#but I see this all day everyday on here every now & then I gotta at least say something

[juniperhillpatient]

tumblr girlies stop tagging ship hate as the ship name challenge 2025 for the 8 billionth year in a row

[airybcby]

Did You See Me On TV?

( bllk boys and being in a long distance relationship )

a/n — thought about this and just HAD to write. no long distance relationship experience, but def some long distance friendship experience. rather short, but i had to get it out.

content — fem! reader, set in the ' Neo Egoist ' era, some characters repeated, all characters 18+, angst, fluff, maybe some ooc for some people??, nicknames 'love' , 'babe' , 'baby' , ' my girl ' , and 'sweetheart' used

synopsis — yes, he's a world famous soccer player, but he's also your boyfriend. how does this effect your relationship?

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you tell yourself it's fine, ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' radio silence '

it's been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play for the soccer team he'd been assigned to, and what had you heard from him?

...complete and utter silence.

you understood he was busy now, you really did, but he hadn't even called while he'd been gone. any text he sent was no more than 3 words.

you were still in love with him, but was he in love with you anymore? had he forgotten all about you? was there another girl that was better than you?

the promise the two of you had made before he left sat on your tongue like lead now.

" you'll come back whenever you can, right? " you'd asked him. " for you? always. i couldn't imagine a life without you. i promise i'll call every chance i get. "

you stared at your phone, the text you'd sent him before his game started staring back at you...mocking you.

you: good luck, love!! i'm rooting for you from home! i love you, have fun, don't get hurt. call me when you can <3

it was almost pitiful. three almost exact texts sat above that one, and he hadn't even bothered to read them until after the game, simply replying with a...

him <3 : thanks

and no, if you were wondering, he hadn't ever called you.

and here you were, like a fool, curled up in your bed watching his game on live TV, watching as he made his second goal of the day.

maybe, just maybe, he'd call you after this one.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ SAE ITOSHI, isagi yoichi, RIN ITOSHI, oliver aiku, OTOYA EITA, rensuke kunigami

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' a complete mess '

he'd been gone a month, and you can't count a single day he hasn't called you three times at minimum. you'd been together for a while, but you never realized how much he relied on you to do basic everyday tasks for him.

"babe? do you know where i usually keep my long socks?" you heard come from your phone speaker as you were trying to do your own homework, mind you.

" usually in the middle of your top drawer next to your underwear. unless you've changed it. " you stated, he'd asked you this question every single time he had a game since he had left, but you wouldn't dare expect him to remember that.

" you're the best, baby. what would i do without you? " your boyfriend asked as he pulled socks out of his drawer, propping his phone up on the bedside lamp as he slid the socks onto his feet.

" lose your head, probably. " you joked, looking up from your work to admire him.

yes, everyone got to see him as the big, bad soccer player on TV, but with you? he seemed like a completely different person, not someone who could get a hat trick and also simultaneously asking where their phone is while it's in their hand.

" your games soon, love. you gotta get going. " you helpfully reminded him, as if you were his personal alarm ( you were but that's besides the point )

" ah crap, thank you baby. i'll call you after i win," he said cheekily. " i'll score a goal just for you, so make sure you watch!"

" you know i will. call you later, i love you. " you reflected his smile through the phone. " i love you too! " he repeated. and just as you were about to press the 'end call' button...

"oh, baby? do you remember where i put my jersey?"

yeah, without you he'd be a train wreck.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ NAGI SEISHIRO, bachira meguru, HIORI YO, gin gagamaru, ZANTETSU TSURUGI, ranze kurona

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ the... ' basically married '

it'd been a month since your boyfriend had left to go play professional soccer, and out of the four games he had played, you'd been flown out for three of them.

" do you like it? " he asked giddily, as if he was a child on christmas morning waiting to open presents. but instead of a gift, it was him showing you the hotel room he'd gotten you so you could watch his game this week too.

" you're too sweet to me, love. i would've been happy just sitting at home and cheering you on from there. " you told him. " nope! you're no longer allowed to watch the games from home," he said as if it was a fact.

oh, soccer players and their superstitions.

" even the whole team agrees! my girl is our lucky charm! "

the one game you missed, because you had a big test may i add, they lost. it wasn't a horrible loss, no, they went into additional time and lost 5-4.

your shock and confusion must have been written all of your face, because he just laughed. " c'mon sweetheart, why don't you just come live with me here ? "

many reasons, actually. you still had school, it was across the world (not really but it felt like it ), your family, your friends.

he knew all of this, of course. there usually wasn't a day that you seriously considered it. considered being here, with him, instead of having to facetime and miss him.

one day, you would, but not now...you think.

"oh, hush. you gotta get going, you have a game to win." you huffed, pushing at his shoulder to hopefully get him going out the door.

"alright, alright. i'll come back with you after the game, sweetheart. i love you, see you after my win! "

and win he would, because he swore to himself that if he won this game the velvet box that was hiding in his dresser would finally be able to come out.

but, hey, even if he didn't win, would you say no to the ring he had custom made for you?

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ REO MIKAGE, isagi yoichi, YUKIMIYA KENYU, chigiri hyoma, nijiro nanase, BARO SHOEI

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆ ' you're just in love ' ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

this was really written on a whim, but i hope yall liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated!

[aeribbon]

you ready ? | carlos sainz

summary; when one time in ibiza, you made a deal with a random spanish man that if if in 5 years you weren't dating someone you would marry him... it's been 5 years !

pairing; carlos sainz x diplomat!reader

warnings; swearing ?? english isn't my first language !

an; also i'm taking requests pleaseeeeee give me scenarios i would gladly make them

fc; chiara king

navigation / masterlist

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

yourusername - 2016

liked by carlossainz55, yourbestfriend, and 235 others !

yourusername me after doing handstands in the pool to impress him but see ya in 5 years ig

view all comments

carlossainz55 I hope so !

yourbestfriend that is a crazy bet but i'm here for it

yourfriend1 damn you're stunning

yourfriend2 okay period girl that tan ate

yourfriend3 yummy

username mmhm why is carlos liking and commenting ??

▮ username literally ahaha no way the f1 gossip pages still haven't found this

(yn's pov)

5 years later

yourusername - 2021

liked by yourbestfriend, yourfriend1, carlossains55, and 789 others !

yourusername single life means gno everyday !!!

view all comments

yourbestfriend thank god cause i couldn't stand that ugly rat

▮ yourfriend1 and he had the audacity to cheat !

▮ yourusername gotta get that rebound tonight

yourbestfriend i need you to stop traveling, i can assume you pookie no need to work and leave me every monday

▮ yourusername ily babe but i'm not gonna fuck up 10 years of studies for you <3

▮ yourbestfriend well i tried, ...

▮ yourbestfriend GIRL HOLD ON HOLD TF UP CHECK YOUR MESSAGES

y/n's pov

yourusername - 2021

liked by yourbestfriend, yourfriend2, carlossainz55 and 1290 others !

yourusername i love my job

view all comments

carlossainz55 so... it's been 5 years ! you still up ?

▮ yourusername omg carlos hi

▮ carlossainz55 yeah hi y/n (liked by author)

▮ maxverstappen1 ☕️

▮ username WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF WTF

yourfriend2 when i'll buy france you'll be my prime minister and minister of international relationships

▮ yourusername how much will you pay me ?

yourbestfriend can i pls come with you next time

▮ yourusername no youre gonna distract me and yk i can't say no to you

▮ yourbestfriend i promise we'll go out only the last day !

▮ yourusername ok we might have a deal

yourfriend1 stunning

username let me spell gorjus right !

yourfriendwhichisamale loveeee never knew what i was missing

▮ yourusername bro if you don't shut up you're gonna make me fumble

▮ landonorris ouh 👀

▮ carlossainz55 cabron leave

carlos' pov

carlossainz55 - 2024

liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1, alex_albon and 3m others !

carlossainz55 fell in love with her way before that deal trust me ! can't believe i actually get to call you MY wife after 3 years of relationship and the best years of my life, i love you y/n more than you could ever imagine ❤️

view all comments

yourbestfriend WELP I LOVE YOU GUYS

yourusername i love you too carlos and i think you've got an idea of how much i love you

maxverstappen1 congrats guys, i'm so proud of you guys and also for being part of that deal 😆❤️

▮ carlossainz55 shush that's a secret

▮ yourusername YOU WERE INVOLVED ?

landonorris my parents awww ily

username carlosy/n nation we are so alive omg

username i'm such a proud mom omg i love them so much

rúbendias congrats mate (like by author)

username their history is so wattpad coded please it's too cute for me

oscarpiastri can you please adopt me now ?

▮ charles_leclerc WHAT ??? NO WTF

▮ yourusername ofc my cutie osc anything for you my love

▮ carlossainz55 oh

▮ landonorris they're already my parents move and i'm y/n's favorite

▮ oscarpiastri i'm gonna hold your hand when i'll say this

▮ yourusername yeah sorry norris

yourusername - lake como

liked by yourbestfriend, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1 and 12k others !

yourusername made the deal for the plot but actually found my soulmate on the way, i love you carlos ! you're the love of my life ❤️

view all comments

yourbestfriend the way this story ended is my roman empire

username she's beautiful

username i knew this wedding wouldn't disappoint after seeing y/n's aesthetic

▮ username she's literally a diplomat and he's literally an f1 driver i was excepting something as big as they served us !

▮ username fr love them for this !!!!! this is so iconic imagine having your wedding in lake como

lilymunihe my baby i'm so happy for you awwww

▮ yourusername ily lily

carmenmmundt wedding of the year !! thank you for inviting george and i it was an incredible experience !

▮ yourusername awww thank you for being here carmen ily

username oh to be marrying the y/n

username idk if i want to be carlos or y/n

▮ username trust me i would kill to marry y/n

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i tried ahaha pls i would love to have your feed back or any ideas for an smau !!

[sierrale8ne]

something about you / juju watkins x fem!reader PART OF THE $$$4U COLLECTION ‘ i’m tryna do something explicit. you askin me what i like about you, girl how long you wanna sit in this kitchen? ’

summary a few substances and some conversation has juju realizing that no time apart is gonna stop her from wanting you. warnings sexual content, smoking, fingering from lena “in the morning” yeah yeah i’m a liar we already knew that next 🙄🙄 here’s the first post of my lil collection and my first juju fic because y’all alr know… that’s my lil shit.

The chime of the bell is what causes your attention to shift from your spot behind the counter. You’ve been working at the smoothie bar on campus for quite some time now, any chance to get more money in your pocket and your roommates off your back.

It was a slow day today, luckily for you, the wind of southern California kept majority of your peers bundled up and in their own dorms rather than the commons or in the store.

Until now.

You’re cleaning the counter top, paying attention to every crumb that lands on the floor that you’ll have to sweep— when you see her.

It was hard not to recognize her, the typical baggy jeans and graphic hoodie, her Nike dunks thudding across the floor as she walks in, and a slicked back bun, different than her everyday game bun. Anyone on campus would be able to see her and point her out, the Juju Watkins.

But you recognize her for other reasons, as the only person in the world who knew you like no one else did.

You haven’t seen Juju in a few weeks, all thanks to her efforts in bringing home a national championship. But still, even through all that, she never once made you feel left to the side. You were involved in every moment of her life— texts, calls, FaceTimes— Juju made an effort to show you that she really did like you. That she cared.

She walks towards the counter, one hand gripping her wallet and the other tucked into her pocket.

“What’s up, baby?” She smiles, and it makes you smile at how her eyes scrunch together. Juju’s perfume travels over the expanse of the counter and to your nose, smelling just as good as you remember she did.

“What are you doing here, Ju?” You ask. It takes everything in your body to hide the blush growing on your face. By second nature, you start ringing her up for her smoothie— mango and peach with extra vanilla protein.

She shrugs, digging in her wallet for her card. “We ain’t linked up in a minute. I gotta pay my girl a visit, y’know?”

You nod, watching the way the girl never takes her eyes off you, even as she pays for her smoothie. Her card lazily held in the tips of her fingers. “Your girl?”

“Stop playing.” Juju shakes her head.

“Judea. You just tipped me 20 for a six dollar drink.” You groan. She was never shy to make a show of how much she liked you, even if you made it clear that money wasn’t the way to do that. It seemed to have fallen on deaf ears, though.

The only lights left in the store are the ones low ones over the tables and the white light over the blenders, dim, but just enough for you to see the red haze over her eyes. “Maybe it’ll make you work faster so we can get outta here. I just wanna see you tonight.” Juju explains.

“I’m closing tonight, love.”

“Okay? When you finish?” She questions. You ignore her briefly, enough to turn your back and start on the athlete’s smoothie.

It gave Juju the opportunity to run her eyes over you. You wear black leggings that hug the curve of your ass perfectly. Your uniform shirt is cropped just enough to give her a view of your lower back. The bright lime green of your apron is nearly blinding, but also looks beautiful on your skin. She can’t seem to take her eyes off you.

“I get off in 30!” You yell over the sound of the blender, looking over your shoulder to see that nothing you said has registered in her head. “Ju?”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. You said what, mama?” Juju blots her lips together, glossy and slightly rosy. They look plump and a part of you wants to jump over the counter and kiss them until all the breath in your lungs gives out.

Her eyes meet yours, and just by the look in them you know she’s not lying about wanting to see you. It’s something, almost a sparkle, that you haven’t seen in so long. She wants you.

“I get off in 30.” You repeat, handing the girl her drink.

“I’ll wait right here then.”

You cradle Deuce in your arms, the dog being quite happy to see you in Juju’s apartment again. Her hoodie is long gone, tossed somewhere on the couch which leaves her in a cropped shirt that puts her abs on display.

The seat of her kitchen counter gives her only a few inches over you as you both talk. That seemed to be what you guys did often, picking each other’s brains apart for any and everything.

“How’s school goin’?” Juju asks in between puffs of smoke. The joint rests lazily in her fingers, teasing her bottom lip. Her eyes are already low, raking over you like you were candy. And the slope of her lashes was not helping you keep your cool.

That’s how it always seemed to be with Juju, she could do nothing— but also doo too much— and you still be completely enamored with her.

“It’s alright. Stressful, but s’nothin’ I can’t handle.” You nod, darting your eyes to the joint she passes off to you. “And you? Though I doubt you’re even focused with all this basketball shit.”

You take a puff, the drug swirling through your lungs and messing with your head before you breathe it out. The slight haze traveling through the yellow light of the kitchen.

“What? I’m focused. Sometimes.” She hums and you let out a laugh.

For as long as you’ve known the athlete she’d claim that school comes first, and then as the season continues it becomes pushed to the back burner. She had one goal— or really two— win a natty, and get the girl. You.

“Just sometimes?”

“Why else do you think I play worse when I see you? You’re the distraction, mama.” Blushed. You’re blushed fucking red. And Juju can’t help but smirk at it, she finds you adorable.

Deuce fights in your arms, and you make quick work of setting him on the floor. “Can I ask you something?” You question her, passing over the joint back.

“Of course.”

Your tongue tingles at the thought of the words about to come out of your mouth. You and Juju liked each other, that was clear— but what wasn’t was why things were still kept under wraps. Why she never asked you out officially and honestly why you didn’t do the same.

“What do you like about me, Ju? ‘Cause you keep sayin’ you do, but we’re not moving anywhere.” You trail off, feeling a little small under all six feet and two inches of her.

She ashes the joint, crossing her arms over her chest before making her way over to you. The tension is thick, almost too thick to even focus on anything other than the warmth that spreads through your body.

“How long do you wanna sit here, baby? I could talk about you for hours. It’s just… something about you, got me hooked from the minute I met you.” She explains. You look at how she plays with her fingers, almost like she was nervous. But you know her, Juju doesn’t get nervous. Especially with you.

“I-I dunno, I just feel like—”

“You don’t think I want you?” She wonders. Juju trails closer, hands pressing to the counter on each side of your thighs. “‘Cause I do. I could show you?”

Don’t do it don’t do it don’t do it. The words repeat in your head over and over again. But she’s standing here, smelling like lavender and something else that’s distinctly Juju Watkins. Her eyes are serious, telling you that everything she’s said isn’t a lie. And then you’re thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve even kissed her, weeks, maybe even a full month.

You remember it like it was tattooed in your brain. Just before Valentine’s day. She came to your job with flowers, much to the dismay of your coworkers. You two drove around for hours, Brent Faiyaz and Frank Ocean filling the car until you stopped at the beach. She kissed you with a purpose, so much so that the air left your lungs and all other thoughts left your brain.

You miss it.

“Show me, Ju.” You murmur, widening the gap between your legs for her to stand there.

Juju doesn’t even waste time. She grips your thigh with one hand, snaking her other into the crook of your neck and pulls you in. Your eyes flutter shut and her lips meet yours. Soft and even sweeter than you remembered.

Her lips glide against your own— slow— like she was savoring the moment. And she was, the tournament was approaching and it wasn’t clear the next time she’d be able to have you like this.

She breaks the kiss and you groan in disapproval, chasing after those plump lips before you can even think not to.

“That’s good enough? Or—”

“More.” You sigh, tugging her back to you by her jeans. “I want you, and I want more.” Juju presses her knee closer to your cunt as the kiss grows hungrier. Her mouth opens further, tongue darting out to slide against your own tongue. Like she was begging for more, begging for entry with a small whine. It’s the kind of kiss that makes you dizzy with need.

Juju digs her hands into the band of your leggings, snapping the elastic onto your hip. “Can I?” She mumbles against you.

It’s your turn to break the kiss, licking the saliva string between you both. Her eyes stare into your soul, deep and full of longing. She’s yearning for you, you see it how she grips your clothes, how her legs just slightly buckle.

“Yes. Please.” You whine, spreading your legs further.

The athlete leans into your neck, sniffing the fruity scent that lingers on you from work. Her lips find your sweet spot as she kisses along your skin. “Smell so good, baby. Taste even better.” She smiles against you.

“Ju, I need—” Your plea is cut off by the feel of her fingers inside your pants. She trails them down to your clothed cunt. Copping a feel of your clit through your panties.

“I know. You’re soaked. Just need me so fucking bad, yeah?” Her voice rings in your ear while her middle finger applied the kind of pressure that made your legs shake. You gush almost instantly, more of your slick drenching the fabric.

You nod fast—anything to get her to speed up—but you mean it. “Need you so bad, pretty girl.” Your hand holds the back of her neck, fingers toying with the flyaways of hair that reside there. “Please?”

“I don’t know, baby. I wanna make you my girl first.” She teases. Her fingers don’t stop, still running up and down your covered slit.

“Ask me.” You pant. Your hips buck up in need, free hand clutching the hem of her shirt.

Juju’s face comes back to view, looking down at you with a smirk she can’t hide, not in the slightest. “Y’sure? Here? Like thi—”

“Fucking ask me, Ju.” You stutter, and she doesn’t miss it.

She can’t miss it. How your mouth hangs open and your pants huff into her ears. You’re dying for it, for more. For anything she can give you.

“Will you be my girlfriend, beautiful? Please?” She smiled. Her fingers hook into your panties, tugging them to the side. Enough for the air to make you shiver, but not enough for her to touch you fully. She was leaving you on edge.

“You make your girlfriend feel good?” “You joke.

“Y’know I will, mama.”

“Then yes. Yes, baby, I’ll be your girlfriend.” Juju’s fingertips brush over your clit. Once, twice— and then the third time, she’s slipping her middle finger inside your pussy. Biting her lip as she does so.

“Take your shirt off.” She orders. Her voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it, at least when she was with you. So you listen. Dragging your hands off her body and to your work shirt. It hits the floor with a thud that is ultimately drowned out by the sound of your moan.

She’s good. Better than you even imagined. Her finger is long, brushing along your g-spot with nearly every stroke. And when she curls them, God, it makes your eyes water.

“You feel so good.” You whimper, gripping the edge of the counter like your life depends on it. Juju relishes in the sounds you give her, not even the moans but your cunt. It’s loud, ringing in her ears as she slips another finger inside.

“Yeah? Who’s makin’ you feel this good, mama.” She asks, holding her bottom lip between her teeth.

Your head falls back, eyes rolling as she speeds up. “Y-you. You, baby. Only you, Ju.” You babble.

“Remember when you used to say you ain’t want me?” She starts, twisting her fingers in and out until your panties are all sloppy and you’re soaking your leggings. “Look at you now, legs shaking. Pussy just cryin’ for me.”

“Juju! Oh, fuck.” You grunt, meeting her halfway with each push of her fingers. Her hand trails up to your chest, squeezing your breast with a haste that makes you want to give her any and everything that she pleases. “I can’t—”

“Can’t take it? Really? ‘Cause I know you’re not a quitter. Ain’t nothing you can’t handle, right?” She hums, pressing her plump lips to your cheek.

You can smell the weed off her breath, the mango of her smoothie. And it’s all overstimulating.

Juju curls her fingers, and she knows she’s hit your spot when you nearly fly into her hold, arms wrapped tightly around her neck.

Your breath hits her ear, alongside the pleas of her name. “I’m so close.” You all but cry.

“Imma make you cum?” The question is rhetorical, she knows the answer. The way your body says all the words you don’t. “Yeahhhh, gonna make it feel good for you, baby. I promise.”

“Fuck, don’t stop! Don’t, Ju.” Your moans nearly make the athlete go blind with arousal. Soaking through her own underwear and they thought of having you finish here. On her kitchen counter.

“Lemme feel it. Cum, mama.”

It takes one more push of her fingers to make you nearly fall off the counter. Your legs tremble and your hands clutch Juju’s shoulders like a fucking life line. She works you through it, leaving kisses along your earlobe until she finally drags her coated fingers out of you.

They travel to her mouth, where she makes a show of licking them clean of you. Your eyes make sure they’re fully open to get the view, you’d rather die than miss it.

“Goddamn you taste good.” Juju groans, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just something about me, I guess.”

🔖 @thaatdigitaldiary @rosemariiaa @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @d3arapril @wbbgetsmewetter @ryywyd @tndaqlwifwy @ykylalex @ohmybueckers @flipthepaige @janaelalfysblunt @cherryswisherz @courtsidewithlani @vamptizm @bdbueckers @makethemhoesmad @omg-imtumbling @avvwritesstufff

[xoxochb]

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

“a rabbit.”

“gods no.”

you huff, breath fanning percy’s neck. “seahorse? turtle? oooo, a fawn!”

“are those legal as pets?”

you shrug. “I’m not sure. but they’re cute.”

two hours. for two hours you had attempted to name every pet-worthy animal under the sun. once you move out of camp, you’d no longer to see your beloved penny everyday per usual, so you had asked percy about getting a pet of your own.

so far, he had said yes to a dog, maybe to a cat, yes to fish, and no to everything else. though it’s most likely you’ll just end up deciding on a puppy after all.

percy’s fingers skim your spine in a soothing up and down motion while you press, what you hope are seducing enough to get him to agree, kisses to his neck.

“I think our best bet is a dog.”

you groan and melodramatically drape your arms around his neck. “I want something exotic!”

“I’m pretty sure you’re exotic enough for this entire planet, sweet girl.”

“okay— fuck you, perseus.”

he laughs and kisses the top of your head. “are you creating a to-do list?”

“yeah. and the first task is to beat the shit out of you.”

“and how do you know I won’t like that?”

you sigh and close your eyes, calming yourself with pecks to his jawline. “then I’ll do something you’ll hate.”

“which would be…?” his voice trails in question.

you have to think for a moment before your response. a lightbulb illuminates in your brain. “be right back!”

you quickly jump out of percy’s arms, tucking your hair behind your ears as you rush to your dresser. you open your designated drawer and take out one of his old shirts, slipping it on over your head before jumping back to bed.

“so, where were we?”

percy pouts like a child after being told he can’t have candy. “this is foul play, sweet girl.” he takes the edge of the shirt between his fingers, glaring at the fabric like it insulted him.

“if you want it off, you’ll have to earn it.”

his gaze returns to your eyes. “how? I’ll give you two-hundred dollars right now if you strip tease for me.”

you slap his head. “you’re not earning it that way!”

“okay…” he takes your wrist, kissing your palm and each fingertip. “then how do I earn it? you gotta give me something here, sweet girl.”

“not with money.” you shake your head and place your free hand over his heart. it beats calmly. “with this.”

“my… naked self?”

you take your hand back defensively. “no, dipshit! your feelings!”

“oh!” percy sits up as fast as possible. “I’ve waited my whole life for this moment—” he clears his throat. “‘it’s not gonna be easy. it’s going to be really hard; we’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, every day’—”

“why the fuck are you quoting the notebook at me right now?”

“because it’s the most romantic movie ever,” percy says in a matter-of-fact voice.

“try that again.” you make a circle movement with your index.

he holds up his index before reciting with perfect rhythm, “‘I want to be the friend you fall hopelessly in love with. the one you take into your arms and into your bed and into the private world you keep trapped in your head. I want to be that kind of friend.’”

you sit, gaping. percy looks to proud of himself and it almost makes you want to keep teasing. “you have that memorized?”

he nods casually. “it took me three hours to actually read it… then rereading it took another hour, but yeah.”

you pout happily and tug him into a tight hug. “why?”

“because I can recite that way sexier than that blond dude. and I know you love him. and I love you, so full circle!”

you kiss the top of his head. you might regret saying this later however, “so, a strip tease you requested?”

[alisonsfics]

wrong number texts

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: when you asked carmy to give you a few mini cooking lessons, it sounded like a good idea. that was until you had to spend lots of alone time with him, and somehow not mention your crush. so, you decide to text sydney about it, or you think you do.

word count: 1.5k

“I gotta go make a call, but you can get started without me. I left the recipe over there.” Carmy told you, grabbing his phone and heading towards the alleyway door.

A few weeks ago, you had asked Carmy for a few mini cooking lessons to help you improve. In true Carmy style, weeks went by as he forgot about it. With a million things going on at the Bear, you reminded him.

He felt like shit for forgetting and promised to make it up to you.

You weren’t holding your breath. You knew Carmy got easily distracted and had a lot of things on his plate. After you both picked a day, he cleared his schedule for you.

He didn’t want to let you down again. He hated seeing you disappointed, but you didn’t know that.

Since it had been weeks, you hadn’t been thinking about it too much. Now that the day was here, you realized it meant a lot of alone time with Carmy.

You worked with him everyday, but usually your friends were there. With just the two of you in the kitchen, it was too intimate. Given that you had been crushing on Carmy for months, you didn’t want to accidentally confess how you’d been feeling.

You quickly washed your hands and grabbed the recipe written in Carmy’s scribbly handwriting. It was a recipe for a pasta dish.

You grabbed the dough out of the fridge that Carmy had prepped. You started to knead the dough.

Carmy came back into the kitchen, glancing over at you. You noticed how his eyes didn’t leave you as he walked over to the sink to wash his hands.

“So, how’s the dough coming?” He asked, letting his hand graze your back as he walked behind you. Sometimes you felt like Carmy’s lingering touches and glances were on purpose, but you weren’t brave enough to ask him.

Even though he was one of your best friends, he was technically your boss. If you asked your boss if he was into you and he said no, you would be mortified.

“Here let me help you. If you do it this way, it’s faster.” Carmy said, standing behind you and putting his hands on yours. His fingers ran across the back of your hand as he helped you massage the dough.

You could feel all the heat rush to your cheeks. You were all too aware of your senses. You could feel Carmy’s chest against your back. You could feel his biceps pushing against you. You could even smell his cologne mixed with cigarette smoke.

This was one of the times you questioned if Carmy was doing it on purpose. He couldn’t have been that oblivious, right?

Watching his tattooed hands grab your own and force them to do what he wanted made you weak in the knees. You felt like you were just his puppet.

You swallowed, trying to distract yourself with anything else.

“There you go, see how much softer the dough is,” he said. His breath on the back of your neck sent a shiver down your spine.

He pulled away, giving your shoulders a quick squeeze before backing up to grab a towel.

“Now, you wanna section that dough and then start working on the vegetables.” He instructed. You quickly nodded, not being able to form any real words.

All you could think about was having his hands on you again.

He silently watched as you washed and peeled the vegetables. You didn’t think you’d feel so nervous having him watch you, but you were overthinking every little thing you did.

He gave you calm instructions about your finger placement while holding the knife. And you were just praying he didn’t try to adjust your hand. You couldn’t think straight with Carmy next to you.

You scooped all the chopped vegetables into the bowl. “Can I take a break for a minute? I need to make a call really quick?” You asked him. He quickly nodded his head. “Yeah yeah, of course. Go for it,” he said, smiling at you.

You quickly threw down your towel and headed into the alleyway. You took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. You grabbed your phone to text Sydney.

She was the only person that you had told about your crush on Carmy, so she was the person you ranted to about everything concerning Carmy.

“Syddddd, please save me. Can you please fake an emergency and call me? I can’t be here anymore today. I asked Carm to teach me some stuff, but I CANNOT FOCUS WITH HIM LOOKING THE WAY HE DOES TODAY. Please please please help a girl out. Having to look at his tattoos all day? I’m gonna embarrass myself. I don’t know what’s happening with my fucking hormones, but please help me. If I hear him talk about finger placement one more time, I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it.” You texted her.

You leaned your head back against the wall, slowly trying to take deep breaths. The cold air filled your lungs. It brought you some peace and temporarily distracted you from the fact that you had to go back in and face Carmy.

Every time your phone buzzed, you frantically checked it. You were praying Sydney would text you back and save the day.

You heard the door swing open beside you. You glanced over and saw Carmy step outside.

“You mind some company or did you want to be alone?” He asked you, softly.

You quickly shook your head. “No no, feel free,” you assured him. You could feel your heart start beating faster.

He stood next to you, also leaning back against the brick wall. He silently looked up at the clouds, like he was trying to decide what to say.

“Did you want to talk about something?” You asked him, nervously. He took a breath before turning to face you. “I’m not going to lie to you. That text, that was meant for Sydney, got sent to me.” He said, hesitantly bracing for your reaction.

You felt all the blood drain out of your face. Your heart started racing. You quickly wiped your sweaty palms against your jeans. Every single word that you typed was replaying in your mind.

“Fuck fuck fuck, I did not do that.” You mumbled to yourself in disbelief. You put your face into your hands. You were silently wishing you’d wake up from whatever nightmare this was.

“Hang on, take a breath. You don’t need to freak out.” Carmy tried to relax you. You looked up at him in disbelief. “Don’t need to freak out? Carmy, you’re technically my boss. And I just accidentally sent you a text thirsting over you like an idiot.” You rambled.

Carmy chuckled to himself. He thought you were adorable when you were frazzled. He also was surprised you didn’t know he felt the same way.

“Come on, I’m not really like your boss.” He argued. Technically, he was right. Carmy always treated you as an equal, not like an employee. That was how he treated everyone at the Bear.

“That doesn’t make it much better, Carmy. You’re one of my best friends, and now it’s gonna be weird. God, I’m such an idiot.” You continued to rant. Carmy continued to smirk at you, but you were too busy having a crisis to notice.

“You want to ask me where I’m at?” Carmy suggested. You looked up at him, trying to read his expression. “Not really, I’ve been dreading the “I just think of you as a friend” talk.” You told him, nervously.

You finally noticed the grin on his face, it almost felt lovestruck. “Would I change your mind if I told you I’ve been wanting to ask you out for months?” Carmy asked, raising his eyebrow at you.

You finally felt the panic slow down. Your jaw almost dropped. “You let me stand her mumbling like an idiot, and you were just as into me? You jerk,” you said, trying not to laugh as you playfully hit Carmy’s arm.

“So, what’d you say? Me, you, dinner? Tomorrow night?” He suggested, cockily smirking at you. He placed his hands on your waist and pulled you closer to him. “That sounds amazing, but only if we pretend you never saw that text.” You told him.

Carmy tilted his head to the side. “I don’t think I can unread that. I didn’t know how much you liked my tattoos.” He said, smirking.

“Oh, yes. They’re wonderful.” You said, letting your hand trace his bicep. Carmy practically melted under your touch. He tightened his grasp on your waist and nudged you backwards against the wall.

“You’re gonna be seeing a lot more of them if this is how you react.” He said, watching the way you admired the designs.

He grabbed your chin and forced you to look away from the tattoos. Your eyes met his, and he slowly leaned in to kiss you.

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[sweetestcaptainhughes]

Moments in Time - Quinn Hughes Edition

Word Count - 2300

Summary - The eight times Quinn Hughes showed his love through the ring camera that he didn’t even want in the first place.

Warnings - none pure fluff I know a true shocker if you aren't new here

Author's Note: Hello everyone as always thank you for reading. This is apart of a "Moments in Time" series that I wrote eight moments each of the Hughes brothers. The fics are individual stand alone pieces, they can be read in any order, or you could only read the one brother you want.

Jack Hughes Edition. Luke Hughes Edition.

I have to give credit to my girl Kay @icebound-imagination for not only helping come up with the original idea! But literally stayed up late one night to help me detail plan all three Hughes brothers fics because I didn't want any repeated ideas. Kay also wrote some of the concepts and hers are noted as "Kendra's Version."

Main Masterlist

When you mentioned to Quinn the first time that you wanted to get a ring doorbell he gave you that famous “what the fuck” Quinn Hughes look. But then when you told him about how you really just wanted it in Vancouver because of how much time you spent completely alone in the apartment. To this day, you swear you’ve never heard Quinn agree to anything so fast. Truthfully you just wanted to watch your neighbor’s new puppy growth. But you knew that if there is anyone who hates you having to be completely alone for so long with no family around it’s Quinn. So really it was best of both worlds, Quinn felt more at ease with the ring camera and you got to watch the next door neighbor be ridiculously cute everyday on the way to their walks. 

 Early Morning Goodbyes

Quinn had to leave early many times throughout the season. Although he always kissed you goodbye on the cheek, because you were still deep in sleep you both knew you wouldn’t remember it. Learning this after the first time he did kiss you goodbye before leaving for a roadie and you didn’t remember it at all. To say you were mad at Quinn for not saying goodbye, you gave him the silent treatment for two whole days, only to discover you were the one in the wrong. 

So the next time he had to leave home early due to an early flight for a roadie or hell, even an early morning skate. Of course he still kissed your cheek and whispered his goodbyes. But he started saying bye on the ring because he knew that way you’d see it when you were actually a functionable human being to society and would remember it. 

2. Getting a notification

The main reason that Quinn agreed to getting a ring was because of how you said that you would feel safer when he was on long roadies. The first time that you came home from work and he was on a roadie, he was waiting for the notification to come on his phone. As soon as it popped up he clicked on it quickly, ignoring his teammates and the movie they had playing in the background. “Hi baby.” he said softly he didn’t wanna startle you. After a long day all you wanted to do was crawl into bed, “hi Quinny” immediately hearing his voice and feeling better. 

“What are you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be doing some team bonding?” Resting your forehead against your doorbell but looking directly at the camera.

“Oh I am Barbie is playing right now it was Brock’s turn to pick.” A soft laugh leaves both your lips at Quinn’s comment, your laugh continues when you hear Brock in the background telling him to “fuck off.” Quickly Quinn tells you that he’s gotta go but he will text you. 

That was the first night you guys had a full blown conversation through your ring camera when he was on a roadie. But it became a little tradition every night when you got home if Quinn was out of town. Even if at the time he was in the middle of a game or an interview, everyday you would ring the doorbell and say “Quinny I’m home.”  

3. Drop the attitude 

Quinn and you didn’t fight often but when you did it was usually something serious. Today was not one of those cases, it was just one of those days where you were in a bad mood all day and you couldn’t pin point why. But every little thing Quinn was doing was getting on your nerves, to the point of you wanting to scream. From procrastinating on unloading the dishwasher, to being indecisive about what he wanted for breakfast. By the time you were trying to take a nap and he was yelling on Facetime with Jack and Luke you had hit your breaking point. 

Storming into the living room and telling Quinn that he needed to leave the apartment because you needed time alone before you went insane. Quinn told his brothers he’d call them back and hung up. He tried to ask you what was wrong but you insisted that you needed him to leave. So he left but not without leaving a message on the ring camera. 

“I don’t know where this attitude is coming from, baby. But what do you need for it to go away? Like do we need food? Are you hangry? Do you need cuddles and some quiet time? Cause whatever you need imma give it to you if you drop the attitude. Cause I don’t like when you want to kill me.” 

4. Celebrating 

Every home game that you went to it wasn’t unusual for you to uber from the apartment to the stadium. But you would always wait until Quinn was ready to leave to go home to the game. Tonight there was a home game and you were planning on going. But this week has been so long at work, you were debating on just watching it on T.V, ultimately you did decide to take an uber to the game. Never have you been so happy to not miss out on a game live. It was an insane game that turned out to be a shutout with no other than baby goalie as starter. 

Quinn and you both decided to go to the local bar to celebrate with the team and other wags. After Quinn had 2 beers, and you lost track of the amount of rum and cokes Petey was giving you. Quinn decided it was time to call it a night. Once you got home, your not sure if it was the alcohol you both consumed or just still on a high from the game. But Quinn insisted on practically sprinting down the hallway to your apartment while you cheered about the game. Quinn has never felt so lucky the night when the ring camera was able to catch such an intimate private moment that neither of you would have remembered that morning without the video proof. 

5. Playing pranks - Kendra’s Version 

You had just settled onto the couch, a warm bowl of popcorn balanced in your lap as your phone screen lit up. You picked it up and checked to see you had a notification from the front door’s security camera. It was Friday night, which meant you weren’t getting any deliveries and your husband, Quinn, was home in the shower. 

Curiously you click into the app, seeing what the footage showed. And it wasn’t much. But what you could see was some blonde hair and a toque. You knew exactly who that hair and that hat belonged to. What on earth was he doing? 

Your finger hovered over the screen as you decided what to do about your husband’s teammate when the camera showed a flash of a stylish jacket, one that was definitely not the style of the blond hair and toque wearing teammate. Which meant his literal partner in crime was with him. And then it was like someone smashed their finger onto a fast forward button. 

You were getting ready to use the two way microphone to ask what was going on when you heard a crashing noise. Your finger hit the button quickly as you yelled out “What on earth are you two blond himbos doing out there? Brock I swear to god if you’re leaving your laundry for me to do again I’m throwing it in the Pacific!” 

You were too busy screaming to notice you weren’t the only one who heard the ruckus Dumb and Dumber had made. Quinn must have seen the security notification when he got out of the shower, heard your screaming, and now he was angrily stomping towards the front door and opening it up to figure out what was going on.

Brock, who must have tried to hide from the camera, was leaning against the door. Except the door was ripped open by your angry husband and Brock came tumbling backwards into the foyer. His signature smirk and deep voice trying to play innocent. “Hey Huggy.” 

You decided it was time to get off the couch and look for yourself. As you pushed past Quinn and Brock you leaned against the door frame. This was when you noticed the white stuff all over and that Petey was doubled over in laughter.

This left Brock to be the one to fess up their master plan, “Well we figured it would be Quinn that would see the camera not you. He’s ALWAYS checking it in the locker room. After me and the Swede had too many tonight we wanted to have some fun. And what’s more fun than pranking the captain? We wanted him to open the door to pie him. Get glitter stuck in his playoff beard. You weren’t supposed to catch us, Y/N.” 

You looked back at Petey, now understanding why he was sparkling under your porch lights.

“Sorry about the plant,” he wheezed. 

You could feel Quinn’s glare get darker. Brock however was unaffected by the quiet brooding man. “Petey will pay for it because he makes more money.” 

6. “Where the fuck you going in that dress?”

Quinn wasn’t as overprotective over you as people assumed he would be with his girlfriend. He trusted you and he also knew that you knew how to keep yourself safe when you were out with friends for a girls night. But at the same time he didn’t like it when you went out when he was on a roadie. Quinn made the comment about how when he’s a plane ride away it gives him anxiety when you're out with friends drinking. He said that he would feel terrible if something bad happened or even if you needed a ride home and he couldn’t come to you because he was on the other side of the continent. Since you weren’t a big partier anyway, from that night on you did tend to only go out if Quinn was in town. Never wanting to be the reason you brought your boyfriend to the breaking point with his anxiety. 

But it was your best friend having her birthday and you couldn’t not go. It had completely slipped your mind about your new ring camera and how Quinn was basically addicted to checking it especially when he was on the road. After coming over to get ready at your place. Finally you were ready to order the uber and as you were locking the door, you heard Quinn’s voice “Where the hell are going in that dress?” You could tell from his voice that he was definitely a little annoyed. It was probably because he knew even from the shitty ring camera quality that this was your go to clubbing dress. 

“Hi bubs. It’s Y/B/F birthday tonight.I know your out on a roadie which is why I didn’t tell you.” You said as you bent down so that your face was lined up with the camera. “I am realizing now that wasn’t my smartest idea. I promise I won’t be out long okay? I’ll text you as soon as I get home, Quinny.” Quinn could hear the guilt in your voice and it made his heart break a little. 

“It’s okay baby girl. Just be safe okay. I love you. Also your making me miss you even more cause you look really really fucking beautiful in that dress.” As much as you tried to hide your blush you knew that you were failing miserably. 

“Thanks Quinn. I love you.” as you stood up and blew a kiss to the camera.

7. Fidgety Hughes 

Sometimes Quinn’s fidgeting was out of this world insane even for him. Whether it was that he sometimes let himself get lost in his head and didn’t realize how bad it had gotten. Or if shaking his leg or tapping his fingers on thighs calmed his anxiety. But sometimes his fidgeting was just adorable and this was no difference. Quinn was trying to unlock the door but his hands kept fidgeting probably due to the rough practice or maybe it was just from being tired. But after dropping his keys the fourth time you couldn’t help but chirp him through the camera. 

“I hope you can handle a puck better than those keys Hughes.” Quinn couldn’t help but smile at your voice through the camera.

“Oh I can name a lot of things you tell me all the time I handle better than these keys.” playing along with your antics but with a flirty tone. But then of course he dropped his keys on the floor for the fifth time. 

“Come on get it together bro.” you chirp.

“Don’t be such a brat, unless you need a reminder of who you beg to help you when you have an itch.” 

8. Long Week

Quinn knows that you’ve had a long week and been very stressed because of it. So he stops at the store on his way home and grabs all your favorite snacks that he knows you will want later when you come home from work. He decides to ring the camera to tell you that he got all your favorite snacks and will be ready when you get home for a movie night or whatever you want. Even if it’s The Office which he never even saw a single episode until he met you and you forced him to. He also tells you that he already placed an order to your favorite restaurant for takeout.

[bueckers-sturniolo]

the alchemy.

paige x fem!teammate! reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: uhhh, cursing? literally one suggestive-ish comment, if i think of anymore ill come back and lyk!

authors note: HIIII! this is my first time ever writing anything whatsoever, and i can’t tell if i genuinely enjoy or really hate this. you gotta start somewhere though, right? 🤔🤔🤔

go read part two here!

this happens once every few lifetimes; these chemicals hit me like white wine…

you and paige were inseparable. it didn’t go unnoticed by fans, not by any means. you were a year younger than paige, you started playing for uconn her sophomore year. as soon as this was announced, paige followed you on everything, immediately commenting on any post the uconn instagram page made about you, commenting something along the lines of just saying your name in all caps with a bunch of emojis, or even, when she was feeling bold, “Theres our girl! 🤩🙌 (or, ‘my girl’ if she was feeling silly that day),” and even on your own, individual posts about yourself, she’d like and comment some form of encouragement or a subtle compliment just to hype you up, as she does the rest of the team.

she couldn’t deny her nearly unbearable attraction toward the minute she first had laid eyes on you. even if it was over a tiny screen. the first time she saw you was when geno had shown the team videos of you playing and explained to them who you are, where you’re from, what position you play, and all other things they should know. you were around 5’10, and you were a point guard. you had gotten a scholarship to uconn, and obviously, you took it up. the first time paige physically saw you play, she knew you two would become close. not only working together on the court, during games and practices, but also, off of the court.

and you guys did. by the time the season started, you were sure you guys were unstoppable. every practice, you guys were fully locked in, becoming an outstanding duo together. that is, until, she got a tibial plateau fracture. she sat out a whopping 19 games after her surgery, and it was sad to see. she was such a powerful player, and now one of your best friends. games and practices didn’t feel nearly as good without her, but she made you promise that you’d work everyday to improve your already very strong talent, to play for ‘the both of you,’ as she said. she’d come to practices, games, and even just to your personal training sessions to provide some form of support.

what if I told you I’m back? the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map; I havent come around in so long, but im coming back so strong.

as soon as paige was cleared by doctors to begin playing again, she worked several hours, every single day. she came back as a fucking beast. since the day she got cleared and started working her ass off, she earned the nickname ‘sniper’ from you. your nickname for her was ‘killer,’ which, is kinda where she got the idea for sniper. you both were very powerful point guards. every day since she came back, you were amazed by just how hard she was working to get back up to her already impressive level of skill. and as time went on, she got even better than before. from the wise words of your guys’ coach, geno, she literally ‘came back better than she was when she was named player of the year.’

so when I touch down, call the amateurs and cut ‘em from the team, ditch the clowns, get the crown. baby, im the one to beat. cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

one night, after a practice, you guys are sitting on your couch, scrolling on your phones in the living room of your apartment. she was over there often. you didn’t live in a dorm, but she did, so this is where you typically hung out. you didn’t get a dorm, for mainly one reason, living on campus is expensive. you personally thought that if you were gonna pay so much to live somewhere, might as well be somewhere bigger than the dorms at uconn. your parents somehow agreed, and helped you through paying for it your first few years. you’re now a junior, and paige is a senior. though, she was technically going into her junior year of playing basketball, but it was her last year as a uconn ‘student.’ over the past several months, it’s been…. flirty, to say the least. you’ve always been not ‘just friends,’ but, you never talked about it. it was just ‘normal’ to you guys. you had talked about to kk once, and the conversation didn’t really help. at all. not in the fucking slightest.

“well, i mean… yeah, we all notice it. she just…. acts so different around you…? it’s not a bad difference, per se… it’s just like, why the fuck is she so nice to you? she’s constantly like… on her knees praising you. it’s crazy, lowkey. but none of us wanna say that, so we kinda just have accepted it all season.” kk says, finally looking up from her phone at me, sitting on the edge of her bed, giving her a ‘please help me’ look.

i stare at her for a few seconds, then sigh. is it actually different? does she really do that, or is kk just exaggerating, like she always does?

“kk, i don’t- i don’t know, dude. i don’t notice it. it’s just- like-“ kk interrupts me, knowing i couldn’t find the words to explain what i was feeling, “normal to you?”

i nod, putting my face in my hands and letting out another sigh. “yeah, i get that. but, also… like, how do you not notice it? it’s like- remember that guy she said she had a crush on, like- 7 months ago or some shit?” she said, sighing.

“yeah, why?” i say, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion on where the fuck she could possibly be going with this.

“she literally flirted with you more than she flirted with him. then, she rejected him, and said there was ‘no reason behind it….’ is that not suspiscious to you? in that one picture of you guys and the weird ass dude she apparently liked, she’s leaning closer to you than she is him? does that not even slightly spark a tad bit of suspiscion?” kk says, getting frustrated that im not seeing her point here.

“i mean- no? i didn’t even notice it, kk.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “exactly my point,” kk says, sitting up to really try to get her point across. “she acts like she’s in love with you, and heaven forbid you notice it even slightly. i could name so many things that just, like- we have all noticed, and paige knows we’ve noticed. like, that time that one bitch was pushing you on the court the entire game, and paige eventually got pissed off and pushed her back off of you, then got a fucking technical foul over it…? or, how about when she gets drunk, she literally is all over you. like, hugging you, holding you, falling asleep on the couch with you literally on top of her? is that not somehow making you just use that little brain in your head?” kk says, and i just stare in thought. maybe she was right. maybe it is more than a close friendship.

you snap out of your thoughts as paige says your name, looking over at her. “yeah?” you say, trying to seem cool.

“are you okay? you just spaced out for like…. 10 minutes…” paige says, turning her phone off sitting her it down on her chest. “oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. that’s fucking embarrassing, you thought. but why wouldn’t she notice it? she notices everything about you.

“y’know… you did really good today,” paige says smiling at you. you smile too, looking down at your hands, “thanks. you literally always do good, so. no point in boosting your ego any more than it already is.” you say, looking back up to meet her gaze.

“i call you killer for a reason, you know that, right? you’re fucking phenomenal.” and she meant it. you were a goddess, in her eyes. if there was any person closest to heaven on this earth. it’s you. everything about you. she couldn’t get enough of you, and if it was up to her, she’d show you just how perfect you are to her. you smile, shaking your head in disbelief. “you’re insane.”

“im literally complimenting you, idiot- how does this make me insane,” paige says, laughing. you shrug, shaking your head. “you know, you’re my bestfriend, right? like, the best, best-friend i’ve ever had? ” paige says, after a few seconds of silence. you look back up, your gaze softening, your big grin also softening into a sweet smile. kk was right, you thought. you knew what that was. you knew what she meant. she is in love.

hey, you. what if I told you we’re cool? that child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule. i havent come around in so long, but I’m making a come-back to where I belong.

you sit in your room in silence, staring at the ceiling. you keep replaying things in your mind, things she’s said. things she’s done. you knew you liked girls, you knew you liked paige. but, at what cost? did your whole friendship form from the attraction you guys had from the start? was this random to her? were you guys ever going to talk about it? this whole situation is ridiculous. right now, paige is visiting her family in minnesota. you’ve met them before, and you loved her little brother, drew, like your own brother. he was precious to you. but, this time you didn’t go, you had to stay back and practice. which, sounds ridiculous to paige given that you’re already the best player in the world to her. but, you knew you’d been slacking on practicing and certain skills you were supposed to be good at. you didn’t want to let her down. or the team, of course. but, paige specifically.

these bloakes warm the benches, we’ve been on a winning streak. (s)he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an ‘e.’

today, you guys had a game. you were always pretty hard on yourself, but, today was worse. paige noticed this, quickly. as she always does. right before halftime, you shoot a three. you make it, but, it still was kinda sloppy. not all of your shots were sloppy, of course. but, today you felt like shit and were on your period. you didn’t feel great, and you were pissed off that the girl guarding you was on your ass all damn game. the girl in question was no other than kate martin, who was always on your ass specifically, when you guys played iowa. it was infuriating, and not to mention that you kept getting fouls called on you by a ref who clearly doesn’t realize that kate won’t stay off of your case. as soon as half-time hits, you walk over to the bench, muttering a ‘holy fucking shit’ under your breath. you sit down, paige immediately following after you, sitting beside you.

“hey, killer…. it’s okay, i promise. you’re doing so, so good.” paige says, leaning closer to you trying to reassure you in a soft, gentle tone.

“doesnt feel like it.” you say, grumpily, grabbing your water and taking a drink of it. “i know, but hey,” she says, smiling. “you’re fuckin’ killing it. if it makes you feel any better, you scored and knocked her down because of how close she was to you, maybe she’ll back off. but…” she says, pausing. “do not get a tech because of her.” you look over at her, slowly nodding. “yeah, im trying. but, the next time she gets in my face, i’m knocking her to the fucking ground again.” you say, quietly. paige smiles, “no being too aggressive… i mean, yes, be aggressive. but, no techs.”

“yeah, yeah. okay, idiot face. i’ll try.” you say and paige smiles wider, shaking her head.

as the game continues, we’re up by a solid two points. youre now in the last 45 seconds of the game. iowa has the ball, clark scores a 3 on paige. of fucking course, you think.

kk gets the rebound, and we get the ball, finally. with now only 30 seconds left, you’re panicking. you’re losing by one damn point. geno calls a time out out to the ref, the ref granting him this and you all huddle over. paige leans over to you, mumbling a, “you’ve got this, killer. im leaving this up to you. you won’t let me down.” you smile, nodding. she smiles at you for a few seconds. she is so whipped, and it’s obvious. you’re addicting. you’re like heroin, but with a fucking ‘e,’ paige thinks.

shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads. beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted, cause they said, “there was no chance, tryna be the greatest in the league.” where’s the trophy? (s)he just comes runnin’ over to me.

as the game resumes, the ball is passed to paige. 15 seconds. the time is ticking, so, so fast. paige does a pump fake, immediately passing the ball to you. you catch it, turning slightly so you can dribble around martin, who’s still on your ass. you nearly lose the ball. you’re wasting too much time time, you think. you glance up at the clock. 5 seconds. you try to think fast, then quickly preform a fake pass to paige, then as soon as kate turns her attention toward paige, you shoot directly behind the point the three-point line, and you make it. the buzzer sounds. you look over at the score counters, wondering if it’s able to be counted. they announce it is, and you feel like you’ve never been happier than in that damn moment. your entire team is screaming, all of the fans in the bleachers standing up and cheering. you place your hands on your knees, leaning down and panting while smiling. that’s when you see paige, her shirt is lifted up so her stomach is showing, still cheering. smiling ear to ear, she suddenly runs over to you from across the court. she hugs you, picking you up and spinning you around.

this type of shit only happens once every few lifetimes. who are you to deny your love for her any longer? who are you to fight the general chemistry between you two? who are you to fight the alchemy?

a/n: RAHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS!!!! IF YOURE READING THIS RN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[p1astr81]

in disguise -op81

in which: Oscar’s classmate invites him—well, himself and spider-man—to her New Year’s Eve party where things take a turn for the worse for him. (au)

pairing: spider-man!oscar piastri x reader

warnings: use of y/n, alcohol consumption, cursing

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

‧‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Weeks had passed since that first day on the rooftop. Oscar would meet you everyday he could, on the same rooftop, around the same time.

You found yourself waiting for him, longing for his presence, searching the skies for a blur of blue and red. And you found yourself smiling every time you heard him drop down behind you and joined you on the ledge.

Tonight was no different.

Half an hour had passed but it felt like seconds. “What if someone was being robbed while you’re sitting up here with me?”

Oscar laughed with his chest, folding over himself. “Then I guess I’ll be getting a call from Mr. Stark about my avenger title being revoked.”

You chuckled, but the sound was all air. “Uhm, speaking of not doing your work…” you started, staring down at your swinging feel. “Do you think you could get New Year’s Eve off? I mean there’s going to be cops all over the city anyway.” Your face was flushed, a tinge of pink coloring your cheeks. You were nervous, an emotion Oscar didn’t even think you were capable of.

“I don’t know if superhero’s ever get a day off but perhaps I could cut my hours short?” He grinned under the mask.

“I just- I’m having a party and I think it would be really cool if you could come.” Your voice was small, scared of rejection from Spider-Man. That kind of rejection would be enough to kill a person.

The anxiety was lifted from your shoulders when he spoke, “yeah, I’ll definitely make some time.”

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar shuffled through his books, stashing the anatomy one in his locker and exchanging it for the calculus book.

“Hey,” the voice unmistakably belonged to you. You stood beside Oscar’s locker, a hand laxly holding onto the metal door, your bodies nearly touching.

Thinking you couldn’t possibly be talking to him, he turned in the other direction, but no one was there. “Yes I’m talking to you, Oscar.” You laughed.

He met your eyes with his own, now blown wide. “Well don’t look too shocked yet.”

Oscar awkwardly adjusted his posture and fixed his expression to a more neutral one. Your smile did well to hold back your laughter.

“Listen, I’m having a New Year’s Eve party and I want you to come.”

Of course, Oscar was already invited as spider-man, and said yes as spider-man. But to turn down a party invite from you would be insanely stupid of him. “Yeah, I’ll be there.” He nodded.

Your smile brightened. “Great! Uhm but if I could get your number so I could send you the address that would be good.”

Scrambling through his locker, Oscar was searching for the pack of sticky notes he swore he had. “Here,” you spoke, a light pink sticky note held delicately between your fingers. Oscar scribbled his number onto the paper and handed it back to you, fingers brushing past each other as you plucked it from his hand. “Perfect. Looking forward to seeing you there.” You winked before walking off. Just from that single muscle movement, Oscar’s face felt far too hot.

“Ha. What are you blushing for?” Logan poked Oscar’s shoulder. “I was just invited to y/n’s New Years Eve party.” He spoke, a level of bewilderment in his voice.

“No fucking way!” He hit Oscar’s shoulder with far too much force, jolting Oscar back to reality. “You’ve gotta bring me with you.” Still half in a haze, Oscar nodded.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

“Mr. Stark?” Oscar called out, cautiously venturing further into the compound.

Tony called him not long ago. Not much explanation was given except for that it was an urgent matter and Oscar absolutely had to rush over to the compound.

“Mr. Stark is in his lab.” Friday’s robotic voice informed from above. Face turned towards the ceiling, Oscar gave a small “thanks” before rushing off to meet Tony.

“Mr Stark?” Oscar called, catching himself on the doorframe to throw himself into the room, having been running far too fast.

As his gaze was locked on the large holographic screen ahead of him, Tony gestured for Oscar to come closer. They both watched as one man—dressed in what looked to be a comically large fur-lined cape—hovered over a bridge, freezing over the whole structure. A giant snowball was conjured from the air, and quickly turned to a solid block of ice. It was then smashed into the side of the bridge, obliterating the concrete walls and sending cars down onto the—now frozen—water below. They crushed on impact.

“Oh my god.” Oscar breathed out in horror. Head hung low, Tony paused the clip. “His name is Ryder West, but goes by subzero.” Tony flashed a photo of the man out of costume. “As you saw, he has freaky Elsa powers.”

Oscar felt the familiar feeling of fear creeping up on him, raising goosebumps along his arms despite the heated suit. “And… you want me to take care of this? Don’t you think this is more of an avengers level threat? What does this guy even want anyway?” He stuttered out the list of questions, looking at Tony like he was insane. “I mean, that guy can crush me in two seconds with one of those ice balls! And how was he even floating?”

Tony put a hand up to stop Oscar’s never-ending questions. “You can handle this, kid. I know you can. And as for your last question, I believe he can manipulate water, and was using that ability to help him float.”

Oscar’s brain couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing. “Walking on water? That like- that defies the laws of physics.”

“Oscar, there’s a wizard who can manipulate space and time. I don’t think physics means much these days.” Tony sighed.

“How can I fight a guy who defies the laws of physics? Man this would be a really good time to have someone on our side who’s made of fire or something.”

The look on Tony’s face was not even remotely amused. “Kid, you’ve fought a witch before. This should be a piece of cake.” Tony clapped him on the shoulder before exiting the room.

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

Oscar changed his outfit three times. A fact usually not paired with him. But tonight had him digging through his closet to find the perfect outfit, one that was the most flattering on him. He settled for a maroon t-shirt and a somewhat loose pair of jeans.

He figured everything out. He would show up first as himself, then after about half an hour, he would sneak off and change into his Spider-Man outfit. Had his nano-suit not need fixing, Oscar’s task of playing two roles would have been infinitely easier, but alas, he was left with his other suit, which he was to manually put on and take off.

Oscar dropped by to pick up Logan. They’d asked Fred if he wanted to come along too but he politely declined in favor of his games.

When Logan and Oscar arrived, the party was already very lively. Loud music reverberated around the big house, shaking the floor if you got too close to the large speakers.

Regretfully, they found a very drunk, and very energetic Lando when they neared the kitchen. He threw an arm around Oscar, his grip loose. “Hey! Oscar! I didn’t know you’d be here! Didn’t think this was your kind of crowd!” Lando shouted in Oscar’s ear, and he had to jerk his head away to spare his eardrums. “Not usually, but when Y/n invites you, you’d have to be insane not to say no.”

“Awe thanks!” You appeared from behind him, leaning up against the counter across from him. “I’m honored that you broke out of your comfort zone for me.” Your bottom lip was caught delicately between your teeth as you reached out to land a soft hit to his bicep. Alex came rushing into the kitchen, Carmen trailing right behind her. “Come on it’s our song!” Alex shouted, dragging you back to the living room, presumably to dance.

“Dude what the fuck!” Lando gasped. “She’s totally into you!” Had Lando not been drunk out of his mind, Oscar may have been subject to his jealousy. But for now, it was total excitement on Oscar’s behalf.

Oscar chuckled nervously. “I’m not so sure about that one.”

“If you don’t want her, then can you put a good word in for me?” Logan nudged Oscar’s shoulder with his.

Him and Logan managed to get away from Lando’s clingy self, and proceeded to spend the next thirty minutes making awkward small talk with their drunk classmates.

He grabbed Logan by the shoulder, leaning in close to his ear. “I’ll see you later, I’m gonna go… change.”

Thankfully, because of the chilly December air, there was no one outside. So Oscar’s task was a lot easier. He climbed onto the roof, and got to changing. At one point, while Oscar’s suit was half on, a couple came out of the house, and he had to quickly drop down to his stomach to avoid being seen.

Eventually, Oscar got the Spider-Man suit on, and dropped down right in front of the main door.

He let himself in, and immediately the atmosphere shifted. All eyes were on him, the chatter ceasing, though the music still blared. You came around the corner. “What’s everyone- Ah! You made it!” You cheered, the crowd making a perfect walkway for you to reach him. You stopped right in front of him to turn and face the party-goers. “Well, get back to partying! Don’t mind him.” And they miraculously did as you suggested, the loud chatter quickly resuming.

“Seems like heroes do get a day off after all.” Your mouth split in a smile, the party lights reflecting off your bubblegum pink lip gloss.

There was a Christmas tree in the entry room, and a certain ornament on it caught Oscar’s attention. He padded over to the tree and you followed. He held the ornament with delicate fingers, keeping it still handing from its branch and pointed to it. “Big fan of me?”

Your head was thrown back as you laughed. “The biggest. But my dad hates it. Tried to get rid of it completely.” Oscar frowned and your smile widened. “You know, your mask moves with your expressions. It doesn’t hide much.” His lips curved into a grin, and you clapped your hands together a single time. “ah that’s one I know well! You’re smiling.”

You grabbed hold of his risk with nimble fingers, the pressure of them light. “It’s too loud down here, how about we go somewhere quieter?” You gave him no room to answer, leading him up the stairs as soon as your words are out. Though Oscar would have agreed anyway, as he willingly follows you.

You reach the top of the steps and venture down a hallway to the very end. You extend an arm to the top of the doorframe, extracting a small key from the ledge. Unlocking the door, you led yourself and Oscar in the room before closing it behind you. “Sorry, I lock the doors cause I don’t want to clean up any… residue.” You explained, shivering at the mere thought.

Oscar assumed this was your bedroom. The lighting was dim. A single lamp lighting the whole room. But Oscar could still make out the posters of various artists hanging on the walls and the piles of books that lined your bookshelves. It was undeniably the room of a teenage girl.

You laid on the plush bed, pulling Oscar with you. He sat on the edge while you sat up against the headboard. “So how was your New Year’s Eve shift?” You smirked, though your mind couldn’t stop thinking about how he still had yet to pull away from your entwined hands.

“Did you bring me up here just so we could have a rooftop chat?” You chuckled at the way the eyes of his mask shifted as if he was lifting a brow at you. “Yes. I love our chats.”

“But it’s so close to midnight. Wouldn’t you want to be down there with everyone?” You shook your head. “Surely there’s someone down there you want to kiss at midnight.” Oscar gave a light tug on your hand. You smiled softly, now unable to meet his eyes, your gaze fixated on your hands. “No. There’s no one down there I want to kiss.” You were suddenly shy with your words, the confidence fading with the fantasies of kissing the one and only Spider-Man at midnight running through your mind.

“Oh?” Oscar quipped, and you looked up at him through you eyelashes. “What about you? Surely a superhero like you has someone special.” The tip of your finger tapped the back of his hand. Oscar shook his head. “No girlfriend.” He replied.

You acted shocked, though you already presumed as much. “Really? Color me surprised.”

You reached for the remote on the bedside table, and turned the channel onto the live stream of the ball drop.

“We are just one minute away from dropping into the new year, and…”

You tuned the television out, straightening up and sitting directly in front Oscar. His breath began to come in shallower waves.

“Ten!”

You reached up to his neck, fingers slipping under the fabric of the mask. Your fingers ghosted over the bare skin of his neck and shivers shot through the both of your bodies.

“Nine!”

When no protests came, you continued on.

“Eight!”

Oscar tried to talk himself out of this, to grab ahold of your hands and stop your movements.

“Seven!”

He couldn’t bring himself to stop you.

“Six!”

Your anticipation wanted to tear the thing off, but you wanted to give him a chance to pull out of this if he wanted to.

“Five!”

Oscar’s breathing ceased when the mask rode past his chin.

“Four!”

You searched the eyes of his mask for any micro expression that would alert you of discomfort. There was none.

“Three!”

Oscar finally grabbed hold of your wrist when the mask passed his lips. You got the message, letting go of the fabric and leaving it to rest on the bridge of his nose.

“Two!”

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his hand remaining cradling your cheek even after the hair was secure.

“One!”

By his hand on your cheek, he pulled you close.

“Happy New Year!”

He took on the responsibility of making the first move, closing the gap between you, capturing your lips with his.

There was a desire in the way you moved together that was unmatched to anything either of you have ever felt before.

Your hand slid up the front of his suit, stopping to rest on his chest. Wherever your hand went, Oscar’s body buzzed.

Greed drove Oscar’s movements as his hand slid to the small of your back, and drew you closer. The shock of the movement had you gasping into his mouth, “oscar,”

His eyes flew open, and he jumped away from you. He stood across the room, yanking his mask back down. “Wh- what did you say?” Oscar was breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was in total disbelief, swearing he must have heard you wrong.

You stared at him in shock. “I’m—fuck—I didn’t mean to do this now.” You hid your face in your hands, embarrassed and afraid for his reaction.

“What do you mean? How did you— who told you?” He tried to be demanding, but his mind was racing with ten different emotions at once. Elation, confusion, fear, anger.

Lifting your head, you met his eyes, shaking your head. “No one. I figured it out on my own.” Your eyes darted around the room, and he could tell you were scared. Hell, he could feel your fear, radiating off of you in profuse waves.

He took a deep breath. “Should’ve known you’d figure it out.” He drew the curtains closed and sat on the end of your bed. Slowly, he removed his mask. “What gave it away?” Oscar’s voice was low and airy, nearing the point of whispers. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes, rolling his mask between his fingers instead.

“It wasn’t one thing. More like a couple.” He stayed silent, allowing you to continue. “It started with that first day, when you got my purse back for me. Your voice was familiar but I couldn’t figure out who it belonged to.” You watched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. “All that fancy tech in that suit, but not enough room for a voice changer.” You tried to lighten the mood. It half worked, earning an airy chuckle from Oscar. “I’ll talk to Mr. Stark about that one.” He said.

You smiled and continued. “Then the next day at school, I connected your voices when I asked you that question in anatomy. And your face got red too, which tipped me off a little.” He nodded. “And then tonight really sealed it. When I noticed you’d disappeared then Spider-Man came along not much later.”

Oscars head hung low, his tongue darting out between his lips. “So…” he sighed. “Did you kiss me just ‘cause I’m spider-man then?” He reluctantly asked.

“What?” The accusation made you defensive. “No. No I- Oscar I like you for you. You’re funny, and smart, and an amazing person to be around. You make me happy.”

He finally met your gaze, searching your eyes for any sign of fibbing. Everything about them was genuine. Oscar shook his head. “You shouldn’t know. It can put you in a lot of danger.”

You shrugged. “Well you can’t change that now.” A half-hearted chuckle left your lips.

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, he hardly blinked either. You scooted closer to him, not quite touching him yet. “You okay?”

Oscar made a feeble attempt at nodding. “This just gets scarier with every person who finds out, I guess.” He muttered.

Then you decided to take a risk, reaching around his neck to give him a hug from the side. It wasn’t tight or anything, just a gentle, physical reminder that you weren’t going anywhere. You didn’t spend three weeks freezing on a rooftop every night on your break for nothing.

A hesitant hand of Oscar’s raised slowly, and stopped to rest around your wrist. The two of you sat like that for approximately fifteen minutes before you spoke up, “I think I should probably get back to the party. Make sure nothing breaks.” You slowly peeled yourself away, Oscar saying nothing but giving you a soft smile and a small nod.

When you tried to open the door, it snapped shut. Looking up, there was a web sticking to both the door and the frame. Your gaze found Oscar, who was now standing and had a sly grin on his face.

Another web was shot, this one landing on your wrist. Yanking his arm roughly, you came stumbling toward him, crashing into his chest. “Quite the romantic.” You laughed.

Oscar dipped his head, taking the lead once again to connect your lips. He wasn’t so greedy this time, he was delicate. He took his time, holding you as if you were made of glass. His touch had you like putty in his hands, subject to his control when he started to direct the both of you back to the bed.

When the back of your legs hit the mattress, you pulled away from him with a hum. “I should really get back.” The way he looked at you was so dizzying, you couldn’t even meet his gaze. “Yeah, yeah.” He nodded, his words airy as he tried to catch his breath.

He plucked the mask from the bed, letting his smile grow when his back was to you. Mask slipped over his head and tucked into place, he followed you out of the door.

Halfway down the staircase, a photo caught his eye and he paused. “Who’s this?” He asked, knowing full well who it was, he did his best to hide his nerves.

“Oh, that’s my dad.” You waved a hand through the air. “He’s some sort of weather scientist. I think you two would really get along.” You smiled.

Oscar was sure that wouldn’t be the case, as he was staring at a picture of none other than Ryder West.

[theoldsports]

SOUR.

Art Donaldson x Reader (Patrick Zweig x Reader) | SORRY series | 4.2k words

it’s finally here by popular demand. Patrick has entered the plot. this is set before all of the prior chapters, two days before the Donaldson wedding. can be read as part of the SORRY SERIES (read more episodes of their lives here) or on its own. lemme know if you’d like to be on the taglist.

warnings: 18+. angst. it’s brutal angst. more than allusions to Patrick’s canonical use of hard drugs. rehab, allusion to an OD, mention of Art’s disordered eating patterns. they’re bad for each other in a good way. the Donaldsons have a friendly dog. coveting another man’s wife. discussion of niche sexual fantasies. making out. biting. tornados/extreme weather. running away from your problems.

“Art?”

“Nngh.”

“Artie, wake up.”

“‘M up. Fhhh… ‘m up. What’s the matter?” Art grumbled with half shut eyes. “Somethin’ wrong?” He whispered even though they were alone. It was nighttime which meant whispering to Art.

“I don’t like this storm.”

What a sign that storm should have been.

Art smirked. “We’re getting married in, like, three days and you’re worried about the weather?”

“There’s a tornado warning. Or watch. Whichever the worse one is. I saw it on the news.”

Art frowned. “You ever been through a tornado?”

“No.”

Art rolled over from his position in [Y/N]’s arms to face her nose to nose. “I have. A lot. Close your eyes,” he commanded softly. His arm slotted into the dip of her waist and pulled her closer. “Close ‘em for me. That’s it, that’s it.” He coaxed as she followed his directions.

“I don’t see what this has to do with—“

“Shh, listen,” they both got quiet. Rain pelted against the windows. Wind whistled. Branches cracked and crunched. Thunder boomed. [Y/N] could see the gleam of lightning even behind her eyelids. “Hear it?”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“Yeah.”

“Great. Congrats. Your ears are workin’ best as they can,” Art teased to try and get his fiancé to crack a smile. “Now, which one’s the loudest? Which of the sounds?”

“You breathing.”

“I’m flattered. Which one outside?”

[Y/N] listened. “Right now? The rain, I think.”

“We’re in the clear for now. Let me know when the wind’s louder. Like that real, real crazy whooshing, whistling sound. When it starts whipping like that, we’ll go in the bathroom and lock the doors, yeah? Hell, we can head in now if it would make you feel better?”

“What if I fall asleep before the weather gets worse?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay awake,” Art yawned. “How about I get you up if I notice a disturbance. I gotta take care of my wife, right?”

“I’m not your wife.”

Art sighed. “…I know. I’m just practicing.”

Fortunately, no tornado ever touched down. And Art was still there when [Y/N] woke up.

It always amazed her that Art was still there everyday. For every nasty thing she said to him that she didn’t mean, every argument where she told him Patrick was right, every tennis match won or lost, every natural disaster, every tear shed. Art was there for all of it. He liked the bad moments as much as the good ones because it meant simply more time spent by [Y/N]’s side. He wasn’t going anywhere. Ever.

It was too much power, [Y/N] frequently thought, that she had over Art.

[Y/N] faced Art and brushed his strawberry blonde hair away from his forehead. Art often looked exhausted. He wore his tiredness on his face and shoulders. The exhaustion of constantly chasing, people-pleasing and being a professional athlete could destroy a kid. Art wore it like a Boy Scout badge. [Y/N] could watch him look relaxed forever. It was so rare he looked like that.

“Good morning, guard dog,” [Y/N] whispered. Art stirred. She could tell he was awake even though his eyes were shut due to that crease the reappeared between his eyebrows. It was never not there in his waking moments. Slowly, Art’s hand crept up and gently clutched [Y/N]’s wrist. Art used his grip to slide [Y/N]’s hand down his own drowsy face. He planted a kiss on her palm before tiredly looking at her. “Good morning.” She repeated to him.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” [Y/N] replied. Gray sunlight filtered through the window. “You ready for today?” She smirked.

“What’s today?”

“Patrick’s in town.”

Art dramatically threw his arm over his face and groaned. “I thought he was in tomorrow… Everything was so peaceful… And quiet,” Art mumbled into his elbow. He couldn’t keep a straight face for long and resolved into a soft laugh. “Whose babysitting?” He asked, peering his blue and brown eyes over his arm.

“I’m picking up the cake today, so I figured I could use his strength.”

Art sat up a bit. “You’re getting it today?”

“In the later afternoon, yeah. Why?”

“It’s gonna be, like, stale.”

[Y/N] glanced over at Art. “If we had gotten cupcakes like I wanted, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You’re such a little jerk.” Art teased.

“Me!” [Y/N] gasped. “It doesn’t even matter because it’s not like you’re gonna eat it anyway because you don’t eat anything.”

“Little jerk!” Art said with his crooked smile widening. He leaned in, slotting an arm over her. “You heard me. You’re a little… troublemaking jerk.” Art’s nose almost pressed against hers.

“Oh yeah? Why are you marrying me then, hm?”

“…You’re pretty,” Art grinned almost timidly, bowing his head. His flat vocal timber sounded like the verbal equivalent of a blush. “Like, really, really pretty. Even if you suck.” Tenderly, Art leaned the rest of the way in to kiss [Y/N]. Once and then twice and then seven times. Maybe fourteen.

And they would have stayed like that all day.

They would have.

BANG BANG BANG.

Like gunshots.

Their lips parted and they held long eye contact. They paused. They sighed.

“Patrick.” They both said.

With a bend of his arms, the full weight of Art’s toned body collapsed on top of [Y/N]’s.

“Pretty baby!”

“No. ‘M pretending he’s not out there,” He laid flat on her, head on her chest. “Can’t go anywhere now.”

BANG BANG BANG on the front door again. Cheese, the couple’s Labrador mix barked at the sound from downstairs.

“Art!”

“Mhm-mm. Nope. Too bad. Sucks for Patrick.”

[Y/N] huffed. “You’re upsetting the dog.”

“He’s upsetting the dog,” Art started to laugh. “He showed up early. I’m just laying here. Hey, hey!” Art jeered as [Y/N] wiggled out from underneath him from backwards. She tried to inch away off the side of the bed. Her shoulders slumped against the carpet, while Art held her legs in place on the bed. [Y/N] dangled in a half on-half off sort of way. Her oversized Stanford t-shirt rolled up during the drama, exposing her breasts to Art. Unashamed, he stared.

[Y/N] twisted her foot into the side of Art’s face, causing a small cry of disgust from him. Just enough chaos for her to slip away. Without hesitation, she tossed the lightweight door open and skittered down the stairs with Art’s long gate keeping pace behind her. His arms reached out in an attempt to grab her. “He’s early! He can wait! He’s never been early in his whole fucking life!” Art laughed. Cheese jumped and barked at the hysteria.

The chase continued until [Y/N]’s hand hit the doorknob and chain. She unlocked it immediately. As [Y/N] ripped the door open, Art’s arm encircled her waist yanking her to the side with the force of his momentum, causing her to laugh with glee.

And on the other side of the door was Patrick Zweig.

Smiling impishly, Patrick took in the disheveled appearances of his two favorite people. He bit the inside of his cheek. “Nice boner.” Patrick smirked at Art, while he pulled [Y/N] into a side hug.

Art didn’t have a boner, or at least a proper one. But the comment was enough to get Art to look. He rolled his eyes and pulled Patrick in for a hug. Cheese ran over to the door for attention, when Art greeted Patrick.

Art closed the door. Patrick ducked down to greet the Labrador too. He liked Cheese, but wouldn’t necessarily choose to be around a dog in his free time the way that Art and [Y/N] did. Cheese really liked Patrick, much to his chagrin, so he pretended to be nice. While Patrick sat on the floor with the animal, he looked up at his best friends. “What’s with the clothes? You just get up?” Art with no shirt in just tube socks and boxers, and [Y/N] in Art’s old college shirt and underwear. They had all seen each other like this so many times growing up that no one particularly cared that the future Donaldsons looked so post coital. It was pretty normal. Patrick’s smirk sliced further across his unwashed face with the ghost of a laugh. “Were you guys fucking?” He said like a horny teenager.

[Y/N] laughed hard and kissed her lifelong best friend on top of the head on her way to make a pot of coffee in the kitchen. “No.” Art sighed in disappointment, flopping onto one of the barstools in the kitchen. This disappointment was either disappointment in Patrick for asking, or disappointment in the lack of sex due to Patrick’s arrival. It was Patrick’s fault either way.

When the dog got bored, Cheese wandered into the kitchen for nonexistent scraps. Patrick pulled up a chair next to Art and dropped his backpack on the floor. “How’s it going, man? You look good. Feeling ready?” He asked, leaning forward to tap Art across his bare knee.

Art nodded as if it say it’s a sure thing. “Thanks. We miss you. We appreciate you being here. It means a lot.”

“I appreciate you being here,” [Y/N] cut in. “Because you’re in my half of the wedding party.” She and Art were always in constant competition over who loved Patrick more. Art wanted him to be his best man. [Y/N] won out, though, having known him since the age of seven and Art only since age twelve.

“Ladies please. Not all at once.” Patrick said. He stood from his chair and wrapped his long arms around [Y/N] in a proper hug finally. Briefly, his chin rested on her head. He stopped before it went on too long.

“Good to see you, kid. How’s it going?” At two months older, [Y/N] had been calling Patrick ‘kid’ diminutively for almost two decades. It was cuter before he got so tall.

“I called you yesterday.” He replied dryly, stepping back to look at her. [Y/N] noted Patrick’s intimately familiar eyes. Too wide, pupils too dilated. Hm. He wore a long sleeved sweater and jeans. And dirty tennis shoes.

“You bring something nicer than this for Saturday?” She teased, pulling on one of his holey sleeves.

Art snorted at Patrick’s expense and cracked a smile. His freckled elbows leaned onto the counter. “Yeah, yeah. I’m here for two seconds, ‘n you’re already giving me tsuris?” Patrick quipped to [Y/N].

“Tsuris… Never thought I’d say it, but you sound like your mom, Patrick.” [Y/N] scoffed. Art snorted a laugh too.

Patrick frowned. “Guess I have to kill myself then.” He joked harshly to more laughter from the other two. M

“Yep. Have some coffee. Both of you. I’m going to put pants on.” [Y/N] turned away and moved to the stairs.

“Aw, do you have to?” Patrick called after her. [Y/N] tossed a middle finger up over her shoulder as she walked away. Art hissed at Patrick’s comment.

“Do you have to flirt with my wife?” Art sneered without malice.

Patrick smiled that boyish small, wicked, unassuming smile. “She’s not your wife yet.” He snapped back. Art smiled at him in return. The two held each other’s gaze adorned with sick grins for a moment before both of them dissolved into laughter. Everything was a competition, but it was only real if they brought it up.

Fast forward a few hours and Patrick and [Y/N] were in the car. Art had taken off for a haircut because his mom thought he looked like a messy little punk and wedding pictures were forever. [Y/N] drove because Patrick drove too fast and without mercy. He had a sports car once when he was in school and still spoke to his parents daily and had notably wrapped it around a telephone pole and walked out without nary a scratch. How’s that for nine lives?

[Y/N] had a sedan.

She and Patrick both held a cigarette out each of their respective windows as she drove.

“You should really quit, y’know.” She told Patrick.

He leaned over and blew smoke in her face. “Yeah, I’ll quit when you do.”

Patrick’s rude gesture didn’t bear acknowledging. “It’s different. You’re an athlete. I watch movies and review them for a living. It’s expected of me. You… you’re making your performance actively worse. You’re kneecapping yourself by choice.” [Y/N] explained.

“I’m good enough to take the hit.”

[Y/N] laughed and took a drag of her cigarette, asking it out the window. “And you’re arrogant enough to make that comment. Sometimes I look at you and you’re still thirteen. I swear to God. It’s fuckin’ funny,” she said. It was quiet for a moment. “Art, though. He doesn’t smoke anymore.”

“I don’t believe you,” Patrick replied immediately with a wild look in his eye. That was apparently a big surprise. “He’s totally lying to you. There’s no way—“

“Nope! Quit on his own too. He just decided he was done with it one day and got all pro-athlete about it.”

“Y-you’re wrong! You’re so wrong. He’s a liar. Last time I was in town, we—“

“No. No fucking way,” [Y/N] shook her head in manic disbelief. “When you came by to—“

“Mhm. Yep. On the patio. You didn’t notice?”

[Y/N] shook her head. “No sense of smell because of… I’m a smoker. I just… He’s such a shit.”

“A shit and a hypocrite!” They both laughed. When the glee dampened naturally and the cigarette butts were pitched out the window, Patrick looked over at [Y/N]. One good, long look. “You ready for Saturday?” Patrick asked because he was a masochist.

[Y/N] found herself often thinking back on this moment. Was this when it had gone wrong beyond repair?

[Y/N] sighed. She would only ever tell Patrick and maybe Art this. “Yes and no.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t say it like that. I have been ready to marry Art since I was, like, seventeen years old. It is unfathomable to me how much love I am capable of giving him, y’know? If he wanted the Mona Lisa, I’d be robbing the Louvre tomorrow. He’s it for me,” she said. Patrick faked a smile very convincingly and nodded for her to go on. “What I’m not looking forward to is everyone I know being in the same room at the same time. I don’t like other people except you and Art. And my editor. That’s about it.”

“You’re not at all worried about spending all that time married to someone?” Patrick tried to jab at her with his words while he scratched his right forearm.

“Not with Art.”

“Wow. That’s awfully grownup of you.”

“Yeah, well. I’m a grownup. With a smokin’ hot fiancé. And he actually cares if I live or die. Isn’t that crazy? My parents weren’t like that with each other. It’s… Am I allowed to say how grateful I am to you for bringing him home for break that one time, or is that stupid?”

“It’s kinda stupid,” he agreed teasingly. In reality, he wanted more than anything to put himself out of his misery. My fault, my fault, my fault. The words looped in Patrick’s head on constant repeat. He wanted to rip his skin off for so many different reasons. He couldn’t take it and he was trapped. Fuck.

Patrick scratched his right forearm again.

“Truth or dare?” Patrick slurred. He was twenty-one and drunk for [Y/N]’s birthday. She, Art and Patrick sat on the disgusting archaic carpet in Art’s dorm room.

“Uh, truth.” [Y/N] said too soberly to sober.

“Boring!” Art said, putting his hand on [Y/N]’s thigh.

Patrick took a long swing of his beer while he thought. “Okay, okay. What’s your weirdest sexual fantasy?” He asked.

“Ew.” [Y/N] wrinkled her nose.

Art thought the question was epic, but wasn’t going to facilitate his girl’s discomfort. “Hey, it’s her birthday, she doesn’t have to—“

“Um, no. I’ll do it. This is an actual dream I had. I think about it kinda all the time. Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. It so dumb. So, it’s Art and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with coffee or something. And Art… sings me Happy Birthday like Marilyn Monroe did for JFK. And he’s dressed like Marilyn, but like a boy. No dress, but like the boy version of that look. Then we fuck. That’s weirder than you wanted. That was weird, right?” [Y/N] rambled.

Art leaned in closer to her. They were all drunk as skunks and he couldn’t help bite his lip. His arm pulled her closer to him. Art was handsy when drunk, they were all learning.

“Whose Jackie O?” Patrick asked.

“No Jackie O. And I’m not JFK. He’s just Marilyn. Gentlewomen prefer blondes.” [Y/N] had laughed so hard at that while she tangled her fingers in Art’s sandy hair.

The car ride to get cake and the drive back was the last proper conversation [Y/N] and Patrick had. The pair got home. Nothing seemed unusual to [Y/N] at all. They talked the whole time without any dry spells. The cake, in pieces to be assembled, was carefully toted in and placed way out of the way from disaster. Patrick took his bag to the bathroom, claiming he was going to shower.

[Y/N] shouted after him. “You know where the towels are!”

Patrick looked back over his shoulder at her with a smirk and closed the bathroom door behind him.

And he went out through the bathroom window.

[Y/N] had no idea he had gone until she heard his car start. For a minute, she thought it was the neighbors. She walked halfway down her hallway and saw the bathroom door open. No running shower water, no half nude Patrick shaving or something. She ran back down the hall and glanced out the kitchen window and watched his new white SUV whip out of the driveway.

[Y/N] stood there for several minutes. Staring and staring and staring after him. Not a single effort to move. The first thing she did was pick up her blue slidephone from beside the sink. She called Art, not Patrick. Patrick made his choice.

[Y/N] hadn’t realized she was crying when Art picked up on the other line.

“Honey? Honey, you there? You buttdial me?” Art said. [Y/N] thinks he said shit like that for several moments before she spoke. She just faced the window and stared for what felt like ages.

“Patrick’s gone.”

“Hm?”

“Patrick’s gone.”

“What do you mean he’s gone.”

“He climbed through the bathroom window and drove off. We-we didn’t have a fight. Or-or… He just left. Like it was nothing.”

“I’m on my way. Stay where you are.”

Art rushed back in his blue-black jeep wrangler. It ripped into the smooth driveway causing the tires to damn near squeal. When he got out of his car and bounded to the door, it was clear that about half of his hair had been cut instead of all of it. [Y/N] would have laughed in an ideal situation.

“Baby, hey, what happened?” Art said breathlessly as he unlocked the door. [Y/N] sat at the seldom used dining room table the two of them used to hold their junk mail, sitting straight up and looking through Art. Art was alarmed. She never sat at the table and rarely was her face so expressionless. She was always feeling, expressing, something. He couldn’t tell if she was crying or not, but her eyes were red.

“Patrick seems to have decided not to join us this weekend.” [Y/N] said clearly.

Art closed up the door behind him and walked over to [Y/N]. His scraggly hair and bewildered expression lessened into some devastated softness. He knelt, as he often did, in front of her and took her softer hands in his. “Can you tell me what happened?” Art asked quietly. He felt angry tears sting at the corner of his own traitorous eyes.

“We went out, got the cake, got smoothies, and came back. We… He didn’t say anything weird. Nothing happened.”

“Okay. And then?”

“No, I mean, nothing happened. Like, he was on his best behavior. Like, he was doing so well. He seemed okay. Really okay, y’know?” [Y/N]’s voice broke and finally betrayed her. She choked on her last words and the tears followed. Art’s right hand traveled up the side of [Y/N] face to rest there in comfort. “We talked about everything, like always. He was totally fine. I swear. Then we got home and he says I’m gonna take a shower, or something. And then I heard his car pull away. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna fucking murder him.” Art said, shaking his head and gritting his teeth. He stood from the floor and pulled his own phone out of his pocket. Art leaned against the table [Y/N] sat at. He called Patrick. Then he called him again. And another time. Up to what felt like twelve times or so. He left voicemail after voicemail.

“Hey, call me.”

“Hey, it’s Art. Call me.”

“Art again. Call me back. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry about the last one. Patrick, call me. Are you coming home?”

“Hey, man. Fuck you. Fuck off.”

“I’m sorry about the last one too. I’m… Understandably, I’m kinda… Fucking pissed at you. I don’t need to talk to you like that, though. Are you okay? Are you safe? What happened? You can talk to me.”

“You’re an asshole. I wish you could see the look on [Y/N]’s face right now.”

“Don’t come back.”

Eventually, the voicemail box was full.

[Y/N] reached wordlessly for Art’s hand. She could feel his rare anger climbing. He got this ridiculous blush across his cheeks when he got angry and she could see it against the sunset’s glow. “Art?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened,” He said, turning his eyes to her. “I’m so sorry, hon.”

“It’s not your fault. You don’t have to apologize, pretty baby.”

“Yeah, but he’s my best friend. He’s your best friend,” He ranted. “That was a dick move to leave like that. I’m sorry that happened to you. He’s a piece of shit.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No! I do. I do mean that. For the last year, he’s treated us, especially you like trash. Do you not see how much more you deserve, [Y/N]? I don’t know what’s going on with him… Do you?”

“He’s…” [Y/N] looked down. “You think he’s using again?”

Art didn’t say anything, he just looked down. That was answer enough. [Y/N] buried her face in her hands with a shuddering sob. Art pulled her to her feet and into his chest. He buried his face in her hair, unable to hold his own tears back. Eventually, the pair landed on the sagging green couch. Art’s legs wrapped around [Y/N]’s middle. They kept the news on all night. In case he matched an accident description. They called hospitals and hunted for John Does that were over six feet with dark hair and stubble.

“What are we gonna do? He’s… He’s not coming back, is he?” [Y/N] whispered. Cheese rested his heavy beige head on her thigh. He obviously didn’t understand why Patrick had gone either.

“No, I don’t think he is,” Art replied, lips against her forehead. “I’m sorry.

Pathetically, [Y/N] raised her head to Art. “I’m sorry too. I don’t know what I did.”

“You didn’t do anything.” He said. [Y/N] forced Art to lean back against the couch and she laid her head on his chest. Cheese circled for a new position where he could be touching them both at the same time.

[Y/N] knew it was a little bit her fault. She leaned up and kissed Art on the corner of his lips. “It’s my fault.”

“Then it’s both of our faults. You can’t talk about yourself like that. You’re the only you I’ve got, babe.” Art huffed tiredly.

[Y/N] dug her hands into Art’s hair the way he liked. “Can I fix your haircut? Haircut’s a generous way to describe it.”

“Damn, I was actually trying out this new thing. You don’t think it’s cool?”

“Yeah, it’s big for guys who blindly answer their wife’s phone calls, I hear.” [Y/N] said weakly.

Wife was all Art heard and he melted.

“I have never known someone I love as much as you,” Art said. “I’m all in with you. You know that, right?”

“‘Course I do.” [Y/N] did know. She sunk her teeth into the freckled skin on Art’s right shoulder gently and he moaned. Over top of the spot, [Y/N] left a trail of kisses down Art’s bicep.

“I’m gonna call his mom.” He said once [Y/N]’s pace had slowed. Art’s stomach growled. When he got upset, he didn’t eat. [Y/N] told herself it was because he had forgotten to in stressful moments, but wondered if it was a punishment instead. She pretending she hadn’t heard the sound.

“They don’t talk.”

“I know. Just in case he turns up.”

Patrick did turn up. About ten hours later, wet and unconscious in the emergency room. Following a psych eval, Patrick went to a short stint in rehab. He had gone once prior at the age of twenty. Needless to say Patrick missed the wedding. It was too much money to up and cancel, according to Art’s piece of shit stepfather, Douglas. Patrick made no efforts to contact the Donaldsons since leaving, as he left or following rehab. Despite all of Art and [Y/N]’s tireless efforts to find him, all they had to show for it was his disconnected phone number and a crippling feeling of shame and loss. Patrick had vanished from their lives without giving either one of them a say.

Patrick was gone.

But Art was there for all of it.

TAGLIST:

@toxiclovergirl @basicallynotbreathing @miniemonie2001 @valentine333 @tremendoushorsepeachbanana-blog @athxnss @babyspice6 @diorrfairy @donaldsonsdarling @muthafuckingstargirl @avylanchce @shysstuff @soberbabes @ysuftmikey @pussy-f41ry

[lanalosty0uu]

⋆.˚ PROLOGUE ᝰ.ᐟ

🕰️ BACK TO THE FUTURE 🕰️

no specific warnings on this chapter slight foreshadowing of another stranger things character!

main masterlist | general masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

"Oh, no need to help, dear! I can do it by myself."

The nice 50 year old-ish lady told you not to worry about her fish pond. You're a second year high school student who just got accepted in an exchange program, and now you’re finally here, in Hawkins, Indiana.

"Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Byers, I can handle it pretty well… My dad also has a fish pond on the back of our house.” You tried to reassure her that it’s totally fine for you to take care of it. Remembering that she can already be categorized as an old lady, it would be very cruel of you if you let her clean it by herself.

“You are truly an independent and hardworking young lady… Reminds me of myself back in the old days.” You can see her smile while looking to a blank space, probably reminiscing herself back when she was younger.

You chuckled at her compliment, slightly thanking her for saying something you don’t hear everyday, especially from your parents. Instead of saying anything further, you smiled at her before continue cleaning her fish pond.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“Please, dear. Feel free to look around.”

Ever since you got here last week, you never had the courage to explore her gigantic house. Not because it has spirits living on it, of course not! (hope so) But, it’s more like you don’t wanna disturb her peace and you don’t wanna look like you’re being nosy about her personal stuff. Yet, from the first step you took on this house, you literally fell in love. The vintage architecture, big pillars on her yard, it seems impossible for an old lady to live her by herself.

Sure, her house only has two levels, but the interior of her house is just mesmerizing. The details and antique things in this place are remarkable. If only you don’t have to control yourself, you’d already touch every single one of her things.

The only thing that you did here was to go to school and spend time with her a lot. You went shopping together, clean the house, do regular house chores, watch cheesy rom-coms or comedy movies (which you surprisingly also love). The whole week basically already felt comfortable for you.

You always loved old people. You get to hear their stories, adventures, and all what happened in the past. It seems… Very interesting, so different with what you have now. And one of the things you love about Mrs. Byers, is that she talks about her youth days a lot in the 80s! You, as a person who is a big fan of the 80s always had an open jaw when listening to how beautiful life seemed to be in the 1980s, especially in the year 1985.

“These are some beautiful watch collections, Mrs. Byers!” You looked through a cardboard box full of old clocks and watches inside.

“Those were my parents’. I was planning to give those to the antique store since I don’t really use it. But you can look around there if you’d like, dear! If one catches your eye, please do take it before people put a price on it in the antique store.”

The feeling of knowing that you can look at these old watches and actually bring them home without needing to let out a single dollar made you feel euphoric. But, you still need to help her cleaning up this messy attic, not wanting her to get asthma from breathing the dusty air so much.

“Maybe I’ll do it later, Mrs. Byers. I gotta clean these up first.”

Mrs. Byers looked at you, giving you the ‘I swear this kid never rests’ look. Yet, she just smiled. And you know deep down she’s really happy to have someone to be her company and to help her around since her husband died a year ago.

⊹ ࣪ ˖🕰️୭˚. ᵎᵎ🗝️

“If you need me, I’ll be downstairs, okay dear?” Mrs. Byers excused herself to go back to her room, probably knitting since it’s what she’s been doing at home (as far as you know). She left you there in the attic, wandering through her watch collection.

As you were diving through it, you took pictures of every single watch, especially the ones that has unique details in it. But one caught your eye… A golden pocket watch. It has golden chains, chained to the top of the watch. Tiny details surrounding the face of the watch. Since it looks pretty old, it was also covered in dust and rust, including the roman numbers that tell the time inside.

You made the watch dangle around your arms, admiring it’s old, yet timeless beauty. You started turning the clock around, seeing if it still works or not. Sadly, it’s broken. You immediately thought of the 80s just by looking at it, imagining how Mrs. Byers would always wield it and brought it everywhere she goes, even though you know this watch must’ve came from an older time… Most likely to be from the 30s or the 40.

Since you liked that pocket watch so much, you put the chains around your arms, keeping it there as you put back the rest of the watches gently inside the cardboard, not wanting to be irresponsible after Mrs. Byers let you mess around with all of it.

note: hey, i'll be publishing the first chapter like around... later! but i'll be posting it today as well (i'll try hihi ^^), lmk what r ur thoughts about the prologue so far, and if there's any of u that wants to be in the taglist, feel free to ask! hope you like this one <3

@xprloki @pupwrites @gorlillaglue25 @lovestrucklyuniverse since y'all seemed pretty excited abt this, i've decided to tag y'all in this and all future chapters, really hope y'all like it and continue reading <3

[haartemis]

I bet we’d have really good bed chem | aurélien tchouaméni

A/N: i wrote this on a whim lmao but lmk what yall think. inspired by the sabrina carpenter song obvi.

warning: nsfw ig. not full on smut but suggestive stuff

you see him before he does. he’s hard to miss, moving around the party surrounded by a herd of people, as if to not interact with the normies. it makes you roll your eyes. why do famous people have to make such a fuss everywhere they go?

it’s a packed house party that night in Madrid, hosted by some influencer who hangs around the rich and famous. no wonder a couple real madrid players are here. they roll red carpets for them wherever they go in these parts. you, on the other hand, have no business being at the party, but you’d slipped in as a plus one of a plus one. 

now, you’re indulging in all the free drinks, moving your body to whatever beat is playing. you and your friend are dancing together, moving among the mass of hot sweaty bodies. you’re having a time. 

that is, until some asshole steps on your foot, crushing your toes through your open toe heels. 

“Ow!” you yelp, hands flying to your feet. “What the fuck?”

“Oh mon dieu, I’m  sorry” a deep, accented voice says while a firm hand on your arm steadies you. you look up to find its owner, and lo and behold it’s mr. aurelien tchouameni himself, madrid’s resident pretty boy.

he has the audacity to smirk at you while you’re still wincing in pain, dragging his eyes up your sheer black dress languidly. eyes pause at your cleavage before moving up to your face again. you yourself take stock of what’s in front of you; it’s not everyday you see someone so famous, and you gotta admit, so handsome up close. he’s dressed in a white bomber jacket and a pair of dark skinny jeans. that second part alone should’ve given you the ick but his beautiful face makes up for his disastrous fashion sense:  plump, full lips. high cheekbones. jawline that could cut glass. deep brown eyes. he smiles a knowing smile, licking his lips. he knows you think he’s hot, of course he does. 

“what’s your name?” he asks, hand still on your arm.

“y/n” 

“I’m aurelien”

no shit, you think.

you shake hands, eyes locked. 

“pretty name” you say

“pretty face” He says without skipping a beat. you smile involuntarily.

someone shoves past you in that moment, pushing you forward. you try to steady yourself, one hand instinctively landing on his chest. you almost gasp; he might as well have been made with stone the way his muscled chest is hard. you fight every desire you have to move your hand around the ridges of his abs, feel him up a bit.

he smirks again, leaning down close to your ear.

“need a hand or do you just like what you see?” His breath is hot against your neck, making you shiver.

you quickly snatch your hand away, flushing hotly. he caught you red handed, like he read your mind.  when he leans back up his eyes are twinkling with mischief. bitch, you think.

“y/n, do you want to –”

he’s interrupted by one of his people whispering in his ear. He turns to you, apologetic again. 

“give me your phone” He says. when you just give him a confused look, he takes the device out of your hand and deftly puts in his contact details, sliding the phone back into your palm in seconds. your breath hitches at the feeling of your fingers touching. 

“i have to go” he says, then looks down at your feet. “sorry again”

he winks, flashing you a smile. then he’s gone. you shift to the side as his entourage moves, trying to avoid getting trampled on again. 

you stay up a little later that night, staring at his contact on your phone, wishing you’d been the one to give him your number so he could reach out first. no one left you tongue tied like that, but the thing is, he’s so hot. So, here you are.  

a couple days go by and your friend lets you know that the person who invited her to party reached out asking for your instagram. apparently, a friend of that person's friend met you at the party and wanted to connect. your friend asks if its ok to pass along your handle, and you hesitantly say yes, hoping, wishing, it's him and not some rando you don't remember meeting.

you get the notification on instagram that night: aurelientchm has requested to follow you!

you wait an hour to accept his request, and his message is instant: what does a guy have to do to get a text from you?

you type back: not step on my feet for starters 

touché, he responds within seconds.  you keep texting, flirting. you find you have a lot of the same tastes in music, movies, and also the same humor, so it’s pretty easy to make conversation. another week goes by and you start texting daily and even sending each other voice notes . you try to meet up, but it never works out: you’re either swamped with work, or he’s busy with training or off at an away match. 

not in your timezone, but I wish I was :(  he texted once when you proposed meeting but he was abroad for a champions league game.

the trouble starts when you open his instagram live one night. there he is in his home gym, your breath hitching at the sight of him. shirtless and glistening with sweat, he moves along to the beat of the music, mouthing the words to the french rap playing. his chest is sculpted and chiseled, pecs and abs defined. his shoulders, broad and powerful, lead down to a narrow waist. you watch as he goes through his routine, mouth slightly agape and heart racing  as your eyes track his every movement, his every flex of muscle. then it’s over. the notification saying the live ended interrupts your almost drooling. 

you toss and turn in your sleep during the night. the way he moved, his beautiful body, it was all stuck in your head. you can’t help it, you think about him touching you. those deep brown eyes giving you bedroom eyes.  how he’d pick you up, pull down your panties, flip you around. You can hear his deep accented voice murmuring sweet nothings while his head is buried in between your legs. you imagine how he’d look hovering above you, that damn silver chain dangling down between you two. would he have the same concentrated look he had at the gym when he’s inside you? eyebrows furrowed, biting his lip, forehead glistening with sweat? you’d move together in a steady rhythm, your hands clinging to his back. he’d maintain eye contact throughout. and then, after basking in each other’s pleasure, you’d both arrive at the same time. you can see it all in your head.

needless to say, you go to sleep that night with an unsatisfied ache between your legs.

the instagram live is just the beginning though. aurelien starts sending you gym videos that leave you hot and bothered pretty regularly, and now it’s pretty clear to you that he’s thirst trapping you. slow zoom-ins of his chest interspersed with some cute content of his dog fill your screen whenever you open his snaps; the man is truly a menace. the worst part is that it works: you spend an alarming amount of time thinking about him, or thinking about you and him together, doing nasty things. if his end goal is leaving you in a perpetual state of horniness, then he’s achieved it. it’s unfair really. 

are you free next week?

when you receive his text in the middle of work, you don’t hesitate for a second before replying with an enthusiastic yes. you quickly arrange to meet him at your place after his afternoon match. he even sends you tickets for you and a friend to attend the game, which you both enjoy. but as much as you try to focus on the game, your thoughts are already preoccupied. you make a joke with your friend about manifesting that he's oversized. because that’s all you can think about during those 90 minutes. you have high expectations, but you bet it’s better than in your head.

before you know it, you’re back in your apartment, waiting for him to pull up. you jump when you hear a knock, and you quickly open the door. he’s standing there looking handsome and freshly showered in his real madrid tracksuit and smiling that pretty smile at you. you lock eyes, and they say things you don’t verbalize. 

“hi” he says.

“hi” you say back, flushing.

he drops his bag to the floor, and he quickly sweeps you off the ground,  his lips crashing onto yours.

it is indeed better than in your head, you later find out. 

[meazalykov]

independent

sister!trinity rodman x rodman!reader

part one - part two here

summary: even though you're sisters, you might have to let her go

warnings: angst, swearing, childhood trauma mentions

there is no way that you would reject the offer your agent sent you.

at twenty one years old, barcelona feminine offered you a 3 year contract to play at their club as a defender.

for many years while growing up, you were obsessed with barcelona and the atmosphere all of games had.

you idolized messi, before idolizing alexia putellas when barcelona's women's team started putting themselves on the map.

there is no way that you will say no to barcelona.

as of right now, you were with washington spirit. the nwsl club and the catalan club had ties together, so you shouldn't be surprised that barcelona saw you-- spirit's best defender-- before anyone else in america.

when it comes to transfers and talks of contracts, you weren't allowed to disclose the details with anyone.

even with your own sister, trinity.

trinity is your best friend, and your fraternal twin. you were 9 minutes younger than her and stayed attached to her hip.

its not like trinity didn't like it, she loved staying by your side. when you asked your mom to start playing soccer at the age of 4-- a shock considering that your father is one of the basketball legends in the NBA-- trinity joined with you.

now, many years later, the both of you were playing in the NWSL and play for the USWNT. you had the speed, strength, and determination that made you an unstoppable defender while trinity's speed, attitude, and dribbles made her an unstoppable forward.

there were many obstacles that you had to go through to get here.

emotionally, you weren't okay while growing up. missing your father who happened to be very famous in the sports world took a toll on you for a long time.

sometimes, you wondered if he would've came by to see you, your sister, and your brother more if you'd decided to pursue a professional career in basketball instead.

trinity pretended that the absence didn't affect her, as she would comfort you every time you were upset about your father not showing up to the games to see you both.

you knew deep down that it did affect your twin, as she would greet mom and then search the crowd to see if she can find dad anywhere after.

another obstacle was trying to overachieve in soccer, to the point where it would take a toll on your body most days.

having a father who is famous for his NBA career in the 90s, you didn't want people to think that you were "buying" your way into higher spots on the teams. you wanted to prove that you had talent, not nepotism.

after solcal blues, you nearly played soccer for UCLA while trinity wanted to follow DJ to washington state. the both of you had major anxiety about splitting apart from each other-- wondering if the both of you would survive without seeing each other everyday.

however, COVID-19 decided to keep you both together. the quarantine solidified the codependency you shared with trinity.

so, telling trinity that you'll be moving clubs scared you. you didn't know how she'd react.

she would probably see if she could switch clubs with you. you frowned at the idea, knowing that barcelona couldn't offer her a contract, they have too many forwards already.

since you said yes to the catalan club, you'll be in another country while trinity stays in DC-- unless she went to another club in europe to be closer to you.

now, you'll have to tell her before news pages leak the contract deal.

"trin?" you called out inside of your shared apartment with her. you assumed she'd be in the living room, so you walked out of your bedroom to head to there.

"hey, you're awake!" trinity said as you sat down on the couch beside her.

she wasn't smiling, in fact, she sounded like she was waiting for you to wake up to tell you something.

"trin I gotta talk to you about something."

"okay-- coach said you wouldn't be in training or the next game, I was surprised because you didn't tell me that." trinity chuckles as you frowned.

little did she know, the last game with spirit was your last.

"I'm sorry--- I just wanted to talk to you about something important."

she looked at you, waiting for you to continue as you looked down at your sweaty palms.

"I'm leaving." you mumbled.

trinity's eyebrows flared together.

"what do you mean?" she asks.

"another club offered me a contract, and I feel like that would be best for my career." you say.

trinity sighed, in relief, un-crossing her arms before laying her feet out on the coffee table.

"oh okay, you'll still be in the country so I can visit you. maybe we will even clash-"

the older twin had experienced distance with you before. you were gonna play in los angeles while she went to washington state with DJ--- however, she didn't know how far she would be from you.

"trin." you stop her.

trinity read the facial expression on your face. you looked sad, shaking your head slowly as you kept rubbing your hands together-- wondering if this was the end to the close bond you shared with your sister.

"you're going-- overseas?" she mumbled.

trinity is your personal mind-reader, almost, she could tell what you were thinking based off of your facial expressions and the current situation.

"I couldn't say no to barcelona." you say, crossing your arms as you looked away from trinity-- towards the turned off television.

the silence between you and trinity grew heavier, the tension almost palpable. she didn't say anything immediately after, which scared you.

you look over to see that she is looking right at you.

you could see the hurt in her eyes, but there was something else there too—anger.

she finally pulled her hand away from the resting position on her lap, standing up abruptly.

"so, that's it? you're just going to leave?" trinity's voice was sharp, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

"what happened to communication? why were you so secretive about this? weren't we supposed to be into soccer together, y/n? we always said we'd have each others backs, no matter what. and now you're running off to barcelona like its not a big deal."

"it is a big deal," you shot back, standing up to face her.

"but this is my career we're talking about, trin. i can't pass up an opportunity like this just because it's hard. you know how much this means to me. YOU know how much I grew up loving barcelona."

"and what about me?" trinity demanded, her voice rising.

"do i mean anything to you? because it sure doesn't feel like it right now. you didn't even talk to me about it before making your decision. you just decided on your own, like me or DJ don't even matter to you." trinity rubs her left temple with her finger, overwhelmed and frustrated at your decision.

"DJ? he doesn't even live in DC!" you protest.

"at least he will be in the fucking country!" trinity snaps.

"that's not fucking fair trinity," you argued, frustration creeping into your own voice.

you never said trinity's name fully, always calling her trin.

"of course you matter to me, but this is my life! i have to do what's best for me, and that means taking this chance. you would do the same if you were in my shoes." you stood up, just five feet in front of her standing body.

"you really don't get it, do you? it's not just about you, y/n. we were supposed to be a duo, and now you're breaking that up. you're leaving your own twin behind, and you don't even care because you want to prioritize your career over that." trinity let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.

"of course i care!" you shouted, feeling your emotions getting the best of you. "but i can't let that stop me from going after what I want, especially since dad stopped coming around so much before we grew up. i need this, trin. if you can't understand that, if you can't be happy for me, if you want to stay at the same club for your whole career-- then maybe you need to let me go."

the words hung in the air like a bomb that had just gone off. trinity's face twisted in hurt and disbelief, her eyes narrowing as she stared at you.

"let you go? are you serious right now? you're the one who's leaving, y/n-- just like dad did. you're the one who’s letting go!"

"i'm not giving up on us!" you insisted, your voice trembling with the overwhelming process of your feelings. "but if you can't support me like a twin sister would… then yeah, maybe you need to let me go."

trinity stared at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she processed your words.

for a moment, you thought she might say something—anything—to bridge the gap that had opened between you. but instead, she just shook her head, tears filling her eyes.

"fine," she said, her voice breaking as she relaxed her arms in defeat.

"go. do what you have to do. but don't expect me to be here waiting when you realize that the grass isn't greener on the other side."

with that, trinity turned on her heel and stormed out of the apartment, leaving you standing there. you flinched when she slammed the door shut, probably scaring your neighbors in the process.

you wanted to run after her, to take back everything you'd said, take back your contract with barcelona and stay in washington-- but you knew it was too late for that.

the rift between you and your lifetime companion had been torn wide open, and there was no going back now.

all you could do was hope that, in time, she would come to understand why you had to do this—why you had to follow your own path and break your dependency from her, even if it meant leaving her behind.

for now, the only thing you could do was stand firm in your decision and hope that your dream didn't cost you the most important person in your life.

part two

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[signedkoko]

Signed with Love - Helluva Cast

What is this? - A valentines gift to my lovely readers! Its valentines/love letters from your favourites 🖤

Characters - Blitzo | Fizzarolli | Loona | Millie | Moxxie | Stolas | Striker | Verosika | Wally Wackford

Series Parts Hazbin Cast - Here! Overlords & Sins - Here!

Dear, Hey, Whats up

Oh what the hell, just be my valentine, we both know its about time I just fuckin ask.

I can't promise anything lavish, but what I do have is a kitchen and a comfortable couch. Maybe you can try showing me how to bake and we can eat what we make while watching some shitty romcoms.

Whatever makes you happy,

Oh come on, you know who wrote this.

Heeellloooooo!

I know you are usually the one to ask, but this year I wanted to change things up a little! Be my valentine?

While we could go somewhere crowded and wait forever for food, I thought maybe this year we could stay home, order a bunch of takeout, and spend time together?

And of course, I love you,

"Froggie"

Don't freak out,

I swear this isn't a ransom note, I just wasn't sure how else to ask you to be my valentine.

You know how we both wanted to go to the lovesick festival but ti was sold out? Well, don't ask how but I got tickets. Now we can go watch idiots get drunk and pass out in front of their girlfriends, and enjoy a bunch of our fav bands.

Outfit theme: Hot as fuck?

X Loona

Hi sweetie!

I know technically it's your turn for valentines this year, but I know you've been busy and I wanted to surprise you!

My parents called and told me they need someone to house sit while they are away for the week, so we could enjoy valentines on the ranch and I can show you my home! Especially the food and festivals I always tell you about.

Happy Valentines ❣

Millie

Hi dear ❣

Maybe it's getting old by now, but for yet another year I would love to have you as my valentine.

I don't know where I'd be without you, you make my hellish work at least a tad bit bearable and inspire me every day. I've already had to erase several rambles, so I'll save the rest of the sweet talk for the date. Just be ready in formal attire for 6, because we have a show to catch!

I'm sure you'll look amazing ❣

— Moxx

To the sweetest one I know,

I've been inspired by the books I've been reading to handwrite a letter to you, so you have something to keep for memory sake.

To have you by my side for another valentines is a dream come true, last year you pulled together such an amazing evening that I can only hope to outdo tonight. I would like to take you to see the stars, I know you've always asked and I believe it is about time.

Thank you for being mine,

Prince Stolas

Howdy darlin'

While originally I wasn't going to be home on time, I made sure to finish up this mission early so I can be there with ya for valentines. I'd call, but I know you swoon for romantic gestures, dontcha?

I'll handle all the details of our outing, just relax and don't worry your pretty head about a darn thing.

Can't wait to get home and see you again,

Who else?

Miss me?

I had to head out for a gig early, so sorry I couldn't catch you at the door before I left! I hope this note will suffice in the mean time.

Since I can't bring you, I have a limo headed to pick you up around five, that should give you time to get ready for the concert! Your pass is with the driver, and you've got front row seats, kay? I better see you cheering for me ❣

Happy valentines day,

Mayday 💋

Greetings, I say I say,

It's not everyday sheepish imps such as myself get such a heavenly opportunity to court a sweet thing like yourself!

For you, and you only my dear, I will spend such a lucritive holiday with my one and only. Should you accept, I am pleased to inform you that we have been invited to Ozzie's! Isn't he the kindest?

x x x x x x x

W. WACKFORD

Authors Note - Okay be honest with me WHO ARE WE ACCEPTING A LETTER FROM?? I gotta know,,, This is the last of the valentines series, I hope you all enjoyed!

[comically-callous]

Hello! I Hope You’re having a wonderful day/night. I was wondering if you can do a Wonka (2023) x reader where the reader is a show girl and is in love with Willy Wonka. And the reader works as a showgirl for slugworth (to Yk promote his chocolates). But reader and Willy falls for each other and it’s a whole forbidden love type thing since readers boss hates wonka.

Hello! Thanks so much for the request!! Gotta love the forbidden lovers trope (probably one of my favs tbh).

Willy Wonka x Showgirl!Reader (Wonka 2023)

Warnings!!!: Fem!reader, cursing (literally once, I'm pretty sure)

A/n: Baby's first request + Baby's first time posting fanfiction (AJGSHSHEJJXHDJDJ) Hope it's not awful.

Sometimes you wondered why you ever agreed to this job.

Being a showgirl wasn't as easy as a lot of people seemed to think it was.

Every other weekend, you performed at the local theatre to promote Mr. Slugworth's infamous chocolate. Two shows on Friday, two shows on Saturday.

Sounds easy enough. But, Mr. Slugworth insisted that no two shows could be the same.

Which meant that everyday you weren't performing, you were learning a new song and new choreography for your next performance. Which got very tiring very quickly.

Tonight was a particularly bad night. You were barely halfway through your show and already wanted to just collapse in the middle of the stage and sleep. Your costume felt tight, there was hardly anyone in the crowd, and your face hurt from how much you were smiling.

You had just finished your third number when the theatre doors opened. A young man walked through the doors. You recognized him from an incident in which he made your boss float through the air.

You briefly looked at him before going into your fourth number.

To your surprise, the man chose to sit right in the middle of the first row. Right in front of you. Now that he was closer you could see that he was actually pretty handsome. Dark brown curls that framed his face well and beautiful eyes that seemed to watch you in utter amazement...

You had to look away.

At the end of your performance, the man cheered loudly. Full on cheered, despite everyone else in the theatre simply clapping quietly.

He interested you with his sparkly eyes and bright smile. But, you knew you couldn't be interested. Your boss absolutely despised this guy. So, he wasn't cute and you weren't interested. That was that.

You were leaving the building through the back exit, happy to finally be out of your costume and headed home, when-

"Hi, there!"

"Ah!" You were startled by the sudden and enthusiastic greeting of... The guy you definitely didn't think was cute.

You sighed, regaining your composure after he had frightened you. "Hello." You said back simply.

"Sorry if I startled you there! I just wanted to compliment you." He said with a smile that for sure didn't make you want to swoon. "You are the most incredible singer that I've ever heard."

You couldn't help but feel flattered. "Thank y-"

"And you're an amazing dancer."

"Tha-"

"How do you even manage to dance in those tall, fancy heels?"

"I-"

"And isn't it strange to be taller than you usually are when you wear heels? Does that bother you at all?

You paused, making sure he was done talking before speaking again. "I guess being taller than usual would be strange at first. But, I'm used to wearing heels. So, being tall isn't weird for me."

"Like a giraffe." He said.

"Wha-"

"I'm Willy. Willy Wonka." He stuck his hand out.

You paused for a moment. Mr. Slugworth definitely wouldn't like the fact that you were talking to him... But, he wasn't here right now.

"I'm Y/n."

These little post-show conversations became something you looked forward to.

It was every Saturday, after your last performance of the night. He'd always be right outside the back exit waiting for you. Talking to him was always thrilling. Your heart beat a little faster whenever you were around him, breaking the rules... And maybe it was also because you thought he was cute.

You couldn't lie, over time, you'd grown to like him. And based on all of the lingering gazes and soft smiles he'd given you, you were pretty sure he liked you as well.

One day, you were backstage, looking into the mirror as you put on your makeup. You glanced up and in the reflection of the mirror was your boss, Mr. Slugworth.

This couldn't be good.

You turned around to face him. "Hello, Sir." You forced a polite smile.

"Yes, hello." He said with narrowed eyes. There was a brief moment of silence which you decided to fill.

"Did you want to talk to me about something?" You said, hoping the innocent head tilt you gave him was convincing.

"I know what you're doing." He said, ignoring your previous question.

Shit.

"One of my associates told me that they saw you and Mr. Wonka meeting behind this theatre every night."

You stayed silent. You knew you were guilty and you knew you probably couldn't talk your way out of this.

Mr. Slugworth continued. "I don't want an explanation or excuse from you. I just want you to agree to never speak with him again."

"What?!" You were shocked. He couldn't do this! He couldn't just tell you to stop talking to someone outside of work! He didn't have that power!...

Except, he kind of did. You knew how Mr. Slugworth was and you knew he wouldn't hesitate to fire you over something like this.

And that's why you agreed.

That night you left the theatre through the back exit like you always did. But, tonight you walked right past Willy.

"You were incredible tonight! I- Where are you going?"

You ignored him and kept walking. To your surprise, he began to follow you.

"You look sort of down.. Is something wrong? You can talk to me about it. I'm sure I can make you feel better!" He said as he continued to follow you.

He continued to try talking to you, and you continued to ignore him. He ended up following you all the way to your doorstep.

"Y/n? If it's something I did to upset you, I'm really sorry."

You took a deep breath and turned around, looking around to make sure no one was watching before you grabbed him and yanked him into your house.

As soon as he was in your house he looked around. "I like your curtains." He said.

"I'm not mad at you." You told him.

He smiled. "That's good to hear. I was already thinking of an apology chocolate recipe for you and it would've been-"

"Willy." He went quiet when you said his name. "Mr. Slugworth doesn't want me talking to you ever again."

"Oh?" He thought for a moment. "Well, that doesn't seem fair."

"Yeah. It isn't fair."

"Well, then don't listen to him." He made everything sound so simple. So easy. You wish you could see the world how he saw it.

"I can't just not listen to him. He's my boss." You looked at the ground. "And I need this job..."

Willy crossed his arms. He furrowed his brows in thought for a moment. "Huh."

...

"Huh." He looked back to you.

"What?"

"Why don't you just work for me?" He suggested with a smile. You were about to protest, but decided to hear him out. "Yeah! You can quit working for Slugworth, then you and I can update your act, and you can start promoting Wonka's Chocolate!" He said, excitedly pacing your small living area.

You thought over the plan. "Huh." You chuckled. "That's... Do you think that could work?"

He walked over to stand right in front of you, looking into your eyes. "I know it could work."

You shook your head with a smile. You were probably gonna regret this. "Let's do it."

"Yes!" Willy clapped and then stuck out his hand so that the two of you could shake on it. Instead of shaking his hand, you sort of let your emotions take control.

You grabbed his face and kissed him. After a moment you pulled away, a bit shocked at your own actions. You searched his face for any signs of discomfort and were met with a smile.

"That was better than a handshake." He said with a chuckle before leaning forward to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

Ok, you probably weren't gonna regret this.

[quijotine]

OK OK I FINISHED BINGING THE ENTIRETY OF NATLA AND I GOTTA SAY IT WAS A GREAT ADAPTATION!!!

Here are my thoughts so far:

The parts where I still had my reservations for the first half were definitely addressed in the second. There were more Kataang beats, especially in the last three episodes.

Please that whole part before the zutara showdown where Aang goes like "go easy, enough ppl have suffered" and zuko is more or less like "lol it's cute u think i'd hold back" and then aang has this proud little smirk like "oh i wasn’t talking to you"😏 Also his proud little smirk when Katara is fighting Pakku PLEASE HE IS GOING TO BE THE PROUDEST BF

They covered the most important points and had a decent few scenes of fan service, loved that.

However, the adaptation is not perfect and there are definitely parts that were lacking, at least to me. Primarily, I think they did our girl Katara a little dirty not emphasizing as much on her arc as opposed to Sokka's, for example, and also the way her ascension to master was pretty telly instead of showy

There was definitely something to love in every episode, but I think the weakest ones have to be Omashu and Spirited Away.

My ABSOULUTE FAVORITE episodes were Into the Dark and Masks. Dallas, Paul, and Gordon did SUCH a great job in them. I cannot WAIT for the proper leaves from the vine scene and also to have more of zuko interacting with aang.

ZUKO IS BABY BOY AND DOES NOT KNOW ANYTHING NOT EVEN ABCs 🥺🥺🥺

My favorite was Zuko by far, yes. I think the performance and the was he was written struck the best balance of that goofiness and tragedy atla is originally known for. That’s not to say the other kids didn't do a good job, but Dallas' Zuko was by far the best imo

I understand now what the showrunners meant by making the show more mature and serious. I cannot say I didn't like it, but I can see it being an acquired taste especially for the part of the fandom that is more purist/demanding. I like that the focus emphasized more on the consequences of war and that it reflected on the cycles of violence and hurt, what they do to a person and how the wounds pass down generationally. I think this emphasis on war, compassion, kindness, all those things are definitely an important message in this time and day. However, it is a little too serious for my taste, PRECISELY because of the times we are living in. Back when the OG came about the world was in a time of relative peace. But now we get pictures of carnage and genocide mixed in with videos of cute puppies, so it's definitely a different place. It was much easier to understand the gravity of the genocidal/bombing scenes imo, almost to a point that they seemed watered down/kid friendly compared to the real thing that we see on our phones everyday. Because of that, I think erring more on the comedy, the balance between what it ACTUALLY means to be hopeful and not just talking about it, is the one thing the show could improve upon for next seasons.

All in all I am VERY pleased with the adaptation. There were moments where I definitely bawled my eyes out, shouted, and laughed the same way I did the first time I watched the show. All I can say is, for those still on the fence about watching it, so long as you go in with an open mind and with the explicit objective of enjoying yourself, it will be a fun watch.