#Ducks Landing Photographs

[bruce-morrow]

Mallard Duck, Lake Forest Open Lands, 2024

Photo: Bruce Morrow

[sumbluespruce]

Hen and Drake Harlequin ducks  (Histrionicus histrionicus)

5/13/23

[azrielhours]

Captured

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2018

Synopsis: The camera has been invented and Azriel takes up a hobby of capturing reader, proving how pretty she can be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is it?”

“An obscura camera, I think we called it.” You turned the device around for him to see the little hole to look through, let him hold it. “It means ‘dark room.’ Light travels in through here,” you pointed to the lens, “and an image is captured using refraction and shadows.”

Azriel frowned in disbelief, making you laugh.

“Watch,” you said, gently taking the Obscura from his hands.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing,” you smiled, positioning it before your face. “Smile for me.”

He gave a small, tentative smile. The distrust in his eyes had you laughing again, which made Azriel chuckle genuinely.

You clicked something. A shutter sounded, light flashed, and Azriel’s eyes widened. You pulled the obscura away as it rattled, producing a thin strip of rectangular film. Azriel’s frown returned. “It’s black.”

“It has to develop,” you plucked it away and placed it facedown. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”

“This is what you’d been working on with Nuan?” he asked, referring to the alchemist who’d been in town for a few weeks.

You nodded. “It’s an early prototype, but it mimics the way light enters the eye.” A mixture of her trinketry, your crafty impulses, and some magic. “All this work so we can finally capture your pretty face,” you teased, enjoying the pink dusting his cheeks. You turned the piece of film to him, relishing Azriel’s shock upon peering down at the photograph.

That sincere smile you’d managed to capture was how you often caught him looking at you. A sweet, receptive earnestness lighting his normally cold face. Eyes that beheld you like he missed you even when you hadn’t gone anywhere. Now etched permanently into a photograph for you to cherish.

It was your turn to blush. Playful words aside, this truly did catch his beauty.

He met your gaze. “Teach me how to use it.” You demonstrated, pointing to shoot the nearby bookshelf, but Azriel shook his head. “I want one like that,” he nodded to his headshot.

Your nose crinkled. “I don’t photograph well, Az.”

He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t you?” He positioned the obscura over his eyes like you had.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding. “I don’t like the posing.”

 “Come on,” he cooed, laughing. He reached to move your hair where it fell forward as you ducked your head, then gently held your wrists beneath your chin, broad hand easily cradling them between a thumb and two fingers. He tilted your face up with his hold. You peered at him through your fingers, rosy cheeks peeking through digits. Still holding your wrists, he took the photo effortlessly.

You uncovered your face, still blushing. He wondered how you didn’t see what a perfect subject you’d be. How you could invent the obscura and deprive him of its most obvious benefit.

Azriel studied you, and you saw the gears turn in his head. “Can I borrow it for a while?"

You laughed. “Okay, Az.”

~

It started off rather clumsy, and it took a few tries for Azriel to figure out that lighting mattered. That snapping photos with light in the immediate background ruined the film. He tested his hypothesis by capturing a bewildered Cassian, the confusion frozen making Azriel chuckle. He understood why you’d been laughing at him before. Next, he found that distance was important; that he could shift the angle of his photography. A practice shot of Feyre losing herself in a painting, so focused that she didn’t turn to wonder about the shuttering sound. Rhys landing on a balcony after training. Nesta reading ferociously by the fire.

He got the hang of it and was ready to really begin.

I don’t like the posing, you’d told him. He had no issues with that whatsoever.

The first one happened in the kitchen. The early morning hours were typically shared by the both of you on the grounds of a close friendship. You’d been sipping on coffee like it was medicinal, the light of the sun softening everything. Eyes closed, hair still slightly undone from sleep. He loved seeing you in your fancy dresses, your fighting leathers, but something about seeing you in soft, utterly personal nightwear—linen pants, knit cardigans, slippers—it spread warmth through his chest brighter than your revered sunrise. Today he'd even caught you in his t-shirt you must’ve swiped. Carefully positioning the Obscura over his face where he stood at the doorway, he snapped his photo before inconspicuously joining you, inquiring about the theft he quietly adored. Adoring your answering smile even more.

The next shot was on the rooftop. He’d caught Cassian bandaging you up after sparring. You were sat on the bench, smiling bloody and beautiful. Laughing as Cassian cracked jokes, allowing him to tend to you. He was kneeling on the ground before you, cleaning the cuts on your brow, wrapping your bruised knuckles. The sheer glee in your laugh, the way you sat so comfortably with his brother had Azriel reaching into the pocket realm for the Obscura, capturing the sight of his favourite people bantering fresh out of the ring.

One night after Rita’s, Rhys had offered to fly you home after winning a drinking game against Azriel. He’d winked at the bested Shadowsinger, taking you into his arms and shooting to the sky. Azriel grumbled at first until he’d realized the opportunity he had mid-flight with Rhys ahead. You reached to the skies above, stretching like you could grab the very moon, safe in the High Lord’s arms. He wished the Obscura had the power to capture the sound of your laughter as well, but he’d gladly settle for your silhouette marked by the Night Court stars, their beauty dimmed in the face of your exquisite joy.

The next photo was stolen after a Hewn City mission. You’d been in a billowing dark gown, face so ethereal, so striking and utterly beautiful that he’d struggled to look at you face-on. Everyone had taken to sprawling on the couches after coming home, still in formal attire, helping themselves to drinks as they winded down. You’d fallen asleep at some point, stretched comfortably across the sofa with your head nearly hanging off, hair cascading around you like a halo and down the sofa to the ground. Feyre mentioned wishing she could paint the sight of you, sleeping like some spite or nymph, some woodland creature of beauty, your dress ballooning around you like a nightshade flower. Azriel silently pulled out the Obscura, taking his time levelling the device so the light of the hearth illuminated your face.

“What is that thing you keep doing?” Cassian asked lowly.

Azriel focused, capturing the shot. Taking another one just for good measure. “Nothing.”

His favourite photo was of you and Nyx. You’d been playing with the boy on the balcony, blowing bubbles as he tried dutifully to pop them. They’d land and settle in his hair, making you laugh boisterously, head tipping back as Nyx laughed with you unwittingly. It was like the sun loved you, how it always shone upon you, doing the work for Azriel. He took the photo, falling into the easy routine. Once that photo developed, his heart skipped a beat at its sight. At the promise it captured that he wished was his.

He was a lucky bastard to have this gift—a device that finally allowed him to freeze the light that you were in his life, to etch the sights he so sincerely loved. God, you were special. Azriel had to walk away from the balcony, still staring at the little strip of film, more invaluable than precious jewel. How lucky he was to witness you. Luckier still to capture you in still frames, while you unknowingly captured his heart.

~

Azriel found you in your room, sitting at your vanity. He handed the obscura to you. “There’s no more film.”

You laughed. “Wow. How many photos did you take?”

He shrugged, smiling roguishly. “A handful.”

“Can I see?”

He handed a few.

You rifled through them, gasping at the quality. “These are amazing.” He’d captured Feyre descending the stairs in her regalia, beautiful like a divinity of legend. Nesta pouting playfully, glaring right at the camera. Mor putting earrings in before an outing. “Their mates would love these,” you murmured.

“They would,” he agreed.

You shook your head, stunned. “God, they’re beautiful.” Azriel didn’t know if you meant the photos or who he captured in them. “I wish I photographed this good.”

He would’ve laughed at the absurdity if he could resist his scoff of disbelief. “You do.”

You just shook your head, sneaking a quick glance at yourself in the mirror before eyeing the photos again.

Azriel’s heart stuttered. “You do,” he repeated. “I—” he reached into the pocket realm. “I took some of you as well.” Handing over a few photos, he watched closely as your eyes widened. You took your time studying each photo, brows pinched. He didn’t know if it was in dislike, or—

“Wow,” you breathed. You met his gaze. The fragility in them told him it was awe. “Azriel,” you breathed again, assessing the shots. “Wow. You make me look…”

You faded to silence. “What,” he gently nudged you.

“Pretty.”

He tried to speak. A breath puffed out of him. “Y/n,” he couldn’t stop the reverence in his tone. “You’re beautiful. What do you mean?” He didn’t care how it came off, how saying it warmed his cheeks.

He’d only pulled out a few of the tamer photos. The ones of you with his family or in mundane solitude. He immediately pulled out the rest, laying them before you. The pinch deepened between your brows, looking at the one of you after Hewn City. “Oh my god,” you breathed. You had no idea you could look so… “beautiful.”

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “Beautiful.” He pointed to the one of you in the kitchen, freshly woken up. “Here as well.” Always.

You took your time studying them, unable to find it in you to care about how stupidly vulnerable this struck you. Too busy grappling with the comfort of feeling this seen. You finally met his gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that look in his eyes was…

If you were well and truly self-indulgent, you may have called it how you felt inside.

Azriel wished he had just one more piece of film to capture the look on your face. The depth of fondness in your eyes, like he was worth seeing. His heart stuttered again, holding that stare like he could pour his affection directly from his eyes to yours.

“Will you be keeping these?” you asked about the photos.

Azriel chuckled. “Yes. Try taking even one away.”

Oh.

You blushed, breaking his stare. A fine line to toe with your friend indeed.

But Azriel enjoyed that conviction on your face when you saw yourself as he did. “Okay,” he let up, exhaling in mock annoyance. “You can have a few.” He took most of the photos back, making sure to leave you with a copy of the Hewn City one. “I mean, I can always take more.”

You laughed, standing to retrieve your satchel, pulling out spare film. You showed Azriel how to load it in, but before handing the Obscura back, you eyed the first photo he’d taken, with his hands holding your wrists. “I want one like that,” you said, reaching for his face.

He laughed but didn’t bat your hand away, to your pleasant surprise. Only standing firm, albeit leaving his face uncovered. You cradled his face gently by the chin in one hand, resting your fingers on his cheeks, barely pressing. He smiled warmly at you, looking right through the camera at you. You captured him.

“There,” you handed back the obscura. “Now I got you,” you held up his matching photo.

He liked the sound of that. “I have you too,” he raised his collection of your photos in his hand in reminder. “And I’ll be keeping you with me.”

~

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @bakananya @deep-forest-creature @itsswritten

[zegrasdrysdale]

[ photograph ] j. drysdale

paring : Jamie Drysdale x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) decides to fly out to Philly for Valentine’s Day after watching Jamie say in an interview that he’ll probably be spending the day alone

warning(s) : just some tooth rotting fluff with no angst for once, a heavy makeout

author’s note : this is just a (not so) lil fluff filled thing bc i wanted to write something for belated valentine’s day. sorry or you’re welcome (idk)

༺═──────────────═༻

“Yeah, uh, I don’t actually have any plans tomorrow,” he explains to a reporter through the screen on her phone. “Everyone I know here does have plans and everyone else I know is across the country so I’ll most likely spend the day putting together furniture in my new apartment.”

That was the moment she decided that she was getting on the first flight she possibly could to Philly so Jamie didn’t spend Valentine’s Day alone. No one should have to spend the day alone. She doesn’t have any plans and she’s off from work for about two weeks because they’re doing renovations so a little trip to Philadelphia doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Last year he spent the day with Trevor on the couch and watched movies in their shared apartment. This year, he is in Philly and Trevor actually has a girlfriend. Not very ideal for Jamie.

She isn’t Jamie’s girlfriend, but she is one of his best friends and could never let him be alone on Valentine’s Day. Especially not after hearing what his actual plans are for tomorrow. She’s going to at least help him put furniture together in his apartment.

A flight out of LAX is scheduled for 10 that night. It’s six so she has about two hours to pack for a week long trip to Philly. She even buys a ticket for Saturday’s game at MetLife since she wants to see Jamie play a game while she’s in Philly.

By eight, she’s out the door with a suitcase that’s packed full of clothes and non-liquid toiletries. The jersey Jamie sent her about a week after the trade is neatly folded with the rest of her clothes. She orders an Uber to drive her to the airport.

While in the Uber, she debates texting Jamie and telling him that she’ll be at his new apartment early tomorrow morning since she’ll be landing a little before six in the morning. It’ll probably take about 45 minutes after she lands before she’s on Jamie’s doorstep.

Maybe a surprise wouldn’t be the worst thing so she puts her phone away until she has to pull out her plane ticket.

Getting on the plane takes an hour between getting past TSA and buying snacks for the nearly five hour flight. She boards the plane twenty minutes before it takes off so she has time to get comfortable.

She’s asleep before the plane even leaves the ground.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

All the snacks she bought before the flight are going to be the snacks she eats while she’s in Philly because she slept for the entire flight. It didn’t feel like she slept for 5 hours but she did.

By six, she’s at baggage claim and grabbing her suitcase. She orders an Uber to Voorhees while she waits for her things. The car is waiting for her when she get outside.

It’s a lot colder out than she thought it was going to be. All she has on is a Ducks hoodie that Jamie gave to her the year before and a pair of leggings with Uggs on her feet. Her feet are warm. The rest of her is not. She shakes as she puts her things in the trunk of the car.

She gives the driver Jamie’s new address and she’s off to surprise her best friend.

The closer she gets to Jamie’s, the more nervous she gets. What if he found someone after moving to the Philly area? What if the whole putting furniture together comment was a lie so he didn’t announce to the entire world he was in a relationship? What if he doesn’t want her there in general?

Maybe a spontaneous trip across the country without at least letting Jamie know she was coming wasn’t the best idea she’s ever had.

A call comes through from Trevor. Confused, she answers the phone. “Good morning?”

“Are you in Philly?” he asks.

“Maybe,” she slowly replies as she watches the Philly skyline pass. “Why? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Not for you apparently,” he retorts. “I looked to see where you were because Mason said you weren’t replying to his texts so I wanted to make sure you were okay and I see that you flew across the country.”

She smiles and shakes her head. The way Trevor would find out she’s in Philly is by checking her location. He and Jamie are the only ones that have her location because she’s closest with them.

“Just wanted to surprise Jamie,” she tells Trevor. “That’s all. Tell Mason I’ll call him later because I’m about ten minutes away from Jamie’s apartment.”

“You gonna tell him you love him?” Trevor questions. She opens her mouth to object but he keeps talking. “It’s so freaking obvious so don’t even lie to me.”

A nervous laugh passes her lips. “We’ll see,” she replies. “I’ll talk to you later, Z.”

“Tell me how he’s really doing,” he tells her. “I worry about him sometimes.”

“Will do,” she says as the driver pulls up to Jamie’s place. “Talk soon.”

The line goes dead and she looks out the window at the apartment building. Jamie’s somewhere in there asleep and she’s about two minutes away from calling him to come let her into the building.

She gets her things out of the trunk and thanks the driver before he drives off to pick someone else up. She sighs and pulls up Jamie’s contact.

When she presses the ‘call’ button, it rings about four times before Jamie answers. The entire time, her hands are shaking and she isn’t sure if it’s because of the cold or if she’s nervous to see Jamie for the first time since the trade.

“It’s like four in the morning,” he croaks when he picks up. “Are you okay?”

She smiles at the sound of his morning voice. “Actually it’s almost seven in the morning and I’m currently freezing my ass off outside your apartment building so if you could come let me in, that would be great,” she says.

It sounds like Jamie falls out of bed when she says that she’s outside of the building. If he broke anything then she’s going to have to explain to Torts why Jamie will be out for six weeks.

He isn’t holding any body parts when he swings the door open and blankly stares at her from the top of the steps of the building. He blinks a few times like he’s trying to decide if he’s still dreaming or if he’s awake. She waves and a barefoot Jamie runs down the stairs to hug her.

A laugh passes her lips and she wraps her arms around his torso. “You’re actually here,” he says against her ear. “I thought you were lying to me.”

“Nope,” she replies. “I’m here. I didn’t have anything else to do so I thought I’d come surprise you. Help you put together some furniture for Valentine’s Day.”

Jamie pulls back from the hug just enough to look at her. “You saw that interview?” he asks.

With a nod and a smile, she replies, “It sounded like a very boring way to spend Valentine’s Day so I thought I’d come keep you company. Maybe watch you play at the outdoor game this weekend. I have another week off from work and spending it in the Philly area with my best friend didn’t sound like the worst idea.”

“You are actually insane for buying a plane ticket without knowing if I’d be here or not,” he tells her. “I could’ve left for Toronto before you got here since we play them tomorrow.”

“Yeah I know how your travel schedule works,” she retorts. “That’s how I knew you’d be here.”

He shakes his head and grabs her suitcase. “You have some of the best timing because I took a maintenance day today so I have a day off from practice, but I leave tomorrow morning for Toronto,” he says to her as they walk into the building together.

“Listen, I’m spending a week in the area,” she replies. “I get to watch you play at the outdoor game on Saturday when I wasn’t planning on being on the east coast at all. If you’re gone for a day or two then it’s fine.”

The smile that forms on Jamie’s face makes her heart do somersaults in her stomach.

She can tell how excited he is that she decided to visit him. She knows how much he has been missing Anaheim so she brought Anaheim to him for a week.

When Jamie opens the door to the apartment, she is very surprised by how decorated it is and how much of the stuff he had in his Anaheim apartment has made its way to this one. It still needs some work done, but that is why she’s here. She’s here to help him finish putting it all together.

“I need to build some shelves,” Jamie tells her. “And put together the guest bedroom. The frame still needs to be built for the guest bed too. This is what my plans were for the day.”

She turns her head to look at him as he closes the door behind them. “So it wasn’t come ruse so you didn’t have to admit to the world that you had a secret girlfriend?” she questions.

If she should expect Jamie to have a girl over then she might as well get the girlfriend question out of the way early on in her visit.

“Uh, no,” he replies. “No secret girlfriend. I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had any time to find a girlfriend. Yorky has tried but he’s not the best wingman.”

She can’t help but laugh. Jamie smiles and rolls her suitcase to the unfinished bedroom.

She decides to make some coffee for the two of them so they can get started on the day’s plans. They have to put together the guest room and build some shelves. It can’t be very hard to do either of those things. Right?

Wrong.

It turns out that Jamie can’t follow simple instructions to save his life. She has had to refrain from throwing whatever is in her hand at him so many times because he can’t read a piece of paper.

“Jamie, what am I supposed to do with this screw?” she asks as she holds up an extra screw. “Do I have to put it in your head so you can use your brain or something? You missing one in there? Do I need to get Trevor on the first flight out of LAX to come help you figure out how to read the instructions?”

Jamie looks up from his spot on the floor and throws the instructions at her. “Here, you try to read this and tell me if it makes any sense,” he retorts. “It’s all confusing. My parents helped me build shelves when they came to visit a few weeks ago. I didn’t have to do this. Maybe it’s just an extra.”

She grabs the pamphlet and reads the directions. The screw was supposed to be put in when putting the shelves in place. A shelf is missing a screw.

“You dumbass,” she says. “It’s not an extra screw. It was supposed to be put in on the bottom shelf to make sure it is secure and even. You now have an unsecure shelf in your guest room.”

Jamie flattens out on his back on the carpeted floor with a groan. “This is why I’m a hockey player and don’t work in home improvement,” he says as he rubs his eyes. She laughs and tries to keep her eyes on his face instead of on the sliver of skin that peeks out between what is a new Flyers t-shirt and pajama pants. “This is so dumb. I am not about to take that whole thing apart to put one screw in.”

She walks over and slaps the pamphlet on his stomach. He gasps and sits up with the paper in his hands. “Then get it together, Drysdale,” she tells him. “We have a bed frame to build.”

“Fuck the bed frame,” he sighs as she grabs the box in the corner and drags it into the center of the room. “You don’t need a bed to sleep in tonight.”

With a light laugh, she teases, “If we don’t get it set up then I’m gonna be sleeping in your bed until we get it put together.”

Jamie mutters something that sounds like “would be okay with me” but she pretends she doesn’t hear it. She can’t hear it or else she will just say “fuck it” and sleep in Jamie’s bed the entire time she’s here instead of putting the bed together.

The mattress is sitting up against the wall next to where the box with the bed frame was. He has everything he needs to put this bed together and he hasn’t done it yet. Not even over the All Star break when he had a few days off before going to Mexico with the Flyers.

Putting the bed together takes less time and a lot less arguing back and forth. Within an hour, the mattress is on top of the bed frame. Five-foot-eleven 185 pound Jamie flops on the mattress to make sure it’s secure and won’t fall apart if someone were to jump on it.

They do not need to have another shelf problem with the bed that she will most likely be sleeping on while she’s in the area. If it is like the shelf and it’s not safe to sleep on then the couch is in the living room for a reason.

The two of them stand in the doorway and look at their work when they decide the bed is secure. “We make an amazing team,” she comments. “Aside from the shelf.”

Jamie groans and walks down the hallway to his own room. “Shelves are stupid anyway,” he replies. “Who is actually going to use them in this room aside from me just putting a handful of books and pictures on them?” She laughs and goes to unpack her stuff now that it’s safe to do so without stepping on wood, metal or a screw on the floor.

The Flyers jersey that he sent her gets hung up in the closet along with her shirts, hoodies, and nicer pants. She’ll pull bras, panties, and socks out of the suitcase as needed. The beanie she brought to wear on Saturday is put on the bedside table.

Then she pulls out the gift that she brought for Jamie. It isn’t much but she’s hoping that it means as much to him as it does to her. The pictures she brought were taken at such important moments in Jamie’s career and she hopes that he doesn’t mind having a few pictures of his best friend around the apartment.

She walks down to Jamie’s bedroom and knocks gently on the door. There are footsteps behind it before the door swings open. “I, um, had these printed and framed in case I ever came to visit you,” she tells him as she holds out the three picture frames. “Thought you might need some décor.”

Jamie looks down at the pictures and shifts through them.

One of them was taken on Jamie’s Draft Day. He has on a Ducks jersey and she has on his Ducks hat. He looks so happy. He has an arm around her shoulders while he holds up six fingers and is smiling at the camera. She has a smile on his face and is looking up at him with a proud look on her face. Messy ponytail and all.

The second one was taken the day Jamie made his NHL debut and scored his first goal. It’s a selfie she took of her, Jamie, and Trevor at dinner that same night. They’re both holding their pucks because they went right from the arena to a restaurant to eat.

The third one was taken during the 2021 World Juniors tournament where Canada placed second. She’s putting the silver medal back around his neck after he had given it to her. “Silver just means you lost” is what he had said to her a moment before this was captured. She had told him that she was a winner to him and put the medal back around his neck. There is heavy eye contact between the two of them in their matching jerseys.

It was as the third picture was being taken she realized that she loved Jamie. The first two pictures, she knew she had feelings for him, but the third was when she realized that she wanted to be there for him as more than just a friend.

“I had no idea you had any of these,” he says after he’s done looking through them. Jamie looks up at her. “All at different points of my career.”

“Been with you since day one,” she replies with a smile on her face. “You didn’t think that I wouldn’t be here with you while you succeed in a whole new city, did you?”

Jamie laughs and shakes his head. “Absolutely not,” he tells her. “You always make sure you’re a presence in my life.” He pauses and looks right at her. “It’s one of the things I love most about having you in my life.”

She could almost cry when he says that.

There have been so many times over the years where she thought she was annoying or that he wanted her out of his life. She followed him to California when he started playing with the Gulls then the Ducks. He asked her to come with him, but she thought for months it was out of pity.

He has erased years of insecurity with one comment.

“Thanks for keeping me in your life,” she replies after a brief moment of silence.

“You’re like Trevor,” he teases. “You’re always around. It would be hard for me to get rid of you.”

She smiles up at him. “Except he would never fly across the country to see you,” she retorts. “Especially without at least telling you he was coming to see you.”

Jamie laughs. “No, he wouldn’t.”

They look at each other for a second before he walks past her. He has the picture frames in his hand as he walks into the living room. She follows him even though she is confused with what he’s doing.

He puts the picture of himself, Trevor, and (Y/N) on the coffee table under the lamp next to the couch. It’s the most public place in the entire place so it makes sense that that’s the picture that is put in the living room.

The picture of the two of them on Draft Day goes on a little table that leads to the hallway with both bedrooms and bathrooms. The table is under a little mirror that’s been hung up. A little less public but it also joins the other pictures that were taken that day. It looks like it belongs.

Jamie glances at her and walks back into his bedroom. She follows right behind him and stands in the doorway of his room. Her eyes are on the picture of the two of them at the 2021 World Juniors as it’s placed on Jamie’s bedside table.

“This one means the most to me so it deserves a little more privacy than the others,” Jamie tells her without a look in her direction. “You were there for me and picked me up when I was down. I didn’t want anyone else there but you. You were the one that convinced me silver was okay. The team worked hard to get to that moment. The medal was very well deserved because we did everything we could to make it to that game. I did everything I could to get the team to that game. We just came up a little bit short.”

She pouts and walks further into the room. He finally looks over at her. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she softly says to him. “I didn’t know that I was the person that convinced you it was okay to wear silver around your neck.”

“I needed silver because my gold medal was you,” Jamie shakily admits. His voice is soft. “You’re my gold medal.”

His words have her speechless. Her jaw drops in surprise. She has no idea why he’s saying this to her now.

He reaches out to her and brushes a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She takes a step forward and feels her heart race in her chest as she looks up at him. Her body shakes as she realizes that their relationship is changing.

A line that she never expected to cross is about to be crossed. She can see it in Jamie’s eyes as they examine her face, landing on her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

She nods because she doesn’t trust herself to speak. She is afraid that she’s going to admit how long she’s been in love with him if she says a single words.

So she nods, and Jamie leans down to capture her lips in a soft, hesitant kiss. He’s testing the waters to see if she’ll push him away.

She’ll never push him away.

Not when she finally has him like this. Not when she finally knows what it feels like to kiss Jamie Drysdale.

When she feels him begin to pull away, she wraps her arms around his neck and leans more into him to deepen the kiss instead of Jamie breaking it. Her fingers find a home in his hair.

She is scared he will regret it if the kiss breaks, and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t want to see that look. It might break her if he looks at her like that if the kiss breaks.

Jamie cups her cheek and brushes his thumbs over her cheekbone. She melts against him with a sigh.

“(Y/N),” he mumbles after a second. “I need to breathe.”

That’s when she lets him pull away. The sight of his red, swollen lips and unruly hair is almost too much for her. There’s a hint of a smile on his face and something overcomes her.

“I love you,” she tells him. “I’ve loved you since that was taken.” She points in the direction of the picture on his bedside table. “It’s always been you, Jamie. That’s why I flew across the country on Valentine’s Day. I wanted to be with you today because I miss you and I love you.”

Jamie smiles and brushes his thumb over her own lips that are as red and swollen as his are. “I love you too,” he says. “I think I’ve been in love with you since I saw you at my first NHL game in my jersey. I’m very happy you came to the east coast to watch me play in the Stadium Series game this weekend. I was going to probably fly you out anyway.”

She laughs and shakes her head before burying her face in his chest. They’ve been in love with each other for years and are only now saying something about it after Jamie was traded to Philly and she’s stuck in Anaheim for right now.

“Only took me bringing you pictures to finally kiss me,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up and come here.”

Their lips meet in a heated kiss. Everything they’ve been feeling is coming out in the kiss. Jamie tugs her until she is sitting on his lap while he’s sitting on the mattress. She drapes her arms over his shoulders.

It’s that moment when she realizes they put together a whole bed for no reason because there is now no way she is getting in that bed now.

She pushes him down until Jamie is lying flat on his back and their chests are flush against each other. Her hair creates a curtain around their faces despite his fingers curling in her locks.

“Wait, hold on,” Jamie says. She pulls back from the kiss. “Have something to ask you before we get distracted.”

“Hm?”

“Will you come to family skate on Friday before the game at MetLife?” he asks. “As my girlfriend?”

The biggest smile forms on her lips. “You’re going to have to give me skating lessons because despite watching you play hockey for years, I have no idea how to skate,” she tells him.

“I will give you skating lessons,” Jamie laughs. “You’ll come though?”

She nods and kisses him. “I’ll come.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

yourusername

liked by jamie.drysdale, philadelphiaflyers, and 193,872 others

yourusername life recently w my 🤍

view all 15,982 comments

fan1 JAMIE HAS A GIRLFRIEND ????

masonmctavish23 ig i forgive you for not answering my texts last week

yourusername we can hang out when i get back into cali on wednesday

masonmctavish23 good. i’m mad that jamie stole you from us

fan2 oh my god. this is so cute

fan3 you were at metlife ??? i think i walked past you at one point

yourusername i had on the drysdale jersey

trevorzegras oh this is all i’m gonna hear about when she gets back

leocarlssoon it’s about time. i was praying this would happen bc the way jamie talked about you was insane

jamie.drysdale let me live !!

philadelphiaflyers Thanks for coming out

jamie.drysdale skating w my girlfriend for the first time was the best feeling 🩵

yourusername being your girlfriend is the best feeling

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[angelicguy]

all the toons of toonville USA quickly gathered for my funeral. this was the first death that toonville had ever had within its borders, so the processions were brief and crass. many of them did not know what had happened to me, and arrived jovial with gifts and favors to share with one another.

a whole line of red and blue convertibles filled the one lane street that led to my body. since everyone in town knew each other, they engaged in bright lively conversation about all the sweet memories they had of me. my birthday, my bris, my several rushed visits to the toon hospital were all discussed among the townsfolk who shared their popping candies and hot sodas that they had prepared for the celebration.

Cowboy Frito and Juliet Juniper (one of toonvilles hottest couples) brought a boquet of my favorite treats in apparent memory of me. Dr Lollipop and his beau Beauty Bee were especially excited to witness my body, flayed and broken, as they had never seen one before. Fashionista Frida Frizzlemeister was dressed from head to toe in the most dazzling outfit she had, with a black and white photograph of my own head featured as the centerpiece to her famously glitzy bouquet.

gathered in thousands of seats surrounding my thick, red, plastic coffin, the show was finally on the road. despite being delayed a half hour (the felt arms of the pallbearer made it difficult to actually get the dang thing near my ready grave!), the mood was light, as everyone in attendance were best friends. scattered lines of conversation quickly concluded as Pastor Paisley cleared his throat to begin his eulogy- at least he tried! pranks were all the rage in toonville, and who else but Scoots McBuzz would spit a hot wad of greasegum right at him. Paisley, experienced from his many sunday school classes over the years, grabbed his toupee and ducked down-causing the gum to stick right onto my fisher price brand tomb.

a long pause filled the air, followed by bright laughter at such a farce. in fact, all of toonville decided to cover my final resting place in bits of chewed paper, bottlecaps, smile stickers (the lowest form of their complex currency) and all kinds of knick knacks while hollering with laughter. and what could cap off such a good time like a hearty meal? Chef Al LaRonge had prepared a veritable feast for the hungry attendees, who stuffed their mouths with gooey, cheesy pizza, hot pepper patties and classic peanut butter chocolate superbars.

as the sun set, Mayor Megamouth of toonville declared their first funeral a complete success and thanked everyone for being a part of such a touching event. "he knew every one of you, and would have loved to know he caused such a record turnout among the toontopians!" after cheery "hip, hip, hooray!" and a final goodbye towards my flesh, the now urine-soaked coffin was marched straight into the freshly built mausoleum, the only gravesite to be found in the brand new toonville boneyard.

given the limited use of the land, it was eventually folded into the soda treatment plant. over time, my final resting place became stained with the colors and smell of sarsaparilla, caramel, and beetroot. the foundation eventually buckled beneath the sagging heft of the pop-drenched wood that surrounded my now bleached bones on the fourth of july, the sounds of creaking and splintering masked underneath the no-expenses-spared fireworks show. shapes of cakes and pies filled the air as my remains were carried out to the stinking sea.

[texas-writes]

Calander Girl

Johnny Cage x Model! Reader

I did NOT mean to lake this shit so long. I literally got possessed by a cock demon

Cw: piv sex, adult modeling, oral (m and f recieving) a lot of cum, cum eating, overstimulation

When Johnny Cage had first met you it was a total accident. He’d been way too caught up in a phone call with his agent, bitching about not wanting to work on another rom-com when he walked his happy ass onto the wrong soundstage.

It had taken him a solid minute to register that he was in the wrong place, staring at you laying bare on your stomach, propped up on your elbows with nothing but a cheap American Flag covering your ass. He watched intently as you kicked your foot up in the air with your toes pointed and popped your gum, vintage curls bouncing as you finally looked his way.

Your big doe eyes catch his as he admires you and you bring your thumb up to your red lips to stifle a giggle. Johnny starts as the camera clicks and the flash box goes off, apologizing profusely and ducking off the set. He wouldn’t know it for a while, but he was your lucky break.

The smile you had given him had secured your place as Miss June, that summer’s All American Girl, giving a strong-armed salute in a sailor style swimsuit with a Dixie cap balanced precariously over your victory rolls on the cover of that month’s issue. Your tight body and inviting face was going to “give the American Dream a breath of fresh air” as your photographer had claimed.

Your photos inside the magazine were significantly less wholesome, but still endearing nonetheless, licking whipped cream off of a beater in a white halter and high waisted sailor shorts, you leaning on that god-awful plaster anchor in nothing but stockings, heels and a white bullet bra with your legs strategically positioned to leave something to the imagination, the innocent smile you had given Johnny, and then in the middle, there you were, fully nude in those same heels and stockings, waving a handkerchief above your head with one foot kicked up behind you. “Hello, Sailor,” read the caption above you in a cheesy Americana font.

Nobody was looking at that stupid shit anyways.

When Johnny had walked into the gas station on his birthday, his first birthday alone in who knows how long, he’d decided to get himself a present. Walking to the back and picking up a twelve pack of Modelo and a single Red Bull, he’d found himself at the magazine rack beside the bathroom, leafing through the latest issues of Hustler and Penthouse before landing on his go-to. Playboy. Without looking he plucked it off the rack and made his way to the register, paid for his things, and left eager to get home and enjoy himself.

After he got home and stripped down to his boxers, he crawled into his plush California King and cracked open a beer, tossing his girly mag to the side to enjoy a couple of drinks before getting to business.

Three beers later he’s feeling loose and a little less bad about the whole ‘single’ thing he had going on, he pulls his half erect dick from his boxers, stroking it lazily, and returns his attention to the magazine.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters when he looks down and sees you of all people. He couldn’t jerk off to you, he’d met you for God’s sake. Well, kind of, but it was the principle, really. He tucks himself back into his underwear and sighs, tossing his head back in defeat.

“Well,” he reasons with himself. “It wouldn’t hurt if I just looked.” That’s what you had been there for, to be looked at, no different than him really. Besides, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before on any woman, or you for that matter, and you just looked so damn cute on the cover with your bright eyes and big smile. How could he resist?

He flips through the pages, chuckling to himself at how corny the theme they had given you was. He was however taken aback when he saw what he’d seen just a month prior in front of him once again. That smile, his smile, if he dared, was just as endearing as it had been the first time, making his heart skip a beat. He sighs dreamily and turns the page, unfolding the pages and taking in all of you.

“Hello Sailor, indeed,” he breathes, not quite enjoying the way his cock twitches, making him hastily fold you back up and toss you on the nightstand, grabbing the remote instead. There had to be something good on pay per view.

“Do I have to do this,” you protest, pulling up your jeans and making sure your g-string is tastefully exposed before pulling the French-cropped trans am shirt over your head.

“No, but it’ll be fun, and they’ll be super famous people there too,” Lainey promises, pulling the hem of her dress down to an acceptable just-below-the-asscheek length.

“Yeah. They’ll probably be too famous to recognize me.”

“If you hate the attention so much, why'd you do this? Genuine question, I promise I’m not being mean.”

“I wanted to be an actress, and thought this would get my foot in the door. I just don’t like being recognized only from the neck down.”

“Hey you covered your tattoo on film, so maybe you’ll be alright.”

You look down at the pink nautical star on the inside of your wrist, right on your pulse point and nod. “Yeah. Cause that’s what they’ll be looking at.”

“Ugh, well, I tried. We gotta go before we’re late.”

You weren’t exactly sure what this party was for, or if it was just a happening, but Lainey was the one that found it and she had been in the game longer than you had, so you took her professional opinion. So there you were, leaning against the bar, idly stirring your drink, enjoying the clinking sound the ice makes when you look up and see him.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, Lainey, it’s that guy,” you hiss, wrapping your arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. “The one I told you about.” She looks over her other shoulder, her bottle-blonde hair whacking you in the face in the process. It smelled like strawberries.

“Are you fucking stupid,” she hisses back, giving you the most dumbfounded look you’ve ever seen. “That’s Johnny fuckin’ Cage!”

You peer around her. “Huh? I guess it is. Didn’t notice then. Was too nervous,” you explain, unwrapping a stick of gum and inspecting it.

“Well? What are you waiting for? Go talk to him!”

Before you can protest she’s untangled herself from your grasp and shoved you towards him.

You take a deep breath, shove the stick of gum into your mouth and push yourself the rest of the way, coming up beside him.

“Excuse me,” you call, your voice barely audible over the clamor of the party, but he still turns around, his face lighting up when he notices who you are.

“Hey! You’re that girl, sorry about that, by the way. I’m sure that was embarrassing. My fault really. I was on the phone with my agent. He never listens.”

“Well, Mr. Cage-“

“Johnny, please,” he insists, running his hand through his hair.

“Johnny. If you hadn’t walked onto my set I would’ve never smiled like that and gotten myself here.”

“Oh?”

“You know I didn’t realize it was you until just a few minutes ago. I just saw a handsome guy and got all embarrassed.”

He chuckles. “Same here. The embarrassed part, not the hot guy part. I don’t-” He lets out a defeated sigh and then rolls his shoulders back. “You’re the beautiful one though. You totally deserved to be Miss June. Say, if I bring you a copy would you sign it for me?”

“You want my autograph?”

“Sure, why not. You looked real cute on the cover. I can frame it, say I met you before you hit the big time.”

You laugh and look up at him. “You know, I thought famous people were supposed to be dicks.”

“Me? No way. I can’t vouch for most of these people though. Do you want to act, or do you just do stills,” He asks, taking a step back, seeming to size you up.

“I’m here to act. The stills are just a… temporary detour,” you admit, worrying the hem of your shirt between your fingers nervously.

“You know, my agent? The one I was on the phone with when I had my location mishap? Keeps calling me about this rom-com they want me for and I told him ‘No way, José’ unless they stop trying to pick women that look like my ex-wife to play the girl, you know everyone loves a blonde lead.”

He looks at you and sighs again. He sure sighed a lot for a grown man. Maybe it was nerves? Nah, couldn’t be. He was Johnny fucking Cage, after all.

“Listen if I can convince them to pick you up instead, you’ll be doing me a huge solid if you take it. You in?”

“What’s the catch,” you question, popping your gum at him.

“The catch?”

“Yeah. What’ll you want in return?”

“There is no catch. Studio gets their movie, you get to act and I don’t have to be constantly reminded that my wife left me. Everyone goes home happy. Well, almost everyone. Look, I don’t wa-expect you to fuck me if that’s what you mean.”

“Want?”

His cheeks flush and he gives you a confused look that’s a little too polished to be real.

“You almost said want but then stopped yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure Johnny. Well, either you can keep lying to both of us, or you can get me out of here and get what you want.”

“You fucking serious?”

“Why not? Been trying to leave since I got here.”

He just chuckles and snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you close to him, leaning down next to your ear. “Your place or mine?”

“Your bed’s probably bigger,” you tease, sliding your hand into his back pocket and giving his muscular ass a squeeze as he leads you towards the door.

You glance over at the bar to find Lainey staring at you with a slack-jawed look of disbelief. You give her a shiny white smile and an exaggerated finger wave as you pass.

When you get to Johnny’s car he unlocks it from across the parking garage with the fob and jogs ahead to open your door for you, flashing you a grin as he closes it back behind you. The interior is all brown leather, making you scared to touch anything, so you just fold your hands politely into your lap.

The man of the hour ducks into the car a moment later, hitting the push-button ignition and gives it a rev. “What do you think? Nice huh? It’s an Aston Martin.

“I like the leather. Scared to touch it though.”

“Don’t be. Get comfortable Sweetheart,” he grins, looking over his shoulder as he backs out of the parking spot.

You cautiously unfold your hands and stretch your legs out, leaning back in the seat a bit.

Johnny’s hand slowly crosses the center console of the car and comes to rest on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in wide circles along the rough denim of your jeans. You ease your trembling hand towards his, lacing your pinkie with his.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You’re shaking.”

“Never been with someone famous. Little nerve-wracking is all,” you reply, giving his pinkie a squeeze.

“I can drop you home if you’d prefer, Sweetheart,” he offers, looking over at you and giving you a softer, more genuine smile.

“I’m okay, really.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, promise.”

When you pull into his driveway you force yourself to not look surprised. You’d known his place would be big, but honestly, that was an understatement. You were so far out of your element that there wasn’t any going back. Sure, you’d been in a mansion before, hell you lived in one, granted it was almost a sorority situation in nature, but still.

Johnny parks in the underground garage and comes around to let you out, snaking his arm around your waist as soon as you’re standing. You give him a soft smile and let your hand find its way into his back pocket again, earning a single laugh from him.

He leads you through the garage and up a small flight of stairs into the living room, gesturing for you to sit on the couch.

“Sooooo, can I get you a drink or something?”

“Such a gracious host. We can drink if you want.”

“Awesome. You like ‘em fruity or straight.”

“Whichever you want.”

“I’m gonna go make daiquiris then. Make yourself at home baby,” he calls, slipping away towards the kitchen. He sounded excited at the prospect of having a fruity little drink. It was endearing.

You kick your shoes off and take them over to the door, lining them up carefully just barely not touching the wall before returning to the couch and folding your feet up underneath you. God, you’re really here sitting on some A-listers couch while he fixes drinks for the two of you. Did this count as a date? No, this was just a hook-up. But why was he doing more than he had to? Maybe? Nah. Well-

Your thoughts were ground to a halt by the sound of a blender full of ice running at full speed. Whatever. You were getting a mixed drink and some (hopefully) good dick, so nothing else really mattered.

Johnny comes back a couple minutes later with two glasses full of vibrant red slushie with bendy straws. He hands you one and flops down beside you, patting his thigh. You debate with yourself for a moment before throwing your legs over his lap, smiling around your straw when he rests his free hand on your knee.

“How long have you been in L.A.,” he questions, taking a moment to bend his straw into a little loop before returning his hand to your leg, higher this time.

“About six months or so. Got the gig with Playboy and moved out here. Thanks for the drink by the way.”

“No problem. Are you staying at the Mansion or do you have your own place?”

“I’m at the Mansion. It’s kind of lame honestly. I have to share a room with another of the bunnies, but apparently things are different now that Coop’s in charge. I think I’ve seen him like, twice ever.” You take a long slurp of your drink and have to fend off a fast-approaching brain freeze.

“Yeah. I heard Hef used to be a real menace. Glad you don’t have to put up with him.”

“It’s nice. Free place to live out here is awesome. We just have to take turns making breakfast for everyone and look good at parties.”

“Not hard for you to do,” he replies, rubbing his thumb along your leg again.

You chuckle at his complement, but can’t manage to fight off the pink that tinges your cheeks.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah baby?”

“You don’t think I’m easy do you?”

“No way. If you were easy we’d be halfway done by now, besides anyone’d jump at the opportunity to come home with me.”

“Conceited much,” you joke, tugging his shirt sleeve with your toes.

“Me? No way,” he teases, giving you a wink

“Sure…”

“How’s your drink?”

“‘S good.”

“Glad to hear it. C’mere,” he urges, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap and you let him. “You seem like a sweet girl and I wanna treat you right, see where this goes, ya know.”

“Seriously,” you ask, returning your attention to your drink trying to stave off the fresh anxiety bubbling up in your tummy.

“Sure, or it can just be a one time thing if you want. I just don’t want you feeling tossed aside.”

“We’ll see what happens,” you murmur, leaning away, relying entirely on his arm around your waist to put your empty cup on the coffee table before wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him. His shoulders relax and he kisses you back, not bothering to pull away as he leans to put his cup with yours so his hands can focus on holding onto you.

The two of you kiss until you’re lightheaded and have no choice but to pull away panting. “Fuck, Johnny, you’re so fuckin’ hot.”

“Mh, that’s you baby. You want to take the party upstairs?”

“Let’s go,” you whisper, grabbing his face and smashing your lips to his again. He smiles against you and gathers you up in his toned arms, carrying you up the stairs.

His room was just as extravagant as the rest of his house, as you had expected. He sets you down and steps back, kicking off his own shoes and disappearing into what you assume to be the closet. You walk over and sit on the edge of his king-size bed, running your hands along the plush black comforter and taking in the painting above the headboard. It was a Warhol.

Johnny comes back out of the closet in just his slacks and sits beside you. “Nice painting, right?”

“Yeah,” you respond almost blankly, before returning your attention to him, noticing his tattoo. He really was conceited, but looking at the rest of him, he had good reason to be.” I’d forgotten about this one. Figure most people have though, everything except for his pop art.”

“What’s your favorite painting?” What an unusually thoughtful question to ask given the situation. It deserved a thoughtful answer.

“Christina’s World. Reminds me of myself in a way, getting to where I want to be by sheer force of will, despite it all.”

“Well, you got there.”

“I still want more.”

“And you’ll have it. One day you’ll look back and it’ll be hard to remember when you didn’t.”

“Can’t imagine forgetting.”

“Didn’t say you’d forget how you got there. You forget how miserable it was because it's paid off. Nothing’s better than that.”

“Sappy.”

“I try.”

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

His back stiffens and he turns to face you. “Huh?”

“I asked if you want me to suck your dick.”

“Oh, you mean like- actually. I thought you were being facetious. Be my guest- if you want.”

You laugh and slide off the bed, kneeling between his toned legs, bringing your hands to rest on his belt buckle.

“You sound nervous,” you tease, undoing his belt and unzipping his fly.

“It’s been a while.”

“Yeah, me too. I’m probably no good anymore.”

“I’m sure you’ll do fine sweetheart.”

Your fingers make quick work of the button on his slacks, finally reaching into his boxers and pulling his cock out. Oh. He was big. It was your turn to be nervous again, gulping and taking a deep breath before pressing a kiss to his flushed tip. You decide to take it slow, peppering him with kisses and kitten licks before finally taking him into your mouth, taking your time to get used to each inch before forcing yourself lower. His fingers work their way into your hair, not forcing your head down, but following along as you take him in. The pants falling from his lips slowly morph into soft whimpers, whining whenever you run your tongue along the vein running down his length.

You make it about three quarters down before you gag and pull away abruptly, making him whine in protest. Hot tears slide down your cheeks and you swallow thickly, holding the back of your wrist to your mouth, fighting the urge to puke all over his spotless white carpet.

“You okay sweetheart,” he murmurs, untangling his hand from your hair and cupping your cheek with it, urging you to look up at him. Your eyes meet his and you find an unexpected softness there.

“Y-yeah. I’m fine. Overestimated myself, I think,” you reply, leaning forwards to take him again, but his hand returns to your hair and tugs you away,

“You don’t have to try again if you don’t want. You did good.”

“Wanna make you cum,” you whine, leaning forward again, not caring about the sore tug at your scalp. His hand just follows your head again, letting you do as you please. You’re more mindful of yourself this time, taking him deeper into your throat at your own pace, not the one you thought he wanted, digging your fingers into his hips to balance yourself.

“Fuck, baby. Just like that, feels s’good,” he groans, pulling his hand from your hair and fisting the comforter to stop himself from just shoving you the rest of the way down. Despite his lack of trying his hips raise up to meet you and he groans deeply when you look up and lock eyes with him. “You’re doin’ so good, so proud of you.”

His praise goes straight to your pussy and you finish taking him in, pressing your nose into the light brown hair trailing down his tummy, scrunching your face up whenever it tickles. It really had been a long time since you’d sucked dick, especially one this big, and you’d forgotten how much you enjoyed it, rutting your hips against nothing looking for any kind of friction, but coming up empty.

“I’m so fuckin’ close, where do you want me to-”

You pull back, hollowing your cheeks and giving his head some attention before taking all of him back in, moaning as his fingertips dig into your scalp as you let him fuck your face as he cums down your throat with a pathetic moan. After a couple more shallow thrusts he holds your cheeks as you pull away from him and swallow thickly.

“Fuck baby, that was amazing. Thought you said it’d been a while.”

You take a ragged breath and look up at him. “It has.”

“You’re a fuckin’ pro. Shit, look at you, so hot, all ruined like that. Come here,” he coaxes, sliding his arms under yours and pulling you up towards him. You let him sit you in his lap and baby you, wiping at your tears and kissing you on the forehead before he stands up and pulls the sheets back, laying you in his bed. You look over and notice the teddy bear sitting against one of the pillows.

“Cute,” you comment, grinning at him when he leans over and knocks it into the floor.

“You didn’t see that.”

“Sure.” He shuts you up with a kiss, slipping his hand under your shirt and tracing his way up your ribs to squeeze your breast.

“Your turn,” he smirks, making quick work of pulling your shirt over your head and dropping it into the floor. “You’re so fucking pretty,” he growls, leaning down to nip at your collarbone.

“Nothing you haven’t seen before,” you tease, pushing your chest into his greedy hand

“Much better in person though. I’m a hands-on learner.”

You just sigh and let him peel you out of your clothes. He stops when he tosses your jeans off, taking a moment to stare at your g-string.

“What’s this even supposed to cover,” he questions, pulling it off as well, spinning it around on his finger.

“It’s just for decoration.”

“Clearly.”

You laugh and snatch it off his finger, tossing it back at him

“For me?”

“If you want it. Don’t know if you can pull it off though.”

“Baby I can pull off anything.”

He quickly loses interest in the tiny garment and returns his attention to you, bringing a hand between your thighs and leaning down to kiss you, his chest pressing against yours deliciously.

“Johnny,” you whine, rutting your hips against his hand, which has been tracing along everywhere except where you need it. “Don’t tease.”

“Let me have my fun.”

He slides one finger through your folds, ghosting up and down along your clit, taking you in as you squirm underneath him before plunging it into you. You sigh and grind your hips down against his palm, keening when his thumb brushes your clit. His free hand takes its place kneading at your breast, tracing his fingers over your clothed nipple.

“You should take this off too baby,” he murmurs, popping the strap of your powder blue bra. You just arch your back so he can reach behind you to unclasp it, sighing in relief as he pulls it off your body and tosses it aside. “That’s better. You’re so hot baby,”

He eases his finger out of you and returns with another, expertly curling his finger into your sweet spot. When his thumb leaves your clit you groan in protest, accepting his decision when he replaces it with his mouth. His tongue was warm and wet as presses it to you. He groans and quickens his fingers, curling his fingers harshly into your warm sex, his lips locking around your clit making your head spin.

Johnny makes you cum with expert precision, not letting up despite you tugging harshly at his sandy blond hair. He just looks up at you with those big brown eyes of his, smirking against you while he eats you out like a starved man. His fingers have slowed to a steady rhythm and he’s mostly focusing on you with his mouth now. You can feel your body starting to tense again, and you throw your head back into the pillow and let him keep abusing your cunt.

Your second orgasm crashes over you harder than the first, making you dig your heels into the mattress, your trembling thighs squeezing his head, but still, he persists.

“Johnny,” you whimper, digging your nails into his shoulders, but there’s really no deterring him. You felt like you were on fire, your head swimming and every move he made sending shocks through your muscles. Finally he pulls away, moving his thumb back to your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it as he looks up at you. His chin’s coated in your juices and he really doesn’t seem to care. He just watches as you squirm under his touch, flashing you a well-practiced smile when your eyes meet.

The third orgasm makes your vision go white and you reach down, weakly grabbing at his wrist, silently begging for mercy. “‘S too much,” you whine, trying to free yourself from his touch but he just grabs your hip, pulling you back to him, making you fuck his fingers.

“Come on baby, you can give me one more.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes you can. You’re doing so good.”

“J-Johnny…”

“What if I do this,” he taunts, letting go of your hip and pressing the heel of his hand into the soft flesh just above your mons. You cry out and gush around his fingers, going completely limp as he slows his pace to a stop, easing his fingers out of you and moving to lay beside you.

You just lay there, entirely fucked out, your breathing ragged and your cunt squeezing around nothing. Fat tears roll down your cheeks, clumping your lashes and taking what's left of your mascara with them. Johnny runs his hands along your body, making you shiver, but successfully drawing you back to this plane of existence.

He just lets you lay there, feeling your warm skin, smiling at how helpless he’s made you. His cock strains painfully against his slacks so he decides to do away with them, discarding them and his boxers with the rest of your clothes. Finally you’re cohesive enough to have control over your own body and you turn to look at him. He just looks so fucking good, his normally kempt hair a spiky mess from your desprate fingers. His lips are swollen and a deep shade of pink, parted slightly as he breathes. He flashes you another smile and tosses his leg over yours, shamelessly grinding his dick against your thigh.

“Shit,” you sigh. “That was just foreplay.”

“Told you I’d make it worth your time.”

“You weren’t lying. Never cum like that in my life.”

He gives you a cocky smile, giving your cunt a light slap, making you yelp.

“You think you’re ready for the real deal,” He questions, climbing on top of you and kissing you deeply, forcing his tongue into your mouth and licking at the backs of your teeth. He pulls away, his tongue darting out to break the string of spit connecting you as he awaits your answer.

“I’ll take whatever you give me,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down for another kiss, rolling your hips against his.

He just reaches between you and lines himself up, pressing in slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust. The stretch is amazing and you lock your ankles around his lower back, urging him to bottom out. When he finally does, he just stops, pressing himself impossibly deeper and holding you there.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. Gonna make me embarrass myself.” he purrs. “Don’t care though. Too fuckin’ good.”

Johnny takes a moment to take in how you look under him and realizes he could get used to the view. Living room sunset be damned, this was his new favorite thing to watch. He looks down to where your bodies are joined, taking note of the bulge in your tummy and the way it pulses when his cock twitches. You were going to be the death of him.

Finally he pulls back, almost all the way out before slamming back into you, setting a punishing pace, digging his fingertips into your hips, eyes fixed on your stomach as he fucked you. Your view wasn’t too bad either, watching his abs ripple as he pounded into you, the way his hair fell down into his face covering his focused expression. Every thrust brushed against your cervix, unbridled moans falling from your lips.

Johnny’s pants slowly morph into grunts that quickly become needy sounds as his pace falters, bringing his hand to your clit once again, urging you to cum before he does. That was your final straw, every muscle in your body contracting as your fifth orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Fuck,” he growls as he pulls out of you harshly, fisting his cock a couple of times before spilling across your tummy. He looks up at you with an animalistic expression, chest heaving as his fingers dig deeper into the flesh of your hips. He looks around for a second before sitting back on his heels, his eyebrows furrowing. “Fuck it why not,” he mutters, assumedly to himself as his grip releases and he moves to rest on the bed between your legs, tossing your legs over his shoulders.

Your eyes flash with an instinctive fear, and you grab a fistful of his hair to keep him from going back for sloppy seconds. Instead of burying his face between your thighs again his tongue lathes against your torso. You watch him in awe as he laps his own mess off your burning skin, and it's almost enough to make you beg him for a second round just so you can see it again.

When he’s done he crawls up beside you and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you to him and peppering sloppy kisses along your shoulder.

“That was hot.”

“Never done that before. Don’t know why I did. Don’t know how chicks do that all the time. It was uh, not great.”

“It wasn’t bad, probably just ‘cause it was your own. I could tell you eat well.”

He laughs and brings a hand up to brush your sweaty hair out of your face.

“That’s insane,” he replies, grabbing at you as you try to slide out of his arms.

“Let me up, I gotta pee.”

“Oh I’m sure you do.”

You whack him in the chest with a half-hearted backhand and he finally lets go.

“You coming back?”

“Yeah, where’s the bathroom.”

“Straight across from here.” he gestures to the door at the end of the short hallway in his room.

When you come back out he’s already asleep, so you just climb into the bed beside him, smiling to yourself when he throws his arm over you.

You wake up the next morning still in his arms facing him and you stretch, trying to untangle yourself from him. He groans and pulls you closer, his eyes fluttering open.

“Morning sweetheart,” he murmurs. His morning voice is deep and gravely instead of its usual smooth tone. You smile and kiss the end of his nose. “How’d you sleep?”

“Great. What about you?”

“Like a baby. What time is it?”

“I’d know if you had a clock in here.”

“Hey, my bed’s like Vegas baby. Don’t need a clock.”

“Uh, huh. Let me check my phone.”

He lets go of you and you roll over, grabbing your phone out of the floor.

“It’s seven, and I have like, a million texts.” You open your phone and scroll through your notifications. Most of them were from Lainey, becoming increasingly more concerned before the most recent that just read ‘CALL ME’. You just send her a simple ‘I’m still alive’ text before turning your phone back off and dropping it into the pile of clothes on the floor, returning to Johnny’s embrace.

“I have three hours before I gotta be somewhere. You down for round two and a shower,” He questions, cocking his eyebrow at you.

“Don’t see why not.”

“Glad we’re still on the same page.”

He rolls on top of you and lines himself up with your still-sloppy cunt, easing himself in, same as the night before. Instead of drilling you he sets a slow pace, kissing you passionately as you pull him impossibly closer. It’s slow and restrained, and if you didn’t know any better you'd say he was making love to you. He brings his hand down to toy with your clit, easing you into cumming on his dick this time instead of demanding it. After you finish he pulls out and finishes himself off into the shirt he was wearing yesterday, wordlessly getting up and tossing it into the closet. He comes back to the side of the bed and reaches his hand out.

“Let's go get cleaned up.”

You sit on the cold porcelain of the toilet lid, watching him intently as he starts the shower, taking your hand and leading you in with him.

“Hey, I only have like, dude smells. Hope that’s okay.”

“At least it's not Axe,” you laugh, wetting your hair and turning around to let him shampoo it, which he gladly does. The two of you spend about an hour in the shower enjoying the hot water, washing each other, and kissing. Finally you manage to separate long enough to get out and dry off. Johnny goes and gets dressed in the closet and you just put on your clothes from the night before. He comes back out and you admire how well-tailored his shirt is.

“Come on, I’ll make us breakfast before I gotta go. I’ll call you a ride home, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

He makes omelets for the two of you and you take seats next to each other at the dining room table to eat. After you’re done he takes the dishes into the kitchen and calls your ride for you.

“Where’s your phone?”

“ In my pocket, why?”

“Wanna give you my number so you can call me up whenever.”

You open your phone up to the new contact screen and he enters his number, saving it under ‘Johnny 😎’ and handing it back to you.

His phone dings and he checks it, looking up at you. “Your ride’s here. Text me when you get home safe, okay,” he insists, leading you to the door and giving you one more quick kiss before sending you to the car waiting in the driveway, waving as you duck in.

When you get home you let yourself in and lock the door behind you, trying your damnedest to not look like you were doing the walk of shame. Lainey’s standing at the top of the stairs in her fluffy pink robe staring down at you.

“Holy. Fucking. Shit. You actually did it, didn’t you? You gotta tell me everything.”

You shush her violently and run up the stairs, grabbing her wrist and dragging her into your shared room and slamming the door.

“Dude. Holy shit. He fucked me like he hated my guts.”

“And let you spend the night, and apparently let you use his shower too.”

“We showered together.”

“No shit?”

“No shit. Dude he made me cum like a million times, and then this morning. It felt like I’ve lived with him for years or something. It was just so… natural.”

“That’s… unexpected. Honestly I thought you’d call me to come get you in the middle of the night.”

You sigh and fall backwards onto the bed, pulling your phone out and shooting Johnny a quick text. He responds with a simple ‘👍’.

“He gave me his number. And offered to be my boyfriend”

“Un-fucking-believable,” Lainey breathes grabbing your shoulders and pulls you back into a sitting position, shaking you around. “Do not fuck this up.”

@cael-salad

[sc0tters]

My Rocket | Cole Caufield

summary: after Cole gets jealous the last thing you expected was that you’d be in bed with him that night.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, mentioning of a sexual relationship

word count: 1.40k

authors note: hello, I am alive and well! Not sure that I like this but I am a bitch for soft Cole. Been writing this over the last few days so let’s all act like we like this, okay? Thanks 🫶

You didn’t know how you two landed up in the living room like this.

The Ducks had been in town playing against the HABS and whilst you had been catching up with Trevor after the game he had Jamie join the conversation.

Jamie was polite and friendly and just seemed to send you a warm smile as he took in the sight of you in your boyfriends jersey.

Cole on the other hand watched the interaction between you two go down and he couldn’t help but feel his face form a scowl.

Now everything would have been fine if the HABS player just told you there how he felt, but instead Cole decided to be short with you the whole ride home “what the hell is your problem!” You groaned letting the front door to your apartment shut behind you.

Every single opportunity he had gotten the hockey player either ignored you or sent a negative remark your way “Cole!” You added as he continued to ignore you throwing his bag onto the floor.

Thankfully he seemed to agree that now was the time for him to start talking “why don’t you go back to that little buddy of yours?” You used to live in California and that was where you met Jamie for the first time but you never thought that Trevor would tell Cole about your past with him “he seemed really fucking interested in getting his girl back.” Cole crossed his arms as he sent you a glare.

A scoff left your lips “that was over a year ago.” His accusation struck your heart as you hadn’t even taken your heels off as you frowned.

The hockey player made his way over to you “you think he knows that?” He spat pressing his finger into your chest “you think he cares that you’re with someone else?” You swore you could see the anger in his eyes.

This wasn’t a topic that you two were new to though, last year the new team photographer was getting close to Cole and you simply wanted her to know that he had a girlfriend after she invited him out for drinks just the two of them “Cole I wouldn’t accept another guys move on me because I love you!” You blurted out like it shouldn’t have been as obvious as it was.

You frowned as he shook his head “baby you don’t understand that every guy looks at you w-” it was no secret that in Cole’s eyes you were an Angel sent straight from heaven “but I’m all yours so why does that matter?” Tears were now rolling down your cheeks as your anger had been replaced by sadness.

The thought of Cole not trusting you overwhelmed your sense “look if you can’t understand that then maybe you should sleep in the guest room tonight.” In the year that you two had been dating not once had you slept under the same room but not in the same bed.

All he could do was nod as you pushed past him letting your bedroom door slam shut behind you.

For two hours you two remained apart, Cole still to angry to see the fault in his ways and you too hurt to face him “just let me talk to him?” Trevor wavered as you had been on the phone with him since you got out of the shower.

The New York native met you during your first year at UCal and he quickly brought you into his friend group. That was where you met Jamie and started the four month long period of you two sleeping together. The summer of your sophomore year you met Cole and as one thing led to another and by your senior year you had transferred to a university in Montreal as you now lived with your boyfriend.

You shook your head running your fingers through your hair “I want him to come on his own terms.” You mumbled running your tongue over you lips as you could hear Cole in the shower “I don’t wanna play devils advocate but he loves you.” Trevors words made your eyes go wide.

He could sense your reaction and it made him smile ”Cole literally can’t shut up about you.” A smile formed on your face as you seemed to forget about the fact that you were mad at him “so he might seem mad but he is just scared of losing you-” you were quick to cut him off “losing me?” The idea of him being scared of losing you actually made you laugh as it was so ludicrous to even contemplate.

Trevor laughed at the way your cheeks turned pink “now I am quoting him but he thinks you’re a rocket.” Your stubborn manner was now wavering as you sighed “maybe I should talk to him?” You sighed watching Trevor hang up before you could continue talking.

Cole had been sat on the bed in the guest room as he stared at the mirror, his features had softened as his hands ran through his hair “Cole?” You mumbled leaning against the wall as you locked eyes with him.

As much as you didn’t want to admit it Cole looked hot in that moment with his towel hanging around hid waist and water dripping down his chest “hey baby.” The hockey player knew that the sight of you in nothing more than his jersey as even though you were taller than him the jersey still looked massive on you, it was something he was never going to get used to.

His hand raised to motion you over to him as you stayed half hidden with your hands fiddling with the ends of the jersey “I wanna see you.” He explained smiling as you listened.

Your walk to him seemed weary as you let your hand lock with his, silently telling Cole that he could bring you onto his lap. The hockey player let his hands run up your legs as you straddled his waist “hi” you stared down at his chest still not wanting to truly face him just yet.

Cole shook his head bringing his hands to cup your cheeks “want you to look at me baby.” Cole’s voice was soft as he titled your head up to face his “there is my pretty girl.” The hockey player cooed as he sent you a smile.

When you remained silent Cole took the moment to stare at your features “I am sorry that I was a dick,” his confession took you by surprise because out of all of the arguments that you two had this was the third time that he apologized first. His fingers drew soft circles on your skin “don’t blame Jamie for wanting you cause you’re one of a kind my love.” Cole hadn’t noticed the smile that had formed on your face as he continued “you could have slept with whoever you want before we got together.” “Cole-“ “I promise that for now on I won’t get mad at you but like you can’t blame me for wanting him to move away.” “Cole-” “I got scared that you were going to-” “Cole!”

He finally went quiet as he looked at you “what?” He scanned your face to see if he had missed something as you laughed “it’s going to take a lot more than a tall guy to ever make me think of leaving you.” You blurted out making him grin.

The hockey player felt his cheeks grow warm “how much we talking?” Cole teased wriggling his eyebrows making a giggle fall from your lips.

You pretended to think about it for a moment “you planning not loving me anymore?” Your question was meant to come off as rhetorical as you swore that you wouldn’t be getting an answer from him “you’re stuck with me till we die!” Cole yelled bringing both of your bodies down to the bed where he had flipped you over leaving him on top of you.

A squeal came from your mouth as you looked up at him “I’ll love you forever then.” Your words made him melt as his hands dropped to your sides.

Cole watched as his chain lay against your neck letting the cool metal act in contrast to your hot skin “here’s to putting up with me forever.” The boy smirked as he leaned down to kiss your lips.

[hughesmedicine]

special day | J. Hughes

!platonic jack hughes x reader

jackhughes

liked by yourusername, lhughes_06, trevorzegras and others

jackhughes: happy birthday to this nerd, thanks for being in my life the past 21 years, I love you so much! Enjoy being 22 till I get there ( I’m still mad that we weren’t born on the same day)

tagged: yourusername

load more comments..

yourusername: ROWDEN OMG THANK YOU I love you so much and thanks for the most annoying 22 years of my life!

| jackhughes: anytime, expect many more for years!

| yourusername: I can see us being 82 and sitting on the front porch throwing apples at my husband

| _quinnhughes: HELLO WHY AM I GETTING HIT WITH APPLES??

| jackhughes: stop reminding me that you guys are dating, makes me want to throw up.

_alextorcotte: I thought we would have got a normal caption this year

| jackhughes: what do you mean??? this is a completely normal caption.

| _alextorcotte: yeah okay

| yourusername: you wouldn’t get it if you don’t have a best friend

| jackhughes: ^

| _alextorcotte: him and I literally don’t do this??

| yourusername: it’s better when it’s a girl tbh

| _alextorcotte: noted

colecaufield: oh how I love when y/ns birthday comes around

| yourusername: you’re still coming right??

| colecaufield: wouldn’t miss it!

| yourusername: good you better be here at 8 am sharp

| colecaufield: plane doesn’t land till 9 am

| yourusername: obviously jump out and parachute the rest of the way, you have to think smarter cole!

| colecaufield: yeah okay I’ll do that

lhughes_06: happy birthday y/n/n, thanks for tormenting jack all these years for me!

| yourusername: anytime moosey, it’s the least I can do for the non annoying hughes🫶🏻

| jackhughes: okay really?

| _quinnhughes: not even gonna take offense to it even if she is wrong

| yourusername: I’m never wrong

| lhughes_06: don’t lie to yourself, sent with love🫶🏻

| yourusername: okay rude.

| lhughes_06: I SAID SENT WITH LOVE!

trevorzegras: happy birthday y/n/n, thanks for being the trio to our duo!

| yourusername: you have it all switched around but thanks z ily!🧡 ( go ducks!)

| trevorzegras: @/jackhughes I told you she’ll root for me more

| jackhughes: Y/N TELL HIM THE TRUTH

| trevorzegras: what truth???

| yourusername: number 1 devils fans right here buddy

| trevorzegras: way to rip my heart out and stomp on it.

| yourusername: im sorry (not sorry)

| trevorzegras: k blocked.

_quinnhughes: happy birthday baby ily and I can’t wait to see you tonight! Enjoy this special day💙

| yourusername: thank you my love, I love you so much more!

| jackhughes: get this disgusting shit out of my comment section ( I secretly love this relationship and I’m totally not being forced to type this out)

| _quinnhughes: she’s forcing you to type that last bit isn’t she?

| jackhughes: yeah she is and she has a hockey stick.

| lhughes_06: hope she wacks you, it’s one hundred percent deserved

elblue6: happy birthday sweetie, enjoy this big day!! Thank you for being the daughter I’ve always wanted❤️ and for keeping jack in check

| yourusername: im crying omg I love you so much and I couldn’t have asked for a better second mom!😭❤️ also your welcome, it’s what I do best!

njdevils: happy birthday to our amazing photographer and manager!❤️

| yourusername: thank you favorite admin!💙

| jackhughes: not you logging in to wish yourself a happy birthday💀

| yourusername: you’re just jealous you can’t do this

nicohischier: happy birthday bestie! Shots tonight?

| yourusername: shots tonight!

| jackhughes: stop stealing my friend @/nicohischier

| nicohischier: never❤️

canucks: happy birthday y/n!💙

| yourusername: thank you wonderful admins!💙

_eliaspettersson: happy birthday y/n, have the best day ever! I’ll celebrate with you once you come visit! | yourusername: be there next week, can’t wait to take shots with you!

[endwersed]

WIP Whenever

Tagged by the lovelies that are @dear-massacre & @violetfairydust 💘

Here's a little snippet from my main WIP: an ABO humans-as-second-class-citizens AU 😊

-

“Um, yeah,” Stiles stutters out, trying not to cringe at the strength of Talia's grip. “That’s... hi. It’s nice to, uh – to be here, too.”

Her painted mouth is pursed as she releases his hand, and he quickly tucks it behind his back, flexing his sore fingers out of sight from her appraising stare. There is an almost regal posture to her as she stands, her shoulders drawn back and her torso stretched out, her hands clasped together in front of her stomach. It makes him want to shrink a little, to be honest, but he fights that instinct back down.

“Yes, I can imagine,” she says primly, before letting her gaze drift to his side, where it lands heavily on her eldest daughter. “And has my Laura been behaving herself?”

Not really, he thinks.

“Yeah, absolutely,” he says out loud, smiling briefly at Laura with a tip of his head. “She’s been nice enough to start showing me around the place.”

Laura smirks back at him. “I’m a regular one-woman welcoming committee.”

Talia hums, narrowing her gaze towards Laura for a moment.

“Yes. Quite.” The corners of her eyes crinkle as she pulls her focus back to him. It should be a kind expression, of laughter lines and etchings of joy, but instead of any of that, it just seems disingenuous. “So, Mr Stilinski. You graduated high school last month, is that correct?”

He nods. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And you’ll be starting college after your time with us here?” she presses.

“Nursing school,” he corrects carefully. “I have a place locally back in Beacon Hills.”

Talia’s smile, perfectly perfunctory at best up until this point, suddenly shifts into something actually like real. Her teeth flash, and there is a certain sharkish quality to it that makes his heart want to miss a beat in his chest, because it’s nothing like Laura’s specific brand of vibrant cheekiness.

No. With Talia, it’s almost… malevolent.

Huh, he thinks. He’s never noticed that before, when he’s seen her photographs in the papers.

“My son is due to begin medical school in the fall,” she announces proudly, and he doesn’t miss the way that Cora rolls her eyes down at the floor, just behind her mother's vision. “My boy, Derek. I imagine you’ve heard of him.”

Oh – Stiles has heard of him, all right. Being the only son and the only alpha, and with his dashing good looks and notoriously bad attitude, Derek Hale is by far the most well-known of all of the Hale children. And that – that is saying something, considering how much press time Laura and Cora get.

For sure, Stiles knows precisely who he is.

Also, he may or may not have jerked off to a shirtless picture or two (or twenty) that the paparazzi managed to snap of the guy at a private beach about a year back, too.

Obviously, he does not say this part out loud to the guy's mother.

“Yep,” he says instead, nodding slightly. “That’s, uh… great. For him.”

“Yes, it is.” There is a sharpness to her tone that implies she is not at all impressed with Stiles’ underwhelming levels of enthusiasm. He ducks his head and shuffles under the discomfort. “Well. I should let you and dear Laura get back to your tour. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us here, Mr Stilinski.”

“Thank you,” he hastens to reply. “I – I’m sure I will.”

-

No pressure at all tags! @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop @thotpuppy

[audreyhepburninblackandwhite]

Audrey Hepburn's cover story for Illustrated's 2 June 1951 issue.

Carefree, off and on duty.

Audrey — The Other Hepburn

Photography by Joseph McKeown Story by Charles Hammlett

After four years of theatres, cabarets, and films, a young dancer takes a day off from career building

The Sphinx of Hollywood, otherwise Katharine Hepburn, actress and movie performer, recently spent a few days in this country wrapped in rain and  mystery, and wearing an old pair of eye-catching, publicity-snatching slacks. As one of the country’s legends, Miss Hepburn has earned the right to flinch at the rustle of a reporter’s notebook, or to duck at the sound of a photographer’s footfall.

Even as pressmen determinedly pounded the Hepburn beat, a few miles away at Ealing Studios another Hepburn was quietly performing in front of the camera—as yet blissfully unaware of the hysterical mobs and frustrated fanatics who often make the lives of Hepburns, Stanwycks, Gables, or Turners unendurable.

This other Hepburn was Audrey—Britain’s answer to every filmgoer’s hungry dreams. Twenty-two, brainy, beautiful, tantalizing, and talented, she is a girl of simple tastes to travel to Ealing by Underground from Marble Arch, takes Sunday afternoon strolls in Hyde Park, and stops to listen to the geniuses of Orator’s Corner.

Restful spirit at Rottingdean . . .

Over a gate for home . . .

She rides on buses or browses in the Charing Cross Road bookshops. Visits to cinemas and theatres are still fun for her. Given a day off, she will rush to the coast and join countless other holidaymakers. Audrey Hepburn is also a hard and fast worker. Just over two years ago, Jack Hylton selected her from 2,000 other girls to dance in High Button Shoes. After this “break,” Audrey tripped into the chorus of Sauce Tartare. There she caugh the eye of producer Cecil Landeaus sufficiently to be given a solo part in his sequel Sauce Piquante. This, in turn, caught the attention of the theatre critics and the public.

Among the regulars who went to see Audrey’s performance was film producer Mario Zampi. He went fourteen times. Like many pretty showgirls, Audrey had frequently been told she ought to be in films. Zampi not only said it, he gave her a small part in Alastair Sim’s Laughter in Paradise. Other “meatier” parts followed in The Lavender Hill Mob and Young Wives’ Tale. She obtained a contract with Associated British Pictures and a leading part in Ealing’s The Secret People—before her first three pictures were released. During the next few months, filmgoers will be able to make up their own minds about Audrey. They will see a lithe, dark-hair, large-eyed girl who slightly resembles Jean Simmons. Unlike Jean, however, Audrey has a cosmopolitan and somber background.

Secret performances for members of Dutch Resistance were some of Audrey’s experiences during the war. Now, at twenty-two, she takes the part of a refugee dancer in the film The Secret People.

A mixture of Scots, Belgian, and Dutch, she was in Belgium at the outbreak of war. After the Belgian capitulation, the family moved to Arnhem. Their house there was shelled during the airborne landing.

It was at Arnhem that she made her first public appearance as an entertainer. Black, or secret, concerts were given in private houses by performers who had refused to join the German sponsored “Chamber of Culture.” Audrey, then fifteen, was invited to appear at one of these concerts. Her mother helped her to make costumes from old curtains and chair covers. Later, conditions became so bad that cothes and jewellery were sold to provide food for the family.

Looked at from the Mayfair flat where she now lives with her mother, these days seem unreal. Though she entered show business as a dancer, Audrey is rapidly developing as an actress. Unusually tall for films—she is 5'7"—she has passed the stage where producers can brush her off by telling her she is “too lofty for camera work.” A girl with her potential star value can be as tall as a giraffe and still get by.

Audrey Hepburn could gracefully occupy a star’s chair in Britain’s studios. She might even attract some of the international attention now lavished on “Katie” Hepburn, and enable that much harassed star to pursue her life far from the madding crowd.

[chrisevansonly]

I'm Not Meant for This

Chris Evans x Girlfriend Reader

Summary: You weren’t meant for this life, the cameras, the gossip, the fan pages, it wasn’t you, letting yourself suffer wasn’t worth it anymore…was there anyway that would change?

Warnings: angst, minor arguing, crying, reader mentioning insecurities, happy ending<3

A/N: This was a request sent in by an anon! Thank you in advance for this, I’m a big lover of happy endings and I did tweak the request a little bit so I hope that’s okay!!I feel so unmotivated but I’m trying to update regardless lol

Word Count: 843

Spending a lot of time watching your life go by from outside your body looking down on yourself is a feeling so hard to describe, surrounding by celebrities of all calibres and standing, next to Chris you felt like you weren’t supposed to be here. You’d been feeling pretty low the past few months, Chris’s career doing really well, he just finished filming his last few movies for 2022 and 2023, and instead of talking about taking a break, he wanted to keep going. In retrospect, talking to Chris about your feelings should have been number one on the list of conversations you wanted to have, but maybe leaving and letting him down gently was better. Watching him talk freely in the sea of people, or handle the cameras like champ, all it did for you was made you feel out of place and disgusted by yourself. You knew this wasn’t his fault, you could only blame yourself for the position you were in, but you couldn’t take it anymore. 

-

The minute the two of you got home, you ditched your heels at the front door, leaving Chris standing there to go upstairs and into the bathroom. Looking at yourself in the mirror only made it worse, the bags and dark circles under your eyes despite the full coverage foundation and concealer covering it. Taking a wipe you cleaned your face off, letting out a quiet sigh, your eyes closing for a few seconds, and when you opened them, Chris was looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face 

“You’ve been really quiet all night…what’s going on?”

This was your chance, let him down easy, spend one last night with him and leave tomorrow, move far away, start over, leave Chris in the past

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what baby?” 

You turned and motioned between the two of you 

“This, us, I can’t do it anymore, I’m not meant for this life Chris, I can’t fucking do this.”

You moved past him, ducking away into the closet to get out of the floor length black dress you had on, changing into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt

“Wait a minute, Y/N…we’re going to talk about this”

“I don’t want too anymore! I’m tired of constantly being attacked online, photographed without my consent, being the odd one out at every event, people I don’t even know nitpicking my appearance! I’m done!”

Chris ran a hand down his face 

“You know that’s not my fault, right?”

“Jesus Chris, that’s what you have to say?! I’m going to pack my stuff.”

His hand grasped yours tightly and he pulled you back to him softly, but firm enough for you to land against his chest, his arms holding you to him

“No. No. I can’t lose you, not now, not ever, we can figure a way to fix this problem.”

You shook your head, tears now falling down your cheeks

“No, we can’t, there’s n-”

“Yes, there is. Screw going back to work, i’ll take time off, as much as we need, I should have made that decision last year, but I didn’t and now I am. We can go away, stay at the cabin for a few months just me and you, restart your social media’s, hire more security, hell we can order our fucking groceries, that exists now!”

You laughed quietly into the flannel he had on, and Chris spoke again, beating you to it

“You are everything to me, you are my world, my light, and I wished you would have told me about this sooner so I could have helped you…I’m so sorry I didn’t notice how much this was hurting you, how much I was hurting you. You are the most beautiful girl in the world to me, and I swear to you I’ll fix this, we can make this work…”

Staying silent, eventually hugging him back tighter you closed your eyes before making a decision you hoped you wouldn’t regret

“Okay.”

Hearing your voice, Chris pulled back and brought his hands up to cup your face, swiping a few tears away before connecting his lips with yours, kissing you tenderly before pulling away and frowning when he noticed just how drained you looked 

“I love you so much angel, I’m going to make this right, and I’m going to work my hardest to keep you safe and happy, I promise I won’t let this happen again…”

A small part of you was worried you made the wrong decision but looking into Chris’s eyes and seeing just how much he love and appreciated you, was enough to help your heart prove you were doing the right thing. In the end you knew Chris would go to the ends of the earth for you, and he was willing to do that now, to protect you, and to give you the life he knows you deserve. The road would be long, but as long as you had Chris, he could make the journey a little more bearable. 

[cecedownbad]

Warmth

Summary: A mystery man stumbled on to you, his gestures alone changing the dim scenery into a bright fantasy. [Spencer Ried x GN! Reader] CM meet cute (or not) Challenge by @imagining-in-the-margins

Prompt: Characters both duck for cover under the same tiny storefront when it starts pouring.

Warnings: No Y/N, fluff, I actually do not know how many research papers this man has read but I guessed. This is just so fluffy it had me smiling as I wrote it, I got a little carried away though, not proof read but I will do that later.

Word Count: 2.2k

Enjoy

The dim sky, like that of a faulty light bulb in a room that held photographs, locked away with a key lost to time. All that was bright now despondent to many, the sudden crystal like shine of streets drove away the few that knew staying any longer would cause a soaking mess and a cold to care for after.

Did that ever stop you from pacing by the side walk? With shoes scraping the fallen fire like leaves, a sign of a need for comfort and warmth. The ground wafting off a smell that should be telling enough for you to take cover but time was never one to wait.

Scraps of paper, terribly crumpled simply from agitation, held up to the very corners of your hands held largely a final draft of an assignment, meant to land on the Dean's desk this morning. This was the reason for due ignorance of the foretold scene yet to pass. Be it the wailing hums of the wind, or the dreary clouds, heavy with their low rumbles, much less a warning, more so a threat to parade a flood down the barren streets.

Then one fell.

Then another.

Every touch to the skin made you shiver, every drop ran down the outline of your face, tracing a path of yet another endless stream of worries. Shifting over, your hands shoved the sheets into the backpack you wore, a bag that now held evidence of lost sleep.

Squinted eyes now looking for cover, a refuge before the entirety of the flood gates open. Then, your eyes landed over a small, plainly described, old candy store. It had just the worn down, crooked, awning meant to cover you for the remainder of the downpour.

The store had worn down colours painted over the sides of the entrance, now locked with a chain rusted, abandoned to the elements. Though it did have an air of remembrance, a sudden haunt of the past had crossed you. It no longer had a sweet fragrance of chocolate, the twists of gummies or the sour rock candies. You'd stepped closer to the door, eyeing the cash register that must have seen better days, shelfs and boxes now empty, dust settling to fill in the air. It was displeasing to see the forgotten but whatever comes next should clear in a new sight to witness.

All that nostalgia popped, to the sound of sudden splashing, much like feet scurrying, heavy with each sound. Your head on a pivot, caught sight of the source, a person, one who looked like they too needed shelter from the rain. It was the direction said person had walked in that caused your initial frown, they wanted to take cover right where you stood. Of course, the tiny awning was perfect for a company of two, but it was you that preferred the solitude. By then, they made it, right infront of the store, one foot away from the much needed protection, but with a wobble, their lanky but lean feet, was on its way to meet the drenched street.

Quick as you were, you'd long discarded the frown, now your arms outstretched to catch the stranger, once latched on you pulled them towards you.

A sudden flash of hazel met you, you found the mystery man of the cause of your frown. Honeyed on the insides of the pupil, much like sun rays on a summer's day but rather dark, like that of a cool sunset. In that, he'd now looked at you with widened eyes, a tell enough for you to steady the stranger, parting your arms from his side.

"Thank you." He let out, clearing out the scene from seconds ago. Just like his eyes, his voice, was like a drizzle of honey over buttered toast. Soft, yet so endearingly warm. "Don't mention it." You consented.

Words no longer exchange between the two of you but your brain could not replace the Hazel eyes of the man stood next to you with a new memory. So, you glanced at him, observing, denoting, deducing his nature. His hands rubbed together, wiping it against the grey sweater, discarding the touch you'd shared in the time you grabbed him. That was when you reached in your pocket, grabbing a hold of a bottle of sanitizer and in an attempt to offer good will, you displayed the object to the man. He looked at your hand, then back at you, rather shaped brows now knitted at your gesture.

"You can use this, if you want to, you know, clean your hands." Hands still outstretched, a slight tremble befell them. "Thank you...again. You know, sanitizers usually contain 60-70% of alcohol, which is very high as compared to alchohic beverages. Since they are easily portable, fast and effective, it's often used when there isn't a handwashing station available but studies show that washing your hands with soap and water is still more effective than using an alcohol based sanitizer."

"...uhuh."

"Sorry..." The man hung his head low, a guilt riddled face bent over, possibly from rambling in what many made him believe were uneeded facts. "Oh, don't be sorry, I just had to take a moment to process that, you're right, I myself prefer using plain old soap and water after a long day." You squeezed the bottle over his hands, gazing as his finger rubbed in the solution.

You then watched as delight slightly brightened his face, his long hair now pushed back. A few disobeying strands fall on to the sides of his face. His hair reflected a burnt wood colour, paired with the colour of his clothes, he gave off a cool undertone but you couldn't help but feel the comfort of a blanket from his eyes alone.

"Were you going somewhere?" the question slipped out of you, a means to solidify a connection to the pretty stranger that slipped into your arms, but the question landed as odd as you met eyes with him. "It's totally okay if you don't want to answer that, I just, um, yeah." Your feet now relentlessly tapped on the ground, each sound echoing scores of annoyance. The cold touch of the wind hadn't helped much, hands now strongly gripped onto the straps of your bag, "I was actually on my way to work...What about you? I can tell that you are a student solely based on your attire, you must have something important to submit if you were willing to walk out here despite the signs of rainfall." He deducted, eyes peering at you. They were clear and sure of their focus, almost causing you to wander through all the reaches of the honeyed rays.

"You have excellent observational skills, I have an assignment draft to submit for approval, the Dean had said and I quote, 'If I don't see the papers on my desk at precisely 9:15 in the morning, none of you will be rewarded credits or be given a chance to redeem scores lost.' So, well you can imagine." You explained, he smiled at your impression of the aforementioned Dean. Another denotation had been made, the colour of his lips, a soft pink hue, the sharp but perfect lines that formed around them. In that short observation, your mind had run miles imagining a scene where you were the only cause for his otherworldly smiles.

"Would you mind if I take a look?"

"What?"

"At your draft? I may be able to spot mistakes, I can offer suggestions, I have read a lot research papers, 6,846 to be exact, so this might be more efficient than having to wait for your dean to look over them." As he offered, your mind took a leap at the sheer amount of material he had gone through, "You read 6,846 research papers? How did you keep count? How do you read that much anyway?" Disbelief laced your voice, the man it was directed to, however, was used to the lack of trust his words produce. "I have an eidetic memory, simply meaning I can remember something that I read or heard for good and I can read 20,000 words per minute." His mouth formed a flat line as his lips were pulled in.

"So, you are what society calls a 'genius', to think I'd meet one in the flesh." A grin spread across your face, "Okay, let me guess, you have a high IQ too? Say over 180?"

"You are a really good guesser. Yes, my IQ is over 180, it's 187." The both of you smiled at one another at this exchange. The worry within you washed away, much like the rain before you that seemed to clear away the history of the many that walked the pavements. "But before I hand over a very important assignment, could I get your name, sir genius?"

He lightly laughed at your intentions but responded no later, "Spencer Reid." You engraved his name to all crevices of your mind, manually sorting through today and labeling each new memory made under a new category. With formalities out of the way, you handed over the sheets of paper, having remarked that you have written worse so this should be okay to the eyes of a person you just met.

Less than two minutes later, just when you got lost to the drops of water breaking every reflection it made. Spencer declared that he'd read the draft, "There are 5 grammatical errors, 17 sentences with unnecessary words. If you take a look at this passage, you can add a line that compares the topic given to the opposite end of the spectrum it represents." As his fingers grazed the words present on the paper, his voice lowered in volume. An effect of this leading you to lean over to him, convinced all movements made for just the reason to hear him clearly.

All the bells rang through your ears, realisation now screaming through you. When the last word had been uttered, a sudden loss had built up inside you, the pleasant dips of his voice had struck a need for more. You could listen to him speak for time unnumbered, if the world let you.

"Thank you, for helping me and for making standing in the rain less tedious." You graciously smiled at him. His eyes turned up, letting you witness that beautiful smile once again, a graceful 'you're welcome' that require no words. This time you will remember to keep your imagination from expanding on futures one would have no have no sure way of proving.

"There is actually a way to get less wet in the rain, it's been scientifically proven." Spencer stated, "There is?"

How quickly seconds became hours in the two words that left your mouth. Your eyes watched as Spencer's hand grabbed on to yours, his smile now turning to excitement of that of a teenage boy. Each action was slow to your sight but before all else, you were running with a man you just met under the rain. And his response to your question?

"Run!"

The cool but harsh force of the downpour fell to the once dry face of yours. Unlike the traces they carved before, they painted your face with a new shine.

Could that ever stop you?

He led you on and with a white flag raised, you let him. Wherever he may take you, let him, that was your conclusion.

Cold and dreary as the scene may reveal, all you saw was the bright rays exuding from your mystery man. You had his name, you engraved it, no requirement for force needed to remember his name, but Spencer will be your mystery man. A touch of curiosity to learn from him and about him only added to the remark.

Before you knew it, you'd been brought in to another store, though this was alive in all its glory. Nothing worn down enough to make any assumption of abandonment, no remnants of a past forgotten, but the present that shone a colour you began to love, hazel. The smell no longer lost to time, burnt and welcoming, ground coffee beans, fresh and ready to be served. A café.

"It's been proven the faster you run in the rain, the drier you’ll be, regardless of the additional raindrops you run into." Spencer breathed out, your head snapped at him, looking away from the new scene you ran into. A few seconds, that's all it took, a hearty laugh left you at the revelation.

"A-are you okay?" He asked, mostly out of concern for the sudden change in behaviour you displayed. "I- Yes, I'm fine, geez, phew!" You sighed, catching your breath, "You are one hell of a genius, Spencer."

"Uh, thank you?"

After clearing your throat, you walked further in the café, finding just the right spot to dry off. You gestured for Spencer to come over, he followed, taking extra breaths as he dragged his feet to the empty chair.

Unbothered by the looks you both received, you sat, heaving out a heavy breath. Your eyes meeting hazel, only this time surprise didn't engulf them, they looked, no, they gazed at you with endearment. With each passing second, you couldn't rid yourself of the imprint he left in your hand. The warmth that laced over it, all the while shielding you from the icy brush of the rain.

[kydrogendragon]

Dec 23 - Twinkling Lights

(Ao3 Link) (Masterpost Link)

The greenhouse is warm inside. It makes sense, given that the plants inside of here require more heat and humidity than the current climate outside can provide. Hob had suggested visiting the greenhouse lights before they closed down for the season. It was after Christmas and the new year was just days away. Because of that, it was significantly less busy and crowded than it would have been if they had gone the week before.

“First impressions - what do you think?” Hob asks to his left, staring at him with a hesitant expression. Morpheus looked around, his eyes trailing across the various exotic plants and greenery, all wrapped and spun with various lights and ornaments. The lights twinkled, the rainbow of colors softly glowing against the green and purple leaves. It truly was a breath-taking sight. Morpheus couldn’t help but be reminded by dreams he had wove for children back when he was Dream.

He gives Hob’s hand a gentle squeeze and turns to look into his warm brown eyes. “It looks magnificent.” Hob smiles, the warmth of the sun shining over Morpheus’s face at it’s sight.

“Good. I thought you might enjoy this.” He pulls them forward along the path. “C’mon. They decorated one of their large trees further in. It’s supposed to be the highlight of the tour.”

“Should we not save such a treat for the end?” Morpheus rebuts with a sly smile.

“Touche.” Hob looks around their immediate sphere and nods to the first grouping of plants. “Well then, my dear. Shall we take the scenic route?”

“Gladly.”

They weave their way through the expansive greenhouse. In truth, it was closer to a zoo, but just for foliage. Or an expansive indoor garden. There were multiple plaques littered across the pre-planned paths, all describing the different types of plants that could be found in the small section in front of it. Morpheus enjoyed reading the details on each one. From the scientific names to the preferred climate to the uses of each plant, he read each one, taking their teachings to heart.

Hob pointed out some that he’d seen on his various journeys to foreign lands in his long life. He promised Morpheus that he’d show him the world one day. And when humanity figured out how to make space travel a constant, he’d take him out among the stars as well.

Morpheus, with his long life as an Endless, has, in theory, seen all of this before. But the human mind was only meant to hold so many memories in it at one time, so many of the details have been lost. But the idea of experiencing the wonders of the Waking world again, with Hob at his side, no less, was a thrilling one. It fills his heart with a joy he is beginning to learn comes whenever he is with Hob. It is a feeling he would not trade for anything.

They continue their journey through different times and regions, different climates and soils, until they finally weave their way to the center of the greenhouse. This dome is the largest of all the others and for good reason. Various trees, taller than those that fit within the other modules they had visited before, are nestled in groups that hug close to the dirt walkways. Each tree is strung with lights, the soft warm glow giving the entire place a sense of otherworldly grace. The moment they cross the threshold, Morpheus gasps at the beauty.

There is a photographer station in front of the large tree in the center. A small line extends out of people waiting for their turn. A vine covered arch, also strung with lights, rests in the background. Looking up at Hob, Morpheus asks, “Could we take a photo together?”

Hob looks down at him, the glimmering lights dancing in his eyes and the soft golden glow highlighting the curves of his face with such beauty that Morpheus can feel himself falling in love with his man all over again. Hob cups his cheek and smiles. “Of course we can, duck.”

And so the pair make their way into the line. There are only a few parties ahead of them, mostly other couples, but there are a few families present as well. Hob releases Morpheus’s hand so he can wrap it around his shoulders, pulling him into his side. Morpheus relaxes into the familiar position.

“Successful date then?” Hob mummers into his inky black hair.

They move forward as the next group is called forward. “Yes. Very successful, I would say.”

The photograph gets hung on the fridge right beside the Polaroids Hob took of Morpheus on Christmas morning, the terrible printed out selfie from their skiing adventure and their night out at the opera from much earlier on. I’m going to need to buy a new photo book, he thinks to himself as he stands back from the fridge. New book for his new life with his best friend, his boyfriend, his old Stranger. He turns around to gaze lovingly at the sight of his boyfriend curled up on their couch, a plethora of blankets piled on top of his form as he pecks away at the keys on his laptop.

“Hey!” He calls out. Morpheus’s head lifts, not unlike a meerkat hearing an unexpected noise. “I love you.”

Morpheus huffs, but can’t hide the smile nor the blush on his cheeks. “I love you as well.”

[mjmenvs3000w24]

Blog 1: Connected to Nature

Hello, ENVS*3000 friends! I'm Maia, and I am in my third year of Biological Sciences. Welcome to my first blog :)

I would describe my current connection with nature as a profound yet carefree essence. I come from the city, more precisely, North Toronto; I found myself yearning for nature's embrace from a young age, perhaps triggered by its scarcity in my urban surroundings. Recognizing my affinity, my dad, a nature enthusiast, actively fueled my passion through camping adventures, hiking escapades, and shared moments immersed in captivating David Attenborough documentaries. In the midst of a large Italian family, where the majority remained indifferent to the natural world, I stood out as the quiet one, the nature lover, aspiring Dr.-to-be. Amidst this, my dad became my reliable support, sharing the same passion for the great outdoors. His passion for wildlife and landscape photography became a shared pursuit, complete with my very own camera.

Photo of a male wood duck shot by Dino Melissa

Despite a bustling upbringing as a competitive dancer for 17 years—which is not exactly an outdoor sport—I surrounded myself with nature books, my dad's photographs, and nature documentaries. Unfortunately, while balancing a hectic city life, the opportunities for my dad and I’s outdoor adventures diminished over the years. However, as I am maturing and expanding my knowledge, I continuously discovered new ways to appreciate nature and its interconnected web of life - not mosquitoes though…

In my quest to inspire others to view nature through a similar lens as I do, I spent the past summer at a wildlife hospital, manning the front desk. Handling cases ranging from fallen hawks to orphaned baby raccoons to pigeons with string around their feet, I strived to educate callers about wildlife while debunking misconceptions. Some common ones are that pigeons are dirty and will give us diseases, and snakes are evil - spoiler alert, both are very wrong! While not everyone appreciated or grasped the educational aspect—some mistaking us for pest removal—many left with a newfound understanding of Ontario's wildlife. Small changes, after all, contribute to a broader impact of protecting our native species. This job expanded my knowledge - which I still try to share with anyone who will listen - and played a pivotal role in further evolving my relationship with nature.

Picture of an American Kestrel

One place that has bestowed upon me a profound sense of place is my cottage—a haven of tranquillity like no other. Nestled on about an acre of land, backing onto a forest, it teems with diverse wildlife such as deer, coyotes, foxes, turkeys, grouse, and a plethora of native plants. Whether quietly observing the tree line or engaging in summer activities like kayaking and hiking, the ambient sounds of water, wind, and nature's symphony create a genuine sense of place; whenever I am there I feel as if I belong there. It's here that I yearn to escape city living permanently, trading it for the allure of a rural plot of land to live off of sustainably. 

Picture of the backyard during the winter

The dream of owning a small farm and caring for animals has been a lifelong goal of mine. The charm of sustainable living intertwines with my passion for nature; here is where I hope to coexist in harmony. Through responsible practices and a deep connection with nature, I aim to contribute to the preservation of the natural world, all while feeling a permanent sense of place like no other.

[piizunn]

“Knowing You Has Made Me a Better Settler Person”: Tokenizing the Métis Identity 

View my work: A Spectacle of Me for You 

By riel 

My name is riel, I am a Red River Métis artist descending maternally from the historic Métis families by the names of Berthelet, Caron, St. Germaine, Dubois, Dazé, and Larivière, who come from the communities of Pointe à Grouette, now St. Agathe, St. Norbert, and St. Vital, now modern-day Winnipeg, and the historic Batoche, Saskatchewan. My Berthelet ancestors, notably my third great grandfather Joseph Berthelet Sr. was a community leader of Pointe à Grouette, and my fifth-great uncle Jean Caron Sr fought at fifty-two years old in the battle of Duck Lake, Saskatchewan of the North-West Resistance of 1885. His house is now a historic site in Batoche. My mother is a Métis academic with a background in education and my father is a settler of British ancestry, and an archaeologist-turned-locksmith. I introduce myself in this way, in the traditional way of Métis authors, such as Chantal Fiola and Jean Teillet, to contextualize my knowledge and experiences, as well as my connection to this land.  

Earlier this year, 2022, as the winter semester wrapped up, and spring was beginning to rear its big green head, I finished building a Red River cart. It was four months of research and physical labour. I taught myself methods of wood joinery that my ancestors would have used, the hand tools they had access to pre-industrial revolution, as well as the power tools we as modern Métis have access to now. After the cart’s completion I installed it in the Ivan Gallery at school. That is when and where it happened. A classmate of settler colonial ancestry approached me. We had spent two semesters at odds. Her work focused on the climate crisis but came from a place of doomism and borderline eco-fascism. She regurgitated colonial narratives regarding our “doomed world” and the inherent violence of humans, and when she was corrected and shown the harm in her words she doubled down.  

She said to me “knowing you, has made me a better person.” I do not know this woman and she does not know me, but I believe I knew her in that moment. To her, I am an encyclopedia, a fountain of knowledge for her to drink from whenever she wants to feel a little less guilty. I realized what she meant. 

“Knowing you has made me a better settler person” 

What does it take to know a person? Who defines knowing? In that moment, I knew my classmate, but she could not have known me less. To her, and many others I have met in my life, my culture and I represented an outlet for settler guilt. I was the “real Indian” she took a photo with to prove her proximity and understanding of Indigeneity (James Luna). Because in settler minds, every Indian is every Indian, and every Indian is an encyclopedia to test knowledge against. I am a measuring stick for settlers to compare their thoughts and actions to. 

I began to really consider how settlers were tokenizing me; sexually, intellectually, culturally, spiritually, to settlers I am a fantasy Métis academic. I am an all knowing all sensing wise Indian who can track a man through all terrains, who can tell you your spirit name by just looking at you, who will save your life when you are caught unprepared on my land, and who will scalp an enemy with no mercy. That is what people want from me, not the stories of the Métis resistance leaders who tried to overtake your settler ancestors in the Northwest Resistance, who could spit bullets and toss gunpower directly into their guns all while on horseback. They do not want to hear about The Old Wolves who fought in the Northwest Resistance and years later met in St. Vital to lovingly and meticulously document our young nation’s history, who hated the word “rebellion” (Jean Teillet). 

A Spectacle of Me for You is an installation containing a series of sculptures, photographs, prints, and found objects arranged in a “spectacle” of the Métis identity. The work is the result of experimentation with materials and engagement with Métis theory on self-governance and our history. Being named after Louis Riel often feels like an invitation for settlers to give me their unsolicited opinion on whether my ethnic group should have rights, and if Louis Riel was a madman or not, with most of the conversations quickly becoming anti-Indigenous and/or ableist. To my people, however, it is an honour to be named after Riel, the man who, with Gabriel Dumont successfully won the Red River Resistance of 1869, and commanded my ancestors in the Northwest Resistance of 1885. In this work I employ Indigenous humour- our ability to make fun of ourselves, remaining in control of the joke in order to remove that power from settlers, who are suddenly uncomfortably aware of their perception of Indigenous peoples. I have been heavily influenced by artists like Jesse Ray Short who dressed as Louis Riel in a drag-esque performance, and James Luna’s performance Take A Picture with a Real Indian (2001) and Artifact Piece (1987), Dayna Danger’s Big ‘Uns series, specifically for their reclamation of explicit Indigenous sexuality, and their ways of incorporating Indigenous, specifically Métis and Salteaux material culture into representations of Indigenous sexuality. Finally, I also would like to reference Rebecca Belmore’s piece Artifact #671B from 1988, where Belmore implicates her own body as an artifact in similar ways that James Luna has.  

The viewer enters the room to find a table at the back of the room, seemingly an in-use workspace, with a sewing mannequin dressed in brown pants, a red and black flannel, a Louis Riel shirt, and a beaded leather strap on placed over the pants. There is also a half-deflated mask of Louis Riel placed on the table. On the table there are postcards- free for the viewer to take with two different designs to choose from. On one side of the room a log has been placed on the ground and another rests a few feet away, seemingly more haphazardly than the carefully placed log.  

A Spectacle of Me for You is a staged representation of what a beader’s workspace might look like. A series of props that vaguely reference the Métis but does not actually represent the workspace of the artist. It is a highly curated idea of the Métis identity, playing on well-known stereotypes. Among the workspace set-up there are two stacks of postcards, one with a shot of the artist posing with two logs they personally harvested in January of 2022, left over from building a Red River cart, one of the logs positioned suggestively between the legs of the artist. They are dressed in stereotypical lumberjack clothes as well as a t-shirt with Louis Riel’s face and a slogan that reads “keepin’ it Riel”. The artist also wears a latex mask of Louis Riel, tying the fantasy together.   

Otipemisiwak Voyageur Fantasy Husband is a series of postcards as well as a costume worn by the artist to comment on different aspects of tokenization. The leather strap on harness worn over their clothes is an overt reference to the fetishization of Indigenous people, specifically Indigiqueer and Two Spirit community members, and a comparison of Indigenous and settler masculinity. The harness is paired with a lumberjack style flannel and a shirt with an image of Louis Riel that reads “keepin it real”, and a latex mask of Riel, worn on the artist’s head, obscuring their face. The postcards and the mask are a reference to modern Métis material culture and our infatuation with objects with Louis Riel’s face. The mass-production of these items has both caused a massive inflation of Louis Riel-kitsch, but also a larger awareness of our presence as Métis people, and what Riel means to us. Akin to the presidents' masks used by the Ex-Presidents gang in the 1991 film Point Break, the artist uses their Riel mask to draw attention to the way real historical figures, particularly politicians become caricatures of their actual selves in the eyes of the public, allowing them to be immortalized in popular culture. On a smaller scale, something similar has happened to Louis Riel where many settlers deem him a violent mad-man, and reduce him to a caricature of himself, while the Métis have reclaimed this treatment, and have found ways to honour him in our material culture. 

References/Works Cited 

BELMORE, REBECCA. ARTIFACT #671B, 1988. 

BIGELOW, KATHRYN. POINT BREAK. TWENTIETH CENTURY FOX, 1991.  

BURNS, CLARISSA. VOYAGEUR GAMES DEMONSTRATION. https://metisgathering.ca/classroom-resources/classroom-voyageur-games/. MÉTIS GATHERING. 2022.  

LUNA, JAMES. TAKE A PICTURE WITH A REAL INDIAN, 2000.  

LUNA, JAMES. ARTEFACT PIECE, 1987. 

   RIEL, LOUIS. FINAL TRIAL STATEMENT. http://law2.umkc.edu/faculty/projects/ftrials/riel/rieltrialstatement.html. JULY 31ST 1885.  

SHORT, JESSIE RAY. WAKE UP!, 2015. 

  TEILLET, JEAN. THE NORTH-WEST IS OUR MOTHER : THE STORY OF LOUIS RIEL’S PEOPLE, THE METIS NATION. PATRICK CREAN EDITIONS, AN IMPRINT OF HARPERCOLLINS PUBLISHERS LTD., 2013. 

[distant--shadow]

there are yellows on yellows and greens on greens

merges goarse flowers' and daffodils' seams

patterning a quilt or a lightweight spring jacket

for a fox in the gutter twisted at the hip

wearing its intestines like a scarf

reds on reds on greys on drains

at another park

I make myself a temporary public sculpture next to the path

church hall disco fog machine nostrils billowing

coat the pond where a swan builds her nest

out of reeds and organ pipe cleaners and a string vest

by the north sea

in the harbour workers with cigarettes frankenstein fishing nets

I photographed, saltwatered and nicotined holding my breath

and between deaf ears sits mother's inebriated mouth

rehearses apologies around teeth that want to fall out

back at home

standing on a samaritans' bridge

my weather report is relayed from the motorway underpass

broadcasts a yellow rain warning in yellow LEDs

lands on oxidised burnt umbers and crusty eroding chromes

blends into one paint stroke as my eyes water

father mother son daughter

you always get the word wrong

empty cans crossing the road a family of ducks

mother (father) (daughter) son

cheep cheep cheap chin wag swan song

pressure washes the pavement with the acid inside my stomach

red lorry yellow lolly (you always get the word wrong)

into the gutter

mono tone