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phillippadgettwrites · 3 months

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Dropped Call, Chapter 2

Rated X / 3700 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

They’re in Lakeland, Florida and it’s been pissing rain since they hit the tarmac in Tampa. Between the inability to keep his loafers dry, the fact that he forgot his glasses, and the lack of cable in his motel room, Mulder is in a seriously bad fucking mood. He even turned down dinner with Scully, something that is typically the highlight of his day on assignment, to spare her from his grouchiness. He always hates himself when he’s an asshole to her for no justifiable reason, and right now he doesn’t possess the capacity to regulate his emotions as effectively as he’d need to to avoid it.

At this point, he’s come to the conclusion that the phone call was some kind of hyper-realistic dream or fantasy. Given, the facts don’t totally line up in support of that theory, but it’s easier to operate under the belief that it never happened than it is to accept the idea that it did happen but will never be spoken of, much less acted on. Easier than accepting that he unwittingly divulged graphic details regarding his sexual fantasies about Scully to Scully herself, and she was so horrified that she can only cope by acting as though the phone call never took place at all.

But was she really horrified? His memory of the exact words spoken by each of them isn’t especially sharp, given that he thought he was speaking to Electra, but he’s pretty sure he remembers her asking him questions, goading him into sharing more. And he knows that he correctly recalls what she said about “enjoying other meals,” because by then he knew exactly what he’d done and who he was speaking to, and the high he experienced in light of her confession lasted well into the following day, right up until he knocked on her door with a paper bag containing tom kah gai in hand.

She hadn’t acted strangely, aside from the general lethargy caused by her cold, and that in itself struck him as strange. She ate her soup, smiled at him while he detailed the creative ways he’d wasted time that morning in her absence, and then yawned and said she was going to take a nap. It’s not that he was expecting her to bring up the phone call or kiss him goodbye or something, but he thought things would feel…different. He certainly felt different.

But weeks have passed, and she has more than fully recovered from her cold, yet there is nary a hint of increased sexual tension between the two of them. In fact, there’s been a distinct lack of their typical casual flirtations, almost like they’ve regressed. What conclusion can he come to other than she’s just not interested? She seems to want to pretend it never happened, and for lack of a better option he’s done the same.

He calls the front desk again, hoping that he’ll get someone other than the exceedingly unhelpful young man who offered apologies regarding the lack of cable, but no solutions. After speaking to the night shift manager at length, his options are to move to a room clear on the other side of the complex, or go without.

“Let me think about it and call you back,” he says, then slams the phone down on the receiver with more force than is necessary and flops onto the bed.

Within seconds the phone is ringing and he picks it back up, expecting to hear the night manager on the other end.

“Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

He can hear the ghost of her voice through the poorly insulated wall between their rooms, a murmuring, indecipherable vibration.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I was going to ask if you wanted the rest of this pizza, but I kept getting a busy signal so it’s probably cold now,” she says.

“I’ll never understand your aversion to cold pizza,” he says.

She makes a noncommittal little noise, and then they are quiet for a beat.

“So who were you talking to?” she asks.

Her voice is a bit higher than normal, giving away her attempt to appear disinterested in the answer, and that, in turn, piques Mulder’s curiosity.

“Who do you think?” he replies, just to see what she’ll say.

Scully scoffs as though this confirms what she already suspected.

“Please send my regards to Electra,” she snarks. The reference to their previously unmentionable phone call sends a shock of adrenaline through him. He can’t think of anything to say, so he just doesn’t say anything. “What time do you want to head out tomorrow?” Scully says quickly, changing the subject, and he can nearly feel her embarrassment radiating through the wall.

“Nine?” he suggests, and she grunts her agreement. There’s another pregnant pause, and he decides to seize the opportunity. “I told Electra about what happened,” he says, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

“Oh?” Scully says after a beat.

“Mmhmm,” Mulder replies, summoning courage. “She said you’re going to put her out of a job.”

Scully huffs an uncomfortable little laugh.

“I highly doubt that,” she says quietly.

They’ve never had an issue with awkward silences. As many hours as they spend in one another’s company, it’s just not possible to avoid lulls in conversation, and he’s long appreciated the fact that Scully doesn’t try to fill them with meaningless drivel. An unfortunate side effect of this is that on those occasions where they are intentionally avoiding a specific topic of conversation, the weight of those unfilled silences is practically unbearable.

He wants to ask her so many questions. Why didn't she tell him it was her? Was she disgusted by what he said? What did her cryptic comment about “enjoying other meals” really mean? Is this a door she never wants to open, or does she just need him to open it for her so they can both walk through?

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he blurts out, inexplicably compelled to keep them on this subject. “We’ve never talked about it, but I realize that it was probably really weird for you and…sorry.”

Part of him knows he’s fishing for information. If she accepts his apology, he can take that to mean that an apology was due. If she refutes the need for one, that will tell him something entirely different.

She doesn’t do either of those things.

“Well, I could have hung up,” she says, her tone inscrutable.

“But you didn’t,” he says, equally ambiguous.

“No,” she says.

The silence is so fucking heavy it makes him feel sick.

“Why is that?” he ventures. “Just out of curiosity.”

He hears her pull in a slow, deep breath and then expel it in a huff.

“I’m not sure,” she finally says. He can’t tell whether she’s obfuscating.

“Were you offended?”

“...No.”

“Surprised?”

“Very.”

“Was that surprise of the pleasant or unpleasant variety?” he asks, switching the handset from one ear to the other so he can wipe his sweaty palms on the bedspread.

He’s listening so intently that he hears both the wet sounds of her tongue moving around inside her mouth in search of words, as well as the creak of bed springs as she shifts uncomfortably on the mattress.

“I’m not sure how to answer that,” she says after a time.

What the fuck does that mean? He wonders. He could logically conclude that she was into it, between the not hanging up, the asking of questions, and the hesitance to outright say whether it bothered her. But this is Scully, and the risk of making an incorrect assumption is not one he is willing to take.

“How long have you been talking to her?” she asks, and at first he doesn’t understand the question. Talking to who?

“Oh, I was actually talking to the front desk,” he says, realizing that he never corrected her. “The cable in my room is out.”

“Oh,” she says. “So you didn’t really tell her about what happened?”

Her tone is strange and foreign to him. She sounds uncertain, insecure almost.

“I did, a few weeks ago.”

“Hm.”

“To answer your question, I’ve been talking to her for….I guess a little over a year now,” he says.

This would typically be an embarrassing thing to disclose, but her active participation in a phone call of the same nature makes him feel like she doesn’t really have a place to judge. He also finds her curiosity regarding Electra compelling, though he can’t really say why.

“Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “That’s a long time. With one person, I mean.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

He can tell there’s something she’s not saying. Something she wants to ask him, or wants to know but is unwilling to ask. He has an overwhelming urge to tell her everything, to detail the ways that talking to Electra helps him cope with having to bury his feelings for Scully every weekday between the hours of 9-5, plus most weekends. He wants to tell her that it’s not just about sex, though it was the night he ended up with her on the line. That Electra knows exactly what Scully looks like, down to the little mole on her upper lip, and that she snorts if he manages to make her laugh hard enough. That for every time he’s jerked off while telling Electra what he wishes he could do with Scully physically, there were two phone calls where he kept his pants on and told her how tormented he is by his inability to get closer to her emotionally.

“It’s not always like that,” he says, opting for a less detailed disclosure. “Most of the time when I talk to her, we just talk.”

“About what?” she asks, and he immediately feels his face get hot.

“I feel like you already know the answer to that,” he says, equally mortified and irritated. It doesn’t seem fair for her to feign ignorance at this point.

Scully is quiet, but he knows her mind is racing. He can feel it, a frenetic crackle against the shell of his ear.

“I guess I do,” she says when he’s just about to ask if she’s still there. “I don’t want you to think…” she starts. He waits for her to find the right words. “I don’t want you to think I was offended or that I’m upset about what happened,” she says carefully. “I realize that it might seem like I am, so I just wanted you to know that I’m not.”

“Okay,” he says uncertainly. This is good news, in a way, but it’s also non-news.

“I also owe you an apology,” she continues. “It was inappropriate of me not to tell you as soon as I realized. I violated your privacy, and I’m very sorry for that.”

“No apology needed,” he says. A beat passes. This is ridiculous. “Can we just—Look, I know this is awkward, and I know you’re a private person, but can we just—”

“I don’t think I’m ready to do that,” she interrupts him, her voice urgent and a little afraid.

He takes a moment to absorb this.

“You’re not ready to talk about it,” he says, and she hums in confirmation. “But you’re….interested? Open to it? Eventually?”

“Eventually,” she repeats. “Not now.”

“Okay,” he says, satisfied that he understands the situation. “I can and will respect that.”

“Thank you.”

“See you at 9 tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

He hangs up the phone and folds his hands over his belly, staring at the dusty popcorn ceiling as he thinks back through it all. A little smile plays at the corners of his mouth. Eventually isn’t something he can necessarily look forward to, but it’s a hell of a lot better than never.

The phone rings, and reaches across the nightstand to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

Mulder’s eyebrows furrow. The voice is definitely female, but he can’t immediately place it

“Hi. Who’s this?”

The caller clears her throat.

“Uh, this is…it’s Electra,” she says.

A hot flush spreads out over his entire body, and there’s a slight ringing in his ears.

“Hi,” he says, sitting up. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” she says. “What are you doing?”

He hears the vibration of her voice from the other side of the wall, the cadence of it a millisecond ahead of what comes to his ear through the phone.

“I’m just relaxing,” he says. He suddenly doesn’t know how to behave. “I’m at a motel and there’s no cable in my room.”

“Oh no,” she says. “What are you going to do to entertain yourself?”

Her tone is awkward and unconfident, but he understands what she’s going for and plays along.

“I don’t know,” he says, swinging his feet over the side of the bed. “Any ideas?”

“Well,” she says, her voice just this side of shaky. “You could tell me about another one of your fantasies, if you want.”

There is a rush of blood to his lap that makes him momentarily lightheaded. She’s really doing this.

“Okay,” he says, but his mind goes blank. What is she hoping to hear? What if he says something she finds offensive? This is a lot harder when he knows it’s Scully he’s talking to. “Give me a second to think of something.”

“Last time we talked, you said you had other fantasies of the same nature,” she says hesitantly.

“I do,” he confirms. “I just…sorry, you just caught me off guard.”

“I can relate,” she says with just a hint of coyness, and that makes him relax a little.

He lays back down on the bed and closes his eyes. If he’s going to do this, he has to pretend it’s really Electra on the line.

“Okay,” he says. “Something that’s important to know for context is that she loves to take baths.”

“She?”

Mulder opens his eyes, taken out of the moment. He never has to specify with Electra; there’s only one “she” he’s ever referring to.

“My partner,” he says reluctantly.

“Oh,” she replies. “Okay, go ahead.”

Mulder closes his eyes again and lets the image of his fantasy fill his mind. The tiled walls of Scully’s bathroom, the bright smell of her lavender bubble bath, her dirty clothes in a heap on the floor by the tub.

“One of my fantasies is that I stop by her apartment unannounced, and I hear her call out for me to let myself in. So I use my key, and once I’m inside she tells me that she’s in the bath.” He pauses to see if she has any commentary on this, but she says nothing. “I start talking to her through the door, which is something I’ve done a handful of times, but in my fantasy she tells me to come in.” Another pause. All he hears is her even breathing. “She’s in the bath, but it’s so full of bubbles that I can’t see anything. I sit on a little stool beside the tub and we keep talking.”

His heart is pounding. He can’t just say this to her.

“And then what?” she asks. Mulder swallows.

“And then…I end up touching her under the bubbles,” he says, glazing over the rest of the details and making use of a euphemism.

Scully laughs a little.

“I think you may have skipped some things,” she says gently, and he cringes.

“Sorry. I don’t want to be too graphic.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m worried I’ll offend you,” he says.

“What if I promise not to be offended?” she offers.

“Is that something you can reasonably promise?”

“I guess we’ll find out.”

“Okay,” Mulder says, sucking in a steadying breath. “I’m sitting next to the tub and we’re talking. After a while some of the bubbles start to dissolve and I can kind of see her body. Not details, just sort of the contrast of her skin, and—” he pauses, then forces himself to say the next part. “I can see darker areas, like her nipples and her pubic hair.”

Scully hums, an indication that she’s following along. That she’s listening.

“She’s talking about how much stress she’s been under. I think in the fantasy I kind of know that she’s been having a hard time and I’m worried about her.”

“Interesting,” Scully says, her voice breathy.

“Why is that interesting?” he asks.

“Oh…just…I guess I find it interesting that her emotional state factors into your fantasy,” she observes without judgment. “That was also true in the previous fantasy you shared.”

He doesn’t miss the fact that she’s referring to herself in the third person. And she isn’t wrong.

“So she’s talking about how stressed out she is,” he continues, shifting his hips around as his erection begs to be touched, “and I tell her I can help. I ask if she’ll let me.”

“What do you say, exactly?” she asks.

He reaches down and gives his cock a squeeze. “I say something like, ‘I know what you need,’ and then I look at her body under the bubbles. I’m not very explicit.”

“Why?”

“Because in this fantasy we’ve never done anything like that before, so I wouldn’t just come out and say it directly. That would be too forward for her.”

“So you want it to be realistic?” she asks.

“Sometimes.”

“Okay, so you tell her that you know what she needs. What does she say?” Scully says, getting them back on track.

“She doesn’t really say anything. Her eyes get wide, and she looks down and realizes that she’s slowly being exposed. She’s embarrassed, but she’s also excited.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s not telling me to get the fuck out of her bathroom,” he says lightly, and she laughs.

“So what do you do next?”

“I reach out and touch her knee, which is above the water. And then I watch her face as I run my fingers down the inside of her thigh.”

“You don’t kiss her?”

“Not yet.”

“Does she stop you?”

“No. She just looks at me. Her eyes are still all big and her mouth is open. She’s breathing hard. And then she moves her other leg to the side.” He swears he hears the tiniest little moan slip through the phone. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What?” she asks, though it’s unclear whether she’s asking what his question is or if she’s just confused by his divergence from the story.

“When we talked before, when I told you about my other fantasy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Were you, um…did you touch yourself?”

She’s quiet for so long that he gets his dick out and gives it a few strokes before leaving it to rest, stiff and aching, against his belly.

“Yes.”

His dick lurches, standing at attention briefly before it flops to the side. He doesn’t want to come before this is over, lest his post-nut clarity ruin the rest of the experience, so he tries to touch it as little as possible.

“She moves her other leg to the side so I know without a doubt that she wants it. When I touch her, she closes her eyes and moans right away. Even under the water I can feel how wet she is. How slippery. I ask her again to let me help, but this time I say, ‘let me make you come, Scully.’”

She gasps a little, and he realizes that he used her name. He’s never used her name with Electra.

“What does she say?” Scully asks, nearly whining. Her voice is high and tight, and he wants to know so badly if she’s touching herself again now.

“She says, ‘we can’t.’ But she’s pushing her hips into my hand even when she’s saying it so I don’t stop. I know she wants it. I put one finger inside her and she just…she melts.”

“Oh,” Scully breathes out. It’s unclear whether it’s commentary on the story or a vocalization of whatever she’s doing over there.

“I get rid of the stool and I kneel beside the tub so I can kind of lean over into it for leverage. And that’s when I kiss her. Or I try to, but she can barely kiss because of what I’m doing to her with my hand. I add a second finger and she’s throbbing like crazy.”

“Yes,” Scully says in encouragement.

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks quickly, his tone unchanged from his narration.

“Yes,” she says again.

Mulder squeezes his cock in his fist.

“Me too.”

Another, “Oh.”

“I curl my fingers up towards her belly, and then I get my thumb on her clit. She’s holding on to the sides of the tub for leverage and practically fucking my hand, she wants it so bad.”

“Uh huh.”

He can’t hold back anymore. He strokes his cock frantically fast, pumping his hips up off the mattress as though thrusting. He no longer has the capacity to worry about how graphic he’s being.

“Then she comes. She comes so hard she can’t speak, can’t breathe. And her cunt is just…god she’s so tight. And all I can think about is how good it would feel to be inside her when she’s coming.”

Scully gasps, and suddenly the line goes dead. Through the wall, he hears a long, low moan, and then a series of high staccato whimpers. He explodes forcefully into his own hand, sending ropes of cum up as far as his chest and completely defiling his last clean T-shirt. He still has the phone propped against his ear and his cock in hand, slippery and quickly softening, when he hears a click, and then her voice comes back through the open line.

“Mulder?”

He sits up quickly, which makes his head spin.

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking, can we leave at 8:30 tomorrow? I’d like to stop for some decent coffee if we can make time.”

Mulder blinks stupidly, disoriented.

“Uh, yeah, 8:30 is fine. Are you…you’re good?”

“Yeah, I’m great,” she says simply.

“Okay. Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

Mulder sets the phone back on the receiver and looks down at his cum-streaked lap and belly. That absolutely happened, there is no doubt in his mind.

#x files fanfic #the x files #xf fic #xf fanfic

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muneca-lemon-steppa · 5 months

Note

Congratulations!

Can you do “Why do you need my approval?” W/Santiago Garcia?

Thanks!

100 Follower Celebration: Don’t Be Stupid

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x F!Reader

Warnings: Aggressive and Possessive Santi, language, allusions to creepy older men, bad Spanish because I’m a no sabo

A/N: Hello angels!!! I know that this isn’t my typical bread and butter but… this is my guilty pleasure and I had soooooo much fun writing this. A couple of housekeeping measures… I am a no sabo kid. To my non Latinx friends that means that while I am Latinx, and did speak Spanish as a primary language for the first 5 years, I was moved to another part of the country and lost my ability to speak Spanish. So I’m trying to learn it again. It’s hard. For my Spanish speaking sisters and brothers, give me so grace, because I am trying. Secondly, I think I have two more 100 follower Drabbles, and then we can finish Interviews for New Beginnings and the other requests I got! Love you all so much my darlings!! Have a wonderful dayyyyy - Mo 💕

Summer nights in Florida were always far too hot. It was the price of living in paradise. The heat of the afternoon's sun baked into the pavement and stucco walls now radiated back onto your thinly covered body. The surrounding water made the air far too wet, and immediately upon going into the outside air did you feel the thin film of sweat and honeyed air cling to your face, arms and legs. Summer nights were brutal in heaven.

But you would never leave it. Not for a million dollars. And neither would your Delta Force boys.

It was on these brutal nights where you tried to beat the heat and the stickiness by going out to the dive bars in Ybor City, the smaller and rowdier younger sister of Tampa. The crowds were easy to get lost in, and the music was thumping no matter where you stood; which was just the medicine you and your friends needed on a night like this.

In the back corner of such a bar, you were squished between Frankie and Santi, trying to fit in the massive and unruly Ben and Will to this too small table. "Whats good boys!? And baby girl, looking beautiful as always." Ben laughed out with a toothy grin. He was always all too happy to be with you all. And if a night out also involved a couple drinks, he was more in paradise than usual.

You laughed mirthlessly at his flirtatious jokes. He always threw one your way whenever he got the chance. You only wished that Pope would do the same.

Though you met the rest of the boys when you joined the Delta Force, you had actually known Santi since middle school. Your mom moved you both to the apartment next to his back in the 6th grade. When the creepy older men were harassing you on the way down to the school bus, Santi stepped in. And from that day on you never walked to the bus, or rode the bus alone. He kept the creeps and bullies away. You helped him with his math homework. Perfect partners. Best friends. A perfect pair. And God how you were in love with him.

You both had had your flings and boyfriends and girlfriends. But they all came and went. You were there and he was there when it eventually went to out the window. Some times you wondered if maybe he felt the same ache in his chest as you. But you pushed it to the side. He never saw you that way. He never would. You were best friends. A sister to him. It would never be more. And it never bothered you until recently. Maybe it was because you were getting older. Maybe it was because your girlfriends were having babies and in serious and solid relationships. Yet you were still here. Drinking barely cool enough beer with the Delta Force ding bats. You loved them. You loved them more than life and would and have put your life on the line for them. But you were getting older. You wanted to be seen as a woman. Not just another teammate.

Santi smirked and ruffled your head like a child, messing up the hair you had corralled into a pony tail, "Chiqitita muñeca is pissy tonight. Heat is getting too much for her."

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away. Frankie looked up from his ever present hat, "Pissed because she is stuck next to you and you won't let her up. Querida vamos. Let's get you another drink. This white boy at the bar has been giving you eyes all night and I wanna put him out of his misery."

Benny and Will whooped and laughed and your eyes widened, "Fish stop no he's not."

Frankie stood up, stretching out his long limbs and shaking his head, "He is. C'mon you haven't been putting yourself out there and it's dumb."

Frankie was right. You hadn't. In the past 3 years you hadn't even gone on a date because you were hoping, HOPING, that Santi would maybe make a move. That he would do something. But he hadn't. And you were tired of waiting. Frankie pulled you by the hand out of the booth and out of Santi's orbit. You smoothed out your cotton sundress, turning to the rest of the boys in the booth you hold yourself out to be appraised, "Yay or nay? Do I look gross?"

Will gave a thumbs up while Beni gave theatrical worshipping bows, "Hot sexy hot sexy hot sexy. Go get em tiger."

You noticed that Pope hadn't said anything, you turned to him waiting, "Pope??"

Eyes stern and cold he didn't even look up from his beer, "Why do you need my approval?"

You stomach dropped, and your face crumpled. Frankie rolled his eyes, "Coño la madre, don't listen to Pope you know how he gets when he's PMSing. You look nice. C'mon white boy is waiting. "

White boy was indeed waiting for you. His name was Connor. Clean cut. Not a Florida native which you clocked before you even made it up there. Worked in financing in downtown. Loved the Florida lifestyle but was still getting used to it. Super polite. Cute. And wanted to get to know you and buy you drinks and call you pretty. Soon any insecurity you had about Pope was miles away.

Frankie was pleased with himself, and brought back a round of beers to the table. Will and Benny were snickering in their seats, and Santi... well... Santi was fuming.

"What the fuck was that Fish?"

Smirking, he took a sip of his drink, "Que paso? No te queires chiqitita si?"

"Cabron, tu sabes quiero ella."

Benny cut in, "Hey hey hey. Don't let the gringos out man! Pope why are you getting pissed off? Nothing happened?"

Will spoke up, "He's pissed because Frankie basically delivered Chiqi to khakis boy over there."

Benny shrugged, "And??"

Will turned to him, looking as if Benny had grown another head, "And... Pope has been in love with Chiqi this entire time?? And Frankie knows that?? Benny did you get too many punches to the head or something?"

Benny’s eyes widen. The pieces fitting together. Will rolled his eyes, but Santi couldn’t care less. He was enraged with Fish. And Fish didn’t even care!! Fish knew that Santi had been in love with you for years. That he wanted you more than anything or anyone. That he had purposefully cut in on past relationships to keep you to himself. That he had building the courage to finally ask you to be his and only his. And yes here comes Fish. Delivering you to some… to some guy at a bar?

Frankie finished his beer and looked into his best friend’s eyes, “Hermano… I love you man. But you’re being a little bitch. No in fact you’ve been a bitch. Chiqi has been free and available for three years and you’ve done nothing about it. She’s clearly head over heels for you and you have been tiptoeing around it for no reason. You’re stupid. Chiqi deserves more. And if you’re angry about it you can go fix it.”

Frankie held his arm opened, lighting the way to you. He saw you laughing, your smile bright, things that he wanted to reserve for him and him alone. The things he had said were for him. The moment he saw Khaki’s hand brush up on your thigh, he saw red. He downed the rest of the beer that Frankie had gotten for him, and pushed his way out of the booth. The whoops and laughs from his brothers faded into the buzz behind him as he made his way to you.

“So… if it’s alright with you, I’d really like to take you out to dinner. Maybe next week?”

Connor was cute you thought. Not the same breathtaking handsomeness that Santi had, but Connor looked sweet. He looked honest. He would do for a boyfriend. You smiled, about to accept and give him your number, when Santi shoves himself in between you and Connor. “Oye Chiqi. Come dance.”

Connor gets up to look at you, “Hey man she’s with me relax.”

Santi turned around, “She’s not actually she came with me.”

You pushed Santi’a shoulder, “What the hell bro? Connor I’m sorry. This is Santi, we grew up together and he’s stupid protective and drunk. Santi can you please go back with Frankie I’m talking to someone.”

Without looking away from Connor Santi answers, “mm not drunk. I’m just making clear what’s mine.”

Connor looks at you and then Santi. Before he sheepishly smiles, “It was nice meeting you. I hope you guys figure things out.”

Connor walks away and you feel the rage building inside you, as Santi triumphantly turns back to you. You shove Santi’s shoulder, barely moving him, “You’re such a fucking asshole Pope. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Dance with me.”

“I’m not fucking dancing with you.”

He rolls his eyes and pulls you to the dance floor despite your protests, your skin burning in shock and anger where his hand clutches your wrist. You make it to the center, him hungrily grasping at your waist. You’re pissed off but also so confused at this change in temperature. Santi won’t stop looking at you. Those dark lashes attempting to hypnotize you back into his orbit. He brings his mouth to your ear, “When’s the last time you danced with me Chiqi?”

You scoffed, but brought your arms to wrap around his neck as he tugged you closer, chest to chest, “Senior prom. After Michael Vazquez left me for Torrence Sheltzer. And I stepped on your toes all night.”

He laughed, “Michael was such an idiot.”

You stay like that. The bass coursing through your body, right in time with the pounding of your heart against Santi’s chest. He was always a good dancer. Too good of a dancer, it was almost obscene the way he had you moving against him. You don’t know how long you had been spinning, and you had to rest your head on his shoulder because of how light headed you became.

“You shouldn’t have done that Pope. He was nice.”

“He was a wimp. Wouldn’t be able to take care of you.”

“What you’re going to chase away any man who comes up to me? I’m tired of being alone.”

“You’re not alone. You have me.”

“You know what I mean.”

He pulled your face off his shoulder to make you look in his eyes, “I do know. And i know what I said. You have me. You’re mine. I’m yours.”

You feel tears in your eyes. Either from the smoke, the alcohol, or the embarrassment, “Santi stop being stupid. You’re being mean. You know I love you and you’re making fun of me.”

He presses his dry lips to the tear that escapes your eye, then puts his forehead to yours, “I’m not Chiqi. I’m not. Chiqi I’ve loved you since the 8th grade. I’ve hated every one of your little boyfriends and I’ve coveted you for years. I’m not joking.”

“Then why haven’t you said anything? Why didn’t you come get me when I was right here?”

The tears fall more now. And he keep kissing your cheeks to remove them, “Because I’m an asshole. I’m a fucking asshole who was too afraid of you saying no. Too afraid of when you left. I didn’t want to lose you. But I can’t take it anymore Chiqi. I can’t take another boyfriend. I’m selfish. I’m a selfish asshole. I want you for myself. I want you to yell at me and call me stupid as long as it means you never leave my place and you never leave my side. Cmon Chiqi…. Let me call you mine.”

You stared at him. He was telling the truth. He was being raw and real and you knew that this wasn’t some act. This was Santi in his rawest form. He wanted you. You brought your hand around to squeeze his cheeks together, “I want you to take me on a date. A real one. Not the bar or the bowling alley with the boys. I want dinner that you pay for. And flowers. And for you to wear a real shirt.”

He shakes your hand off and smiles, “Tomorrow night. I take you to The Colombia. I pick you up. With roses.”

“Do I get to order flan?”

He smiles even wider, “Only if you let me feed it to you like those stupid romance books you read.”

You shove him and he laughs and pulls you closer, “Kiss me and seal the deal Chiqitita. C’mon don’t be mad. Kiss me and tell me you’re mine.”

You couldn’t keep yourself from laughing, making him work for your kiss. You finally relent, pulling him in for the best kiss ever. The best kiss of your life. Until tomorrow’s

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia #Santiago ‘pope’ Garcia #santiago garcia x you #Santiago Garcia x y/n #oscar isaac #Oscar Isaac Characters #100 follower celebration

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butch-reidentified · 2 months

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What's living in Florida like as a lesbian? Most (liberal) people I talk to balk when I say I'm considering moving there because they all think it's populated exclusively by bigoted swamp creatures, but I don't want to listen to stereotapes from people who've never lived there. I know what the politics are like there, but what about day-to-day living/homophobia?

I tell people this CONSTANTLY but nobody seems to grasp it: while Florida has very red areas (every state does), especially rurally and in the panhandle (which shouldn't even be part of FL imho), all of the actual cities (like Tampa, St. Pete, Orlando, Miami, Fort Lauderdale) are very much blue and pretty fun to live in. they also all have LGBT+ (ofc the + is everywhere now) events and communities and parts of town etc. I love it here and have had practically zero issues being an extremely gnc lesbian here, except when I lived in Sarasota (red town with a lot of money - sucks ass) and got legally fired for being gay back in early 2020. that could've happened in a red town almost anywhere before it was illegal.

I've even had really fun, awesome experiences chatting (about what it's like to be a lesbian) with conservative white dudes in their gun store - more than once! actually if I'm being completely honest, I've had fewer sexist and homophobic experiences with conservative men in the past few years than with liberals. and yes, pretty much all the negative experiences with liberals were an obvious product of gender identity ideology. it's just so incredibly disappointing that I can reasonably expect a random conservative male I run into in the wild to be more normal about female homosexuality (including butchness!) than a liberal of either sex I run into in the wild. how the FUCK did that happen? I hate it here lmao

#mine #ask #anon #anon ask #lesbian experiences #south florida #Florida lesbians #radblr #gender identity ideology #gender critical

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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gimme! gimme! gimme! ( a man after midnight ) // marcus armstrong

summary: after graduating college and moving back home to sebring, florida to live with her parents, y/n becomes infatuated with the young man from new zealand who just moved in across the street

pairing: marcus armstrong x female! reader

warnings: money troubles, moving back in with the parents and losing the independence that comes with being a college student living on your own, parental expectations, difficult sibling relationship, implied smut,

author's note: why did it take me this long to write for marcus my beloved? i also kind of hate the ending but i wasn't sure where to end it soooooo

the sebring sun beat down against the road, heat waves visibly radiating off the pavement as y/n turned down on to the street where she grew up.

a street she swore she'd never come back to, until she realized that she couldn't afford to live anywhere else.

her manicured fingers tapped against the steering wheel in rapid succession as the bass guitar thrumming from the asking alexandria album she was listening to completely shook the chassis of her pickup truck.

well, her dad's old pickup truck.

a new car wasn't an expense that she could afford while she was away at school. but she loved that old truck like her life depended on it, right down to the squishy silicone alien bobblehead that sat on the dashboard, the stack of cd's that rested in the center console, the truck itself too old for bluetooth.

she turned on to her interlock driveway, defeatedly parking the truck behind her mother's five year old mercedes. she had just bought that car when y/n went off to school.

the y/l/n's weren't poor by any means: they still had money for family vacations, renovations on the house, to send their daughter to university. but they lived within their means, which meant budgeting out what was necessary and important and what was not.

and sometimes that meant making sacrifices. like moving back with your parents and younger sister after finishing your higher education pathway.

now she had a diploma, but no job, no house, no boyfriend and no prospects.

she cut the engine, deciding that it was better just to rip the band aid off now as she leaped from the cab of the truck, grabbed her backpack from the back seat and began the walk of shame to the front door.

"hey, mom." she said with a small, sad smile as her mother opened the front door, engulfing her in a warm, motherly embrace that made the smile on y/n's face grow a little happier.

"welcome home, sweetheart. let me go find your father and we'll help you bring your things inside."

ten minutes later, the y/l/n family, with the exception of y/n's sister shiloh, who was nowhere to be found, stood on the driveway with a foldable wagon cart from costco, unloading cardboard boxes and massive plastic tupperware containers from the flatbed of the old ford truck.

as nice as it was to be home, she felt like she was losing her independence.

she stacked a cardboard box in the cart before pressing up on her tip toes and leaning back to stretch her arms and her back, limbs still stiff from the drive in from tampa.

she paused to take a look around the neighborhood, taking in how much it had all changed. house prices had skyrocketed in the last ten years, and now the houses in the area were almost triple the price that her father had paid in the early nineties when he first bought the house.

but what really stuck out to her was the bright red high end mercedes amg sports car that sat in the driveway of the house across the street. the house that once belonged to the nice old woman that babysat y/n and shiloh when they were kids.

"who bought the noonan house?"

her father stopped moving boxes to look over at the house across the street. "oh, his name is marcus. great young man, he's about your age."

"he's my age and he can afford a house, while i have to move back in with you lot? that's absolutely fucking great." y/n groaned, looking back at the house. "and that car is at least three times the cost of mom's, and that's without the upgrade package."

her dad shrugged. "If you had taken my advice and gone into trades, that could have been you, kiddo."

"oh, fuck off."

"hey, watch your language." her mom warned, taking a tupperware container up to the front door. "he's a sweet, hardworking young man."

"what does he do for work?"

"he works in the automotive industry."

"and that's why you like him so much." she sighed, grabbing the handle of the wagon and following her mother back up to the house.

her father had always had big expectations for her. cars were the family legacy: her father's father had been the groundskeeper at sebring international speedway. her father had worked the assembly line at chevrolet before retiring and opening his own garage where he restored custom cars as a side hustle. she had been expected to also go into the automotive trade, as the son her father never had.

but that hadn't been what she wanted, as much as she loved cars. she'd been watching endurance races at sebring since before she could walk, and she learned how to use a monkey wrench before she learned what a curling iron did. her real calling was business. the four years of human resources training, and the diploma that had been mailed to her house had proven that.

she wasn't sure if her father had even hung it up anywhere.

she walked down the hallway, gingerly opening the pristine white door to her childhood bedroom. the walls were still painted the same pale purple, cluttered with canvasses that she had painted years ago, a twin bed in the middle of the room with a white down comforter and a pile of build a bears resting against the pillows.

"welcome home, y/n." she sighed to herself.

--------

three days later, the only peace that she could get was outside with the cicadas and the mosquitos. given sebring's proximity to the everglades, there was no small number of pests hovering in the muggy summer air as y/n pulled her hair back and popped open the hood of the pickup truck. there was a ratchet in her back pocket and a cropped, grease-stained white tank top.

any color darker than that and she feared she would get heat stroke.

she leaned over the engine, radio playing in the background as she began to fight with the engine's glow plugs, which she had been meaning to replace for almost a week.

"stupid fucking glow plugs. they're the easiest thing to replace, he said. it's easier to do it yourself, he said. well, why don't you fucking do it yourself, father dearest." she muttered, losing grip on the ratchet again and trying not to kick at the tyres. "motherfucker."

her head was still under the hood when the guest came strolling up her driveway.

"do you need help with that?"

"no, i don't need help, especially not from a man." she snapped, turning to look at the man standing across from her. "i can change a glow plug myself, thank you very much."

the man smirked. "well, i don't even know what a glow plug is, so you already know more than me."

withdrawing from the engine block, she twirled the ratchet in her hands as she turned to look at the man. "where's that accent from?"

"new zealand. i'm marcus, i live across the street."

she narrowed her eyes. this kiwi beanpole was the man that her father was so entranced with? this beanpole who didn't even know what a glow plug was worked in the automotive industry?

"y/n. my father speaks highly of you." she nodded in the direction of marcus' house. "you bought the noonan house? mrs. noonan was my babysitter, you know. from when i was five until i was fifteen. i loved that old woman."

"your dad did all the interior work for me. he's a craftsman, that's for sure." marcus nodded along. "back from uni for a few weeks?"

she'd deny it if you asked, but that statement cut deep. what hurt even more was that she would have to admit to him that she was moving back in with her parents. that she couldn't afford to maintain her independence, stand on her own two feet.

"actually, i just moved back home for good. i can't afford to move out." she sighed, moving to sit on the front steps of the house. "i forgot how hard my family was to live with. i've only been home for three days and i swear i've come this close to strangling shiloh. have you met shiloh yet?"

marcus laughed. "she's a firecracker. i don't think she likes me very much."

y/n grinned, inviting marcus to sit next to her. "she's sixteen. i don't think she likes anybody. ever since she dyed her hair black and got her nose pierced, she's been a different person. a person that i don't know how to relate to any more."

"i'm sure she'll come around. my sister is like, the complete opposite of me. paris thinks i'm full of shit half the time, but we love each other still. i know paris will always be there for me, and i'll always be there for paris."

y/n gestured at the car in marcus' driveway. "so how does a guy like you afford an amg and a three bedroom family home? because you sure as hell don't work in the automotive industry."

marcus raised an eyebrow, a small gesture that made her stomach do somersaults for reasons she couldn't explain. "what makes you so sure?"

"you didn't even know what a glow plug is. all diesel engines need them to run. i learned that when i was twelve years old, you would have learned in high school auto shop. so what do you really do? stripping? black market drugs?"

the kiwi laughed, throwing his head back. "i'm a podcaster, and i work in racing. telling your dad i worked in the auto industry seemed like the best way to get on his good side. he's a good contractor."

racing. something that once brought her so much joy but now left a bad taste in her stomach. she hadn't been to the speedway since she moved out.

"racing is in my blood. i was raised at the track because my grandfather was the groundskeeper. i remember watching the indycar race on his shoulders when i was seven years old, a chip ganassi hat that was three sizes too big resting on my head. i couldn't see a thing." she smiled at the memory. "my dad worked the assembly line at chevy, with some contracting on the side once he learned my mom was expecting me. after he retired he started restoring custom cars part-time, and i think he always hoped that i'd take on the family business with him."

"and you didn't?" marcus seemed surprised. obviously he expected that the girl in the skimpy top and cutoff shorts and the astrology tattoo on the inside of her wrist who cursed like a sailor when things didn't go her way would feel right at home in a garage, ratchet in her hand and wrench in her back pocket.

"i went into human resources. i couldn't stay in a garage all day, breathing in grease and lead paint day in and day out, wondering if things could have been different."

"do you regret it?"

she sighed, biting her bottom lip in a motion that sent a rush of energy through marcus' body. "i don't know yet."

as the silence became awkward, y/n got to her feet again, reaching out a hand to help marcus up. "come on, you're going to learn about glow plugs today."

----------------

"shiloh, can you keep it down?" y/n shouted, staring numbly at the resume on her computer screen. nobody told her that she'd be graduating without a single prospective job offer, and now she was scrambling to find a proper hr job, otherwise she'd end up working the counter at white castle.

she was in the basement, at the table she used to use to finish assignments in high school. the floor, once shining hardwood, was now adorned with rice mats for her sister, who was currently cycling through her second workout video, the basement filled with the younger girl's grunts and the sounds of weights knocking against the padded floor.

"i'm trying to do my workout." shiloh answered coolly. "i have a tournament in three weeks."

"i don't give a fuck, shiloh, i'm trying to find a job so that i don't have to live with mom and dad until im thirty years old."

shiloh rolled her eyes, turning back to her kettle bell weights. "they're always hiring at sonic burger."

"i'm not working in fast food for the rest of my life, jackass! i spent thousands of dollars trying to get this goddamn degree and now i can't even use it for anything!"

"should have listened to dad and gone into the trades. maybe you aren't trying hard enough."

"shut the fuck up, shiloh!"

"girls!" mrs. y/l/n called. "what is going on down here?"

shiloh pause her youtube video, getting to her feet. despite the four years between them, shiloh towered over her older sister, and was often confused for the older one. "y/n keeps interrupting my workout."

y/n gawked. "i was here first! and i'm trying to get a job, at the only damn desk in this house, and shiloh can't even give me ten minutes of peace because it's 'her routine' and i'm 'being disruptive'."

"well, your sister's workout is important. she's a high performance athlete."

"i don't give a shit, mom!"

"language, y/n! go upstairs and work at the dining room table, stop fighting with your sister. you've only been back home for a week!"

"yeah, ande it's like you don't have space for me here anymore!" y/n shouted, slamming her laptop shut and running up the basement stairs, trying not to cry.

this is the last way she expected her life after college to go: hunting for jobs in her moms basement, her sister telling her that she wasn't trying hard enough to get hired anywhere other than a fast food restaurant who would hire anybody off the streets during the busy months.

she couldn't even stand to be in that house, walking right out the front door and striding across the street to the noonan house without even looking to see if there were any cars on the road.

she walked past the mercedes, hand curled into a fist as she knocked on the front door, hoping and praying that a certain podcaster was home.

"y/n?" marcus' voice was soft and concerned after he opened the front door. "what are you doing here?"

"can i get some work done here? i'm trying to fix my resume so that i don't end up working at white castle for the rest of my life and i can't get anything done with shiloh around."

“of course,” marcus laughed “I’ll open a bottle of aperol spritz?”

"god, yes!" she breathed out, stepping into marcus' front hall and slipping out of her flip flops before she followed him into a large open concept main room, a kitchen island running down the middle. the back wall had been all replaced with sets of french doors that were more window than door, letting light into the bright, modern space.

"you're house is incredible. i don't think mrs. noonan updated this place since the sixties."

marcus chuckled, grabbing a glass wine bottle from the counter. "don't i know it. the master bathroom still had a green toilet. a green bloody toilet."

"oh god." y/n laughed, sitting at the island and opening her laptop. "can i trouble you for the wifi password?"

once marcus got her hooked up to the internet, she pulled up her cv, looking at the sad, small list of qualifications she had. she'd been lucky enough that she hardly ever had to work over the summer or in high school. everything on her resume were the community service hours she was required to get to graduate secondary school and the one paid position she did for the town of sebring three years ago.

"i'm never going to get a fucking job, am i?" she groaned quietly as marcus passed her a wine glass filled halfway with aperol spritz. "i'm going to be working a fast food counter at an all night mcdonalds."

"you could always work for me." marucs shrugged. "not to brag, but i just signed a major indycar deal with chip ganassi and i'm trying to expand my team, both with podcasting and racing."

"hang on, podcasting and racing?" y/n blinked, looking up from the screen, blue light still glowing onto her floral patterned shirt. "you're a racing driver? you could have mentioned that!"

marcus laughed as y/n reached over the counter to swat at his arm. "what? i assumed you would have googled me!"

"i have better things to do than google my neighbours!"

"i'm being serious, look me up right now."

y/n rolled her eyes before typing marcus' name into the search bar (after bothering him for his last name, which she realized she didn't already know).

"well shit. i'm staring at the newest driver of the ridgeline lube chip ganassi number 11 indycar."

"i told you." marcus grinned goofily, taking a sip of his drink. "seriously, you said you went into hr? we'll need someone like you to be on the podcast team for screaming meals."

y/n smiled softly at the boy across from her. the boy who had already lived more life than she could ever have dreamed of. "yeah, okay. maybe i'll take you up on that."

----------------

it was the first time she had been alone in the house all week, and she was ready to take advantage of that fact.

all week she had been back and forth between the childhood bedroom she was trying to redecorate and marcus armstrong's living room. many a night had been spent sleeping on his couch after a night of shitty comedy movies and cheap supermarket wine.

no, her parents and shiloh had left before six in the morning to take her to a cross country meet in daytona, and they wouldn't be back until well after ten p.m.

the silence was nice, she thought to herself as she paced the house in her soft cotton robe, the hem barely covering her ass, a warm, almost empty mug of hot chocolate in her hands as she drained the last dregs of laura secord and placed the mug on the kitchen counter.

she shut the bathroom door behind her, the heating tubes underneath the tiles warming her cold feet as she connected her bluetooth speaker, 'just like a pill' by p!nk echoing around the room as she leaned into the shower, trying to run the water warm.

the shower sputtered, weakly spitting out three drops of lukewarm water.

"oh for the love of god!" she groaned, pressing her head against the glass shower door. "the one fucking day i have the house to myself."

she sighed, lying down on the floor and opening the doors to the cabinet under the sink. there was a problem with the pipes, the one thing that she couldn't fix (and also didn't want to risk making worse, with things between her and shiloh being particularly tense). cursing under her breath, she reached for her phone.

"hey, marcus. can you come over? there's something up with the pipes in the bathroom and my shower won't start. you wouldn't happen to know how to fix that, would you?"

on the other end of the line, marcus laughed. "funnily enough, that's probably the one thing your dad taught me that he didn't also teach you. let me go and commence the wild goose chase required to find a tool box in this house, and i'll be there in ten minutes."

"you're a lifesaver, armstrong."

true to his word, ten minutes later, marcus armstrong was lying on her bathroom floor, shirt riding up to showcase his perfectly toned abs, muscles rippling under his skin as he tinkered with the pipes. it was taking every bit of self-restraint that y/n had not to cast aside her bathrobe and ride marcus on the heated floor.

she swallowed the thought, closing her eyes as she mentally chastised herself for thinking about her neighbor, and only friend within in a ten mile radius, like that. feeling her nipples hardening under her robe, she crosssd her arms over her chest (and her legs over each other, to try and deal with other issues) in an attempt to hide her arousal from the kiwi.

"i think i've got it!" marcus shouted. "try the shower now!"

grateful for the distraction, she padded over to the massive shower, reaching inside and turning the dial to warm. she let out a sigh of relief as the shower started up, warm water cascading down the rainhead and swirling down the drain.

"marcus armstrong, i could kiss you right now." she beamed, turning back to the man, who was now leaning against the doorframe. "thank you so much. there has to be something i can do in return."

marcus swallowed, realizing now how small the bathroom truly was, despite the size of the rather large shower. and with that realization, he also realized how close to y/n he was standing.

and he could also see the outlines of her nipples poking through the cotton robe, a sight that made him draw in a breath.

he wasn't supposed to think about her like this. not with the season coming up, and her about to start working for him in the screaming meals production department.

it wasn't proper.

but why did it feel so right?

neither of them said a word, marcus' hand coming up to caress the side of her face. refusing to spend any more time overthinking it, he kissed her first, cradling her bottom lip in between both of his.

what started out as a sweet, gentle kiss, quickly became hot and heavy, hands wandering under shirts and robes falling to the floor, shower still running behind them as marcus palmed y/n's ass, a small, sugar-sweet moan leaving her lips.

"you have no idea how long i've wanted to do this." marcus breathed, voice husky as he fumbled with the belt on his jeans. "every time we've watched a movie on my couch, i've wanted to pull the blankets over both of us and take you right there. they day you came running over to my house after shiloh was giving you shit, i wanted to kiss you and tell you everything would work itself out."

"well, now's your chance, armstrong. the shower is big enough for two."

__________

"marcus, can i ask you something?"

two rounds later, they were lying in y/n's bed, the plush white duvet pulled around their bodies. it was a tight squeeze, getting them both to fit on the twin sized mattress. her build a bears had been unceremoniously shoved onto the laminate floor.

"whats on your mind, pretty girl?" marcus asked softly.

"how are we going to make this work? i live with my parents and my teenage sister, for god's sakes. i'm back under their curfew, sleeping in a twin bed in a room that hasn't been redecorated since i was seventeen."

marcus kissed her on the forehead softly, moving to lace his fingers with hers, his hair still damp and ruffled form the shower. "we try, as simple as that. we'll find you a job, and you can stay over at mine however often you want. i can't promise your parents that you'll be back by the time curfew hits, but i can promise them that you're safe with me. and who knows, if this goes really well, maybe you could even move in with me."

y/n laughed softly. "hold your horses, racer boy."

"i'll hold the horses back as long as it takes for you to realize that i'm hopelessly in love with you."

#marcus armstrong #marcus armstrong x reader #indycar x reader #formula 2 x reader #formula 2 imagine #marcus armstrong imagine #Spotify

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emmiexallen · 2 years

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Can someone from Florida be my friend I just moved here and I wanna go out and run around a do stupid shit asap!! I like slurpees and I have a skateboard I can’t ride but think I can!! 420 friendly and I make decent daiquiris!

#florida #just moved to Florida #i need friends #bored #tampa bay florida #clearwater florida

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theewokingdead · 1 year

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The Wiener of My Heart - Benjamin "Benny" Miller x Reader

Pairing: Benny x Reader (1st POV, no descriptions) Rating: T (blog is 18+) Summary: You and Benny are brought together by your mutual love of dogs. Word Count: 1.4k+ Warnings: Some cringe-worthy puns and innuendos, but it’s Benny so are you really surprised? Language. A/N: I saw a decal on a car in a grocery store parking lot that read “Sometimes I trip over my wiener.” I immediately thought “Benny would 100% have that on his car.” This is pure chaos, and I’m not sorry. Hopefully this doesn’t get lost in translation for anyone, but wiener = wiener dog = dachshund.

{Masterlist}

I fucking hate grocery shopping. It’s one of those things I can’t seem to bring myself to do until I absolutely have to. There’s something about wandering through the endless aisles, searching for the things I need, finding the best price of those things, all while avoiding small talk that I find frustrating. It’s just not worth the hassle, the time, or the stress.

Today’s trip has been a nightmare; there are people everywhere, obstructing every turn and moving in all directions, and the shelves are being emptied as if the end of the world has just been announced. I will not be surprised if I immediately hear the national alert system going off when I turn on my car.

God, please, if the world is ending let them be The Walking Dead zombies and not the fucking infected from The Last of Us.

I am on edge until I step out the doors and take a deep breath, the heavy, muggy air of Tampa somehow easier to breathe in than the air inside the stuffy store. I made it out alive, and so far, there aren’t any signs of any impending doom. I mean, no more than usual, considering Florida is a dumpster fire on a normal day.

I push the cart to my car, unlock the trunk, and rapidly load the groceries, eager to get home and pour myself a glass of much-deserved wine. I’m only halfway through when I turn and happen to catch sight of the most striking man walk out of the store, several grocery bags in each hand. He is tall, with broad shoulders and strong arms that seem to effortlessly carry the weight of the groceries. The sleeves of his jacket are rolled up enough to see his forearms flex with each step he takes. Something about him oozes rugged charm, and it’s impossible to not be captivated by him.

Fuck, he’s cute.

The man moves in my direction, and I quickly shift my focus and get back to loading my car. I watch out of the corner of my eye as the man approaches the Jeep parked beside me, shifting his bags to unlock it and and lift up the back window. My heart beats a million miles a minute, but I try to ignore it, figuring he’s too far out of my league.

He’s probably a douche anyway, I tell myself, trying to keep from being disappointed when he doesn’t even acknowledge my existence.

Unexpectedly, I hear a deep, quiet laugh, then a smooth, sultry voice speaks, “I’d rather be playing with my wiener too.”

My stomach twists, making me feel sick. The fuck did he just say?

“Excuse me?” I question, whipping toward the stranger faster than I thought humanly possible. My nose scrunches with disgust. The fucking audacity of this man. He’s not just a douche, but a fucking creep - which is a shame because up close this man is gorgeous. His blue eyes are like two pools of sapphire, glistening in the sunlight. A pair of sunglasses hang on the neck of his shirt, pulling it down just enough to reveal hair on his chest. Strands of blond hair peek out from underneath his hat, which he’s sporting backwards – a telltale sign of being a total douche.

I should’ve known.

However, the man seems to immediately regret what he said, his growing wide, cheeks as red as a traffic light.

“Oh shit! I-I didn’t mean it like that,” he exclaims, tripping over every word. “I meant…” He gestures toward my rear passenger window, which I know has a decal featuring the words “I’d rather be playing with my wiener” along with the silhouette of a dachshund. “I have one too,” he clarifies, pointing to his bumper, a sticker with a similar picture and the words “I trip over my wiener.”

My cheeks warm as realization settles over me. “Oh!” I exclaim, a nervous laugh escaping my lips. “I am so sorry! I thought you were-”

“An asshole?” he finishes for me, to which I breath out a “Yeah” with a small giggle. He chuckles awkwardly, reaching to grab the bill of his hat and pulling it off his head. While running his fingers through his tussled hair, he flips his hat around then puts it back on. “Yeah… Sorry. I didn’t exactly think that one through. Not my finest conversation starter.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, offering him a genuine smile. “Don’t worry about it, uh-” I suddenly remember that I don’t know his name.

“Benny,” he replies, offering his hand to me.

“Benny,” I reply, repeating his name aloud once while it plays in my head like a beautiful song. I give him my own name, and as I shake his large hand, my mind immediately drifts to how his touch would feel on other parts of my skin. The thought of his hands exploring every inch of my body sends shivers down my spine. As I reluctantly release his hand, I can’t help but long for a moment when his touch could be more than just a fleeting gesture.

“Do you think maybe I could see your wiener?” Though my voice sounds meet, the sly smile spreading across my face shows that I’m well aware of what I’m doing.

“Right here? Right now?” Benny questions, pretending to be appalled by the notion, clearly playing along.

“Right now,” you demand. “Show me see your wiener.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies with a smile.

Fuck, the things those two words make me feel.

After reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he whips out his phone and swipes across the screen with his thumb. Within seconds, he’s showing me a picture of a beautiful black and brown dog, sporting short legs and a long torso.

“This is Beanie.”

My eyes flick up to him. “Beanie the Weenie?”

“Sir Beanie the Weenie of House Teenie, actually,” he clarifies, trying to sound so matter-of-fact.

“Oh,” I gasp, trying to sound impressed. “I had no idea you know the star of Game of Bones.”

Benny lets out a boisterous laugh, sparkles in his eyes, seeming both shocked and thrilled by my parody. “Fuck! Yes! That’s exactly what I was going for!”

Smiling, I look back at his screen, watching as he swipes to another picture, then another.

“You know, I don’t show just anyone my wiener,” Benny admits after several moments of silence. “I hope he doesn’t disappoint.”

I snort. “Not at all. He’s very cute.”

Chuckling, he tucks his phone back into his pocket, then gestures to me. “I showed you mine, so why don’t you show me yours?”

“It’s only fair,” I reply, reaching for my phone. Happily, I show him a photo of my brown long-haired dachshund. “Her name is Leia”

“Like from Star Wars?” he questions, a hint of excitement in his tone.

“Well, actually…” I pull my phone back and quickly find a photo from last Halloween. I show him the picture of my dog in a Leia costume, fake buns and all, which causes Benny to bust out in a fit of laughter.

“Okay. You win! Your wiener is way cooler than mine.”

I shrug nonchalantly. “A princess does outrank a knight, so…”

He chuckles, and a giggle escapes my lips.

“Maybe we can set up a playdate?” I suggest.

“Yeah, absolutely,” Benny replies. “Maybe we can set one up for the dogs too?” He looks up from my screen to meet my gaze, the corner of his lips rising into a small smile. Fuck, his eyes are mesmerizing. They’re the kind that make you feel like you’re the only person in the room, as if he’s seeing into my soul and understanding me without even uttering a word. I could stare into them for hours, lost in their piercing blue beauty.

I smile, feeling my cheeks warm once again. “I’d like that.”

We exchange numbers and part with the promise that we’ll be in touch soon. While walking toward my car door, I feel a sense of anticipation for what the future might hold. Grabbing a hold of the handle, I pause, then look over at Benny as he climbs into his seat. Looking at him makes me feel calm, as if all my worries melt away in his presence. I almost don’t want to let him leave.

“Hey,” I call, grabbing his attention before he can close the door of his Jeep. “Make sure you play with your wiener for me when you get home.” Casting him a wink, I climb into my seat, satisfied by the pink that’s rising in his cheeks as he casts a shy smile.

I’m pretty sure a stranger just stole my heart in a Publix parking lot. But what can I say? Benny has one incredible-looking wiener, and that makes me weak.

#benny miller #benny miller x you #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfiction #benjamin miller #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fan fiction #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #garrett hedlund #garrett hedlund x you #garrett hedlund x reader #garrett hedlund fanfiction #garrett hedlund characters #catie writes

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despicablebisexual · 8 months

Text

Out of Touch by Hall & Oates

part 1, part 2, part 3

Jotaro Kujo x Ex-wife!Reader

You and Jotaro meet for the first time in six years. When you try to dodge the encounter, he convinces you to sit and drink, and have a nice talk.

warnings: alcoholic consumption

Spring of 2003, Tampa, Florida

“Mom~”

You turned on your side, hoping for another five minutes of sleep.

“Mom~”

You ignored Jolyne for another second or two. The girl quieted down for a second and you thought your prayers had been answered and she had retreated from your room. Just as you approached the edge of unconsciousness, a heavy form jumped onto your stomach and woke you.

“There you are mom!” Jolyne, your strong willed eleven-year-old said.

“Hi, Jojo,” you smiled weakly, a bit winded from her jumping on top of you.

“I’m hungry,” she declared.

You looked over at your bedside table where the clock laid. 7:14 am. So much for sleeping in on a Sunday.

“Okay,” you took a second to rub the sleep out of your eyes. “I’m up, I’m up.”

You shooed her off you so you could climb out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, her quickly running past you.

“Can we have pancakes? Ooo what about waffles though! Can we have both?!”

You laughed at her indecisiveness. “How about something a little healthier?”

“But mom,” she groaned.

“Hey! We gotta keep those muscles strong! You can’t do your best if you don’t eat well,” you reminded her.

When she was eight, Jolyne had come home from elementary school whining about how all the other girls in her class played softball and she wanted to too. You were hesitant at first, telling her that just because everyone else is doing something, doesn’t mean she has to do it. After a few weeks insisting she should be allowed to play, you finally agreed. Jolyne had always been a rambunctious and active kid, so you reasoned that sports would be a good outlet for her to let out that energy. After she had a few recurring disciplinary incidents, softball was sounding even better.

To your satisfaction though, after most of the girls quit, Jolyne kept going. After one season, you became a full fledged softball mom, wanting to constantly show up to support Jolyne. She was currently in her third season on her travel team.

The only gripe you had about softball was that it never dwindled her energy, in fact, she seemed more lively. Considering she was up this early the day after she had an all day tournament, you could only sigh. At least she wasn’t getting into as much trouble.

A knock pulled you from your thoughts. “Jojo, can you go get the door?”

“On it mom!” she yelled over her shoulder. A few seconds later and you heard the familiar squeal Jolyne let out whenever your current boyfriend, Anthony, arrived. He liked to stop by in the mornings often.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, hurrying to grab the leftover wine bottle and glass you left out from last night. You did a quick breath test and attempted to fix your flyaways as Anthony came into the kitchen.

“Hey pretty lady,” he said, swooping in to steal a kiss.

“Gross!”

You laughed at Jolyne’s antics. “I was just getting ready to start breakfast, you hungry?”

“I would love to but I’ve got to get to the firehouse, lots of paperwork to do. I just wanted to stop by and say hi.”

You hummed as Anthony turned around to start play fighting with Jolyne. You turned back to contemplate what to cook. The longer you looked at the contents of the fridge and pantry, the better pancakes sounded. Looking over at Jolyne’s bright smile, you gave in and reached for the pancake mix. While you prepared the batter, you sent Jolyne and Anthony to run outside and retrieve yesterday’s mail. Anthony carried her outside on his back.

Alone, your thoughts wandered over your two year relationship. Anthony was a very attractive man: tall, dark, and extremely handsome. He worked as a fireman, which matched his heart of gold he seemed to have. You two had met when you and Jolyne moved from northern Florida to Tampa, him introducing himself at the bar your new neighbors had offered to take you to. After just sitting around and getting to know the local gossip, you had gotten up to order a drink from the bar. When some asshole bumped into you and spilled your drink all over the counter, Anthony, who had been friends with the culprit, offered to buy you a new one.

Although back then it had been four years since you and Jolyne’s father, Jotaro, divorced, you were hesitant to accept Anthony’s invite to go out for coffee. After your close neighbor had incessantly annoyed you about it, she eventually convinced you to go out with him and the rest was history. Completely ignorant to the world of stands and evil, he was a nice place to take sanctuary in.

“Mom! You got an important letter from your job!”

“Hm?”

You turned back from pouring the batter into the pan to see Jolyne handing you a letter while still hanging from Anthony’s back. The letter was addressed to Y/n L/n from the Speedwagon Foundation. Worried about the contents, you tore it open and began reading.

“Well, what does it say?” Anthony asked.

You sighed a breath of relief. “They’re giving me an award for my recent research publication.”

“Woah, no way! Congrats babe!”

Anthony kissed your temple while you let the growing anxiety fade away. You honestly had been expecting it to be a letter detailing a new stand user issue. While you did work in the Speedwagon Foundation’s research sector, they also had you hunt down concerning stand users. Having been doing so since you were seventeen and went on the 50 day journey to Egypt.

“When are they giving it to you?”

“This Saturday, 7pm.”

“It’s a date then!”

**********

“Thank you so much for watching her. It’s not often I get invited to 21+ venues.”

“It’s no problem, y/n, really! We love Jolyne like one of our own.”

Your neighbors, the Williams’, bless their hearts, were about the only family that you had ever trusted to watch Jolyne. Being a stand user as well as working in a dangerous research field, you had a penchant for attracting all sorts of evil. When you gave birth to Jolyne, there had been complications with the delivery and you ended up having to be rushed to a nearby emergency room instead of going to the Speedwagon Foundation like you planned. Everything was going well until Jotaro ended up facing off with a stand user impersonating a night shift nurse. He ended up nearly beating the woman to death, and ever since that day, you had been living life constantly looking over your shoulder for Jolyne’s sake.

After divorcing and moving to a new area, you were hesitant to let then five year old Jolyne play with other children or go to their houses. After thoroughly observing and testing your neighbors by running background checks and consistently bringing out your stand at random intervals to see who would look, you concluded that the Williams’ were not stand users and that their daughter did just want to be friends with Jolyne. It worked out in your case because you soon had friends to rely on, and could find a babysitter with ease.

Now getting ready for the banquet tonight, you stood in front of the mirror doing your makeup just how you liked it. While adding finishing touches, your cell started ringing and Anthony’s contact ID popped up.

“Hey babe.”

“Hey, y/n! How are you beautiful?”

“I’m good, just getting ready for the ceremony.”

“That’s great… Hey listen babe, I don’t have much time to talk but I can’t come tonight. I’m sorry for the late notice but one of the guys’ wife is having their kid and he needed someone to take his shift. It’s gonna be overnight so I won’t get off until about 8am.”

You frowned as you looked down at your nails. You already didn’t want to be heading out anyway for a silly award, but now that Anthony wasn’t coming, the desire to stay home was sounding really appealing.

“Y/n?”

“Hey sorry, spaced out.”

“Are you mad?”

“No, no. Don’t even worry about it. I’m just gonna go, get the award, and come home. I’m not feeling staying out tonight.”

“Alright, well stay safe. Have fun and call a cab if you drink anything.”

“Okay, dad,” you teased him.

He laughed. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

The phone beeped when you hung up.

**********

“Right here is fine, thank you.”

You handed the cab driver some money before shouldering your purse. The foundation had rented a banquet hall for the ceremony. Along with you and your research team, a few other people were also receiving awards tonight. Consequently, the crowd was extremely large as people from all over the company (lots non-affiliated with the stand research division) were gathered for the big event. Dinner would be served at commencement, then some words from the current CEO, awards next, and finally happy hour. You planned to slink away immediately after you got your award.

“Y/n!”

You turned to look for the source of the voice and found a few of your colleagues from your research team standing around a table right up front and center waving at you. It seems like you all were the big honorees of the evening.

“Hello, congratulations everyone.”

Lucas, a fellow from the team, came up with a waiter following him with a tray of champagne flutes. The drinks were quickly dished out.

“Congratulations to you, our fearless leader, who without you, we would have never got the funding.”

You snorted. “Well it’s easy to bust balls when I know all the higher ups. That’s one thanks I can give to my ex-husband.”

A few chuckles could be heard before the emcee asked people to take their seats. You turned around to quickly down the champagne before sending a silent plea to the waiter for another. The drinks could at least help with your nervousness.

**********

“Wow, no one told me I’d have to speak!” you nervously chuckled.

“Um, I’d like to thank my team. Everyone here did so much investigation, tests, wrote up reports. They seriously put in the overtime.”

Your eyes scanned over the large crowd watching you. Your team was the last to be awarded, so everyone was patiently waiting for you to wrap up so cocktail hour could start.

“I’d also like to thank my daughter, Jolyne. I can’t tell you how many times she made me coffee in the dead of night while I stayed up working.” That remark earned you a chuckle from the audience. You felt a little looser knowing you made them laugh. As you looked around, your eyes landed on a familiar pair of blue ones way in the back of the hall leaned against the wall, staring you down intently. You swallowed thickly, not believing it to be the last person you’d ever see here.

“Uh, thank you for the award.”

You briskly walked off stage and back to your table, already grabbing your purse and other belongings. The emcee got back up to announce the bar was once again open, and cocktail hour had begun.

“Y/n, wait!”

Lucas reached out a hand to stop you from rushing off. With a small amount of shame, you turned back to see your team staring at you rather quizzically.

“Why don’t you enjoy a couple drinks with us?”

You silently prayed for whatever entity resides above to strike you down right there. While you really wanted a drink right now, you’d rather do it alone in your house where you could wallow in the silence between sips.

“I really need to-”

“Come on, one won’t hurt!”

Lucas and the rest of the team flagged down the waiter for a round of a stronger drink this time. By some sick and twisted fate, your evening was just beginning.

**********

“You’ve got to be kidding me! You’re not even drunk yet?”

You smiled at Melina, another girl from the team, as you nursed your beer. A few rounds of shots had been dealt and the rest of the team was pretty drunk. You on the other hand, better at pacing yourself than them, were just beginning to feel the buzz. The alcohol had done well to soothe your anxiety, but the nagging feeling of being watched remained.

“I’m going to grab another drink,” you announced.

Making your way through the throngs of people, you arrived at the bar and flagged the bartender down.

“I’ll take a shot of tequila, thanks.”

“Wanna start a tab?”

“I’m paying for her,” a booming voice said as a debit card was slapped down.

The bartender quickly disappeared to run the card, and you contemplated running when you realized who was standing beside you.

Swallowing your anxiety, you refused to make eye contact with him. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“Call it a gift for your award.”

“The only gift I want from you is to leave me alone.”

Jotaro sighed next to you, leaning on the bar so he could stare down at you. You still refused to look at him.

“Don’t make this difficult, y/n.”

You snorted. “Where have I heard that line before?”

Distantly, you recalled the night he placed the divorce papers on the table and announced he would be staying at a hotel while things finalized. He had told you the exact same phrase while you ugly cried and interrogated him. The whole night was underscored by Jolyne sobbing away in her room.

The bartender arrived with the shot and set it down. You quickly picked it up and slammed it, setting the glass back down.

“Thanks. See you around.”

You set off to leave, but a strong arm pulled you back.

“Jotaro,” you warned.

Jotaro dropped your arm before sighing. He took off his signature hat to run his hand through his hair. “Can we just talk?”

You stared at him in surprise. On the outside, he looked like the exact same Jotaro you once knew. Donned in his signature flashy style with a face that could kill. But his eyes held an emotion that wasn’t the normal fire in his soul. For a second, when he asked you to talk, he almost looked mournful, like he was trying to save something. In all the years you had known Jotaro, he was never once concerned with matters of the heart. If anything, he would rather get pummeled over and over again than admit he had feelings. You glared at him before sitting down on the barstool.

“One drink. You have the time it takes me to drink one drink.”

**********

“What’s that supposed to be?”

“Tch. Don’t play dumb y/n.”

You looked down at the small black box Jotaro had placed in your hands. Never one for lots of words, Jotaro had just explained he had a gift for you before putting the case in your hands, a small engagement ring looking back at you.

“I’m asking you to marry me?” he said, his hands shoved in his pockets and eyes casted to the side.

“Why?” you blurted out.

Jotaro sighed and took his hat off. In a rare moment of vulnerability, he kneeled down in front of you while you sat on the bench in the park you two were at.

“Because you’re the only person in this fucked up world I could ever love; I could ever trust. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Jojo…” you started as you teared up.

He caught you as you practically fell into his arms while repeating yes.

**********

What was supposed to be one drink, quickly turned into one drink and a shot. Then Jotaro ordered another shot for the two of you, then one more for good measure. You weren’t stupid, it was easy to tell when someone was building up liquid courage.

The conversation first began with him asking how you and Jolyne had been. You rolled your eyes and told him ‘fine,’ stating that she was making friends and a star on her softball team. Jotaro remained amicable in spite of your passive-aggressiveness. The more he got you talking about your daughter, the more you began to open up to him. It was nice to know he still wanted to know about her, even if it was the bare minimum. As the night went on, he somehow convinced you to show him a few pictures of her from your phone and you two quickly began reminiscing on the days when she was just a toddler and barely walking around. Eventually the conversation shifted to his life and search for the stand arrows. He told you about his uncle he discovered and you gasped at the revelation that Mr. Joestar had cheated on Suzi Q, the woman who became like another grandmother to you when you and Jotaro were married. When you two came home from your first semester away at college and announced you had gotten eloped, Suzi Q and Jotaro’s mother were the only people to support you initially. It hurt to know she had been emotionally backstabbed.

“He’s lucky he’s an old man now, or else I’d seriously kick his ass for doing that to her.”

For the first time in a long time, most definitely due to the fact that he had been drinking all night with you, Jotaro laughed. And when he laughed, the whole room shook with him. It was the first time you had heard it in years and it put a loopy smile on your face while you laughed with him. When he realized how loud he was, catching the eyes of a few others, he quickly quieted down, a twinge of embarrassment and anger easily seen on his face. Upset he stopped laughing and worried he might cause an uproar (being the hothead he is), you reached over and placed a hand on his. He looked at you with surprise, before turning up his hand and offering you his palm. He smiled as you giggled at the action.

As the conversation progressed, it was clear that you were both exuberantly drunk, but it didn’t stop you from ordering one last drink.

“You sure can put them away now. You used to puke after two shots back in college.”

You snorted. “I’m well practiced now.”

You looked down at the time on your phone, not realizing it was soon approaching 11:45pm. Looking up and around, you noticed how the hall had seriously cleared out, most of the initial crowd gone.

“Shit, it’s late.”

You stood up and looked at him, a bit sad this night was coming to an end. The alcohol had opened up all the scars on your heart and reminded you of how much you missed him, but the small-voiced rational part of your brain was reminding you that things couldn’t stay like this.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice catching up, Jojo.”

Wanting to leave on a positive note, the drunken devil on your shoulder convinced you to lean in and give him a chaste kiss on the cheek. Completely normal, right?

“Y/n, wait.”

Jotaro grabbed your waist and pulled you further into him, your chests colliding. He was still sat on the barstool, so you were somewhat even in height for once, meaning your breaths mixed in the air. It was a familiar position that had both of your hearts pounding rapidly.

“I’ve missed you calling me that.”

His hand was heavy on your waist. Not wanting to lose balance in your stupor, your arm landed on his shoulder.

“You used to tell me you hated being called Jojo,” you whispered teasingly.

He huffed and looked down. “I was lying.”

He looked back up to you with eyes as deep as oceans. “I don’t want to be anything except your Jojo.”

You softly gasped and he took it as his chance to pull you in for a soft kiss. Your lips barely moved against each other, just savoring the fact that they were once again reunited.

Once upon a time, Jotaro would have handed you the world on a silver platter. It wasn’t by coincidence that you got married so young. You two were passionate, devoted, in love, but seasons change and people do as well, and Jotaro could no longer fill the superman-esque job he had been born into. At this point, it had been six years since you two divorced. Both twenty-six then and thirty-two now, he felt more like a stranger than someone you used to love. After having had so long to contemplate your relationship, you wondered how much of it would have happened if you two had never went on that journey. Seeing so much horror at seventeen scarred you two, and you definitely had a relationship built upon a trauma bond. You questioned often if it was ever love, or just comfort in shared pain.

Now though, so many years later, with your lips pressed together, there was no mistaking the spark between you two. All the misery you’d experienced in the world of stand users was flushed away at his hot touch. Even if it was just momentary, you knew he could love you the same way again.

“Let me take you home,” he breathed over your lips.

One look into his pleading blue eyes and you knew without a doubt there was no coming back from this.

#jotaro kujo x reader #jotaro x reader #angst

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toasttt11 · 3 months

Text

the trade

March 11, 2021

Maddox brushed a hand through his wet hair as he walked through the halls of the arena to the room he was asked to join, and had a feeling of what would be talked it in the meeting.

He opened the door of the office of the General Manger of the Tampa Bay Lightning, Julien BriseBois. Julien looked up sadly smiling at Maddox, “Come in Hughes.”

Maddox closed the door behind him sitting in the chair in front of the desk.

“You know what i’m going to say?” Julien asked looking at the young player who is incredibly intelligent and has been a big part of their team’s success. Maddox simply nodded, “We hit our salary cap and we tried to move as much as could around to be able to resign but there’s not enough, not enough of what you deserve.”

The team had talked about it since they knew Maddox’s contract ends of this season and we’re trying to find a way to keep him on their team with an amount of money that he deserves.

“You’ve gotten many offers for other teams, we all know this. There is one team that contacted us and they have offered a pretty big contract and i think you will like the location a lot more then where you are now.” Julien spoke to him, handing a contract over the desk to him. Everyone knowing Maddox has always hated the heat and sun so he wasn’t thrilled having to live in Florida.

Maddox looked down at the papers seeing the Chicago Blackhawks logo and raised an eyebrow, he knew the Blackhawks have been a team he always wanted to play on since he was a kid. Growing up his brothers liked the bruins and maple leafs but Maddox always loved the Blackhawks.

He flipped a page open seeing the amount they were offering and for how long as well. Maddox knew that right now the Blackhawks aren’t the best team but he honestly doesn’t really care, he won a stanley cup already in his career he just wants to keep playing hockey and if team that’s going through a rebuild wants him he has no problem being there.

Maddox also wouldn’t mind at all living in Chicago, especially being able to have colder weather more often, he looked up to Julien who was watching Maddox and nodded.

“I’ll let them know.” Julien smiled sadly nodding, “The will have you sign most likely during the summer once our season is over.” He stood up as Maddox stood up and shook his hand firmly, “We’ll miss having you here kid.”

“I’ll miss you guys too.” Maddox nodded having fit in well into the team.

#maddox hughes au #mh22 #jack hughes x reader #nhl x reader #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes x reader #jh86 #quinn hughes #luke hughes x reader #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #connor bedard x reader #connor bedard #chicago blackhawks #lukas reichel #nick foligno #alex vlasic #jamie drysdale

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dameronology · 1 year

Text

timing's a bitch [5/5] - s.h

summer '87

“oh my love, i lied to you, but i never needed to" - liar, paramore (x)

“if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing…timing. but timing is a bitch” - how i met your mother

a.k.a the three times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment, the one time that you chose the wrong moment, and the one time you both got it right (series masterlist)

a/n: i am sooooo sorry for how long this took. i have a long list of excuses but i shall not bore you. we have, however, finally made it to the end and i owe you all the biggest fucking thank you in the world for all your support on this series. i love u all and i hope this is the ending u wanted <3

Twelve months was the longest period of time you’d gone without seeing Steve Harrington.

You’d seen him basically every day for your entire goddamn life and then he’d just…disappeared. Left the arcade in a cloud of shame and then you hadn’t seen him since. He was fine; you knew that much. A quick call to his parents had let you know that he was with them in Florida. Fuck knows why, because as far as you’d known he had hated his parents almost as much as he hated Florida. But, as it had turned out, knowing didn’t account for much. You thought you knew Harrington’s every move, but everything in the last year had completely blindsided you. Even if it was just an anomaly, it was enough to make you question everything. It had hurt more than you cared to admit – the sudden revelation, the disappearance, the lack of contact – but the realisation that he’d admitted to loving you had carried you for just a little while.

Only a little while. Three months at the most. After that, you lost hope and moved on.

Did it feel like part of you was missing? Completely. Was there anything you could do about it? Absolutely not.

Steve’s name became something of a curse word amongst your friendship circle. Friendship triangle, actually. The combination of Eddie and Robin had been the only thing carrying you through. Hawkins had changed as you knew it, because as it turns out, you and Steve had shared a pair of rose-coloured lenses. The town sucked without them and man you hoped Florida was even worse for him. Maybe one of the crocodiles or swamps would swallow him up. At least that way you could get closure.

It was hard not to think about him; to think about whether or not he’d started dating again, about how much he was probably suffocating under the same roof as his parents. The part of you that had been hurt by him wanted so badly for him to be aching too – for you, for the familiar, for the realisation that Tampa Bay might have been great, but no place was truly great without you – but the rest of you just pined. For him, for his dumb sarcasm and ridiculous ability to be so smart about everything, for his shitty driving and that stupid cologne and the cursed BMW that you were afraid to shine a UV light in for fear of a live Jackson Pollock experience.

You missed him.

Eddie and Robin were good company. Every time you were sad, you would find yourself with them at the Hideout, laughing about something stupid and then revelling in the realisation that you were going to be fine. Everything was going to be fine. You had your friends.

“So…I like her, but I don’t like like her, you know?” Eddie’s aimless ramblings filled your ears one cold Wednesday night. Class had been long, but not as long as this conversation. Was he even going the right way home? You’d no clue.

“So, break up with her then, Eds,” you replied, unable to resist an eyeroll. “It’s obvious.”

“But she’s so hot!”

“And?!” you shot back. “You can’t just hold out for someone because they’re hot.”

“Right. If you did, you’d be in a Florida swamp by now.”

You shot Eddie a glare. “Watch it.”

“I regretted it as soon as I said it,” he grimaced. “Sorry. I really am.”

Eddie reached across and squeezed your arm, giving you a smile. He was far too easy to forgive.

As it turned out, he had been going the right way, because your apartment building had finally made an appearance in the distance. One of the better developments in your life in the past year had been that you, Robin and Eddie found a place together. It was a complete shithole, and you were pretty sure your neighbour was a pervert, but it was yours. More yours than your place in New York had been.

Hopping out the van, you shut the door behind you and fumbled around for your keys. Eddie wasn’t far behind, just taking a moment to assess the damage the pavement had done to his wheel when he’d collided it with at the morning. Something about the government shouldn’t have put a pavement there and I don’t pay taxes for this shithole to destroy my van.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside and was immediately greeted by Robin. She was in attack mode, elbowing her way past you and towards Eddie.

“Munson!” she yelled. “How many times have I told you not to smoke week inside? I’m trying to study for my finals but all I can smell is your skanky goddamn stoner broccoli- “

“- woah, woah, woah!” Eddie held his hands up in defence. “Before you rip my head off, don’t you want to have that conversation with our beloved roommate first?”

You glanced at them, thinning your eyes. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Uh…” Robin trailed off. “We should go inside for this.”

“Or you could just tell me here?” you suggested.

Despite your advice, your friends both took an arm each and lead you inside to the sofa, where they laid you down. Robin did have a point about the smell in here.

“You should sit down for this,” Eddie began.

You propped yourself up on your elbows. “I’m lying down?”

“Oh…” he trailed off. “Then you might want to sit up for this.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and swung your legs round so they were on the floor. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

Robin gulped. “Steve called.”

“Here?” your eyebrows shot up.

“Yeah. Six times, actually,” she continued.

“What?!” you exclaimed. “When?”

Eddie and Robin glanced at each other.

“Guys,” you pushed. “When?”

“Three months ago. And also, nine months ago, and also ten months ago, and he also tried calling my house the week he left and…” Eddie trailed off. “Why do you look so angry?”

“Why the fuck are you only telling me this now?!”

“We thought it was best you didn’t know!” Robin chimed in. “He just made you so miserable and-

“- that’s not your decision to make!” you snapped.

“No, you’re right…. we know that. Now. We know that now,” Eddie said. “We just thought it was worth telling you because rumour has it, he’s back in town.”

“Rumour has it from who?”

“My eyes,” Robin admitted. “I saw him yesterday at the coffee shop down the road. I think he was looking for you.”

It wasn’t in your nature to dramatically storm off. It was even less in your nature to steal Eddie Munson’s keys and aimlessly speed off into the night, but you probably earnt the right to do after learning that your best friends had been lying to you. Betrayal from Steve had sucked, but even more so from them. What sucked even more was the realisation that he hadn’t been ignoring you for a year. That was a lot to deal with.

You found yourself driving to Lover’s Lake. It had been an unconscious decision – less conscious that the one to fuck up Eddie’s tyres even more on the way over – but it was weirdly peaceful once you got there. Freaky alien portals aside, it was a pretty relaxing place when it was empty at night. The water was completely dark, lit up only by the moon and stars, where you could be alone with your thoughts and-

“I have a gun!”

The words from your mouth had been quick – and a lie – when you heard someone step on a twig behind you. It wasn’t the worse lie in the world. You could have had a gun in your pockets. Maybe. How big were guns anyway? You didn’t know.

“If you come a step closer I will fucking END you-“

“- you don’t carry a gun.”

There was only one person in the world who could be truly certain of that decision. Steve fucking Harrington.

A beat passed and before he could say anything else, you’d thrown yourself at him. You both fell to the ground – Steve breaking your fall with his body and letting out an ow – and for a split second, you weren’t sure you were decking him or fighting him. The decision came to you naturally, it turned out, because when he tried to sit up, you tackled him back into the ground with a hug. Steve sat there aimlessly for a second, but quickly wrapped his gangly arms back around you.

“Fuck,” you murmured. “What the fuck, Steve?!”

“Couldn’t I be asking you the same thing?!” he demanded. “You’ve been ignoring my calls for a year!”

You took a step back from the hug, glowering for a moment. “I haven’t. I promise.”

“Well you haven’t been answering them-“

“- it was Eddie and Robin!” you cut him off. “We moved in together…it’s too fucking long to explain, but they are meddlers. They are meddling meddlers. I’ve spent the last year waiting for you to call Steve and for fuck’s sake, man! It’s me. If you are genuinely stupid enough to think that I would willingly ignore your calls then you don’t know me at all!”

Steve was silent for a second. That was a lot of information to process. It was good information – encouraging, indeed - but it also meant he had to change his entire worldview that he’d spent the last year adjusting to. Not unlike you had in the last hour.

“Besides…” you carried on. Yeah, it was all coming out now. “You’re the one who accidentally confessed your love for me. You’re the one who ran away! So even if I had been ignoring your calls, who’s to say it wasn’t justified?”

“No, yeah…you’re right,” Steve murmured. “I’m sorry. I really am. I know that doesn’t cut it at all. It doesn’t even begin to make it right but if you would just give me the chance, I promise I will make it up to you.”

“A chance?” you raised your eyebrows. “What kind of chance?”

“The same kind of chance I asked for the night you left for college almost two years ago,” he said. “The chance that’s been fucked over and over because of bad timing-”

“- have you ever considered that maybe you were the one who was about twelve hours behind everyone else?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe you were twelve hours ahead?”

You smiled. “Get to the point, Steve.”

“I love you,” Steve declared. He flung his arms out at as he did, almost as though he were announcing it to the dark clouds above you. “I’m sorry for running away, but in doing it, I realised there’s only one place I want to run and that’s to wherever you are. Even if it’s almost midnight, by a lake, on a freezing cold night.”

“How did you even know I was here?” you asked.

“You have three places you go when you’re not home and that’s here, my house or the record shop and – look, I don’t want to rush you, but it would be really wonderful if we could circle back to where you stand vis-à-vis that love declaration-”

“- fucking obviously I love you too,” you cut him off.

Steve smiled. There was no doubt in his mind that you were still seething but finally, after two years of swings-and-roundabouts, you’d finally said the same thing at the same time. It had been a two year long head-ache – one you still felt dizzy from – but hey. You’d finally caught each other at the same moment. And god forbid you’d ever let him go.

“But this has to be it now, Steve,” you poked him in the chest. “No one-night stands, no other people, no bullshit. I can’t take bullshit.”

“This is it,” he said affirmatively. “I promise. I’m not ever letting you out of my sight again.”

“You promise?”

Steve grabbed your hand, pulling your pinky out of your balled up fist and wrapping it around his. “You have my word.”

Finally, he kissed you.

You’d kissed multiple times before; that fateful night two years ago, the even more fateful one in New York, and the time it almost happened in the lake just two miles from where you were stood. All of those things had taken you a step closer to this but the moment in itself felt like a weight off your shoulders. Almost like it was something that had been written in the stars since the first day you’d thrown a Lego brick at him, and both of you had been holding your breath waiting for you to happen ever since.

“I’m gonna kill Robin and Eddie, by the way,” you quietly said.

“Don’t,” Steve murmured against you. “I only just got you back. I can’t have you going to prison.”

"Yeah, fair point," you laughed. "Besides, if I can forgive you, I can forgive them."

"Hey!"

"Sorry..." you trailed off. "I love you."

Steve smiled. "I love you too."

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things imagines #stranger things fluff #stranger things angst #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson

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cellythefloshie · 3 months

Text

;; I Wanna Be Yours 500 Follower Celebration

Summary: You can't handle being just friends with your childhood friend, Brandon Hagel, anymore. Word Count: 1k+

Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought.

Growing up in Morinville, Alberta, where the population was less than 10,000, there was one thing for certain: you knew everyone and everyone knew you. The kids you met on the first day of Kindergarten were the same you graduated with at eighteen. Some would stay and work in Morinville, maybe even marry their high school sweetheart, while others would move to Calgary or Edmonton to go to school. But in Morinville, there was one exception, your best friend: Brandon Hagel.

You had met him in grade school, his family having moved from Saskatoon. You had been too young to remember why or even ask, but the moment he walked into the classroom, and your teacher seated him at the desk beside you, the two of you were best friends. You swapped lunches, and played together at recess. Play dates were often scheduled by your parents, and you even played on the same Timbits hockey team until his skills surpassed your own and you were left to watch him play from the stands.

You were his biggest fan, even as he moved through different leagues, and it became more difficult for you to attend. The WHL, AHL and finally the NHL you had been there for it all one way or another. Watching the game streams on sketchy websites, late night phone calls, traveling to watch him play when he was close enough to home. You did it all, and it didn't go unrecognized. By those who didn't know you, and didn't know your story, you were often mistaken as his girlfriend.

It was something you just shrugged off, and assured those who were embarrassed for making such a statement that it was an honest mistake.

What they didn't know was how desperately you wanted that to be true.

You wanted to be his.

But after what felt like a lifetime together, you were convinced that would never be a reality. Not even as you sat on a beach in Tampa, Florida with Brandon sitting at a table with his teammates behind you.

You had flown down to watch their Stanley Cup Final match against the Colorado Avalanche. You had booked enough time off to be able to enjoy the parade, but it was an event that never came. The Bolts had lost, but you never passed up on the opportunity to enjoy a vacation.

You could hear the guys laughing behind you as you sat in the warmth of the sun. Cirelli had been trying to do some sort of party trick with a Corona and had ultimately failed, sending the table into laughter. Brandon's was the most prominent among them, the sound filling your belly with warmth. You loved his laugh, and the smile that you were sure was spread so fully over his lips. Just the thought of it had you smiling too, but it quickly faded when you heard a soft feminine voice speaking to Brandon.

It wasn't one you recognized, so you perked up in your seat and pretended to stretch as you glanced back at the table. The girl was pretty, and wasn't one of the wives or girlfriends that you had met during your trip. Your smile faded, and your stomach sank in an instant.

You had no right to be jealous. You weren't his girlfriend, he wasn't your boyfriend. He was allowed to flirt with whoever he pleased, and you envied the woman for the courage she had to walk up to an attractive stranger at the beach. It was the courage you wished you had yourself but knew it would never come.

Your shoulders slouched as you sunk back into your seat, a single hand reached up to pull the brim of your sun hat low in an attempt to hide the disappointed look you were sure had overtaken your features. But it was too late, someone had already noticed.

“Hey, is everything okay?” It was the voice of Cirelli's girlfriend that drew your eyes up. She sat in the chair next to you, her body sprawled out and a book in hand. She must have looked up from the pages just long enough to see that something was wrong.

You wished she hadn't.

“Yeah, it's just-” you cut yourself off with an uneven breath, “I'm not feeling well I think I'm going to go back to the hotel.”

“Oh, okay-” was all you could hear leaving her lips. A disappointed sigh as you reached down for your beach bag, pulled on your cover up and left your seat on the beach.

You wasted no time with goodbyes. Brandon wouldn't miss you. Hell, he probably wouldn't even notice you were gone. And if he did, Cirelli's girl could tell him where you went.

Your strides were quick as you moved through the sand and up to the boardwalk where you stopped just long enough to throw your shoes down on the ground. You stepped into them and quickly fell into stride again. You moved through the busy boardwalk with your head down, tears burning at your eyes but you didn't let them spill. Each steady breath you took fought them back, but only fueled the turmoil of frustration in your mind.

You hated that you felt this way. He was your best friend, your longest friend. You should have been happy with how things were. Yet, you wanted more. You would always want more-

There was a thunder of footsteps on the boardwalk behind you. Distant at first. So far you barely heard them but they grew louder, instructing your thoughts and clouding your mind. Your first instinct was to step to the side, out of the way of any jogger or playful child that may have been in your wake. But then you heard your name, a desperate call to get your attention, and you froze.

You would recognize the voice anywhere.

“Brandon?”

He stilled in front of you, his hand reaching up to slick back his shaggy hair that had fallen into his eyes. His breathing was uneven as he recovered from his sprint, and his dark eyes were fixated on you. His stare was magnetic, holding you in place without having to touch you. And you hated it. The hold he had on you, and it left tears to build in your eyes.

And he noticed.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, “ what's wrong?”

“I'm sorry,” your croaked, your weak voice betraying you so quickly, “I just can't be here. I need to go home-”

“Go home?” Brabdon asked.

His face contorted with confusion as he took a small step in and reached out to take hold of your arm. His hand was warm against your skin, sending a fluttering feeling through your body in an instant.

“What are you talking about? You're supposed to be here for another week.”

You wanted to shrug it off. To play it off as nothing, but there was too much you needed to get off your chest. There was no use in keeping secrets anymore. Not when they made you feel the way you did.

“I want to be yours, Brandon,” your words felt like a pathetic plea as they left your lips, “and I can't keep pretending that I don't. You're my best friend, but it hurts too much to just sit back and-”

Brandon didn't let you finish. He didn't have to. His hand left your arm, his fingers grazing up slowly until you felt the warmth of his palm spread over your cheek. He cupped your face gently and used that hold to draw you in. And he kissed you, so deeply, so feverishly that it left you breathless. And in that moment you knew he felt the same way too. He, like you, had been too scared to ruin the friendship you both treasured so dearly.

#brandon hagel #brandon hagel x reader #nhl fanfiction #nhl rpf #nhl fanfic #hockey rpf #nhl imagine #hockey imagines #;;500

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andydrysdalerogers · 4 months

Text

Cross-Checked - Chapter 3

Andy Barber x OFC Leighton "Leia" Andrews

Summary:

Andy Barber is having the best year of his life. His game is on point. It’s gets to play with his best friend and his fiancé just... dumped him?!.

Reeling from a sudden change in status, Andy decides it’s time to just focus on hockey. Until his best friend's sister comes out with news that rock the entire organizations world.,

Andy has always carried a torch for the untouchable Leighton but in her hour of need, is now the time to shoot and score or risk getting cross - checked again?

Warnings: Cheating (but not by the MCs); slow burn; friends to lovers eventually; SMUT!; pregnancy; jealousy; handsome goalies, evil exes...

A/N: The tag list is open!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS. Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Banners by me!

Previous: It's That Last Step - Leighton

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 3 – Luke’s Gonna Kill Me - Leighton

**Six weeks later**

The season was off to a great start. Andy and Luke had an epic start to the season in light of everything that happened with Craig. Speaking of Craig, he ended up getting traded to Tampa Bay which made Andy extremely happy. From what I heard from some of the WAGs, Fiona refused to move to Florida with him. So much for true love. Last I heard, she took a job in New York.

Good riddance.

Andy and I had gotten into a good routine once I finished moving in and so far, I love living with my best friend. As social media director, I got to travel with the team, so I saw Andy and my brother all the time. It made dealing with the heart ache that much easier. Bret had left an email letting me know where the stuff I didn’t take with me was and that was about it. No groveling, no asking for me to reconsider. Three years together and that was it. I wasn’t sure if I felt relieved, heartbroken or depressed. Yes, when it happened, I cried on Andy’s shoulder but I think it was the shock of Bret asking me to be his little housewife. On well, life moves on.

The Bruins were three weeks into the season, and I was packing up for a 10-game road trip when I heard the front door slam. Heavy footsteps hit the stairs and my favorite pair of blue eyes were in my doorway. “Hey princess!”

Yes, I am well aware mat my parents are big Star Wars fans and named their kids Luke and Leia. After I grew up a bit and Luke and Andy had watched said movies, Andy took to calling me "Princess" no matter how much I objected to the name stuck and here we are.

“Hey Chewy!” If I had to get an awful Star Wars nickname, then so did he

Andy threw himself onto my bed. “Ready for the road trip?”

I sighed as I packed the last packing cube into my suitcase. Yes, I was one of those that used packing cubes. I liked to be organized and plan everything out. Sue me. “Almost,” I replied. “Just got to get my carry-on tote.”

Andy looked over my bags. “How much shit does one girl need?” He lifted out a cube and I yanked it back.

“Don’t judge me! Not all of us were born devilish good looking in just a button down and jeans. I need to have options.” I put the cube back into its place as I looked over my packing list.

“Princess, you are just living up to the title now,” Andy said with a laugh.

I blushed. “One of these days you’ll need a sewing kit and can’t find one and you’ll be crawling to me for help.” I grabbed a pillow and smacked him with. “And If you continue to be mean to me then no chicken parm for you.”

Andy perked up. “Chicken parm?” I knew I had him with his favorite meal

“Yep with home made garlic bread.”

Andy flopped down with a moan. “What did I do to deserve you?” I giggled as I made check marks on my list. “Like you clean and cook and all I have to do is my own bathroom and laundry and give money for groceries.”

“It’s Iike having a girlfriend without all the messiness,” I dead panned. I’m not sure why I said it but it pulled at my heart all the shit that Andy had to go through with the spawn of Satan. It also cut me to know that Andy would never see me as anything other than his best friend. I think that stung more.

“Hey, its not like that, Princess,” Andy started. “You know that I cherish you more than anyone in the world.” He took my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I didn’t mean with anything my comment. I'm saying that living with my best friend has been the greatest time of my life.”

Goddammit. Why does he have to say shit like that? I give him a soft smile. “Its been the best time for me too, Chewy.”

Andy bounced out of bed. “Let’s go eat so we head out to the plane.” He placed himself in front of me and I climbed on his back so he could carry me down stairs.

As Andy takes out my bag from the trunk, a body slams into me from behind. “Oof!”

“Hey girl!” I smile at the voice of Bruins trainer and best friend Stella Williams

“Hey Stel.” I turned as I grabbed my bag. “I’m all set to be stuck on an overnight flight with my best friend and 30 men who have no sense of privacy.” I gave a big smile to Andy, who rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. If I wasn’t aboard, who will protect you from your brother?” My mouth went to argue but he was right. Dammit. “That’s what i thought.”

“You know, I hate you sometimes.” I stick my tongue out at him.

“No, you don’t.” He flashes that fucking smirk that could make a nun swoon.

I really don’t but I won’t admit it. I headed to the plane with my head held high, ignoring the laughter coming from Stella and Andy behind me.

“Hey little sister!” Luke came over and lifted me into a hug. “How are you, Cubby?”

While Andy called me Princess, Luke called me Cubby as in his baby cub that he took care of. Made sense since Lukas Andrews was not a small man. Standing 6 foot 1 and easily 230 pounds of solid muscle, Luke was one of the best enforcers for the Bruins. He protected his players, and he learned that by protecting me.

“Hey Flyboy.” Oh yeah, if Andy and I had Star Wars nick name, then Luke would have one too. Yes, I know, that’s what Leia called Han but Luke had no good nicknames. We’ve done the research. One weekend, six movies and Andy forever calling himself “General Solo.” The man has a problem sometimes. “I’m doing good, attempting to control myself from hurting your captain.”

“What did Andy do now?” Luke smiled, looking over my shoulder at his best friend. I harrumphed at his attitude and shoved my suitcase in his gut, bending him over with an oof. “What?”

“Gang up on me and pay the consequences, Flyboy. Just remember who makes you look good on social media so the ladies think they have a chance.” I flash him my “sugary sweet and so innocent smile that you should fear” smile. His smile falls and he swallows.

“You are scary sometimes, you know that?”

“I do, and yet, you still gave me your password.” I flounced away, taking the stairs up the plane to get to my seat. The plane is divided into three sections. Coaches and trainers are usually up front, followed by support staff and then the players. Stella and I are the bridge between support and trainers and sit together on the plane. As I was getting my headphones and book ready for the flight to California, I stopped and said hello to all the players as they walked by. Most just nod or wave, Andy moved to ruffle my head, which I dodged and smacked his hand as he laughed. I got myself settled, waiting for Stella.

“Hey Leia,” another voice sounds. I snap my head over to see one of our goalies, Jeremy, stop at my aisle.

(Meet Jeremy)

“Hi, Jeremy.” I really don’t know what to say. Jeremy stopping to say hello to me is new, not unwelcome but new. He is one of the best goalies in the business and well, fuck it, he’s really cute. “Ready for the road trip?” I ask because I have nothing else.

“Ready! Always wanted to go to Disneyland,” he said with a wink.

My dead heart beats just a bit faster. Its been two months since Bret left and I haven’t even thought of another man, besides Andy. I forgot what it felt like to be flirted with. “That would be cool if we had the time.” I saw Stella board. “Oops, here comes trouble!” I announce as Stella approaches.

“I’ll let you get settled.” Jeremy smiles. “Maybe we can have a drink sometime. See ya Leia, Stella.” He moved on to his seat and I watched as he walked away. I caught Andy’s face looking at me and for a moment, he looked angry but then he smiled at me, and I knew it was ok.

“Why was Jeremy Swayman talking with you,” Stella asked. She loved a good romance story.

I shrugged. “No clue.”

Thirty minutes later we were in the air and the team manager was going over the schedule for the next ten days. A ten-day roadie is brutal in the best of times but one with a huge time difference was the worst. The captain announced we were at altitude and shut off the lights in the cabin. I needed to try and stay awake so I didn’t get jet-lagged and would be able to snap our arrival in San Jose. Suddenly, my stomach twisted. “Stel, move please?”

“We haven’t even had anything to drink yet,” she grumbled slowly.

“Stella, move!” I whisper yelled. She moved and I raced up the aisle. I made it into the bathroom and heaved everything we had for dinner. I sank to the floor as I tried to breathe through the pain in my stomach and throat. After a few minutes, I was able to get up and wash my face and mouth as best I could.

“What the hell was that, Leia?” Stella looked me over. “Girl, you are pale and clammy.”

“I have no fucking clue, Stel. My stomach just hurt all of sudden.” Great, that was the last thing i needed. I didn’t want to be sick while we were in California. Early November in California still meant great weather and I wanted to take advantage since fall has already made an appearance in Boston. “I hate being sick on the road.” I threw back my head against the head rest.

“Maybe it's just a one off, Leia. It happens. Let’s just wait and see in San Jose.”

The rest of the flight was fine and traveling to LA meant that it was only three hours from when we took off according to the body clocks. The guys were headed to the hotel bar, but Stella and I stayed in, reviewing the photos that i took as we left the plane.

“These are so good, Leia. Everyone is looking good. Especially Swayman, Barber and your brother.” She gives me a smirk while I gag.

“Gross Stella. My brother is not hot.” I make a disgusted face as I look at him. His cocky smile came because I said I would send the photo to Miranda. I shuddered and looked at the photos of Andy. The guys are required to be dressed in business casual at minimum. Most are in slacks and a button down, but Andy is never in less than a three piece. It's his signature fit and let me tell you, I and the rest of the female population, appreciate it. Today’s was a three piece blue pinstripe. Many blessings to his tailor because that suit fits like a glove.

“You can stop drooling over Barber and tell me what is going on with Swayman.” Stella takes a drink of the wine we brought with us.

I feel my cheeks burn a little. “I don’t know. I know the guys know I’m single now because my brother had a big mouth but that thing with Jeremy is new.” Very new. As in, what the fuck is going on. Jeremy is handsome, I would be blind to deny that but I’m just not ready to date. “It's nice though, to be flirted with.”

“Andy flirts with you all the time,” Stella points out.

“He does not. He’s nice because he’s my best friend, my brother’s best friend. It's been that way for years.” Disappointment washes over me. “Yeah, right would Andy Barber have a thing for me. I mean, let’s check Stella. I clean for him, he makes me breakfast. I make dinner, he does dishes. We are in a mutually beneficial relationship, and not a romantic one.”

Stella rolls her eyes. “You are either blind or naive, Andrews. The man is into you.”

I lay back on the bed with a sigh. “I wish. Especially when he is walking around in just a shirt and gray sweatpants. Or in the mornings when he is climbing out of the pool after his swim.”

“Tell me,” Stella swoons. “Tell me he had more than six abs.”

“I will not. He has six and they are spec-tac-ular.” I went to sit up and that twist happens again, and I run to the bathroom. Stella follows to hold my hair back as I have my exorcist moment. Finally, it stops, and I sit back against that bathroom wall.

Stella gets a washcloth and wets it. She crouches down and presses it against my forehead, and I moan at how good it feels. “I don’t mean to upset you but is there something you want to tell me?” I look up at my best friend’s eyes. “I mean, could you be pregnant?”

I laughed a little. “Stella, be real. I haven’t had sex since...” and I stop. I count back and realize that I didn’t have a cycle and I’m late for this month. “Oh, shit.”

I think Stella can see the panic on my face. “Ok, relax. I’m going to the corner market, and I’ll be right back. It's gonna be ok. Can I leave you here and promise you won’t do anything drastic?” I nod because I really can’t say anything. She leaves and I’m alone.

Why the fuck didn’t I notice before? I mean, I guess the stress of the break up and the move took its toll. Add on that and work and of course I wouldn’t have notice. Bret was hyper aware when it was time because he liked to schedule his work trips around it. He didn’t want to be around for the inevitable break downs and cravings of having your period. God, he was such a jerk. Thinking of him made me think of when this possibly could have happened. And it hits me. It had been around Labor Day, and we were fooling around before his work trip. I was that 0.03% of woman who have her contraception fail.

Stella walks back a moment later and hands me a test. I stare at it like it's a snake ready to strike my hand and I look up at Stella. “The faster you do this the faster you can either panic or party. It's up to you.”

She’s right and I hate it. I pee on the stick and set it on its wrapping on the counter. I walk out and chug about half a gallon of water, in fear, I think. “What am I going to do?”

“Not yet,” she says. We sit there in silence as we wait for the longest three minutes of my life. I’m not sure if I want it to be positive. Yes, I’ve always wanted kids. But I thought I would be married and happy. I’m happy but I live with my brother’s best friend and what if he doesn't want kids in his home? What if he asks me to leave? I know my brother would take me in but who really wants to live with their brother? Miranda just moved in. Stella’s phone beeps and I look at her. “Ready?”

“No.” She looks at me with her threatening face, which is terrifying by the way, and she points to the bathroom. I get up, my legs shaking and head to the counter.

“What am i going to do Stella?” We’re sitting at the restaurant in the hotel the next morning. I’m hungry, which is a nice change from being nauseous.

“Let’s get through the road trip and then we will plan and worry.” Stella slathered her toast in jam and then dunks it in her over-easy eggs.

“If you want me to throw up, do that again,” I say with a gag. I concentrate on my scrambled eggs and toast for a few minutes. "Can I just say, I really have no idea how I’m going to tell my brother. He is going to lose his shit,” I stop and blurt. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell Andy.”

“Tell me what?”

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youngveinsworld · 4 months

Text

quotes from a recap of the young veins' show at the crowbar in tampa, florida on 9 july 2010

standing in line, as people came, made me feel old, really, since most people i saw were there with parents. that was strange-- i've never felt so old. mostly, though, i performed failed attempts at fanning myself with my hand and then discovered it worked much better with a dollar bill for the better part of an hour. And i chewed gum, which is pretty much the only reason my mouth stayed hydrated. it still perplexes me how those girls could stand to be out there in jeans or leggings.

the bouncer who let us in was rather hilarious. he spent his time playing a counting game with himself to see how many people he could put x's on in a row. and then he was bemused by my being from ohio-- he was like 'did you drive down here for this? wtf?'. he was slightly less shocked once i told him i was on vacation.

i kept spotting nick white talking to the bouncer and, at one point, ryan walking around behind the crowd, though i'm not entirely sure how he walked through the entire bar without someone coming up to him.

the young veins came onstage in short sleeves, for once, except nick murray, who was crazy enough to don a button up. even ryan had on his red white and blue polo, which amused me as i had spent time outside earlier wondering if he would end up wearing it, since i doubted even crazy little ryan ross would want to be onstage in a three piece suit in that kind of weather.

their set up took even longer than black gold's, unfortunately, with ryan tripping over numerous power cords, plugging and unplugging shit from the power strip, and repositioning both his pedals and his water cups for the better part of fifteen minutes. my time, then, was spent marveling at how in the world ryan's toothpick legs hold him up and concurring that jon is even prettier now than the last time i saw him.

the sound guy was a huge dick to them, too, and it took him ten minutes to get nick's keyboard fully sounded. ryan was being rather sassy with him, as his guitar was giving some intense feedback, and eventually he was just snapping shortly at him and said it was fine, whatever. it was obviously not that fine, though, and he spent the first three songs readjusting his mic stand and dragging his floor amp around and gesturing to the sound guy to turn up his mic. at one point he clarified to us that we were being lovely, it's just that the sound sucked and that he was sorry for being so cranky, but he used to be in the foo fighters, and he just wasn't used to it.

his snarky little bitch attitude was fabulous, to be honest, and he eventually got so fed up that he was just like 'fuck it. i'm moving.' and dragged his amp and his stand back right in front of me and huffily continued.

the rest of their set went fabulously, in my opinion, and i was really feeling the jive of it all. he dedicated 'capetown' to jon for saving his life when he tried to get married and give away his passport to a girl while he was 'most likely drunk'. and they dedicated a song to black gold so that, according to ryan, 'they wouldn't owe them anything, anything'.

the recent joke about being in a motorcycle gang was continued, with ryan and jon bantering back and forth about how they used to be in the foo fighters but before that they were in a motorcycle gang who traveled all over the world and did lots of dangerous deeds and then ryan goes 'and what was that gang called jon?' and jon told us that it was also called the foo fighters, and that 'that's where the name comes from'. during all this ryan was riffing on his guitar as background music, which was quite cute.

he also, before 'everyone but you' told us that it was a sad song and and that we needed to be quiet and really listen to the words jon was singing because they were serious and we should be too. that song sounds so fabulous live, i must say. another one i really liked live was 'security', which i cannot get out of my head and i spent the night singing in the hotel hallways.

ryan thanked us a lot for changing his night, saying that he was kind of 'bummin' about the sound, but we turned it around. he also thanked rooney for letting him sit on their air conditioned bus earlier because he was super hot.

after they finished their set i was about to die a slow and painful death from the aches in my legs and i decided to get out of the front and sit on the railing. i ended up going over to buy merch instead, and subsequently ended up smushed in a large group of people for about a minute.

there was a riser next to the stage with some tables that i ended up standing on to wait for rooney and ended up talking to ryan once i saw he was there. mostly i wanted to stare at him instead of being coherent, because dear lord that boy is even more gorgeous than i remember him-- such a pretty little shit. instead i joked with him about our stripes matching and explained my tattoo idea to him and had him write 'hey moon' out for me in my notebook, and once he did he was all 'are you sure that's okay? my handwriting is lame' which it is not. stylized it will look fabulous. he was rather shocked that i was gonna tattoo my ribs, though, when i told him about it.

i also took a picture of him with my diana camera, which was funny because he was like 'should i strike a pose?' and was posing around a bit and i was like 'dude. stay still. you're fine.' and then i apparently blinded him with my flash, because he was like 'fuuuuck. briiiiight.' afterwards.

i also talked a bit to jon, who was very smiley and pretty, and had him write me another 'hey moon'. i asked if i could take his picture and he was like 'let's take one!' and i was like 'no, of you, haha' and he was like 'oh ok, noooo problem' and i then blinded him as well. he was quite an excitable little shit.

so, conclusively, best decision i've made in a while and totally worth it. i love ryan ross (and his bitchy little 'tude) unwaveringly and without shame.

– from this Livejournal post

#the young veins #young veins #tyv #ryan ross #jon walker #summer2010 #recap #with fans #09072010

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