#gotta admit the protest outfits go hard

[seams-unusualbc]

but they synched their periods

BREAKFAST

[ddejavvu]

this idea came to me when I wanted to go to bed so imagine bradley at the hard deck wearing his usual hawaiian shirts and he bumps into a girl in a dress with the exact same design as his shirt like it's fate😭 and then after they start dating they always match🥹

THIS IS SO CUTE ??

--

The material that Bradley's hand brushes against is soft, but he doesn't pay much attention to it until he can see it. He stops in his tracks, offering you a sincere, "Sorry," when he's jostled from his left and rams into you on his right. You turn to glance at him over your shoulder, and you register each others' outfits at the same time, all owlish blinks and hitched breaths.

Bradley speaks first, a murmured, 'Oh-' but you're hot on his trail, an incredulous laugh escaping your lips.

You're wearing the same thing.

Bradley's sporting a faded old Hawaiian shirt, but it's unmistakably the same patterned fabric that your dress is made from. The green on his shirt was a lot brighter when he'd plucked it out of his dad's closet almost ten years ago, but yours is more vibrant, reminding him of a photo of him and his dad that lays in the drawer of his nightstand.

"I like your shirt," You grin at him, and he wonders if the glimmer in your eyes is always there, or only when you've got a drink in hand. It's pretty, he thinks, he hopes it's not temporary.

"I like your dress," He teases, swallowing what he doesn't want to admit is the beginnings of a lump in his throat, "Where'd you get it?"

"I found it at a thrift shop," You admit, reaching out to tug at the open panel of his shirt, "What about you?"

"It was my dad's," He grins, taking one step closer to you so that you're not so much reaching out for him as you are reaching up, "If he'd known there was a matching dress, he would have bought one for my mom."

"That's sweet!" You gush, and he notices whether you want him to or not, that you haven't let go of his shirt yet, "I like it when husbands match with their wives, I think it makes a good man."

--

"-And that's- that's why he's got that dumbass tie on," Fanboy concludes, words coming out slurred with laughter, "'Cause- cause three years ago she said it'd make him a good man."

"It's not dumb," Bob pipes up with a kind smile, eyeing Bradley's tie and your matching hair tie, a scrunchie made from the same fabric. You'd had to sacrifice your dress to fashion your accessories, but you're wearing maternity clothing now, and you likely won't be able to fit into it afterwards, anyways. It's a thing of the past, but you'd thought it unbearable not to incorporate the reason you'd gotten together with Bradley in the first place into your wedding.

"I don't care if he thinks it's dumb," Bradley drawls, his hand growing clammy from where it's been clutching yours beneath the table for almost an hour now, though he makes no move to break the embrace, "He thinks deodorant is dumb, too, and I can smell him from here."

"I'd watch what you say, Fanboy," Phoenix warns, "They made a onesie for the baby out of that dress, too, and if you keep running your mouth they might not let you hold her."

"He's not gettin' a chance to hold her anyways," Jake vows, "Kid's gonna love me so much she won't want me to put her down."

"You usually have the opposite effect on women," Bradley reminds him, "But the only ones I'll trust to hold her are Phoenix and Bob."

"No fair! I've got nieces and nephews," Jake protests, slightly more invested than normal thanks to the wine he's been nursing, his cheeks growing rosy with each sip, "I'm great with 'em."

"You throw those kids around like they're basketballs," Bradley scoffs, "And I'm not letting you give my baby brain damage, Hangman. I've gotta make sure she's smarter than you."

[watchmegetobsessed]

Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again. 

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[lightsovermonaco]

Speed and Stress: Part 2

Masterlist

Thank you to @acollectionofficsandshit for betaing, your comments on this one were unhinged gold 

Word Count: 3.1k

Recommended Vibes: “Perfect Day” by Tundra Beats

Part 1

Your brother was late. Not that anyone was surprised.

“Got the time mixed up,” he says as you climb into his absurdly tall truck. Living in Texas for three years had turned him into somewhat of a country boy, though not enough that he forgot his upbringing. He was still a blue blooded Los Angeles boy, just with a love for trucks and longhorn cattle.

“At least I wasn’t waiting for an hour this time,” you say and sling your bag to the backseat. Deciding to get right to the good stuff, you clasp  your hands together. “So! I have some news.”

Hunter grins at you. “You finally found a job?”

You roll your eyes and shoot him a pointed look. “No, dipshit. Better than that. I got us paddock passes for the whole weekend.”

“WHAT?” He jerks the wheel, horns honking at you as other drivers swerve. You grab the dash to steady yourself, laughing at his outburst. “Do you know how hard it was for me to get general admission tickets? How the hell did you get paddock passes?”

“May have met someone pretty high up at McLaren in Los Angeles,” you say, examining your nails.

“Like, Zak Brown? You met Zak Brown?” Hunter was such a fan boy, you had to laugh. His love for McLaren ran so deep he practically bled blue and orange. The only reason you watched the sport was because of him shoving it down your throat for years, but damn if you weren't glad for it.

“Daniel Ricciardo.”

Hunter choked on air but managed to stay in his lane this time. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know it was him when I met him! He was on a motorcycle and I stopped to help film a tiktok and then-”

“Of course you’d stop,” he mutters, shaking his head. “You’re a sucker for bikes.”

“Yeah well, lucky that I am, cause all I had to do was flirt to get us those passes.”

Your intention had never been to take advantage of Daniel. It was more the opposite in fact; you were just living in the moment and capitalizing on the once in a lifetime opportunity to flirt with your celebrity crush. You had to admit, it turned out better than you'd ever thought it would.

“I can’t believe you seduced Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo,” he says, shaking his head. “You astound me.”

“I didn’t seduce him!” You protest.

"Sorry my bad. You charmed him. That sound better?"

You roll your eyes. "Whatever. I damn near had a heart attack when I figured out it was him but he was kind enough to let me brush it off."

"Well, thank god for your two-wheeled obsession because without it, we would be watching the prix from the nosebleeds."

You laugh and shake your head. Hunter tended to have a poor filter when he was excited and tended to spew whatever was on his mind. "Just watch your tongue this weekend, alright? I'd rather embarrass myself than have you do it for me."

Hunter gives a mock salute. "Yes ma'am."

**********

You'd stuffed five different outfits in your bag in preparation for the grand prix weekend. In theory, it shouldn't be hard to decide what to wear. But Friday morning you changed clothes so many times you lost count. No matter what combination you tried you weren't satisfied.

Finally, you give up and settle on a McLaren polo and denim shorts. Simple and comfortable, but form fitting enough to catch Daniel's eye should you run into him.

You knew you shouldn't, but you pull out your phone to text him anyway.

Thanks again for the tickets. Let me know if you've got any free time so I can properly thank you!

You hit send before your brain has the chance to overanalyze the message. You check your phone obsessively the entire drive to the circuit, only half expecting a response. You tuck your phone in your pocket when you get to the gates, determined not to let it get to you. Daniel warned you he would be busy, and you knew that responding to you was likely on the low end of his list of priorities.

Hunter gets you to the circuit a half hour before they let fans in and you have to listen to him ramble about driver stats the entire time. Normally you don't mind; guessing who's most likely to win each Sunday is something of a competition in your household. But today, you couldn't focus enough to put any thought into your prediction, instead just blurting Daniel's name.

"You're only saying that cause he's into you," Hunter says, grinning savagely. "He struggles in Austin and you know it."

"So? He's in a McLaren this year. You saw his pace in Bahrain, and that was with a damaged floor! He'll podium for sure." You cross your arms and return his grin. "Besides, he's motivated."

"Oh, is he?"

"I told him I'd buy the winner of the United States grand prix a drink. Up to him whether it's him or Verstappen."

"Oh my god you have a date with Daniel Ricciardo?"

"Dude, chill out. It's not set in stone. Honestly, he's probably forgotten that I exist."

"Has he texted you?"

You glance down at your phone and are greeted with an empty inbox. "No. Not after the initial time so I could have his number." You shrug and pick an invisible piece of lint from your arm. "But he said he'd be too busy anyway."

"Guess we'll see once we get to will call, huh? If he's forgotten about you."

"Yeah." An odd feeling rolls through you. It feels a bit like nerves mixed with hope, but you stamp down on it. You were here to enjoy yourself. The trip of a lifetime had been handed to you on a golden platter and you were wont to let something as trivial as nervousness ruin it.

Bells chime as you step into the blissfully cool will call office. A blonde woman with a bit too much blush dusted on her cheeks greets you with a smile. 

"What can I do for you?"

"Picking up some tickets that were left for me by a driver?" You try, unsure of the proper procedure. "I don't have a paper or anything."

She waves a hand in the air as if she expected as much. "All I need is your identification. They should be under the name."

"Oh uh, of course." You motion for Hunter to hand over your wallet and show the woman your driver's license.

"Great. Wait here and I'll grab those for you."

You drum your fingers on the desk while waiting for her to return. After what feels like ages she re-emerges empty handed.

"I'm not seeing anything here with your name on it," she says, her plastic smile at odds with her sincerity. "I'm afraid your tickets aren't valid until Sunday."

"Can you double check? Daniel said they'd be here-"

"So sorry. There's no record of anyone dropping tickets off for you."

You blink, holding your tongue in the face of her blunt response. "Okay. I guess ill try and get it sorted out."

Hunter breaks the tension. "Can't you call him?"

"I can't just call him, I'm sure he's busy."

"Either that or we don't get in. Just do it, he gave you his number and specifically told you to let him know if there were any problems, didn't he?"

Yes he had, but that didn't mean you wanted to disturb him. He was probably knees deep in some sort of race weekend press conference or drivers meeting and heaven forbid you interrupt.  But it was either that or you slink home disappointed and empty handed.

"Fine," you grumble, pulling out your phone with deliberate slowness. Hunter crosses his arms and tips his head to the side, a smile playing on his lips.

"Well?"

"It's dialing, you good for nothing busybody-"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to call," Daniel answers, voice radiating sunshine.

You cut right to the chase, not giving yourself a single second to evaluate how your heart skips. "Look, I don't wanna distract you on a race weekend but I'm at will call and they're telling me they can't find any passes left for me."

"Let me guess," he starts, raising his voice to be heard over the pneumatic tools in the background, "You're dealing with Jenny?"

Your eyes fall to the name on the woman's lanyard. She shifts under your gaze like she knew exactly who you were on the phone with. "Yep. Spot on."

"Kinda figured she would be a problem. She's got a huge crush on me and does this every time."

You fight back the strange sensation his offhand comment brings to the surface. "Oh, really?"

"I'll be right there. Give me ten minutes or so."

"Oh you don't have to-"

"Hey, no big deal. I gotta go that way anyway."

"Uh, okay. See you soon?"

"Yup. On my way."

You hang up and stare down at the phone, stunned.

"Well?" Hunter asks.

"I guess he's coming here to sort it out himself."

He blinks rapidly and shakes his head. "Hold on. Are you telling me that I get to meet Daniel? Like right now?"

"Can you relax?" You laugh lightly. "Honestly you're gonna freak him out."

"Uh, yeah sure. No big deal, just meeting one of my favorite drivers in the minus five minutes and I'm completely unprepared. It's fine."

If you roll your eyes any harder they'd pop out of your head. "Relax. He's laid back, but I don't want you to freak out and embarrass us both."

"Excuse me," Jenny breaks in, her distaste clear. "Please move aside if you're not picking up passes."

"Er, yeah. Sorry." You shuffle awkwardly off to the side to wait. Cheesy elevator music plays and Jenny shoots you glares until the door squeaks open and the human incarnation of the sun steps inside. Your breathing stutters when the Australian shoots you a wink and a grin before sauntering up to the counter.

"Why hello there Jen," he says, and she giggles coyly. 

"Hi Daniel." She lays a hand on his forearm, the touch light and flirty. "What can I help you with?"

Daniel leans into her, whispering conspiratorially. Whatever he says has her bold smile faltering, replaced by a mask of professional cheer. Daniel shoots you another wink as the woman retreats to a back room, returning moments later with your supposedly missing passes.

"Thank you," Daniel says sweetly, taking them from her and turning to you. "I think these are yours."

"Thanks." You take the passes and hand one off to your awestruck brother. You nudge him and he comes to his senses in time to shake the hand Daniel sticks out.

"You must be the brother," he says. "I see you're a fan."

Dressed head to toe in McLaren colors, there was no other conclusion for Daniel to draw. For once your brother is the one stunned into silence so you answer for him, "Yeah, only a little. He was crushed when you left Red Bull cause Max is his other favorite driver and now he has to split his loyalties between teams."

Dan's laugh snaps Hunter out of his trance. "I know you're busy but do you think you can sign something for me?"

"Of course. How about this?" Daniel snatches the hat from Hunter's head and produces a sharpie from his pocket, signing the brim with practiced efficiency. 

"He'll be texting the group chat about that as soon as you're gone," you tell Daniel who laughs along with you.

Heat rises to your cheeks as Daniel's assessing gaze sweeps you from head to toe. "McLaren orange looks good on you."

Channeling his easy confidence you flash him a grin. "Not as good as it looks on you."

He smooths the hem of his soft shell jacket, smile turning bashful. "Anyway. I gotta run. See you Sunday after I win!"

Your eyes follow him as he jogs back through the paddock until he's swallowed by the crowd. You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. God, he was gorgeous. And he had such a big heart. It was a shame someone hadn't snatched him up yet, but then again, that meant you still had a shot, even if it was a slim one.

"So where exactly do these get us?" Hunter toys with the lanyard now placed around his neck. "It doesn't say."

"I'm guessing the McLaren lounge," you say and point to the logo on the passes. "Above the garage."

"That's the perfect vantage point for practice."

And it was the perfect view- before getting in the car Daniel walked out into the pit, suited up in his cobalt racesuit and minty helmet and glanced up. You weren't sure if he saw you or not when you waved but he gave a little salute nonetheless.

Hunter was practically glued to the bank of floor to ceiling windows for the entirety of free practice, immersing himself in the experience. You found yourself glancing at the timing tables every lap, silently hoping to see the RIC tag move up. By the end of the second session he had been fourth fastest, a few tenths behind both Mercedes and the Red Bull of Verstappen. 

By the time you make it back to Hunter's house, you're both exhausted from a full day of running up and down the paddock. The pair of you had been determined to soak up every second of it, sneaking into whatever offices you could and stealing bites off the buffets and cups of coffee. 

Saturday’s free practice and qualifying session pass in a blur of color. Daniel drags his McLaren up the ranks to qualify fourth, his best starting position so far this season. He had a decent shot at the podium- Bottas should be easy pickings and if Verstappen and Hamilton made any mistakes, Daniel might even have a shot at the win.

The excitement in the air is palpable as you both flash your badges and head back up the now familiar path to the McLaren lounge. An hour before lights out, the v6 engines rumble to life below. You venture out onto the balcony, watching and waiting for a glimpse of Daniel.

The Aussie does you one better by walking out, race suit on and helmet in hand. He chats animatedly with Michael before stopping and craning his neck upwards. Michael nudges him with his elbow but Dan ignores him, answering your tiny wave with a wink. He mimes taking a drink and you roll your eyes.

Dan throws his head back and laughs, audible over the cacophony below. He gives you one final salute before Michael drags him back into the garage.

Ten minutes later cars begin streaming out on track, Daniel taking the fourth grid place as his mechanics once again swarm him. Tire blankets are secured, keeping them warm and pliable ahead of the formation lap. Thirty seconds before the boys are released, they're peeled back off as everyone scrambles off the pavement. Verstappen leads them away down the 3.4 mile track for the formation lap. Dan does a few small power slides before taking his place on the second row.

One by one, the red lights illuminate and disappear quicker than your blink. Daniel gets away clean while Bottas stumbles out of the gate, leaving himself wide open for Daniel's overtake on his right side. Cheers erupt around you, your brother going so far as to lift you off your feet.

Maybe Dan had a shot at winning after all.

A nail-biting 38 laps pass without a change in the order of the top three. Finally, a mistake in Max's pit stop sees him return to track third, just behind Daniel. The McLaren driver puts up the fight of his life, late braking at every corner and defending his position for all he was worth. Lewis was twenty seconds ahead- he wouldn't be winning but he could defend his second place spot.

Lewis Hamilton, race winner for the seventh time at the Circuit of the Americas!

Daniel Ricciardo crosses the line second, Max Verstappen takes home that last podium step for Red Bull. An astonishing fifty six laps here today in Austin!

The box erupts around you, a roar of cheers making it impossible to hear what else Crofty and Brundle were saying. But it didn't matter as Daniel raises his fist when he swings back into parc ferme, jumping out to be congratulated by his team. It was his first podium for the papaya team and you can tell it means the world to them.

"Looks like you're taking Lewis out for a drink," your brother teases. "Told you he wouldn't win."

"He almost won," you counter. "But hey, I'm not above asking Lewis on a date. Could you imagine? I mean, he would never agree, but still. It would be a hell of a date."

If you crane your neck from the balcony, you can just barely see the podium. Everyone goes quiet for the anthems and erupts again when the champagne is sprayed. The McLaren team chant for a shoey, which Daniel obliges. He sits to unlace his mint green boot and pours champagne into it, drinking from the boot before passing it to Max who joins in on the fun. 

Just as quickly as it began, the celebrations ebb. Daniel is the first to leave the podium which seems odd, given that the PR department surely wants his first big win for the team to be well documented.

Your phone buzzes a second layer. You fish it out of your pocket, a Cheshire grin splitting your face.

"Shouldn't you be busy celebrating?"

"I am," Dan starts, sounding breathless. You can barely hear him over the sound of the crowds chants behind him. "But I want to celebrate with you. I know I didn't win, but how about you let me buy you a drink instead?"

You barely hear anything beyond his first sentence. I want to celebrate with you. Were you dreaming? There was no way this was real.

"Um, I'm sorry, you want to celebrate by going out with me instead of your team?"

"If you'll let me. Hey- just text me okay? I can barely hear you over everyone screaming my name. It may be going to my head."

You laugh, drawing the attention of the vip's nearest you. You give an apologetic smile and move further from the crowd. "I'll text you an address. See you later, second place."

[expectingtofly]

First Day Jitters

established dean/cas, toddler!jack, dramatic parenting

1.7k

written for day 4 of @smiledean and @chocolatecakecas's follower celebration || prompt: baby!jack

“Say cheese.”

“CHEESE!” Jack beamed at the camera and Dean snapped a photo. Gripping his backpack straps, Jack twirled around as Dean lowered his phone. The school yard was already filling up with other kids Jack’s age, ready for their first day of school.

“Wait, take one of us together,” Cas said, crouching down by Jack. Jack threw his arms around Cas’ neck, nearly making him lose his balance. They both smiled at the camera, twin grins, and Dean couldn’t help a smile as he took their photo.

“Kindergarten!” Jack yelled as he released his grip on Cas.

“Alright, dude, remember,” Dean said, pocketing his phone. “No yelling in class.”

“And no powers,” Sam spoke up. “Most important rule of all.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “And if anyone picks on you…” Dean looked at him expectantly.

“Hit first, ask questions later!”

Cas rubbed at his forehead. “Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Tell us and we’ll beat them up for you.”

“Okay,” Jack said, kicking at loose gravel with his cowboy boots. He had picked out his outfit himself—boots with bee socks, jeans with sunflower patches, and a blue t-shirt with a green brontosaurus. Complete with a Barbie backpack, his outfit was truly… colorful. A lot for the eyes to handle at once.

Teachers milled around outside, and Cas said, “There’s Jack’s teacher.” He waved and she made a pained smile before quickly looking away.

Dean stifled a laugh at Cas’ hurt expression. “Guess we didn’t make the best first impression at Back to School night.”

“Who woulda known asking to lay out salt lines wouldn’t make you any friends,” Sam deadpanned.

“I still think we should’ve warded the school,” Dean protested.

“We’re trying to not get kicked out,” Sam shot back.

“Hey!” Jack said, getting their attention. He balled up his fists on his hips. “No fighting! This is an exciting day!”

“Yes, it is,” Cas agreed, giving them a pointed look. “And we are very excited for you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said, holding up his hands. A bell rang and a teacher opened the door to the school. “Think it’s time to go.”

Jack turned to watch the rush of kids to the school, his backpack nearly as large as he was. Had the school building always towered over him like that? Dean wondered.

“Exciting day,” Jack said to himself, sounding less sure.

“Hey,” Sam said, crouching by his side. “You’re gonna have fun, okay?”

Jack looked back at them and Dean nodded. “We’ll be waiting for you when school’s over.”

Jack took a deep breath, then smiled. “Okay.” He gave them all one last hug, and Dean couldn’t resist smoothing out his hair and checking the straps on his backpack.

When Jack let go of Cas, Cas grabbed his hand, holding tight. “You’ll pray to me, right? If anything happens?” Jack nodded, tugging a little to get away.

Cas held on. “And you’ll remember everything to tell us when you get home?”

“Yes, Dada.” He tugged again and Cas let him go.

Dean watched him run to join the kids lining up at the doors. The teachers counted them, and Jack started chattering with the boy standing in front of him wearing a dinosaur backpack.

“Fuck,” Dean swore under his breath, feeling his eyes prickle as the teachers started leading the kids inside. Jack skipped his way to the door, his backpack bouncing behind him. Right before he disappeared inside, he turned and waved.

Dean hastily blinked and swallowed hard, waving back.

The doors closed behind the kids and the yard was reduced to silence.

“Now what?” Cas asked, staring at the doors.

“Now we leave and don’t stalk the school,” Sam said. He grinned, looking at Dean. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” Dean said, wiping at his eyes brusquely. They started for their cars, though he couldn’t help looking back. Third window on the righthand side, second floor. Jack’s classroom. He’d cased the school last week, learned the exits and entrances. Still, standing outside, he felt helpless.

“Shit—he had his lunchbox, right?” he asked, hand pausing on the Impala’s driver's door. “And his pencil case, and—”

“You checked his backpack three times this morning,” Cas reminded him. “He has everything.”

“Right, right..."

“See you guys later for dinner?” Sam asked, heading to his own car.

“See ya then,” Dean agreed, getting in the driver’s seat. He paused before putting the key in the ignition, though, eyes drawn to the school doors.

“He’s going to do great,” Cas said, sounding a little too much like he was trying to convince himself.

Dean nodded. Jack had done great in preschool and they had spent all summer preparing him for the transition into kindergarten. Not that Jack needed much convincing to go. He loved school; it was more Dean and Cas who needed time to adjust to the idea.

A sniff drew his eyes to Cas, who was wiping at his eyes.

“Fuck, not you too,” Dean complained, feeling his own eyes well up again.

“His carseat,” Cas said simply, and Dean glanced at the backseat where Jack’s empty carseat sat.

“Shit,” he muttered, sinking in his seat and rubbing his eyes. “Thought we were pros at this after a year of preschool.”

“Guess not,” Cas said. He produced a tissue box out of thin air and handed one to Dean, then blew his own nose.

“Alright, enough,” Dean said, swiping at his nose and balling up the tissue. “Enough crying. He’s going to kindergarten, not off to war.”

Cas nodded and determined, Dean pulled out of the parking lot. He and Cas had taken the day off, which in hindsight was the wrong move because now they had too much time on their hands. Trying to distract themselves with errands didn’t help either because everything suddenly reminded them of Jack.

They went to the local gardening center, where Cas stroked the daisy petals with a soft look in his eyes. “I should buy some for Jack.”

And then the bakery: “We gotta have snacks when he comes home,” Dean told Cas, selecting a dozen donuts.

And, stopping at the street taco food truck downtown: “Jack’s eating lunch now,” Cas said, checking the time, the mournful look on his face not matching the delicious taco in his hand. “And then recess.”

“Hope he’s made friends,” Dean said, his own taco suddenly tasting flavorless.

“He will. He’s very friendly.” One tear dripped into his guacamole.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean said, gathering up the remainders of his food. “Come on.”

The school yard was alive with kids yelling, laughing, swinging, playing hopscotch, and skipping rope. Dean idled close to the curb, scanning the yard through the fence. He was well aware that he and Cas looked extremely suspicious now, but he hoped the school parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror helped prove they weren't creeps. Just overly protective parents. Which was only a bit better.

“There he is!” Cas said, pointing out his window. Dean leaned over him to see Jack jumping over a hopscotch chalk drawing. One foot, two feet, one foot, two. Reaching the end, another kid high-fived him and Jack beamed. He cheered as someone else went through the course, then, the game abandoned, Jack ran with the others to the swings.

He swung higher and higher, cowboy boots kicking into the air. Dean was pretty sure he could hear his laughter rising above everyone else’s.

“We’re being stupid,” Dean realized. Cas looked at him. “He’s fine. He’s doing great. We don’t have to worry, we just gotta let him do his thing.”

Cas looked back at Jack, then took a deep breath. “You’re right.” The bell rang and Jack slowed his swing, jumped off, and joined the kids headed inside.

Determinedly facing forward, Cas said, “Alright. He’s got this.”

“We got this,” Dean amended, and Cas smiled.

“We got this.”

***

“DAD!” Jack ran full force to Dean, crashing against his legs. Before Dean could recover, Jack turned to Cas, who crouched down and took him into his arms, nearly getting knocked down in the process. He held onto him tightly, shutting his eyes as he buried his face into Jack’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Jack said, extricating himself from his grip to hold up a slightly crinkled piece of paper. “I drew a brontosaurus!”

“That’s beautiful, Jack,” Cas said, admiring the drawing. “That’s going on the fridge.”

“Had a good day?” Dean asked. Around them, other kids streamed out of the school to waiting parents, and Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“The best!” He took Cas’ offered hand and told them about his day as they walked to the Impala. True to his word, he had remembered every detail, down to the amount of times he used the bathroom and the name of the lunch lady.

“And I got to swing at recess!” he told them, clambering into his carseat.

Dean and Cas caught each others’ eyes guiltily over the Impala’s roof. “I’m glad you had so much fun,” Cas told Jack, buckling him in.

“Thanks.” He swung his legs as they got into the front seat. “Did you have a good day?”

Cas glanced at Dean. There were plenty ways to answer that question. Looking back, though, seeing Jack bravely walking into school, being so independent, making friends…

"Missed you, but we managed,” Dean answered truthfully.

Cas smiled at Dean before twisting around to look at Jack. “We’re proud of you, Jack,” he told him, and Dean nodded.

“Did you cry?” Jack asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Sam said you were going to cry. I didn’t cry.”

“Just a little,” Cas admitted. Dean snorted and Cas elbowed him. “Dean more than me.”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Jack cackled. “I knew it!”

Dean shook his head, muttering about murdering Sam. Jack continued his recap of the day, and Dean resigned himself to getting stuck in after-school traffic for the next twenty minutes.

Leaning back in his seat, he grinned at Jack stumbling over his words in his excitement to share them. It was a good day.

[songficsbyrissi]

You’re Mines Still (Erik X Reader)

“They say time heals She can't see her life without me, she's so blind still Fuck that nigga, you can tell him that you're mines still” - Yung Bleu feat. Drake

A/N: heyyyy y’all! Back from the dead again! 🤣 here to drop my shit and dip as always. I’m trying to stop that, I swear. Hennyways, I wanna put a disclaimer here: I have nothing against MBJ. I couldn’t care less about the nigga but I thought it’ll be interesting to have this nigga as the boyfriend, instead of making a character up in contrast to Erik. I think it’s perfect because I’m pretty sure they’re two completely different niggas. And I know “mines” isn’t proper English but I’m going with the title of the song so don’t start with me 😂😂😂 Aight imma let y’all read lol. Hope you enjoy it!

**************

You were doing it again.

You found yourself observing your boyfriend Michael, and comparing him to your ex, Erik. Right now, Michael came into the kitchen and gave you a swift kiss on the cheek to say good morning. It was sweet and nice but Erik would’ve grabbed you by the waist, pulled you in for a long, juicy kiss, followed by a smack on the ass. You found yourself low-key missing that, but you moved on so you had to let that go.

“Michael?”

“Yes, cookie?”

You held yourself back from rolling your eyes. It was a cute nickname, but ever since you told him your favorite dessert was chocolate chip cookies, here this nigga go, making it your nickname.

You shook your head. “Never mind.”

“You seem so distant, babe. What’s on your mind?” He asked from his seat at the table.

You avoided eye contact with him. “Nothing. I’ve just been tired.”

He snorted at this. “It’s because you work too much. I told you to chill.” He got up from the table and kissed you on the cheek. “Alright, I’ll see you later. I gotta go to the office.”

“Bye.” You said faintly as he walked out of the door. That was another thing. Erik could tell when something was bothering you and knew you avoided eye contact when you were lying. Michael just let anything you tell him slide. At this point, you could have a gunshot wound in your stomach and tell him you were fine and he’ll believe it.

You sighed deeply and got your things together so you could go back to your place. Michael asked you to move in with him, but you knew you weren’t ready for that. Not with him.

On your way to your apartment, you remembered you needed to do some grocery shopping, so you pulled up to the supermarket and pulled out your list of essentials on your notes app. The supermarket wasn’t too busy, thank God. You were able to weave back and forth through the aisles with ease. You got to the soup aisle and the broth you needed was all the way on the top shelf. You looked to the side to make sure no one would see you embarrass yourself. Before you could climb, a man’s arm reached up, grabbed the carton of broth, and handed it to you.

You smiled softly. “Thank you so much. I was about to embarrass myself climbing this shelf.”

“I could see that.” The man replied in a familiar voice that caused you to break your neck to look at him.

“Erik....” you breathed nervously once your eyes fell on him. He was still fine as always. The day you run into him, he would be wearing a white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. An outfit that gets any girl’s faucet running. You wanted to sneak a glance, but you stopped yourself because you knew he would catch it.

He licked his bottom lip and looked you up and down. Damn him.

“Hey ma...it’s been a while.”

You nodded, looking down at your shopping cart. “Yeah, it has....”

“You still fine as hell.” Erik cracked a smirk and you were getting more and more nervous under his gaze. What the fuck is wrong with you?

You decided to breathe and ignore his statement. “How have you been, Erik?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, which something he always did when he was nervous. Holy shit, he was nervous around you. Why did that bring a pang of joy into your heart?

“I’ve been chilling. I'm still an architect. Still designing houses and getting people to buy them. It’s been aight. I’ve been successful.”

You gave him a genuine smile. “That’s good. I’m glad everything is going good in your career.”

“Yeah, it is. If only you were with me to see it all.”

You sighed deeply, shaking your head. “Erik-“

“I should’ve never let you go, Y/N. You were a good ass woman and you motivated me. I know I messed up but-“

“Erik, I’m kinda seeing someone else right now.” You spat out, preventing him from continuing the monologue he had going. He seemed taken aback by your outburst. Then came denial, anger, sadness, and acceptance all on his face.

“I’m sorry, Erik but I have a new boyfriend now. His name is Michael and he’s great. I figured you should know that.”

Erik let out a dry laugh in response and held his hands up in defense. “Yeah, you know what? I should’ve. A woman like you, of course, a nigga gonna snatch you up. That’s my fault. I hope he treats you well.”

“He does.” You swallowed hard and pushed your cart forward. “You take care of yourself, Erik. I’ll see you around.”

You didn’t wait for a reply. You just continued pushing until you heard his voice.

“You too, Princess.”

You stopped in your tracks for a bit, hearing that nickname for the first time in forever but you continued on your journey, refusing to look back at your ex.

You wrapped up your grocery store trip and went home. Even while you were cooking for your new man, Erik was still on your mind. You couldn’t help but think about all the times you had with him. One memory came back to you and you cringed. The night you two broke up.

“All you can think about are these damn houses! What about our house, Erik?!?!” You screamed coming closer to him, with your fists clenched. “What about all the shit you promised me?!”

“You’re still getting it, Princess! I promise!” He tried to pull you in a hug, but you pushed him away. All you saw was red. You didn’t want him touching you. You stuck a finger in his face.

“Bullshit! I’m tired of your empty-ass promises! I’m better than this! I’m better just being your damn girlfriend for all these years! It’s either you’re wanna be with me forever or you don’t! It’s that simple!”

Erik gathered up all the anger building to yell back. “No! It ain’t that simple! You just don’t get it.” Your angry demeanor softened at his words and you took a seat on the leather sofa. You wanted to cry because this shit was so fucking frustrating. You looked up at him with all the sincerity you could muster.

“Help me get it, Erik. Please. Because I just don’t.”

Erik took your trembling hands into his larger hands. “I just...I just don’t see myself as your husband right now. I got a lot of shit to work out before I can make that type of commitment to you, ma. I just need you to understand that and stick with me. I’m not saying it’s never going to happen. I’m just saying now’s not the right time.”

As much as you tried to prevent it, it happened. Tears were rolling down your cheeks. Erik began wiping them off, but you backed away.

“You keep saying that. When is the right time, huh? When?” You asked then sneered once you saw that once again, he couldn’t supply you an answer. “Just admit it, Erik. You don’t want to marry me. You don’t want to get a house with me, you don’t want to have kids with me. You don’t...” you swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to say this. “You don’t want forever with me. Now I get it.”

Erik shook his head vigorously as you rose from the sofa and he grabbed your hand. “No, baby girl! You’re not getting it! I love you! I love you so much! Please!”

You used your free hand to wipe some more of your tears. “You don’t love me the way I love you, Erik. I’ve been dying to be your wife, but you don’t want to be my husband. So I’m not gonna waste time with you when I can find someone who will.”

You released yourself from the grip he had on you, both figuratively and literally, and packed all your shit up. Despite the protests and guilt-tripping coming from Erik, you still made it your mission to get the fuck out of his apartment and get the fuck out of his life.

After mourning and healing from the loss of your long-term relationship, you met Michael. He was a nice man who looked similar to Erik but was completely different, personality-wise. Your friends noticed how much Michael looked like Erik, but they decided not to bring it up because they knew you would deny it. You were in denial, convinced it was all a coincidence. Deep down, you knew damn well he looked like Erik.

However, he was nothing like him and you thought that would work out in your favor. It didn’t.

You laid wide awake in Michael’s bed. He fell asleep after one round of sex and you were not satisfied. The sex was good, but one round??? Erik used to go at least 3 a night. Erik also would spoon, but Michael was turned away from you, snoring away. Your phone buzzed on your nightstand and you picked it up to see a text from your ex. You sat up in shock and opened it.

Erik:

Ik I shouldn’t b but I can’t stop thinkin bout u. I never stopped.

You took a deep breath and fixed your thumbs to respond.

You:

I’m with someone else, Erik. U gotta respect that.

Erik:

I do I just don’t like it. Can we at least be friends?

You contemplated your answer, then constructed a text back.

You:

Fine. We’ll be friends.

Erik:

With benefits? 👀

This caused you to stifle a laugh that would’ve been loud enough to wake up your boyfriend.

You:

Lmao no! Just friends, Erik.

Erik:

Lol I’ll take what I can get. Good night, Princess ❤️

After that last text, you were smiling yourself to sleep. It didn’t take long for Erik to invite you to group outings with mutual friends to eventually just you and him. It felt wrong but felt so right at the same time. You were alone in Michael’s apartment once again when Erik hit you up asking if you would like to see a house he built that was being pulled off the market. You agreed since you had nothing else to do. It’s just a house.

Needless to say, The house was gorgeous.

“Shittttt look at this fucking closet!” You cooed, entering the large walk-in closet in the master bedroom, and turned around to look at Erik with an enormous smile on your face. “Erik! You did that shit! This is my dream house! If I had the money, I would buy it right now!”

Erik chuckled with his arms folded. “It’s already bought, Princess.”

You scrunched up your face in disappointment as you stood against the marble island table in the middle of the room. “Ughh for real? I bet they don’t even like it like that!”

“Nah...I do.” He walked up to you slowly.

It didn’t click for your slow ass what he just said. “Of course you like it. You designed it.”

“Nah, we designed it.”

A record scratch went off in your head and you turned to see Erik right next to you. You gazed into his eyes to see an emotion you couldn’t describe. He saw confusion in yours.

“You ain’t noticed how this house is exactly your dream house? Everything you wanted in a house is right here. Baby girl, after you left me, all I could think about you and us and how I fucked us up. I was designing other houses and buildings, but there’s one that was most important to me that I never focused on and that was ours. I remembered our discussions and you didn’t know it, but I took notes of everything we wanted in a house. I finally had the motivation to get it designed, built, and bought.”

Erik built a house for you. He actually listened to you. Even when you thought he wasn’t, he was listening to every detail of what you wanted. You had so many questions to ask, but you were speechless. What were you supposed to say to this?

“I don’t want you to think I was on some creepy nigga shit because I wasn’t. It’s just that this design was gonna go to waste and I was going to let them sell it to the highest bidder, but I just couldn’t. This house was the last piece of you I had left. If I sold it, it was like me officially giving up on the possibility of us. I still had that hope. I’m a stupid ass nigga, I know.”

Your right hand grasped his left hand and he finally spared you a glance to see unshed tears in your eyes.

“I wanted this....from you....for so long. For so long! Why are you giving it to me now?! When I have someone else?!” You threw his hand out of frustration and exited the closet. You didn’t make it far. You just went into the master bedroom and cried your eyes out. You waited so long for this and he’s giving it to you now? When Michael was in the picture? Well, It’s too damn late.

Erik got on his knees and grasped your knees. You stared at him through the tears in your eyes.

“I know you’re building a life with this nigga, but stop. Stop that shit. You know he ain’t the one for you. Fuck that nigga. You’re mines still.” Erik was pleading with you. He began to shed a tear. Holy shit, he meant every word. “Baby, I’m on my knees. Take me back.”

Your ex began planting tender kisses on your knees and traveled up to your thighs, still holding you. Your heart raced at his actions, but you didn’t want him to stop. You missed him. You missed him so damn much. As much as you tried to lie to yourself, you still loved him.

“Erik, get up.”

He obeyed and you took his face in your hands, caressing the sides.

“You’re such a fucking manipulative motherfucker and I hate that I love you so fucking much.”

Erik took your hands into his and kissed the insides. “I ain’t trying to manipulate you, baby. I swear I’m not. I love you and I just wanted you to know that I heard you. You just wanted a nigga to show you that he was serious about you. I get it. While you were gone, I focused on myself and fixed myself because I admit I was dragging my ass with doing that while we were together. It was because I thought you were here to stay so I had all the time in the world to get my shit together. When you left, I saw that I was wrong. I was wrong as fuck.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him keep talking.

“I love you, baby. All I’m asking for is a second chance to make this right, but if you say no, I’ll sell this house and leave you alone for good. I swear on my Pops’ grave, I’ll leave you the fuck alone, Y/N.” His words were so heartfelt. “I don’t wanna go unless you make me.”

You were hyperventilating through your tears, then a smile formed across your face. “Erik, I love you. I love you so much, baby.”

Erik tackled you with frequent kisses on your lips and it turned into a whole passionate make-out session. He planted kisses all over your neck while he unbuttoned your blouse and you could feel his hard dick through his pants.

“Fuck. I missed this. I missed us.” You breathed when his lips met yours, once again.

“I missed us too, baby.” Erik rested his forehead against yours and stared into your eyes with so much love. “Be my wife.”

You backed away from him and furrowed your eyebrows. “What?”

“You heard me. Marry me, baby. I don’t wanna waste any more time.” He saw the look on your face and his joyful expression turned somber. “You don’t want to marry me?”

You shook your head. “It’s not that, Erik. I always wanted to but just because we getting back together doesn’t mean I wanna rush into a marriage. We gotta fix us first. We can’t even fix us right now because I still have to break up with Michael.”

Erik put a hand through his hands and blew air out of his mouth. “You right.”

“And the way you asked sucked.” You deadpanned but found yourself laughing afterward and he face palmed himself. “Seriously? After all this time, I deserve a better proposal than that.”

Erik chuckled and placed a soft kiss on your lips. “You right. Once again. Imma do better.”

And when he said he would do better, you knew he wasn’t just talking about the proposal.

“You better. I ain’t giving you a third chance. This ain’t baseball!”

This caused him to guffaw, pull you into a tight, loving embrace, and kissed you once again. He had a grin on his face that rivaled the Cheshire cat.

“You’re mines still,” Erik said as a statement and a question.

“Yep. I never stopped being yours, baby boy.”

TAGS:  @lifelover4u @dessianna1 @brattywriters-anonymous @marvelmaree​ @purple-apricots​ @blackpinup22 @ljstraightnochaser @slimmiyagi @cancerianprincess @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @vibranium-chakra @nerd-lovely @chaneajoyyy​ @ohliyaxoxo @chefjessypooh @yourfavoritefavorite @airis-paris14 @ljstraightnochaser @quietstorm-73 @msincognito67 @sociallyawkward18 @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @marvelpotterlove   @destinio1 @madamslayyy @thehomierobbstark @fd-writes​ @semianta​ @raysunshine78​  @lifelover4u @dessianna1 @brattywriters-anonymous @marvelpotterlove @guccixcucci​ @blackpinup22 @ljstraightnochaser @slimmiyagi @cancerianprincess @iamrheaspeaks @blowmymbackout @vibranium-chakra @nerd-lovely @chaneajoyyy​ @ohliyaxoxo @chefjessypooh @yourfavoritefavorite @airis-paris14 @ljstraightnochaser @quietstorm-73 @msincognito67 @sociallyawkward18 @mychemicalimagines @nerd-lovely @marvelpotterlove   @destinio1 @madamslayyy @thehomierobbstark @fd-writes​ @semianta​ @raysunshine78​ @fd-writes​ @rbhp @fandom-fangirl22​ @bigchoose​

(Sorry if you got double tagged or I missed you. I need to get my tags together I know )

[heli0s-writes]

pagan poetry*

A/N: Hey-o! After nearly 3 months of being a complete disaster, I ... did a thing. Very much my usual brand of filth. Thanks for sticking around as I continue to navigate this impending sense of oblivion!! 1.6k words of bangin’ Bucky Barnes. Yeeeeeeahhh.

Title is from this song, by Bjork. 🖤

Warnings: Smutty smut and heathen shit, what else is new with Helios?

brooklyn after dark masterlist

Steve asked if you were religious once.

It was an off the cuff kind of question, prompted by something you can’t remember now—silly banter over drinks and a background party, perhaps. Both grown weary of entertaining a crowd of strangers, etiquette spent nearing the night’s end. You’d shrugged lazily and prefaced that it’s hard to shake an entire childhood of indoctrination but now, by resolute choice, you aren’t.

You lied. You’ve never been more devout.

It was easier than getting into all the semantics, anyway. Where would you start explaining that you now spend more time than ever at worship? Not in the middle of Tony’s so-called “small” get-together of “only” seventy-five people. Certainly not a place to admit to Steve that your knees supplicate more earnestly than the most pious of priests, your throat constantly pouring the sweetest profession of faith—the name of the most divine.

Even if the two of you were somewhere more private, and he was at least half as drunk as you were, it’s a bit blasphemous, Steve, that you fuck Bucky six ways to Sunday and call it religion.

It’s a hard desire to curb when he looks like that. Bucky’s built like a god— his arm the kind of weapon you’d happily split your tongue polishing. Strong, powerful legs. Broad shoulders like lovingly carved marble, worked between the hands of a Renaissance master, tapered sharply down to his wasp’s waist.

His hips. Lord, you could dedicate eternity naming every last inch of his hips.

Such a pretty boy. How he makes you hungry to sin.

“Bucky,” you whisper, enthralled again when he steps out from a quick shower. Smoldering and glorious, and you’re Joan of Arc constantly being descended upon by a burning archangel. Some random night, like any other night, and you’re overtaken again. Hazy with orange glow, the billowing mist makes a halo to crown him and for a second you feel blind.

Then, you feel… hm.

Wet.

He cautions the way you chew on your lip, eyes twinkling brightly because what else is new. You? Turned on? Bucky could be brushing his teeth and you’d start climbing him like your personal jungle gym.

“Sweetheart,” he begins warily, adjusting the towel on his hips—those beautiful, beautiful hips. “One more dinner with us swinging in late and they’re gonna stop inviting us.”

You nod along dumbly, deaf now and set on a singular mission. Crawling on your knees, you reach Bucky halfway as he tries to put an end to your pilgrimage. Tries because your palms are fast over the damp fabric, fingers threading through warm fibers before landing flat against his abs, feeling up to his chest, murmuring stupidly, always so shocked at his everything. You graze up his wrists, his forearms, making paths of taut muscle.

“How bout after dinner?” His thumbs gently brush the swell of your breasts before he holds you back, straightening your spine when you arch into him. “Promise I’ll give it to you good later.”

“Give it to me now?”

He laughs. “You really gotta work on your negotiation skills…”

“Huh… Lemme try again: give it to me… right now?”

Bucky groans in equal measures of exasperation and exhilaration when you fall back on your knees. A few more half-hearted baby, quit it, ‘m serious, and then he gives up completely.

“Steve’s gonna get himself in a mood.”

“Steve’s always in a mood.”

Wilted protests quickly disappear into the hollow of your cheeks, licked away by your clever tongue. He grips the back of your neck firmly, tilting your head the way he likes best, eyes flicking down to meet yours before they close. He keeps you there a little longer, his toes curling into the carpet with each bob of your head.

“Yeah, you’re—always in a mood, too—uhhm—“

And you hum in agreeance, but the sound only vibrates into his skin, making him groan louder.

Bucky’s voice is slurred, as if half drunk. “Can’t hear— mm— you, sweetheart…”

So you make something up to give him what he wants, that buzzing of your throat on his cock, and his thighs tighten in response, the hand on the back of your neck reflexively scrabbling to your shoulder with a hard grip.

It’s a bit counterproductive of you to be so sloppy, considering that Bucky’s freshly showered and cleaned up— the scent of his brisk body wash strong and harsh in your nose— but fucking him like it’s your job allows some insight to what he likes, and it’s easily this:

Dirty, filthy, drooling wet blowjobs. The messier the better and the faster it gets him there. Your radiant Right Hand of God, but goddamn is he a little devil himself.

Bucky’s growling by the time he hauls you toward the bed, depositing your thrilled skin on the mattress firmly. Red lips meet yours with force, plush and full, nipping at the corners of your wet mouth like he’s kissing back every trace of him. He presses on across your jaw, up and down your neck. His voice is husky sweet and breathy in your ear.

“You bad, bad girl.” And you start curling yourself into him, nodding for more. One of his hands is working himself, the sound of your spit slippery in his fist. “You got me all messy again.”

Your skin feels blistering and freezing at the same time, chills racing to your fingertips tightly hooked around his biceps. The outfit you put on for a nice, quaint dinner at Steve and Sharon’s too heavy now, too constricting, but he doesn’t let you take it off.

“Every morning and night not enough dick for you, is it?” Bucky brushes your hands away, taking hold of your chin and peeling your head back until you’re looking at him. His pupils are blown wide, the only thing left of his irises are two thin rings of barely there blue as he scans your face. Your brain is short-circuiting, hanging onto every syllable, every purse of his cherry lips.

He switches on and off like a light. Beautiful, soft, thoughtful one minute, all force and darkness the next. You faithfully take it all, every facet of him. Your angel boy. Your wicked soldier.

Joan of Arc was only hallucinating, but she wasn’t half as lucky as you to have conjured something half as astonishing as Bucky. Gorgeous strong jaw, bristles along his chin and cheek scrubbing noisily against your lips as he kisses you. His mouth— open and wet, sloppy against yours— hardly landing right and you’re toeing delirium by the time his fingers slide up your shirt.

Bucky pushes you down into the sheets, rucking up your skirt until it bunches around your waist. “We’re in a rush, remember?” He tucks two fingers into the elastic of your panties and yanks them to one side. Just enough. In a rush. Your thighs meet with a determined shimmy of his hips— those incredible hips— and then you’re full, so full of him.

The blood in your ears crashes against reality and bends it all sideways. Not religious like that, but since the first time you’d touched him, you’ve been cocksure if heaven were real, it’d be this. It’d be him.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” Bucky promises, “You stumbling in there.”

The image flashes through your addled brain, the tell-tale sign of him screwing you stupid— lips swollen, legs wobbly, outfit crumpled up, smelling like him and sex in front of all your friends.

“You want it, don’t you, want them to know you’re all mine?” He smears your wet around the sides of where he’s connected— spit, slick— up to your clit. And then he pushes you like a button, flicking the pad of his thumb upwards and grins at the way you jerk in time to it like a trained toy.

“Bucky,” you mewl, “Buck.” The syllable breaks, your panting comes out in choked babbling.

He takes the back of your neck again, lowering his body over yours, faster now. Deliberately reckless and the entire bed is rocking, springs squealing under his pace.

“Oh my god,” you smash your brow into the junction of his shoulder, hanging on by a thread as he drives into you, on a mission to break either the bed frame or your brain, both were fine. In a rush. Can’t quit now. A little bit more. Your entire body is folded against him, insides fluttering desperately, maddeningly.

“Come,” he commands, “Come for me right now and I’ll fuck you through it, how you like. Then I’ll make you come again and we can go.”

His grip is tourniquet tight, thumb moving to the middle of your throat, pressing ever so slightly until your breath feels trapped under the swirl of his fingerprint. The curtain of his hair hangs over your face, blocking out the room going blindingly white. Your eyes shut tightly, opening only for a second to catch him panting over you, burning hot, his features flickering from utter control to trembling pleasure to something akin to frenzy.

Your vision shuffles like a deck of cards. His hands are everywhere. Eyes devouring every inch of your skin. There’s a million of him taking a million of you to a million more pieces. You shatter then, clawing his back and arms, singing like a fucking choir the infinity of his name.

Bucky. Bucky. Bucky. He makes your days holy. The altar of his body. The sacrament of his sweat. He breaks you apart into something luminous.

Religion. Not religion. Your heathen soul—whatever tiny fracture you may have—all his, forever. Now, tomorrow, at the end of the world.

So, when the two of you stumble into a nearly finished dinner, as predicted, over an hour late and in terrible disarray, Steve crosses himself before promising, “I’m getting you two a goddamn chastity belt.”

On the couch, Sam clicks the remote to a new channel, snapping his fingers with an offhanded, “A-fucking-men.” 

All you can do is duck your head and grin.

[thechangeling]

She burns like rum on a fire

Why did I do this to myself ughhhhh?

So @adoravel-fenomeno and I were talking about Kit potentially getting into an abusive relationship given that he's statistically likely too given his roots. So now I give you this fic! Sorry. Kit is using he/him in this fic because he hasn't really gone on his gender quest yet.

The title is from Cherry Wine by Hozier. I reccomend you listen to Cherry Wine and Trauma by NF while reading this.

Cw: Mentions of physical and verbal abuse, abusive, controlling behavior, negative self talk and extreme denial. Also brief mention of blood.

2013

Don't cry.

Don't cry Kit told himself over and over inside his head as he tried to get a hold of his breathing. As he lay on his bed at 2 in the morning, desperately refreshing his conversation with Autumn.

Autumn or as his best friend Janessa liked to call her "the virus" was Kit's girlfriend. His very first. A mundane with the sight. They had been dating for a few months now. When they had first gotten together everything was amazing, it so it seemed.

They had some much in common and they had fun together. Autumn was hot, funny and charasmatic. She had this way of making him feel like the only person in the room. She showered him with gifts and complements that made Kit finally feel worthy for the first time in his life.

But as time went on things shifted. Autumn insisted on spending almost ever waking second with him. Kit didn't mind at first, he loved hanging out with her. But he missed his parents and his sister, and he knew they missed him too. Whenever they had family movie night, or they wanted Kit to watch Mina, Autumn threw a fit. She insisted that he was ignoring her.

She didn't want him seeing Janessa either, or Nessie as Kit called her for short. Autumn always insisted that she was plotting to steal Kit away from her, which was ridiculous but nothing could change Autumn's mind when she was in a mood. So Kit had found himself blowing Nessie off to hang out with Autumn and making excuses for it.

Kit always felt super guilty for making Autumn so upset. He tried to get out of his agreements if it to stop her from crying but sometimes Tessa and Jem wouldn't let him. It was frustrating when they didn't understand. She would rage for awhile, calling Kit stupid and worthless. Sometimes she would make comments about him being adopted, telling him that Tessa and Jem didn't really love him and they only saw him as a free babysitter for their real child.

She would make jokes about all kinds of things. How Kit wasn't a real shadowhunter, his weight, his past, his bisexuality, his ADHD. Kit knew that Autimn didn't really mean anything by it. It was nothing personal and she didn't really mean it. She loved him. And he loved her.

Tonight had been different though. His grades had taken a turn for the worst because he had been blowing of the tutoring sessions the school had payed for as a part of his accommodations. Because he had been spending that time with Autumn. Kit knew it was a bad idea to miss those, but his girlfriend needed him. She didn't have anybody else. She couldn't count on her parents like he could, and she didn't really have any friends.

But Kit was in big trouble. Tessa and Jem were mad. The school was mad. People were saying that Kit was ungrateful.

Ah yes because every disabled person should just bend down and kiss the feet of every person that deigns to give them what they're legally entitled to.

But Kit knew that he had really screwed up this time. He tried to explain to Autumn that he couldn't see her as often as he used to anymore because he needed to fix his grades. And she absolutely lost it. Which he had been expecting.

However what Kit hadn't been expecting this time was for her to hit him.

And she hit him hard. Punched him straight in the nose. And sure it wasn't that big of a deal. Kit was a shadowhunter and he was pretty much used to being hit. But he hadn't been expecting it.

And there was just so much blood.

Autumn of course instantly apologized profusely. She kissed him over and over and told him that she loved him and she didn't mean to. And Kit knew she was telling the truth but-

But he still felt a sinking feeling in his chest that he couldn't explain.

But Kit had applied an iratze, wiped off the blood, and now everything was as good as new. When he had arrived back home, his parents had noticed anything or asked him any questions.

Now he was lying awake at 2 in the morning, filled with guilt and worry as he waited for Autumn to text him back. He gnawed on his bottom lip anxiously as he tried not to over think things.

Maybe she was still mad at him? Was there something else Kit was supposed to say or do? Or maybe he should just leave her alone for awhile?

It was maddening.

Kit turned off his phone and threw it down in frustration, pulling his giant red and black flannel over his shoulders and curling in on himself. He felt strangely exhausted, but unable to sleep. His nose and left eye socket still throbbed a little despite the fact that they should be healed.

Kit thought about using another iratze but his steele was across the room and he couldn't bring himself to stand up to go get it.

God he really was pathetic. Maybe he deserved this. Tears welled up in Kit's eyes.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

This time Kit couldn't hold it back. So he let himself cry. Tears came streaming down his cheeks as he tried to muffle his sobs with his hand. Deep down he knew it was his fault. It was always his fault.

But with Autumn he had really tried. Sure he wasn't perfect but Kit really cared about her. And it wasn't good enough. He wasn't good enough.

Kit couldn't help but think of the last time he felt like this. The last time he was rejected. He had been careful about trying to keep all thoughts of Ty Blackthorn out of his head for awhile. Autumn was a good distraction, even when she was screaming obscenities at him. It was still a distraction.

Kit closed his eyes and conjured the memory of holding Ty up on the roof. If he squeezed his eyes tightly enough, Kit could still feel the softness of his hoodie and the slight tickle of Ty's dark hair against his skin. He could conjure the smell of Ty's skin and the way he had trembled slightly against Kit's body.

I should have kissed him. Kit mused, hugging himself tightly. Just once. Even if Ty had pushed him away in disgust, it would have been worth it. Just to know what it felt like.

Suddenly from the bottom of the bed, Kit's phone lit up with a call. He scrambled to grab it, thinking it was Autumn, but it was actually Janessa. Kit cleared his throat, trying to make his voice sound normal as he answered the phone.

"Why are you calling me at 2 am Nessie?"

"The better question is why are you still awake at 2 am," she pointed out, sounding smug. "I'm a vampire. Creature of the night remember? It's kinda prime time for me Kit Kat."

Kit smiled as he felt the previous angst wash away. "Yeah fair enough. But still, why are you calling me?"

Kit heard her sigh into the phone. "Well honestly because this is probably the only time you're free now a days," she said spitefully. "You know thanks to she-who-must-not-be-named." Kit rolled his eyes.

"That's my girlfriend you're talking about, Janessa!" He snapped.

"Well your girlfriend's a total bitch!"

Normally Kit would argue with her and tell her that she was way off base. That Autumn wasn't so bad and that she was trying. That she loved him. But today he just couldn't.

He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "We got into another fight tonight," he admitted. "Just a few hours ago actually."

"I'm sorry love," Janessa murmed. Nessie wasn't British. She was actually Canadian. But she had moved around the world with her previous band before settling in Devon and leaving them to go solo. She had picked up on some British expressions though.

"I wish you weren't going through this. But Kit, you gotta break up with her! She's bad news!"

Kit rested his face against the palm of his left hand. "I can't," he groaned.

Janessa let out a frustrated yell on the other end of the phone. "What the hell are you planning on doing Kit!? I mean are you just gonna wait into she hits you or what?" She spat.

"She already did," Kit responded instantly without missing a beat.

He gasped and slapped a hand to cover his mouth. Kit had no idea why he actually told her. Impulsivity maybe? Or maybe he just needed to get it out. But he instantly regretted it.

There was a long uncomfortable silence on the other end of the phone. Kit was just about to ask Janessa where she went when suddenly she spoke.

"I'm coming over."

Kit tried to protest but she hung up on him.

Before he had time to panic or scream or throw something, there was an aggressive tapping on his window. Of course. Janessa had vampire speed. He looked up to see Nessie perched on his windowsill looking solem.

Her long black curly hair was pulled into a high ponytail and she wore what by her standards was probably a casual outfit. A black long sleeved low cut crop top and white ripped skinny jeans tucked into thigh high heeled leather boots. And of course, she wore a full face of makeup. Even after the facial feminization surgery she was still a little insecure about going out without makeup on.

Nessie banged on his window again, more impatiently and Kit jumped up to let her in. She landed on his bedroom floor with the grace of a cat, making no sound. She stared at him silently with an expression that Kit found hard to decipher.

"Show me where," she whispered in that deep raspy voice of hers. She reached for his face and Kit let Janessa cradle his face with her hands and tried not to wince as her cold skin came into contact with his.

He shook his head. "No you won't see it, I put an iratze on it already. It's done." Janessa scoffed and stepped back.

"You know the damage isn't just skin deep Kit," she said pointedly. "No matter how much you want to pretend it is."

He glared at her. "Wow that's so insightful Nessie!," he said sarcastically. "What else you got?"

"Oh come on Kit you know I'm right," She hissed. "You have to end it!"

Kit shook his head. Why does she keep saying that?

"No. Why should I?" Kit retorted. "She loves me." He tried to sound as confident as he could, but truthfully he wasn't so sure anymore.

Autumn had gone above and beyond to make Kit feel loved and appreciated yo the point where she was almost obsessive. But she could also be cruel and spiteful. Kit had convinced himself that he should be happy with what he had because it was as good as he was gonna get.

And the sad part was that was still true.

"No she doesn't," Janessa breathed desperately. To Kit's horror, it looked like she was about to cry. Kit couldn't remember if he had ever seen her cry. Not once.

"Somebody who really loved you could never hurt you like that!" She protested shakily, her voice warbled as tears spilled down her face.

Kit could feel his tears returning at the sight of Nessie crying. He rushed towards her and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her neck. In the comfort of his best friend's embeace he allowed himself to finally sob. He cried for that broken niave part of himself that kept getting hurt.

She rested her chin on the top of his head, (she was taller then him,) and held him close. "Please promise me you will break up with her," Janessa begged.

"I just don't get it," Kit whispered against her skin. "I did everything right. I did everything I could." He blinked back tears. "Why doesn't she love me Nessie?"

He felt her shake against him. "I don't know Kit," she sobbed. "But I love you ok? I love you and your parents love you, and Mina loves you so much!"

Kit sighed, pulling back to wipe his tears. "I know, but what if I, you know-. What if I never find someone? Like romantically?"

Janessa studied him, raising her eyebrow. "Well do you need to find someone? Who is this arbitrary someone who can give you something a friendship can't?"

That's actually a good point.

"I mean," Nessie continued, crossing her arms and shifting her weight. "If you do end up in a relationship then cool, it's whatever. But the way I see it is you shouldn't focus all of your energy on looking because you're gonna end up missing out on some pretty cool stuff in the mean time." She smiled.

Kit thought about it. He knew logically Janessa had a point. But he just couldn't feel it. He was too depressed and defeated. And as ashamed as it made him, Kit still missed Autumn. He tried to smile along with Nessie but it must have looked weak because she looked concerned.

"Hey," she cooed, reaching for him.

"Can you sing to me Nessie?" He asked. Kit  felt a little pathetic but hopefully she wouldn't judge him.

She smiled lovingly at him. "Sure." Janessa took his hand and led him to his bed.

"Any requests?" She asked as she pulled off her boots and lay down on Kit's bed. He followed her, snuggling up against Nessie with his back to her.

"No not really," he murmered, closing his eyes. Kit was finally starting to feel how exhausted he really was.

Janessa wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, resting her head slightly against his shoulder. "Ok," she whispered very softly.

Kit heard her clear her throat softly before the sound of her breathy angelic alto filled his ears.

"I'm turning out the lights, to remember how to see. Till the renaissance takes place, Until a renaissance takes place, and resuscitates the color of paint and divinity."

Kit smiled sleepily at the sound of his enneagram song, something Janessa had introduced him to.

He yawned and let the sound of Nessie's voice lull him to sleep, putting all thoughts of Autumn behind him.

In my head Kit is like 5'4 and Janessa is 5'9. Originally I had her at 5'11 but I wanted her to be closer in height to Kit. Also did I name Kit's abusive girlfriend Autumn after my toxic controlling ex best friend? You bet I did!

Tag list: (you know the deal) @playwithravenclaw @lavender-scented-rat @jazzkaurtheglorious @waterlillies   @nott-the-best @stxr-thxif @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @clarys-heosphoros @queenlilith43 @arangiajoan @hardlymatters @the-wckd-powers @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @adoravel-fenomeno

[sideofmango]

You Know What They Say...

Warnings: swearing, fluff Pairing: Bakugou x reader (I originally was going to do Kiri, but this doesn’t really fit him lol)

This uses gender neutral pronouns bc everyone deserves to see themselves in (y/n). 

Description: The first date with Bakugou was going awesome, well until (Y/N) and Bakugou went to see one of the worst movies they had ever seen...anyways Bakugou sat there oddly quiet until (y/n) started trashing the movie and cursing out the characters...Bakugou was pretty sure he wanted to go on a second date after that.

Anywaysss GO GET YOUR MANS....

YOU WERE WALKING down the hallway towards your locker since school had just ended, intent on grabbing your books and heading outside to walk back to the dorms. Well, that was your plan until you saw the blonde spikes that belonged to king explosion murder himself. “Hey Baku!” You called, speeding up your steps to catch up with his stride.

“I thought I told you to stop calling me that, Big Hair.” He growled, shooting you a side glance. You smiled widely at him, laughing off the hostility as you slid your arm around his. He looked down at where your arms were connected but didn’t say anything about it, surprisingly enough. “I will if you go to the movies with me.”

Bakugou was quiet for a moment as you both walked outside, rolling his eyes before opening his mouth again. “Don’t make me regret it.” He said simply as you stopped, eyes widening in realization. 

“Wait so that’s a yes?!” Your smile widened despite his grimace.

“I said don’t make me regret it.” He repeated, his tone harsh, but once again you ignored it.

“Ok! The movie comes out this Friday! I was thinking about the 6:30 showing. We can meet here if you want?” You suggested as he grumbled something to himself before spinning around to look at you again. 

“I’ll be at your room at 5.” He said beginning to walk away.

“But the movie doesn’t start until 6:30...”

“We’re getting food first.” Bakugou answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Your eyes widened but you said nothing, simply nodding before you sped up your steps again, walking next to him quietly as you both headed back to the dorms. 

You got in the elevator with him, the doors closing as you both remained silent, though you would sneak glances his way every now and then. You got to your room, stopping to unlock the door, not even realizing Bakugou had walked out of the elevator behind you, stopping and leaning against the wall opposite your door.

“What color do you like?” He questioned, startling you as you dropped your key staring at him with a hand to your heart. 

“Wh-what?” You blinked.

“What color do you like Dumbass?” He repeated a little more irritated than before.

“My favorite color? Why?”

“Just answer the question Dumbass!” His voice grew louder as you chuckled at his outburst.

“My favorite color is (your favorite color).” You answered simply as he nodded once and walked away. 

TIME SKIPPPPP

It was finally Friday and you had finished with school and had done your homework. You finished touching up your outfit and putting on your makeup (if you wear it, if not just ignore that). 

You turned to glance at the clock, being interrupted when a knock sounded at your door. You grabbed your phone and bag (if you want one, if not just ignore that) and opened your door. 

There stood Katsuki Bakugou wearing jeans and a black t-shirt. He stuck his hand out as a faint pink dusted his cheeks, revealing a small bundle of flowers in your favorite color. A smile grew on your face as you took the flowers from him.

“Thanks Baku.” You said softly. “I love them.” You put the flowers on your desk in a half full water bottle, reminding yourself that on the way back you had to stop to get a proper vase for them.

You closed the door behind you, sneakily sliding your brown hand into his paler one as you walked down the hall towards the elevator. He didn’t protest to having your hand in his so you left it, not noticing the faint smile that sat on his lips.

Bakugou took you to a ramen restaurant and ordered the spiciest thing on the menu for himself and the second spiciest thing for you. 

“I could’ve ordered for myself, you know?” You said as you both began to eat, the ramen arriving after a short amount of time. 

“You can order next time.” He said after a moment causing your face to heat up at the realization. Next time.

“Let me try yours.” You pleaded, holding your chopsticks out. He rolled his eyes yet obliged, as you took some of his and you held your bowl out to him, offering some of yours.

“Mine’s better.” He remarked as you rolled your eyes with a smile. You talked about random things and about the movie which was supposed to be an adaption of a show you loved and that you had been waiting a year for it to come out. (Let’s pretend it’s The Last Airbender movie).

Over dinner, you learned that Bakugou liked it too and you began arguing about which nation was the best. Of course he said Fire Nation, but you said that Water Nation was best because Katara and Sokka were the best. 

“You know, Zuko’s pretty hot.” You said before drinking some water, watching as he started rolling his eyes and growing irritated. He was jealous.

“Whatever.” He huffed.

“Not you getting jealous over a fictional character.” You said teasingly, trying to hold in your giggles as his eyes narrow slightly and he scoffs at you, but doesn’t deny it. “Don’t worry Katsu, I only like one Hothead.”

“Damn right.” He replied proudly. “Hey who are you calling Hothead?!”

“You.” You replied. “Come on let’s go to the movies before we miss the previews!” You said as you took out your wallet at the same time he did. He pushed your hand away as he got money out.

“No.” He said simply as you continued to both try and put money to pay.

“Katsuki. I’m not letting you pay for me.” You said simply. You didn’t like when people paid for you. (When the author interjects herself into the character 😙) 

“No (Y/N).” He said, shoving the money in before snatching the check from the table before you could do anything. He ended up paying and you pouted at him. “What’s wrong with you now Big Hair?”

“I wanted to go Dutch.” You said as he rolled his eyes, before taking your hand in his again. (going dutch means splitting the bill in half, so you would each pay half.)

“Next time.” he replied simply before pulling you into the theater. Damn it, he did it again! Next time...

You both got into the theater, which was at the moment fairly empty since you had gotten there early to get the best seats. You pulled Bakugou around the theater to find the best seats, doing it twice until you finally decided on the seats right in the middle of the theater. “Are you done now?” Bakugou questioned with a raised eyebrow. Though he wouldn’t admit it, he found it cute what you had just done...though he seemed to be finding everything you were doing cute simply because it was you. 

“Yes.” You said triumphantly before tossing some popcorn into your mouth. The theaters filled up a short while later and before you knew it, the movie was starting. 

The arm rest between the two seats you were both in moved up, so the explosive blonde pushed it up and pulled you closer to him as you held the popcorn in your lap. You looked at him a small smile on your face, and he was thankful it was dark so you couldn’t see him blushing. 

It had only been two minutes into the movie and you already were angry about it, frowning at the way they had already pronounced avatar and it had only been the first lines of the script. “It’s Avatar not Oh-vatar.” You grumpily stated as Bakugou raised an eyebrow not expecting you to say anything, though you had been right. 

You were trying your best not to get angry, but M. Night Shyamalan was making it very hard. You were doing fairly alright and stuck to just angrily eating popcorn until this scene came up. 

(disgraceful...a joke....can you tell I'm not salty 😒)

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! This movie is a fucking joke!” You said letting some popcorn fall out of your hand as Bakugou tried to hide his smirk by eating popcorn. 

It wasn’t like you were the only disappointed one either, the theater was full of fans and they were all disappointed. 

“It’s a steaming pile of shit!” You said angrily, looking over to see if Bakugou was agreeing with you. He simply looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“Can you stop cursing? There are children present!” A woman said standing up in the middle of the theater, a few rows below you. She wildly gestured towards her six year old son sitting there looking embarrassed by his mother. He was gently tugging her sleeve to get her to sit down, but she wasn’t budging as she stared at you.

“Shut up Karen!” You called, rolling your eyes. She looked around to see who had said that as Bakugou burst out laughing.

“You are a horribly disrespectful child! Your mother should’ve raised you better! Letting you curse like that, she should be ashamed.”

“Hey shut the fuck up, shitty woman! Don’t talk about her like that!” Bakugou said angrily, creating sparks in his hand, his red eyes narrowing at the middle aged woman. The woman began sobbing and screaming as employees shut the lights on and the woman pointed the two of you out saying that you had threatened her and her son.

Needless to say, you had been kicked out of the theater and banned and the movie had ended for the night, though most people thanked you for them out of their misery. 

“What a bitch.” You mumbled as the two of you decided to walk around the downtown area since the movie had ended earlier than you had expected.

Katsuki Bakugou didn’t say anything but the smirk on his lips said enough. “What?” You questioned curiously.

“Nothing.” He said shaking his head as you walked into a store to buy a vase for the flowers that were in your dorm. When you arrived back at your dorm, the two of you hadn’t really talked that much walking back, but you didn’t need to it wasn’t an awkward silence...it was nice. “Next Friday.” He said simply before beginning to walk to his room. 

You grabbed his wrist to stop him, confused by what he had just said. “What?” You questioned, your eyes searching his face. 

“Dinner. Next Friday.” He said simply. “I’ll message you. Goodnight, Big Hair.”

“N-Night Hothead.” You called back after a moment seeing him walk away towards the elevator. He didn’t turn around, and you couldn’t tell from where you stood but he was smiling. Next Time.

Tags:

[beecherdrysdale]

Project Partners - Brendan Brisson

Hey guys, so here’s a fic I started like a month ago and then kind of forgot about. Please send feedback bc I’m trying to improve my writing skills! Also, covid doesn’t exist in this.  

warnings: language, underage drinking, that’s all i think?

///

“Y/L/N and Brisson.” You groan as you hear your professor name your partner for the term-long project. Of course you know who Brendan Brisson is. You had grown up as a huge hockey fan, so of course you had been watching the draft when he got drafted by the Golden Knights, and of course you had seen him playing for Team USA at World Juniors. From what you could tell of him, he seemed like the kind of guy who would make you do all the work and use hockey as an excuse as to why he couldn’t help. That’s too bad for him though, because he’s not the only varsity athlete, and swimming takes up just as much time, if not more, than hockey. Your professor continues to drone on about the project requirements as you contemplate why you even decided to take this course in the first place. 

Finally, class ends, and you see Brendan walking toward you. “Hey, you’re Y/N, right? I’m Brendan,” he introduces himself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. Guess I’m stuck with you for the rest of the semester, huh.”

“Yeah, so I just wanted to let you know I have hock-” he started.

“Save it, Brisson,” you cut him off, “you’re not the only athlete here, OK?”

“Wow, someone really woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

“Sorry,” you sigh, “I’m just really tired of having to do all the work in group projects. I did it enough in high school, and I’m just so done with everyone’s excuses y’know?”

“Well, what I was trying to say is that I have hockey a lot so we should coordinate our schedules to work around it.” He pauses a second, then adds, “And whatever sport you play.”

“Swimming,” you supply.

“What?” He looks confused.

“Swimming is the sport I do,” you clarify. “Anyways, does the library at 8 on Tuesdays and Thursdays work for you? Besides when you have games or I have meets obviously.”

“Yeah that works.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow then,” you reply, turning to leave.

“Wait!” he stops you. “Can I get your number or snap or something in case I need to talk to you?”

“Yeah, sure,” you reply, quickly typing them into his phone.

“Thanks! See you tomorrow at 8,” he says before jogging to catch up to his friends.

///

The next day when you get to the library, the first thing you hear is, “You’re late. Where were you?”

“Sorry we got out of practice late and then I had to shower cuz chlorine and then I couldn’t find my hat and I didn’t want to go outside without it cuz my hair would freeze...” you begin to ramble.

“Hey, calm down, I was joking. You’re literally only like 2 minutes late.”

“Ok but I lowkey still feel bad.”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he says, “Come on, let’s choose our topic.”

“Ok,” you respond, “so I don’t know if you have any ideas but I was thinking maybe we could do the effect of hockey on the Cold War? Cuz like you play hockey and I watch it all the time. Plus, I did a research paper on it in high school, so we could pull info from that and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

“Yeah, that sounds good,” he says, seeming distracted. “Hey, why didn’t you tell me you’re a big hockey fan?”

“Ummm, cuz you never asked? You’ve literally only spoken like 3 words to me before yesterday so I don’t know why I would tell you.”

“Ok, I guess that’s true,” he responds. He then proceeds to quiz you about hockey, seemingly trying to make sure you’re an actual fan and not just trying to use hockey to get to him like some other girls he knows. You seem to pass his test, because it’s not long before the two of you are messing around, making fun of each other’s taste in hockey teams. Two hours later, the two of you have gotten to know each other a lot better, but you haven’t even started your project. 

“Shit,” you say, checking the time on your phone, “I gotta go. I still have to help my friend with her math and I have morning practice tomorrow.

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow in class,” he says. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t be late.”

“Omg shut up. You’re not funny,” you say playfully, as he laughs his ass off.

“You know I am,” he shoots back.

“Sure, Brisson, whatever you say. I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave.

///

After a few more library sessions, the animosity between you and Brendan which, you admit, was your fault had completely dissipated. The two of you quickly learn you actually have a lot in common, like your love of sports and your music taste, and despite his fratboy vibes you quickly grow to trust him. That’s why you don’t hesitate to say yes when he asks if you can meet at the hockey house to work on your project instead of in the library. 

When you arrive at the house, you are greeted by the sound of the entire hockey team arguing over whose turn it is to make dinner. “I have to work on my project though,” you can faintly hear Brendan.

“It’s OK Brisson, sounds like you have more important things to do. We’re somehow ahead of schedule anyway,” you say, entering the kitchen. 

“Seriously Y/L/N?” he groans. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“Sorry,” you say, shrugging.

Your apology is interrupted by Cam, “Hey Brisson, who’s this? Wanna introduce us to your new girlfriend?”

“Funny,” you say. “We’re just friends. We got assigned to work on this project together. Isn’t he wheeling like 3-4 girls a weekend anyways?”

“Hey,” Brendan protests. “You make it sound like a bad thing. I only do what they want.”

“Beside the point Brisson,” Johnny jumps in. “Just introduce us to your new friend.

“Fine,” he groans. “Guys, this is Y/N. Y/N, these are the guys. Now,” he says, grabbing your arm and dragging you toward the stairs, trying to make his escape, “let’s go work on our project.”

“Not so fast, Brisson,” Nolan cuts in. “You’re making dinner. Y/N said it’s fine.”

Brendan sighs in response.

“C’mon,” you say. “I’ll help you. I promise it’s not that hard.” 

Brendan begrudgingly follows you back to the kitchen as the rest of the guys scatter. You begin to pull the ingredients to make tacos, which thankfully they have, out of the fridge. “Here,” you say, tossing Brendan a tomato. “Can you dice this?”

The two of you work in silence for a few minutes before you decide to turn some music on. As you turn to reach for your phone, you glance over to see Brendan’s pile of tomatoes. “Seriously, Brisson?” you ask, staring at the haphazard pile in dismay. “Have you ever cut a tomato before? I had better cutting skills than that in preschool.” You hear a few guys snicker from the other room at that. After showing him how to cut it properly and turning on your Spotify, you continue to work, chirping Brendan occasionally. Once you and Brendan finish making dinner, you call the rest of the guys back into the kitchen to come eat. 

As the guys eat, they drill you with questions, trying to find out as much as they can about Brendan’s “project partner.” You answer all their questions, and by the end of dinner you fit in seamlessly with the boys, even joining in their good-natured chirping of one another. Eventually, you have to leave, but the boys are quick to let you know you’re always welcome back whether it’s for your food or your company, you don’t know before you go.

///

As soon as you leave, all eyes are on Brendan. “So Briss, you wanna tell us about your new girlfriend?” Nolan asks.

“She said it herself, we’re just friends. We’re working on a project together,” Brendan is quick to reply.

“Sure...” Cam counters. “Friends don’t look at friends like that Brisson.”

“Like what?” Brendan asks.

“Like she hung the stars in the sky or some shit like that,” Johnny responds. “Look Briss, just go for it. It’s not like she’s gonna say no, she literally looks at you the same way.”

“But she would say no,” Brendan protests. “She’s the one who said we’re just friends first so obviously she doesn’t like me like that. Why should I go for someone who’s gonna reject me when I an go to a party and pick up whatever girl I want, like she said?”

“Because you can’t get whatever girl you want, Brisson. She’s the one you want. We can all see it,” Johnny replies.

“Ok you know what, fuck off. Leave me alone. The two of us are just friends,” Brendan reaches his breaking point. At that, the guys let it drop, Brendan’s outburst giving them all the proof they need.

///

Meanwhile, you are back in your dorm chastising yourself. Why did you have to say you and Brendan are just friends? You know any chance you had of him liking you back is now gone, because he thinks you only think of him as a friend. You debate what to do, even going so far as to pick up your phone and tap on his contact, before changing your mind and getting ready for bed. Guys like him don’t go for girls like you anyway or so you think. You’re sure he wants one of those perfect girlfriends who are always put together and dress cute, not some athlete who always walks around in sweats, and the last thing you want to do is fuck up your friendship by confessing. You ignore the feeling of jealousy that rises in your chest when you think of Brendan with another girl and force yourself to go to sleep.

///

It’s not even two days before you get a snap from Nolan asking if you want to go to a party with all of the guys. You agree immediately because you don’t have morning practice tomorrow and your plans with friends got cancelled and you’ve secretly been looking for an excuse to see Brendan outside of working on your project.

That night, you try to dress extra cute, even going so far as to ask your roommate to help you choose your outfit as she seems to have no problems picking up guys. You finally settle on an outfit and hurry out the door, wanting to make sure you get to the party on time so you can meet the guys outside and not have to walk in alone. As you walk out the door, you hear your roommate call, “Have fun! Be safe! Use a condom!” You flip her off as the door closes. 

When you get to the party, you see the guys outside waiting for you. “Hey Y/N,” you hear a couple guys say.

“Heyyy,” you reply, as you guys start heading toward the house. Brendan lags behind the group, eyes trailing down your body. As much as he loved the fact that you wore what you wanted read: sweats and didn’t try to be a Barbie doll, he had to admit seeing you like this was hot. He hurries to reach the rest of the group, deciding you were standing just a little too close to Cam for his liking. He may not be able to be with you, but he sure as hell wasn’t gonna watch you date one of his teammates. He catches up and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey Brisson,” you greet. “What’s up? You learned how to cut a tomato yet?”

“Haha, very funny Y/L/N,” he responds.

“Oh come on, you know it was,” you protest.

As soon as you guys enter the house Johnny says, “I’m going to get a drink. Anyone want one?”

“Yeah, can you get me a Natty?” you’re quick to respond. “But please make sure it’s closed.”

A couple other guys request drinks, and Johnny goes to get them while the rest of you head further inside. You stay with the guys pretty much the whole night, not wanting to get separated because you know what happens to girls who are at parties alone. 

At some point in the night you guys end up near the beer pong table, and when it’s Brendan’s turn he makes you be his partner not that you’re complaining and drags you over to the table. The two of you quickly get on a winning streak and you end up winning the tournament you got pulled into. At this point you’re pretty drunk, so you don’t hesitate to go along with it when Brendan hugs you, the two of you stumbling a little bit. Both of you are reluctant to let go, reveling in the feeling of each other, as each of you thinks the other doesn’t like you back so you’ll never get to experience the feeling again. 

You and the guys stay at the party a little longer before they realize how drunk you are because you had had more beers than any of them and decide its time to leave. All the guys come with you back to your dorm in order to make sure you get back safe, a gesture both you and your roommate thank them for before they leave.

///

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re hanging out with the guys, as has become usual for you, when Johnny ask, “Hey Y/L/N, how come you never come to any of our games? I thought Brisson said you’re a big hockey fan.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, “I just usually have swim when you guys have games. Plus you guys never invite me so...”

“Well we kinda assumed you already knew you were invited,” Nolan says. “You’re always welcome at our games, and if you tell us you’re coming we can probably get you good seats.”

“OK, well we actually don’t have swim practice on Friday for some reason, so I can probably come,” you say. “I’ll try to drag my roommate to come with too.”

The boys groan, “Really, Y/N? You want us to get two tickets? Do you know how much work that is?” before quickly revealing that they’re joking and telling you that of course they’ll get you two tickets.

///

True to the boys’ word, when Johnny sits next to you in your class together on Friday, he hands you an envelope with two tickets. “What are you wearing to the game tonight?” he asks with a plan up his sleeve.

“I don’t know,” you respond. “Probably my Michigan swimming hoodie.”

“You wear that everywhere though,” he protests.

“Yeah, so?” you fire back. “It’s a Michigan hoodie. School spirit.”

“Or you could wear this,” he says pulling something out of his backpack. He unfolds it to reveal that it’s one of Brendan’s hockey hoodies.

“Doesn’t he need that for the game tonight?” you ask.

“No, he has two,” Johnny replies. “Now stop trying to get out of wearing it. You have to wear something hockey related to support us.”

“Ugh fine,” you give in, knowing Johnny will be persistent.

///

That evening, you arrive at the arena with your roommate, begrudgingly wearing the hoodie with “Brisson” boldly stamped across your back. You are not enjoying yourself, because knowing what it feels like to wear Brendan’s sweatshirt and smell his cologne makes you all the more aware that this will never be your reality. Nevertheless, you force a smile on your face as you and your roommate sit down to watch warmups. You can feel the energy in the arena even now, before the game begins, as UMich is playing rival school Ohio State. 

Once warmups are over you and your roommate go to use the bathroom and get snacks. The line for the bathroom is so long you don’t think you’ll make it back to your seats before the game starts, but thankfully you get to them just a second before puck drop. The game gets off to a rough start, with Ohio State scoring twice early, but by the end of the first the guys have picked up their pace, and you hope that they’ll be able to tie it up in the second.

After intermission, the boys come out guns blazing. Brendan scores just 30 seconds in to the period off an offensive zone face-off win. As he cellies, he makes eye contact with you up in the stands. “He is so into you!” your roommate squeals when she notices.

“No he’s not, shut up,” you reply, turning your focus back to the game. The guys stay on the forecheck pretty much the whole period, and it finally pays off when Johnny scores with 5 minutes left to play in the second. When the period ends and the guys head back to the locker room, the game is tied 2-2.

The third period begins with an Ohio State faceoff win, and they quickly get off a shot attempt. Thankfully, the shot goes wide and play continues. The teams go back and forth all period getting good scoring chances, but neither team is able to capitalize. It looks like the game is going to go to overtime, but then Brendan scores again with just 43 seconds remaining. Once again, he makes eye contact with you and smiles as he cellies, and once again your roommate freaks out and says that he definitely likes you. You make her shut up and start to grab your stuff as the final seconds wind down. 

“Woah, slow down. Where are we going?” she asks.

“The guys told me to meet them outside the locker rooms,” you say, beginning to lead the way.

///

When you get to the hallway outside the locker room, you lean up against the wall and start scrolling through Insta as you wait for the guys to come out. Eventually the guys slowly begin trickling out of the locker room and heading over to their various girlfriends gathered in the hallway as all the single guys congregate around you, but you ignore them so you don’t get dragged into one of their arguments. 

Finally, you see Brendan come out of the locker room so you put your phone away and push your body away from the wall. He starts to make a beeline toward you and does a double take when he realizes you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts. The guys had been bugging him for weeks to ask you out and he had been thinking of maybe doing it tonight, but seeing you in his sweatshirt has finally given him the confidence to make a move. As he reaches you, you say, “Hey Briss.”

“Hey,” he replies, and then his lips are on yours, and you don’t know where this is coming from but you’ve been wanting it for a while now so of course you kiss back, and it just feels so right you don’t ever want to stop. When you finally break apart, all the guys are cheering and whistling and you hear a couple guys mutter “finally”.

As the guys quiet down, you ask Brendan, “What was that for?”

“Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have done it,” he panics, thinking you were mad, even though you kissed back so you obviously weren’t.

“No, I liked it,” comes your reply. “It just kinda came out of nowhere.”

“Oh,” he calms down. “Well I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but I was kinda nervous so I kept putting it off. But then you looked really hot in my hoodie, so I just went for it.”

“Yes,” you say.

“Yes, what?” he asks, looking confused.

“You said you wanted to ask me out. I said yes,” you explain.

“Ok, so do you want to go get Chipotle or something tomorrow then?” he asks.

“Yeah, of course,” you reply. “But for now let’s go out and celebrate with the other guys.” He wraps his arm around your shoulders as the two of you walk with the team, and you are finally content.

[openheartthot]

Sick Day

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Camille Prescott)

Word Count: 1,635

Warnings: This might be hard to read if you’ve been having trouble with a certain pandemic ~ahem~ so be warned there is a virus involved here. Also like one curse word. 

Summary: Ethan can’t stay away when Camille comes down with the flu. 

Y’all were so sweet with my first story that I’m back with another one today. Thanks to everyone that read and enjoyed, it really means a lot! :) 

***

His knock echoes in the empty hallway, and Ethan shifts uncomfortably. He can’t just stand outside her apartment all day. At some point, he’s going to have to accept that she’s not answering the door. Still, he can’t help himself from raising his fist to the door and rapping his knuckles against the wood once more. 

The knock is a bit harder than he means for it to be, a sign of his desperation. He needs to see her, needs to know that she’s okay. Until he can see her with his own eyes, every minute that he’s left standing out in the hallway is torture. 

Finally, as Ethan is reaching for his phone to call Sienna Trinh and demand her assistance, the door slowly swings open. He lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Camille standing in the doorway. 

“Ethan?” Camille’s voice is raspy, and she wraps her arms around herself, shivering despite the oversized UPenn crew neck she’s wearing. Besides the sweatshirt, all she has on are a ridiculous pair of over-the-knee pink wool socks. As outrageous as the socks may be, Ethan’s mouth goes just a little bit dry at the sight of her bare thighs. “What are you doing here?” Camille asks, her confused tone wrenching Ethan’s attention away from her legs. 

“Erm…I just thought I’d deliver these to you.” Ethan says, brusquely thrusting a thick stack of patient charts into her arms. The excuse sounds flimsy even as it leaves his mouth. “I heard you called in sick, so--”  

“So you left Edenbrook to come give me my patient charts?” Camille interrupts, bemused. “You know we have digital copies of these, right?” 

“Of course.” The silence between them stretches out for just long enough to become awkward. Ethan knows she’s waiting on a real explanation, and furthermore, he knows he owes her one. “I was…concerned. When Baz told me you wouldn’t be in, all I could think about was if you’d been hurt…or…” He swallows hard. “Why didn’t you call me?” 

“Ethan,” Camille reaches out and takes his hand. Ethan notes the heat emanating from her skin. “It’s just a virus. And we still haven’t had a chance to talk over everything yet. The last thing I wanted to do was drag you away from work to take care of me.” 

It’s true. They still haven’t spoken about the kiss outside of Ethan’s apartment, or the kiss at Mass Kenmore, for that matter. Ethan’s so buried in his thoughts that he almost doesn’t notice Camille swaying slightly, letting go of his hand to grip the door frame for balance. 

He immediately steps closer, steadying her with a hand on her waist. The back of his other hand, he uses to press delicately against her forehead. He had been expecting fever, but he’s mildly alarmed by the heat radiating from her skin. 

“Sorry,” Camille mumbles, leaning into him gratefully. “I’ve just been having some vertigo. Could be a symptom of--” 

“The common cold. Or influenza. Type A has been going around this year.” Ethan interjects. “And don’t apologize for being sick.” 

“I know what the flu is.” Camille says indignantly. “I should’ve known you’d try to one-up me when I’m on my deathbed.” she pouts, the congestion in her voice bolstering her self-pitying tone. Ethan’s lips twitch into a smile. 

“You’re delirious. Can I take you to bed?” He instantly regrets his choice of words as Camille lets out a loud peal of laughter, which quickly tapers off into a coughing fit. “I meant, you need to lie down.” He glares at her, and she grins back. 

“Fine, you’re right.” Camille turns, starting to pull away from him and take an unsteady step in the direction of her bedroom. She doesn’t get very far before Ethan tugs her back to him, cradling her face in his large hands. 

“Let me take care of you.” he says, gently stroking her cheekbone. “Please.” Ethan knows her roommates are all working double shifts, and he can’t bear to leave her here alone. He’s certain his feelings are written all over his face because Camille’s eyes soften immediately.

Before she can say anything, Ethan leans down and scoops her up with ease. He carries her bridal-style into her bedroom and lays her down in her bed, trying very very hard not to think about what happened the first time he saw the inside of this room. Or the second time, for that matter. The sight of her bare ass is not something he’s likely to forget. 

Once she’s safely tucked into her bed, Ethan moves for the door, bracing himself to take stock of her kitchen. Camille and her roommates don’t seem very domestic, but hopefully they’ll have enough ingredients for soup. Camille’s hand reaches out and closes around his wrist before he can reach the door. 

“Stay.” Her eyes are slitted, her hand hot on his arm, but he can’t say no to her. 

 He kicks off his shoes and unknots his tie, sitting on the bed beside her. He hesitates for only a moment before drawing her towards him and wrapping an arm snugly around her waist. He runs one hand over her tousled blonde locks, and Camille lets out a little sigh, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes. 

The afternoon has bled into evening by the time Camille wakes up, and by then Ethan has relocated to the couch. He’s slowly combing through the stack of patient files he brought with him. He pulls off his glasses and looks up as Camille shuffles out of the bathroom. She’s obviously just gotten out of the shower, because her wet hair is tossed up in a messy bun, but she’s wearing the same outfit from before. 

“I made soup.” Ethan offers, gesturing towards the kitchen. Camille rubs her eyes, and despite her bleary eyes and rumpled appearance, his heart melts at her shy smile. 

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” She reappears from the kitchen a few moments later, holding a bowl of soup in her hands. She takes a few steps closer to him, eyeing the chart in his hands. “Read it out loud.” she insists, settling onto the couch next to him and tucking her legs underneath her. 

“This is the case we’re working on right now.” Ethan says. “It’s Gwyneth Monroe’s assistant, actually. She had her first seizure last week, and a physical exam revealed multiple muscular cysts. Gwyneth requested our team immediately.” Ethan fights hard not to roll his eyes. As much as he dislikes the obnoxious Pictagram influencer, her assistant does need medical attention. 

Camille swallows a spoonful of soup, then taps the spoon against her lips. “Well, it’s gotta be Cysticercosis, right? Cysts caused by tapeworm eggs. If the larvae have traveled to her brain, that’d explain the seizures. Not to mention that it’s pretty obvious where the eggs came from.” 

Ethan nods, marking down a few notes on the chart. “Exactly what I was thinking, Rookie. Good work. We can start her on anti-parasitics and anti-inflammatories first thing in the morning.” 

Camille grimaces, setting her half-empty bowl of soup to the side. “All this talk of larvae and eggs kinda makes me lose my appetite.” 

Ethan chuckles, and sets the stack of files down on the coffee table as well. “That’s probably enough work for tonight. You need to focus on getting better as soon as possible. Come here.” He opens his arms for her, and Camille gratefully shifts closer to him, letting him fold her into his comforting embrace. Holding her is so nice that he doesn’t even mind her wet hair dripping all over his shirt. 

Ethan swings his legs onto the couch, stretching out so Camille can maneuver herself to lie on top of him. Ethan has to admit, those ridiculous socks certainly feel nice as Camille tangles her legs with his, settling on top of him so every part of her body is flush against his. He strokes the strip of skin just above the hem of her right sock, and smiles as he feels her smooth skin break out in goosebumps. 

“Thank you for taking care of me today.” Camille whispers against his chest. “I know we still need to talk, but--” 

“Shh.” Ethan commands softly, tilting her chin up so he can meet her eyes. “I’ll always take care of you.” A slight shiver runs through Camille’s body, and Ethan suddenly realizes how close he is to her. Without thinking, he closes the gap between them, pressing his lips to hers. 

“Ethan!” Camille protests weakly, pulling back after a kiss that is entirely too short for Ethan’s liking. “You’ll get sick.” she scolds him. 

Ethan grunts. “I don’t care.” He grips her chin in his fingers, returning her lips to his. Her warm fingers reach up to touch his face, skating over his beard as she kisses him back. Even with the dry heat of her fevered skin and the taste of cherry cough drops on her tongue, she’s still the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

He thinks he could probably keep kissing her forever, but eventually she breaks away to cough, which for some reason he finds endearing rather than disgusting. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and she nestles her head into the crook of his neck, clearly intending to fall asleep again right there on top of him. 

“I’ll take care of you,” Camille promises sleepily, “when you inevitably get sick from this.” And that’s when Ethan realizes that he really must be in over his head. Because if falling ill means he’ll get to spend another day curled up in bed with Camille, then he can’t think of a single thing he’d like to do more.

***

My taglist consisting of one lovely individual: @edgiestwinter​

[thewebcomicsreview]

Hey, it’s Hamsteak 2! The last double update month since they fell below 2000 patrons.

Previously, on Homestuck, Jane blew up John’s home, and he’s been stuck there.

For a second I thought this was inexplicably John’s dad back from the dead, but I presume it’s Solid Karkat

Post Theme:

Yep, there we go. The red outline on the eyepatch is a bit much, but otherwise it’s a solid post-apocalypse outfit. Also one with no Cancer symbol, so if Kanaya’s new outfit not having the Virgo and Vrissy not having a Scorpio didn’t confirm it already, looks like Candyland trolls don’t use signs anymore (even though Meat Karkat still does). 

KARKAT: ROUGH DAY, HUH.

Nice subtle reference. I’m reading this in David Hayter’s voice.

The hard transition from that hero shot back to the standard sprites is great, and I think one of the few times either Homestuck has actually been funny with its multiple art styles.

JOHN: i guess i'm used to thinking of home as somewhere far away from all that war stuff.

KARKAT: JESUS *CHRIST* JOHN.

KARKAT: I CANNOT EVEN BEGIN TO LIST ALL THE WAYS IN WHICH THAT CONSTITUTES A SHORT-SIGHTED AND PUKE-WORTHILY IGNORANT THING TO SAY TO ME, PERSONALLY.

I gotta admit, I was kind of hoping that Karkat would just straight-up be Big Boss now and not even vaguely resemble his HS1 self. 

KARKAT: NOT WANTING TO POINT OUT THE OBVIOUS, BUT I FEEL LIKE THIS WAS A PROBLEM THAT YOU OF ALL PEOPLE WERE UNIQUELY AND MAGICALLY EQUIPPED TO DEAL WITH. JOHN: huh? KARKAT: YOU KNOW. KARKAT: WITH YOUR SHOOSH THING. JOHN: my shoosh thing. KARKAT: YOUR SHOOSH THING. KARKAT: THE GUSTY NONSENSE? THE GIFT OF GAS?? KARKAT: YOUR SBURB ALLOCATED BLOW JOB???

Karkat speaks on behalf of the forums asking why John didn’t just put out the fire. Apparently John didn’t think of it. Which, in fairness, John’s kind of slow.

KARKAT: OH BOY. WHERE TO START.

KARKAT: SO FIRST OFF, IN HINDSIGHT, TODAY WAS PRETTY OBVIOUSLY JUST ONE HUGE BAITED TRAP.

KARKAT: I SAY "IN HINDSIGHT", BUT FORTUNATELY IT WAS ALSO EXTREMELY APPARENT EVEN IN FORESIGHT TO THOSE OF US WHO SPENT A FEW SECONDS THINKING ABOUT IT.

JOHN: ...right.

KARKAT: OH COME ON EGBERT, SERIOUSLY?KARKAT: KIDNAPPING A PERSON OF IMPORTANCE, ONLY TO LET US KNOW PRECISELY WHERE AND ON WHAT OCCASION THEY WOULD BE MOST ACCESSIBLE FOR A RESCUE ATTEMPT?

KARKAT: HAVING THAT OCCASION BE NONE OTHER THAN THE CORPSE PARTY OF A HIGHLY NOTEWORTHY POLITICAL FIGURE, WHOSE CASKET MIGHT AS WELL HAVE HAD A GIANT "KICK ME" SIGN DAUBED ON IT?

KARKAT: THERE WAS BASICALLY NO WAY IT WASN'T A FRONT FOR SOMETHING HUGE. AND IT WAS!

Oh boy.

So, there’s a little bit of a meta “Ha ha, you thought Jane’s nonsense plan was us being bad writers but it actually made sense!” going on here, but if Homestuck 2 is going to have Gamzee’s corpse randomly teleport into a closet and explain it behind a patreon paywall or have two NPCs with silly names that are subtle Easter eggs paired with an NPC who’s silly name is just a silly name and the joke’s on you for trying to figure it out, you can’t then turn around and dunk on your audience for not thinking enough about what’s happening in the story. I’ve tried thinking about Homestuck 2 and making predictions, and I’ve repeatedly been punished for it with sloppy nonsense non-answers. You can’t make fun of the readership for not analyzing the events of your story when half the fucking thesis statement of your story is dunking on the kind of reader who likes to analyze stuff! You’ve trained me not to think critically about Homestuck 2, and if this is an attempt to try to retrain me then fine but you can’t be surprised this happened. If your story doesn’t make sense and someone strange happens, people will just repeat to themselves “It’s just a show, I should really just relax”.

KARKAT: THE VRISKAS, PLURAL.

JOHN: shit.

KARKAT: THEY'VE BOTH BEEN CAPTURED.

JOHN: shiiiiiiiit.

On the one hand, it’s deeply hilarious and cosmically fitting that Vriska’s “Walk into the trap on purpose so as to heroically fight our way out of it” plan failed. One the other hand, how did a handful of human mooks defeat Vriska, who is on the same power level as Bec Noir? 

KARKAT: YOU LITERALLY HAD ONLY ONE JOB, AND YOU MESSED IT UP IN THE EQUALLY SINGULAR WAY IT WAS POSSIBLE TO DO.

JOHN: urgh, i know, i know. ):

(Also John FYI you have a son somewhere you really ought to be more concerned about right now)

JOHN: doesn't vriska, the original vriska, still have her magic alien mind control powers?

JOHN: it seems like it should be basically impossible for anyone to kidnap her.

Okay, fine, you’re addressing this and it’s a mystery I’m supposed to speculate over. Cool. If Homestuck 2 is making a concerted effort to present mysteries and then answer them instead of just being nonsense, that’s a change in direction I welcome.

JOHN: no offense, but when you're around, it's usually a lot...

KARKAT: A LOT WHAT?

JOHN: a lot funnier.

KARKAT: FUNNIER.

JOHN: how to put this.

JOHN: normally listening to you go on and on about how much we've fucked everything up is just very funny!

JOHN: but now it's just not the same.

JOHN: maybe it's part of what's going on with this entire reality? i don't know.

Christ, this comic is so fucking meta. 

KARKAT: I APPRECIATE THAT YOU SEEM TO HAVE DUG YOUR PAN OUT OF YOUR OWN CHUTE THE FEW MICROMETERS NECESSARY TO NOTICE THE PRECISE DEGREE TO WHICH THE WORLD IS BEING JUDICIOUSLY BATFUCKED RIGHT NOW.

KARKAT: AS HARD AS IT IS TO BELIEVE, THAT'S A FEAT WHICH NO SMALL NUMBER OF PEOPLE ARE COMPLETELY INCAPABLE OF DOING!

KARKAT: BUT NOTICING THE PROBLEM AND MAKING MEANINGFUL PROGRESS TOWARDS SOLVING IT ARE TWO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT THINGS.

KARKAT: THE NEXT TIME YOU GET THE IMPULSE TO "LEND A HAND", YOU'D BE BETTER OFF CANNING IT FOR FIVE MINUTES AND LISTENING TO THOSE OF US WHO'VE BEEN TRYING TO SOLVE IT A LOT LONGER THAN YOU HAVE.

KARKAT: THIS ISN'T AN EXERCISE BEING CONDUCTED IN ORDER FOR YOU TO PROVE YOUR PERSONAL DEGREE OF MORAL RECTITUDE.

KARKAT: AND IF IT WAS, YOU WOULD HAVE ALREADY FAILED MISERABLY! SO DO YOURSELF AND EVERYONE ELSE A FAVOR AND STOP TREATING IT LIKE ONE.

DO YOU GET IT. IT’S ABOUT CAPITALISM. KARKAT IS A PORTLAND PROTESTER AND JOHN IS A WHITE LIBERAL. I HOPE YOU UNDERSTOOD THAT AND I WASN’T BEING TOO SUBTLE.

Anyway, long story short everyone told Karkat about Yiffy but neglected to mention that Dave was presumed KIA. That was rather rude of them.

[linhlotus]

Tales of Lovebug and Kitty Noir

Chapter one: Origins pt 1

Summary: Chat dislikes Lovebug (Ladybug) because she is bossy and often late. Marinette dislikes Adrien because the chewing gum incident was never resolved. Adrien is in love with Marinette because he sees how nice she is to everyone. Marinette likes Chat because. . . She just does, okay!

Chat noir walked carefully across his baton, his balance perfect due to all the hours of practice in his room. He was halfway across when he heard a scream and looked up to see a red blur flying toward him.

He didn’t have time to react before it collided with him and they plummeted.

He felt the blood rush to his head and for a moment, he thought they would crash to the ground. But then, something thin wrapped around him and halted his fall. His eyes adjusted and he saw a girl around his age with dark hair and blue eyes. She pulled on something and they fell the last few feet to the ground.

“I’m so sorry,” the girl said, “I didn’t mean to do that, I’m new at this.”

He was new to this too so he would let it slide. Plus, she was cute, which didn’t hurt. “No sweat, I'm still learning the ropes too. I’m … hmm… Chat noir. Yeah! Chat noir! What‘s your name?”

She tugged on the string again. “M-”

Ouch! Something hard slammed into his head and he reached up to rub it.

“Madly clumsy,” she continued, hanging her head dejectedly. “I’m so clumsy.”

Chat felt sorry for the girl. She must feel really bad. He tried to think of a way to make her feel better. “It’s okay, we all make mistakes.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m always clumsy. I can’t walk over a flat surface without finding something to trip on,” she sighed. “I’m hopeless.” She looked up like she just realized what she was saying. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m dumping all of my problems on you and we haven’t even known each other for five minutes.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not!”

“Really, I completely understand. It’s fine.” He didn’t really, but she looked so miserable. He had to say something!

She was about to say something else, probably protest about how she shouldn’t have said anything, when they felt the ground beneath them rumble and heard screams coming from the direction of the stadium.

He was already racing off towards the screams. “Gotta go. It was nice meeting you,” he called back as he extended his baton.

------

He hit the giant stone monster with his baton and- to his surprise and utter displeasure, it got bigger. He didn’t know how that was possible and it certainly wasn’t helping with his already growing panic, And neither did the fact that his red partner was standing on top of the stadium, doing absolutely nothing.

Why wasn’t she doing anything? “Hey, Partner! A little help here?!” He called as he dodged an attack.

He heard a scream from behind him and turned to see the car he had dodged heading straight for-

Why was there still a civilian?

He thought they had all escaped already. He launched his baton, extending it. The car bounced off his baton, shielding the girl. He started to retract it, but was grabbed from behind by a giant fist.

How had it managed to sneak up on him? He had been too preoccupied saving the girl from the car to see it sneaking behind him. “Come on, Partner! I need your help!”

He saw her take a deep breath before swinging down and flinging her yoyo around one of the giant’s fingers. She pulled as hard as she could and, magically, he opened his fist, dropping Chat Noir.

He rolled to absorb the momentum, and jumped up by his partner who was running toward the soccer goal. He followed her and noticed her outfit for the first time. Was she. . . wearing a dress? Who wears a dress into battle? “Why are you wearing a dress?” he asked incredulously.

It was red with an illusion neckline, a ladybug sash around her waist, and an asymmetrical skirt. Black tights patterned with ladybugs and flowers were underneath. Probably so she didn't flash anyone when she swung around. He looked at her feet and saw that she was wearing black ballerina flats with red accents. He had to admit, she looked good.

“What? Oh. It’s actually really comfortable. Not as restricting as you might think,” she responded, defending her choice cheerfully. “I actually designed a dress like this before. I never made it though. Maybe that’s why I transformed into it,”.

Why was she so happy? They were in the middle of a battle!

They made it to the goal when he finally remembered his special power.

“CATACLYSM!” There was a flash of green light and small, black bubbles started swirling around his hand. He touched the goal and it crumbled. Cool! He launched himself at the giant and slammed his hand down on its foot- And nothing happened.

Was it too strong? he asked himself, dumbfounded and at a loss for what to do next.

He felt a wire wrap around his abdomen and yank him back to the goal. He landed in a heap on the scratchy, fake grass. The girl pulled back her yoyo. “Don’t you know you can only use your power once? And you only have five minutes before you transform back,” she scolded. “Didn’t your kwami tell you anything?”

She had the nerve to scold him. She didn’t even show up until he called for her. Twice. He understood that she didn’t choose this. And she was probably afraid. But if someone needs your help, you help them. No matter the cost.

“I was excited. I didn’t actually think I would have to fight a supervillain.” He had to fight to keep his tone civil.

She sighed, “I guess it’s time for some luck.”

“LUCKY CHARM!” she screamed. There was a flash of light, pink this time, and a red and black wetsuit fell into her hands.

He had to see this. “Planning on going swimming?”

She glared at him. “You see his fist? He never opens it. There must be something in it. That’s where the Akuma is.” She grabbed the end of a hose and put it in the neck of the wetsuit. “We need to get caught.”

“What?!”

“You heard me, we need to let him capture us.”

“Are you crazy!”

“No. I have a plan, but we need to let him capture us for it to work.”

“If this doesn’t work, you owe me ice cream,” he grumbled.

“That sounds fair,” she chirped. Why was she so dang cheerful? ”On three. One. . . Two. . . Three!

They charged toward the giant. He was grabbed first. Then the girl- he was really getting tired of calling her ‘the girl’- got captured. “Alya, the tap!” she yelled.

“You got it!” the civilian- Alya- called back. She ran over to the faucet attached to the hose and turned it on.

The girl- he really needed to find a better name for her- leaped out of its fist as the wetsuit filled with water. He saw a ball of crumpled, purple paper land in front of the girl who ripped it in half. A black and purple butterfly flew out of it and fluttered away.

The monster’s exterior bubbled black and purple before shrinking and turning into a teenage boy.

The girl grabbed the wetsuit and flung it into the air screaming, “MIRACULOUS LADYBUG!” Glowing ladybugs swirled around repairing all the damage the stone monster had caused.

Chat couldn’t help but notice that he looked confused. Maybe he couldn’t remember what he’d done.

The girl unfolded the ball of now-white paper and scanned it. Then, she walked over to the boy and handed him the paper. She said something he didn’t quite catch and smiled. The boy nodded and she helped him up.

Chat heard his ring beep and bounded away.

-------

Ugh! Adrien hated Chloe! Why did she have to mess up his first day of school? It was her reputation as a brat that had messed up his reputation with a classmate.

A really cute classmate. One he’d seen being very kind to everyone else. It was only Chloe and now him she had a problem with. He hoped he could explain to her that it was just a misunderstanding. Then they could be friends. Or maybe. . . more.

Adrien shook his head. No. He was getting ahead of himself. First, he had to convince her that it was just a misunderstanding. And that he wasn’t friends with Chloe. He wrinkled his nose.

He heard a crash from outside his window and ran to see what it was. Out on the street, he saw a stone giant stomping down the street, shaking the ground with every step.

“Shit! Plagg, get over here!”

“What do you need?” he called back grumpily.

“You might want to see this.” He called back.

Plagg phased through the door to his designated cheese cupboard and flew over. “What is it? I have a date with my soft, gooey camembert.”

“Why is it back?”

“Did Lovebug capture the Akuma?”

“Akuma? Lovebug?”

“The purple butterfly. And Lovebug is the ladybug miraculous holder.”

“She didn’t capture the Akuma, no. And how do you know her name?”

“I went to visit them earlier to see how she was settling in.”

“Plagg, you know that’s dangerous.” he frowned. “Wait, you know who she is?”

“Of course.”

He was about to say something but he felt the ground quake again. “We’ll talk about this later, we have a city to save. PLAGG, CLAWS OUT!”

Bright green light flooded the room as his clothes turned into black leather. He leaped out the window and chased after the new giant.

-------

Chat threw his baton to protect Alya from a flying car for the second time in two days. What were the odds? He felt something hard squeeze him and realized that one of the stone monsters had grabbed him. Jeez who ate his breakfast? The giant hunk of granite turned and marched towards the Eiffel tower with its. . . Siblings? Cousins? Acquaintances?

Whatever they were, there were too many of them. Even if he managed to get out of this one’s grip, he would never be able to fight them all off.

Where was Lovebug when you needed her? Was this going to become a regular thing?

“LOVEBUG! Wherever you are, HELP!” he shouted as he struggled to free himself from the boulder’s grip.

He spotted Lovebug when they were about halfway to the Eiffel tower. She freed him again by wrapping her yoyo around its thumb and yanking it away from him. He fell and landed on his feet before she threw him his baton.

They started running and he asked, “So what’s the plan?”

“Get to the Eiffel tower before they do and take out their leader.”

“Shouldn’t we take care of them first?”

“No, we take out the source and they will all return to their original forms.”

“Okay, anything else I need to know?”

She thought about that for a moment, “Umm? No? I can’t think of anything.”

“Great!”

They ran in silence until they made it to the base of the tower where they saw the police force gathered in a semicircle around the tower, with Mayor Bourgeois at the front next to Officer Roger.

He followed their eyes up and saw the monster from the day before holding two teenage girls. Chloe and another girl from his class, Malory? Madeline? Mylene? That was it. Mylene. And that must be...Ivan.

Adrien had been surprised to find out that he was in the same class as the boy who had been akumatized. Something must have happened to upset him again.

“I demand my daughter’s safe return!” Mayor Bourgeois screamed through a megaphone.

“Daddy!” Chloe screamed back.

“You know what? You’re welcome to her!” Ivan said before hurling her at them.

“Ahh!” she screamed, flailing her arms, “Help! I promise I’ll be nice to everyone and say please and thank you!”

Yeah, fat chance, he thought bitterly to himself.

Lovebug leaped forward and caught her, landing and setting her on her feet.

“I didn’t promise,” Chloe said innocently moment she was safe, entitled as always.

Called it!

Lovebug just sighed and faced Ivan again.

“We are clear to attack!” yelled Roger.

“Wait,” Lovebug turned to face him, “no, don’t attack them, you know it will only make it worse!”

“I have a new plan, unlike you. Step down, Lovebug,” Officer Roger called. “Let the professionals handle this, you’ve already failed once.”

Wait. How did he know her name? Had everyone known except him?

She looked down dejectedly, “He’s right. If I’d just remembered to capture the Akuma in the first place, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” She told him, he almost missed the waver in her voice. Now that he thought about it, she seemed tense and anxious and defeated. “I don’t deserve to be Lovebug.”

Well, I guess it’s up to me then. “Lovebug, look at me,” he said softly, placing his hands on her shoulders. She tilted her head up and he saw that her eyes were brimming with tears. “Don’t listen to him. Look at her,” he continued, as he turned her to face Chloe, who was now hugging her father. “Would she be here without you?” He paused briefly to let his words sink in. “We all make mistakes, what matters is how we fix them.”

“You’ve been holding onto that one for a long time haven’t you?” she giggled.

“The longest,” he said playfully. “Now don’t ruin this for me, we have a super-villain to defeat,” he smiled.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the coming battle. Then, she let it out, “I’m ready.”

They turned toward the tower just as Ivan hacked up a swarm of purple butterflies. The cloud of insects morphed into a giant face.

“People of Paris, listen carefully. I am Hawkmoth,” it started.

“Hawkmoth?” they said together.

“Lovebug, Chat noir, give me the ladybug earrings and the cat ring now. You’ve done enough damage to these innocent people.”

Chat heard clapping to his right and looked over to see Lovebug walk forward slowly. “Nice try, Hawkmoth, but we know who the bad guy is. Let’s not reverse the roles here. Without you, none of these innocent victims would be transformed into villains. Hawkmoth, no matter how long it takes, we will find you! And you will hand us your miraculous!” As she finished her speech, she leaped up to the butterflies. “Time to de-evilize!” she screamed as she started swinging her yoyo at the swarm, catching the butterflies two or three at a time.

When she had caught the last butterfly, she landed and turned to face them, “Let me make this promise to you, no matter who wants to harm you, Chat Noir and Lovebug will do everything in our power to keep you safe,” she said before pressing a button on her yoyo and letting out a cloud of white butterflies.

Chat heard cheers and whoops coming from the officers surrounding the tower.

“Wow. Whoever she is beneath the mask, she’s a showoff,” he deadpanned.

He looked up just as Ivan picked himself back up. Parkouring up the tower, he met Lovebug in front of Ivan.

“I won’t let you take Mylene away from me!” The boy screamed before turning and storming away.

Boy, this was going to be a long day, Chat thought as he raced after him with Lovebug.

I was going to post this on Thursday, but I couldn't stop thinking about it so I'm posting it early. From now on, though, I'll only be posting TLKN on Thursdays. Even if I miss a week.

Thank you to my amazing beta @valiantlyjollynightmare!

next

[twittytelly]

Minutes 'til Midnight

Chris Evans x Reader

Disney Drabbles Masterlist

Inspired by

A/N: Hi, I know it’s been a while. It seems that after the burst of creativity I had over Christmas has completey disapeered but I’m trying to get back into the swing of things. Thank you so much to @southerngracela​​​​ for your kind words of encouragement! xx

Summary: “Please don't take this the wrong way,” you started. “But shouldn't you be in there schmoozing or scaring other people or whatever you guys do at events like these?”

Chris chuckled, as he took a swig of his beer. “Nah, these kind of events aren't usually my kind of thing, but I've worked with the charity before and wanted to support them. Besides, most of my friends have either left or had prior commitments.”

After a chance meeting with one of Hollywood’s biggest stars, you lose track of the time and your phone.

Warnings: Swearing

“Shit, shit, shit!”

You were tearing your apartment apart limb from limb looking for your phone. Thank fuck you didn't have work today or else you would be catastrophically late. As much as you hated to admit it, not having your phone felt like missing an arm. Groaning, you slumped to the floor defeated. Feeling the coldness of the kitchen floor on your back, you resigned yourself to the fact that your phone was not at home. Sitting up, you began to mentally retrace your steps to the night before to help you remember where you had left it.

-

Serving canapés at a charity auction was not your day to day job, but when your best friend, Paige had called you earlier in the day in a pinch you couldn't refuse her. Anyway a little extra pocket money wouldn't go amiss, especially as you were currently saving up to buy a place of your own. Entering the hotel ballroom, you tried not to gasp from the grandiose of it all. Yes, you had done this before, but never on this scale. The large marble pillars that lined the walls would have been intimidating if it was not for the intimate lighting from the glistening chandeliers that dangled from the celling where painted cherubs danced and played. Beneath your feet lay a marble floor that matched the pillars, and you wondered if it was original.

The events Paige had organised in the past had included important people, but usually the most well-known person would be the local mayor. However, this event was an auction of iconic film costumes and outfits from red carpet events and the ballroom was stuffed to the rafters with people you had only seen via a screen. Making your way through the crowd, you did your best not to stare too much at the people you recognised. Soon enough you relaxed and kept your composure as you watched Hollywood's elite spend eye-wateringly amounts of money on superhero costumes, tattered black robes and a tuxedo jacket made from blue velvet. You were eyeing up a navy-blue sequin dress when all of a sudden you felt the presence of someone right behind you.

“What is it with chicks and dresses with pockets?”

You jumped out of your skin as you did your best not to drop your tray. Unfortunately, the tartlets were not so lucky.

“Fahk! I'm so sorry” you heard the male voice say as you knelt down to collect the causalities, heat rushing to your cheeks. You were surprised to see the figure kneel down next to you and help. You were too busy trying to pick everything up to see who the kind stranger was. But when his large hand brushed against yours, you couldn't help but jerk it away like he had given you a static shock and you also noticed that he had done it too. Looking up, you were not expecting to see Captain America's ocean blue eyes staring into yours.

“Thank you, you don't have to help me.” you said.

“You clearly haven't met my mother.” Chris replied, “Anyway, it's the least I can do seeing as it's my fault you dropped it. Let me apologise again for scaring you, I'm an ass and I was just trying to make conversation.”

“America's ass if I remember correctly.” You quipped back without thinking. Luckily a smirk painted itself across Chris' face as he tried to suppress a chuckle.

“I prefer to be called Chris,” he said jokingly as he stood up, his hand reached out for yours to help you up.

“Y/N.” You replied as you held onto him as you stood up, trying to regain your poise. “Thanks again for helping me pick this up, but I've gotta get a fresh tray.” Chris nodded as you made your way back to the kitchen.

You didn't see Chris again as the rest of your shift went without a hitch. The night had been a huge success, the outfits had been sold and more money had been raised than you would ever earn over the course of your lifetime. At eleven you were set free, an hour earlier than expected. While you were pleased to get away, you had already booked a cab to pick you up at midnight; so you decided to grab some fresh air and step into the courtyard. Although it was minimally lit by the moon and a few small lights, you could tell that it was as decadent as the interior. Sitting next to a fountain, you took your phone out of your bag and started to check your notifications.

“I almost didn't recognise you without your tray.” said a familiar raspy Bostonian drawl in the darkness, startling you. Again. Luckily you did not drop your phone.

“Will you stop doing that?!” You said exasperated as Chris burst into laughter, his right hand reaching for his chest, his left clutching a bottle of beer.

“Sorry sweetie.” Chris said when he finally stopped laughing.

“It's fine, but for future reference I don't need any help making a tit of myself.” You answered.

“Noted. Is this seat taken?” Chris asked gesturing to the space where your bag sat. Surprised by this you forgot to answer him directly, but when you moved your bag to the floor, Chris took a seat beside you.

“Please don't take this the wrong way,” you started. “But shouldn't you be in there schmoozing or scaring other people or whatever you guys do at events like these?”

Chris chuckled, as he took a swig of his beer. “Nah, these kind of events aren't usually my kind of thing, but I've worked with the charity before and wanted to support them. Besides, most of my friends have either left or had prior commitments.”

You nodded as the biting breeze swept over you, causing you to visibly shudder. Setting down his beer. Chris took off his jacket and offered it to you.

“No it's okay” you persisted, shuffling away from him.

“Sweetheart I insist, I'm from Boston, I'll be fine.”

Checking the time on your phone, you realised that you still had to spend nearly an hour sat in the cool breeze and reached out for Chris' jacket. As you put it on you absent-mindedly slipped your phone into his pocket. Soon enough you and Chris settled into an easy, slightly flirtatious conversation, when all of a sudden you heard Paige's voice reverberate across the courtyard.

“Y/N are you out here? There's a cab outside that's been waiting for you for over ten minutes!”

Turning back to Chris you asked “What time is it?”

“It's gone midnight.”

“Shit!” you exclaimed getting up and practically tearing Chris' jacket off. “I'm coming Paige.” You shouted back at her. Tossing the jacket back to Chris and picking up your bag, you turned to have one last good look at Chris.

“I'm really sorry, but I have to go. It was lovely to meet you and thanks for lending me your jacket.”

“Wait Y/N-”

Chris' protests fell on deaf ears as you sprinted for your cab, believing that your evening with Captain America would become nothing but a distant memory.

-

“Argh!” you groaned to yourself as you remembered how the night had ended. Your phone was in the hands of either a Hollywood superstar, or a pissed off cab driver. How on earth were you going to get it back?

Stopping yourself from getting too wound up, you decided to have a cup of tea and come up with a plan of action. As the kettle began to boil, you reached for you favourite mug when you heard a knock at your door. You huffed to yourself as you dragged yourself across your flat to answer it. You were not expected to see Paige stood on the other side waving your phone about.

“Oh my God, where did you get this?” you enquired as you snapped your phone out of Paige's clutches.

“A rather handsome gentleman handed in to me about ten minutes after you blanked the poor bastard.” Paid replied rather smugly. “But I will tell you that he drives a hard bargain.”

Brushing Paige's comment to the side you asked, “Are you staying? I've just boiled the kettle.”

“No thanks honey, I've got things to do. But thanks again for helping me out. I owe you one.”

You gave Paige a quick hug before she departed. Closing the door you jumped for joy. As you were finishing making your tea, you phone pinged. Checking you saw that it was from an unknown number. Flopping down on the sofa, you curiously opened the message.

Hey sweetheart, it's Chris from last night. You didn't  give me the chance to say this before you ran off, but are you free at all any time this week? I would love to  have dinner with you and get to know you better xx

A smile spread across your face as you tried to decide what to type back. Letting out a sigh to yourself you decided to get this over with before you could talk yourself out of what you wanted to do. Nervously you tapped on the screen, deciding that simple but effective would do the trick.

I'm free on Friday :) xx

Taglist: @whiskey-cokenfanfic​​ @mrs-captain-evans​ @ransomsweatersandcappuccinos​​ @southerngracela​​ @katiew1973​​ @supersoldiersruined-me​​ @kelbabyblue​​ @amiquette​​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @patzammit​

[songficsbyrissi]

Let Em’ Know (part 4)

Previously on Let Em’Know......(click here for part 3)

Through her paralyzing fear, the woman was confused and gulped loudly. “M-may I ask why what?”

Erik cocked his gun, placing it underneath the woman’s chin and chuckled darkly. “You’ll see why they call me Killmonger.”

*****************

This nigga had you fucked all the way up. The audacity of him doing this shit when he fucking knew better. You highkey wanted to punch him dead in his shit. 

That fucking liar.

Stephanie observed you as you continued to fold panties angrily and raised an eyebrow.

“You ok, girl?” She asked in her blaccent and you sighed deeply, looking straight ahead.

“I’m fine, Stephanie.” You looked back down and heard someone walk into the store. “Why don’t you go tend to the customer?”

“Mhmmmm I will gladly tend to him.” Stephanie walked away and you shook your head, just wondering why does your manager keep fucking with you by always putting you to work with her. It’s like she was begging you to clock her shit.

“Hey princess.”

You glanced up to see the nigga that got you pissed the fuck off.

“Go away, Erik. I’m fucking pissed at you.” You huffed moving to the rack of clothes and he followed you, of course.

“What did I do?” Erik was genuinely puzzled at your anger towards him. You turned around to look at him.

“You fucking lied to me. That’s what!”

Erik’s heart began to pound furiously against his chest. How the fuck did you know? Shit he was caught and he was going to lose you.

“Y/N, I can explain...” he cleared his throat.

You folded your arms, kinking an eyebrow. “Yes please explain to me what the fuck was so important you couldn’t text me when you got home!”

Record scratch. That’s what you’re so mad at him? Erik thought he was caught. He hid the relief on his face and began to chuckle.

“Princess, a nigga got in the crib and knocked out. My bad. You know how it be like that.” He grinned in realization. “Aww you were worried about your man?”

You sucked your teeth as his arm wrapped around your neck. “No I wasn’t.” “So you admit I’m your man?”

You sucked your teeth hard. “No.”

“Took too long to answer, Princess.”

You turned on your heel to head to the back when he grabbed your wrist, caressing it with his thumb by rubbing circles which you didn’t wanna admit, made you tingly inside.

“Lemme take you out on a date.” Erik told you softly then narrowed his eyes. “And I mean an actual date. Just you and me. Not your dumbass friends tagging along.”

“Erik!” You freed your hand from his grasp and put it on your hip.

“Don’t get me wrong! I fuck with your friends. They’re good ass people but those niggas are dumb as hell.”

“You right.” You mumbled looking away then picked your head up, snapping your fingers. “But they’re my dumbasses!”

Erik continued to stare at you, waiting for his answer. You sighed deeply trying to avoid the heat in your cheeks.

“Fine. Friday night. Pick me up at 7.”

Erik grinned kissing your forehead. “Aight bet.” He went on his merry way and you called after him.

“Don’t make me regret it, Stevens!”

Erik turned to face you while still walking away from the store. “You won’t! And you know you won’t!”

You shook your head, fighting back a smile. You hated to admit it but he was fucking right. You were looking forward to this date and you knew you would have an amazing time. You spent your shift thinking about Erik and what to wear on this date.

************************

Erik pulled up to the abandoned warehouse which was his place of business. Exiting his vehicle, he greeted the men posted up in the front and entered looking for his beloved cousin. When he found her on her laptop sitting next to Klaue, he marched in front of her and slammed her laptop close.

“Yo what the hell?!” Soraya looked up at her cousin with furious eyes. “Why the fuck did you do that, Erik?! I was in the middle of something!”

“I don’t give a fuck!” Erik hissed getting in her face. “What I do give a fuck about is my girl and imma need for you to leave her the fuck alone. I’m not playing with you, Soraya.”

Her brows drew together in confusion as Erik sat back. “Erik, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m not stupid, So. You think I ain’t peep that fucking black Volvo lurking around my girl’s house? That was you and you need to cut the shit.”

Soraya scoffed, getting in his face. “First of all, bitch, I’m not the only one in this damn city that drives a fucking Volvo, aight and second, you think I give a fuck about your love life? I DON’T.”

Erik sucked his teeth loudly and stood up straight. “Whatever. Just stop that shit.”

“Killmonger, she’s got a point. There’s many black Volvo’s in this goddamn city. Could be anyone. Could be an enemy. Could be your girlfriend’s neighbor. All I know is.....” Klaue stood up from his chair and walked up to Erik, coming face to face with a serious expression. “You better stay focused or I’ll get someone else do your job. Got that?”

“You can’t kick me out of this shit, man. I’m the best.”

Klaue leaned in. “Watch me.”

With that last remark, Klaue walked out of the warehouse doors and Erik sucked his teeth for the millionth time today and faced his cousin. She was smirking in amusement.

“You’re Klaue’s bitch. Never thought I would see Killmonger as the white man’s bitch!”

“Soraya, shut the fuck up. His pasty ass is bluffing. Motherfucker knows he needs me.” Erik scoffed then crossed his arms, beginning to laugh. “And you really gonna sit here and talk about the White man when your daddy is one? If anything, your moms is one.”

She ceased her laughing fit and rolled her eyes. “First of all, I don’t claim my white side and you know that. Second of all, that’s your aunt, stupid.”

“I’m aware. That’s how a family tree works, stupid.”

“Anyways, I found another house that needs a repo job. We gotta hit that shit Friday night. We can’t go too late because the family-“

Erik put his hand up to stop his cousin’s talking. “Let me save you some time. I won’t be able to hit this lick. Y’all gonna have to do this one without me?”

“Why nigga?”

“None of your damn business. That’s why.”

Realization dawned on her face and she folded her arms, scoffing out of annoyance. “I know what it is. Your girl. Erik, you can’t be seriously neglecting your fucking job for some girl!”

“She ain’t some girl, SoSo. She’s my girl. I would quit all this shit right now for her but I’m not. I’m just taking a day off. Now get off my fucking back, aight? You keep forgetting I’m the boss here.”

Soraya let out a sardonic laugh. “Really? Answer this for me, Erik: if your girl found out this shit right here is how you make your living, would she still be fucking with you? If she found out all the dates and gifts you giving her was possible because of you being involved in this shit, will she ride for you?”

Erik just stared at his cousin with his nostrils flaring, his jaw clenched, and his fist closed tight by his side. He honestly didn’t know how to answer that question and it really pissed him off.

Soraya’s tough demeanor softened and she placed a hand on his shoulder. “Erik, I’m just looking out for you. I see you just completely disregarding the mission and I just wanna make sure this broad is worth the distraction. That’s all. I just need you to be careful.”

Erik turned his chin, looking at her through narrowed eyes.

“And when am I not?”

********************

Friday finally came and to say you were just a mess was an understatement. You couldn’t find anything to wear and Erik refused to tell you where y’all were going so you can have an idea. It was beyond frustrating.

“Fuck it! I’m just gonna go naked!” You declared as you flung yourself on your bed dramatically. Neriah, who was already sitting there, snickered.

“Yeah do that. Erik’s ass would LOVE that.”

You glared up at her. “You’re not helping.” You turned your glare to Rayvon who was playing Candy Crush on his phone at your desk. “You too, Ray Ray!”

He sucked his teeth, sparing you a glance. “Girl, I’m a nigga. I don’t even know why I’m here.” You stood up walking towards him.

“Because....” You snatched the phone from his hands. “I need a nigga’s point of view.”

Rayvon gestured towards your other friend. “Neriah eats pussy and plays basketball. That’s enough of a nigga for you!”

She got off the bed and tied up her straight black hair. “Boy, I will fuck you up!”

“Can y’all stop?! Please?! I just want to look good for Erik but be appropriate for whatever the hell we’re doing! If you ain’t gonna help me, get the fuck out!” After yelling at your two best friends, there was a silence upon the room. You looked between the two of them as it seemed like they were deep in the thought.

Then Rayvon spoke up.

“I got it. Booty shorts and a tank top.”

You shook your head vigorously, pushing both of them towards the bedroom door.

“No. Get out. Just get out.”

“What you mean? That was helpful! You wanted a nigga’s point of view!”

Neriah began to protest as well. “What? I didn’t even do anything!”

“Nope! Bye! I’ll call you when I get back!”

Even though they kept protesting, you continued to push them out until they were outside of your room and you slammed the door shut, locking it. You loved your friends. You really do but Erik was right. Those niggas were dumb as hell. You finally found a red button down sundress and wore it with a light blue jean jacket. You wore black strappy sandals, showing off your pedicure of white toes. You styled your box braids in a high bun and stared at yourself in the mirror. Hopefully, this outfit was good for whatever Erik had planned.

You heard the doorbell from downstairs. You were home alone due to your parents and your little brother going out of state. You would’ve went with them but you had to work as much as you can before you went back to school. You went to answer the door and on the other side was Erik dressed in a red shirt, light blue jean jacket, black jeans and matching black Jordan’s. You eyed him up and down and he did the same with you.

“So I’m guessing you were watching me dress through my window or some shit because I’m not understanding why the hell are you copying me?” You raised an eyebrow, jokingly.

Erik chuckled showing off his gold fangs as you locked the front door behind you and walked with him towards his car. “Princess, please. You knew I was wearing this and wanted to match your man’s fly. I ain’t mad at you though. It’s cute. Second best fit you could wear.”

“What’s the first?” You asked as he opened the passenger door for you and you got in.

“Ahh the first would be some booty shorts and a tank top.” He stared off into space for a bit and looked back at you who stared at him through squinted eyes. 

“What?”

“Either you’re fucking with me or y’all niggas are all the same. Ray told me the same thing.”

Erik blew air out of his mouth, shaking his head. “Damn the one time that nigga says something smart, you don’t listen to him.”

“Shut up and drive.”

The ride to the secret destination was filled with talking and trap music playing in the background. You didn’t know why but you felt a sense of deja vu. Your eyes were glued to your phone when the sight of bright lights caught your attention. You looked up and your eyes dropped. He brought you to the annual city fair. Now you know why everything felt so familiar.

“We came here on our first date.” You breathed still staring at the light and amusement rides before you.

“I’m glad you remembered, ma. I was scared you didn’t.” Erik replied lowly as he put the car in park.

You glanced at him giving him a wide smile. “Of course I remembered. We went again the next after that too. I haven’t been here since........” your wide smile dropped. You didn’t want to say it.

“Since....?” Erik urges taking your hand and forcing you to make eye contact with him. You obliged with a huge sigh.

“Since you told me you were leaving and we broke up.” You whispered and you could feel Erik’s rising disappointment in himself. “I remember it like it was yesterday. We came to this fair and we were having a good time. Well at least I was. You seemed distracted the whole night. It was bugging me and scaring me. I didn’t know what was up with you. I was terrified you were going to break up with me. Tell me you didn’t love me anymore and that you had feelings for someone else. We were driving home and-“

“You annoyed the fuck out of me the whole ride.” Erik took over the story telling. “I wasn’t ready to tell you but you kept pushing for me to tell you what’s up. Then I finally told you that I was leaving. I will never forget the heartbreak on your face. That shit haunted me in my dreams. I never wanted to break your heart and ended up doing that shit. What broke my heart even more was when you said you wouldn’t wait for me. You didn’t want a long distance relationship. I couldn’t blame you for that. It wasn’t fair for me to expect you to wait for me but a nigga was hoping.”

You swallowed hard and stared at your fingers. You had no idea that Erik was hurting too during that time. You kept painting him as a selfish motherfucker but he was doing what was best for him which caused you to do what was best for you. What was best for both of y’all ended up hurting way more in the end. You felt Erik grab your chin, forcing you to look in his sincere brown eyes.

“I want you to know that I am really back for good, baby girl. I ain’t going nowhere. I mean that shit.”

You found your hands grabbing his bearded face and connecting your lips with his. The two of you kissed for a few seconds before he pulled away, smiling.

“Come on. As much as I rather just kiss you and have you to myself in this car, that ain’t a real date.”

As a true gentleman, Erik went around and opened the door for you to get out and you two held hands, entering the fair. You started off on going on roller coasters then hit the games. You two won the games and received prizes. You shared fried dough and ended the night going on the Ferris wheel. You two made out as it went around and the teenagers above you voiced their disgust.

“Eww! Get a damn room!”

Erik looked up, shouting. “You better shut the fuck up and mind your business before I suck her titty on this damn Ferris wheel!”

“Erik!” You hissed hitting his arm.

“What?! They acting like they never seen kissing before!”

After the Ferris wheel, you called it a night and went home. Erik walked you to your front door and when you went in for a kiss goodbye, he dodged it. When you had a look of confusion, he chuckled holding your hands.

“Y/N, I’m not gonna ask you if you’ll be my girl because you’ve been my girl. You were just playing games.” This caused you to giggle and he continued with a smirk on his face. “Now will you stop playing games?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, matching his smirk. “Yes. I will stop playing games. I’m your girl.”

“Let em know, baby girl and say that shit louder.”

You sighed and took a deep breath. You began shouting from the top of your lungs.

“I’M ERIK’S GIRL! I’M ERIK STEVENS’ GIRL!”

Back in the passenger seat of the black Volvo, Damien blew smoke out his mouth and hissed. Seeing your lips on Erik pissed him off. That should be him and it’s going to be him.

“Y/N, you don’t see that nigga ain’t for you but I ain’t mad at you, baby. That fuck nigga is a good actor.” He brought the blunt back to his lips and exhaled harshly. “It’s cool because I’m gonna make you see that that nigga ain’t for you. Just wait on it.”

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[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Twenty-Eight

“I look responsible, right?” you ask from in front of the mirror. It was your fourth outfit, and clothes were strewn from one end of the room to the other. 

“You look like a very straight-laced and not at all sexy librarian,” Clint said, glancing up from his book.

“Clint-” you whine, reaching back to unzip your skirt and change again. 

“Baby stop,” he said, setting his book aside and reaching for you, “You look good. You look like a whole adult. With a checking account that knows how to do taxes. You even look like you know how to bake.” He pulls you into his lap and smiles up at you.

“Really?” You look stressed and anxious, and like you might be about to cry. Again. You’d been stress crying all day periodically. You don’t want to see your parents, you don’t want to go to court. You don’t want to deal with the coming media circus. But you do want your boys. You want them safe and happy. 

“Really,” he answers softly, cradling your face in his hands. “Baby,” he soothes, “It’s gonna be fine. They’re coming home with us, okay? They’re gonna walk you down the aisle at the wedding and everything, okay?”

When you start crying again, his chest hurts. He wishes you didn’t have to do this. That you could just will it into being. But. Your magic didn’t have that much finesse. You were a blunt instrument for fighting. “Come on,” he encourages, “Let’s get you a hot bath and a cuddle. You’ve got a big day tomorrow, and you need rest.”

“That sounds nice,” you murmur against his neck.

“Then get out of your court clothes and let me get it started, huh?” he murmurs, “I’d love to get you naked anyway. Spend a little time admiring my girl before we gotta be responsible.”

You swallow hard and cling a little tighter for a second, and Clint makes a soft sound, “What’ wrong?” he asked, rubbing your back.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this, Clint,” you say quietly.

The archer smiles a little, “Of course you do,” he said, “It’s a big change. And a lot of feelings.”

“It’s not that,” you tell him. It’s hard to explain the frozen feeling in the pit of your stomach. The same feeling you get before a rough mission. The same feeling you used to get before Stirling would snap and take his belt to your backside or lock you in the “prayer closet” in the basement. It was a warning. 

He kisses the side of your head and sighs, “Whatever happens,” he promises, “I’ll be right here, okay?” Clint didn’t need you to explain. And didn’t expect you to. And it was kind of glad you didn’t. As much as he knew about your powers, he set less stock in omens and feelings. It all muddied the waters too much, this trying to see into the future. Or relying too much on the past. As far as he was concerned, all that mattered what was right here. The fact that you were in his arms and one step closer to your goal. And getting you to bed to get some rest. 

After a second, when you get off his lap to go hang up your clothes for court, Clint goes to the bathroom to start the water. In the back of his mind, he makes a plan to renovate the bathroom. It was big enough to add you to a nice bathtub. One that you could sulk in after a long day. He adds things to the water from the bottles you’d labeled for him. He didn’t know if the things were magical or just mundane Hippie shit, but it didn’t really matter. It smelled nice. And you liked it.

When you pad into the bathroom, he smiles. You didn’t bother to put clothes on. And he gets a thrill down his spine. You’re beautiful. And as your hands roam over him, deftly removing his clothes, he has no complaints. He’d never planned on putting you in the bath alone. And as you settle back against his chest with a contented sigh, he wraps his arms around you. There aren’t words. There don’t need to be. He watches you toy with his fingers and trace the lines of his palm smiling softly.

“What’s it say?” he asked, teasing.

“I thought you didn’t believe in palm reading,” you answer, kissing his jaw.

“You don’t either,” he snorted.

“No,” you admit, “But it did make me some money when I was on the run.”

Clint kissed the side of your head, “How long did you spend running?”

“About two years,” you answer, “It didn’t take long for someone to scoop my druggie ass up and get me doing shit for a fix. Stealing cars, art, jewelry, artifacts... It’s a small wonder I didn’t end up dead before HYDRA decided to do something with me.”

“So, By the time Peggy and Coulson showed up,” he started hesitantly.

“I was already broken,” you finish. 

Clint hugs you a little tighter reflexively and picks up a washcloth, and some body wash, working it into a lather. “But,” he said softly, “You put the pieces back together pretty well.”

“Except for the ones that are missing,” you say, relaxing into the touch. Clint doesn’t ask you to explain. He doesn’t need it. He had his own missing pieces. Things that had been stripped away. Things were stolen. Sometimes before you even had a chance to know they were there to start with. For Clint, it had been childhood abuse and betrayal. It had been depression. And so looking at himself, he didn’t have a full picture. He didn’t know what he was like, not depressed. Only what it was like to have fewer symptoms. And being with you was the closest he got to filling that piece in. Feeling safe was something he knew now. Being enough was something he knew now. And he loved you for it. He wanted to know what pieces he filled in for you, but in his heart, he already knew that they were probably similar to his. Your missing pieces fit with his.

He didn’t believe in omens, but he did believe in you. That you could make this work together and build the future, he saw so clearly. 

“Except for those,” he answered, smoothing the cloth over the skin of your back, rubbing gently.  

When you turn and straddle his lap, Clint smiled up at you, kissing your lips softly, “Hey,” he murmured.

“Hey,” you answer, kissing his nose, “I love you.”

He grins, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“We should get married or something,” he teases.

“You think so? I’d settle for a movie date and some icecream.”

He shakes his head, fondly, “We’ll all go out tomorrow. Start corrupting the boys properly.”

That makes you smile. The sweet, innocent smile that makes butterflies take flight in his stomach. He loves that look. And how easy it is to provoke. You spent a long time alone. And longing. Needing someone to see you. Appreciate you. Not the way the team did. But the way a lover did. Someone to learn all those little secrets. Someone you didn’t have to hide from. And he’s glad to see you don’t hide from him. 

“Perfect,” you say, and he knows you’re already planning the movie to take them to. 

“Yeah, you are,” he says, grinning, kissing you again. 

When your cheeks heat, he seizes his opportunity. He knows one sure-fire way to make sure you both get to sleep tonight, And it’s going to involve a lot of very physically exerting acts. Things that you never could have dreamed of if you married someone in a cult. The stuff he was thankful you’d let him try so he could show you what lovemaking was supposed to feel like. And he isn’t disappointed when you respond in kind. The press of your lips getting hungry and impatient when he slowed down.

“So needy,” he scolds breathlessly. 

“Problem?” you counter, smirking.

“Only if you don’t stop grinding on me and ride me right, ya fucking tease,” he pouted. 

He hisses and lets his head fall back as you impale yourself on him and sighs, “Yeah,” he pants, “Fuck. So good.”

“I’m not even moving,” you protest, kissing his throat lovingly.

He pulls his head up and buries his face in your breasts, sucking greedily at the tender flesh to leave soft little marks, “Don’t. Not yet. Just-” he stops, momentarily mesmerized by the tits he’s cradling in his hands, “Just keep me warm for a second. Let me- Let me take care of you first.”

“And they say chivalry is dead,” you laugh. 

“Is that what we’re calling him now?” he asks, rolling his hips up, “Because baby, with you around this is the most life he’s ever had.”

“Babe, we’re not naming your dick,” you groan, thudding your head against his shoulder gently.

“Says you,” he says, smacking your ass, “I think Chivalry is a perfect name.”

“And I think,” you counter, nipping at his pulse point, reminding him that you were impatient, you voice a hungry growl, “That if you don’t quit you’re gonna have to have a rib removed.”

“Touche,” he said, breath hitching. It doesn’t happen often but when it does, those little predatory things. The hungry things that feel... alien. Supernatural. It feels good. It feels sexy. And it gives him a thrill knowing no one else has ever made you get like that. Given you that primal urge to bite. To possess someone. 

“You win,” he pants, “Fuck. You win. Just. God can we go to bed?”

“Yeah,” you murmur, “Please?”

And after that, there is no more negotiation about names. Clint can’t think. Not of anything but getting back between your thighs to fuck you to sleep.

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