#it might be offensive to tater tots though

[sorcerersandskillusers]

Proposal that we call all Andrew Tate fans Tater Tots, cause their tiny, greasy and have no actual substance to them.

They also act like toddlers so it fits both ways

#andrew tate #tater tots #andrew taint #this might only be funny to me #but it fits so well #it might be offensive to tater tots though #fuck andrew tate

[themusicplayedherlife]

Some Sugar

Part 3:  you think you can open my heart?

pairing: sugar daddy!steve rogers x reader characters: reader, steve rogers, cassandra jones (oc), selena (oc), others word count: 3k+ warnings: angst, family issues, money problems, cursing, talks of sex summary: family can be pretty wild a/n: sorry this took so long, but shit happened--from car accidents to quarantine to a lack of motivation, and it was just really hard to write anything. I tried, but it was all shitty. Couldn’t even bring myself to finish this chapter, but I managed it, until I realized that part of this chapter wouldn’t fit in to this anymore and needed to be pushed back -insert grimacing emoji- so really this chapter could’ve been posted weeks ago lmfao IM SORRY

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Quiet hums reach your ear as you stare at your phone’s screen, the large sum of money with too many zeroes staring back at you. It hasn’t even been a week yet and you’ve already received your first allowance—first. 

You throw yourself back onto your twin sized bed and the spring mattress squeaks horribly under your weight; you ignore it as your mind drifts to your conversation with Steve a couple of nights ago, your phone still in your hands and resting on your stomach.

“Even if you have a month left, it’s best to pay off the debt now.” As much as you wanted to pay attention to his blabbering, you were a little busy trying to keep your mind from how fast he was driving.

He had started off slow, or as slow as the speed limit allowed, really, until he got wrapped up in your story about your mom’s cancer returning, your sister’s self sacrificing nature (“She takes after you then,” he said with a grin), and your aunt and her subtle threats that were no longer so subtle.

Left hand gripped the seat tightly while your right hand clutched the handle on the roof. Your feet occasionally slammed down on the floor, braking whenever you felt Steve was going too fast for your liking. Wasn’t Captain America all about doing the right thing and following the law? Being safe? Honestly! He was lucky the streets were empty and there weren’t any cops in sight. You could have laughed at the imaginary headline: Captain America and His Sugar Baby Pulled Over For Driving too Fast. “Right,” is all you managed to say. 

“I can probably wire you the money tomorrow and then some,” he said, completely oblivious to your dilemma. You didn’t—and still don’t—know whether that was a good or bad thing. “We should probably figure out how allowance is going to work first, though—hey, are you okay?”

You ripped your gaze from the blur of the world outside, eyes a little wide to find Steve alternating between looking at you and the road. “Can you—can you maybe ease up on the gas a little?”

He blinked, eyes falling to his dashboard and soon the world started blurring less and your body was no longer trying to fight against gravity. You exhaled and let go of the leather seat that you’re sure you’ve scratched up, and he chuckled. “Bad habit,” he admits. “More used to my motorcycle than a car.” Right. Captain America rode a motorcycle.

You leaned back into the seat and your head rolled against the headrest to look at him. “That’d explain it.”

He chuckled, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I’ll be more careful.”

“Yeah, that’d be great.” It’s sarcastic, and you almost feared he’d be mad but he only chuckled in response, blue eyes twinkling with mirth. Huh.

“So, allowance?”

Allowance. Right. That’s a thing. Allow-ance. Why is that such a weird word to you now? “I trust you.” (Selena had advised you a base price of 2,000 per meeting, but you thought—like most of her suggestions—it was ridiculous. “Give yourself some credit,” she had said when you scolded her.) “Whatever you think is right, I’ll accept.”

For a moment he mirrored your frown, until he nodded resolutely and smiled. “I’ll handle it.”

And handle it he did. Not that you’re surprised that Avengers make bank because c’mon they’re heroes! You just didn’t think they’d make that much bank to spare this much money! Tony Stark? Sure. He owned a damn company—or was on the board, you don’t know anymore. But the rest? Not so much.

A familiar ring from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts and you don’t even bother checking who it is, you just accept the call. 

“Mornin’,” Steve’s voice greets you, a smile very much apparent in his voice and your heart does a flip. “I’m downstairs.”

You sit up hastily and in your hurry you almost fall off, eyes darting to the closed bathroom where Esmeralda is showering. “What?” Didn’t he say you were meeting at noon for lunch?

“My meeting got pushed back to this evening, and since you asked for the day off from the restaurant, I thought we’d make the most of the morning.”

“I’ll be down in a moment.” You pause when the doorbell rings. “Please tell me you’re not at my door right now.”

“No, but that might be Peter Parker.” How does he know—Shit. Right. He mentioned knowing the kid from his internship after you told him about your sister. “Just saw him enter the building with his friends.”

“Did he see you?” You really hope not.

“I don’t think so. If he had, the kid would’ve said something.”

You let out a relieved sigh and open the door just as you hear Ned say: “I swear that was Captain America downstairs!”

“What?” He said they didn’t see him!

“Morning,” Peter greets you as MJ rolls her eyes at Ned’s comment.

“I didn’t see anyone,” she says pointedly at him, before greeting you and smiling when you let them in.

You dumbly stare after them.

“It was him!” Ned insists, making a beeline towards the window facing the street and dragging Peter along with him.

MJ turns to you as she moves around the half wall separating the kitchen from the living room, not surprising. “Mind if I grab something to eat?” 

“Sure?” You still don’t know why she bothers asking.

“The windows are tinted, Ned,” Peter hisses. “I can’t see.”

“You got Greek yogurt? Oh. You do. Cool.”

Ned frowns and scratches his head, murmuring, “I swear it was him.”

You sigh, and drop your hand holding your phone without ending the call. “Can you tell Esme I got called into work?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, turning away from the window. “Sure!”

“And tell her to shoot me a text before you guys leave for school.” Peter nods, not really paying attention to you as he joins Michelle in the kitchen, already knowing the drill. “No dirty dishes in the sink.”

The last thing you see is MJ flashing you a thumbs up before you close the door behind you.

As you make your way towards the stairs, you lift your phone back to your ear. “Didn’t see you, huh?”

“I may have poked my head out of the window to say hi to the kid, until I heard them mention you and your sister.”

“Yeah. He usually picks her up, doesn’t like Esmeralda going to and from school alone,” you explain as you search around the street. With a sigh you immediately spot him. “Can’t you drive a least expensive car? You stick out like a sore thumb.”

He chuckles and you hear movement before seeing the driver door about to open. “I could always drive my motor—“

“No, no, no!” You rush towards him. “Do not get out of the car.”

“But—“

“Ned was looking out the window when I left,” you say, your eyes moving to the windows of your apartment, but thankfully don’t see him. “He still might be.”

He sighs, but obliges, the door closing.

“Thank you,” you tell him as you hang up the phone and open the door.

“They're bound to find out,” he says, raising an eyebrow in your direction as you buckle yourself in.

You know, and you tell him as much, “I don’t know how to exactly explain this—“you motion to him and you—“yet.”

He frowns, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he pulls away from the curb. “We’ll figure it out.”

He takes you to a small restaurant in Brooklyn. Light blue walls and leather seats with white and golden lights—it’s retro, super retro, but cozy. Steve keeps his sunglasses on and the bill of his hat low. It’s ridiculous if he thinks this is really a disguise that works.

The curious host leads you to a table in the back, away from prying eyes—hopefully—after you ask for a booth. He settles into the leather facing the door and you opposite of him, large painting being the only thing you have sight of other than Steve, and yourself if you turn to your left and stare at the mirror covering a third of the wall.

She hands you both menus and leaves after you take a quick scan of the drink menu.

“How effective do you think the sunglasses and hat are?”

“It’s covert,” he defends, playful offense in his voice.

You lean on your crossed arms resting on the table. “You’re literally wearing sunglasses indoors, Steve. That’s weird. And bound to attract attention.”

“Tony does it all the time.” Is he whining?

You snort, staring into the dark lenses, imagining where his eyes are. “Yeah, because he’s the Tony Stark.” He scoffs and you shrug. “He can do things like that and get away with it. Not like he’s actively trying to hide himself either.”

“Okay, I get it. It’s a little ridiculous.”

You grin, amused at the small pout forming on his pink lips. Who knew Captain America was a sulker. It’s cute.

Your assigned waitress comes by and takes your order after placing down your drinks that the hostess marked down for you both. You choose something light—a pesto caprese sandwich—compared to the hearty breakfast Steve orders for himself—a loaded omelet, heavy on the cheese. You smile up at the waitress, but you find that her eyes, although listening to you, are trained on Steve. He seems to notice, too, because he smiles politely before gesturing to you with a small incline of his head.

“How about we share a side of tater tots, sweetheart?”

You blink lazily at the nickname just as the waitress drops her gaze to you as if finally remembering that your voice belongs to an actual body. There’s a tingle that curves down your spine and you know he’s staring at you behind his dark glasses. His shoe nudges yours and his lips curl into a lopsided smirk. 

You recline your cheek against your perched arm and tilt your head further into your palm with a smile. “Anything you want, baby,” you coo and Steve lifts a playful brow in question, your smile only growing wider when he nudges your shoe again.

The waitress squirms and mutters something before scurrying away.

“Baby?”

Sweetheart? you want to shoot back, but instead you remain neutral, reaching for your drink with your free hand. “Better than calling you daddy.”

He straightens, visible skin turning red and you stifle a laugh as he shuffles in his seat. “I—“ You don’t break eye contact, if his eyes are following yours, as you wrap your lips around the paper straw and suck the sweet orange juice to coat your tongue. “You can call me anything you want, sweetheart.”

Interesting. “Even Stevie?”

“Anything,” he reiterates, leaning back into the seat to rest his arm over the backrest and you smile. “As long as I get the same privilege.” 

“It’s a deal, sugarplum.”

He snorts a laugh and you just shrug, trying to hide your smile with pursed lips. 

“Tell me more about your family.”

The question cools you down, smile effectively shrinking into tight lips. 

“Like?” you ask, suddenly finding the painting hanging behind his head much more interesting. It’s a simple painting of the beach, golden, warm colors contrasting with the beautiful cool shades of blue and white used for the ocean. 

“You told me about your mom and sister, even Peter and his aunt, but you didn’t mention your dad—unless,” his voice turns soft, posture relaxing as if to put you at ease, “unless you don’t want to talk about him. I’m sorry—I shouldn’t be—“

“It’s okay,” you interject softly, lifting your head from your palm. “I just don’t know where to start.” He nods and removes his glasses with one hand as he reaches for one of your hands. “Um, my dad… he died in a car accident when I was 13.” You watch his fingers as they intertwine with yours, just like they did at the bar. Steve doesn’t seem like it, but he craves physical affection. Always seemingly touching you by holding your hand. Not that you mind it, it definitely comforted you, but you can’t help but wonder: why. “He was a good man. Smart. Loved us all very much. Loved technology,” you emphasized followed by a small laugh. 

He’d spend hours tinkering with home appliances to try and upgrade them. You loved those moments the most, when you’d sit by him and he’d ask for a tool and you’d hand it to him. He’d tell you what he was doing, explain every step and process and what that change would do. He nurtured your mind, treated it as his equal.

He squeezes gently and you let his warmth cover you. “I’m sorry.”

You shrug. “It’s okay. I’ve gotten over it.” He doesn’t mention the twitch of your fingers or the way your voice falters, he instead lets you change the subject. “I also have a brother that is 3 years older.”

Unlike your sister, you, and your dad, JC has always been more artistic, preferring to follow in your mother’s footsteps in learning how to play instruments and singing. He never understood your fascination with tinkering and creating, shunning your father’s activities when he tried to get all of you to help upgrade the television or stereo or whatever project he brought home from the lab.

He frowns at that, a little confused. You don’t blame him. You didn’t exactly mention him when you talked about Esme and your mom. “Did he move away?”

“Yep,” you pop the p, absentmindedly twirling the straw in your drink. “Moved out as soon as he turned 18. Would see him twice a year at best, but we used to hear from him often. Then after I turned 18 we never heard from him again.” And he made sure you wouldn’t be able to find him, too. Changed his number, deleted all of his social media, cut ties with his friends, and vanished. Not that you were surprised, he hated the struggle you and your family went through after dad died. You had always known he’d leave at some point. 

But you stupidly held onto the hope he wouldn’t leave when you needed him most.

“Oh.” He frowns, trying to think of what to say, maybe even offer to help look for him. But what would that do? That’d just bring him back to the life he wanted to get away from. 

You flex your fingers in his hold, just to readjust your grip on him and hum lowly. “It is what it is.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Sometimes,” you admit, but it somehow feels wrong when you think about the last time you spent with your brother. The hurt he caused when you woke up and he was no longer there in the morning, only a single cupcake with a candle waiting for you on the kitchen counter. “Other times I—I don’t.” His thumb caresses the edge of your palm, barely grazing your wrist and you can’t help but let the negative feelings fade with his gentle touch. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asks, soft with blue eyes staring into you. He knows you’re changing the subject, but he lets you. You don’t want to talk about JC anymore or even think about him, and it’s for the best.

“What’s your family like?” He looks at you as if you've grown another head and you flush slightly. “I meant your friends, Steve. You’re all like family, right?”

“Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up and he tenses for a moment before relaxing, smile worming its way onto his lip. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, we are. They’re great. A little out there, but they’re good people.”

He tells you all about them; from Tony and Bucky and how the were able to set aside their differences when the world needed it most and how they bonded over their love of science; Natasha and Wanda and their bond as sisters, including the fact that they could most likely rule the world if they tried; Vision and Clint and their strange friendship that was born from trying different food; Sam and Sharon and their newfound relationship that everyone likes teasing; to Thor and Bruce and their bromance born from fighting in a planet a la gladiator style—all of them, telling you things you wouldn’t hear from television or read from articles with interviews. And from the way his eyes light up and his voice lightens, there's no doubt in your mind that he loves his family just as much as you love yours.

Your aunt stares at you with barely disguised distaste before unpleasant eyes move to Steve, who stands close to you still wearing his hat and sunglasses. No matter how many times you told him to stay in the car, he wouldn’t listen. “If she’s willing to send someone to threaten you, who knows what she’s capable of,” he had said, grabbing onto your hand before letting you go to get out of the car.

The check is flat on her desk, but she doesn’t move to pick it up. “How did you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

She tutts, eyes boiling with restrained anger. “I don’t want stolen money.”

That’s rich coming from her. “It’s not.”

“I suggest you take it ma’am,” Steve speaks up, breaking his silence. “And consider the debt paid.”

She tilts her head, eyes taking over Steve properly, like a huntress on the prowl. “And who exactly are you?”

“That’s none of your business,” you answer for him, moving to stand in front of him and effectively cutting her gawking. “Just sign what you need to sign and we’ll be on our way.” And we won’t have to see each other again.

She stares unblinkingly at you before wearing a strained smile. She pulls out a file from behind her and flips it open to the correct page, signing it and stamping it along with the last page before ripping it out—a receipt—and handing it to you. 

You take it from her hands and scan your eyes over it—PAID. A giddiness bubbles in your stomach, but you hide it from her. “I would say it was a pleasure Magdalena, but it never is.” You turn on your heels and Steve is right behind you. “One more thing,” you pause at the door, Steve close enough to press his chest against your back. “Stay away from my family,” you warn before strutting out the door, smile curving your lips when you meet the disgruntled gaze of the man that had threatened you at your work.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement as he makes his way into your aunt’s office.

“Say hi to Johnny for me,” she suddenly calls out just as he closes the door behind you, but it’s enough to throw you off guard. For your throat to close up and for you to stop in your tracks and for your hand to reach out for the hem of Steve’s jacket, barely caching the smirk she sends your way.

“Sweetheart?” Steve’s voice floats to your ears, warm and soft. “What’s the matter? Who’s Johnny?”

“My brother,” you say through a breath. He couldn't have come—wouldn’t have come back. There’s no way. JC made it perfectly clear he never would. You shake your head. “She must’ve been lying. Trying to get a rise out of me.”

“It worked,” he points out obviously and you sigh as he gently pries your hand from his jacket.

You don’t want to admit it, but… “It did.”

“Come on.” He slips his fingers between yours and tugs you out of the desolate building and back out into the streets of Queens. “Let’s get out of here.”

There’s a bubbling in the pit of your stomach, heart hammering as you glance over your shoulder back at your aunt, the small relief you had felt at getting her off your back tainted by the thought of JC being back, not even Steve’s warmth can ease your worry.

But there’s no way—he wouldn't. There’s nothing left in Queens for him anymore, and there never will be.

next

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #reader insert #steve rogers #steve rogers fiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfic #some suger #queue: out saving the world

[wwwafflewrites]

Of Daydreams and Realities

Chapter 2: Black Mark

The dreams persisted, and you hadn't had a decent amount of sleep in months. You would wake to find yourself in a cold sweat and a cocoon of blankets. The dreams became more aggressive. At the end of the day, you found yourself drained, but unwilling to fall asleep just to wake up again to another nightmare. Most of all, you'd been having trouble differentiating between reality and your dreams.

While your anxiety usually was tolerable, the past several days had been nothing but misery. Anxiety levels had been dialed up to full blast, making you fidgety and over-emotional. You were constantly on edge. You ran away at the thought of anything remotely threatening. Coward.

The dreams revolved around one thing, the glabella. Over and over, the word glabella had burrowed its name into your dreams. You didn't understand.

So hopefully doctors would.

Your feet tapped as you waited in the infuriatingly comfortable chair in the waiting area. You needed to know the results. You couldn't breathe—

When the doctor did come back, he was happy to reveal you did not have a tumor, and if any further issues came up, to contact him. The only downside was the bill for wasting their time. However, it was a small—well, metaphorically small—price to pay to lift the weight off your shoulders. 

You were so silly. Thinking that dreams could tell you the future. Stupid.

You made your way out of the building, and suddenly you could breathe again, and—

A hand snagged your collar. And… a gun. A gun was pressed up against your forehead. No— glabella. The barrel of gun was pressed against your glabella.

Glabella.

"Where's your wallet?!" He demands.

And you're too shocked to speak.

You didn't hear the bang.

///

You jolted into a tree.

You could feel your heartbeat in your teeth and your heart gallop. And… for crying out loud, you fell asleep against a tree. You don't remember coming to the park, but you're sure it would come back to you. You were so sick of dreaming.

You lazily watched the city buzz by, yet something caught your eyes just across the street. You squinted. Standing, you marched your way over, minding streetlights and careless drivers.

It couldn't be.

A life-size TARDIS stood tall in the middle of the city. People looked at you strangely as you watched the blue box. Oddly enough, it's low hum seemed to draw your anxiety away like a drain to an overflowing bathtub. Feeling slightly hollow, you pulled at the door, but it remained firmly shut. Raising your hand ever so slowly, you snapped your fingers.

The door yawned.

You stepped inside, eyes like saucers. Bigger on the inside. There was no way. You had… you had just… it was bigger on the inside.

Your anxiety returned as you watched a pseudo David Tennant flip another lever and the TARDIS lurch under your feet. Did that mean you'd left Earth? Crap crap crap… he's turning, he's turning, he's going to see you…

Being the coward that you were, you moved with his backside. It would be comical if your heart wasn't drumming against your chest like an over-ecstatic percussionist on drugs.

He mumbled something and then said, "Why are you doing this to me, girl? Come on. This is not Barcelona. This is Earth." 

The walls of the TARDIS hummed.

Startled, you backed into the wall, and your hand touched a door handle, which had not been there a minute ago. The TARDIS was encouraging you to hide from The Doctor.

...why?

You were terribly afraid it will creak, but the handle was smooth when you turned it and so were the hinges of the door. No pull or thud. Now, if you could just—

The door shut into the jamb with a not-very-quiet 'clrk'.

You heard a muffled "hey!" and it was enough to send you tearing down the hallway. And boy, you ran. You ran down the corridor like the floor was crumbling at your heels. Another door, keep going. Keep it random, keep it—

Dead end.

You look for things to barricade the door. Anything to avoid confrontation. You hate yelling and you really really hate explaining. You're terrible at words and communicating. Hate hate hate hate it all.

The door is thrown open by The Doctor, who stares at you like you stole his car. Or, maybe you did. The TARDIS wasn't a car, though… and you didn't really steal her.

You realize you were clutching a broom to your chest. Why there was a broom in the TARDIS... you weren't quite sure. Wasn't she self-cleaning? Or... was the broom about her allowing you to feel more secure?

As this thought dawned upon you, it seemed to also dawn upon The Doctor.

Some part of you wished you could be mysterious or daring, but you were about as daring as a tater tot. So, breathily, you squeaked out, "Hi."

'Hi'. You just said 'hi' to The Doctor. Your first word was 'hi'. You saw an alien from planet Gallifrey who regularly travels through time and space, and you said 'hi'.

You looked at each other for a very long time, with heavy breathing to fill the silence, before he squinted at your forehead.

You raised the broom. "Do not touch me."

He watched you quizzically. "Wasn't going to. The scar on your face is rather worrisome, though. Might want to get that checked out."

You swiveled to face the mirror that the TARDIS had provided, and you stared.

You just stared at the mark the bullet had left.

You backed away from the mirror and, consequently, your back met The Doctor's chest. His two hearts murmured behind his shirt.

Flustered, you stumbled away.

"Might I ask how you obtained such a mark?"

"A bullet," you replied.

His eyebrows flew to his hairline. "And… how are you alive?"

You didn't know. "I thought it was just a dream." The scar was an ugly red. Barely healed.

He snatched your sleeve, tugging you through the winding hallways. He opened the last door—that betrayer—and herded you over to a chair that, also, was not present before. He sat you down, fumbled with his pocket, and finally brought out his iconic sonic screwdriver. Looking to you again, he scanned the mark. "Repaired less than fifteen minutes ago. Wow, it's… actually fading. You will have a scar, unfortunately. The tissue is swimming with... grace, it says. Grace?"

"Hm," was all you said. Did that mean… angels..?

He moved to touch it, but then hesitated, silently asking for permission. You nodded to confirm. He prodded it, frowning. "I don't like it."

Alarmed, you shot him a look.

I don't like it.

"Not the scar," he said simply. Yet, he looked at the mark as if it was his archenemy. "Well, yes, the scar, but the ambiguity here is what is worrying me. No offense, but why would someone heal you? What was their motive? That question is rhetorical, of course. I'm sure you don't really know." He angrily stared down your forehead, and you squirmed.

"I can leave," you said, uncomfortable.

"What? No." He fervently shook his head, rambling, "You just got here! Besides, that would be rather unwise. You do know you're in an alternate universe, yes? That could drastically impact time, if it hasn't already. Probably has, considering you ran into me of all people. Well, I suppose I'm not people, but—"

"A what now?" You knew what was, but you still couldn't believe—

"An alternative dimension—"

You tuned him out, walking timidly to the door of the TARDIS.

"—what, what are you—"

You opened the doors.

A galaxy swam before your eyes, an array of brilliant stars and colors. The Doctor barely caught your shirt collar before you went sailing out of the TARDIS from the shock of it.

"Culture shock?" He suggested.

"More like 'wow, I'm dead' shock."

His eyebrows curl together. "You seem very alive to me. And I can bring you back to your dimension, you know."

"But I'm…" You struggled to find the right words. "But I'm dead. The real me, in my universe, is dead. I was shot in the face."

"I suppose." His eyes flashed elsewhere, as if he was searching the TARDIS walls for answers. His mouth was set in a grim line. He looked to you again, offering a smile. "I do need a companion…"

“Oh, right. Rose…" you murmured in understanding. He must have just lost her.

"How," he said, deadly calm, "do you know that name." You could hear the underlying passion: his fear, his grief, and most of all, his anger.

"Oh…" is all you can say. "She's your friend? Er… lover? You love her. Oh, sh… you probably just lost her and I'm just making this worse… sorry, that is…  this is… I don't know how to…" Your mouth was pressed thin, and with comically wide eyes, you analyzed his reaction.

He thought for a moment, before carefully saying—as if the words had to be exactly right, "Are you… from my future, then?"

"Uh… yeah. Next regeneration, your future, and all that…" You laugh forcefully. "Yeah, I mean, you talk about Rose all the time. Constantly—" You stop talking when you realize he's turned away.

"Constantly?" His voice is so small.

"Uh. Okay, not constantly, but—"

"You said constantly. Typically the first word said is the truth. You're changing it to pacify me."

"Pacify? No, no, no—"

"Unless, of course, you've been lying the entire time."

"What? I'm not—"

He whips around. "You are." He glared, and then you realized he was baiting you to backtrack on a lie. "You're lying. Now tell me, who are you?"

At those words, you were frozen. 

Who are you?

At those words, your heart picked up. The dream, which is all it had been, had burned it's terror into the forefront of your mind. Not this again, anything but this again—

Who are you?!

With a pained gasp, you dove for the door. Anything but this.

The Doctor snatched your arms up in a vice-like grip. "Who are—"

"I know the question!" You screeched, straining your trapped arms against his hands. You were riding on the paper-thin edge of your sanity. The way your lungs whistled and your hands shook, you just knew you were mere moments from having a panic attack. Harsh breaths turned into ragged ones. With wild eyes and your heart in your throat, you shivered beneath The Doctor with your arms still in his grip.

You briefly considered trying to escape, but it would be like trying to break free of iron cuffs—you weren't going anywhere. He hauled you to your feet and sat you down on the chair, he let go of your arms, which fell to your lap like wet noodles. He tapped your face as you began to pass out. He was also saying something, but you couldn't hear him over your breathing.

Your vision was steadily growing darker, with static-like dots weaving in and out. A broken television screen—was that all that you were now?

#dean winchester #dean x reader #sam winchester #sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes #sherlock #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor #doctor who #tardis #chevy impala #x reader #reader #reader insert #supernatural #superwholock

[blankdblank]

Roommates Pt 3

 Tags –

@himoverflowers

@theincaprincess

 ...

Summary of Part 2: Barrage of Deliveries while Richard is away for work, you get called in for extra shows, finally reunited with your Snuggle Buddy again.

…

Richard’ hands slid across your back gently curling you back into your former tightly wrapped cocoon, “You didn’t get much sleep when I was gone did you?”

You sighed against his chest, “Not all together, kept getting woken up, more like a few naps a day, you?”

His fingers running through a group of curls at the end of your hair gently, “Same, couldn’t really sleep on the plane ride home or the one to LA but I slept the way back to New York, which just sort of kicks you when you’re down for getting any sleep at all after bits and pieces, but I can’t imagine having to perform on stage after getting barely any sleep.”

“Oh you should have seen me when the kids were born, my brother called me the Dancing Zombie, fell asleep against the door to my dressing room after the final curtain call more than once, ended up having to have one of the younger dancers shadow me so they knew I got changed and back in my Brother’s car after the show.”

His arms tightened around your back again as he let out a long gust of hot air through his nose before kissing your forehead again, “I should let you get more sleep then.”

Your arms curled tighter around his sides, “No, I’m fine, just the relaxing helps, if I sleep anymore I’ll be in a mood when the show starts. I should warn you my sleep is a teeter-totter of chaos, too little I’m miserable, but if get too much everyone else pays, kind of ridiculous.” He starts chuckling, “But that’s just how I ended up being, I can usually force through it though for work or when I’m supposed to be ‘presentable’, but mostly I just mope around, unless there’s food involved then I’m good, usually food evens it all out. My Brother used to say he could tell how much sleep I got and what my mood was by what I ate.”

“I’m mostly the same, I’ve been told I’m a giant 6 year old by my Family countless times, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out the food part together, I am glad you’re not the kind of woman who shies away from second helpings.”

You let out a giggle, “You have yet to see me with tater tots, I fill a punch bowl then dump chili and cheese on it and just throw back as much of it as I can when I’m exhausted. I really don’t get why people assume dancers don’t eat, I really can’t stop, usually I eat at least 7 times a day, might just be snacks here and there but I need to eat or I just turn into a terrible person.”

He let out a quick chuckle, “I wouldn’t mind 7 meals a day, we can keep each other in line, I’ll try to cook as much as I can for you then.”

“You don’t have to, if anything I suppose we could take turns, I do like cooking, just sometimes.”

“You can’t get out of bed?” Chuckling again.

“Exactly. I’m not crushing you am I?”

His arms curled around your back tighter again as he slid his legs around yours, “Not at all, comfy?”

“You have no idea how comfortable you are as a pillow.”

He chuckled again, “Neither do you. Have you ever been to Paris?”

You drew in a breath and let it out trying to guess where he was going with this question, “Few times, went on a tour with the London Ballet Company.”

His head tilted down to look at you, catching the soft glimmer of a car’ headlights reflecting in your eyes as the light filled the room then exited just as fast as it past your building, “You worked with the London Ballet Company?”

“Mhmm, 2 years before I moved out here, they needed a new lead and I’d just turned 18, I’m here most of the year then I spend 3 months in London for their Christmas season shows. Why Paris?”

“I have an event there…so you’re saying you’ve spent months in England for years?”

“Well I’ve spent years there actually, I was born there, got shipped back and forth between parents, Dad worked out here, Mom was from England, also a Ballet Dancer in the London Company, gradated early, got accepted into the best dance programs after, got hired at 16, I’ve been out here for, 6, years nearly.”

“So you’re out here on a visa?”

“Dual citizenship, me and the Family, though Jo got a promotion and is moving out there permanently soon, within a month or so, how much was the movers you used?”

“Not bad.” His smile grew, “So how is it I never saw you?”

You giggled, “Oh, well I saw you, we shopped at the same store, the one on the corner with that blue, what is it, I wanna say Dinosaur statue thing in the window.”

“Why didn’t you say anything, or at least throw a loaf of bread at me or something?”

You giggled, “Because you mostly weren’t alone, when that blonde wasn’t on your arm you were always getting approached, then there was that one time I saw you in those sweats with that yellow hat with that shirt with, um, who was it, not Aerosmith..”

He chuckled again, “Oh, The Def Leppard shirt, that was a gift from my Brother.”

You giggled again, “You looked furious, cold have sworn I heard you growl when you couldn’t find that bread you wanted.”

“Really, you know I thought the same, could have sworn I didn’t but when I got to the register it was in my basket.”

He glanced down at you as you giggled again, “It’s cuz I snuck up on you and put it there when you went to grab your peanut butter. Thought you had a hard enough day, and I really had a few slices left of my cinnamon raison left at home, so I could come back later.”

His eyes squinted down at you for a moment through the darkness, “That wasn’t the only time that happened.”

“Sort of turned into a bit of a game, wanted to see how many times I could manage it. 27 was the longest.”

He chuckled again rubbing his face, “And how long ago was this?”

“Hmm, I wanna say 3 years ago, right when I was leaving you started showing up with that brunette.”

“Green eyes?”

“Mhmm, with those amazing grey boots, I really wanted to ask her where she got those.”

He chuckled again, “That’s my Sister-In-Law, those boots where a gift, grabbed them for my Brother on a trip in Italy, Versace I think, supposedly for an anniversary gift but she found them early and wore them till they fell apart.”

“Hmm, I’ll have to check their website then to see how much to save up.”

He chuckled again, “I can get them for you if you like.”

“Oh now don’t go spoiling me, it gets very costly especially when shoes are involved, it’s best I get them myself or I get too greedy.”

“We’ll see. Still can’t get over the fact that we could have known each other for years now.” Smiling down at you, “So, Paris, did you want to go? It’s in a few weeks.”

“If you want me to.”

“It’s just for a movie premier, but it’s up to you, normally I just stay there for the night before and the night of then fly back but if you wanted we could turn it into a small holiday, see the city if you wanted, I could buy you some shoes.”

The slightly pleading tone in his voice triggered another set of giggles from you, “I suppose, though I am paying for my own shoes.”

He chuckled, “Not likely, I can be very convincing, and sneaky when I have to be. So how dressed up do I have to be for tonight?”

“Not very, blazer and some clean pants is what I normally see, though they really don’t care unless it’s something offensive or distracting for the dancers.”

“So exactly did you pack in all those boxes?”

Chuckling again, “Nearly everything I had, left the furniture though and the dishes, didn’t know what I’d need or want. I can sift through it if it’s..”

“Don’t worry about it, I just get a bit nosy when it comes to boxes.”

“You can help me unpack later if you’d like, so you can check it all.” Sliding his fingers through your hair to brush it out of your face, smiling as you leaned your head against his fingers with a content hum, drawing his hand back when he reached the ends of that section of hair to slide his fingers back through your hair again while you laid your head back down on his chest with a smile of your own.

“So when do you start your filming?”

“Final table read is tomorrow, we start the filming the next day.”

“If I’m distracting you from work..”

“You’re not, I’ve got it already up in my head, if I don’t relax before then, then I’m useless, you’re helping plenty.”

The sun started rising, your eyes opened to see the light starting to trickle into the room letting out another hum, “Guess we should be getting up soon, sun’s rising.”

“If you want, it’s up to you, I’m good here for as long as you like.”

You drew in a breath raising your arm resting your left hand on his chest, exhaling slowly as your fingers made gentle swirls in the patch of black hair across his pecs, “Are they gonna make you shave for this role?”

His smile grew, “Not that I’m aware of, haven’t gotten that far into the discussion yet, though I might have to shave my beard.”

Without thinking your fingers slid from his chest and brushed through his beard along his jaw, earning a rumbling chuckle as he raised his chin allowing you to continue, “What is it with these people and wanting you hairless.”

He chuckled again as your hand slowly slid back down his chest after combing along the other side of his jaw, “Not sure, though it does grow back extremely fast, so after if you want it back I’ll grow it back, I do enjoy having a beard.”

“It’s your face, and your hair, so it’s up to you.”

“Still.” His other hand now gently stroking your back, “If you like it I’ll grow it back.”

Staying in your warm cocoon for a bit longer before finally you grumbled as your stomach tightened again, “My turn to cook, want anything?”

His arms loosened as you slid off of his chest slowly, sitting at the edge of his side of the bed before standing, “Whatever you’re having will be fine.” Watching as you turned brushing your sweater back down, barely covering the tops of your yellow lace panties and heading for the door as his smile grew, taking a few deep breaths to try and relax himself before he got up and followed you, pulling on his sweater from the night before and joined you in the kitchen. 

Eyeing the large stacks of boxes again as he passed through them finding you pulling out the cinnamon raisin bread and cream cheese to spread across it with a package of fresh strawberries, Richard smirked grabbing the fruit and started slicing the green tops off of them filling a bowl before adding a few oranges that he peeled as you finished the large stack of sandwiches before returning the rest of the loaf and cream cheese. He filled two glasses with juice and grabbed the tray leading the way to your new couch, “Let’s test the new couch.” Smiling at you as you giggled up at him, before leading the way, curling your leg under you as you sat while he set the tray down on the table that he scooted closer to the couch, “I like the carpet. Did we pick this?”

Popping a strawberry in your mouth with a small smile as he sat down beside you laying his legs out along the large cushioned footrest, “No, I had it before, it was just rolled up in the spare room from the last couch arrangement, I’m glad it was big enough.”

He grabbed a strawberry of his own after accepting the sandwich you’d offered while you chose a channel, settling on a daytime courtroom drama, chuckling through it as you finished your 2nd breakfast, before cleaning up and he lifted you into his arms to carry you back through a fit of giggles to curl up again on the couch, settling you between his legs so he could curl around you, watching for another few episodes before you pulled out of his arms, “Alright, I gotta know what’s in the boxes.”

He laughed while he stood up, shifting the Tv stand so you could watch still, then led you by the hand to start unpacking, “As you wish.” Breaking the tape on the first box and letting you help him choose spots for everything, pausing on the boxes for a few minutes to adjust where his desk was in his room before unpacking the box from his desk back home as you unpacked his clothes and started hanging them up in his closet, “Any specific order you want these in?”

He glanced at you, standing on your toes hanging his suit jackets on the tallest rack you could reach, eyeing your figure as you did with a smirk, however you want, I usually just like my Jackets together, everything else is up to you.”

When he’d finally reached the bottom of the box for his desk supplies he turned as you let out a squeaking gasp, his eyes scanning for what could have brought on the reaction until he recognized the long box you’d opened letting out a breathy chuckle as he stood hearing you mumble, “You did not bring this!!”

He reached the box grabbing the fur covered vest from his Thorin Costume that was wrapped around his gifted Orcrist, lifting the sword free and sliding the vest over your shoulders smiling at your happy squeak as he curled you into a hug, “And if I did?”

“I am warning you now you may not get this back.”

He chuckled giving you a peck on the cheek, pulling back to pull your hair free from under the heavy vest eyeing you adoringly, “It does look good on you, I may not want it back.” His hand slid to the hilt of Orcrist unsheathing it carefully as he took a few steps back from you before stepping back to let you examine it, “Want to hold it” Your eyes meeting his as he held it level turning the hilt to you with a smile that grew as you timidly slid your hand around the hilt as he moved to be behind you, giving you a few tips on how to hold it properly before taking it back from you to show you a trick that he said took him the longest to learn, one of his swirling slices, “It was the spinning footwork between that threw me off .” Sheathing Orcrist again and glancing around for a place to put it, “Mind if I put It in the Library?”

You shook your head, “Not at all.”

He chuckled again leaving you alone stroking the fur on the vest before carefully sliding out of it and hanging it up in his closet before you made good on your threat to keep it, spotting him return to help you finish the box, showing you the large deep blue shirt with embroidered Dwarf Runes he’d gotten from his Hobbit days as well. Slowly clearing through his clothes and shoes before heading back to the living room to make another dent in the large amount of boxes, soon enough finding homes for nearly everything until you reached a box that triggered another squeak, “You have a top hat?”

Gently lifting it out as he chuckled again, “From North & South.” He glanced around again spotting the tall bare wooden coat rack in the small Library with a smirk and adding it to the large wooden ball on the top, pulling his hands back as he inspected it making sure it didn’t fall over, “I think that is the perfect place for it.”

“Don’t know why but makes me think of Sherlock Holmes style of Library now.”

He chuckled returning to join you again, “It sort of does, massive sword and a top hat, it’s really stating something from that era, now we just need a mother of pearl handled pistol on display or something.”

He caught your smirk, “Got one, well it’s a replica, but it’s on the top shelf by the small globe.”

Glancing back into the room with another smirk, “Wonder how I missed that.”

Your smile grew again as you went back to unpacking, finding his family photos next triggering a wave of stories about them as you placed them on the empty shelves along the wall before heading to help him make his bed with the sheets they were wrapped in. As you reached lunch you’d only had the movie and book boxes left, you both took a quick shower, with you taking the first turn and him taking the second before he started lunch while eyeing you from the kitchen as you did your warm ups through your continued conversations about your families and pausing to eat before heading back to your stretches.

..

When the time got closer to your show he headed into his room to choose an outfit, coming out with black pants with a blue jacket and a white button down shirt, bright red socks poking out on his feet as he adjusted the laces on his dress shoes, giving you a smirk when he saw you head out of your room in a pale green dress that hugged your torso before hanging loose around your hips down to your knees. His smile grew as you crossed the room and it swayed around you, turning and moving your hair, “Could you..”

A soft chuckle escaped him as he fastened the last button down the center of the back before adjusting the crisscrossed straps laying across your shoulders, he waited until you turned to say, “Simply breathtaking.”

Earning a giggle and a hidden eye roll as you turned to sit on the arm of the couch to pull on your green converse over your sheer thigh highs making his smile grow as he watched you tie them, “You look very Charming yourself Mr Armitage.” Shooting him a wink as you switched your legs hearing him chuckle.

“So, dinner or dessert after?”

“Not sure yet, but don’t worry, I got a pair of heels for after the show, just can’t wear them before.”

“Even if you can’t wear them after you still look incredible.”

You smirked up at him before your face straightened, “Oh if anyone offers you an invitation to a wine tasting after don’t accept, it never ends well, especially if Henri is throwing it. Last time the director nearly got pushed out a third story window, and everything you say and do will be in the papers the next morning.”

He nodded, “Good to know, how did you learn that?”

“First one after I turned 21 got invited, had to dislocate Heri’s shoulder when he wouldn’t back off after downing three bottles, I’m not really a wine person anyway but even I know you’re not supposed to chug it, you do that sip and spit thing. Which really, with a $500 bottle of wine I get the not wanting to waste it but there’s a limit.”

You stood straightening your dress catching his tensed muscles, walking over you rested your hands on his middle looking up at him, your closeness drawing another smile from him, “Don’t worry, it hasn’t happened since and he’s been the definition of a gentleman, even before then, it was just the tree bottles of wine, didn’t even know he was interested in women at all before that.”

Richard’s smile grew, “Alright, just let me know if anything else like that happens again.”

“Not sure if it ever could, they keep telling all the Men about what I did to Henri’s shoulder, he’s really got no muscle to keep it in place so it really was rather easy..” Your eyes meeting his as your sentence broke off noting his larger smile at your rambling.

“I’m listening.” Smirking as you quickly grabbed your bag and headed to the door, turning off the lights, locking it behind you both as you continued your ramble all the way to your car.

…

His eyes stayed on you through the drive as you led the conversation, loving the chance to see you get lost so easily in your passionate descriptions of some of your stories from your last tour, his eyes eventually drifting away after catching the massive banner with your image on it, retrieving his phone and snapping a picture of it before turning back to see your smiling at him until the light changed, “You should see the main lobby, there’s an entire hall full of photos from our shows. I can show you after if you want.”

He nodded as his nerves spiked, “Definitely.” Somehow even though he would merely be watching from the audience his pulse rose as his nerves did, eager to see another side of you, seeing you perform wanting to see exactly just how you’d earned your place on the massive banner out front along with the lead, even at last minute as a replacement, how they had sealed the trust in you so completely that you could just jump into the role.

While parking you’d spotted his nervous shifting, “You alright?”

He smiled over at you, “Ya, just excited, haven’t been to see this show yet, and seeing you perform, I’ve only seen Swan Lake out in London with my Mum, sort of a tradition each Christmas. There was this one dancer..” His eyes catching your smile, “You performed that show didn’t you?”

You giggled closing your door walking around the car with your bags, “Most likely, I do it every Christmas.” Curling your arm around his as he let out another chuckle.

“I’ll have to ask My Mum if she still has the copies of the posters from the shows.”

You glanced up at him with another giggle as he opened the door for you both, “Just relax. It’s not that bad of a show, finally have a partner that has yet to drop me.”

He chuckled again as you led him through the back hallways and into the empty dressing rooms, his smile growing as he followed you into yours dropping your back as Mr Tallus arrived with a smile, “You’re early.”

You smirked over at him, “Well I had to make sure Richard got to his seat on time.”

He chuckled shaking Richard’s hand, “George, huge fan.”

“Richard. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Excited to see her perform?”

Richard let out a breathy chuckle, “Apparently I already have, back in London during her Christmas performances.”

“Oh yes, her Swan Lake, she really just vanishes in that part. Well this one you’ll be able to see her clearly, one of the best Juliet’s we’ve had in a while.” He turned to you, “We should let her get ready and I’ll show you to your seat.”

Richard nodded giving you a small wave as he turned to follow the short man as he strode out to lead the way starting another story as he did, leaving you smiling as you started getting ready, his heart still racing as he tried his best to focus on the stories he was being told following his steps to his seat as everyone else was filing in. Reaching the small balcony seat he spotted a few groups of people catching sight of him and attempting to sneak photos of him. “Now don’t worry, the only other people in this section are going to be some of our former principal dancers who are backing our shows, they shouldn’t bother you, they’re used to being ogled at, here.” Passing him the book for the show that night, his smile grew as he spotted your name on it. “One of the new copies with the switched names.”

“Thank you.” Watching as George left, turning back forward relaxing in his seat as he looked over the small book, eyeing the pictures of you in your part with a small smirk before silencing his phone as the other 5 people arrived to take their seats around him, each introducing themselves before asking who he’d come to see, triggering a small wave of shock at him being the first person you’d invited to watch you perform. Chatting back and forth with them enjoying their stories about you in your various roles and tours until the show was about to start, each turning eagerly to watch as the curtain rose.

..

As the first dancers stepped out to start the show Richard felt his eyes lock on the stage, as his eyes found you taking your starting position his smile grew, trailing each of your movements and emotions flowing freely from you through the silent piece, the steady pounding of his heart matching the beat of the music you danced to. Doing his best not to flinch through your three kisses shared with your partner before slipping back into his smile again at your next lift, eying how fluidly you could go from having your leg straight up behind you en point before switching into another set of spins and another lift where you seemed to melt back against him as he held you in the air. Joining the rest of the crowd as they stood to applaud the whole cast for each of the curtain calls, glancing at each of the former dancers around him as they asked him what he thought about the show, catching your last bow before the curtain dropped again and George had come to grab him again.

.

Showing him back to a small room just outside them where the reporters, photographers and other former dancers, choreographers and celebrities had gathered to wait for the cast, each trickling out as the groups rotated around him to each get a chance to talk to him until you found your way out to the crowded room, slipping through posing for a few pictures before finding your place at Richard’s side. His eyes scanning over you again with a beaming smile as you nodded your head slightly to the side, his hand sliding around your upper back grabbing your larger bag from you as you led him to a smaller room along the main lobby with all the portraits and photos from the various shows and dancers. “You were incredible tonight.”

You glanced up at him with a smile, “Glad you enjoyed it.”

“How, um, How long have you been partnered with your Romeo?”

You giggled stopping at the first photo, “Few years.” You pointed at the large photo, “Me, Leo, my Romeo, and Raul, his partner, we all started around the same time.”

His eyes scanning over the photo leaning closer with a smirk, “You haven’t changed much.”

You playfully nudged his side with your elbow, “I’ll have you know I’ve grown nearly a foot and 2 cup sizes since then, besides, they wanted me as a blonde when I started, luckily that didn’t last long.”

He chuckled, “I prefer the dark hair on you.” He straightened up as you led him to the next picture, “Your feet don’t hurt?” Noticing the pale green tall heels you had put on.

“No, these are one of my more comfortable pairs.”

“Heard some interesting stories about you up in the balcony. You’ve really made an impression on all of them.”

Your eyes squinted up at him, “Not the one about the raccoon I hope.”

He smirked down at you, “No, but now I have to hear that one, spill.”

You let out a giggle rolling your eyes before showing him the next photo seeing the small crowd headed your way from the other room, “I’ll tell you later, looks like they found us.”

Both turning to the group as they joined you with smiles being pulled into a lengthy round of conversations and group photos before finally managing to slide your fingers between Richards and sneak him out of the building as they started to come up with plans for a follow up dinner, giggling at his smirk while he tightened his grip on your hand. Passing through a crowd of the people from the audience waving at the few who snapped photos of you as you both left, he raised your hand to kiss the back of your hand before releasing it once you finally reached your car, both walking to your doors and climbing in, “So, dinner or dessert?”

“Both.” Catching his smile as you started the car, “Called a friend, got him to keep his back room in restaurant open.”

“How’d you manage that?”

“I helped him meet his Wife, he said I can get a table whenever I want.”

“Sounds good, so, raccoon story?”

He smirked at you triggering another set of giggles, “Fine..”

…

Through the dinner he kept his eyes locked on you with a smile, both enjoying the dinner and the dessert after through your turns at telling stories from you travels, paying the bill and heading back home through the small crowd of photographers waiting for you at both locations, parking and heading inside as he kept his hand fixed on your upper back until you’d gotten into the elevator where you’d leaned against his side while he curled his arm tighter around you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “Tired?”

You glanced up at him with a tired smile, “Sort of, though we can see if there’s something on if you wanted, unless you have to sleep for work tomorrow.”

He chuckled, “We can watch something.” Walking through the doors as they opened, to your apartment, walking inside after unlocking the door, he locked it behind you watching you with a smile as he headed to his room to take off his jacket and shoes before joining you on the couch after you’d removed your shoes and sliding off your sheer thigh highs adding them to your clothes basket. Walking over to you he sat down beside you dragging the foot rest in front of you curling his arm around your back pulling you to rest against his side pulling your blanket over your legs as you flipped through the ten channels you had settling on That Hamilton Woman, an old black and white film you both loved, his eyes falling to your legs, “Your legs sore?”

“I’m fine.” His arm slid from behind you pulling away from your side turning you sideways and pulling your legs into his lap, smirking as he started rubbing your feet and up your legs. His warm hands gently sliding across the skin on your legs as his eyes darted between your legs and eyes, “What?”

Giggling as his eyes met yours again shaking his head, “Just, how do you get your skin so soft, back in school the dancers I knew felt like they had scales on their feet.”

You giggled again, “Takes a lot of effort, but, they’re part of my livelihood, have to take care of them, and I can’t stand having rough skin.”

He smirked meeting your eyes again, “Mine isn’t too rough is it?”

“Not sure about your feet but the rest of you doesn’t seem very rough.”

“Even my hands? They’ve been kind of rough lately.”

You smiled up at him, “I like your hands, they feel fine.”

“If that changes let me know.”

“If they get that bad I’ll be chasing you with a pumice stone.” Making him let out a loud laugh.

“I will not let it get that bad. Though it would be interesting to see.”

Turning you gently back into his side after he’d finished, curling his arms around you as you finished the movie, while the credits ended he glanced down at you after you’d ignored his question of what you should watch next, smiling as he saw you asleep against his chest, grabbing the remote he shut off the Tv before tossing it away, lifting you against his chest and carrying you to bed. Settling you down under the covers and plugging in our phones before stripping and sliding in beside you after shutting off the lights, laying on his side and smiling as you snuggled against his chest curling your legs around his pulling him letting him curl around you tightly after kissing your forehead.

..

The sun rose gently lighting the room around you both, Richard turned releasing you to grab his phone seeing a message from his manager saying he’d sent a car to the apartment, he let out a sigh pressing another kiss to your forehead as he slid out of bed, grabbing a change of clothes from his room before using your shower, drying off, brushing his teeth, fixing his hair and beard, adding cologne and deodorant, then redressing, tossing his clothes in your clothes basket before making a small breakfast for himself and writing you a note leaving it under your phone. Giving you another quick kiss and making sure you were fully covered after laying his present he’d brought from England on the bed beside you, having pulled it out of the box of movies he remembered he’d hidden it inside, before heading out to the car waiting downstairs.

.

All through his table read his mind kept heading back to you, easing through his parts, taking as many notes as he could while trying to get to know a bit about his female co-star he’d have to share a love scene with, fighting his mind’s urge to walk away and head back home to you, every inch of her, each movement, word and action from her so different from you. 

Sure she was beautiful and guys would be mad not to want to be with her but one massive flaw kept stabbing into his chest as they grew closer to the day he’d have to film the love scenes, she wasn’t you, only increased by the fact that you still hadn’t kissed. 

Each inch of him burning with the urge to just pull you close to him and kiss you until you both were left in a breathless heap on your bed, wanting nothing more than to kiss each and every inch of your soft skin, claim you as his, but he had to wait, be patient, do this properly, he’d already jumped more than a few steps by moving in so soon but after learning he’d had the chance to be with you years ago he could barely hold himself back wishing to just set it all in stone.

The meeting ended with him being asked to lunch with a group of the new cast, accepting a ride from one of them, being crammed in beside his new leading lady, trying his best to keep his distance through the meal while trying to be polite and getting to know more about them all as a group of photographers showed up to snap some pictures of the new cast. 

Eventually making his way back through the subway after taking a cab as far as it would go, heading up to the elevator after passing through the group of photographers outside your building, pulling out his phone when it chimed. His social network pages lighting up with pictures of him and his new costar, his pulse racing at the few angles insinuating he’d been on a date with her, rushing back into your apartment in half a panic hoping you hadn’t seen the news.

.

His eyes landing on you with a large smile as you danced around the kitchen to the music on your laptop as you cooked lunch for yourself in a large blue sweater with small shorts under and matching long socks, quietly closing and relocking the door and slipping out of his shoes before joining you. Gently curling his fingers in yours as you spun earning a giggle from you as he twirled you around and started dancing with you, claiming your other hand as well while you waited on your food to finish cooking, “How did your first day go?”

He smiled down at you, “It went alright, got a lunch after. Did you get my gift?”

“I saw the box, wasn’t sure if you wanted me to open it when you were gone or not.”

“Thought you got nosy with boxes.” Spinning you again

You let out a giggle, “Which is why I’m cooking, so I won’t look in it.”

He let out a laugh, “And the dancing?”

“I like this song, and I had to kill time while I waited for the stir fry to cook.” His eyes darted to the pot as you pulled closer to check on it. “Mmm, looks done.” Taking it off the burner after shutting the burner off, pulling the lid off and serving a helping into a bowl, covering and leaving the pot on a cool burner, shutting off the music as Richard slipped into the bedroom grabbing your present and meeting you on the couch with a smile as held the large box. 

You let out a giggle as you settled down beside him setting your bowl and glass of juice on the table in front of the couch turning to face him and accepting the box from him.

“Before you say anything, yes, I had to get it for you.”

You squinted your eyes at him for a moment as he let out a quick chuckle shooting you a large smile as his eyes sparkled at you while your cheeks heated up as your eyes fell to the box untying the ribbon before taking off the lid, “That eye sparkling thing really isn’t helping.”

He chuckled again, “Eye sparkling thing?” Watching as your eyes widened and your lips parted as you let out an excited squeak.

Whispering, “You didn’t.”

His smile grew watching you lift the grey white and black striped fake fur blanket out of the box, “I did, you like it?”

You stood lifting the massive blanket, curling it around you before crashing into his chest as he let out a loud laugh as you hugged him tightly, “I love it, thank you.”

He curled his arms around you tightly still laughing, “I’m glad.” Smiling as you snuggled against his chest, brushing your hair out of your face, “So, this eye sparkling thing?”

You let out a muffled giggle against his chest, “I don’t believe you’ve never heard that before.”

“Not from you.” Chuckling again pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “You should eat. You’ll have to warm up for work again soon enough.”

You reluctantly pulled back after giving him a quick peck on the cheek, “Thank you again,” pulling back and lowering the blanket around your waist grabbing your food and starting to eat as he filled you in on his first day and what his costars are like while he gently rubbed your legs, his smile locked on his face after your kissing his cheek. “So, any dating rumors yet?” Shooting him a smirk and seeing his muscles tensing.

He let out a nervous chuckle as his eyes fell to your legs, “Um, sort of, from our lunch earlier.”

You let out a giggle, “What’s that look for?”

His eyes met yours, “I um..”

You nudged him gently in the stomach with one of your feet forcing a chuckle out of him, “You can talk about it, come on I’m sure an attractive guy like you can’t order coffee without being reported as madly in love with the barista.”

He chuckled again, “It was lunch.” Pulling out his phone to show you the links, “Apparently we’re madly in love already, while others say I’m cheating on you with her.”

You mocked a gasp clasping your hand to your chest making him laugh, “It’s barely been a week, and tired of me already!!”

“Not a chance. After all, she spreads mustard on her sandwiches.”

You giggled, “Oh, major, major red flag right there.” Taking a drink from your juice as he laughed again.

He helped you clean up after you’d finished eating and rejoined you in the living room as you started your warm-ups continuing his story about his day even helping you stretch your legs after you asked, to help loosen your hips. “You’re still free for Paris?” Carefully gripping your lower leg as you straightened it, dropping backwards against your other leg, gently curling your hands around his leg to hold yourself steady as your back popped.

“Yup.” Pulling back up and switching your legs as his smile grew before bending back again, “What should I pack for?”

His hands slowly adjusting lower on your leg with one gripping your hip to help you rotate it feeling the stiffness in it, “Just, whatever your comfortable in, plus a, um, nice dress, I suppose, I was wondering if you’d wanted to got to the premier with me.” Leaning forward to catch your gaze as you straightened up again, noticing his nervous expression while keeping his grip on your leg.

“It’s not a horror flick is it?”

He smirked at you, “No, one of those romantic comedy ones.”

“Sounds like fun.”

He chuckled, “Good.” His eyes dropping back to your leg in his hands quickly releasing it, “Right.” Nervously chuckling as you giggled at his expression before lowering yourself for a split slowly, “Picked any spots to visit yet?”

His eyes darting from your legs to your face as you looked up at him, “Not yet, though thee is this one set of gardens I saw the last time I was there, they have these lights that just..” Sighing as his eyes met yours again, “I’d have to show you.”

You smiled up at him, “I look forward to it.”

He sat down in front of you with a smirk, “If I can’t do the eye sparkling with you, you can’t either.”

Another giggle escaped you, “I doubt my eyes sparkle.”

He smirked leaning closer dropping his voice to a rumbling whisper, “They really do.” Making you nearly melt at the sound of it, doing your best to hold in your nervous squeak. 

His pulse racing realizing how close he’d really gotten to your face, his eyes dropping to your lips when his fingers gently slid along your jawline, leaning in closer to you and closing his eyes as your lips gently pressed against his before pulling back. 

A breathy chuckle escaped him while he brushed his nose against yours as his hand cupped your cheek before pressing a kiss to your lips then quickly breaking apart as your door shot open and three small children came running in screaming, “Auntie!!” While their Father walked in after them eyeing the new furniture with a smirk before greeting Richard, you got wrapped in a large hug by the children before they pulled back walking in small circles as the youngest looked at you with wide eyes, “Where’d all this come from?” Leaning closer to you whispering, “Did you rob a bank?!”

You giggled as your oldest niece tried to get into the splits beside you, “No, it’s Richard’s stuff, he bought them.”

Your Nephew turned to Richard with a large smile eyeing him curiously, “What happened to your hair? I thought Dwarves didn’t cut their hair!”

Richard chuckled leaning closer, “Well, can you keep a secret?”

The small boy nodded, “I’ve been sent here on a secret mission by Gandalf, so I have to blend in, but he left our clones back in Erebor to tend to things while we’re gone.”

His eyes went wider, dropping to a whisper, “I promise I won’t tell.”

Richard smiled at him, “I knew I could trust you.”

The small boy climbed on the couch behind you grabbing the remote and turning on the Tv as his baby sister joined him saying, “What’s with the sticks on the Tv?”

Your brother chuckled, “That’s how we used to get the shows sent to our Tv sets.” He looked at you, “I guess the satellite people haven’t showed up yet.”

“Nope, Possibly tomorrow.”

He smirked glancing between you two switching to thick Russian, “So I take it we interrupted something?”

Richard raised an eyebrow at you with a small smile while you replied, “Sort of.”

He chuckled joining the kids as the youngest cried out, “There’s only 9 channels.” Triggering a round of laughter from you three adults, your smile grew as the oldest copied you when you stood to stretch your arms and your toes, Richard turned to lean against the couch in front of the two children keeping his eyes on you with a smile and turning as Jo asked him, “So how’s your new movie going?”

Richard smiled up at him, “Did the first table read today, filming starts tomorrow.”

He glanced back seeing you help give tips to your niece about the toe stretches as Jo said, “Speak any other languages?”

Richard glanced back, “Mostly French, bits and pieces of Italian.”

Jo nodded with a smirk, “I’m sure Jaqi could give you a few lessons if you wanted, both of us combined we have most of them covered.”

Richard, “Possibly, I heard you’re moving to England.”

Jo nodded, “Yup, should take possibly a week with the move, hope you don’t mind us borrowing Jaqi.”

Richard held his smile in place even though he didn’t want to let you go anywhere, “Well I still have the number for the movers I used, they got it all here within days if that would help.”

Jo, “Sounds good, the place really does look good, I am glad she’ll have someone to make sure she doesn’t fall asleep in the elevator after work.”

Richard chuckled, “I will keep an eye out for that with her now.”

Jo, “So you’re out here for a year?”

Richard, “Yes, hopefully filming won’t get stretched out too much longer.”

Jo, “Then you’re heading back to England?”

Richard smiled up at him, “My next job will have me in there for a few months after that, I’m not disappearing after if that’s your concern, we’ll get it all sorted before anything concrete happens.”

Jo, “Good to hear, besides, I have a good idea she’s planning on moving back after her contract’s up next year. Wants to be near the kids, I’m sure she’ll be burning up her days off flying back to visit whenever she can.”

Richard, “I’m sure she will, I know I’ll be flying back when I can to visit my Nephew, he’s almost in school now.”

Jo smirked, “I guess we’ll be seeing the both of you then for visits.” He looked at his oldest daughter, “She’ll be missing Jaqi the most I’m guessing, wants to be just like her, she’s really jumped up to fill the spot when my ex took off.”

Richard, “That must have been rough.”

Jo let out a sigh, “It’s what happened after she took off that really hurt, all of us. She mention it yet?”

Richard, “No.”

Jo nodded, “I’ll leave it to her then, when she’s ready to.” Turning to look back at you and your niece as you led her through her posture and bar exercises along the wall. Your lesson pausing as the intercom buzzed loudly and you walked to the door, muttering, “Honestly I’d prefer a rooster crowing or an air horn to that.”

Jo chuckled, “I thought pots banging might be good.”

You giggled glancing back to him, “Or possibly bagpipes.”

Richard, “I vote bagpipes.”

Smiling at you before you turned reaching the box along the wall, hitting the button, “Who is it?”

“_ Satelite Company.”

“Top floor.” Hitting the button to buzz them in and waiting until they knocked at the door.

Their eyes scanning the large apartment landing on Richard as they reached the Tv area, smiling at the children as they started to hook up the satellite, relieved that your last setup was mostly intact, they just needed to add another dish on your small balcony and plug it all up to the Tv before doing the basic setup as the children climbed over their shoulders to pick the channel they used to do the screen tests on before eventually gaining full control of the remote after they each thanked the two men who set it up as you signed the paperwork before they left giving nods to Richard as they left. 

You grabbed a small bowl of fruit to snack on curling up beside Richard sharing the fruit with him and the children while the oldest curled up in your lap grabbing some of the fruit you’d brought, snuggling against his arm until you had to get ready for your show, leaving the fruit with the children when you stood to head to your room. 

Grabbing your jeans as you pulled out of your shorts and bouncing into the tight denim pants before choosing your shoes, turning to find Richard quietly slipping into the open doorway smiling at you while he crossed the floor, curling you into a quick hug before leaning down to kiss you only to be stopped by a soft gasp coming from the doorway. You both looked to the doorway to find your oldest niece covering her eyes earning a giggle from you as Richard laughed, pulling free from his arms you walked over pulling her up to your hip kissing her cheek, “Come to hug me before my show?”

She lowered her hands nodding her head and glancing between Richard and you then whispering in broken French, “You had kissing him?!”

You held back your giggle whispering back, “Yes.”

“But, wedding?”

Your giggle broke free and you switched to English, “You don’t have to be married to kiss someone, but it is best if you really, really care for them.”

She looked over at him as he leaned against the dresser along the wall smiling over at you both, “He is pretty. You’re keeping him?”

Turning to you again as you smiled at her kissing her on the nose making her giggle, “I’m keeping him, and yes he is very handsome.”

She giggled at you again, “Alright, you two kiss then.” Kissing your nose as you let out a giggle before setting her down watching as she scurried back into the living room, turning back to Richard seeing he’d stood and headed back to you again, meeting back with you sliding his hand around your hip as he leaned down to kiss you cupping you cheek, your lips barely touching as the little girl cried out, “They’re kissing.” Triggering another set of laughs from both of you leaving you resting your head against his bouncing chest as he curled around you before whispering, “I suppose it can wait till after you get back.”

You giggled again glancing up at him wagging your finger at him making his smile grow watching you stand on your toes while he leaned down, gently kissing you again before you pulled away again as more tiny feet were heard coming to check on you, sitting along the edge of the bed to pull on and tie your shoes. Two heads peeked in the room before your nephew ran over to you leaning down grabbing your shoe laces swatting away your hands, holding out his tongue as he fumbled your laces into a four eared rabbit knot, raising his eyebrows at his own final result before attempting it again on your other shoe as the youngest girl climbed on the large bed with the help of Richard saying, “Wow, it’s so big, you even got a new bed!!”

Richard chuckled, “Well she needed one.”

Chuckling as the little girl laid out on the large piles of blankets, “It’s so soft. I want a bed like this when I’m bigger.”

You turned back to her, “You will little Darling, just remember don’t you go growing too fast.”

“I remember, I promised.”

After your shoes were tied you stood lifting your Nephew to kiss his cheek and hugged him before filling your pockets and grabbed your bag giving Richard another hug and a kiss on the cheek before hugging and pecking your brother on the cheek before escorting your family back downstairs to tuck them in to bed leaving Richard to relax stretching out on the couch with a large smile letting out a chuckle as his mind ran back to your first kiss before mentally planning out your first trip to Paris together.

Pt 4

#Richard x Reader #Hobbit #lotr #Richard Armitage x Reader OC

[newstfionline]

Deported, and Sticking Out: ‘This Ain’t Home. America’s My Home.’

By Hannah Beech, NY Times, March 11, 2018

PHNOM PENH, Cambodia--It was fish for breakfast and fish for lunch and fish for dinner.

“I hate fish,” Khan Hin said.

What Mr. Hin wanted was a burger. Maybe a bowl of Cap’n Crunch. Or some Tater Tots. “I’m feisty,” he said, “for my Flamin’ Hot Cheetos.”

Mr. Hin’s palate is American. His vernacular, slang from the streets of Stockton, Calif., is American.

And his family’s experience is all too American. His older sister was at school in Stockton in 1989 when a man sprayed gunfire on the schoolyard. Five children ages 6 to 9, all of Cambodian or Vietnamese heritage, were killed. Nearly 30 others, including Mr. Hin’s sister, were injured. The killer had repeatedly spewed hatred of Asian immigrants.

At the hospital, Mr. Hin’s sister got to meet Michael Jackson, which was an American dream of sorts, although it wasn’t worth two bullets in her body.

But Mr. Hin, 33, isn’t American. Born in a Thai refugee camp, he came to the United States as a baby. His parents, refugees fleeing genocide in Cambodia, never claimed citizenship for their son, even though he was entitled to it. Until he was jailed at age 18 for auto theft, Mr. Hin had no idea he was only a legal permanent resident.

American law is uncompromising: Deportation applies to legal permanent residents who commit an aggravated felony in the United States. Such crimes include failing to appear in court or filing a false tax return, as well as more serious offenses. Deportees are barred from returning to the United States.

Mr. Hin had served five years and was holding down a job in California when Immigration and Customs Enforcement came for him. For 18 months, he shuffled through various detention centers across the United States. Three years ago, he was deported to Cambodia.

It was his first time in the country. He did not speak Khmer, the local language.

That’s how Mr. Hin ended up on the outskirts of Phnom Penh, the Cambodian capital, in the house of a family friend he couldn’t understand, eating fish three meals a day.

“It was rats, pigs, babies all over the place,” he said. “It was the ghetto but badder. This ain’t home. America’s my home.”

While President Trump has brought renewed attention to the fate of legal and illegal immigrants alike, deportations of Cambodians began in 2002, when the government of Cambodia signed a repatriation agreement with the Bush Administration. So far, around 600 legal permanent residents of Cambodian descent have been deported from the United States, many directly from prison.

The number is likely to increase significantly this year, as Mr. Trump cracks down on green card holders with criminal records. Immigration and Customs Enforcement tracks 1,900 Cambodians who are subject to orders of removal from the United States.

The Khmer Vulnerability Aid Organization, which receives American funding to help deportees start new lives in Cambodia, expects around 200 people to arrive this year. Around 100 Cambodians who had already completed their prison terms were rounded up in immigration raids in October.

Citing human rights concerns, the Cambodian government suspended the repatriation agreement last year. But the United States responded by slapping visa restrictions on Cambodian officials, and a trickle of deportations began in December. In February, the two governments held talks on the repatriations, and 16 deportees have arrived this year.

Posy Chheng was deported last May, just a couple weeks after his son was born. His wife grew up in Minnesota farm country and knew nothing about the American secret bombing campaign in Cambodia or the ensuing reign of terror unleashed by the Khmer Rouge. At least 1.7 million Cambodians died by execution, disease or starvation when the Communist guerrilla movement took over in the late 1970s.

“Goulash and spaghetti,” Mr. Chheng said of his wife. “That’s her life.”

When he was 14 years old, Mr. Chheng was convicted as an adult of second-degree murder and imprisoned for 17 years. After his release five years ago, he worked as a barber in St. Paul and spent time with his mother, who had raised four children on her own.

His own son is still in Minnesota.

“I think about him all the time,” Mr. Chheng said. “I see kids without car seats here, squeezed on a motorcycle with their whole family, and I think: ‘No way I’d let my son do that. It’s crazy.’”

Asian immigrants are often regarded as a model minority group in the United States, with higher education and income levels than other ethnic groups. But the 270,000 people of Cambodian descent who live in the United States are among the poorest in the country.

Many Cambodian refugees were farmers who fled the Khmer Rouge with no schooling or savings. Once in the United States, they scrambled to get menial jobs, like packing fruit or sewing clothes.

“My mom was illiterate, she didn’t speak any English,” said Jimmy Hiem, who was deported to Cambodia in 2016. “I’d get up to go to school, and she’d be sewing. I’d go to bed, and she’d be sewing. How was she supposed to know anything about citizenship and stuff like that?”

Cambodian refugees, along with Vietnamese and Laotians, were often resettled in tough neighborhoods, like South Central Los Angeles or Long Beach. By the 1980s, their children had formed street gangs, like the notorious Tiny Rascal Gang.

“We had to protect ourselves from homeboy shootouts,” said Ricky Kul, who was 15 when he joined the Oriental Lazy Boyz in Los Angeles and was later jailed for burglary. (Three members of the Oriental Lazy Boyz were convicted of the 1996 murder of Haing Ngor, the Cambodian-American actor who won an Academy Award for his role in “The Killing Fields.”)

Mr. Kul, who was repatriated two years ago, now manages a bar in Phnom Penh that is popular with foreign visitors. If deportees lack the tattoos that mark them as gangbangers, they can find work as English teachers or tour guides. One runs a hip-hop dance academy, another is a street poet.

While some deportees have taken their own lives or been caught dealing drugs, the recidivism rate in Cambodia is lower than in the United States, according to Bill Herod, the founder of the Khmer Vulnerability Aid Organization.

“If I wasn’t here, I might be dead,” Mr. Kul, 42, said. “Leaving America kind of forced me to turn my life around.”

The one thing he misses, though, is his mother, who has diabetes. She did whatever she could to support the family, like digging oysters or sorting through recycling.

“She had a rough life, always hustling for her kids,” Mr. Kul said.

Modern Phnom Penh, with its Domino’s Pizza outlets and air-conditioned malls, would be unimaginable for his mother, he admitted. Her memories of home are of bombs and piles of dead bodies higher than any rice harvest.

“I’m going to get myself on my feet,” Mr. Kul said, “and then I’m going to bring her here and show her, ‘Look at my life, look at Cambodia.’ She can finally be proud.”

#Cambodia #deportees in Cambodia

[junker-town]

NWSL Week 5 preview and fixtures: North Carolina still looks good, and everyone else has problems

Five weeks into the season, the Courage are the only team that looks like they know what they’re doing.

It makes sense that there are bad teams in NWSL. Even in a relatively small league, and one that initially preached parity and instilled and installed it with the way the top tier players were allocated in the early days, there’s always been a gap between the big teams at the top and everyone else. Some teams gel better than others, or are coached better than others, or get bit by injuries or any one of 1,000 other things that could go wrong — or right — in a season.

As the league has grown though, every team has become more autonomous, left to build whatever it is they're going to build. And big picture, that’s a positive. All the kids don’t get the same exact lunch, and I’m always going to be jealous of your Lunchable and Capri Sun because all my mom sent me with was an apple and a tiny juice box that is, for some ungodly reason, grape.

That’s kind of how professional sports are supposed to work, though. If you’re a team like Portland you’re always going to be able to attract whoever you want, the Chicagos and Sky Blues will have to focus more on building from within, and the Bostons and Houstons of the world are just going to keep having to pretend they like grape juice. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, and sometimes you save up enough of your emergency payphone quarters to buy a styrofoam soup cup of tater tots in the cafeteria.

Still, as we move away from the forced parity that we saw in the early days, you’d sort-of expect, or at least hope, that everyone would have at least started to figure it out by now. There’s always going to be teams like the 2014 Reign or, apparently, this year’s Courage, that run away with the thing, at least initially, but how is it that everyone else this year seems so far behind?

As we approach the quarter mark of the season, it’s getting harder and harder to chalk up the struggles of seemingly everyone that’s not North Carolina to things like it still being early or slow starts or so-and-so hasn’t arrived.

Orlando, at the bottom of the table as the league’s only winless team, got a pretty good replacement for Alex Morgan in Marta, but bringing in one Brazilian does not a team make. The Pride might be very good once Morgan returns from France, sure, but it’s also hard to see how. Morgan makes a good running mate for Marta, but her presence doesn’t fix the fact that Orlando’s midfield has been mostly ineffective. Marta might be the league’s most talented striker, but she’s not going to score much without any kind of quality service behind her. And even if that improves as the season goes on, that’s only half the Pride’s problem. Orlando, with the worst goal differential is the league, is also kind of a mess defensively. Ali Krieger, as an outside back that's very good going forward, could probably at least partially help with both of these problems, but she's instead ended up in the center of the Pride’s back line a few times this season. And the rest of Orlando’s defense has struggled with any kind of cohesion for long stretches — they’ve allowed more shots on target than any other team except for Washington. The Pride managed a 1-1 draw with FC Kansas City last weekend, and though the point is certainly a positive, that they had the lead for only 11 minutes before conceding the tying goal, and that they only really needed to hold onto that lead for 17 minutes to win the game, is not great.

Photo by Mitchell Leff/Getty Images

Thanks to that draw against the Pride, FC Kansas City managed to stay two points ahead of the the Pride and not in last place for another week, but that’s little consolation for the Blues. FCKC isn’t a bad team defensively; the three goals they’ve allowed is on pace with some to the league’s top teams. Where Kansas City has fallen behind is in the offense department. The Blues looked strong and with Amy Rodriguez and Sydney Leroux both finally back, like they could have one of the best attacking tandems in the league. That though, was short-lived. A-Rod’s season-ending ACL injury exposed the Blue’s attack as something pretty one-note, and it’s one they’ve apparently already forgotten how to play. Left virtually alone to carry the scoring load, Leroux’s been all but disappeared by a midfield that lacks any kind of cohesion with either the defense or the forward line. Kansas City has scored only three goals this season, and two of them came on opening weekend.

The Blues though, are not alone in the one-win club. Sky Blue, Washington and Seattle have all also only won once, which probably should be mathematically impossible but somehow isn’t. Both Sky Blue and Washington have struggled defensively, and if not for goalkeepers Kailen Sheridan and Stephanie Labbe, both would probably be in even worse shape. Without Christie Pearce, Sky’s Blue’s been a disaster defensively and things aren’t much better for Washington, where Labbe’s had to turn in huge performances every week to even keep things close. Just how disorganized are both of these teams defensively? When they played each other last weekend, the two combined for seven goals. Literally combined, like Francisca Ordega set up Erin Simon for one of the goals and they are on opposite teams.

It’s a similar story from Seattle, where Hayley Kopmeyer has played a big part in keeping things from getting really bad at least once this season. The Reign is the league’s highest scoring team, with eight goals on the season, but considering five of them came in one game, it’s maybe not as impressive as it initially looks.

You’d think here, as we get into the top five teams, is where there would be some big jump. The bottom of the table may redefining disorganized on a weekly basis, but certainly the top half of the table must have its act together, no? Turns out, no. Beyond the fact that it’s just confusing to look at, with both Boston and Houston up there, none of these supposed top teams have really looked consistently good, either.

Boston is certainly improved, but the Breakers are definitely also still working some things out. Last weekend, Boston couldn’t figure out how to adjust its game to the high pressure one North Carolina was playing, and without the ability to play through with Rose Lavelle and Natasha Dowie, the Breakers mostly reverted to a previous season’s version of themselves. And Houston is apparently using the same plumber as everyone else, because the Dash is also starting to leak goals. The Dash is the only team in the top four with a negative goal differential, and at minus-three it’s worse than anyone in the league that’s not Orlando.

Chicago is perhaps the most confusing, mostly because the Red Stars were good last year and haven’t made very many changes. Chicago isn’t horrible defensively — they've allowed just three goals so far this season, and two of them came on opening day. The Red Stars problem is maybe a little in the offense department, where they’ve only scored three goals and two of them came last weekend, because Chicago is a team that either gets shut out, or gets the shutout. Mostly though, it’s that there’s been a complete lack of consistency in what The Red Stars look like when they take the field. Julie Ertz, who is a very good defender, has been shuffled further and further up the field with each passing week, at a rate which will put her somewhere in the opposing team’s midfield line by mid-June. And Ertz isn’t the only one involved in this game of musical chairs. Through four games, Rory Dames has used four different lineups and formations, with players like Sofia Huerta and Stephanie McCaffrey also shuffled in and out of the XI.

Photo by Pedro Vilela/Getty Images

Even Portland hasn't been immune to whatever it is that’s going on. With seven points, the Thorns are in second heading into this weekend, but the road there hasn’t been particularly smooth. Portland’s struggled against quick attacking teams — they couldn’t solve North Carolina in week two, and the Thorns needed an 82nd minute goal last weekend to salvage a draw with Seattle. The Thorns looked a step slow defensively in that game, and Adrianna Franch has had some shaky moments this season.

The only team that’s looked fully formed so far this season is also the only one that’s been perfect through four games, and that’s the Courage. North Carolina isn’t without some flaws, but they do look miles ahead of everyone is the cohesiveness department. Probably, it will come for some of the others with time. Boston looks much improved, Portland has more than enough pieces to make it work, Houston’s still got one of the best goal scorers in the league, Sky Blue will get Pearce back sometime soon. The question right now though is whether anyone will be able to do it anytime soon. North Carolina’s already put five points between themselves and second place Portland, and the Courage will face an Orlando team they already beat 3-1 on Saturday.

With everyone else still struggling to find consistency, and with the season still early, it’s not too late for some of these other teams to correct the problems and start to turn things around. And since everyone’s in pretty much the same boat and they're all playing each other this weekend, now could be the time it starts to happen for someone. Then the question becomes whether any of the teams can do something no one has yet this season — build off that momentum. Or all the games could just end in draws.

All times Eastern

Saturday

Houston Dash vs. Sky Blue FC, 4 p.m., BBVA Compass Stadium (Lifetime)

Seattle Reign FC vs. Washington Spirit, 4 p.m., Memorial Stadium (go90)

FC Kansas City vs. Portland Thorns FC, 4 p.m., Children’s Mercy Victory Field (go90)

Sunday

Orlando Pride vs. North Carolina Courage, 5 p.m., Orlando City Stadium (go90)

Chicago Red Stars vs. Boston Breakers, 6 p.m., Toyota Park (go90)

[austindailyglobe-blog]

Woman Receives Anti-Trump Message On Receipt

A woman in New York received a political message from an anti-Trump chef while eating out. NBC News contributor Mary Emily O’Hara got more than she bargained for when she decided to stop by Kiwiana Restaurant in Brooklyn.

O’Hara enjoyed her meal, which consisted of mimosas, french toast and coffee. Everything seemed normal until she received the bill. On the bottom of her receipt, a message read “Immigrants make America Great (they also cooked your food and served you today).”

O’Hara snapped a photo of the receipt and posted it on Twitter, tweeting “Breakfast in Brooklyn.”

O’Hara’s tweet quickly went viral with more than 250,000 likes and over 90,000 retweets in two days.

The restaurant is famed for its yuca tater tots, pavlova and rack of lamb New Zealand-style. WNBC News reports the message was the brainchild of the restaurant’s chef, Mark Simmons, who is an immigrant from New Zealand.

“I added that message to the bottom of the receipts recently, to remind ourselves [and] our customers that immigrants are quite often the backbone of the hospitality industry … I normally add little notes at the end of the receipt, though rarely are they political. We are happy people are noticing. Overall the feedback has been positive,” Simmons told DNAinfo.

Kiwiana’s website states Simmons developed a knack for culinary arts as a teen and traveled around the world.

Many supported the restaurant’s message, but were appalled at the price of brunch in New York City, according to The Gothamist. The NBC News contributor spent a total of $46.54 for her meal, including tax.

“In Spain breakfast, coffee with toast for [$2.70] although there are bars and restaurants that abuse tourists,” tweeted on user.

O’Hara retweeted back: “Yes and no offense but Spain’s economy is dismal, here we have $15 minimum wage.”

President Donald Trump’s administration recently signed an executive order blocking immigration from seven Muslim-majority countries. Although courts have temporary halted the ban, the White House expects it to be restored. Hundreds of thousands of people across the country and world have continued to protest Trump’s action.

(Source)

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Woman Receives Anti-Trump Message On Receipt was originally published on Austin Daily Globe