#SHE LIKES SENDING PHOTOS AS GREETINGS AND FAREWELLS AND SHE USUALLY JUST BASES IT OFF OF STUFF I LIKE

[tangirlisfangirl]

THERE IS NO WAY IN HELL MY MOM JUST SENT ME THIS IMAGE TO SAY GOODNIGHT IIIII—

HELLO??????!!??))?!,(!,(??!

[egcdeath]

opposites attract

pairing: steve rogers x villain!reader

summary: based off of the lyrics:

“you and i are two oceans apart

we're on earth to break each others hearts

in two, and it's hard

with you, when i'm too far

from you, i look at the stars,

do you?”

from ‘ferrari’ by the neighbourhood

warnings: injuries, sparring, mention of blood and bruises, angst, fluff, and banter

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i am a simple woman. i think of a hurt/comfort concept and am morally obligated to write it. (this is a repost from the other day so if you saw it before, no you didn’t)

if you’d like to be added to my taglist, click here! as always, comments and reblogs are always appreciated <3

Thick, cushioned, cream colored walls. You supposed this was an upgrade from your last room, with its harsh and reflective steel. Every time you made an appearance here, it seemed there was a new, yet futile, attempt to keep you contained.

As you studied the pillowy surface, you drummed your fingers on the wooden table that your hands were currently strapped down to, and secretly hoped for your captor to rear his head, even if he was peeking through the double-sided mirror to your left.

Your mind proved itself to be a powerful thing, as the door ahead of you opened, and none other than Captain America stepped in, looking valiant and proud as ever.

“Good afternoon, Captain,” you greeted.

“Flux,” he said in a matter of faculty tone, nodding his head at you before pulling the chair in front of you aside and sitting down.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?” you asked, as if you hadn’t been tussling with him in the streets less than an hour ago.

“Y’know, just our biweekly catch up,” he shrugged, playing along.

“Can I suggest coffee for our next meeting?”

Steve scoffed, but you almost swore that if you squinted, you could see him blush. “Enough of that,”  he mumbled before opening a yellow folder and turning it to face you. “You ready to tell me about him?” Steve asked, pointing to a printed photo of Brock Rumlow.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Captain,” you responded, looking up and batting your lashes at the man. This routine was like clockwork for you two. Fight a little, get yourself caught after a moment of weakness, and end up in an interrogation room.

“Don’t play dumb with me Flux,” he warned in a snarl, wrapping his fingers against your wrist and making you yelp. That was definitely going to leave a mark.

“Ouch, Captain. You’re being rough today, even for you.”

“I’m always rough with you,” he insisted, raising a brow as he loosened his hold on you.

“You’re being rougher than usual, that’s what I just said,” you furrowed your own brows at him. “Something on your mind?

“You’re stalling,” Steve stated while squinting at you.

“I would never do something like that, Cap,” you closed your eyes and visualized the outside of the building. “Does it have anything to do with those accords?”

You opened an eye quick enough to catch a glimpse of his jaw ticking, “I didn’t mean to strike a chord. Oh my gosh, ‘a chord’, accord. I really didn’t even mean to do that.”

You opened your other eye to get a clear view of him glaring at you. “Okay, sorry, I’ll be out of your hair in a moment,” you gave Steve a sly wink.

He stood up from the chair in a dramatic fashion, leaning down to get right in your face. “No. You won’t. Tell me everything you know about Rumlow.”

“Cap,” you pouted mockingly. “You’re not very good at this. Really makes a gal wonder why they keep sending you in to interrogate me, when you don’t seem to get much out of me.”

He grit his teeth while looking down at you, your eye contact both intense and passionate.

“If it makes you feel any better,” you began, looking away at a plain wall in an attempt to focus a bit more on leaving, “I genuinely know nothing about him.”

Steve gave you a humorless look, and your eyes naturally flitted back to him, “really,” he said drily.

“Really,” you confirmed. “We don’t really work in that whole chemical warfare field. Especially with a guy like Rumlow? He’s bad news. Did you really think that all ‘villains’,” you made air quotations on the table. “Know the intimate details of each other’s lives and plans?”

“Hmm,” Steve hummed aloud as he moved back, seemingly convinced.

“I was serious when I said that I’m leaving, though. You and I both have better things to do. But please tell Wanda that she did a good job for me, okay? I mean, civilian deaths are never pretty, but I genuinely would miss having you around.”

“I hate how you talk so much, but literally say nothing,” he huffed.

“I’m not gonna take that personal, ‘cause I know you don’t really mean that,” you sighed softly and looked away to visualize the outside of the building. “Hopefully the next time I see you won’t be UN sanctioned. Farewell, Captain.”

With those words, you were gone.

——

For the next few days of your life, you hadn’t stopped receiving an earful at the Brooklyn base. Mainly from your teammates, who seemed to never let things go, and were the nastiest gossips you’d ever met. Currently, rumor had it that Cecelia, your boss, was preparing to have a strong word with you.

You cracked your knuckles anxiously as you followed a teammate, Amelia, down into the sparring facility, as an attempt to calm your mind before whatever bad news was broken to you.

You passively listened to the TV in the corner of the room while wrapping your knuckles in preparation of getting your ass beat, and listened to the rapid fire reports from hours earlier in the day, but mainly tuned into the fight between the Avengers at the Leipzig airport.

“Have you heard?” Amelia questioned, tying up her lengthy hair as she sauntered onto the mat.

“No, tell me more,” you followed suit on the mat, rising onto the ball of your foot to the heel of your foot in an alternating rhythmic bounce.

“I guess some of it is that UN thing, but it’s probably because of the Winter Soldier,” Amelia bounced similarly to you before charging forward and throwing a left hook at you.

“No way! I thought that guy just disappeared after that S.H.I.E.L.D shit,” you dodged the swing, and went to knee her. “I swear, I asked Steve about it once.”

Amelia rolled her eyes at you, and caught your knee, pushing you down to the ground in the process. “You’re obsessed with him.”

“I think it’s mutual. And you said you’d go easy on me,” you whined, grabbing her extended hand and pulling yourself back up.

“You’re delusional, and that’s why Cec is pissed with you. In fact, Cecelia was so mad, that she couldn’t even form the words to tell you. At least, that’s what she told Naomi.”

“Why, though? It’s not like I haven’t been caught by him a million times already.”

“That’s the problem, though. What happens when they decide to send someone else in to talk to you? And they start waterboarding you, or some shit? All the sudden the Avengers know everything about us?”

“Well that wouldn’t happen, because I would leave,” you shrugged after blocking a few punches.

“I hope you’re getting all your aloof-ness out now, because Cecelia is not gonna put up with this attitude.”

You huffed, and marched over to get a sip of water, dramatically squirting it in your mouth before heading back to the sparring mat.

“Just let me enjoy this while I can, okay? I know how to protect myself,” you swung your fist in an uppercut, and Amelia maneuvered herself out of the way.

“Well, I was just reading something before this. Apparently your boy is a fugitive of the law now. It almost looks like your time is already up,” Amelia commented, delivering a stiff jab to you at the same time that you crouched.

Hearing this news, you froze up, and the punch landed right on your nose, an unsatisfying crack reverberating in your ears.

“Y/N, you alright?” She asked, approaching you as you reached a hand up assess the damage, and pulled away an extremely bloody hand.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you mumbled letting her lead you off of the mats and to the connected bathroom, so you could get a better look at yourself.

You were dizzy with pain, and you pressed your hand to your nose, willing it to heal. Though not your most frequently used ability, it certainly assisted some of the pain. You squeezed your face in a cringe as your bone rearranged itself.

“Is he in jail?” you asked, watching her face screw up in the mirror.

“You’re not really- you are a lost cause,” Amelia scoffed.

“You could be a little nicer to the person whose nose you just broke.”

“You’re fixing your own nose! You’re fine, okay?” she exasperatedly brought her palm up to her forehead. “I’m gonna go take a shower. Be ready to talk to Cecelia as soon as you leave this room. A word of advice? Don’t mention your work husband unless she mentions it first, okay?”

Amelia set a hand on your back and pat it, “good luck with her. If you need a sofa to crash on after this, my place is always free.”

You shook your head at yourself as she left, your own personal healing already fixing most of the damage. As you hopped into your own shower stall, you couldn’t help but question just how bad this confrontation was truly going to be.

——

You walked into Cecelia’s office after receiving a text message from her assistant, inviting you to meet with her.

You were handed a disposable cup filled with piping hot coffee as you entered, and Cecelia beckoned you to sit down in front of her. You obliged, nervously rubbing your hands on your pants as you sat.

“Y/N,” she began in a sigh, “what has gotten into you lately?”

“Nothing, just-“ the older woman put an open hand out, prompting you to stop.

“No, Y/N. You’ve let Rogers become your biggest blind spot. You let him catch you off guard and capture you nearly every single time you go out on the field! I’m starting to think that you want him to catch you.”

“What if I do?” you shrugged, feigning indifference.

“It’s not a ‘what if’ anymore, dear,” Cecelia took a deep breath. “Especially after what happened in San Francisco.”

“I- Cec, you told me that you wouldn’t bring up California anymore!” you huffed and shook your head. “It’s not even like it’s a problem. They haven’t once received intel from me,” you added.

“Something tells me that you won’t be having the same interrogator for a while at least. We were gonna take you out of the field before this whole Avengers fiasco, but I think it’s time for you to just take a break as a whole.”

“So you’re firing me?” you huffed, “great.”

“No, you are taking a break. We can get you set up in the Prague safe house, and everything.”

You weakly threw up your hands and looked away from Cecelia, not even being able to bear looking at her for the moment. What a great day you were having.

——

You sulked the whole way up to your apartment, and reached in your jacket’s pocket with sluggish speed. It was as if you couldn’t catch a break today, which was all you seemed to be able to think about while grabbing your key.

You looked up at the door, and noticed something slightly off. The door was just the slightest bit ajar, as if it was deliberately cracked for you to see. Someone was inside. Waiting for you. You held in your groan as you came to this conclusion.

You really couldn’t catch a break.

Despite your better judgement, you devised a quick plan in your mind. You could probably protect yourself, right? You closed your eyes in a blink, and imagined your kitchen. The plasticky tiles on the floor, the dent in your countertop from dropping a mug, the wooden cupboards that you’d quickly fallen in love with. The next moment, you were standing in your kitchen, right next to your silverware.

As quiet as you could possibly manage to be, you slipped your sharpest and largest knife from its home in a wooden block, and defensively in front of you. Creeping out of the kitchen and into your hallway, you examined area by area for any sign of intrusion, pointing your knife with every turn.

After finding nothing and no one, at the end of the hallway you turned, walking back down and stopping in front of your living room after noticing a few dark stains on your carpet.

You took a deep breath before walking into the open space, the pit in your stomach growing at the thought of what it was that you were about to find.

With a few timid steps, you found a shirtless Steve Rogers, sat on your couch, head lolled back, eyes squeezed shut in pain as he released shallow breaths and attempted to apply pressure to a wound. With one look at him, you yelped and involuntarily found yourself back in the hallway outside of the room, your fear strong enough to force you into teleportation.

“Funny seeing you here,” Steve began, and you stalked back into the room, your steps slightly less fearful as you stepped over his discarded tactical gear.

“Steve?” You whispered, setting the knife on a random bookshelf before kneeling down on the floor next to him. You had a plethora of questions, but you couldn’t decide what was the most important. “I- Are… What happened?”

He shrugged weakly.

“Okay, well how badly are you hurt?” You questioned apprehensively.

“Pretty badly,” he responded.

You nodded slowly while you attempted to process the entire situation. You couldn’t tell if this was a scene from your wettest dream, or worst nightmare. “I’ll be right back,” you muttered, leaving the room to grab some water to help you speed up your healing process.

As you reentered your living room, you set down the bowl of water and squatted down next to Steve once again. Dipping your hands in the liquid, and placing them on an open head wound, you found it appropriate to question him.

“Steve,” you began, watching the forehead laceration quickly shrink into a small scar. “Why are you here?”

“I had nowhere else to go,” he put plainly.

“A hospital, maybe?” you added, pushing away the hand that was currently holding down a rather bloody wound on his upper arm, and exchanging it for your own.

“Something tells me that a hospital isn’t the best place for a guy of my legal status to be at right now,” he countered while you halted your attempt to reduce the size of the wound, cracking your stiff knuckles in preparation for the final push of closing the abrasion. “Besides, this isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this before. You remember S-“

“San Francisco. Right,” you cut Steve off, and brushed off the previous comment. “This is gonna hurt a little,” you warned. before setting your fingers down, and putting an obscene amount of pressure on the bicep wound.

Steve grit his teeth so hard that you swore you could hear it. His muscles clenched as you resumed your attempt to soothe the sore.

“Hey, look at me,” you used your free hand, and gently pushed his cheek so that he was looking at you. “If I distract you, it’ll hurt a lot less. Trust me.”

He seemed to agree with you, and took in a deep breath while the corner of his eye twitched.

“How did you even find my apartment?” you asked, using your pinky to tilt his chin up, and force his view away from the cut.

“It wasn’t that hard, I mean, we’ve been tracking you and that ‘financial firm’ you work in for years,” he spoke through clenched teeth.

“You sure it’s not because you like to keep a personal tab on me?”

“No! Why would I…?”

“Because if all the Avengers knew where me and my teammates reside, we’d all be locked up already.”

“Fine, maybe I pulled a few strings. It’s just because I think you’re the biggest threat to the general public.”

“Really? The woman with the least destructive powers of all of us, not the one with super strength? Or the one who could manipulate elements? Or even, I don’t know, the person leading us?” you chuckled a bit at the poor excuse.

Steve rolled his eyes fondly, but you could clearly see the soft flush on his face.

“It’s okay, Steve. We all have our favorite coworkers.”

“We aren’t coworkers, though.”

“It seems like you’re gonna need all the allies that you can come across. Don’t get picky with me now,” you tutted, finalizing your work on his peck, and leaving behind a small, pink scar.

You let out a breath of exhaustion as you pulled your hand away, and pointlessly shook out your wrists.

“You alright?” Steve questioned, adjusting himself a bit on the sofa and grunting at the rather simple task.

“Fine. What else needs attention?”

He gestured to the light bruising on his ribs that only seemed to be getting darker by the moment.

“We should take a break first, though. You seem tired.”

“I told you that I’m perfectly fine,” you countered, setting one hand on your chest, and pointing a lazy finger at Steve, “you’re the one that needs a break.”

Steve grabbed your finger and gently pushed it down, “I don’t really, but maybe we should take a break.” He gave you a kind smile, and your heart fluttered. Even bartered and bloody, Steve managed to make you feel like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“Well, any great Captain America plans to get yourself out of this mess?” you leaned against the sofa, and twisted your torso slightly so that you could get a good look at your visitor.

“Nope, not yet,” Steve pursed his lips slightly. “Any input from the lady who seems to get out of every rock and hard place she finds herself in?”

You snickered, and shook your head at this, “not at the moment. But you have me on speed dial, right? I can get back to you when I think of something,” you joked with a wink.

“I would laugh, but I’m honestly a little nervous that my lung might pop if I do.”

“Oh fuck, Steve,” you scooted away from him so you could be closer to the bowl of water once again. “Why did we take a break? You need urgent medical attention.”

“You needed a moment.”

You shook your head and frowned, catching the inside of your bottom lip between your teeth, “don’t do that again.”

You dunked both of your hands in the water, then turned back around and set your damp hands on the bruising on Steve’s ribs, closing your eyes in concentration as you addressed the damage.

Steve howled out in pain, making you flinch as a result. With the hand doing less work, you blindly pat around in a search for something to shove into his mouth and dampen the noises he was currently making. Eventually settling on a blanket, you shoved the fabric deep into his mouth.

“Sorry,” you uttered while the muted noise of his pain rang through your ears, “neighbors.”

The task wasn’t the easiest for you either, healing what seemed like such a large break or fracture following several other injuries was depleting your energy quickly. Your arms and hands trembled as you began to watch the splotchy yellow mark begin to blend into the rest of Steve’s skin, and you were becoming more and more light headed by the second.

Feeling somewhat satisfied with your work, you pulled your shaky hands away, and leaned away from Steve’s body before losing your balance, and falling back onto your plush floor.

Steve yanked the blanket from his mouth, sticking out his tongue for a second as he attempted to pull a spare string from his mouth. He sat up rapidly, and looked down at you with raised brows, and big, frightened eyes.

“Y/N?” he asked breathily, still exhausted from his own exertion, “you still with me?”

Your chest rose and fell slowly, and you were silent for a moment before responding, “I just need a minute.”

Steve relaxed back into the sofa with the knowledge that you were at least still conscious, and waited a few beats before he spoke again, “thanks,” was all that he managed to utter.

The two of you sat there in an extremely loud silence, the only other noise being your nearly synchronized panting.

“I’m gonna go shower,” you announced after what felt like hours on your floor. You slowly rose, and dragged yourself to the bathroom in your bedroom. Hitting the shower valve, then sitting atop your countertop you let the suite fill with steam, reflecting on your bizarre day, but most of all, your interaction with Steve.

You let yourself dwell on this while you stood in the shower, forehead pressed against the warm tile as you considered the implications of every word shared between the two of you, and how you’d let this tiny crush get so far ahead of you. Maybe it really was a good idea to take some time away from New York. You were so deep in your own thoughts that you failed to catch onto the sound of the floorboard that loudly creaked in your living room, or the soft click of your front door opening and closing.

Changing into some more comfortable clothing, you exited the bathroom, and ultimately your own room ready to offer up your shower to Steve, and possibly even talk about your feelings in a serious manner with him. Yet, by the time you arrived at the couch that had held him just a half hour ago, it was vacant. In fact, your whole apartment was vacant. You’d checked three whole times.

Ending your fruitless search on your balcony, you settled down into the single plastic beach chair that you kept outdoors, and draped the blanket from your sofa that had previously been in Steve’s mouth around your shoulders. The chill of the night air contributed to the sting of your eyes when they welled up, and you told yourself that it was silly to ever think that this, you and him, could ever happen in the first place.

Gazing up at the stars, you cursed yourself for being so naive. For letting yourself fall so fast, and so hard for someone you knew so out of reach. The stars seemed to mock you, in all of their billions of years of knowledge.

Yet, part of you was comforted by the knowledge that Steve could be viewing the same constellations as you.

----

a/n: listen. i feel like these idiots have a lot of potential so if you want me to write any more of them i am totally down!

[lovelylogans]

spring cleaning

there’s a pack rat in the family. who it is will not surprise you.

part of the wyliwf verse.

warnings: food mentions, alcohol mentions, general messiness, jokes about hoarding

pairings: patton/virgil, offscreen logan/roman

word count: 2,412

notes: hi! this is just a quick little fic as i beta and finish off the next chapter of debutante. this is based off the gilmore girls season three episode twelve “lorelai out of water” cold open. takes place the spring after the main storyline, after alliance but before debutante.

⁂

virgil’s phone buzzes at 10:13 am on a sunny spring sunday. he pauses just after he drops off the brunch plates for mrs. torres, babette, and east side tilly, digging around in his back pocket to squint at his recent texts.

logan sanders: Please help.

any other time, this kind of text would probably send anxiety flooding his veins like ice water. as he’s been warned, sure, he’s a little anxious that he’s misreading the situation, but he shakes that aside and snorts.

“called it,” he mutters under his breath, before he wipes his hands on his apron and types out christ, you’re folding easy this year. is that a new record?

a brief pause. then, No, the record was twenty-four minutes. To be fair, that took place when I was ten years old, we were moving into the house, and you were already going to be involved, so I perhaps I should propose that does not count against my spring cleaning record.

ah, that’s right. god, helping patton move had kind of been a nightmare. helping anyone move is a bit of a nightmare, but with patton there’s a whole new layer of shenanigans.

Another buzz. Also, I need this to be hastened along. I have a Socratic seminar in English tomorrow, and though we have settled on a tentative truce I refuse to let Dee achieve the highest grade in the class.

he shoots back i’ll be there asap.

“jean,” he calls to the counter, but jean, having been warned as well, waves him off.

“i got it, at least he waited till the we hit the between-masses lull.”

“you’re the best,” he says, hanging up his apron and ignoring mrs. torres’ hoots about his arms—he's like ninety percent sure she’s spiking her own orange juice so she can have a screwdriver with her pancakes but he hasn’t caught her with a flask in hand yet—and heads out the door.

the citizens of sideshire are fully soaking in the pleasure of a sunny spring day—it’s one of those days, where the weather’s warming up slowly, but there’s sure to be more cold snaps before they fully settle into spring, so lots of people are taking advantage of it. families are sprawled with picnic blankets in the grassy town square. the “long-haired freak” (taylor’s nickname, not his. virgil’s pretty sure his name is dave, but also, he’s not totally sure his name is dave, and as such usually avoids any complications by saying “hey, man,” whenever virgil sees him) is out hawking fruits and vegetables from his garden. lots of people are out on walks, some with earbuds or headphones on, some calling out jolly greetings to other people taking advantage of a blue sky and temperatures that are soaring above freezing.

“hey, virgil.”

“hey, felix,” virgil says, craning his neck to catch sight of—well, he guesses felix and riley are technically his tenants? but that always feels weird to say—his neighboring business owners. felix is busy making sure a promotional poster’s taped to the window. “how’re things?”

“ah, y’know, y’know,” felix says, waving their hands around. “weather’s warming up, so we’re getting into busy season. guess people want to be able to flaunt new ink in the warmer weather, y’know?”

“hey, speaking of—” virgil says.

“oh, yeah,” felix says, scratching at the half of their head that was once shaved bald but is now growing in stubbly. “you wanna have riley do one this time? they can draw up some sketches for you, if you want. or i can, if you want, but it might be a minute ‘cause i’m all hands on deck for this massive full-back piece.”

“nah, riley’ll be cool, it’s been a minute since they’ve done one for me,” virgil says. “i’ll drop by later with some reference photos, ideas and stuff.”

“i’ll make sure they’re refreshed on what your style is before the consultation,” felix says. “appreciate the business.”

“appreciate you and your spouse taking over this empty shop so taylor didn’t get a chance to,” virgil returns, as he usually does whenever felix or their riley thanks him for something. he’s really awkward about accepting gratitude, he’s working on that with emile and patton.

“god, could you imagine taylor next door,” felix says with a theatric shudder. “bad enough he runs half the town.”

“i’ll call tomorrow to make the appointment?”

felix flashes him a thumbs up, and virgil raises a hand in farewell as he continues on his way.

he ends up pushing his sleeves up to his elbows as he walks to the sanders’ house, occasionally saying hey to other residents of sideshire, or tilting his face up to the sun. 

this winter’s been brutal, even worse than it usually is for the northeast, with absurd amounts of blizzards and ice. on the days where it wasn’t shoveling ridiculous amounts of snow on the whole town, the sky had been gray and overcast, and what little sun there was could barely stream weakly through the clouds. 

but now, the sun sinks softly into his exposed skin, warming him without overheating him thanks to the breeze, carrying the sweet scent of tentatively blooming flowers planted by particularly audacious gardeners.

it is a perfect, lovely spring day. 

by the time he gets to the cheerful yellow clapboard house, he’s taken enough deep, calming breaths to ensure that he is a calming presence. he ascends the stairs of the wraparound porch—oh, huh, looks like patton or logan’s making an attempt at being a gardener, that looks like mountain mint—and knocks lightly on the front door.

“please come in,” logan shouts, sounding exasperated, and virgil obligingly pushes the door open.

he toes off his shoes, even as he overhears patton’s voice, cajoling.

“hug-a-world! c’mon, you’ve gotta remember your hug-a-world!”

hug-a-world, virgil mouths to himself, before it comes back to him in sudden, vivid technicolor and he rounds the corner.

and, sure enough, surrounded by the detritus of the sanders home, patton and logan sit in a hastily-cleared space in the middle of their living room, patton holding a stuffed ball tight to his chest.

“of course i remember the hug-a-world,” logan says, still with that tone of exasperation, but lessened now at the sight of a beloved childhood toy. 

“you can’t make me throw away your hug-a-world,” patton declares viciously, which would almost be believably threatening if he were not clutching a stuffed ball made to look like a globe to his chest, and if his curly hair was not sticking up in a configuration that virgil thinks of as chaotically unruly, and if he were not wearing a pink-and-blue sweater he usually busts out around easter, and if someone did not know patton as a person. “you learned all seven of your continents on hug-a-world!”

see, without fail, almost every year patton gets suckered into the whole concept of the spring clean. and, without fail, logan or virgil will try to point out that he does this every year, and patton insists no, really, this time for sure he’ll get rid of some of the clutter around this house, it’s about time!, and then he gets sidetracked getting attached to objects he finds that he suddenly cannot bear to get rid of, despite the fact that said objects have typically been buried away in a dark closet all the rest of the year.

which means that logan and virgil sit with him and try to point that out, and patton wavers, before he decides to keep or donate or trash it, and it seems like it’s going okay, until the next thing he touches turns out to be another thing that he suddenly cannot bear to give up.

it’s gotten a little better since that time they introduced the marie kondo method, but also, that much worse, because of course he insists that everything sparks joy! 

but this is way more mess than usual. there are cardboard boxes and piles of clothes and bits and bobs that are in piles that come up to his ribs. virgil squints it at it suspiciously.

“attic,” logan says wearily, in explanation. “he got boxes out of the attic.”

oh, shit, the attic. god, that thing is stuffed to the brim with boxes, no wonder the living room looks like someone upended the odds-and-ends drawer for a giant into the house.

“but—c’mon,” patton says, in that same sweetly coaxing tone that usually makes them all throw up their hands and leave the rest of this spring cleaning mess for next year’s spring clean. he holds out the hug-a-world to logan. “hold it. marie says so.”

“marie does not realize that she has a special case with my hoarder of a father and therefore should customize the approach of sparks joy, because you have too wide a definition,” logan says, but he reaches out and takes the hug-a-world with both hands anyways.

virgil examines logan holding it, thinking suddenly of a much tinier logan with a gap in his front teeth holding the same toy in the same way, though the fabric had been much more vibrant shades of blue and green then. there had been a solid stretch of time that the hug-a-world had been the toy that logan had hugged falling asleep, back in the poolhouse. he’d taken the hug-a-world to the diner and to school and all around the inn and to the princes’ apartment and back again.

a side of logan’s mouth twitches up, and then, as if suddenly conscious of it, he forces the corners of his mouth to turn down as he stares at it.

“remember?” patton repeats, staring at logan and the hug-a-world fondly. “we used to take turns to squeeze it as tight as we could and then wherever our pinkies would end up, that’s where we were going to go together when you grew up.”

“yes,” logan says, and then loses the fight against his mouth, because it twitches up into a smile again. “many a trip to uzbekistan was planned that way.”

“look!” patton says, pointing and tilting his head. “that’s canada, then, where’d your other one get you?”

logan moves his other pinky in order to squint at the faded fabric. “i believe that’s cambodia. possibly vietnam, i was rather splitting the border.” 

“why not both?” patton says pragmatically, or as pragmatically as he can sound planning a potential trip based off hugging a ball. 

logan hesitates, holding the ball.

“look,” patton says. “hey, how about virgil helps clean it up, and the hug-a-world can live in your room?”

logan chews at the inside of his lip.

“if it sparks joy,” patton sing-songs.

logan heaves a sigh.

“the hug-a-world will live in my room, then,” he says, before looking to virgil. “we’ve started a pile for you right here,” and pats a pile of what mostly looks like clothes that can be either repaired, repurposed, or sneakily donated.

virgil takes a breath, and says, “i’ll crack open a window and put on some music, then. patton, you take your allergy medicine today?”

patton tilts his head to think about it.

“that’s a no,” virgil says. “i’ll grab it on the way. water, snacks? we’re gonna be here for a while.”

“are we?” logan says doubtfully, twisting to look at him.

“we are finishing spring clean this year!” patton insists. “i mean it this time!”

logan arches his eyebrows at virgil, and virgil mouths play along, and logan sighs before he turns back to the pile, pulling out an old jacket at random.

“i have never seen you wear this. it should be donated.”

“that was from raf, we can’t just toss it!” patton cries out in dismay, and virgil heads for the kitchen.

he fills up three glasses of water, chops up some celery and apples, fills up three mini ramekins with peanut butter, and sets it all on a tray, along with the round white pill that patton takes for his allergies. 

he plugs in his phone and scrolls to a roman-made playlist, lowering the volume so that they’ll be able to hear each other, and proceeds to make his meandering way around the piles of Stuff as best he can without knocking anything over.

on his way, he moves to crack open the windows of the living room, allowing the floral-scented air to waft into the messy room, to hear the chirping of the birds under patton and logan’s debating.

he pushes aside a pile of old books on the coffee table and sets the tray down, mostly ignored as logan manages to triumph and tosses the jacket into a box labeled DONATE.

virgil settles down next to his pile, sitting in criss-cross-applesauce, and gosh all of the clutter of patton and logan’s lives looms over them like a mountain at this angle. 

“okay,” virgil says encouragingly. “good, that’s good! raf’s old jacket will probably make some other teenager very happy to have it.”

patton sighs, staring after the jacket. “yeah, i guess.”

“this is good,” virgil says stubbornly, before tugging at a piece of fabric sticking out at random and unearthing a blanket.

“oh, i was wondering where that got off to!” patton says, delighted. 

“i thought that got lost in the moving shuffle,” virgil agrees, because the last time he saw this he was pretty sure it was tossed over the back of their rented apartment couch.

“so this blanket has not been washed in at least six years,” logan says.

“well, that can be fixed!” patton points out. “i say keep.”

“we’re never going to finish,” logan groans.

“of course we’re gonna finish!” patton says.

“yeah, logan,” virgil says unconvincingly. “listen to your dad.” 

patton beams at him, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek; logan rolls his eyes, before he turns his attention to the blanket.

“so, you claim keep for your room,” logan says. “you already have so many blankets.”

“well, we can always use more blankets!” patton points out. “worse comes to worse, we’ll put it in the linen closet.”

logan tilts his head, before he sighs, and places it in a pile of other fabrics that they seem to have decided to keep.

“all right, fine,” he says, then fishes out another piece of fabric. “next item—”

“look how fast we settled that!” patton says brightly.

“pretty fast,” virgil agrees dutifully.

“we’ll totally finish spring clean this year,” patton says confidently.

(they do not finish spring clean this year.)

[kazuharem]

“One Less Star” ↠ Lucien [ANGST]

Requested by @kazuko-stuff​

This story contains an image not yet released in EN server as well as possible triggering content. Read at your own risk.

Characters: Lucien, mentions of Victor and MC (Female)

Genre: Angst ツ, Song-fic

Word Count: 1,733

Warnings: spoiler warnings for Ch. 25 (some canon details), mentions of drug use (don’t do drugs, kids), mentions of a major character death I guess...

A/N: Uh.... I know I said Lucien angst was addictive.... but I didn’t realize it hurt this much. I also know I promised Lucien fluff, but this was too good to pass up. I’m so so sorry that I haven’t published anything in well over a month. Things have been so stressful for me and I’ve had the worst case of writer’s block. However! I am writing Helios and Lucien smut to make up for that! I also don’t know if the depictions are accurate cuz.... never done drugs.... so this was based off lots of research. Also inspired by this fanart.

Part II of this: story

Summary: The light of Lucien’s life, his little butterfly, was no longer part of his world.

Picture and story under the cut since it contains spoilers and possible triggering content.

[I wished upon a star last night and thought of you

But must have been a dream cause you're not here

I've never been one to believe in fairy tales or fantasy

But perhaps it's time for a change of mind.

I guess there's a first for everything]

The ticking of the clock was abnormally loud in the silence. Lucien sat in the darkness, breathing ragged as he tried his best to ease the dull roar coursing through his ears. A sharp gasp broke the air as he doubled over, hunching over as he pressed a hand to his chest where stabbing pains could be felt. He fumbled with a shaking hand to reach out to the bottle of pills sitting in front of him and missed, sending them scattering across the floor. “Ugh…” Lucien’s chin dropped to his chest as he panted. Without looking, he grabbed haphazardly what he could and slammed the pills into his mouth, swallowing them dry. Not enough, Lucien thought as he leaned against his bookcase, closing his eyes. Nothing eased the sensation of the pressing pain that robbed him of breath. His pants came out, choked and stuttered.

[We fell in love, we had our fun

You always had enough dreams for both of us

I wonder what would come of us

If we could trade these ends for beginnings]

Memories ran across his closed eyes. Those of her. Black and white, like photo negatives that had no time to be developed. Unwanted. Forgotten.

Cheerful laughter rang in his ears. “Lucien, thank you so much for your help!” He could see her beam at him, her smile bright and sweet. “I couldn’t have done it without you!”

Another vision of her popped up unbidden before him, but Lucien welcomed it eagerly like a man starved. He drank in the sight of her greedily. “Okay, I will wait for you,” she spoke, eyes teary and voice trembling. “I will take care of myself...and disturb you whenever I want. You have to do the same! Take good care of yourself!”

He was suddenly bombarded with various versions of her. The her wearing his sweater curled up on the couch as she typed feverishly on her laptop. The her awashed in a blue tint as she reached up to press her lips against his even when he had warned her that he was dangerous. The her running out into the pouring rain to hug him when she had followed him to Copenhagen. The her gazing adoringly up at him, flashes of bright light dancing across her face from the sparkler that she held between them. The her dusted in flour as she dropped a dumpling into his bowl wishing him happiness and health for the new year. The her with a smile as pure and untainted and beautiful as the fresh snow as she wished that she could celebrate his birthday with him every year in the future.

The beautiful images morphed together into one of her bathed in a warm light. “I wish our love will last forever,” she whispered to him, eyes aglow with the dazzling love solely reserved for him and only him.

Lucien lurched forward, eyes flying open. He looked around wildly, but there was no sign of any comfort in his dark and desolate apartment.

He was sure that she had been there just a second ago. Hadn’t she just been whispering in his ear about taking good care of himself?

A dry sob broke out from his throat, grating and rough, when he realized that he was alone. Like he always had been.

Lucien grabbed more pills and swallowed. Not enough, not enough. The voices in his head became disembodied, haunting.

With some effort, he staggered to his feet using the bookshelf for support.

He needed more. He needed to see her, needed to hear her voice.

He panted desperately as he clung onto the wooden shelf, cold sweat pouring down his back. She couldn’t be gone, Lucien told himself as he tried to gain back some semblance of control over the swirling visions, she’s not gone. The reassurances he gave himself were instantly shattered the moment his eyes landed on the film calendar she had gifted him as a birthday present.

No.

Lucien began to tremble violently. The date served as an unwelcome reminder for exactly what had occurred a month ago.

No. It couldn’t be. She couldn’t…couldn’t be gone.

“No,” the word left his mouth in a cracked whimper. “Please…”

No one was there to hear his broken plea.

[I'm drinking from an empty cup

The hardest part of young love was growing up

It's not enough to fill me up

Cause now there's one less star in the city]

“You…did what…?” Lucien stared at the man before him, feeling like there was no longer strength left in his body at the words that left the man’s mouth. “She…she’s-” He was physically unable to say the next words.

He wanted to grab Victor’s collar, wanted to shake him. Wanted to ask why he did what he did. Why he couldn’t fulfill such a simple request. 

“Keep her safe...and please let her be happy.”

“I trusted you,” Lucien wanted to say. “I entrusted her safety to you. You were supposed to protect her.”

“You cared for her as well. You loved her too,” Lucien wanted to accuse, wanted something-someone to blame.

But upon looking at the gaunt man in front of him, eyes sunken with pain that reflected Lucien’s own, Lucien knew that Victor had been hurting just as much as he had. The usually impeccably dressed CEO looked haggard.

Lucien swallowed hard. “Our partnership ends then. There’s no reason for us to collaborate anymore,” he was surprised his voice was still steady. “I bid you farewell, Victor.”

He reached the door of Victor’s office when Victor spoke up.

“Lucien.” Lucien paused but did not turn back. “For what it’s worth,” There was a pause. “I am sorry.”

Lucien’s hands trembled and he curled them into tight fists. “I understand why you had to do so,” he said to the door. His voice sounded like it was on the verge of cracking. He reached for the door.

“There’s a chance,” Victor stopped him again before he could leave. “There might be a chance she…could still be…alive.”

Lucien closed his eyes. Would it be foolish to cling onto this useless hope? “I’ll take my leave-”

“I’ll bring her back,” Victor’s voice had its usual determination, “I’ll do everything in my power to bring her back.”

“Goodbye, Victor,” Lucien said quietly, dismissing the other man’s words. He left before Victor could say anything else.

Lucien passed through the halls of LFG in a numb daze. He wandered the streets, not knowing where his feet were taking him.

When he arrived in front of a familiar apartment, he blinked. Pulling the keys from his pocket shakily, he unlocked the apartment he had vacated. Part of him hoping that Victor’s words were just part of a cruel joke.

Nothing greeted him. No bright smile that rivaled that of the sun. No pattering of eager footsteps rushing to hug him. Nothing but dust motes dancing in the air.

“No,” Lucien’s chest felt constrictive. “No, no,” He gasped for breath, his legs giving out on him as he collapsed against the door. “Please…no,” the words came out in a broken sob.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” his whispers hitched as sharp stabbing pains robbed him of breath. “I’m sorry…” Lucien grabbed at his chest, fingers digging into the skin. “No…” Tears slid down his cheeks, hot and scalding. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you,” he choked out, “I’m so sorry…”

[I can't keep living without you

But I'll wait and someday, I'll join you in the stars

But for now I can't keep thinking about you

Cause I can't find my way

Cause now there's one less star in the city]

Lucien staggered, the memory of that day leaving him reeling. “No,” he gasped, shaking his head weakly. He refused to believe the pathetic scene he had just witnessed. “No….she’s not…I’m…no…”

He stumbled across the room to his coffee table and grabbed a syringe, almost dropping it as his shaking hand fumbled desperately. Lucien reached for the tiny glass bottle next to it and plunged the needle into the bottle. Please, an inner voice begged. Please let me see her again. He took a deep breath as he stabbed the needle into his arm. Releasing a hiss, Lucien pushed down slowly on the syringe. He relished in the spread of warmth as he cast away the syringe, breathing finally slowing down.

Lucien collapsed against the window, his shuddering pants easing into deep and languid breaths. I’ll see her again, he thought dazedly as his vision started to blur. I’ll see her again in my dreams.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the gleam of the dark window.

“Look at yourself, Ares,” his reflection seemed to taunt. “Look at how weak you’ve become.”

“Be…quiet,” Lucien spat, his voice nearing a growl.

“You were foolish to think you had a future with her. Foolish to believe that she would still choose to give you trust and love even after you betrayed her. Love? Happiness? Wake up, Ares, there is no love or happiness for you,” the face in the window sneered.

There was the sound of shattering glass and Lucien watched with numb fascination as a dark liquid seemingly blossomed from his clenched fist. There was silence. Blissful and soothing.

Suddenly, there was the sound of light footsteps. He raised his head slowly and his breath caught in his throat.

It was her.

She was here.

“Lucien,” she smiled, and Lucien felt his heart swell at the sheer beauty of it, blinding and brilliant. “Did you miss me?” She stepped delicately towards him and spread open her arms.

Lucien pulled her into his arms desperately, his movements eager and clumsy. “I…missed you so much,” he croaked as his arms enveloped her. “I missed you so much that I was going crazy,” he admitted as he buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her familiar scent.

“Well, I’m here now,” She whispered, and Lucien could feel every fiber of his entire being sing with relief.

“Yes, don’t leave me, my love. Stay here with me forever, my little butterfly. I love you.”

───── ⋆⋅ Ƹ̵̡Ӝ̵̨̄Ʒ ⋅⋆ ─────

A/N Part II: I am not okay right now. I hate myself. Goodbye

Part I: Here

Part III: Here

For more of my work: 📖

[hobeymakar]

Every Kind of Way | C. Makar

Words: 2,528

A/N: this one is based off the song Every Kind of Way by H.E.R. (aka one of my fave R&B songs). In this, COVID-19 never happened and the season starts and ends at the time it usually does.

Warnings: swearing and references to alcohol use

-

Baby, the sound of you. Better than a harmony. I want you off my mind. And on me. Holding me closer than we’ve ever been before. This ain’t a dream. You’re here with me. Boy, it don’t get no better than you. For you, I wanna take my time. All night

You wake up to the sound of birds chirping outside. It’s a beautiful August morning in Denver and you turn over to see the most beautiful sight of all, your boyfriend Cale. He’s asleep peacefully beside you and you take a moment to caress his face, gently running your thumb over his cheeks.After a few moments, he wakes up and goes to kiss you. You stop him and get up to go to the bathroom instead, since you can’t stand morning breath. You brush your teeth and when you come back into the room, you see him on his phone.

He hears you come into the room and puts his phone down before turning over onto his back. You climb back onto the bed, wearing one of his old giant UMass Hockey tees and joggers.

“Good morning,” you smile, straddling his waist.

“Morning, baby,” he smiles back. “Sweet dreams?”

“I dreamt of you winning the cup and me kissing you at center ice,” you explain.

“Well who knows? Maybe it’ll happen this year,” he smiles.

“It better happen. I expect you guys to kick ass all season,” you reply, placing one of your hands over his heart.

“And what if we don’t?” he teases.

“Then I’ll tell Bednar to bag skate you guys after every loss to whip you guys into shape,” you tease back, causing him to chuckle in response.

“I’ll whip you into shape,” he groans, flipping you over and pinning you down to the mattress to tickle you.

“Cale!” you shriek, since you hate being tickled.

He ignores your pleas and continues to tickle you into submission, while you continue to laugh uncontrollably.

“Okay okay okay, I’m sorry! I won’t tell Bednar to bag skate you after every loss,” you whine, not being able to handle any more tickling from him.

“Good,” he smiles, kissing her forehead.

“Now, since you decided to tickle the shit out of me, the least you can do is make us breakfast,” you tease.

“I’ll make breakfast, but you better not complain about it,” he replies, sending you a look as he gets up from the bed.

“Ugh!” you groan, smacking his ass hard.

He doesn’t even react to the smack and walks out of the bedroom, causing you to shake your head and get up from the bed.

I wanna love you in every kind of way. I wanna please you no matter how long it takes. If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today. I’m gonna love you in every kind of way

You walk into the bathroom and see Cale fresh out of the shower, brushing his teeth with a towel hanging low off his hips. The mirrors are fogged in the bathroom and he looks good with his cheeks flushed from the heat and humidity in the bathroom.

“Like what you see?” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

“Shut up,” you scoff, shoving him lightly in the chest. 

He walks over to his sink and finishes brushing his teeth as you go to the other sink and wash your face and hands.

“Do you want me to pick us up some dinner for tonight?” he asks you, his words garbled because of the toothpaste in his mouth.

“I’ll be home on time to make some dinner,” you reply, drying your hands.

He goes back to brushing his teeth and you draw “heart you” over the fog on the mirror, before leaving the bathroom. You go back to the room and get ready for your Zoom meeting for your online business job. Before you know it, Cale comes back into the room and gets dressed for his first day of training camp. He then heads to the living room to grab his gear. You follow him out of the bedroom and into the living room to bid him farewell.

“Love you too, baby,” he smiles, referring to the writing on the mirror you left him.

“So, you saw my note on the mirror huh?” she asks rhetorically.

“It was cute, but you’re even cuter,” he replies, bending down to give you a kiss.

“Bye baby. Make sure you kick some butt today. Can’t have some guy take your spot on the top d-pair,” you tease, your lips just lightly brushing against his.

“No one’s gonna take my spot babe, but thanks for the motivation,” he teases lightly.

“I think there are other ways I can get you extra motivated to have a great camp,” you tease back.

“I better have a great camp then,” he replies, finally kissing you.

Give you all, give you all of me. When you need it. “Cause I need it. I wanna fall like your favorite season. I’ll never give up. Stay here forever, babe. It don’t get no better than this. Your kiss

It’s Conor Timmins’ birthday and the party is being held at Mikko’s condo. It’s a big ass luxurious condo right in the middle of downtown Denver because it’s the type of place you get when you’re making $9.25M a year. You and Cale arrive when the party's just starting to get really going. You bring two big dishes of your famous Buffalo Chicken Ranch dip that the boys always demolish. You and Cale also hand Timmy his gift, which Cale kind of went overboard with. But being that Cale and Timmy have been friends for so long, it’s understandable why he was freaking out over the gift a little. You and Cale obviously greet the whole team and the girls, with you catching up with the girls and finding out what’s new with their lives and how their summers went.

After a while, the party starts going off the rails because the guys start drinking and it’s tarps off after that. The guys start dancing in the middle of the living room, like it’s the dance floor at the Roxy, while the girls just laugh at them. Luckily, Cale doesn’t join in on the shenanigans and his shirt stays on for the entire night. After a while of laughing at the boys, Cale drags you out to the large balcony, complaining that it’s too hot inside the condo. You follow him reluctantly outside and take in the cool breeze of the September night and the view of the city lights.

“Thanks for coming with me tonight. I know the guys can go pretty hard,” Cale says, apologizing as if it’s a bad thing when the team parties.

“Babe, you know I love coming to team parties with you! This is where I get my best blackmail and chirping material on your teammates,” you tease, trying to keep the mood light.

“Wow, look at the moon tonight,” he says, admiring the view.

You look at the moon but you also look at how beautiful he looks in the moonlight.

“I’ll never get over how beautiful this city looks at night,” you sigh, loving the view.

“You make the view a whole lot better though,” he confesses, causing your heart to swell.

You turn around to face him and realize that if this is what being in love is like, then you never want it to end.

“I love you, Cale Douglas Makar,” you smile, brushing his lips against yours.

“I love you so much more, Y/F/N,” he smiles back, before properly kissing you.

The kiss grows more passionate by the second and it feels like the world just disappears and it’s only you two in that moment. However, the moment doesn’t last long, as the sound of the balcony door opening startles you two.

“No making out at team events! You know it’s a $50 fine, Makar. If I catch you two again, I’ll double it,” EJ says sternly.

If anyone takes his job of fining teammates seriously, it’s EJ. Before the two of you can even respond, EJ closes the door shut and goes back to the party.

“I think we should head back before EJ finds another reason to fine you again,” you tease.

“Yeah, I refuse to put more money on the board,” he adds, taking your hand in his.

You two head back to the party and of course, EJ opens his big mouth again.

“Guys, the two lovebirds have decided to join us again!” he yells out, grabbing everyone’s attention.

Cale blushes immediately and you kiss his cheek, causing his cheeks to darken even more.

I wanna love you in every kind of way. I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes. If the world should end tomorrow and we only have today. I’m gonna love you in every kind of way. I wanna love you in every kind of way. I wanna please you, no matter how long it takes. If the world should end tomorrow and we only gave today. I’m gonna love you in every kind of way

Cale is driving through the streets of the city while the song Drew Barrymore by Bryce Vine is playing through the speakers. Your hands are joined together in the middle as you both sing along to the song.

“‘Cause you’re the next Drew Barry and I want more, yeah. And all these other girls keep wonderin’ what I fuck with you for,” he sings, kissing your hand.

You eventually arrive at your destination but have to park a couple blocks away because city parking is always a nightmare. You walk through the streets of Denver, holding hands and luckily, no one bothers you two for a photo or autograph. You eventually arrive at the place and it turns out it’s a small arcade bar. Cale buys your tokens and you drag him to the skeeball machines right away.

“Prepare to go down, Makar!” you yell out.

“In your dreams, Y/L/N!” he retorts, his competitive nature coming out.

You take the first ball and you manage to miss the left 10,000 target and get only 1,000 instead, while he manages to hit the 2,000 range. With the second ball, you manage to miss the right 10,000 target and only get 1,000 instead, while he hits the 2,000 range again. You look up at him and he’s making a cry baby face at you. You just shoot him a look and become determined to get that stupid grin off his face. You take the next ball and manage to hit the 5,000 target, while he misses the 4,000 target and only gets 1,000 instead.

“In your face! Eat shit!” you yell in his face playfully.

The two of you continue your competitive game of skeeball with you coming out victorious. He leads you to the basketball game and you shake your head at him, as a plea of protest.

“Why not, babe?” he asks.

“Because I’m too short and terrible at basketball,” you inform him.

Even though the boots you have on give you an extra couple of inches of height, you are still too short to be playing this game.

“I’ll show you baby,” he assures you.

He grabs a ball and shows you the shooting motion before handing it to you to try.

“This is gonna be so bad, just so you know,” you inform him.

You take the shot, mimicking the shooting motion he made, and you’re shocked when the shot actually goes in without bouncing off the rim. You look at him in disbelief that you actually just did that.

“I told you that you can do it,” he smiles, hugging you tightly.

You guys play more games for a while before deciding it’s getting too late.

“I really don’t wanna walk all the way back to the car! My feet hurt!” you complain.

He lifts you up without warning and you wrap your legs and arms around him tightly as he carries you out of the arcade and into the streets of Denver. He manages to only make it a block carrying you before growing tired. You jump down to the ground and you two finish your walk back to the car, while holding hands.

If this is what being in love is like, then you never want it to end.

I wanna love you. I gotta love you. I wanna love you. I gotta love you

It’s New Year’s Eve and the whole team and all the girls and kids are at Gabe’s house for the Avs annual New Years party. This year, they managed to be home once again, for New Year’s and even played a game earlier in the evening. It’s currently 6 minutes before midnight and the party is in full swing. The children are running around, while their moms try to catch them and stop them from destroying any of the Landeskogs’ furniture. 

There’s drinks flowing and snacks all over the kitchen and dining room. There’s child-friendly music playing, since the last thing the mothers need is for their kids to pick up swearing from the music. Cale is currently talking about improving the power play with Nate and you’re listening as Melissa tells the girls about one of Linnea’s recent play dates. This is your second Avs New Year’s party and you’re already starting to get used to the chaos. As it gets closer to midnight it gets more chaotic and before you know it, everyone is packed around each other counting down the final minute of 2020. Cale is right beside you wearing a ridiculous 2021 hat and yet he still looks so beautiful. You’re looking at the TV screen showing Time Square and the crystal ball, waiting for the ball to drop.

The final 10 seconds begin and you keep your attention on the TV not noticing what’s happening behind you. The clock finally strikes 12 and everyone starts going nuts. You turn to your side to give Cale a New Years Kiss and instead see him behind you on one knee. You freeze and cover your face in shock.

“Y/F/N, ever since I met you by almost spilling coffee on you at Dunkin in UMass, you’ve changed my life. I asked you to be my girlfriend at the New Years Eve party freshman year, so I figured I should ask you to marry me at this New Year’s Eve party. So, will you make me the luckiest guy alive and marry me?” he asks, looking more nervous than he did at 2018 World Juniors.

“Yes!” you cry out, nodding your head.

Everyone cheers as Cale gets up and kisses you, making sure to keep it light because of all the kids around. You look at the giant engagement ring and can’t believe you’re actually gonna marry the love of your life.

This is definitely what being in love is like and you never want the feeling to end.

[h-styles-babes]

No Control | Chapter Fifteen

Summary: 

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

WARNING: Teeny tiny bit of smut (But, like, cute smut.)

FIFTEEN

Harry startles a little bit when my dad tells him to put his bag in my room. Tommy’s staying the night, since he’s had a bit too much to drink to drive back to Manchester. I rest a reassuring hand on Harry’s back to tell him it really is okay and my parents aren’t trying to test him or anything. 

We all stay up for a bit longer, chatting in our living room, slowly sipping on the rest of the wine from dinner. At around ten, Georgie heads home, giving everyone quick head kisses in farewell, including Harry. She tells me to text her in the morning to possibly make plans before heading out. The rest of us linger for only about half an hour more, everyone yawning between sentences. I’m convinced I’m still suffering a bit from jet lag, and it looks like Harry is too, so I say goodnight to my family and pull Harry with me upstairs. 

“Your parents are really okay with me sleeping in the same room as you?” he asks once I close the door behind us. I’m already searching through my drawers for something to wear to bed, since I know Harry’s going to make my bed like a heater tonight.

“Well, they already suspected we were sleeping together, and Georgie and her big mouth basically confirmed it at dinner. And we’re adults; they can’t really tell me what to do anymore. Even when I was younger, they’d let my boyfriend sleep over in my room. They don’t think it’s a big deal,” I assure with a shrug. I finally find a tank top that would do and set it out as I pull my jumper over my head. When I look back, Harry is pulling his shirt off and folding it to place it back in his bag. 

“How many boyfriends have you had?” Harry asks, sounding merely curious. It’s not anything we’ve shared before, and I briefly wonder if he’ll share some of his past relationships with me in return.

I purse my lips and pull my shirt over my head before answering. “I had one for a few months while I was in secondary. He only came around a few times, but we hung out a lot. Tommy was away at uni while I was dating this one, but they met once, and the guy never came around again. Tommy pulled the same shit he pulled tonight, but a sixteen year old boy is a little less keen on my brother being a twat than you were.” I roll my eyes at the memory and shimmy out of my shorts. 

“Then I had one while I was in sixth form. He lasted a little longer. Dated him for a little over a year.”

“Did he not meet Tommy?” Harry asks, pulling off his jeans.

I chuckle and begin to plait my hair, something I like to do to try to prevent it becoming a mess while I sleep. “He was one of Tommy’s best mates. Still is, actually. He’s a couple years younger than Tom, though. There’s only a three year difference between us.”

“How’d that work out?” Harry asks, one eyebrow raised. He walks over and helps me finish off my plait, letting us look at each other in the mirror of my vanity.

“When we first got together, Tommy wasn’t too happy, obviously, but Kellan’s a good guy. Where Tommy’s crass and a bit of a slag, Kellan’s nearly too polite. Treated me like a was a fine piece of China, which Tommy obviously picked up on, so a few months in he was fine. Even when I started having my doubts about the relationship, Tom encouraged me to keep at it because he thought we were good together.” Harry holds out his hand over my shoulder, and I place my hair tie in his open palm.

“So why didn’t it last? Aside from you moving to America?”

I catch Harry’s eyes in the mirror and smirk. “He treated me like a fine piece of China.”

Harry bites at his lip and nods. “I see.” He brushes his hands over the bare skin of my shoulders as we continue to stand before the mirror.

“Yeah. Even when I tried to explain to him that I wanted more and I wouldn’t break, he refused. Told me men were made to care for and love women, not hit them. Which is obviously true in any other setting, but he didn’t get that I needed it to really get off. Needless to say, our sex life was pretty lackluster for me. I broke up with him five or six months before I left.”

“No boyfriends in the states?” He wraps his arms around my waist now, propping his chin on my shoulder.

“I’ve had my fair share of flings over the years, but nothing serious. I always figured a relationship would be pointless since I plan on moving back here after graduation, anyway.”

“I thought you were still undecided?”

I huff out a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s just the excuse I’m giving myself. I don’t know. I’ve been busy recently. Not much time for eating and sleeping, much less keeping a boyfriend.”

Harry turns his head and presses a kiss to my neck with a hum that raises goosebumps on my skin. “You’ll figure it out, love. There’s someone out there perfect for you.” He turns back and catches my eye in the mirror, so many emotions swimming in his own. I can tell what he’s not saying aloud, and it warms and breaks my heart simultaneously, because there’s nothing we can do about it. We’re from two different worlds that happened to intersect by coincidence, and we’ve taken advantage of it. It’s all got to drift apart eventually, though. It always does. 

Taking a deep breath, I unwrap Harry’s arms from my waist and tug him along. “Come on, let’s get some sleep. Mum’ll have us up pretty early for brekky.”

“Did you just say ‘brekky?’ Haven’t heard that one in awhile,” he teases, lightening the previously somber mood. 

“I’ve heard the word ‘gobsmacked’ come out of your mouth. You have no room to talk.”

“Fair.”

As promised, my mum has us up early the next morning with the smell of French toast and the clinking of dishes in the kitchen. Harry’s spooned against me, one arm under my neck and the other thrown over my waist, keeping my body pressed into his. I lost my shirt at some point in the night—most likely from the heat that Harry produces in his sleep—and his hand is gripping my breast. I can feel his erection pressed against my bum under the sheet, and I’d normally take it upon myself to wake him with a morning blowie, but the chances of my brother barging in within the next few minutes is too high. 

So, instead, I turn in Harry’s arms so we’re face to face, and he makes an annoyed huffing sound in his sleep at the movement. I stifle a chuckle and reach up to pet against his cheek, brushing his hair back from his face. He looks to content and peaceful in his sleep, and I just want to take a photo to commemorate this moment, so I reach over to grab my phone and make sure my sound and flash are off before snapping a few. His lips are slightly parted and pouty, so I take to pressing mine lightly against them, trying to rouse him from sleep. I let my fingers trail over his sides and around to his muscular back as I coo his name.

“Harry,” I murmur, not wanting to really startle him. He doesn’t react, so I press harder kisses against his mouth before calling, “Harry,” a little louder. I feel his arms flex slightly around me and he makes a little huffing noise. “We’ve got to get up, bub. Mum’s making breakfast and I don’t want Tommy walking in on us half naked.” 

I scratch my nails up and down his back lightly. He groans at me, but I can see his lids fluttering as he prepares to open them. I press one more lingering kiss to his lips, and he responds by slightly puckering them to participate. His arms fully wrap around me, pulling my body against his. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Harry Edward, I know you’re awake.”

His smile widens and his eyes peek open to look at me. He’s still a bit bleary from just waking up, but he seems pretty alert and the risk of him falling back to sleep has diminished.

“Like that,” he mumbles, his voice rough from disuse and absolutely delicious. 

“Me calling you Harry Edward?” I guess. 

He nods, nuzzling our noses together. “Like my name on your lips.” He reaches out to press a few more kisses against my lips that turn into a light, slow make out session. His hands caress along the skin of my back and smooth down my sides to rest on my hips. Without much warning, he moves us so he’s on his back and I’m straddling him, our naked chests pressed together. I feel him tug at the hair tie at the end of my plait and then run his fingers through it, undoing it. “So fucking beautiful, Mick.” His lips press back up to mine, his tongue massaging against my own and he laces his hands into the hair at the base of my head. I’ve got my own hands tucked into his hair, rubbing gently at his scalp. 

Harry’s hard between my legs, hips gently rutting against me, like he’s trying to stop himself from moving but is losing that battle. Every time his hips lift, he rubs just right against my clit, making me mewl into our kisses. I can’t help it when I start rolling my hips against his to get more friction.

“Let me have you, angel,” he begs in a hushed tone, lips still brushing against mine as he speaks. “We’ll be quiet.”

I don’t verbally agree, but I lift up and shimmy my way out of my panties, no longer bothered by the fact that there are other people in the house. I can tell by his tone and the serene quality to his voice that this isn’t going to be one of our usual dirty couplings. We’re both still sleepy and warm from being in bed, and his face has little sleep lines pressed into it. While I’m still wildly turned on by Harry, I’m more invested in the feeling I get when gazing at him so vulnerable like this than any type of arousal. I want him like he is in this moment—content and lazy and bare.

Harry moves me onto my back and gets rid of his boxers before settling between my legs, hips flush together. He presses wet little kisses along my chest as he reaches down to run his fingers between my folds and humming at the moisture he finds there already. His lips are back on mine as I feel his head press to my entrance and hesitate only a moment before fully entering me. He presses his hips heavy to mine, making sure he’s as deep as he can go, making me whimper. 

Our chests remain pressed together, only his hips moving as he slowly thrusts into me. I wrap my legs around his waist, changing the angle slightly so he bumps into my G spot every time he enters. My arms are locked tight around his shoulders, nails dragging along his skin. He’s going to have red welts when we’re finished, but neither of us can care. 

The atmosphere is something I’ve never experienced before. The air is heavy around us and the only sounds are our panted breaths and the occasional moans and whimpers we draw out of each other. This time with Harry is more intense than anything we’ve done together, even though other time’s he’s made my legs shake and made me to beg for him to let me cum. This moment is heavy with emotion that we haven’t really even acknowledged is there, and it makes my chest feel tight. We’re no longer fucking each other or sleeping together—we’re actually making love when no words can be said to express it. 

The way I feel around Harry is something I’d never be able to express to anyone. From the first moment our eyes met, something inside me just clicked. I didn’t really acknowledge it at the time, because I was pretty sure it was just some sort of silly thing I was making myself feel because I was finally meeting the one person who I’d been pretty enthralled with for the past five years. But, looking back on it, I can recognize that instant comfort and calm feeling that washed over me when I saw him and when he had his arm around me. Something about him felt so familiar and it was like my body knew it had no reason to be nervous about meeting him. The first time we spent time together, it was like I’d known him my whole life, both of us so easily falling into a dynamic that neither of us cold explain. There should be no reason for how simply things worked out for us, but here we were, only a week later and being so content. 

Harry presses his face into my shoulder, teeth lightly biting into the skin at the curve of my neck as a moan bubbles up. He pulls back and licks the sting away with his tongue before rearing back to look at me. His eyes are heavy and his raspberry lips are parted, brows furrowed in his pleasure. He snakes his arms from under my shoulders to around my waist. He sits back on his heels and brings me with him, pushing us chest to chest. I use my leverage on the bed to roll my hips against him.

“So gorgeous, Mick,” he whispers, eyes locked on mine. He moves his right arm up to push my hair behind my ear and then cup the back of my neck, keeping my head up from where it’s starting to lull. I feel my arousal building in my belly, well on my way to falling apart around him. “God, I can never get enough of you.” 

“You have me, Harry,” I promise breathlessly. Anyway he wants me, he can have me. 

Harry’s hand on my waist coaxes me to move my hips faster, both of us needing a bit more push to finally fall over together. 

“I need you to cum for me, sweetheart,” he nearly pleads, words tight with his effort to hold back. “Want to watch you cum on me, Mick. Please, princess.”

My orgasm is already sneaking up on me, the pleasure suddenly skyrocketing with his words. The last little push I need, however, is Harry snaking his hand between us, even though there’s not a lot of room, and pressing his thumb to my clit, rubbing slow circles to match our pace. 

“Oh, God,” I whine, dropping my head to Harry’s shoulder. 

“Hey, look at me,” he demands softly, gently tugging on the hair he has in his grip to bring me back around. 

I’m squinting at him as my orgasm begins to roll over me, stopping my hips as I feel my walls clamp down on him. Harry uses his arm to keep me going, making me squeal, even though my legs are pretty useless at this point.

“That’s it, Mick. So beautiful like this, baby. So—” his words are cut off by his own moan, his hips flexing as I feel him pulse inside me, filling me with his cum. He presses his lips to mine, quietening our sounds as he comes down from his orgasm. 

We stay entwined like this as our breathing evens, sharing kisses and letting our hands roam our sticky skin. My heart feels so full that it may burst at how much I’m feeling for this man who just sort of dropped into my life unexpectedly. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I’d ever have him or that he’d be so much more amazing than I already thought he was, but here he is, astounding me the more I get to know him. 

“I don’t think I can let you go,” he mumbles into my skin, so low I almost don’t hear him. 

“Then don’t,” I beg quietly. “I don’t want to let you go, either.”

He raises my head from where he had it rested on my shoulder and looks at me to tenderly, cupping my cheek with his hand. I nuzzle into it as he says, “We’ll figure something out, Micky. I promise.”

For the rest of the day, Harry and I wander around my hometown, and Georgie joins us for a few hours before lunch. I take him by the playgrounds that I played in when I was growing up, as well as some spots that Georgie and I frequented in our free time over the years. It’s a nice enough day with minimal cloud cover, so I keep it comfy and casual with a black AC/DC shirt I bummed off of Harry and a pair of skinny jeans and an old pair of floral patterned Vans that I found in the back of my closet. Harry teases me again about stealing all his clothes, but I brush him off with a kiss to the cheek and a comment that they look better on my anyway.

We spend our day hanging out freely around my town, not at all afraid of being caught on film by anyone for it to be plastered on the internet. I don’t even see anyone give Harry more than a passing glance as we meander through some shoppes and pass through a little bakery for lunch to pick up some sandwiches and coffee, which sets off a tangent from Harry about how he used to live in a bakery, which garners some teasing looks from Georgie and me. 

That night, Dad grills steaks, since the weather stayed nice enough to be out there, and Mum puts together a salad and some bread as sides. Tommy joins us again, since he doesn’t have to be back in Manchester for his shift until ten. Dinner’s much more calm tonight, Tommy keeping his mouth shut unless he’s asked a question, and Mum, Dad, and Harry talking about music. When Harry tells them he grew up listening to the music they lived through, it starts us on a whole discussion about how music has evolved and how they miss the sounds of the classic rock era. 

When cleaning up for dinner, I tell Mum and Dad that Harry’s invited me out to Holmes Chapel and London for a few days, but I’ll be back in Wilmslow for a couple before I fly back to America. Mum gives me a pointed look when I mention meeting Harry’s family tomorrow, and Dad just wishes me safe travels and a good time in London. Harry and Tommy are somewhere else in the house, which is a little unnerving, since I don’t know if they’re together and Tommy isn’t the best at keeping his thoughts to himself. 

I’m done with the dishes, and I’m about to head up to my room to figure out what to pack for my trip, but I hear Tommy’s voice coming from the dining room. Mum and Dad have already gone out to the back patio to enjoy a glass of wine and watch the sun go down, so it’s just the boys and me in the house. I tuck myself into a corner while I listen to what they’re talking about.

“I know I came on a little strong yesterday, mate,” I hear Tommy begin. “But she’s my little sister, ya know? I get that she’s an adult and can handle herself perfectly fine, but I’m always gonna see her as the little girl I grew up with. I just get a little protective sometimes.”

“It’s fine, man. I get it, honestly,” Harry responds. “Got a sister of my own. She’s older, but I’m still protective.”

Tommy sighs. “You’re also…ya know, you. My sister’s too good of a person and too special to get caught up with someone who’s gonna drag her around for a couple of weeks, make her really care about him, and then drop her when he’s got a better offer. Especially considering you’re someone she’s looked up to for years. I don’t want to see her hurt when you leave to go back on tour and forget she even existed beyond whatever she’s offering you sexually.”

I want to get mad at my brother for even suggesting the only thing Harry’s getting out of this is sexual favors from me, when I know there’s something emotional happening underneath, but I know how it looks to an outsider. I’d be ripped to shreds in seconds if Harry’s fans ever thought we were anything more than casual friends. Hell, they could be for all I know. I haven’t looked at my Twitter much since those pictures of us in New York surfaced. 

“Tommy, I appreciate your concern, but your sister isn’t just some…conquest to me,” Harry argues, sounding a bit appalled at my brother’s suggestion. “I like Micky, like, a lot, and I care about her. I care about her a lot more than I thought I’d care about someone after only knowing them a week. I’m trying to get as much out of this time with her as I can. I’d never stick around if she didn’t want me here. Your sister is a lot more to me than a body to keep my bed warm. She’s beautiful, inside and out, and I’d be a twat not to see that.”

SIXTEEN