#like do you think they ever told him about Ross?

[airas-story]

Kinder Worlds

“So,” Tony started as Nebula as carefully lined up her next shot. They’d played in silence thus far since Nebula had shown up out of the blue and demanded a game. “Something wrong?” he asked. “You normally don’t just show up.”

“Do you think I can see this Terra?” she asked, instead of responding to his question. “You spoke of ‘hamburgers’ I would like to try them.”

Tony considered her, then decided not to push. He grinned. “Oh, we can try all sorts of things. I’ve got a photostatic veil if you want to go out in stealth mode—“ He’d told her the first time she showed up that she was fine, but she seemed to like ‘stealth mode’. “—though if you want to go as you are, that’s fine.” Most people had gotten used to aliens, the few that hadn’t—Ross came to mind—Tony could handle. “Or we can order in. Whatever you want.”

Nebula gave this her standard due consideration. “I would like to go out,” she decided. “And I will wear the veil. Stealth is imperative; I would prefer people to underestimate me.” She paused. “Perhaps we can visit your spider child. Or your wizard.”

Tony considered that. It was a Saturday, which meant no school. “Peter will definitely join,” he told her. “Picnic in Central Park with hamburgers with you? Yeah, there’ll be no keeping him away. Stephen… Hit or miss if he’ll join.”

Stephen was, unfortunately, almost always busy with something, it could make it difficult to meet up with him, though Tony still thought that every opportunity was worth it. Especially after things had… developed between them in ways Tony would never have expected.

He pulled out his phone and sent out a text to ‘Team Titan’—or at least that was what Peter had named them—to invite them both.

From: Tony Stark

Picnic at Central Park! Nebula’s here!

I’ll provide the food—prepare for burgers.

He shifted so that he could take a selfie of the both of them—something Nebula put up with with a sigh—before sending that along as well.

From: Spiderling

Oh my word! Are we finally introducing Nebula to hamburgers?

Peter always had been quick on the uptake.

I’ll be there!

“That’s Peter decided,” Tony said cheerfully. Who knows if we’ll hear from—“

From: Merlin

I would appreciate far more warning for something of this nature.

I am not at your beck and call.

Tony rolled his eyes. Picnics were always best when they were spontaneous, everyone knew that. Or at least every picnic he’d ever been on had been of the ‘you know what, I want a picnic’ variety and the majority of them had been enjoyable.

Though there had been that time with the ant invasion… he shuddered. Not to be repeated.

And of course, a few had involved drinking and he honestly didn’t remember them, but he was sure they’d been great.

Alas, the difficulty of being sober, that wasn’t an option anymore.

From: Tony Stark

Oh please. Not like I knew Nebula was coming.

Where’s your spontaneity, Stephen?

“All right,” Tony said, standing up. “Let’s get you set to go and then we’ll go get us burgers and other delicious food so you can experience a proper Terran picnic.”

Nebula nodded, satisfied.

His phone dinged.

From: Merlin

I suppose—since Nebula is present—I can condescend to join you for a ‘picnic’.

Tony snorted.

From: Tony Stark

Please, don’t pretend you don’t like me and Peter. We’re absolutely in your top five people.

From: Spiderling

Top four!

Can we get ice cream?

Tony glanced up at Nebula. “How do you feel about ice cream on this spontaneous picnic?”

“I was partial to your ‘Stark Raving Hazelnuts’,” she told him seriously. “I would not mind if we were to indulge in some.”

Tony grinned at her. He still wasn’t entirely certain whether she really liked Stark Raving Hazelnuts, or if it was because she felt that choosing Stark Raving Hazelnuts was a sign of loyalty—and Nebula was nothing if not loyal—and refused to try anything else. “Stark Raving Hazelnuts it is.” And he supposed he could pick up some Hunka Hulk of Burning Fudge for Stephen’s sake.

The traitor.

They got Nebula suited up in a photostatic mask and glove set before heading out. The drive from the compound to the city wasn’t too long and Nebula spent most of the time factually relaying her adventures since the last time she had visited and texting with Stephen and Peter on his phone to finalize their plans.

They made several stops to gather the requisite food before Tony took them to Central Park.

Both Peter and Stephen were already there sitting on a blanket that Peter had brought, when he and Nebula arrived at the spot they’d ended up agreeing to.

Peter proved his priorities by grabbing the bags of food and setting it on the blanket, plopping down and immediately starting to divvy up the food. 

Tony rolled his eyes while Stephen stood, stepping close and pressing a quick kiss to Tony’s lips. Nebula and Peter made a simultaneous disgusted noise as though he and Stephen had started making out in front of them. Tony considered flipping them off, but then decided it was probably not a good idea to set a bad example for Peter and the gesture would be lost on Nebula anyways.

He stepped away from Stephen and grinned up at his sort of, kind of boyfriend.

Stephen smiled back at him.

“Food,” Peter called out, interrupting the moment. “And I’m starving, so if you don’t sit down and eat I’m stealing your food too.”

“I brought enough for even you,” Tony said. Still, he and Stephen both sat down and grabbed their plates and hamburgers.

Tony looked around at the group and their spontaneous picnic, Peter hoarding the food, Nebula examining everything with her careful scrutinization, Stephen sending a knowing smile in his direction.

Huh.

Kinda perfect.

[scientia-rex]

I feel like disappointment in Biden is baffling to me because he was always a disappointment. He was the asshole who got to ride to power on the coattails of a better man. He told bizarre and repeated lies (despite getting caught at it and his team telling him not to) about having a Welsh coal miner dad when he did not and he stole that story from actual Welsh people. I read a profile of him years back that pointed this out and told the story of the time he straight up ignored good advice from an expert not to plant a certain kind of tree too close together and flew a bunch of them out to plant, at night because he was just too fucking excited about it, and they all died. He’s not a smart man! He’s charismatic ish and lacks principles and as far as I can tell doesn’t really care about abortion rights or a lot of things we’d consider pretty critical to preserving freedom. I sincerely thought he couldn’t become President because there were so many obviously better candidates in the pool. I underestimated the sexism and antisemitism in American politics, and when he became the candidate in 2020 I gritted my teeth and voted for him because the alternative was a man who is not only an idiot but also profoundly dangerous. Trump is not ha-ha crazy, he’s Mussolini crazy. He is not dangerous because he’s stupid, although that doesn’t help; he’s dangerous because he does not care about anyone except himself under any circumstances and if that means he lets the far right push us straight into forced birth for white women and sterilization for women of color he’s going to do that. If that means conversion therapy for queers and death penalty for homosexual acts he’s going to do that. He has literally no limits. If he gets back into power, a whole lot of people are going to die, again. It’s not a hypothetical because it happened the first time and he’s only going to get worse.

I am not, never have been, and never will be a fan of Biden. To pretend that he and Trump are in any way equivalent is wrong at best and another goddamn Russian psy-op at worst. To pretend that a third party candidacy is viable in the US is to completely ignore every election of your lifetime and your parents’ lifetimes, and to further ignore the lesson of Ross Perot.

You cannot save Palestinians by not voting for Biden in November; the best you can do is chip away at his margin, and the worst you can do is see Trump elected so he can decide to do the worst possible thing in ever circumstance. Biden has Palestinian blood on his hands and watching this when we could have had Bernie or Elizabeth Warren instead is maddening. (I would have preferred Hillary to Trump, but I don’t think she’d be any different than Biden here. They’re both old-school politicians.)

I hate everything about this, and I hate that saying “maybe don’t put the man who literally said he would kill his political enemies in power” is seen as supporting genocide. It’s acknowledging reality. Joe Biden as a person can eat rocks for all I care. I was kind of hoping he’d die sooner in his term so we’d have time to get used to and then vote for President Harris. (Remember when the line was “she’s a cop, don’t vote for her”? Funny how there’s always a reason not to vote for a woman or a person of color or someone you just “don’t like” and can’t put a finger on why except she “seems angry.” Oh does she. How would she not? When Michelle fucking Obama, the picture of grace , STILL got called angry for having the nerve to be a Black woman with an opinion? When Hillary Clinton lost to a man with no political experience to her decades and who openly discussed sexually assaulting women? Would you have voted for President Harris? Or would you let Trump win again because you don’t LIKE her personally and she’s made decisions and statements you disagree with?)

Biden has both less power than his critics give him credit for and more power than his fans give him credit for. He needs to do more to pressure Israel and although it’s a delicate diplomatic situation I’d rather see us fuck up our diplomatic relationship with Israel than watch more Palestinians get murdered for things like “wanting to eat” and “existing.” The line has been crossed, and he doesn’t see it. Because he wasn’t the best person for the job. Because they didn’t get elected, because of sexism/antisemitism/racism. Hell, I have no idea what bootlicker Pete Buttegieg would have done here, but I’d have given him a try. But no. We got Biden and we’re stuck with this reality where you can be as leftist as you want and still have to look at the situation and decide whether you’re comfortable contributing to a Trump victory through inaction. I want socialism—I want every single person on Earth to have clean drinking water, enough safe food, shelter, medical care, and education—and I’m going to vote for Biden, pissy as it makes me, because the only actual alternative is so, so much worse, for me personally as both a woman and a queer, and for everyone in America and the rest of the world who Trump would find reasons to hurt. What do you think the man who openly and repeatedly praises dictators is going to do when those dictators massacre their own people? Yes, we need to care about this genocide now. We also need to care about all of the other people who are at real risk, both at home and abroad. Would a Trump government agree to fund military intervention in Haiti without insisting on it being a colonial exercise in power? Would a Trump government roll back the restrictions on discriminating against transgender patients in healthcare? How would Trump respond if Orban started dragging people into the streets and shooting them en masse? How would Trump respond if China finally went for it and invaded Taiwan? There are more lives at stake here than mine or yours or even those of the Palestinians, who have deserved better for literally decades and are being mass killed in ways that should result in immediate sanctions, a war crimes trial, and the execution of Netanyahu.

The world deserves better from you than complicity in a Trump victory.

[wellofdean]

Not to discourse, but...I do not understand at all why people think Jensen Ross Ackles is gonna answer questions about things that haven't happened yet in an ongoing story in any kind of way that tells you anything concrete about what is going to happen, or what his character is going to feel or do, when his character has not had a chance to feel or do them yet? Do people really want him to start spinning fucking yarns up there?

Also, I cannot understand why anyone wants him to?! Like, thank you Jensen for NOT TELLING US. I don't want to go into it having been told what to feel and think about it! I want to see it, be surprised and experience emotions that aren't just the smug satisfaction of watching what I already know will happen play out. Like, when Supernatural returns, y'all know they are not going to just immediately throw the whole cow to us piranhas, right?

And while I'm here, on my horse, I would also like to say that I can't help but feel that this whole discussion that I have seen elsewhere in my feed here, is predicated on the idea that Jensen has not known ALL ALONG what character he was acting or what Dean feels and thinks, and that he is not good at his job. Does it ever occur to people that he DOES KNOW, because he is, in fact, fucking great at his job?

One of the best things about that guy is the way he does not say anything coercive EVER about this story or his character. He is letting his work as an actor speak for him, AS HE SHOULD. Do you feel like there is a deep sadness in Dean? A loneliness and an unspoken inner life? A desire for something more? Do you feel like he has made it clear in a million tiny ways that Dean cannot carry on without Cas, but that he fucking tried because Cas died to save him, and he had to make it mean something? Did you not see how he hugged that fucking dog that one time?? Do you not watch Dean, and see these things? These things are the actual content of the actual narrative. The narrative is the place where Dean's feelings and thoughts and actions are stored. Jensen speculating about it on a con stage is not a thing I even sort of want!

If you are disappointed that Jensen did not say: oh yeah, they will RESOLVE IT (nudge nudge wink wink har har har) my question is: why don't you trust your own eyes? Why do you think he is not in control of what he is putting across as an actor? Why do you need him to tell you, in kindergarten terms, what happened? Why don't you want to just watch it and be surprised by joy? The truth is, he has been very consistent in his responses to these kinds of questions, AND he made a whole season of television (TW) with his production company that is consistent with everything he has said. What can he possibly do to satisfy you?

I can only say that personally? I AM SATISFIED. Dean is Dean, and I love him. Jensen made him, and I love that guy's work. Please make more of him, because I cannot wait to love Dean some more. I am here because it's fun, and I am having a good time. Y'all should try it!

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

Love of my life, would you lie? (8)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: The team discusses what to do about Thanos

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning: Mostly angst, but some fluff too!

A/N: Writing through Infinity War has been a hell of a journey and I still have more to do!

"Hello secretary." Steve said to the hologram of secretary Ross as we entered the compound. You held Natasha’s hand with Wanda and Vision behind you.

"You have some nerve coming here." Secretary Ross spoke.

"Looks like you could use some of that right about now." Natasha stated bluntly.

"The world's on fire and you think all's forgiven?" Ross asks Steve.

"I'm not looking for forgiveness and I'm way past asking for permission. Earth just lost her best defender so we're here to fight and if you want to stand in our way then we can fight you too." Steve stated to Ross who turned his attention to Rhodey.

"Aresst them." Ross said.

"Will do." Rhodey pushed the holograms effectively ending the virtual call.

"That sounded like a court marshal." Rhodey stated flatly before smiling. "It's good to see you Cap." Holding out his hand which Cap shook. Then Natasha let go of your hand giving Rhodey a hug.

"Well you guys all look like crap." Rhodey jokes and you let out a chuckle.

"You should have seen the other guys. I got there and they ran with their tails between their legs." You told him a big smile on your face.

"Went all power stone on then didn't you?" You nodded, earning a hair ruffle from Rhodey.

"Of course they were hurting people I care about." You looked back at Wanda and Vision with a smile. "No one gets away with hurting the people I care about."

"I think you guys look great." You hear as you turn your head to the familiar voice of Bruce. Natasha doesn't move, but you do, running up to hug him.

"Missed you big guy. Both of you." You say as he picks you up.

"Missed you little lady."

"Hi Bruce." Natasha speaks and you let go looking back at her. The faintest smile in the corners of her lips.

"Nat." He does a nod of his head.

You run back over to Tasha. "Go." You whisper through your teeth. She shakes her head ever so slightly. "If I did it you can do it. Go." You move behind her and push her. Making her stumble forward, Bruce catching her as you move back next to Wanda and sigh. "Young love...or old...I'm not quite sure anymore with those two." You state to the now red head, last you had seen her Wanda still had brunette hair.

As you glanced back at Natasha and Bruce, a sense of hope flickered within you, a reminder that even amidst chaos and uncertainty, love and connection could endure, serving as a beacon of light in the darkness.

When Vision is taken by Bruce to be examined and Nat talks with Steve, Rhodey, and Sam, Wanda pulls you away into the compound. You trail behind her, relishing in the way her hand feels in yours. You had missed how it felt; almost forgot how it felt actually.

You don't realize it until she opens the door that she's taken you to your office. She looked back at you and gave a small smile as she sat on the couch like she always used to. You walk to your desk, seeing everything as you had left it. Your notebook for Wanda sitting there. You smile, picking it up along with the red pen you always used for her notes, testing the pen to make sure it still works.

You move back over sitting across from her, clicking your pen as you look at her over your glasses.

"Are you happier with her?" Wanda asks, making your throat dry up instantly. It felt hard to swallow, hard to breath.

"Don't make me answer that." You manage to say.

"Why? 'Cause it's true?"

"You know it's not. I love Natasha. Truly I do, but I'm not happier with her. The only thing that makes me happier is knowing she's made me a better person for you if you can ever give me a second chance and if not. I'll settle for her." You tell her flat out, putting your feelings out there. "My heart has always been yours."

"Does she know that?"

"Of course she does. She's not stupid." You respond with a slight bite to your words as you write in your note book.

Feeling a need to lay bare the depth of your feelings, you flipped through the pages of the notebook, searching for a particular entry. As you found the right page, you turned the notebook toward Wanda, revealing a love note you had penned after she returned from Lagos, a moment etched in my memory where she broke down, finding solace in your arms.

The emotions spilled across the page, a raw expression of love, hurt, and comfort. You saw the reflection of those sentiments in Wanda's eyes as tears glistened, capturing the spectrum of her feelings in a poignant dance of colors. The room held a heavy silence, interrupted only by the quiet sobs that reverberated between the two of you, bridging the gap between past and present.

"You took my hurt away...?" Wanda's voice was soft, laced with disbelief and a hint of wonder. You nodded solemnly, feeling the weight of your actions settle heavily on your shoulders.

"I know I said I'd never do it without your permission, but I had to take some of it. I could see it overtaking you. It was bitter and tasted like bile," You explained, a shiver coursing through you at the memory. "You know I don't like eating emotions, especially negative ones."

Wanda nodded in understanding before rising from her seat, crossing the space between you until your knees touched. Her touch was gentle as she cupped your cheek, coaxing you to meet her gaze. You hesitated, but her commanding tone compelled you to look into her deep green eyes, the same eyes you had always found solace in.

"Hey. Look at me," she urged softly, her voice carrying a mixture of warmth and familiarity. You met her gaze, feeling a sense of calm wash over you as your eyes locked.

"I missed the fuck out of you. I was upset with you about that jealous outburst, but you were just a kid still, and I forgot that along the way because you're you and so smart and mature," she confessed, her words washing over you like a soothing balm. You leaned into her touch, finally allowing yourself to relax in her presence.

"I'm sorry for what happened to us two years ago, Y/N," Wanda apologized, her voice laced with genuine remorse. You smiled softly and pressed a kiss to her hand in response.

"I'm sorry too, Wanda. If it hadn't been for those stupid accords..."

"We don't know what could have or would have happened, Y/N, and we shouldn't dwell on that. All we can do is move forward and see where that takes us," she reassured you, her words resonating deeply within you.

You nodded in agreement, pulling her into a tight hug, reveling in the familiar warmth of her embrace. As you buried your face in her neck, you breathed in her intoxicating scent of vanilla, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. Opening your eyes, you saw the telltale red aura surrounding her, a manifestation of love and passion that stirred something deep within you. With a smile, you allowed yourself to fully embrace the moment, knowing that your journey forward held endless possibilities.

"Vision and I have a connection through the mind stone, and I do love him just like how I know you love Nat. What you and I had, I will always hold close, but I can't just leave Vision," Wanda's words cut through you like a knife, each syllable piercing deeper into your heart.

You struggled to find a response, your mind reeling with a mix of emotions—heartache, disappointment, and a lingering sense of resignation. Before you could gather your thoughts to form a coherent reply, Tasha's voice interrupted the heavy silence, drawing your attention to the doorway where she stood.

"Figured I'd find you two here. Time for a meeting on what we're going to be doing," Tasha announced, her presence offering a temporary respite from the weight of the conversation.

You stood up at Tasha's words, leaving Wanda behind in the office. Tasha pulled you close, her kiss on your cheek a fleeting reassurance amidst the turmoil brewing inside you. Her whispered question echoed in your ear, and you offered only a small shrug in response as she wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

"We'll talk later, okay?" You assured Tasha, and she simply nodded in understanding as Wanda joined you, her presence feeling like a heavy weight on your shoulders. You didn't pay much attention to her, but you noticed Tasha's subtle glance back at Wanda, a silent warning simmering beneath the surface of her gaze. If looks could kill, Wanda would be dead from whatever Tasha had conveyed in that single glance.

"So we gotta assume they're coming back, right?" Bruce asks, his tone laced with concern as he scans the room for answers.

"And they can clearly find us," Wanda reminds the group, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"We need all hands on deck. Where's Clint?" Bruce inquires, his gaze sweeping the room for any sign of the absent Avenger.

"After the whole Accords situation, he and Scott took a deal. It was too tough on their families. They're on house arrest," Nat explains to Bruce, filling him in on the latest developments.

"Who's Scott?" Bruce's confusion is palpable as he seeks clarification.

"Ant-Man," Cap offers, providing the missing link.

"There's an Ant-Man and a Spider-Man?" Bruce's incredulity is evident as he processes the information.

"Look, Thanos has the biggest army in the universe... and he is not gonna stop until he gets..." Bruce's voice trails off, his gaze shifting between Vision and you, hesitating to voice his next words. "Till he gets those stones," he finally concludes, pointing at the two of you.

You feel a surge of anxiety grip you as Bruce's words sink in. Tasha, sensing your unease, moves closer to Bruce, her protective instincts kicking in.

"Well then, we have to protect them," Tasha declares firmly, her eyes darting between Bruce and you, a silent vow of defense.

"No, we have to destroy them," Vision interjects, his tone resolute and unwavering.

You can't help but chuckle at Vision's suggestion, though the humor quickly fades as the gravity of his words settles over you.

"Ha! No. Hell fucking no. I don't plan on dying, or did you forget I said that? I will die without the stone," You retort, your defiance clear to everyone in the room, especially Vision.

"I've given this a great deal of thought, Y/N. I do not say it lightly, but if he does get his hands on these stones... especially yours, he'll be unstoppable," Vision insists, meeting your gaze with a solemn intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You struggle to catch my breath, the weight of Vision's words bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket. Your hand instinctively reaches for your chest, as if seeking reassurance from the stone that rests within you.

"I've thought about the nature of my stone, along with yours and some of the last words you said while we were allies. Knowing what your stone is capable of. We must destroy them and I think if they were exposed to a sufficiently powerful energy source," Vision explains, his voice tinged with determination as he approaches Wanda.

You rise from your spot, brushing off Tasha's attempt to stop you, and step closer, feeling Wanda's eyes flicker to you before returning to Vision, who gently places his hands on her arms. "Something very similar to their own signature perhaps," he continues, his touch reminiscent of the way you used to hold her, though his hands are much larger than your own. "Its molecular integrity could fail."

"Yeah, and both of you with it," Wanda responds, her gaze shifting between Vision and you. "We aren't having this discussion. It's too high a price to lose both of you," she declares firmly, trying to contain her frustration.

Vision's hands move to Wanda's cheeks, holding her gently, but she steps away from him, her resolve evident. You move closer to her, feeling the tension in the air thickening.

"Y/N, don't," You hear the tremor in her voice, the raw emotion threatening to spill over.

You bite the inside of my cheek, grappling with the gravity of the situation. "Wanda," You address her firmly, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. "If you refuse... I will take Vision's stone out of his head because I know I can, and I will personally crush it, and then my own if that is our last resort," You declare, your tone unyielding. "And I will do it in front of you," You add, squeezing her shoulder for emphasis. "I don't say this lightly because I'd rather not die. I personally think that between the three of us we can take him down, but if you won't do it, I will," You assert, speaking with a deadly seriousness before returning to your spot, your heart heavy with the weight of your words.

"I won't entertain the idea of trading lives," Cap asserts firmly.

"Seventy years ago, you laid down your life to save how many millions of people?" Vision responds, his voice carrying a weight of history. You tune out their exchange, feeling a sense of unease settling over you. You lean forward, pulling Tasha back to you, seeking comfort in her presence. Wrapping your arms around her waist, you settle her between your legs, resting your chin on her shoulder as you gaze at Wanda. Regret and guilt weigh heavy on your heart, and you grip Tasha tighter until she makes a small noise of discomfort. Quickly, you release your hold, whispering an apology.

"Sorry..." You murmur softly, your voice barely audible.

Tasha responds with a gentle pat on your arm, understanding in her touch. "It's okay, Y/N," she whispers back.

As Bruce delves into an explanation about Vision's complex composition, your brows furrow in confusion. "What?" You whisper, turning to Bruce. "How did I not know there's parts of me in him?" You ask, bewildered by the revelation.

"Tony put everything of you that Jarvis collected over the years of your sessions," Bruce explains matter-of-factly.

"Good to know my sessions were private," You mutter sarcastically against Tasha's shoulder.

"You're saying Vision isn't just the stone?" Wanda interjects, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

"I'm saying that if we take out the stone, there is still a whole lot of Vision left. Perhaps the best parts," Bruce elaborates, prompting a moment of contemplative silence.

"What about me?" You inquire, releasing Tasha and standing up once more, your emotions bubbling to the surface. "You told me years ago that this stone is attached. It's wrapped around my lungs and my heart. If we take it out of me..." Your voice cracks, tears spilling down your cheeks. "I will die," You confess, your vulnerability laid bare for all to see.

Bruce places his hands on your shoulders, offering reassurance as you struggle to maintain composure. "I've thought about it a lot over the years, and I was thinking maybe, similar to Tony, we could do an open-heart surgery. Open you up and basically cut away the tendrils that the stone has put around your heart and lungs. Take the stone out and put an arc reactor in its place to keep you going," he suggests, his words hanging heavy in the air.

"D-do you think we can do that?" Tasha's voice quivers with fear and concern.

"Not me. Not here," Bruce replies solemnly, withdrawing his hands as you retreat back to Tasha's embrace.

"Well, you better find someone and somewhere fast," Rhodes interjects, breaking the somber atmosphere with a practical reminder.

"I know somewhere," Cap offers, his voice cutting through the tension with a sense of urgency.

As you holed yourself away in the small room of the Quinjet, facing the wall to hide your tears, the weight of your emotions overwhelmed you. Sobs wracked your body, your throat burning with the effort to contain your grief. In moments like these, you longed for the ability to numb your own emotions, to escape the pain that threatened to consume you.

A knock at the door startled you, and you called out for whoever it was to go away. Despite your plea, the door opened, and you tensed, expecting Tasha's presence. Yet, as the cot beside you shifted, you realized it was someone else. you didn't dare look, even when I felt soft lips press against the back of your shoulder, and tears dampened your shirt.

"I can't lose you," came the whispered confession, confirming your suspicion that it was Wanda behind you.

"Why not? You have Vision," you replied, your voice strained and cracked from crying.

"I do, but I don't want to lose you. You're too important. I meant what I said," Wanda insisted, her arm tightening around you as she pulled you closer.

"It's too high a price," she added, sending a shiver down your spine. You reached out, placing your hand over hers, and then turned to face her, allowing her to pull you into her embrace.

"Come here," You whispered, giving in to the flood of emotions as you cried in her arms. "Wands, I don't want to die... I know we're Avengers, but I'm terrified of death," You confessed, your tears flowing freely as she rubbed your back in a comforting gesture, mirroring the care you had shown her countless times before.

"I won't let that happen. I promise," Wanda whispered soothingly. "Just rest for now. We'll be in Wakanda soon enough, and I don't want you thinking about it anymore."

Looking up at her, you found the courage to ask something you had never asked before, a desperate plea born out of fear and desperation. "Can you take it away? Can you make me forget it?"

Wanda cupped your cheek, her touch gentle yet determined as she searched through your thoughts, sensing the depth of your distress. With a nod, she moved her fingers to your temples, her crimson tendrils reaching out as you closed your eyes, surrendering to her power.

"Shhhh, don't worry anymore, Detka... rest now," were the last words you heard, and you swore you felt her lips brush against yours before sleep claimed you, offering temporary respite from the weight of your fears.

[imaginedisish]

how do you sleep? (Ben Solo x fem!reader)

Part 1: We'll Never Have Sex

A/N: Hey guys!! So here is the first part of my Ben Solo x fem!reader fic. It is going to be told in non-chronological order, and every single part can be read as a one-shot! The overall series is based on "how do you sleep?" by LCD Soundsystem, but this particular part is based on "We'll Never Have Sex" by Leith Ross. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

Summary: After a lifetime of pining and yearning between you and Ben while training with Luke, things finally come to a head. (Series takes place over the year before Ben turns to the dark side, and then the aftermath of that).

Warnings: SMUT, fingering (f!receiving), so 18+, obviously canon divergence, all chapters can be read as a one shot with no context, series warning for canon typical violence, cursing, probably poorly proofread bc I only proofread once, praise kink...

Word Count: 2,511

Rain ruthlessly patters against the roof of the tent, threatening to leak through with each drop that came crashing down. You and Ben lay across from each other, a fire separating you, crackling in the center. You silently wish you were closer to him. You wish you could feel his calloused fingertips threading softly with your own. Maybe his hands would find their way to your waist, gently exploring your-

No. You can’t think like this, you’re not allowed to, never have been and never will be. You weren’t meant to get to have sex, married, to settle down, to have attachments of any kind. You were a Jedi, first, foremost, and only. 

But could love be that bad? Would being with Ben be so insurmountably terrible that it would corrupt both of you and bring disorder to the galaxy? Master Skywalker had told you it would, that an attachment of any kind would disrupt your training and your entire way of being. That notion had lost its meaning for you, and seemingly contradicted itself time and time again. If loving Ben was so horrific, why was it the only thing that made sense? 

“You okay?” He mutters, noticing that your eyes are glued to the fire, that stupid fire that stood in the way of being close to him. 

You mumble a yes in response, your mind far too clouded and nervous to say anything else. You were too busy convincing yourself that whatever bond you had with Ben defined the word yearn. You had known him your entire life, both having been trained by Luke practically since birth. And for as long as you could remember, you loved Ben Solo. 

And he loved you. 

But you held back, at least for as long as you could. As teenagers he had slipped up, kissed you while you had been sparring in the woods, far, far away from Luke. He had won the sparring match with your back to a tree, and he kissed you. 

Oh, you kissed me just to kiss me

Not to take me home

It was simple, it was sweetness

It was good to know

You talked about it once, and never again. You decided to hide it, to stuff the memory down, deep down where no one would ever be able to find it. Hiding wasn’t enough, it never was. You couldn’t forget it. Even now you dream of the taste of his lips on yours. You wish you could taste them now.

“You sure you’re okay?” His voice cuts through your thoughts, forcing you back to reality. He’s sat up now, looking down at you over the fire. 

You sit up too, forcing your gaze into the flames. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” It was Master Skywalker’s fault for putting you and Ben on missions together, for keeping you two so close. He had to know how the two of you felt about each other. It was like some soul crushing test, some obstacle he expected you two to jump over and come out the other side stronger Jedi. 

He couldn’t have been more wrong. And it certainly wouldn’t be the last mistake a Skywalker made. 

“Do you…” He paused, waiting for your gaze to meet his. Your heart skips a beat when your eyes lock. “Do you wanna come over here?” He asks. He tilts his head to the side, searching for your response in your face before you can think of something to say. 

Say no, You think to yourself. Bad idea. Bad, terrible, awful idea. But your thoughts don’t seem to communicate with the rest of your body. You’re already standing up, walking around the fire, and sitting down on the edge of his cot, facing away from him. 

Ben rests a warm hand on your lower back, his thumb tracing circles and stars along your spine. It feels good, comforting – so it can’t be bad. You didn’t feel any evil bubbling up in your stomach, no pull into the darkness like had been foretold and prophesied. 

“Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?” Ben asks, there’s a smirk in his voice. You could hear it from a mile away. You turn your head to look down at him, and there it was, the cocky smirk. The second he sees the pain contorting your face, it slips away. You want it to come back.

You smile softly, reassuring him that everything was fine. “It’s just the nightmares.” It wasn’t a lie. They had certainly come back. You had dozed off a few minutes ago, and there they were. You weren’t going to fall back to sleep, not without him.

Ben responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you down onto the cot. You stretch out a bit, letting yourself get pulled under the current of whatever was about to happen. The loneliness was too much; being without him was too much. And those – of course – were the real issues, the real sickness that was plaguing you. 

You and Ben knew loneliness too well, far better than any being ever should. 

Having someone this close kept that sinking alone feeling at bay; trapped it in some deep, dark, unintelligible, inaccessible corner far out of your mind’s reach. The feeling of his arms holding you tightly in place dispersed it, decimated it, fragmented it into pieces that simply could not be put back together, as if they had never been part of a whole to begin with. 

You’ve never had someone this close for this long. You’ve never gone this long without that alone feeling nipping at your skin and cursing in your face. And yet, it had been silenced. It wasn’t just because of a someone. He silenced it. And you knew that he was the only one who could. No, this couldn’t have just been anyone. It had to be him. 

And only him. 

“Ben,” You whisper. He squeezes your hip lightly in response. The feeling sends a ripple of chills down your spine. 

You don’t know exactly how long it’s been like this, standing on the ledge of a building neither of you should jump off from. You lost track of the time a few years ago. But you certainly never lost track of him. 

He squeezes your hip again, his lips suddenly sinking against your neck. You swallow the heavy lump in your throat as his hips push against yours. You jump, I jump, You think to yourself as he presses open-mouthed kisses up to your jaw, his body slowly shifting so that he’s above you. You let yourself fall onto your back, staring up at him. 

It was so quick, so easy to melt under his touch. It was too easy, for both of you, to give into the thing that had connected you for years. It was too simple to get to where you are now for it to ever be bad, to be the start of another war. 

The words slip from your lips. “I think I love you…” But you didn’t think. There was no thinking about this sort of thing, especially with Ben. That think came from your nerves, from that part of you adroitly trained to push him and everything else away. You didn’t want this to go past think. Think sits in limbo, unsure of its position, suspended in fluidity and nonsense. 

“Think?” Ben enunciates each letter, as if to question each sign’s meaning. But the smirk on his face tells you he’s much less serious than that, and that he knows your intention is far more serious than that think. 

You clear your throat, but the anxious feeling continues climbing up your esophagus. “Yeah…” You trail off, failing to seem aloof. “I think I-,”

“I know.” The thunder outside attempts to rudely interrupt the crackle of the fire and the finality of his words, but you hear them all the same. 

“Know what?” You question as the tips of his fingers graze the sides of your neck, slowly and gently wrapping around, as if to hold you in place. 

There’s no nervousness etched across his forehead as those perfect lips of his part. His brows aren’t furrowed, he doesn’t clear his throat. That smirk still tugs on his lips, even more so in his eyes, begging to be stretched into a smile. He’s cocky – but sweet – because he knows you’re terrified beyond belief. He’s more comfortable crossing this line than you are.

He was made to cross lines. “I know I love you.” And he means it. He means it in a way that speaks for you too, in a way that takes your think and transforms it into something greater. It was permanent, static, steadfast. A know, not a think. 

Rain pounds violently against the roof and you’re almost thankful for it. It keeps your words from leaking outside and into unaccepting ears. The ears that you and Ben had sworn your life to, your being to, your duty to. You were consciously breaking that oath, that code, that order that you had lived by for as long as you could remember. 

Part of you wants to scream, How dare you? How dare you cross the man who taught you everything, gave you everything? But what if that everything wasn’t as important as what Ben was, as that know had suddenly become? 

You know the answer, you’ve known it for years, before this moment, before he kissed you against that tree. You know the answer every time you see his smile, those eyes. You know when you hear his voice, when you feel his hand at your back when you’re being reprimanded by Skywalker. And he knows it too. He’s known longer than you have. 

Never mind crossing the line, it’s gone now, as if it was never there to begin with.

His lips press fervently against yours, already begging for more. He fits perfectly there, above you, your bottom lip skimming against his teeth, being bruised and imprinted with each hungry kiss. 

He pulls away for a second, his chest rising and falling somehow faster than your own. You wonder if he can hear your heart beating out of your chest, the sound drumming violently against your own ears. His hands unclasp your throat, roaming down your body, exploring each curve and corner before resting at the hem of your shorts. 

“Wanted you,” He pauses, his fingers hooking under the waistband. “For so long.” He finishes, his lips finding yours again. “So fucking long.” 

“B-Ben,” You’re stumbling around your words, and yet your mind has never felt more clear, more free. “Need you, please.” It’s a beg, a whine. 

His lips part from yours for just a second to pull your shorts and panties down. “Always needed you,” He says as his right hand drifts slowly down your stomach and in between your thighs. He spreads your legs and finds your clit before two of his fingers move further down. “So wet for me,” He says in between the gasps that echoed in the air. 

“B-Ben,” You whimper, suddenly remembering once again that you quite literally have never had anyone this close before. “I-I’ve nev-,”

“I know,” He whispers, his voice filled with lust, even deeper than normal. His dark hair falls against your forehead. “I’ve got you.” His fingers move back to your clit, circling slowly at first, gradually getting faster until all you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders. 

“F-fuck,” You curse. He presses harder against your core. “Need you, Ben,” You beg, all breathy and carelessly loud. 

Ben rests his forehead against yours, his fingers flicking at your clit, his other hand coming up and under your tank top. You have no bra underneath, something he couldn’t help noticing before. He gently rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, reveling in the way you feel against him. 

He wanted you, needed you, just as much as you wanted and needed him. 

His palm glides across your chest, making sure to do the same to the other side before swiftly pulling your top up and over your head, discarding it somewhere on the floor. You don’t care if it lands in the fire. You wanted it to burn. 

“Doing so good for me,” He whispers, his lips sucking against your neck now. “Such a good girl.” 

You feel yourself clench around nothing, fluttering as Ben’s fingers refuse to let up. “I’m s-so close,” You choke, struggling to catch your breath. You could feel that familiar feeling building up in your stomach, heat spreading like a wildfire across your skin and every inch of your body. “Ben,” You recklessly call out. “I’m gonna-,”

“That’s it,” He coos, his fingers still working at your core. “Come on my fingers.” And just like that, white heat, stars, the cliché tension snapping, all of it was true. With him, that’s exactly what it felt like. 

He doesn’t stop right away, his fingers slowing down a bit before dipping down to your entrance, collecting your slick bringing them up to his lips. His fingers disappear into his mouth, sucking gently before he pulls them out. The feeling at your core immediately sparks again. You want more, need more. 

“Ben!” Your heart pangs in your chest at the shout of a familiar voice. FUCK. “Ben!” The voice yells again, outside the tent. Your eyes widen in fear. Panic fills your chest, and Ben springs up and out of the cot, hoping to get outside the tent before the voice found its way inside. 

Ben smiles at you as he stands at the entrance of the tent. You smile back, but you’re freaking out on the inside. What if Luke hadn’t called Ben’s name? What would’ve happened if he had simply come in and caught you? Ben can tell that you’re uneasy by the way your nose scrunches up, eyebrows furrowed tightly. And yet, you don’t regret a thing. How could you? 

“It’s okay, don’t worry,” He whispers, grabbing the cloth door to the tent with his hand. “We’ll figure it out…” He trails off, looking towards the door for a second before his gaze finds yours again. “I’d do anything for you, I mean it.” His words are so final, so permanent, the exact thing you had been afraid of. 

But not anymore. 

“I know I love you.” The words fall from your mouth with ease this time. You can hear Master Skywalker’s footsteps growing closer to the tent.

Ben smiles, his cheeks flushing just a touch, like someone had pinched his cheeks ever-so-slightly to remind him of how handsome he was. “I know I love you,” He says back before squeezing out of the tent so his uncle wouldn’t see the evidence of creed that had been broken and the attachment that had been consummated.

What the fuck were you going to do?

Depollute me, gentle angel

And I'll feel the sickness less and less

Come and kiss me, pretty baby

Like we'll never have sex

[s-rosie]

Javery hcssssssss #4

are you there goddddd it’s me fionaaaaaaa

jameson buys avery acrostic jewelry that says either cute messages or as clues for when he makes their dates a game (acrostic jewelry is jewelry that uses the first letter of jewels to spell out a word or message)

when jamie isn’t with ave and she says that she’s craving something or wants something he will order it to the house for her with a little message on the bag like “to avery from your mystery boy”

he can play electric guitar and she can sing so they make covers of songs together and just sing to have fun and it sounds really good

(this one is kinda reminiscent of some of my previous hcs) they once got caught making out in the library and when the teacher tried to give them detention they said that it never said in the rule book you can’t make out in the library (bc who would acc do it it’s just common sense…) and the teacher had to let them go but the next day the rules got updated with a “no making out in the library” rule on it and they put more cameras in that area

when they have whipped cream they always try to put it on the other’s nose/smear it on their face and it ends with a huge mess all over and like 5 empty cans of whipped cream

ave can rub a line down jamie’s forehead down his nose a few times with her pinky and he will fall asleep instantly and he won’t admit that he falls asleep that fast but she finds it adorable

to make them mad, nash gave them “the talk” when he found out they were sleeping together and wouldn’t let them leave until he was done and they were mortified but nash just found it funny

one time on her period ave bled through the sheets of jameson’s bed and she was so worried he would find it gross and want to leave her but he just told her it was natural and absolutely nothing to worry about and he gave her some of his really comfy oversized clothes and cuddled her after changing the sheets and helping her clean up

when they were still in school, jameson asked avery “so, want to come over to my room later and study 😏” but she was kinda clueless to what he meant so she was like “sure, i’ll make a quizlet” and he was like “no, we don’t need that, the test is on human anatomy” and she was like “oh i’m not taking biology this year so i don’t need to study but ill send you the link to my favorite anatomy blooket” and she didn’t realize what he really meant until a random 3:00 am 3 years later

once they accidentally left their handcuffs on the headboard from ✨activities✨ and ave filmed a grwm with those in the background and didn’t know until xander and max pointed it out and made fun of them

they hold each other’s pinky’s sometimes when they want to be close but still have their space and it’s adorable

jameson has a staring problem and will not stop looking at avery no matter what bc he just thinks she’s just so beautiful which causes alisa to get mad when jamie can’t even look at the reporters interviewing them bc he’s staring at avery but most of the fans find it adorable

he will grab her cheeks and pinch them slightly which causes her face to scrunch up which looks really cute and when her face is red from the pinching he says “haha i made you blush” which causes her to do the same and/or kiss his face all over until his face is red and say “now i made you blush”

on a couch or big comfy chair ave will sit on his lap (not in a spicy way but like how rachel sits on ross’ lap at central perk in friends) and he will cuddle her and whisper sweet nothings in her ear and kiss her face/neck while she giggles and kisses him back

jamie wears her jewelry and avery wears his jackets and sunglasses

the first time he put his hand on ave’s thigh she forgot how to breath/act like a normal human being and it was at a gala so there are photos of her from that gala trying not to die. she even says that the closest she’s ever come to dying wasn’t the shooting or plane bombing, but when jameson put his hand on her thigh for the first time

i’m trying something a little different with my hcs where i make them longer and add more context and stuff but make a little less so lmk if you like this better or the shorter ones!

also pls give me rqs bc i have motivation but i’m running out of ideas for hcs lollll

[abiiors]

HI HELLO HI this is a half-formed, fully horny, wedding guest ross concept. i'm not fully back to writing yet but ross in white is a damn good muse!!!!

cw: minors dni!!! smut, finger fucking in a bathroom, alcohol consumption, smoking, typos probably-i wrote this at work

you haven't really met a lot of john's friends yet, that's probably why you don't remeber seeing this handsome stranger across the bar, cigarette dangling between his fingers, a glass of whiskey in his hands that he sips from so lazily.

he's busy in conversation, you're busy gawking at him, wondering how you've never seen him before (and this you're sure of because let's face it, there's no way you're forgetting this man if you'd ever had the chance to talk to him before.) much to your surprise, he's alone--well, his group of friends is there and he seems particularly close with the groom but there's no date in sight. at least you hope not, because you've definitely caught him staring a few times--long, hard, lingering stares that make you feel like you're about to spontaneously combust.

"this seat taken?" he comes up from behind you just when you're think he's too busy socialising. you smile to yourself, throw him a coy smile too.

"not if you're the one asking."

"is that right?" he smirks and settles into the chair. up close he's hotter somehow--the white shirt clings to him in ways that have you drooling. he takes a quick drag of his cigarette and exhales the smoke to one side.

"ross," he introduces himself quickly, "no one told me there would be gorgeous bridesmaids."

you take a sip of your wine and tsk, "'m not a bridesmaid."

"so you're not off limits then?"

"off limits for...?"

he takes a sip of his whisky and leans in, almost like he's about to divulge a secret. then he looks you up and down slowly, gaze landing on your lips. you get the vague sense that he's undressing you in his head, and it sends heat swirling in your gut. "don't pretend like you weren't undressing me with your eyes, darling."

"and if i admitted to it?" you challenge, "what will you do about it?"

ross leans even closer, his breath fanning your face, his fingers are on your wrist, cool from the whiskey and deliciously callused. he draws circles on the skin. "i hear the first floor bathroom is not open to guests."

"is that right?" you mimic him, smirking when he nods.

"we can sneak in though. if you want?"

in one quick gulp you finish your wine and stand, smoothing down your dress that reaches just past your knees. he's up in an instant too, towering over you and so close that you can practically taste the heat radiating off him.

"lead the way," you giggle and he takes your hand in his.

--------------------

the marble edges of the countertop dig into your ass, his fingers dig into your thighs, and yet all of that simply fades to the background when you kiss--hungry and feverish, teeth clashing against each other, your lip caught between his teeth until you hiss and he slips his tongue in.

his hand snakes down your side, effortlessly undoing the hidden zip until you feel cool breeze against your ribs, and then his fingers--his big, warm, rough fingers, tracing the visible skin, leaving goosebumps behind.

hastily you loosen his tie and move on to his belt, fumbling with it until it's almost undone. ross laughs into your mouth.

"so impatient!" he tsks, "is that how much you want me?"

"the undressing with my eyes didn't give it away?" you retort, and finally undo the belt, sliding it out of the hooks and off his waist. it goes flying in some corner of the bathroom, clinks against a wall.

"turn," he pants, and the moment you obey, his hand are on the straps, pulling them down and off your shoulders until the dress falls just below your chest.

"fuck, darling!" he curses at the sight in the mirror--you, utterly breathless with messy hair and swollen lips. your peaked nipples are fully on display now. his eyes turn darker, taking you in hungrily, then he moves.

the moment his fingers close around your nipples, you moan, head thrown back and eyes closed and ass backed into his crotch where you can feel him completely. he's painfully hard and deliciously big and just the thought of him in you makes you clench around nothing.

"oh you are testing me," you grit out, desperate to be touched. his fingers circling your nipples feels good, his hand snaking down your body feels good, but you need more and more and more, you need him until everything other memory in you brain is replaced by the feel of his cock pounding into you.

he laughs, mouth hot on your neck, "what would you like me to do then?"

"touch me!" you hiss.

"like this?" his hand snakes down, bunching up the fabric of your dress until it's lifted up and around your waist. you close your eyes in anticipation, waiting, shivering when his fingers trace the inside of your thigh--up and up and up and---

"oops," ross grins, and rips the flimsy lacy underwear off you in one smooth motion. you gape at him in the mirror, but then his fingers are on you, circling your clit at a delicious pace and the buzzing in your head grows so loud, you forget the stupid underwear and forget the cold marble digging into your hips.

you moan, clutching on to the countertops when your knees threaten to buckle. "yes--god, yes, like that..."

tentatively he dips a finger in you and your breath hitches. ross clearly likes the reaction because a moment later he plunges a finger inside you, rubbing your clit with his thumb, thrusting the finger in and out and in and out until without warning he adds a second and you have to bite on the palm of your hands to stifle your scream.

"fuck, you'll kill me with those sounds you make," he growls in your ear, and increases his pace. you barely care to answer, mumbling something in gibberish, entirely focused on the feel of his fingers dipping in and out of you, of his thumb pressing into your clit and his cock digging into your ass.

heaven...is exactly how you'd describe it. your body agrees too--tensing and tensing until you're panting and barely even controlling the moans anymore. fuck it, it's fine if anyone walks in at this point. you and ross can put on a good show!

"'m so close," you moan, "ke-keep going, shit!"

and he does, his other hand snakes around your hips, holding you in place so he can reach deeper, hit your sweet spot with his long, thick fingers every time. your head spins, overwhelmed, dizzy and---

there's no warning like there usually is, all you know is that your vision goes white, your body feels slack and with a cry you cum all over his hand, holding onto the countertop to stay upright somehow. ross holds you too, dipping his fingers in and out slowly so you can ride out your orgasm. his hand feels wet and slick, your release coating his fingers. he looks like he's enjoying it though...

the moment you open your eyes, he holds your jaw in place, making you look at him in the mirror, them he places his fingers on his tongue, licking and sucking every corner, making you watch the filthy scene unfolding, making you wetter by the minute somehow.

"delicious," he moans, right in your ear. "ready for round two?"

you bite your lip and nod. "ready for round two."

[chpsticklesbian]

Christine

lorraine warren x fem!reader

cw: angst, repressed emotions and such

a/n: i love her so bad!!! the lack of fanfics is absurd though... inspired by 'christine' - lucy dacus & a reference to 'i'd have to think about it' by leith ross.

words: 2.4k+

connecticut felt cold. colder than usual. maybe autumn was coming faster. maybe it was going to rain. whatever it was you were glad it happened. because tonight lorraine held your hand tighter to keep hers warm. you welcomed it, naturally, without hesitation as the three of you walked out of the theater.

but much to your dismay ed hadn't parked far away.

"god that movie was so boring i was fighting not to fall asleep" lorraine complained. you scoffed in response, mumbling an 'i told you so', and she playfully shoved you.

"what? you insisted on watching it after i told you it would be!" you defended yourself with a playful smile.

"whatever." she grumbled, making you chuckle.

"well if you're tired you could sit in the back with y/n and sleep on the drive back" ed, ever the gentlemen, offered. you guess it was nice he cared and preferred she fall asleep comfortably over making her sit on the passenger seat beside him.

"you sure?" he smiled at her, still having her hands interlocked with yours. he thought it was a girlfriends thing. though in your eyes he was wrong, you just hoped lorraine thought so too.

"wouldn't want you exhausted." you could only stare at them smile at each other as you tried your best not to tear your hands away from lorraines grasp.

"thank you." she leaned to press a kiss into his cheek. that's when you looked away.

climbing into the backseat with her you noticed ed taking something from the trunk of his car before getting in the driver seat. he turned to the both of you before passing lorraine a wool blanket so she wouldn't get cold. it all felt natural. him caring for her. as if he'd done it a hundred times. you felt your gut churn at the thought. you know the feeling all too well. you felt it too. it seems you were far more similar to ed than you thought.

lorraine fell asleep quickly after ed started the drive back. as she did, the car fell into an almost awkward silence. but you weren't planning on talking to him any time soon. you were fine with lorraines head on your shoulder, her quiet mutters of nonsense as she dreamt.

you were already halfway back home when ed finally decided to speak.

"she alright back there?" of course, his first sentence to you would be about her. you just hummed, completely uninterested in conversing with him. you knew in a way it was childish. he'd done nothing to you or lorraine. but the mere prospect of losing her to him so easily was enough to make you dislike him.

it wasn't that you were possessive, no. she's had many boyfriends before him. but none of them had compared to him. they weren't as nice as he is, they didn't care about her like he did, mostly they didn't love her like he does.

it was stupid, really. you started to recognize it when he took her out to things you two usually did together. that wasn't out of the ordinary of course. her previous boyfriends had done the same. but before ed it was always;

"it was much more fun when i went there with you."

but with ed she'd call you grinning ear to ear, you could hear it in her voice. that's when you realized he didn't love her like her previous partners did. he loves her like you do.

"so how long have you known lorraine?" he looked at you and lorraine through the rear view mirror. you guess he got tired of the silence and decided it's better to talk about this than nothing. you sighed.

"since we were in middle school." you decided if he was going to talk to you, your responses would be short. you weren't trying to make a friend anyway.

"so you guys are close" you could tell he didn't plan what to say next. you just hummed. a minute of silence passes by.

"do you-"

"you don't have to talk to me, ed. i know you're her boyfriend and all but that doesn't mean we have to be friends." you cut him off. you felt bad, in a way. but you knew saying that was better than enduring painful small talk for another few minutes. so you were thankful when he nodded and you resumed staring at the road from out the window. 

“i’m sorry, it’s just, you’re really important to her. and i don’t know what i’ve done to make you… disapprove of me, but whatever it is i’m sorry. truly. i care about her, and you mean so much to her- and i really, really don’t wanna make this lose my chance with her. so could you please, tell me what i’ve done.” he started again. you almost felt bad now. maybe you’ve been too harsh on him. you sighed.

“look, you haven’t done anything. honest. but you’re getting terribly close to her. more than anyone else she’s been with has managed to. you can't blame me for worrying about her a bit. i know you’re a good guy and i’m sorry if i’ve made it seem like i dislike you in some sort of way, but it’s hard to know these days” you half-lied, half told the truth. he nodded his head in understanding. at least he believed you. 

“if it makes you feel better i swear i have zero intentions of hurting her. you have my word on it.” you mustered up your best smile.

“thank you, ed.” he nodded. the rest of the ride was filled with lorraines constant murmurs and the sound of tires on gravel until you reached your house. calling lorraines name as softly as possible, you gently nudged her awake until her eyes opened to meet yours. she looked out the window, recognising your house immediately. of course she did, she was always there. she shuffled away from you until you were able to open the car door. but you were surprised to find her leaving the backseat too, following you out. you turned to her before walking back home.

“still on for tomorrow?” she smiled at you. it was dopey and soft. her eyes squinting even more due to her still being half asleep. and my god was it warm.

“wouldn't miss it.” it was your turn to smile. with that, she pulled you in for a hug, and suddenly connecticut felt warmer than usual. you hope she was sleepy enough to not notice you held her tighter.

“sleep well pretty girl.” you whispered to her, she chuckled at that.

 after pulling away she opened the door to the passenger seat beside ed and took a seat. all the warmth you felt previously suddenly disappeared. the cold rush of air prominent once more on your skin. So you turned and descended home. reaching your door you turned back. the car hasn't moved. lorraine was fast asleep again, but ed was watching you to ensure you made it inside. he can be nice. you unlocked your door before turning back once more and offering him a wave goodbye. and he grinned, gladly tossing you a wave back and turning to put his car back to drive. you found it difficult to sleep that night, too many things had managed to occupy your head. only thing keeping you steady was that you’d see her face tomorrow. just her. 

-

your evening with lorraine was perfect. lunch was full of conversation and laughs about anything and everything and everything else in between. it tuned out any thoughts you had about the previous night. and him. it didn't stop you from admiring her as she rambled, however. you thought she was either so oblivious to not notice or she was welcoming it. you hoped for the latter. 

by the time you two finished, evening was slowly approaching. you offered to get ice cream, you know she’d never pass that up. so to an eager nod; you chuckled and guided you both to the nearest parlor. you got her order out before she got to telling you. she was surprised to find you got her order complete with nothing missing. she’d be lying if she says it didn’t make her smile, or make her heart beat a few times faster. but you were just being a good friend. though how come ed always asks what she wants?

with the park nearby empty, you took the opportunity to occupy a vacant bench. She followed quickly to sit by your side. the bench wasn’t too long, you sat shoulder to shoulder. conversation came easily, until it steered to the topic of ed. something you desperately didn’t need today.

"you think he'll make a mother out of me?" you scoffed at her, facing away to throw away your napkins to the trash can beside the bench before facing her again.

"you'll make a mother out of yourself when the time is ready. raise 'em like you've always wanted."

"by the lake" you both said in whispered unison. it never failed to surprise her how you always remember details about her. whether it was her now, then, or her in the future. she couldn't help but wonder if he’d remember her that easily too.

"you think i'd raise them right?" you hummed in agreement.

"well knowing you, they'd be the first kid to never hurt another." she chuckled. you could feel her laugh vibrating from her body.

“you think too highly of me.” she jokes.

“it’s hard not to.” you tease her back, she rolls her eyes at you. you chuckle in response.

“hey, i hope this- me and ed thing getting serious isn’t bothering you too much.” oh god did he say something to her? you tried to have your face remain neutral.

“no, not at all. why would it?” she looked at you, eyebrow raised and all.

“we spend everyday together. now i spend most of my days with him. i wouldn't be surprised if it does.” you let out your best convincing laugh.

“seriously? lorraine, he’s your boyfriend. i'm not offended you’ve cut spending time with me to be with him. yeah, i miss being with you all the time but i understand. and hey, you still hang out with me. that’s completely enough for me.” you reassure her with a smile. you wish you could tell her the way you actually feel about the situation. but the regret faded when you can see her get peppy and smiley again.

“so glad you’re not the possessive type.” 

“you wish.” you tease, making her nudge you to the side with a laugh.

"but if you get married," you start, your voice playful.

"what? you'd object- throw your shoe at the altar?" her tone wasn't serious. it was light, humorous, all the components you needed to joke around. though you couldn't help but think she wasn't entirely wrong. but you simply laughed along with her. doing your best to ease your mind. it's not like it was hard for you to smile when you were with her anyway.

"hey, you joke but i might just" you made her chuckle even more. and you swear you could look at her smile for years.

"what? is that so ridiculous?" the smile on your lips was almost audible in your voice.

"you'd be willing to lose your dignity just like that?" the smile was still adorning her lips while her eyebrows were furrowed lightly, looking at you as if trying to decipher if you were bluffing.

"better than losing you." you were still smiling, albeit with a linger of melancholia at the thought. you couldn't help but notice her smile mirrored yours. until it faded completely, leaving just her subtly furrowed brows and building frown. you'd realized you might've said something wrong. so you turned your face away from her to stare at the grass in front of you. but she didn't budge. eyeing you as if you'd just said the most interesting thing in the world. you didn't dare take your words back.

instead you let her process them. letting a minute of silence engulf you both until she spoke again.

"you'd still lose me. and my respect. you'd lose me regardless" at this you turned your head back to her. you tried to ignore that she subconsciously admitted that you'd lose her in this situation. no matter what happens. still the thought lingered in your mind for a while.

"that's fine. then at least i'd lose you knowing that i didn't lose you to someone that doesn't make you happy." she didn't reply to that. looking off to the side before turning back to you.

"does he?" she raised an eyebrow before realizing you were asking if he made her happy. another passing moment of silence. the hesitation to answer gave you the real answer very quickly. but she'd deny it. she couldn't admit he didn't, at least not in the way she wanted him too. she couldn't admit nobody's made her as happy as she was each time she was around you. 

So she nodded. it was impossible for her to lie to you verbally. too scared to look you in the eye, she looked to the view beside you.

"then i'll forever hold my peace" she took in your words and almost regretted lying. for some odd reason she wanted you to know he doesn't make her happy. she doesn't know why. maybe deep down she wants you to destroy her wedding one day. maybe she wanted you to profess your love to her in formal attire while she stood in the chapel wearing a white gown.

"but he doesn't-" a deep sigh. your brows furrowed.

"he does. just not the way i had in mind" not the way you do. 

"nobody's perfect" your smile was tight and forced. her eyes were glazed over as she looked at you. 

“you are.” you chuckle. the truth behind her words went through you. you always denied the off chance she’d love you back. she was just being nice.

“then it’s too bad i’m not him.” she frowned. maybe in some universe you were. but the chance of being together in another universe provided no comfort to you or her. what was the use if you wouldn’t be satisfied in this universe?

she clicked her tongue as she opened her mouth to take a big breath and let it out in a sigh. she turned her head back to the scene in front of the both of you and you followed suit, letting her rest her head on your shoulder. 

connecticut was cold. but it was too bad she wasn’t yours to keep warm.

[ftrcountry]

The One With The Test

I just want to say rip to a one of a kind actor, Matthew Perry. I still can't believe it :( May he finally rest in peace.

Summary: I watched Fools Rush In Today and this sparked the idea for this fic. I hope you enjoy!

It was New Year's Eve in New York City. People were out partying and hanging out with their family and friends. Snow was slowly falling down in the cold crisp air. This was yet another New Years eve party without a date. You weren't particularly upset as you grown used to this. You were currently standing outside on the balcony watching the snowflakes fall all around. "somebody kiss me at midnight!" You heard Chandler go around asking each one of your friends in the apartment. You let out a small laugh. Oh sweet Chandler. You haven't told no one but you were starting to develop feelings for your best friend. You were just afraid to say anything in fear it might ruin the relationship the two of you have. You bit your lip, an idea popping into your mind. You had a lot to drink tonight so you had more courage than usual. You were going to catch Chandler off guard and kiss him at midnight.

---

Everyone was gathered around the tv counting down from ten. 10 9 Rachel was with Ross. Phoebe with Mike. 8 7 Monica with Richard Joey with one of his flings. 6 5 You took a deep breath as you walked up to Chandler. 4 3 You grabbed a fist full of Chandler's shirt. 2 1 Cheers erupted, people clapped at the start of the New Year as you pulled Chandler close and pressed your lips to his. Chandler tensed for a moment before you felt his lips kissing you back. His hand fell to your waist. "You wanted someone to kiss you at midnight." You whispered breathlessly as you pulled apart from him. You were flustered as Chandler pushed a piece of your hair behind your ear. "You have no idea how long I wanted this." Chandler finally spoke, giving you one of his charming smiles.

---

After the party, you ended up at Chandler and Joey's. Both you and Chandler were a little more than tipsy. After a hot, passionate round of the best sex you ever had, you were cuddled up to Chandler's side. "Wow." was the only words to escape your and Chandler's mouth.

---

Three Months Later Since that night on New Year's, you and Chandler decided to make it official. Everything was wonderful and you were so happy until three months later you were sitting on the bathroom tiled floor holding a positive pregnancy test. You've never been this scared in your life. You knew this would freak Chandler out and run him off. This would most likely be the end of the relationship and you might be a single mom. Before you could think about the future, there was a knock on the bathroom. "Y|N, you okay?" It was Chandler. With a shaky breath, you stood up with the positive pregnancy test. With trembling hands, you opened the door revealing Chandler. Concern was written on his face as you were in the bathroom for quite a while. His eyes flickered down to the test in your hands. His eyes widen and he jumped back. "Y|N. Please don't tell me that-" He stopped speaking. A tear slipped down your face as you nodded. You couldn't look at him. "I used a condom. Lot's of them." "Well, one didn't work." "But that's its job! It's whole purpose in life is... to work!!" Chandler was freaking out at this point. He ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and worth. He went into the kitchen got a glass of water and chugged it down. You started playing with the test in your hands out of nervousness. "I'm keeping the baby" You stammered. Chandler's eyes flew up to yours. "What?" He questioned. He was not ready to be a father. You knew he was expecting the other options that you were going to do. Keeping the baby was not one of them. He looked upset and this was where the relationship would end. You dropped the test on the counter, tears falling down your face. "Goodbye Chandler." You whispered before running out of the apartment.

-----

Rain droplets fell into the night in New York City. You were currently at Monica's, sitting on the couch with a leg pulled up to your chest. Monica, Rachel and Phoebe were all sitting around trying to comfort you. It's been a little over twenty four hours since you and Chandler had the falling out regarding the baby. "I'm sure it's a simple misunderstanding. You guys are having a baby! Chandler would never leave you alone to deal with this. He's probably just scared." Monica said, rubbing your back. "You should've seen the look on his face. It was full of fear, concern and he was just upset. He didn't have words." You cried, wiping your eyes with a tissue. Before anyone could say anything, the door opened and Chandler walked in. You looked down at your hands in your lap. He had one hand in his pocket and the other scratching the back of his neck. Monica, Phoebe and Rachel got the queue and grabbed their things and left. "Hey." Chandler spoke softly, walking over. "Hi." You sniffled. Chandler came around and sat on the coffee table right in front of you. "I'm sorry Y|N. I panicked and didn't have the words to comfort you and to be there when you needed me. This is big news." Chandler spoke up. "If you don't want to be in the baby's life, that's fine. I can do this on my own." At this point you still couldn't look at Chandler. You felt sick to your stomach, whether that was morning sickness or your nerves you weren't sure. "Just wait a minute. Look at me, Y|N." Chandler spoke, taking your hands in his. You finally looked up into his eyes. He was staring with so much adoration in his eyes at you. "This afternoon, I couldn't decide between a Texas burger and a tuna melt, but my life made sense, you know? And now I know exactly want I want, and my life doesn't make any sense. And I was doing fine this afternoon. I was doing great. That was me. It was me then. And now I'm with you and I don't know what happened between the tuna melt and the Texas burger but I WANT this with you Y|N. I never thought about my future before until we happened. I want this with our baby." By the time Chandler finished his speech, you had tears rolling down your face. Chandler slid over to the couch right next to you and pulled you close. You buried your face into his chest as he rubbed your back, kissing the top of your head. "Everything is going to be okay, Y|N. I love you so much and I already love this baby."

[glitterforashes]

Hey, idk if you’re still active but if you are could you do Larry HC please!

𝐒𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 ; 𝐋𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

>>>>> heyyy chat so contrary to popular belief i am indeed alive (but barely) and upon remembering i do have a page and multiple people who would like to hear from me i decided to drop a lil single iykwim 🔥. no but on a srs note im sorry for disappearing and I hope u enjoy! thank you for requesting, lovely <3

is the modern day Bob Ross

has so many pairs of jeans with paint and pen marks all over them

regularly walks around with a blunt tucked behind his ear

is actually the sweetest dude ever

is way smarter than you’d think he is

regularly asks to paint you, only to end up painting something completely different

walks you to your classes at school (on accident. you always end up crossing paths and then he starts yapping and forgets you two dont have the same classes and proceeds to have to sprint to make it to his own class on time)

yall first met through the elevator. you were waiting for it, and the doors opened, and he was inside with earbuds in very aggressively playing an air-guitar solo. stood up straight the second he realized you were there and then refused to speak or look at you for the elevator ride. was so embarrassed he wanted to cry. he told Sally about it. Sally laughed at him so hard he started coughing.

you started seeing him around more often after that, and you two became friends

your name in his phone is “Blink” because when you first met all you did was stare at him then blink very slowly.

his name in your phone is “Master of Puppets”. i will not be elaborating

you spend a lot of time in his apartment

his mom has stopped asking if you’ll be over, just asks when so she knows if she needs to make extra supper.

he steals YOUR clothes. if you accidentally leave a tshirt at his place you’ll never see it again

stares unblinkingly at you sometimes. it freaks you out.

“larry. im about to poke you in the eye.”

“oh, my bad dude.”

you two have a best-friends-that-get-asked-if-they’re-dating-constantly-and-say-no-but-would-also-marry-each-other kind of friendship

is a rememberer. remembers every little thing you tell him. you like apples? there will be apples at his place next time for you. you dont like being cold? he turns his ceiling fan off when you come around.

is very attentive, but nobody would ever know because he never comments on what he sees.

you signed him up for Homecoming King elections one year. he did NOT find it as funny as you did.

he won.

the popular kids were pissed.

he was pissed.

you laughed your ass off.

has LED’s in his room. they’re always blue or red.

paints his nails

tried to pierce his own ears once. it didn’t work. he showed up at your door with a stud earrings poking through his earlobe and blood running down his neck.

“larry what the freak did you do.”

“earrings :(“

likes to cuddle once he gets more comfortable with you

if you two are sitting on the couch together, his arm is permanently over the back of it and by default around you in a way

manspreads like no other. its so annoying.

actually is a gentleman and very considerate

doesn’t ever flirt with you too hard or initiate physical touch, lets you do it to avoid making you uncomfortable

is playful

“larry, you’re standing too close.” “scared you’re gonna fall in love?” “you wish.”

once you two are very comfortable around each other he’ll come up behind you and rest his chin on your shoulder or on top of your head and slink his arms around your waist real lazily.

“whatcha doin?” “minding my business.”

at first, if you stayed the night, he’d sleep on the floor despite your protests and let you sleep in his bed.

now you two share his bed, and occasionally wake up with your legs tangled together.

loves being little spoon even though he would never tell anybody but you that fact.

bagel bite enthusiast.

larry chucked a sweater at you as you sat on his bed, poised and rigid, trying to be a good model for his still-life portrait of you. “what’s this for?” you asked. although majority of his body was hidden behind the canvas, you could see the slight movements of his arms and shoulders as he moved the paint brush across the scene. “you’re shivering.” he stated shortly, clearly in focus mode. although you didn’t know how he could manage to focus so diligently with Sanity Falls blaring from his record player and filling every crevice of the room.

“sorry.” you said, quickly tugging the sweater on then re-assuming your previous pose. you didn’t know why you agreed to model for him every time he asked. zero out of ten times has the portrait ever actually turned out to be a portrait of you. once, he literally made you pose for an hour just to end up painting a picture of himself riding a unicorn. you were pretty sure he had smoked a little more than his body weight could handle that day. his brown eyes peeked from over the canvas every so often, observing you, which you didn’t mind. larry had probably seen more of your body than you cared to admit, or realize, considering you two felt more than comfortable changing in front of each other and sleeping with just tshirts and underwear on in the same room.

it felt like hours had passed before you saw larry rise from his seat on the stool, his knees and elbows popping loudly as he stretched. “alright. the genius has concluded his work.” he smirked, glancing at you through his lashes. “larry, i don’t even think you know how to spell concluded.” you teased as you followed his lead, standing and stretching and groaning as your muscles began to loosen again.

“so, what creature did you paint this time?” you walked towards him but he grabbed the canvas and held it close to him, squinting his eyes at you. “uhm, you can’t see it.” he said sassily. “uhm, ‘i cant see it’ my left nut! i just sat and posed for two hours dude, let me see!” you advanced on him and reached your hand out to grab the canvas but he ducked away, extending an arm out to keep you at a distance. “okay! fine, but you have to stand there,” he pointed to a spot a few steps away, “and close your eyes.”

you pursed your lips and rolled your eyes, putting your hands on your hips as you dramatically took a few steps back and closed your eyes. “gosh, how atrocious could it be if i need to close my eyes first?” you said. usually, he’d chuckle or laugh, but he didn’t this time. you heard some rustling and then a beat of silence before he said, “okay, open them.”

you opened your eyes and your hands immediately flung to your mouth, covering it as your eyes widened. in front of you was larry, in all his messy-haired, paint-splattered-jean, muscle tank top glory holding a painting of you. a hyper-realism painting of you. he managed to fit *every* detail into it, capturing every dip and curve and mark on your face. the painting only went from your shoulders and up, but that alone had you on the verge of tears.

“larry..” you mumbled, taking a step forward to examine it closer. he even managed to note the small freckles you had, so small that you forgot you even had them sometimes. “do you like it?” he asked quietly, his demeanor starting to change from nervous to insecure. “yes!” you said quickly. “yes, yes i love it! it’s beautiful.” you said. you stepped forward and took the painting gently from his hands and placed it on the easel before launching your arms around his nape, falling into an easy hug as he wrapped his arms loosely around your waist and rested his cheek on top of your head.

“thank you.” you said quietly, resting your head on his shoulder. “you’re welcome.” you two stood like that for a bit, neither of you ready nor feeling the need to break the hug, when you felt him mumbling against your hair. “huh?” you said. he lifted his chin and repeated, “c-o-n-c-l-u-d-e-d. concluded.”

one, two, three beats of silence before you were giggling and slapping his shoulder, looking up at his smug and smiling face. “oh whatever! you probably googled that. that’s why you told me to close my eyes.” “oh you wish! don’t be bitter cause im smarter than you.” “you could only dream of being smarter than me.” you smiled, shaking your head with laughter. your laughter turned into a lazy grin as you rocked your bodies side to side, looking at his face. “seriously, thank you.” “no problem.” he said. you turned your head away from him to glance behind you at the painting. it wasn’t until then that you noticed a very small, very enthusiastic stick-figure rendition of larry in the corner of the canvas holding up a flower. you decided you wouldn’t tell him you noticed as you smiled again, wondering how you managed to make a friend like him.

[agi-ppangx]

I have a question…? Could u do a part 2 to the “finding put ur pregnant with minho” where reader and minho plan a fun way to tell the other 7 that they’re pregnant and the kids react in a happy way and how they’re gonna be amazing uncles and stuff?

Thank you in advance 🫶

oh my god my first ask ever !! thank u so much for submitting ‹3 i wrote it in the middle of the night so please excuse all typos and grammar mistakes >< hopefully this is what you wanted, i tried to make it fun and chaotic :D please let me know if you liked it !

part one | part three

feedback and reblogs highly appreciated🫶🏽

you and minho found out you're pregnant a while ago. the past few weeks were really busy for both of you - going to the doctors, learning about pregnancy and reading about babies and overall implementing a new lifestyle. you've told your parents about the baby as soon as you have been confirmed by your doctor that you are pregnant. however, you decided to wait a while before telling anyone else just to make sure your pregnancy is safe.

now you were about to enter the second trimester and you and minho decided to finally tell the boys about the baby, since the bump was starting to show a little bit. but minho being minho didn't want to just say "hey, just so you know - y/n is pregnant and we're about to be parents" - no, he wanted to do it in a bit of a fun way. that being said, you two organised a little game night with the boys, wanting to share the news during charades.

when they arrived you started with some board games to set the mood. all of you were chatting and joking around, no one suspected anything. jisung and hyunjin asked you a few times if you wanted to grab some beer with them and you came out with some lame excuses, like "sorry, i'm not feeling well now" or "nah, i'm good, i have my orange juice" and they were looking at you suspiciously, but said nothing. after what felt like a hundredth question about beer, you announced that it's time to play charades. minho looked at you and smiled a bit, knowing whats about to happen.

chan went first, pretending to be michael jackson. you laughed a little at his impression since he didn't really know how to do the moonwalk but tried nonetheless. then there was hyunjin, trying to do an impression of bob ross, but it resulted in seungmin making fun of him for a good ten minutes. "okay, now it's my turn,'' minho exclaimed and stood in front of you. "i'm gonna make an impression of someone in this room," he added and he proceed to do his best at pretending to be you - he brushed his non-existent long hair out of his face and imitated your giggling. and then he started to show his non-existent pregnancy belly with his hands. you were trying not to smile, but then the boys started talking. "hey, you said it's someone in this room" jisung yelled and pointed a finger at minho. "he's right, no one ate so much food!" jeongin added at which you started grinning. "right? and the only person who could be pregnant is y/n and-" chan started, but quickly stopped in his tracks when he realised. he turned to you and stared at your face with disbelief, the boys following after him. "y/n, is there anything you wanna tell us?" the boys were staring at you, their bewildered faces making you laugh out loud. minho walked to you and sat by your side, giggling with you at how ridiculously funny the boys looked. when you calmed down a bit, you finally decided to answer their question. "i think you've already realised, but yes, there is something we wanna tell you guys" you started and took minho's hand, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. you took a deep breath and continued, "we are going to have a baby and no - we're not getting a fourth cat" you stated, squeezing minho's hand in yours. the boys looked at you two for a while and then the chaos began. they started yelling and jumping all around your living room. "oh my god, y/n thats amazing! congratulations!" chan said loudly, trying to shout over the rest. "we're gonna be uncles! yeah!" felix started screaming, visibly overjoyed by the news. he then proceeded to trap you in a tight hug, making sure not to squeeze you too hard. the rest of the boys followed him and soon after all of them were hugging you. you didn't see much besides their heads, but when you stood on your tiptoes you managed to take a glance at minho - he was standing next to all of you, his face lit up in a huge grin. "okay boys, let me breathe," you chuckled, feeling quite overwhelmed with their love. "oh my god, of course! hey, stop hugging her!" changbin screamed, suddenly protecting you from the boys. jisung was the last one to break the hug, which he did only because chan used force to get him away from you. "c'mon y/n, have a seat, you have to rest," felix exclaimed, leading you to the couch. you giggled again - you found it adorable how they became so protective over you in the span of ten minutes. "do you need anything? like baby clothes or a stroller? wait, we can help you to arrange a nursery!" changbin started to ramble. "and we can buy you all the essentials, like diapers and baby formula," seungmin added, getting his phone to write down a shopping list. "oh, can i teach your kid how to ride a bike? pleeeease!" jisung begged. "okay, slow down everybody," minho finally spoke, trying to control the situation. "y/n is fine, everything is fine, she's only like twelve weeks pregnant, we have plenty of time to plan everything and no - i will be the one to teach them that," he added, hoping that the boys would quiet down. "minho's right, we're fine by now. but im glad our baby will have such amazing uncles,'' you assured the boys, grinning widely. even though the boys' reaction made you laugh for the next few days, you were happy that you had their support. you and minho were nervous about the whole pregnancy thing, but their will to help and be there for both of you made you think that after all universe made a perfect plan for you.

[prettyoddfever]

Hey, sorry if you've already done a post on this but do we know why Ryan ross stopped wearing stage makeup /makeup in general? I haven't seen any pics of him during pretty odd with any makeup on xx

Ryan only wore stage makeup from June – December 2006. It was just a short phase and then he was totally over it.

The Pretty. Odd. era started in 2008. Ryan and Jon talked a lot that year about how they wanted to make music that was more “honest” and authentic. At that point they viewed all of the Fever-era performers, costumes, makeup, and elaborate sets as “distractions” that weren’t necessary if the music was good enough to speak for itself. There were times that year when Ryan would almost look down on the Fever-era’s dramatic stage shows in a condescending way, as though those things were totally beneath him now. He certainly wanted to distance himself from all of that. He also made comments like “I think we’d be silly if we were wearing the circus outfits again. I don’t even know how we got on that kick.” He also told Cosmogirl in spring 2008 that “I think we’re playing a lot better than we used to... I guess you could say we’re more about sounding good than looking good.” Even his comments that weren’t dismissive of the Fever era still made it sound like the previous version of the band was inferior.

I loved that Ryan had found a direction he was happier with! But he didn’t seem to care that a lot of us were kind of hurt over how he was treating the Fever era. He had moved on. Ryan was more focused on establishing & defending the new version of the band in 2008 (and making it clear that fans didn’t own P!ATD; the band members controlled it and could take it in whatever direction they wanted). A lot of us were definitely interested in the new era, but we were loyal to the old familiar one. I wanted to be able to like both, but many of Ryan’s comments sometimes made me feel silly for ever thinking the Fever era was cool. 

Ryan changed so much every year. He also seemed to like to shake things up and make changes to the band so he could feel a stronger sense of ownership & control in something that was more authentic to who he was at each point. Like we had seen many other times, Ryan wasn’t interested in doing something for approval and he didn’t care what other people thought (which could be a strength). He was just going to move ahead with what he liked. Ryan told NME in 2008 that “Fever was a moment in time and it’s not who we are anymore.” Basically, his interests & focus had changed by 2007 and he wasn’t interested in looking back. Here’s something Ryan told Alt Press in 2010 when they asked him if he regretted any decisions from his years in P!ATD:

“At the time, I wouldn’t have changed anything, whether it be the weird makeup or whatever. Now would I do that? No. But at the time, that’s what I felt like I should do, so I did.”

I’ve seen some people these days make comments about how they wish the modern P!ATD had the Fever-era makeup/aesthetic and that its absence is somehow connected to Ryan’s absence? I have no idea how that conclusion works. Any hint of theatricality that the band had after the split was because Ryan was no longer there. Take a Vacation by TYV is basically what Ryan & Jon had in mind in 2008 for PATD’s third album... and that’s a far cry from AFYCSO. 

Basically, people change as they grow up nbd.

[hypersonic04]

Fresh Out The Slammer: Part One

circa 2019. ross is 29, its the notes era. imagine graham norton ross. there's a lot of waffling because I feel like I need to get back into the swing of writing, and also set the scene because this is going to be three parts! so apologies for that. i've missed you all so much and i'm just glad to be posting something for the first time in ages. i hope you're all okay i would love to hear what you've been up to in the, like, five months i've disappeared into the abyss for. I'M WAFFLING AGAIN. sorry. okay. fresh out the slammer! enjoy. i'm nervous. okay.

Word Count: 2,848

Part One: 'Now pretty baby, I'm running back home to you.'

Who were you supposed to call on nights like this? The question seemed to be the only thing your brain circled back to as tears streamed down your face, a sob caught in your throat, heels harsh and loud on the pavement, even over the chaos of muffled bars. Your 28th birthday, stood outside a club that you were probably too old to be at in the first place, phone vibrating with 'where r u???' - who were you supposed to call?

Your birthday didn't feel very worth celebrating when you looked back on the year you'd had, your freshly shattered heart stinging as a very raw memory of being walked out on a week earlier seared itself through your memory. He'd always been a dickhead, the kind of boyfriend who'd told you that he was the best thing to ever happen to you, or that the whole writing thing wouldn't work out, but what did you have if you didn't have him? He'd been a pillar in your life since, well, forever. He'd shown you your favourite holiday destination, your favourite wine, your favourite book - were you just a product of him? The thought panicked you. No, you were cool. You had loads of interests, and friends, and hobbies.

The one thing he'd not shown you was something you'd kept a secret from him.

Your favourite band.

Even now, your stomach twisted as you recalled him and your youth, nights tangled up in bed sheets and clumsy hands on sticky dance floors, the mere thought of his recurring aftershave sending a wave of nostalgia over you as you perched on the ledge, lighting up a cigarette. It'd been years since you'd spoken to Ross. Now that you thought about it, it was probably around the same time Charlie had come on the scene, private-schooled, 5'9, biology-studying Charlie. You'd ignored Ross' messages inviting you to their gigs out of guilt for Charlie (his ego would have been well and truly tarnished), reluctantly un-followed him on Instagram when there'd been questions asked about him, tried to pretend that there wasn't an invisible tattoo of his hand prints at your waist, the memory of his fingertips forever stained in your hair, remnants of his kisses on your starving lips. Nothing has ever come close to Ross, and you'd be lying if you said that when Charlie had been away for work, you'd replayed the reels of your nights together in your mind.

You looked at the time - 3:17.

His number probably wasn't even the same as the one you had in your phone.

You leaned your head back, looked up at the sky, squeezed your eyes shut. There's no way you were about to do this. He probably thinks you're a weirdo anyway, cutting contact like he'd been a random one-time snog in a club. He might not even be in the country, for all you knew, with his world-famous band and world-famous records and most likely world-famous girlfriend. You'd not thought about that up until now - his girlfriend. Perhaps non-existent, probably existent. Jealous curled up your spine, a sick feeling settling in your stomach.

It was like your hands weren't your own as you scrolled through your contacts, brain on auto-pilot and suddenly feeling 20 again, stood outside a bar at university, ringing him to come and get you. The picture you'd set all those years ago was still the same somehow, and it made you swallow heavily - his head pressed next to yours, hair swooped to one side and probably wearing a Hollister polo. You both looked so young. It stopped you in your tracks, almost. You thought of how different things could have been if you hadn't ran away from everything, panicked and settled down like you thought you'd wanted, let him go on tour with the band and forever have the 'what if' hanging in the windows of your newly-purchased house with Charlie. What a success that was.

You pressed it and waited. It rang. And it rang.

As if you'd thought he'd pick up. It probably came up as an unknown number. You felt daft as you held the phone to your ear, tears stinging at your eyes again. The only person you'd thought to call.

Your stomach dropped when the ringing came to a halt and you could hear crackling.

And then his voice. Sleepy, low, tired.

Familiar. Warm.

"Y/n? Can you hear me?" he repeated as you stood in silence, lips pressed together at the sound of his name down the line.

"Ross," you managed to choke out, running a hand through your hair.

"Is everything okay?" he sounded concerned and you could hear his footsteps across what sounded like a hardwood floor, pacing.

"I just..." You looked up again, swallowing. "I'm so sorry."

"Y/n/n? What's going on?" Coming to a halt, his voice softened.

"I'm in Manchester, and I guess I'm kind of lost? I don't know, it looks different than it used to, and I'm on my own. I don't know why I called, you're probably not even here, are you?"

There was silence from across the line for a second and you squeezed your eyes shut. If he didn't think you were crazy before, he definitely did now.

"No, I'm here. I'm in my flat." He said softly.

"Oh, right," Your head was spinning. "I'm sorry for bothering you, I just-"

"Whereabouts are you?"

You breathed in sharply.

"I'm not sure, it used to be that bar we went to every week, but it's changed now, it's a kebab shop, I think." You glance at the neon sign, voice shaky.

"Are you staying in a hotel or anything? I can order you an Uber, or-"

His voice crackled down the line.

"I was, but I've lost my friends, and I've had a drink and I can't call Charlie and I don't know what to do." Your throat feels tighter when you say it all out loud. "I don't know, I called you because it was the only thing I could think of, but it's fine, I can-"

"Stay there," you can hear him moving around, "I'm leaving now."

It felt like an eternity between him hanging up the phone and arriving, perhaps because all you could do was think about how you've ended up here.

The car pulled up slowly and your stomach dropped, the window rolling down and his smile visible as he ducked his head.

It was like your feet were frozen to the ground for a second. His lips curved at the sides, hair messy and just as dark as you remembered it, but his eyes were older. They creased at the corners a little, slightly darker, a bit more tired. It wasn't just you who'd been trying to figure things out since you graduated, exhausted by the demands of post-graduate existence.

"Just move that, sorry." he mumbled as you opened the car door, throwing an empty water bottle onto the backseats. His eyes seemed immovable for a second, like he was having the same thought process as you. You felt intensely vulnerable for a second, and suddenly remembered the ladder in your tights and the mascara stained cheeks that faced him.

"God, it's been so-"

"I've missed you-"

You both started at the same time, an airy laugh escaping as you let the silence consume you.

He started the car without another word. It took everything in you not to stare, or cry, or say how much you'd missed him and how sorry you were that you'd abandoned it all. Instead, you kept your gaze forward, drinking in the streets you'd traipsed as a student.

"We're here." he glanced at you, pulling up outside an apartment block.

"Oh, you didn't need to bring me here, it's okay, I think there's a Premier Inn up the road." You furrowed your brows at him, shaking your head and starting to rifle through your bag. "I've got my card, it's fine, I-"

"It's fine." He said with a slight smile, shaking his head. "You can stay at mine. 'Will be nice to have the company."

You smiled at him softly, in the way you might smile at a cashier or your boss. It felt strange, transactional, like maybe there was a void between the two of you. You'd put it there.

"Thank you." You said quietly, following him out of the car and up the steps.

The lift was creaky and you closed your eyes for a second, the tiredness hitting you. The past two weeks had been a lot, and you'd thought a night out might fix everything.

His flat was just as you'd expected it to be. Records and CDs and books on every available surface, a scattering of guitar picks, some empty mugs, a weeks' worth of unopened post.

"Is it just you that lives here?" You asked as you stood awkwardly in the kitchen, watching him as he put the kettle on and grabbed two mugs. A Macclesfield FC one, and a souvenir one from Germany, it seemed.

He nodded with a hum, glancing at you. "You can get comfy, it's fine."

The fluorescent kitchen light felt exposing as you slid your heels off, placing them neatly by the door with your bag. He handed you the cup of tea promptly after and you followed him into the living room. It was spacious, yet the sheer amount of stuff everywhere made it feel lived in.

"Why couldn't you ring Charlie?" he asked after at least five minutes of the two of you pretending to watch whatever random Top of the Pops repeat that BBC 2 had shoved on for the 4am slot. He looked at you intently, but his tone was calm, simply wondering.

"We've split up." You looked down at the mug, mouth drying out. "About a week ago."

"I'm sorry to hear it." He said after a beat, looking back to the TV.

"Don't be." I shook my head, lips pursed. "Wasn't as good as it seemed, all that house-owner, engaged shit."

His gaze softened, but you could sense his sadness for you.

It's strange, to sit in a room with someone you once slept with on the regular, thought you were going to marry, like people do when they're 19, and feel like you know nothing about them. You could mentally draw him, the identical placement of the birthmark on his right hip, the exact colour of his eyes, yet you couldn't identify which bedroom was his in this flat, or what he'd had for tea the night before.

"I'm sorry for calling you at this time." You said meekly, looking back at the TV.

"I was awake anyway, it's okay." He glanced at you. "It was nice to see your name on my phone."

"I'm sorry for not calling sooner, then." You corrected your earlier statement, watching as his lips tilted into the oh-so-familiar smile your fingers had traced over countless times.

"I missed hearing from you."

"I missed hearing from you, too."

The silence was deafening, almost claustrophobic as you inhaled deeply. His eye contact faltered, skitting back to the TV, blinking heavily. You wondered what he was thinking, whether memories of you under him were also still as fresh in his mind as if they'd happened yesterday.

He downed the last of his tea, sitting forward.

"There's a spare room across from mine, down the hallway. Feel free to get a shower, use some of the clothes in those drawers, whatever you need."

"Thanks." You placed the half empty mug next to his on the coffee table. "Do you have any paracetamol or anything? I can't really hack hangovers anymore, even if it is just a couple of cocktails."

"Could you ever hack hangovers?" He teased as he stood up, walking into the kitchen. You blushed - so he was thinking about those mornings, too.

He handed you the box to take to bed with you, showing you the bedroom.

"There's a clean towel in the bathroom," he pointed to the on-suite, "I'm just in here if you need anything." His neck craned to look into the bedroom behind you, pointing to the bathroom and drawers, but you could only look at him. His tan skin, his tousled hair, neat, tidy beard, the chest hair that poked from the top of his t shirt.

Standing across from each other in the hallway, you could see into his bedroom. Light green sheets, a book next to his bed, a pair of jeans thrown over the end of the bed-frame. You wanted to know him again. To know him, and his life, and his body. Charlie was superficial - his lavish proposals, extravagant holidays, Instagram posts declaring you as 'the love of his life' and lonely nights spent waiting for him to get back from a boys night out. Ross was everything. He was 'picking you up at 3am', remembering how you liked your tea after 7 years apart, dark eyes and curls and haphazardly strewn clothes and empty beer cans on bedsides and you.

"Thank you, again, for letting me stay over." you looked up at him, his gaze already fixed on you.

"It's not a problem."

A second passed before you turned on your heel, a shaky nervous hand reaching for the doorknob.

"Night," You said, with a small smile.

"Night."

You closed the door and watched his turn away, broad shoulders disappearing into the opposite room.

The shower was hot, steaming up the bathroom, as you turned it on. You'd dug out a stripy t-shirt and some joggers you could roll up from the back of the wardrobe.

You tipped your head back in the shower, letting the hot water run over you. The shower gel lathered against your skin, and it felt symbolic, to be washing away the day, the thoughts of Charlie, the fake smiles of your fake friends in fake, pose-y bars. Ross had always felt real to you, the realest thing in this city. He'd been brutally honest with you when you'd needed it, soft with you when he knew he had to be. The memory of your fight flashed into your mind - the last day before you went back home after graduation, tears in his eyes, down your cheeks, raised voices and a final, slammed door. Your eyes opened quickly as you remembered how you'd told him you wanted stability, not to follow his 'silly band around the world'. You hated yourself for it, even now. He's been hurt, like it had meant nothing to either of you, the way you'd got into your car and drove back to your parents with blurred vision, Car Seat Headrest blasting through the stereo as you fled the scene.

You thought about him laid across the hall. Was he wide awake? You tossed over onto your side, duvet pulled up to your neck. It must've been about 5am. You willed yourself to just fall asleep. The sound of floorboards creaking forced your eyes open, but they hushed as soon as they'd chorused through the flat.

The smell of coffee was the thing that roused you from your sleep. So I did sleep, you thought.

His back was to you as you entered the kitchen, the rustle of the TV and clanging of utensils echoing off the walls.

"Morning," You yawned, smiling as he jumped and turned to you. His gaze trailed up and then back down for a second, the sight of you in his clothes clearly taking him by surprise.

"Did you sleep okay?" He smiled. His hair was flat on one side, sleepy eyes, crinkled t-shirt. You nodded, heat rushing to your stomach at the sight of him. "Did you?". He just hummed in reply, pouring water in the mugs.

You sat and ate scrambled eggs on toast. You talked about work. You discussed the rugby, each other's siblings, old uni friends. It felt comfortable, and right, and you had to catch yourself when you stared at him for too long and began to picture doing this every morning.

"We leave soon, though."

"Leave?" You asked, sipping your orange juice.

"Yeah, for tour." He looked up at you from his plate. "Next Wednesday."

Next Wednesday, for tour.

You felt silly for thinking your lives would be sewn together seamlessly, that you would fit into his world like you'd never left.

There wasn't much conversation after that, and it was like you could read his mind for a second. He'd said that to warn you, to prepare you, because he too was imagining this as a constant. This wasn't going to work, and you both knew it. You wanted it to, desperately, and when you left his flat that morning, your eyes welled like they had that fateful day in 2011.

You'd hugged him tightly before you'd left, his arms around your waist firmly, yours around his neck. He was going away for a year, touring the world, and you were going back to your mum and dad's, because where else could you go?

[orangeinecstasy]

matty boyfriend thoughts ฺ｡*:･

an: matty has been heavy on the brain, and someone under ross' bf thoughts asked for one about him so ofc i had to do it.

cw: fluff and smut sections

quality time

he constantly wants to be around you. he's pretty much like a puppy following you around everywhere. if he's in the studio, he'll always invite you over, even if you're going to sit there and read. if you're getting ready to go out, you best believe he's setting himself in the bathroom and watching you get ready. he'll ask you about the makeup you're using or the dress you picked out. he's just so in love and invested in you.

physical touch

i think this one kind of goes with quality time in the way that he just wants to be around you. he always has your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. or has you pulled onto his lap, nuzzling himself into the crook of your neck. he loves how warm you are and how safe you make him feel.

sentimental

he 100% has a little box of stuff tucked away somewhere, including things that you gave him or things you guys did together, such as movie tickets, reseats, cards-- everything. i can see him putting them all together in some sort of scrapbook or collage and giving it to you when you guys reach a big relationship milestone.

the biggest softie ever

he's totally crying on your one-year anniversary. he'll just be so overwhelmed with joy and love that he can't help it. he's honestly just putty in your hands when you're together. i can also see him getting emotional if you remember something small like he likes, like his favorite brand of wine, or his coffee order. not emotional in the crying sense, but just the full-hearted feeling you get when you're in love with someone.

songs about you

he's so consumed with the thought of you that, of course, there's going to be an embarrassing number of songs dedicated to you. if he sings one of them during a show, he's singing it directly to you. 100% his muse in every way.

writing letters to each other over tour

though you guys are in constant contact with each other, whether he's calling you or texting you, or flying you out to a show, he loves the intimacy of letters. sitting down and really thinking about what he wants to write, even if it's stuff he told you earlier; he loves the romantic feeling of it all.

care packages

this one goes with the letters a little bit. but i can see him making a little package of things he's collected on tour or just when he's out and about. I know for a fact he loves it when you do it for him on tour, making one of the guys sneak it into their luggage and then give it to him as a surprise.

you fell first; he fell harder

matty was definitely hesitant when he first started to catch feelings for you. he knew what his reputation was, what his lifestyle was like. he knew it wasn't easy dating someone like him, but once he finally opened up to you, he couldn't get enough.

smut below the pictures

breeding

i think at first it was an accident. probably a quickie in a bathroom at a party or before a show, and he was just so enthralled in you that he forgot to pull out. of course, you both panic, but as soon as he pulls out and sees the cum dripping out of you, something animalist switches in his brain. "fucking hell, your cunt looks so pretty dripping with my cum." figures push through your folds, collecting his cum before pushing it back into you. and now you can get over the full feeling that he gives you.

spanking

i think this mixes a bit with marking, but he just loves to see how much he can physically affect you. watching how quickly your skin turns red. how your legs twitch in anticipation of the next hit. especially if you're bruised the day after, he'll be so sweet, kissing over them and applying cream so that your skin isn't as tender.

munch

i just can't think of him any other way. he's so consumed with you in his everyday life that, of course, he's going to crave eating you out. especially before or after tour. he just wants to be in between your legs for hours, tasting you as much as he can.

switch

he has a heavy dom lean, but sometimes he just wants you to take the reins. he doesn't care what you do to him, as long as you feel good and he hopefully gets to cum at the end. he especially slips into subspace when you ride him. getting all whiny and fucked out underneath you.

edging

he just loves knowing how much control he has over you. watching your legs shake, and hips buck into his touch as you beg for an organism. he finds it amusing how, within an instance, he can give you so much pleasure and pain all at one time. i know he's a sucker for it too. loves when you tie him up and pump his cock with a toy or your hand until he's sobbing to cum.

pictures

when you brought up the idea of taking pictures when you guys fucked, matty was definitely hesitant. he knew what could happen if they got out into the public. so, you suggested just having them be of you at first, which eased the idea in his mind a bit. as soon as he took the first polaroid of you covered in his cum he couldn't stop. now he has a stack of them tucked away in his room and one in his wallet.

blow job lover

he loves seeing you on your knees. how you look up at him through your lashes like this is the most innocent thing in the world. not only does he love how it feels, but how you're so willing to give him pleasure in such an intimate way. he can't deny how much he likes seeing how sloppy you look when you fuck his throat.

[sliipppy]

Self Indulgent Young Justice/Teen Titans 2003 Relationship and Sexuality Headcanons

Cassie and Kon convince themselves they like each other in Young Justice because they're both gay and closeted. They do love each other, but not romantically. They confuse that for attraction. Plus, I think Cassie is a lesbian stereotype, and Kon is like a gay man stereotype, so it makes sense that the two would go for each other. When they finally get together, they don't kiss because they tell their friends its cause "they both wanna take things slow". Sometimes they'll hold hands (scandalous)

Meanwhile, Cassie is like madly in love with Cissie but doesn't realize it because that's just how best friends are. Plus, she has the whole 'crush on Kon' thing going. I know everyone and their mom loves TimKon, and don't get me wrong, so do I! But in Young Justice, Tim and Kon are constantly butting heads. I don't think Kon starts liking Tim like that until the end of young justice, and he starts to like REALLY like him during Teen Titans.

Cissie and Anita kissed once at a sleepover but never told anyone. Young Justice for Cissie is like a crush fest. She's a bisexual icon, and she's had a crush on every single member of the team at some point (but her most serious ones were Cassie and Anita). She kissed Tim on the cheek in that one panel. She had a crush on Kon in the beginning, and I like to think she had a small crush in Bart but got over it pretty fast, because I've always saw Bart and Cissie as like brother and sister kinda lol (I always think of the panel where she comforts him about Max during the intergalactic baseball arc.)

Cissie can't decide whether she likes Anita or Cassie more and she also can't really come to terms with the fact that she might like girls.

Anita was basically always solid in the fact that she's bisexual. While the kiss with Cissie definitely awakened something in Cissie, Anita was like, "That was nice, but I think we're better as friends." She dates Slobo but doesn't really like him like him, but she thinks he's endearing, so the two are just a generic silly freshman year couple. Yeah, they won't last, but it's cute while it lasts, and they'll be friends when it ends. Anita's dad is super chill and had some "if you're gay I'll till love you the same." talk with her after he saw her concerning obsession with Diana Ross.

Greta hated Stephanie at first because she had a one-sided crush on Tim and was jealous of Stephanie because of it, but she gets over it and develops a crush on Stephanie. (This is canon, trust me. This is my craziest pair, I think, but trust me on one-sided GretaSteph)

Teen Titans era – later teens, Cassie and Kon are on and off dating. Kon and Tim start to get closer. They like eachother. It's so obvious to everyone else. Kory and Donna think it's cute. Cassie meanwhile, still madly in love with Cissie, beings her toxic doomed yuri arc with Rose Wilson. Rose is her official gay awakening. Her and Rose have the most tragic situationship of all time for like a year.

Okay skip forward to the sadness. Kon dies, leaving Cassie and Tim more confused and sad then ever. Cassie loved Kon, really loved Kon, but not in that way, which makes her feel even more guilty about his death because she felt that she was lying to him while he was alive and she still didn't understand her feelings. Tim on the other hand is going FUCKING crazy. He just lost Steph, then his dad, and now Kon and he's not understand ANYTHINGGG!!! Bro tries to clone Kon and when Cassies like "bro what the hell are you doing?!" It causes like this falling out between the two despite the fact that Cassie and Tim were literally bestie because they both loved Kon so much in such different ways and had all this pent up confusion...and then we get to the infamous panel where they make out while crying. In their shared grief and confusion in their own emotions they kiss. It's weird and both of them literally hate it because they literally are like siblings to eachother also she's a lesbian and Tim just lost like 3 of his actual lovers in the span of a year (Steph, Darla, and Kon) so it was weird and fucked up but they were weird and fucked up.

Skip forward, and Kon comes back to life. Everything's happy! Yay! Kon and Cassie have a heart-to-heart and breakup because they're both gay. Cassie asks Cissie out. Tim comes out as bi and dates Bernard. Kon is like, "omg I have a chance," but it is also sad because like Tim has a boyfriend that isn't him. Stephanie is like "no bro he totally likes you" Eventually, they break up. Idk why bro. (I'm not really a Bernard fan, sorry, remember the self-indulgent in the title?) and Steph convinces Kon to ask him out (I love thar after Urban Legends Stephanie and Kon are like, best friends) and BOOM timkon. Everyone is happy. Happily ever after.

And rip Greta and Anita, we haven't seen you in forever miss you queens 🙏🙏🙏

[lumosandnoxwriting]

you saw the truth in me || George Weasley

Title: you saw the truth in me Pairing: George x Reader Warnings: Mentions of fighting/violence, mentions of blood.  Summary: George never thought he’d be back here again, heartbroken over the only girl he’s ever loved. But once again, he only has himself and his stupidity to blame. Hockey has always been his safe place, but even that isn’t enough to heal his broken heart. A man once at the height of his life, is now on the cusp of losing it all. It’s time for the lies and fakeness to end, and George can only hope it isn’t too late. A/N: here it is, the final part of hockey!george! Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this series and left lovely comments/sent messages - it truly means so much to me that you all love hockey!George as much as I do! As always, comments/feedback are always welcome and appreciated <3 Tags: @rk-ceres

-

George is purely operating on auto-pilot at this point. When Y/N walked out of his life she took all of his motivation and will to do anything with her. If hockey wasn’t all he had left George surely would have been happy rotting away in bed for the foreseeable future. But without Y/N around he has to focus on something, so hockey it is. 

He only gets out of bed because he has practice and training and film sessions to attend. He only gets in the shower so that he doesn’t scare away the few people he hasn’t managed to run off. Eating is purely for fuel, and something he only remembers to do when his body is on the verge of collapsing. 

Before she came back into his life George thought hockey was the only love he’d ever have. Hell, he even went back home and convinced his ex-girlfriend to pretend to be engaged to him so that he could further his career. But having Y/N in his home and in his heart taught him many things, one of them being that there is more in life than just hockey. It really made George reevaluate his outlook, made him think about what happens when he retires and what he wants his life to look like. 

Before Y/N he had convinced himself that he’d spend the rest of his days alone, spending time with his family and doting on his nieces and nephews between lavish vacations and golf trips. Maybe he’d coach a peewee league or two. Whatever he would do George had it in his head that he would be doing it alone. 

But once Y/N reappeared in his life all of those future plans changed. He saw a house in a quiet suburb with a golden retriever in the yard. He saw Y/N in the kitchen, humming to herself as she made dinner. There were kids too, at least three, a perfect combination of the two of them that would fill their house with love and laughter. 

It was a future that George didn’t just imagine - he yearned for it. And with one mistake it’s gone. 

Now he’s not really sure what the point of it all is. What’s the point of being at the height of his career when there’s no one in the stands cheering him on? What’s the point of making all of this money when he has no college funds or family vacations to spend it on? 

He knows everyone is worried about him, but he’s gone into pure survival mode. Ignoring everyone and everything that might make him feel something. Just like he did the last time he fucked up and lost Y/N.

-

George grunts as Ross slams him into the boards, his shoulder seizing up as his head bounces off the glass. He doesn’t even have the energy to hit back, he just lets him skate off with the puck. 

He’s been playing like absolute shit ever since he came back from spring break, but George can’t find it in himself to care. There’s a Y/N shaped hole in his heart, and there isn’t room in his mind for anything except the pain he feels without her. Sure he’s the one who broke them up, but he was doing what he thought was best for her - not for him. 

Even knowing that the Rebels will be drafting him next week isn’t enough to make him feel anything other than pain, which is ironic considering the fact that he told Y/N some bullshit about needing to focus on hockey was the reason why he was ending things. At this point George doesn’t even care if he makes it to the NHL, hell Coach could cut him tomorrow and he’d walk away from hockey forever. 

Without Y/N nothing really makes sense anymore. 

George is so out of it that he doesn’t even realize the game is still going on around him until Coach blows his whistle. 

“All right, that's enough for today, hit the locker room boys. Weasley - my office, now!”

He takes his time leaving the ice, not wanting to face the worried looks his teammates have been sending his way for days. George is almost thankful that Coach is about to tear him a new asshole, since the locker room will probably be empty by the time he gets back there and he doesn’t have to ignore all the questions the boys are sure to have. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you, Weasley?” Coach asks before George’s ass is even in the seat across from his desk. 

“Just got a lot on my mind,” George mumbles, shrugging his shoulders. 

Coach huffs, clearly torn between berating the boy in front of him or offering him a sympathetic shoulder. “Look, I can’t imagine the shit you’re going through, kid. But you gotta leave it in the locker room. Out on that ice the only thing that should be in your head is the game, you understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I mean it, George. Fucking up out there isn’t just going to fuck things up for the team but for you as well. The Rebel’s are only offering you a provisional contract, there’s no guarantee they’ll actually call you up once you graduate. Then you’ll be stuck entering the draft as a free agent, and with the way you’ve been playing you’ll be lucky to make it onto a farm team. This is everything you’ve been working towards, Weasley and you are so fucking close, kid. Don’t let all that hard work go to waste. Hockey is the only thing you’ve got room for in your life, understand?”

George nods, and after a few moments of silence Coach dismisses him and he doesn’t hesitate to get the fuck out of there. 

But Coach is right. If he can’t have Y/N at least he still has hockey, and that will have to be enough.

-

Which is why he’s ignored every single one of Fred’s phone calls, and has made up an excuse every time Adam or Thomas invites him out to do something. He told them Y/N had to go back home for some kind of family emergency to explain his shitty mood, and George knows the second they get him alone they’ll be able to tell something bigger is going on; and that is not a conversation George is ready to have. 

They’ve got one more preseason game before Morris announces him as Captain, and George is just holding on until then. Once the announcement is made he’ll be able to get his shit back together and be the man everyone seems to think he is. 

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself.

-

“Hey, you okay?”

Y/N flinches at the sound of Fred’s voice, and she slowly spins around to face him. He’s standing just where George did all of those weeks ago when he came to ask for her help and it makes the hole in her chest throb. Because even though George hurt her again, Y/N wishes it was him standing there checking on her, not his twin. 

“Just peachy,” she lies, giving Fred her best fake grin. 

Fred snorts in laughter. “I think you’ve always been so focused on George that you forget I’ve known you just as long as he has, Y/N. So cut the crap, we both know you’re not okay.”

Y/N sighs, letting her shoulders slump. Because Fred is right. She’s so far from being okay that word has lost all meaning. It’s been three days since she left Chicago, and even though she’d been desperate to get away Y/N finds herself wishing she was there, back at home with George. 

She’s not really sure when Chicago became home, but the second she touched down in Washington she knew this wasn’t where she was supposed to be. Everything just feels wrong. 

Her old apartment that she thought was so cozy feels like a prison cell, skating at the community center doesn’t bring her the same joy it used to - not when she knows what it’s like to skate at the arena with George by her side. Even seeing her friends leaves her with a longing to hang out with Olivia and Jenny. 

It’s like George finally showed her what it really means to live her life, and now she’s just floating along with no idea how to function anymore. So she plasters on her best fake smile and does what she does best: pretend.

“Look,” Fred starts, taking a few steps forward so he’s closer. “I have no idea what happened between you and George while you guys were in Chicago and I’m not going to pretend that I fully understand the relationship you two have. But there are a few things I do know for sure. For starters I know my brother is hurting, he’s refusing my calls and if the texts I’ve gotten from his teammates are true he’s shutting himself out from the world. And the only other time he did that was after he broke up with you and he was heartbroken.”

Y/N looks away from Fred, not wanting him to see how upset it makes her knowing George is hurting too. Even though she knows he brought that upon himself, she knows she played a role in that pain too. Instead of sticking around to hear what George had to say, she shut down and ran away, just like she did all those years ago. Just like she regrets doing all those years ago. 

Instead of staying and working things out together, she ran, and all that has accomplished is making them both feel like shit. 

“I also know that whatever the hell happened between you two was far from fake. Because you’re both hurt for real, and some stupid lie or argument between two people pretending to be in love wouldn’t cause this kind of heartbreak,” he continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Finally, I know whatever the hell happened was just a roadblock in your story, not the end. You still love George, and you’re holding out hope that he still loves you too.”

His voice is so strong and sure, and those feelings are reflected in Fred’s gaze once Y/N gets the courage to look at him. It almost takes her breath away, how confident Fred is that her and George will work things out. 

“How do you know?” she asks, unable to keep the question in. “How can you be so sure that everything is going to work out?”

The smile on Fred’s face could light the world as he gestures towards her left hand. “Because you’re still wearing the ring my brother gave you. If everything that happened was really fake, and you’re really done with him, why are you still wearing it?”

Y/N is at a loss for words, and with a final wink Fred turns on his heel and walks away. Once he’s disappeared she can’t help but look at the diamond sparkling on her finger, and even just the thought of taking it off makes her chest ache. Despite it being a painful reminder of what could have been, every time she’s tried to take it off Y/N was never quite able to go through with it. It’s the last claim George has over her, and taking it off means that they really are over. 

And if George is feeling just as heartbroken as she is, maybe there still is hope for a happily ever after. 

-

“Wow, Fred wasn’t lying. You really do look like shit.”

Y/N rolls her eyes at Angelina’s bluntness, but there’s a genuine smile on her face for the first time in days. 

“Please, come in and continue to insult me when I already feel like dog shit,” Y/N responds, opening her front door wider so she can come in. 

It’s been a few days since Fred confronted her at the rink, and Y/N isn’t totally surprised that Angelina is here to check up on her. She’d kind of been hoping that she would show up eventually, because Y/N has been dying to get a female perspective on the situation. If anyone is going to tell it to her straight with no regard for her feelings it’s going to be Angelina Johnson. 

Perhaps the best thing to come out of her relationship with George, besides all the love and whatever, is her relationship with Angelina. Dating one half of Fred and George is taxing, to say the least, and the two girls developed a kind of kinship over complaining about all the shit their boyfriends got into. 

Luckily Y/N got to keep Angelina in the breakup, because getting fake engaged to your ex boyfriend and then falling in love with him again is something only a girl who is dating a Weasley twin can understand. 

“You know I already nursed you through one George Weasley breakup,” Angelina teases as she plops down onto the couch. “I’m not really sure I have it in me to do it again.”

“You came over here on your own, you realize that, right?” Y/N sits down next to her, halfheartedly hitting the other girl with a throw pillow. “You’re the one who volunteered yourself for this position.”

“Semantics,” Angelina scoffs playfully. She bites her lip, suddenly feeling a bit nervous as she clutches the pillow Y/N hit her with to her chest. “I mean it kind of is my fault that you’re in this situation, so it only makes sense that I help you come up with a plan to get out of it.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Just because Fred got this hairbrained idea for George and I to get fake engaged because you read a bunch of romance novels does not make any of this your fault. I’m the one who went and fucked up the plan by actually getting real feelings. And you certainly didn’t make George lie to me. I’m the one who got myself into this mess.”

“Still, I feel bad and Fred has been fucking moping around the apartment since George refuses to pick up his calls and I needed a good reason to get the hell out of there.”

“So you’re here for purely selfish reasons,” Y/N laughs. “I see how it is.”

“So you really fell in love with George again, huh?” Angelina questions, nudging Y/N’s knee with her own. 

“Yeah, like a fucking idiot.”

Angelina huffs a laugh. “I don’t know how those boys ended up managing to get two of the hottest girls we went to school with. I swear it must be witchcraft.” That pulls another smile from Y/N, and she considers her next words carefully. “And you’re not an idiot, Y/N. If you fell back in love with George it’s because of who George is and the way he treated you. It’s not like you hated him and then woke up on a random morning madly in love again.”

Y/N shrugs, keeping her eyes focused on the rug to keep from looking at the other girl. “I don’t think I ever really hated George,” she admits quietly. “Was I pissed at him for breaking up with me? Of course, but I never hated him. I think deep down I’ve always loved him, but I refused to acknowledge those feelings to keep myself from getting hurt. That’s the only reason I agreed to this stupid thing in the first place, I told myself either this was George and I’s second chance at a future or it was the wake up call I needed to finally put that chapter of my life to rest and move on.”

“And which one was it?”

“Wake up call,” Y/N responds, her tone saying ‘duh, isn’t it obvious?’

Angelina gives her a grin that Y/N swears she’s seen on Fred’s face before. I guess it’s true that people in long term relationships start to mimic each other’s mannerisms.

“Then why haven’t you taken off the ring?”

Y/N groans, flopping back against the pillows. “You’re such a shithead, you know that? Fred asked me the same question at the rink the other day.”

“He did?” Angelina asks, even though the glint in her eyes tells Y/N that she already knew that. “You know I deserve an award for all the work I’ve put into that boy. He’s a different man than he was when we met, and it’s all thanks to me.”

“If anyone has changed during the course of your relationship it’s you,” Y/N teases. “You used to actually be tolerable and now you’re both insufferable idiots.”

Now Angelina is the one smacking Y/N with a pillow, hitting her softly a few times before they’re both dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

“So answer the question,” Angelina urges once they’ve calmed down. “If you and George really are over for good why are you still wearing your engagement ring?”

Y/N sighs, holding out her left hand to examine the piece of jewelry George slid onto her fourth finger. It’s everything she’s always wanted her engagement ring to be, a true reminder of how well George knows her and his dedication to do everything he can to make her happy. It’s a reminder of all the plans they’d made as teenagers, and even though it was supposed to be fake, she’d viewed it as a promise that George would make all of those other dreams come true too. 

“I guess because I don’t really want it to be over. Of course I’m pissed at George and I’m upset that he lied to me, but I want that second chance. Or maybe it’s our third chance, who the hell knows anymore. I just know that I’m not ready to say goodbye to George Weasley for good. I think he fell back in love with me too, I just don’t know how to fix this mess we’ve gotten ourselves in.”

That stupid Fred grin is back on Angelina’s face and Y/N already regrets the words that have just come out of her mouth. Fred really has rubbed off on Angelina too much, and while she doesn’t know what the plan is, the look on Angelina’s face tells Y/N that she already has one.

And she’s not really sure if that’s a good thing or not.

-

George had planned on ignoring it. 

The knocking started over twenty minutes ago, and he figured whichever of his teammates decided to try and talk some sense into him would eventually get tired and give up. But now it’s gone from simple knocking to pounding, and as much as George doesn’t want to see anyone he does have neighbors and the last thing he needs is a noise complaint to make him feel shittier than he already does. 

So he stomps to the front door, fully intent on opening it just long enough to tell whoever it is to fuck right off so he can go back to wallowing in peace. But all of that fades away, since the second he yanks the door open Olivia and Jenny are pushing their way through, forcing George to the side as they storm into his apartment. 

Adam and Thomas follow their girlfriends, but they at least have the decency to look a little ashamed of their ambush. Forcing himself to get his shit together, George takes a few deep breaths before he shuts the door and follows everyone into the living room. 

Olivia and Jenny have matching stern expressions on their faces, hands on their hips as they glare at George. 

“Sit,” Olivia commands, gesturing towards the couch. 

 It’s then that George notices no one else is sitting down, in fact the four of them have formed a half circle facing the couch where Olivia just demanded he sit. 

“What the fuck is this?” George questions as he does as he was told. “An intervention?”

“So you admit that you did something that requires intervention?”

George frowns and Jenny’s question, silently kicking himself for playing into their hand. He was ready to just spout out some bullshit to get them out of his apartment, but clearly they know something is going on and they don’t plan on leaving until they get it out of him. 

“Maybe,” he admits, the same feelings of shame and guilt creeping in when he thinks of Y/N and what happened between them. He knows he royally fucked everything up, but he’s at a loss for what to do to try and fix things between them. Y/N was clear that she regretted not fighting for their relationship last time, and George isn’t going to let himself make the same mistake. He just doesn’t know where to go from here.

All he knows is that his plan to keep his head down and focus on hockey has been a complete and utter failure. His skating has been sloppy, his puck control has gone out the window and every time he steps on the ice he’s counting down the minutes until he can go home and crawl into his sheets that still smell like Y/N. 

“Spill, now,” Olivia demands. 

And so he does. Because these people are his family, and he knows they’ve come to care about Y/N too, and if he has any shred of hope for getting Y/N back he’ll take all the help he can get. Even if it means letting everyone know what an utter idiot he’s been over the last few months. 

He starts all the way at the beginning, back when he let his insecurities get the better of him and he broke things off with Y/N. George tells them about the pain, and how he buried himself into hockey to ignore all of it, and his promise to never love another woman again. When he gets to the conversation he had Morris had in the off season and the scheme he cooked up with Fred George’s eyes drop to the floor, not wanting to see the things the others are feeling. 

George tells them about how somewhere along the way he fell in love with Y/N for real, and his sole focus became making sure she felt the same way too. He made sure to emphasize how little he cared about being named Captain, that he would have happily been benched for the rest of his career if it meant he had the girl of his dreams by his side. 

Leading them all the way up to now, how he had lied to Y/N about being named Captain so he had enough time to really be sure she’d want to make their arrangement something real. And how on the very day he planned on coming clean, his brother had accidentally spilled the beans and she discovered his lie and betrayal. He tells them all about how hurt Y/N looked that day, and how he just let her walk away. 

He keeps his eyes downcast as he finishes his story, and they all just stand there in silence. 

Until Adam laughing breaks through. 

“You’re something else, Weasel, holy shit.”

The grunt he makes when Jenny slaps his stomach makes George finally look up, and he’s surprised and relieved to see that no one looks mad at him. 

“You guys aren’t mad?”

“Oh I’m pissed that you lied to us,” Olivia starts, but there isn’t any malice in her voice. “And I’m pissed that you screwed things up with Y/N. But clearly you regret your actions and you’re hurting, so I can be pissed at you after.”

“After?”

“After we help you fix things with Y/N,” Jenny responds as if the answer is obvious. “Making you get on your knees and beg for our forgiveness is only satisfying if you don’t look like an abused puppy while you do it.”

“Gee thanks,” George huffs, rolling his eyes. But for the first time since Y/N walked out on him George feels something other than despair. 

He feels hope.

-

The first step of her new plan involves watching the final Rebel’s preseason game, even though Y/N isn’t totally sure she’s ready to see George again. Even if it is through the TV. 

But if what Fred said is true and George has isolated himself from the people around him she needs to make sure that he’s okay. That his heart is still beating and he’s still breathing. Confirmation of life, if you will. 

Again, she’s got to quit watching so much Criminal Minds. 

From the moment George steps out onto the ice it’s clear he isn’t himself. The one place George has always been sure of himself is the rink, but the man wearing his jersey is far from the confident man Y/N expected to see. As she watches him warm up it’s clear there’s no passion behind his movements, like he’s out there playing because he has to be and not because he wants to be. 

It’s the last preseason game and they’re on their own turf, George should be flying high. But from the looks of it he’d rather be anywhere but the stadium. It makes her sick, knowing that even the sport he loves isn’t enough to bring him comfort, and Y/N wishes she could make all that pain go away. 

She’s tempted to turn the TV off, she got a glimpse of him to confirm he is still in fact alive, and now can go about her evening doing just about anything else. But she can’t find it in herself to grab the remote and change the station. Despite his clear lack of enthusiasm George looks beautiful out on the ice, and she can’t look away. Y/N decides to at least watch the first period, figuring George will shake off his funk and show up for his teammates. 

Unfortunately Y/N has never been more wrong in her life. 

George misses passes that he should be able to capture in his sleep, and the few attempts he makes on goal are sloppy and miss the mark by a mile. Clearly his mind is elsewhere, and Y/N feels consumed with guilt, knowing that she’s the reason why George is acting this way. This was supposed to be their season, but how are the Rebel’s supposed to take it all the way with a Captain who’s barely holding it together. 

Luckily the Rebels manage to keep it held together until they’re halfway through the second period. Despite George’s shitty playing they’ve scored two goals, keeping them tied with New York. And as Geore skates out for his next shift he almost looks like his old self. Each of his movements are sharp and sure, and even though the camera isn’t zoomed in on his face Y/N can tell there’s a look of determination painted on it. 

She’s actually feeling hopeful that he’s managed to pull it together as George faces off against the opposing center for the puck drop. From the angle of the camera it’s apparent that New York’s center is chirping at George for the hundredth time tonight, though Y/N can’t really tell what’s being said. Luckily George is used to it, and he’s always good about ignoring the bullshit and letting their defensemen take care of it. 

Except George clearly isn’t himself, because the second the Ref blows the whistle George is dropping his gloves and taking a swing at the player across from him. Y/N gasps as blood sprays from the other player’s nose, a weird mixture of shock and arousal thrumming through her veins. 

New York’s center drops his own gloves then, and their fight is in full swing. George grabs onto his opponent’s jersey, yanking him closer so he can land another hit to his face. The Ref’s let them exchange some blows, but as their teammates start to get involved whistles start to blow, and Y/N is on the edge of her seat as George disappears under a pile of fighting hockey players. 

It takes several moments for the Refs to pull everyone apart, but since George and New York’s center were the catalysts they are the only two who receive a penalty. He only receives five minutes, and her stomach turns as a Ref leads George to the sin bin. There’s blood dripping down the corner of his mouth, and she can’t help but notice how swollen and bloody his knuckles are as he wipes it away. 

Even once his penalty is up, George doesn’t get back on the ice until the game is almost over. Luckily he’s kept his hands to himself, and that same determined glare still graces his features as he nabs the puck at the face off. The game is tied up still, and Y/N doesn’t even breathe as the Rebel’s take the puck down the ice towards New York’s goal. The clock is swiftly ticking down, and they have the opportunity to go into the regular season undefeated. 

There were about a dozen different times that Y/N considered switching the game off as she watched, too nervous to keep watching the absolute shit show going on but still feeling the need to support George, even if it’s from her couch and not the stands. But as the clock ticks down and George slaps the puck into the back of the net, scoring both his first point and the game winning point, her heart swells and she’s thankful that she stuck it out.

Because instead of joining his team in celebrating, George raises his stick towards the camera pointed at him, mouthing the words she’s gotten used to seeing again. 

“That was for you.”

Y/N doesn’t even realize she’s crying until the tears drip off of her chin and land on her lap. Despite having no idea that she’s watching, and playing the worst game of his career, George dedicated his goal to her. 

If that wasn’t enough to prove to her that what she and George had was anything but fake, the post game interview he gives leaves no room for doubt.

“You certainly weren’t playing like yourself out there, George, care to comment on what was going on tonight?”

George grunts, and Y/N can tell that the question pisses him off. “My head just wasn’t in it, but I think New York’s center knocked it back into place,” he jokes, trying to make light of the situation.

“Does it have anything to do with the mystery woman you’ve been spotted with recently? Who is this woman who managed to capture your heart and has you dedicating all of your goals to her?” Another reporter asks once called on. 

Y/N figured George is going to deflect the question just like he always does, so she’s surprised when a genuine smile takes over his scowl. 

“That mystery woman would be, Y/N. She’s the woman who always pushes me to be the best version of myself, the only voice I hear in my head when I’m out on the ice. The woman that I love.” 

Y/N’s breath catches in her throat at his honest answer, and her heart feels like it might beat out of her chest as George looks dead into the camera and continues. 

“Baby if you’re watching, and God I really hope you are or I’m about to make a fool of myself on national television, I’m so sorry. I messed up, and I plan on spending every day of the rest of my life making it up to me if you’ll let me. I love you, please come home.”

Suddenly there isn’t a doubt in her mind: George Weasley is completely and irrevocably in love with her and Y/N isn’t going to stop until he knows that she feels the same. 

-

George feels like he might pass out. 

It’s been a little over a week since he confessed his love for Y/N on national television and he hasn’t heard a peep from her. He figures it’s because she wasn’t watching the game, because he can’t bear to think that her silence is because she doesn’t feel the same. That’s a depressive spiral he doesn’t have the time or the energy to deal with. 

Instead he’s focused on the plan he, Olivia and Jenny came up with. He plans on saying the exact same thing during his post game interview tonight, win or lose, and if that doesn’t work he’ll be on a flight to Washington next week in between games to make his love declaration in person. 

George may have joked last week that fighting with New York’s Center knocked his head back on right, but there was some actual truth to that statement. Because he had been playing like shit, and after the fight the only thing he could think of is how upset Y/N would be if she were watching the game. Not only was he playing like shit, but he was acting like an asshole and letting his whole team down, and that version of George he wants her to see. Olivia and Jenny had helped him get his priorities straight and figure out how he needed to start mending things with Y/N, but it was up to him to actually put that plan into place. And playing like shit and getting into fights was not the way to do that.

Y/N truly is constantly pushing George to be the best version of himself, because he wants to be the guy who deserves to be loved by someone as amazing as her. And it really is her voice in his head out there on the ice, because succeeding in his career is going to allow him to give Y/N the life she deserves. And he really does love her, more than he’s ever loved anything. 

He’s done feeling sorry for himself, he knows what he wants and he’s not going to stop until he gets it. 

The first part of that involved a huge apology to his team, and a promise that he’s done being a fuckhead and he’ll be on the top of his game when they skate out onto that ice tonight. It’s the first game of the season and it’s at home: a lethal combination and anything other than a crushing defeat of the other team is not an option. 

Especially when Coach comes into the locker room before warmups, getting ready to make the big announcement that they’ve all been waiting for. 

“Alright, settle down, settle down.” Morris’ voice booms out, causing everyone to instantly quiet. “Now after Crawford retired I know there’s been lots of whispers about who would take his place as Captain. And a lot of time and effort has gone into this decision, it’s not something anyone has taken lightly, especially the man who we’ve chosen for the job. I’ve watched this man work endlessly to be the best player out on the ice for years, and recently I’ve seen him work just as hard to be the best man off of the ice too. Which is why I’m honored to announce the next Captain of the Rebels, number thirteen, George Weasley.”

The team whoops and cheers as George makes his way over to where Morris is standing, a brand new jersey with a capital C in his hands. The guys slap his back and ruffle his hair as he goes, and he feels overwhelmed with how much the team cares and supports him. He shakes Morris’ hand before taking the jersey from him, holding it up for all of the guys to see. 

“Speech! Speech! Speech!” Thomas starts chanting, with Adam joining in. Pretty soon half the team is shouting, and George waves his hand to quiet them down. 

“Jesus, fuck you guys are annoying,” he teases as they start to settle down. “I just wanna start by thanking Coach and everyone who made this decision, it honestly was an honor just to even be considered. This team is my family, and I’m ready to fight alongside all of you this season to bring that Cup home. So let’s get out there on that ice and show them what it means to be a Rebel!”

The team gets rowdy again as George takes off his old jersey, slipping the new one over his gear. It’s gametime then, and as they all line up to exit the tunnel George feels more ready than he ever has. This is going to be their season, and he’ll have Y/N fighting right alongside him if he has anything to say about it. 

The announcer’s booming voice echoes through the tunnel as he announces Texas’ team, and the boys start to bounce around as it gets closer and closer to being their turn out onto the ice. One by one as their names are called the guys flood out onto the ice, ramped up by the loud cheers radiating throughout the stadium. 

Like usual George is last in line, and as he gets closer and closer to stepping out onto the ice he takes a deep breath, silently praying that Y/N is watching. 

“And you’re starting Center and new team Captain number thirteen George Weasley!”

The screams are deafening as George steps out onto the ice, joining the team in their starting lap around the ice. He lets his eyes scan out over the crowd, just taking a moment to let everything sink in. Everything he’s worked for has been leading up to this, and he wants to commit it all to memory. The only thing that would make this night better is knowing that Y/N is there in the crowd to cheer him on too. 

Which is why he has to do a double take as they make their way past home bench, because even though he’s sure about what he saw it may have just been a trick of the lights he needs to be sure. And sure enough when he looks again, three rows back sandwiched between Olivia and Jenny is Y/N, a huge grin on her face as their eyes lock. 

George stops in his tracks at the sight of her, barely able to comprehend how she’s here. 

“Hey Captain!” Y/N shouts, though George reads it from her lips. His mouth drops open as Y/N stands up and turns around, showing off the jersey she has on. Because embroidered above the large number thirteen on the center of her back are the words, Mrs. Weasley. 

He can barely believe his eyes, and just as he’s about to throw himself over the boards to get to her Thomas is grabbing the back of his jersey, pulling him towards center ice so they can line up for the national anthem. 

“Chill your shit, lover boy! You can make up with your woman later, we’ve got a game to win!”

George spares Y/N one last look before he follows behind Thomas, slipping into a state of complete and utter focus. Because with his girl in the stands, wearing their last name, winning is the only option. 

-

George has never hated all the bullshit that comes with being a professional athlete more than he does right now. Usually he doesn’t mind all the media and the post game discussions, but knowing that Y/N is somewhere in this arena waiting for him makes George want to crawl out of his skin to get to her. 

Luckily, after what feels like an eternity he’s storming out of the locker room, his dress shirt barely buttoned up and soaking wet from his hair that he didn’t take the time to dry. He doesn’t care that he probably looks like a crazed animal, all he cares about is getting to her. Which is why he doesn’t realize how familiar the voice that’s calling his name is, and he doesn’t notice the person running full speed at him is Y/N until she’s practically right there in front of him.

He barely has time to drop the hockey bag slung over his shoulder and open his arms before Y/N is barrelling into him so hard it takes all of his strength and balance to keep them upright. Her face presses into the juncture of his neck while her arms twine around it, and George immediately wraps his own around her middle. He grips her tightly as Y/N hooks her legs around his hips, letting her warmth seep into his chest. 

“Baby,” he murmurs, nose pressed to her hair as he takes a deep breath in. His knees start to quiver from how good she smells, and George squeezes her even tighter. “You’re here, I can’t believe it.”

Y/N pulls away so she can look at George, the huge smile on her face reflected back at her on his. “How could I not be? Not after you asked me to come back home on national television.”

George chuckles, his cheeks flushing. “So you did see that, huh? When I didn’t hear from you afterwards I thought maybe you missed it. Or you saw it and it didn’t change anything for you.”

“I did see it, and it didn’t change anything for me.” The look that takes over George’s face makes her stomach sink, and Y/N twists her fingers in the damp hair at the back of his head. “Because I was already planning on coming back home to you, George. George Weasley I have loved you since I was six years old and you let me drag you down to the ice every time I stumbled and fell down. Even the time we spent apart did nothing to squash how much I love you. The whole reason I agreed to be your fake fiancé is because I hoped this could be our second chance at a future together. And the second I walked out of that door I wanted to turn around and run right back to you. I let you get away from me once and I’ll be damned if I make the same mistake twice.”

“Baby,” George breathes, tipping his head down so their foreheads are pressed together. “I am “so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you that night about what Coach and I talked about. I was scared that I was running out of time, and you’d be back on a plane to Washington before I could tell you the truth. I love you, Y/N, and I plan on loving you for the rest of my life.”

“I love you too.”

She squeals as George suddenly spins them in a circle, not stopping until her back is pressed against the wall and she’s pinned beneath him. George leans in, just barely letting their lips touch. 

“Say it again.”

Y/N grins. “I love you, George.”

Finally George leans in and kisses her, their mouths fitting together so perfectly it’s as if they were made to match. Some of his teammates have started to filter out, but neither of them cares about the whoops and hollers that start to surround them. George’s kiss is possessive and claiming, and Y/N finds herself whining as he breaks them apart. 

“We better head down to the courthouse tomorrow,” George murmurs, earning him a shocked giggle. 

“And why is that?”

“Well according to that jersey you’re wearing, you’re Mrs. Weasley,” George teases, nudging their noses together. “And I’m done with all of the faking and the lies, aren’t you?”

Y/N nods, sighing in relief when George kisses her again. “Yeah, I am.”