mels is a loser

ninjaboots  asked:

IMMA DO THE PROMPT THING AWW YISSSSS. Sid/Geno, Sidney accidentally comes out to the team when he sees his ex-boyfriend at a bar.

“Sid."  Geno all but collapses into the booth next to him, Flower, Tanger and Nealer shoving at each other as they slide into the other side.  Geno’s clutching an enormous, half-empty beer glass and bumping Sidney with his hip until he scoots over to make room.  "Sid, Sid."  He tsks under his breath as he slings an arm over the back of the bench behind him.  “Hide at table again?”

"I’m not hiding,” he says quickly.  Too quickly, judging by everyone’s raised eyebrows.  “Actually, I was thinking I might go home soon.”

“What?  No, it’s not even nine o’clock yet."  Flower looks genuinely distressed by the thought; it makes Sidney wonder just how much he’s already had to drink.  "Come on, some of us have babies at home and we’re still making an effort to spend time with the team, Sid!”

Stop saying my name,” Sidney hisses, hunching down in his seat.  “Shit, is he looking over here?”

“Who?” Nealer asks.

“The tall guy in the jean jacket, over by the pool table.  Don’t look, what are you doing?”

"I … dude, I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

“He’s not look,” Geno says, and Sidney lets himself relax a hair.

“Okay.  You’re sure?”

“Hey, how come G doesn’t get told off for looking?”

“Because he didn’t look like he was auditioning for Cirque du Soleil when he did it,” Sidney answers absently.  His eyes are still stuck on the area around the pool table, trying to keep watch without looking like he’s keeping watch.  “I should probably just get out of here,” he adds, mostly to himself, and Nealer snorts.

“Shit, Sid.  What, do you owe this guy money or something?”

“No, he’s my ex.”

It’s not as though the whole bar goes suddenly silent, but it seems that way to Sidney as the words hang in the air over the table.  It’s too late to snatch them back; too late to do anything but stare blindly into space as the fact of what he’s just done comes crashing down around him.  The sounds of laughter and shouted voices and the terrible music piping over the speakers all fades away, leaving nothing but his own thundering heartbeat echoing in his ears.

“Well."  Flower clears his throat, loud as a gunshot, and drains the rest of his beer.  "We can go somewhere else, if you want.”

“Yeah."  Tanger nods thoughtfully.  "There’s gotta be some gay bars around here somewhere.”

“I meant somewhere he wouldn’t have to be around his ex-boyfriend, teton.  Not that we couldn’t,” Flower adds in Sidney’s direction.  “I bet most of the guys would be up for going; I don’t know where, but that shit can’t be hard to Google, right?”

“Oh my god,” Sidney chokes out, somewhere between hysterical and horrified laughter as relief and embarrassment spread through him in equal measures.  “Guys, the Penguins descending en masse on a gay bar is not subtle.”

“Come out is big deal.  If you’re not want, no one is push,” Geno rumbles with an entirely unnecessary warning glare around the table, every bit as close to Sidney as he was a minute ago, and Sidney will just add that to the growing list of ways in which this night as turned completely fucking surreal.

“It’s not that–I mean, I wasn’t, that’s a big part of why he dumped me in the first place; and I’d be okay with doing it now, for someone special, but not for a freaking field trip to a gay bar.  Look, it was just kind of a shitty breakup, and "  He sighs, staring for a moment at the beer that Geno offers him before downing the rest of it.  "Yeah, maybe we should go somewhere else.  Asshole,” he mutters under his breath as he deposits the glass on the table with a heavy thunk.  “This is a fucking Pens bar; he knows that.”

“Okay, look,” Nealer interjects.  “I’m down with going somewhere else, whatever, if that’s what you want to do, but seriously, you’re doing this all wrong.”


“Hiding, running away–fuck that, man!  You’re a fuckin’ sports star, you’re a legend, you’re Sidney Crosby, for chrissake.  What you need to do is win this fucking breakup.”


“No,” Flower says slowly, brow creased in thought.  “Actually … he’s right.”

“Fuck yeah, I am!”

“Fuck him, anyway” Tanger says.  A scowl is building over his face–the same one Sidney’s used to seeing when somebody tries to start shit on the ice.  “Like he can do better.”

“Yeah, he probably cries himself to sleep after ever game.”

“I doubt it."  Sidney shrugs.  "He was never really interested in hockey.”

“He …"  Flower simply stares at him for a moment as the information processes.  "Wow.  The sex must’ve been fucking amazing.”

“Anyway."  Tanger clears his throat and pretends he doesn’t notice Sidney turning red.  "Nealer’s right; you need to win this.”

“How the fuck do you even win a breakup?”

“You’ve gotta prove that your relationship was a low point,” Flower suggests.  “And that your life’s pretty much perfect now.”


“Have hot boyfriend,” Geno says, letting his arm slip from the back of the bench down around Sidney’s shoulders, eyebrows waggling over a grin when Sidney stares up at him in surprise.

“Thought you said a hot boyfriend, G.”

“Fuck you, Nealsy, I’m catch.”

“Actually, I think he was kind of jealous about you.  All of you,” Sidney clarifies quickly.  “You know, me spending so much time around the team, a bunch of sweaty, half-naked guys.  He was kind of a douche about it sometimes.”

“Perfect,” Tanger approves.  “That’s a good start.”

“Thanks."  Sidney clears his throat, glancing briefly up at Geno as the others start arguing over the best way to rub Sidney’s success in his ex’s face.  "You really don’t have to do this, but it’s nice of you, in a really weird sort of way.  You, uh … you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“Most sure,” Geno murmurs, tugging him in closer until Sidney’s leaning against his side, the warmth of Geno’s body seeping into his, the words he’s speaking all but whispered in Sidney’s ear.  “I’m not mind at all.”

“Okay."  Sidney swallows hard and wonders if Geno can feel the way his heart is pounding against his ribs.  "Good to know.”


“You’re definite win breakup,” Geno says, pulling back from a hard, hungry kiss to set his mouth to Sidney’s throat.

“He doesn’t–oh, fuck."  He digs his fingers into the muscles of Geno’s back, trying to get better leverage to grind their hips together the way he wants to.  Geno’s bedroom is upstairs, and Sidney’s honestly not sure they’re gonna make it there.  "He’s not even gonna k-know we went … home together,” he manages to pant out, and Geno smiles, slow and wicked, before he kisses him again.

“We see.”


Rose: Carnation, you are still going to prom this weekend right? 

Carnation: I dunno mom, no one’s really asked me to go yet. 

Rose: I already spent a hundred dollars to get you that dress you really liked.

Carnation: I know mom… but Mel isn’t going, and I don’t want to be some loser who goes all by herself. 

Crepe: You are not a loser sweetie! I’m sure there are dozens of boys that want to ask you. They’re all just intimidated by how beautiful you are. 

Carnation: Dad, please. 

anonymous asked:

I'm not good at coming up with prompts just looked some up some so here are a few I thought were funny: 1 we were having a fun games night w our friends but now everyone’s left your flat apart from me bc we’ve played twenty games of connect 4 and still haven’t managed to find a winner and gdi i will beat you. 2 my cat ran into your garden so i followed and now i'm running around and whistling and i thought you were out but you are watching from your window.

Yes hello I’m doing both of these.

1. Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting (Get a Little Action In)

“Getting late, Sid.”  Geno spins his red plastic coin between his fingers as Sidney ponders his next move.  “Maybe we call it a draw?”

“It’s not that late,” Sidney says absently.  Dropping his piece in the far left column would let Geno win, but the others he isn’t as sure about.  Trying to think three moves ahead, he takes a moment to glance at the clock.  “Not even nine yet.”

“I thought maybe we go to bed early.”  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Geno’s eyebrows dart up, and his voice drops into a low rumble that shivers its way down Sidney’s spine.  “See if I can tire you out.”

“I …”  Sidney looks up again to take in the way Geno’s looking at him, all dark eyes and a slow, small smile.  “Oh.”

“Everyone else already gone.”  His smile turns a little wicked.  “I promise Duper I give you a ride.”

“Yeah,” Sidney says, a little embarrassed by how breathless the word sounds.  He glances down, sees the board between them.  “But …”

“Serious, Sid?” Geno asks flatly, and Sidney bristles.

“We’ve been playing for over half an hour!” he protests.  “We can’t quit before we have a winner, okay, we just–what?”

“Nothing,” Geno chuckles, shaking his head with a look that Sidney can only classify as fond.  “Don’t know what I expect.  Maybe we make more interesting, though?”

“Sure,” Sidney shrugs.  “What were you thinking?  Five bucks?”

“No.”  Geno purses his lips for a moment before breaking out into a shit-eating grin.  “Winner is top when we go upstairs.”

Sidney stares at him for a long moment.  Geno’s eyes are bright, his tongue poking mischievously out of the corner of his mouth, and he’s still turning that damned token between long, clever fingers.

“You couldn’t have thought of that twenty minutes ago?” Sidney demands, and finally drops his coin into the last column on the left.

2. You and Your Pussycat Eyes

“Dixi,” Zhenya croons, padding further out into the grass.  He says a quick prayer of thanks that it hasn’t rained recently–he’s already learned that the drainage in his new backyard isn’t exactly the best, and he doesn’t have time to go back inside and hunt down a pair of shoes.  “Dixi, come back, gorgeous,” he calls.  “You’re missing breakfast!”

She doesn’t really seem to care, as the next thing he sees is a flash of brown and orange as she scrambles over the fence into the next yard over.Cursing to himself, he only hesitates a moment before dashing to the gate.  None of his neighbors are ever up this early to see him in his bathrobe and bare feet, excepting–of course–the man whose yard he’s about to break into.  Zhenya’s seen him out running this time every morning for the past two weeks, though, so he figures he should be fine.  Just go in, he tells himself, opening the latch on next-door’s tall wooden privacy fence; get the cat; come back and shut her inside again where she can’t wander off.  Dixi is smart, and she’s used to being outside, but this is a new neighborhood and Zhenya doesn’t want her getting lost or hurt.

“Pretty girl,” he calls out.  The grass on this side of the fence has just been cut, and he feels vaguely guilty leaving footprints in the nice neat patterns the mower’s left.  “Come out, sweetheart.  Time to go home,” he singsongs.  “There’s a nice piece of fish waiting for you,” he adds in a shameless lie.  “Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Um.  Excuse me?”

The voice startles him so badly that he slips a little on the dewy ground, barely saving himself from falling flat on his ass.  He looks up in trepidation, and apparently his luck this morning is holding steady, because sure enough, his neighbor is standing on the patio, a mug clutched in one hand as he stares at Zhenya in mild alarm.

“Sorry for … intrude?” he tries, biting back a wince at the thickness of his accent.  His grasp of English tends to get weaker when he’s nervous about something.  His gorgeous neighbor standing there in a sweat-damp t-shirt and running shorts that show off his thickly-muscled thighs is almost enough to make him forget the damn language altogether.  “My cat, she get out, run over here.”

“Yeah.  I, uh …”  His neighbor’s gaze drops, taking in Zhenya’s attire–or lack thereof–and when he raises his eyes again his cheeks are faintly pink.  “I had the kitchen window open?” he says hesitantly.  “I’m guessing your cat is probably the one sitting in my sink now.”

“Oh.”  Zhenya can’t quite seem to decide between embarrassment and relief.  He takes a step forward, then stops himself, gesturing towards the open door.  “I can come get?”

“Yeah!  Yes, come on in.”  He leads the way, but pauses before he’s taken more than a couple of steps himself.  “I’m Sidney, by the way.  Crosby.  I guess we’re neighbors?”

“I just move in,” Zhenya confirms with a smile.  “Evgeni Malkin.”  He sees the familiar look of suppressed alarm on Sidney’s face, and can’t help but laugh a little.  “You call me Geno.”

“Okay.  Geno.”  He gestures to himself.  “Sid.”

“Is very nice to meet,” Zhenya grins.

“Very nice,” Sidney agrees, and this time the pink that floods his cheeks is even brighter.  “Do you, uh, want a cup of coffee, maybe?” he asks, apparently forgetting about the unplanned trespassing, the cat waiting in the kitchen, and the fact that Zhenya isn’t wearing any pants.

“Would love coffee,” Zhenya says, because his mother didn’t raise him to turn away from good fortune.  “Thank you.”