously, but reeled back slightly when Raphaella pulled the covering off to reveal the cut off head of a moon beast.

“What the actual fuck, Raph!” Jonny exclaimed, “Why the hell are you showing me this?”

“I call it a neutralizer, my first idea was to kill you, but Brian vetoed that and had a reasonable enough explanation for me to listen, which I cannot tell you because that would ruin the experiment, so you just have to trust me.” Raphaella said.

“I never trust you.” Jonny told her.

“That’s probably for the best.” she agreed, already moving on to the next item.

It was bigger than before and Jonny eyed it with suspicion, which was replaced by a glint when it was revealed to be a huge fluffy blanket.

“I know you have your bed exactly as you like, which is why I thought I’d get you something for on the rest of Aurora, so you don’t have to mess up your bed.” Raphaella explained.

Jonnys bottom lip quivered as he looked at the blanket, quickly hiding his face in the softness, rubbing his face on it with an in awe look when he felt just how incredibly soft it was.

The blush had returned when he looked up again and the grin from before turned into a full beam as he said: “I don’t know why you’re doing this, but thank you so much, it’s very thoughtful.”

“It’s no problem, it was also very sweet of you to help with this experiment.” Raphaella replied.

“Still, I was a prick about that.” Jonny told her.

“You’re always a prick.” Raphaella grinned.

Then she grabbed another plate and showed Jonny a weird gooey substance and informing him that it was octokitten vomit. Jonny pulled a disgusted face, but inside he was starting to see a pattern, so when she grabbed the next thing, he looked closely. Only to come face to face with a fungus.

“Why?” Jonny yelled.

“To keep you on your toes.” Raphaella explained, not caring about his pouting as she took the next object that Jonny did not trust at all. When it got revealed he asked: “Is that…?”

“Yggdrasil ale? Well, yes, it was very hard to get from a prison cell, you know, and the shop keep was not happy that it went missing.” Raphaella answered.

“I can imagine, this is super expensive.” Jonny said with wide eyes, taking the bottle in his hands after an encouraging nod from Raphaella.

“You like it?” she asked.

“Raphaella, light of my life, I love it.” Jonny exclaimed, “This is great and very sweet,” he clutched the blanket in his hand, “though I still don’t get it.”

“It’s an experiment of your reactions to gifts.” Raphaella told him, “I still have to work through all of the data, but I’m trying to figure out the optimal gift based off your reactions.”

Jonny became beet red instantly and spluttered for a long while, before he managed: “You don’t- why would you- I don’t get- what?”

“Interesting.” Raphaella nodded thoughtfully to herself, observing Jonnys reaction as he got more flustered.

After a moment of silence, Jonny said: “You really didn’t have to do that.”

“But I wanted to, it’s nice to do something nice for you and this is kind of the only thing I know how to do nice, except for that time I tested how magnetic each mechanism was and we all got stuck to the wall until TS-”

“It’s alright, Raph, I know.” Jonny cut her off, his laugh audible in his voice.

They smiled at each other, before Raphaella got up to detach all the wires. When she was done Jonny gave her a soft kiss, after which he allowed her to lead him out of her lab as he held on to the blanket and ale, earrings shining proudly in his ears.

When they opened the door, they saw the rest of the crew standing outside. Jonny nearly jumped and asked: “What the fuck are y’all doing here?”

Brian rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and admitted: “We knew you were doing an experiment with Raph, but then Tim walked by and xe didn’t hear any screams, so we got worried and kind off waited to… check in on you?”

It was silent, then Jonny laughed, the laugh was bubbly and not at all his usual cackle: “That’s very sweet, but also kind of funny.”

Tim crossed xyr arms and pouted: “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“What did she do?” Ivy asked, always needing to know.

“She got me gifts, it’s part of an experiment apparently, but I don’t really get part. It was very sweet though.” Jonny explained.

“It’s comparing his reaction to personal, shiny, or expensive gifts, I still need to work out the details, but I think I got a solid testing done today.” Raphaella smiled.

“You got him three gifts?” Marius exclaimed, “Now we’re all behind.”

More protest and angry noises were heard, though all in good sport. Jonny however quickly said: “You are not behind at all. I got enough gifts to last a lifetime, which was really nice, so thank you, again.”

“You forget you have many lifetimes, Jonny-darling.” Ashes told him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling him into their side so that they could plant a kiss on his temple.

Jonny mumbled something incomprehensible, a deep flush coloring his cheeks.

“I Did Not Hear You, Jonny. What Did You Say?” The Toy Soldier asked.

Exploding a bit, Jonny yelled: “I said that I am making you all a big dinner!”

“I Am Confused What This Has To Do With The Conversation.” The Toy Soldier cocked its head to convey said confusion.

“Well, y’all can’t be the only one being nice.” Jonny said, grumbling a bit more and marching off grumpily when the others dared to coo over him.

A few days later a big dinner was served that had everyones favorites. It had taken Jonny a while with organization and they had to drop by a planet for some ingredients, but all could see how pleased he was with his own hard work.

“Dig in.” he told them with a flourish and a grin.

The others didn’t need to be told twice as they practically attacked the food with delight. It was a rowdy dinner, which was par of the course, as everyone tried to talk over one another or upped their volume to be heard over the racket.

“This is delicious, thank you, darling.” Ashes said with their mouth full.

“Yeah, it’s great, princess.” Tim agreed.

More sounds of content and agreement as well as thank yous floated up from the group, making Jonny beam with pride as he focused on his plate without meeting anyone's eyes. The chaos soon continued, when Tim decided to steal a bite of Nastyas plate, who retaliated.

However, all fell silent to listen to Raph, when she had told Jonny: “I got the results from my experiment, if you’re interested.”

Before Jonny could answer, Ashes yelled: “We’re interested, poppet. Explain your science.”

“Alright, so I had three categories, which I’ve already told you before but they were personal, shiny, and expensive gifts. I wanted to do more of each one to get a more statistically sound experiment, but I thought that more would be overwhelming, which would also throw the data off, so I just stuck to three, but I might want to do a repeat or study camera footage of Aurora.” Raphaella began.

The others nodded along, happy to listen to her ramble about her science.

“Anyway, I got a blanket for personal, earrings for shiny and Yggdrasil ale for expensive and then some other fascinating but experienced as unpleasant neutralizers to ensure that the reaction to one wouldn't carry over to the next.” Raphaella said.

“Was that the mold, the cut of head and the vomit was for?” Jonny asked.

Raphaella nodded enthusiastically: “Yup and they did their job marvelously. Your brain activity shifts and the heat of your cheeks decreased to a more usual level.”

“I don’t blush.” Jonny mumbled.

“Oh, but you do! I can show you the footage or the heat signatures and my calcula-”

“Yeah, okay, whatever, just- just move on.” Jonny slumped in his seat, pointedly ignoring the annoying smirks of a few of his partners.

“Alright then, if you’re sure.” Raphaella said, then she moved on, “The final rankings were personal first, then shiny and then expensive, although the reactions were all positive and endorphin levels were huge, which should have a good effect on your health and mental well being.”

“Not expensive first?” Nastya asked, “But he’s such a fancypants.”

“Why do you always have to call me that?” Jonny complained.

“She is right though, darling.” Ashes defended Nastya, making Jonny pout.

Raphaella thought about the question and answered Nastya: “Well, I’m still trying to figure that out, but I will have to dive deeper into Jonnys personality, maybe do interviews and social sciences have never been my main focus so I’ll have to read up on it.”

“Please don’t dive deeper into my personality.” Jonny said with an edge to his voice.

All eyes were now on him and he shifted in his seat and scratched his nose, not making any eyecontact. When the quiet dragged on, he glanced up and made eyecontact with Marius, who gave him a concerned look and cocked a brow at him.

“What?” he threw his hands up in the air, “So, I don’t like people prying into me, no matter who they are. You’re going to psychoanalyze me over it?”

“No, doll, not if you don’t want to.” Marius replied, feeling saddened with Jonnys surprised look.

The following quiet was broken by Tim, who draped xemself over Jonnys side as xe said: “So, personal gifts, eh, princess?”

“Shut up.” Jonny pushed xem, but it wasn’t hard enough to actually make xem move.

“Ahw, you’re so sweet.” Tim cooed.

“No, I’m not.” Jonny grumbled, then he admitted softly: “It’s just nice that people think of you, you know?”

“Then I Shall Think Of You On Every Planet, Jonny, Ol’ Chap!” The Toy Soldier exclaimed.

With wide eyes Jonny said: “Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. It will get a bit out of hand if you do that, TS. The sentiment is sweet, though.”

“No, I’m with TS here.” Nastya grinned at him and gave him a wink.

More agreed and Jonny stopped functioning for a second, before he weakly protested: “It’s really not necessary.”

“Darling, it’s literally scientifically proven that it is beneficial to give you things.” Ashes told him.

“I hate you all.” Jonny said, burying his face in his hands.

“No you don’t.” Marius smirked and he was right, even if Jonny wasn’t currently admitting it.

The evening moved on and on the next planet Ashes came back with a fancy gun and later Brian with a bag of sweets to cater to Jonnys sweet tooth.

And so they collectively assured that Jonnys collection of things continued to grow throughout time, because they all saw how happy it made their First Mate and the small smiles, thank yous and kisses made it all completely worth it.

#RR writing #the mechs #The Mechanisms #Jonny d'Ville #gunpowder tim #Ashes O'Reilly #drumbot brian #Ivy Alexandria #raphaella la cognizi #marius von raum #Nastya Rasputina #aurora x nastya #polymechs #poly mechs #nastya is also part of the polymechs #the toy soldier #toy soldier

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narisjournal-blog · 3 years

Text

A Way With Words

Fandom: Cobra Kai

Pairings: Samantha Larusso x Robby Keene, Robby Keene x Miguel Diaz (platonic)

Word Count: 3490

Warnings: sexting

Notes: So in this fic Sam and Robby are together, and there are some strong Kiaz vibes. I’ve made it platonic, but it could get dirtier. I’m not comfortable posting that, though as they are underage. Please let me know what you think, I’m needy.

This would take place in season 2 after the Lawrusso double date, imagining that Sam and Robby didn’t go to the party and the shit didnt hit the fan. Thanks for reading x

A Way with Words

Robby stood at the door to Jonny’s place taking in what lay before him. His father had clearly attempted to clean but there wasn’t much you could do when so much was ingrained. The couch was old and stained, the walls an off-white that made it feel darker, and there was a constant musty smell that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. At least he had got rid of all the empty beer bottles, Robby thought.

‘I know it’s not much, not compared to the Larussos,’ Johnny said, a hint of shame in his voice. ‘But it’s home. It’s safe. You know you’re welcome any time.’

Robby sighed as the door closed behind him.

‘How long do I have to stay here?’ He asked.

He looked round and he knew from the look in Johnny’s eyes that he had hurt him.

Johnny shook his head, resigning himself to the abuse he probably deserved.

‘Just a couple days. While The Larussos are away.’

Robby gave a wry smile. ‘They don’t trust me with their daughter.’

‘Definitely not,’ Johnny laughed.

Robby rolled his eyes.

‘Oh come on, like you weren’t gonna make a move the second her parents left?’

After a beat, Robby shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

Johnny gave him a slap on the back.

‘Come on, you can suffer a few days with your old man. I think you’ll find a lot more freedom here.

‘Where shall I put my things?’

‘Right through here,’ Johnny said, leading him to the small spare room.

‘I’ll be through there. Make yourself at home.’

He left and Robby slumped down on the bed.

This is a good thing, he told himself with his head in his hands. He’s trying. That’s more than he ever has before.

He had been really resistant to the idea when His father and Mr Larusso had finally sat down to talk and come to an agreement that Robby could stay with his Dad while the family were away. Even Johnny agreed it was better for Robby to live with the Larussos for the time being because he really didn’t have that much to offer in terms of comfort or luxury.

Robby had felt disappointed that he wouldn’t get to spend the time with Sam. It was so rare they got any time alone and he had thought maybe things might heat up a little while her parents were away.

Apparently Mr Larusso was well versed in teenage boy thinking.

He started to unpack his bag when there was a knock at the front door.

‘Carmen?’ Johnny’s voice said.

‘Johnny, I’m so sorry to do this, I know it’s a lot but it’s an emergency.’ She sounded upset. Carmen? Robby thought, trying to think if he knew her.

‘Hey hey, slow down,’ Johnny said. Robby continued unpacking clothes, thinking nothing of it.

‘Are you ok? What happened?’

‘It’s my mother. She collapsed and they don’t know what’s going on, they think she may have had a heart attack. She’s in hospital out of town and’ Johnny cut her off.

‘Yaya? Oh my God I’m so sorry.’

‘Can Miggy stay here for tonight so I can be with her? Please?’

Miggy? Who the hell was... and then it dawned on him.

Miguel.

Instantly Robby’s fists clenched and he rose to his feet.

Why did he think it would be any different? He started throwing his clothes back into his bag haphazardly.

‘I uh...’ Johnny’s voice continued, sounding uncomfortable. ‘I kinda have Robby...’

‘Please, Johnny. We’ve got no-one else.’

‘Mom, come on. I’ll be fine on my own.’ Miguel’s voice.

Carmen snipped at him in rapid Spanish, then quickly switched back to English.

‘He’ll be no trouble, and I’ll pay you for food,’ she added.

‘You don’t have to do that, I...’

Robby knew what was coming. ‘Yeah, sure he can stay. I’ll just have to talk to Robby, since you guys aren’t exactly best of friends.’

‘I don’t want any trouble,’ Miguel mumbled.

Robby slammed his fist into the wall and instantly regretted it as pain shot through his whole wrist.

He sat back on the bed nursing his hand.Swirling around with the anger, he could feel the hurt and the disappointment tightening his throat. His eyes burned and he shook his head to try and control it.

Why did he ever believe it could be any different?

There was a knock at the bedroom door. He stood, throwing his bag back over his shoulder.

The door opened. Johnny looked so awkward, it was pathetic. Like he was trying to pretend the decision was hard.

‘Robby, you probably heard. Miguel’s-‘

Robby cut him off.

‘Yeah I heard. I should’ve known.’

He flexed his hand to see if the pain was easing but it throbbed once again and he winced.

‘Are you ok?’ Johnny nodded to Robby’s hand.

‘Yeah I’m just peachy,’ he retorted.

‘Did you punch a wall?’

Robby didn’t answer.

‘Oh for God’s sake.’

‘Yeah well I should have known it was stupid to think I was your priority for once when you just jump at the chance to help your favourite son,’ Robby said.

Johnny scoffed. ‘Oh will you quit being such a baby. The guy’s going through a hard time, would you just put your hate to the side for one night and be a civilised human being?’

‘Whatever, I’m going back to the Larussos,’ Robby said and made to barge past Johnny.

He forgot just how strong and stubborn his father could be. Johnny grabbed his arm and shoved him back into the room. He stumbled backwards and then found his balance to pull his fist back.

‘The hell you are. What, you just give up? This is your problem Robby, you make it so hard. I know I haven’t been perfect but I’m trying, ok? Any time I try to do right by you, to be there for you or whatever, it’s like you’re just waiting for me to fuck it up and then you shut me out again.’

‘What am I supposed to do? I can’t rely on you,’ he said.

‘Come on just take a second to calm down. Find your centre or whatever that bullshit is that Larusso is teaching you.’

Robby had been caught off guard with a blow he never expected from his father. And he was right, he did need to calm down. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing.

He could feel his body calming and he hated that his father was right.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Johnny’s pleading face. Robby felt his defences ease.

‘I guess I’m just disappointed, Dad.’

Johnny’s eyes fell to the floor.

‘I get that, you have every right to be. But I can’t turn him away at a time like this, Robby. It’s the right thing to do. Deep down you know it.’

Robby sat back on the bed, resigned.

‘No fighting, alright?’ Johnny added, pointing at Robby.

‘But I-‘ Robby began to protest but he got cut off.

‘No fighting. My house, my rules.’ Robby exhaled.

‘I’m gonna go see if he’s alright,’

Johnny added then left.

Robby flopped back on the bed and ran his hands through his hair. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see a text from Sam.

‘How’s it going?’

He wrote back. ‘Not great. Your ex is staying too.’

Almost right away she was ringing him.

‘Miguel is staying with you?’ She asked sounding perplexed.

‘Yeah. Weird right?’

‘How come? Like was it planned, did your dad know?’

‘No, it’s an emergency. His grandma is in hospital.’

‘yaya? Shit...This is going to be really hard for him.’

Of course she would sympathise with Migue, he thought rolling his eyes.

‘Do you think you can be nice to him?’

‘I’m not an asshole Sam.‘

‘No but your defences are up when you’re around your dad and Miguel. You know I’m right.’

Robby sighed. She was right. After what seemed like a long silence, he spoke again.

‘Ok. Tell me how.’

‘Just try and empathise, Robby. I know it’s hard because it’s him, but just try and think about what he’s going through. ‘

Robby sighed.

‘For me?’ She added in that way she knew would make him melt.

‘Sure.’

‘I miss you’ she added, changing the subject swiftly. ‘I was kinda hoping we might get some alone time this weekend.’

‘Me too.’

‘It’s no fun all alone in this big empty house. I miss kissing you.’ Sam’s voice was soft, playful but almost shy.

‘Maybe I can come over tomorrow?’ Robby posed.

‘I can’t stop thinking about all the things we could do if you were here.’

Robby, heart pounding, drew breath to ask for more detail, but he was interrupted .

‘Robby?’ He heard Johnny shout. Then a knock at the door before it pushed open.

‘I’m getting pizza, do you want some?’

Robby sighed. ‘Sam, I gotta go. Text me. I wanna know.’

He hung up.

‘Uh yeah, I’ll go for pizza.

‘Pepperoni?’

‘Sounds good.’

‘Ok, well can you come out here and keep Miguel company while I’m gone? He’s pretty down.’

Robby couldn’t stop himself rolling his eyes. He stood and headed out the door nonetheless.

‘Is he crying?’ He asked with disdain.

Johnny slapped the back of his head on his way past.

‘Don’t be a dick,’ was all he said.

‘Ow!’ Robby rubbed his head, shocked at his father’s response.

‘Back soon,’ Johnny added as he left and closed the front door behind him.

Robby stood at the far side of the room trying to compose himself.

He looked across at Miguel, who was sat on the couch staring in the vague direction of the TV, although it wasn’t on. The boy looked so vulnerable, brown eyes wide with sadness.

Robby approached him.

‘Hey you know you’re supposed to turn it on first, right?’ He said.

Miguel seemed to snap out of some daydream and gave a faintly sarcastic smile.

‘You’re funny,’ he muttered. There was a long pause before Robby spoke again. He was surprised to realise he actually felt nervous.

‘Hey, you want a beer?’ Robby asked.

Miguel furrowed his brow in confusion. ‘We’re not...’ Robby raised an eyebrow.

‘Sure,’ Miguel shrugged, not wishing to argue.

Robby went to the refrigerator and grabbed two of Johnny’s Coors Banquets, looking around for a bottle opener. He opened them both and handed one to Miguel, who took it cautiously. ‘Are you sure? Won’t Sensei be pissed?’

‘Not at you,’ Robby said pointing the bottle to Miguel and sitting on the couch next to him. ‘You can get away with anything right now. I’m using you as a human shield. To your Grandma,’ He added, taking a big swig.

Miguel sighed, raised his bottle and said ‘to Yaya,’ then drank. He pulled a face at the taste and Robby laughed.

‘Yeah it’s shit.’

‘Why are you drinking it then?’

‘Because I can,’ Robby shrugged, taking another big swig.

They drank in silence for a while until Robby knocked back the last of his beer and stood to put the bottle on the table.

He didn’t realise his phone had slid out of his pocket - the shorts he was wearing were tight and had terrible pockets. He always managed to lose his phone when he wore them.

Robby was looking through the cupboards to see if there was anything decent to eat when he heard Miguel exclaim.

‘Woah, dude. You should really lock your screen.’

Robby whipped round to find Miguel holding his phone and reading something.

‘Hey!’ He yelled. ‘Give that back.’ He volted over the back of the couch to try and catch Miguel in a headlock so he could grab his phone back but Miguel was too fast and on his feet before Robby landed.

‘I miss your lips against mine,’ Miguel read, mocking in his tone. ‘I’ve been thinking about the way-’ Robby had grabbed him and pushed him to the wall but Miguel still managed to hold his phone out of reach and finish reading.

‘About the way you pressed me against the wall when you kissed me. I wish we hadn’t got interrupted.’ He laughed but relented and let Robby snatch his phone back. Robby considered punching him in the stomach for good measure, but thought better of it.

He opened the message from Sam and read through it again.

‘That’s private,’ he said, cheeks flushing against his will.

‘Well you certainly made an impression on Sam,’ Miguel added.

Robby was trying to think of some retort, but his mind was still half on what Sam had said.

‘You shouldn’t have read that,’ he said, glaring at Miguel.

‘Ok, I’m sorry. Come on I’m not trying to start anything... it was just there. I need something to take my mind off things anyway.’

‘And my private conversations are what you chose?’

Robby read the message again. He didn’t know where to go with that. He tried to think of what to say back to her but kept drawing a blank. He’d never been that good with words.

‘Are you ok?’ Miguel asked, actually sounding like he meant it.

‘Yeah. I just...’

Robby looked up and saw Miguel was staring at him, so he looked away quickly. He wished it wasn’t Miguel that was here right now. He really didn’t want to mess this up with Sam.

‘Look I’m sorry, but you don’t need to be embarrassed.’ Miguel continued to watch Robby. ‘Are you gonna reply?’

‘What? No that’s none of your business! I��m not talking about this. Just keep out of it ok?’

Robby stormed back to his room and slammed the door.

Miguel rolled his eyes and sighed, taking another drink of the awful beer. He had thought they were getting somewhere, but Robby was just so highly strung it was impossible.

He was trying to work out if he should feel jealous when Robby’s door opened again slowly. Miguel looked round and Robby stood half in half out staring at his phone still.

He looked up.

‘Should I reply?’ He asked.

‘Dude, yes. You have to reply. You can’t leave her hanging like that.’

Robby bit his lip, thinking.

‘What... what though?’

He walked back over to sit beside Miguel again.

‘Just tell her what you want.’

Robby looked up at Miguel, doubt in his eyes.

‘Look, if you were with her right now, what would you do?’

Robby shifted uncomfortably.

‘You do know what to do, right?’

‘Oh fuck off,’ Robby retorted. ‘It’s just not the same. Like, if I was with her, it would just happen. I get a read off her energy, you know?’

Miguel laughed. ‘You are so Miyagi-do.’

‘Just help me ok? What do I say?’ Robby pleaded.

‘Pick up where she left off.’

Robby’s thumbs hovered over the keyboard but nothing came.

Miguel sighed and held his hand out for the phone.

‘What are you crazy? I’m not giving you my phone again.’

‘Look I’m not gonna send anything, I’ll just start you off, ok? Come on. I have a way with words.’

‘Oh like you have a tonne of experience or something?’ Robby scoffed.

‘No, I just...’ he sighed. ‘I read a lot of fanfiction. Don’t,’ he added when Robby laughed. ‘You can learn a lot from fanfiction. Come on.’

Reluctantly, Robby handed over his phone.

He watched over Miguel’s shoulder as he typed and laughed in disbelief at the explicit picture Miguel was painting with his words.

‘Oh my god,’ he said. ‘I can’t send that.’

Miguel didn’t answer while he concentrated.

‘Ok I’ve changed my mind. Give me my phone back. That’s straight up porn, there’s no way I’m sending that.’ Robby tried to grab his phone but Miguel instinctively dodged and held it out of reach again while he finished typing.

‘No come on I said I changed my mind,’ Robby tried again, grabbing Miguel this time and shoving him to the floor, straddling him with his arm across his chest to hold him down.

Miguel gasped and looked at Robby with guilty eyes.

‘What?’ Robby asked, not catching on. Miguel looked down at Robby’s phone, the message bar now empty. It had sent.

‘Fuck,’ Robby said, grabbing his phone back but not letting Miguel up. ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’

‘I’m sorry, you knocked me. I didn’t mean to - I’m sorry,’ Miguel garbled, flinching away but also trying not to laugh.

Robby pressed his arm into Miguel’s chest harder, which made him cough. The cough turned to laughter and Robby wasn’t sure why but he ended up laughing too. It was so absurd and he didn’t know what else to do.

That was when the front door opened and Johnny came in.

Robby realised he still had Miguel pinned and quickly let him go.

‘Were you guys... fighting?’ Johnny asked, not sure what he had walked in on.

‘We we’re just messing around,’ Robby said quickly, glancing at Miguel who was brushing himself off and standing up.

Johnny narrowed his eyes looking from one boy to the other. ‘Whatever. Come give me a hand with this Robby,’ He added and handed him the pile of pizzas.

Robby looked again at his phone, still in shock at what had just happened, gave another glance back to Miguel who was trying not to laugh again. He shoved it in his pocket, and put the pizzas on the table.

Johnny was at the fridge.

‘Did you drink my beer?’ He asked.

‘Sorry sensei,’ Miguel said quickly. ‘It was my idea. I needed something to take my mind off Yaya.’

Johnny looked at them both again, suspecting there was some kind of conspiring happening.

‘Alright...’ he said, looking from one boy to the other. ‘Just nobody tell Carmen alright, I don’t wanna be on her bad side.’

He grabbed a beer, opened it and threw himself onto the couch.

‘You guys wanna watch a movie?’

Robby handed a pizza box to Miguel, grabbed the other two then leaned in as he walked past.

‘He’s totally trying to bang your Mom,’ he muttered, grinning.

***

The three of them had settled into the film and the pizza, all crammed onto that couch. Robby and Miguel had spent half the time pushing each other and complaining that the other was taking up too much space.

Robby felt his phone buzz in his pocket and instantly remembered what had happened. He shared a worried glance with Miguel, who also felt it buzz.

He pulled his phone out to look. It was from Sam, of course.

‘Robby that was hot,’ was all she said. Then the three dots appeared to show she was writing back.

Robby tapped Miguel’s leg, although he was already reading it. They grinned at each other. Miguel shrugged as if to say ‘I told you.’

After a few minutes her message came through. Robby didn’t even try to hide it from Miguel now. His heart raced as he read through her words, telling him what she wanted. Miguel exclaimed and tried to pretend he was coughing so Johnny wouldn’t catch on.

Robby shifted awkwardly. Part of him wanted to go to his room and be alone, but then he also still needed help. The cursor blinked at him.

Miguel, who was now leaning quite heavily into him to see what he was writing, held his hand out. Robby gave him his phone with no hesitation this time.

‘If I was there with you now I would...’ he typed then handed it back.

Robby sighed. He started typing something out as Miguel reached over and grabbed a couple of slices of pizza. He held one out to Robby.

Robby took it absently. He was staring at the screen again.

He looked up helplessly at Miguel. Miguel nodded encouragement and Robby added more to his text.

‘What are you boys doing ?’ Johnny asked, noticing their focus had shifted.

‘Homework,’ Robby said quickly.

‘Group chat,’ Miguel said at the same time.

After a beat, Miguel clarified. ‘It’s a study group chat.’

Johnny shrugged it off. He didn’t believe them but they weren’t fighting so he honestly didn’t care.

Robby sent his message after a nod from Miguel. He left his phone unlocked on his knee and they both stared at the TV while they waited.

After several minutes, a picture flashed up on Robby’s phone. Sam had sent a selfie in her underwear.

Robby gasped and grabbed his phone quickly and locked it, but not before Miguel had seen.

Miguel just gave him an approving slap on the back.

Robby cleared his throat.

‘Yeah I’m gonna get a shower,’ he said, standing up a swiftly and leaving the room.

‘Is he alright?’ Johnny sighed.

Miguel grinned in that knowing way of his.

‘He’s fine, trust me. He’s just really excited about this homework.’

***

If anyone wants to be tagged in future writes then let me know.

#kiaz #robby keene #miguel diaz #sam larusso x robby keene #samantha larusso #robby keene x miguel diaz #robby x miguel #cobra kai #cobra kai fanfic #ck fanfic #johnny lawrence

50 notes · View notes

noladyme · 4 years

Text

Chess. Chapter 13

Y/N never hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it. She only took what she needed, or what she felt others needed. She’d stayed out of sight for a long time, avoiding anything that could get her in to too much trouble. But for some reason Rick Flag shows up in her life, and in an instant, everything changes.

TW: Language, sexual themes, violence, torture. Rated M

(This story is obviously non-canon, i.e. Diablo and GQ, but I hope you’ll enjoy it either way. Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list.)

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Let me start this off with a disclaimer: This chapter does not have Rick appearing. He will be back, but due to length and flow I needed to cut off the chapter where I did. Sorry. I hope you’ll enjoy reading it anyway

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I was lounging on a love seat in the large house the Joker had taken us to; pretending to read a magazine Harley had offered me.

Frost had shown up at the house about 30 minutes after us, with a bump on his head, and a sneer plastered across his face. He insisted that the squad were gone by the time he came too.

The house was just as ghastly as the car had been; with bear skin rugs and clashing patterns on all the furniture. There was no doubt that 99% of it was stolen.

Playing a weird game of tag, Harley and the Joker were chasing each other throughout the house; squealing and growling at each other, each time one of them managed to catch the opponent.

I was thinking something fiercely.

I’d followed Harley and her psycho boyfriend into the Palisades, without any idea of what my next move should be.

Throwing herself into the seat next to me, Harley was laughing; out of breath.

“J is getting me a new puppy”, she giggled. “Those stupid animal rights activists took back my last one, when I was sent back to Louisiana”.

“What’s the plan here, Harley”, I asked.

“I dunno. It’s your turn to think of something”, she answered trustingly.

I sighed.

“I need to make sure Kelper doesn’t make it to congress”, I said.

“Revenge?”, she asked.

“No”, I answered. “There are enough shitheads in office as it is – look at the main guy in charge! We don’t need another one”. I crossed my arms. “Also a little bit of revenge, yeah”, I admitted.

“Yeah that judge does seem like a dick”, Harley muttered.

“No”, I said. “This is about Waller. She has enough power as it is. She doesn’t need to be able to keep hunting people like us down, and force us to do things we don’t want to. Even if we are bad guys”.

She grabbed my face between her hands.

“I’m with you”, she said, and kissed my forehead with a loud smack. “Tell me what to do!”.

I beamed at her. She was a good friend. Even if she was bat shit crazy.

“I need to be able to prove the connection between mr. J and Kelper”, I said; and looked down at my feet. “That does mean, that J won’t be able to use him for protection from the cops anymore”.

Harley was biting her lip.

“Huh”, she said. “He ain’t gonna like that”.

“I know”, I replied. “But we need him to”.

“Harley!”, the Joker called from somewhere. “Come out, come out wherever you are!”.

Harley sighed, then looked into my eyes, and nodded.

“Marco!”, Joker called from the kitchen.

“Polo!”, Harley answered, still looking at me; then grinned, and sprang from the couch to hide from the clown.

—

“Chess has a live bomb in her bag”, Harley said conversationally during breakfast.

I instantly froze; mouth agape – prepared to feel my throat being slit at any moment.

“Oh?”, the Joker said, gazing up from over the newspaper he’d been reading – well, not so much newspaper as comic book. “That’s nice, dear”. He looked back down.

Harley – curlers in her hair, and wearing a pink fluffy bathrobe – continued.

“Yup. It’s a pretty nasty one too”. She returned to her marshmallow cereal.

Joker put down his comic book and looked at her.

“Is there something you’d like to say, toots? Something I need to know?”.

I was shaking in my seat; and I gently put down the golden rimmed porcelain cup of coffee in my hand.

“Uhm, Harley. I don’t think this is the time…”.

“Please, Chess”, Joker said to me, lowering his old-fashioned reading glasses. “In this house everyone can say whatever they want, whenever they want. We mustn’t stifle others expressions”.

I nodded fiercely.

“A-absolutely, yes. Of course. I’m sorry”, I stammered.

He quickly reached across the table, and grabbed my hand, putting it between his own.

“I could tell you meant that”, he grinned.

Letting go of my hand, he turned to face Harley again.

“Now where were we, doll? Chess has a bomb in her bag?”, he said calmly.

Harley swallowed some of her orange juice.

“Yeah. It’s a black box, with a little display on it. Pre-set to 1 minute”.

“That sounds fun”, Joker said cheerfully. “What’s it for?”.

Harley got up from her seat, and went to stand behind her beloved madman; massaging his shoulders and neck, making him close his eyes and groan in pleasure. She slid her hands down his shoulders under the flowered kimono he was wearing.

“You know that mean lady, who’s been putting me in that bad place?”. Joker grunted in response. “Well those friends in high places Jerry was moaning about? That’s her”.

The Joker opened his eyes, and looked over his shoulder at her.

“Kelper’s friends with the witch?”, he asked.

Harley went to sit on his lap, and laced her fingers behind his neck.

“No, not the witch; the bitch. The witch is dead”, she said.

“Right, right”, Joker answered. “So?”.

“Well”, Harley continued, “the bitch gave Chess the bomb to blow you up; so you’d stop asking Kelper for favors”.

The clown looked at me, brows – or lack thereof – furrowing.

“You were going to blow me up?”.

I jumped in my seat.

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. Once I knew who you were…”. Harley interrupted me.

“Puddin’, Chess would never do anything like that. We were coming to tell you about the bomb; but then that stupid judge was there, and Chess got all upset, because she really hates his guts”. She kissed his forehead. “We plain old forgot!”.

Joker groaned.

“I spent a lot of money on Kelper. We had a lot of parties”.

“A lot of parties”, Harley nodded, backing him up. “So, maybe… we should do something about it”.

“Oh, snuggle-tits. I need the judge for my business”, Joker said, and looked adoringly at her.

My heartbeat was calming down, and I could think more clearly. I took a small sip of my coffee.

“Mr. J”, I began. “You probably know that I used to work for the Hatter”.

The Joker guffawed and snarled all at once.

“That idiot”.

“Yeah, well”, I continued, “I could work for you, like I did for him. Getting you information, money…”.

“I have money”, he interrupted.

“A new Lamborghini?”, I tried.

His eyes lit up.

“I’m listening”.

I sat up straight. Here we go.

“Kelper is pulling out of your arrangement. He’s even gone so far as getting someone to try to kill you”.

“Well that happens at least once a week”, he said, and shook his head. Harley stroked her fingers through his green hair.

“There’s that girl”, she said, and looked at me.

“What girl?”, Joker asked.

“Well”, Harley continued, “Kelper did some pretty nasty things to a girl who used to work at that place… what was it called?”.

“Sammy’s”, I answered. “It’s a burlesque club in the Narrows”.

I casually took another sip of my coffee, that at this point had gone cold. My face contorted from the taste.

Joker looked at me with narrowed eyes.

I continued.

“About a year and a half ago, Kelper raped and beat an 18 year old girl that worked there”, I said. “She’s still suffering from the attack”.

He patted Harleys thigh to get her to get of his lap.

“Jonny!”, he called, getting to his feet himself.

Frost came into the dining room.

“Yeah, boss?”.

“We own the Narrows, don’t we?”, he asked, and walked slowly towards his minion.

“Yeah, for about 2 years now”, Frost answered, not meeting his eyes.

“And do you know about a bar named Sally’s?”.

“Sammy’s, yeah it’s a stripjoint”, Frost said.

“Burlesque club”, Harley whispered into Jokers ear.

“Burlesque club, Jonny”, Joker said, and grabbed the back of Frosts head. “There is a big difference”. Patting Frosts cheek, he went to sit down again.

“So Sammy’s have been paying their dues, have they not?”.

“Never missed a pay-date”, Frost retorted.

Joker – now sitting down – slammed both his fists into the table, making us all jump.

“Then would you mind telling me, why one of the young ladies working there, was attacked and raped; while she was supposed to be under our protection?”, he yelled; his slicked back hair now disheveled, and falling into his face.

“This doesn’t look good, Jonny! This makes me look bad!”, he shouted.

“I know, boss”, Frost tried. “But it was Kelper, and you told us to stay clear of him”.

Joker jumped out of his chair, and threw it at Frost; only narrowly missing the man.

“Get out. Find Kelper. Bring him to me!”, he growled. “And get Chess new hot cup of coffee. That cold stuff is a disgrace”.

Frost rushed a fresh cup of coffee to me, and ran out the door; already on his phone, yelling at someone.

The Joker found a new chair, and pulled it up to his place at the table. He smoothed his hair back down, and exhaled.

Harley went to stand behind him, and put a hand on his shoulder.

He grabbed my hand like he had before, and looked at me seriously.

“Now”, he said. “Chess. Chessie. My dear. Thank you for making me aware of this problem in my organization. Am I also to understand that you were the one to punish Jer-Jer after his misdeed with the young woman?”.

I smiled brightly, doing my best to seem cheerful.

“That was me, alright!”.

Joker grined.

“Well, when you think about it, you did our job for us!”, he smiled widely. “So I owe you. You came in to this house a stranger; but now – you’re family”.

Harley squealed, and jumped up and down, clapping her hands.

Great. I wasn’t only the clowns newest pet and employee; I was apparently family.

Shit.

“I still want that Lamborghini”, Joker finished, and went to get dressed.

—

We drove to a building not far from the one we had been at the night before.

“Puddin’ you know this means you can’t work with Kelper no more, right?”, Harley said, as we were getting out of the car.

“Yes, yes, squishy-butt, I know”, he answered. “This is going to be fun!”, he snickered, and put his arm around her waist.

I followed them into the building, and down into a basement. In the middle of the dark room sat Kelper, handcuffed to a chair. A single lightbulb was lit above him.

Masked henchmen were spread around the room, covering the exits.

“Jerry!”, Joker said, arms spread into the air as we entered. “Thank you so much for being able to reschedule our meeting. I’m so, so happy you agreed to this location”.

The judge was gagged, had a black eye, and there was already a wet stain under the chair from where he had urinated his pants.

Harley jumped onto a table near the scene, and crossing her legs; she began to file her nails.

I stayed in the shadows; out of Kelpers line of sight.

The clown went to stand in front of his victim, putting a hand on each of his knees, coming down to eyelevel with him. He wrinkled his nose.

“Jer-Jer. Were you that excited to see me?”, he asked. He removed Kelpers mouth gag.

“P-please; Mr. Joker. I don’t know what this is about!”, he stammered.

“This, my friend”, Joker said, “is about your plans for your political future!”.

Frost appeared from the shadows with a chair, that Joker pulled up in front of Kelper. He sat down.

“It’s recently come to my attention that you’ve decided to run for congress”.

“Yes, mr. Joker. I was the one that told you about it myself”, Kelper said.

Joker smacked him across the face, and then pointed a finger at him.

“It’s rude to interrupt!”, he roared.

“Yes, of course. I’m sorry”, Kelper said.

Joker smiled.

“I take a great interest in politics, as you know. I’m even the governor of my own little corner of Gotham. And I find it’s very important to make sure that the people I govern feel safe”.

Kelper nodded.

“Good! So you know where I’m coming from”, the clown continued. “Then I come to hear that someone decided to cause problems in my little paradise. Apparently, a very silly man decided to pay a visit to a burlesque club, and play a little too roughly with one of the lovely dancers there”.

I saw Kelpers eyes widen in fear.

“I didn’t know that would be an issue for you, I swear!”.

The Joker patted his cheek gently.

“Well it is”, he half whispered.

Jumping from the chair, he ran to sit down next to Harley.

“Hi, sugar lips”, he said; and put his arm around her, before calling out.

“Chess!”.

I stepped out of the shadows, and pulled down my hood. Kelper looked at me, recognizing me from the meeting the day before.

“Miss, I don’t know what he’s paying you, but I’ll match and double it!”, he tried desperately.

I sat down in front of him.

“You smell like piss”, I said. He gulped. I sighed. “So this is not going to be fun for you. At all”.

His facial expression changed.

“Do your best, bitch. I’ve been through worse!”.

“Oh?”, I asked. The judge was about to spit in my face, but didn’t have the chance to do so, before I headbutted him.

I rubbed my forehead. That hurt, I thought, but cheered up, when I saw that I had obviously broken his nose.

Joker and Harley roared with laughter from the table.

“So, you’ve had it worse, huh?”, I asked.

He ground his teeth, and nodded.

I smiled and slowly began disappearing into a mist.

Kelpers facial expression immediately changed from prideful to pure fear. He began jumping in the chair, screaming; and managed to fall over; landing in his own wet pool.

“Ew”, Harley said from next to a gleeful Joker.

“Sshh, Harls’. I’m watching this”, he said.

Frost pulled Kelper back into a seated position.

“Get the camera”, I said to him, reappearing in my seat.

I clenched my fist, letting my claws come out.

“I heard you’re going to have some reconstructive surgery, your honor”, I said, looking down at my claws. “Jonny here could find me a pair of rocks, and I could do the deed for you. It’s only polite, seeing as I’m the one to blame for your whole ordeal in the first place…”.

Kelper began crying.

“No, no. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. I will!”, he sobbed.

Frost came in to the light, two plum-sized rocks in one hand, and a smartphone in the other. I took the items into my hands.

“Ok. Now, you can chose one of these gifts; and I won’t take no for an answer!”, I beamed. “Either you chose to let me help you make a nice little video, where you tell the world about your rape and beating of that young woman 18 months ago – along with an account of your dealings with criminal organizations in Gotham. That will make your family really proud of you, and you’ll instantly feel better about your misdeeds. Or…”.

I showed him the two rocks.

“… you let me help you by filling that empty sack of yours”.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Joker and Harley both leaning in to hear his answer.

Kelper sobbed, and a bloody glob of snot ran out of his broken nose.

“The video. I’ll do the video”.

“Boring”, Joker snarled quietly, and Harley patted his leg soothingly.

I pulled out the phone.

“Don’t worry Jerry. This will be over in no time”. I started filming. “Action”.

Kelper opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Look into the camera. Say your name”, I whispered.

He looked into the lens, and began.

“My name is Jeremiah Kelper. I am a judge in Gotham city”. He paused, and I kicked his shin.

“And”, he yelped, “18 months ago, I raped and beat a young woman I was giving a ride home in my limousine”. He sobbed. “I then… let two of my friends rape her, while I watched”.

I was struggling not to run my claws through his heart.

“Continue”, I hissed. Kelper did as asked.

“I have also been receiving payoffs from the crime lord known as the Joker”.

“That’s me!”, the Joker said, and jumped into frame; giving Kelper a wet kiss on the cheek. “We’ve been the best of friends, for a long, long time”, he said, and patted Kelpers shoulder.

“Isn’t this enough?”, Kelper cried.

“Apologise!”, I growled.

“Yes!”, Joker exclaimed. “And tell them that you’ve been a bad, bad boy. Say; I’m Jerry, and I’m a bad, bad boy!”.

Kelper sobbed again.

“I’m so sorry. I’ve abused my office, and I’ve hurt a young woman who didn’t deserve it”.

“No one deserves what you did to her!”, I snarled.

“No, no one deserves that”, he admitted.

“Bad boy!”, Harley yelled from her table, making Kelper jump in his seat.

“I’m Jerry, and I’m a bad, bad boy”, he finished.

“Cut! Scene! Print!”, Joker called, and gave the judge a hard slap on the back. “Good job, Jer-jer! This is one for the books!”.

I put the phone in the bag with the bomb I was still carrying. It was over.

—

A loud crash was heard. While we had been filming, the room had been almost cleared of Jokers minions, as they’d disappeared into the shadows.

The lights went out, and I felt a gush of wind over my head.

“No!”, Joker shouted.

A hard punch to my shoulder made me fall to the floor, and I dropped the bag, accidentally kicked it; and watched it slide into the darkness somewhere.

Panicking, I scrambled to find it, my shoulder pulsing with pain.

A gunshot was heard, followed by the sound of Harleys shriek, as she was thrown across the floor.

I got on my feet, and ran in the direction of where I thought the bag might be.

Someone grabbed my arm, holding me in place.

“Leave it”, a gravelly voice said. “Keep your head down”.

Shit…

Tag list:

@gloriousgam3r

@hyp-oh-critical

#rick flag #rick flag x reader #suicide squad fic #suicide squad imagine #harley quinn #the joker

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sorrylatenew · 5 years

Note

prompt, autumn morning in the kitchen after the first time they fuck

Lol, so, this isn’t exactly what I thought it’d be when I started this prompt fill weeks ago, but it is technically an autumn morning in the kitchen after the first time they fuck. Takes place after Thursday’s loss on 10/10/19.

***

When Jonny used to let himself consider this, back when all he thought about was hockey, being able to get to sleep that night, and the couple of unacknowledged handjobs in the middle of their second season, he would make himself panic.

He’d lie there like a fucking psychopath and let the idea of Kaner voluntarily—enthusiastically—sprawled out in his bed wash over him until his resting heart rate shot up into the hundreds.

Right here, now, the reality of it: this pressing quiet, Patrick wrapped up in Jonny’s comforter, warm at his side like it’s normal, the replay of last night like a movie, Patrick’s forehead pressed to the small of Jonny’s back, arm working for so fucking long the rhythm of it feels punched into him, stuck as deep as Patrick’s voice slurring, “Tell me when you think you can take me,” into Jonny’s overheated—

The reality of it is somehow worse.

“Gonna make some coffee,” Jonny whispers, even though he’s sure Patrick’s still out, and he rolls away from him, creaks up to his feet and across the floor on sore legs, slips a pair of underwear out of his dresser.

His body’s still half convinced it’s the middle of the afternoon, but it’s dark out in Chicago, no sun at all yet, just soft city glow and the quiet of being up this high.

He watches the traffic lights below pulse red while the coffee brews, STOP, STOP, STOP, STOP, and he draws in a slow breath, takes a mug out of the cabinet and waits there, palms curled around the edge of the countertop.

When he was twenty-two, he probably would’ve left. He’d have left his own apartment, would’ve stayed gone long enough for Patrick to get out, and it feels stupid now, because that might have been the right time for this kind of bullshit. Something they could’ve burned through and exploded out of instead of—this.

He pours his cup, lets it warm his hands and lets the honesty in his thoughts run loose.

He’s not sure the ache used to be this bad.

He’s not sure the want was this deep.

Back then, god, the hockey wouldn’t have mattered like this, they were fucking unstoppable, and now what? In five years—what? He’s not guaranteed Patrick’s proximity. He’s not guaranteed they’ll even—

He startles when Patrick appears in the entryway, disheveled, frowning, drawn into himself in his open dress shirt and boxer briefs.

He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t bother tossing Jonny even the most cursory glance, just crosses to the fridge and takes out some water, drains the whole thing while Jonny looks on with his heart in his throat—his entire stomach, all of his fucking insides crowding up his esophagus.

He watches Patrick walk the water bottle over to the sink, unscrew the lid and and lay it all under the faucet. “Just so you know,” he says, with his face half turned in Jonny’s direction, “I’m not in the mood for whatever the fuck is going on in your head right now.”

Jonny doesn’t know how to respond right away, taken aback, feels an immediate spike of temper. “No one told you to come out here,” is what leaves his mouth, heated. “I’m not in the mood for whatever snotty ass little bitch shit that is.”

Patrick lets out a low laugh, shakes his head and lets his chin dip down against his chest, stays like that for a good long moment.

“We shouldn’t have fucked after losing,” he says, quiet, amused, nonsensical. “I knew we shouldn’t have fucked after losing, but you know what? I wanted to feel good, and I waited all of fucking Europe because we weren’t home, and it would’ve been nice—” he stops, smiles, Jonny can see the edge of it, that dark, sharp curl in his cheek while he lets the cut-off sentence linger there, then, “I don’t know,” he continues, more amused than before. “I just wanted to wake up with you I guess. I don’t know why I’m so fucking mad that you got out of bed.”

Jonny closes his eyes fast, taken aback again, swallows down against the rush of feeling that tries to shove its way up into his mouth. “Why—would it—”

“Tell me you didn’t think about leaving,” Patrick interrupts, accusatory, and Jonny’s eyes fly back open.

“What?”

“Tell me right now that that’s not what you were doing.” He’s still turned towards the sink, and it very suddenly makes Jonny want to march over to him, spin him around to see where any of this is coming from.

“What are you talking about, Patrick?”

“Just answer.”

“Is there—some reason you’re strolling in here so ready to fight?” Jonny says, hand tightening around his mug, involuntary. “Would you have burst into the bathroom if I’d dared to get up and take a shit?”

But Patrick’s locked into it, doesn’t budge. “Tell me it’s not what you were doing.”

Jonny doesn’t feel like budging either, plants his feet as though readying himself for some kind of attack. “Why don’t you tell me why you get to act like you’re the only one who’s been waiting. You been living in some kind of fucking dreamland I wasn’t aware of?”

“Just fucking tell me, Jonny.”

“I wasn’t,” Jonny answers, fierce. “I wasn’t going to leave.” He puts his coffee down, too shaky to hold it, thrown off balance. “I would’ve at one point, back when you would’ve done the same fucking thing, but I didn’t—wouldn’t—not now, even though it’s probably a better idea to now.”

“Why would it be a better idea to now?” Patrick finally turns to face him, crosses his arms, his features carrying sleep in a way that makes Jonny want to smooth him out, pass fingers underneath his eyes even though he’d like to fucking deck him.

He doesn’t want to answer the question with Patrick’s gaze on him, a bubble of nervousness in his blood that saying it aloud will make Patrick realize it’s right, that they had their night and they should shut it down before it grows into something that’ll take chunks of them with it. He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “Our contracts are up in—”

“Jesus fucking christ, Jon.”

“Don’t,” Jonny says, a spike of fury in his chest. “Don’t act like that’s not a factor.”

“Our contracts are four years away.”

“Four years.” Jonny mirrors Patrick and crosses his arms too, wishes he was in more than fucking Calvin Kleins. “Four years is nothing, Patrick. That’s fucking nothing.”

“That’s a fucking eternity in hockey. This is why I knew it shouldn’t have been after a loss. You’re talking about fucking contracts after two games.”

“You know the same shit about this team that I do.”

“Alright, Taze.” Patrick pinches the bridge of his nose, rubs at his temples. “Glad to know two games is what it takes for the captain to give it up.”

It’s a low blow, hurts like one, and Jonny knows he deserves it, but it’s also unfair because,

“It’s a lot easier,” he says, voice thicker than he wants it to be, “to throw everything into this—to just—not even think about it, just work and push and wait to see where shit’s gonna land—if you’re not riding on it for me too.”

Patrick doesn’t answer, drops his arms to his sides.

“If we start something up,” Jonny goes on, shoving past the shame lurking in the back of his head at that admission, “I’m not gonna want to stop, and if we have to stop, if we—”

“How,” Patrick starts, slowly, carefully, “are you so convinced we’d make it more than four years at the same time as thinking two games is enough to say how four years of hockey and contract negotiations are gonna go?”

“I didn’t say I think two games is enough.”

“And yet here I am, freezing my fucking nuts off in the kitchen instead of getting to roll over and lick you awake.”

That sends sharp heat rushing through Jonny’s limbs, up to his face, a shock of it, and fresh anger. “Oh,“ he says, flustered, and even madder because of it. "So you’ve decided it’s just easy now, huh? Since when do you say that kind of shit to me?”

Patrick’s face has definitely gone a little pink too, but he doesn’t look away, leans against the counter. “Like I said, you’re four years down the road here, and I can’t even tell you I want you.”

“God, Patrick—”

“What, Jonny?”

He’s so infuriating, every single part of him, including the part of him that looks cold, and the part of Jonny that wants to bombard him with body heat.

“I didn’t mean it like—” Jonny starts, turning back to coffee that’s lukewarm at best, fingers fidgeting at the handle. “I didn’t mean you can’t tell me you want me.”

Patrick’s expression shifts almost imperceptibly.

“Don’t,” Jonny says again, eyebrows pulled together. “I just mean—by all of this—I’m not saying I don’t want it. I’m just saying it’s—important.”

“I know.”

“It’s really fucking important.”

“Jesus Christ, I know.”

“And I’m not giving up on the fucking team.”

“I know, Jonny.” Patrick rubs at his face, flushes himself up, looks out through the window and then gives Jonny a tired smile. “Don’t make me mad at you and I won’t get mean.”

Jonny rolls his eyes at him, but turns towards him just a little more, and they stand there in the quiet, still and strung tight.

The lights below have switched now, turned onto their regular timer.

“I’m not gonna leave,” Jonny says on a careful breath, once the silence feels laid over them in a thick layer. He knows Patrick, knows him arguing means something about how far he’s waded out. “I don’t want to. That’s—why it feels like this.”

Patrick turns towards him too, the side of his hip tilted into the lower cabinets. “I want to be done letting it feel like this,” he says, tongue pushed into his upper lip, a thinking tic. “I’m ready to start letting it feel good. Right now. If you’ll come get back in bed with me.”

Another shot of heat zips through Jonny’s body, settles low.

They’ve kissed five times ever—distinct ones. Three last night.

He’s not sure which of them moves first, maybe both of them, unrushed, and the sixth happens right there, soft to each other’s mouths, fingertips little points of ice to each other’s bare skin.

It stays slow like that, pliable, enough that it’s a surprise when Jonny finds he’s backed them into the wall.

“At any point in the next week,” Patrick whispers, pressed up close, his stubble a nice hurt against Jonny’s chin, “if you’ve gotta shit before I’m awake, just fucking hold it.”

And Jonny laughs, pained. Tries to steel himself against this good kind of stomach ache, the worse one underneath. Wraps his arms around Patrick’s neck.

#hoping this offers some good vibes for tonight #pls don't make me suffer again #1988 #hockey #my fic

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kanerboo · 5 years

Text

okay so... i’m just kind of needing to work out my thoughts about the blackhawks in writing for a bit, so everyone can ignore this or choose to disagree or whatever, I just need to kinda get things out of my head and get my thoughts down in some order.

1) our recent performances: the thing about this, which is something i’ve kept reiterating, is that apart from that horrid game against the flyers, we have actually NOT BEEN PLAYING AS BADLY AS OUR SCORESHEETS SUGGEST. this is the main thing that’s so baffling to me. on paper, this team is not a bad team. on ice, this team is not playing like a bad team either. and YET!!

an example below, from the carolina game yesterday, after 2 periods of play. all of our possession metrics were positive (from this tweet). and yes I know corsi is not a great stat, but it also kinda lined up with my eye test where we actually weren’t playing badly, at least for the last half of the first and throughout the whole of the second.

and yet we couldn’t buy a goal to save our life. we came close a number of times. kirby hit iron. saad came close a few times. we had a flurry of chances from the top line, and during a PP, and from nylander. and through it all mrazek, who is, let’s put it that way, not such a great goalie, was making himself look like fucking brodeur or roy with some crazy saves. when carolina was up just 1-0 through a PP goal, we literally could have pulled even or gone ahead any number of times. and the puck just was NOT GOING IN.

I DO. NOT. UNDERSTAND.

and how many times have I seen this story happen already in fewer than 10 games? it happened against the caps where we played really well and lost because we were up against a goalie standing on his head. it happened against vegas where we played our best game of the season, possibly the best game i’ve seen them play in a whole year, and still lost because of a goalie standing on his head, and to me it’s just like, how long can this go on before the players start getting demoralised that they’re doing everything right and they’re working hard and nothing is going their way? and the worst part is, that point might be happening NOW, especially based on what patrick said in his postgame last night.

2) our special teams: ok it makes absolutely zero sense to me why our special teams are so terrible this year, when we shored up our PK in the offseason and we had the league’s best PP from like what, mid-january? I know we couldn’t continue the way our PP had and eventually it’d regress towards the mean, but this isn’t even their “mean”, it’s back to the putrid days of Q. there are times it shows signs of life, like a couple of sequences against carolina, but again, when that happens, we can’t find a goal. I still don’t understand the rationale between putting nylander up on PP1 and demoting dylan to PP2 - I feel like if we had success with that particular PP1 unit last season with 19-88-17-12 then maybe we should try that? I do get maybe they’re trying to create some balance across both PP units since saad and kubalik are firing now and putting dylan there gives them some additional firepower, plus the PP1 unit had such a huge chunk of TOI during last season’s PPs and it was getting pretty unbalanced there, but come on. at this point something HAS to be done already.

as for our PK - stanbo made some really good moves in the offseason, and acquiring carpenter has been one of them. he has been great on our PK - and we know this PK can be amazing, we’ve seen them kill four minute minors and we’ve seen them score shorties - and then there are times they just completely seem to collapse. I DO NOT FUCKING UNDERSTAND.

3) brings me to my third point. the coaches. specifically, marc crawford.

i’ve always liked jeremy colliton. I was a supporter of him when he first came onboard. he proved me right by leading us to the league best PP and league best points total from january onwards? something like that, I don’t remember exactly. anyway it was clear to me that by the end of last season the players had bought in to his system, they were settling into it and learning to play it well, and he’d earned their respect. and the hope was that with a full training camp he’d be able to get the team doing a lot more.

then they brought in crawford and i’m gonna be honest I hated that appointment from the start because he didn’t have a good rep with players and teams. there was an article I read about him, I can’t remember where and I can’t find it to link now, but he apparently used to treat players really badly, had shitty player management. and I didn’t like that.

and ever since he came in our lines have been fucked, our players look demoralised (but in all fairness this could be from that pattern of playing-well-and-not-winning - although if the lines and systems are instituted by crawford then fuck yeah he IS demoralising them anyway), and our special teams have gone down the drain. and from what I’ve learned, crawford is in charge of the PP and PK, so you know. you do the math.

you could argue colliton is still the head coach and therefore he should have the final say over his lines and systems. you wouldn’t be wrong either. but I personally find it hard to believe that a guy who managed to get us those PP and points in the second half of last season, who has shown serious hockey smarts and good leadership while managing the team during that time, someone usually intelligent and thoughtful when it came to his pressers and systems, is behind ALL of this bullshit.

HOWEVER. I will add that I don’t like the way he’s conducting pressers nowadays. it makes me feel like he’s throwing the team under the bus and I don’t like that AT ALL. and like I said it really surprises me because I find it hard to believe there’s such a difference from last season and this year. and I still really don’t think it’s a coincidence this season is fucking up with crawford behind the bench.

4) they need to play 91-19-88, they should have played 1988 together since at least three games ago, stop fucking experimenting with the top lines. we have two perfect, ready-made chemistry pairs that can feed off each other easy and play with almost anyone on the other wing. put them back together especially when this got us so much success last season.

I appreciate that with the emergence of kirby as a center, possibly a second or third line centre, and that solid third line of ours, dylan has been kind of moved down the pecking order. but dylan has something no one else seems to have, and that’s chemistry with alex. I mean if I could I wouldn’t want to touch the third line either, and putting kirby on the fourth line is stupid when he’s so good and he’s not a grinder and he’s actually been holding up well even when centering patrick, but it’s just. i’m never the doom and gloom type when it comes to my team, but this, this I feel is dire. maybe because of the way we play hard and play well and can’t seem to score. but just throw 1988 and 1712 back together for a few games and see what happens. it’s also not a coincidence that once 1988 got put back together they started generating offence and SOGs - which they both weren’t in previous games.

5) just to end my word vomit: I hate all the stupid fucks who are saying to “trade toews” or “fire bowman” lbr here stanbo brought in some really good trades last season and in the offseason, and like I saw one of the beats say, one of the worst parts of this whole situation is that the people he’s brought in have actually been playing well and made a difference, but the team as a whole just can’t pull out a win. and the people saying to trade jonny? lmao yeah of course because the troubles of the whole team lie on ONE MAN’S shoulders, i.e. our captain who has been actually working his ass off? i’m tired of all the shit being thrown at jonny all the time. people expect him to score 100 points when he’s not that kind of player. he’s not patrick, never has been, never should be, they’re two completely different types of players, and people NEVER seem to get that. it’s like they think oh 88 gets 100 points so 19 should too. but 88 also doesn’t play on the PK or have to forecheck and backcheck and play a hard-wearing defensive shutdown game in addition to his offensive responsibilities. the fuck? sometimes I wonder if these people actually WATCH hockey, because they don’t seem to get this and haven’t for years.

ugh, needed to get that off my chest. sorry if you actually bothered reading the whole way through ig! i’m just sad and angry and really really want my blackhawks to do well. i’m still holding out hope - i’m not giving up on this team - but I really need them to show some results. oh, and maybe for marc crawford to get fired.

#hockey #chicago blackhawks #I have thoughts and feelings so let me spew them at you #pls ignore this if you have to #It literally is just my stream of consciousness word vomit

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dreamsanddreams88 · 5 years

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Had to join huge 2 year ecos group chat, led by jonny and joe, about some meetup. I had real short hair again and looked stupid on facetime. Then i was fighting some skyrim ice demon so i had to shoot arrows at it and cast spells but it was real life

In some weird skyrim universe, but could hop to parallel ones like in rick & morty. Visited aunt ellen i think, then had to go back to original timeline? Anyway then i was going to a magic tower in medieval city, but the tower would shock anyone that touched it without getting an enchantment first. Met the princess, kissed her hand. Courtney from west was there, she had a bowl cut and was being self deprecating so i yelled at her in front of everyone about how pretty she was.

I was at some house party and a fire spread outside, landed on really dry-ass firewood pile and went up huuuge. Marlaines mom was there and i had a crush on her? Then i was at a party with bill gates and others, i got a scholarship from them for masters degree but it had to be about animals in some way, i just wanted to do creative writing. Was out on balcony with bill gates talm bout his past, how old he was when he did all his shit, lookin at city skyline

Super scary dream that russia was doing all sorts of weird shit and ppl were thinking maybe they were gonna nuke us, kept finding weird objects all over and ppl said it was from russia but no on knew for sure

I was going to a weird boarding house elliot lived in to try and date him again for some reason? His room was super small, in a weird hallway so ppl had to walk thru it to get to basement stairs. One of his roommates was seth green. He owned bae, but she was suuuuper sick with a fever so we put her on ice bags. Ate dinner with all his roommates, gigz was there and 2 girls we used to know? One might jave been alex's sister. They had heard all these rumors and were mad at me, like that i didnt like gigz or i couldnt have kids or i was talkin shit about them. Set record str8, mad at elliot for not dispelling them. Decided it wouldnt work out even tho we tried, nagged him 2 take bae 2 vet. Texted alex to hang out, then morphes into harry potter taking secret trail with hermione into hogwarts. One trail led 2 malfoy manor, one to madam pomfreys orchard, one to cave where sirius hid as a dog. Went there, cleaned scratch marks, set out fresh rat for him to eat like he was gonna come back

Aunt ellen was married to hugh jackman and their kid was really young, hugh jackman died tragically. At his funeral or whatever, aunt had a new boyfriend who i caught molesting the kid. Called in my brother and the sanchez boys and we all beat the shit out of him. Then i was working for dawn, and i was on a crew with shelsey and maybe jenna and some others. Two ppl left early, dawn was gonna let me leave early too if jenna and dude driving the work trucj stayed to finish. Felt ashamed to i stayed, our truck lockup was at this skate park.

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eene-fangirl · 6 years

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Monster House-ED (An Ed, Edd n Eddy/Monster House Crossover)

Note: This is a crossover from the movie Monster House. I may write more to it if you guys enjoy the story line. Enjoy!

Ed spied through the telescope, scoping around the neighborhood. There hadn’t been any detectable movement from the house since last night. It was just waiting for the right moment to strike.

Then Ed came across a boy wearing a black hat walking down the sidewalk. He was in a uniform. A red vest, purple shorts, and red socks which reached his knees. It was obvious he didn’t go to school with he and Eddy. The boy held his nose high in the air, smiling in delight at the leaves which flew passed. With him he was pulling along a red wagon filled to the brim with candy.

“Eddy?” Ed said to his friend who was busy studying notes on his bed.

“Yeah, Ed?” Eddy responded without even looking up.

“Is trick or treating going on all day?” Ed asked.

Eddy glanced over at him oddly. “What are yah talkin’ about?”

“Come see! There’s a boy pulling a wagon of candy down the street!”

Eddy got up and looked through the telescope. Next thing he knew his heart started to swell..It was also pounding. Truthfully, the boy was cute. He poked his tongue through the gap in his teeth. A butterfly flew passed immediately capturing his gaze. His eyes sparkled.

Did he go to school with them? Who would know? Eddy didn’t spend time investing anyone’s face into his memory. Nobody was ever interested being friends with he and Ed.

“Ooh, you’re blushing!” Ed cooed.

Ed took his eyes off the boy. “Huh?”

“What? You like the newcomer?” Ed playfully nudged his friend.

Eddy lightly pushed his friend aside. “Shut up, Ed!” He objected, though his cheeks were still flushed.

He looked through the telescope again. The boy in the black hat turned up a sidewalk. Feeling Ed nudging at him, this time panicked, Eddy looked up at the window to see him walking right up to the monster house!

Ed and Eddy turned to each other, their bloody running cold. “Oh, no!”

The boys raced out of the bedroom, shouting, even ignoring the phone that started ringing off its hook. Marie was practically trampled by the boys who took off outside.

“Eddy, that’s your phone!” She called out only for her warning to fall on deaf ears.

Ed and Eddy raced across the street shouting at the boy in the black hat who was half way up the walkway. Lucky for them barely anyone drove by on this street, seeing how they didn’t look both ways.

“Hey, you, stop!” Eddy called out.

“Don’t take another step!” Ed also alerted, waving his arm about.

Edd stopped and turned to the voices calling out to him. They screeched to a halt practically trampling on top of one another. He smirked seeing how they fought with one another for a brief second. It was amusing. He never saw students like them at Peach Creek Prep.

“Don’t go any further!” Eddy stated, slow and steady. He then gestured with his hands. “Come here!”

“Yes, over here! Where it’s safe!”

Unbeknownst to Edd, the house started forming right behind him.

“Are you two bored” Edd playfully sneered. “If so, I can show you two to an arcade!”

Just then he heard a plethora of cracking noises, followed by a growl. Based on the frightened expressions on the boys faces whatever was behind him was not going to be a pretty sight.

Slowly, Edd turned around and gasped.

The house which had just been a regular old house a minute ago had grown a face! It’s door was the mouth with sharp wood like teeth, the window were its eyes, and even the whole porch porch a mouth. Its shingles were also alive, tapping about.

Edd screamed. That’s what anybody would do if they saw a house come alive. He stumbled backwards falling into his wagon spilling candy to the ground.

Just then the pavement went soaring into the air taking Edd with it. Ed and Eddy watched, feeling completely helpless. Each set of pavement flew up from the ground rolling Edd onto each section. It resembled a video game. Only that poor boy would end up meeting his fate and wouldn’t get a second chance!

“Help me!” Edd called out the two boys.

“What do we do, Eddy? What we do?” Ed clawed his hair.

Eddy raced passed the danger line into the war zone. If old man Jonny were still alive he would have already raced out of the house to kill him. “Come on, Ed!” he called to his friend who nervously followed.

It was like the monster was playing with its food, tossing Edd up and down until he was veered right toward his doom. The exact second he flew off the last pavement of the walkway Ed and Eddy grabbed each of Edd’s arms pulling him away from the gaping teeth which had already swallowed his wagon.

Now it was a tug of war between Ed and Eddy. Each pulled him, jostling Edd from side to side. They didn’t have much time when a slippery wet (tongue-rug) appeared at the doorway.

Eddy pulled Edd and the boy came flying over to his side falling right on top of him.

“Hey!” A girl’s voice called out.

In a split second the house returned to its normal form, its pavement slamming back into the ground, and the tongue disappearing behind the now closed door.

“Hey, losers! Did you not hear me?” Marie called out from across the street. They looked over seeing her waving a phone in the air. She didn’t even see what happened! “There’s an angry mom on the phone looking for the doofus named Ed!”

Eddy noticed the boy glance up in both alarm, fascination, and insult. Immediately, the trio gathered themselves together, stood up and quickly retreated from impending doom. Kindly, Eddy helped Edd to his feet. Edd was still so out of it that he forgot to thank him. He never once took his eyes off the house as he followed the two boys.

Marie shoved the phone right into Ed’s face. “She worried about you!”

Ed took the phone and marched off. Eddy could just hear Ed’s mom screaming at her son. Poor guy. He didn’t need that. And he only lived right across the street! And she didn’t even notice the monster house either.

“Start explaining!” Marie ordered, crossing her arms. She stood over Eddy with full authority. Like that’s how she really acted.

Eddy couldn’t stand anymore. He started telling her about how the house tried to eat them, revealing its slimy tongue and its sharp teeth.

Marie rolled her eyes. “Okay, that’s it!”

“Where are you going?” Eddy asked noticing her walk passed him.

“I’m going to see what the deal is with that house!” She explained, pointing at the house.

As much as Eddy would have liked to see Marie get gobbled up by the house he tugged at her arms refusing to let go. “Don’t! Stop! Its going to eat you!”

“What is your problem!” Marie yelled, turning away from the house and splaying her arms out in front of Eddy.

“Uh...” Eddy struggled, glancing all around. Then it hit him. “Puberty!”

Marie stared at him as if he were insane. Little did Eddy know that Edd was still standing right behind him, mimicking Marie’s confused expression.

“Yeah! My Mom said that since I turned twelve I’m hitting puberty and I’d have tons of changes so...”

“Stop! I’ve heard enough!” Marie interrupted raising her hand into the air. “You eat too many jawbreakers, Eddy! Lay off them! And the mountain dew!”

Eddy gave a thumbs up and winked.

“I’m going to find Kevin,” she announced marching off to her beat up car.

Perfect timing! “Great! Bye! Don’t come back too soon! In fact stay out all day with guy ‘cause you deserve it!”

Once she got in the car and drove away Eddy could finally take a breath of relief. Finally, he was alone! He told his parents he didn’t need a babysitter. But, arguably he did. Ugh, stupid memories!

There was no use dragging over that right now. He and Ed had to figure out how to defeat this house.

Suddenly, Eddy felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around it was the boy with the black hat whom he and Ed saved.

“Hey! Sup?” Eddy greeted awkwardly.

“I demand an explanation to know what is going on!” The boy stated fiercely, placing his hands on his hips.

Eddy had no idea where to begin. “The house is alive.”

“I am aware of that factor! But houses don’t come alive! They’re inanimate! Does anyone else know of this obscurity?”

Eddy couldn’t understand half of the things that came out of his mouth. He was pretty smart however.

“Nope. Just you, me and Ed.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Huh?”

“For one your grammar isn't correct. Second how did you know my name?”

Eddy turned up his brow. “I didn’t!”

The boy looked embarrassed. ”Oh, my mistake. But if I recall you called me Edd. My name is Eddward. But with two D’s.”

Eddy laughed out. “No kiddin’! My name’s Eddy! And my pal his name is Ed!”

“Really? This is a coincidence.”

“You're tellin’ me! Welcome to the club!”

“Um, yes, well, do you have a plan?”

“Eh, we’re tryin’ to come up with something before all kinds of kids are gonna be goin’ up to that house askin’ for candy tonight.”

Edd glanced at the house again. Even though it was just a house right now, knowing people were standing around, it actually felt like its glass window eyes were staring deep down into his soul, mocking him. Chills ran up Edd’s spine, chilling his bones.

“Do you inquire some help?”

Eddy’s eyes grew. He was actually going to help them?

“Well if you’re willing to put up with us! Welcome to the Ed train!”

Edd smirked. This was crazy. He would never associate himself with these sort of children. Then again, no one else really wanted to befriend him.

As he followed Eddy inside his house, the monster house loomed over them watching their every move.

#ed edd n eddy #eene #eene fanfiction #Monster House #EddEddy #Marie Kanker #Jonny #Double Dee Appreciation Month

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sweetcontradiction · 6 years

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Bottle By My Bed

ICYMI: Chapter One, Chapter Two

CHAPTER THREE

“What time is it now?”

Anderson sighed as he looked down at his watch for the tenth time since they arrived at the clinic.

“11:01” he told her, holding his hand over her knee to stop her bouncing. “Don’t worry darlin’”

Miranda just nodded, his words of comfort not really helping at a time like this. It had took him five months to persuade her to even come here so she knew it was a big step. First time round, she had immediately refused, choosing to bask in her own self delusion rather than face the truth that something might be wrong with her. As she waited for her name to be called, she felt the pit of her stomach heave. The entire situation was getting too much to bear now.

“Michael and Miranda?”

At the sound of her name, Miranda looked over at her husband, her eyes pleading with him to walk away before she could face reality. Giving her a solemn smile, Anderson took her hand in his, hauling her body up with his own before giving their united grip a tug and following the specialist into his surgery.

“I’m Dr Loggins” he introduced himself once the door had been closed.

As he outstretched his hand to shake Anderson’s, Miranda stood beside him timidly, pressing herself closer to him for comfort.

“Mike.” Anderson smiled the best he could, giving his hand a firm shake. “This is my wife Miranda.”

Even with Dr Loggins flashing her a genuine smile, she couldn’t buck up the courage to say anything else so she simply gave him a nod before taking her husband’s hand again.

“So…” he began, pulling out the chairs at the opposite side of his desk so the couple could take a seat. Miranda couldn’t look him in the eye as she pushed her chair closer to Anderson’s. “What brings you here?”

Looking down at her shaky knees, Miranda looked straight over at Anderson, her lips pursed shut as her eyes begged him to be the one to talk. That sounded like a stupid question to her.

“About a year and a half ago we decided to start trying for a baby.” he began. He could feel Miranda’s hand shaking in his. “We’ve tried everything - ovulation kits, positions, remedies - every myth and we’ve been unsuccessful every time.”

Dr Loggins gave his condolences but Miranda rolled her eyes at him. She had experienced it too many times before for it to still mean something.

“So we’re here to see if there’s anything, you know, uhm, w-wrong.”

The doctor nodded, wheeling his swivel chair in closer to his desk so he could talk to the pair properly. Looking at the timid blonde opposite him, he knew he’d have a hard time on his hands getting her to open up.

“I know this will seem like prying but the first step in this is just a few routine questions. It may be uncomfortable but it’s simply so I can get an idea of what the past 18 months have been like for you two.”

Anderson nodded, holding Miranda’s hand tighter despite the sweat beginning to build up; the nerves radiating off her.

“What birth control were you using prior to you trying to conceive?” Dr Loggins asked, his hands held together as he leaned over his desk. He noticed Miranda’s eyebrow began to furrow but she still didn’t lift her head.

“Miranda was on the pill…”

“And how long were you on the pill for, Miranda?”

Taking a deep breath, Miranda lifted her head, her eyes wide in fear as she licked her lips to try and moisten them up a little.

“Since I was 19.”

“And you’re mid thirties now?” he questioned, looking down at the papers he had on her.

“34.” she whispered, her eyes falling on her husband as she answered the questions. “Could that be the reason that —“

“I’m just trying to rule some things out first, that’s all.”

Dr Loggins smiled to try and ease his patient but it didn’t seem to work.

“And with your schedules, are your attempts consistent?”

Miranda glanced over at Anderson confused. Just as he was about to ask for clarification, the doctor butted in.

“For example with touring, if you, Miranda, are away for a week and then Michael is, are your attempts to conceive often enough to be effective?”

“We base our schedules around each other.” Anderson informed him. “We cut back on a lot of dates about six months ago when nothing was working. Apart from the odd day or two, we’re together pretty much everyday.”

“So intercourse is regular? I’m sorry it seems like a stupid question.”

Anderson faked a smile and kept his grip on Miranda.

“I guess…”

“We try almost every day.” Miranda perked up, desperate to get to the bottom of this. “Usually more than once.”

Dr Loggins looked at the blonde, her hand was desperately clinging to the man beside her and he could see her eyes beginning to cloud over. No matter how many patients with fertility issues he’d seen over the years, it never got easier seeing the sheer devastation in their eyes.

Miranda looked over at Anderson as the doctor jotted down a few notes. He could see her eyes were beginning to fill up as she finally spoke aloud about their struggle. After so long of keeping it to themselves, not even telling their closest friends and family, Anderson couldn’t even express how proud he was of her.

“So habits…” Dr Loggins grimaced, clapping his hands together as he looked down at the papers in front of him but the couple gave him no reaction.

“Miranda you selected socially for drinking?”

“I barely drink now.” she confessed. “Not that it’s helping.”

Anderson noticed her rolling her eyes.

“And before you decided to try to conceive?”

“Every day.” Anderson took over, knowing she may not be entirely honest. “Not much. But most days.”

“And yourself, Michael?”

“3-4 times a week, usually.”

Anderson bit his lip, hating the way this doctor didn’t let on to any details or anything he may have been thinking. As he felt Miranda’s hand let go of his while she clasped them in her own lap, he placed his hand firmly on her upper thigh, gripping hard to remind her he was there.

“But your smoking is regular?”

“I gave up about six months ago. But before that I cut down significantly.” he explained. “Made our house smell nicer.”

Dr Loggins chucked to entertain him but he knew deep down he was trying to lighten the situation because he was so nervous.

“I heard that smoking can, umm, lower your sperm count?”

“It can…” Dr Loggins replied honestly, not wanting to lie to the desperate couple. “But it’s not a big a issue as you may think. I’ve had many patients who have conceived easily who have smoked since childhood. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Anderson nodded his head, smiling to himself when Miranda’s hand reached over to grip his thigh. Despite their inability to make a baby and the inevitable strain it had put on their relationship, neither of them blamed the other. This was an issue they would tackle together; there was no use in blaming their own wrongdoings when it was outwith their control.

“I think the safest thing to do is take y’all for further testing…just to be sure.”

Miranda breathed a sigh of relief, thankful she got what she came here for. After months of refusing to come - wanting to put it off for as long as possible - she was glad her husband was right after all.

“Michael, I recommend a sperm sample just to rule out any abnormalities and we can go from there.” Dr Loggins smiled awkwardly. “And Miranda…it’ll be a little more evasive so apologies.”

Anderson bit the inside of his lip.

“We’ll do some simple blood tests but it’ll be best to do a full vaginal exam…it’s uncomfortable but it might give you the answers y’all are wanting.”

Miranda tried her keep her grunt discrete but she was already dreading it. She was private enough as it was but there was nothing she wanted more in the world than a baby and for that she’d do whatever it took.

“And one more thing — stress can often be a big factor in conceiving…so try and relax a little. Don’t think about it too much when you’re trying. Being less obsessive proves to work in your favor.”

Anderson could tell Miranda wasn’t listening. There was no way she’d be able to shut off from the one thing she wanted. Everything was a constant reminder of that and their sex life was no different so he knew the doctor’s advice was pointless.

As the pair thanked Dr Loggins and organized times with the receptionist, Miranda gripped her husband’s hand as they walked out the front doors of the clinic. The fresh air was a vast improvement from the stale atmosphere she’d been breathing in for the past 45 minutes.

Walking around to the parking lot at the side of the row of property, she leaned her head down onto Anderson’s shoulder, closing her eyes as they walked the final distance to their truck. She was desperate to go home and pretend like the last hour (or year and a half) hadn’t happened.

When she accidentally let out a little sigh, Anderson looked down.

“I know, baby.”

“Has Jonny canceled lunch?” she asked hopefully.

“We can always be the ones to cancel, y’know.”

“I feel bad…”

“About lunch or —“

“Both.”

“I’ll text him and —“

“No.” she quipped, grabbing the truck’s handle and jumping into the passenger seat. “Let’s just go. It’ll take our minds off things.”

“We don’t need to stay long.” Anderson offered, putting the key in the ignition. “If we need a lie to get out, say Cher’s sick.”

“That’s just mean!”

“But effective!” he winked, grabbing the inside of his wife’s thigh as he reversed. “Don’t worry, Ran… we’ll find out what’s wrong.”

“What if they don’t find anything?”

“Then we’ll just keep trying. I’m not gonna give up till we have a baby in our arms. I promise you.”

Miranda raised a genuine smile for the first time all day, grabbing Anderson’s fingers and pulling on each one individually. She developed the habit when they first met, and she didn't know why but somehow it had become a thing - comforting them both in darker times.

As much as her husband’s words of encouragement helped her deal with the million thoughts racing around in her head; she knew he was just as clueless, just as apprehensive and just as desperate for a baby. She hated she couldn't find the strength to comfort him the way she wanted to but her own heart was too heavy to carry the burden of his. She wasn’t sure if she’d survive otherwise.

For now, she’d deal with going to lunch with his friends, keeping both their minds occupied in an attempt to escape their empty house. She would manage to sit with a smile on her face as they undoubtedly bragged about their children, completely unbeknownst that the smiling married couple on the other side of the table craved more than the food on their plates.

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theprodigalsoldier-blog · 7 years

Note

✉ |:

To: Jonathan Daniel Winchesterc/o Charlotte Sawyer.

[ separately enclosed ] :

Auntie— If I don’t come home, can you make sure this letter gets to Jonny? I’m not sure where he lives now, but I’m sure you could find him on facebook or something. Thank you. I love you.

Dear Jonny.

I know this is too many years too late, and this definitely is the worst way to find out about… all of this. So I’m sorry for this, first of all. Anyways…

If you’re reading this letter (fuck, how cliche) … I didn’t come home from my deployment. And not like, I ran away to France kind of didn’t come home. Like, never coming home. I don’t know if you even know I joined the Marines after I stopped fighting. But I did. Off to serve my country. So, if you’re reading this, I died for my country.

And now, writing this, days before my first tour, I know that it’s a real possibility. So I’m putting certain things in place. My will, letters to the girls, and my mama, and auntie. Stuff like that. And a letter to you. Because I’ve been selfish and stupid enough with you in my life. I can’t be selfish and stupid in my death too. If I die before I ever get to see you again and tell you this shit in person, I want you to know some things.

I’m sorry, Jay. I’m so fucking sorry. I was such a fucking asshole back then. I was possessive, and jealous, and over-protective. And I pushed you away. I made things miserable between us, because I couldn’t fucking handle my shit, and my feelings. It’s been two years, and I swear to god I think about you and us at least once a day. There’s always something that reminds me of you, or reminds me of how stupid I’ve been. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t stronger, or more rational, or more patient, or more kind. I’m sorry I wasn’t better. I need you to know that what happened between us is the biggest regret of my life. Hurting you is the worst thing I’ve ever done. And at the point that you’re reading this, I’ve probably killed at least one person. I’d still regret hurting you and losing you more.

The truth is that… I love you. Not just “I love you, man” kind of love. I’m in love with you. Yeah, present tense. I have been for so fucking long. I think I first realized how I felt about you…. 6 months after we met. I think even during that time I was in denial, because I didn’t know how to reconcile the fact that you were a guy. But it didn’t matter. I was confused, and I didn’t understand… But I understood that you smiling at me was the best thing I’ve ever fucking felt. And I understood that if I smiled, you’d smile back. You always joked that I only ever smiled with you… That’s why. I didn’t care about smiling at anyone else, because it didn’t feel like it did with you. God, how gay is that? haha. Guess I shouldn’t be confused about that anymore, huh?

You were my best friend, Jonny. You were the only person I ever wanted to spend time with, and I only ever wanted you to spend time with me. You going away to college was so fucking hard, because I knew it meant that I’d missed my chance. Whatever slim chance I ever could have had. But you were going away, and you hadn’t even been there two weeks, and you were already telling me about this new guy you were dating. And fuck… Being jealous was bad enough, but then you were telling me that he was taking you to parties and introducing you to that… bullshit. And then i was angry, and protective, and scared for you. All of that, plus being so hopelessly fucking in love with you, and so god damn lonely… I didn’t know how to handle all those fucking feelings. So I was just a dick. I was mean to you because all my frustration just turned into aggression, i guess… Then you were upset and hurt, and you didn’t understand, and I just got more angry and frustrated at myself. I’m so fucking sorry I wasn’t better.

I remember that night. When we were so fucking crossfaded, and at that stupid party, and you kissed me. Oh my god. You laughed when you kissed me, and I’m pretty sure I almost passed out. You sitting on my lap was nothing new, but I can remember the way you felt that night so clearly. And the way my heart pounded so hard the whole time. And everything that happened after that… I remember. I should have said something, but… I just thought, you were drunk, and you wanted affection. And I was always there to give that to you. Why would this be any different? Plus, i was so drunk, and after kissing you, I couldn’t figure out how to ask you to stay. I thought you were gonna come back. I woke up in the middle of the night, after I passed out, and I was so heartbroken, because you weren’t there. You’d left. And I didn’t understand why. You never leave. I figured that meant you regretted what happened. And I was so scared to have that confirmed, so I never brought it up. And I figured if you wanted it to happen again, you would have said something. Because… you’re you. And you’re not afraid to ask for what you want. But you didn’t ask for me again, and that was my answer. Maybe I was wrong, and maybe that was my biggest mistake. But sometimes I still dream about the way your lips tasted that night.

Anyways… this is sappy enough. And I realize that this might just make everything worse, especially now that I’m dead. So, I’m sorry. If this makes it worse. But I just couldn’t die without making sure you knew all this stuff.

I love you, Jay. I’ve loved you, so much, for so long. Don’t let piece of shit guys fuck with you. You’re a god damn masterpiece, kid. And I know you’re gonna put so much beauty in this world. I’m sad I’ll never get to see it. Please, take care of yourself. And find happiness. You deserve it more than anyone I have ever met in this stupid life.

Give ‘em hell, pretty boy.

- Jaxon Benjamin Sawyer. (aka jaxy)

#( im not crying ur crying #fuck off )#beautifulburnout #{ cocaine & whiskey || jaxathan }#{ ask replies }#{ past }

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ssgtsawyer-a · 7 years

Text

from the journal of jaxon sawyer

what: jaxon’s collected journal entries + letters + snippets of song lyrics he wrote where: written from the vegas airport, london, paris, porquerolles, new york, and jfk airport. when: over the last three weeks, since jaxon left vegas and throughout his trip. (day 1 - 24) why: because fkn development, y’all. extras: the rest of his trip pictures are here.

(disclaimer: all the song lyrics in here aren’t mine. i’m much too lazy of a poet for that. also, this shit is fucking long. it’s more for me to have it all in once place. [word count: ~5,350] tl;dr— jax went through shit, realized a lot of shit, worked through a lot of shit, and is now dealing with his shit.)

Day 1.

And so it's back to it now Enough turned out to be enough somehow What the fuck are you gonna do That was me, it wasn't you

I packed light And got right out Left a lot behind no More rhymes and less words I will keep them tucked under

At least you have another way to go At least you have another life to lose

And I have places for things again From now on I'll hold more in Turns out that I don't owe you shit And it was never my intention

To cause you harm Or to make you sore And I don't know what the final score is All I know is These days I'm quite over it

At least you have another way to go At least you have another life to lose

Day 2.

i forgot how much I love London. Of course it was raining when I got in, but it’s kind of lovely. Early, grey, London morning, where the city is just waking up from sleep, and getting started. There’s all these little puffs of steam from people’s coffees and tea, and all the street food carts opening up, and the city just smells clean. I don’t know. I spent a lot of really late nights that turned into early mornings on these streets, winding down from whatever trouble I’d gotten myself into, wandering my way home, eating terrible drunk food from sketchy carts. That was a tough time in my life, and I was in a really fucking awful place, but at least the city was wonderful. And honestly, I did have a lot of fun. It’s so fucking strange to find myself back here, in the same place where I first broke down, on the tail end of breaking down again. Maybe that’s why I came. It just seemed weirdly right to be here during all of this.

Plus I wanted to make amends. With everything that’s happened, I can’t be holding on to two broken hearts. I had to let go of the first one. I’m having a drink at the airport before I go find the car that Tim sent for me. I knew he would, and honestly it’s kind of sweet. It’s nice to know I have a place to run away to, and someone who cares about me. Someone that is outside of my life in Vegas. So, I hope these three days here, with him, will be good. And won’t fuck me up. We’ll see, huh?

This one's for the lonely, the one's that seek and find Only to be let down time after time This one's for the torn down, the experts at the fall Come on friends, get up now, you're not alone at all

This one's for the faithless, the ones that are surprised They're only where they are now regardless of their fight This one's for believing if only for it's sake Come on friends get up now love is to be made

This is for the ones who stand, For the ones who try again For the ones who need a hand, For the ones who think they can

It comes and goes in waves, I am only led to wonder why It comes in goes in waves, I am only led to wonder why Why I, why I try

Day 4.

well, we can check rebound sex off the breakup checklist. Damn, I forgot how insane sex was with him. We definitely have an undeniable chemistry. And boy, we do have fun. Sex like that, plus all the power dynamics, and my daddy issues, I remember why I was so drawn to him, and why I stuck around for so long with him. Despite everything. I beat myself up for a long time for being stupid and sticking around despite him hurting me. But I get it. I remember now. I loved him, but in a way that was always colored by desperation. I wanted him so bad to love me back, and to fucking show me, or tell me. I wasn’t thinking, I wasn’t understanding. We’ve talked though. He apologized, he explained. And I get it now. I understand. And I’m not angry. I’ve forgiven him. Yeah, he hurt me, and he added to my instability during that time. But he wasn’t the whole reason. I was largely responsible. I think that’s something I need to work on. Rationally considering my own responsibility in things. Instead of just blanket blaming myself, and others. Fuck. I think Jonny is right. I really do have to start actually dealing with things.

Anyways. We leave for Paris tomorrow. He’s gonna spend the first day with me there. Then I’ll stay the night, and head to Poquerolles in the morning. So far, this vacation is going great.

Arm your guards, un-break your horses Ours is feral love. Call your dogs and special forces All will come undone

But I bet you don't go crazy like you used to When you used to get down with me

Flee the scene, we scream ceasefire Look at what you've done All your men, and all your horses Scream enough's enough

But I bet you don't go crazy like you used to When you used to throw down with me

My love what have you done

Day 6. // Letter #1

Day 8.

I miss him. Fuck, I miss him so god damn much. I miss all the possibilities we had, and the future I thought we had. I miss my best friend, that I texted constantly. I miss my person, who would always hold my hand, or sit close to me. I miss my best friend who would demand to cuddle, and demand attention, and affection. He made me feel so good, so wanted, so valued. And he was always there. He always loved me no matter how stupid I was, or how many mistakes I made, or how much shit I got myself into. God, we talked so much, and spent so much god damn time together. And now… I’ll never have that again. Not with him. Fuck.

Getting my heartbroken is one thing. Losing my fucking best friend of 7 years and multiple tours of duty? I think that’s the absolute worst part of all this. We were each other’s person, and it was supposed to be forever. That’s why we got the tattoos. We both believed it so much. And now I don’t know if I’ll ever even talk to him again.

Fuck. I miss him.

I could've done much better for you But you could've done much better for me I'm sure

What if we got it all wrong? What if we got it all, what if we got it all wrong?

So we tried our best, but it wasn't enough. And we tried so hard that we fucked it up And I understand, yeah I understand it love. It's gotta be hard what you're going through And I get what you say, but it's what we do, That got us here and I guess what's done is done.

The days are short and the nights are long, And it's all fucked up but we carry on Cause there's little else and there's nothing left to do And I could've done much better for you Yeah I could've done much better for you But you could've done much better for me, too.

What if we got it all wrong? What if we got it all, what if we got it all wrong?

Day 11.

This isn't all about him. I mean, yeah it was heartbreaking and kind of devastating. I think he was just the catalyst. I just lost the crutch I'd been clinging to. There's been so much wrong with me for so long, and I've refused to deal with it. I used him, and my own delusions to cover it all up, and to limp along and get by. But the severity of everything ending, and the way it did, it just ripped away all that duct tape and safety pins and bandaids I've been using to ignore everything. This is more about finding my strength again, confronting myself, finding stability, finding healthy ways to deal.

And that’s something I’ve been so desperately ignoring. Because it’s fucking hard. It’s so much easier to just ignore shit, and drink, and fight, and fuck. To gorge myself on whatever easy pleasure I could find, to distract myself from the bad feelings. But it’s not working anymore. And everything that went down with Javier just proved that to me. Because one thing happened (a big thing, sure, but.) and I fucking fall completely apart. I was destroyed and out of my head and completely, deeply unstable. And damn, I can’t let that happened again. I need to fucking be strong enough, and stable enough within myself and on my own, to weather whatever storm life throws at me. I can’t let one person and his fickle feelings ruin me like this did.

I need to deal with my shit. And I think I’m starting to. And I think, it’s actually, surprisingly, going kind of well. There might be something to this healthy emotional coping behaviors after all.

— ( note: look up gaslighting. )

Day 14.

maybe sometimes love isn’t enough.

I think I’ve realize that. Love has always felt so elusive to me, and I thought if two people loved each other enough, that would be it, and that would be enough. God, I really really fucking believed that. But I think that’s just a fairytale maybe. Who would have guessed? 32 year old police officer, Marine war vet, ex-mma fighter… and I believed so completely in fairytale love.

And fuck. Maybe everything that went down with Javier is more complicated than I originally thought. It’s easier to see now, with plenty of space from the situation. And time to get my head clear and out of the fucking intensity of those emotions. I felt so betrayed, and played, and used. Because to me, ‘I love you’ is a promise and a commitment. So much more than any dumb label or official title. I would never say those words, whether I felt them or not, unless I was serious and ready for a lasting commitment, a real partnership.

But… maybe that’s not the case for Javier. I expected it was, and put all my eggs in that basket of expectations. Maybe that wasn’t fair of me—to put so much surety and expectation on something that was never made into a promise. I just thought it was. Crossing that line, taking that next step was such a huge thing for me, such a risk that scared the hell out of me, I think I needed that idea of surety. I needed it to be a sure thing to take that chance. And I clung to it, maybe without and real promise or concrete reason. But everything felt like promises, everything he said to me, all the sweet things, hops, fears, future plans… but maybe we just got caught up in the excitement and the flirting and the romance. The possibilities. Maybe he thought love would be enough too, before realizing it wasn’t. Maybe he just realized it sooner than I did. Or hell, maybe all that time he wanted me, he just built up what we would or could be in his head, and when it came down to it, he realized his fantasy of what it would be like wasn’t real.

I think that brings me some peace about the situation, weirdly enough… having some fault and blame makes me feel a little better. Not like this was done to me. But I had some hand, some control (however unconscious) over the events in my life. I got caught up in the fairytale. I wasn’t realistic about love and relationships and… us. Maybe if I had been more realistic, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt so bad. Maybe I did put too much pressure on… whatever Javier and I had been for those few days.

And fuck. Maybe sometimes life just sucks. And people change. And they change in ways that stop working with each other.

I think I’ve finally realized how bad we had been for each other. How codependent we’ve been. We spent ALL our time with each other, and he became the most important thing in my life, and not much else. I was so fucking preoccupied with him, and his problems, and his emotions, and how I could avoid upsetting him, how I could help him. And I had no idea how to stand on my own. He was my crutch, and that’s… not healthy. Plus, he made me feel crazy. He made my emotions feels too big and too much and not valid. And that’s fucked up. And who knows, I could have been bad for him too.

I guess at the end of the day… things just happen sometimes. Things don’t work out, because of lots of factors. Things can add up wrong, in ways you’d never expect. People change. And even friendships that long and seemingly sturdy, can just end. Life is fucked up, and nothing is ever certain.

Day 15.

I know going away was the best plan for me. But this weekend was hard. I kind of slipped back into going out and partying and drinking and shit, in order to just turn off for a while. And it was really fun. I was with good people. But as picturesque and serene as France seems, there’s no escaping people trying to escape. We went into Hyères to go to a club, and… well. I was at a club. The obvious thing happened.

And fuck. I think it was harder this time to say no than it was in Vegas. And not because I was unstable, or desperate, or needing to get out of my head. Just because I’m far away from anyone I know… anyone I’m responsible to. Being on vacation like this, for so long, and so far away, and so isolated… I feel like I’m not responsible for anything, to anyone. Like this isn’t really a part of my life. It’s separate. It’s on pause. Whatever happens here won’t carry over, because this isn’t real life. It’s like a dream. I’m already escaped. Ya know? Fuck, I don’t know how to explain it.

I mean. If I did do something here, like relapse or whatever. No one would ever have to know. It would be so fucking easy to keep it a secret. To indulge myself and never really have to face any consequences.

It’s scary. And this is the first time I’ve wanted to go home. Just to have my people around me. And to hold myself accountable to them.

I am working. And that helps. I don’t drink so much at night by myself, or stay up to late, because i gotta be at the docks early. and it feels good to be productive. but feeling good then doesn’t mean i’m not at risk anymore. clearly i am.

I think I just need to refocus on why I’m here, and what I’m doing here. And stay out of clubs and out of those kinds of environments.

(Side note. Having a threesome in france happened as easily as just having a one night stand back home. This place is a hedonist’s dream. Jesus fuck.)

Day 18.

I met a girl on the island. Well… she kind of met me. She heard me playing piano as she was walking down the road, and she just kinda… walked through the open door. It kind of scared the shit out of me, honestly. But she was pretty, and sweet, and apologetic for scaring me. And she complimented me. I closed up the piano as soon as she came in, but she kind of charmed me into relaxing. I hate playing in front of anyone except my family, but she was so lovely, it was too hard to say no.

So she sat with me, and she taught me some French songs. And we talked for a bit, had some tea. And then she ran back to her place while I made us some dinner, and she brought back her fucking violin. I swear, it was the randomest shit, and definitely not the way I ever expected to spend my evening.

But she came back, and we ate, and drank some wine, and then we played together. I showed her some of the stuff I’ve been working on writing, and she helped me clean it up a bit, and then she played along with me. And… well I’ve never played with anyone like that. It was so much fucking fun. And she kind of chided me for hiding away my talent and my passion. She said it was obvious how much I loved playing, and I should never be ashamed of making beauty. She really inspired me. And she made me feel less insecure and strange about my playing, and about my writing. She was the first person I ever showed my songs to, and it wasn’t the worst thing in the whole world, like I always thought it would be. She was really encouraging. And god, she played violin so beautifully.

Maybe I should be more open about my playing and what not. We’ll see.

Day 20. // Letter #2

It's over You don't need to tell me I hope you're with someone who makes you feel safe in your sleeping tonight I won't kill myself, trying to stay in your life I got no distance left to run

When you see me Please turn your back and walk away I don't want to see you Cos i know the dreams that you keep is wearing me When your coming down, think of me here I got no distance left to run

It's over, I knew it would end this way I hope you're with someone who makes you feel That this life is the night And it settles down, stays around Spends more time with you I got no distance left to run

Day 22.

I struggle enough with my own darkness. I fight against it constantly. I couldn't, and can't handle his darkness too. And there's so much. I think anyone that was in the military has so much darkness. It’s inescapable. It’s beat into us, and light is beat out of us just as fast. And I did what I could for him. I really did try so hard, but most times it just didn’t work. Most times I just made it worse. That fucking killed me. I felt so helpless, having to watch him shut down and lash out and pull away and push me away. It killed me. And I need to stop fighting, and forcing it, when he clearly doesn’t want, or need me or my help.

I need to do what I can for myself now. I need people who are brighter, lighter, seeking joy and fun and pleasure and warmth. I can't save him from himself. Maybe Marco can. I hope Marco can. But I'm done killing myself trying, and fighting so hard to stay in his life. I'm done with the struggle. I know relationships and friendships aren't ever easy... but god damn, they should not be that fucking hard.

Day 23.

I think there could be something real between Jonny and me. I think I didn’t completely fuck that up. And I think Javier was right. The door hasn’t been closed on Jonny and I. And I don’t think it ever will. He’s been so good for me lately. He’s always been good for me. Especially in the contrast to all my shit with Javier. Jonny makes me happy. He makes me feel… normal. Not like I’m broken, or crazy, or too sensitive or dramatic. He doesn’t make me feel insecure, or unstable, or scared. He makes me feel… good. He makes me feel strong.

I need to do this right. I need to work out my shit left over from Javier and all the big feelings I had for him. And I need to treat jonny like he deserves. I need to be honest, with myself and with him. I need to stop being selfish. Yeah… I’m gonna do this right. Because he makes me happy, and well. And I think I can do the same for him.

Slanted, broken, bent and fitted wrong A slo-mo incision, you're vicious I miss when you were my favorite song Now I don't know the lyrics anymore

Battleship is sunk, I'm drunk and high My head's desecrated My heart is still alive I wore out all my welcomes I'm done with being selfish And I know we're both better off Even though it doesn't feel that way at all When a new one does come along I'm just hoping I'll be ready for the fall

Day 24.

I think I'm scared to go home.

I'm sitting in JFK, waiting to board my flight, watching the minutes tick by, and I want to pause time. For just a little longer. A little longer of being away, of not being a part of real life, of not having to go back and put my life back together. I hate feeling fucking anxious.

It's been good, to be away, and I really have been dealing with shit. But... I still ran away. From everything. From my normal life that I can't not go back to. I still have to go back, and figure out how to move on with my life. I have to go home, and take all the shit he left there and... do something with it. Put pictures in a box. Put special gifts in there too. Really end that part of my life. And come to terms with that.

And fuck, I have to be in the same city as him and his fucking criminal. And god, I don't want to see either of them. But Vegas seems weirdly smaller than it actually is, and I run into fucking people all the time. At the worst possible moment too. And I just don't want to fucking see either of them.

But my family is there. My people are there. My job is there. And fuck, it just feels stupid to not want to be there, just because I'll be in the same city as him.

I'm trying to think of all the exciting things. Seeing Jeev now that he's back, seeing my mama and auntie and the girls. Seeing my dogs!! Being able to be there for my people. Seeing Jonny... and whatever that is going to turn into.

Fuck, I don't know. It'll be fine. I just... I'm not completely healed. I'm not completely over it. My work is far from over. And that scares me. Healing is fucking hard. Especially with all my other shit on top of it. And having to go back to work and... be a person.

I know it's going to be hard. But I'll be okay. No more ignoring shit. I can do this.

God, I really am excited to see Jonny.

How my thoughts they spin me 'round And how my thoughts they let me down

And how my dreams they spin me 'round And how my dreams they let me down

Then there's you, Then there's you

And how my love it spins me 'round And how my love it's let me down

Then there's you, Then there's you

You know I know that you know I've written it on myself if you can't tell

How my days they spin me 'round And how today it sets me down

Alongside you

#{ it's just me || self para }#{ jaxon's european adventures }#{ save }

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