#in which T is not here for the team jackets

[saucylittlesmile]

.

[bi-writes]

mail order bride meeting 141 for the first time 🙏

mail-order bride

he likes the way this moment sounds. it will end soon, when you both walk out the door, but for now, he sits, and he doesn't want it to end.

it's not just the sound of the television. his favorite football team has finally fucking put one into the corner of the net. the announcers cheer, but this isn't all that he hears.

the cat is in the kitchen. he can't see it, but he hears it (the little fucker). she's pawing at the cat grass that sits above the sink now. when he leans forward, he notices her little nose pushing it around before she takes a bite out of it.

she leaves the basil alone.

and then there's the sound of you. your feet in the bedroom. when you pass by the doorway, he can see you in different states of getting ready. when you pass by this time, he can see your eyeliner is on both eyes now, not just one, and your hair doesn't have clips or pieces to hold it in its style anymore. it lays perfectly now; he did a double-take when he saw it this way for the first time. you're rifling through the closet now. your clothes used to be in their own drawers. separated. socks not touching one another. your half of the closet, and his half. perfectly divided.

he doesn't remember when it happened. he found your bra under his t-shirt today. he was going through the jackets because your dresses were now between them. in the bathroom, he almost stuck your toothbrush in his mouth because they rest side-by-side in the holder.

when he looks around the room, he can't see where you begin, and he cannot see where he ends. he doesn't see where he started.

but he can see where you will go.

you bounce into the living room, holding up two hangers. there's dresses on each of them, one a dark color, the other light, and you hold them in front of simon who's still sitting on the couch, his head in his hand as he concentrates on the game (where he pretends like he hasn't been thinking about you too hard to really focus).

"simon?" you call, and he grunts, looking over at you. "which one do you like?"

he looks over the two dresses before looking at you. he hums, leaning back against the couch. he shrugs before looking back at the telly. you would look like perfection in either of them, but that isn't what you asked, and that isn't the answer you want.

"the darker one. like ya in tha' color."

you smile a little before going back into the bedroom, hanging the other dress back up and laying the other one out on the bed. you rummage through the dresser for proper undergarments, picking a soft lace pair of panties with a matching bra. you slip them on before stepping into the dress.

you reach around for the waist, and when your attempts to grab it are futile, you look over your shoulder towards the door.

"simon?" you call out gently. "could you come here, please?"

there's a shuffle of sound before simon steps into the bedroom. you point to your back, smiling at him shyly.

"c-could you help me? i can't reach the zipper."

he makes his way over to where you stand in front of the mirror. you watch as his eyes roam over your back, as he takes in the sight in front of him. you swallow as he drags a few knuckles down the length of your spine, his eyes flicking up to meet yours in the mirror before he takes the zipper in his hand and pulls it up. when he finishes, he steps a little closer, dipping his head to look at you from over your shoulder. you turn your head to look up at him, smiling.

"everything okay?" you ask softly, and he clicks his tongue, sliding his hand from its place on your back to wrap around your middle. he spreads a big palm over your tummy before dragging you backwards, your backside pressing against his front.

"mmm..." he scrunches his nose a little, running a pink tongue over his teeth. "look fuckin' beautiful."

you giggle, looking away, spreading your palms along your cheeks to try and make it less hot, less warm--fuck, it's so hot, isn't it?

you pull away to go for your shoes, picking them up from the closet. you take a seat on the bed, trying to ignore simon's stare (impossible), and you put the shoes down to slip your feet into them. just as you bend to buckle them, simon tsks, and you sit up as he kneels down in front of you.

"simon, you--"

"shut it," he mutters, reaching down and picking your foot up by the ankle gently. he wraps the strap around it, fastening the buckle, and you open your mouth to say something, but then he bends, giving your knee a soft kiss before reaching for your other foot.

your eyes meet again as he wraps it around your ankle. he smirks, just enough, and your lip wobbles a little as he fastens the next shoe before setting it back down on the floor. he puts his hands on his knee to get up, standing to his full height, and your neck strains as you try and look up at him.

at times, you feel at odds. he anticipates your needs before you even know what they are yourself. he pushes your meals in front of you just as you realize you're hungry. he helps you to the top shelf whenever you need it, picking you up from your waist without even a grunt. he feeds the cat when she cries, he wipes the tears from your face just as they fall.

you want to be more. you want to be his wife. your life is leisure and warmth, you are cared for like a fine porcelain doll, but what are you to him? what do you do for him? what is it that you bring, why are you here, why did he ever even want you if he provides and all you do is take, take, take?

the pub is alive. the lights flicker and glow a warm orange, and there's many crowds around tables, cheering and laughing and clinking pints together. you swallow as you look around; a crowded place with lots of unfamiliar faces. you freeze at the door, blinking, trying to take it all in. just as you stiffen, there's a presence right at your back.

an arm circles around your middle protectively. simon's warm hand rests at the curve of your waist, and you look up at him. he stares down at you knowingly. he's wearing his mask, obscuring his entire face except for his eyes, but you've learned to read him all the same. his hood darkens the shadows over him, but you see what he's telling you easily.

'm right 'ere.

simon moves you in front of him, walking just behind you, and he leans over to murmur in your ear as he guides you forward.

"in the corner, luv."

you barely have time to register that your husband just called you love when you see an enthusiastic wave meant for you out of the corner of your eye.

simon showed you their pictures, but the grainy selfies from his phone don't do them any justice. kyle has a pearly smile and round cheeks (troublemaker, he could get away with anything with those eyes). johnny has an infectious grin and wild curls that fall in a line down his head (a wild card, he's got eyes that you can't read and a leg bouncing from his terrible inability to sit still). and then there's john, hidden under a beanie and a rough smile (all business, all thought, because even out here, he can't stop his mind from wandering back to the papers on his desk and the cries for help he can't ignore).

johnny's smile drops a little when you come near. he eyes the hand that simon has on you, the proximity of your bodies. he raises a brow when you hold out your hand to shake, gawking when he eyes your other hand, the ring that sparkles there.

"ach, LT..." johnny swallows hard. "is this...is she--?"

simon clears his throat. "this is my wife."

"steamin' jesus," johnny breathes, leaning back in the booth. he picks up his drink and knocks back the entire thing, choking a little as he looks between the two of you. "what the fawk?!"

you blink, stepping back, and simon takes a seat beside john, shaking his head.

"fuckin' hell, johnny. behave," simon mutters. "'s not--"

"ye said y'were showin' us yer new lass," johnny quips. "not yer wife!"

you look at simon, laughing a little.

"simon, you didn't tell them you were married?"

"tha' was need t'know," simon mutters, rolling his eyes. you giggle, looking around for somewhere to sit. simon doesn't give you much time to choose--you let out a shaky breath as he picks you up from your hips, sliding you up and onto his thigh. he spreads his legs a little to accommodate you, but he's such a big man.

simon holds one hand at your back, and the other lays flat against the table. it's easy, falling into conversation with them. they don't talk about work. they're infatuated with their lieutenant and his surprise wife. they ask if he owns pajamas. they ask if he takes the mask off to sleep. they ask if simon whittles, if he listens to music, if there's a snack that puts him in a good mood (jaffa cakes, you tell johnny, who cackles with delight).

when simon gets up to have a smoke, you're surprised. simon never leaves you alone in a public place, ever. he's always at your back, even at the grocery store. he likes to take you aisle by aisle, and he doesn't care if it makes the trip longer, because he doesn't like to have you out of his sight for very long.

he gives you that look, one that you can read. you're safe with these men.

you agree. they bring simon home, every single time.

"awwww, no' gonna give yer lass a smooch, LT?" johnny winks. "'s alright, we don't care. won't think ye a big softie cuz o' it."

simon rolls his eyes, pocketing his cigarettes as he stands by the table. he dips his fingers into johnny's pint and flicks him with it before leaning over and kissing you lightly through the mask, a chaste kiss that already leaves you reeling.

you blink, caught off guard, and you blink up at simon so slowly, a syrupy smile falling over your face.

"LT, that wasnae a real one," johnny rolls his eyes. "wut, are ye scared of us?"

"shut your fuckin' mouth, sergeant, i'll make y'do laps tomorrow."

"big baby."

you watch simon take the back door, letting it swing shut behind him. you excuse yourself, following after him, pushing the door open and blinking to adjust to the dark light of the alleyway.

there's stars out. they sparkle, and you pause to stare up at them for just a moment before making your way to where simon leans against a brick wall.

it all reminds you that you're just small. not small, but smaller than simon, and compared to what stares at you across a violet sky, you are nothing but specks in time. you're drifters, composites of organic matter that somehow, for some reason, exist at the same time.

simon's eyes find your own in the dark. it's hard to see; the only light nearby flickers, and it's hard to focus, but you can see his eyes clearly, magnetized even when the rest of him seems so obscure, hiding from your view.

your smile is clear, too. the watery lines of your eyes, they glow, and when you come near, you and simon are in your own bubble, a pocket of the universe that cannot be explained. he has found you, and you have found him, and even when the night sky tries so hard to hide the things you know are there, it isn't strong enough to take away what exists in the in-between.

you slide your fingers under the hem of his mask. this kind of thing is practiced. the same thing you do when he comes home every day. the only acts of service he ever allows, the only things he ever lets you do.

you ask yourself always what it is that you provide. what it is that he sees in you that you can't seem to see in yourself.

maybe it's this. maybe it's the grounding. the gravity he never used to feel, the orbit he could never quite get himself to maintain, the taut line of connection that's been severed ever since the only people he's ever loved were ripped right out from underneath his ribs.

he puts his hands over yours when the mask is over his nose. his palms over the backs of your hands, warm skin over soft, something broken over something seeking.

"you don't want this," simon whispers, and you frown a little, shaking your head.

"how...how can you say that?"

"i'm not..." he flinches a little. "not made for this. 's not wha' y'think."

you're eyes water. you aren't sad. you're upset.

"y-you have no idea," you whisper. "i know what i want. you can always tell when i'm lying, am i lying now?"

"'s not--"

"simon," you stop him. "look at me," you sniffle, and he closes his eyes, squeezes them shut, before finding your gaze again. it's frightening, what he sees. he sees nothing that he expects. no deception. no fear. the honesty, it terrifies him. the reality of accepting what he can't understand hurts inside. it trickles deep, down to his toes, along his spine, a curdling in his stomach that he can't believe because there's no way that someone can love me when i can't fucking love myself. "am i lying now?"

"no," he breathes, and your smile is sickly sweet. he doesn't understand. he doesn't get it. nothing in his life has ever been this easy. nothing in his life has ever been just for him, all for him, just his, and no one else's. there has never been a piece of life that has ever pitied him enough to let him have it exactly as it is, and yet here she is, my perfect girl, arriving on my doorstep.

like you dropped straight from heaven. angels with soft hands and a timid face and a shadow with soft fur and big eyes and terrible little temper.

simon's hand is an anchor on the back of your head. tilting you to the side, drawing you near, until you are on your toes, and your face is canted up.

you kiss in the dark. your mouth slots over his, hands gripping the front of his jacket as you try and get even closer to him. he's a little shy at first, letting you lead while he follows, but it only takes a few seconds for you to feel his hand stiffen against your head as he kisses you feverishly.

you smile between kisses. he smiles, too. you giggle, and he huffs, and he chases you with more kisses as you cradle his face between your hands and whisper between soft presses, i'm sorry and i know and it's all i've ever wanted.

when you pull away, he doesn't let you go. he presses your forehead to his, connecting you somehow, breathing in the warmth that you radiate to try and calm the pulsing of his blood that rushes in his ears.

when your eyes open again, and you look at each other, everything is suddenly clearer. whatever he saw before, everything must have been in black and white.

he sees in color. the stars align. they fall, one by one, sparkling as they form a pattern, one undiscovered by anyone before him, one he will keep all to himself in the time that follows. when he kisses you again, he memorizes that pattern.

he knows it will always lead right back to you.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Arms Race

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: Peter picks up on the fact that you have a thing for his arms

Masterlist

“Which one of you blooming onions wants to arm wrestle a god and lose?” Thor asked as he cracked his knuckles before slamming his elbow down on the table. Everyone rolled their eyes with affection while and you Peter continued your game of cards.

“Oh come on. No one’s up for the challenge?” Thor asked and flexed his arm.

Peter noticed you flick your eyes up for just a second at Thors arms before smiling shyly to yourself. This sent an unexpected wave of jealousy down to Peters stomach. He knew nobody on the team was as big or as strong as Thor but seeing you look at him like that made Peter feel like he might have some competition for your attention. He knew it was probably silly to even think about, but part of him was worried Thor would win you over before Peter had a chance to tell you how he felt. Before he knew was he was doing, he was putting his hand of cards down.

“I’ll give it a go.” Peter said and went over to Thor.

“Really? You want to compete, spider boy?” Thor smirked and out his elbow back down on the table.

“Why not? You know, some spiders can lift up to 170 times their weight. And if you calibrate that for a human in accordance to my height and weight, I can lift up to 25,000 pounds. So I’m not as weak as I look.” Peter explained as he rolled up his sleeves.

“Kids right. I’ve seen him catch a bus.” Steve backed Peter up.

“Well I’ve seen him kick Buckys ass.” Sam added with a smirk.

“Shut up. I was having an off day.” Bucky grumbled.

“Have you ever had an on day?” Sam snorted.

“He was definitely on the night he killed my parents.” Tony said casually. Everyone fell into uncomfortable silence as Tony waited for someone to laugh at his joke.

“Anyways.” You said to break the silence. “Peters stronger than you guys give him credit for. I’d love to see him take on Thor.”

Peter smiled proudly to hear you back him up and gave Thor a look that said it was up to him.

“All right. Come here and grab the hand of the mighty Thor.” Thor said and held his hand out.

“Does he always talk like that?” Shang Chi whispered to Steve.

“It’s slowly been getting worse.” Steve whispered back.

Now that Peter knew he had your attention, he wasn’t gonna waste it. He rolled his sleeves back down and unzipped his sweatshirt.

“Oooo. Jackets coming off.” Tony clapped his hands. Underneath Peters sweatshirt was a flannel shirt, making Tony stop clapping.

“To reveal a slightly lighter jacket.” Tony continued. Peter then unbuttoned his flannel and threw it at you to catch. You caught it and held it to your chest as your face heated up.

“Ohhh. Now we’re talking.” Tony clapped his hands again now that Peter was just in a tight white T-shirt. You gulped at the sight of his arms, something you knew you’d never get used to no matter how many times you saw them. You watched with a hand over your mouth as Peter and Thor wrapped their opposite hands around each others and glared into each others eyes.

“You’re going down.” Peter warned.

“The only time I go down is on a-“ Thor was cut off by the sound of his hand hitting the table. Everyone was stunned to silence as they watched Peter win with ease. You raised your eyebrows in surprised and made eye contact with Peter, who winked at you.

“No fair. I wasn’t ready.” Thor scoffed.

“All right. Then let’s go again.” Peter shrugged and held his hand up again. They started to arm wrestle and it lasted longer this time as Thor was determined not to be shown up. Peter started to overpower Thor and was just about to win when Thor sent an electric wave through Peters body. Peters body went limp long enough for Thor to pin his hand and win.

As you watched this all unfold, you were sitting on the edge of your seat, jaw dropped and eyed glued to Peters bicep. Sam was the first to noticed your face and chuckled as he got the others attention to look at you. Once Thor won, you looked visibly disappointed that the gun show was over.

“As a surprise to no one, you lost.” Thor chuckled. “But you put up a good fight, my boy.”

“You too. Damn. What’s that smell?” Peter asked as he shook out his throbbing hand.

“Your burning flesh.” Thor said with a smile. “Anyone else want a go?”

“I think Y/n wants a turn.” Sam snickered, and everyone murmured in agreement.

“Oh yeah? You dare to wrestle the arm of a god, lady Y/n?” Thor asked and flexed his arm again.

“No, but she definitely wants to wrestle with Peter.” Sam said, making you finally tear your eyes away from Peters arms.

“Huh?” You and Peter asked at the same time.

“Yeah. I saw that too. She wants to wrestle Peter all right.” Tony added with a devious smile.

“Not an arm wrestle either.” Natasha added.

“Nope.” Sam agreed. “She wants to do the sweaty kind of wrestling.”

“Isn’t all wrestling the sweaty kind of wrestling?” Peter asked, still not sure what everyone was saying.

“Wow Y/n. I hope you’re proud of yourself for thinking such dirty thoughts about such an innocent boy.” Tony pretended to be offended as he wrapped an arm around Peters shoulders.

“What? I wasn’t.” You laughed nervously.

“What are you guys talking about?” Peter asked.

“We’re talking about how Y/n was just staring at your arms the way Bucky stares at spinach and artichoke dip.” Natasha said simply.

“Fucking love spinach and artichoke dip.” Bucky deadpanned.

“I was not staring at Peters arms.” You insisted and everyone rolled their eyes at you.

“Yes you were. The second that flannel came off, you were drooling.” Sam shrugged.

“It’s true. I saw drool.” Steve agree.

“You guys don’t know what you’re talking about. I was not drooling.” You scoffed and wiped the remaining drool off your chin.

“Then why is there drool on the floor?” Steve asked and pointed to the floor where you had been sitting. Sure enough, there was a little puddle of drool on the ground.

“That’s pee.” You scoffed, instantly regretting it.

“You peed?” Sam asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“I did pee, yes.” You nodded reluctantly.

“On the floor?”

“Uh, yep. On the floor.” You confirmed and wished you had come up with a better lie.

“Let me get this straight. You’d rather let us believe you peed on the floor than admit you were staring at Peters arms?” Steve asked you.

“I guess so, yeah.” You sighed, disappointed in yourself.

“Well alright then.”

“I’m gotta go.” You said and quickly left the room. Peter stared at you as you went, wondering how much of what they had been saying was true. If you really were into his arms, it might be his way to finally get your relationship to the next level.

You ran into Peter an hour later in the kitchen and wanted to run and hide but he had already spotted you. You gave him an embarrassed smile and went over to him.

“Sorry about before. Sam and Bucky are so annoying sometimes.” You said with a roll of your eyes.

“Trust me, I know. They’re always teasing me about something or another. I’ve learned to tune it out.”

“I’ll have to try that.” You smiled softly at him, glad he wasn’t making things weird. Peter returned the smile and you felt the always tension melt away. It didn’t hurt that his arms were covered up again so you could actually talk to him without making a fool of yourself.

“By the way, you totally would’ve won if Thor didn’t cheat.” You told him.

“I don’t know. I’m strong but he’s a God.”

“Yeah, well, you’re like a mini god. The spider god.” You said with a teasing smile.

“So a god that no one but Wilbur would worship?” Peter humored you.

“Who’s Wilbur?”

“From Charlottes Web. Duh.” Peter scoffed.

“Oh. Right.” You playfully rolled your eyes but felt relieved you could move past the arm incident. Just then, Peter rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the sink, giving you a view of his veins and-

“Forearms.” You whispered to yourself as you started to drool again.

“Did you say something?” Peter asked as he turned the water off.

“Hm? Oh, no. I didn’t say anything.” You quickly lied and wiped your bottom lip.

“Oh. Okay.” Peter chuckled and pushed his sleeves down. Peter noticed the way your eyes stayed glued to his arms and he started to wonder if there was any truth to what the team was saying before. He decided to test his theory and see if you really did like his arms.

“You know what I was just thinking about? You and I never got to arm wrestle.”

“You want to?” You raised your eyebrows.

“Only if you’re up for it.” Peter shrugged.

“Okay.” You said immediately and shoved everything off the kitchen table. Peter chuckled and sat across from you before taking off his flannel.

“You ready?” He asked and held out his hand.

“Uh huh.” You sighed dreamily and slipped your hand into his. You were so focused on his arms that you forgot you were arm wrestling.

“Come on. You didn’t even try.” Peter laughed once he pinned your hand to the table.

“Hubbity bubbity.” You mumbled as you stared at his bicep.

“What was that?”

“Humina humina humina.” You whispered.

“Are you using real words?” Peter chuckled. You snapped out of your trance and quickly stood up.

“I have to go.” You said and ran out of the kitchen. Peter smiled proudly to himself and looked down to flex his muscles. Now that he knew you had a thing for his arms, he decided to have a little fun with it.

A few days later, you were getting ready for one of Tony’s famous parties and decided to wear heels. You walked out of your room to meet up with Peter and found yourself tripping on every crease in the carpet. You knocked on his door and he soon opened up wearing a tight button down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. You froze when you caught sight of his arms and quickly looked away before you lost focus.

“You look nice. You ready?” You asked him.

“Yep. Let’s go.” Peter put his hand on your back and started to lead you downstairs to the party.

“Jesus Christ. I’m gonna break a leg before we even get there.” You said as you tripped on the carpet once again.

“Here. Take my arm for support.” Peter offered and presented his arm.

“Take…your…arm?” You asked slowly as you stared at his arms.

“Why did you say it like that?” Peter chuckled but knew exactly why.

“No reason. Thanks.” You smiled and slipped a hand around Peters bicep to steady yourself. Even once you were downstairs at the party and didn’t need to hold onto Peter anymore, you didn’t let go of his arm. Peter smiled to himself and patted your hand, hoping you weren’t letting go anytime soon.

A couple days went by without any opportunities for Peter show off his arms in front of you. But when you padded into the kitchen while everyone else was watching a movie, he came up with something.

“Hey kiddo. We were just gonna watch a movie. Care or join us?” Tony asked from the couch.

“Sure.” You smiled and took a seat next to Peter. Peter looked over at you before clearing his throat to get your attention.

“Wanna share my blanket?” Peter offered and opened his blanket up.

“Thanks.” You smiled shyly and scooted closer to him so he could cover you with the blanket. He noticed you sitting up perfectly straight and nudged you a little.

“You can lean on me. I don’t mind.” He whispered to you.

“Are you sure?” You whispered back.

“Yeah. Go ahead.” He shrugged. As soon as you had his permission, you rested your face on his bicep and nuzzled against it.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked with a teasing smile.

“Extremely.” You sighed happily.

Riding off the high of the night before, Peter hit the training room for an early morning workout and sent you a text shortly after to inconspicuously lure you into the room.

“Do you know where Peter is? He texted me and asked for a bottle of water.” You asked Shang Chi as you grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator.

“I saw him in the training room a couple minutes ago.” He told you.

“K. Thanks.” You rolled the water bottle around in your hands and went to go find Peter.

“Hey, Pete. I brought your…” You trailed off and dropped the water bottle when you walked into the training room to see Peter shirtless, sweating, and doing pull-ups.

“Oh hey. Come on in.” He smiled at you without stopping his pull-ups.

“Heyyyyyyy Pete.” You smiled weakly and leaned against the door frame.

“-er. Peter.” You finished his name. “What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just working out. It’s arms day.” He told you as he continued to pull himself up and down. Your eyes followed him as he pulled himself up and lowered himself back back.

“Is it?” You squeaked out.

“Yeah. I’m trying to grow my arms to look more like Thors.”

“Uh huh. That’s nice.” You nodded too many times without ever taking your eyes off his arms. Peter let go of the pull up bar and dropped to the floor so he could walk closer to you.

“I’ve been trying to gain muscle for a while now but I don’t think it’s working. Does it look like it’s working?” Peter asked as he flexed his arms for you to see. Your body stiffened and you felt your mouth starting to salivate.

“Oh this is definitely working.” You said in a low voice.

“What?” Peter played dumb.

“What?” You said and finally tore your eyes away from his arms long enough to look into his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Peter asked innocently as he folded his arms, drawing more attention to them.

“Everything’s great. I gotta go. Thanks for the water.” You said and turned to leave.

“You’re the one who brought me water. And what’s the rush? I haven’t seen you all day. Come here.” Peter laughed as he caught your arm.

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t want to hug me. I’m riddled with…riddles.” You struggled to come up with a lie and took a step away from him.

“Come on. Bring it in.” Peter said and opened his arms to you.

“If you insist.” You immediately folded and rushed into his arms. As soon as you felt his arms wrap around you, your knees felt weak and your heart beat out of your chest.

“Never let me go.” You sighed against his chest.

“What was that?”

“I said how did training go?” You quickly lied and pulled out of the hug.

“Pretty good. Soon enough, I’ll be able to beat Thor at our next arm wrestling match. But I’m definitely gaining strength. Watch this.” Peter smirked before picking up the water bottle before putting it between his bicep and squeezing it until the cap popped off. You jumped when the cap flew off and let out a little whimper.

“Cool huh?” Peter asked you.

“God I wish that was me.” You whispered.

“Did you say something?”

“No. I didn’t.”

“Oh, okay. I think my biceps are definitely getting bigger. What do you think?” He asked and turned slightly so you could feel his bicep. Your eyes flickered between his arm and his face several times to see if he was serious.

“You want me to touch it?”

“Yeah. Just to see if it’s gotten bigger or firmer.”

“Okay. Let me see.” You smiled weakly and put a hand on his bicep. You felt like the biggest cliche in the entire world but you didn’t care. You knew if you left your hand there for any longer you’d never be able to take it off.

“Feels good.” You said lowly. “Feels big and…firm.”

“Really?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Like a perfectly pumped up bicycle tire.” You whispered as shivered went down your spine.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” You said and quickly withdrew your hand.

“Oh, weird. I thought I heard something. Anyway, I’m hoping to get them even bigger.” Peter said and flexed his arm again.

“Uh huh. Good plan. Gotta go. Bye!” You said and quickly ran out of the room.

“Oh. Okay. Bye!” Peter called after you.

You made it outside the training room but didn’t walk away. Instead. You took out your phone, pressured record, and slowly leaned into the doorway to film Peters workout.

“This is normal behavior.” You whispered to yourself as you watched him do push-ups through the recording.

“You’ve entered your Joe Goldberg era I see.” Shang Chi said from behind you, making you jump.

“Ah! What? I don’t even know who that is.” You said and quickly hide your phone.

“You haven’t seen You?”

“I looked in the mirror like ten minutes ago. Why? Do I have lipstick in my teeth?” You asked and rubbed your teeth.

“Not you you. The show You. It’s about a dude who stalks women and then kills them. But he’s also very likable and charming and I often root for him even though if he was real he’d probably hit me over the head with a rock and burry me behind a Starbucks.” Shang Chi explained.

“Huh?”

“Do I have to worry about you killing Peter?” He asked you with genuine concern.

“No. I’m just a normal teenage girl with a normal teenage crush.” You said simply.

“Aren’t you in your 20s?” He frowned.

“I have to go.” You said quickly and ran to your bedroom. You shut your door and sighed before pulling out your phone. You watched the video you had taken of Peter and grimaced.

“This was not very cool and mysterious romantic interest of me.” You sighed and deleted the video.

“Y/n? Can I come in?” Peter asked as he knocked on your door. You panicked as he started to open the door and stayed behind it instead of moving out of the way.

“Are you in here?” Peter called out, making you slid out from behind the door.

“Hey.” You said with an awkward smile.

“Hey. What were you doing back there?” Peter chuckled and shut your bedroom door. He had a shirt on this time, but it was a skin tight grey tank top that left little to the imagination.

“It’s a girl thing.” You said with a wave of your hand.

“Oh, okay.” He smiled. “Do you think we could talk about something?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“I feel like things have been a little….weird between us lately. Maybe not weird, but different? Have you felt that too?”

“Yeah. I know what you’re talking about. And I know what it is. It’s my fault.” You sighed and sat on your bed.

“What’s going on?” Peter asked and took a seat beside you. You picked at your nail polish to avoid making eye contact but were extremely aware of his arms brushing against yours.

“Ever since the arm wrestling match, I have made a personal self discover.” You said without looking at him.

“Which is?”

“That I wanna chew on your arms.”

“Come again?” Peter asked and leaned his ear towards you.

“Ugh. I’m such a freak.” You groaned and covered your face with your hands. “I have no right to objectify you like this. I just didn’t realize you were packing so much ammunition in your guns.”

“So this has been about my arms the whole time?” Peter played dumb.

“Yeah. I can’t stop staring at them no matter how hard I try. They’re like the most perfect pair of avocados. I just want to slice them open and eat the insides with a spoon.”

“You had me and then you lost me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m such a weirdo. I shouldn’t have been looking at you like that.” You said with a guilty frown. Peter felt bad for toying with you all this time and let out a sigh.

“It’s not your fault. I kinda figured you had a thing for my arms so I’ve been purposefully showing them off.” He admitted.

“You have? Why?”

“To get you to notice me.” He said without looking into your eyes.

“I always notice you.” You chuckled like it was obvious.

“You do?” He asked as a blushed spread across his face. You looked at Peter for a second before getting an idea.

“Do you want a rematch of our arm wrestle?” You asked and placed a pillow on your lap so you could balance your elbow on it.

“Now? I guess so.” Peter frowned in confusion but took your hand with his opposite one.

“You ready?”

“Ready.” Peter nodded. You started to press against each other hands and once Peter was fully distracted, you leaned across your hands and kissed him. Peters arm went limp as he kissed you back and brought his free hand to cup your face. When you pulled away, you pressed your forehead against his as you both laughed shyly.

“Hey. I won.” You realized once you saw your hand was on top of Peters pinned hand.

“Nah.” He smiled. “I did.”

Tag List 🏷️

@awesomebooklover17 @thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling @serendipitous-amor @tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings @ultrunning @imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@letsloveimagines @peterparkoure @a-villain-vying-for-attention @justcallmehitgirl

@jackiehollanderr @maryjanee23 @geeksareunique @emmamarshmellow

@unbelievableholland @flixndchill @sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever

@undiadeestos @caelestii-e @eridanuswave​ ​ @fiantomartell @solarxmoonchild

@canyouevencauseicant @illwritetomorrow @thehappygrungelife @saysomethingspiderman

@smilexcaptainx @quaksonhehe @kelieah @seasidecrowbar @lovelessdagger

@electraheart-3174 @unbelievableholland @yourtypicalhotmess @horanxholland

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @heyheycharlatte @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona @alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom @xo-spidey

[norrisluv]

EURO FINAL - LANDO NORRIS

summary: you go to the euro final with your boyfriend

warnings: fluff and smut

Lando and I were arriving at the Olympiastadion in Berlin for the final of Euro 2024. Lando was obviously cheering for England, the country where he was born and raised, while I was cheering for Spain, my second home.

“Our seats are 12 and 13” I nod and start looking for our seats. I walk down a few rows and finally find the two unoccupied seats.

“Lan, over here. Got it” Lando walks over to me and we sit down in our seats. We watch the players train until they finally go inside to prepare for the game.

“If England win, you sleep on the sofa.” Lando looks at me with confusion and arched eyebrows.

“Why? I'm not the one playing for England to win” I shake my shoulders and look to the front where some people are starting to dance

“But you're going to sleep on the sofa anyway” He lets out a low laugh and looks ahead like me, watching the show until the players from both teams start to enter the field. We started clapping and then stood up for the anthems. For the next 45 minutes, we watched the game with a few shouts and sighs until half-time, when it was still 0:0.

“I'm going to the bar to get something to drink, do you want anything?” I hear Lando's voice as I watch the players leave for the changing rooms.

“Hm, yes. A pineapple juice please. Do you want me to go with you?” He shakes his head negatively and leaves a quick peck on my lips.

“No need beautiful, I'll be right back with your drink” Lando goes to the bar while I stay on my cell phone. Two girls come up to me and ask for some photos and I smile and accept. Lando arrives and sits down next to me, sipping his drink.

“Am I really going to have to sleep on the sofa if Spain lose?” A smile grew on my face as I sipped my juice

“I don't know, I'll think about it. Pierre had to sleep on the sofa when France eliminated Portugal.” Lando's eyes widen and he looks at me. He stays silent for a few seconds and then looks at me again.

“Really?” I nod and take another sip of my drink, even though I don't know if it's true or not, I decide to say it.

“ Really.” The second half begins and in the first few minutes, Spain scores a goal, causing me to get up from my chair and Lando to let out a sigh.

“AH, Spain is winning” He looks at me with his face closed and his jaw clenched.

“Yes, I saw it” I sit back in my chair and smile until England score a goal a few minutes later. I roll my eyes as Lando celebrates the goal. He sits back in the chair next to me and puts his hand on my leg as I cross my arms over my chest

“It's the same now” He smiles and I continue with my face closed and my arms against my chest.

“I don't like you” He lets out a laugh and squeezes my leg.

“I love you too” The game continues and Spain score a goal in the last minutes of the game. When the referee blows the final whistle, I jump out of my chair, shouting happily. Lando, even though his team has lost, looks at me with a smile on his face.

“What?” I ask as he continues to smile at me

“I don't care if my country lost, I like to see you happy.” I let out a laugh and kiss Lando on the cheek.

“You're going to sleep on the sofa anyway,” he rolls his eyes and my smile grows. After the celebrations and me making Lando stay in the stadium to watch the players lift the cup, we get in the car to go to the hotel.

When we get to our hotel room, I quickly take off the jacket Lando lent me and put it on the back of the chair.

“Do you want to take a shower?” he asks as he approaches me, making me feel his warm breath on my ear and his hands on my hips, which makes me smile. I turn to Lando and wrap my arms around his neck

“Not now. I want to do something first” Lando smiles and gently removes my Spain T-shirt. He throws the fabric on the floor and pushes me lightly onto the bed, then gets on top of me and carefully runs his hands over my body.

“What do you want to do, baby?” Lando smirks and unzips my pants, while I take my hands in his, pulling his boxers and jeans down to his knees.

“I want you,” I whisper before joining my mouth to his, then starting to run my hands down his shirt, trying to pull it up. Lando lets out a laugh and stands up a little, starting to undo the buttons. He finally throws his shirt on the floor and brings our mouths together again

He runs one of his hands down my leg and ends up on my thigh. I move my hips, wanting more friction, but Lando holds my waist, not letting me move. He reaches his fingers down to the fabric of my panties and pulls them down my legs, tossing them in the same place as his shirt and my t-shirt.

“As beautiful as ever babygirl” Lando whispers against my skin and seconds later I let out a loud moan, feeling his mouth between my legs. His tongue dances across my pussy and I try to move my waist, but he wraps his hands around my stomach, holding me down.

“Lan...baby, please,” I beg Lando as I feel his tongue slip in and out of me. He lets out a few grunts against my core and I let more moans escape my mouth. He puts his thumb on my clitoris playing with me as he pulls his mouth away from me a little.

“Come on baby, I want you to cum,” he whispers before putting his mouth on me again, feeling a tremor run through my legs and my orgasm hit me.

“That's it baby” He stands up and completely removes his pants and boxers. Lando lies back on top of me and runs the tip of his cock over my lips and clitoris.

“Lan, please...I need you,” I sigh and close my eyes as he enters me in one thrust.

“Fuck baby... I won't last long” He puts his head between my neck and starts thrusting rapidly into me. I grab his back and dig my nails into his skin. I scream out Lando's name, wrapping my legs around his waist.

Lando starts leaving kisses on my neck and running his hand down my body, squeezing whatever he can. My fingers curl in his curls and I let out one last cry before of reaching my orgasm. Lando let his thrusts get stronger and faster as he let out several grunts

“Baby... I'm going to cum inside you” I bite my lips through the overstimulation and nod. I feel the ropes of Lando's cum inside me, making me let out a few more moans.

After a few seconds, he pulls out of me and gets up to go to the bathroom. He comes back with a towel and wipes me down my thighs and between my legs. A few minutes later, he lies down next to me and takes a deep breath, smiling.

“Spain may have won the Euro, but I won today too.” I let out a laugh and turn over on my stomach, resting my head on his chest.

“You always win when you're with me”

A/N: Let me know if you like it! Thank you <3

[meazalykov]

two worlds collide

emily fox x WNBA!liberty!reader

summary: going on a date with a soccer player, especially an arsenal player, was not what you expected to do during the WNBA break

you sit at the corner table of a cozy restaurant in new york city, your fingers idly tapping against the wooden surface.

the glow of soft yellow lights overhead casts a warm shimmer over the room, glinting off polished silverware and the dark, gleaming wood. 

it’s early evening, just the cusp of sunset, where the streets outside hum with the mingled voices of commuters, tourists, and the occasional street performer.

sabrina had sworn that this was the perfect spot. 

“trust me,” she’d said with a sly grin, eyes glinting with a playful mischief. 

“you two will hit it off.” you remember the way she had nudged your arm weeks ago, barely holding back a laugh when you asked for details.

“wait wait wait– who’s emily? what team does she play on?” you had asked, leaning back in the locker room after practice, beads of sweat still rolling down your neck from drills. 

the name was unfamiliar, and your mind scrolled through every possible wnba roster. nothing.

sabrina had raised an eyebrow, tying back her ponytail. 

“not an emily in the wnba. she’s a soccer girl. arsenal’s defensive player, plays for the uswnt, too.”

your breath had caught in a laugh. 

“an arsenal player? you know i’m a chelsea fan.”

“and yet,” sabrina said, crossing her arms with that knowing smirk, 

“you’ll survive. she’s nice. you’ll see.”

you glance at your phone now, the screen lighting up to show the time: 6:47 p.m. 

emily’s supposed to be here at seven. the soft murmur of voices around you doesn’t distract you from the nervous thrum in your chest. 

on the court, your playstyle might say you’re fearless on the court, storming and crossing up the other team without hesitation, but sitting here waiting for a first date feels like stepping up to the free-throw line with a championship game on the line.

the door opens, letting in a quick gust of cool air that makes your shoulders tense slightly. your eyes shift instinctively, and there she is—emily. 

she’s wearing a dark denim jacket over a white t-shirt, dark brown hair pulled back in a casual ponytail that still somehow looks effortlessly styled. you’re wearing a blue sweater with blue levi jeans, somehow casual. 

emily is scanning the room, eyes bright and clear, until they land on you. she smiles, a small curve that softens her sharp, athletic features, and it’s enough to make your heart skip.

“y/n?” she asks, voice smooth, accented just slightly in a way that tells you she’s been overseas for some time.

“that’s me,” you reply, standing up and offering your hand, which she takes without hesitation.

“nice to finally meet you,” emily says, slipping into the seat across from you. she moves with the ease of someone who’s spent her life in motion.

you both take a moment, the initial rush of introductions settling. you order drinks—her, a classic gin, and you opt for your usual. 

as the server walks away, emily leans forward, resting her elbows on the table.

“so,” she starts, eyes sparkling with curiosity, 

“sabrina tells me you’re a chelsea fan. should i be worried?”

you laugh, the tension in your shoulders easing at the playful jab. 

“don’t worry,” you say, smirking. 

“i won’t hold arsenal against you—at least, not tonight.”

“sounds fair,” she replies, and there’s a moment where you both smile, the warmth between you growing.

the conversation flows easily after that. you share stories about your college days at uconn—the relentless practices, the roar of packed arenas, the thrill of being drafted third overall for the liberty. 

emily’s eyes light up as she tells you about growing up playing soccer until the sun dipped low and her mother would call her home.

“and after some time in north carolina–arsenal came calling since caitlin really wanted me to play with her,” she says, sipping her drink. 

“wasn’t even sure i’d say yes. london felt like another world at first.”

“but you did,” you say, nodding, already picturing her on a pitch, stopping forwards with ease.

“and i did,” emily confirms, eyes catching yours with a look that lingers.

the night stretches on, the restaurant’s bustle slowing as patrons leave, and yet, you barely notice. 

you talk about the upcoming olympics, how emily’s gearing up for it, and she asks if you’ll be watching.

“i’ll be cheering louder than anyone,” you say, meaning every word.

she asks why you weren’t on the basketball team representing the USA in the olympics, you said it was due to an injury scare on your wrist. she understood as a girl who had many injures herself.

by the time the server brings the check, neither of you are in a rush to leave. 

outside, the city’s lights twinkle like a sea of stars, and when you step onto the sidewalk, the air feels cool against your skin.

“thank you for tonight,” emily says, and you catch the faintest hint of nerves in her voice.

you smile, hands slipping into your pockets. 

“anytime.”

“next time,” she says, with a hint of mischief, “don’t wear chelsea blue.”

you look down at your sweater, noting that the blue did match chelsea’s colors. 

“deal,” you laugh, already thinking about when the next time will be.

whenever the american girl comes back from london. 

masterlist

[alicewritez]

A Place To Call Home - Aaron Hotchner

word count: 886

summary: you were caught in an explosion on the last case, you told Hotch and the team that you were fine to go back into the field even though you hadn’t officially been cleared. Cue a worrying Hotch.

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

authors note: mentions of guns and violence, injury to reader but nothing too life threatening, mostly fluff. sorry it’s so short but after nearly a month of not posting anything, i’m trying to get back into the flow of things. hope you enjoy anyway! 💞

“Y/N, hey - look at me.” Hotch murmured, his hands cupping each side of your face in an attempt to get you to concentrate on him and his voice.

A few weeks ago you’d been caught in an explosion on another case. You’d told the team you were fine and that you were ready to go back out into the field, but you hadn’t been cleared to yet. As a result of the explosion, your eardrum had burst, so with every loud noise, your ear would ring.

And it hurt.

Morgan was beside you and had just shot the unsub, the gunshot being enough to cause the ringing in your ear to begin again, your hand firmly placed over your ear as you winced. Hotch was more than worried.

“Easy, Y/N..” he murmured, “come here..” he gestured for you to move closer to him, pulling off his jacket and offering it to you. You wrap the jacket around your shoulders, suddenly feeling cold as you let yourself collapse into the safety of his arms.

“Hey, hey - you’re alright..” Hotch murmured, his hands moving to your hair, softly running his fingers through it as he tried to comfort you. “Don’t worry.. I’m here..” he whispered, hoping the sound of his voice would be, at least, somewhat soothing to you. Which it was.

“If you put your head on my chest,” he murmured, his other hand moving to your chin, turning your head so that he could look you in the eyes, “I’ll tell you stories- distract you from the noise..”

You rest your head on his chest. “If you could go anywhere in the world right now, where would you go?” You ask quietly, the ringing in your ears making you wonder whether or not Hotch had heard you.

“Mmm..” he hummed as he thought, his hands moving through your hair as you placed your head on his chest, him adjusting his arms around you as you settled into his embrace, moving into something more comfortable.

“To go anywhere,” he mumbled, the hand brushing through your hair moving to brush your hair back from your eyes, “If I had the opportunity to travel..”

“I would go to..” he pauses as a playful smirk crosses his face, “your bedroom - you want to know why?”

You playfully nudge him in his side but nod nonetheless. “Why?”

“Because I want to see you in your bed,” he murmured, his voice low in a subtle whisper, “You - in one of my t-shirts, sleeping..”

“Hotch,” you warn, “Not when the team are watching..”

“Mmm,” Hotch murmured, the urge strong - but you were right. He couldn’t let the rest of the team know.. “Fine..” he sighs. Though he did continue to rest his hand where it was, and he couldn’t help making his thumb graze up against your skin, making small circles around your thigh.

“Can we go home?” You ask quietly, burying your face further into his chest, relishing in his comfort.

“You want to go home?” He asks gently, one hand resting softly against the side of your head, his other resting against your thigh again as you shifted your head further into his chest. “We could..” he murmurs softly, leaning his head back, so that he was looking down at you, he gently ran a finger along your cheek. “Or..” he spoke softly, his voice more of a whisper, “Want to go to my place?”

Your eyes are closed as you speak softly. “That’s what I mean… home.”

A smile spreads across his lips as he realises what you’re saying.. his home. “You want to come to my place?” He mumbles, his hands beginning to shift, the hand on your thigh beginning to trace soft patterns into your skin.

“Yeah.. your place is home..”

“You’re calling my place.. home?” He murmurs, his hands still trailing along your thigh. He wanted to keep you close to him; wanted to kiss you. “I didn’t you felt that way..” he reaches out a hand to adjust your hair behind your ear.

He hums, shifting his hands back back around your waist, his grip being just enough to keep you close to him, moving his hand on your waist towards your lower back, shifting again so he could rest his head against yours.

“You’re going to be coming over more often then.. if my place is your home..”

You smile softly. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

“Never want to,” he murmurs, a hint of a playful smile crossing his lips as he speaks, “You’re going to be my.. constant visitor,”

“Always making yourself comfortable whenever you want,” he continued, his voice becoming lower as he spoke, “You’ll have a key.. full access to my home..”

“Good,” you nestle further into him.

“You’re going to make yourself too comfortable..” he murmurs, his voice a whisper, “Be moving in with me.. before you know it..”

“Be sleeping there every night.. showering there every day…” he murmured, the hand on your waist tightening its grip.

And he was right. Not even three months later you had officially moved into his place, your belongings slowly mixing in with his around the house. You finally had a place where you felt safe and comfortable. It was a place you could always call home.

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part8. a complete silence rule

MINORS DNI!

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: you and Vi came to library for studying, but she can`t resist touching you

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 1.9k

✎ warnings: 18+, smut, dom!vi, oral sex, fingering, sex in public place

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

a week after Vi was discharged from the hospital, she returned to college. she wasn’t allowed to play yet, but she didn’t miss a single practice, even if it just meant warming up with the others and then sitting on the bench to watch. she recovered quickly, but if you hadn’t insisted, she would’ve tried to play on the first day back. the doctor had strictly forbidden it, and you made sure to keep an eye on her. though Vi was eager to return to her normal pace, full recovery required time, as the risks were still too high.

another bit of good news - Troy was no longer on the team or even at college. you saw him clearing out his locker as his parents and security escorted him away. when you asked your dad if he knew anything about it, he simply kissed your forehead and told you not to worry. either way, you didn’t mind; whatever your father had done, it had worked. truth be told, it even scared you a little, but Troy got what he deserved. naturally, all accusations were dropped, and your mom mentioned in confidence that your father had threatened Troy’s family, saying you’d press charges for assault and all the vile things their son had done. it was a relief to finally exhale; for a moment, it even felt like the air without your ex was lighter.

without Troy’s bullying, Josh finally left the team, free from the person who’d tormented him for years. he seemed to have started playing guitar in his garage. but the biggest surprise was that he’d found a partner. according to Trish, they met at the last match and hit it off, though homophobic Troy had always intimidated Josh, and for good reason. long story short, many people in his social circle felt better without him, and you were glad it was over.

after classes, you met Vi in the parking lot. she kissed you on the lips and wrapped her arms around your waist, letting her hands slide lower. smiling mid-kiss, she murmured, “maybe I should transfer to another school”

“and why’s that?” you teased, slipping your hands under her shirt, pushing her jacket aside, and pulling her closer, which made Vi bite your lip.

“I can’t focus on school or anything serious when you walk around looking so gorgeous and tempting,” she said, squeezing your hips and leaning you against the hood of her car.

“I can’t stand my loneliness, especially when you two are kissing so sweetly out here for all to see,” interrupted a voice. it was Trish, standing behind you with her arms crossed. “just a reminder, Vi, that I was the one who first told your new girlfriend how beautiful you are, so both of you owe me”

finally, you and Vi let go of each other and laughed. Vi took your hand and said, “and I’ll be forever grateful to you for it”

“ready to go?” you asked Trish, who was still grinning as she watched the two of you.

“I came to say I won’t be able to make it today. mom’s not feeling well, and I want to stay with her. do you mind if we reschedule for tomorrow?” Trish said, looking a little apologetic.

“of course, no problem at all. send her my best and wish her a speedy recovery. if she’d like, I can bring over some of my mom’s special soup; it’s really delicious,” you replied understandingly.

“that would be wonderful. thank you, I’ll text you about tomorrow” Trish gave you a quick hug goodbye before hurrying home.

“where were you two going, and what’s been rescheduled for tomorrow?” Vi asked, curious.

“the library. we have a history test coming up, and Trish and I often go there to focus. there’s a total silence rule, so we can’t gossip or listen to music. it sounds odd, but we get distracted so easily that the library’s our only hope,” you explained.

“want me to go with you?” she looked into your eyes. “unless this is some kind of special friend ritual?”

“no, no, nothing like that, but are you sure you want to sit quietly for an hour with a history book?” you raised an eyebrow at her.

“yes, especially since I have the test too. I’m not playing right now, so the coach won’t be able to get me extra credit for athletic involvement,” Vi said a little sadly, clearly missing her usual active lifestyle. but you weren’t giving in - the doctor’s orders were law, especially for Vi, and she deserved the best care.

“alright, then, let’s go,” you decided to steer the topic away from sports to take her mind off it.

“why an hour, though?” Vi asked, referring to what you had mentioned earlier.

“well, it’s not strict or anything, just a rule Trish and I came up with: an hour of uninterrupted studying, then any break or distraction we want. it’s like a little motivation,” you shrugged with a smile.

“if it’s the rule, then let’s follow it,” Vi said as she opened the passenger door for you and got behind the wheel.

ten minutes later, you arrived. there weren’t many people there, so you took your and Trish’s usual seats near the bookshelves. as you’d told Vi, there was complete silence, only occasionally broken by the sound of turning pages. Vi sat next to you, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair. when she turned back, she caught you staring at her hands, biting your lip, which made her smile and raise an eyebrow. you felt a bit embarrassed, but it wasn’t surprising - you never focused on Trish this way, yet with Vi nearby, you realized it might be a little harder to concentrate.

you quickly looked away, pulling out a sheet with the test questions. each question had a list of recommended books to review. pointing out a few titles to Vi, you both set off to find them. the history section had plenty of books, so it took a little time to gather what you needed.

Vi leaned over to you and very quietly asked where she should find a particular book, you pointed to the bottom shelf, and she nodded. running your eyes over the stand with books, you saw that a little higher is hidden a book, the author of which is your teacher, usually it is occupied by someone, but today was a good day. when you reached for her, Vi looked up and was very pleased with what she saw. the length of your skirt gave a good view of your underwear, which made Vi feel incredible desire and attraction. she carefully stood up and slowly ran her hand down your leg from your ankle to your thigh until her fingers were under your skirt. you almost didn't let go of the book from your surprise, your eyes became round and goosebumps ran through your body, you wanted to say something, but Vi only put her index finger to her lips. she took the book and placed it on the shelf, leaving her other hand on your butt, glancing over at you, she smiled at you, desire burning in her eyes, you felt incredibly attracted to her, so you moved a little closer. her lips covered yours, you tasted her as her warm tongue slipped between yours, Vi pulled you closer to you, squeezing your butt tighter, her other hand ending up under your shirt, her thumb gently caressing your skin as her lips kissed you.

she pulled away from you and leaned into your ear, saying “the rule of complete silence, remember?”. her fingers ran up the fabric of your panties under your skirt and she ran her hand down touching you. she smirked when she felt how wet you were, running a finger over your clit you rested your head on her shoulder holding back a moan. every movement seems very slow and you wanted more, you could feel the vibrations going through your body when her finger started stimulating your clit more actively, you held on to her with your hands so you wouldn't fall. she covered you with her lips again and you felt her finger enter you, a wave of pleasure covered your body, you immediately started to move on it, kissing her more passionately, your hips moving and your body getting heavier. she wasn't about to stop, her finger digging into you harder and harder as you struggled to hold back a scream. only the rustle of the books reminded you where you were now, you almost didn't care, you could feel your wetness running on her finger, you were so wet and excited that you didn't care if they could hear you now, you wanted her touch, you wanted to cum from her fingers, you wanted to show her what pleasure she brings you. when her second finger was inside you tightened your grip on her, and Vi sped up as much as possible, your legs were just shaking at this point. Vi's other hand pulled your bra down and squeezed your breasts, you threw your head back and surrendered to the feeling, you came so hard it made your head spin. holding you, she pulled her hand out of your panties and pressed you against the bookshelf, kissing you again. her lips moved to your neck and trailed down.

“what are you doing?” you said almost inaudibly in surprise.

Vi just looked up at you and answered “you said we had an hour”

goosebumps ran down your spine and she returned to your neck again, kneeling, Vi placed your leg over her shoulder and lifted your skirt, putting her index finger to her lips again to keep you quiet.

her fingers gently pulled your panties to the side, and she ran her tongue over your pussy, collecting a mess you had done earlier. your body was so heavy that you grabbed the shelf with one hand to keep from falling. her lips pressed against your wetness, she didn't tease like before, her tongue was immediately inside you, you opened your mouth again in a silent moan and ran a hand into her hair. Vi's hands wrapped around your ass, and she ate you out greedily as you held back a moan. she was sucking your clit and running her tongue which was giving you incredible pleasure, you were moving your hips to ride her face as she explored your most intimate place. the second orgasm didn't take long, you came from her tongue even faster than from her fingers. you didn't have any strength left, but how nice it was. she put your panties back in place and climbed on top of you.

“I see you liked it,” she said teasingly. you just bit your lip and nodded, straightening your skirt.

“maybe next time I can sit on your face properly” you winked at Vi and ran your finger over her lips which were still wet from you.

“no reason to wait, you can still stand so…” Vi smiled and took your things and led you by the hand out of the library to the questioning looks of the others.

[machveil]

CoD Headcanon: General Keegan Russ Thoughts

I want to write for Keegan so bad, you guys don’t understand— so here’s some general headcanons because I need a baseline for when I write for him

found family oriented!! calling people ‘kid’, very protective of his team? yes and yes. he also has a canon age (38 in 2027, 35 as of 2024) which makes me immensely happy - he’ll take you under his wing, has solid advice and an easygoing attitude about helping you

quiet and has resting bitch face, but he’s nice when you get him talking. has a fast draining social battery outside of the field, he’ll talk and socialize when it’s called for, but otherwise he’s fine with letting people he’s close with talk for him

Keegan has an actual sense of fashion, it’s just very simple. keeps his civvies nice and clean, no holes or loose threads if he can help it. prefers a simple pair of jeans, a nice leather belt, maybe a black t-shirt - but, he’s a jacket man. owns a handful of bomber and leather jackets. he’s also got a small collection of nice, leather shoes, casual and formal, all taken care of and treated

in a platonic relationship, Keegan isn’t afraid of casual contact. a pat on the back here, a shoulder nudge there. ruffles your hair even if you complain about it. he’s great at maintaining eye contact, can you maintain eye contact? keep looking at those icy blue eyes, it feels like they’re staring into your soul. speaking of staring, another CoD man I vehemently believe will stare at you, no questions asked. cold gaze boring into you— when was the last time he blinked?

in a romantic relationship, Keegan is a provider through and through. you can work if you want to, he won’t moan about you leaving to put hours in, but he also wouldn’t mind you just staying home. he might look reserved and unapproachable, but with you? he’s all lopsided smiles and smitten gazes

pampers you, you might as well let him. he’ll come home with stuff for you just because he thought you might like it - a shirt with your favorite media’s logo on it, a coffee mug with a cute print, an item you like to collect. he’s very attentive, has a keen eye and sharp memory when it comes to you

Keegan P. Russ is a ‘babe’, ‘baby’, ‘babygirl’ sort of guy. period. ‘doll’, ‘pretty thing’, and ‘sweetheart’ are also on the table, and he will croon and coo at you, voice a little raspy as he gets your attention. and, oh, he’s making hard eye contact with you. he’ll chuckle if you look away, his intense gaze never faltering, “What? What’s wrong? Keep those pretty eyes on me, baby.”

also, Keegan is canonically fluent in Spanish… and with his voice? oh man, he’ll be lowly whispering into your ear, ‘corazón’, ‘amor’, ‘bebé’ - he doesn’t stop with the pet names, will not quit. if he hear’s a friend refer to you by your name he’ll jokingly correct them, “Who? Oh, you mean my baby?”

constantly a menace and he knows it. unlike Simon “Ghost” Riley who at least pretends he’s doing nothing, Keegan will make it known. you want him to come over to you? I don’t know, “What’s in it for me, doll face? A kiss? Make it two.”. he’ll dodge your hugs and kisses sometimes just to be a pain in the ass, gets a good chuckle out of him when you snap at him to just stand still already

low-key a brat sometimes, he likes messing with you because it gets his heart pumping, a pleasant warmth blooming in his chest. it’s less mean spirited, more ‘your cat loves you, but it will be a pain’ - if he ever goes too far he’ll apologize. he can read a room pretty well, but sometimes he can get a little too condescending when teasing you. he’s competent when it comes to communication, he’s got the emotional availability for it, soft spoken words and a hushed tone when he knows he messed up

Keegan Russ does his absolute best to make you feel loved - platonic and romantic. he’ll listen to you intently, body relaxed as he takes in your words and voice. he makes sure people listen to you when you speak, if someone tries talking over you Keegan will shut them down immediately, encouraging you to keep talking. he’ll wrap a protective arm around your shoulders, walking closest to the road when you’re out and about

he’d fight anyone that hurts or threatens his close-knit friends - his family. he’s the type to get silently emotional if one of his friends has to leave for a prolonged period of time, he knows they’re out there, but it feels like they’re gone. if you ever have to be away from him for more than a couple days, unrelated to deployments, Keegan is keeping in contact with you as best he can

guys I’m on my knees, send Keegan blurbs and thoughts to my inbox I need to write for this man my brain won’t shut up—

[sugrhigh]

BOY NEXT DOOR - ( c.s )

part two

summary- you and your roommates live beside a bunch of senior hockey players, one of them being the infamous team captain chris sturniolo. he’s effortlessly flirty and undeniably attractive, but he’s also a pain in your ass. you find that you have to fight between lust and hatred as you finally get to know the boy next door, whether you want to or not.

warnings- swearing, drinking, no smut (yet 😁)

neighbor/hockey!chris x fem!reader

a/n: WELCOME TO MY FIRST REAL SERIES! i have a lot of ideas for this cuz i love this trope dearly so buckle up! more parts will come soon. also working on a tattooartist!reader x matt series (thank you anons) that will also be out eventually. in the mean time if you have smaller/specific reqs you’d like to see, my inbox is open babies! and if u just wanna say hello or ask a question i’m here xoxo

the music booms over the speakers inside the house next door, just like it always does on the weekends (and occasionally on thursdays too). it always drives you up a wall, but tonight it’s particularly bad.

you sit up slightly in bed, absentmindedly wondering who the fuck is on aux. you’re not sure why the thought crosses your mind, but you know it’s not chris, because these picks are horrendous.

it’s already past two in the morning, not to mention it’s the middle of the week. you haven’t been able to get a wink of rest, even with your headphones blaring at full volume. usually they do the trick, but tonight’s party is relentless, demanding to be heard.

wine wednesday, you think to yourself sourly.

neither of your roommates are home; they’re both off with their significant others, somewhere that’s not here, listening to fuckface and his friends get drunk.

you’re usually pretty passive about the noise, because they provide free alcohol for you guys when you show up and typically give you notice that they’re throwing something.

but tonight it’s just too fucking much. you’re tired, and groggy, and very much so still in your silky pajama bottoms and oversized t-shirt, but you don’t give a shit.

you jam your feet into some sneakers and grab a jacket, clutching it close to your chest as you head down the stairs to the main level of your own house.

you pass the dark living room, shadows leering in the corners as you’re guided only by the light coming from the street lamps outside.

you step onto the porch and the cold smacks you in the face, breath fogging up the air. it’s the middle of january in boston, and the expanse of dead grass between your houses crunches under your feet as you tread toward the front door.

the rest of the street is quiet, aside from the party. but they’re all senior hockey players, and it’s the beginning of their last semester, so what else can you expect?

besides maybe some basic human decency every once in a while. in fact, you’re so frustrated that you’re going in without backup, and without a real plan of any kind.

for some reason, once you get up the three steps to their door, you pause to knock. as if anyone would hear you over the music, or care enough to open the door for someone who’s fucking knocking.

so you twist the handle next, and it’s unlocked. of course.

it opens to a hazey front hallway that you recognize, stairs to the left hand side, blocked off by a young-looking guy you assume is probably a freshman on duty.

the front area is full of people, pressed against the walls, chatting over the music. well, more like yelling over it.

you can smell weed, which confuses you slightly. you know none of them smoke, not during the season at least. they usually don’t let anyone do it inside the house, so it must be an allowance for a girl.

you’re already getting strange looks as you step inside, which is fair. your shorts are hidden by the length of your shirt and jacket, so you’re just legs and shoes. you’ve got no makeup on, and you didn’t check your hair before you came.

but you swallow the lump in your throat, because it doesn’t matter right now anyways.

you shift your way through the crowd, gaze skipping over the people as you finally reach the dark living room. multi-colored strobes flash, lighting up the hoards of tipsy college kids dancing on the soaked wooden floor. furniture is pushed aside to make room, though the championship banner from last year still hangs on the wall.

his eyes find you before yours find him.

he stares at you across the tops of people's heads, standing by one of the couches that’s shoved against the wall. one of his roommates, connor, is leaned back on the cushions, watching the two girls they were talking to pass a joint back and forth.

but he’s no longer focused on anyone else, because he’s spotted you across the room, and he thinks this is the most disheveled he’s ever seen you. your angry eyes lock in on him seconds later, and they narrow instantly.

you beeline toward him, right through a group of people that are half-dancing along to the terrible playlist.

he lifts his eyebrows at your attitude, but not in fear. he’s actually a little impressed. his friends are watching you warily, just as confused as everyone else who saw you walk in.

he can’t help but stare at your legs as you finally reach him, admiring how cute you look in your pajamas, pale pink bottoms peeking out underneath your shirt with every step. he briefly wonders if you’re even wearing a bra.

then you open your mouth, and the fantasy is over.

“what time is it, chris?” you snap at him, one hand balled into a fist, the other clutching your phone.

“i don’t know, but i have a feeling you’re going to tell me.” he takes a sip of his drink to try and hide his grin.

it takes a lot of self control to keep yourself from slapping it out of his fucking hand, just because of how smug he looks. you hold up the screen to his face.

two twenty-two in the morning. chris almost laughs.

“the answer is way too fucking late to be having a party on a wednesday.” you reply, bringing the device back down to rest by your thigh.

“why didn’t you come? i missed you.” he pouts.

you glance over at the people on the couch, at the girls who are still making eyes at you as they converse with connor. he’s giving you a weird look too, as if no one could possibly understand why you’re here like this.

“yeah, sure you did,” you turn back to him, “now shut this shit down before i call the cops.”

chris puts his hands up in surrender, though he knows this is an empty threat just as much as you do.

“wow, somebody’s grumpy.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest self-consciously. “i’m serious. tell the puck bunnies to go home for the night or i’ll do it myself.”

he takes a tiny step closer, just a few inches, and yet it still seems suffocating. he looks too good, clad in a simple black tee and jeans, and he’s studying your face with the fire of a thousand suns.

“you don’t have to be jealous because other girls are here. you know you’re my number one.” chris replies easily.

even though his tone remains light, his expression is serious now. it enrages you more, that he thinks he has so much control over you.

“as if i give a fuck. i just want to sleep, so the choice is yours. police,” you wave the hand that holds your phone slightly, “or call it off.”

chris takes another sip of his drink, tipping it back so he can finish the rest of it in one foul swoop. then he nods his head, like he’s admitting defeat.

“fine. i’ll send everyone home.”

you can feel the relief creeping over you, knowing that you don’t have to actually get law enforcement involved. “thank yo—”

“on one condition.” he interrupts, and you furrow your brows.

“no conditions, chris. we’re not bartering right now.”

“come to the game on friday and we can hang out after for a bit. i’ll even give you a practice jersey to wear.” he offers, and the trademark smirk has reappeared on his face.

lights dance across his features, morphing his expression every few seconds. you just stare, because for once, you’re actually not sure what game he’s playing.

“what, can’t get a date without having to resort to blackmail?” you taunt, and he laughs.

“please, i don’t date. and i’d hardly consider this blackmail. just think of it as getting to know your friendly neighbor on a more personal level.”

there’s a humorous glint in his eye, one that’s daring you to say yes. what’s there to be afraid of? all you have to do is watch hockey, eat some popcorn from the concession stand, and deal with his attitude for an hour afterwards.

you’re still not sure what chris is getting out of this, or why he’s insisting that you need to be there, but at this point you don’t care. all you can think about is salvaging the rest of your sleep.

“alright, fine. now you have five minutes to get everyone out, and i better not hear any more shitty remixes for the rest of the week.” you point an accusatory finger at him and he shrugs, though he’s clearly content that you caved in.

“your wish is my command, princess.”

you turn on your heel to head back outside, retracing your steps from earlier as you slip through the mob. you half expect chris to follow, just because he’s annoying, but he doesn’t.

the overhead lights are coming back on now, and you can hear deep voices shouting, combined with collective groans from the crowd as they all realize they’re being kicked out.

luckily you make it out the front door first, and you jog back up the steps to your own place to get out of the cold.

you’ve only been inside for seconds when your phone buzzes in your hand.

chris

see you friday

sweet dreams ;)

[itsnotgray]

gray’s fic recs

my tagging/recommendation system is a mess beyond the point of fixing, so i made a masterlist. (i’ll slowly be adding fics to this!)

- an asterisk is next to players who play for the ahl team of said nhl team

- if works focused on more than one person, they’re listed under the other people, but only tagged in the first one you see in the list.

- also, apologies if the links don’t work correctly, it is in fact my first time making a masterlist

NHL/AHL

Anaheim Ducks

Jamie Drysdale

hey roomie by @emaanemaa

- trevor and jamie threesome. that's right, that's all it took to get you to go read it.

Trevor Zegras

chameleon by @hischierhaze

- listen- if you're someone who, whether it be consciously or unconsciously, changes themselves and their personality for those around them, or you have a history of it- please read this. I promise you, you won't regret it.

now that we don't talk by @sc0tters

- it's a toxic relationship with trevor, of course I'm gonna eat it up (she might end with trevor... or she might not. you'll never know if you don't read it.)

hey roomie by @ emaanemaa (fic linked above under jamie)

the penalty box series by @starsandhughes

I- if you're not already keeping up with this series... where have you been? every update is laugh out loud hilarious, and leaves you itching for more.

cruel weather- apart of the penalty box series by @starsandhughes

cruel weather gets it's own link because of the amount of emotional damage this inflicted upon me.

Arizona Coyotes

Boston Bruins

Buffalo Sabres

Devon Levi

like it very much by @jackhues

there aren’t many devon fics (which there totally should be), but the way i squealed when i read this one. further affirmed the fact that i think he’d be the best bf.

Calgary Flames

Nikita Zadorov

that scar hurt by the way by @swissboyhisch

- listen…. i’m the farthest thing from a flames fan, and can wholeheartedly admit it was an adorable read.

Carolina Hurricanes

Chicago Blackhawks

Colorado Avalanche

Columbus Blue Jackets

Adam Fantilli

to you, my adamo by @hischierhaze

- it's adam's birthday + his debut, can you blame me for crying?

his return by @hischierhaze

-this made me cry. but in making this, i'm convinced anything kei writes with the fantilli brothers makes me want to cry from either just how sickeningly sweet it is, or of course, sadness.

tiny dancer au by @letsgetrowdy43

god when i say sunny and adam have my heart- i mean it. they’re sososo special to me.

Dallas Stars

Wyatt Johnston

our song by @lovinbarzal

hands down one of my favorite wy jo fics/au’s. it’s wyatt x a barzal sister, a pairing i wouldn’t have thought of, but works so well!

Detroit Red Wings

Edmonton Oilers

Florida Panthers

Matthew Tkachuk

waking up in vegas by @doc-pickles

- matty t x hughes!sister is a dynamic i didn’t know i needed.

Mackie Samoskevich*

perfect girl by @dmercer91

- this had me feeling things like no other... a big hint as to why? she's shared.

Los Angeles Kings

Alex Turcotte*

who does it better? by @harry-hollands

one of the cutest social media au’s in a while (technically has two parts, but they don’t have to be read together)

Minnesota Wild

Montreal Canadiens

Kirby Dach

here with you by @sc0tters

- it's amber's writing + kirby, what's not to love? (if that's not convincing enough, maybe the line, "I will follow you to the ends of the earth," is.)

Nashville Predators

New Jersey Devils

Jack Hughes

timeless by @babydollmarauders

- if I hadn't originally read this in the middle of the grocery store, I can almost guarantee that I would've cried from just how heartwarmingly adorable this is.

out by @babydollmarauders

- equipment manager x jacky boy- aka a trope I never knew I needed, but now crave after reading this.

ballad of a homeschooled girl by @babydollmarauders

- hands down one of the best pics I've probably ever read in terms of conveying emotion. my stomach was in knots the entire time, attesting to just how realistic the writing is.

never grow up by @aliaology

- i'm sorry but you're not human if you don't get even the tiniest bit emotional at any fic with "never grow up" as the song. BUT A FIC WITH THE BROTHERS? this rendered me emotionally unavailable for a solid 20 minutes.

medía management au by @babydollmarauders

the media management au is an ongoing series staring mr jack hughes and his lovely girl, dove! the updates always bring a a smile to my face, and more than likely make me laugh out loud.

4:41 am by @sweetestdesire

listen, as much as i adore brynn’s smut like no other, her fluffy, soft and sweet fics just do something to me. she writes them so detailed, and consistently has me craving for soft moments with a significant other (a significant other i do not have)

John Marino

stay for a while by @sc0tters

- when i talk about made me feel things, i mean it. amber never fails in writing panty-dropping smut, while also having an thought-out plot.

Luke Hughes

welcome back by @leaentries

- this literally made me swoon. a protective lukey- what's not to love?

nobody's love by @eyesthatroll

- my heart was in my throat while reading, and my emotions were all over the place. regardless of how emotional it left me, it was amazing and deserves all the love.

never grow up by @ aliaology (fic linked under jack)

- older hughes sister watches her brothers grow up + never grow up = tears

summer aches by @starry-hughes

- this fic makes me want a luke to take care of me when i get headaches, triggered by heat or not

what’s not to like? by @starry-hughes

- queen ellen and jimmy are a little apprehensive of you…

jack’s best friend by @lvrzegras

okay listen- any of the brothers x their best friends is great, but jack’s best friend x luke… it just hits different, yk?

Nico Hischier

I never could've seen you coming (I think you're everything I could've ever wanted) by @writingonleaves

- this is probably as close to a literary masterpiece as a fanfic posted on tumblr will ever get

will you take a moment? promise me this (that you'll stand by me forever) by @writingonleaves

- listen- it's apart of the universe she began in the fic above. I have the fic linked under nico (because the oc eventually ends up in a relationship with nico, as seen in the part above), but this is sososo found family heavy. if found family is your trope, then this is your fic

New York Islanders

Mat Barzal

it's nice to have a friend by @youunravelme

- put me through the emotional wringer in the best way possible.

winnie martin's favorite person by @ilyasorokinn

- god- i cannot even begin to describe how cute this is. all i can say, is that I need more pictures of barzy with kids... for science of course.

New York Rangers

Ottawa Senators

Philadelphia Flyers

Pittsburgh Penguins

Sidney Crosby

she was the (red) devil by @crosbyscurls

- hockey meets f1 is already a dream combination… but sid x f1? absolutely amazing

San Jose Sharks

Seattle Kraken

St Louis Blues

Tampa Bay Lightning

Toronto Maple Leafs

Vancouver Canucks

Quinn Hughes

these michigan summers by @lukevangelista

i feel like the only way your not aware this series exists, then your new here. because if you haven’t read this, where have you been? this is for sure one of my top three series’ on tumblr, finished or unfinished. will in fact, forever have my heart. (currently unfinished)

the sun to my moon by @ghostfacd

this fic is part of an au! i highly, highly recommend checking it out- quinny + a grumpyxsunshine trope, what’s not to love?

never grow up by @ aliaology (fic linked under jack's name)

- older hughes sister watches her brothers grow up + never grow up = tears

Vegas Golden Knights

Washington Capitals

Dylan Strome

it's never too late to come back to my side by @lukevangelista (a series)

- one of my recent favorites. particularly geared towards those who think back on old friendships (...and constantly overthink on whether you should reach out. spoilers- it's never too late)

Winnipeg Jets

NCAA

University of Michigan

Luca Fantilli

missing you, quietly by @bitchinbarzal

- emotional torture in the best way possible. i re-read a concerning amount

i lost him by @hischierhaze

- made me cry- but in a good way

baby 101- name reveal by @hischierhaze

- it's dad!luca... yeah that's right, now that you have that cute thought in your head, you kinda have to go and read it

I tell you that I think im falling back in love with you by @writingonleaves

- this fic is sososo special to me for so many reasons- and I think you should totally read this fic to figure them out... just saying

opposites attract au by @dmercer91

this is a link to the head anons for the au- but please go read this sweet au. luca and landen are one of the sweetest pairings.

Nick Moldenhauer

sundays are for textiles by @drewsbuzzcut

- super cute read, and it's apart of an even cuter au

all american lace by @drewsbuzzcut

- also apart of that super cute nick au she has- but this part was not so cutesy (it was at the end). had me on the edge of my seat, and tears building in my eyes. the type of angst you physically feel- but with the type of ending that makes up for it (trust me, it does!)

Mark Estapa

icy roads by @nicohischierz

the simplest explanation i can offer is that this broke my heart- but i loved it anyway!

Boston College

Gabe Perreault

princess!gf x gabe perreault by @yankstrash

- these two are on my mind at least three times a week. i aspire to become amelia- aka find someone who is as down bad for me as gabe is for “his meels”

[wileys-russo]

I keep noticing Leah wearing this rly full cross body bag to all the games so far and I’ve just thought how does a girl need so much stuff with her to watch the game?! Maybe a fic where Leah’s gf questions her about the cross body bag, she gets all shy and it turns out she’s carrying something of her gfs (lucky item, fav t shirt etc) to bring luck for the game. Kinda cute x

this is adorable lucky charms II l.williamson

"babe you'll miss the bus if we don't leave now!" your girlfriend called up the stairs, tapping her foot impatiently. "i can't find my lucky socks!" you called back with a groan, practically destroying your shared bedroom as you hunted around for them with no luck.

"just grab another pair love, this happened last week too!" leah sighed, fiddling with her bag as she again checked the time on her watch. "shift it, we're leaving!" leah decided, knowing if she waited around any longer your anxiety would only worsen.

"yeah and look how last week went." you huffed in annoyance, kit bag slung over your shoulder as you thundered downstairs with a frown. "hey, stop." leah grabbed your hands, pressing your body gently against the wall as she looked into your eyes.

"you've never been a superstitious person before, where's all this come from then?" the blonde asked, concerned at these new behaviours which had arisen within you since the commencement of the new season.

"it's nothing, i'm fine lee. lets just go!" you forced a smile, squeezing her shoulders and moving past her, leah grabbing her car keys and following after you, deciding to table the conversation for later not wanting to rattle you any further.

"i really don't see why you're driving me to colney, then back here, then to the emirates. i could have gotten one of the girls to pick me up or driven myself." you shook your head as your girlfriend pulled out of the driveway.

"because i've missed driving you round, do you know how nice it is to not be stuck with you as a personal chauffeur?" leah teased with a smirk as you smacked her leg, hand resting on her thigh as she drove. "watch it williamson." you warned playfully, though it brought leah comfort to see a smile finally settle back on your face.

~

it was a smile that returned and doubled by the time the final whistle blew to end injury time, you and your girls fighting and scraping for a well deserved three points.

letting out a passionate yell you all but barreled into stina who was the closest person to you, the swede picking you up and swinging you round as a few of your team mates pressed in, all of you hugging and cheering.

"meadoooo!" you hollered, almost tackling the blonde who laughed, tears welling up in her eyes as she hugged you tightly and you mumbled over and over how proud of her you were before she was pulled away to continue the celebrations.

"lessi!" you screamed at your long time friend who was looking around in shock, giant smile plastered on your face as you sprinted at her, jumping into her waiting arms and kissing her forehead, rambling on about how well she played.

"the first goal of many." you promised as she put you back down on your feet.

"hear that? they wanna see ya russo!" katie grinned, joining the two of you and shoving the blonde over to where the fans were chanting for her, her cheeks bright red as her grin only grew. the three of you did your lap, clapping and thanking the fans and chatting among yourselves as jen, steph and caitlin eventually joined you.

you watched as leah embraced your national team mates in bear hugs, watching her mouth move a million miles an hour as she proudly commended everything they fought for the last 100+ minutes.

she caught your eye over alessia's shoulder, giving her one last hug before breaking away as you both started to walk toward each other. meeting in the middle her arms wrapped around you tightly, your face buried in her jacket as her lips lingered on your forehead.

"see? no socks, no problems. i'm so proud of you! didn't stop even for a second." leah breathed out as the two of you hugged tightly, both wishing you could kiss but very hyper aware of the millions of eyes watching.

"i'm sorry for being so fixated on that this morning." you apologized with a small sigh. "so where has all this come from love?" leah asked with a concerned frown, holding you at arms length.

"it's nothing, it's silly." you tried to dismiss it again as leah tightened her grip on you, giving you a knowing look. "i just-" you started, shaking your head. "can we please talk about it later?" you asked with a look around as leah nodded, quickly pulling you into another hug.

"babe what is in this?" you laughed as her bag dug into her hip, leah quickly flinging it over her back with a shake of her head. "nothing." she smiled but you caught the slight blush on her cheeks and gave her a look.

"how do you need that much stuff to watch a game? you bring it with you each week actually! what is so important?" you pushed, leaning around trying to grab the bag as leah shook her head and held you off.

"i'll show you later. team talk time!" she dismissed you with a charming smile, slinging an arm over your shoulder and walking you over to where your team had all begun to huddle together in a circle.

~

"so i was freaking out about the socks because i never had anything consistent last season and there was just...just so much that went wrong and was out of my control." you started, leah looking up from where she was doing the dishes as you appeared, drying her hands and moving to stand in front of you.

"so i thought that maybe if i had some things i was in control of it might, well it might bring us better luck. but i can't even do that right!" you sighed in frustration, head coming to rest on leahs shoulders as she wrapped you up in her arms.

"see, it's silly." you mumbled into her hoodie. "no it's not silly baby, it makes sense. last season was...well, it happened." she sighed in agreement as the two of you swayed for a moment of comfortable silence, wrapped in each others loving embrace.

"i have to show you something." leah let go, moving past you as you followed her into the hallway, the girl grabbing her bag where it hung up with her jacket from today. "i finally get to see whats in this infamous bag." you gasped happily, clapping as leah playfully rolled her eyes and the two of you sat down.

"well similarly to you i was wanting a way to bring us some better luck, even just from the sidelines until i can be back on the pitch and do my bit properly." leah started as you nodded for her to continue.

"so..." leah trailed off, unzipping her bag and starting to unpack what was in it as your mouth opened a little in shock. "i take these to every game now, and i make sure to sit with them when i watch from home." leah admitted, cheeks blushing rosy pink as she finished.

laid out in between the two of you were what a normal person would deem as just an assortment of very random items, but only you and leah knew the real special meaning behind each one.

there was several very faded movie tickets, you couldn't quite make out what movies they were from but when leah had found out you adored the cinema she'd vowed to take you once a week when the two of you first started seeing one another.

there was several cloth wristbands of differing colors, from the multitude of concerts you'd both been to together. accompanied by your favourite coldplay tour t-shirt leah had bought you when you'd seen them live together on your first anniversary.

there was a key ring from the arsenal foundation that leah had brought you back when she'd traveled around with them after the world cup, as well as the beaded bracelet that she'd made you when she was over in jordan.

there were three medals to finish up the small collection, both yours and leahs euro medals as well as your second place medal from the world cup. and of course, last but not least were your lucky socks and leahs own pair of lucky socks, bundled up together in pairs.

"oh leah..." you trailed off softly, tenderly touching the items as memories flooded your mind and your lips curled into a smile, giving her a look of adoration.

"so thats what i always have with me baby, all my lucky charms."

[heevanly]

.ᐟ TEASER: LATE NIGHT TALKS : LEE HEESEUNG (이희승)

𝐬yn. : being the host of a college late night radio talk show was a passion project since freshman year of college, but now as a senior, y/n hadn't expected the fame it brought to herself on campus... but maybe it was the recent string of murders that caused more tuning in than ever seen before.

𝐰arnings. / 𝐭ags. : (18+!). series, not sure how many parts yet. gore. horror. college au. humor. mildly suggestive. no smut. slight smau...potentially? character death. enha members as side characters. lsf members as side characters. more to be added.

𝐩airing. : ghostface!co-radio host!heeseung x radio host!fem!reader

© @heevanly 2024 | do NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, or steal my works.

RELEASE DATE : MAY 19TH, 2024

TEASER WC : roughly 1.2k

FULL FIC IS OUT READ HERE!

❝welcome welcome welcome toooo SCU 101.85, you’re currently tuning in to the 10 o’clock pm talk show. i’m your host y/n and i’m here with my co-host..” you turn away from the microphone and glance at your co-host, lee heeseung.

“heeseung.” he speaks up into his microphone, shuffling a few papers around.

“and it’s currently a friday night, it’s 67 degrees out with a small breeze too so make sure you wear that jacket!” you chirp.

heeseung snorts and you pass him a look which he returns with a shrug, “you just sound chipper.. s’all.”

“ah.. well our ratings have been going up again.. it’s better than we’ve been seeing these past four months.. so.”

the past four months have been rather difficult for you and heeseung and the radio show. when you started this project sophomore year, it had just been you and your roommate kim chaewon, your ratings were steady in the beginning but had started declining after two months, which made your at the time co-host and roommate, quit. you don’t blame her, you nearly stopped too, which was before heeseung hit you up asking if you still needed another co-host.

accepting his help was the best thing you had done, his roommates jake and jay were all about the technical jargon behind running a radio show, which the reasoning was apparently the three had thoughts about starting a podcast but couldn’t get the timing right to actually get it started, so here they were willing to help you out.

production took off and the four of you found yourselves seeing steady viewers and got to even open a talk line, which was a segment that both you and heeseung took seriously, finding fun in chatting with anonymous students with various complaints they had of others, professors, relationships, or whatever else going on in their lives.

then, out of nowhere four months ago, the viewers started thinning out, causing your small team of four’s good feelings to falter. having been used to success it was shocking to be randomly met with a hard wall and seemingly, no way of getting out.

heeseung and your’s efforts were all in vain as you tried advertising the radio talk show, you had chaewon talk to her friends about spreading the show, heeseung talked to about it to his other friends and also had them spread the word. jake would mention it at his part time job, and jay even mentioned it at a small on-campus event, which he texted that he was never doing again out of sheer embarrassment.

heeseung hums, “well.. i could imagine people have been feeling a bit safer because of us, due to…” he trails off.

right, there's been a few recent deaths that have plagued not only your campus, but the town. you claim they’re very obviously murders while heeseung’s been claiming it’s been various unfortunate accidents. so far the death toll has hit only four, two on campus, one at a campus nearby, and one on the outskirts of town.

“the murders.” you finish his sentence off, gravelly.

heeseung rolls his eyes, but remembers that the listeners can’t actually see that, “you’re so obsessed with these being murders,” he teases.

“well.. it’s quite obvious, no?” you ask.

“ehh, i wouldn’t really say so, besides the two on campus cause they were ruled as a murder-suicide. besides that was two months ago and the one at KTU was concluded to be an unfortunate accident, shit what did they say about how she died again?” heeseung racks his brain, trying to remember how the girl from KTU died two weeks ago.

you scatter your papers around, “wasn’t it something about a lab issue..? their school got to close down because of it, that’s.. uh.. kind of all i remember about that.”

“oh you’re going to hell, haven’t you been following this whole thing since the murder-suicide on campus..?” heeseung laughs loudly and you slump in your chair, embarrassment flooding your system.

you sit back up and clear your throat, “in my defense..”

heeseung accusing points at you, “you! don’t have one.”

“pause, yes i do! rude…. my defense is that the fourth one’s been throwing me off with this whole thing, that i focused a little less on the third girl.” you huff out.

the fourth death was the weirdest in the whole thing so far, it happened a few days ago and it’s been the only one where the person involved wasn’t in the same age range and died supposedly.. well.. naturalistically. it had been a middle aged man, who was on his way home from work. apparently the report and the news claimed his tire gotten flat and when he had gotten out to check on it, he had been mauled by a pack of wolves wandering through.

the police and how they concluded it just didn’t make sense to you, you stayed up for two days trying to determine it all. first, wolves hadn’t been sighted in that area for several months so a random pack coming through didn’t make sense. second, the blood inside the car, how did it even manage to get in there if the man was supposedly outside? the third rea-

heeseung snaps his fingers to try and get your attention back to the talk show, “hey, y/n, quit thinking about it, you’re just gonna make yourself paranoid.. or worse.. obsess over this.”

“my bad, i just need to stay up on all this, our viewers need the information, they deserve the best after all.”

“and the best of the best is from two college seniors..?” heeseung raises an eyebrow.

“absolutely!” you respond, “we’re the only ones giving multiple sides to these events and ways to stay safe.”

“i’m sure the news have been doin all that too though.”

“pff, news schmooze,” you wave your hand at heeseung, “college students don’t care about tuning into the morning news before classes or turning the evening news on, we’re a source of entertainment AND murder mystery, and that’s what eats up.” 

“you’re greedy, y/n, soo greedy.” heeseung shoots a grin your way, a way to let you know he doesn’t mean it.

trying to stop a grin from making its way on your face, you roll your eyes, “oh suck my dick lee heeseung.” 

“gladlyyy..” he wiggles his eyebrows and chuckles into his microphone.

“you’re a freak..” you gather your papers back up and glance up at the clock, 10:26 pm, time to open up the first talk line segment of the night.

you give a small nod towards heeseung and he nods back and clears his throat, “well well well SCU you are listening on 101.85 and it’s rolling up to 10:30 pm, we got a two minute sponsor for y’all and when we come back live, our callers will be up discussin’ random whatever with us. give us a call at +82 70-5208-6001 and see if you’re lucky enough. again that is +82 70-5208-6001. see you all very soon."

both you and heeseung give a thumbs up to the room in front of you and jay switches your sets off, rolling the sponsor. a few seconds pass and before you’re able to turn to heeseung to just casually chat, the switchboard for the phone calls light up, more so than you’ve ever seen before.

[mediumgayitalian]

part two

———

Getting outrun for seven miles by an eight year old is a uniquely humbling experience. Compactly humiliating, coincidentally, is being outrun by an eight year old while dragging along a bouquet large enough that it cannot be adequately contained with two hands and must therefore be carried between two people.

Lee is having something of an afternoon.

“It starts in seven minutes!” shouts Will, at least twelve solid yards ahead of them and running backwards. He does not appear even to be sweating. “Hurry!”

“Could not be hurrying more if I tried,” Lee wheezes.

(It’s not that Lee isn’t a good runner. He is. It’s that Will is freakishly fast, because he has dimples when he smiles and has endeared himself to the dryads, who have been teaching him how to sprint like the hopped up little Energizer Bunny he is. Michael has been calling him Soda Boy for ages, on account of how he so closely resembles a can of pop that has been vigorously shaken, which he hates. Remembering it brings Lee some peace.)

“Let’s go let’s go let’s go!”

Clamping his mouth shut in a desperate attempt to preserve energy, Lee surges forward. Michael matches him, having to run significantly faster to keep up with his long legs. Their panting forms a discordant melody of despair. Poetic.

When they stumble through the door, chests heaving, Lee considers collapsing to the ground and weeping for joy. He will never run again. If a monster chases him, he will simply fight or accept his fate. He has reached his quota.

But, for perhaps the first time in his life, there is no time for dramatics. The lobby is devoid of the massive crowds it held earlier, shadows eerie in their absence, and only the final tail end of a line shuffles through the stage doors.

Despite his internal vow, Lee sprints forward to catch up with them.

“Hold it,” says a man in a venue volunteer! vest, holding up a hand. He glances at them, resting his gaze on Will’s messy hair, Michael’s scuffed shoes, Lee’s wrinkled shirt, and pausing for quite a while on the giant bouquet. The narrowed eyes and thinned lips are familiar. Lee stiffens.

“Go on in,” the man says to the middle aged couple in front of them, who’s crease-free jackets read ‘Dance Mom’ and ‘Prop Team Dad’ respectively. He shoos them inside, complimenting the honest-to-Apollo corsage in the woman’s hand, chortling along to the man’s joke. The laughter drops from his face the second the couple is guided through the doors, and the man turns back to the three of them.

“The show,” he says, nose upturned, “has begun. I can’t let anyone else in lest they cause any…disturbances.”

“The show starts on three minutes and forty-seven seconds!” Will protests, sticking his watch in the man’s face. Completely oblivious to his murderous look, he continues, “Forty-six seconds! Forty-five! Time’s-a-tickin’, let us in!”

The man bares his teeth in a smile. “Regrettably, you are too late. You’ll have to wait for the intermission.”

Will blinks at him. He looks at Lee, at the doors, then back at the man.

“But…we’re on time. And if we come back later, we’ll miss my sister’s dance!”

The man shrugs. “This will be a valuable lesson, then.” He purses his lips, glancing again at the bouquet. “Perhaps be more prepared, next time.”

Will turns back to Lee and Michael, crestfallen. He swipes quickly under his eyes, squeezing his thumb into fists, but the tears well up anyway. “We’re going to miss it?”

Michael snarls. In one quick move he shoves the massive bouquet entirely into Lee’s arms, yanks Will by the shoulders to stand behind him, and gets right in the man’s face.

“You listen here, you slimy ratbag, you had no fuckin’ trouble letting those last scragglers in so you better clean up your act quick before I —”

A loud crashing noise makes them all jump, interrupting him. Nearly crushing the flowers, Lee whips towards the source of the sound. One of the competition banners has been yanked down, metal frame collapsing on the tile floor. Fastening screws rattle to a slow stop beside it.

“What the —”

Another banner crashes to the floor. This time, the little hands that tore it down are a touch too slow to dart away, a blonde head not quick enough to duck behind a corner.

“Hey!” the man shouts. Shoving Michael aside, and moving quicker than Lee can think to stop him, he sprints towards the corner Will disappeared behind. “Get back here! You can’t do that!”

Lee curses, trying to manoeuvre the flowers to see and run at the same time. Michael runs ahead of him, on the man’s heels, chanting shit shit shit shit under his breath. Lee’s brain takes the initiative to alternate, chanting fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck every time he takes a breath.

They’re going to get kicked out for sure. Diana is going to kill them and it’s going to be justified, because Lee is going to have to live with the noble look he knows Cass will have on when she realises they’re not there to watch. The shakey, practiced smile she’ll slap over the disappointment in her dark eyes.

Shit shit shit shit indeed.

“Lee! Michael! Over here!” whispers a voice. Lee whirls around to face it — boy does he ever feel like a puppet on a stick right now — and, for the second time in as many minutes, feels his head pound at the disorienting frenzy of emotions that bubble up when he sees his baby brother’s face. Will stands half inside a doorway Lee hadn’t noticed on the way in, tucked in the shadow of a corner.

He is fast, holy shit.

“What the hell are you doing,” hisses Michael.

“Getting us inside! Hurry up!”

Lee doesn’t need further prompting, clock ticking in his brain. Gods, how long do they have left? Thirty seconds? Less?

“Most big theatres have sideline entrances,” Will explains after Michael helps shove the giant bouquet through the tiny door. He guides them, upright to their hunching, down a tight corridor. “They’re for performers to pop up in the audience without being seen. Mama and I race each other to find ‘em when she did shows.”

Lee had forgotten, for a moment, how much of his life Will has spent in and out of theatres, bars, stages. Naomi Solace has been growing more and more famous since…half of his life, at least. Lee remembers hearing about her four years ago, when she’d done a smaller show in Queens. A friend of his had gone.

Michael reaches out and tugs the mostly-undone ponytail he’d wrestled Will’s hair into that morning. “Good job, kid.”

He grins over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

They stumble into the darkened audience in the nick of time. The second Lee steps out of the cramped little corridor, dragging the stupid flowers (he is, in fact, regretting his choices at this point in time; when he has a free moment he will add this to the list of reasons he will be kicking his past self’s ass if the Hephaestus cabin successfully recreates DeLorean time machine) along with him, the stage lights come on. An announcer’s voice calls out, “Entry 109, Competitive Open Solo: Cass Hasapi.”

“Fuck,” Michael mutters. A quaint family of four gasps. He sneers at them. “Fuck, you see Diana?”

“No, is she maybe —”

“I think that’s her hair —”

“That person is way too tall, what are you —”

“I swear to the gods, I am going to kill you both,” whispers a beautifully familiar voice, and then Lee is being dragged. “Sit the hell down and shut the hell up. Will, baby, c’mere.”

Will climbs happily over the two empty seats, settling onto Diana’s lap and curling under her chin. He sticks his tongue out when Lee and Michael follow in behind him, struggling with the bouquet, muttering about favouritism.

“I’ve literally known you for six times longer than you’ve known him,” Michael mutters, sticking his tongue out right back. A grandmother with a severe bob whirls back and hushes him.

“Yeah, I’ve had all that time to get tired of your bullshit. Shut up.”

Before Michael can retort — Lee is sure he has an eloquent and devastating response, Lee has been helping him practice — soft piano drifts out from the speakers. A light turns on, pointed at the stage.

All four of them snap their mouths shut.

In the centre of the stage, Cass stands, poised. Her back is turned to the audience, arms extended above her and tilted to the right, as if reaching for the setting sun. Her hair, braided loosely back, brushes the edge of her thickly draping purple costume. Her knees are bent and locked and one bare foot sticks out like she’s trying to balance herself, like she’s mid fall.

A gravelly, male voice sings lowly along to the piano. How do you know which time might be the last? She moves along the dip of his voice, dragging her limbs through the rigid air. What I would give just to see you again? She moves with a swooping twist of her heels, twisting at the waist. Under the heat of the stage lights, her face contorts, forehead deeply wrinkled, mouth parted, breathing quickly. I’d walk to the depths of a world down below and demand to get back what some circumstance stole. She holds herself with such tension that Lee finds his own shoulders hiking up to his ears. Her chest moves rapidly, hands shaking, knees buckling. His breath goes stale in his lungs.

When the chorus starts, hard and heavy and sudden, I turned back one last time just to prove you were there, Cass hits the floor. He gasps with the rest of the audience, clutching the plush armrest, but it’s intentional, part of the dance. ‘Cause the last ray of sun made Eurydice cold. Collapsed on the floor, limbs bent, dress askew, she crawls, begging, towards the audience. Did she know? Did she know? Did she know? Did she know?

Cass does not move gracefully. She moves like a beached, gasping siren dragging herself back to the depths, like someone climbing out of a pit. Every movement looks heavy and painful. She looks at the audience and Lee is surging forward before he can stop himself, breath hitching, brain screaming: help her! help her! help her!

If I knew how it’d feel back then, I wouldn’t take another step.

Her body twists again, hair escaping her loose braid and sticking to her neck, her forehead. She claws at her throat like she’s suffocating, eyes accusing everyone watching like they’re holding her under. Each movement of her arms swell and sway on the beat, bare feet slapping the ground with every hit of the kettle drum. If you can see me it’s all in your head, but it feels real to me now, it felt real to me then.

Everything ends.

The piano fades out, the drums hit their last beat. All that’s left is the wretched guitar, taught like strings snapping, taught like the tense pull of her suspended muscles.

But I opened the door and went down the stairs; I turned back one last time to prove you were there.

As the last word fades, she drops. Not slowly, not evenly, but like whatever was holding her up crumbled to dust. Like she was shot. Her purple dress pools out around her like dark Hyacinth. She lays completely, entirely still.

The lights cut. The air in the audience goes heavy.

They come back on and no one says a word. Lee realises, as it drips onto his hands, that he is crying. Diana is, too, tear tracks too fresh to dry on her face, and Will is leaned forward so far he sways precariously. Michael’s hands are pressed harshly to his eyes.

Trancelike, Lee stands. All eyes snap, abruptly, towards him, but he ignores them. He looks straight across the rows of chairs and locks eyes with his sister, upright now, heaving, standing hesitant. She looks at him, and then beside him at Michael, and then at Will in Diana’s lap. They scramble quickly up next to him, and without any of them saying anything, they begin to cheer.

Cass’s face lights up.

With permission, much of the audience claps. No one stands as they do and as they continue hooting and hollering the claps fade quickly, replaced with stares and murmurs, but Cass still stands there, beaming, looking away and looking back like she can’t believe they’re there. That someone is there, that someone watched her, her, from beginning to end. A hand tugs on his sleeve.

“Can I sonic?” Will asks, raising his voice to be heard.

“Level four,” Lee allows.

He needs no further permission, grinning. He lets out a piercing whistle that makes everyone around them shout in alarm and Lee’s ears ring. But Cass laughs, loud and bright, so it’s worth it, and when Will looks at him in question he nods. The second whistle is definitely beyond a level four, but Lee doesn’t care. Cass looks the happiest he’s seen in a long time.

———

None of them care too much about staying for the other performances. But Cass has two more dances with her studio classes, spread out as they are, so Lee remains doomed to two hours of an aching ass and performances that come nowhere near Cass’s masterpiece. Will seems intrigued, though, by some of the pieces, so he grits his teeth and bares it. Besides, the rolled eyes he shares with Diana and Michael every time someone does something exceedingly cliche or tries and fails at depth (someone, often, being one of Cass’s teammates, shocker) makes it somewhat worth it.

By the time the judges call the last entry, though, Lee is ready to book it out of there.

The lights come back on and pop music plays through the speakers as dancers, in track suits over their costumes, congregate on the stage. Lee stands and stretches, letting Will stand on his shoulders and jump off into Michael’s arms to get some of his energy out. (And, also, ‘cause tossing a small child between them is fun. Diana jogs into the aisle so they can throw farther, but they all decide against it when a security guard glances over.)

After what feels like eight million years, the judges finally lumber over to the stage. The building voices hush as they climb the steps, standing in front of the gathered studios with cabled mics and stacks of foreboding envelopes.

“Welcome, dancers and families,” starts one judge.

She blabs on for several minutes about what an honour it was to judge and how wonderful everyone was. Blah, blah, blah. Lee spaces out about the time Diana’s eyes glaze over, and he looks instead to the gathered stage, observing. There are five different studios that he can see, each with about forty to fifty dancers. Mostly young women. They sit tangled together, legs on legs, arms around shoulders, feet tucked under thighs. Cass, he notices, sits on her own, at the very back of the stage. She sits straight-backed and proud, though. Chin lifted, braid resting over her shoulder.

Impossible to miss.

Two of her group dances win Diamond (Diana explains to them that this is Very Good. She thinks). Most others do not get this honour. Lee notices especially the older couple to their left looking quite sour. The glee he feels is indescribable.

“The winner for our open solo, for all age groups, was actually unanimous. It’s been a while since that happened!”

A girl near the front of the stage, who Lee recognises as the one to make a cruel joke about Cass’ mother, preens. Her solo was boring as hell. He’s not sure what she’s so smug about.

“With a score of 97.6, congratulations to Entry 109, Cass Hasapi!”

The four of them scream like lunatics.

They don’t even wait for scattered applause. Each one of them clambers up on the pristine chairs, covering them with scuff marks, and yell at the top of their lungs, jumping and cheering like chimps in a cage. Cass goes red, but she can’t hide her smile as she stands and accepts her award, grinning over at them. Michael holds up his camera and snaps a photo of her, pink-cheeked and wild-haired, glowing.

———

“Cass!”

Will sees her before the rest of them, sprinting towards the changeroom doors at top speeds and leaping up into her arms. She catches him easily, spinning them both around, pressing a thousand kisses to his hair and face.

“Hello, my darling! Hello hello hello!” Every word is punctuations with a kiss, or rather a press of her wide smile to anywhere she can reach. In seconds his cheeks are stained with her lipstick. “Oh, it has been weeks, darling boy, I missed you!”

Will clings to her sweater, face buried in the crook of her neck. She holds him just as tightly.

(Will has seen Cass more than Lee, in the past few months. He knows she’s made a few sudden trips to camp. But he also knows that she was the first one to welcome him into camp, the day his mother dropped him off, and when he was claimed she was the first to bring him home. She loves to tote him around, too, to have him trail after her for cabin inspections, holding the clipboard, or paint his nails when she’s bored. He misses her something fierce in the winters. She holds on tightly when she comes back home.)

Squeezing him one last time, she turns to the rest of them. Despite her wide smile, her mascara runs.

“You came,” she says, voice wobbling.

Michael clears his throat. “No shit.”

His voice wobbles, too.

“Come here, you goober.”

He’s the next to cling to her, inserting himself under her arm. She presses a kiss to his temple and he pinches her ribs, complaining, getting louder when she digs a knuckle into his hair. Diana jogs up and separates them, as she always does, flicking Michael on the forehead and pressing a kiss to her sister’s cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers, squeezing her hand.

Cass’s tears spill over again. “Thank you.”

Lee clears his throat. He feels, suddenly, like a doofus, holding a bouquet of flowers the size of him, but Cass looks at them and grins again, chuckling.

“You sell your kidney for that or what?”

Lee snorts. “No, we exchanged Will. This is a clone.”

“Did not!”

Lee blows a raspberry. “Did too. Clone.”

“I’m not a clone! I’m me!”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Ya-huh!”

“Alright,” Cass interrupts, rolling her eyes fondly. She kisses the tip of Will’s nose again and sets him down, turning towards Lee, hands outstretched dramatically. “Hand me my dues.”

Because she is, at the core of her, a true daughter of Apollo, even though the amount of poise and grace that bleeds from her at any given time contradicts almost directly with the guy who beams Pocketful of Sunshine directly into their brains at five in the morning every single day without fail, she kneels with a flourish. Because Lee is, at the core of him, also a child of Apollo, he goes unquestioningly along with the bit, pulling out one of the flowers to knight her before resting the entire bouquet in her arms. She has to hold it with both hands.

“You guys are ridiculous,” she says, grinning.

“They are ridiculous,” Diana stresses. “Dumbasses were damn near late getting this for you. They already had flowers, mind you. They’re just dumb.”

Will holds up his hand with his watch. “I kept us from being late!”

Diana squishes his cheek. “Thank you, sweetpea. You’re already smarter than your brothers combined.”

“Stick out your tongue again and I’ll grab it, you little snitch,” Lee warns.

Will, darting to hide behind Diana, does not heed his warning. Because he’s a little shit. bc

The walk out of the building in a gaggle of movement. As other dancers and their families walk by, glowering at Cass’ flowers and at Cass in general, Lee makes a point to catch their eyes. To smirk. To let them know, without saying a word — you were wrong. Of course you were wrong. Look at how she’s better than your bitter ass without even trying.

It warms him inside, truly.

“I’m thinking,” Diana says, walking back to the car, “that we stop at Dairy Queen on the way home. On Michael’s dollar. Will, look real excited so Michael can’t say no.”

“I am excited,” Will says, turning to face him, “so that’s real easy.”

Michael sighs. He taps his foot on the pavement, glaring. He sighs again. “You’re getting s plain cone and that’s that. You understand me?”

Will takes that as code for ‘begin negotiating’. Diana joins him, the two of them chasing Michael to the car, yelling about Blizzards and sundaes. Cass falls into step next to Lee, adjusting the flowers.

“So,” she says, shooting him a small smile.

“So,” he intones.

“Diana told me you snuck the boys out of camp.”

“…Yes.”

“Organised the whole trip, basically.”

“It wasn’t hard. I just told Michael to pack his shit and he listened, for once. So.”

“Lee.” She waits for him to open the trunk, letting him stuff the ridiculous flowers inside before facing him, grabbing his hands and squeezing. “Thank you.”

“I don’t —”

He swallows past the lump in his throat. How can he say it? How can he tell her about being fourteen and older than half the unclaimed kids in Hermes, still reeling over camp as a whole, and the fear that had dissipated from his chest when she stood in front of camp and said, firmly, he’s ours? About the hours she spent listening to him ramble about Pokémon, learning the game for him, mailing him cards she finds around? About the letters she sends him every week without fail, even though she’s swamped with her own shit, because she remembers the night he cried, months and years of being weird and lonely and unlike anyone else he knew? How can he explain the bubbling in his chest, the ache for her, because of her?

“Of course, Cass.”

She opens her arms and he falls into them, forehead on her shoulder, arms tight around her waist. She grips around his back, pressing a kiss to his hair. His throat is dry, choking back the thickness of his tears.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, Lee.”

[stxrr-strxckk]

Feeling Cold?

Flufftober day 1-Carmen Berzatto x fem! reader

Listen to: Pretty Boy; The Neighborhood

Warnings: None!

A/N:Decided to start off my flufftober with my very own name twin<3 Carmy always holds a special place in my heart!

Summer was finally over, and no one was happier about that than Carmen Berzatto. Sure, the warm weather was nice, but there was something about fall in Chicago that was practically addicting, and after living in New York for so long he was more than happy to welcome the nostalgia of the season. Even if it meant bundling up in sweaters, scarves, and more layers than he could count.

Carmy couldn't help but smile as the fall air welcomed him home, walking down the steps of his shitty apartment. He had a thick wool coat draped over his basic white t-shirt and jeans, which really was a godsend in the 30 degree weather. He still felt the sting of the wind on his hands and face, and decided a hot cup of coffee would do him some good.

He walked into a small cafe a few blocks from the restaurant, figuring it wouldn't add too much time to his commute. He ordered and took a seat, burying his face in his phone as he waited for his name to be called.

"Carmen?"

He looked up, assuming his coffee was ready. Instead, he saw you. You had on an apron with the cafe's logo on it, and held his coffee in your hands. His eyes widened. He didn't know you worked here. If he did, then he probably wouldn't've come here.

"Fuck, chef?" you recognized him. "I didn't realize you went here-" you said, dazed.

"Yeah, uh, I don't- actually." he sniffed, avoiding eye contact. "I just- I needed some coffee, figured I'd try this place out. I didn't know you uh," he gestured to your apron. "worked here."

"Yeah, no, I do." you replied, an awkward silence falling over you too. Carmy hated running into his coworkers outside of work, always had. He felt so... Naked when it happened. Like the version of him at work was gone, and he was this vulnerable creature with no defenses. This must have been awkward for you too, he noted.

"Hey, uh, my shifts almost over, and my phone died, so I don't know how to get to the restaurant for open. Could I, maybe walk with you?" You felt weird just asking that. This was your boss. The guy who hired you a few months ago, and barely talked to you except for team meetings or if he needed you to do something. But you were desperate. (Plus, you wanted to get to know the guy better. He was so mysterious, something about it drew you in.)

Carmy was surprised by how forward you were. "Yeah, sure, that's- that's fine." He cringed at his stutter. In other circumstances, he would've most certainly said no. Ordered you an uber, written down directions, but today was... Different. And plus, it was you. Not Richie, or Fak, or Marcus. He'd never admit it, but he had a bit of a soft spot for you. So naive, the bright eyed and bushy tailed girl who was so eager to get a job at the Beef. He didn't know why, it was a second rate joint now that Michael was dead.

"Really?" Your eyes brightened, and Carmy swore he felt his cheeks flush. "Perfect, my shift ends in 5. Can you hang on a minute while I get changed?" He nodded, sitting back down as you hurried through the last few minutes of your shift and ran to the back.

He got up when he finally saw you step out from behind the counter. "Ready to go?" he asked, making note of your outfit. Graphic tee and baggy jeans. No jacket.

"Um," you patted your pockets, making sure you had your keys and wallet. "yup! Let's go, I'm not gonna be late today." As you strode out the door, Carmy couldn't help but chuckle. He followed after a second, coat bundled up tight against the wind.

"So, uh," Carmy said, breaking the silence a few minutes into your walk. "how long you been working at that cafe?"

"Pretty much my whole life," you shrugged. "I know the owners, they gave me the job in high school. It helped me pay for culinary school. I kept if even after I graduated, the job market was pretty slow anyways."

"So what made you wanna work at the beef, then?"

"Well, I don't see myself making overpriced lattes my whole life." you laughed, kicking a pebble down the street. "I wanna work in a real kitchen. And I always liked the beef, me 'n my friends used to get sandwiches there after school sometimes. What 'bout you, Carm?"

"Oh, uh, well my brother- he, he owned the place. But, he died. Killed himself a few months ago. Left me the place in his will."

"Oh." you trailed off. That got dark fast. "I'm sorry that happened."

Shit. He just ruined the conversation. "Yeah, uh, thanks." he trailed off again, not knowing what to say next. You didn't either, and suddenly the cold became a lot more noticeable. You shivered, teeth chattering as you tried to warm yourself up by rubbing your arms.

"You cold?" Carmy asked.

"No, I'm fine." you tried to shrug him off, but it took a whole lot of willpower not to reply with something snarky.

"You sure? 'Cus you look like you're fuckin' freezing."

"No really, I'm okay!" This was embarrassing. You totally forgot your coat, but there's no way you'd ask for Carmy's. That felt like overstepping.

Carmy sighed. You were stubborn, a lot like him. Clearly, you were cold. Who wouldn't be in 30 degrees? Quickly, he unbuttoned his coat and shrugged it off.

"What are you-" You started, but stopped when he draped his coat over your body, the heat of the fabric instantly melting all the cold away.

"There. Now you'll stop with all that fuckin' chattering." Carmy laughed, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"Thanks."

The rest of the walk was filled with lively conversation, and once you arrived at the beef you hated to admit you were disappointed. Carmen held the door for you, glad the kitchen had working heaters as he stepped inside.

"Yo, cuz! What took so damn long?" Richie poked his head around a corner.

"None of your damn business Richie." he replied, throwing his now empty coffee away.

"Hey, Carm! Why's new girl wearing your coat?" Fak yelled, and all eyes turned to you. You felt heat creeping into your cheeks, and it wasn't just because of how warm it was in there.

"And Fak's hear too. Great." Carmy groaned. "Hey, here's an idea! Why don't we all get to fucking work instead of asking stupid ass questions!" He clapped his hands twice, trying to hurry everyone up. "Chop chop people, we open in 15!"

Just like that, the kitchen was alive. Everyone doing their job, but you couldn't help but look up at Carmen every few minutes. And you swear you caught him looking back at you. You hoped he'd come into the cafe more often. Maybe these morning walks would become part of your new routine.

A/N: Day 1 done! This isn't proofread chat, my bad. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! Please like, reblog, comment, and request! XX, Starr!

Wordcount:1248

[harry-on-broadway]

One More

It never failed to surprise you just how well you fit in his arms.

His chest was sticky from sweat and beer and God knows what else, but when he found you backstage and pulled you into his embrace, you didn’t resist. You knew he needed the hug more than you did.

Emotions had been running high over the past few weeks and you were more than happy to be the grounding force he needed as the tour that had occupied nearly two years came to an end. You allowed yourself to be rocked back and forth as he squeezed you tighter, his nose buried in the top of your head as his breathing slowed and the adrenaline left his body. He was clearly starting to calm down.

“Um, Harry? Could you…?” You moved to loosen his arms from around you and take a deep breath.

“Oh, sorry,” he said. His eyes were focused on you but you could tell his mind was miles away. “Give me a few to clean up and then we can head back?” He looked at you for confirmation.

“Sounds good, baby. Take your time.”

He left you with one last kiss and shuffled into his bathroom, towel and robe in hand. As he showered you used the time to clean up your own belongings that were scattered around the room – the glass of wine you’d had before the show, the jacket you’d foolishly brought with you thinking the fiery temps would go down with the sun, and your phone charger, which you’d already forgotten twice in the week you’d been on the road with Harry (something he hadn’t let you forget). When you’d finished your sweep of the room, you planted yourself on the couch. As you’d guessed, a few minutes to Harry meant closer to 90, and you passed the time chatting with the various members of his team that filtered through.

Jeff, Brad, Pauli, Sarah, Mitch, everyone had the same melancholic smile on their face, as if they couldn’t bring themselves to admit that the end was nearing.

“Doesn’t feel real does it?” Pauli asked. “It kind of felt like it was going to last forever.”

You’d never admit it to Harry, but the small selfish part of yourself that you tried to hide was extremely happy that the tour was ending. You’d long been aware that dating Harry meant sharing him with millions of others, a fact he’d warned you of over ice cream on your second date, but his career had never felt this present.

You didn’t know what had made it so hard this time around. Maybe it was the crush of tour dates you’d planned your lives around, maybe it was the attention that came with winning multiple Grammys, or maybe just the fact that you’d both had to return to real life after finding comfort in the pandemic bubble. Regardless, you were thrilled with the fact that, starting on Sunday, he’d be in your shared bed for more than a few days each month.

“Ready to go, love,?” Harry poked his head round the corner. In the heat of the night, he’d swapped his usual post-show hoodie for a worn t-shirt, and had pulled his wet curls back with a clip that you were pretty sure you’d worn on the flight here.

“Took you long enough,” you said with a smirk.

“OK, sassy,” Harry said with a light laugh. “I can just leave you here.”

“You’d never do that,” you scoffed.

“Awfully confident for someone who’s about to spend the night in a dressing room.”

“You’d miss your nightly back scratches,” you said confidently. “Somehow I don’t think those fall under Jeff’s purview.”

“You’re right. That’s Tom’s job.” You both burst into giggles as Harry pulled you into a standing position. His eyes lingered on yours, taking a moment before kissing you gently.

“We should probably head out,” you murmured. “It’s going to be a big couple of days.”

“Yeah…”

You bumped his hip with yours, and he deftly grabbed both his bag and yours in his right hand, taking your hand in his left. The car ride was quiet, even more so than usual, as Harry stared out the window at the passing lights. Even though he was once again in his own world, his hand worked overtime spinning the ring you wore on your finger, a motion you knew was soothing to him.

Back at your hotel, fatigue quickly caught up to the both of you as you moved slowly through your evening routines, drowsily dodging each other around the bathroom sink as you brushed your teeth and washed your face. Pajamas on, you climbed into bed, Harry following close behind as he turned off the light.

You flipped to your right side, facing Harry as your eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Like clockwork, his hand found your hip where he began rubbing small circles on the bit of skin that was exposed, while your hand made its way to his bare back, scratching dully at his soft skin.

“Just one more show,” you sighed.

“Yep.”

“Why so sad?” you prodded. “Not ready to come back to my snoring and blanket thievery?” You heard a soft noise come from him. Whether it was a sigh or a laugh you couldn’t tell.

“I’m really nervous.” It was as if the blanket of darkness made it easier for him to be vulnerable. “I’m really nervous about what Saturday is going to be like and everything that’s going to happen…after.” You could hear him swallow thickly. “It’s like I’m riding to the edge of a cliff and have no idea what’s on the other side.”

“That’s a perfectly normal thing to feel, H. It’s a big change.”

“And I just feel guilty too…” The floodgates had opened and there was no going back now. “I’m so excited to just be me. Be us. But like it feels selfish to not want to do anything. Like why do I have that luxury when others don’t.” He took a shuddering breath. “But then there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to end things and stay on that stage forever which is so unfair to you…”

“Hey,” you said sternly. “Don’t you dare worry about me. I’m never going to be mad about getting to spend more time with you, but I also know how much performing means to you. And I’d never ask you to give that up.” You flattened your hand against his back, letting him feel the cool metal band of the ring he’d given you on one knee earlier this year. “You’re stuck with me, Styles. I’m not going anywhere.”

He snorted a laugh. “Still don’t know how I hoodwinked you into this deal but I’ll take it.” He nuzzled in closer to you. “Everything just feels so…big right now. It’s like almost too much to think about.”

“So, don’t,” you said plainly, perfectly aware that your advice was easier said than done. “Saturday is just another show. And then you’re going to take a break and then you’ll just do another show. We don’t know where or when, but I promise you there will be another show.”

You could feel his even and measured inhales and exhales as he mulled over your words. You wriggled even closer to him. “You have one more show, babe,” you whispered against his lips.

“One more,” he repeated.

“So make it the best one yet.”

***

A/N: Just a quick little blurb ahead of the final show 😭 Would love to hear what you think!

[demelzathemer]

Rewatching Dead Boy Detectives for the 6th time and I STILL have so many thoughts, so let's do this

Episode 1

1. That's everything Crystal has on her for the rest of the season, right?

She must have had some money and her passport on that bag because she did change clothes and traveled half-way round the globe. But Jenny talks like Crystal doesn't have a credit card, so how much cash did she carry on her on a random day in the tube??

Well not enough to pay rent for the cheapest room in town when they arrived. (She wears a borrowed Tongue & Tail t-shirt from Jenny later, that's cute.)

I like how her original look is much darker and more mature, reflecting her mean girl personality. The long jacket later is still purple, but a light color with a colorful floral patterned turtleneck underneath.

(If she had her passport she has her full legal name and social security number to identify herself though-??)

2. I REALLY want to know what happened during those "two flights, one ferry ride" - where did the boys sit? Did Crystal buy a whole row of seats so they could sit together? (And was seen talking to herself alone the whole time lol)

Have the boys ever been on a plane (they haven't been on a ferry)? HOW DID EDWIN REACT... Please I want a fanfic

3. When they start investigating, Charles says to Crystal "I know you don't fancy this part, deep-diving into someone's brain. We can figure out another way if you'd like." Which is sweet, so Charles, but also, how did he know what she prefers? (They must have talked about it on the ferry ride.)

4. I thought it odd that Edwin would stumble out of the mirror, when he's always so careful and carries himself with such poise? But then I saw Kassius and Jayden, they both have the biggest grins on their faces just short of laughing. It's definitely a blooper, but George stayed in character so perfectly they left it in.

(George did confirm in an interview that due to Ghost Rules, the boys don't trip on treestumps etc, they would just phase through. So definitely not a scripted move.)

5. "Not exclusively my internet. (Charles laughs) I'll explain again later."

Crystal was the one that taught Edwin the concept of internet?? Did this happen on the ferry ride too??

6. THE VISUAL STORYTELLING. I'm obsessed how the costume department specifically adds visual cues to the boys' wardrobe depending on their emotional state.

We all know Charles' polo darkens when he goes through tough times, only returning to his original bright red after they're back from Hell. We understand that Edwin being in his Edwardian undergarments in the confession scene makes it so emotionally raw and vulnerable.

We don't see Edwin without his coat after they arrive in Port Townsend. There's the scene in the beginning when it's just him and Charles at home in their office, where we can see him without it. He can be his real self there, because he's safe and comfortable.

The heavy coat is Edwin's armor, a visual metaphora of the emotional walls he puts up against the world. He always wears it around Crystal.

Here, in the upstairs, where the topic of David upsets Edwin and he storms off.

Yet right after, we see him without it! I believe ghosts appearance may change to reflect their emotional state (or maybe Edwin just shucked it off, who knows)

It's a fantastic scene altogether but just by his clothes we can see that's he's being vulnerable with Crystal for the first time. I only noticed this detail now and I love it.

(In the next scene of making their plan together Edwin is still wearing this look. We can see they're not enemies anymore, but a team.)

7. When Crystal agrees and offers peace, Edwin actually *looks at Charles* for confirmation. He's out of his element here and needs his support. Charles is the one who knows how to hande people, so Edwin doesn't make any decisions before checking with him. Edwin only forgives Crystal when he sees Charles had approved of her.

(After he does, he glances back at Charles again, like he still needed that last bit of validation that he did the right thing.)

Their bond is so strong. There's always consideration for the other, whatever they do. The acting is also incredible.

Nonverbal communication has a huge role in this series, as much as the dialogue does. So many things are conveyed with just looks and sighs and the many close-up shots that make us emotionally connect with the characters.

8. Charles having beef with Monty right at the start will never not be funny. "Everyone likes me eventually." It's just a bird.

Even on top of the list of his day's heroic feats is "smack-talking a crow." I love him sm

+ As a bonus, look at this gorgeous shot of Charles with the neon light reflecting on his earring. Chef's kiss