#andrew will even let them put it on the car when he's on a good mood

[padfootagain]

Grey Days

Hi everyone! Here is a little Hozier oneshot for today! It’s a little sad, but mostly hurt/comfort. Did I write it after crying when I watched that interview he did where he spoke about his struggle with mental health? Yes. Obviously. I want to give him so many hugs…

I hope you like it! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader

Warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of depression

Summary : Andrew is used to feel low sometimes, he has been plagued by those periods for as long as he can remember. But if he usually solves his sadness by being alone, this time, the antidote to his pain might be you.

Word Count : 2671

Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

There were days like this, where everything was grey for no reason.

The sky rolling with clouds, heavy with rain, threatening with thunder, for sure wasn’t helping. But Andrew couldn’t pretend that it was at fault. Nor was the season, spring was on the horizon after all. There were boughs staining the branches, the first flowers blooming, the air a little warmer, the wind calmer than the winter storm. The birds had been chirping all morning, even if they had quietened now, under the menace of rain. He should be happy. The sun was high this morning, he had gotten some work done at Alex’s, he had had a nice lunch with his parents. Nothing but positive things, in theory.

And yet Andrew could feel his skin crawling, the tears that threatened to rise and spill, the numbness that came with spleen. Christ, melancholy was such a bitch, sometimes.

It was a bad day, the voices in his head were louder than usual. Despite the distractions he couldn’t keep them down. He kept on thinking about the pieces of songs he had recorded this morning with Alex, and on the spot they sounded good. Now, all he had left was doubt. For sure, none of it was good enough, and his lyrics were all over the place, and they didn’t do the subject justice… the didn’t do you justice…

He felt the burn in his eyes and the tightening in his throat again, his breathing grew more laboured, so he took a deep breath. He was driving, now was not the time…

And yet the thoughts were still there. As he entered his tiny town, the swirling of voices kept shouting.

Not good enough…

Don’t know how to write a proper song…

Got lucky with one song, will never be good enough again…

Imposter…

He entered his driveway, parked the car there. He didn’t notice your car until he was turning his head towards the front door.

Fuck…

He wasn’t in the mood for socialising, for pretending that everything was alright, for playing perfect boyfriend…

Another person you’ll end up disappointing…

Another thing in your life you don’t deserve…

He closed his eyes for a moment, tried to shush the voices. Just voices. It was just his busy head being louder than usual.

He just needed to calm down…

Damn, he should have called to cancel for tonight. You had a date night planned, you had told him you would come to his place early to start preparing dinner. You weren’t living together but he had a change of keys to your place, and you had one to his. He didn’t need to be home for you to come in.

Yesterday, Andrew was thinking about asking you to move in with him, to make a common home out of his large house.

She’d never say yes to you anyway…

He clenched his jaw, until his teeth gritted.

Just voices. Just voices. He was okay, he was fine…

It was just dinner, and it would be lovely. He loved you, he would have a great time…

He blinked his eyes open, brushed the wetness from his eyelashes.

Put on a brave face for her, come on…

He released some of the tension across his jaw, finally let go of the steering wheel. The soreness in his fingers made him realise how tightly he had been holding it.

He had no strength left in his body to open the car door, but he did it anyway. He was kind of used to it, the falls that followed the heights. It hadn’t happened in a long time. So bad, out of nowhere? Probably a year. Yeah, not long after the two of you started dating. It was pretty smooth after that. There were days when he didn’t feel great, but he didn’t feel terrible. With no energy left in his frame, no positive thoughts on his mind, no faith in himself, and no social battery either. Usually, when he felt like this, he simply locked himself up for a couple of days. The solitude usually helped. And now, he needed to be left alone, or at least he thought so. Besides, he would be in a terrible mood all evening, you would properly get tired of the sight and his sharp tone very quickly. And he didn’t want to take it out on you, it wasn’t fair, and he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t. He was too tired to be angry anyway.

He unlocked the front door, was welcomed by the smell of spices. It should have made him smile, but instead, his heart clenched.

He took off his shoes and jacket, slowly, too slowly. Any other day he would have hurried to join you.

Tonight, all he wanted was to be alone, to not talk to anyone, to get out of his clothes that felt like a burden too heavy to carry, and get under the covers, and lie there for the rest of the night, and maybe throughout tomorrow too.

Instead, he walked to his kitchen, nervously rubbing at his palms. God, he bet he looked terrible. He didn’t have a hair tie, and his hair was frizzy with the humid air, and he felt so fucking ugly when he entered the room, knowing he looked like a mess in sweatpants and an old t-shirt when you looked stunning, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen…

You didn’t seem to notice, because when you saw him, you let out an excited gasp and hurried into his arms.

Why did the feeling of you in his embrace make him want to cry?

“Hi, baby! How was your day?”

He cradled the back of your head in his large hand, gently, as if you could break under his touch. He rested his lips on the top of your head, took a deep breath of your shampoo, the scent so familiar, so soothing, so reassuring…

He closed his eyes.

It lasted a couple of seconds, and then the voices were back.

One day she’ll see you can’t make her happy…

He pulled away.

“Good,” he answered elusively, forcing a smile, but he knew it was tight-lipped. “Busy.”

“Did you get some work done with Alex, then?”

“Hmm… loads.”

“Good! You must be tired then, you can sit down, I’m almost done!”

He looked at the meal you were making for the two of you. You had set up the table, had even lit up some candles. It was fucking nice, so damn romantic…

“Smells amazing,” he complimented, but you seemed to notice that there was no light left in his voice. “Gonna take a shower before joining you, okay?”

“Sure! But… you’re okay, honey?”

Honey… Honey…

“Yeah, just… tired. Long day. I won’t take long.”

You nodded, offering a smile and he did his best to give it back.

He thought the shower would help, but it didn’t. He almost let the floodgates open while the warm water numbed his muscles, made his body feel like it wasn’t there at all. He had even less strength as he walked out of the shower. But at least, now, he was wearing a shirt and black jeans, and he had tied his hair in a low bun, looking close to presentable. He was wearing his glasses, he didn’t have the energy to put some contacts on.

When he entered the kitchen again, you had poured some red wine, were humming to a tune he didn’t know, checking the cooking of your vegetables.

“Almost done! Perfect timing!” you announced with pride.

“Thank you for cooking tonight,” he let out in a breath.

He knew his shoulders were bent, he knew you had noticed the way he was trying to look as small as possible. He read it in your frown. He nervously rubbed at his collarbone, felt irritated now.

She’s doing all this for you, you can’t get mad for nothing. It’s not her fault, calm down.

He sat down, as you invited him to do so. You brought food a couple of minutes later, and he asked you about your day. But unlike any other day, it wasn’t out of genuine curiosity and fondness; he simply didn’t want to speak.

He had done a good job at playing pretend the rest of the day, but he had no energy left to keep the mask on. The cracks were all over his features, in every forced smile, in every glance, in every blinking of tears. Your food was delicious, he complimented you on it, forced himself to swallow it fully, even if he felt like he might throw up if he kept on eating.

“Andy?”

He looked up again, noticing all of a sudden that he hadn’t paid attention to the conversation in a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”

You offered him a kind smile, reached for his hand across the table. An anchor, an intimate gesture of support.

His throat tightened, he couldn’t find his voice.

“Baby… it’s just me. Why are you all closed up all of a sudden?”

He gave you a sad smile, although he had aimed for it to be reassuring.

“Just…”

Just tired was the excuse, but then again, he didn’t feel like lying now. Didn’t have the strength for it. Maybe if he were honest now, you’d show him the voices were right, you’d realise what a loser he could be sometimes, how you should leave…

Shut! Up!

“It’s just… it’s just a bad day.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I mean… nothing in particular, I just… I don’t know… sometimes my head gets messy with thoughts for no reason. I’ve been working a lot for the past couple of months, it’s more frequent when I’m tired.”

Slowly, you nodded.

“It’s pretty bad today, right?” you asked, and he nodded.

“I’m sorry. Your meal is truly delicious, and I was really excited about having a date night. I know I’m kind of… fucking up the mood.”

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“Isn’t it?” he asked with bitterness in his voice, and he clenched his jaw at the sound.

He wouldn’t let himself get angry against you. He was in love with you. So fucking much. And you didn’t deserve that.

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling down sometimes, Andy.”

He looked down at his empty plate.

“It’s a bit worse than that.”

He heaved a sigh.

“I’m fine though, it just… It just needs to pass. I’ll be back to normal in a couple of days.”

“What do you usually do when something like that happens?”

“Erm… I just… shut down, basically. Wallow in self-pity for a while,” he tried to joke, managed to get a smile out of you. “I just… lock myself up on my own until I feel really low, and then I go out, and… it lingers a few days, sometimes a few weeks, but by then I can put a mask on again.”

“Do you put that mask on with me?”

“It hadn’t been so bad in a long time.”

“And when it’s not as bad?”

He shrugged.

“There’s no need to worry you about that.”

You raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I’m your girlfriend. I tell you when I’m unwell.”

He started rubbing at his collarbone again, until the skin turned a bright shade of red.

“I don’t particularly enjoy talking about it,” he replied, his tone dry and distant.

“But I… you know you can trust me, right? That you can talk with me about these things…”

“I know… It just doesn’t help. I know how to handle this, I’m fine. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded, but he could feel that your silence was a bad sign.

“So… usually, you just… spend time alone?”

“Yeah.”

“And it helps.”

“Yeah… yeah, it does. I just… I’m kind of introverted, in case you haven’t noticed,” he gave you a small smile. “I recharge my batteries when I’m alone.”

You seemed to be thinking for a few seconds, and then you were standing. He looked up at you in surprise.

“I should leave you alone, then.”

“Wh… what?”

“You said you needed to be alone… you should have told me, I would have let you have a moment on your own. It’s fine. I get it, if that’s what you need.”

He blinked up, not fully registering what you were doing. His brain jumped to the worst-case scenario, as per usual.

“Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

“What?! Of course, not!”

“You… you’re leaving…”

“Because you said you needed to be on your own for the evening. That’s okay. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

You heaved a sigh, took his hand in yours.

“Andy, I’m very happy with you. I know you love me. There’s nothing wrong in needing to spend some time on your own. You should have just told me. I’ll give you some space for tonight.”

You took his face in your hands, dropped a gentle kiss to his lips.

“I love you, baby,” you whispered as you pulled away. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

And with that you left the room. He heard you fumbling with your things in the hallway.

Being alone was what he needed. He had always longed to take a step back from everyone, even his partners, when he felt like this.

Except that tonight he didn’t want you to leave. He didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to hold you as tightly as he could, and cuddle in bed, and just forget about the world outside your arms, let you hold him until he couldn’t have a single thought anymore…

He jumped to his feet, rushing across the house as you put on your coat.

“Don’t go.”

The plea cut the air like a knife.

He blinked tears away.

“Please, don’t go. I don’t want you to go,” he confessed.

“But you said…”

“I don’t want you to go.”

“I won’t be mad if you want to take the night for yourself.”

“Y/N. I don’t. Want you. To go.”

He struggled to swallow back the lump in his throat.

“Please… please, don’t leave.”

You stared at him for a moment, motionless. But then you put your coat back on its hanger, took off your shoes.

When you walked back to him, he almost started to cry.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes… please…”

Before you could say anything else, he was holding you in a tight embrace, one that you quickly reciprocated.

“What do you want us to do, then?” you asked, rubbing his back, and for the first time that day, he felt his muscles relax.

“Honestly… I just want to go to bed, cuddle with you and not move until… the end of the month.”

You laughed, kissing his shoulder through his shirt.

“Well, we’ll have to get up before that I’m afraid… but cuddling for the rest of the evening sounds nice.”

He heaved a relieved sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’m fucking up our date night… it was so lovely of you to cook and everything…”

“It’s okay. It’s fine.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course not.”

“Good… that’s grand…”

He finally pulled away, took your hand to guide you to his bedroom. The dishes would have to wait for tomorrow.

He got ready for bed first, and then waited for you. And while he was looking at you as you moved around the bed, plugging in your phone, setting up an alarm for the morning, drinking some water… all he wanted was to hold you close. You were the first person who made him feel that way. Who made him long for companionship even when he felt so low…

… and then, you were in bed, opening your arms for him to settle in your embrace, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck.

Perhaps this one time, his busy brain was wrong. Perhaps you wouldn’t leave. Perhaps he would stay. And maybe, just this one time, not all things would end…

[daydreaming-in-letters]

I recently came across your blog and I enjoy your fics immensely, so this is a first for me.

This interview of Hozier killed me in the best possible way, so curious to see what you would do with Andrew driving. Also if it would have a NFWMB vibe, I wouldn't be mad. But do whatever you want with it :)

My dear, I cannot thank you enough for this request. This interview has been playing on repeat these past few days. I just...I can't get it out of my head. Seeing this man behind the wheel does things to me. And believe it or not, I had already been planning to write this. I had even compiled a tiny mood board to go with it. The NFWMB vibe was a challenge though, I'll have to admit. But I think I managed (kind of?). Hope you like it. 💚

warnings: language, maybe; one tiny insinuation to smut, blink and you'll miss it; otherwise pure fluff

It was not terribly hot, not for a summer’s day anyway, still the sun stung as it burned down on you from the highest point of its ellipsis. You checked your watch, then scanned your surroundings if there was a shady spot to be found. There was not, at least not anywhere close by, and he had told you to wait for him right here. He had been very specific about that.

That had been about ten minutes ago, and you were almost beginning to wonder if he would come back for you after all, when you spotted him in the distance, fashionably late as always. He circled around a corner, hair flying in the wind, and you could not help but laugh at the peculiar sight in front of you. Like a giraffe in a toy car, you thought, as he came closer. Still he seemed so pleased with himself, on his lips a smile so bright it put the sun to shame, and which, no doubt, reached all the way up to his beautiful eyes. You had never loathed a pair of sunglasses more for hiding them from you.

“What is that?” you burst out laughing when he came to a stop right next to you.

“A golf cart.”

“I can see that.” You playfully rolled your eyes at him. “I meant, what are you doing in that thing?”

“It’s ours for the next two hours. Come on, get in, loser.”

He did not have to tell you twice. Two hours alone with your man sounded like heaven, even if he would potentially kill you both with that thing. And so you squeezed in next to him, not forgetting to nudge his arm.

“That’s for calling me a loser.”

He could not help but laugh upon your pouty face, still he leaned in to press an apologetic kiss to your cheek.

“Worth it,” he mumbled against your skin, making you shake your head in fake annoyance to hide that beaming smile that wanted to break loose. He was just too sweet for his own good.

“So, where are we going?” 

To have a picnic, you assumed, judging from the blanket and basket that were safely stowed away on the back seat.

“You’ll see,” he grinned, obviously enjoying being all mysterious about it. There was a snappy reply already forming on your tongue, but you almost choked on it the moment his large hand found the bare skin of your thigh. He just let it rest there, still it was enough to send a shiver up and down your spine, and for a second you thanked the fates that you had opted for those denim shorts this morning. 

It took you a moment to reach the exit of the vast festival grounds, also because he was going unusually slow. It was unmistakable that he was itching to go faster, and as soon as you had left the main road, you were proven right. 

“Let’s open that baby up,” he bellowed excitedly, slapping the wheel as he did, while his other hand squeezed the pliable flesh of your thigh. You felt dizzy for a moment, your thoughts spiralling upon his reckless antics, but as soon as his foot pushed down the pedal, they were washed away in an instant. You squealed as the two of you zoomed through the deserted landscape. Who would have known these vehicles could go that fast?

“Mr Hozier-Byrne, you are such a menace,” you hollered, breaking into another squeal as the cart went into a turn at full speed.

“True,” he admitted unashamedly. And as soon as the vehicle was reaching a straight again, he leant in. He took his sweet time to taste the skin of your neck, totally forgetting about the road once his lips had found you. You let him, it would have been a sacrilege to tell him to stop, so instead you reached for the wheel, gently correcting the course while he devoured you. “But I’m your menace,” he continued as soon as his head resurfaced, “So you better deal with it.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. I certainly will.”

The audacity this man had. After almost crashing the cart because he could not help himself from having a taste of you, he now chose to counter your statement with a wink. “Can’t wait."

When he finally slowed down again, the sound of the festival had faded completely, not even the deep, rolling echo of the bass was following you anymore. There was only a welcome silence, and some happy birds chirping their joyful songs into the blue afternoon sky. He stopped underneath a large tree by a small track that split a flowery meadow in two.

In seconds he had rounded the cart, basket and blanket in one hand, he held out the other to you.

You took it without hesitation, and as always, your fingers immediately entwined with his, woven firmly together, inseparable. And neither of you did let go, not as long you strolled through the meadow anyway, the palm of your free hand floating along the high grass, enjoying the tickling sensation. 

After a while you took up camp in the shade of a tree, a blackthorn, you realised, and quietly smiled to yourself. Sated and wanting for nothing but each other’s company, you had leaned your back against the stem. Andy’s head lay safely in your lap. You loved when he did that, entrusting himself to you completely. And you knew he loved it too, to give himself over to you while he let the world be what it was for a moment, eyes closed, hair gliding through your fingers, braiding a few strands, leaving some flowers here and there. He had started to hum a while ago, unconsciously so, you believed. It was one of your favourite sounds in the world, along with his boisterous laughter, and the sweet, mewling sounds he made when you satisfied him. 

Another time, you thought, and smiled in anticipation. Not now though. Now was the time to be soft, to shed the hard shell you usually carried. It was the only way you knew to protect yourself from a world you hardly recognised at times. But with him, you did not need to. 

Ever since you had met him, Andy had never left any doubt that he loved you, all of you, the strength, the weakness, the anxiety and kindness, your joy and your sadness, every little fragment that made you you. He saw it all, and he loved you despite all that, no, because you were all of that. A love that was reciprocated to the fullest.

[ash5monster01]

Request for Andrew Garfield: he introduces the reader to his closest friends and they tell him she’s a keeper

She’s a Keeper

Pairing: Andrew Garfield x FemReader

Warnings: fluff, mentions of alcohol, implied smut

Summary: meeting Andrews friends seemed terrifying, desperate to make a good impression, and when you finally get the chance to meet them it goes much better than planned. (sorry this took forever, I kept getting distracted starting different requests but this one was to cute to forget about)

Masterlist

Andrew had met all of your friends. They all loved him and you were content spending time with them in a group setting. You still had yet to meet Andrews friends but you were extremely nervous. Your friends were simple people, friends from college, people you’ve seen make stupid mistakes. Andrews friends were famous, older, and they’d probably look at you and wonder what the hell was wrong with their friend for dating you.

Of course you couldn’t avoid it forever and Andrew had made plans that you couldn’t back out of. You already planned to spend the night with him when he informed you that you were going to get drinks with Jamie Dornan, Charlie Cox, and Eddie Redmayne. If you had any chance of survival you weren’t sure. The thought of you sat around a table with well known famous actors almost made you laugh, surely onlookers would laugh at you too.

You prided yourself on being a very controlled and out going person but as you stared back at yourself in the mirror not even you could ignore the slight shake of your hands as you brushed the blue fabric of your dress. Andrew thought it was adorable that you were nervous about making a good impression on his friends. So he walked up behind you, his large hands covering your shaking ones as he pulled you back into his chest, his face nuzzling into your neck, his beard tickling you.

“You look beautiful baby” he spoke the words into your neck, kisses pressed lightly to your skin.

“Are you sure I’m not overdressed?” your head tilted in concentration as you continued to look over yourself. Making a good impression and not making a fool of yourself was top priority. Andrew thought it was adorable and he chuckled as he spun you around so you could stop obsessing over how you looked.

“The dress is perfect, you’re beautiful. Not even a hair out of place, well at least until I get my hands on you” your cheeks flamed red as he pushed your hair out of your face, his hand trailing along your neck.

“I just want them to like me” you told him as you grabbed the ends of his blazer, pulling him into you.

“They’re going to love you, just like I do” he whispered before pressing a kiss flush to your lips. The hard kiss made your head spin and you grinned for such a distraction. A faint imprint of your red lips sat on his own and you weren’t going to tell him.

“Let’s go before we’re late, they’d probably blame me if we were” you said slipping out his grasp as you pulled him out of the apartment. Getting a cab wasn’t difficult and soon enough you were pulling up outside of the bar, a bit fancier than your usual taste but you figured they picked it to have less chance of being overwhelmed in public.

“Ready?” Andrew asked and you nodded as he offered his hand and helped you out if the car and onto the sidewalk. Before he could pull his hand away you tightened your grip and locked your fingers with his, your nervousness showing. Andrews heart fluttered at the fact this meant so much to you.

“There he is” a booming voice called as you stepped through the doors of the bar. You looked over the see the three very recognizable men sat at a table, empty glasses and new drinks in front of them.

“Always late” Jamie chuckled and you felt your heart drop slightly, wanting to avoid that.

“I bet he drives you nuts, he can never be on time to anything” Charlie said as his eyes flitted to you and your nervousness eased that they didn’t blame you.

“Probably to busy putting his lipstick on huh?” Eddie teased with a wink and Andrews eyes widened as he realized you had left your mark, him quickly wiping at it with his sleeve.

“If I didn’t drag him out of the door we would’ve been later” you teased and the three men laughed.

“Guys this is Y/N” you smiled and quickly shook all of their hands before Andrew pulled out your seat for you to sit.

“It’s nice to finally meet you guys” you beamed at them, trying to remind yourself they’re still just people.

“How’d a pretty girl like you end up with this guy?” Jamie asked and a deep crimson blush covered your cheeks, because well, Christian Grey just called you pretty.

“He practically begged, I finally just got sick of him asking” the group laughed including Andrew especially because everyone at the table knew you said yes the first time he asked.

“He’s a very determined guy” Eddie said as he clapped his hand to his shoulder. Andrew shook his head, realizing he was in for an afternoon of teasing.

“And stubborn” you pointed out and the boys laughed again. You started to feel more comfortable especially when you realized you were all there because of someone you love which meant you all already had something in common.

“Speaking of stubborn, I have a story for you” Andrew was quick to lean forward and wave a hand in Charlie’s face.

“Alright enough of that” he quickly spoke and you shook your head as you slapped a hand over your boyfriends mouth.

“Shut up baby I want to hear this” you told him and he groaned as he fell back and away from your hand.

“Few years back we went out to this club, and Andrew got wasted. I mean like stumbling around, slurring speech wasted, and we just wanted to go home. Yet this guy somehow still wanted to party, I mean no one was even out anymore and we couldn’t drag him away from the table. So I did the only thing I could think of” Andrew recoiled into his seat, shielding his eyes with his hands as if it would lessen the embarrassment. “I told him Anne Hathaway was at the apartment and she was looking for him. The guy couldn’t control himself as he ran out of the club”

“Anne Hathaway huh?” you rose your eyebrows at your boyfriend and he shook his head.

“I went through a Princess Diaries phase” you and his friends laughed loudly at his defense.

“It’s okay baby, I went through a She’s The Man phase, Channing Tatum man” the boys continued to laugh, able to picture them both in their young obsessions.

“We all had our phases. Avril Lavigne has had my heart since 07” Jamie said and the group continued to share their laughs.

“I’m happy to know he’s still the same, we came home from a night out the other night and he cried while watching Ratatouille” the boys chuckled as they imagined their friend crying over the cartoon.

“Look he found out it was his Dad, and Remy won the heart of the food critic. I don’t think I have to defend myself here” Andrew held his hands up in defense and you giggled while reaching to grab his hand.

“It was cute, I just wanted to cuddle him for hours because of how sweet he was” Andrew blushed and you smiled. You were no longer nervous to be around his friends.

“Yeah I oddly remember feeling that way about drunk Andrew too” Eddie said which caused more laughs.

“I’m gonna use the rest room, I’ll be right back” you stood and left the boys at the table. Once you were out of sight they all turned to the brunette boy.

“I like her man” Jamie quickly said and the other boys nodded.

“Me too, she’s funny. I’m glad you didn’t bring another dud to drinks” Eddie spoke and Andrew rolled his eyes before smiling.

“I love her man, she’s so full of life. I can’t get enough of her” the grin of adoration was evident on Andrews face as he spoke about the girl.

“We approve dude, she’s a keeper” Charlie told him and Andrew felt his heart warm. He knew you’d win them over, you were just that kind of girl.

After some more chat about how much his friends liked you, you returned to table with drinks for the both of you in your hands. The rest of the night full of more laughs and fun. You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face as you both left, you hugging each of the friends, as you moved to return home. The minute the apartment door shut behind you Andrew wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your back into his chest.

“What’s this about?” you asked as his face nuzzled into your neck and started pressing soft kisses into your skin.

“I just love you so much” his hot breath fanned over your neck as he spoke, causing you to recoil away because it tickled.

“You’re in a good mood” you told him as you turned around to press a kiss to his lips.

“Of course I am, my best friends love my girlfriend” he quipped before kissing you hotly again.

“Oh so it’s confirmed, I’m the favorite” you teased and Andrew chuckled before scooping you up and starting towards the bedroom.

[jtl-fics]

Fluent Freshman - Part 11

PREVIOUS

FF could admit that he may not be working with a full tank at the moment.

He had not slept very well the night before.

He had watched a lot of horror movies (a genre that he generally does not consume because his mind is already a scary enough place).

He was not able to go see his Grandma and he was going to miss the traditional(tm) Black Friday extravaganza that he and his Grandma did every Black Friday since he was little and encountered the horrible truth about Santa and she’d let him in on when / where most of his Christmas gifts were obtained. (The answer was not the North Pole under the watchful eye of elves. He had cried himself to sleep at the revelation but Gran always had a way of making the worst moments of his life tolerable.)

He may have eaten just…a bit too much pie?

He definitely ate too much turkey.

His stomach is killing him because he had forgotten to take his pepto when he had slammed that five hour energy.

His heart may actually break out of his rib cage with how hard it’s beating in his chest.

He’s been listening to Andrew and Captain Neil go back and forth for the last hour and a half between discussing Aaron’s recent mess ups, to what they’ll do to one another with a locked door between them and the world, to Andrew complaining that Neil’s hand is sweaty, to Neil saying Yes and Andrew’s hand is no longer in Neil’s and-

He clenches his eyes close.

And Andrew has swerved back into the lane for the third time in the last five minutes while saying something unrepeatable about his plans for Captain Neil and the whipped cream.

FF does not handle swerving cars very well.

He hears Andrew say something that sounds like it could lead to a very uncomfortable yeast infection for Captain Neil didn’t properly rinse off afterwards.

The car swerves over the rumble strip.

A fear far stronger than his fear of what Andrew could do to him overtakes him.

“I don’t like swerving cars. So, I’m going to ask that you focus on the road and keep your hands on the steering wheel.” FF says so panicked that he sounds calm and he watches as both Neil and Andrew stiffen at the sound of his voice. “If you can’t, then I’m going to ask that you pull over and let me out.” He offers a second option and a part of him is just amazed that his voice doesn’t crack even once. “I’m fine with either option.” He says.

He says both are fine but…

Honestly he hopes Andrew chooses the first option as he looks at the dark and lonely highway.

He looks back up at the front seat and both Neil and Andrew are looking straight forward. Andrew’s hands are on the steering wheel.

“Thanks.” He says and returns his attention to back over Aaron’s head.

The rest of the ride to Columbia is blessedly quiet. Aaron and Nicky wake up when they get off of the interstate and Nicky has the good grace to try and wipe the drool out of FF’s hair while Aaron seems unbothered by the wet spot he left of FF’s shoulder.

They get out of the car and they each grab their own bag in exhausted silence. Nicky is barely managing to put one foot in front of the other and before FF can do or say anything Nicky is in his room and has locked his door.

The room that FF had been planning on sleeping on the floor of because Nicky had told him he could so that FF would not drink 20 5-hour energies over the course of the weekend.

But Nicky had looked really tired.

So he is given a general tour by a very quiet Captain Neil and FF forces himself not to think about the cooler that Andrew had brought to, what he assumes is, Andrew’s bedroom before it was brought to the kitchen. He gets shown where the blankets and pillows that Kevin uses are and FF nods in quiet acceptance even knowing that he is going to spend the night going over Katakana flashcards and maybe up his literacy on Kanji to a second grader’s level.

Captain Neil wishes him a good night while Andrew gives him a nod and it is the last time he sees Captain Neil that night.

It is not the last time he sees Andrew.

***

Andrew comes out of his room to go get two glasses of water nearly 2 and a half hours later. The house is silent and dark. He is pretty sure him and Neil are the only two up.

He is wrong.

He comes out into the living room on his way to the kitchen and finds FF going through flashcards at a rapid pace. He walks a little closer to see what it is but the flashcards aren’t even right side up half of the time.

He thinks about the car ride.

‘I don’t like swerving cars.’

FF had said it so matter of factly. He was uncomfortable with the swerving.

Andrew had told FF recently about the words he didn’t like.

It felt like FF was offering at least something of himself back to Andrew for the first time.

Andrew thinks about how once his hands had gone back to the steering wheel FF had leaned back into his seat and stared out the window.

Andrew has at various points tried to look up what FF’s circumstances were but searching news sites for someone named ‘Smith’ with no first name to work off of was an exercise in futility.

Neil has lamented many times to Andrew about his bizarre jealousy over how unknowable Smith is. “He’s learning new languages, keeping a low profile, and playing Exy. It’s everything that I wanted in my freshman year and couldn’t manage because Riko pissed me off so much! It’s just kind of hard to see someone living my dream.” He says.

Andrew had punched him in the arm for that one.

“My old dream!” Neil had said and Andrew almost punched him again for the smile he flashed but had ended up kissing his stupid pretty face instead.

Where was he?

Right.

FF didn’t like swerving cars.

It didn’t necessarily have to be the trauma that lead to that aversion. Andrew certainly hadn’t had anything scare him on a plane but he still hated flying.

Still.

“The flash card is upside down.” He says and watches as FF pauses in his shuffling before righting that card and flipping to the next one which was turned to the side as far as Andrew could tell.

FF should be asleep.

FF is not asleep.

It might be Andrew’s fault that his friend can’t sleep.

“It won’t happen again.” He says and FF turns and stares at him blankly for a few seconds before he nods his acceptance.

It’s nice having a friend who understands what he means without needing to explain every little thing.

***

FF thinks he might have double-dosed on the 5-hour energy.

He also thinks he might currently be able to see through time.

His flashcards are making so much sense right now.

Then Andrew had come up and it truly was a miracle that he did not shit himself considering the sheer amount of apple pie still making its way through his system. That’s a lot of fiber for one body and he’s sure the 2-3 Five Hour energies he has taken are not helping his plight in that regard.

“It won’t happen again.” Is what Andrew says and in an instant FF feels his stomach drop to his feet. He nods blankly and watches as Andrew nods back before the man went to the kitchen and left with two tall glasses of water.

‘It won’t happen again’

FF has asked Andrew for TWO favors today.

TWO WHOLE FAVORS.

WHAT WAS HE THINKING?

The answer was that he WASN’T.

Even if FF had paid back one of those favors with the sheer power of his granny’s pie there was the case of the secondary favor he’d asked for in the car.

‘It won’t happen again’

There won’t be anymore favors for FF. He’d used up any mercy his grandma’s pie had bought him.

He considers the time pulls out his phone and goes through some saved text files on his phone.

It’s time for guns even bigger than his grandma’s apple pie.

He takes another five hour energy and knows that he won’t be sleeping a wink. He looks up groceries stores that are open this early on Black Friday, he grabs his wallet and with immense fear in his heart grabs the keys Aaron had dropped into a bowl by the front entrance.

He needs the ingredients for his great-grandma’s brownies.

Do your civic duty and: CAST YOUR VOTE TODAY ABOUT MEMES

NEXT

Per y’all’s requests:

@i-have-three-feelings​ @blep-23​ @dreamerking27​ @andreilsmyreligion​ @belodensetdust​ @rainbowpineapplebottle @yarn-ace​ @iwouldlikesometea @lily-s-world​ @obscureshipsandchips​ @booklover242​ @whataboutmyfries​ @sahturnos​ @pluto-pepsi​ @dreamerthinker​ @passinhosdetartaruga​ @leftunknownheart​ @aro-manita-muscaria @hologramsaredead​ @Chaoticgremlinswishtheycouldbeme @tntwme​ @tayspots @nick-scar​ @crazy-fangirl2524​ @blue-jos10​ @stabbyfoxandrew​ @splishsplashyouropinionistrash​ @sammichly​ @the-broken-pen​ @bitchesdoweknowu​ @very-small-flower​ @ghostlyboiii​ @its-a-paxycab​ @bisexual-genderfluid-fan​ @cheesecookie @theoneandonlylostsock​ @foxsoulcourt​ @blueleys @adverbialstarlight​ @elia-nna​ @can-i-just-stay-in-the-corner​ @nikodiangel​ @foxandcrow-inatrenchcoat​ @hallucinatedjosten​

As stated before if you’re up here and I spelled it right but you didn’t get a notification there might be something switched around in your settings that won’t let me tag you properly?

[wordsbyrian]

First Skateboard - Alex Morgan x Reader

Summary: A sequel to "Skater Girl" in which R (a professional skateboarder) gets a skateboard for Charlie.

A/N: I actually had the idea for this before the idea for Skater Girl but I felt like I had to write that one first. Yeah, enjoy. Also, all mentioned skateboarders are real people except the photographer.

Ever since you reconnected with Alex a few years ago, life has been going pretty well for you. On both a personal and professional level.

Professionally, you’ve dropped some of your best video parts ever, you brought home a couple of X Games, SLS, and Dew Tour medals and you backside-flipped El Toro before they tore it down.

In your personal life, you and Alex got married a few years ago and have since had a daughter Charlie.

Plus, you haven’t even been tempted to break your sobriety since that day you saw Alex at the bottom of the hill.

Good things all around.

And they were only going to get better because Reynolds, your close friend and the man in charge of Baker skateboards, called last week and told you to expect a surprise with your next board and merch delivery.

A delivery which just arrived.

Flinging the front food open, you shout thanks to the mailman before grabbing both boxes and heading inside, the door slamming shut behind you.

Normally, all of your sponsorship deliveries get taken directly to either your car, for immediate use or to your “skate cave” (the garage) to be out of the way until you need them.

This time you carry them straight to the living room, where Alex and Charlie are hanging out.

“Hey Chuck,” you say, getting the attention of both your wife and daughter, “Uncle Andrew sent you a present.”

“Present?”

“Yea, little dude,” you confirm, setting both boxes down, “a present.”

As Charlie walks to you on slightly unsteady feet, you have to do your best to not laugh at the look on Alex’s face.

You know what she’s thinking, of course, the last time Reynolds sent you anything for Charlie, it was a baby dirt bike that was immediately banished to the garage.

Although, he’s assured you it's nothing that out there this time around.

Dropping to the ground beside the boxes, you shoot her what you hope is a reassuring smile before using a key to slice the tape and help Charlie open them.

When she does get the first open, you have to hold back another laugh because sitting on top of all the fresh merch is a bottle of Tylenol with the words “For Alex - Chill Pills” written on it.

Grabbing them before Charlie can, you toss them to their designated recipient.

“Looks like the Boss sent you something too, babe,” you say, carefully watching her face for any reaction.

It takes her a moment but eventually she just sighs deeply, putting the bottle somewhere Charlie can’t reach it, and speaks, “All of your friends are idiots, especially Reynolds.”

“I’ll make sure that I let him know you said that.”

Looking back down, you’re unsurprised to see Charlie already reaching into the box and pulling out some of the items.

It’s mostly shirts with the latest designs on them and you see a few packs of stickers and some hats in there as well.

Dropping one of the hats on the toddler’s head so that it covers her eyes, you hurriedly hide the stickers, sliding them underneath your leg. The last thing you want is for Alex to be mad because you let Charlie put one somewhere it shouldn’t go.

By the time she removes the hat, all stickers are out of sight and you’re already opening the box containing the decks.

Once it’s open you see exactly what Reynolds was talking about.

There sitting on top of the boards that you know are for you, is what has to be the smallest skateboard you have ever seen.

Smiling softly, you pass it to Charlie who immediately spins around to show Alex.

“Mommy,” she shouts, “Look what Uncle Andrew got me.”

The smile on Alex’s face is forced but she hides it well enough that Charlie can’t tell.

“That’s so cool, baby,” Alex says, “Why don’t you go put it in your room with your other toys.”

It takes a moment but Charlie does eventually run off to put the board away. You and Alex both stare after her silently waiting to see if she comes running back or if she gets distracted like she normally does.

When she doesn’t come rushing back, Alex immediately turns on you, face set in a hard glare.

“Seriously, Y/N,” she asks.

“What?”

“A skateboard? She’s not even three years old yet.”

“It’s just a board Alex, it’s perfectly safe,” you say calmly.

“You just got a cast taken off your arm last week.”

“That’s because I’m an idiot, Charlie isn’t going to be trying to drop in off roofs for a long time,” you try to explain, “Besides with me, Reynolds, and all the other guys, she’ll be perfectly safe.”

The look you get lets you know that your appeal isn’t working at all.

And if the look wasn’t enough to show you that Alex wasn’t moved by your words, what came out of her mouth surely is.

“I’m sorry that I don’t trust your idiot friends who nearly burned down their own warehouse to keep my daughter safe.”

Something about the way she says it pisses you off but the reasonable part of your brain knows that being angry isn’t going to make this conversation any easier.

So you take a moment, putting everything back in the boxes and grabbing them as you stand up.

“I’m gonna go put this stuff away,” you say, not looking at her, “Come talk to me when you remember that Charlie’s my kid too.”

“Y/N.”

You cut her off and continue walking away, “Seriously Alex, not now.”

A few weeks later, the incident is mostly forgotten, in that neither you nor Alex have brought it back up and have chosen to continue like it never happened.

At least that’s how you’ve been handling it until Alex walks into your bedroom one night after Charlie’s been put to bed with a concerned look on her face.

“What’s the matter,” you ask, setting your book down.

“The nanny canceled for tomorrow.”

“Oh shit.”

Alex has to hold back a smile as she rolls her eyes at your response and walks to the bathroom to get ready for bed.

“Yup,” she says, “And I can’t take her to training with me tomorrow, we have meetings in between our two sessions.”

“I’m kinda free in the morning, I’ve got a couple of calls with Nike and Red Bull,” you tell her, “the problem is the afternoon. Beagle and some of the guys are supposed to come down so we can get clips. Deadline’s coming up.”

You hear a groan followed by a light slight thump before Alex speaks again.

“Crap, can you take her with you,” she asks.

It’s your turn to grimace, the idea of having Charlie watch you and your friends practically throw yourself down stairs is not a very appealing one.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Alex continues speaking, “You can bring the board Reynolds sent her and show her what you do for work.”

“Uh, what,” you say confused.

“Last week, Charlie said that I play soccer for work and that you take phone calls for work,” she says in a way of explanation.

“I’m not sure how that managed to change your mind about her skateboarding.”

It takes her another moment to respond and you just sit there staring waiting for her to finish brushing her teeth.

When she does, she walks back out of the bathroom and says, “You don’t think it’s weird that our daughter has no idea what you do for work? It doesn’t bother you?”

“Uh, no,” it sounds like a question even though you don’t mean for it to. “I’m 33 years old and I have no clue what either of my parents did for work when I was a kid. I think my dad might have been in the mob.”

“Can you be serious for 5 minutes, Y/N/N?”

“I think I’d die if I tried,” you say with a grin, “Might even be offed by my mob boss father.”

“You’re intolerable,” Alex says getting into bed.

“So I’ve been told,” you respond, “Just relax, I’ll take Chuck with me tomorrow. We’ll hang out with Beagle and the boys and everything will be cool.”

And for the most part, the majority of the next morning is cool, your calls go well and you manage to get all the details you need for the team tours hammered out.

The afternoon is when things take a slight turn.

First, Beagle and the guys showed up a little early, which normally wouldn’t have been a problem but Figgy walked into the house and immediately went to wake Charlie up from her nap.

Then you had to try and get a toddler and five grown men out of the house. It was only the promise of you buying lunch that convinces your friends and the promise of being taught to skateboard that convinces Charlie to head out to the van.

After that, it's back to smooth sailing.

You guys manage to knock out a few spots, everybody getting the tricks or lines that they’ve been working.

It’s at the final spot that you realize that maybe Alex was right about not having your friends around Charlie.

It all happens so suddenly too.

One second you’re slamming after yet again failing to laser flip down the Valencia 20 stair and the next you’re hearing a little voice saying, “Mama, you just got fucking broke off!”

And the only thought you have, while you’re laying there trying to catch your breath, is that it’s your fault really. You're the one that left Dickson and Theotis watching her while you tried this trick.

You don’t even have the energy to tell her not to say things like that, you need every last ounce of it that you do have to pull yourself back up the stairs to give the trick another go.

You speak only a few words on your way back up, “Thanks, Charlie. Beagle, I’ve got it this try, man.”

“Yeah, man, let’s get it,” the filmer shouts up at you.

It’s probably going to be your last shot to nail this trick, your body is aching, your shirt is torn, and you're pretty sure that you’ve got a couple of scrapes leaking blood and staining it.

So taking a deep breath, you begin pushing towards the stairs again.

Next thing you know, you're at the bottom of the stairs still on your board rolling away. Figgy, Dickson, and MIke, your photographer, are hooting and hollering, Theotis is skating after you holding Charlie, and Beagle is running behind you, camera still in hand.

Slowing to a stop, you let yourself be surrounded by your friends and take Charlie into your arms, you look at Beagle who speaks first.

“That’s the ender right there man, we start the part with that last slam and we have gold bro,” he says.

Before you have a chance to respond, Charlie speaks.

“Mama that was so cool,” she practically yells in your face, “Teach me how to do that?”

“Maybe we work on the basics like standing on the board first, and then work our way up to things like that,” you tell her, already fearing the repercussions from Alex. “Come let’s go ride for a bit while Figgy tries to kill this rail.”

“It’ll be gnarly.”

That night when you get home, you’re unsurprised to see that Alex is already there.

“Babe, we’re back,” you shout in greeting.

“In the kitchen.”

Making your way there, you’re quick to try and greet her with a kiss but you’re shocked when she leans away instead of returning your affection.

When you pout at her, she just rolls her eyes and says, “You smell, you’re covered in dirt, and,” she pauses, “Is that blood?”

“Might be,” you shrug, “Can I have my kiss now?”

You lean in again only to be stopped by a hand to the chest pushing you away.

“Go take a shower and then I’ll think about it,” she says.

Taking a step back you sigh, “Ugh fine. Charlie tell your mommy about all the stuff you did today.”

You begin walking away as your daughter begins to ramble. You make it halfway to your room when you hear it.

“And then we went to a school and Mama got fucking broke off when…”

You go running back to the kitchen shouting, “Charlie no!”

Alex glares at you the second you make it to the doorway.

“Y/N,” her voice is stern, “Why is our toddler cursing?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Never again, Y/N, never again.”

“Fair enough.”

[joanofexys]

OCs?

random fun facts?

- Merrick and Jude are the first openly queer couple in professional exy. Their team makes it semi-finals and they fully tackle each other and make out on the court

- Florian has a prosthetic solely for stickers. It’s not the one he usually wears but kids tend to be obsessed with it so if he’s doing any sort of press stuff where he knows there will be kids, bam stickered up prosthetic. Many of the stickers come from teammates kids or siblings.

- Emiko almost solely listens to FOB and MCR. Good luck getting her to put on anything else. And if she’s driving you��re listening to her music.

- Angel does have one of Phoebe’s drawings tattooed on him.

- Ilya volunteers at his local shelter. Despite this Ilya and Flor’s first cat doesn’t come from the shelter. She jumps in Flor’s car when he’s leaving the court at night and he has to take her home. Even though he had been telling Ilya he didn’t want a pet.

- Anytime he’s in town and agrees to go to Eden’s with the monsters, Florian has a single drink and promptly naps on Neil or Andrew the entire time. Baby boy is a homebody

- Mara’s favorite animals are turtles. Aquarium dates are the dream.

- Merrick is better with kids than Jude is. Jude’s great with kids but they just flock to Merr.

- Merr’s love language is bullying and a lot of people wonder how the fuck he and Jude ended up together (“why the fuck are you wearing that eyesore at 8 in the morning?”, “sorry I don’t kiss losers” (said as he is letting Jude pull him in a kiss), etc)

- Flor’s favorite song is Helena

- Ilya’s a big of silent films when he needs to stare at a screen and zone out and he manages to get Flor a little bit into them (good for sensory overload)

- Get that boy (Florian) a pair of noise cancelling headphones

- Emiko and Florian are the two who tend to argue the most. They’ll get into full blown screaming matches on the court

- Angel is very sure he’ll never have/never wants to have another kid. Phoebe’s the greatest thing to happen to him but he’d never willing do it all over again

- Jude’s tendency to not realize when people are into him physically or romantically also transfers to his platonic relationships. He is fully unaware of how many friends he has

- Merrick has never lost a game of Clue and Jude refuses to play with him until he figures out how Merr’s cheating

- The US Court has been banned from playing Uno as a form of team bonding

- Florian on bad pain days where he can’t wear his prosthetic still shows up to practices. He sits on the bench in pjs with a blanket and suffers. Stubborn asshole

- Flor plays a game shortly after a breaking wrist. Nobody knows how he got cleared to play. He scored the winning goal and immediately got benched for the next month cause the shakiness in his hand the bruising was not pretty

- Jude collects comic books

- Mara is a Kesha girly

- Florian let Mara pierce his nose at 3 am after they had both had a few shots. He loves it now, but the morning after he had never felt so much dread.

- Harper was on the robotics team in high school

- Emeryk has terrible insomnia. He regularly pulls all nighters and spends most nights on the couch watching a documentary or listening to a podcast

[bodyswapmischief]

Andrew's Holiday Part 3 (An Interactive Story)

Part 1 Part 2

Andrew stared in awe, shock, and a strange sense of betrayal. "Is this your home?" Oscar sensed Andrew's true emotions despite the awe reflected in his eyes. Worry crept into Oscar as he questioned whether revealing his family's wealth to Andrew was a mistake. "No... Just our winter home." The words slipped out, and Oscar winced in embarrassment, contemplating the impact on their relationship. Would Andrew be intimidated, or worse, would Andrew only like him for the money.

A pit grew in Andrew's stomach as he questioned his decision to come. Anxiety raced through him, filled with doubts and fears. The self-doubt intensified, convincing him he wasn't good enough for Oscar. The voice that had warned him about the relationship echoed loudly. The car halted at the foot of a small stairway, leading to the front door.

Oscar exits the car, grabbing his bag, while Anders, the old man, attempts to assist. "Young Master! I can get those." Oscar declines with a smile of amused annoyance. "I got it, old man... you need to rest." As he gathers his bags and ascends the stairs, Andrew follows suit, still in a state of shock. Upon reaching the entrance, the door swings open, revealing a silver fox of a man with open arms. "Oscar! Welcome home!" he exclaims with a slight accent, resembling an older, more chiseled version of Oscar in his mid-40s. His well-maintained physique shows minimal signs of aging, except for the grey in his hair.

"I'm happy to see you, too... Baba," Oscar says, his face turning red in embarrassment. "Baba, this is Andrew." Oscar's father looks over, extending his hand. "Nice to meet you, young man. I've heard you won my son's heart." Andrew blushes at the comment. "Um... I hope so," he responds, reaching for a firm handshake.

Entering the home was another moment of pure disbelief for Andrew. Oscar's father smiles like the entertainer he is. "Oscar, get yourself and Andrew situated, and meet me and your mother for dinner. I've got some things I must do," he says before walking off. "Oh, and we do have guests over..." The words echoed with a sense of hatred.

Oscar led both of them to his bedroom, an oasis from all the extravagant features of the rest of the mansion. The room resembled that of an average, slightly nerdy young man, with the only exception being its unusually large size, spacious enough to be divided into two decent-sized rooms. Video game posters and memorabilia adorned the walls, a large bed occupied one corner, and a gaming setup was arranged against another. Bookshelves and dressers filled up additional space. Andrew made his way to the bed and sat down, silent throughout. Oscar, noticing Andrew's quietness, settled into his gaming chair. "So... what are you thinking?" he asked.

"What the hell, Oscar! What is all of this?! Why didn't you tell me any of this before?" Andrew finally exclaimed. Oscar puts his forehead into his hand. "I'm sorry... I should have. I get it's a lot to take in. But, I just want you to know... the me you know at school... that is me. I'm not different or lying to you about anything. Honestly, my dad... all this... it's too much even for me." Oscar sighed.

Andrew sighed back and lifted his head with a smile. "Typical rich boy... 'I have too much money,'" he teased. "I'm not gonna lie, but this is all too much. And, I wish I knew sooner. But, it also explains why I never felt good enough for you. I mean, how could I be?" He let out a laugh, masking the inner sadness.

Oscar stops him. "Hey! Don't say that... you are more than enough. I love you! I'm probably the most real when I'm with you." He moves to the bed and wraps his arm around Andrew. Andrew smiles and leans into Oscar. "You always know what to say... you stupid face." He wipes a bit of wetness from his eye. "And, I guess having a secretly rich boyfriend isn't so bad... now you can be my sugar daddy." He teases. Oscar smiles and shakes his head in response. "I'll be your sugar daddy, but you better start earning your money." He winks and kisses Andrew's cheek. "Maybe you can help wash me up for dinner."

The two men walk into the connected restroom. The bathroom is big in its own right. Unlike the room, the bathroom is obviously made to match the rest of the house. The two stumble into the bathroom as they hold each other. Their faces locked in an intense make-out. Oscar takes off his shirt and moves to take off Andrew's. Both men hands hungrily feel each other up. Andrew takes off his pants and underwear. His cock hard. He kneels down and does the same for Oscar. Oscar's cock springs out and taps Andrew's face. Andrew holds Oscar's cock and sucks the head. Oscar moans out. He picks up Andrew and walks him into the shower. The warm water washes over them and adds a lustful glow to their body. Leaning Andrew against a wall, Oscar guides his cock into Andrew's ass. His arm wraps around and begin to pumps Andrew cock, as his own hips thrust. The two men fuck faster with each pump. The feelings of ecstasy spreeds over them until they both explode in orgasm.

They share smiles and giggles. "Damn, that was good," Oscar sighs in bliss. "Well, I have to keep my sugar daddy happy," Andrew teases. Oscar smiles, saying, "Yeah, but I'm still Oscar... don't treat me differently because of this." Andrew giggles, finding joy in being the one to comfort Oscar now. "I know, just teasing. But I love pushing your buttons, so maybe I won't stop, Daddy Big Bucks," he laughs. Oscar rolls his eyes. The two men finish getting ready and head off for dinner.

[supertrxshwrites]

Maneater

Jason Todd x Reader

Part II

( idk heard this cover from a movie “no hard feelings” and I started to write this little fic I guess..it’s not great but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ just something fun I might write more idk)

Jason asks you to be his date to a gala Bruce is throwing for Wayne enterprises. You didn’t think much of it, you’ve been best friends for years and you had a history of dating people and once it got serious you would panic and break it off. Afraid you’d ruin it. With Jason asking you to be his date you didn’t take it seriously, you thought it was just him being nice and letting you tag along.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────

“You want me to be your plus-one to a gala?” You ask in disbelief

“My date y/n” he says correcting you with an eye roll

“Sure..whatever..same thing..A GALA?” you say quickly your body full of excitment like you’re about to explode

“Yeah, I thought it’d be fun” he says laughing nervously.

You never took Jason to be the suit and tie type but he cleans up nicely. His hair slicked back a bit, a black tux and he even brought you flowers. As you stand in the door wearing your pajamas you can’t help but stare taking in how good he looks.

“Are those for me?” You ask pointing to the flowers.

“Oh uh yeah” he says handing them to you with a nervous smile.

“Uhm I’m ready I just have to put on my dress and take these rollers out”

you say letting him in. You place the flowers down and run to your room to finish getting ready. Jason looks around your apartment, he looks at pictures on the wall of you guys from high school. There’s some of you when you were a kid and a few of your parents. After a while he checks his watch.

“Hey y/n I don’t wanna rush you but“

before he can finish you step out in a sleek black dress accompanied by a cute little black purse. Jason’s words get caught in his throat but he coughs a bit to play it off.

“Wow..you look-“ a smiles creeps across his lips

“Beauti-“ you cut him off before he can finish.

“Maybe we should get going?” You say walking towards the door. As you both walk to the parking lot and he follows along your side being sure to hang back slightly just to make sure you were safe.

“So what car did Bruce let you dri-“ you’re barely given enough time to finish your thought before you realize.

“You drove your bike here?!” You whip around to look at him.

“What? it’s fun and we’ll get there faster” he says grabbing his extra helmet.

“It’s gonna mess up my hair” you pout a bit.

“Yeah so will sliding around with no helmet now hold still” he says gently pushing your hair back and putting the helmet on you and handing you a jacket to put on then helping you with gloves.

“You good?” he asks as he puts on his gloves and helmet.

“Yeah” you say with a nod a bit giddy about the ride.

“Good.” He smiles before slapping the visor on your helmet closed and getting on the bike turning a bit to help you on. You wrap your arms around him and he kicks to start the bike and quickly closes his visor before you guys speed off flowing into traffic, weaving in and out of the lines between cars. Your heart begins to race at the adrenaline of being on the bike, The way Gotham looks at night with the lights of cars on the street and how the city is just bursting with life gives you such a feeling of freedom you can’t help but smile under your helmet. You guys stop at a light and Jason turns his head a bit his voice slightly muffled form the helmet.

“You okay back here?” He asks reaching back and tapping your leg.

“Yeah I’m okay” you nod

He nods back before the light turns green and you guys finally arrive to the gala. He helps you off of the bike and helps you out of the gloves,jacket and helmet careful to not mess up your hair. He takes your hand helping you up the stairs of the large museum like building,

He places your helmets by the door with the coats. You spin around taking in how nice everything looks and how everyone’s dressed. Piano is softly being played in the background as a woman sings while everyone mingles.

“Hey you mind sitting tight while I find Bruce?” He asks as you sit in one the bar seats

“Sure” you smile before turning to the bartender. You’re ready to order when suddenly a guy slides next to you.

“Hey man I’ll take a G and T and whatever the lady’s getting” he says turning to you with a smile.

“Oh I’ll take coke and rum I guess” you say to the bartender.

“So what’s a place like you doing in a girl like this” he says with a goofy smile.

“Oh my friend he asked me to tag along so I’m here” you smile before your drink is placed in front of you on a small napkin. You take a small sip looking around taking in the party.

“Well I don’t see him anywhere, I mean seriously what idiot would leave you alone..look at you!” He says gesturing at you

“We’re best friends we aren’t together I’m just his plus one” you laugh a bit before taking another sip.

“Oh really?” There’s a devilish smile plastered upon his face after hearing that.

“Uh yeah but I’m not looking for anything serious” you say swirling your straw in your drink.

The guy leans over to whisper something in your ear and that’s when Jason spots you from across the room. He had just finished talking to Bruce about something and he turns around to see some fucking greaseball leaning over you whispering in your ear. He felt like he was going to combust. You were supposed to be his date and now some idiot is all over you and you’re letting him. He strides over angrily.

“What the fuck y/n?” He snaps at you

“What? We’re just talking” you say confused a slight smile on your lips.

“No you’re flirting there’s a fucking difference” he says clenching his jaw staring daggers into the guy which was his cue to leave.

“Jay, what’s your problem? You brought me here as your plus-one where people are mingling..I’m not your girlfriend!” You say frustration plaguing your tone.

“Yeah I know..you’re not very good at commitment” he says under his breath

“What?” Your brows furrowed.

“Nothing.” He says looking down at the floor for a moment

“No Jason what the fuck did you just say?” You’re angry now your voice raising.

“Fuck! I said you aren’t good at commitment. You don’t think I listen when you tell me about the “flings”You have?” He says doing air quotes.

“These guys that you “date” only to what leave once it gets serious and when someone wants to actually take you out on a date..you fucking turn around and flirt with a fucking stranger” the anger in his voice is dripping from each and every syllable of each word.

“Jay I didn’t kn-“ he cuts you off before you can finish

“Whatever.” He walks away probably to find Bruce or one of his brothers.

You let out a deep sigh before gesturing for another drink to the bartender. That’s when the piano starts up again, it’s not as quiet as earlier when the woman was singing earlier. That’s when you turn around and notice Jason is sitting at the piano. He clears his throat the mic ringing just a bit before he smiles nervously a silent apology to those who were standing by the speakers. He plays and begins to sing along.

“She only comes out at night, The lean and hungry type.

Nothing is new I’ve seen her here before

Watching and waiting

Oh she’s sitting with you but her eyes are on the door”

Each word hitting you like a ton of bricks.

“ So many have paid to see, what you think you’re getting for free.

The woman is wild a she-cat tamed by the purr of a Jaguar

Money’s the matter

If you’re in it for love you ain’t gonna get too far”

As Jason sings an older guy sits next to you.

“Wonder who hurt that guy” he laughs before turning to the bartender. The pain from what Jason said to you finally sinking in. Each word stinging.

“I wouldn’t if I were you, I know what she can’t do

she’s deadly man she could really rip your world apart.

Mind over matter

Oh the beauty is there but a beast is in the heart.

Oh here she comes watch out boy

she’ll chew you up oh here she comes she’s a maneater.”

Jason finishes the song, there’s some applause before he walks away and out the way you guys come in. You get up to follow him when you realize he left your helmet.

“Shit” you swear under your breath as you quickly run out and down the stairs. Jason slaps his visor down and drives off leaving you at the gala. Tears prick your eyes as you realize how royally you’ve fucked up.

[coff-in]

Guilty possessive Andy trying to keep innocent childhood friend reader happy and oblivious to his and his sister's increasingly fucked up behavior while Ashley puts in maybe the bare minimum to avoid losing plausible deniability, both reliant on poor reader's (incorrect) belief that they'd never do something to hurt other people on purpose, and the (questionable) faith they have that their friends are really good people that need more friendship and affection than they often had... Andy just keeps slipping slowly but certainly into the mindset he needs to begin prepping a permanent gilded cage in a basement while Ashley guides him into it, having already soundproofed a nice room and ordered the collar and chain for their new pet...

notes from coff-in: kinda sounds like juno (my self-insert oc) except that they're sort of aware that they're bad people and still love them for it <3

[gender neutral] reader-insert

[reader] has no idea what they've done huh? it makes sense, andrew has proven to be a very... very not bad liar, a good one even! they can't help but to fall and get tangled in his lies. maybe him and ashley turn up at [reader]'s place after leaving the apartment. they welcome andrew and ashley into their home, make them a nice meal, ask them how the quarantine was and how their parents are. any lie andrew feeds them is eaten up without hassle. "it was alright... not the best but we made die with what we had" and "they left before the quarantine hit, lucky them huh?" etc etc

[reader] helps them with their... situation :) drives them over to their parents new house and waits patiently when told to. when andew and ashley come back with a bag full of 'trash' they ask no questions and let them load it into the trunk of the car. when the hitman came around to kill them, andrew protected [reader] from him and made them hid in the park with ashley. how sweet they are!

andrew's grateful to [reader] for letting him and his sister stay at their home, for not asking too many prodding questions, for being so... gullible. trusting. blind, one may say. it's all very convenient for him and ashley. he's also grateful for the faith that they have in him. whatever wrongdoing he did was justifiable! maybe he did harm a guard while escaping but it was in self defense, the guard was hurting him and ashley! the hitman was going to shoot him first, so andrew had to kill him to protect himself! all oversimplifications of actions with deeper meanings...

it's not too surprising that they'll eventually plan to keep [reader] isolated with them. if they're so sure that andrew and ashley needed more affection and attention then they wouldn't mind giving it to them, right? andrew can't help but to let the thoughts linger longer than they should. it would be nice... to have [reader] stuck at home with ashley and him...

she's already found a collar for [reader], too. it's too late to back down now, isn't it? not like he was planning on doing it anyway.

----

coff-in

[blubushie]

i've seen some blogs i follow say that misandry isn't real and men aren't opressed for being men and honestly the former doesn't sit right with me. misandry is not systemic like misogyny but your answers about your experiences prove that it does indeed happen in queer spaces. masculine queer men have to prove that they aren't a threat by making themselves a walking gay caricature.

Hell men aren't just oppressed in female-dominant "cultures" (like queer spaces) but they're also oppressed by patriarchy and, in some ways, legally. They're just not oppressed in the same way women are.

Men are considered inherently stronger/better, which means women can't compete with us, which means any time a man is a victim of a woman it's automatically his fault for ALLOWING himself to be. How are you, a man, gonna let a woman hit you? (It's because even if you defend yourself, and you make the call the police, YOU'LL be arrested as the aggressor. It's your word against hers, and in domestic violence they will always favour hers.)

We are simultaneously shit on for defending ourselves, because how dare a man ever put his hands on a woman even in self defence, but at the same time if we DON'T do that, it's our fault for being abused because we didn't "resist" our abuser. This is the male version of being asked about what you were wearing when you were victimised. The only way men are ALLOWED to be recognised as victims is if you're a child and your abuser is an adult man. If it's an adult woman? Hell, kid, you're lucky.

A lot of people think men can't be raped—either because we "always want sex", or because we're expected to physically resist our rapist and win. Contrast this to women, who are told to piss themselves or scream, or just take it because maybe if you do your rapist won't kill you. (If you ask me a firearm makes a helluva equaliser, but that's a conversation for another day.) Legislation even reflects this—in the UK, for example, according to UK law, it isn't possible for a women to rape a man unless she penetrates him with an object. A woman violently raping a man, even a child, by restraining him or otherwise and forcing him into penetrating her, is merely considered sexual assault and carries a much lighter sentence than rape.

And that really sucks for someone like me, who was raped by two women while I was drunk. Who didn't even realise I was raped until a mate explained it to me, because it's normalised that women can have sex with a drunk man and that's not considered rape—not even if he blacks out and asks them to stop when he wakes up, and they keep going while he blacks out again. Like what happened to me. An even bigger kicker—a man is always considered responsible in sex. So if a drunk man and a drunk woman both agree to sex while both are intoxicated, legally HE is raping HER despite both being unable to actually consent.

This in addition to men being expected to be sole providers for a home by society—look at the current rise of women looking for a sugar daddy or red-flagging a man because he only has one car instead of two, or of men never being favoured in family court even when the mother is unable to care for the children or is abusive, or how women will weaponise visitation against fathers for spite because they know the court will side with her regardless of how good of a father he is, or the lack of men's shelters, or how DV shelters won't take women with minor children who are boys older than 12 so a woman has to either go back to her abuser with her children or leave her sons behind alone with an abusive father, of people laughing at the male loneliness epidemic and treating it like a good thing/deserved reckoning instead of recognising it as a warning sign for a flood of lost teens and young men drifting down the Andrew Tate or rapist incel misogyny pipeline, of people laughing at men's mental health month posts and outright encouraging men to commit suicide under them while men already statistically commit suicide at a higher rate than women...

Men are oppressed in some ways, I'd argue some of those ways are systemic, but no one talks or cares about it. There was a feminism wave in the 90s of "patriarchy harms everyone", which is true, but now we're on a different wave of "men are biologically evil", which is absolutely batshit fucking insane and helps no one. Bioessentialism helps no one. (Plus it's transphobic and intersexist.)

Anyway I'm gonna go back to working on my ute now.

[dutifullynuttywitch]

Close Call - Part 1

Wake the Dead

Pairing: Eva Archer x Troy Hassan

Rating: Teen (cw swearing)

Word count: 2,000

Summary: Eva is terrified that something may have happened to Brynn while out scouting.

A/N: Wake the Dead AU, takes place before WTD events. Can be read as a single shot, builds on my previous WtD fics Starlit nights, Sisterly Advice.

Art by the supremely talented @oh-so-youre-a-nerd 💛

Tagging: @choicesficwriterscreations @wakethedead-group-re-read

Eva paces back and forth nervously across the small room she shared with Brynn.

Her sister and her crew were out on a scouting expedition a days’ drive from the Tower. They had been expected back three days ago. It wasn’t the first time they’d been delayed, forced to lay low after encountering too many drones or car issues. But they’d always radio back.

Not this time.

Her mind hadn’t stopped spinning through increasingly dire scenarios as the hours went by. She’d gone through her pest control shifts on autopilot and spent the nights wide awake, too worried to sleep. Staring at that damned door, willing her sister to barge through it with her typical bravado and yet another hair-raising story to tell.

She feels a bubble of panic constrict her chest. She has to do something.

Squaring her shoulders, Eva strides across the crowded hallways over to the airlock entrance. She spots Andrew Scott, head of scouting units in a heated discussion with one of Blackstock’s goons.

“ – been having some radio issues but hopefully comms’ll be up and running again in no time. That damned antenna’s on its last leg…”

“Hey! Andrew! When the hell are you going to send a crew out there to help my sister?”

Andrew whirls around, a sympathetic look etched across his features.

“Eva –”

He’s interrupted by Blackstock’s lackey.

“Watch your language, you insolent brat. We’re not going to put another crew in danger because you decided to throw a little temper tantrum. Now run along unless you want to be put on waste disposal for the month.”

Furious, she rounds on the little man.

“Listen here, asshole, my sister and her friends are the reason the Tower even has resources like medicine, food, weapons. They risk their necks every day for this colony and you’re just gonna leave them out there?”

Andrew intervenes just as the now red-faced man signals over to two burly guards.

“Oookay, okay Eva, Melvin, let’s everyone take a deep breath. No need to escalate things, I’ll handle her.”

“Deal with her, Scott, or I will.”

The little man stares daggers at her before stalking away haughtily.

Andrew waits a beat before turning his focus back to her.

“Eva, how long have we known each other? Ya need to trust me to look out for my crew. I already asked a team to detour to Brynn’s last known location yesterday. But this, pissing off the higher-ups – not helping. You gotta tone it down. Especially if you still want to join our team in a few years.”

The towering man squeezes her shoulder sympathetically.

“I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m just really worried about Brynn… Please let me know as soon as you have news?”

“Of course. Now scram before you get us into any more hot water.”

Eva slowly walks back, dejected. She detours by the supply depot, hoping to run into Troy.

“Hey, Archer! Been wondering when I’d see your pretty face around here.”

Troy’s bright smile quickly turns into a concerned frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s Brynn, she… they’ve gone missing.”

He steps out from behind the counter and wraps her in a tight hug. Eva melts into his warm embrace, letting his familiar scent surround and comfort her.

Troy’s heart breaks for her. He’s used to seeing her so strong, fearless. But right now, she feels small and fragile in his arms.

He tightens his hold on her, burying his face in her hair. She smells good, with just a hint of lavender from the contraband soaps he’d gifted her.

That scent had been driving him crazy for months.

He’s been captivated by Eva for years now, really, if he’s honest with himself.

Troy is not exactly sure when their friendship had blossomed into something more for him.

It had been gradual.

He first noticed those lovely dimples whenever she smiled. The way her blue eyes sparkled with mischief when she thought of a new prank to drive her sister up the walls.

He started getting unpleasant pangs of jealousy whenever Eva dated other men.

But it was that first evening he took her stargazing months ago, alone out on that windy balcony, Eva wrapped snuggly in his arms, he’d come to the realization he had truly fallen for his best friend.

And it had terrified him.

Eva and Brynn were the most important people he had in the world. Ever since he pantsed little Eva Archer back in first grade.

She had stolen his ration bar; Troy had reacted without thinking. After the initial shock had passed, Eva pulled her pants back on and ran after him like a little devil, yelling in outrage. Backed into a wall and terrified of this tiny red-haired tornado, Troy quickly apologized. She sized him up for a moment, then said “I’m not gonna hurt you, silly!” Little Eva wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug and gave him back the bar. He broke it in half, “Here, lets share.” From that moment, they had been inseparable.

Brynn, noticing their camaraderie and realizing Troy was all alone in the Tower, started looking out for him. She’d invite him along for meals, making sure he had his rations. Got him new clothes when his were becoming too worn down. Scolded him and Eva when they got into trouble – which was a regular occurrence. And, more recently, nagged him for his not-so-legal hobbies.

They had become his chosen family.

What if he fucked it all up?

He had a tendency to do just that, as his exes would point out.

Plus, there was the little matter of the side hustle he ran behind Blackstock’s back. God forbid they’d associate Eva too closely with him if things went south.

“Hey, watch it!”

The sudden bustle of people at change of shift snaps him back to reality.

Reminds him he’s standing in the middle of a busy hallway with an upset Eva in his arms.

He releases her clumsily, trying to clear the unwelcomed thoughts.

Troy ushers her into the confines of the supply depot, lowering the shutters for good measure. He sits her down on a tattered couch and settles in next to her.

“Eva, what happened?”

She looks down at her hands, eyes glistening.

“Andrew lost contact with Brynn and her crew three days ago. There’s another team out searching the area, but I’m worried, Troy. What if they don’t find her? What if they’re too late?”

“Hey now. Your sister’s the second most badass person I know, right after you. I swear the two of you are like fierce amazon warriors.”

Eva rolls her eyes, sniffling lightly.

“I’m not even gonna ask.”

“The point is, I know Brynn’s alright. She’s one of the best scouts the Tower’s got. And she’s careful. They’re most likely laying low somewhere. She'll be back in no time busting your ass for even worrying about her.”

“I… I’m sure you’re right, Troy. She is good at what she does. So are the others. I guess I... needed to hear it from someone else. Thanks for always being there for me.”

She forces a smile, her glistening eyes sparkling in the dim light of the cluttered room.

“Always, Eva.”

He gazes down at her, tenderness and concern reflected in his soft brown eyes as he pulls her closer into his arms, tracing soothing circles along her back. He wipes a tear from her cheeks, fingers lingering along her cheekbone.

Her breath hitches as she loses herself in his soft gaze and the warmth of his embrace.

Eva feels like a bundle of nerves from the stress, and the tingles she’s feeling from Troy’s caresses are messing with her usual self-control.

Right now, she wants to feel less the nerves constricting her chest, and more of Troy’s comforting touches.

On impulse she reaches up, tracing lithe fingers along his cheek and the dark stubble across his jaw. She unconsciously chews her lower lip.

He stares, entranced. God how he wants to reach out and kiss those lovely lips. He wonders what they’d taste like. Possibly those berry-flavoured ration bars she enjoys so much.

“Eva…”

Troy murmurs, lips ghosting hers.

She lets her instincts guide her, a need she’d been burying for so long. She closes the distance, soft lips meeting his.

Troy’s eyes widen in surprise. He cups her cheek as they kiss gently, tentatively, lips exploring in soft caresses. Bodies tingling with delight at the new but somehow familiar sensations.

“Hmm, Troy.”

He deepens the kiss at her inviting sigh, finally tasting her. Salt from her tears.

And cherries.

Troy loses the last of his self-control. His kisses become heated as he slips a hand below her shirt, skirting her lower back. Eva clings to him, responding to his every touch.

Just as their caresses become more feverish, they are startled apart by a loud banging against the shutters.

“Oi! Hassan! Open up! We’ve got crews reporting back with equipment.”

They glance at each other, eyes wide, breathless.

Troy is the first to recover, filling the awkward silence with his usual banter.

“Well, that was something, Archer… I knew you couldn’t resist this.”

He gestures at his handsome features, grinning.

Eva chuckles, cheeks flushed.

“God you’re insufferable…”

The banging against the shutters intensifies.

“Hassan!! What’s the hold up?!”

“Dammit! Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”

Troy doesn’t want to let Eva go.

He’s scared that she'll realize how big of a mistake this was. Head still spinning, he quickly makes his way up to the counter.

Eva watches him go, flushed, heart pounding wildly in her chest.

Oh god, what just happened?

He pulls up the shutters and stops in his tracks, eyes wide with relief and a hint of guilt.

“Brynn!! Boy, am I glad to see you.”

At her sister’s name, Eva rushes up to the front and crashes into her arms.

“Brynn, you’re okay! What the hell happened? You had me worried…”

Brynn winces, and Eva lets her go quickly, giving her a once over. Her sister’s shirt is tattered, a dark bruise appearing to cover much of her right side. Dirk hovers protectively. Cassidy cradles an apparent broken arm as Brienne helps her stand.

Tony’s crew are right behind, carrying both teams’ weapons and crates of canned food and medical supplies.

“We were picking out meds in an outlet mall when the roof collapsed, must have been water damage. Bunch of drones fell on top of us from the second floor. Cassidy and I got trapped under a shelf. Dirk and Brienne managed to drag us out. We hid in a storage room hoping the drones would forget about the yummy human-sized snacks...”

“Looks like we got there just in time. There must have been two dozen of em’ packed into that little pharmacy. Had to lure them out to get to you.”

Tony chips in, dropping off the weapons and supplies onto the counter.

“We owe you one, Tony.”

Brynn pats him on the shoulder, grimacing through the pain.

“Nah, just glad you’re all still on the side of the living. You and Cass should hit the infirmary. You look like you’ve got a couple of cracked ribs and I’m pretty sure arms don’t bend that way.”

“You don’t say.”

Cassidy growls, clutching her bandaged arm.

“Come one, I’ll take you.”

Eva tenderly supports Brynn, avoiding the bruises.

She hesitates a moment, looking back at Troy, cheeks flushed.

“Talk later?”

“Yeah... sure.”

Troy rubs the back of his neck, dreading that conversation. He was an idiot to kiss her when she was at her most vulnerable, worried about Brynn. What if she regretted it? Hated him for it?

He sighs miserably and starts cataloguing the equipment.

The taste of salt and cherries lingers on his lips.

[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XI)

Chapter 11: ‘Lived to see you throwing me aside.’

Hi! Here is another chapter! On the menu today: a dinner with Sam and Frank… I’ll let you guess how well this will go… (I hope my choice for Andrew's pic for this chapter gives you a clue...)

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 2933

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Hesitate to call

Lived to see you throwing Me aside. That fought Like nettled fish inside me. Saw you throbbing In my syrups. Saw you sleep. And lived to see That all that all flushed down The refuse. Done? It lives in me. You live in me. Malignant. Love, you ever want me, don’t.

Louise Glück, The First Five Books of Poems

Andrew checked his appearance in the mirror for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

He was nervous beyond reason, after all he was heading to a restaurant to see Sam. And after a long-term relationship, he shouldn’t have felt so troubled by it. But things were different now, things were… complicated, to say the least.

Still, he heaved a sigh, checked his appearance once more. He had let his hair loose, had put on contacts, was wearing a black shirt and some dark jeans. He looked tired, exhausted even. Work was a lot at the moment, he had a thousand things to do. He still struggled to sleep, was still tortured with thoughts and dreams of Sam, of her leaving, of her loving someone else.

November was ending, and with it, the remnants of Andrew’s and Sam’s plans. Plans…

A weekend in Kerry in September. Saimhan with friends. Now, Andrew should be packing. He should be choosing clothes, not for an evening in a restaurant, but for a weekend in Glasgow. A flight late at night leaving from Dublin, another one during the night between Sunday and Monday. And in between, a couple of days just for them, spent eating, visiting museums, seeing the sights, walking around the town. A night in a hotel, one she had chosen, spent on filling their hearts with love and their bodies with lust and desire.

He looked at his reflection again, stared right into his own hazel eyes. They were greener than usual, probably because wearing contacts made his eyes water. He would have been more comfortable with glasses, more relaxed as well, more himself, in a way.

He blinked tears away as a thought crossed his mind, a painful one he wished he could have kept at bay, but he didn’t have the strength for that. Beating himself up was a habit, since childhood. There were thoughts sometimes that formed in his mind that brought him pain, but he listened anyway. Sometimes they were quiet, sometimes they were deafening. These days they were loud and clear.

He went to get his coat, grab his car keys, get ready to leave. He petted Elwood, told him to be a good boy, that he would soon be home. The thought followed him outside his home.

Being himself was never enough for Sam to love him.

Christ, Sam was so beautiful…

It was breaking his heart that they weren’t on a date. As he entered the restaurant, saw her sitting at a table waiting for him, Andrew was reminded of hundreds of evenings spent like this, going on a date in a restaurant, at the cinema, it didn’t even matter where. At the end, they didn’t go out much anymore. Sam always seemed to be too busy for that. At the time, Andrew thought it was only because of her job. Now, he wondered if maybe she had not already started to give up on them.

But he hadn’t. To this day, he hadn’t given up on them…

He kept on admiring her for a few more seconds, until the rest of the table was revealed to him, and the illusion waned. You were there too, facing Frank. The restaurant was posh, he felt a little uneasy in this atmosphere. He wouldn’t have chosen such a place for a date, but he had no doubt that Sam liked it.

He forced a smile as he approached, was greeted warmly by Frank, the first one who spotted him as he approached. You turned on your chair to greet him with a relieved smile, and his heart made a happy jump at the sight of you. He had an ally tonight, he wasn’t on his own…

“You’re late.”

He turned to Sam, his heart dropping again. Her tone was flat, emotionless, and he knew her enough to be aware that it was worse than annoyance. She was angry. He struggled to swallow.

“Yeah, sorry… Had some stuff to take care of before coming.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing it was a lie. Or well, it wasn’t a lie, but the real reason was simply that Andrew was always late. To everything. He couldn’t do much about it; if left unattended, he simply lost track of time. The alarms he had set up had done little to help him tonight. He didn’t add anything, merely took a seat.

“Ha, no worries!” Frank reassured him, and Andrew could tell that he was nervous and willing to make Andrew feel welcome. As a result, Andrew was highly uncomfortable.

“The food looks… interesting,” you commented, trying to drag the conversation away from Andrew, and he was grateful for it.

“The oysters are particularly good!” Frank recommended.

You said nothing, but Andrew frowned.

You… hadn’t you told him once that you weren’t such a fan of seafood?

Indeed, when you chose what to eat, you didn’t follow Frank’s advice at all.

Conversation drifted towards work, and your respective lives. Catching up or getting to know each other.

And Andrew understood Frank’s appeal tonight, as he watched him lead the conversation. He was louder than Andrew ever was, bright, clearly extraverted, longing for people’s attention. He was funny, charming. And handsome, that too, Andrew couldn’t deny that either. His complete opposite. Average height, muscles that threatened the fabric of his sleeves while he passionately talked about his work and moved his hands around, blond with electric blue eyes.

So… that was what Sam longed for? What had made you fall for him?

Andrew tried not to think this way. There was nothing he could do about his physical appearance, his ridiculous height, his gangly stature… there was no need to torture himself over that. He could show that he took care of Sam though. That he paid attention to her. That he loved her…

Because Frank didn’t seem to care all that much. Andrew saw it as you talked about your work, about how nervous you were as you got ready to give your students their first test of the year. And if Andrew was intently listening, Frank was clearly uninterested. He drew the conversation away from your job as soon as he could, offering encouraging words, and quickly moving on. You smiled, but you weren’t fooled. Andrew saw it in the way your gaze saddened, in the way the excitement that had been glimmering there died out instantly. His heart ached at the sight. And when Frank spoke again, Andrew didn’t care.

“Will you set a limit for the length required for the essay?”

Frank grew quiet, frowned. You turned to Andrew, clearly surprised by his question.

“Erm… I haven’t decided yet. I usually don’t.”

“Once a student gave me a twenty-pages long essay…”

“Twenty pages?!”

“Yeah… she was thorough, for sure.”

“Did you read the whole thing?”

“Of course. And now I set a limited word count.”

You chuckled, nodded.

“Maybe I should do that. What about your class about Yeats? Have you decided on a subject for an essay?”

“I’m still hesitating… I want to prepare one about Yeats’s involvement in the Irish Literary Revival… but I could choose one of his love poems about Maud Gonne too.”

You chuckled.

“Why do I feel like they’ll hear a lot about No Second Troy…”

“I love that poem.”

“Anyone who speaks of literature with you for more than ten minutes knows that,” you teased. “It’s a short poem to study, though.”

“Yeah… but that means they would really have to work on each line, instead of simply skipping whatever element they struggle with.”

“True.”

“I feel like it would be easier for them to work on the more political side of Yeats’s work during exam season. The material is easier, and we’ll go thoroughly through the most important aspects of these texts in class. So… I think I’ll ask them to work on love poems at home.”

“Sounds like a good idea.”

You exchanged a smile. When Andrew looked up at Frank and Sam, they had stopped listening and were both eating their meal in silence. Sam was looking at something on her phone, a habit she had developed in the past couple of years.

She hadn’t asked him about his job. She hadn’t asked him if he wrote, how he felt, if he was suffering because of her. Perhaps she didn’t want to hear his answers. Perhaps she didn’t really care. Andrew was starting to have doubts. The more the evening was progressing, the more he realised that she didn’t seem to care. Sam and Andrew had spent years together, but she wasn’t listening as he spoke of his work, of the things he loved most on Earth.

Did she even care at all about him anymore? She used to listen to him talk about music and poetry for hours, back when they were students…

Or did she? She had never liked his own writing, but he thought she listened when he spoke of what he loved, still. She didn’t seem willing to make an effort these days… but then again, they weren’t together anymore. So, why would she?

“I’ve listened to your record, by the way!”

Andrew blinked, looked at you again.

“What?”

“Duke Ellington and John Coltrane. I’ve listened to it.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Did you? Really?”

You nodded, an excited smile on your lips.

“Of course! I’m going to sound very basic, I think In a Sentimental Mood was my favourite… although I really loved My Little Brown Book too.”

His mouth broke into a bright grin.

“Grand! Like… that’s grand! I’m glad you liked it.”

Frank stared at you for a moment.

“Who are you talking about?” he asked, trying to slither in the conversation.

“Andy recommended me some music! I have a whole list at this point,” you teased, nudging him with your elbow and making him chuckle and blush.

“It’s Jazz,” Andrew explained. “Some of the greatest, honestly.”

Sam heaved a sigh, still focused on her screen.

“Oh… nice,” Frank nodded, although he didn’t sound convincing at all.

“I really liked it a lot,” you went on. “I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe it, like… on a technical point of view, you know? But I liked it. It was very… like… drawing me in, in a way. There was tension, and then once I was trapped in the song, there was so much emotion there… And it’s unusual for me to be so focused when listening to instrumental music. I have a busy brain, I get distracted easily.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I have a busy brain too… but that’s what Blues and Jazz do to me. They kind of… shush my brain. Make it go quiet.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“You like music, then, Andy?”

Andrew looked at Frank again, wanted to correct him and ask to be called Andrew… but he didn’t want to seem rude. He didn’t like it, though, how he used his nickname.

“Yeah, a lot.”

“Andy wanted to be a musician, back in the days,” Sam intervened, putting her phone down again.

“Really? What instrument do you play?”

“I sing, mostly… play guitar too.”

“But you didn’t make a career out of it? Not that it’s surprising, it’s a tough field to work in. Most people can’t make a living out of it. Like… there’s so much competition, so few who actually get to make it. It must be a tough life.”

“A few of his friends made it though, and he had the talent for it,” Sam went on. “But Andy is not one to compromise easily.”

Andrew stared at her with a raised eyebrow.

“What do you mean by that?”

She shrugged.

“You could have had a record deal, had you accepted to change a few things about your songs.”

Andrew huffed, he could barely believe his ears…

“There was never an opportunity for me to record my own songs, and you know that. I didn’t want to sing those… attempts at pop hits that felt soulless to me.”

“And you didn’t get a record deal.”

“I didn’t want that kind of deal. I wanted to record the songs I had written.”

She didn’t say a thing, but her thoughts were loud enough for Andrew to guess them.

And then you didn’t record any of those either.

“Why are you saying all that like you’re resenting me?” Andrew asked, and Sam shook her head.

“I don’t resent you, of course! It was your choice.”

“You do sound like it though…”

“I’m just pointing out that you’re not the kind of guy who compromises much.”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow and huffed again.

“You’re one to talk…” he mumbled.

Andrew spent his time compromising. Had he not compromised when he wanted to take a job in London and had settled for Dublin instead because she didn’t want to move there? When she refused to move in with him and asked for more time to find herself? When she chose most of their topics of conversations? When he barely talked about his work?

He let out a long exhale, took a bite of the overpriced fish he had ordered. He didn’t even like the food…

Sam spoke again, about some stupid tv reality she had been watching with Frank, and you listened even though you hadn’t seen it. Meanwhile, Andrew wanted to talk about music with you again. He wanted to ask you about Duke Ellington, he wanted to ask you what songs you liked, he wanted to listen to you ramble about how music made you feel. Your thoughts were always interesting, he could have talked with you for hours… and sometimes he did.

But he shook himself. He wanted Sam. He wanted to have Sam back, and nobody was perfect. There were some things in Sam that annoyed him or disappointed him or that he didn’t understand but at the end of the day she was Sam, and that was enough for him.

He was quieter throughout the rest of the evening, trying to do some damage control over the couple of tensed moments that had occurred during the night.

But then the conversation settled on the wedding itself, and things turned ill all over again…

“And we need to settle on a cake too! Christ, everything is complicated when you’re planning a wedding!” Sam laughed, while Andrew was tightly closing his fists under the table, until his nails drew crescent marks into his palms, while you looked away in a hurry.

“You know… I thought we could choose a strawberry cake,” Frank said. “It’s a classic, most people like those…”

“Sam is allergic to strawberries,” Andrew answered without thinking.

An uncomfortable silence settled across the table.

“Oh… you didn’t tell me that, babe,” Frank told Sam, who frowned.

Clearly, she had told him before, but she said nothing.

“Well, we’ll choose something else!” Frank shrugged.

“What about your career, then?” you asked your ex, staring intensely at him.

“My career?”

“You… you used to say that you wanted to wait to get married because you needed to focus on your career.”

Slowly, Frank nodded.

“Yeah… that’s true. I used to want that. But… it’s different with Sam.”

Andrew saw the pain that shot across your features. There was so much anger that ran through his veins then…

“Right,” you nodded.

“Like… my work seemed the most important, but now… not anymore. Or… not in the same way. So, why wait?”

“Why wait, indeed…” you slowly nodded while Frank and Sam exchanged a tender gaze, one that made Andrew nauseous.

He looked down at the piece of cheesecake he had barely touched, decided not to eat it. He couldn’t get anything more down…

The meal ended in a quiet mood, with conversations spent mostly between Sam and Frank, but the couple seemed satisfied with this situation. When they disappeared in a cab together, Andrew felt emptier than ever. A shell without a pulse or any other semblance of life…

“Andy?”

He turned around to look at you standing behind him in the street, right before the restaurant. Your frame was illuminated by both the white light coming from the restaurant’s sign and the orange hues of the streetlights.

He caught himself thinking that you were beautiful, had to push the thought away. But you were. You had dressed up tonight, undoubtedly to impress Frank, just like Andrew had tried to impress Sam with his careful choice of outfit. And Andrew was impressed, at any rate. You were gorgeous…

You offered him a humourless smile.

“Tonight was… a lot, right?”

He nodded, letting out a long exhale through his nose.

“You can say that…”

“I can’t say that it went… incredibly well.”

“No… it was… strange.”

“Let’s put it that way, yeah.”

“I’m not sure it helped us make any progress.”

“I’m not so sure either. On the contrary. But we tried, at least.”

Andrew nodded, looked at you as you heaved a sigh.

“You know what I want right now?”

He shook his head, tilting his head to the side as he waited for you to speak again, his hands now buried in his pockets.

“I really… really… want to get drunk. Like… hammered. Properly destroyed.”

Andrew exploded with laughter.

“You know what… sign me up! Getting very drunk sounds nice!”

“Let’s go to my place. I don’t want to be surrounded by people anymore,” you offered, and Andrew easily accepted.

As he followed you throughout the street, he reckoned that at least one thing in this evening could be pleasant, after all.

[letthesunburnyourskin]

Aaron Minyard, cars, & driving

(sorry it'll probably be a long rant/headcannon dump)

TW for car accidents-ish (nothing gory but still)

I know a common headcannon for Aaron (or at least I've seen it a lot) is that he doesn't know how to drive because of Tilda's accident. And while I do like it, let me tell you about my hc

Aaron learns how to drive because it's control (and freedom, but we'll get back to it). If he's the one driving he doesn't have to put his life in someone else's hands. Every bad decision is his and his only. If he wants to be reckless or dangerous it's his choice. He has control, which he never had before. Control about whether he gets where he needs to be safely or not. (Which is also the reason why Andrew likes to drive, I think.)

It's also freedom, like I already said above. If he feels unsafe somewhere, he can just leave. Never had that before. He only had his feet to carry him places, public transport if he was lucky. But those two options are limiting, not quick enough. And Aaron wants his escapes to be quick. If he has to flee, he doesn't want to be caught. So driving it is.

Aaron is a cautious driver. Too cautious even, which is not a good thing. Being reckless is dangerous, but being too cautious is as well and he doesn't realize that. Aaron checks every crossroads, slows down even when he doesn't need to, puts his blinkers way too early. Because even if he has control, driving still scares him. He knows how easy it is to get someone killed with a car. He has that power and it's truly terrifying.

The fact that he can't take some roads or doesn't like to change lanes doesn't help either. I'm not talking about being anxious, but full blown panic attacks. Aaron can't pass by where Tilda died. He just can't. He tried, really really tried, but it's impossible. He tells people he knows a quicker route, or just that he likes the landscape better on that other road, but he just can't.

Like Andrew, he uses part of Tilda's money on a car. Nothing fancy, but something he feels safe driving with (after countless of research on the best second hand car to get). He never gets in a car with Andrew, even though Nicky insists almost daily. He just won't do it. Because he can't let Andrew drive. He needs to be the one behind the wheel. And also because he knows what Andrew did to Tilda and he doesn't want to be next.

He wrecks his car a few months before graduating high school. He lost control when it rained and ended up crashing into a lamppost. He got out of it without a scratch, but unable to get behind the wheel again. It's nightmares and more panic attacks at the idea of driving or getting inside a car again.

Andrew, in a very Andrew way, let this go on for a month or two before taking matters into his hands. He gets Aaron in the GS (which is not easy, as you might have guessed) and just starts driving around. A few miles a day until, eventually, Aaron rides shotgun without panicking. It'll take him almost a year to be able to ride in the back.

It's torture when Neil's the one driving, at first. But quickly, he realizes he'd rather get in a car with Neil behind the wheel. Because he is such a good driver. He drives the speed limit, turns his blinkers on, doesn't take risks, and always has a seatbelt on. Aaron will never tell him any of that.

Letting people drive him around, getting into the backseat eventually turns into a proof of trust. Aaron who needed to feel in control so much he drove while terrified lets other people behind the wheel because he trusts them not to hurt him, to keep him safe (and to not catch him when he needs to get out).

Aaron won't start driving again until years later, when he's settled down with Katelyn and she has enough driving all the time. And maybe he'll call Andrew to help him choose a car.

[reg-arcturus-black]

Enough is Full of Romance

Part 2 - Drinks Over Coffee

Where 2 brilliant talented people fall in love and navigate a life filled with paprazzi, rumors and a private romance after being introduced by their common friend. They say wrong person, right timing is a real thing but Ben and Y/N know they have a deep connection and they will wait for however long it takes!

Warnings: None.

Angst-y, maybe? And fluff.

2.2 k words

Series Masterlist

gif not mine

Your sides hurt after laughing and gossipping too much. You couldn't remember the last time you were this happy and had laughed so much. Of course, a large part of it was Ben and you knew it. You had had a long day but you did not want the night to end.

"Wanna call it a night?" Andrew asked, stifling a yawn.

You glared daggers at him and patted him on the shoulder, a little too hard for his liking. For someone having played Spiderman, he was awful with his Spidey-senses.

"I mean... maybe after a few drinks?" He corrected, scared of your wrath.

"Maybe we should call it a night," Ben sighed. "I have an audition tomorrow."

You nodded, trying not to let your disappointment show. Maybe it was time to say good bye. You knew you were being dramatic but only because you knew you would never get to do something like this again. Hanging out with your favorite celebrity crush and best friend, talking and laughing till you cried into the late hours of the night.

You were heading towards the parking when you saw Ben taking another turn.

"I thought you and Ands came together?"

"We did but our hotels are in the opposite direction," he shrugged.

"Right! You had mentioned. Let me give you a lift, my hotel isn't far from yours." you offered with a kind smile. However, your heart was racing with the thoughts of being with Ben in a car. But you were elated with the idea of just spending more time with him.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course."

Hugging Andrew goodbye and ignoring his smirks, you got into your car followed by Ben.

"Did we make you wait too long, Carl?" You asked and the man in the driver seat laughed.

"No, ma'am. Went and got myself a little sushi after attending your concert. Traffic was terrible though."

You chortled. "Treat's on me next time."

He simply winked back in the rearview mirror.

What you didn't know was how taken aback Ben was when he realized that all your staff was invited to your show and you treated them just like friends. When he realized that he called you ma'am sarcastically. While this was not uncommon, this had genuinely touched his heart.

What moved him even more was that after spending hours with you, he could not see a difference in the personality you had on stage during shows and interviews and behind the stage where you just hung out with your friends. You were the same person and not just another celebrity putting on a facade.

"Hey, Y/N?" He asked, making you look at him.

"I am really glad that I got to see you perform today and spend time with you."

"Me, too."

It was a shame that the darkness in the car hid the shades of red that both of your cheeks were turning into or else you would have realized how mutual the blood rush was.

"Hey, Ben?" You asked in a low whisper.

"Hmm?"

You toyed with the hem of your dress, twisting and turning it between your fingers. You had wanted to ask him this since the beginning, you just didn't know how. You were nervous and he could clearly see it.

"I won't eat you up, Y/N," he laughed.

But you were still hesitating.

"I promise I am not a cannibal."

"You won't get offended?"

"I won't, I promise."

But he was now looking at you seriously, worry clouding a small part of his mind. "What is it, Y/N? Is everything okay? You can tell me."

You seem perplexed and he could not see you that way. Mustering whatever courage he had in him, he gently took your hand in his and looked into your eyes.

"What is going on, Y/N?"

"canihaveapicture" you mumbled to yourself, turning away from him.

"I am sorry, what's that?" He shifted closer to you, making you heart speed up even more.

"Can - can we click a picture?"

Ben broke into a big laugh, one that made you all tingly on the inside.

"It's - it's just that I am a fan...." you explained.

"It would be my honor, Y/N, to have a picture with you."

You relaxed after hearing his reply and settled back into your seat with a smile. It was then your gaze finally fell on your still intertwined hands, which reminded him, too, and he instantly pulled his hand back.

His hand longed for the warmth in the chilled air of the car but he had to restrain himself from touching you without any reason.

"Was it weird working with stuffed animals and talking to them, hoping they would talk back?" You asked suddenly.

"What?" He laughed.

"Yeah, for Narnia. How'd that feel?"

"Oh, you have no idea. We would have to take breaks between scenes because we would be laughing so hard."

You thought back to all the times you had heard him laugh and before you could think, you had blurted out words you never thought you would say out loud.

"You have a beautiful laugh."

"Oh... um, thank you," he blushed as you mentally cursed yourself for not thinking before you spoke.

You soon settled into a comfortable silence, though your heart skipped a beat every time you thought about how you were in the same car as Ben Barnes.

You were staring out the window when you felt him looking at you.

You turned around and saw him facing you with a questioning look on his face.

"Go ahead, Ben... I don't bite either."

"Does it help?"

You turned towards him, supporting the side of your head on the headrest of the seat, just like he had. "Does what help?"

"Songwriting..."

A small smile played on your lips. "It helps but it's not always easy to write songs because the emotions attached with those words are too difficult to process."

"You inspire a lot of people, you know?"

"As do you, Ben, and I am one of those people."

"I am glad to hear you say that."

Once you looked at him, you could not look away. It was as if he had unknowingly captured you. Your gaze slipped down to his lips for just a second and came back to his dark brown eyes. His beautiful eyes which had captured the whole world inside them.

He was unable to look away as well. His gaze was settled on the way your hair fell to your face. His lips curved into a smile as he shifted closer to you, afraid to do anything else. He could feel his heart thumping against his ribs as he slowly brought up his hand to your face and tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"You're even more beautiful up close, you know that?" He breathed.

Before you could reply, the car came to a halt at your hotel.

"We're here, Y/N," Carl said.

Sighing heavily, you grabbed your phone, taking as much time as possible before leaving the car.

"Carl will drop you till your hotel."

You were trying not to let your disappointment show. You had one of the greatest nights ever with him but it was coming to an end. What had started out a fan-crush had turned into something more.

"This is it then, I guess... Thank you for coming to the tour..."

"Actually, I was thinking coffee...." Ben said sheepishly, looking at you.

"Sorry?"

"Would - would you like to have coffee with me sometime? Whenever you are free? I would love to talk more over coffee."

The seconds in between his question and your answer felt like eternity to him. He knew this would happen the moment he had stepped into your green room. He knew that the way you blushed when he looked at you would have him falling for you in no time. His breathing would quicken when you came near him, his mind would stop forming coherent thoughts when you laughed, his voice would get stuck in his throat whenever you smiled. So when he asked you out, his heart was beating more rapidly than it ever had.

You took a second to take in the question. You wondered for a moment if he had truly asked you out for coffee or was it your mind just playing tricks on you.

"I - um, are you sure?"

He nodded.

"I would love to have coffee with you, Ben." You grinned, butterflies in your stomach at the prospect of going on a date with him. But that grin soon turned into a frown.

"What's wrong?" He asked worriedly, afraid that you would change you mind.

"I have rehearsals tomorrow and I don't know when I will be in LA..."

"Oh. I - I guess maybe not then." He sighed, his heart sinking completely.

"However..." you said, a mischievous glint on your face. "My hotel does have a cafe and right now is the only time I am free, so..."

"Wait, really?" He beamed.

You nodded excitedly, happy that you would get to spend more time with him. And not just spend time, but actually be on a date with him.

"Let's do it then!"

Carl pulled into the deserted drive way as you two made your way into the hotel.

"Hello, could you point us to the cafe, please," you said at the reception. "Room D708."

"I am sorry, ma'am, but the cafe is closed." The man in the suit replied.

"Oh."

"But the bar is still open if you would like to go for drinks," he said with a small smile.

You nodded and walked to Ben who was waiting a little distance away.

"The cafe is closed but the bar is open."

"I don't mind," he smiled. "Would you like to have a Drink with me? Over coffee?"

He held out his hand and you took it, walking in the direction of the arrow pointing towards the bar.

It was not a huge bar but it was empty, just what you two needed to talk properly. You ordered your drinks and settled down on the long stools, still holding hands. His thumb tracing patterns on the back of your hand in the darkness.

He asked you about life on tour and you asked him about his life playing roles he was so different from. You two had seemed to form an instant connection. With the slow music playing on the speakers, the night felt perfect. He wished that time could stop in this moment forever and you could talk for as long as you wanted.

You unlocked your phone and opening the camera, handed it to him.

"I did agree," he said, rolling his eyes out of feigned reluctance but pulled you closer the next second. He put an arm around your shoulders and clicked a picture. Then he clicked one more. Then some more where both of you were making silly faces and laughing and not once did he let go of you.

You stared at the photo where you were grinning from ear to ear, wrapped in his arms.

"And, um, how would I send these pictures to you?"

"Bluetooth?" He winked.

"Oh, alright. Sure." You said dejectedly.

"I am joking, Y/N". He chuckled and entered his number into your phone.

You sent him the pictures right away and he made sure to save your number in his phone as well.

"How is LA treating you?" You asked, resting you chin in your hand.

"It does get a little lonely sometimes," he admitted, taking a sip from his whiskey.

"Are you lonely right now?"

Something about the pain in his voice hurt you. Even the thought of him being in any kind of distress made you upset. All you wanted for this man in front of you to be the happiest in the world. And you knew that you would sacrifice everything in the world if that is what it took to make him feel that way.

"Not right now," he whispered, looking into your eyes.

"I am glad to know that."

"I am glad to be with you, Y/N."

His gaze fell on your lips and he leaned towards you. You met him halfway, running your thumb over his cheek.

He touched your forehead with his, breathing in your scent. But when he looked up at you, he could see your eyes glistening with tears.

You knew that you were going to kiss, just like your ex and you had. You remembered how he had kissed you, promised you the world and then left your heart in shambles.

"It's too soon, isn't it?" He asked, recalling everything the tabloids had printed, recalling the painful lyrics you had sung just that night and recalling how you were unable to control your tears from flowing while singing those songs. He placed a hand on top of yours which was touching his face.

You closed your eyes and nodded against him, letting a tear roll down your cheek. Your heart broke knowing that you were not ready for the most amazing man in the world. And so did his for he would suffer from a heart break that wasn't his and for one that he did not cause.

He took a deep breath and kissed your forehead.

"Take care, Y/N."

When you opened your eyes, he was gone.

[denimbex1986]

'“So you gonna go have another beer in this beautiful light? Let’s see what the light looks like.”

Andrew Scott moves over to the window. It’s early evening. Early summer. We’ve been talking for more than an hour at Sunset Studios, where Netflix has set up an Emmys FYC space. To be clear, Scott hasn’t been drinking. Maybe later. He’s going to be participating in a panel for “Ripley,” the streamer’s acclaimed adaptation of Patricia Highsmith’s crime novel “The Talented Mr. Ripley” in which he plays the striving, cunning psychopath of the title. Me? I’m availing myself of the bar that’s already open.

The Dublin-born actor has visited Los Angeles eight times already this year, and while he loves hiking the canyons and swimming in the Pacific, the thing about the city that he finds extraordinary is the quality of light this time of day, the last hour before the sun sets over the ocean or, in the direction we’re looking right now, the Hollywood Hills.

“When you go for a walk when the day is over in L.A., there’s nothing like it,” Scott says. “And I know people don’t walk a lot here and people definitely think I’m ...” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Like, almost mad. But I walk a lot here. I like a good walk. You need nature. You just need it.”

There’s one other thing Scott needs right now. Maybe needs is a bit strong. But as he made the rounds promoting his Emmy-nominated lead actor turn in “Ripley,” Scott took every opportunity to plead his case that he has been taken far too seriously for far too long as an actor (not that he’s complaining) and what he’d really like to do is — cue the fanfare — star in a musical.

“Yeah, I have been,” Scott says, chuckling when I note all the lobbying he’s been doing. “What can I say? When I was a kid, I loved watching musicals on TV and singing. I just think it’s joy. And I feel like I have good access to joy in my life.”

If you saw the video of Scott at one of Taylor Swift’s eight London shows in June, wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt and dancing with his “Fleabag” co-star Phoebe Waller-Bridge to “Shake It Off,” you know this to be true.

“I’m trying to put that energy out there,” Scott says. “You saw it. Why won’t anyone else see that?” He stops, laughing uproariously. “But I do love romantic comedy. I really think that a good one is absolutely joyful. And I love laughing and having a good time.”

Scott has shown glimpses of that throughout a career that has seen him play a villain gleefully embracing anarchic chaos (Moriarty on “Sherlock”), a boyishly seductive priest whose heart belongs to God (“Fleabag”) and a lonely writer beginning a passionate affair with a neighbor just as he’s reconnecting with his mom and dad — parents who died in a car crash when he was 11 (“All of Us Strangers”). He has also played Hamlet on the London stage and, last year, all eight characters in a one-man adaptation of Chekhov’s “Uncle Vanya.”

So if he wants to do a musical, who’s to doubt him? Scott just likes to, as he puts it, “change the dynamic,” constantly shuttling between moods and media, which probably means he won’t be playing Ripley again, even though the series’ finale sets up the possibility of further adventures in a most delicious way.

“The ending is beautiful,” Scott says. But in a “leave them wanting more” way? “Yeah, that’s the thing.”

“The reason Ripley is so enduring is that Patricia Highsmith allows you to imagine what it’s like to be Tom Ripley, a murderer, rather than inviting you to imagine what it’s like to be a victim of Tom Ripley,” Scott says. “When you put someone like that as the protagonist rather than the antagonist, that’s interesting because that side of us exists. I’m not saying we’re all murderers. But it’s human to have that darkness within us. And it’s not healthy to deny that side of ourselves.”

He grins, mischievously: “Or, to put it another way: It’s better to pretend to hit someone over the head with an oar than it is to actually do it.”

We talk about “All of Us Strangers,” how I sat next to writer-director Andrew Haigh at a Telluride Film Festival screening the night after I saw his film and asked, “Is anyone alive at the end of your movie?” Because you can make a case that the film’s near-empty apartment building serves as a stand-in for purgatory.

“That’s not how I saw it, but I’m always fascinated by the superiority of the audience’s interpretation of things,” Scott says. “I remember all the suggestions about what the fox motif in ‘Fleabag’ was supposed to represent. The Angel of Death? Wow! Really? But I love that a piece of creativity can give birth to so many other forms of creativity.”

Discussing “All of Us Strangers,” a movie that Haigh says is about the ways grief and loss encompass so much of our day-to-day existence, feels raw for both of us at this moment. Scott lost his mother, Nora, in March after a sudden illness; I have a dear friend about to enter hospice. He asks me about my late mother — Scott possesses a curiosity born from a need to understand things and make sense of them — and how I process grief today, nearly a quarter-century after her passing.

“It’s interesting that we don’t talk about death as a society because we think it’s morbid,” Scott says. “Maybe I’m just interested in it at the moment. I find myself asking about other people’s experiences. Perhaps I wasn’t as curious before because it wasn’t a need before. And I see that now, and I think talking about it increases your compassion.”

“Do you believe in coincidences?” I ask. “Many of your projects, particularly ‘All of Us Strangers,’ but also ‘Hamlet’ and ‘Vanya,’ had you playing characters dealing with grief.”

“It hasn’t escaped me,” Scott says. “When I was making those things, I was experimenting imaginatively with my own life. ‘What would it be like if I suffered great grief?’ ‘What would it be like to lose my parents?’ And now I have lost my mother. Does that make that experience any less authentic? No. In fact, it has helped me.

“One of the great comforts I have is that the last movie my mother saw was [the filmed version of] ‘Vanya’ because I know that she saw me and she knows the depth of my love for her because I channeled it in that role,” Scott continues. “Her last ever voice message to me was her reaction to that play, and it’s incredible to have that.”

Nora’s influence on her son’s life was enormous. She introduced Scott to acting as well as art; drawing and painting have remained passions throughout his life. “She left me a huge fortune, an emotional fortune,” he says. And now she has gone to what he, like Hamlet, calls the “undiscovered country from which no traveler returns.”

What do you imagine that country to be like?

“I’m trying to read a lot about it at the moment, and the idea of faith, the idea of holding onto something,” Scott says, telling me he’s making his way through C.S. Lewis’ “A Grief Observed,” a collection of essays on bereavement, doubt and faith he wrote after the death of his wife, Joy Davidman.

“You know, if you believe in something and it turns out not to be true, then, well, OK. But then if you believe in something and it turns out to be true, then, brilliant. Why not have faith in something? And it has emerged that I do have faith in something. I definitely believe in things that cannot be seen or felt. Do you know what I’m saying?”

Sure, I reply. There’s that verse in the New Testament. “Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Scott grew up Catholic. He recites the verse along with me.

“I think it’s so moving to have faith,” Scott says. “Like the idea of love. How do you define it? Like if somebody said, ‘Show me the proof of love.’ Because the person, what, bought you a car? Because you spent 40 years with them? Neither of those things are proof of love. Love is something that you just feel and sense and it’s a spiritual thing. An awful lot of us still have faith in love, even though that can’t be seen. I believe in love. I really do. I have no degree of shame or embarrassment or self-consciousness that I believe, to my core, in the power of love.”'

[brightlotusmoon]

From 2019 by Andrew Laskowski:

I Crossplayed as a female character at a Con today, and I gotta say, women are amazing. I've seen grown men belittle young girls dressing up as male characters at conventions in the past because they "couldn't understand" or were "misrepresenting the CORE" of that character. I’ve seen guys scoffing at women’s hard work and telling them they should dress as a female character instead. I’ve seen men treat female fans of their same fandom as if they weren’t good enough to dress up like the fictional character they idolized. It's pretty damn sad, honestly. And today, I saw only positivity from the women attending GalaxyCon.

I dressed as the character Ahri from the video game League of Legends; I did this to support my little sister-in-law's desire to dress up as a small group of characters from the game to attend the con. Not being from the area, she didn't know enough women willing to do this so I volunteered to be one of the characters so she could complete the full group.

So, my SIL, her friend, my wife, and I dressed as the group K/DA. I went all in. I shaved my legs and my chest, wore stockings and two bras to create the illusion I had cleavage, my wife and SIL dolled me up in makeup, and I let them attach a glowing fox tail to my ass that draws even more attention. Why? Because I believe when you care about someone, you put your all into the things you do to make them happy.

We get to the Con, and I get a lot of looks. I mean, I'm a grown man dressed as a popstar fox woman from a video game, but more importantly, I didn't shave my beard. And I knew that this wouldn't directly recreate the image of Ahri as the world at large knows her. Here are just a few of the things I heard from the women walking around the Con:

“You’re beautiful!”

“Oh, my God! Your costume looks amazing!”

“Can I please take my picture with you?!”

“You look so good in that!”

“BEST AHRI!” – yelled across the convention floor.

“I Fucking LOVE You!”

Horrible things. How is it they could say something like that to someone just trying to portray a character at a place where so many introverted and socially awkward people finally get the chance to be themselves and let loose? How could these women be so rude?

Oh, wait, they weren't. Every woman who commented on my Crossplay was incredible and as supportive as could be. Not one of them knew the WHY behind my Crossplay that it was to make my SIL feel more comfortable and help her have a good time. All they knew was I was a bearded dude who didn’t represent this popular character in the truest way possible. And they couldn’t have cared less. All they cared about was making me feel good about the costume I was wearing.

Long story short, guys get over yourselves and your misplaced belief that you have to represent a character exactly as portrayed or your doing it wrong, especially when it comes to women Cosplaying or Crossplaying. Because we all know that the majority of you dudes dressing up as superheroes are anything but superhuman. Be better people. Try walking in their shoes(or better yet, in their costumes) and let them enjoy their love of the geek world without your unnecessary, and probably unsolicited, judgment.

As a side note, a guy on the street decided to “holler at me” while I was walking to my car. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve got nice legs, and my ass looks damn good in some short-shorts, but he hadn’t seen my beard. He decided to say, “Damn girl, you hot,” from behind me The look on his face when I turned around and said, “Thanks, bro,” was priceless and caused his tune to change real quick, but it confirmed something our loved ones have been saying for years: unsolicited men approach women in public ALL THE TIME.

I had never actually witnessed something like this while dressed as a man but dressed as a woman for about five hours I couldn’t avoid harassment. When the women in your lives tell you they get harassed by men in public, you should believe them. When they tell you that just because you don’t see it doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen, you should believe them. When they tell you it often gets frightening, you should believe them.

You should believe women.

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