#i’ll have to take off work but it’s a fuckin wednesday.

[frnkiebby]

I think that one band that kinda sounds like mcr is on the drugs tour but I could be wrong unfortunately I can’t go but I hope you can make it out.

they’ve got the requiem, savage hands, and downswing touring with them and i think i’d be sad to miss any of them tbh.

i hope i can swing it too. it’s a hike but it’d be worth it.~🎃

[occamstfs]

Diet Diaries

Hi all! Thank you so much for 500 followers! Here's a little style switch up to celebrate, got a lotta refs in this one and I quite leaned into the diary entries so I hope it's not too much! Hope y'all enjoy this stereotype reversal and as always, best! -Occam

Monday March 21st-

Andy:

I am beyond sick of Steve. Moving in together was a mistake, I don’t care how cheap the rent is, he is a narcissistic slob and I am eager to never see him again. Well no, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. Our R.A. had this idea to try and walk in each other's shoes, which I don’t know? It might not be the worst thing? My big idea was switching diets actually- honestly I’m just hoping if he ate more like me he’ll stop stinking up the dorm. I can dream at least. Literally though he just can’t go to the gym as often if he eats like me. If I'm lucky at the very least his deodorant will last longer, I cannot take another day of his b.o. seeping through the walls, ugh! Anyway, wish me luck! I’m sure this will be a breeze for me, he usually just eats junk anyway, hope he enjoys my salads~

Steve:

Andy that little fucker. He was being such a little bitch to James and now I’ve gotta eat his rabbit food for a week or lose this bet or whatever. Steve don’t lose tho. Lil twink’s gotta eat whatever I make him too and you can bet your ass I’m gonna make him match my macros if I’ve gotta starve myself like he wants. Fuck! This shit is going to absolutely tank my routine! I’ve gotta make Andy give up. I’m gonna go so hard on him he’ll have to hit weights if he doesn't want to blow up like a pig. Maybe then he’ll stop bitching any time I don’t fucking shower every time I get back home. 

Tuesday March 22nd-

Andy:

My Lord! He is trying to kill me! I don’t know how anyone could consistently eat as much as he’s telling me to. I’m so bloated from all this food.. He looks so smug every time he tells me to keep eating, I’m sure he doesn’t eat like this. He’s just trying to break me but I’m not going to let him win this easy.

Ugh, I feel so bloated my pants are so tight on my waist. I didn’t think meat sweats were a thing but man I am needing to put on deodorant like twice a day now and I’m not even exercising. I will say that now that I’m eating so much, I don’t hate the idea of going to the gym. It’s been a while since I went but I should probably at least hit up the treadmill lest I get even more of a gut- maybe I’ll see if he wants to go tomorrow. This is all just an exercise to understand each other more after all, no need to make it a stupid competition like he wants eh~

Steve:

Fuck! I am so tired of Andy’s pussy-ass diet. I had absolutely no energy at the gym today, I told all my bros that I was just gonna take it easy but fuck! I really was working my ass off and I struggled to even meet a PR I set last week. It was supposed to be a push day and I didn’t even get a chest pump! Why the fuck am I still going. I’m abso-fucking-lutely not getting gains on his fuckin’ bitch-ass salads and oats.

Eatin’ like a fucking twink and the fucker has the nerve to ask to go to the gym with me tomorrow. I’ll make sure he regrets that >:) Gonna work him like a horse so he’ll throw in the towel! After feeling how sore actually working on yourself makes ya, he might actually learn something. I’ll turn in early so I can go all out and show him what a real man looks like.

Wednesday March 23rd-

Andrew:

Man! I totally get why Steven eats so much now~ I am absolutely raring to go and get this; He said I could go to the gym with him today! He even seemed like he wanted me to go with him! I feel like I have more energy than I’ve ever had before, I might even try some weights!! I don’t know but I’m so excited! It’s like I can feel my chest and biceps begging me to go and hit some iron haha! Or whatever those “bros” say~ I hope he’s got something good planned for lunch because I fuck Sorry! I just want to show him that I can do all this dude stuff too! I’m a man right? I guess all this protein is making me feel more like a man than usual idk. Either way though I’m ready to go! Hope we have some fun!

Steven:

That bitch’s fuckin’ fru fru salads are ruining my PR’s for sure! I bet he knew that when he begged me to take him to the gym today, knew it was the only time he could show off to me was when I’m so out of it. And he didn't! Just to be clear I could still wipe the floor with  him even if I’m not at my A-game. Ugh, I do gotta hand it to the little fucker though. I KNOW he hasn’t even really set foot in a gym before but man. Beginners luck my ass, as soon as I showed him a technique he lifted like he’s been doing it his whole life! It’s like I could see his pecs and tris swelling up with each lift. Not that I was staring at the bitch or anything but he’s just I just need this fuckin’ diet thing to end so I can get back to my grind, I guess I wouldn’t hate taking him to the gym more often, would be hot to make a bitch into a bro Fuck! What am I writing, I just need to lift again.

Thursday March 24th-

Andrew: 

Bro! Weird? Whatever, I am absolutely on fire! Steven’s diet is absolutely killer! I don’t know how it’s working so well but man I couldn’t care less, I felt like a pro in there! My coaches in school would always shit on me for not trying but man! I was barely trying yesterday but I could tell from the look on Steven’s face that I was acing it! I guess I’ll have to admit to him that he is definitely onto something with his macros but man, not until he gives up haha! Man, I need to chill haha, it’s not like I’m any stronger than I was Monday but man, looking at myself in the mirror it just seems like my clothes are just fitting better. Catching on my chest rather than my stomach y’know? I’ve never noticed that there is muscle on my arms before but man the way my sleeves are kinda hugging my biceps mm. I need to chill haha! Can’t use all my energy before hitting the gym again today!

OH! Also totally weird, I’ve had to shave twice this week! Once last night and then again this morning which is so weird! I’m not complaining though, it’s not like I wouldnt look hot with a beard right? Although my face is a little itchy already, my chest too? Whatever though haha! Time to head back to the grind lol!

Steven:

God!! Andy Andrew is being such an asshole! He’s clogging the sink shaving which I know he would so be on my ass if I had done that. Wait, he did get on my ass for shaving! But it hasn’t been a problem this week, it’s like I’m not even growing stubble for some reason? Probably from not working so hard at the gym, is that how that works? Whatever it’ll be over as soon as this stupid diet thing is. We’re halfway through now. Thank God! Because that fucking twink is starting to stink up the dorm which again!! He was such a little bitch all the time to me about that! It’s like he’s literally stopped using deodorant as soon as he started needing it! He’s never exerted himself in his life and now that his pits are sweating at all he’s suddenly allergic to hygiene, ugh! I saw last night too the fucker fell asleep with his head in his pit too so it’s not like he doesn’t know it. 

It was a little surprising actually, cause I would’ve sworn he was hairless like one of those freak cats but man his pit was as thick as my pubes! Thicker maybe, uh? Man I wish I could get that image out of my head, it’s like the tuft was pushing out further each time he inhaled, man that’s kinda hot? Fuck! I swear this twink-ass diet is making me think like him too. I need to sneak to the gym later, without him. I cannot have him getting ahead even while I’m still on his chickenshit diet.

Friday March 25th-

Steven:

Ah!! That Little bitch! He was already at the gym when I got there! Ugh! It makes me want to punch a wall, or fight him. Or something I dont know! It’s just, he was lifting my body weight on the bench when he saw me, it was so ho ugh! It doesn’t matter what it was, I can’t stop thinking of that smug look on his face- what I would give to wipe it off… That absolute prick knew what he was doing. Ugh, speaking of pricks! He may as well have not been wearing shorts at all by how much his cock was showing through them.

I knew my meal prepping was fucking tight but man, I can’t believe hot its made him. It just really fucking turns me on, or no its such a turn on for chicks. Yeah. Whatever. I need this bet to end already. Clearly he’s totally obsessed with my lifestyle so he should just admit it already! Also, hate to say it, but to Andrew’s credit his diet ain't too bad either. I’d never tell him this, and it is all a little emasculating but my skin has never looked this good. I’m not even doing skincare or anything but it’s like I’ve been on a routine for years, it’s crazy! It’s still ruining my upper gains but man, my ass looks so good it's crazy..

Oh also re: facial hair, I woke up this morning and could’ve sworn I used to have chest hair but now it looks like I’ve got just a little left around my nipples and leading up from my pubes? I might go ahead and shave those too, might as well be totally smooth like a chick right haha, I wonder what Andrew would think? I need to chill haha, maybe I’ll go see if he’s still at the gym~

Andrew:

Fuuuuck dude lol. I should’ve started hitting up the gym ages ago. Don’t know what I was even wasting time on before I started doing twice-a-days? Studying I guess but I can figure that shit stuff out hm. Fuck it is so much better to be strong than a dweeb. Every set it feels like I’m just busting out new PR’s! Gonna need to buy new clothes though cause I am absolutely tearing up my crop tops, my twinky little wardrobe just isn’t cutting it anymore. Maybe Steven’d be down for a clothes swap, I’ve seen him eying up my fits all week, god knows he’ll fit them better lol. Oh haha, and speaking of him eying things up >:) You should’ve seen his little face blush when he walked into the gym this morning! He looked so pissed at me lol, but I’m not gonna grab him to come along every time I need to get some sets in right? It was pretty embarrassing for him yesterday anyway, the way I showed him up lol. I’m not just gonna sit around and watch him not lift weights when I can figure this shit out myself, thought it was supposed to be his thing though lol.

Mm, saying that though, I def didn’t hate having a little audience from his treadmill. God, his blushing face as he stared directly at my work-out chub. Fuck, it really got me going. It really helped my sets too haha. Maybe I should hit him up lol, I can tell how bad he wants me >:)

Saturday March 26th-

Stevie:

Ugh! That douche is walking around the dorm completely shirtless! Do you know what it’s like to have an oaf flexing away across the room from you 24/7! He knows what he’s doing, and thank god my dick isn’t showing through my shorts like I thought it usually does because he might literally pounce on me then-

Ugh! I didn’t even mention this morning. I literally woke up to him jacking off his morning wood! Do you know what a bitch-fit he would have thrown if I did that! He would’ve filed a police report, probably the dweeb, or. I guess I could too?? But it was just so fucking hot. I tried to pretend I was asleep, but he totally caught me. He literally smirked and made eye contact as he finished too- thank god he didn’t see my boner as he asked if I wanted to clean up his mess. He’s such an ass! 

I still have a boner now actually, it’s his B.O. driving me actually crazy! It’s like I can’t think near him if he’s going to stink this bad god.. Oh, he’s doing pullups on the door frame fuck. He’s supposed to be hairless but I see sweat dripping from his pits god I can't. God with each pull up his chest looks even more powerful. His cock is bobbing up and down in his pants and I can not look away. Fuck it’s getting even bigger. I’m supposed to be the strong one right? It’s not, fuck. This isn’t right. He just so fucking, god that body, I need him-

And Drew:

Heh. I knew that fucking twink couldn’t resist me. Every little thing I do wraps him even tighter around my finger. Every flex and smirk turns him on even more I bet he can’t even think straight the way his little dick is losing it in his briefs- I took all his jocks since I’m sure he would need them anymore. Bet the little bitch didn’t even remember they were his.  

Might as well have been drooling when he saw me jacking my cock this morning lol, surprised he didn’t take me up on the offer to lick up the mess. I know he wanted to lol. He’ll get the chance soon enough though >:) God it’s a two-way street though. That fucking twink is so fuckable now, thank god he doesn’t need to shave anymore, don’t want his peachfuzz scratching my cock cause god that mouth is so fuckable now.. To say nothing of his fucking juicy ass, god! I’ve been working out in the room all morning waiting for him to give in and ask me to fuck him, idk if I can hold it in much longer. I might need to jack it again, my balls are bluer than I ever thought they could be, fuck. It’s like they're sore. Ugh I feel them getting heavier, heh, that little fucker cant resist though. God I feel precum starting to pool in my jock. If I put my pit within a foot of his face I give him five before he can’t help but shove his face in. I need to fuck him, but as if I’m going to let him see how desperate I am. Stevie that little fucker. He’ll be riding my cock any second now.

Sunday March 27th-

Stevie:

Fuck <3 !! He finally fucked me!! God, it was like nothing I’ve experienced before~ His cock was like a beer can and goddd the scratch of his beard as we were making out.. Hehe if I keep thinking about him I might just cum again right now! He can fully toss my body like a ragdoll and I’d thank him ugh! He’s just so hot, and to think he wants to fuck me!! Ah~ I’ll need to keep myself pretty so he won’t get tired of me hehe! Not that it’ll be a problem, I just need to keep on his diet, God who knew it would be this good! I don’t even remember whatever problems we had before all this and I can’t imagine anything better than getting fucked by him <3 Ah! He he~ He’s staring at my ass right now so I guess it’s time for another round! Can’t thank our R.A. enough for this idea, well he he I’ve got an idea for how to thank him, oh! Drew’s ripped off his jock! Wish me luck he he~

Drew:

My little bitch is so tight, fuck. I’m surprised he can even take my cock but god can he ride it. Gonna have a hard time taking a break from fucking him to even hit the gym. Need to make sure the twink keeps up the diet tho or we’ll have an issue. Be sure to make him come to the gym whenever I do, if not to tighten up then to watch me heh. Won’t hate fucking him in the locker room too. Mm, God his fucking tiny body makes me feel so powerful. And I fucking am. God my bis are the size of his thick thighs, fuck his ass. My cock is straining my jock just thinking about it. His tiny waist ugh, I need my sweaty body over him now. Not like he’ll mind, the horny fucker. Mmm hope he’s ready to take my cock, bet his mouth is already watering heh. Pop my pecs at him and he’ll struggle not to cum on the spot, he better keep it together until I let him though. Can’t be having my bitch blow his load that fast. Thank fuck he’s chilled out finally, though I guess my cock’ll work wonders on anyone >:) speaking of it’s about that time again. Hope he’s ready for some more action, hate to have to find another hole.

[ellecdc]

All's Fair in Love & Chaos (II)

2nd instalment (I - II - III - IV)

a short blurb style mini-series in collaboration with @unstablereader no real plot, just vibes and comedy.

Synopsis: soulmate au, everyone's soulmate's initials become visible on their wrist when the last person in the bond 'comes of age' (I've left the age ambiguous because their may be mature insinuations later on in the story). As luck would have it, and much to everyone's horror; it appeared that you, Barty Crouch Junior, and Sirius Black were soulmates

poly!DeathStar x fem!reader

Though this soulmate thing had caused Sirius a bit of grief so far, he was feeling rather chuffed about it today. He was currently sitting with you in the library; you were currently doing research for your Herbology project, and he was pretending to work on his Transfiguration essay.

It was an odd sight, he was sure; Sirius Black found in the library working quietly without being involved in some sort of mischief. It was no secret he didn’t exactly take his school work seriously, but that was only because he didn’t have to; classes came easily to him and getting good grades didn’t require any extra work on his part.

But…

But, he had a pretty little thing sitting across from him, that was certifiably his, and she was spending time in the library, which meant he was, too. 

It was a precarious arrangement, but Sirius found he didn’t much mind when the unpleasantness wasn’t around. 

Unfortunately, the unpleasantness was insistent on following him around.

“Junior.” He growled lowly as a figure sidled up behind you and cast a shadow over your shared table.

“Black.” Barty sneered before turning a saccharine smile in your direction. “Hello, sweet darling angel.” He cooed, earning him a scoff from Sirius.

“Hello, Barty… what are you doing here?”

Barty laughed as if you’d made a particularly funny joke. “I’m here to spend time with my best girl, of course!” 

“Like hell you are!” Sirius barked, earning him indignant shushes from the other students around him.

“Barty… you agreed to this.” You tried placating.

“Agreed to share you with Black?” Barty squawked. “I’d sooner start wearing red and gold unironically.”

“Junior, this schedule was your idea. I get the library study time on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays. You get the library study time on Sundays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. It’s Tuesday; get lost.” Sirius lamented.

“But I don’t want to!” Barty pouted particularly petulantly, even stomping his foot for good measure. 

“Well, you can take it up with management.” Sirius taunted.

“You just sodding said yourself that this was my plan; I am the management!” Barty countered. 

Sirius mustered his most Noble and Ancient menacing glare from countless Black ancestors. The Slytherin boy had no problem reciprocating it, and it wasn’t until you intervened that the boys broke the silent war being waged between them.

“Barty, I…I think you should go see what Pandora is up to? And…maybe we can sit together at dinner?” You offered hopefully. Sirius was simultaneously grateful you were trying to rid them of the unpleasantness and also terribly jealous that Barty was going to share a meal with you.

“Yes! Okay, I’ll go get Pandora to help me organize a romantic meal for us tonight.” Barty beamed excitedly.

“Please. How romantic can a meal in the Great Hall be?” Sirius sneered, albeit slightly worried that Barty may in fact succeed.

“You mind your fuckin’ business, Black. Salazar’s balls you’re a pest.” 

“I’m the pest!?” Sirius exclaimed, but you were quick to place a conciliatory hand on Barty’s forearm.

“Please, Barty?”

Barty looked down at you with a pained expression that Sirius could understand all too well.

You were impossible to say no to.

Barty looked between you and Sirius a few times before groaning exasperatedly. 

“Fine.” He relented, pressing a smacking kiss to your cheek and stalking off.

Sirius let out a sigh of relief as you turned back towards the table with an embarrassed smile.

“Oh!” Sirius heard, causing him to let his head fall with a thump to the table before him. “I almost forgot.”

And Sirius lifted his head from the table to watch as Barty pulled at the collar of your uniform shirt to expose part of your neck and began sucking a bruise into your skin.

Sirius spit out a shocked guffaw as he watched Barty pull back, admire his work, press a chaste kiss to it and replace your collar to its proper place before leaving the library for good. 

“What…” Sirius started as he turned his attention from the door he’d been keeping an eye on to ensure that menace didn’t return to continue tormenting him back to you, just as you were embarrassedly rubbing at your neck. “...in the buggering fuck was that?”

“That’s just Barty.” You replied timidly. 

Sirius let out another scoff, eyes still glued to your neck. “Are you okay?”

You chuckled at that and offered Sirius a smile that was equal parts apologetic and equal parts teasing. “I’m pretty sure that’s his way of showing…affection? Or possibly marking his territory; he’s done it before when Diggory spent a, quote, ‘unreasonable amount of time complimenting my potion’.” 

Sirius relaxed a little at that. He supposed if you were comfortable with it, he wouldn’t push it. And though Sirius clearly had better impulse control than your other soulmate, he couldn’t deny how much he was tempted to do the same.

“Alright then.” Sirius relented, allowing you to return to your research.

“I hope you know you’ve just opened up the need to schedule meals now though.”

“For fuck’s sake.” You groaned, plopping your head down into your textbook.

[thehandsresisthim]

“a test of endurance - part two”

contains: smut, gn!dom!reader x sub!johnny x sub!ghost, orgasm delay/denial, punishment, bondage (rope), nipple clamps, toys under clothing, semi-public

this work is part of a small “kinktober” thing - i sadly don’t have the time to write a lot, so instead of posting something for each day in october, i decided to try to post something on each sunday in october. here’s the first part!!

word count: ~1100

The next time you tease both your boys, it’s induced by Johnny.

On a cold Wednesday morning - Simon and Johnny are still on leave, you’ve got the day off work too - Simon wakes up to a strangled moan, mixed with a weird sensation against his thigh.

It doesn’t take longer than a second for him to recognise what’s happening - Johnny is humping against his thigh, cock catching against Simon’s boxers as it weeps, staining the fabric.

Johnny sighs and whines with every thrust, his body shaking. It’s been three days since you’ve denied them an orgasm, and Johnny, ever the needy brat, refuses to accept that.

So, waking up to you gone, presumably having left to buy some breakfast for the three of you, Johnny decides to grab the moment by its balls, having relieved himself of his clothes and now humping against Simon.

Could he have also just quickly stroked his cock, hidden away in the bathroom, to only be found guilty by the next session since he’s so bad at pretending to be desperate to cum when he really isn’t?

Sure, but Johnny is determined to drag Simon down with him. The blond bastard had it coming, he decides - boyfriend or not, Simon’s determination to be obedient is getting on his nerves.

Besides, the idea of corrupting the man into disobedience, breaking Simon’s perfect record, is very appealing.

And, - Johnny can only guess that it’s because the man is still half asleep - Simon takes the fucking bait, chomps down on it before he can realise that he’s become a fish on a hook.

“Johnny, wha’-“ he stutters out, “master told us not ta-“

And Simon reaches down, his calloused hand closing around Johnny’s weeping cock, clutching his base. Of course, he’s attempting to shove Johnny off, to make him behave by roughly tugging on his sensitive cock - Simon doesn’t want to be involved with Johnny’s disobedience.

Unfortunately for Simon, he choose the worst fucking moment to hold onto Johnny.

Unfortunately for Simon, it looks like he’s touching Johnny, giving him a handjob.

Unfortunately for Simon, you walk in at this very moment.

You almost drop the tray of breakfast you were holding, setting it down on the nightstand as you calmly walk towards your boys.

Your expression has immediately turned sour - from happy and kind to cold and mean. Johnny whimpers, but he can’t help his smirk - his eyes are betraying his excitement as he notices your disapproving glance at Simon’s hand wrapped around his cock. Simon has frozen in place, big brown eyes wide and glistening as he swallows, speechless for a second.

You sit down on the bed and look at your watch.

“You have a minute to explain yourselves.”

“I-I didn’t t-touch Johnny. ‘was only shoving him off, he was trying to hump me and I-,” Simon stutters, “I wasn’t bad, master, I wasn’t, I swear, please-“

Johnny interrupts his boyfriend’s babbling and - with a surprising gentleness - takes Simon’s hand off of his cock. Simon whines as he only realises just now that he was still holding onto his dick, which he knows looks bad. Very bad.

“Simon was touchin’ on me, master, he got my dick out n’ everything, ” Johnny lies, voice confident, “he’s a fuckin‘ brat.“

“‘m not, ‘m not, he’s lying, he’s lying-“ the panicked tone in Simon’s voice is heartbreaking, he looks like he’s about to cry. “Please master, don’t believ’ ‘im, he’s lying, I only wanted to shov’ ‘im off of me, I promise, master, p-please…”

You clap your hands, indicating that the minute is over.

“Alright. I’ve heard enough.”

Simon whines and slumps his shoulders, hiding beneath the blankets.

“I’ll punish you later,” you say, “my boys need some breakfast now.”

+🎃+

Johnny squeezes his boyfriend's hand as they huddle closer - he’s desperate to hide his whimpers and whines. Once again, you’ve used his sensitivity against him. There’s a vibrating ring nosing his dick, and it’s hell.

The vibrations keep him even more horny than he’s usually is, and the ring keeps him from cumming. Johnny’s walking slowly. If he moved too quickly, he’d rub the fabric of his boxers right against his leaky tip, and he’s already noisy enough.

The park you’re taking a stroll through is calm and empty, the cold october night illuminated by the street lamps, the (barely visible, light pollution and all that) stars and almost full moon. Under normal circumstances, Johnny would appreciate the scenery, but with a constant stimulus vibrating away at his cock - not a chance.

Then again, as he glances over at Simon, he wonders if he got the lesser of the punishment.

Simon is wearing the black surgical mask that he usually wears when going outside, and his hood is up, but the tears in his brown eyes tell of his distress.

The hoodie that he’s wearing, as well as the jacket, is some of the baggiest clothing that he owns, and Johnny well knows why.

Beneath all of his clothes, - of course, without intercepting his arms and legs - Simon is bound in tight rope. A beautiful pink, thin rope is artfully woven across his skin, teasing his sensitive nipples and his aching cock.

His hands are in his hoodie pocket, and they’re also tied together, albeit with a different rope.

Simon has always been susceptible to rope, the tight, woven restraints always signalling comfort, and to his dismay, arousal.

Johnny can imagine what it’s like - each step, no matter how slowly he’s walking - is tightly interlaced with the sensation of rope tugging on him, a constant reminder of the rope that’s both a thing to hold him together, and a thing that keeps him restrained.

Johnny knows that the rope alone is enough to turn Simon’s brain to mush. Too bad for him, because there’s not only rope on Si - you’ve used rough metal clamps on his nipples, a delicate weight hanging on both. Everytime he moves, the ropes running across his pecs tease the sensitive flesh, and Johnny knows that he’d long have started crying if he was the one in Simon’s shoes.

Luckily, he isn’t, because he knows that he would scream as you place a hand on Simon’s neck and tug at the ropes, rubbing against the clamps.

“Please, please, ahhh- master-“

Simon shudders and sobs, his body trembling as a few tears escape.

“Aww, baby, what's the matter?”

Simon hiccups and nuzzles against your shoulder as soon as you let go. Squeezing yourself between both boys, you place your hands on their necks.

“Let’s get you two home.”

thank you for reading!! here’s part one ❤️

here’s my masterlist!!

[bearrrrrrr7]

perfect

Haven't posted anything in like, 8 years? Got inspired today. goodbye. (don't even remember how this shirt works lmaooo)

“yo , Syd!” Carmy calls from his office. He has a hangnail he’s been chewing on. Mostly nerves, he thinks. Also because it fucking hurts. If he starts bleeding his wife is gonna kill him. 

“‘Sup, Carm?” She pushes her way through the door and peaks her head in, “Yeah?” 

“Uh, next week, on like-” he checks his phone for the date again, “wednesday, yeah Wednesday, I’m gonna be out. Gonna need you to take over until like-Monday, I think? You can call me, just won’t be in.” 

Syd scrunches her eyebrow “uh, no-yeah that’s fine, for sure. Just like - why? Are you okay? You don’t normally, like, spring this shit on me.” She fully enters his office at this point. Arms are crossed, not in an annoyed way, more so because the giant fan in his office is directly pointing at her. 

“No yeah, uh, fine.” He coughs into his shoulder. He shouldn’t feel awkward about this, he’s a fully grown man with two baby girls and a beautiful wife. “Just a procedure, medical, uh, procedure I gotta get done on Wednesday. They told me not to be on my feet too much for the next couple days.” He’s not making eye contact with Syd, fully focused on color coordinating the highlighters in his desk. 

“Procedure? Dude, what? Are you fucking okay?” Syd asks, walking a little closer to him. She has half the nerve to put the back of her hand to his forehead. 

“Yes, Syd. Jesus. I’m fuckin’ fine okay? I mean it, just - like, could you make sure this shit doesn’t burn down while I’m gone?” He runs his hand through his curls. He needs a cigarette. He tries to picture your disappointed face so he doesn’t reach for his emergency pack. 

“Yo, Syd!” Syd and Carmy both whip their heads to the door, it’s Richie. With a shit eating grin on his face. 

“What, Richie?” Syd scoffs. “Were you invited here or did you just decide to insert yourself?” 

“Insert myself. Anyways, just so you don’t pop a blood vessel, Carm’s getting surgery to he can fuck his wife without protection. Don’t worry, sweetheart, he’s gonna be juuuuuust fine” he says, winking, stupid fucking grin still on his face. 

“Jesus, Richie” Carm and Syd both say at the same time. Carmy has his head in his hands. “Don’t listen to ‘im.” Carmy finally says. “I mean - yes. I am getting, you know, uhm, that. Vasectomy. But like - that wasn’t the main reaso-” 

“Hey Carmy?” Syd interrupts him. 

“Mm?” 

“Good luck on your procedure on Wednesday and I’ll see you Monday, okay?” 

“Thank you, Chef” Carmy breathes out a laugh. Syd laughs too. “Fuckin’ Richie” he says. 

“Fuckin’ Richie” Syd agrees. 

-

Carmy shows up to the house 3 hours later. Apparently everyone in the bear had heard Richie’s loud fucking announcement about his surgery. His hangnail did start bleeding but he found a paw patrol bandaid in the backseat of his car. 

He hears laughter once he reaches the back door, he smiles to himself. 

“Where are my cubs?” He yells as soon as he gets through the door. He hears screaming and giggling and a jumble of “Me! I here, daddy!” and before he can get a good glimpse of them he has tiny, chunky arms wrapped around his neck. 

“Where’s mama bear’s love? She chopped liver, or what?” You come into the doorway. Your hair’s a bit disheveled. You have tiny, blue and white plaid shorts on with a shirt that has so many stains on it you might as well consider it tie-dye. You have marinara sauce on your right cheek. You’re so fuckin’ pretty, he thinks. 

“Hi, sweetheart” he says. He gets up from his crouched position, two tiny toddlers hanging around his neck. He kisses you, takes his thumb and wipes that tiny bit of marinara sauce off your cheek. You look at his bandaid and give him a look. “Couldn’t help it” he says. 

-

After dinner, after the girls’ bath, after three different stories, after a small glass of wine each and a rewatch of something neither of you know the name of, you rest your head on his shoulders. 

“How are you feeling about it?” You ask. 

“What?” he asks. His eyes started to close a bit, he’s not fully sure he heard your question. 

“About the snip” you say, giggling a bit. 

He snorts, “you 10-years-old?” 

“I mean it, Carm! Be honest!” You say, you lightly slap his arm, settling right back into him after. 

“Jesus, woman.” He laughs “Uhm, I mean, good? Like this, like right here - uh, you and me, and my two cubs, my Ellie and my Charlie, my beautiful wife, this is it, you know? I just feel like our life right now is perfect. And you have done everything - so much for me. For the girls. So I’m good, I’m happy to do this. I wanna keep this, just this. This is perfect.” 

[moongreenlight]

WIP WEDNESDAY!!

A little 600-ish word snippet of a toxic ex-boyfriend!ghost x reader fic I've been letting collect dust.

Maybe he found out you’re on dating apps (or maybe he’s had your phone tapped) and he’s been texting you about how moronic it would be for you to start dating again. You’ve been able to ignore it for the most part.

But tonight now that you’re out with some guy whose invite you really only accepted to prove a point, your phone will not stop buzzing. You left it in your coat pocket, but even though it’s slung over the back of your chair, it’s all you can think about. It drags your attention away from your date who’s talking about all of nothing.

So you try to fish it out of your coat and set it on your lap so you can silence it and salvage an already bleak situation. It doesn’t work.

There’s texts and phone calls and voicemails coming through even though you swore you turned it all the way off. To a point where you start to get a little worried that maybe it’s a legitimate emergency?

So you excuse yourself just for a second to take a call out the front.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You don’t bother even attempting to be cordial. Hissing like the words would sear your mouth if you didn’t spit them out right then.

“Go home.”

He is exceptionally good at matching your tone. You’d worry he was mocking you if you couldn’t so clearly recognize the venom laced in his words.

You hesitate for a moment. Trying to weigh the pros and cons of getting into some sort of bitching match with him. But then ultimately decide to hang up.

Immediately another call pops up. Faster than you think should be possible. You decline and move to go inside, but still another incoming call lights up your screen.

You pick up just to get him to stop.

“Seriously, Simon, sod off.”

“I’ll put him through that fuckin’ table if he puts a hand on you again. Go home. Leave him the-“

You hang up again before he can finish. Fuming. Exercising what little self control you have in you not to tear into him. Powering your phone down completely and shoving it hard into the bottom of your coat pocket.

You go back to the table. Keeping your head on a swivel all the way in. More angry than unnerved, but unnerved nonetheless. You don’t see Simon. You don’t expect to even if he was there.

You get fifteen minutes with your date until he takes your hand from across the table. It makes you tense up. Accidentally dig your nails into the tablecloth. Smile tightly and try to hide the way your eyes dart around at the other patrons. There’s nobody even looking in your direction. You let out a breath you hadn’t meant to hold.

Another five minutes pass until your date gets out his phone to show you a picture of his motorcycle. His words die mid-sentence and he goes white as a sheet when he looks at the screen.

“Everything okay?”

It’s mildly genuine concern. Not that you cared to see what he was going to show you, just at his reaction.

“Yeah. No- yeah. Give me- give me just a second. I’ll be right back.”

He doesn’t look up from his phone when he talks. He stumbles up. His chair screeches its protest at being so unceremoniously pushed backward.

You twist in your seat and watch him half-jog out the front. He knocks into two tables on his way out, nose still inches from the screen. You don’t know what else to do but push around the half-eaten pasta left on your plate while you wait for him to come back in.

“Hang up that phone on me again n’ see f’I can stay this polite.”

[sentientcave]

WIP Wednesday - Impound

A little peek at that tow truck driver idea I was tossing around last week, for any interested parties

He shuffled through the papers deliberately. The sound of the cop’s rubber-soled boots squeaking impatiently on the dated linoleum floor was music to Simon’s ears. “Oh, of course. The squad car. Parked in a fire lane.” He tutted, shaking his head. “You’re lucky I got there before bylaw did. ‘S a big fine if they ticket you.”

They both knew that bylaw didn’t have the stones to ticket a cruiser. The fire department might, but they didn’t go around looking for trouble either. That was really more Simon’s area of expertise.

“You could have been impeding an investigation,” Price said, steely eyes narrowing.

Simon snorted. “At Ronnie’s? I fockin’ doubt it, unless you were investigatin’ how fresh the pastries were. Everyone knows that’s Laswell’s girl. Nobody’s stupid enough to cause trouble for ‘er.”

Price’s jaw was so tight that Simon was surprised his teeth didn’t start cracking under the pressure. He could almost hear the grind of enamel. “Fine. Just get the bloody gate open so I can leave.”

“Sure, no problem officer. Just a matter of the impound fees— Y’want me to bill the precinct directly, or are you gonna pay ‘em yourself?” He set the paperwork down on the desk top and fished the debit machine out of the top drawer suggestively. “Just need some I.D., if you don’t mind. Gotta keep things tidy on my end.”

Price snatched up the invoice. “One hundred and fifty dollars? Are you mad?”

“That’s the rate. Take it up with council if you’ve got a problem with it. You still gotta pay.”

Price was pretty near growling as he yanked out his wallet. Simon made a bit of a performance out of logging in the information on his I.D. on the slow computer, of punching in the total on the debit machine, and of checking everything to make sure it was in order. Price initialled the invoice where he was directed, pressing so hard it left a permanent indentation in the cheap veneer of the desk.

“Olright. You’re all set then,” Simon said at last, when he could drag his feet on the matter no more. He got out of his chair with a sigh, pleased to find that he stood a good three or four inches taller than Price, and walked out the side door without any further ceremony. Price was still standing in front of the desk, red-faced and angry. “Come on then.” Simon stopped just past the doorway, looking over his shoulder impatiently. “Haven’t got all day you know. Some of us have important work to do.”

He half expected Price’s head to explode.

Price stalked across the lot to his cruiser and threw himself into the driver’s seat while Simon went to open up the gate. The rev of the engine was the only warning Simon had to get out of the way before Price drove through it, cutting it a little too close for comfort. Simon raised his hand and wiggled his fingers in farewell, enjoying the glimpse of that furious blue glare in the mirrors before Price turned onto the road and sped off.

“Wha’ the hell was all that about?” Johnny asked, leaning out of the building, braced on the door handle, Roach a step behind him. “Ye pissin’ off the new police chief?”

“Yep.” Simon corralled the boys back into the office. “Fuckin’ hate cops.”

“Sure, but aren’t ye worried—”

“Not really. ‘F ‘e gets to be a problem I’ll talk to Laswell, get ‘er to put ‘er fuckin’ dog back on ‘is leash. Owes me a favour.” He snagged the singular tea out of the tray of paper cups and lifted it in thanks. “See you lads later. Goin’ home. When Kristen comes in to pick up ‘er shitbox waive the fees an’ tell ‘er not to park there again. Pretend you’re riskin’ your ass doin’ it, she’ll prob’ly give one of you muppets ‘er your number.”

Johnny and Roach looked at each other, and immediately launched into a game of rock-paper-scissors to decide who would get to be the knight in dirty blue coveralls. Simon let the garage door bang shut behind him, and trudged across the dimly lit space to the back door. The acrid smell of weed smoke hung in the air, thin tendrils of it still drifting across the bars of sun coming through the back windows. Fucking muppets, smoking up while chief of police was steaming mad on the other side of the door. And they thought that Simon was the one who needed to be careful.

[danielfuckingricciardo]

16 + Charles and 26 + Pierre please ❤️

Hi!

Sorry this took so long, I’ve been in such a writing slump lately and this has sat unfinished in my drafts for weeks! But I finally did it and I hope you like it!

The Charles one is also in progress, I’ll make sure to tag you in that one when I post it :)

Song 26 - Creep//Radiohead

Pairing - Pierre Gasly x Reader

Word Count - 3.8k

Content Warnings - swearing, discussion of mental health issues

When you were here before Couldn't look you in the eye You're just like an angel Your skin makes me cry You float like a feather In a beautiful world I wish I was special You're so fuckin' special

Your therapist called it impostor syndrome. She mentioned it a lot during your weekly online meetings, and you usually laughed it off with some cringy internet joke about being ‘sus’ and tried to change the subject as quickly as possible. You’d receive a concerned glance, as you always did when you apparently ‘used humour as a coping mechanism’, but she would eventually move on to another topic, usually something about taking care of yourself physically as well as mentally.

Taking care of yourself physically was never a problem. You had nutritionists and personal trainers, physiotherapists and masseuses available whenever and wherever. The team made sure of that. To Alpha Tauri F1 team, your physical health was their top priority. Your mental health? Not so much. It was easy to lie to them and say that everything was fine, so that’s exactly what you did. You didn’t want to risk losing your seat because you told the truth about how you actually felt inside, so instead you saved that for the therapist you hired for yourself, and every Wednesday at 2pm you unloaded a week’s worth of thoughts and feelings you couldn’t share with anyone else.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, (y/n), we all feel like we don’t belong to some degree. And the bigger you make it in this world, the stronger those feelings will be.” She says, and you scoff.

“I’m not sure about that. The rest of the guys on the grid all seem so confident in themselves, and it’s definitely not a facade. They believe that they are the best of the best. I wish I could feel the same.” You say, and your therapist gives you a small smile before scribbling something in her notepad.

“You can’t know that for sure. Everyone experiences self doubt at some point in their lives, but they beat it, they get through it. Look at you, (y/n), against all odds you made it to where you are now, and you can’t tell me that the powers that be would have you there if they didn’t believe in you. You just need to learn how to believe in yourself as much as they do, and as much as your fans do.” She says, and you nod.

You know she’s right, but you wish that she wasn’t. You wish that your feelings would be vindicated so that you didn’t feel like such much of an idiot for having them.

“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about today?” She asks, and you open your mouth to ask a question, but are immediately interrupted as your phone begins to ring.

You look over at the screen and check the name - Pierre. What the fuck does he want? He never calls you, hell, he hardly ever talks to you unless he’s obligated to. This was definitely weird, something was definitely wrong.

“Sorry, I’ve gotta take this. Work stuff.” You say, and your therapist nods.

“Okay, let’s end the session early this week. Please do text me if you have any concerns you’d like to discuss.” She says, before ending the call and sending your computer screen back to her website.

You take a deep breath in and out before pressing the green icon on your phone screen.

“Hi?” You say, to no reply.

“Hello?” You repeat, and you receive no reply once again.

After a few moments of nothing but shuffling and breathing on the end of the line, you hear a quiet voice in the distance and strain your ears to hear. It’s clear Pierre didn’t mean to call you, it was probably a butt dial or some other similar fuck up, but you couldn’t help but want to listen in to whatever conversation he was having.

It was probably wrong, a total invasion of privacy, but your curiosity got the better of you, and you turn your phone’s volume to maximum.

“The fact of the matter is that Pierre feels as though he isn’t getting anywhere with Alpha Tauri, and therefore, as a team, we have made the decision to make the move to Alpine for the 2023 season.” You hear a familiar voice you cannot place say on the other end of the phone.

You let out a gasp and immediately clap your hand over your mouth, hoping that your shock had not be heard in the silence that had descended across the room.

Pierre was… leaving? After all this time? It was no secret that the two of you had never really bonded following your ascension to Alpha Tauri’s second seat, but you depended on him a great deal. He was great with the media, the fans, and the other drivers, and you felt comfortable following him around the paddock like a lost puppy, laughing and smiling along with everything he said and did.

You probably annoyed the hell out of him, and that was probably part of the reason he was eager to get away, to find a team mate he could actually have some meaningful banter with. Sure, you knew that he hadn’t always seen eye-to-eye with Esteban, but they had grown up together, and had an awful lot in common with one another. It seemed like a solid ground for a relationship, one that would definitely be more popular with the fans than your own.

You hear shuffling through the phone handset, and a whispered ‘fuck’ before the call is ended and the line goes dead.

“Fuck.” You echo, and you throw your phone down on your couch and pull your legs up to your chest, burying your head in your knees as you let out a single tear.

You didn’t think that you were crying for the loss of Pierre, that didn’t make sense, after all, the two of you hardly spoke outside of work. But at the same time, you couldn’t imagine being without him? You hadn’t realised until now just how much you had relied on him, and how much he had helped you over the years. He was the only friend you really had, though he probably regarded you as an acquaintance at best. All of your other friends had been left behind the day you moved your life to Faenza to be closer to the team, and you spent so much time travelling here, there and everywhere, that you hadn’t really had the chance to make any closer to your new home.

You hated to say it, but Pierre was your rock, and you had grown to care for him deeply, and now, losing him, what would it mean? You hoped they would call up some other, more experienced driver, like Daniel perhaps, to take the first seat. He could more than make up for your lack of confidence with his outgoing, loveable persona. But the alternative? The alternative scared you. If they were to call on some rookie to take his place, suddenly you would be the experienced one, the one to teach the newbie what to do and what to say. You barely knew yourself just how to play the game, you wouldn’t exactly make the best mentor.

You suddenly become aware of your breathing becoming faster, and more erratic, as your mind races, and employ one of the techniques your therapist had taught you to slowly regulate and steady yourself. God you regretted ending your session early, you could really do with someone to talk to right now.

Shakily, you reach for your phone and begin to draft out a text to your therapist. She had said to text if you had any concerns, and this was a real fucking big one.

Your phone begins to vibrate in your hands, and it almost slips out of your unsteady grasp as you read the contact name at the top of the screen - Pierre.

Fuck.

You take a shaky deep breath in and count in your mind, 1,2,3,4. You squeeze your eyes shut and squeeze your lips together tightly, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7. Finally, you exhale, 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8, and you accept the call.

“Hey! Did I call you just now?” Pierre asks, and you hesitate.

“Umm…” You say, unsure whether to lie, or to tell the truth.

“How much did you hear?” He asks, and you chuckle awkwardly.

“You still live at the same place? I’m coming over, I think we need to talk, yeah?” He says.

“Yeah, same place.” You say, and he hangs up.

You stare at your phone for a moment, your mind racing as you wonder exactly what Pierre wants to say to you. Was he angry at you for eavesdropping? You knew you should have hung up, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You were always taught that knowledge is power, and you just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to discover something new, even if it came from a blatant disregard for your team mate’s privacy. Hell, you’d be angry too if someone eavesdropped on a private conversation of yours, it’s only natural, so you wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to come over to yell at you.

Why else would he be coming to visit? It’s not like he owes you an explanation, or an apology. You meant nothing to him, you were just some overgrown rookie hanging off of his coat-tails, nothing but a burden.

Lucky for you, you weren’t left waiting long, as your apartment was only a few blocks away from Alpha Tauri’s headquarters, and you soon heard a rhythmic knock on your front door.

You take a second to breathe once again; in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, out for eight seconds, before getting up to answer the door.

“Hi.” You say quietly, opening the door for Pierre to enter, your eyes not leaving the ground for a second.

Pierre follows you inside and takes a seat on the chair opposite the sofa where your things were spread out; a blanket, your phone, your laptop, a hoodie, and your favourite stuffed animal.

“Before you yell at me, let me bring my tissues. I always cry when I get yelled at, it’s not a guilt trip thing, so don’t feel bad, it’s just this thing I do, I can’t control it, I…” You say, walking over to your side table where you kept your tissues ready for a particularly sad movie or dog video.

“Who says I’m going to yell at you?” Pierre interrupts, and you turn to look him in the eyes for the first time.

“You’re not?” You ask, blinking away the tears that already threatened to breach your waterlines.

“No, why would I… That’s not why I’m here, I just wanted to make sure you were okay after hearing all of that.” He says, and you let out a shaky breath of relief.

“Me? Okay? You don’t have to worry about me, I’m fine.” You say, throwing yourself down on the sofa and closing your laptop, which still happened to be open on your therapist’s website, which Pierre had, no doubt, already seen.

“Oh, thank you! I expected a little more from my long time team mate after finding out I was leaving! Maybe not tears, but, something?” Pierre says with a chuckle, and you shake your head.

“No, no, don’t get me wrong, I’m absolutely devastated that you’re leaving, and I’m going to be completely tragic and sad next year without you because I’m a total loser with no fans, but I’m happy for you, really.” You say, and Pierre gives you a warm smile.

“You’re not a total loser, (y/n).” Pierre says, and you give him a small smile.

“But you do think I have no fans?” You chuckle, letting out a small sniffle.

“You know I don’t think that. I’ve seen it myself, how many fans you have out there.” Pierre says, and you scoff.

“They’re all your fans, Pierre, and they’ll be leaving with you. We all know they only tolerate me because of you.” You say, and Pierre shakes his head.

“Bullshit.”

“It’s true! I mean, I have practically no personality when it comes to media stuff, I freeze at the slightest interaction with the media, I post like twice a month on Instagram because my life is just that boring, and, not to mention, I spend my free time talking to my therapist in the company of my fucking stuffed animals.” You rant, and you feel tears running down your cheeks as you speak.

“You really don’t see it, do you? How much they like you because of those things. You’re relatable, (y/n), you’re normal. You’re here to race, not to be a celebrity. You’re not an attention whore posting shirtless selfies for likes and saying stupid shit to keep your name in people’s mouths. And people like that.” Pierre says, and you scoff.

“Yeah, as if.” You sniff.

“If you don’t believe me, then just look online.”

“My therapist said googling myself was a bad idea. Besides, I don’t just wanna be normal and boring. I want people to know me, but I just get so… scared, I guess? Scared they won’t actually like me the way they like you.”

“Well, the little of you that I know, I like.” He says with a smile, and you feel your cheeks heat up. This was the first time you’d heard Pierre compliment you before, and you couldn’t deny the fuzzy feeling it gave you.

“I just wish I was more like you. You’re so popular, with the fans, the media, the other drivers. I see how everyone crowds around you, you were made to be the centre of attention and you’re so fucking good at being in the middle of everything. You have this winning personality, everyone wants to either be you, or fuck you. Or both. If I could just have one tenth of that charisma, that personality, that vibe, then maybe, just maybe, I’d be able to do this thing properly. But I don’t. I’m just (y/n). A loser.” You say, and Pierre shakes his head again.

“But you don’t need to be me, (y/n). You don’t need to pretend to be something you’re not for people to like you. The other guys like you just fine, they just wish you would talk to them more so that they can get to know you. Fuck, (y/n), I don’t think I even know you properly yet. I’d like to, and so would Charles, and Lewis, and Lando. You know, they ask me about you, a lot. I think they would talk to you more, but they don’t want to scare you.” Pierre says, and you chuckle.

“Ha, they know me well enough to know I’m terrified of social interaction, so there’s a start.” You say.

“You know that me leaving doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you, right? I’ll still be there for you.” Pierre says, and you look up at him, sniffing away your tears.

“Really?” You say, and Pierre smiles.

“Hey, I wouldn’t do it for my other team mates, but I guess you’re special.” He says with a chuckle.

“Well, that genuinely means a lot, really. Thank you.” You say, looking up at Pierre to briefly glance into his eyes.

He smiles at you, not breaking eye contact for a moment, and you feel the warmth of a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“I have to go, I have so much shit to do today, but don’t be a stranger, yeah?” Pierre says, standing from your chair and heading for the door of the apartment.

“I won’t.” You respond, and he winks at you before disappearing behind the door, closing it gently with a click.

Once you were sure he was out of earshot, you grab your phone again and immediately dial your therapist.

Ring. Ring. Ring. The call connects.

“Hey, um, I know this isn’t strictly therapy stuff but I need some advice.” You say, and she chuckles down the phone.

“I’ll help as much as I can.” She responds.

“So, I think I have a crush on my team mate, well, and don’t tell anyone this, he’s technically gonna be my former team mate. But yeah, I need help.” You say, and she laughs again.

“Oh, well that’s interesting. Let’s see how I can help then, yeah?” She says, and you exhale a shaky breath.

———

One Year Later…

You look out at the sea of fans, cheering and screaming for you and your team mate as you walk out onto the stage. You give them a wave, a smile, and a wink, and notice just how many of them are wearing your number on their shirts and caps. It gives you a fuzzy feeling on the inside, knowing that Pierre was right, losing him as your team mate wouldn’t mean you’d lose their support.

If anything, losing Pierre helped you. You did take his advice, and with the help of your trusty therapist, who was no longer your therapist at all but your closest friend, you had managed to come out of your shell more and show the world your true personality. And it felt good.

You take your seat beside Nyck on the stage, and turn your attention to the interviewer, who was waiting for the fans to stop their cheering to ask you the first question.

“Okay, okay, any more cheering and we’re gonna run out of time! Let’s get to questions, hm?” The interviewer asks, and you smile.

“Actually, I don’t mind the cheering! Keep going guys, let me hear you!” You say, your voice dripping with enthusiasm and excitement as the crowd goes wild once again.

“First question then, who are you and what have you done with (y/n)? You were so quiet and reserved these past few seasons, but now you seem to have really grown in confidence, and I’m sure I speak for everyone here when I say that we love it!” She says, and you chuckle.

“Well, it’s true I struggled a lot during my first few seasons. I honestly didn’t feel all too confident in myself and my abilities, and that really made it hard for me to be so outgoing. But, things have changed, and I owe it all to my former team mate Pierre. He’s really helped me to grow as a driver and as a person, and given me confidence that I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to have. Even now we’re not team mates, I’m still his biggest fan and just so grateful for his support. So yeah, I really really owe it to him.” You say, and the audience cheers and whoops at your mention of Pierre.

Since Pierre’s move to Alpine, the two of you hadn’t been able to spend as much time together at work, but that didn’t stop you from spending time together at all. You had both made an agreement with one another to go out together at least once a month, and you had even taken a trip together during the winter break at the end of the previous season. Naturally, this meant that speculation was wild with fans over the nature of your relationship, with some insisting that you just had to be a couple.

But the truth was, you weren’t really sure what your relationship with Pierre even was. Sure, a few drunk kisses had been exchanged, and there were hugs aplenty, but as far as Pierre was concerned, you were just friends, even if you did desire something more.

“You mentioned Pierre there, and I’m sure everyone in the audience has seen the photos of your little dates and that ski trip you took back in December, so, are you really just friends?” The interviewer asks, and you blush.

“Yes, yes, we are just friends, really.” You chuckle.

“But if he asked you out, what would you say?” She asks, and you shake your head, a smile playing on your lips.

“Put it this way, I wouldn’t say no.” You laugh, and the audience erupts into loud cheers at your response.

Once the crowd’s shouts and whoops had quietened, the interviewer directs her attention to Nyck and you sit and listen intently until you are ushered backstage with a smile and a wave.

“You wouldn’t say no, huh?” You hear a familiar voice say, and your cheeks immediately heat up.

“I mean, I’d be a fool to say no right?” You say, trying to play it cool despite the anxiety rising within you.

“Then I’m taking you out Wednesday. Properly. Wear that black dress, you look sexy in it.” Pierre says, and you can’t help but stare at him, your eyes wide and your mouth dropping open in shock.

You try to search your brain for a response, but it seemed to have become completely blank the moment Pierre called you sexy. You can’t quite believe he actually said it, and for a moment you wonder if you were hallucinating, or dreaming, and pinch yourself on your arm. It stings, like a bitch, and you realise you most certainly weren’t dreaming. It was real.

“Okay. See you in practise tomorrow, yeah?” You finally manage to say, and Pierre smirks at you.

“I’ll be looking forward to it.” He says, winking at you before joining Esteban who was waiting in the wings ready to step out on stage.

The pair step on stage to roars and cheers from the fans, and you chuckle in disbelief, taking one more glance out to the sea of hats and shirts that bore your number. You were finally able to be you, unapologetically so, and the fans loved it, Pierre loved it too, but most importantly, you loved it.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

wip wednesday!

thank you for the tag @janaispunk 🖤🖤

step one: post snippets of the fics you're working on (can be a summary if there's no snippet

ok so some of these are really rough and have no titles and I didn't include things like "of rage and ruin" because that's already got a priority order, but here are these:

"I'll take care of you" mini-series

very dark!Din x f!reader

yes, I have a problem, and I'm turning it into a mini-series. no snippet yet, but here's a teaser

You meet the Mandalorian for the first time in an alley. You meet the Mandalorian for the first time in your home. You meet the Mandalorian for the first time in a bunker. You… aren’t sure how you met the Mandalorian, anymore. But you know, now, that no matter how far you get, no matter how much you forget, he’ll always find you.

patrol partner!Joel

ft. switch!Joel but mostly sub!Joel x f!switch!reader

You pull off with a soft pop and look up at him, setting the cool, damp cloth back over his cock. His hips jerked when it made contact, the cool breeze through the window exaggerating the sensation. “How’re you feeling, baby?” you say. “Frustrated, ma’am,” Joel grunts. You smile. “Thank you for being honest. Do you need a break, or do you want a little more?” “More, please,” he says immediately, cheeks flushed. You don’t respond, running your hand across his stomach while you let him squirm from the chill. Not after long, you move it and take him back in your mouth. He gasps and moans, muscles tightening and straining against the ropes. When you shift to warm his balls with your tongue, he whimpers. You take that as a sign to pull back and replace the cold cloth.  “No,” he says, desperate and breathy. He squeezes his eyes tight against the prickling of tears. “Please.” 

soft!Jackson!Joel

Joel grimaces. “Yeah, you’re right. We’ll just have to figure something temporary out.” You stop and put your hands on your hips. “We? What is this we business?” “What’re you gonna do, keep wandering through the woods on your own? I’ll help you.” “Why would you want to do that?” You’re on alert again. “Didn’t you say you had to get back to your brother?” “He’s not goin’ any place. He knows I can handle myself out here. Why, you got somewhere else to go?” His eyebrow raises. It’s really infuriating. He fucking knows you don’t. “Oh, you know. So many places to go, things to do.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure.” “Well, I haven’t even started my taxes this year.” You fix him with a look. Fuckin’ try me, old man.  But Joel just laughs. “You’re right. Finding somewhere safe from Infected is way less important than taxes. My bad.”  “It is. It is your bad, Joel. I could get arrested for tax evasion.”   “Right,” he shakes his head. “You’re more afraid of the IRS.”  “Yeah, we are talkin’ about the American government here. You think the fuckin’ apocalypse is gonna stop them from getting their money?” Never mind that the world ended twenty-two years ago. You know he’s letting you play up the bit because he thinks you’ll let your guard down.  You’re hoping it works in reverse.  “Alright, well, let’s find you somewhere safe to do your taxes.” “Agreed. You’ll go back to your brother and I’ll find the nearest H&R Block.” 

"the art of decay"

(a working title for the sequel to "the art of breaking"; don't hold me to it lol)

“You get wet from that beating earlier?” he asks. You nod, even though he’s already reaching down between your legs and shoving his fingers in your cunt. He brings back his shiny hand and strokes his cock.  “Look at me, baby,” he says, shifting onto his knees so when you open your eyes, you’re faced with his fist pumping away at the red, angry head. “Coulda been you. Shoulda been, but bad girls don’t get what they want.”  You whimper. It really does hurt your feelings, but you know you have nothing to say for yourself.  “Open. Maybe you’ll get lucky, and get some fresh.” You obey immediately, squeezing your eyes back shut as soon as he starts to cum. A little bit lands in your mouth, which you hold open.

step two: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on

no pressure tags: @kewwrites @tightjeansjavi @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @covetyou @toxicanonymity @mountainsandmayhem @alwaysmicado @ozarkthedog

[thetragicallynerdy]

work in progress wednesday - three months post-rescue

“Hijo de puta –“

Jim’s snarled curse has Oluwande running the last few steps onto the deck, his heart suddenly racing. How did he miss an attack, did a ship sneak up to raid them, how –

He sees Jim and stops short. They are fighting. But it’s just Ivan, who’s caught them in a big bear hug as Jim tries to wiggle free. Pete and Lucius are watching, while Roach lounges nearby with Jim’s hat over his face, snoozing in the bright sun. Everything is calm. No one is freaking out.

With a victorious cry Jim elbows Ivan in the gut and wiggles free. They dance back out of reach, laughing at the way Ivan grabs for them.

“Wily little shit,” Ivan pants back, and if it weren’t for the massive grin on his face Oluwande might be worried.  “Your elbows are too fuckin’ pointy.”

“Verified weapons in their own right,” Lucius calls, scribbling something in his book. Or maybe sketching, from the way he keeps eyeing Roach. “Their knees are, too.”

Oluwande’s heart rate starts to slow. He rubs a hand against his chest, willing the tightness away, and stays just out of view.

“I’m coming for you next,” Jim threatens, never taking their eyes off Ivan. They’re settled in that loose, easy stance, and when Ivan lunges forward to swipe at them again they duck out of his way, batting his hand aside. And then it’s a flurry of quick blows between them – none hard enough to do damage. That had been Roach’s rule. ‘Hurt Jim after we just fixed them and I’ll hurt you’. Or something like that.

“Sure you are,” Lucius snorts. “I’ll just cry and you’ll stop. You’re a pushover now, Jimenez.”

Jim turns and starts towards him, voice rising in a curse. Ivan takes the opening, lunging in to wrap Jim in another hold before they can make it more than three steps. Lucius laughs, Jim curses, and the spar turns into a wrestling match.

Oluwande slips onto the deck when Jim’s back is to him, finding a seat beside Lucius and Pete. Somehow Jim is wrapped around Ivan’s neck now, clinging to his shoulders and threatening to cut his head off. There’s no knife in their hand. Ivan is threatening right back, something about a disembowelment.

“Oh, hey.” Lucius smiles at Oluwande as he settles, then goes back to his drawing. Sure enough, it’s Roach, long limbs stretched out and sun dappling on Jim’s hat that covers his face. There’s one of Pete too, mouth open as if arguing, and a few tiny, blurry ones of Jim and Ivan fighting. “Come to watch?”

Oluwande shrugs. “Sure.” When Lucius and Pete both give him a look he sighs, and lowers his voice so Jim won’t hear. “Heard Jim yell. Got worried.” He smiles as Ivan and Jim tumble to the ground. “They seem fine, though.”

Lucius eyes him. “They do. And you?”

He knows what Lucius is asking. It must be so bloody obvious how much he’s worried about them. He feels like a mother hen, sometimes, always hovering. But he’s trying. Neither of them are ready to retire. So they have to figure out a way to live with the risk that this life will always carry.

“Getting there.”

In the middle of the deck Jim and Ivan finally separate. They bump fists, then Ivan sprawls in a patch of shade and accepts the cup Fang hands him. Jim finally notices Oluwande. The way their face brightens sends warmth spreading through every part of him.

Jim wanders over and plops down beside him. Limbs loose, sweat shining on their cheeks and collarbone. They’re starting to gain back the weight that they lost.

“Hey,” they say, grinning and shaking sweaty hair out of their face. “Thought you were going over maps.”

Oluwande stretches out his feet and rests one against their calf, smiling back. “Finished a few minutes ago. Came to see the show.”

“Oh yeah?” Jim curls their hand around his ankle, two fingers and thumb warm against his skin. “Just in time to see Ivan lose?”

“It was a bloody tie!” Ivan protests from across the deck. “We both agreed!”

“Hey, that’s what you said hombre, I never agreed!”

Ivan makes a grumbling noise and gives Jim a rude gesture. “Rematch tomorrow?”

“Sí, sí. I’ll kick your ass, man.”

“Sure you will.”

Jim laughs and turns back to Oluwande. Their face turns sly. The grip on his ankle turns into a caress. “So if you’re done with the maps now… ¿Quieres ir a tener sexo?”

His heart beats a little faster in a good way, this time. Oluwande nods, a foolish grin spreading across his face. “Absolutamente.”

Jim clambers to their feet and holds out a hand for him. “Vamos entonces, guapo.”

“You know we understand enough Spanish now to know when you’re going off to fuck,” Lucius says drily. “You don’t have to hide it.”

Heat rises to Oluwande’s cheeks as he lets Jim pull him to his feet. They’re getting strong again. “Yeah, well, maybe we like to pretend that not everyone knows all of our business, okay?”

“Mhm, sure you do. Have nice sex,” he sing songs. Pete starts laughing beside him.

Jim rolls their eyes and pulls Oluwande towards their cabin. "Idiotas."

The door shuts behind them, and they turn and pull him into a kiss - and he forgets all about the worries of before.

(AN: this is part of a longer WIP that's a follow up to a ficlet in which Jim gets captured by the british and tortured a little. It's a lot of healing and h/c. And will hopefully be done soon!)

[grayintogreen]

WIP WEDNESDAY

I am currently plodding along on Chapters 21&22 of YCDHN while also poking gently at a GotG fic as a palette cleanser. Since it's gonna be two more weeks (at the very least) until I have these chapters finished and can post again, here's a longer scene from Chapter 21, featuring Molly and Lucien again. Because I love them.

Molly decided that as livid as he was, it wasn’t going to prevent him from enjoying the rest of his evening. The other shoe had dropped, but it wasn’t so devastating that he couldn’t just shove fruits in a chocolate fountain, overindulge on plum wine, or sit on the balcony about it. When was the next time he’d be at a fancy party anyway? Not any time soon with their current dance card.

The drinking definitely led him to the balcony sooner than he might have wanted because it went straight to his head even watered down, and turned him from the picture of grace to a dance floor hazard and he took off before any of the Aurora Watch casing the place could escort him away for drunk and disorderly behavior.

He avoided the parlor he had left the Nein and Essek in when he left, choosing a balcony as far away from it as possible and collapsing against the balustrade. His head spun and he had to squint to get all the little lamps shedding light through the Firmaments to coalesce into something that made sense, rather than seeming like an endless sea of stars on the ground. The air was cool and soothed his flushed skin and he leaned a bit further out so a gentle breeze coming in off the Wastes could ruffle his hair.

“Did you mean what you said?”

Molly nearly startled out of his own skin, his tail going rigid, as he whirled around, locking eyes with Lucien, perched on the other side of the balcony, one leg braced against the floor and his back to the wall. He looked shockingly pensive.

“That’s a loaded question to ask a carnie without context, Lucien.” He dragged a hand down his reddened face. Lucien didn’t move beyond drumming his fingers on his bent knee, eyes glued to some point on the horizon.

“What you said to Caleb- about us not needing to be fixed.”

Molly’s shoulders drooped. “So you were listening?” Shocking.

“Wanted to see if you were gonna break it off with him.” Lucien had the audacity to smirk. “Maybe I’ll get a chance to have a go now.”

He exhaled. Once the shock went away, he had almost expected Lucien to carry this conversation beyond petty jabs, and yet here they were. People thought he was the petty one, but clearly they were too distracted by Lucien’s platinum words to tell when he was just elongating an insult or a quip into something educated and pretentious. If they weren’t, they would know that he was the one constantly starting the fights. (Well. Mostly. Perhaps. Whatever. It wasn’t like anyone was keeping score here.) “Right. Lovely. See, I know you’re just being a dick right now, so I’m gonna ignore it and see how long it takes for you to get to the point or give up and lurk somewhere else.”

“Does this look like lurking to you?” Lucien waved his hands. Gods, he actually looked scandalized. Moonweaver’s ribbons. “You’re the one who came out here to sulk and-“

“I meant it,” Molly snapped, suddenly, unable to hold it back. Lucien cut himself off with a click of his teeth pressed together and waited for him to continue. “It’s not ideal, but what is, really? I think if you weren’t in my head now… I’d feel like I was missing something. I don’t want to be one person. I want us to be the best version of ourselves like this. And maybe we can’t do that alone. Maybe we need the tether.”

Lucien shook his head, his tail twitching like a pendulum between the balusters. “Souls aren’t meant to be split like this. We’ll go mad, eventually. Or we’ll just get one another killed. What’s the point, sliver? I want to be me and I don’t want any of…” He waved his hand, indicating all of Molly, “… you fuckin’ with that, but it’s going to end eventually. This won’t work forever.”

“Forever isn’t a set time, Lucien.” Bold of anyone to assume otherwise. Molly had believed that his time was borrowed from the moment he crawled out of the grave. It took dying for him to realize he and the world deserved better than him running from vice to vice and never caring about the consequences, because he could drop dead the next day and none of it would matter. It always mattered. “Forever could be next week or a century from now. I know you don’t hate this arrangement. You’re just scared of losing it and having to adapt to something else.”

“See? This is why I don’t like sharing a soul.” Lucien dragged his tongue along the back of his teeth. “You can’t even keep what you see in here to yourself.”

“It’s just you and me, Lucien.” Molly threw his arms out, indicating the balcony. No one else so much as walked past the open door in the hallway and the crowds around the building cared absolutely nothing for two tieflings enjoying their nightly existential crisis. “Do you really think we need to be fixed?”

He knew the answer already. That Lucien was avoiding it was just proof that he was still childishly clinging to a lot of old beliefs that he wasn’t ready to let go of. Once they were gone, he would never get them back, like an old leather coat that had grown too small but had been so useful and well-loved that it hurt to set it aside. It was as if he believed all the years he spent needing the coat would simply stop existing and it would feel like he wasted years on mending and taking care of something he was just going to grow out of. A sunk cost fallacy down to the marrow of his identity- if I let go, then what does that mean for everything I’ve held onto? If I change, then what was the point of who I was? If I stop hurting now, then I could have stopped any time and I didn’t.

There was only so much a person could do to insist upon change. You couldn’t make it happen. It simply would if it were going to, but maybe not at the speed you would have hoped. Lucien’s growth had been sporadic, prone to backwards steps, but fuck if he wasn’t blooming underneath his layers of scar tissue. There were just still things within him that needed to be bled of the rot once and for all and only Lucien, himself, could hold the scalpel. No one else could. Not even Molly, who hadn’t so much wielded a scalpel this whole time but a hammer.

“No,” he finally said, because Molly could see everything else as clearly as if he’d been monologuing again. He didn’t actually need to put more words to it. “I don’t think we need to be fixed.”

Molly, relieved by this bit of honesty and more than a little proud, stepped closer and tapped the spade of his tail against Lucien’s. The gesture surprised him so much he almost fell off the rail, but he managed to get his other foot down to brace himself. The reaction was almost laughable- somewhere between stunned and offended, eyes wide as saucers in the golden planes of his freckled face. Maybe he’d never known another tiefling well enough to receive any kind of tail-based affection. He was shocked Jester- who had taught him- hadn’t been introducing the concept to Lucien near constantly.

Knowing Jester, she was probably expecting him to be the first, because it made more sense that he and Lucien should get closer, to bond the way family did.

That was a thought. It would have made Molly recoil months ago, but now he invited the concept in like an old friend. You have more family than you know, you fucker. You’re getting there. You and the Tombtakers are healing together. You could heal with us too.

You will heal with us too, not because you don’t have a choice, but because we’re not willing to let you go now that we’ve got you here.

He slipped back inside, knowing better than to talk too much and ruin a good thing (at least at this moment- maybe next time he isn’t so savvy or he pushes his buttons too much for him to not have the last word but that’s next time), leaving Lucien with his stunned reaction to freely given affection and the comforting reassurance that they were on the same page about something at least, even if he wasn’t ready to say more than he had to out loud.

That was fine. Lucien needed to learn to listen more than anything else. If he wasn’t talking too much, then he was definitely paying attention. Keep watching and maybe you’ll learn something about how ridiculous it was to be miserable just because you’ve already devoted so much time to it and you don’t want to give it up. Maybe you can be happy and miserable at the same time. We all do it.

Molly especially knew this, because pain was as much a part of Lucien’s soul as joy was to his own. Neither would survive relying solely on those two things. It had been a long time since Molly had ignored all else solely to chase joy and in that time, he had learned to sit with his pain. He was doing it now, still thinking of Caleb and Essek’s betrayal and letting it hurt even underneath the buzz of the wine.

Lucien, conversely, sat with pain so much that he saw everything as something that would or already had hurt him. Joy was fleeting and sometimes came with knives. He had to stay vigilant and not get distracted. He dismissed good experiences to focus on the bad and that focus needed to shift, because nothing was going to change either experience- that already happened. He needed a lot more joy that didn’t terrify him. He got some of it tonight with Cree if that dance was any indication.

Considering that, Molly turned and walked back to the balcony and grabbed Lucien by his capelet to tug him off the rail, which he responded to by digging his heels in before Molly could haul him forwards. It worked because even with his level of determination, he wasn’t capable of hauling nearly two hundred pounds of dead weight muscle down a hall.

Lucien’s anger at the manhandling was more of an indignant squawk though, so that was something. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“We’re going to go eat fondue and drink and not talk about anyone’s damage or Essek or anything. I’m gonna sit with how shite this night was later and really think on it- probably- but right now you have no reason to be miserable and that fascinates me. I feel like we could do more with that.”

He tugged him again and Lucien stumbled over the threshold into the hall, but didn’t try to yank himself free and head in the opposite direction, at least. Genuine curiosity will always win out in these scenarios.

“Right. Well. I’m not one to waste free food and alcohol when it presents itself.” Lucien’s smile was tight, but it wasn’t like he was holding back a grimace so much as it was like he was holding back a laugh.

That was something anyway.

[the1975attheirverybest]

I wanna go to a show so badly but the camping out side of it just seems wayyyy too stressful for me, my anxiety could never 😭 i understand that it's a part of concert culture, and that some people love the experience, and that's great, I'm glad people can enjoy it, yknow? But a *tiny* part of me wishes camping for shows just...wasn't a thing, would make my chances of ever seeing the boys live a little bigger 😅 also, just to say, sorry if i sound selfish, that wasn't my goal, if any of y'all on this side of tumblr camp, good for you, be safe though :)

No, no. You’re actually being polite about this. I’ll say more because right now I’m fuckin livid.

Because the show is Wednesday. It’s not even tomorrow!!!!! And you have no idea how much this shit is costing me already. To pay a dog sitter, to pay for the commute, etc. take time off work…..like the level of privileged you have to be to ALREADY BE IN LINE RIGHT NOW?!!!! And then when we voice our frustration with it they have the audacity to say “sorry you don’t have work-life balance” “sorry you can’t do it. Seater tickets are an option.”

Like no fuck you and your entitlement. And you know what?? It’s always the same mf group of people who are at barricade at every fuckin show. God forbid they let anyone else get a tiny chance, hun? Fuckin assholes ruining it for the rest of us.

[riot-control-camp]

WIP Wednesday!

finally starting these! tagged by the mutuals (and others) who put "you, the one reading this" in their tag lists /lh thank you i love you all

i have. SO MANY FUCKING WIPS IT'S NOT EVEN FUNNY but the main two i've been working on are as follows!

details under the cut!

1. "Hello My Old Heart"

this is a davey/angel canon-divergence where angel is a wedding planner recruited to assist in the organization of asher and babe's wedding! david did not know about this and he is Not Thrilled that his ex that he parted with under...complicated circumstances is now part of the wedding planning that he can Totally Handle On His Own, Thank You Very Much

Excerpt:

“We haven’t even touched the idea of planning anything yet, because you stubborn shits can’t focus for three fucking seconds,” David points out, smoothing his menu over the booth table. He’s starting to think this is another one of Ash’s half-baked schemes to get him out of the house; they’ve met up to start organizing twice in the past week with no results except a large tab.   “We haven’t done that because you can’t stop lookin’ around like everyone in this bar is planning a flash re-enactment of the Ides of fuckin’ March,” Milo says. “Stop bein’ an idiot.”   “That’s my best man, saving the day from...well, from my other best man,” Asher jokes. “But, I’m serious, buddy. The second we order, Babe’s fancy notebook is coming out to play, alright?”   David growls, because the waiter has come over asking if they’re ready to order at least three different times, only to get waved away without so much as an appetizer to show for it. At this rate, they’ll be here until the bar closes. “Keep lying to yourself, Ash. And you better tip well—we've been hogging the table for an hour and wasting their opportunity to get customers who actually know what they want.”   “We are going to tip excellently,” Asher concedes. “As a group. But until then, drink your drink and try to chill out.”  

2. "Never Love an Anchor" (which should tell you all you need to know about my music taste and how i title things /lh)

this is a magnus archives wip i've had cooking for a long time without a lot of time to dedicate to it, but the conceit is immortal jon and time traveler martin who's been searching for a cure for his mom.

Excerpt:

“You’re back again?” Jon says, like he’s bored of it. It’s one of the worse acts he’s put on, hiding his smile in the folds of his robes instead of keeping it off his face altogether.   “Yes,” says Martin.   “In that case, your books are in the corner, and I’ll get your pallet out from storage--though I expect it’s more mildew than anything else at this point. Still, you’re welcome to it.” Jon points to an unassuming crate in the corner, turned on its side as a bookshelf.   The spines of the books are all dusted. “You didn’t have to do that,” Martin says, flushing helplessly.   “I know,” Jon says as he climbs up to the eaves and pulls the second pallet and its accompanying dust cloud down from its nook.  “It just didn’t seem right to let them rot, and it only took a few moments a day to keep them in working order.”   Martin crosses the room and wraps his arms around Jon’s turned back. “You missed me.”   Jon tenses in surprise, then melts back into him, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder. “Yes,” he admits.  “More than you know.”   Martin nestles his chin on top of Jon’s head, humming contentedly. For a few minutes, they stand there, taking each other in and listening to the rustling of the trees outside.  Martin opens his eyes, not knowing when he closed them and spitting out a tiny bit of Jon’s hair. “So,” he starts a little too knowingly, “are we still pretending that this pallet is actually usable after spending at least a decade up in your attic?”  “I,” Jon says primly, “have no idea what you are implying.” 

that's all folks! sorry for any formatting chaos as i have Not Done This Before (/lh) take care and thanks for reading!

[highspeed-wobble]

1996 Chicago Illinois. I was 18 years old. I now have a 19 year old and a 17 year old that I love dearly. In 1996 I was told by my mom that I need to get a fuckin job. I worked at Old Orchard Mall at American Eagle Outfitters but this was the what are you doing with yourself talk. Trish made it weird some but not without reason. I had to figure a gig out. A career that could provide passage though life. My dad said he’d get me into the elevator union. That sounded fantastic. He built the elevators in Sears Tower and the John Hancock. I’d be honored to get into that line of business. My mom was really fuckin with me though. It wasn’t even June, I told her “Hey, we do well, but we aren’t gonna be to the point where I’m not going to have to work. So give me this summer to hang with my boys. My mom said, yeah I get that so she did. I piloted my 1986 Caprice through countless adventures some how we always had gasoline and beer money. Half way through the summer the Trish came at me hard. She’s all up on the job shit. I’m like Mom, it’s July what the fuck. She’s like “Yeah!! Everyone is going to be looking for a Fuckin job at the end of the summer, and you won’t have one if you wait that long.” She didn’t sugarcoat it, and she wasn’t wrong. So I thought well, I have fun at the mall with my boy Dave but I need a JOB job. If I’m stopping my summer of Metallica, Jagermeister, Cherry Coke, and Mission Impossible I need to make as much cabbage as possible. I need to consult my Uncle Mike. My uncle was absolute gold. He said yeah, I’ll get you at the liquor warehouse at Judge & Dolph in the split isle on 4 ten hour days on 3rd shift. You’ll be able to get booze for cost plus tax you start tomorrow. Oh fuck. Okay. It was awesome. My favorite thing about this job was that I’d get off work in the morning and traffic would be horrendous going into the city so I’d slide by my Uncle Mike and my grandpa for Coffee in the morning. I in that 7 week period got so much knowledge from both of them. My Grandpa Ed Doyle was a former Illinois house representative. Him, my pops, and my Uncle Mike were the pinnacle of Chicago street knowledge. Blue Collar people skills. The art of giving a fuck about your pals. I’d drink coffee I didn’t enjoy because my grandpa made it, and I’d listen to advice I didn’t ask for but I needed it. My uncle would say stuff like “People suck Kev, pay attention to who calls you. When they call you and why. Most people suck at keeping in touch, until they want something. Don’t be that piece of shit. Call your boys, ask about their Moms. Remember shit about their life. This is the stuff no one does. Because people are lazy. Don’t do that, you’re from better stock than that. Take care of your boys. Be a good friend.” Keep in mind I had a Velcro wallet and in that wallet I had a sheet of paper with my “important” phone numbers on it. I had a Mountain Dew Pager so cellphones were still 2 years away from me and my friends. My uncle was right though. My Grandpa Eddie told me, “Everyone thinks our world is black or white, you can’t be more wrong. Everything is just shades of gray. Nothing in life is that easy. You as a man have to pay attention and listen. Navigate the gray. The path will show itself if you’re actually looking and listening.” I had more lessons over coffee with my guys but really both men said the same thing. Life is about listening, life is about love. Caring about eachother and not waiting to talk. Listening in a lost art. Listening is more important than talking. I’m bad at interrupting. I am trying to work on it. I’m constantly trying to be a better listener. I’m still trying to digest the outstanding advice I was lucky enough to get 27 years ago and apply it to my Wednesday. I found in these discussions that if you’re a giver you actually get more if you’re doing it right. Caring is the patch to a rich life. They were and are legendary and I was lucky to have 7 weeks of bad coffee mixed with amazing advice. It helped shape me into the Jagoff I am today. Look after eachother and take care.

[mackenzielovee]

parenthood blurb: a wife's intuition

a/n: this is a little long for a blurb but i hope you guys enjoy it! i'm a little on the fence about it but let me know what you think. happy sunday <333 xoxo

warnings: swearing, crying, depictions of anxiety

ambivalence masterlist , parenthood masterlist

     You collapse on the couch Thursday night alone, which is something you’re wondering if you should get used to. Tuesday night, Wednesday night, and now tonight, Rafe has had to work late, and each night, he shoots you a last minute warning text telling you he can’t make it and he’s sorry. 

This fact, combined with dinner, bath time, and taming both kids into bed has you near tears. Every once in a while is different. Rafe’s picked up your slack plenty of times without the tears, and a part of you feels guilty that you find it so overwhelming when he isn’t present. But three nights in a row of not taking your eyes off of two children who will run away at the drop of a hat, combined with never-ending questions about where Rafe is feels a little unbearable. 

You hear the door to the garage open and force yourself to sit up on the couch, wiping your waterline of any stray tears that may have escaped. You inhale and plaster on a smile, not wanting to make him feel guilty.

He doesn’t even take the time to set down his keys or remove his shoes, but instead, comes rushing into the living room. When he sees you on the couch, he tosses his wallet, keys, and phone into the armchair, then drops to his knees in front of you. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, cupping your cheeks in his hands, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

You shake your head, thankful for the lack of lighting so he can’t examine your face as closely.

“Everything’s under control,” you murmur, even giving him a small smile, “Are you hungry?”

“I’m going to eat,” he says slowly, “But I’ll get it.”

“It’s okay, baby, I’ll get it for you,” you reply, wanting to be the partner for him that he is for you, “Sit down. I bet you’re tired.”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, “You’re the one who must be tired.”

You shake your head and stand while Rafe remains on his knees, moving his head up to look at you. 

“Come tell me about your day.”

Just Rafe’s presence in the house is enough to calm you down. After a mere few minutes, all of your anxiety seems to melt away, and before you know it, his food is in the oven and you’re on his lap in one of the chairs belonging to the kitchen table. 

“We got the preliminary site plans back for the marina, and I don’t know, Dad fuckin’ hated ‘em. He said the way it was laid out was dysfunctional, and gave me all these notes. The client’s up his ass. I sent Maria and Coop home, like, an hour ago so I could concentrate, but all I could think about was you guys.”

You give him a little smile, brushing his hair behind his ear with your fingertips. He leans into the gesture, seeking the comfort it brings.

Maria, a newer employee at the office, is a step below Rafe, but is still consulted on all of the major projects. You’d never met her, but Rafe speaks highly of her work ethic. Cooper, Rafe’s oldest buddy at the office, is also Josie’s office crush. Every time she sees him, she blushes and giggles and wants to hang out with him in his office.

“We’re fine,” you promise him, even though it makes your heart ache, “Let me check on your food.”

“Mmm,” he hums, protesting you getting up without giving him a kiss. 

His expression makes you laugh, and you lean down to kiss him before you can help it. He lets you get up after a minute to check on his dinner, which looks done. You transfer it on a plate and serve it to him with a bottle of water. 

“How were the kiddos?” he asks, thankful that you sit to join him while he eats. 

“They missed you,” you say quietly. 

He nods, “And their mom?”

Your eyes flicker up to him, watching how his expression changes. His lips slowly turn upward, and so do yours. Naturally. 

“She didn’t even notice,” you tease him. 

He laughs, dropping his fork on his plate before he looks over at you with raised eyebrows. 

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you nod, “I mean, it’s really—”

“Is Daddy home?”

Both of you turn to the doorway, finding Josie confidently standing in the middle of the kitchen, while Connor stays back. You smile and usher him in, watching his saucer eyes flicker cautiously between you and Rafe. 

“I’m home, princess,” Rafe says. 

Josie wastes no time crossing the kitchen and crawling up Rafe’s lap, where she eventually settles herself, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Missed you, Daddy,” Josie pouts, “Stop workin’.”

Rafe chuckles, “I’m sorry. Did you drag your brother out of bed?”

Connor stands beside you, his hand on your leg as he waits for Rafe to give him a hug. Josie shrugs from her place on Rafe’s lap while he leans down, embracing Connor. 

“She was in my room,” Connor explains, “She was trying to sleep, but got lonely without you, Dad.”

Your bottom lip juts out as you pull Connor into your lap, hugging him tightly. Rafe presses his lips to Josie’s forehead, looking regretful. 

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” he whispers to her, “Daddy’s sorry, okay?”

“It’s okay,” she replies. He looks over at you, and when he notes your tired eyes, your dropped shoulders, and the way your grip on Connor isn’t as tight as usual, he pushes out his chair and stands, setting Josie on his hip.

“Come on, munchkins,” he announces, “Back to bed. Give Mommy her kisses and tell her thank you for taking care of you.”

Connor turns and looks up at you, giving you his best smile, “Goodnight, Mommy. I love you.”

“I love you, too, handsome,” you reply, giving him a hug and a kiss. 

“Night, Mama,” Josie says. Rafe leans down, letting Josie reach out until you could kiss her on the cheek. 

“Night, honey. Sleep tight.”

Rafe tucks his arm around you and presses a quick, sweet kiss to your temple, then nods his head in the direction of your room. 

“Go,” he whispers, “I’ll be right in.”

     When Rafe comes in about twenty minutes later, you’re already laid down. He smiles and steps over to you, watching as you faintly drag your eyes open to register that it’s him. You smile when you see his figure, but when you move to speak, he hushes you and pulls the blankets up over your body. 

He joins you a few minutes later, after he changes and brushes his teeth, and presses himself right up against you in the bed. His arms wrap around you, his scent fills your nose, and you can physically feel your body relax under his touch.

“This okay?” he asks you quietly. 

“Perfect,” you reply, “I love you.”

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispers, “Get some rest.”

     The next day, Rafe texts you and asks if you and Josie can come by his office and have lunch with him. You decide it’s a good idea, and before you know it, you’re unloading a bag full of takeout food from the Club and a fussy, desperate-to-see-her-dad Josephine. 

“Daddy’s gonna eat all my french fries,” she says, and you can’t tell by her tone whether or not she wants that. 

“I got Daddy his own fries, sweetie,” you promise her, pulling her from her carseat. 

“He says mine taste better,” she remarks.

You laugh, because of course he does, and pick up the food, praying like hell your purse stays in place on your shoulder because you have officially run out of hands to hold it. Once you’re out of the parking lot, you let Josie walk with her hand in yours through the office building. Rafe’s section of the office seems busier than the remainder of the building, and the first thing you see when you walk in is Cooper. 

“Well, hey, Josie girl,” he grins, “Didn’t know you were coming in today.”

Joise draws back, her lips tipping up into a cheeky smile and her posture melting as she takes him in. 

“Hi, Mister Cooper,” she greets, giggling. 

Cooper laughs, “Did you come in to see me?”

“No, my Daddy.”

“Oh, okay,” he nods in understanding, reaching out for a hug from you, “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi, Coop. Is he in his office?”

“Yeah, yeah, should be. And hey, if you get bored, Josie, come see me, okay? I’ve got a basketball hoop in my office.”

Her cheeks flush, “Really?”

You laugh at her cheekiness, at the way she’s totally crushing on him, and Cooper knows it too. 

“Oh, yeah. Anytime you want.”

“What do you say, Jo?” you remind her, watching her purse her lips. 

“Thank you, Mister Cooper,” she grins. 

“No problem,” he smiles in his most charming smile, “You guys enjoy your lunch.”

Josie tucks herself behind your legs as Cooper walks away, giving your arm a friendly pat as he passes. You laugh at her but let her remain there, clutching your leg as the two of you move toward Rafe’s office. You stop in front of his door, just for a moment, to get a better grip on the food and on your child, when a voice sounds through the hustle of the office. 

“Can I help you?”

Only out of pure curiosity do you spin around, being met with a pair of dark brown eyes. You scan down her body before you can help it, at her white blouse and pencil skirt, tan legs and heels that look a little too expensive. 

She draws back at you, too, you notice, eyes widening slightly as she looks at you, then down at Josie, who is still hiding between your legs. 

“Mrs. Cameron,” she breathes, “Oh.”

You swallow and shake your head, trying to put on your best friendly face. You smile, noting silently how her cheeks go pink at the understanding of who you are. 

“Hi,” you say, “Sorry. We’re going in, I was just losing my grip on the food.”

You hold it up as if it’s evidence, to which she just nods. She’s starting to look downright uncomfortable, and for a brief moment, you wonder what she’s doing guarding Rafe’s office the way she is. 

“No, no,” she replies, “I’m the one who should be sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first, but when I saw your face — Rafe has a picture on his desk of you — I mean, Mr. Cameron, um—”

“Hey,” you chuckle, reaching out and patting her forearm as an effort to relax her, “It’s okay, I promise. I’m not offended.”

She nods, but looks like she might throw up, “Okay. Sorry.”

You smile, ready to convince her that it’s all okay and ask for her name, when Rafe’s office door whips open. 

“Daddy!” Josie exclaims, letting go of you completely and reaching for him. 

“Hi, princess,” he greets her, leaning down to pick her up. 

You turn and give him a smile, tangling your hand in his when he grasps onto you, “Hi.”

“Hi, sweetheart, I was wondering where you were,” he smiles, kissing your forehead, “I see you’ve met Maria.”

Maria. Maria with a good work ethic. Maria that he’s spent every night with this week. Maria, whose face is bright red now, as she observes her boss kissing his wife and daughter. Maria, who knows there’s a picture of you on Rafe’s desk, and who has looked at it so many times that she recognized you when you turned to face her.

“Maria,” you smile, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

She gives herself away instantly. She refuses to meet Rafe’s eye, and only gives you quick glances, which is how you figure it all out. Rafe, seemingly oblivious, takes the bag of food from your hand. 

“You get fries?” he asks Josie, “You’ll share, won’t you, baby girl?”

“No,” Josie protests, “Mommy got you your own french fries.”

Rafe turns back into his office, expecting you to follow, “But yours taste so much better!”

Maria clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable under your glance, but you give her a smile anyway. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Maria,” you say. 

When she looks up at you, she can see it in your eyes. You can tell.

“You too, Mrs. Cameron,” she says weakly, then turns to walk back to her desk. 

You spin around and walk into Rafe’s office, closing the door gently behind you. He’s got Josie in his lap and has already unpacked the bag of styrofoam containers, serving her food to her first. 

“Did you mean to get tomato on your burger, baby?” he asks you, knowing you never do, “You can eat mine. Here.”

Your mind is still focused on her, still focused on not imagining them working late, alone, in this office, her in that short skirt, legs on full display, maybe she bends over a bit too far, maybe, just for a moment, Rafe thinks of how her body must look, never having been changed with child bearing —-

“Y/N,” he draws you out of your thoughts, “Sweetheart, sit down. You said we only have an hour.”

You swallow and nod, “Sorry.”

He gives you a hesitant look but hands over his burger and fries, which makes you shake your head. 

“That’s yours,” you object, waving it away. 

“No,” he says gently, “They put tomato on yours, so I’m gonna eat it. You take mine.”

“You didn’t get tomato?” 

He chuckles, stealing one of Josie’s fries, which makes her giggle. You remain standing, staring, wondering why he wouldn’t get tomato if he likes it. 

“No, I haven’t gotten tomato on my burger since we started dating.”

You frown, “Rafe—”

“Sit. Tell me about your morning.”

You’re being ridiculous. That’s what you tell yourself all throughout lunch. It’s Rafe. The same guy who has been in love with you since he was six, the same guy you’d been married to for seven years, the man you know would never jeopardize what you’ve created together. You squirm in your seat every time you can feel his eyes on you, and although you try to play the part, you can’t seem to get your heart all the way into it. 

Josie asks to see Cooper again, to which Rafe dials him on speaker on the office phone and lets Josie talk to him herself. She blushes and giggles when Cooper offers to come scoop her up so they can play basketball with the hoop he hung on the back of his door, eventually accepting the offer with the promise that Cooper will be right over to get her. 

He enters Rafe’s office not two minutes later and asks if he can carry her over, grinning widely when she nods and holds her arms up. Cooper takes her from Rafe’s lap and smiles proudly, then turns to both of you. 

“Obviously, you guys are welcome, too,” he says. 

You glance at Rafe, who shakes his head at you subtly. Normally, you would’ve declined when Rafe wanted to, but with the way he’s looking at you now, you give Cooper a smile. 

“Sure,” you reply, standing from your chair.

Rafe clears his throat but you ignore it. Cooper starts out of Rafe’s office, busying himself with Josie. You hear Rafe stand as you start to follow them, and just when you reach the threshold of the door, right where Maria can see you, Rafe calls to you. 

“Hold it.”

You halt immediately. You can feel Maria’s eyes, but you don’t look at her. You don’t turn around to Rafe, either. Instead, you swallow and remain rooted in your spot, ready to convince him that everything is fine. 

His arm maneuvers its way around your waist and pulls you into him, spinning you around once he can. You give him a gentle smile which he returns, not caring in the slightest about who can see the two of you. 

“What’s up?” he asks you quietly, “You’re distracted.”

You can’t help the way your eyes flicker to Maria’s desk. She averts her gaze immediately, flushing yet again as she scrambles to look busy. 

“Nothing,” you lie, hoping it’s convincing, “I think I’m just a little tired.”

Rafe raises a brow, “You sure?”

You swallow just as Rafe’s office phone starts ringing. He doesn’t even flinch, but you glance over at it and then back to him.

“Shouldn’t you get that?” 

He turns his head halfway, calling over his shoulder, “Maria?”

Your eyes move to her before you can help yourself, and you watch as she quickly stands, banging her knee against her desk at the abrupt movement and wincing. 

“Yes—” she clears her throat, dropping her gaze from you, “Yes, sir, Mr. Cameron?”

“Can you get that line for me?”

She nods, even though Rafe’s focus is still on you, “Yes, sir.”

“Talk to me,” he begs you, dropping his volume. 

You look into his eyes, meeting the desperation, the need to know what’s bothering you, and you smile. You smile because he’s working so hard to find out. You smile because he hasn’t gotten tomato on his burgers since you started dating in case you wanted a bite. You smile because, as he told you last night, he works late with Maria, and all he can think about is coming home to his family. 

This smile is believable, and it visibly relaxes him. His shoulders fall and his grip loosens slightly, like he no longer fears you running from him. 

“I was having a moment,” you mumble, “I’m okay now.”

He leans down to kiss the corner of your mouth, “Promise?”

Nodding, you answer, “I promise.”

“All right,” he gives in, “Why don’t we go see if our daughter’s gonna go pro, okay?”

You laugh, “Okay.”

He grins and takes your hand, leading the way to Cooper’s office without so much as a glance away from you. 

You and Josie leave pretty soon after. Rafe walks you two all the way down to your car, where he promises to be home on time tonight. After you leave, both you and Josie pick up Connor from school and head home, where you work on your laptop in the living room while the kids play together. Connor tries to teach Josie different facts about each of his stuffed dinosaurs, to which she politely states that she doesn’t really care to know that stuff, and instead invites him to play a game with her on the iPad they share. 

The second your laptop closes, Connor rises and walks over to the couch, carrying his favorite dinosaur toy. 

“Snuggles, Mama?” 

You grin, “Come here.”

You pick him up and lay him down on your chest, letting him cuddle in. He moves his head to look up at you, giving you his best dough eyes. 

���You okay?” he asks. 

His question forces a deep breath in, unable to believe that he’s so intuitive at his age. You nod and give him a smile, one that you pray is believable. 

“I’m great, baby,” you promise him.

Josie’s head peaks up over the coffee table and her eyes narrow when she sees the two of you. She stands abruptly and waddles over, glare still prominent. 

“I want snuggles, too,” she pouts. 

“There’s enough room for you, sweetie, come on up,” you smile at her, helping her climb over the couch. 

That’s how Rafe finds the three of you. He gets home about twenty minutes later, and when he catches sight of the view, a part of him wonders why he even bothers leaving for work during the day. 

He dives right in, moving Josie onto his chest and giving Connor a kiss while he asks how his day was at school. You just smile, unable to believe that you’d been insecure for even a moment about your marriage, or your body, or your husband.

     Rafe makes dinner, cleans up, and bathes the kids and puts them to bed, trying to make up for the fact that he hadn’t been home for that process all week. When he descends down the stairs with exhaustion written all over his face, you open your arms to him and laugh when he collapses on the couch beside you. 

“I finally managed to pry my hand from around Little Miss,” he tells you, “She’s got one hell of a grip.”

“She does,” you reply. 

“All right,” Rafe sighs, making himself comfortable, resting his head on your chest and shoving his hands underneath your shirt so he can feel you up, “Why don’t you tell me about your little moment today at my office.”

“Rafe, come on, it doesn’t matter—”

“It matters to me,” he says, his tone harsher than he means, you’re sure, “I don’t like it when something’s bothering you and you won’t tell me what it is. I don’t care if you think it’s stupid. I don’t care if it’s gross or weird or—”

“Maria has a crush on you,” you blurt, feeling him freeze from his place on top of you, “And it made me a little uncomfortable. But only for a minute. I’m fine now.”

He takes his time forming a response, but you note how his fingers begin to stroke the skin on your stomach a little more lightly, more tender, more gentle. You feel his jaw shift back and forth against your breast as he considers your words, and you hear him inhale a sharp breath before he sits up and looks at you, his eyes full of concern. 

“You should’ve told me,” he says, “I would’ve asked her to leave.”

“Leave?” you sit up, staring at him as if he’s lost it. 

“Yeah, leave,” he shrugs, “I don’t want you to ever feel uncomfortable when you come see me at work—”

“Rafe, that’s ridiculous. You couldn’t have asked her to stop doing her job just because I was there.”

“Why not?” he questions you, “I’m her boss.”

“Okay, just hold on,” you sigh, pushing your way out from under him and walking the length of the living room, “It was dumb of me to even be bothered by it. Can you at least admit that?”

“No. I would be bothered if someone you worked with had a crush on you,” he replies. 

“Yeah, but—”

“But, nothing,” he stops you, “Sweetheart, if you express to me that something is making you uncomfortable, I would never just brush you off. You know that.”

“Yes, I do, but this is stupid, Rafe. Maria seems like a sweet girl, and honestly, who can blame her for having a crush on you? I can’t, because I do, too. So, I don’t want you making her leave the office when I come in. I’m not that catty. This is silly to even talk about. I’m just tired. This poor girl has done nothing wrong, and—”

“Y/N,” he practically laughs, “Would you please just come sit down and relax for a second?”

You frown as you walk over to the couch, intending to sit beside him, but no part of you is surprised when he pulls you onto his lap instead. 

“I mean it, you know,” you mumble into his shirt, “I’m just tired, and I felt insecure, and I was thinking every single cliché thought about — well, her. She’s done nothing wrong.”

“I understand,” he says calmly, shifting your hair to the side and bringing his lips down to your neck, “What were your cliché thoughts?”

“Rafe,” you laugh, and so does he. 

“Come on. I want to know what was going on inside your head. You looked like you were one second away from getting sick all over my office.”

“I was not.”

He chuckles, pressing another soft kiss to your neck, “Tell me.”

“You know, all the typical shit,” you shrug, “She’s beautiful, and you guys are working late, and she’d start flirting with you, and—”

“Hmm, I don’t think I want to hear any more, baby,” he says quietly, his voice deeper than it had been, “I’ll handle it.”

You freeze, “What does that mean?”

“It means exactly what you think it does,” he replies, “Because it’s not just a matter of you seeing her when you come in. It’s a matter of me seeing her, too, isn’t it?”

“No—” you stop, shake your head, “Rafe, please don’t fire her—”

“I’m not going to fire her, sweetheart,” he laughs lightly, “I’ll put in a transfer for her. It’s not a big deal.”

You sigh, “This is so—”

“It’s not stupid,” he grunts, “I know that you trust me, and I know that you know me, but I’m not going to let you continue to be uncomfortable with this. Everything is fine. Just relax.”

“I feel ridiculous,” you pout, but cuddle yourself into his chest anyway. 

“You shouldn’t,” he replies, “All you did was tell me the truth.”

“But, you told me how she has a good work ethic, and if you need her or whatever—”

“The only woman I need is you,” he says, a teasing smile forming on his lips, “So, no, I personally don’t give a fuck if she’s in that office or not.”

You purse your lips to hide a smile, “Okay.”

“I’ll hire a really old guy to take her place, how’s that sound? But, if he starts crushing on me, too—”

“Stop,” you groan, burying your head in his neck to hide your embarrassment. 

Rafe laughs, and the sound of it makes you smile. His grip tightens around you, pulling you closer to him.

“Kidding,” he mumbles, “Although, I am still thinking about how you admitted to having a crush on me.”

“Oh, my God,” you laugh, “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” he hums. 

“Of course I have a crush on you, you goon.”

Rafe laughs, loosening his grip when you move to turn around on his lap. He smiles once you’re face to face with him, placing his hands on your waist and squeezing. 

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, “I’ll always pick you. Your happiness, your comfort, your security. I don’t give a shit about the rest of it, it’s all noise to me anyway. Clear?”

“Clear,” you repeat, “I love you, you know.”

“I love you, too. Can I take you to bed now?”

You grin, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Good,” he mutters, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, “It’s been a long fucking week, and I haven’t been paying proper attention to my wife.”

You giggle like a little kid when he stands up, guiding your legs around his waist so he can carry you to your room. You kiss him as he walks, trying to kiss your thanks into him for being so understanding, so compassionate, so yours. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket just before you enter your bedroom, and when you pull it out to check it, you find a text from Maddie. 

Did you talk to him?

Rafe laughs as he looks over your shoulder, “You should totally mess with her.”

“What, like tell her we’re breaking up over it?” your eyes go wide. 

“She’d freak,” he chuckles to himself, “But, no. Don’t speak that into existence. You’re stuck with me. Even Maddie knows it.”

You smile and kiss him again, your heart swelling in your chest at the feeling of being so close to him, so in love with him, and so needed by him.

Tags:

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[mostlybarnes]

It’s My Party, You’re Not Invited [Part Three]

Summary: Bucky did what he had to do, and you’re growing tired of his games.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Angst, drunk!reader (mentioned), smidgen of jealous!bucky, language.

Words: 1,021

Author’s Notes: Well, this starts off with Bucky’s sides of things. We finally learn what the party was really about. I found it a little challenging to interpret his reasoning because as I mentioned in an ask, what he did was kinda inexcusable so I hope it flows well and get ready for some drama and action in part four on Wednesday!

Stand by, I’ll attempt a reblog with more tags!

Bucky had no idea what to do as he stared at the hole in the wall. He thought he could keep this whole situation under control, he was informed you would be on a mission, away from the compound and safe. He wasn’t expecting you to be relaxing in your room on the night of the undercover party. Inviting you would have been impossible because of the risks involved, and for their plans to work they had to invite an enemy from your past and Bucky wasn’t prepared to put you through hell since it took you a very long time to get away from him.

One of your ex boyfriends showed up as planned, shield had kept a close tab on him since he got on their radar for selling dangerous weapons on behalf of Hydra. Tony had made sure he received an invitation to the undercover party where Nat would take over to interrogate him over a couple of drinks. It worked, as the idiot gave her one of the key locations that they could now infiltrate on an upcoming mission.

Your ex boyfriend’s connection to Hydra made Bucky act like your protector. He thought he was doing what was best for you, but he ended up hurting you and he hated lying. He couldn’t help but feel the jealousy and frustration surge through his veins at the thought of you dancing with other guys in a bar somewhere and having a good time. Bucky just stood there, staring into the hole for hours and thinking of the best solution to fix this with his arms folded. He’s made mistakes in the past but this might be one of his biggest ones yet.

But if something was to happen to you tonight, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. The sound of the elevator on the other side of the hallway pulled him from his deep thoughts, but it was the sound of heels clicking against the tiled floor and someone staggering that made him turn in the direction. There you were, holding onto the walls for support as you staggered down the hallway with mascara stains down your cheeks. Bucky panicked, his immediate thought was something bad had happened and he rushed towards you with his hand out. You slapped it away and scoffed.

“Don’ pretend like y’ care now Barnes.” You slurred and staggered around him. Your ankle twisted and you yelped out in pain. You wait for the pending impact of the hard floor but it doesn’t come and instead a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around your waist to hold you steady.

“Just let me help you!” He growled and took you to your room to sit you down on the edge of the bed. “Are you okay?”

You’ve learned to hate that question, and you’re not sure if it’s because it was him asking it or just because you didn’t really know if you were okay or not. Sometimes you felt you had every right to wonder why you were excluded and other times you felt like you were being dramatic.

“S’pose, just tired.” You yawned, laying on the bed and curling up into a ball.

“Get some sleep.” Bucky watched on as you closed your eyes, he waited for your breathing to even out before he kissed your forehead and retreated back to his own room.

The next morning, you felt awful. Your head was aching so bad that it felt like someone had ran over you with their truck. You felt nauseous and not ready to face the day. You drank too much last night at the party, but you wanted to have a good time and forget about everything that had happened. And for many hours, that seemed to work in your favor.

But now you were back to reality, and you were about to face another day of humiliation and walk around with no clear answers as to why Bucky Barnes didn’t invite you to his party. You didn’t know if you could face it, but you had to because you’re not the kind of person to hide away from their problems.

You took your time getting out to bed, not wanting to make your nausea worse by moving too quickly. You grabbed some clean clothes and took a long hot shower, the tension in your muscles were relaxed and for the first time this morning, you sighed. You stayed under the water until your fingers had wrinkled up and grabbed a warm towel to wrap around yourself. It was going to be a long day, you didn’t see much point in rushing yourself.

Your main mission today was to avoid Bucky at all costs and when the afternoon came without running into him, you thought the rest of your day would be the same. You should have known better, you should have known he wouldn’t let you go one day without him making himself known to you.

“I thought you’d be relaxing.” He chuckled, taking a seat opposite you.

You folded your arms over your chest and stared past his shoulder.

“I was,” you emphasized. “Until you showed up.”

“Don’t fight me all the time, Y/N. I did what I had to do to protect you.”

“Protect me? Protect me from what?”

“It’s complicated.” You groaned at his response, and threw your hands in the air.

“I can’t keep doing this.” You sighed, standing up. Bucky blocked your path and you didn’t miss the opportunity to glare at him. The audacity of this man!

“Doing what?” He must be playing dumb, right?

“This! You keep giving me answers to the questions I’m not even asking! Just answer the one question: just tell me why you didn’t invite me!”

“I don’t know why it means so much to you, it was just a fuckin’ party!” He yelled so loud that you flinched. “He’s back, Y/N. He’s working with hydra and he was here the other night… looking for you. I did what I had to do.”

You frowned, “who is back?” Maybe now you’re playing dumb.

“Him.”

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