#andis coping mechanism

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Cruel (Nathan MacKinnon)

I genuinely forgot that I wrote this for a while, but here you go!

Rating: T

Pairing: Nathan MacKinnon/Reader

Words: 5623

Warnings: none

Summary: You confess your feelings for Nate, and things get worse from there. (hurt/comfort)

In all honesty, you probably should have realized sooner. When you’d become Nate’s friend one fateful night at your favorite bar, you never would’ve imagined that the two of you would be friends-with-benefits. And when you’d become FWBs, you’d never have imagined falling in love with him.

Falling in love with a friend is usually a bad idea, and is especially a mistake when that friend is Nate. He’s brash, obsessive, and almost entirely emotionally incompetant. Yet here you are, watching him play with someone’s kids while the butterflies riot in your stomach. It’s objectively cute to watch, but a normal friend wouldn’t be overcome with the urge to kiss him senseless about it.

Being in love with him wouldn’t be as big of a deal if your heart wasn’t so sure of it. If you didn’t think “yeah, this is the one” when you look at him. You’ve been in love before, but not like this. You’ve had the butterflies and rainbows and can’t-stop-smiling kind of love, but never I-want-to-argue-with-this-person-for-the-rest-of-my-life type of love. It’s new and entirely terrifying.

Because, as previously mentioned, Nate is emotionally incompetent. Even if you were to confess your feelings, he probably wouldn’t know what to do with them. Even if he felt the same way, he probably wouldn’t realize it. Even if you lead him along, he would probably still stumble. That doesn’t mean that you aren’t overcome with the urge to spill your guts every time he does something that reminds you of how much you love him.

The barbecue you’re at is one with his family. You’d come to Nova Scotia to visit during his off-season, needing to see him for at least a little bit during the long months he’s away. He’s so effortlessly happy here, like all of the pressure of the season has just fallen away. You know he still overthinks his play during the quieter moments at home, but at least there’s some time for him to enjoy himself. It makes you sad when he gets self-critical, so it’s wonderful to see him playing and laughing.

His family had essentially adopted you a couple years back, only needing to meet you two or three times before they decided you were a part of them. It’s an honor, really, to have such amazing people look at you and deem you worthy of their time and love. Your own family had never been close, your childhood fraught with fights and behavior that was questionable at best. Now, you talk to Nate’s family more than you do your own. As much as they’re happy to have you, you’re happier to have them.

“He’s such a softie,” Sarah says, sidling up next to you on the deck. You smile at her, nodding your head. You’re almost as close with Sarah as you are with Nate’s mom, but you get to joke a little more with Sarah than Kathy. She’s always up to poke fun at Nate.

“Acts all tough on the ice,” you say, looking back to Nate, now throwing children onto the soft furniture set up in the yard, “But he’s just a big marshmallow.” His softer, more vulnerable side doesn’t come out as much during the season, tamped down by his laser focus.

“You gonna tell him?” Sarah asks, cutting to the chase. As much as you’ve denied your feelings to her, insisting that she’s reading too much into it despite knowing that you’re lying. She asks you this pretty much every time you talk, but it’s less annoying than it is encouraging. You know she asks because she supports you and wants you to be happy.

“Not yet,” you reply. It’s the first time you’ve openly confirmed her suspicions. Admitting it, even in this indirect way, feels good. You haven’t told any of your friends about it, so it’s kind of nice to tell someone.

You can see Sarah staring at you in your peripheral, still pretending to focus on the action in the yard. Her face is inscrutable, and you’re pretty sure her thoughts are flying around right now.

“Then when?” she asks. You shrug. Maybe never? The slim chance of a romantic relationship isn’t enough for you to risk the friendship. Yet.

“Whenever it feels right,” you say. As often as you want to tell him, the right moment hasn’t come along. There’s always something deep inside of you that holds you back. Maybe it's a self-protection instinct; maybe it’s cowardice.

Sarah doesn’t respond verbally, just hums and nods her head.

The start of the season is always one of your favorite times. You get to have Nate back in town, and everyone is excited for the new chance at the cup. The Avs have been doing so well lately, and you’re already getting a good feeling about this season. Nate’s hot on the ice, of course, but he’s not the only one. The team is working well together, melding and succeeding.

Nate tries to see you whenever he’s home. Sometimes, he’ll come to your place to watch movies. Usually, you go to his place to play video games and lounge around. He doesn’t have much time with all of the away games and media availability, but you make do.

You’re curled up on his oversized sofa, watching the Black Widow movie, making sporadic comments and jokes. The movie had come out months ago, but you’re only getting a chance to watch it just now. It’s actually pretty damn good, in your opinion. It doesn’t hurt that everyone in it is, like, super hot.

“Snack refill?” Nate asks during a calmer scene. You nod, pressing pause on the remote. The both of you untangle to stand, making your way to the kitchen. The floor-to-ceiling windows give an amazing view of the city, so you take a moment to admire it while Nate gathers snacks. You love Denver. The people, the culture, the mountains, the view from a penthouse apartment.

All of Nate’s snacks are weird, healthy shit. Luckily, he keeps some normal things around for you. It’s hard for him to even have them around, with all his anxiety about his diet, so you appreciate him keeping them stocked up for you. He doesn’t do it for anyone else, and you’ve seen him deny EJ some twizzlers because they’re reserved for you alone.

“Pretty, right?” Nate asks, stopping close behind your right shoulder. You nod, twisting your head to the side to look at him. The early evening light makes him look even more like he’s carved from marble. His cheekbones are shining, his eyes unbelievably blue. His bold, crooked nose has always been your favorite, and it looks incredibly dignified with the shadows playing across it.

“Yeah,” you say, still looking at him, “Really pretty.” It’s cliche, saying something like that while looking at the object of your affections. You can’t help it. He makes you want to be cliche.

You watch his cheeks pink up in the second before he turns away. Despite his confidence, he’s somewhat self-conscious about his appearance. He has no problem pulling when he goes out, but sometimes you catch him staring in the mirror with a frown. You wish you could sit him down and tell him exactly how beautiful he is, but that would probably be a little too much. Awkward, too. He deserves to hear it anyway.

You follow him back to the couch, cuddling back up and pressing play.

You don’t mean to do it, is the thing. It’s a night like any other, laying in bed with Nate after some mind-blowing sex. You’ve been talking for half an hour, just a meandering conversation about nothing of consequence. When you run out of things to say, you just stare at each other. You’ve laid next to him like this a million times, stared into his eyes more times than that. There’s no reason that this time should be different, but it is. There’s a comfortable quiet settled over you like a blanket, your mind calm, for once. The moonlight is streaming through the window, falling over you both, softly highlighting your faces. Nate’s hand is tangled with yours between you, under the covers.

“I think I’m in love with you,” you say. Your heart doesn’t even skip a beat. You have no idea where it comes from, how you let it come out.

The silence stretches long, getting heavier over time. It feels like you’re suffocating as you watch his face melt into something sad. Pitying. This is the nightmare scenario. You know exactly what he’s about to say. “I only see you as a friend”, “I don’t feel the same”, “I’m sorry”.

In a split second, you’re standing. You fidget, rubbing the back of your neck.

“Actually, you know what?” you say quickly, unable to look him in the eye anymore, “I think I’m confused.” He’s moved to rest up on his forearm, leaning toward the space you’d been occupying. He doesn’t say anything yet, having no chance to interject when you’re talking so fast.

“I think I’m just confusing platonic love for romantic, again,” you continue, flexing your toes repeatedly, digging them into the plush carpet, “You know I do that sometimes.” It’s not a lie, not completely. You’re not actually confused, and you do love him romantically, which is the lie. But you do have a habit of mixing up platonic and romantic feelings, and it might be just enough to convince him of what you’re saying.

“Oh,” he says, shifting uncomfortably, “Okay.” It’s too simple of an answer, and you can’t tell if he believes you. You need to get out of here. How did you let this happen?

“I’ve gotta go feed Marty,” you say, using your cat as an excuse, despite having already arranged for him to be fed tonight. It’s lie after lie.

Nate doesn’t object, just says “okay” again. He sits up, shuffling to the edge of the bed to sit. His fingers are pressing against the mattress a little too hard. You start dressing, almost frantically. You’re trying to slow yourself down so that it’s not so obvious that you’re upset, but all you can think of is getting the hell out of here.

Nate walks you to the front door, silent until he bids you goodnight. You always hug him before you go, so you make it short. You don’t want to do it at all, embarrassment and shame burning through you, but you need to act as normal as possible.

You spend the rest of the night with Marty on your chest, petting his soft black fur and trying to pretend that you’re not crying.

Things are only mildly awkward when you go out with the guys the next day. You’re all doing lunch at Gabe’s favorite spot, the gaggle of you disturbing the relative peace of the restaurant. You’ve pulled yourself together somewhat, and being around Tyson’s sunshine smile has always made socializing easier.

You eat, chat, and even manage to have a small conversation with Nate as if nothing had happened. As if you aren’t heartbroken and furious at yourself. You’d half expected him to text you last night, either to check on you, or to tell you he’s cutting off the friends with benefits situation. He hadn’t, and you’re not sure if you’re relieved or not.

You’re sat next to Cale and Burky, which is always the ideal. They’re both sweet and funny, and it’s always great to watch Cale blush when Burky’s more salacious side comes out. About halfway through the meal, most of the group hones in on one conversation. Devon is explaining his situationship with a girl he’d met last month, before asking for advice.

“How do I know if I really like her or not?” he asks, frustrated. He’s described how he feels both when she’s around and when they’re apart. He’s worried that the sex is clouding his judgement, making him think he likes her more than he does. Due to your recent blunder in a similar situation, you don’t feel qualified to hand out advice. Gabe gives a wise speech about examining your feelings, and taking chances, and what love feels like. EJ makes an uncouth joke immediately afterward.

“Maybe you’re just confusing platonic love for romantic,” Nate says once the laughter has died down, “They can feel really similar sometimes.” You try to swallow your heart back down from where it’s lodged itself in your throat.

“Like, when you imagine your future, do you imagine hanging out with her, or do you imagine marrying her?” he asks. Gabe hums and Devon’s face gets serious as he thinks. You take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Controlling your anxiety has been more difficult the past few days, but at least you know that nobody else is aware of the cause. You’re a naturally anxious person, so it’s not unusual for you to do breathing exercises randomly.

“And even if you date her and realize it’s really platonic, you can always just tell her,” Nate continues, shrugging, “I mean, Y/N told me she loved me, but then she realized it was just friendship, like, right away.” Everything stops. Not just you, but the clinking of silverware, guys with food halfway to their mouths, it all stops. Panic rises in your chest as you realize what just happened. Nate doesn’t notice.

“It was just the other day,” he says, “And we’re still fine.” You hate him. You’re going to kill him. Tear him to shreds. How could he possibly think that this was an okay thing to say? How can he be so completely oblivious to what he’s just shared, to the fact that he’s just told everyone that you’re in love with him– and that he rejected you? You can feel your face burning, your heart rate skyrocketing. You knew that Nate was inept at emotions, but this is downright cruel. You make the mistake of meeting Gabe’s eyes, seeing all the surprise, and anger, and goddamn pity in them.

You throw your napkin on the table and stand. You rip your purse from the back of the chair and sling it over your shoulder, fixing Nate with a stare of rage, rather than the hurt you feel. He’s completely humiliated you in front of most of your friends. How the fuck are you supposed to look any of them in the eye after this?

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you spit out, before slapping some cash on the table and fleeing. As you leave, Nate stands from his seat, calling your name before he grabs your wrist to stop you. You yank your arm away, backing up a couple steps defensively.

“Don’t fucking touch me right now,” you say, unable to control the rage consuming you. You turn and continue your quick exit.

“What’s your fucking problem?” he shouts after you, as you let the front door fall shut behind you.

What an absolute bastard.

You hate crying. It’s the absolute worst. It makes you feel weak and dramatic and vulnerable. But there’s nothing you can do to stop the tears that start flowing halfway through your drive home from the restaurant. When you park at your apartment complex, you take a moment in your car. You squeeze your eyes shut as tightly as you can, slamming your hands against the steering wheel. Nate has hurt you before, but nothing like this. Nothing like the overwhelming shame burning in your gut. He humiliated you. In front of everyone. You’d be concerned that the immediate reaction from them suggests that they already knew that you love him, but you can’t make space in your jumbled mind to think of anything but how stupid you are.

Over the years, you’d changed. You used to be a relatively solitary person, keeping to yourself to avoid the unpredictability of others. But somewhere down the line, as you got closer to Nate, you’d learned to let people in. At some point you’d decided to trust him, an honor you hadn’t granted anyone since childhood. And as you learned to trust him, you’d learned to trust both yourself and others. Knowing Nate has changed your life for the better, and loving him has helped you learn to love yourself. There’s also been the copious amounts of therapy, of course, but Nate had definitely been instrumental as well.

And now all that trust is shattered, tiny shards at your feet.

No matter how oblivious he can be, you’d never imagined him doing something so hurtful because of it. Part of you wonders if it’s not him being unaware at all, if this was an intentional way of reinforcing his rejection. Half an hour ago, you wouldn’t even consider that a possibility, but now your brain is more willing to entertain the concept. Outright cruelty has never been a trait you associate with Nate, but now you’re not so sure. You’ve seen him be a jackass before, explode on people when he’s exceptionally angry or stressed. You’ve never seen him be callous that calmly, though.

You feel bad asking Amy to come over to deal with your damn emotions twice in a row, but you’re even less inclined to let anyone else in on the situation now. Not that it matters anymore, since the entire team knows. When Amy sees your red eyes and running mascara, she wraps you up in her arms. She whispers into your hair, leading you to sit on the couch. You spill your guts, surprised that you even have the energy to be as mad as you are.

“Do you want me to fight him?” she asks, completely genuine. It makes you laugh through the tears and rage. The idea of little 5’2 Amy squaring up against Nate is hilarious. The earnestness in her offer makes you even more fond of her.

“If anyone gets to fight him, it’s me,” you reply, only half-joking. You were about half a second from punching him in the face when he grabbed you. Amy laughs, conceding. You bitch to her some more, the current issue starting to bring up past sleights. She stops you when you start going too far down the rabbit hole, calming you with a hand on your arm. You take a deep breath, which you’ve been doing a lot lately. Once you’re in a better state of mind, you start discussing solutions. There’s not way to take the situation back now that it’s happened. You just have to figure out how to handle the aftermath.

The thing that pisses you off the most, that hurts the most, is that you spend the entire conversation wishing that Amy was Nate. Even with what he’s done, you still want to curl up in his arms and listen to his heartbeat while you vent. Even though it feels like a betrayal by your heart, all you want is to be with Nate.

The response you finally decide on is distance. There’s no way that you’re going to have a rational, productive conversation with him right now. He’s on a roadie right now, which makes it easier. You don’t reach out to him, and he doesn’t reach out to you. You don’t watch his games like you usually do, any sight of him pulling the shame back up from where you’ve buried it. A bitter part of you hopes that he loses.

You continue your life as normal, throwing yourself into work and time with friends as a distraction. After a week, it starts to sting a little less. Nate’s just an asshole, you think, and you don’t waste time on assholes. You think, “I don’t know how to stop loving him” and wish you hadn’t.

When Nate finally texts you a few days later, you ignore the message until the curiosity gets the better of you. It’s simple, direct:

Can we talk?

You want to say no. You want to text him every awful, bitter thing you’ve thought in the last week and a half. Instead, you send him an affirmative. You’re an adult, you can handle having a conversation like one. You’d considered ghosting him, but your friendship has been too important to end that way.

He texts you back, asking for a time and place. You don’t hesitate to say your place, wanting the comfort of home turf. You check his schedule quickly to pick a date and time. The anxiety sets back in once the plans are confirmed, and sticks around for the next day. It’s frustrating how distracting this whole thing has been, even leading you to make stupid mistakes at work.

Weirdly, the anxiety only spikes when Nate knocks on your door, settling once the two of you are sat on the couch. The greetings had been stilted,  no hug for the first time in years. The silence now is uncomfortable, an awkward moment before a difficult conversation. Nate folds his leg up on the couch so that he can face you fully.

“So,” his eyes flick away from you, returning quickly, “I fucked up.” stating the obvious has always been a strength of his.

“Yeah,” you reply, arms crossed over your chest, “You did.” It makes you feel a little better that he seems more nervous than you are. He wrings his hands, huffing a quiet laugh.

“I had it all planned out, what I was going to say,” he says, “But now I forgot it all.” you’re not sure what to say to that, so you just stay silent. Nate takes a deep breath like you’ve been forcing yourself to do for weeks. It feels powerful, being the one more in control of your emotions.

“I guess I’m just gonna go for it and hope it makes sense,” he continues, “I’m not very good at feelings, and I read the situation wrong.” You nod. This isn’t new information.

“I believed you when you said you were just confused, because you usually always tell me the truth,” he explains, “It seemed weird, but I wanted it to be true.” You’d felt horrible for lying to him. You’d done your absolute best to be honest with him at all times, and the times you decide to lie has messed everything up. You should have just stuck to your guns and taken the rejection to the face.But you couldn't stand it then, so you have to hear it now.

“I didn’t know how to deal with the idea of you loving me,” Nate says, his cheeks starting to pink as he fiddles with his fingers, “So I took the excuse you gave me.” Your arms tighten around your torso.

“I had to find an out,” you say softly, “I couldn't stand the way you were looking at me. I can’t handle the pity.” This seems to surprise him, his eyebrows shooting up before furrowing. His gaze feels too intense, but you hold it anyway.

“I wasn’t pitying you,” he replies, “I was confused, and sad that I didn’t have an answer ready.” You could’ve sworn the look was pity, but you may have misread it in your panic. You hadn’t intended to tell him, so your mind had gone a bit haywire after the words spilled out. You can’t relax too much, despite what he’s saying, while you just wait for the “I don’t feel the same”.

“I felt so much; there was so much going through my head,” he says, “So I didn't want to deal with it, so I just took the excuse.”

“I was scared,” he admits, “I wanted to ignore it.” You can count on one hand the amount of times he’s owned up to being afraid. You’ve known that he’s emotionally inept for as long as you’ve known him, so it shouldn’t surprise you to find out that he was trying to avoid it. What shocks you more is how open he’s being right now, how much thought he seems to have put into all of this. He’s examined and parsed out his feelings for weeks, just to talk to you.

“But I couldn't stop thinking about what you said,” he says, “You ‘think’ you’re in love with me… I didn’t want to ruin our friendship if you weren’t sure.” He laughs again, “If I wasn’t sure.”

“I didn’t realize until later that you were probably just saying it that way to soften the blow,” he continues, making small motions with his hands, “That you probably were sure.” You nod and whisper “I am”. It’s somehow both relieving and mortifying to own up to it. Unfortunately you are indeed sure. You’ve known that he’s the one for you for a long time. Nate lets out a long exhale, smiling just just the slightest bit.

“First I want to tell you that I’m sorry,” he says, “I really hurt you, and I’m truly sorry for being an idiot.” The apology seems sincere, but you’re not ready to forgive him yet. It takes more than words to earn your forgiveness; it takes action. He needs to prove to you that he’ll never do anything like this again, that he can be trusted. There’s a stretch of silence when you don’t respond. You kind of want to thank him, but his demeanor tells you that he’s not done talking.

“I’m not going to tell you that I love you,” he says, making your tense up. Here it comes, the moment you’ve been waiting for since you first voiced your feelings.

“Because I know you won’t believe me,” he says, “And I need you to believe me.”

What.

Your heart starts racing, your breathing shallow and quick. Of all the things that you anticipated coming from this conversation, this was not on the list. Hell, none of this was on the list. This is the most emotionally mature conversation you’ve ever had with him. You didn’t even have to poke and prod to get him to express himself. And he’s saying words that you’d never expected to hear.

The unfortunate part is that he’s right: you can’t believe him right now. Though he’s being very adult about things right now, he’s only thought it over for ten days, and only in response to your hurt. If he had reciprocated immediately, if he didn’t have to think about it, if he’d known the answer before you’d ever said anything, maybe you could believe him. But it’s all a reaction. Besides, he’d humiliated you, and that’s not how you treat someone that you love.

“Prove it,” you say, finally. You can’t guarantee that this whole situation is something that you can overcome, but you’re willing to try. You still love him, even if you can’t trust him at the moment. His excited smile at your words instills some hope in your pessimistic mind.

“I will.” he insists.

True to his word, Nate puts in a valiant effort to act like he loves you. He goes back to calling you after every away game, spending time with you when he’s home, talking and sharing his life with you. He always gets up to grab the snacks for nights together, buys you small things that you need. Pens, notebooks, a new sweater. It’s very nice, but something gnaws at the back of your mind. The reason that he’s doing all of this is because he wants to prove something. Because he wants something from you. It’s nothing he didn’t do before The Incident, but it feels inauthentic now. You want him to do these things because he wants to, not because he thinks he has to in order to win you over.

Despite this, you’ve been trying to enjoy it all. You’d hung out with the guys again last week, and only, like, three of them asked if you were alright, which was nice. It’s going to take a long time to get over the embarrassment, but it fades slowly with every normal interaction you have with the boys. Luckily, Nate had apparently explained your reconciliation to them, so you haven’t had to deal with anyone questioning your absence or why you came back. Amy isn’t thrilled that you’re giving Nate another chance, but she’s not the kind of friend to tell you what to do with your life. She’s become a little preoccupied with the new hot person at work for the past few weeks, anyway.

As much as the past month has been stressful, you’re feeling calm tonight. You’d had a good day at work, and now it’s another movie night at Nate’s place. You only get to do a few full-on movie nights throughout the season, so you’re excited that there’s already been time for a second one this year. Nate gathers the snacks while you grab the blankets and set the pillows up how you like them. He chuckles when he comes into the living room to find you aggressively punching a pillow into shape. You hate having to get up in the middle of a movie to fix stuff, okay? Maximum comfort from the beginning, and you don’t have to worry about it later.

You arrange Nate as well, physically moving his arms and legs and wiggling around until the position is perfect. He allows himself to be tugged around like a particularly large doll without complaint. The  movie starts out kind of boring, but picks up soon enough that you don’t get distracted. Not fast enough for Nate, though, who has started messing with his phone. He has the patience and focus of a god when it comes to hockey, but has the attention span of a child otherwise.

You manage to make it through the first film without getting up to use the bathroom, but just barely. You use the one in the hall and smile as you dry your hands on the cute towels embroidered with little raccoons. They’re completely out of place in his otherwise modern apartment, but you’d said that you liked them, and he’d bought them right away. God, that was months ago.

When you return, there are two of your favorite candy bars sitting on the coffee table. Nate must have grabbed them from the kitchen while you were gone. You haven’t had these in a long time, though. One of them is only available in Canada, so you’re not even sure how he got it in the middle of the season.

“Where did these come from?” you ask, picking them up and turning them over in your hands.

“Oh, I saw them when we played the Senators,” he says, lifting the blanket for you in invitation, “Figured I’d grab them for you.” He’s holding the blanket up with one arm, legs spread, waiting for you to crawl between them. You stare at him. Your brain has chosen this, of all things, to short-circuit over.

You’d already realize, of course, that the things Nate has been doing since you reconciled are things he had done before you fell out. You just hadn’t realized what that meant. Nate has been talking to you, and listening, and supporting you, and doing small, thoughtful things for you for years. He’s been treating you better than anyone you’ve ever dated- than anyone he’s dated- for years. He doesn’t just think he loves you because he fucked up and almost lost you, he actually loves you. It just took a stupid mistake to realize it.

“You love me,” you blurt out, grip tightening on the candy in your hands. Nate looks understandably confused at your outburst.

“Uh,” he says.

“No, like-” you say.

Silence.

“Like,” you say, “I love you too. His eyebrows shoot up, arm still frozen holding the blanket in the air. You stare at each other for a while, probably too long, before he finally breaks the quiet.

“Does that mean that I get to say it now?” he asks, a tentative smile growing on his face. You feel your own face mirroring his, mouth still hanging open slightly.

“Yeah,” you reply, “If you want to.” That finally gets him to move, throwing off the blanket and standing to look you in the eye. He gently pries the candy bars from your hands, setting them on the coffee table. Then he takes your newly freed hand in his own, bringing it to his mouth to lay a kiss on your knuckles.

“I love you,” he says the words you’ve been waiting far too long to hear, “I’m sorry I had to hurt you to realize that.” You know you’re smiling like a loon, but you can’t help yourself. So many emotions are flooding through you that you can’t even begin to identify them all. Your heart feels fit to burst.

“At least you got with the program eventually,” you say, squeezing his hand lightly. He laughs, a bright sound that lights you up. You can’t help but laugh with him about how strange and ridiculous this entire situation has been. Can’t help but laugh at how long it took you to figure out what you should have known from the start.

When he rests your foreheads together once the laughter has waned, you relish in how right this all feels. He brings his free hand up to cup your face, stroking a thumb across your cheek. You let your head tilt into it, a comforting gesture.

“Do I get to kiss you now?” you ask, staring into his blue, blue eyes. His smile widens, so much so that his eyes are squinched halfway shut.

“Whenever you want,” he replies. You close the gap without hesitation, pressing your lips together in what will hopefully be the last first kiss of your life.

[thekidsare-not-alright]

got a serious tumblr addiction because for some reason i just need to know every latest update and thought about some guys from the greater chicago area that like to play music together. thanks pete

[tinyelephentalchaos]

I’ve been reading His Dark Materials, somewhat slowly, after having watched the show. I also saw the movie when it came out, what, 12 years ago, maybe?

Thinking about the guard and what their dæmons would be. Also what gender/sex: it would make sense, with most if not all of the guard being queer, and Andy… possibly being older than the concept of gender as we know it (are non-binary dæmons a thing? Also what do we know about neolithic conceptions of gender?) for them to have dæmons of the same gender… Though, would this go against the theme of them being the same as everyone else, since same-gender dæmons are rare...? Plus, the intersection between dæmons and sexuality is murky re: gender, given Pullman's answer to "could a character's dæmon being the same gender as them mean they're queer?" was "maybe", iirc.

Anyways, we know that they were born several centuries-to-millennia apart, so it wouldn't be that strange if they all happened to have same-gender dæmons, but it might make them stand out in public...

Anyways, here's a list of the guard and their dæmons, Lykon's is unnamed as of now because I have very little idea of where he could be from, or what language he would have spoken, aside from the Greek name he took.

Andy has a saker falcon, called Nyx (Νύξ "night"). That's not their first name, just as Andromache isn't Andy's: they remember the starting sound of each other's name throughout the millennia, bits and pieces of PIE which they speak amongst themselves and Quỳnh. Well, now, with her dæmon.

Quỳnh has a blue krait, named Tâm (from 心 "heart"*), who coiled herself around Andy's shoulders after Quỳnh was lost and never let go.

Nile had thought, at first, that Andy just.. had two dæmons. Why not? Here's this immortal warrior who claims that they lead an army of four people, has been a god, etc. They can have two dæmons, it's fine.

Nile's just... trying not to let her mind break, thank you very much. So, she's just accepting whatever at this point.

Lykon had a painted dog, who alongside him in, uh, whatever-post 331 BC/pre-1099 AD. (I'm begging, Greg/Victoria/Gina, give us a more concrete timeline.) When they disappeared, that's when Andy and Quỳnh knew he wasn't reviving.

Joe has a lion named Mahaad/Liyana (مَهّاد/لِيانَةٌ "comforter"/"tenderness"**) who preferred a rabbit form when he was a child.

Nicky has a wolf with a winter coat because fluffy wolves are adorable, named Concetto/Rossana ("Conception (of Jesus)"/"Dawn/Bright Star"***).

The two have long abandoned any sense of taboo around touching each other's dæmon: brushing past them on missions, cuddling with them during downtime: Mahaad/Liyana will often laze around in the kitchen while Nicky cooks, stretching their neck so Nicky can scratch their chin as he passes by their sunspot, and Concetto/Rossana'll rest in Joe's lap while he draws. As it was, it took Nile that entire first weekend to figure out who's dæmon was whose, not helped that they respond to each other's names. Nicky explained it like this when she asked: "Over the centuries, we've become intertwined, our souls bound together as one. Why shouldn't we call our dæmons by the same sounds, or touch them with our own hands?"

Booker has a polecat with white-ish markings on their face and body named Jules/Chloé (French form of Julian/French form of Chloe****).

Nile has a fox sparrow with russet feathers named Seth/Lucy (from Hebrew שת "Appointed"/Latin Lux "Light"*****). I feel like both are appropriate given Nile's probably Protestant background.

All of the immortals, minus Nile and excluding Quỳnh as an outlier since she's been separated from Tâm for centuries, can separate from their dæmon to some extent. Andy often asks Nyx to scout for the group, and while they tend to slow down for the duration of separation beyond ~ 20 meters, they no longer experience pulling (separation from one's dæmon) as everyone else. (But Tâm'll coil closer around Andy's shoulders, regardless, whispering soft nothings in whatever language she can think of.)

Joe and Nicky, meanwhile, if they can help it, will go with one another's dæmon if they need to separate. So that they can take comfort from the other shape of their soul, and know their first soul-form is protected above all else. When other circumstances arise and they're separated from both their dæmons, they look to each other for comfort through the pulling.

Booker ( like Ms. Coulter), can go the longest time apart from his dæmon without a shared goal or someone else to rely on. It's... not great, and he tries not to do so often simply because it's noticeable and he's trying to pretend, at least, that he's relatively happy, but it's a useful skill especially when there are tight spaces or small openings in a structure.

The first time this happened, actually, was while he was dying his first deaths. Jules/Chloé left to find some kind help, after the first few days. Ended up finding Andy, Joe & Nicky, and lead them all back to Booker. Of the others in the guard, Jules/Chloé is the closest to Andy and Nyx, simply because the pair were the first the dæmon had seen in weeks.

Lastly, as to Quỳnh, Tâm and separation: when Quỳnh was taken in the iron maiden, both Tâm and Nyx were held in another part of the dungeon, as the captors thought that would weaken their powers. So, she's been apart, not only from Andy, Joe and Nicky, for the past 400-500 years, but from her dæmon, too. The Pulling alone was excruciating, halfway down to the bottom of the ocean, she died from it alone. Yet, coupled with the drowning, the riviving, the snippets of dreams... when she finally escapes, Quỳnh's barely clinging to the last shreds of her sanity, and that's only because she knows Andy's been looking after Tâm-- their bond, though stretched to its last threads, still exists and she just knows Tâm's been safe 'til 1812, when she first glimpses her again. She goes peacefully to death that time. What should she care of her own suffering if her dæmon is truly safe? And then she revives, again and again, and she recalls her rage...

---

Sources on names that I'm pretty sure are accurate, but again, please correct me if they're not:

*https://www.behindthename.com/name/ta13m/submitted

**https://quranicnames.com/liyana/ and https://quranicnames.com/mahaad/

***https://www.behindthename.com/name/concetto (masculine form of Concetta, unrelated to the Italian word meaning concept or the English word meaning conceit. Spelled the same though, and is a cognate of Concepción) and https://www.behindthename.com/name/rossana and https://www.behindthename.com/name/roxana

**** https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jules and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chloe

***** Gen. 4:25, New Revised Standard Version and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucy and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lucius

[neversetyoufree]

Mmm I just finally finished writing a very long and important post that I started ages ago and I am Hyped

[this-broken-band-girl]

.

[non-un-topo]

Rating: T

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word count: 12,872

Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Nile Freeman & Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani & Nicky | Nicolò di Genova

Tags: Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Introspection, Aftermath of Torture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Nile Freeman is a badass, Fist Fights, Catharsis, Background Joe/Nicky, Canon-Typical Violence, Fanservice, overuse of italics

Summary:

She lands on one foot, then swings her heel around to meet his face. It’s becoming her signature move — the crowd is expecting it. They shout. As she spins with it she sees the shine of their greasy faces, bills waving above heads, mouths opening wide to cheer for Lazarus! The man hits the ground, and as she twists and catches herself her crucifix kisses her cheek.

[midnightfire830]

Asylum

so are cups n mugs with the questers rn?, and if so what do they think about the wild cup, does cups ever get blackouts?, if you were to list off mental illnesses from cups what would they be, is cups only nice to mugs and literally rabid to everyone else?, is there a cure for cupheads wildness, has cuphead ever actually been to an asylum?, does cups ever experience self loathing or self hate?, does cuphead have medication he takes just to stay sane?, is cuphead even sane?, has cuphead ever been in isolation?, what does cannikan think about his son being like his, does cannikan even know?

Lost toys

So how exactly does everything work?, do the toys have to eat?, does it kinda work like toy story?, for example, the toys could be doin something and someones like “hey andys comin” and then everybody just goes limp, or do the toys have theyre own domain where they exist, or is it kind of like that one tayo the bus movie (i forgor his name T-T), like the humans that own the toys somehow throw them away or lose them some how and they end up in a world with other lost toys like them, what are each of the questers roles?, are there any legos? (Dumb ahh question i know😭), is everything made out of wood and plastic?, what type of toys have theyre faces painted on?, do the toys need to eat?c like toy food or sumthin?, are there any toxic things the toys need to avoid?, like for example acid or soda.. (the soda gets everything all sticky😭)

Angel blood

I think remember you sayin they have some kinda psychic abilities (i thinj), like mugman can do what alice does and feel emotions, and cuphead could see the future, what is the limitation for mugmans ability to sense emotions, can he sense bloodlust or jealousy?, can mugman sense when someone is depressed, or have any mental illness related to emotions?, what was mugman like during the love of tainted bacon chapter?, was he any different?, now for cuphead, could cuphead see when his heart was about to be pulled out of his chest?, if so did he do anything to avoid it?, what are cupheads coping mechanisms for seeing into the future?, if cuphead sees anything important, does he write it down?, could cuphead be able to control it if he worked hard enough?

Ghost

If cuphead was in ghost form would he be able to posses things and people kinda like chalice in TCS?,what would cannikan think,if cuphead could, could he posses the devil?,I remember you tellin me that cuphead had no limits to flying so he could be in like outerspace or sumthin, but in human form could cuphead potentially survive out there?, does cuphead need food?, how fast can cuphead fly?, if cuphead flew out of the earth than put of orbit and THEN out of the galaxy, if he kept flying could he technically fly to another multiverse?

Mermaid

Do the questers just live in an open ocean or is there a civilization of mer people?, if you were to measure any of the questers to an average sized human being, what would be the difference in height?, what kind of fish are they based on?, could they go to the mariana trench?, or how far can they go down?, what are theyre life spans?, can they breath on land and on water?, if any of the questers were to eat human food, what would they be able to eat and not be able to eat?, can any of the questers get legs?, how far away from mainland do the questers live?, if you were to take each quester, how valuable would their scales be? (Or atleast for the ones that do have scales)

Other questions unrelated to aus

I have alot of aus that are unshared, uhhh what would be a good way to get people interested in them?, and what are your human quester headcanons

(Yes im listening to the intense voice of hatsune miku and eating pizza while writing these paragraph long questions)

/lh /t ^^

I’ll answer a couple from each. You’re welcome to re-ask any that I dont answer if you’d like.

Asylum:

If you were to list off mental illnesses from Cups what would they be?

- Cup doesnt exactly have a mental illness. Moreover the demon blood incident took a harder toll against him and he has a way harder time coping and adjusting to it. The main things being he’s a lot more emotionally volatile and unstable. He’s generally in his right mind from day to day. Just if you get him angry and upset he’s quicker to go into a rampage and those rampages last long. And in general he’s WAAAYYYYYY moodier.

Does Cuphead have medications he takes just to stay sane?

- No medications as of yet. If he WERE then maybe anti-depressants or something to treat anxiety. To help with mood swings and regulating his emotions a bit. But those didn’t exist in the 1920s. They were introduced in the medical field in the 50s. And even then, back in the 20s they didn’t have a good understanding of mental illness. Literally people were put in asylums for having ADHD. So. No. No medications. Or official clinical “treatment” outside of what Flug, Hat, and the Devil did to help.

Lost Toys:

So how does everything exactly work? . . . Does it kinda work like Toy Story?

- Pretty much the thing you said “That one Tayo the bus movie”. You know those stories parent’s tell their children when a pet dies? That they went to a farm or something or a better place to make the child feel better? A way for them to cope? That’s a similar idea that I’m going for. The AU is in a child’s imagination. And it’s their favorite toys going to a magical forest where other lost or forgotten toys go to live in the woods together.

What type of toys have their faces painted?

- Cuphead, mugman, Cala, boris, bendy, holly, and Alice have painted on faces. In a sense.

Angel Blood:

What was Mugman like during the tainted love of bacon chapter?

- Well leading up to the love spell mugs wasnt reacting all that well to the experiments. Trying not to get sick and probably had to sit back a few times. So either he wasn’t there for the love spell or he was still under its effect but didn’t care enough to notice the emotions going on around him. Though it was definitely a LOT. Afterwards tho he’d feel very VERY sick.

What are Cuphead’s coping mechanisms for seeing in the future? If he sees something important, does he write it down?

- He keeps a ‘dream journal’ of sorts in his pocket. He doesnt always write every vision he gets but ones that feel important to him or significant he notes down.

Ghost:

In human form could Cuphead potentially survive out there?

- He couldn’t survive in human form out in space. He’d die of suffocation and prolly extreme temperatures and whatever other stardust is out there

Does Cuphead need food?

- Yes He needs food for energy to sustain his body and soul. Even if he were to stay in his ghost form he’d still loose energy and eventually die.

Mermaid:

- So, a bit on the world building:

Short answer: both.

Long answer: the questers live a nomadic lifestyle (no permanent housing, a lot of traveling, etc) Living that kind of lifestyle is very normal for young adult merfolk. Once they get older they leave their families and go off on their own. Start their own pods, explore the world, and figure themselves out. It’s waaayyy more dangerous that way, especially for lone travelers and children. Which is why they usually stick together in groups. From there when they start their own families or get on in their years some decidedly settle down in more permanent housing. And some stay on the nomadic lifestyle. It’s up to preference.

But there are merman civilizations that exist. Most popular being the lost city of Atlantis. It used to be a kingdom on the surface before it fell into the sea. The humans inhabiting it all died out and merfolks moved in. Fixing it up and making it their own. The lost city is now the equivalent to a large city and it’s highly populated by merpeople.

What kind of fish are they based on?

- Ok. Cuphead is a Lionfish, Mugman is a Blue African Peacock Cichlid or and Electric Blue Hap (I can’t tell the difference. They might be the same things I’m not sure), Bendy is a sea monster, his design is based off of the Pixar movie Luca, Boris is a Great White Shark, Felix is a Black Axolotl, Holly is a Yellow Seahorse, and Alice is a White Opal Betta!

I’ll answer a 3rd cuz im obsessed with merman atm

How far away from the mainland do the questers live?

- It varies. But they usually stick kinda close to the mainland rather than far out in the open like most merfolk. They hang out especially along the southern eastern coast of the US in the coral reefs. Like around the Bahamas off the coasts of Florida, Cuba, Puerto Rico, and the Dominican Republic. But they travel other places when they want. Especially for their work, or if they need things that you can only buy in major civilizations.

And a good way to get people interested in your AUs?

Honestly? Just share content. Frequently post art, tease fun things, interact with people in comments or reblogs as much as possible and make as many friends as possible. Build up a community. It’s really, really slow progress. Almost painfully slow. But in the end its worth it.

Have fun! Thanks for the ask!!!

[normal-thoughts-official]

That post I made earlier today got me Thinking™ about Mr Yusuf al-Kaysani and the way he uses humor, and turns out that I find that a really interesting trait of his character, so I'm giving it its own analysis

Like. Listen. Joe is funny. We know this and he knows this. It comes naturally to him and it's part of who he is. However, the more I think about the times he made deliberate jokes in the movie, the more I realize that they were almost always made in times of distress or to diffuse a tense situation

When we get the first scene of the immortal family, Joe shows that he is fun and carefree (the way that he spins Andy and makes her laugh nearly instantly), but he's also pretty laid back. He's happy to sit back and laugh as the moon when he's lost in darkness gets his ass handed to him in a bet, and generally takes a backseat in the interactions while the others do their respective clown routines. He isn't really trying to be funny, at that point; the ones making jokes are the others

The first time we see Joe have an "I am fucking hilarious" moment is when they're in the helicopter and he hits Nicky with his Fuckboy Grin™, and that is a mood diffuser if I've ever seen one. The other three are all tense, armed and getting ready for battle, and we get several slightly-uncomfortable long shots of them sitting still and getting into their Soldier Headspaces, and then it pans directly from Nicky's longsword to Joe's open mouthed grin. It makes Nicky smile, and it also gives some relief to the tension that had been building up

And sure, part of that is that it's how Joe is, he's the carefree one, but part of it also seems like a very intentional way of lightening the mood - and it works, too, both for Nicky and the audience

Then, the first joke he tells in the movie is the one about the shoes Copley planted in South Sudan, which. I hesitate to even call it a joke because it falls so flat, but that just solidifies the point that Joe is using humor on purpose to try and diffuse the tension in the group. It is clearly an attempt at a joke, he even gives a little chuckle at the end, but he's obviously hurt and it doesn't quite land. Still, he tries, because everyone is tense, and upset. And humor is the best way he has to try and pull them back from that state, if only for a moment

Then, over the rest of the movie, we- okay, to be fair they are in stressful situations the entire rest of the movie, but most of his deliberate jokes come as direct responses to Moments of Duress™ - "he thinks you're a mouse, Nicky" comes when Merrick is threatening them, "bedhead?" when they are strapped to their tables, "faster than the elevator" when the fight with Merrick is over and they're all catching up with their tiredness and tension, and so on. Similarly, his silliest moments come when they are in tense situations (the wink and other funny faces and laughing when they are in the dinner with Nile, which is obviously tense as hell for all of them). The fact that he's using humor deliberately to try and lighten the mood during hard times becomes pretty obvious when you put all of his jokes together

Which isn't unusual, plenty of people use humor as a coping mechanism. Hell, I'm from Latin America, "laughing so we don't cry" is a common saying where I live. But the thing that gets me is that Joe is not using humor as a coping mechanism, because it's not supposed to help him

He doesn't make a joke when he sees the shoes, despite the fact that they clearly get to him. He makes it when the others are rattled by the fact that they've been set up. When Nile dreams of Quỳnh, Joe is so visibly devastated, but he doesn't try to lighten the mood once. When he is in the van, chained and desperate to see if Nicky will wake up, he doesn't make a joke. When he finds out that Booker has betrayed them, which obviously hurts him, maybe more than any other of them, he doesn't make jokes (he is cutting, yes, and I'll admit that "no man left behind" "well there's always a first time" is one of the funniest lines in the movie to me, but I don't think he intends it as a joke; he means it, because he's angry, and the humorous effect of the response is cut by the "he's nothing but a traitor" at the end. But, again, Joe is just naturally witty so it comes across as funny without that being, necessarily, his intention). In the moments when Joe is in the most distress, his humor is nowhere to be found. When his family isn't there to hear/see his response, he is just as tense as the rest of them are

Which brings me to my main point - Joe isn't using humor as a coping mechanism, because he isn't using it for himself. He uses it for his family's sake. Every time he makes a deliberate joke, or is goofy, it's for an audience, it is directed at the rest of the family, it is functional. He is trying to make them feel better, not himself

And that makes sense, because after Quỳnh was gone and before Nile joined? Joe was the only one who was really light in their group. Andy and Booker were obviously doing their Depression and Self Destruction Tour at nearly all times, and Nicky is a rational person. When confronted with problems, he thinks of solutions. When Andy is mad at Copley, his response is to say "we did it right, for the right reasons" - which doesn't work, because Andy doesn't want to hear it, but it's the way Nicky thinks. He has no regrets as long as his heart is in the right place, and when in a tight situation, he's going to try and get out of it. He's not the kind of guy who lightens the mood when things get tough; he is the kind of guy who takes everything deeply seriously, and takes it upon himself to find a way out of bad situations

Which is not to say that Nicky is a closed-off cold weirdo who doesn't know how to have fun, because if the baklava bet proved anything it's that Nicky also knows how to try and make his family happy. I know we all love to roast him for being shit at bets, but let's be real for a moment here - after a millennium of knowing Andy, there's no way he doesn't know that he will never fucking win at this. When he loses, he puts his hands over his face, but we can see that he is smiling about it, and I think he covers his face to hide that fact. I'm pretty sure Nicky was genuinely trying to outsmart Andy when this started, but at this point I'm also completely sure he just keeps doing it because it makes everyone laugh when he inevitably loses

(I think Joe knows that, too, because the smile he gives Nicky when he proposes the bet is too knowing and too fond)

But Nicky's moments of lightness come when they are already at ease; once the mood darkens, Nicky immerses himself in the seriousness of the situation. He is a soldier, and that's the headspace he immediately goes into. Which has its role in the group, but the fact remains - without Joe, the three of them would let themselves be swept up by the tension in their lives and never come back. They need Joe, because they need someone who can bring levity and soul into their lives

Which is a role Joe fulfills naturally, of course, because that is who he is - he is the artist, the one who's in love with life, the one with the easygoing personality and sense of humor. But it is also a role he fulfills consciously, and deliberately, because Joe also cares deeply, and so he knows that they need him to bring them back in the moments of darkness, and he is still trying, desperately, to keep his family together emotionally

And I just wonder how much of a toll that takes on him sometimes. Because after Quỳnh and before Nile, there was no one to do it for him, no one to pull him from his own darkness. And whenever there is tension in the group, Joe needs to step up and try to take care of everyone. And I'm not saying they don't take care of him as well, obviously, but this does mean that Joe is frequently choosing to put his own fears in the backseat in order to help his family. And the thing about using humor as a coping mechanism is that it's an easy way to make your own feelings ignored, both by yourself and others

Now, obviously Joe also allows himself his feelings - part of his whole thing is that he feels so openly and so intensely - and him and Nicky are clearly constantly playing taking-care-of-each-other chess trying to outprotect the other at all times, and Andy also tries to care for them all despite her own pain. But there is this particular thing that he also needs and that no one else is really well-equipped to provide, and that kind of forces him to put his own feelings aside on a regular basis so he can help the others. And it's gotta be pretty lonely and alienating, sometimes, to be the one to always take the lead in these moments and be the only source of lightness when things get heavy

(I'd also like to take this moment to praise TOG for making it so that Joe takes this role without making him a Comic Relief Character™ and also giving him the depth and complexity he deserves. God, I love this movie)

So, in conclusion, I believe that Joe being the only one who is able to diffuse the tension in the group a lot of the time is one of the ways in which he suffers from their isolation. It makes him uniquely lonely and challenged by their immortality situation, as they all are. It is also one of the small ways in which he takes care of everyone else, and an important role he plays in the group, particularly after Quỳnh is gone and before Nile comes*

*by which I don't mean that Nile is the New Comic Relief, although she is also pretty funny. What I mean is that her arrival changes a lot in their dynamics, particularly because it makes Andy visibly lighter, so the situation changes considerably once she's in the picture

TLDR: Joe uses humor to try to support the rest of his family emotionally, and it's an interesting trait of his character

[selfindulgentpoorlywritten]

Here is my fic for @tippedbykreider for @antoineroussel ‘s 2k22 winter fic exchange! I’m sorry for the delay getting it finished and posted, things were a little crazy for a little while. I started one fic, realized I wouldn’t have time to finish it, started another fic, got scared you may not like the kinks, started a third fic, finally finished! I’m going to give this another read through later to make sure I didn’t miss any typos or anything, but please let me know if you find any!

Rating: T

Pairing: Jamie Oleksiak/reader

Words: 6552

Warnings: heavy COVID mentions

Summary: Jamie has awful taste in women.

Knowing Jamie has been one of the biggest joys of your life. It has also been one of the most frustrating experiences you’ve endured.

For all that he is the sweetest, kindest, funniest, and all-around best person you’ve ever met, he also has horrible taste in women. The first time he’d dated someone shitty, you’d assumed it was a fluke. It was early on in your friendship, and you figured it was an outlier. You’ve learned over the years that it was not.

The first woman, Chelsea, had dated Jamie for about two months. She was a generally okay person, just not a great significant other. You didn’t get to know too much about their relationship, since your friendship with Jamie was so new, but you’d heard enough to know that she wasn’t exactly the attentive, affectionate partner that Jamie deserved. They went on about three dates over those two months, and from what you’d heard, she spent most of that time on her phone. There was nothing wrong with her, per se, she just wasn’t a good fit.

The second woman, Anna, was a bit more… unhinged. She was nice enough most of the time, but her moods were notoriously mercurial. More than once, you were witness to her shouting at him out of nowhere before storming off. You’d been friends with him for about nine months at that point, and the two of you had gotten close enough that the behavior made your blood boil. Luckily, he didn’t stay with her for long.

The third was actually a great person, which surprised you. About a year into your friendship, Jamie had met Blair at a bar and they hit it off. She was exceptionally kind, and loved to laugh. It seemed like a much better relationship, and you’d been sad when they broke up. Despite meshing so well at the beginning, they apparently just didn’t have enough in common to sustain the relationship. You’re still friends with her to this day, and grab lunch together on occasion.

As far above average as that match had been, the next had been much, much lower. Maddie was the type that gave you a bad feeling from the beginning, no matter how much she smiled and laughed. Whenever you were around, she kept her face steeled in a tight-lipped smile, staying glued to Jamie’s side. You’d known him for a couple years by that point, and he was firmly your best friend. For being so big and intimidating, Jamie’s a softy at heart. The first time he came to your place at 1am and cried into your shoulder, you’d decided Maddie was your enemy.

Jamie always came up with an excuse to stay with her, so all you could do was support him and wait for him to come to his senses. When he showed up in the middle of the night, scratch marks up and down his arms, you’d nearly driven to her house to tear her face off. Of course, he’d brushed it off as “not a big deal”, but it only took a month and a half for him to finally leave. Three-quarters of a year wasted on her.

Luckily, he’d taken a break from dating after that. He’d been traded to Pittsburgh shorty after, and politely allowed you to hide your tears when you hugged goodbye at the airport. The move had ended up being good for him, both personally and professionally. The Penguins’ coaching staff truly helped him improve, and he played better than he ever had. His dating break gave him time to repair some of his busted self-esteem, and you watched from a distance as he became the same Jamie you’d known before. The same Jamie you’d fallen in love with.

Because that’s part of the problem, isn’t it? It’s not just that Jamie has questionable taste, it’s that you’ve been standing right next to him for years, arms open, and he’s never noticed. At first, you’d hoped it was just because he was oblivious to your feelings, but you’d eventually had to accept that there was no way he could’ve possibly not realized, and he’s just not interested. It hurt, and it still does sometimes, but you’re more than grateful to be his best friend anyway.

When he got traded back to the Stars, he’d once again politely ignored your tears when you picked him up from the airport. Being shuffled around like that had been a bit of a blow to his self-esteem, but he’d done alright. It didn’t hurt that they’d made it to the playoffs the next year, either.

You’d been prepared for the rush of the post-season, but then the pandemic happened, and everything stopped.

The two of you spent months trapped together in your little one-bedroom apartment. He probably could’ve gone home before everything completely shut down, but had decided to stay with you. He’d asked so simply one night, his casual tone too intentional to be genuine, and you’d been helpless to say no. Not that you were opposed to spending uninterrupted time with him, but you knew he’d end up missing his family.

Working at the hospital made you an essential worker, so you didn’t get a break to learn to bake bread like everyone else. You got extra shifts, and more responsibility, and new protocols. You complained the least about all the extra PPE needed to deal with the COVID patients, so you got assigned to as many of them as the Charge Nurse could justify. It was hell, but your light at the end of the tunnel was knowing Jamie would be there when you got home.

He played house husband the whole time, taking such good care of you that you couldn’t help but fall more in love with him than you’d thought possible. The two of you had been sharing your bed the entire time, but having his big body curled around you, shielding you every night, meant more and more as time went on.

The playoffs got rescheduled, the team both eager and full of dread. Your bed was too big, too cold, for months. At the end of September, he had the perfect opportunity to return home after their loss. Instead, he came to mope at your apartment, a barnacle stuck to your side whenever you weren’t at work. He went back to Toronto eventually, and you got used to being alone again.

While he was home for an extended off-season, he met Rebecca. Being so far away meant that you didn’t get to meet her face-to-face, but she’d appeared in some of your video chats with Jamie. Her appearances steadily increased over time, until you couldn’t talk to Jamie without her by his side. When they’d broken up, he’d just shrugged as he told you the reason.

“She said it was you or her,” he’d said, “So of course I picked you.”

The way he said it stuck in the back of your mind after that: of course. Of course he’d picked you. Like it was easy. Like any other option was ridiculous. He chose you.

A month or two before the expansion draft, Jamie got quieter, and you knew. He wasn’t coming back to you.

You were excited for him, really. He had the chance to be the inaugural class of a new franchise, the face of a team. He wouldn’t be stuck in the Dallas heat, this comparatively lackluster city. He’d get new opportunities and find new happiness. And yet the small, selfish part of you wanted to lock him in your apartment and never let him go.

There’s no teary airport goodbye this time, Jamie heading straight to Seattle from Toronto. The second the schedule was released, he’d called to set up a date for you to visit during a homestand. You found a week in January and booked your plane ticket immediately. Just in time for you to visit, he found another girl.

Meeting Nathalie gave you much the same feeling as meeting Maddie had– as upbeat and nice as she appeared, a heavy feeling settled in your gut anyway. The plan for your first day in town had initially been to laze around Jamie’s apartment and watch bad movies. Mostly, that’s what you do. But Nathalie had apparently been insistent that she meet you, so the three of you had done lunch together. Much of it was spent listening to her chatter about how proud she was of Jamie, and how cool it was that he was a face of the Kraken, and how great the view from his apartment was.

Unfortunately, a lot more of your trip was spent with her around than you’d anticipated. If you and Jamie went to a meal, she was there, talking about an outing they’d gone on recently. If you and Jamie stayed in to play video games together, she popped by, showing off some nice gift Jamie had gotten her. When you went to one of Jamie’s games, she was in the seat next to you, babbling about how nice the WAG section is. You hadn’t even been seated in that section, wanting to be up against the glass to see the game better. Yet, she seemed to feel the need to rub it in your face at every turn, how many nice things Jamie did for or gave her.

By the end of the trip, you were almost as glad to be away from her as you were sad to leave Jamie. That may be an exaggeration, considering how it broke your heart to leave him, but it was certainly a relief to not have to listen to her anymore.

You and Jamie had texted on a nearly daily basis for years, and had started scheduling a weekly facetime session when he moved. After your trip, it felt like Nathalie had to chime in during every call to show you some new present Jamie had gifted her. Luckily, she didn’t sit around for the entire call every time, like Rebecca had.

You’d never seen Jamie buy someone so much stuff, or take them on so many dates. He’s a generous, thoughtful guy, but this seemed excessive.

As the second half of the season dragged on, you spent more and more time comforting Jamie about the team’s struggles. They weren’t playing well, obviously, and Jamie missed the easy chemistry he’d had with Miro and the Stars. You continued to assure him that it would come, that it had to be expected that their first season would be rough, that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. Even the media had begun to change, the team focusing less on him and more on other players like Tanev. It wasn’t like Jamie to care about something like that, and yet it had him feeling useless. You weren’t convinced that it didn’t have something to do with Nathalie’s obsession with his notoriety.

The breakup hadn’t come as a surprise. Jamie had told you a couple weeks before, quietly under his breath, that he thought she was going to leave him. You’d done your best to reassure him about it, but you both knew he was right.

What surprised you was how badly he took it. It was clear that he was attached to her, of course he was, but her departure put him in a downward spiral. You’d figured the pressure and shame of a failed season contributed to it, but that clearly wasn’t all. It was only when he’d broken down with you on the phone one night that you got it: he thinks he’s not made for love. Bad relationship after bad relationship had warped something in his brain, made him think that there was something inherently wrong with him, that this kept happening.

There had been a lot of emotions crashing around in you that night. You hadn’t let him see them, had focused on comforting him. But laying in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but feel it all. The sadness that Jamie could feel that way about himself. The anger that so many women had hurt him. The heartbreak of knowing that you love him, could love him in the way he so desperately wants, and he doesn’t want you to.

The off-season has been fairly standard. Jamie went home for a few weeks to commiserate with his family and cheer himself up, then did a little jet-setting around to see his friends. He talked to you all throughout, but your favorite was when he sent you pictures of him and the Finnish Mafia in Helsinki. Roope had driven down from Tampere so Jamie could see them all at once and they were all cheesing for the camera in front of the Suomalinna, arms around each other. It was the biggest smile you’d seen on Jamie’s face in months.

It was the first time since he was on the Penguins that he’d needed to schedule a trip to see you. Usually he would just come back to Dallas a little early before the season to spend time with you, but that wouldn’t work anymore. Instead, you find a week in August that you can get time off of work, and he buys his ticket before you even hang up the phone.

You pick him up from the airport with the A/C blasting, trying to stave off the Texas heat. Judging by the way he’s wiping his forehead immediately after stepping out of the doors, he’s lost his heat tolerance from being spoiled in Seattle and Toronto. You rush over to give him the biggest hug you can manage, lifting him off the ground just the littlest bit. He clutches your back and laughs, kissing the top of your head a couple times. You slide his bag into the back seat for him, letting him escape into the passenger side. He used to put up a fight about you handling his bags for him, but has long since given up. Your parents had taught you it was polite to help someone with their bags, and you were nothing if not polite.

The drive back to your place is filled with lighthearted chatter about the weather and all the sights you pass that he hasn’t seen in a while. He points out a little burger joint the two of you used to go to, insisting you have to eat there before he leaves. Honestly, you’d do whatever he wanted. You’re just glad to have him back by your side.

When he goes on roadies, he never unpacks, knowing he’s going to be leaving wherever he is in a day, max. In contrast, he unzips his suitcase as soon as he makes it into your room, already knowing which drawers will be half-empty for him. He’d taken almost all of his things when he moved to Seattle, but you hadn’t had the heart to fill the spaces they left with anything else.

Your plans for his visit are nebulous, mostly ideas one of you threw out here or there. You knew he’d been too jetlagged to do anything the first day, so you made sure to stock up on snacks and schedule a delivery from his favorite Thai place for dinner. The first thing you do is take a nap, which is nice, because you worked late last night and then were too excited to sleep much.

Having a one-bedroom keeps you from having most people stay over, unless they’re fine with sleeping on the couch, but you never worry about that with Jamie. From the first time he’d stayed too late and you’d steered him away from the couch and into your bed, the two of you shared your bed whenever he was here. It was never awkward, even on the occasions when you wake up to Jamie’s morning wood pressing into your back or hip. You just know each other too well to let things like that bother you.

You haven’t gotten the privilege of waking up with his arms around you in a long while, and you luxuriate in the feeling for as long as you can after waking up. His breathing is soft and steady across the top of your head, the skin of his neck soft where your face is buried in it. The alarm going off couldn’t be less welcome.

After a good stretch and some emphatic yawning, the two of you venture into the kitchen to gather up snacks for the movie you’re going to watch. Something new and obscure has come out on Netflix, so you’re excited to see if it sucks or not. You settle in against the arm of the couch, spreading your legs so that Jamie can lie himself between them. His head rests on your chest, his legs dangling over the other side of the couch. People always ask you why the end table on that side is so far away, and this is the exact reason. You can only tolerate Jamie accidentally kicking the lamp off of it so many times.

The movie sucks, as it turns out, but in the good way that has you laughing and making snarky comments. You maneuver yourself out from under Jamie when the doorbell rings, gratefully accepting the food and tipping the delivery person. Jamie perks up at the sight of the restaurant’s logo and it makes you smile.

You sit cross-legged in front of the coffee table to eat, putting on one of your comfort shows so that you don’t have to watch too closely. After all this time, Jamie knows well enough that small talk grates on your nerves, so he’s open and honest and raw when he opens up about his fears for the upcoming season. You listen quietly, nudging his leg with your knee when he finishes.

“You know I’ll still love you even if you never win again for the rest of your career, right?” you ask, offering a gentle smile. Jamie ducks his head bashfully, bumping your shoulders together.

“I know,” he replies, able to smile a bit on his own, now, “I love you too.” No matter how many times he’s said it to you, hearing those three words still puts a fluttering in your chest. It’s clear that he means it in a friendly way, the same way you tell all your other friends that you love them, but your heart doesn’t seem to know the difference.

You talk about your own problems at work as you finish eating, before trying to lighten the mood as you clean up the empty containers. He tells you about his time back home, all of the antics he and Penny pulled. His love for his family always astounds you.

You sit tucked up underneath Jamie’s arm, leaning against the headboard as the two of you scroll on your phones before bed. It’s not a good habit, with the blue light and whatever, but these quiet moments with Jamie are worth far more than an extra half hour of sleep.

You wake the next morning to Jamie propped up on one elbow, looking down at you with a small smile on his face. It makes your heart skip a beat, before flowers take root and bloom there. It’s not the first time you’ve caught him doing this, but in the past couple years, he’s stopped looking away and pretending it didn’t happen as soon as you wake up.

When you’re alone, you usually skip breakfast, but you know Jamie can’t do that. You sit at the counter as he cooks, allowing yourself to indulge the urge to watch the muscles in his back flex with his movements. He’s not a fan of clothes in general, and you’ve never complained about him roaming your apartment in nothing but shorts. He joins you at the counter to eat, the two of you discussing plans for the day. Pavs is in town, so you hit him up to see if he wants to do lunch, an invitation he quickly accepts. There’s a cool immersive Van Gogh exhibit you’ve been meaning to visit, which Jamie easily agrees to. Then you’ll do dinner at the burger place, then come home for some video game time.

As you get ready for lunch, you have a hard time picking an outfit. You don’t want to be too hot, but you also want to look cute. You putter around from the dresser to the closet and back a few times before Jamie shakes his head at you. He ducks into the closet, emerging with a blue sundress covered in sunflowers.

“‘Cause Van Gogh, yeah?” he says, offering it to you, “Plus it’s my favorite.” The Van Gogh reason would’ve been enough for you, but you’re definitely wearing it if it’s Jamie’s favorite. Despite your indecision, you still manage to arrive to the restaurant on time. Pavs and Sarah are already there and seated, so you join them out on the patio under the big white canopy. Pavs gives both Jamie and you huge bear hugs, and you give Sarah a good squeeze too. As much as you have more opportunities to see them, you’ve been slacking on keeping in touch with the Stars crew.

Lunch goes off without a hitch, the four of you catching up on everything you’ve missed while apart. Nathan starts seventh grade in a few weeks, which he is apparently not thrilled about. Sarah has a new side project restoring antique furniture, and you insist she has to teach you all about it. Joe is already gearing up for the season, and teases Jamie a little about it.

The Van Gogh exhibit is actually really cool, huge rooms filled with projections of his work. The soundtrack is perfect, changing to match each piece. A few times you turn to Jamie, only to find him looking at you rather than the art. You’re admiring the way the colors bathe his skin just as much, so you don’t think about it.

The exhibit doesn’t take as long as you expected, so you spend a little time driving around with the windows down, enjoying a more temperate summer day. The wind ruffles Jamie’s hair, making it glint gold in the sunshine. He’s doing the little wave motion with his hand as you speed down the highway, singing along to the radio loudly and off-key. It may be your favorite sound.

When it’s finally time for dinner, you circle back to University Park. The restaurant is small, but has that cozy family-owned feel to it. There are impressionistic paintings in warm tones on the stucco walls, the booths and seats the same red vinyl they’d been last time you came. The checkerboard floor is slightly sticky under your shoes when you step up to the counter, which should be gross but is oddly comforting instead. You ring the bell once, smiling as a portly man with a grey mustache and a bald spot emerges from the kitchen.

“Y/N, Jamie!” he calls with excitement, “Where have you been?” It’s been over a year since you’ve come here, so it’s surprising that Angelo even remembers you. No matter how much the both of you had come over the years, the restaurant industry moves quickly, and you hadn’t expected him to recognize you. He pulls you into a quick hug over the counter, tugging Jamie down for one afterward.

You catch up a little, asking about Angelo’s sons and the restaurant as he puts in your order. His son Mateo is in college now, going to UT for computer science, so you’re surprised to see him peek out of the kitchen. He smiles when he sees you, coming around the corner fully to pull you two into hugs just as his father had. 

After a little more chit-chat with the two, Mateo returns to the kitchen to make your order, and Angelo shoos you to the side so he can take the order of the couple that comes through the door. You and Jamie talk amongst yourselves, remarking on how tall Mateo has gotten. He must have gotten the height genes from his mother’s side of the family, but you remember when he was a scrawny preteen mopping the floors, barely tall enough to kiss your cheek on his tip-toes. His father had embarrassed him to hell and back one time by telling you that Mateo had a crush on you, but it was cute.

Once given your food, you retreat to a booth in the back corner, the same one you’ve always sat at. The food is even better than you remember; maybe Mateo should be going to culinary school instead. There are a few new fish in the tank next to your table, and you point them out to Jamie so you can figure out names for them. Generations of fish have been named by the two of you, here.

The restaurant stays open late, so you’re not worried about taking your time. You’ve closed the place down before, but you’ve definitely got some time tonight. Besides, there are a couple small groups still sitting, so it’s not like you’re the only ones.

Angelo always plays the music a little louder than other places you’ve been, probably because he has a hard time hearing it. When a song you love comes on, your conversation stops, and Jamie nudges your foot with his own.

“You wanna?” he asks, not needing to elaborate. It certainly won’t be the first time you’ve danced together here, and hopefully it won’t be the last. It’s one of the things that had endeared Angelo to you, years ago. You stand, taking a step forward so you can offer Jamie your hand. He takes it happily, bouncing out of his seat to join you. You catch some of the patrons giving you a look out of the corner of your eye, but you’re not particularly concerned about them. Spending a lot of time around someone Jamie’s size will get you used to odd looks, and it’s actually made you much less self conscious than you used to be.

With one of your hands clasped in his and your other on his hip, you start swaying him a little. He smiles, squeezing your shoulder with the hand settled there. He always lets you lead, a master at following whatever crazy move you try on a whim. The song is so upbeat that swaying just won’t cut it, so you start dancing for real, swinging him around. You bounce on the balls of your feet, leading him around in circles and abstract shapes, pushing him away to pull him closer, jumping as you twirl him so that you can get your joined hands over his ducked head. You’re careful of the decorations and tables, even as you fling Jamie out by one hand, only to spin him back into your chest.

You’re singing along, the words coming easily from where they’re ingrained in your mind. Though you’d never admit it, you’re genuinely singing them to him. This song has always made you think of him, from the lyrics to the way the music makes your heart thump. During the bridge, you do the little move where you roll your balled fists around each other in a circle, leaning forward and back toward him in time with the beat. He mimics you after a moment, alternating his leaning so that he’s doing the opposite of you.

When the chorus kicks back in, you grab his hand and start flinging him around again, jumping and sliding and somehow avoiding stepping on each others’ feet. Suddenly, he stills you by pulling you into his chest, holding you tightly as he stares down at you. He cups your face in one hand, smiling as he sings.

“I know you’ve heard it from those other boys,” his eyes are unbearably soft as he gazes into your soul, “But this time it’s real, it’s something that I feel.” Time stops around you, everything fading out until all that remains are the points where he’s touching you. Everything about him is soft and sweet, from his eyes to his smile to his hand gentle against your face. Just as suddenly, he pushes you away to swing you in a circle, twirling you and leading the rest of the dance. It’s a good thing he does, because you’re not sure you could muster up the brainpower to lead right now.

When the song ends, Jamie dips you on the very last word. He holds you there for a moment before pulling you back up. A table of four college students claps and hoots, Angelo joining from his place behind the counter. One of the other two tables just smiles at the two of you before returning to their meal. The only response you hear from the last table is one of them saying “how come you never do anything like that”.

Jamie returns to the table like nothing happened, gathering your bag and the trash while you try to gather your brain from the floor. Saying goodbye to Angelo and Mateo is enough to break you out of your stupor, and you think you manage to seem mostly normal. The smirk Mateo shoots you just before you turn for the door makes it clear that you weren’t completely normal, though.

Jamie spends the car ride home on his phone, tapping out messages. He seems a little flustered about whatever he’s saying, so you leave him to it. Probably better than straight out asking him what the fuck that was.

By time you get home, it’s late enough that you decide to skip the video games and go straight to bed. All through getting ready, your mind refuses to stop thinking about it. You replay the moment in your head over and over in the shower, dissect every minute facet of his facial expression as you put on pajamas. As you sit in bed, staring blankly at your phone, you can’t shake the way his palm on your cheek had felt.

Jamie falls asleep before you do, head resting on your chest as you absently pet his hair. You feel insane. It’s not like the two of you haven’t been flirty before, but something feels so different about it, this time. When he sings, he’s usually belting out something awful in the car. But he’d kept his voice so low, like he was singing just to you, like he was whispering you a secret. And his eyes– you’ve only seen him look at you like that a few times before, but you’d always had to catch him in the act. He’d never let you see on purpose.

After a few hours of trying unsuccessfully to sleep, you give up. You work your way out from under Jamie, making as little disturbance as you can as you roll out of bed and leave the room. It meant nothing, and you know it meant nothing, because it always means nothing with Jamie. You’ve completely built your lives around each other by this point, but he’s never given you reason to believe that it’s anything more than being best friends. And you’re fine with that! It’s totally okay! It’s better than okay! But sometimes he does things like this, and that last little bit of space between you feels like a yawning chasm in your chest.

You’re not sure what to do since you can’t sleep, so you just sit on the couch and fuck around on your phone. You send your next best friend a long explanation of the event, followed by an even longer rant about it. She works overnights, so it doesn’t take her long to respond. She can’t call you at work, so you shoot messages back and forth about this, wanting to cry a little more every time she tries to convince you that this means more than it does.

When the overhead light flicks on, you nearly jump out of your skin. You whip your head around to find Jamie sauntering into the room like he hadn’t just scared the life out of you. It’s silent as he makes his way over, settling on the opposite end of the couch. He crosses his legs under himself, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands together.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. He seems honest in his curiosity, worry tinging the edges of his expression. You lock your phone and put it face-down in your lap, hunkering further down into the blanket around you. Obviously you can’t tell him what’s really going on, but you’re also having trouble thinking of an adequate cover.

“Just couldn’t sleep, I guess,” you shrug. It’s weak, but you’re hoping he’ll let it drop. He doesn’t.

“Something’s wrong,” he says, knowing you too well to miss it. You pull the blanket up to your chin, wishing you could pull it over your head and hide until this all went away. The absence of any denial only proves him right.

“Hey,” he says, reaching out to softly grab your ankle through the blanket, “You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to.” You don’t want to, but it would be even more suspicious to hide something from him. You tell him everything, and he tells you everything, and resisting that would set off alarm bells in your head too. You’ve gotta come up with something quick. Maybe something about work?

“What was that earlier?” you blurt out, “At the restaurant.” Stupid. Stupid stupid stupid. If your brain was a separate physical person, you would fight it. Jamie just looks confused.

“What do you mean?” he asks. Part of you wants to come up with something, anything else, to drop the subject entirely. A slightly bigger part of you knows that it’s too late for that, and kind of wants to know what he’ll say.

“When we were dancing, you–” you pause, trying to figure out how to phrase what you’re asking, “You grabbed my face and sang to me. You’ve never done that.” It’s true, he hasn’t. There are implications to you asking this, probably, but what’s said is said. It’s better than asking something even stupider, not that you could think of something stupider.

“Oh, that,” he says, huffing a laugh and leaning back a little to rub the back of his neck, “Yeah, I don’t know why I did that.” That’s not what you were expecting. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t “I don’t know”. There’s disappointment inside of you, and a little anger at the fact that he could do something like this so nonchalantly, as if it wouldn’t tear you apart. He can’t really be blamed, though, because you’ve never told him how you feel.

“Oh,” you reply, staying in your blanket cocoon, “Okay.” You’re still miserable about it, possibly even more now. With the question unasked, there was the chance that there were some type of feelings behind the action, no matter how slim. Now, with an answer that dismisses the entire affair, you know it was just another nothing.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. You can tell he’s looking at you, but your gaze is stubbornly fixed on the small pieces of fuzz you’re picking off of the blanket. The tone of your last statement is unusual for you, and he’s probably trying to figure out why you’re upset. As obviously as in love with him as you’ve been for a long time, he’s always been too oblivious to pick up on it, and you don’t expect him to this time, either. Yet, your brain is still running through a thousand thoughts a second trying to figure out how to respond if he accuses you of it.

“I lied,” he says finally. That gets your eyes to shoot up to him. He lied? About what?

“I do know why I did that,” he continues, squaring his shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. Something about his tone makes it seem more like he’s a man walking to the gallows. You wait for him to finish the thought, fingers frozen around the fuzz you’d been in the process of tearing off. His face does a few interesting things that you can’t quite decipher, before he meets your gaze again.

“I did it because I’m in love with you, and I’m too scared to tell you,” he says. For the second time tonight, everything stops. Both of you are stock still, not even breathing, as if any tiny disturbance would have everything crashing down. Something breaks the spell for him, but you’re still stuck.

“And I totally understand that you don’t feel the same way!” he says, the words coming out in a rush, nerves clear in every syllable, “But sometimes you do something and I have a hard time not telling you, and we were dancing, and you looked so beautiful, and…” He trails off, swallowing hard. You may be having a stroke.

There’s no way this is real, right? You fell asleep texting Ella and this is a dream. Because there’s no way that Jamie is sitting here, telling you that he’s in love with you. Despite all your fantasizing, you’ve always known that he’d never reciprocate your feelings, and yet. Yet here he is, telling you the exact thing you’ve yearned to hear for years.

Whether your brain wants to believe or process it, your body has begun to react as if it’s real. Your cheeks are heating, your chest tight, butterflies spawning in your stomach. Jamie just said he loves you. Jamie just said he’s in love with you.

“You don’t have to say anything, but I’d really like it if we could stay friends,” he says after a long silence, wringing his hands, “Please tell me we can stay friends.” The fact that Jamie is the one who’s so nervous about this is wild. The fact that he could think that you would ever, in a million years, reject him, is ridiculous.

“I don’t want to stay friends,” you finally manage to get words out. You should have picked better words. The crestfallen look that overtakes Jamie’s face is heartbreaking, and he’s already stammering for something to say. You emerge from your cocoon, leaning forward to take his hands in your own.

“I don’t want to stay friends,” you repeat, adding, “Because I’m in love with you too.” The 180 that his face does is so incredibly endearing that you’re overcome with affection for him. His smile is wide and toothy, his eyes bright.

“I’d rather us date, instead,” you say, aiming for smug but missing the mark by a mile with the way elation is filling your voice. Jamie laughs once, joyous and disbelieving. He squeezes your hands hard, shaking them a little. It’s good that you get to have this moment, because your heart is about to burst and kill you. You’re going to keel over from happiness.

“We should do that,” Jamie agrees, his tongue darting out across his bottom lip quickly, “Can I kiss you now?” And how could you say no to that?

“You should do that,” you reply.

[kasunex]

Hello! I found you in the TCOAAL tag, hope it doesn't bother you lol, I just enjoyed reading your opinions on this game.

Since I saw you questioning Andrew in the Decay route, I wanted to offer you my two cents about it, and why Andrew is so snappy at Ashley there: you can enter the Decay route in two ways, if either of the siblings fails to commit to the other and don't break away from their unhealthy coping mechanism.

If Ashley refuses to let Andrew watch over their parents, she is giving in to her own paranoia and mistrust. Her controlling tendencies towards Andrew stem from her fear that he doesn't really love her (because she is fundamentally impossible to love, that's what everyone told her), and if he has a choice he'll always pick the other choice. No matter how much Andrew commits to her, she is always scared - this is what causes the big fight in the room 302. So her solution is to simply cut out the other choice. She let Nina die, she harassed Julia into breaking up with Andrew, and now, she won't let him talk with their parents. This is the same "Leyley orders Andy around" dynamic that Andrew wants to desperately break free of, and the very reason he despises the nickname Andy - which Ashley keeps using in this route to exercise control: "I love you, Andy. I love you, I love you, I love you". If you choose this option, Ashley ruins their relationship further by caving in to her insecurity, the fear that Andrew would lie to her, abandon her for anyone, and that he really gives her nothing (read: not the all-encompassing love she craves, since she's "no pretty lady he can fuck"... also, sidenote, Ashley's obsession with sex and what it says about her selfworth is fascinating). Of course Andrew would be mad that no matter what he does, it's never enough for his sister, and she will always try every dirty trick in the book to keep him under her thumb.

If Ashley trusts Andrew with the parents, but Andrew accepts their offer to leave Ashley behind and live a normal life, Andrew sinks once again into denial. He is a normal person, really! He could live a normal life! But he is stuck with Ashley. It's all Ashley's fault for pushing him around. It's all Ashley's fault for ruining his life. Andrew is her doormat, and nothing more. Like this, Andrew builds up resentment and resentment, choosing to put all the blame on Ashley's shoulders instead of admitting to himself, like he does if he refuses, that he's just as fucked up as Ashley is. Case in point: in the Decay route he's disgusted when chopping up his parents, a normal reaction which makes Ashley smile, while in the Burial route he's completely detatched, which worries Ashley because this isn't the weak Andy she knows and loves.

So it's not that Andrew in the Decay route is OOC, I think. You, player, simply choose to exarcerbate the issues between the two siblings, whose relationship was already strained by that point, mostly by Ashley still calling Andrew "Andy" which symbolizes her not wanting to move on from the relationship they had as children. The Burial route allows them to say "fuck it, it's us against the world" in their own way: Ashley by accepting that she can slightly let go the leash she put on Andrew because he's her ally, and Andrew by stopping pretending he's just a victim of circumstances.

Sorry for the long rant lol. Have a nice day ^^

No worries at all - in fact I'm posting this publicly so it can be seen by more eyes. It's very well put and does a good job of explaining.

I had my concerns about the route splitting, but I am curious to see how the different routes ultimately play out. Especially because, to be honest, I don't know what the best path forward for these two is.

The part of me that is playing as them, empathizing, thinks they should just embrace their degeneracy and enjoy burning in Hell together - a la Burial - and the part of me that is watching and judging thinks they deserve to drag each other to the grave for all the awful sins they have committed - a la Decay.

Sans the "less incestous" Burial route. That one seems passable.

[tinyelephentalchaos]

Andy, Booker and potentially millennia of bereavement. Also some stuff about everyone else.

Andy, who bonds with Booker over not only the loss of a partner, but the loss of children. He had three sons. How many has she had, over the millennia? how many daughters? Did she have any children with Quỳnh? I imagine one doesn't immediately form a two person army with your immortal lover, Joe and Nicky not withstanding. Did Andy and Quỳnh spend a few decades living a slower life? Helping out in a less obvious way?

How many children has she taken in, watched age and die (of old age, only of old age, if she has anything to say about it)? She was once a god of war, child of the chieftain before that (I think? I swear I didn't make that up), but even gods of war cherish their soldiers. And, when she breaks away from her people, maybe she never stops... searching for those to guide or care for.

She's lost at least one child, an infant thrown from the walls of a city, a couple hundred years before she found Quỳnh: Copley's board has her as the Andromache of Troy, so she would have been the mother of Scamandrius/Astyanax. Adopted/fostered, since according to Greg all the immortals are infertile.

I'm getting of track, but... just: Andy and Book bonding over the grief of their entire families, in Andy's case, potentially a sprawling one built over millennia. She tells Nile she can't remember what her mother or sisters looked like... how many of her children can she still recall?

Finally, just: Nicky and Nile as the odd ones out in the group: Christian, ex-military, unattached save their birth families/maybe not even that (one would usually be called of their father, not of the city of their birth). I personally don't think Joe had any children/was married, but he was probably engaged as a thirty year old son of a wealthy mercantile family, and thus had ties to the potential for an extended family until his death (I think. Correct me if that's not a reasonable assumption.)

[butmakeitgayblog]

This is in no way me pressuring you to write something…

But you know what happened between the last time you posted anything about Fletcher AU and today?

This 👇🏻

Andi, reina, babygirl…

I’ve now been closer to the real Fletcher than to read a chapter of your fic 😭

Funniest thing is, when she asked the audience:

Are you still hung up on your ex?

Have you ever wanted to unfuck somenone?

Have any of you had sex with your ex?

I kept muttering “Clexa would if Andi wrote about it…”

But I do trust your process and will be ready to read it whenever you are 🫡

First of all, fucking amazing! I'm so glad you got to go ahhhhhhhh I know she fuckin killed it because she always does. Congrats bby

Second, girl I got enough wips going I CANNOT start anything else rn I can't 😩

Third, they would tho.

Are you still hung up on your ex? Clexa: how dare you. That's between me and God? Of course not! I love lying 💕

Have you ever wanted to unfuck someone? Clexa: I can't even unfuck myself long enough to get my shit together (lowkey tho at some point Lexa would wish she'd never started anything with Costia 😬)

Have you had sex with your ex? Clexa: uhhh it's called a coping mechanism????? Respect my privacy at this time

[this-broken-band-girl]

.

[ao3feed-gravescest]

What I've Always Wanted

https://ift.tt/QXcjaMy by DragonForgeFire Once again, Andrew pushes Ashley away to go attend a college party with the floozy he has the gall to call a girlfriend. As revenge, Ashley tears up his corner of the bedroom (and herself,) in a fit of frustration. When Andrew comes home only a few hours later, Ashley expects him to reprimand her for all the damage she's caused. What she isn't expecting is her drunk older brother to be so open and forward with her about all of the feelings and emotions he's been suppressing for years. Words: 11563, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Coffin of Andy and Leyley (Visual Novel) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Andrew Graves, Ashley Graves, julia (mentioned) - Character Relationships: Andrew Graves/Ashley Graves, Brother/Sister Additional Tags: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, Makeup Sex, Biting, Scratching, Possessive Sex, Marking, Breeding, Aftercare, Honesty, Porn with Feelings, Porn With Plot, Cell Phones, modern day AU, POV Third Person, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Fingering, Alcohol, Hangover, admitting feelings, Incest, Sibling Incest, Brother/Sister Incest, Codependency, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms

[gray-ts]

JEN LINDLEY IS AROACE - a deep dive.

jen lindley from Dawson’s Creek is asexual and aromantic

disclaimer: I’m not claiming this is canon. I just think Jen can be interpreted as aroace.

#1: “Attracted to? What do you mean attracted to?”

On DETENTION (1x07) the kids are playing truth or dare, and there’s this dialogue

Joey: “out of all the guys in Capeside is Dawson the one you’re most attracted to?”

Jen: “Do I like Dawson the most? Yeah, of course”

Joey: “No, I didn’t ask if you like him the best, I asked you if he’s the one you’re most attracted to”

Jen: “what do you mean ‘attracted to?’”

Jen can’t comprehend the concept of attraction in the context joey brought it up (sexual attraction).

She’s pressured by everyone to answer it and that makes her very uncomfortable and annoyed.

Joey says “Do you LUST for him?”

Jen says “it’s a stupid question.”

Jen is further pressured by her peers, and then she says “it’s a stupid question because the answer is yes! Obviously the answer is yes. I lust for Dawson. I’m hot for Dawson. Maybe if you spent less time dwelling on me and Dawson you might’ve a boyfriend of your own”

By her tone it’s possible to tell that she’s just saying that she’s sexually attracted to Dawson just to get out of the situation she was put in.

It’s also an asexual experience to not understand sexual attraction.

#2: casual sex as a form of validation and coping mechanism

During season 2 Jen is an extremely vulnerable situation. This explains why she chased Dawson after their breakup, it was because she was lonely and sad and vulnerable, not out of love for him.

She’d just lost her grandfather, she’s grieving. And she also doesn’t have the support of people she considered to be her friends.

Pacey is caught up in Andie. Dawson and Joey are always caught up in their own little drama. She doesn’t have parents. Her grandmother doesn’t understand her.

On THE ALL NIGHTER (2X07) Chris Wolfe is persistently chasing her.

Dawson comes into the picture and tells him not to take advantage of Jen’s current vulnerability. He also “warns” Jen about it, and Jen tells him she’s aware of Chris Wolfe’s intentions and that it doesn’t mean she has to go along with it.

But considering she was rejecting him previously on the episode and that after they had sex, jen was clearly unhappy, this was a coping mechanism.

This is recurring on season 2.

#3: Henry Parker

Jen Lindley did NOT want to be in a relationship with Henry Parker. He basically harassed her. And Jack and Grams kept telling her that she should go out with him.

She did it because that’s what she was expect to. Not out of feelings for him.

On THE TWO GENTLEMAN OF CAPESIDE (4X03) Jen tells Pacey she regrets the fact that she’s never been in love. To what Pacey says “what about Henry?”. Jen answers “That wasn’t love. Couldn’t be”

Jen had been in other relationships besides Henry (including Dawson Leery) but she canonically wasn’t in love with anyone!

#4: Kissing Jack

On WINTER’S TALE (4X14) both Jen and Jack are feeling sad and lonely, and they’re drunk and then they kiss.

It’s brought up by her therapist that she pursues relationships that are doomed to fail as a sort of self-sabotage.

But this doesn’t necessarily it’s only about her mental health. It’s common for aroace people to pursue unattainable people, (or to think they have feeling for said people) because subconsciously they don’t really want to be with them romantically or sexually.

#5: sleeping with Dawson to prove a point.

On HOTEL NEW HAMPSHIRE (5X08) Jen and Dawson are talkings about the reason why they didn’t workout on season one.

Dawson says he knows why they didn’t work out

Jen asks why

Dawson: You weren’t physically attracted to me

Jen: is that what you think?

then she kisses him and they have sex. It’s so clear that she’s doing it to prove a point. Not because she’s actually sexually attracted to him.

During a lot of season one (especially DETENTION, this topic is continuously brought up by Dawson, he fully believes she’s not attracted to him and bitches about the fact that she doesn’t want to have sex with him yet while simultaneously slut-shaming her for her past - important reminder that jen was frequently sexually assaulted as child, and Dawson being the trash he is made her out to be a villain for it)

#6: “you belong to me”

Jen has never loved anyone romantically. Especially not as much as she loved her platonic soulmate Jack McPhee