#my brain will chug along for like a minute before moving on

[sparky-is-spiders]

Maybe i already asked that but whatcha think of jon/sasha/elias as a poly ship. Doomed to fail? Very dramatic but ultimately works? Personally i think elias and sasha would uh. Butt heads to say the least. I can see them work individually but in a poly ship... Eh. Maybe if you add in tim instead of jon he could errr moderate the polycule

Hmmm. I've definitely thought about it a bit (mostly in the context of "Elias should be weird about his archivist"). But the problem is that I'm a Jonshipper at heart and my brain doesn't do as much chewing on non-Jon characters. I think I could see a ship where Jon is sort of the hinge? Like Jon's dating Sasha AND Elias but they're only really connected through Jon (and working at the Institute. And being Eyevatars). There would be some level of fondness there (especially if this is dual archivists Jonsasha and they're getting Blended). Personally I see Sasha being "well he's kind of annoying but I guess Jon likes him so I can tolerate him." Don't currently know what Elias' approach to Sasha would be.

Tim being there could add a Dynamic? But again we run into the problem where my brain refuses to generate ideas or opinions if my Special Little Boy isn't there. It's puffing out smoke. There's nothing. Im sorry.

Oh wait if we're going full Eyevatar au I do think Sasha and Elias could and should bond over enjoying seeing Jon in distress. Eyevatar snack time y'know how it is.

(I mean I think they would all enjoy seeing the others suffer (even if it also hurt or horrified them) but Jon's the one I want to see suffering the mostest. I want to bite the scruff of his neck and violently shake him)

[themultifanshipper]

sooo.. i've had this scenario stuck in my head today... in the morning after your wedding night with carlos you both wake up needy bc you were too tired after partying all night... just imagine his raspy voice in the morning telling you to be good for him 😫 i'm a whore for (soft)dom!carlos i need help

You and Carlos met exactly 5 years ago, and you decided to set your wedding date on your 5th year anniversary.

The best man, Lando, along with Carlos's sisters had graciously taken care of everything, and had organized the craziest party you had ever witnessed in your life.

Warnings: smut, softdom Carlos, fluff, daddy kink, marriage kink? Is that a thing?, mention of partying and alcohol induced debauchery.

The first thing you thought when you regained consciousness was ‘Why can't I move?’

Try as you might, your entire body felt like fucking lead.

The next thing your brain supplied was ‘It's too hot in here’ which wasn't particularly helpful, but important to note none the less.

And then finally, ‘Oh my god I got married yesterday!’

Despite your body not at all responding to your brain, you could hear the not so soft snoring of your new husband next to you.

You could also feel his arm draped across your back, along with the itchy feeling of the material of your wedding dress wrapped and tangled in your legs.

It took you a few minutes to regain the feeling in your limbs and you finally opened your eyes.

Thank god you'd had the forethought to close the blinds so the room was still mostly in darkness, save for the warm glow of sunlight streaming through a few small cracks.

Your mind was foggy with the amount of alcohol that was still swirling around your bloodstream, but the heat was stifling and you needed out of the dress now.

You wriggled your fingers and got to work trying to undo it but it was no use with how you had to reach around your back, so you huffed in frustration.

You tried to roll over but failed miserably, stiff muscles protesting at the movement.

Carlos stirred next to you and you turned your head to look at him.

He wasn't in a much better state than you, groaning at the stiffness of his own body as he also tried and failed to roll over.

“Carlos” you tried to say but it came out slurred.

Your mouth was dry and still vaguely tasted of whatever strong stuff you'd probably chugged only a few hours prior.

“Whaah?” he slurred back.

What a fucking pair you two made.

You giggled at his cute face squished into the pillows.

“Carlos… I need you to help me get this dress off”

He chuckled and extended an arm across the space between you to start unclasping it expertly.

“Did I make you all hot and bothered cariño, or wre you thinking about someone else?” he smirked, and you had no idea what that was supposed to mean but his voice was deep and gravelly and you swore his pupils grew in size.

You always thought his voice was hot, but his morning voice was something else entirely, and you'd be lying if it didn't make you hot for an entirely different reason.

The dress came off completely and you groaned at the feeling of cool air on your skin.

“You know…” Carlos said, biting his lip with a mischievous look in his eyes. “We did not consume the marriage”

You burst into a fit of sleepy giggles.

“Consummate, Carlos. Not consume”

He chuckled and wriggled closer to you, so that your noses were touching.

“Same thing” he kissed you and you smiled into it, biting his lip playfully.

“You're my husband, now” you whispered when you parted for breath.

His hand came up to cup your throat gently, not pressing, just one of the little possessive habits Carlos had.

“Turn around” he growled.

You maneuvered your bodies so that he was spooning you, and he quickly undid the slacks he was still wearing from the night before.

Both of you must have fallen into bed exhausted after the wild night you'd spent dancing and downing drinks.

Now that you thought about it, you couldn't remember much after the 4th round of shots Lando made everyone take, but you were sure that was only the beginning of the madness that had probably occurred.

You couldn't dwell on it though, because Carlos was rubbing his tip along your folds and nudging your clit with every stroke.

You sighed dreamily in anticipation, waiting for him to push into you.

“Already so wet my love, you ready to take your husband's cock for the first time?”

He pushed the tip in and you gasped, it was so much already.

It obviously wasn't the first time you'd had sex, but it still felt different now somehow.

He was thick, and when he finally bottomed out, you whined at the intense stretch.

He lifted your leg and hooked it over his hip, changing the angle drastically.

He wrapped a hand around your throat, deep voice rumbling in his chest that was pressed against your back.

“Are you going to be a good girl and take my cock?” he purred.

“Yes” you whined.

“Yes, what?” he asked, cockiness dripping from his voice.

“Yes, daddy”

His hand tightened around your throat and he growled.

“Good girl”

And with that he slammed into you, knocking the air out of you as your cunt clenched around him almost painfully tight.

He grunted and rolled over you so that his weight was pressing you into the mattress.

“Relax, mi amor. You're such a good girl, always taking me so well.”

You whimpered, the fuzziness in your head was only getting worse as his fat cock split you open and you couldn't do anything but lay there helplessly and take it.

Soon the slight pain turned Into pleasure and the noises spilling from your lips sent Carlos into a frenzy, hips slapping against yours relentlessly.

You felt your orgasm creep up on you slowly as he panted and growled into your ear, and every time your walls fluttered around him he let out a punched out groan and his rhythm faltered, taking instead to long hard strokes that grinded into the deepest parts of you.

You were right on the edge, dangling over the precipice when Carlos spoke softly.

“Come for me, my wife”

You tightened around him as you came hard. Your high was as much mental as it was physical. You were Carlos' wife, you realised, the fantasy had finally become a reality. The two of you had never been so close, bodies intertwined as his hand came up to hold yours, both of your gold bands glinting in the sunlight.

Carlos bit into the flesh of your shoulder as he reached his own high, filling you up with his cum and claiming you as his own as his hips bucked involuntarily.

As you both came down, neither of you was able to move, feeling the exhaustion and the ache overtaking your bodies once again.

What on earth had you done last night? You couldn’t remember anything past 1 -ish. You'd have to wait until the photographer released her photo albums.

Carlos chuckled suddenly, making your body rock with the movement, and you asked him what was so funny.

“Nothing, I'm just remembering last night and why I had to drag you to bed” he teased, but you had no idea what he was talking about.

You said as much and his chuckles turned into full on wheezing.

“You… you don't remember what you did on top of the bar? Oh my god I cannot wait for the photos”

You sobered up remarkably quickly at that.

“What the fuck did I do Carlos?”

He snorted and dug his face into your neck and mumbled.

“You were so drunk… you got Charles and George up on the bar with you and started stripping for them. Like… grinding on them and unbuttoning their shirts and putting your hands on their-“

“Oh my god” you whimpered.

Forget waiting for the photos, you needed to prepare the boys' PR teams for the absolute shitstorm that was about to hit the Formula 1 world…

[matryosika]

Three Times Again

Pairing — Hyunjin & Reader Wordcount — 6,171 words Includes — Fem!reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, smut (warnings under the cut). Author's Note — Finished college, graduated with a psychology degree and a 98.8/100 general score, I now have a serious, serious job and I haven't written anything in eight or nine months so this is the best I can do at this point. This might be a bit rusty but honestly I'm happy I was able to write something for the first time in so long. Don't think I forgot about you folks, I never will! Hope you didn't forget about me either.

Smut Warnings — Virgin AND inexperienced reader paired with somewhat experienced male character, best friends trope. Use of petnames, praise and worship if you squint, very very delicate smut if i'm being honest. Fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), nipple play, lots of making out and kisses, protected sex, mentions and use of condom, piv.

It was bound to happen.

Hyunjin knew it. You knew it. All of your friends knew it. 

Rather sooner than later, it was just bound to happen. 

The four walls on his bedroom and the remnants of the incense smoke are lively witnesses of the tension unraveling —a tension that lasted enough for the two of you, and that is now slowly causing havoc with each of your heartbeats.

It all started with a simple, pointless "truth or dare" kind of game, you and your friend's very own rendition: truth or shot. You asked each other's questions, and you could choose between replying or chugging down a shot of liquid courage. No room for those "lick the floor" or "text your ex" shenanigans. 

Of course the catch was that after 3 or 4 rounds, your headspace wasn't as sober as initially. And after a series of shots, one would eventually start spitting out just truths that cannot be spoken after the sun rises.

“Don’t think about it,” Hyunjin begs in between kisses, dragging his swollen lips  along your shoulders and neck. His hands are roaming underneath your clothes, getting familiar with your body while feeling your warmth. “Please, don’t think about it”. 

You can't. And you try not to. 

At least not when the sensations of his wet lips teasing your skin becomes too much to handle in a span of minutes, or when the ghost trailing of his fingertips against your flesh is making you turn desperate for him.

But it is difficult.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you whisper, the logical, still functioning part of your brain tries to protest. Despite how aroused you are, and despite how receptive your body is to that of Hyunjin's. “We’re- you’re my best friend Hyunjin”. 

“And you’re mine,” he hums against your skin, only lifting his gaze when you bury your fingers a bit too harshly onto his dark hair locks, “is that so wrong?”

His words get underneath your skin in ways that they shouldn't, and you start kissing your rationality goodbye as Hyunjin nibbles softly at the flesh where your shoulders and neck connect.

“You’re- we are going to regret this,” you exhale, ironically locking your arms around his neck. Your words are only saying much, but your body is risking it all to let him know that you want this just as much as he does. “What if- you wake up tomorrow and think this was a mistake?”

The dark-haired lets out a quiet groan, filled with both amusement and despair. “How can this be a mistake?” he asks, moving one of his hands from your hips to your thighs, sneaking it between your shorts and your underwear, “how can it be a mistake when I've waited years to have you like this, all for me?”. 

You arch your back against the palm of his hand. 

“Hyunjin,” you exhale his name once again, but you're not quite sure what for. It could be a plea, or the beginning of a sentence you can't begin to articulate in a situation like this. It could also be the familiarity of the word falling from your lips in between moans —you would be such a filthy liar if you were to deny having touched yourself while thinking about your friend before. 

Either way, Hyunjin never really thought of his name that much until now, that he's hearing you moaning it. 

“Yeah?” he asks with a weak hum, getting lost in the way you smell, “talk to me”. 

“F-fuck,” you murmur weakly, the stinging feeling of tears pricking on the corners of your eyes.  You’re about to cry, but you don't know why. Blame it on the alcohol, the sudden release of that secret you've kept years locked inside of you, or the overwhelming sensation Hyunjin’s skin is, “promise me something-”. 

Your friend is all too busy engraving every single inch of your skin into his brain. Every freckle, mole and stretch mark, he needs to memorize your flesh like it's a map. He wants to remember how it looks underneath the dim light of his room, proof that this all happened and it's not just another wet dream of his.

“Anything,” he says, with such a raspy voice it's vibrations travel from the skin spilling out from your bra up until your throbbing center, “ask me anything”. 

You gather all your courage within you to lift your upper body from the mattress, resting your weight on your forearms and causing Hyunjin to take a slight step back from you.

“Promise me this isn't going to change a thing in our friendship,” you murmur, your chest moving up and down almost frantically. Hyunjin's dark eyes are all over yours, with a subtle furrow in his brows that just tells you he's still trying to get a hold on everything that's happening. “Promise me, Hyunjin”. 

You're honestly asking for a lot. How can he promise such a thing, when he is already missing the warmth of your skin? How can he pretend nothing is going to change, when tomorrow he will wake up with the ghostly feeling of your pussy around his dick?

Hyunjin will say yes. Hyunjin will say that he promises you something he knows he is not going to fulfill. And honestly, he can play pretend. You're not going to be able to tell, and he is not going to say it. 

But Hyunjin knows everything is going to change the minute he gets to feel your lips on his again. He knows nothing will ever be the same once he bottoms out inside you, hearing you moaning and gasping while he fucks you however you ask him to.

“I promise,” he swallows the lie thickly, staring at you between furrowed eyebrows. “I fucking promise just- please let me have you, please”. 

You're staring at each other with hitched breath, rapid heartbeats and an insane amount of uncertainty neither of you can sort out. 

“Please let me taste you,” Hyunjin plants a chaste kiss right above your hip bone.

And then another. 

And another.

And another.

“Please,” he begs again, humming your name. “Let me make you feel real good”. 

You close your eyes in defeat, getting immersed in the way his hot lips feel against your tummy. He is kissing, and licking, and nibbling at your flesh, it's practically impossible not to give in when all that's left is your word consenting to it.

“Please,” Hyunjin insists, the tip of his fingers grazing against the hems of your skirt and underwear. “Say you want this just as much as I do”. 

You whine, kicking your head back.

“Say it,” he repeats, whispering your name. “I need to hear it from you. I need to know that you want me like I want you”. 

“I want this,” you finally confess. “I want this- fuck, I want you, Hyunjin”. 

The words leave your lips with a shakily breath, and you think it might be the release of it all.

His lips crash into yours once again, and you realize how much you missed his taste despite having kissed him just minutes ago. Hyunjin's saliva tastes like plum soju, mint and your strawberry gloss, and your heart skips a beat at the realization that this is real, that this is happening —your taste and essence lingers in Hyunjin's mouth, and there's no turning back now. 

The closer your bodies are, the more your fragrances mix. You can't tell his smell apart from yours, and he can't tell either —your hands smell like his lotion, and his shirt smells like your perfume.

Your mind spirals into all the sensations he is providing you with, that is until his hands sneak underneath your blouse and you get to feel his hot flesh against the sides of your body.

Then, your mind goes blank.

Your blood boils, you feel the heat rising to your chest, cheeks and ears. You feel exposed, in a way, but you're sure things aren't going to end there.

Hyunjin has seen nothing of you just yet.

"Can I take this off?" His hands are still attached to your waist underneath your clothes, and as far as you're concerned he could be talking about your shirt or your bra. You want those two off anyways, so you nod and agree to whatever he is thinking.

Things unfold in slow motion to your eyes, but everything is happening pretty fast, actually. In the blink of an eye your blouse is scattered around his bedroom floor, and it doesn't take too long before his t-shirt is joining yours there, too. 

Between all the kisses and pettings, you feel the loss of his warmth when he takes a step back. Then, you feel really exposed.

Apart from your heavy breaths and fast heartbeats, the room is completely quiet. So quiet it scares you, so you break the silence with a muffled "what?".

Hyunjin's straight eyebrows furrow just slightly, and he parts his lips to say something yet nothing comes out of them. Nothing but a deep, trembling exhale; it sounds like the equivalent to being able to finally breath after being underwater for so long.

“What, Hyunjin?” You repeat with a stern voice, fearing he might've started to regret the whole thing. He is unreadable —as far as you're concerned, he could be having second thoughts about this stupid idea. You wouldn't blame it for it.

But when he drops to his knees in front of you, and his hands find the waistband of your skirt, you get the sense that he might not be regretting any of this at all.

“So pretty,” he mutters, with rounded eyebrows like crescent moons and big, open eyes as he stares up at you, “you’re so, so pretty”. 

The compliment takes your breath away, and the skin on your nape and back short-circuits as if an explosion of electricity it’s taking place underneath your flesh.

"You really think so?" You're not quite sure what prompts you to ask such a question, but you figure you should let yourself get loose. The last thing you want for tonight is to hold back, because that isn't the idea.

You're doing this with Hyunjin for a reason, and said reason is because you trust him.

Without holding back, without overthinking, without hesitating. There will be plenty of time to reflect on whatever happens tonight, but right now isn't the time.

At least not when Hyunjin is kneeling in front of you, holding so much adoration in his eyes you swear you finally feel those butterflies people keep talking about.

“I know so,” he reiterates, “just look at you”. 

Your eyes fall to where his hands meet with your skirt, and this time he asks for consent with just his gaze. You nod and swallow thickly, watching as his fingers expertly dance along the hems of your skirt.

You want to shy away, to cover yourself and evaporate into thin air —at the same time, Hyunjin wants to look at you. You want him to be the first one to see you naked, to touch parts of your body nobody has before. You want to see his expression, to wonder what he will do when the realization of having you in his bed finally sinks in.

Because up until now, everything feels like a fever dream to him.

You stand in front of the edge of his bed, and watch as he undresses you. His hands trace the path of the skirt, from your thighs to your calves, and only looks up when it reaches your ankles, signaling for you to step out of it.

The color and fabric of your panties match those of the bra, and for a split second Hyunjin feels played. 

Did you plan it? Have you been thinking about this as much as he has?

It could be a coincidence, but it isn't —at some point throughout the night, you and Hyunjin were bound to happen. And you both knew it.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, standing up from the floor right in front of you. His eyes are all over your face, his hands are shy and you get the feeling that he might kiss you, but all he does is press his lips against yours and murmurs, “you make me feel so- fuck, I don’t even know”. 

You appreciate Hyunjin's sincerity, because honestly you don't know either. All you know is the adrenaline running through your veins, and the palpitations you feel underneath your left rib cage and between your thighs.

All you know is that you want Hyunjin to fuck you. Whether it's painful, or not. Whether you get to feel some pleasure, or not. All you want is for him to be your first, to be the one you experience sex for the first time like everyone around you already has.

It's actually more complicated than that, than just experiencing, but you don't dwell on it for long.

“Don’t think about it too much,” you suggest, just as fazed as he is. “Don’t think about anything just- do whatever you want”.

Hyunjin is unsure of what he is doing, judged by the hesitation behind his movements. He holds you by the small of your back and presses you tightly against his body, so close the tip of your noses are grazing against each other.

“Stop me if I hurt you,” he whispers with shortness of breath, “alright?”

You nod and swallow thickly, “okay”. 

Inevitably, Hyunjin feels a pressure over his shoulders. He knows it is your first time. 

You deserve something memorable, something that it's all about you. 

Sure, his dick is hard and throbbing, and he swears he is one second away from exploding inside his pants, but he is willing to leave his pleasure aside for yours.

He'd have other opportunities to get his dick wet and other chances to experiment. Right now it should be all about you, about making you feel good.

And under that thought, he kisses you again. 

Soft and slowly, dragging the tip of his fingers along the middle of your back. His tongue brushes against yours and you completely forget about the concept of oxygen.

It doesn't matter now that Hyunjin's breath is everything you need to respire.

His fingers keep lingering in the hooks of your bra, and it surprises you how he is able to get it off of you on his own.

"No man ever gets it right the first time," your best friend had told you amidst laughter. But Hyunjin just did in his first try. He is just naturally good at everything he does; excelling at random tasks, always getting things perfectly from the very start.

You hardly think about how naked you're in comparison to him, because he presses his chest to yours and your breasts become squeezed by his golden skin. You feel your nipples hardening against him, and you’re fully aware he can feel them too.

Fuck, he can feel them. And his cock gets even harder by that alone. 

“Let me see you,” Hyunjin whispers under his breath, but you wrap your arms around his neck, preventing him from taking a step back from you. You shake your head, feeling abruptly overwhelmed by his embrace, as well as the cold air hitting your skin.

“No one has ever seen me naked,” you say.

He knows.

“I want to see you, if you let me,” he swallows thickly, brushing his nose against yours. “Please, let me see you”.

Hyunjin feels your arms releasing some strength, falling limp over his shoulders, and he takes that as an opportunity to walk back just enough to see you.

All of you.

Everything he shouldn't fantasize about, but he does. 

“God,” he exhales with a strangled breath, doing everything he possibly can to remain collected.

But it's irrational, and impossible. How can he remain calm when you're standing naked in front of him? Your skin is covered in goosebumps, your nipples are hard and the dark, wet patch on your cotton underwear just tells him that your body needs something only he can give you. How can he be calm throughout any of this?

He can’t, and he is finally coming to terms with it.

“It’s not fair,” you murmur, slyly crossing your arms over your chest, “I’m practically naked, and you still have your pants on”. 

Hyunjin listens, but decides to ignore you. Instead, his hands find your crossed arms and he motions for you to drop them, pressing his lips against yours to kiss you one more time.

He swears he might never get tired of kissing you, ever.

“Lay down,” he presses desperate, short kisses against your lips, and you follow his guidance until your back meets the softness of the comforter.

His hands hold the sides of your body, only to drag the last piece of clothing off from your body. And it happens all too fast, that you don't even have time to shy away. Hyunjin lays down between your spread legs, with his hands and arms hooked underneath your thighs, half-lidded eyes looking right at yours.

“Remember,” Hyunjin warns, and the feeling of his warm breath against your core feels too weird and unfamiliar, you mean to close your legs around him but he doesn't allow you to, “tell me if I hurt you”. 

Your heart would have exploded inside your chest at the sight, but it doesn't until Hyunjin's tongue meets your pussy for the first time. Then, you feel your heartbeats ringing loudly in your ears.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, holding up your weight with your forearms.

“You’re dripping wet,” he murmurs, nose brushing against your clit while his tongue collects all your arousal, “you must have been wanting this for so long”.

You writhe under his hold, feeling weakened by his words. Your chest feels heavy, and there's a tension on your lower back that prompts you to grind your hips against his face, practically begging for him to do something.

And he does —the tip of his digits slide against your folds, exploring you. He focuses his tongue on your clit, and by that alone you swear you're seeing stars. You thought the stimulation would pretty much feel like your fingers or toys, but it's nothing close to that. It feels foreign, out of your control, and you like that.

“How do you touch yourself?” Hyunjin asks with a deep voice you swear you can't recognize. 

Instead of replying, you guide one of your hands to his, that is already wet and sticky, and take two of his fingers, “put them inside”. 

He follows your orders, sinking his index and middle finger with such an ease it surprises both of you. Normally, it would take you a while to get wet on your own —right now, it seems that your body is reacting to Hyunjin much faster than you expected.

“So fucking warm,” the mutter is more to himself than to you, but you still catch it. And for some reason, the sound of his voice makes you clench harder around his fingers, “and so tight”. 

“Don’t say that,” you kick your head back, closing your eyes shut.

“I know you like it,” he says, a small smile creeping through the corners of his lips, “I can feel it”. 

There it is, again. Your walls flutter around his fingers, squeezing them softly at every word he says.

“You like it when I tell you how wet you are?” Hyunjin’s voice is gradually lower now, and his choice of words has the desired effect on you, “don’t lie, I can feel you getting tighter”. 

This may be better than any lie detector the world has come to know. Discovered by none other than Hyunjin, right before any other guy all over you could.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath, your fingers instinctively latching to his black hair. You don't mean to pull it, but you find yourself using it as leverage, and Hyunjin finds himself groaning at it, “seems like I've discovered something about you too”.

He smiles and presses his lips and nose further against you, pretending to know every single inch of your core with his tongue. It's the first time he has you like this, and he isn't quite sure if he is doing alright —a couple of soft whimpers and quiet, strangled moans are falling from your lips, but that isn’t enough for Hyunjin.

"What else do you do?" He asks, and the question comes out more as a whimper than a casual, nonchalant voice. He is clearly affected by all of this, and you can tell by his hips rut against his bed as he touches you. “When you touch yourself, what else do you do?” 

One of your hands leaves his dark hair, and guide to your breasts. It always goes a little bit like that —your dominant hand maneuvers the toy against your clit, and your other hand focuses on your breasts and nipples, pinching and twisting them as you like.

Fuck, well, that's going to be a sight imprinted in Hyunjin's mind forever. The way your back arches as soon as your fingers tease your nipples, the way your chest elevates with a deep inhale. The way your hips buck against Hyunjin's touch, and how your toes curl just slightly at the stimulation.

He soon focuses again on his task, pumping two of his fingers inside you while his tongue takes care of your clit that has become more swollen than initially. 

He is doing anything he can to get to know you, to see how his touch is affecting you. And when his middle finger touches a spot inside your walls that he hadn't before, and you let out a guttural moan of his name, Hyunjin stops short.

“Did I-” 

He must think he hurt you. But it's all quite the opposite. 

“Right there,” you shake your head frantically, acquiring strength from, practically, nowhere to push your body up in your forearms again, “shit, again, do it again”.

And he complies. His middle finger curls, and the reaction he gets is the same, if not more pronounced, from you.

“You’re fucking dripping,” repeatedly, he manages to find a pace of his own. His fingers move slowly and deliciously inside of you, almost always touching that spot that has you moaning louder than before. That, added with the suck of his mouth around your clit, sends you to cloud 9.

You've never felt this before, on your own, and it scares you.

It feels more intense, and slightly painful. Your lower back hurts, you're sweating and you fear you might pee. 

It definitely feels as if you're going to pee.

“Hyunjin!” You gasp, your hands pushing him away, “I feel- ‘m gonna make a mess”. 

His heart is beating loud in his ears, and he feels the pressure of your thighs squeezing his face. The quick thought that he might be hurting you flies across Hyunjin's mind, but is quickly discarded when your hips move in sensual circles against him.

You must be close.

“Wait!” You gasp, and Hyunjin withdraws from between your legs, but his fingers continue fucking your pussy with an increased pace, “G-god, fuck, I’m-”.

You’re babbling, not making any sense. And Hyunjin feels his dick leaking precum, sticking to his underwear. Never in all his years of life had he been this hard, and it's hurting him to no end. At the same time, it feels deliciously torturing. 

He just fears he might come untouched.

“Close?” Hyunjin asks, and you just nod frantically. 

As if an expert, his palm hits your clit every time he bottoms his fingers out inside of you. A part of him tells him he should position himself back between your legs and make you come with his mouth and fingers; the other, however, urges him to crawl up, between kneeling and lying next to you, as his available hand guides your chin to him.

The sight is even better like this, Hyunjin thinks —your teary eyes and the hair sticking to your forehead and cheeks with sweat is something he might never be able to forget.

The way you're staring at him like you're scared, and confused, and oh so aroused. He is the reason behind your body shaking and your hands gripping the bed sheets underneath you; the reason behind your cries and whimpers, and the wetness between your legs.

All because of him.

"I think I'm coming," you manage to spit out in a strangled breath, and soon after lose complete control over your body.

Your back arches against his bed, your legs close around his wrist, and your body threatens to push him away. But Hyunjin doesn't let you —he embraces you, holding you in place as you ride your high. 

“There you go,” he murmurs, with a soft smile creeping through the corners of his lips.

Your trembling hand wraps around his bicep, and you can barely open your eyes without tearing up. Whatever just happened, you haven't experienced it before.

“Hyunjin,” you whimper yet again, feeling how your walls clench over and over around his fingers. It tired you, both mentally and physically —your toes feel funny from clenching them much, your legs are sore from being spread open for a while now, and your hips feel tired from all the tension that suddenly snapped minutes ago, “holy fuck, Hyunjin”. 

“I’m right here,” he tells you while leaving a quick kiss on your lips.

And then another.

And another.

And another, until it turns into a proper kiss, one that isn’t nearly as sloppy or fast as the ones he offered you before. This time, Hyunjin kisses you slowly, carefully, almost as if he is trying to soothe all that tension with his lips.

You place your hands on either side of his face, and he does the same —with ease, he manages to position himself on top of you, with so much care not to put all his weight on top. Hyunjin only breaks the kiss to look at you, and the way your lips form a subtle "o" when you feel his erection pressed against your lower abdomen is enough for him to run out of breath.

“We don’t have to- I mean, we don’t have to do it tonight,” Hyunjin murmurs, his lips barely touching yours. “We can stop right here, I’m okay with-” 

“Let’s do it,” you notice how he swallowed thickly and how his bright eyes resembling a deer caught in the headlights stare at you with just the same amount of fear and lust. 

To be your first; to mess around together, to experience what sex is all about.

You want this, and he wants this just as much. There's trust, and there is a promise —nothing can go wrong because that's exactly why you're doing it with each other.

Because there's no one else in this world you trust more than Hyunjin.

“Okay,” he exhales, backing away from your body to fully undress himself. And although it's not prohibited to look, you feel insanely awkward when your eyes meet his figure.

Hyunjin doesn't show much skin, not even during the summer days when you visited the beach or his parent's lake house. Seeing him shirtless was already much of a shock, but seeing him fully naked? That is a whole other story.

You feel your cheeks blushing and you need to look away before Hyunjin catches you staring, but it is already too late. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, forcing yourself to keep contact with his eyes rather somewhere else.

Hyunjin licks his lips, and he does so in such a swift movement that it barely registers in your mind. But it does, and you can't stop thinking how attractive he is, and how awfully aroused he is making you feel. It's like your body has a mind of its own, one that's completely enticed by him.

“C’me here,” he kneels in the bed again, hovering your body. His erection pressed against your lower abdomen once again, and you let out an unexpected, almost embarrassing moan just by that alone.

He is hard, and his dick feels warm. You can't help but sneak a hand between your bodies and wrap it around him, making him curse under his breath.

It's the first time you see (in real life, anyway) and touch a dick; you're not sure what you were expecting, but the feeling of it isn't bad. However, it isn’t as nice as the sight of Hyunjin's eyes closed shut, and his bottom lip caught between his lips.

“If you touch me again, I'm going to come,” he warns you.

“And isn’t that what you want?” You ask, stroking him softly. You’re barely discovering how to touch him, but there’s something pleasant about the way you’re exploring him.

“Not before fucking you,” Hyunjin tells you, “I have to make you feel good again”.

He straightens his body slightly and puts a condom on. It is tight around the base, and too slippery for his own liking, but he can't complain about it when you're patiently waiting for him. 

Your eyes never abandon his figure, and just the sight of him unwrapping a fucking condom and putting it on is more than enough to make you clench around thin air. And you're too lost in that thought, of how strikingly beautiful Hyunjin looks tonight, that you don't feel any sort of panic until the tip of his dick slides against your slit.

This is really happening, you think to yourself, and suddenly all the oxygen from the room has vanished, leaving you with a heavy chest and an awful sensation that you're choking.

“You okay?” He asks when he catches a glimpse of your furrowed eyebrows.

“Just nervous,” your eyes dart between his face and the parts of your bodies where you almost meet. You've heard awful stories about first times, involving a lot of pain and discomfort; why would yours be any different than those?

You feel your heart beating in anticipation, and your throat gets dry.

“I'm not going to hurt you,” Hyunjin says, leaning down to kiss you, “I’ll be careful”. 

You nod, because you know he is telling the truth. So you brace yourself by holding his biceps, watching as he guides his dick inside of you.

“Inhale,” he tells you, and you follow. Your lungs get filled with fresh air until they hurt, until you no longer can harbor any more oxygen.

And only then, the tip of it slides right in easily, with just the tiniest bit of discomfort —your fingers and toys are not close to the size he is.

“Fuck”. 

“Let it all out,” and you exhale deeply, relaxing underneath him as he finally bottoms out. He stays there, without moving, feeling how your walls adapt to his girth. Hyunjin kisses your cheek, and snuggles his face in the crook of your neck to leave a couple of them there, too, “good job”. 

You whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck just as your legs wrap around his hips.

His weight on top of you feels nice, just as it does having him inside of you. But you're desperate to know how he really feels, so you prompt him to move.

“I’ll go slow,” and he sticks to his word. His thrusts are slow, but deep —every time he bottoms out, you moan.

You're just getting used to him, so the way he is fucking you is more than enough for now. And it is enough for him, too —if he goes any faster, he is sure he will come.

But he maintains a certain pace, and your bodies get to meet each other in a way they hadn't before. 

“Does it feel good?” You ask him in a murmur, and he hums in response.

“So good,” his eyes never leave yours. “You feel so good, your pussy feels so good”.

You bite your lips, wanting to hold back whatever reaction his words elicit from you. 

There's something lewd about his voice, and the way he says things tonight. There's something lewd in the way you like it, too.

“You feel good too,” you compliment him, caressing the sides of his face. “Want to come again, with you”. 

Hyunjin nods, as if you’re giving him an order for him to follow. But you might as well have, because he takes it upon himself to give you what you want. One of his hands sneak between your sweaty bodies, and albeit difficult, he manages to position the tip of his fingers over your clit, rubbing it at the same pace as his thrusts.

“Oh my God,” you whisper, closing your eyes shut when you feel a pinch of pain from the overstimulation. 

It's crazy how many things Hyunjin has learned about you in the past hour.

“Does it feel good when I touch you like this?” He manages to ask, and you nod frantically.

His hand then withdraws from your clit, and when you're about to protest, you notice his mouth is leaning closer to your chest, “what-”. 

He then latches his tongue around one of your hardened nipples, and you become a mess of whimpers underneath him.

“And this?” Hyunjin asks with his lips attached to the flesh of your breast, “does it feel good when I do this?”

You might as well have figured something about you.

“It feels so good, Hyunjin,” you chant, with teary eyes that threaten to start bawling in ecstasy, “so good, fuck, so good”.

He continues, sucking on your nipple while his fingers tease the other. And you really seem to like it because you can't stop moaning, because all your hands do is to force him even more against your chest. 

“Squeezing me so good,” Hyunjin mutters under his breath, losing control of himself as he feels you clenching around him. He's drooling over your breasts, swollen and pink lips dragging across your flesh while his hips start spasming, “God, you’re so fucking tight”.

You sneak a hand between your bodies, and when your digits brush against your clit, you feel your body jolting, and the tension threatening to unravel. 

You're so close, again.

And you hope he is close too.

“I’m-” You don't manage to finish the sentence when Hyunjin's fingers replace yours, “Hyunjin!”

You mean to keep your eyes open, to look at him in between, but you finally give up to the overwhelming pleasure. You close them shut, and all you're left with is the feeling of Hyunjin's body against yours, and the sounds you and him are eliciting from each other. 

“Close?” And you nod frantically, tightening your limbs around him —your arms around his neck, your legs around his lower back. 

You’ve hugged Hyunjin before, but nothing will ever compare to this; to your naked bodies pressing together, to his lips murmuring sweet nothings against yours. 

To share something as intimate as an orgasm can be.

“Coming,” you whisper weakly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. And at the same time, Hyunjin lets out a painful, choked groan.

His throat hurt at it, but not nearly as much as the tension finally unraveling did. 

Not as much as the sight of your hazy eyes looking up at him as you both come down from your highs.

Not as much as the realization that it was all over.

“Hyunjin,” you whimper again, and your loud heartbeats, and the way you're still clenching around him is preventing him from listening to your voice. He sees your lips moving, but he is too far gone in the bliss of his orgasm to care.

“God,” you close your eyes shut and hide your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent. 

You don’t want him to let go of you, to pull out. You want to stay like this for as long as you’re able to.

And Hyunjin wants it too, plopping all of his weight carefully on top of you. He presses a kiss to your temple, and then your forehead. Nothing in his life has ever felt this good before, and he fears he might not be able to live a moment like this again.

"Did I hurt you?" He just has to ask again, now that you're settled between his arms.

You shake your head subtly, and look up at him with so much gloss and sentiment he feels a pinch of hope you feel the same way he feels about you. 

"Not once," you exhale, offering the most beautiful smile Hyunjin has seen on you.

And when you press a quick peck to his lips and snuggle right next to him, with your head on his chest and your hand over his abdomen, 

he just knows it will happen again. 

And again.

And again.

And again.

Bonus note: If you liked this, PLEASE let me know. I'm kind of nervous putting this out there because I've been away for so long, I'm not even sure if this is any good. Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It is nice to connect with past hobbies to be honest.

Love you all! And take care!

[smusherina]

bridges burnt - chapter 4 [epilogue series] (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: When an invitation to Gretchen Wieners' wedding ended up in your mailbox, you'd been sure it was a mistake. Only, it read your name in neat, swoopy calligraphy. It was addressed to you. And Regina George, whom you hadn't spoken to in years.

additional clarification: This is set in the universe of yard work, a series of mine that can be found on my page! Reading this one might be a bit challenging without the context of the series :)

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 5

You clapped along with everybody else when the bride and groom made their entrance. You kept a polite smile on your face even as Regina's hand, rested on your knee, had your blood rushing.

The couple would be making the rounds, talking to and thanking guests before speeches were given and toasts were made. Then (finally) the food would be served.

You sipped fizzy apple juice from a champagne flute, leg jittering uncontrollably as you waited for Gretchen and her husband to get to your table. Regina was doing the same, though looking remarkably calmer. Looked like it would take a while, considering the flock of relatives accosting them.

You did not pity them. Those cheek pinches looked painful.

"You gotta calm down," She eventually said, squeezing your leg.

"I can't help it. You know what Gretchen did. I don't even know why she'd- y'know- invite us."

You hoped Regina got your meaning. You'd been broken up for a long time now and it wasn't like Gretchen didn't know. When you'd moved back to town and Mrs George had gotten wind of it, she'd talked very excitedly to all the neighbours about her daughter's best ex living in town.

Gretchen's mom, part of the most pernickety HOA, a soccer mom of extreme intensity and a domineering PTA rep, of course, relayed the information to her daughter—and anybody who'd listen—when she got wind of it from someone. The network of middle-aged women was insane in the area. You digress. There was no way to know this for a fact but you could make an educated guess.

"I suspect it's because she's a heinous bitch," Regina said, casual as ever. "A vengeful, hateful, homophobic bitch."

"Careful, there's ears everywhere." Janis piped up, eyeing the room.

"You know I'm right." Regina defended, eyebrow notched.

"Obviously," Janis made a face like she couldn't believe Regina would suggest otherwise. "But, personally, I wanna get a taste of the menu before we're kicked out."

"Now, that's an idea..." Regina hummed, tapping her chin.

"What's an idea?" You asked. Regina didn't answer. "Reggie. What idea? What ideas are you getting, Regina?" Almost frantic.

"Don't worry your sweet little head about it, babe. I've got everything under control." She teased, pressing a patronizing kiss on your cheek. Your brain made computer whirring noises, blue flashing before your eyes. Rebooting.

"I don't like this," You mumbled into Regina's ear.

"Meet me in the bathroom hallway in five minutes." She whispered back, turning with a coy look in her eye.

You chugged the rest of your drink. Fuck. This was gonna be rough. Shane looked equally nervous but seemed to calm down when Aaron came by. You shook hands very awkwardly. He asked about you and Regina. You told him you were good, that she was good. Maybe your tone was a little too aggressive, leftover from your angsty teenage jealousy, because he settled to chat with his boo from then on.

Five minutes passed very slowly. You eyed your watch for the last minute of it, on the edge of your seat.

"Was nice seeing you, Aaron." You gave a quick, apologetic smile. "Best of luck." Hopefully, that sufficed as an olive branch.

"You too, man, you too," He called after you. You waved behind your back and strode towards the bathroom hallway.

There were too many goddamn guests. You navigated through the throngs of people best you could, muttering sorry and excuse me as you pushed through.

"What the fuck, girl?" You startled when Amanda took you by the cuff. She led you to a nearby wall, so very close to your destination.

"I thought you broke up?" She asked, hissing more like.

"We did. I don't know what's going on."

"Uh, tell her to back off? People are talking that there's, y'know, a very passionate lesbian couple here. Relatives from the bible belt not impressed." Amanda gave you a look, narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "Have you been lying to me?"

"No!" You denied vehemently. "It sounds crazy, I know, but she just came up to me like that."

"And why didn't you, hmm, I dunno, push her away?" Amanda's eyes turned soft. "She didn't treat you right, we discussed this."

"I didn't treat her much better, Amanda." You sighed and rubbed your forehead. "I... I can't say no to her. I- I don't want to say no."

"This isn't good for you." She said as if you didn't already know.

"Yeah. Well." You spread your arms and let them drop listlessly. "You know me, I do a lot of things not good for me."

"You're hopeless." She turned to the rest of the room. "Just remember, you're my ride home."

Your eyebrows rose.

"You sure about that?" You cast a meaningful glance towards the bar. The same guy, still being bothered by the same lady you were pretty sure, kept throwing helpless glances Amanda's way. She was gonna take that puppy home, he was so her type.

"Are you calling me a slut?" She grinned. "If all goes according to plan, I'll text you where to pick me up tomorrow morning."

"Great. Don't get murdered, yeah?" You patted her on the shoulder. "I gotta go."

"I have your back, Jay. Don't forget that."

You nodded solemnly and continued your journey towards the bathrooms. Just as you crossed into the hallway, looking left first, someone grabbed you roughly by the collar and slammed you against the wall.

"What-" You yelped but didn't get any more words out before Regina descended on you. She took you harshly, lips on yours sealed tight like she was keen on sucking the life out of you. Your body slumped against her, mouth seeking hers as she dipped her tongue in.

It was sloppy, a little gross, and loud. Had you been any other person, some innocent bystander, you probably would've been disgusted. But this was Regina George and she was kissing you. That still floored you.

Regina hadn't kissed you like this since high school. When you spent senior prom at your house, cooped up and pretending it didn't matter all the other couples got to dance and have fun while you hid. When you both got so angry that the only way to find release was in each other. When you broke up and decided you were better separate, crying in the middle of intimacy and so, so desperate.

"Keep your eyes on me, jorts." Regina breathed into your lips. You tasted her, something sweet and minty. "You can go back to your little girlfriend when we're done here."

"Huh?" You made a sound. "What girlfriend?"

"The one you were talking to just now." She trailed kisses to your ear. Your eyes fluttered, heart skipped beats. "You got multiple?"

"No, just you, uh, I mean- she's not my girl." You tried to produce full sentences with mild success. "She's here for emotional support."

"What's your relationship with her?" All these official questions while her hands were roaming under your suit jacket, feeling up your back, scratching with her nails. You shivered.

"Friends." You swallowed, panting as Regina sucked marks on your throat. There would be no hope of covering those up.

"Good," Regina said gutterally, voice almost like a growl as her leg pressed between yours. Oh god, was she going to fuck you right here?

"Now, you're gonna be real good for me and do exactly as I say." She kept touching your sides, your hips, your thighs, and you could not take much more. Her lips dizzied you, talking so low you had to strain to hear every word. Her gloss was all over you, sticky and tacky.

"Reg, what the fuck are we doing?"

"We're pretending, baby, and we're gonna sell it." Your stomach sunk. You knew this was some act but having it spelt out like this, that Regina was using you for revenge, stung. She continued:

"I will do everything in my power to ruin this wedding. I have ideas and I just need you to assist a little bit."

"Regina," You sighed and pushed her by the shoulders, lightly and gently. She went willingly, though with a pout. "You're doing it again. Revenge. This is why we broke up."

"We broke up for many reasons, jorts." She retorted, nails scratching at your tummy. You tried to hide your trembling.

"Yes, and- Regina!" She attached her lips to your pulse, where you were especially sensitive.

"Still got it," She mumbled cheekily into your skin, pressing kisses there just to torment you.

"You're horrible," You whined, hands holding onto her shoulders for dear life. Her leg hiked further up on the wall, pressing against you firmly. You kept your hips still, not daring to enter that territory somewhere so public.

You were at the end of your rope. Not much more now and all reservations would be null. You were sure you wouldn't say no if she unzipped your fly then and there.

"You know I am, baby." She squeezed your waist and sucked a hickey right on your jugular.

"Why are you doing this?" You asked, voice weak.

She didn't answer for a while. Just kept touching you, feeling you, kissing you. It was driving you mad but at the same time, you were beginning to feel like the reason didn't matter.

"Good question. Just go with it, yeah?" She breathed, finally pulling away enough to look into your eyes. "You look ravished." She looked so pleased with herself, with a little smirk on her face and her eyes glinting.

"Thanks," You tried to catch your breath.

"Now, we're gonna make out until someone finds us and that'll stir up something." Regina leaned back in but you dodged her kiss, giving her your neck instead. She didn't seem to mind, teeth getting in the mix.

"Y'know there's- there are more effective ways to ruin a wedding than kissing in a secluded hallway." You pointed out.

"Maybe. But this is more fun." She pulled your shirt out of your pants, ruining the careful tuck you'd done. Her hands grabbed at your lower back, nails scraping on your flesh teasingly. She was trying to kill you, surely. You told her so.

"You're gonna kill me, Reg."

"I'd never hurt you." She whispered, sounding more sombre than you would've expected. "You're the exception."

"Why can't you make exceptions for anybody else? Gretchen doesn't deserve this or all this effort."

"Jorts, baby," She brought her lips to your ear, whispering right up against it. You bit your lip not to moan. "You deserve all the effort."

That got you thinking.

"Did I deserve it back then?" You asked, careful, a little too quiet.

Regina paused, hands resting and mouth unlatching. "Yes."

You stood there, breathing together. You were all kinds of messy, so obviously kissed stupid, but you couldn't help the sting in your eyes.

It was dramatic, you knew that, crying over a bygone high school romance. You'd been just teenagers. It shouldn't matter anymore, not at this point when you were both adults. You both had real jobs, your own homes, your own lives.

"I missed you," You said, resting your forearms on Regina's shoulders. You touched your forehead to hers.

"I missed you, too," She said back, just as quiet. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." It felt like a weight lifted off of your chest. "What should we do?"

"How about..." Regina looked up at you through her lashes. You felt lightheaded. Her lipgloss was smeared in the sexiest way. "We get revenge on Gretchen for all the shit she did in high school, for being a homophobic bigot, and for almost getting Kylie expelled."

"Kylie? Expelled?" That surprised you. You hadn't seen Kylie since her sweet sixteenth last year, which she'd invited you to. You stopped by before any of the guests or Regina got there.

"Gretchen caught her kissing one of her younger cousins at their place. A girl. Obvi, Duvall didn't let it fly but it pretty much outed Kylie."

You took a deep breath.

"Let's give the kids kazoos. And water guns. That will ruin any wedding."

Regina laughed. "Where are we getting kazoos? And water guns?"

"I did some volunteer work as a camp counsellor this summer. There's some good stuff in my car." You got an idea then.

"We can lure raccoons into the reception hall!"

Regina cackled.

Notes: I googled "ways to ruin a wedding" and got some awesome results. Look forward to that in the next chapter!

Taglist posted seperately! If you want to be added, please comment on that post!

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

girlieee your spiderman!ethan landry fics are literally my most favourite thing EVER!! I know you already made a fic like this but could you do a fic where it’s pouring rain, reader is sleeping and she hears a knock on her window and it’s Ethan🧍He’s got rips on his suit and some rips on his mask and he’s like scratched up and bleeding a lot so reader lets him inside to help patch him up? It’s all angsty but fluffy too (hurt/comforttt)😁 tooootally understand if you can’t write this, I have too much respect for you and your work to be upset haha!! ilyyy🤍

you know always helps to see if i could write similar scenarios in different context (i didn’t write any of the actual patching up, i hope that’s okay��). i hope i did your request the justice you deserve. and thank you so much for enjoying spider-man!ethan just as much as me and everyone else💗💗💗 (not proofread or spell checked, forgive my messy words)

used the prompts “let me explain-“ and “can you calm down?” from @urfriendlywriter

pairing: spider-man!ethan landry x fem!reader wc: 1.3k

masterlist

it was a gloomy day, morning to night, on this friday night in new york. luckily you only had one class in the late afternoon on campus so you were able to stay home the rest of the night. you cooked some grilled cheese for dinner, ate some ice cream, caught up on your show. then you showered, did some homework, read about two chapters on your new book as you laid in bed before sleepiness coated your eyelids and they fell shut.

you weren’t sure how long you were asleep, maybe thirty minutes to a few hours, you couldn’t tell. you smacked your lips a few times that were aching for gulps of cold water, so you made the short walk to the kitchen and chugged the water bottle in your hand.

with sluggish steps you made it back to your room ready to throw yourself back into bed. but then a noise caught your attention. you thought you were imagining it, brain working slower while rain beat against the side of your building harshly, but it came again. and again this time louder with urgency. you thought it was coming from your front door somehow, but movement by your window stopped you in place.

slow and small steps carried you closer and closer to the dark window until you could see someone sitting on your fire escape, someone colored in blue and red.

they waved when you were in view and you noticed all the cuts on his suit and mask. so you pushed the window up fast and yelled into the roaring wind, “spider-man!” and he yelled back, “hi! sorry i just need some place to wait out the storm and i stumbled here. i swear it’s me!” and he shot a web to the other side of the building to prove it.

so you moved aside and he climbed through the window then stood to his full height with a slight sway to his body. you held your hands out hesitantly, “uh, you wanna sit down?”

“if- if i can, that’d be great.” he sounded winded and tired. you grabbed his wrist and guided him to your desk chair and he sank into the seat, leaned his head back with his eyes to the ceiling.

your eyes followed the slow up and down of his chest, “i think i already know this answer, but are you okay?” wringing your fingers together with your teeth biting into your bottom lip.

spider-man took a deep inhale that was followed by a shaky exhale. he did that two more times before adjusting his seating, his palms resting on his thighs as his bug eyes stared at you. “i’m gonna take off my mask-“ “wait, what?”

he continued, “i don’t want you to freak out, y/n.” now you were even more nervous, “how do you know-“ and before you could finish your sentence spider-man yanked his mask off and underneath sat a pillow of sweaty brown curls along with watchful brown eyes.

you couldn’t speak, your lips parted but no sound came out. hands moved to cover your mouth while frantic pupils took in this new development. ethan landry was spider-man. the boy you sit next to in your shared english class. the boy that causes your heart to beat faster than normal at just the mention of his name.

it felt like your brain went through five stages of emotions in five seconds. confusion, worry, upset, butterflies, then finally anger.

eyes that were wide as saucers now narrowed as you dropped your hands to your sides and stared down the superhero boy as you yelled, “what the fuck, ethan!”

he held his arms out like you were a dangerous animal. “okay, i know it’s a lot-“ you scuffed at the words, “a lot? yeah it’s a lot! your fucking spider-man and haven’t told any of us!”

he cringed and brought a hand to his neck while looking away. “actually… chad knows…”

a beat before- “get the fuck out.” stone cold face and voice. ethan jumped from the chair on unsteady feet, “y/n, just calm down and-“ “don’t fucking tell me to calm down! i’m pissed at you and your telling me to calm down?”

ethan sighed before sitting back in your chair. you stayed standing with your arms tight across your chest, nostrils flaring and wishing you had laser eyes. though your mind was worried about ethan’s health and his injuries, but you had to hold your ground.

“y/n,” he said with a plea, “just- just let me explain. or whatever you want the answer to, i’ll give it. just… please y/n.”

a clench to your jaw before moving to sit on your bed, arms still crossed over your heart. “fine, but i just have one question?” ethan sat up straighter, eyes alight. “anything.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” body slumping and face softening. “do you not trust me? i wouldn’t have told-“

“no, no. it’s not…” ethan moved from the chair to beside you on your bed. your knees knocked together and you dropped your arms to sit in your lap, fingers picking at your pajama pants.

“the only reason chad knows is ‘cause he’s my roommate. and he walked into my room before i could hide the suit.” ethan hesitated before setting his left palm on your thigh just above your knee. your eyes staring at the red fabric and ethan watching the side of your face. “i didn’t tell you because i don’t want you involved.”

looking away from his hand and to his face, his scratched and bruised face. “oh, ethan,” reaching out to cup his cheeks.

his gloves hands fell atop yours, “people that know about me being spider-man… it puts a target on their back. and i didn’t want anyone to know, but when chad found out i tried really hard to make sure spider-man wasn’t seen around him. but with you especially… i could never forgive myself if something were to happen. i need you in my life.”

“i just… you could’ve told me and i would help you with all this.” referring to his damaged skin. “do you do it yourself or does chad help?”

ethan glances down, “i do it myself. unless it’s some place i can’t reach i’ll ask chad for help. he kinda says the same things, wants to help me.”

your thumbs stroked his cheeks, “it’s cause we care about you, ethan. we don’t like seeing you in pain and we don’t want to think about… losing you.” throat constricting from the emotions growing.

ethan grips your wrist, “hey, hey. you won’t lose me. i’ve been doing this for three years now. i can handle myself.” making sure his eyes look directly into yours to convey his words.

a tear drops, “doesn’t mean i won’t worry about your safety all the time now.” eyes zeroing in on a cut along his lip, “now, why don’t i clean you up. seems you’ve had a stressful night.” and ethan huffed a laugh at that, “you could say that.”

you guided ethan to lay on your bed, his grunts and groans twist your insides. you smooth a hand over an unmarred spot on his chest, “i’ll get some bandages and rubbing alcohol. best we can do for the night.” and you moved to leave, but ethan wrapped his hand around your wrist keeping you close as he whispered, “thank you. i owe you.”

a scrunch of your brows at his words, “no, no you don’t owe me. i’m here for you always. and i know you’ll be here for me. that’s all we need.” nudging a knuckle at his chin, sharing a special smile.

“just rest while i take care of you, bug boy.” leaning down to press puckered lips to ethan’s temple, just below his curly bangs. pulling away, ethan smiles dazedly, “bug boy?”

you pulled away from his touch and shrugged as you walked to exit your bedroom, “gotta give you a new nickname. can’t keep letting the title spider-man get to your head.”

-

ethan landry taglist: @astrxq / @websterss / @teenagedramaqueenlisa

[the-one-where-casey-watches-tv]

Stranger Things episode 4.09 "Chapter Nine: The Piggyback"

I’ve loved Stranger Things from day one. I think the pilot is one for the books and each passing season has managed to enrich the world and its visual effects while still bringing it all together in a delightfully satisfying finale. I’ve always thought this series was very sure of its footing and felt the story has been chugging decisively along down its painstakingly premeditated path. I compare it a lot to Harry Potter because both stories stand out to me as very classic, down to earth explorations of the Hero’s Journey and prime examples of how and why story structure is so important.

            After finishing the endeavor that was season four, I don’t feel like the show is any less “good”- I watched the whole thing and was never bored (even this two plus hour finale; I’ll get into this season’s formatting in a second). I think the Duffer Brothers are prime storytellers who know exactly what they’re doing and how to keep your interest, so when I finally let out a breath after finishing the episode that took up literally my entire night, I didn’t feel disappointed by the quality; I felt betrayed by what they did with my rapt attention. “Chapter Nine” was effective for me in that I believe that I felt everything I was intended to feel- I just didn’t like those intentions.

This is the first season that broke up the group without quite managing to pull them back together at the last minute in that ultra-satisfying and cohesive payoff of previous years. The story lacked the punchy, decisive confidence it’s always had, and it showed. And I’ll say it. I don’t want to watch a two-and-a-half-hour episode of TV. I rarely even want to watch a two-and-a-half-hour movie. I love the creativity and flexibility that TV has come to have as a medium, but the odd release of season four of Stranger Things did nothing but hamper my viewing experience. I couldn’t wait to dive into the season as soon as it came out, so I quickly finished episodes 1-7 before the strangely staggered release of the final two episodes, which dropped a month after the initial debut. One month is a weird amount of time. Mid-season finales are still a regular occurrence with network shows as they break for a couple months, often overlapping with the holidays, to put the rest of the season together. Such breaks are rarer with streaming, but Netflix has seemed to be into the concept lately, dropping other seasons in two parts as well. All the same, just one month is an unusually short period of time that seemed to serve no purpose other than to garner intrigue and suspense. Promotions were all over Netflix’s social media, billboards went up, and an itch remained unscratched in my brain as I couldn’t yet check this season off my list and mentally move onto other things.

            The whole viewing experience just felt deliberately taxing- to be made to wait, just to then be made to set aside an entire night to watch the final episode that could have easily been broken up into two or even three- something that would have also added some balance to the “Volume 1” and “Volume 2” approach. But honestly, I can only complain so much about all of that because ultimately, I was a full participant in this whole experience. I followed the directions, eagerly watching every hour-plus episode in record time, waiting patiently for the finale, and then making a night out of it, just like I was supposed to. And at no point did I want to turn it off.

            So let’s talk about what happened. I love a Stranger Things finale. A clear plan laid out by a ton of kids with a lot of moving parts and very clear, very high stakes. Every season finale feels like watching the Duffer Brothers drop the last piece into the most complex puzzle I’ve ever seen- and then dump 500 more pieces onto the table and reveal that we’re not done yet. So I had a lot of trust going into this episode. I’ve been watching Mike, Will, Jonathan, and even Eleven do a whole lotta nothing this season, but I dismissed everyone who wanted to tell me as much. It was all about to come to fruition; everything would make sense and it would all be for a reason. But it wasn’t.

            I think Max is what kicked the Stranger Things train off its track. Or rather, what flipped the switch sending it in a new direction, one that I would be happy to follow, but that the show seemed to resist. To use my Harry Potter comparison, Max’s character is like if Cedric Diggory didn’t die and instead went on to become more interesting, useful, and endearing than Harry ever was. How fun, right? But then imagine that happened, our hearts and attention were successfully shifted somewhere else, yet the story continued to treat him as that same tragic auxiliary character that only exists in relation to Harry.

            Leading up to “Chapter Nine”, this season felt like the end of the Mike and Eleven show and the embracing of a true ensemble, and I loved that. Mike did, and I don’t feel like this is an exaggeration, nothing. If he just wasn’t in this season at all, the final outcome wouldn’t change. And I didn’t have a problem with that! He’s cute and goofy and fun to be around, and he and El’s relationship problems were the lighter B or dare I say C story to Max and Lucas’ loaded, important, and well-rounded journeys. And that said, El was still a centerpiece in other ways. I love the story of One, I didn’t need to see Brenner again, but I was happy to explore her past and have that aha moment of what really connects her to the Upside Down. Eleven needed her face-off moment with Vecna, but if the lead-in to this battle (and “Running Up That Hill” being the anthem of the season) proved anything, it’s that Max is an equal to El, in both significance and strength, and we’ve spent too much time with her now to be satisfied with her suffering being nothing but an emotional catalyst for Eleven.

            Even at a glance, this final showdown puts Max and Lucas front and center. They are the ones physically present, with a job that doesn’t involve being a diversion or killing extraneous bats or being states or continents away. The two of them alone are the ones facing the real test with the truly dangerous job of confronting Vecna, Max in her mind’s eye and Lucas protecting her in the flesh. Eleven has a grand plan to piggyback off of Max, but no one suiting up and diving into the Upside Down knows about that. They’re ready to do this on their own, and we see all the risks, fears, and bravery involved in that. While we have that knowledge of what’s going on elsewhere, I was never fully interested in seeing those extraneous moving parts come together. I don’t want Eleven to save them. I want this plan to work. The one with the people and stories that I’ve been made to feel invested in throughout this season.

            But I understand that the plan was never going to work. This was the penultimate battle, the one that we lose. The gate had to be opened and we’re supposed to feel loss and sadness at that. This is “The Half Blood Prince”- but Max is no Dumbledore. A casualty was inevitable, but the way it came about wasn’t. My trust in the Duffer Brothers and in this story persists; I believe that season five will shed new light on these things and maybe my feelings will change, but each season is also a story in itself, and the message we’re sitting with now as we wait for the final season isn’t one that I respect or feel good about.

            Leading up to this episode, Max’s journey was a moving story about processing grief and carrying on in the world after experiencing loss. It was the perfect blend of a generalized, relatable thematic idea applied to a specific, well-drawn character in a way that is both powerful and moves the plot forward. Eleven has the history with Vecna that she’s off unpacking, but this has become personal for Max too. Vecna, as is his M.O., has forced Max over and over again to confront her emotions regarding Billy’s death, the complex combination of guilt and grief that I can only imagine comes from losing a presence like that. And every time, Max comes out stronger. She becomes a bigger challenge to Vecna every time he tries and fails to break her, each instance actually cementing her will to live. It was a beautiful and powerful personification of grief, depression, that voice in your head that wants the worst for you, and the idea that it’s possible to fight it all. I feel a huge urge to hug and apologize to everyone I know who related to Max and had to watch what happened to her next.

            Of course Vecna caught onto their plan, to Max using herself as bait. That had to happen, right? What seems like a genuine plot hole to me though is the fact that Vecna, with his pension for finding those emotions that people want to hide, didn’t see through Max the second he looked inside. He didn’t see that firm resolve? The now-solidified desire to be alive?

To pretend for a second that I’m qualified to write Stranger Things, I’ll tell you what I think should’ve happened. When Vecna takes the bait and finds Max and Lucas, Max herself would give the whole plan away with just her strong sense of self. She’s too strong for Vecna and he wouldn’t want to admit that, but the stakes are high for him right now too. He needs one more body to open the gate, a bunch of kids are closing in on his body on the other side, and he’s all the way over here with the first girl he might not be able to break. Lucas is the only other one here, and he’s got plenty of complex emotions of his own to process.

            Lucas has been bullied for being black since the pilot, and I had a lot of respect for this season not toning itself down at all in a lot of ways, racism included. Watching Erica be chased down in the dark by a white boy three times her size was hard to watch; watching Lucas have a gun pointed at him by the deranged captain of the basketball team was hard to watch. But some important things are hard to watch. None of it felt inappropriate or out of place until the episode ended and there didn’t seem to be any kind of takeaway from it. Hawkins became a character itself this season, and it turned out to be an underdeveloped one. The town never learned the truth, never had to see themselves or anyone else in a new light, nor was bigotry a direct cause for anything that happened. My issue wasn’t that it was hard to watch, it was that it was just hard to watch. It was gratuitous pain and heartbreak for nothing but the sadness value of it. The world already does that to us all enough.

            So while Vecna is rooting around in Max’s head, finding himself to be no match for her, Lucas sees what’s happening to Erica outside. He has to contend with the fact that these were the people he wanted to be friends with so badly, that these are the people he chose over his real friends who are ready time and again to do the right thing. So Vecna switches gears. Lucas’ heart is heavy and he hasn’t been on the same self-fortifying quest that has prepared Max to face this very moment. Vecna possesses Lucas instead, and Kate Bush doesn’t work for him. In walks the basketball captain who learns the truth too late.

            Maybe Eleven is able to do a kind of double piggyback and go from Max to Lucas- I would at least feel like she accomplished something if she was able to pull that off. But honestly, I don’t really feel the need to get into the logistics of her agonizingly slow stroll through Max’s head. If there’s anything we’ve learned from Max, it’s that self-sufficiency and processing your past for yourself is possible. Max and Lucas planning their date is heartbreakingly precious because neither need the other. They’re arguably the two most independent and capable characters in the whole show. Max is comforted by Lucas’ company, but she would have been capable of all the same things without it. For Eleven to not be able to do anything until she hears Mike say he loves her is frankly insulting to everything Max has just been through. So however Eleven would find her way into battle with Vecna in Lucas’ mind instead of Max’s in this scenario doesn’t really matter to me. She’s not gonna do anything in there anyway. We lose Lucas and the gate opens.

            This would obviously all still be very sad. It had to be sad. But it would be sad with thought-provoking thematic takeaways. It would be about the direct consequences of realizing prejudice too late, about grappling with survivor’s guilt, self-sufficiency, and the idea that doing everything right isn’t always enough to save the world (or even just the people you love ((but does that make it any less right?)). When the credits rolled on this episode, I was uncharacteristically silent. It was a downer of a season finale and it had made my mood heavy, but I had nothing to say about it. I let the event of the Volume 2 release consume my night and have my full attention, and it truly just left me up past my bedtime, drained and in a funk. I felt manhandled into feeling sad at what was clearly the writer’s hand, not the story’s. Vecna breaking Max wasn’t that last puzzle piece dropped perfectly into place; it was mashed in there where it didn’t fit, and her subsequent coma isn’t those 500 new pieces I can’t believe I didn’t realize we still needed (I’m over the “are they really dead?” game this show keeps playing). When I step back and look at this puzzle, I don’t see the illuminating, cohesive image that past finales have gifted me. It feels like I did all that work just to step back and look at the final product and see something that was upsetting to put together but doesn’t mean anything.            

All that and I haven’t even touched on poor Eddie, gay Will, or anything at all that went on in Russia. Guess that’s what happens when one episode of TV is one of the longest things I’ve ever watched in my life.

I'll be back next week with another show, in the meantime drop me any thoughts or requests and head over to my blog for more :) https://clduby.wixsite.com/casey-watches-tv

[doitwrite]

Prompt: Reunion

Reunited (And it Feels So Bad)

I was halfway through the five-minute daily shower allotted for all crew members when the ship stopped. I swiped shampoo from my eyes and paused. It’s usually hard to tell with a cruiser the size of Flouncy Starlight, but the constant, nearly indiscernible hum produced by the engines was my second heartbeat. We weren’t scheduled to make any stops before we reached the refueling station in Sector B-7, so unless we were under attack or the engines had stalled out—both of which were highly unlikely, considering we were only thirteen parsecs away from our last refueling station—so we should be chugging merrily along our way. I carefully inched over to the wall and touched it with a soapy hand, pressing my right ear to the tile. It was as cold and silent as a stone. I opened my eyes, triumphant, just as the spray of water pattered to a stop behind me.

***

No one tried to stop me as I stomped through the steel-plated intestines of the ship, wiping shampoo out of my hair in irritation. The responsibility for any transport delays would fall on me, and I wasn’t looking forward to possibly getting slapped with another probation after that unfortunate incident involving a flying plate of freeze-dried spaghetti and General Cherriston’s toupee on Zeta-4. (Which hadn’t been my fault. At least, not directly.)

“Don’t bite my head off,” Rekka, my second in command, called. He’d sensed my foul mood the moment I stepped through the doors without looking up. It was rather impressive, considering that the main control panel was about thirty feet from the entrance, but I was hardly in the mood to be dishing out praise.

“Uh, Commander Zeke?” One of the new bridge workers on shift, Alistair, timidly hovered at his elbow. Whatever it was, it could wait.

“Why did we stop?” I demanded. “There can’t be anything wrong with the engines, we had them checked less than thirty hours ago.” Rekka rolled his eyes, unfazed.

“That’s what he’s trying to tell you.” I glared at Alistair, who shrank visibly.

“W- we picked up a distress signal, and as per Section 32.3 in the Handbook, we were obligated to stop and ensure that the voyagers from the source were in…no mortal…danger…” he trailed off, cowering behind Rekka’s chair as I fixed him with a cold stare.

“And were they?!”

“Well, no ma’am, but, uh, it appeared that the ship’s owner had a malfunctioning communication beam that accidentally sent out a signal…”

“You stopped the Starlight for that?! Those voyagers will be in mortal danger once I’m through with them—”

 Someone stepped into my line of sight from my peripheral vision, right on cue, like a supervillain.

Which he was.

For a moment I was rendered speechless, the way gazing upon the remnants of a hideous car accident renders most people speechless. Even under the harsh white light of the fluorescents overhead, Phox still managed to look charming, right down to the stupid scar on his right cheek, which, contrary to popular belief, he’d gotten during a repair job gone wrong on an unregulated mining rig and not from the War, like he’d always let people believe.

“Zeke. It’s been a while.” Two years, five months, and six days. Rekka’s eyebrows shot up, making the silver rings in them glint.

“You know this guy?”

The scar stretched as Phox smiled widely, like we’re old friends, and I could’ve sworn the ship was rolling over because the floor suddenly felt very unsteady under my feet.

“W—” My gaze snapped to the screen of Security Camera G, which was pointed at the southern docking hatch. A bright orange ship is blown up huge and obnoxiously clear on the screen, smashing any hope that what I saw before me wasn’t simply an extremely realistic hallucination.

Phox Reinbram. And his ship, the Everest. Docked aboard the Flouncy Starlight.

There was a pause as my brain processed this.

I didn’t remember moving, but suddenly there’s a crunch and shouting and the knuckles on my left fist hurt like hell but there’s an arc of blood spraying from that irritatingly shapely nose and spattering onto the floor and I felt good. I was readying myself to aim another blow when Jive, our Head of Security, lifted me into the air, pinning my arms to my sides. She’s so muscular she could have just grabbed the back of my collar and lifted me like a kitten by the scruff, but probably chose to spare me the indignity. Phox had been knocked to the floor, holding his nose as he looked at me with…disappointment? That psychopath. Rekka, on the other hand, was  staring at me like I’m the crazy one.

“Zeke! What the hell?!”

“I’ll kill him!” I screamed, cradling my bruised fist. “I’ll rip his throat out and shove it up his—”

“No one is killing anyone,” Jive interrupted, with her slow, pleasant voice.

“Are you okay?!” Alistair says anxiously, hovering over Phox.

“Come on, don’t tell me you’re still mad about that?” Phox was holding his nose, so the words came out muffled. He sounded convincingly hurt, and if I had been four years younger and a hair less secure, I would have crumbled immediately. I tried to kick him, but Jive lifted me up and out of reach, so after a few seconds I went limp and laughed. Probably insanely, given the terrified look Alistair gave me.

“I can’t believe you have the nerve to show your face. Here.”

Phox shook his head as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, and my only consolation was that I did a good number on his nose because blood was still gushing thickly through his fingers and down his arm. Rekka’s hand crept closer to the button for the medical wing on the control board.

“Just hear me out!”

“You son of bitch! Get the HELL OFF MY SHIP–”

“How many times do I have to tell you what really happened, Zekie?” The pet name stunned me into silence. Phox’s voice was soft and plaintive, and his eyes were wide and sincere in his pale face.

Blood was flowing thick and red from his nostrils and making a mess on his chin, the front of his jacket, the floor. I felt sick and dizzy.

“Tell that to my ear,” I said quietly.

Everyone’s gaze magnetizes to the gnarled stump of scar tissue on the side of my head where my left ear used to be.

Suddenly I was seventeen and in the hospital again, staring at the closed door to my room as a voice, muffled and pleading, tried to reach me through the metal. I’d concentrated on the quiet whir of the AC with my right ear until the syllables broke apart and floated away from me.

“Wait…” Jive’s voice is quietly horrified and she momentarily loosened her hold on me. I twisted out of her arms and launch myself at Phox, ready to gouge out those huge green eyes—

Thud.

 Phox suddenly keeled over and collapsed facedown on the ground. A small puddle of blood spread slowly from his face, joining the bright red drops already sprinkled on the floor. I barely caught myself, arms windmilling wildly to keep my balance. Jive was on me in an instant, gripping my shoulders, but there’s no need for that now.

I stared at the back of Phox’s head and briefly considered attempting some sort of modified curb stomp.

“Requesting confirmation for medical attention at Command? Over.” Theodore’s voice suddenly crackled through the intercom, making us all jump. 

I turned. Rekka cradled the radio and eyed me apprehensively. He must have called medical.

“Hello?” That anemic asshole. I should just let him bleed to death.

The blood was rich and red under the white fluorescents. I saw it spattered on a sleek black runway, on the blade of a silver propeller winking in the sun, running through my fingers.

I slumped under Jive’s hands.

“Confirming request,” I heard myself say, defeated.

[shelbgrey]

This is Why I Don't Go To The Gym(Derek Shepherd)

Request: @virtualreader like a Derek x fem!reader imagine where she fell and hit her head while being at the gym. She's taken to Seattle Grace against her wishes accompanied by her friend. At first she refuses to let her friend go to the waiting room and let the doctors check her up, but Derek, who had just been paged, is able to calm her nerves and examine her. When the CT results come back she is terrified of the idea of getting a brain surgery to stop the bleeding she has. Finally she can relax knowing dr Shepherd is the one to operate on her, and that he is by her side when she's put to sleep and when she wakes up.

Paring: Derek Shepherd x reader

A/n: no warnings. I'm so happy! This is my first request on this platform. I hope your request was fulfilled.

Greys MasterList.

(1st pov)

I honestly don't know how I got talked into this. I wasn't an ethical person nor have I ever step foot in a gym but I couldn't let let my best friend down.

I expected my morning to concest of studding for medical school and watching movies. Those plans got shattered when my best friend pleaded with me to go with her to a gym that was a couple of blocks away from our apartment.

I wasn't athletic like I said before but my friend wasn't exactly social enough to go alone. She was the sweetest person I knew but she hated being around strangers by herself. I agreed thinking it'll be an experience for the both of us.

Quickly changed into some what questionable attire which had my best friend cackling. It wasn't bad at all, just some boy shorts that passed my knee a bit and an old Gryffindor shirt that had the sleeves cut off.

“well we can tell you never been to a gym before” F/n laughed. I rolled my eyes. “I can stay home”

She covered her laughs behind her hand and stopped me with the other. “no, it's not bad at all, I'm sorry” I playful rolled my eyes as walked to my car.

🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺

When we got there it was already pretty crowded and loud. Sweaty People yelling over loud music and the loud sounds of weights and other equipment clinking together.

“this sucks” I mumbled low enough so f/n didn't hear me. She pulled me along where there's wasn't that much people but there was plenty of dumbells.

“think about it this way” F/n started. “we're traing to be Avengers” she was joking. We we're both nurds but she was on another level at time. I couldn't help but laugh as picked up weight that was about 15 pounds.

As I humored F/n and continued to trying out different equipment around the crowded building I started to get bored. I sighed and leaned down to set the weight down on the floor as f/n moved to set a barbell up to squats or deadlifts with.

With all the shouting and loud music and miss juged everything and hit my head on one of the weights F/n put on her bar.

The 'dung' sound made F/n flinch and she saw me fall back on my but. “N/n, you alright?” she quickly asked and fell to her knees next me.

I winced and rubbed my head. “yeah I'll be fine” I sighed and slowly stood up with F/n help.

She gave me a concerned look. “are you sure your okay? We can go home now?” I sighed and sat down on one of the benches near us.

“I'm fine, I'm just gonna set here while you do that barbell thingy” I said. N/n looked behind her at the equipment then back at me.

“dude” she said giving me concerned look. “dude” I mocked. “I'm sure I've hit my head harder on the play ground when we were kids.”

She sighed. “yeah but you weren't working your body like this” I rolled my yeas and after five minutes I convenced her to continue. “okay fine, but drink some water at least” she said handing me my metal water bottle.

I chugged it down as she lifted the thing that I hit my head on. I had to admit my head hurt. But not to terribly and it felt like a normal headache. I sighed and stood up as I felt like a fool just sitting there.

“I'm gonna go to the treadmill” I said to F/n. She tried to stop me but I was already gone. I started out slow on the divice and quickly speed up. As I ran in place my vision started to get blurry and felt dizzy. I turned the thing off and placed my hand on my sweaty forehead as walked to F/n.

“I'm gonna pass out” I said grabbing her shoulder. She tried to steady me as I my feet gave out. “yup, definitely passing out” and it went black.

🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺

I woke up to the sound of a speeding car. I slowly opened up my eyes as my head pounded. I sat up from the back seat of my car and saw F/n driving. She looked in her mirror and saw I was awake. “thank God your awake. I'm taking you to the doctor”

My eyes widened. She knew I hated hospitals. It's kinda ironic really, I want to be a doctor like my big brother but yet I hate hospitals. That's besides the point. “no! I'm fine I just need a nap! I swear I'm fine”

“N/n, you passed out I'm taking you to the doctor” I sighed and layed back down in the seat.

Due to my best friend driving like a mad man we made it the hospital sooner to my liking. F/n got out of the car and went to my door. Before she could open it I locked the door. She knocked on the window with a agrvated look in her face. The knocking made my head pound even more.

“I'm not going” I said.

“your being a child” f/n quickly replies. “I've cheated death before” F/n signed and gently taped on the window. “I just need to know your okay, okay?” I sighed and opened my door. F/n softly smiled as she helped me out of the car. I felt super unbalanced and as soon as took a step I almost fell on the pavement.

“I'm fine” I quickly said and walked on my own into the ER with her.

As we walked in f/n pulled me to the front desk where male and female red head were.

“hey, my friend hit her head and she passed out” f/n explains.

I rolled my eyes as I looked around feeling uncomfortable. I hated everything about hospitals. The smells, the beeping noises, and right now the lights were on the top of the list. “she's being dramatic” I said squinting my eyes so the lights weren't so bright.

I tried to walk away but as soon as took my first step my head started to spin again and I about fell to the ground again. The male red head quickly cought me and carried me to one of the examing tables.

“I swar I'm fine” I said swating his hands away. The red head turned his back on me and spoke to the other female doctor. “page Shepherd and Grey” she nodded and left.

“I'm Dr. Hunt by the way” he said to me and F/n. “charmed” I grumed and looked at F/n lazily. “she can stay right?”

“I'm not leaving Buddy” F/n smiled and took my hand as a female doctor in light blue scrubs came in. She tried to come near me with a flashing light but I scooted away. “can't you just give me some pain killers or something?” the girl sighed and looked at my chart.

“your at risk for concussions and brain bleeds at the moment” she explained. I sighed as my stomach turned. I looked at F/n with fear in my eyes. “f/n don't let them touch me, you know I hate surgeries”

Covered my face with my hands while I heard foot steps. Seconds later I heard a male voice. It was surprisingly soothing. F/n nudged me and slightly peaked through my fingers to see a very handsome blue eyed doctor.

“dude he's hot” I hear F/n whisper. I whined and kept my face covered.

“hi, y/n right?” I heard the doctor say softly. “I'm Dr. Shepherd, I just want to make sure your head is okay, can I?” I sighed and removed my hands. I felt my cheeks heat up as I saw Dr. Shepherd. He was handsome actually he was dreamy.

He took a flashlight out. “I'm just gonna check your eyes alright?” I nodded as he looked into my e/c eyes. His eyes were so beautiful and so blue. “can you tell me what happened?”

“it's stupid... and feel like a total baby right now” I grumbled. He smiled and slightly laughed. “no judgment, what happened?”

I rolled my eyes. “I went to the gym and hit my head on one of those stupid barbells and I continued to workout even though my head was hurting”

“she passed out too” f/n added.

He smiled at me. “it's alright.. It happens” I don't know what was about this guy but he seemed so worm and comforting. I did seem so nervous anymore. I felt like I could trust him, which is kinda stupid to think about a guy you just met.

Dr. Shepherd quickly scribbled on my chart and tuned to who I'm guessing was an intern. “Dr. Grey ordered a head CT” my eyes widen at Dr. Shepherd.

“umm... No thanks doc” Dr. Shepherd turned back to me and gave me a reassureing smile. “it's really not that bad really, it'll be over before you know it”

“promise?” I asked him. He immediately nodded. “promise, see ya in a bit” he walked away and Dr. Grey started to wheel me to get my head scanned.

“wait up” f/n said and started to walk with me. “damn, these doctors are hot” f/n said looking all around. Dr. Grey chuckled as covered my face in embarrassment. “and that Dr. Shepherd, you should ask for his number”

“f/n!” I groaned. “and the where's that red head doctor? Is he single?” she asked Dr. Grey laughed but shook her head no.

After a while Dr Grey stopped f/n. “I'm sorry but this is far as you can go” f/n quickly hugged me. “good luck”

Dr. Grey helped me on another bed so I could put me in a big tube. I started to shake getting closterpobic. I've had one before but that didn't make it any easier. I started to move and Humm the Harry Potter theme.

“miss. L/n you can't move” I hear Dr. Grey Say in the entercom. I quickly apologized and tried to stay still but failed.

“hey, everything okay in here?” Dr. Shepherds voice said. I sighed feeling embarrassed. “sorry, I'll try and stop moving”

“it's alright, I'm right here if you need me” he said taking my hand as I slow went in. He let go of my hand so the machine could do its job. After it was over the bed moved out of the tude and Dr. Shepherd helped me out.

“alrigth let's see what's going on with your head” he said flashing me a smile.

🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺

“a brain bleed?!” F/n gasped. Dr. Shepherd sighed and shook his head. “I'm afraid so, but the good news is we cought it just in time and we can operate today”

“operate? As in surgery?” I said nervously. Dr. Shepherd smiled at me as f/n took my hand.

“it's a simple perseger and little recovery time” he said in a sympathetic voice. I looked down and slight nodded. “I promise you'll be back to normal in no time” Shepherd smiled. I slightly smiled back and nodded.

I was put into surgery quicker than I expected. I was laying in the OR shaking. I quickly took a deep breath as Shepherd spoke. “it's a beautiful day to save lives... Let's have some fun” I looked up at him.

“is that a catch phrase or something?” I asked as some one put tubes in my nose to relax and put me to sleep. “yeah kinda”

“me and my brother used to have one of those. Every time something ended good we'd say 'we sought, we came, and we kicked its ass'”

“like Ghostbusters” he said as his voice started to fade in and out as I felt more relaxed. “please don't kill me”

“why would I kill a beautiful woman like yourself?” after that I was out cold.

🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺🔹🔻🔹🔺

My head hurt but not as much as I did before surgery. My vision was slightly blurry as I tried to gain consciousness again. “hey, welcome back” shepherd said softly as he checked my vitals and my eyes.

“hey, Shep” I said not realizing how demonic my voice sound at the moment. I cleared my throat and tried to speak again. “here” Shepherd said handing me and cup of water with a straw.

“thanks” I slightly smiled. “where's F/n?” he gave me a dispointed look. “they kicked her out after visiting hours ended... I told her I'd stay with you till she could come back”

Gave him a lop sided grein. "you don't have to do that. Don't you have a girlfriend you'd rather be with right now?” he chuckled and scribbled on my chart.

“oh, I don't have a girlfriend” my eyes widened surprised. “why don't I belive that?” he shrugged.

“gods honest truth” he said setting at the foot of my bed. “so you got it right? I'm not gonna die?” I asked. He chucked and nodded.

“your not gonna die” I smiled and closed my eyes. I let out a sigh of relief. “thanks Doc”

“you really don't like hospitals do you?” he asked. I sighed and fiddled with the blanket in my lap. “I was in and out of hospitals all through out my childhood” he gave me a sympathetic look.

“I'm sorry” he gave me puppy eyes. I chuckled. “dude, nothing to be sorry about” he slightly laughed and looked down at the name. I don't know why I felt so confident at he moment but I've learned life is too short.

“this might be the drugs talking, but when this gets all better...” I said pointing at my wrapped up head. “you want to get some coffee or something... Or is that unprofessional and weird?”

He gave me a big smile. “I'd like that a lot” he leaned up and gave me a kiss on the forehead. “gets some sleep okay? I'll be here when you wake up”

I nodded closing my eyes. I would say 'this is why I don't go to the gym' but now I'm kinda glade I did.

[mochegato]

Even the Losers

Chapter 1

“You can do this Marinette,” Adrien whispered encouragingly, echoing the mantra she’d been whispering to herself for the past two days.  She could do this.  She could manage.  This was for Max.  She could handle it.  He couldn’t be here but she could.  She could be strong for him.  She gave Adrien a shaky smile and nodded.  “We just have to find him and we can leave,” he reminded her.

Marinette took a breath and let it out slowly. She’d dealt with far, far worse than a few judgmental, heartless asses who had no real interest in her.  But seas of artificial smiles had always unsettled her and currently she was surrounded with so much artificial sweetness she felt like she was walking through a kid’s cereal aisle.  That added onto her already existing anxiety had her ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

She ran her hand over the skirt of her dress, letting the feeling of the fabric and the knowledge of all that had gone into it soothe her.  She was especially proud of her dress and the work that had gone into it.  It was a black so dark it almost appeared to draw in the light around it.  A mesh with strategically placed blood red decorations overlaid the dress, hugging her bodice until it reached her hips then dropped into a flowing skirt that ended just before it could pool on the ground.

She fought the urge to fiddle with the belt in her nervousness.  She couldn’t show weakness like that, not here.  She looked up at Adrien again in search of an anchor to reality.  She took in his expression and had to stifle the laugh that resulted.  He had his own artificially sweet smile on but his eyes quite clearly begged for a quick death.  He glanced down to her and nudged her discreetly, his artificial smile becoming wide and real.  “Shhhh,” he hushed her under his breath.  “We’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves, remember?  We’re ghosts.”  He looked around to make sure nobody was looking at them.

Marinette immediately quieted, her face becoming somber. She did remember.  In and out.  That was the goal.  Her goal. Knock the man on his ass with Max’s accomplishments, then never see him, or anyone else in this room, other than Adrien of course, ever again.  They were supposed to be like ghosts.  There but not.  Her eyes scanned the room looking for their target.

Adrien’s eyes immediately softened and filled with regret.  “Shit, Mari. I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to…”

“No,” she looked up at him with an artificial smile of her own.  “I know. It’s fine.  It’s not your fault.”  She scanned the crowd again, cursing her height, as she had many times in her life.  Even with the six inch, death defying heels, she still barely reached Adrien’s eyes, let alone give her any kind of advantage to see the crowd.  She needed some kind of vantage point but unfortunately, the only high point in the ballroom was the stage, which she couldn’t utilize if she was going to follow her Ghost policy.  “We might have more success if we split up.  Let me know if you find him.”

Adrien squeezed her arm quickly before nodding. “Good luck.”

Marinette shot him a genuine smile.  “You too.  May the Luck be with you.”

Adrien laughed and shook his head.  “I never should have forced you to watch that movie.”

Marinette grinned back.  “You never should have forced me to watch the prequels.  The original ones were just fine.”  Adrien narrowed his eyes at her but let it drop in favor of disappearing in the crowd to find their target.

Marinette followed him with her eyes until she couldn’t see him anymore then took a deep breath to brace herself.  Her eyes immediately started darting around and her fingers started dancing.  She needed something to occupy them or she was going to start attracting unwanted attention.

She noted a bar close by and made a beeline for it. She waited politely for the bartender to notice her, her fingers tapping anxiously against the bar while she waited. She froze when she heard a gruff voice next to her.  “Did you sneak in here?”

She turned to the voice and blinked a few times. “Excuse me?”

“You’re anxious and jittery.  Afraid you’re going to get kicked out?” the man elaborated.

Marinette studied him for a moment trying to figure out why he looked so familiar.  “No,” she started slowly, trying to give her brain a chance to answer the puzzle. “Just not a fan of events like this.”

The man scoffed and nodded in understanding. “Cheers.”  He raised his glass for her to clink his but she held out her hands with a sheepish look, showing she didn’t have a drink yet.  “Well, that’s a crime.  Nobody should have to endure one of these without a drink.”  He motioned to the bartender and got an immediate response. “Another for me and a…” he motioned to Marinette to give her order.

“Oh, champagne, please,” she finished with a smile for the bartender.  That’s what was socially acceptable at events like this, right?  Champagne.

The bartender looked to the man for confirmation. The man nodded.  “And a champagne for the woman.”  Marinette scowled at the bartender causing the man to laugh. “He’s just worried that you’re underage. You look awfully young.  You’re not, right?”

Marinette’s glare softened in realization.  “Oh, that makes sense.  No, I’m not.  I forgot the legal age here is higher than in France.”

He nodded and looked at her critically for a moment before offering his hand.  “Jason.”

Marinette immediately reached out for his hand and answered with her name before her brain registered the name he’d given. Jason.  Jason Todd.  Bruce Wayne’s son.  She pulled her hand back quickly as the realization hit her and focused on leveling her breathing.  She grabbed the champagne glass more violently than necessary when the bartender set it down in front of her and immediately downed the entire glass, only coughing a bit as the bubbles tickled her throat.  Overall, champagne was not the best drink to chug.  “Another, please,” she croaked out.

“You know, there are better drinks for that, if that’s what you want to do,” Jason grinned, laughing at her.

“Wasn’t the plan until it was and then that’s all I had,” she croaked out, her voice still hoarse from the bubbles.  She kept her eyes focused on her empty glass as she spoke, almost afraid to make eye contact with him as if just seeing her eyes would be enough to blow her cover.

Jason chuckled and nodded in understanding. “Don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

Marinette whipped her head to him and stared incredulously, forgetting her previous reservations.  She only moved again when the bartender set the new drink down in front of her.  “Um… no… thank you.  That doesn’t seem… I don’t think my date would be comfortable with that.  Good luck getting drunk enough to handle tonight though.”  She gave him a weak smile and raised her glass to him before moving into the fray again, now armed with a socially acceptable fidget toy.

It took five minutes of avoiding wandering hands and leering looks but with a little luck and some prodding from the goddess hiding in the folds of her skirt, she was finally able to stumble on M. Lucius Fox, Director of Research and Development for Wayne Enterprises.  He was in a conversation he was not remotely interested in with some vapid business exec who was just as interested in M. Fox.  Not that M. Fox’s disinterest was clear.  He was very polite and good at covering his boredom, much more so than his conversation partner, but she’d been at enough stuffy, snobby parties with Adrien, Felix, and Chloe to know the signs.

She took another breath and squared her shoulders, going into Ladybug Mode; calm and confident, completely assured of herself. She was on a mission.  She had a goal and a plan to accomplish it, and once she had a plan, she had a direction and purpose, and with those, her insecurities fell away.  With M. Fox in her sights, she could see the pieces and the way they fit together. There were no more doubts.  She set her glass on a passing waiter’s tray and made her way over to M. Fox.

“The elusive M. Fox.  It is a pleasure to meet you,” Marinette purred, coming up next to him with a charming, real smile.

“I didn’t realize I was hiding,” Lucius responded with a polite smile of his own.

“Must just come naturally.  Foxes are known to be crafty.”  Marinette looked around them and motioned toward the dancefloor. “Would you care to dance, M. Fox?”

He shook his head deferentially.  “Are you sure there aren’t other people here you’d rather dance with?”

Marinette smiled conspiratorially and leaned closer to him, making sure to keep a respectable distance.  She did NOT want to have her banter confused with flirting. That was not the strategy she had devised.  “That would defeat the purpose of coming here.  I came here specifically to speak with you.”

Lucius looked down at her analytically, trying to figure out what her angle was, but took her hand and followed her onto the dancefloor.  “And what did you want to speak about, Ms…?”

“Dupain Cheng.  Marinette Dupain Cheng.  It’s nice to meet you M. Fox.  I wanted to speak to you to sell my friend Max Kante.”

Lucius’ eyes widened almost imperceptibly as the music changed.  After a beat, he chuckled.  “I’m not in the market to buy anyone, but thank you.”  He settled his hands on her mid-back and hand for their dance.

Marinette chuckled good naturedly along with him. “Sell his talents, would be a better way to say it.”

“And where is Mr. Kante?” Lucius raised an eyebrow at her, curious why the young man didn’t bother to come himself.  “Why are you presenting his talents instead of him?”

“Finals.  Had the incredibly bad luck to have a Friday at noon final.  I mean at least it wasn’t at 19h, right?  Can you believe they have those?”  She scrunched up her nose in playful disgust.  “But still means he’s taking it right now.  And for his last final of his career.  I mean… probably.  Knowing him, he might get another PhD at some point.  My finals and presentation ended last week.  M. Wa…” she took a steadying breath and looked back up with a strained smile hoping he wouldn’t notice the stutter.  “M. Wayne even visited for it.  That’s when the idea for this came to me.  So while Max studied, I plotted.”

“So why me then and not Mr. Wayne?” Lucius asked with a curious interest.

Marinette froze for just a second.  Hardly enough for anyone to notice.  Her mind raced to calculate the appropriate response to that question, a satisfactorily casual yet intelligent response.  “M. Wayne isn’t in charge of research.  You are.  Not to mention, I highly doubt the CEO would be involved enough in the research and development projects to know what was going on.  You I take as a man who knows what is going on with all your ongoing projects.”

He nodded.  She wasn’t wrong, or normally wouldn’t be.  Mr. Wayne usually was not involved in any projects and with the exception of one particular project they were having issues with, he wouldn’t know the particulars.  “A very dangerous and elaborate plan.  Why didn’t you make an appointment with me?  Or just stop me on the street?” he prodded, hoping for her thought process.

Marinette laughed lightly.  “I don’t imagine I would have had a chance in Hell of making an appointment with you in your office.  I have no standing, no name, no significance that would have attracted any PA worth their salt’s attention.  I would have been pawned off onto a low ranking employee to handle, if I was handled at all.  And something like this needed to be taken to you.  

“As for running into you on the street, I can’t imagine you would have responded positively to getting accosted on the street. You seem more than capable of handling yourself with grace in the face of a pest.  I doubt I would have gotten more than a few words in.  At a gala however,” she grinned conspiratorially at him. “Societal convention.  Almost absolute certainty of at least one dance where I would have you one-on-one for a few minutes.  Hostage audience.  Figured I could use it to my advantage for once.”

Lucius smiled back at her ingenuity.  “There’s an application process he could have gone through,” he noted.  

Mari nodded and looked out to the crowd, scanning it.  “Right, applying to M. Fedor Rabler,” she said distractedly.  “He did that.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  Their application process was tough.  Lots of amazing candidates didn’t get through. He had to respect her devotion to her friend, to risk coming here and potentially making an enemy of Wayne Enterprises if he’d been that sort of man.  His eyes turned sympathetic.  “I’m sorry he was passed over.”

“You know, I’ve noticed Elspeth Cole puts forth a lot of inventions and extremely varied ones at that,” she continued as though she hadn’t heard his consolation.  “Most inventors, you can see their process, you can see how they got from one invention to the next, but hers… they’re so varied.  It’s almost like they’re coming from completely different people.”  Lucius watched her carefully, waiting to see where she was going with this.  “That’s them, isn’t it?  Dancing together.  Awfully close for purely colleagues.”

Lucius followed her sight line to Ms. Cole and Mr. Rabler dancing extremely closely.  Not obscenely, but perhaps a bit closer than was normally acceptable at a society event such as this one.  “It’s hardly incriminating that two people with expertise in electrical engineering would get together,” he said slowly.

“Max is amazing.  Brilliant,” Marinette said, seemingly not noticing her non-sequitur. “He created an AI that helped the Parisian superheroes locate and defeat our supervillain at only 14.”  Lucius’ brow rose.  That was certainly promising.  He wondered what would have caused them not to take such an applicant.  Surely there was some sort of embellishment there, but as he studied her, she seemed entirely genuine.  

“He’s being scouted by several high profile companies including Lexcorp and Palmer Technologies.”  She turned her attention back to Lucius, a curious pout on her lips. “But not Wayne Enterprises.”  She looked away with clearly forced casualness. “Lexcorp and Palmer, they’re offering pretty impressive packages.  Not as good as he deserves in my opinion, but I may be a bit biased.  Wayne Enterprises however… nothing.  Not even an offer.

“Now, I don’t really have a dog in the fight… other than wanting my friend to be safe and treated with the respect he deserves. But Palmer Technologies gets blown up by a villain or its inventors kidnapped far too frequently for me to be comfortable with my friend working there.  And Lexcorp…”  She looked down as if in thought before looking back at him again with a determined look in her eye.

“You know, I get a feeling sometimes.  I can’t really explain it, just get a feeling about people or things.  I’ve found it’s best for me and the people around me if I listen to that feeling and that feeling tells me Lex Luthor is the last person who should be trusted with a brain as brilliant as Max’s.”  She looked back over to Mr. Rabler and Ms. Cole.  “That same feeling told me Max shouldn’t trust the application process for Wayne Enterprises.”  

She looked back at Lucius with an apologetic smile. “No offense.  So, I convinced Max to make a small part of his submission just a little off.  Just a bit. Enough that even an expert could miss it, but if it’s wrong the project could never work.  It took a lot of convincing to get him to do it.  He refused to believe he had anything to worry about in Wayne Enterprises with its stellar reputation.”  She scrunched up her face in annoyance.  “But that feeling, you know?  I couldn’t get over it.  After a lot of work, I convinced him there was no harm.  After all, if he was hired he could fix it.  If he wasn’t… well, you shouldn’t be using what he presented anyway, right? No harm, no foul as you Americans say.”

“No,” Lucius agreed.  “That would be theft and completely against WE policy and standards.  In fact, we should not be asking applicants to submit anything like that in the first place.”

Marinette smiled and nodded approvingly.  “I’ve heard rumblings, or rather Max has, of WE getting into transmutation of materials.  Just can’t get that algorithm right though, can you?  Algorithms are hard.  Just a little off and nothing works.”

He stared at her.  That was a secret project.  Other departments in Wayne Enterprises didn’t even know about it.  “I can’t comment on ongoing projects.”  

“I never did show you what Max is capable of, did I?”  She gave him a bright smile and reached down to press a disguised button on her belt. Lucius tensed and cursed himself for exposing himself to whatever she was about to do.  A wave of emerald green washed over the front of her bodice as the blood red decorated mesh overlay turned into a brilliant emerald green that reflected the lights now rather than absorbing it.

Lucius’ eyes widened in surprise, a feat very few had been able to draw out of him.  “He designed the fabric?” he whispered out.  He reached out tentatively to touch the fabric at her shoulder.

Marinette grinned brilliantly at his reaction.  It was no less than Max deserved.  He’d worked incredibly hard on it.  “He did,” she nodded in confirmation, “and the software that controls it.  The whole dress can change but we’re kind of surrounded here and I didn’t want to attract too much attention.”  She let him touch it for a moment before pushing the button again to turn it back into the black, then allowing him to feel the mesh to confirm it was the same fabric.  “He has ideas for changing the texture as well, but limited resources you know? Something I’d hope wouldn’t be an issue at WE.”

“How does it work?”  His eyes were still focused on the fabric at her shoulder. He took a quick look at the rest of the bodice, but quickly snapped his eyes back to her shoulder.  The neckline was conservative, but it was still rather unbecoming to stare at the young woman’s chest.

Marinette laughed.  “You’ll have to ask Max that.  I just designed the dress.  I don’t really understand the mechanics behind it, but he does.  I doubt Ms. Cole can say the same.”

Lucius stared in awe at her shoulder before looking back up to her eyes and nodding in understanding.  “Interesting.  I’ll take that under advisement.  Maybe we should be scouting you as well.”

Mari laughed.  “No, thank you.  I’m not an inventor.  I’m a designer.  But I appreciate the interest.”

Lucius nodded and led her off the dancefloor with the end of the song.  “Inventor or not, we can always use someone with intuition, intelligence, and ingenuity like you’ve demonstrated.”  

Marinette gave him a brilliant, somewhat familiar smile. “That’s very flattering.  Thank you, M. Fox.  But tonight is about Max.  I have my own, separate plans for my future.”

Lucius nodded in understanding.  “Our loss,” he answered sincerely.  “If you ever need any help or advice, please feel free to call me.  I’m sure Mr. Kante will have it soon enough and can pass it onto you.”  He looked back down to her shoulder again.  “If I may…”  He motioned toward her shoulder.  

Marinette laughed.  “Of course.  I understand how truly impressive it is.  It’s been incredibly inspirational, thinking of the options.”

“And what did your intuition tell you about tonight?” He looked up to meet her eyes, curious about her answer.

Marinette’s face went slack for a moment before she pasted on a bittersweet smile.  “That it would be costly but worth it.”

Lucius quirked his head to the side.  “In what way?”

Marinette shook her head absently and took a sudden interest in M. Fox’s tie.  “I’m not sure yet.”

Mr. Fox’s eyes softened.  “Would he be available to meet on Monday?”

Marinette grin and snapped her eyes up to him. Mission success!  Max was going to get his interview!  “He can be.”

“I’d actually like to speak with both of you, if you don’t mind.  In my office at 10 Monday?” he offered.  

Marinette faltered.  “In Wayne Enterprises?”

Lucius chuckled.  “Naturally.”

Marinette swallowed heavily.  “Why don’t we meet somewhere else?  Early morning coffee perhaps?” she offered instead with an artificial smile.  “Here’s my card.  Have someone give me a call or text and I can arrange it.  He’s scheduled to fly in tomorrow morning.  He was supposed to meet with Lexcorp Monday morning, but he’ll be at coffee to meet you instead.”

Lucius smiled back at her as he slipped her card into his pocket.  “I greatly appreciate your candor and support Ms. Dupain Cheng.”  He took her hand in both of his to shake it.  “I cannot tell you how good it was to meet you.  And if you ever get one of those feelings about me or Wayne Enterprises, let me know, okay?”

“Lucius.”

Lucius froze at the cold voice, not accustomed to that tone of voice directed at him.  He looked over curiously and missed Marinette freezing before pushing another button on her belt.

Chapter 2

Tags:

@maribat-bdbwm

[the-iceni-bitch]

Every Little Thing

Pairing: Colin Shea x fem!Reader

Words: ~4.3k

Summary: You and Colin are two slutty pea in a pod neighbors, but maybe you could be more?

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, f receiving oral sex, unprotected vaginal sex), idiots in love, excessive alcohol consumption, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Ugh, I love Colin and I can’t believe it took me so long to write him. Before I get a bunch of notes about it, they’re gonna realize their feelings eventually but it might take a couple fics because they’re both morons, but they’re pretty morons so it’s fine 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Oh god, what the fuck was that noise? Why was your phone ringing at 8 AM on a fucking Sunday?

You picked up the offensive object and growled when you got a look at the caller ID.

“Colin, it’s Sunday morning, this had better be really good. I didn’t get home until 4 AM.”

“She won’t fucking leave.” He hissed over the line. “She wants to go out for waffles.”

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” You grumbled, rolling over onto your back and flinging your arm over your eyes. “Just ditch her at the fucking waffle place.”

“C’mon, Y/N, that’s like a second date. What about our deal?” That fucking deal, he definitely benefitted more from it than you did.

“You’re an asshole.” You mumbled, sitting up with an exhausted groan. “Gimme 5 minutes.”

“You’re the best!” You could hear the fucking grin in his voice and rolled your eyes at him.

“Yeah, I fucking know.” You didn’t wait for him to confirm before you hung up on him, stretching your whole body as you moved to put on some clothes.

It only took you a few minutes to pull on some old jeans and a sweatshirt and then you were stomping across the hall to Colin’s apartment, determined to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him. 

“Colin Shea!” You pounded on the door viciously. “This is your wife! I found your little love nest! What hooker do you have in there now?”

You couldn’t help but grin to yourself as you heard a commotion from inside, someone was cursing up a storm and you were pretty sure you heard a couple of slaps.

“I can hear you in there.” You tried to make it sound like you were on the verge of tears. “What about Colin Junior? I’m not raising that baby on my own, you bastard!”

The door slammed open and a very angry looking woman stormed out, shooting a glare over her shoulder and calling Colin a motherfucker as she scurried down the stairs. He came rushing after her with a frustrated look on his face, rubbing the side of his jaw and scowling when he got a look at the shit eating grin on your face.

“My wife?” He asked incredulously, grabbing his hoodie and pulling it over his naked torso as you just continued laughing at him. “That was kinda mean.”

“8 AM on a Sunday, Shea.” You booped his nose with your finger and winked at him before turning to head back to your place. “You wake me up before 10 AM on a weekend and you take what you can get. I’m going back to bed.”

“Wait, Y/N, don’t you wanna have breakfast or something?” He jogged after you, ignoring the glower you shot him as you opened your door. “I’ll make you my famous eggs.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I got in at 4 AM?” You frowned at him when he kept you from closing your front door. “Colin, quit being so clingy. If I wanted to have breakfast with some annoying dude I would’ve actually brought that lawyer from last night home.”

“A lawyer, huh?” He was giving you one of those stupid looks that he typically reserved for girls he was trying to bang but that he definitely knew didn’t work on you. “And that didn’t even do it for you.”

“I mean, I still rode that beard for a good hour, but he was super depressing.” You kept knocking your door against his foot with an annoyed air. “Which is why I need to sleep, so get out of my fucking doorway.”

“Fine, we’re hanging out later though!” He called as you slammed the door in his face.

You just ripped off your clothes and crawled back into bed, burying your face in your pillows and cursing the sun as you did your best to fall back asleep.

It must have happened at some point, because you woke up six hours later with a mouth full of cotton and absolutely drenched in sweat. Why was it so fucking hot?

The pillow case tried to come with your face when you rolled out of the bed and you threw it away from you with a huff as you padded to inspect your air conditioner. 

It wasn’t on. You knelt in front of it and whined as you tried flicking it off and on and nothing happened. This could not be happening, not with summer just about to start. It was supposed to be in the 90s today. No matter what you tried, it didn’t turn on. Granted, all you tried was unplugging it and plugging it back in, but that always worked with your computer.

The call to the repair company was no luck, they were closed for the weekend. This was going to suck, you fucking hated being hot. You moved to your kitchen to try to find some way to cool off after opening every damn window in your place to hopefully get some kind of air circulation going.

That’s when you spotted it. 

The frozen margarita machine you had bought on an absinthe fueled online shopping spree and never gotten around to returning. It was like a little miracle right there in your kitchen, designed to help you cool off and get drunk so you could forget about how fucking hot it was while you did the week’s worth of chores you had been procrastinating.

You hummed happily when that first gulp of frozen tequila goodness slid down your throat, and maybe you shouldn’t have chugged the whole thing but who fucking cared, it was hot. Time flew by as you downed those things like it was your fucking job, scrubbing your pots and pans and singing little songs to yourself.

Music started drifting through your open windows but you barely registered it even as you started singing along because it was Queen and how could you not.

It was the third time you had filled that margarita machine and you were feeling fantastic, dancing around your kitchen as you continued cleaning your dishes. Whoever was playing music was still going strong and you began belting when they started doing Seven Seas of Rhye.

“You are mine, I possess you, I belong to you foreveeeEEER!”

“Hey, Y/N!”

Your badass high note devolved into a shriek and you turned to chuck the cup you were holding at the intruder on the fire escape, cursing when you saw it was Colin. He managed to duck out of the way at the last second with a muttered fuck and you sighed as you watched your mug sail over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Shea, that was my favorite mug!” You pouted, stamping your foot a little and taking another gulp of your margarita. “What the fuck are you doing on my fire escape?”

He gave you a stupid cocky grin as he watched to try to lean on one hand on your counter and almost go down when you missed it at the last second.

“Are you drunk, honey?” Fuck him for calling you honey, that wiley asshole. “We could hear you singing from the roof.”

“I’m just a little buzzed.” You hiccupped. “Who’s we?”

“My band.” He crawled into your apartment and caught you when you tripped over your own feet again, still grinning at you like an idiot. “The ones you were singing along with.”

“That was your band?” You had never realized how blue his eyes were. “You guys sound great!”

“Yeah, you sound pretty good yourself.” He grabbed the cup you were holding and gave it a sniff, coughing a little before he set it on the counter. “Maybe you should come hang out with us instead of drinking what I think is blended jet fuel and ice all by yourself.”

“If I’m gonna hang out with you guys I think I should bring a pitcher of margs.” He was really fucking pretty, had you noticed that before? “Don’t wanna be a bad hostess.”

“Oh, baby, you’re wasted.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear and you felt your chest flutter a little bit. “No more margs for you. Come sing with us while you sober up. No, no.” He pulled you back when you tried to crawl out the window and started dragging you towards your door. “Ladder doesn’t really seem like a good idea right now, let’s take the stairs.”

You tossed your head back as you laughed, slapping his chest while you leaned heavily on him and let him guide you through the hall and to the stairs to the roof. Those were some firm pecs, you were a little marvelled at the way your palm just bounced right off so you slapped it again.

“Wow.” It was like your hand was moving independently from your brain as you gave him a pretty brazen squeeze. “Your tits are fantastic, Colin.”

“Holy shit, Y/N!” He was laughing hysterically when he shoved the door to the roof open. “Your drunk game is on point sweetie. Guys, this is Y/N, the killer vocals you heard from downstairs. She’s a little tipsy.”

They introduced themselves and you promptly forgot all of their names, your hand trailing down Colin’s chest until you could press it against his abs. This was getting weird, it’s not like you hadn’t seen him naked before. But seeing and touching were apparently two very different things.

“We still doing Queen, boys?” You said, finally tearing your eyes away from Colin after poking him in the bellybutton and grinning when he made a noise like the Pillsbury doughboy. “Cos I’m good with whatever.”

“What about some Journey?” He slung his SG over his shoulder and watched you carefully as you grabbed the mike one of his bandmates was handing you. “You wanna sit down, hon?”

“Don’t call me hon, sweetheart.” You teased, giving him a wink and tapping the mike a couple of times. “I’ll be fine. Journey feels a little basic but ok. Faithfully or Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’?”

That grin he gave you should not have been affecting you like this, maybe you did have too many margaritas. The bassist started playing the opening riff to Lovin’ Touchin’ Squeezin’ and your grin got even wider, your hips moving to the beat as you kept your eyes on Colin. You laughed happily when he joined in with the guitar part, joining in after the piano had done its thing and losing yourself in the music.

He could not take his eyes off of you, he was pretty sure you’d never been this fucking cheerful around him before. Not that you were especially grumpy or anything, or that your typical dry wit didn’t immediately endear you to him. But seeing you with that goofy grin as you sang every fucking Journey song they had in their roster until the sun set was not helping the already prodigious crush he had on you. 

Now the two of you were sitting on the couch he had dragged up there months ago and watching his bandmates pack up their gear, saying goodbye to each of them as they headed down the stairs and left you two to lean against each other and sigh happily. You had your legs flung over his lap as he plucked at his guitar strings lazily, kicking your feet slowly and leaning back on the sofa as you watched him closely and sipped on a bottle of water.

“You ever do any actual performing, honey?” He asked, his fingers running over your calf absentmindedly. “Cos with that voice you could probably line up some gigs.”

“Just karaoke.” You murmured. You were definitely sobering up now, but you were still hyper aware of his hands on your skin and it was giving you some feelings you weren’t totally sure about. “Lemme see that thing.”

“What?” He gave a little huff when you grabbed the neck of his guitar and pulled it into your lap. “Baby, do not tell me you play.”

“I mean, it’s been a little while, but I think I remember a couple chords.” You gave him another grin and his chest started to hurt.

“Jesus, a couple chords?” He laughed to cover the absolutely filthy sound he almost made when you started playing, it was like he had made you on a computer. “Honey, that’s Led Zeppelin.”

“Yeah, but it’s easy Zeppelin.” You teased, turning your body so you could lean against his chest and not missing the low rumble you felt when you tucked your head against his shoulder. “It’s Coda.”

“Uh-huh.” Being this close to you was doing something to him, he suddenly had the overwhelming urge to smell your hair. 

“Why haven’t we slept together, Col?” Fuck it, you might as well do this.

He choked on the water he was drinking, turning his face so he didn’t spit it all over you as you stopped your playing and grinned at him.

“I seem to remember giving it a good try when you moved in.” He managed to get himself under control and turned his face back to you. “But you said you had a rule about not fucking people who live in the same building as you. Something about not shitting where you eat.”

“That’s about sex with coworkers.” You said, scrunching your face up as you tried to remember what your exact justification had been.

“Which is what I told you.” He tried to scoot away from you but you followed after him. “To which you replied, ‘doesn’t matter, not gonna happen’.”

“Huh, that seems awful short-sighted of me.” You scooted closer again and this time he let you. “C’mon, we’ve fucked almost everyone else in this city, we’d have gotten to each other eventually anyways.”

“Jesus, what a romantic sentiment.” He was trying to focus real hard on his softeners, but they weren’t working with you squirming against him like that. “You really want to do this?”

“I mean, I think we’d enjoy it.” You set his guitar aside and turned so your chest was pressed to his. “It’s not like we’re gonna catch feels, or anything. Just gonna see what all the fuss is about.”

“Right.” Maybe this would get his little crush out of his system. “Let’s not do it on the roof, though.”

“God, no. My place?” You stood up and started heading towards the fire escape.

“Yeah, ok.” He watched you climb down to your apartment before sliding down the ladder after you like the damn frat boy he was.

As soon as he climbed in the window you were dragging him towards you, swallowing his tiny cry of surprise when you pulled his mouth to yours. His lips were unbelievably soft against your own, and when he opened up and stroked your tongue with his? 

Fuck.

“Shit, Colin.” You purred when he started trailing his lips down your throat. “I feel like maybe we should’ve done this sooner.”

“Yeah, maybe.” His voice was muffled as his mouth moved to your chest, one hand moving to hook under the neckline of your camisole and pulling on it until your breasts popped out. “Well fuck me. No wonder you know so much about fantastic tits.”

You laughed at that, arching into his face and grinning down at him as he buried his face between your tits and gazed at you through his lashes. Those stupid, long as all fuck lashes that were brushing against your skin as he mouthed at your soft curves. 

“Jesus, fuck.” You wound your fingers through his hair when he dragged his tongue over your nipple, tugging on it softly and guiding him further into your apartment. “God, you really know how to use that mouth of yours, sweetie.”

“Oh, honey, you don’t even know.” He teased, moving his face back to yours and lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist as he started carrying you towards your bedroom.  “You wanna find out, though?”

“You tease all the girls you fuck this much?” You nipped at his lips and grinned when he moaned into your mouth, reaching behind you to open the door to your bedroom. 

“Nah, that’s just for you, baby.” He cooed, giving you a quick peck on the lips before dropping you on the bed with a huff.

Every place his fingers touched sent a jolt of heat through your body straight to your core, your eyes never leaving his as he started kissing and nipping his way down your torso after pulling your cami over your head. He grinned against your thigh when you moaned after he yanked your shorts down your legs, sucking a soft bruise into your flesh before rubbing his face over your clothed core and inhaling deeply.

You throbbed under his lips as he pressed gentle kisses over the fabric that covered your mound, hooking your legs over his shoulders and trying to grind into him when he tugged at your panties with his teeth and let them snap back into place teasingly. His fingers skimmed up your legs until he could hook them under the band of your panties and drag them off you, sighing heavily when he settled back between your thighs and got a good look at you.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty.” He spread you apart with his fingers and flicked his tongue out to run over your slit softly, moaning when he finally tasted you. 

“I bet you say that to all the girls.” You ran your fingers through his hair and beamed at him, rolling your hips against his face when he sucked your pussy lips into his mouth with a low hum.

Colin chuckled into your cunt at that, pressing gentle kisses all over your soft folds before dragging his tongue over you in a heavy stripe. Your body reacted immediately when he reached your clit, your back arching off the bed and your legs curling around his neck as he repeated the same process but at a much slower pace. 

Two of his fingers slid inside you as he wrapped his lips around your clit and you keened, gripping his hair by the roots and tugging hard when he started stretching you open while his lips drove you wild. The rhythm of his suction and release matched the curling of his fingers inside you and made you want to scream, your free hand reaching above your head and digging hard into your pillow as your body tried to rise off the bed when he brought you right to the edge of your peak right away. 

“Col, Colin, oh fuck.” He felt like your thighs were gonna suffocate him but those sounds you were making for him had him past the point of caring about a silly thing like oxygen. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Your whole body seized against his face as you let out a gorgeous fluttering moan, soaking his lips and chin in your release as he hummed with satisfaction into your pussy. He sat up when you finally released him, removing his clothes in a rush as he watched you pant underneath him and run your tongue over your lips. God, you were fucking beautiful, he couldn’t believe he’d waited so long to do this.

Before you had a chance to say anything he was hooking your knee over his elbow and thrusting into you, sheathing himself to the hilt in one smooth motion and releasing his breath in a thin hiss when he felt your satiny walls flutter around him. 

“Ah, fuck, you feel amazing.” He ducked his face to catch your lips with his before pulling back with a groan. “Shit, I forgot a condom. Uh, I’m clean, just got tested last week.”

“God, you’re fine sweetie.” You brought a hand up to cup his jaw and ran a thumb over his cheek in a soothing gesture. “Also clean and I have an IUD, so we’re peachy. I am a little mad at you though.”

“Yeah, why?” He wasn’t too worried, you were still grinning at him as he started moving his hips slowly.

“Well, Jesus, fuck, you’re big.” You almost lost your train of thought when he tilted your hips just a bit and his cock hit you deep. “I usually like to reciprocate oral, sweetie. I barely even got a look at what you’re packing down there.”

“You’ve seen it before.” He groaned when you wrapped your free leg around his hips and rolled your body against his.

“Just glances though.” You gripped his biceps and dug your nails in, biting your lip as he continued dragging his length over every inch of you at an agonizing pace. “And never hard.”

“Honey, there’s no way I’m pulling out for you to take a good look so you’re gonna have to make due.” He teased, grinding against your clit and grinning when your eyes fluttered closed.

“Fine.” You huffed, frowning a little before winking at him. “We’re switching then.”

“What?”

You didn’t answer, just giving him a cocky grin and gripping his hips with your thighs. One quick move and he was under you, a small sound of surprise leaving his lips when you were suddenly straddling his hips and grinning down at him.

“Oh yeah, that’s better.” You placed one palm on the center of his chest and curled your fingers through his chest hair as you rose up on your knees before sinking down again nice and slow, loving the low groan you felt reverberate in his chest when you clenched around him. “Good for you, Col?”

“Yes, yeah, s’ good.” He was completely mesmerized by you, his eyes trailing over your body as you arched your back and continued to ride him. 

The way he was reacting to you was making it hard for you to focus on what you were doing, his eyes soft and relaxed on yours and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth as he slowly moved his hips to meet your own. You could’ve lost yourself in those eyes if you really wanted to.

Shit, none of that.

His fingers started trailing up your sides when he fucked up into you suddenly and he lost it at the way your tits bounced for him, sitting up with a whine and nuzzling into your chest before wrapping his lips around your nipple as he started bucking wildly.

“Shit, fuck, Colin.” He was hitting your cervix with each punch of his hips and it was taking all your self control to not pass out from how hard he was railing you, wrapping your legs around him and dragging your lips over his jaw. “Baby, you’re gonna make me come again.”

“Yeah? Good.” He cupped your jaw and brought your face back to his, tugging at your lips with his teeth while he gazed into your eyes. “I wanna watch your face while you come.”

You kept your eyes open and trained on his, worrying his bottom lip with your teeth and resting your forehead against his as you felt a warm coil gathering in the pit of your stomach. It was like you were falling into those lust blown pools as he took you apart, your lips crashing against his as the coil snapped and you gasped his name into his mouth. 

The feeling of your entire body fluttering around him was too much, and he followed you with a low growl. He muttered your name under his breath as he spilled his cum inside you, holding you close to his chest and rubbing his nose against yours.

You fell on top of him when he collapsed back against the bed, the two of you laughing breathlessly as you tangled your limbs and molded your lips together before pulling back and gazing at each other some more. Both of you lost yourselves for just a beat, your chests heaving against each other’s before disconnecting and rolling off the bed in two opposite directions as you did your best to compose yourselves.

“I’d say you definitely earned all those screams I’ve heard coming from your apartment, Shea.” You teased, trying your best to lighten the mood and not dwell on the desire you had to ask him to spend the night. 

“Yeah, well I’ve always thought so.” He was avoiding looking at you as much as possible, searching the room for his clothes and fighting the urge to pull you back into the bed and snuggle with you. “Have you seen my converse?”

“Yeah, here.” You shoved his shoes at him after pulling an oversized tee over your head. “Well, I’ve got work in the morning, so…”

“Right, I’ll, um, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” He shuffled towards your front door and pulled it open before leaning back to look at you one more time. “You can join us for band practice any time, by the way.”

“That would be great.” That smile you were giving him made him feel like his heart was going to break. “I promise not to be sloppy drunk next time.”

“Aww, drunk Y/N was pretty fun, but ok.” He winked at you then left in a hurry, slamming the door behind him. 

You fell back on your bed and ran your hands over your face in frustration, hating yourself for coming up with this stupid idea because now all you wanted was to have breakfast with that beautiful idiot tomorrow after sleeping on top of his chest.

“Goddamn it.”

Colin grabbed himself a beer when he got back to his apartment and chugged it, sinking into one of his barstools and considering the fact that he was absolutely not over his crush after everything the two of you had just done.

“Shit.”

TAGS!!!! (If your name is scored it won’t let me tag you, check your privacy settings!!)

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[nbmudkip]

for the ask game. sasher or lukas. hi

I ACTUALLY HAVE ANOTHER ASK W SASHER IM WORKING ON tht has multiple characters nd is taking me a while. SO lukas time!!! YOU may heard some of these before but i forget what ive said and what lives in my brain

realistic: he’s an artist. he draws very well, and his journal is filled with little doodles and scribbles of various strange things he’s found along his way, as well as a collection of portraits and sketches of his friends. when he settles down in his cabin outside Beacontown, he takes up painting as well

unrealistic but hilarious: he lit his ass on fire on purpose that one time to get jesse to smack it. smooth move lulu

heart-wrenching: due to the fucked up conditions in which he was disconnected from PAMA he developed recurring brain fog and memory issues in the wake of his recovery. the especially bad memory lapses are usually a brief thing, contained within a few minutes to an hour, but sometimes goes on for up to a couple of days. it fucks with him, because it feels like PAMA is still in his brain trying to tear his life away from him, despite the fact that it’s been deactivated for years. in addition to stories of his travels and interesting things he finds, his journal starts housing descriptions of very mundane interactions with his friends and stories about his everyday life, because he’s afraid that one of these times the things he forgets won’t come back.

unrealistic but canon can suck my nuts: petra did his top surgery in his basement when he was 17 by just slashing them off in one fell swoop and then having him chug like 6 healing potions. somehow it worked despite the fact that a) that is not how top surgery works, b) that is not at all how my headcanons for injury recovery and healing potions work in-universe, and c) this is minecraft no one has boobs. the scars are scarily clean

[jj-5656]

Truth or Dare

With; Stiles Stilinski

IMPORTANT A/N:I’m officially down bad folks.  But I wanted to say there’s a song I need you to play during a specific part of this story. It really only lasts a minute, and you’ll know when to play it. ALSO do not skip over this fic just because the song is by 1D I promise it’s fitting and not fangirl cringe. But this is tumblr an app practically made for that...@ me. Anyways I appreciate all the recent love on my work, and I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Teen drinking

———————————————————————

“Y/n”

“Mmm.”

“Do you have a crush on anyone?” Of course Isaac, shit-eating smirk and all would be stirring the pot. Knowing damn well you’ve made eyes at Stiles for as long as he’d known you. You stare him down with a knowing smile, taking a slow sip of your drink before answering.

“Yeah”

Stiles raises his brows in surprise at your nonchalant response. If you did have a crush, wouldn’t you have told him? All he did was rant about Lydia to you. Though, he hadn’t talked about her in a while. Seeing as his feelings for her had seemingly fizzled away earlier this year. It was odd, one day he was madly in love with the girl and the next he wasn’t. Either way, he’s surprised at the twinge of anger he feels at your words. Jealousy

The realization scares him, what was he jealous for?

“Interesting y/n/n, who’s grabbed your attention?” Isaac presses, the two of you not breaking contact as you take another challenging gulp of your drinks. A couple of the pack members exchange worried glances. The two of you always have a habit of teasingly pushing each other’s buttons, but issac seems to be pressing a little too much. As if he knows something the others don’t.

The twinging heat in Stile’s stomach ignited, burining much brighter than before as his eyes dart between the two of you. What the hell was this? When had you and Isaac become so close? Close enough to confess each other’s crushes. He grips the solo cup in hand harder, having ignored the bubbling beverage until now.

“You’re only allowed one question Isaac. And you just used it.” You counter matter of factly, leaning back into your chair simultaneously with the blonde. The others watch your interaction intently, all having noticed the tension grow.

“I’m gonna go grab a drink.” Stiles announces suddenly, weaving between the various patio chairs as the attention turns to him.

“Aren’t you driving?” Scott interjects worriedly, not letting the change in his friends demeanor go unnoticed. Stiles pauses, turning on his heel and facing the group of you with a mischievous, somewhat forced smile .

“We can sleep here. Right Lydia? Your mom said you had the cabin for the weekend?”

“Uh, yeah. I only had a few of the guest rooms prepared. But there’s definitely enough room for everyone.” She replies, tone hesitant due to the shift energy.

“Everyone down to stay the night?” Stiles inquires, practically challenging the group to say no.

“Fun!” Lydia interjects before any of you can protest “I’ll set up the rest of the rooms. It’ll be like one big sleepover! Allison, help me grab some pillows and blankets from the basement?” She pulls the raven-haired teen along before she can answer. Shooting you a ‘what the hell just happened’ look before tugging Allison past Stiles and into the house. Leaving you, Scott, Isaac, and Stiles to deal with the lingering tension.

“Back in a sec.” stiles raises his cup in a sort of salute before making his way through the sliding glass door and towards the kitchen.

“Is someone gonna tell me what I’m missing here?” Scott inquires confusedly, looking just as astonished as the girls at how odd the three of you were acting. Scott was your other best friend, and of course knew you’d been crushing on Stiles for ages. But nothing had stemmed from it until now.

“Looks like everyone knows y/n’s crushing except the one she’s crushing on.” Issac offers with a smirk. Laughing when you get out of your seat to playfully shove his head to the side.

“You’re such an ass. I’m going to check on him.” You head towards the kitchen with what little pride you have left, shooting up your middle finger behind your back when you hear the two boys having a laughing fit at something Scott mumbles.

Usually, you’re the one drinking when the lot of you hang out. Lydia and Allison sip on something most times, but of course Isaac and Scott can only do it for taste. Even then, Isaac only takes shots with you to see who won’t make a face at the bitter beverage (bastard always wins). That’s why it’s such a surprise when you walk in the kitchen to see Stiles adding a significant amount of liquor to a fresh cup of soda, eyes boring into the liquid as if it’s just insulted him. Your eyes subtly trace over the way he clenches his jaw, pushing away the butterflies you feel when you observe his veiny hands gripping the cup. Jesus you need to touch some grass

“Easy there. Trying to out-drink me Stilinski?” You push your cup towards him gingerly, putting up your hand to signal him when to stop pouring.

“Something like that.” Stiles mumbles with a tight lipped smile, taking a gulp from the cup and making an insanely dramatic grimace. Shivering and shaking his head violently at the shock of the taste.

“You’re usually not one to drink.” You let it come out as more of a question than a statement, laughing amusedly at his spurratic reactions.

“Yeah, well...” Is all he replies, shrugging before taking another sip. This time only blinking hard to withstand the flavor. Your head cocks to the side in curiosity, holding your tongue before trying to ask what’s up with him. His eyes narrow at your actions, the fiery feeling before burning once more as he takes in your cute expression. Damn you, it’s like you’re trying to get him riled up. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but whatever feelings the brunettes been harboring are starting to bubble over. He figures he’s always had eyes for you, but it wasn’t exactly a convenient time to come to the realization he’d fallen for you. It’d been a long time coming admittedly, but it’s not like he could act on it. Well, maybe he could. He shakes away the lustful thoughts when you lean against the counter beside him. Wearing one of your more revealing tops tonight. He swears you’re doing this shit on purpose.

“Ready to go back out?” You suggest with raised brows, hoping the liquor will brighten his mood. He nods, following you back through the living room and towards the back patio. Surveying the newly placed pillows and blankets beside the couch as he steps out towards the fire pit.

“You’re back, finally! Stiles, it’s your turn to ask someone.” Lydia claps her hands to get your attention. You and Stiles sitting next to each other on one of the couches amongst the undoubtably expensive outdoor furniture.

“Alright. Isaac, truth or dare?” Stiles challenges the blonde from across the fire pit. Isaac smirks, adjusting himself on the couch opposite you.

“You guys know me, I’m mostly an open book. But with they way you’re staring me down, I’ll go with truth and skip out on whatever dare you’re fantasizing about in that big brain of yours.”

Stiles scoffs with a forced smile, just slightly moving closer to you when he sees you and Isaac make what contact.

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

“Can we do repeat questions?”

“Don’t bullshit me Lahey, answer me.” Stiles isn’t necessarily rude, but doesn’t show any signs of breaking his serious expression when Isaac raises his brows with an amused laugh. He looks over at you, before letting his eyes fall on Allison. You don’t let their intense eye contact go unnoticed, despite it only being for a split second.

“Yeah, I do.” He mutters simply, sitting back in his seat with an uncaring smile. You can tell he is in fact shitting himself internally, being one of the few people able to see through his cocky facade.

Without a juicy enough answer, Lydia begins to give a dare. “Alright Scott, truth or-”

“Can I go again?” Issac interjects, your stomach dropping when you can practically see the gears turning in that mischievous mind of his.

“Well, it’s Scott’s turn to be asked.”

“No worries, the question is for him.”

“Well, alright.” Lydia looks between you and Allison with another ‘what the hell’ expression. Neither of you can think of an answer.

“Okay Scott. Truth or dare?”

“Uh, dare. I guess.” The tanned boy replies, not as amused when the attention turns to him.

“Kiss y/n.” Stiles chokes on his drink before the rest can even react, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his flannel sheepishly when the rest of you have your eyes on him. Scott gets up from his chair reluctantly, moving towards the couch where you’re sitting and offering you a hand up. You take it with a nervous chuckle, smile brightening when the taller boy grabs the sides of you head a plants a quick peck to your forehead. Each of you giving a respectful bow and courtesy as the group claps.

“What was that?” Isaac teases, amused expression adorning his features at the cute interaction.

“You weren’t specific about it, you just said to kiss her.” Scott explains with a prideful smile, happy to have found a loophole in his dare. He’s always been like a big brother to you, even though you never let him forget you’re a month older.

“I thought it was sweet.” Allison muses, having found the interaction between her ex boyfriend and you simply cute. Of course her and Lydia never fail to point out the way you longingly stare at your sarcastic best friend just about every minute of every day.

“Thank you, thank you. We try our best.” You give another curtsy before sitting back down, tucking your legs under yourself and letting the tops of your knees lean against Stiles’ thigh. His tense shoulders seem to ease at the contact, despite wanting to shoot out across the fire pit and pumble Isaac.

“Okay Allison, truth or dare?” Lydia turns her attention to the brunnette beside her, eager to continue the game. 

“Dare.”

“Chug your drink.”

Allison groans, pursing her lips in a small pout and raising her drink to you in suggestion. Seeing as you often participate in chugging contests at Lydia’s infamous parties, you’re not one to step down from the offer. 

“Fine, I’ll be your moral support. Stiles, you wanna join?” You’re happy he’s finally trying to let loose, and you’re honestly eager to see a drunk Stiles. He leans over you to see how much liquid is in your cup and Allison’s, nodding when he observes that they all have just about the same amount. 

“Why not, don’t expect to win though.” You scoff at his cocky remark, scrambling up from your sitting position and moving over to the speaker playing some pop song quietly. 

“I need some motivation, not that this’ll be much of a challenge.” You counter playfully, confidence brightening when your three friends that aren’t participating start placing bills down to bet. With the increase of volume, you can feel the base of the music vibrate beneath your feet as you sit back down beside Stiles. 

“Ready? 3, 2 ,1 go!” You’re a bit surprised at Scott’s enthusiasm, but figure he’s just as eager as the others to win his money. Immediately, you Stiles and Allison start gulping down the bitter liquid. You open your eyes for a split second, observing how far your opponents have gotten. Stiles shoots his arm out towards you, playfully trying to knock the cup out of your hand whilst chugging. You do the same, hitting his arm away and tilting your head even farther back to finish. You’re done only a split second before the other two, who finish at the same time, grimacing not only from defeat but by the foreign bitter taste. You raise your empty cup as playful whoops erupt from the spectators. 

“That’s my girl.” Isaac cheers idly, bumping the sides of his fist with your own as he happily collects his earnings. 

“Don’t I get a percentage? I did all the work!”

“y/l/n, they don’t pay the race horses. All the money goes to the lucky better.”

“I should have put my money on you.” Scott groans, laughing when Stiles playfully shoves him.

“I was close, she cheated!” Stiles excitedly argues, and you’re glad his mood has improved since before. 

“Like hell we were, she killed us. And I for one will not be participating. I’m definitely placing a bet though.” Allison retorts, reaching into her wallet for cash. 

“Do you really want to be embarrassed again Stiles? I’m not going easy on you.” 

“Bring it on y/n/n.”

*****

“Okay, we’re officially turning in. Will you guys be okay?” Lydia yawns as she finishes, Scott and Allison getting up as well.

“What? The party was just getting st-started!” Stiles hiccups with raised arms. 

“Sti, it’s 2 in the morning. We all need to get some rest for the drive tomorrow.” Scott explains, ruffling his drunken best friends hair and chuckling when he slowly swats his hands away.

“Whatever dad. You’ll stay up with me?” Stiles turns to you with a hopeful expression, eyebrows furrowing when Scott distracts you with a kiss to the top of your head.

“You’re okay to get him to bed?” He asks whilst ignoring Stiles’ offended expression at the notion, turning to head inside when you nod. 

“I would stay, but then I’d be a third wheel so...Night!” Isaac chimes with a charming grin, dodging your attempt at hitting him and planting a quick kiss to your temple before rushing inside.You and Stiles mumble reluctant replies when the rest of the pack shouts their good-nights, their absence bumming you out.

“Lame.” You simultaneously deadpan, giggling into your cups at the jinx. The fire’s only embers by now, a chill running down your spine at the sudden,cool summer night air. 

“Mmm.” Stiles hums through the his cup, attempting to shrug off his flannel whilst holding the plastic between his teeth. “Take this, it’s cold.” You shake your head quickly, dizzying at the movement. 

“I’m fine, if I took it you’d be cold.” You giggle when he rolls his eyes, cup in his mouth slashing a little bit of liquid down his chin when he continues to try and maneuver out of the fabric. “You’re such a lightweight.”

“Am n-not!” He hiccups between words, mumbling due to the plastic still clenched between his teeth. You laugh again, shuffling across the couch to help him out of the shirt. You know he’ll only persist if you refuse again, deciding to give in to his stubborn behavior instead of arguing. You get his arm that’s closest the you out of the first sleeve, reaching across his lap to help remove the other. 

Stiles is instantly overwhelmed with the scent of that sweet perfume you’re always wearing. The heat emanating from your body disorienting him for  moment before he remembers the cup still in his mouth. You finally get his other arm free, sitting back on your legs only to meet his droopy brown eyes. He looks a little stunned, and you realize the alcohol’s made you a bit more bold than usual. His face is only inches away, close enough for you to smell the alcohol on his tongue. Slowly, he removes the cup from his mouth, eyes never leaving yours. You take a sharp intake of breath, the air between ou tingling with some sort of buzz as your eyes avert down to his now visible lips. His eyes go down too, and you’re reminded of the wrap shirt Lydia had forced you to borrow, exposing a bit more chest than you’re used to. He clears his throat shuffling mere centimetres closer to you as his hands move towards your neck. This is it, he’s finally going to-

“You’re necklace, it’s messed up.” His voice cracks as he speaks, and you try not to completely deflate when he clears his throat gain as he clumsily drags the chain so the charm is back against the soft skin between your collarbones. 

“Oh, thanks.” You internally cringe at how disappointed you sound, shrugging on the warm fabric of his flannel and leaning back against the couch.

******

You’re sitting on the counter and watching amusedly as Stiles clumsily searches the cabinets for something to eat.

“These people eat like hamsters, where’s the junk food?” He whines, exasperated from his mere 30 second search. 

“Sti?”

“Hmm?”

“Truth or drink.” He let’s out another whine at your words, giving up on his search and leaning against the counter across you expectantly. Admittedly, he’s pretty tipsy and nearing drunk, not to mention pretty pissed that he chickened out earlier. He feigns annoyance when you nibble on your thumb to think of a question, heart melting when he observes how your feet kick in the air as the dangle off the counter top. 

“Kiss marry kill. Isaac, Derek, and Scott.” He groans at your words, lips upturning to a smirk when you giggle into your cup.

“Can’t I just marry Scott, then kill Isaac and Derek?” He tries to argue but you immediately shake your head, expectant of a complete answer. “Fine. Kiss Derek, marry Scott, and kill Isaac.”

“Why Isaac?” 

“Because he’s an ass, and he wears scarves in the summer. My turn.” You roll your eyes at his words, awaiting his question. 

“Do you have a crush on Isaac?” Your eyebrows furrow in shock, shaking your head and laughing loudly at the notion. Sure, Isaac was  hot, but you’d never had that sort of feelings for each other. He was more like a brother if anything, just like Scott. Stiles seems surprised at your answer, persisting the moment you quiet down. “Then who was he talking about before?” 

“It’s actually my turn, no double questions. What were you so mad about before?” If he wanted to get personal, you might as well match the energy. He rolls his shoulders at the question, bringing the cup to his lips to hide his smile when you throw your hands up in defeat.

“Coward.” you grimace playfully, pouting when he only shrugs at your insult. 

He jumps, startled when you gasp suddenly and reach over the counter. Turning up the volume on the stereo from before you’d brought inside. ‘Wolves’ by one direction, plays much louder now that you’ve turned the notch on the device.

“Oh my god, why?” Stiles dramatically looks up to the ceiling when you hop off the counter in excitement. Of course, he recalls the first time he’d heard the song. You’d forced him and Scott to listen to it in the jeep one night, saying it was just too ironic to not make it ‘your song.’ And whether him or Scott want to admit it or not, they’d belted out the lyrics with you a few times before. 

You’re grabbing his hands before he can protest farther, rolling up the baggy sleeves of his flannel for the umpteenth time that evening as you begin to move to the opening notes, pulling him along with you. You thank the alcohol for your surge of confidence and the easy sway of your hips, grateful for the liquid courage.

“You totally love this song!” You shout over the music, too drunk to care if the others are awoken by your antics.

“Totally don’t!” Stiles retorts just as loud, laughing when you raise his arm so you can spin under it. Beginning to bob his head and mumbling the lyrics you’re currently shouting. 

In the middle of the night when the wolves come out, headed straight for your heart like a bullet in the dark. 

One by one, I gotta take them down, 

We can run and hide, ain’t going down without a fight

You both howl obnoxiously with the music, jumping and spinning as it booms through the speakers. The alcohols hitting now, effectively loosening his muscles and making the both of you laugh obnoxiously at how stupid you probably look. Despite the silliness of it all, it’s the most at ease Stiles has felt in a while. There’s a certain energy you bring, a type of way you make him feel that’s always drawn you so close.You stumble over to the stereo when the third verse comes on, grin not leaving your lips when you feel his reluctance to let go of your hand. You turn the music down, not familiar enough with the remaining verses to be able to sing it. Besides, you were lucky enough Lydia hadn’t come down there, slippers and all, to scold you both to bed. 

“That’s it? There’s more to the song!” 

“I thought you didn’t like it?” You pant out, both out breath as you move beside him to lean against the counter once more. 

“I-I don’t, just like dancing with you.” He blurts out, too intoxicated to care to filter his words. You study the spacey look in his eyes, cheeks flushed from the alcohol and exhilaration. It’s funny, a few months ago this would’ve just been any other sleepover with your best friend. But it’s different now, you can only assume he too has noticed the shift in energy between you. The electricity

“Sti?”

“Hmm?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Wh-what?” He turns to face you, brows furrowing at your hopeful eyes.

“Truth or dare.”

“We’re still doing this?”

“Just say dare!” You persist, hitting his chest in annoyance. The alcohol’s coursing through your veins, giving you too much confidence for your own good.

“Fine, dare.” He’s confused at your change in behavior, not recognizing the mischievous expression on your face.

“Kiss me.”

And that’s when Stiles Stilinski, Romeo himself, pukes into the kitchen sink.

*********

“I am not th-that drunk.” He stops mid sentences, clutching his chest and pausing to suppress a particularly violent hiccup. 

“Sure Sti, tell that to the vomit on your shirt.” You huff out, half listening to the belligerent boy towering over you as you guide him towards the bathroom. He’s gotten significantly drunker while you were cleaning the sink, all the alcohol finally catching up to his inexperienced self. And sure, the slurred words and tousled hair was cute at first, but now he was a much too heavy toddler you were practically dragging to the bathroom. 

“I wan’ sleep.” You fumble out a laugh at his childish demeanor, shuffling into the guest bathroom and flipping on the switch to illuminate the area, much to the drunk boy’s distaste as his droopy eyes adjust to the light. Admittedly, your’re also significantly intoxicated, thought process definitely a little slower than usual. Luckily, you’ve had enough experience to know when to cut yourself off. 

“You can sleep after I get you to stop reeking of vomit, now arms up.” You order sternly, heart melting when his lips puff into a small pout at your words. He does as told, lanky arms high up in the air as you hastily pull the fabric up and over his head, careful not to get the throw up anywhere else on him. You run the cotton under the sink, wreching at the smell. The things you do for your friends

When his shirt is thoroughly washed, you diligently wring it out and hang it on the rack with the hand towels beside the counter. Crouching down to inspect the cabinet under the sink for anything to clean yourselves up with. You grab a small washcloth and a spare bottle of mouthwash, placing the items on the counter and meeting Stiles’ gaze. He’s a bit zoned out, but he’s smiling sweetly down at you as he watches you work. 

“You’re like, really pretty.”

“And you totally can’t handle you’re liquor.” You retort with a roll of your eyes, pushing away the butterflies his words release. “Now swish and spit, your breath stinks.” Without as much of a fuss, he takes the bottle and does as instructed, letting out a dramatic ‘aah’ and giggling when you meet eyes in the mirror. You follow after him, figuring that’d have to be the maximum dental hygeine for the night considering the time crunch. You grab the rag from the counter, running it under the water and lathering soap into it before lifting it towards the boy beside you. 

“Can I wash you off real quick?” You wait for his nod of approval, chuckling at the hilarity of the situation s you run the warm rag across his upper chest. “This’ll be one hell of a story.” 

“Mmm.” He only hums in response, looking down at you intently, serious expression making your head tilt to the side in question. 

“What?”

“Nothin, just sorry I didn’t kiss you.” Your movements halt at his words, continuing when you turn your attention back down to your task instead of his eyes. 

“Told you I could out drink you. Next time don’t challenge me to shots.”

“N-noted.”

******

“Shhhh!” Your eyes are wide in warning as you make your way down the hall, arms wrapped around Stiles in support as he stumbles along with you. 

“Shhh-shhh.” He mimics your actions, bringing a clumsy finger to his lips as you hold back a laugh. Finally, you set him down on the bed, turning towards the guest room dresser and tossing the sweats and t shirt Lydia must have left there to him. He groans, quickly undressing and tugging on the new clothes. Laying back down on the bed and throwing his forearm to cover his eyes as you change into Lydia’s spare shorts, figuring the shirt and flannel you still had on were sufficient enough as pjs.

You and Scott had fallen asleep during late nights at Stiles’ house numerous times whilst investigating Beacon Hills latest supernatural threat. So it’s not surprising when Stiles clumsily shuffles under the silky duvet with a satisfied sigh, lifting the covers so you can climb in next to him. It’s a queen sized bed, much bigger than the creaky twin you’ve shared before. Still, Stiles moves even closer, you’re well aware he’ll only fall asleep if he’s in the very middle of the mattress. It’s quiet, and you happily settle into the covers as sleep tugs at your eyelids. Only opening one eye when the boy beside you turns onto his side to face you.

“You know y/n, I miss when we were little. L-like when we used to dress up in our moms clothes, and then I twisted my ankle wearing my moms heels.” You chuckle fondly at his slurred retelling of the memory, images flashing by of when you were kids. He studies you, trying to commit the sweet laugh to memory before continuing. “I mean, I like where we are now. I do, because we’re still best friends and I still love you.”

“I love you too Sti.”

“N-no, no you don’t get it.” He shakes his head vigorously, drunken state dramatizing his movements as he argues. Sounding almost solemn at your response. “I mean I love you, and it’s terrifying. A pretty new revaluation might I add, so I thought getting drunk might help. Am I drunk?”

“Yes, very much so. And you should sleep before you say something-”

“No! I meas you have to know this. What if like, I never told you and then...Well I never would have told you! That’s like, Shakespeare tragedy bullshit and we’re definitely better than that. So, I love you. And not in the ‘we took baths together and played dress up in our moms clothes’ type love. It’s the ‘I’m always confused because you give me this...Weird tingly feeling and I never know how to go about it and it makes me want to kiss you’ type of love...I guess. Am I like, really drunk?” You’re to say the least stunned with his confession, though the various hiccups in between sentences didn’t call for the most romantic ambiance. 

“Yeah, you’re pretty wasted.” You smooth out his messy hair, too exhausted (and tipsy) to want to accept any of this is actually happening. 

“Sorry I didn’t kiss you. The vomiting was unrelated to you making a move on me, just so we’re clear.” He croaks out, voice rasped from the lull of oncoming slumber. 

“And here I was thinking I made you nauseous.”

“No, you do give me butterflies though. Too pretty.” He muses, chuckling when you push away his face, nose having booped yours to accentuate his point. It can’t be legal to be this cute while intoxicated.

“You gotta close your eyes Sti, have to sleep off all this alcohol.”

“M’kay. You’ll stay with me the whole night?”

“Always.”

**********

It’s fairly early when you finally wake, sunlight seeping into the room from the early morning light. You want more than anything to go back to bed, figuring another hour would help ware off the pounding headache tormenting your skull. Only assuming Stiles must feel even worse. It’s then, when you try to shuffle closer into his body warmth, that you realize the bed is empty. The space where he’s laid beside you is still warm, and you reluctantly sit up with the harsh reality that everyone else must be awake too.

You follow the scent of bacon to the kitchen, immediately met with a very grumpy looking Stiles hunched over a cup of coffee. He’s wearing Scott’s lacrosse hoodie, sunglasses covering his eyes and hood pulled over his head to shield himself from any intruding light. You sit down on the stool of the island he’s leaning against, offering a sympathetic smile when he pushes the steaming mug towards you with a grunt.

“Morning everyone!” Isaac chimes with a bright smile, slapping the two of you on the back as you simultaneously groan.

“Late night?”

“You know, I’m usually appreciative of the cheeky sarcasm Scott. But if you don’t wipe that smirk off your face right now, I will seriously consider castrating you.” You stare down the alpha, not even phasing his cheerful demeanor.

“Well before you do that, have some breakfast.” Allison only laughs when the two of you gladly pull the plates she’s placed in front you closer with a genuine murmur of ‘thank yous’. Eager to have the food soak up the alcohol and rid you of the awful hangover.

“And this is why I don’t drink.” Lydia retorts, placing down a bottle of Advil between you with a playful roll of her eyes.

“Speaking of, what was that music last night? Scared me half to death.” Allison inquires, looking to the others with a knowing smile when you and Stiles laugh through a forkful of hash browns, eyes on each other and avoiding the others. The two of you might not see it, but you’re practically married with how in sync you are. Always giving each other side eye when approached by someone you both hate, finishing each others sentences. You make a perfect pair, if only one of you had the balls to act on it.

“Flannel looks good on you y/n.” Isaac snickers, tugging on your elongated sleeve with a grin. Only more amused when you flip him off in silence. 

“You know, none of the guys I’ve hooked up with have never offered me their shirts.” Lydia pouts while pushing around the eggs on her plate, shocked when you and Stiles simultaneously choke on your (now individual) coffees. 

“We, we didn’t hook up!” Stiles defends, now unable to meet your mortified gaze. 

“Well, I know that I just mean-”

“Hold on. Am I missing something here? You two have seriously never...I mean never?” Isaac looks genuinely bewildered as he rambles on, Allison and Scott not so discreetly giggling into their mugs as the conversation continues.

“No!”

“Seriously? I’m always teasing because I figured it was all just unspoken knowledge.” The blonde’s genuinely intrigued, not noticing Lydia’s persistent signals to stop talking. “Scott, you’re telling me you can’t smell the sexual  ten-” 

“OKAY, we’ll be leaving now. Lydia, thank you for having us-”

“And thank you for the liquor we’re seriously regretting right now.” You finish the farewell for Stiles, grabbing your things and headed out the door before any of them can protest. 

“See you at home!” Scott yells out, still finding the situation between his best friends hilarious.

“And always use protect-” Isaac’s voice is cut off when Stiles slams the front door behind him, the both of you trudging towards the jeep. The boy letting out another groan and pinching his nose when you pull the door shut a little too hard, loud noise ringing in his ears.

You fumble through the glove compartment when he pulls out of the long driveway and towards the road, satisfied when you find a spare pair of sunglasses under a pile of crumpled papers.

“You keep this up and I won’t have any more clothes.”

“To be fair, you insisted I put this on.” You argue, referring to the cotton shirt wrapped around you. “How much do you remember of last night anyway?” He chuckles at your question, rubbing his hand over his jaw in contemplation.

“Geez, well there was truth or dare with everyone. They turned in early and you and I hung outside a bit longer. I was...Looking for food in the kitchen and there was dnacing? And I’m pretty sure there was a bathroom involved.”

“You may or may not have puked in Lydia’s sink.” Stiles slaps a hand over his face at your words, laughing along with you when he sees your amusement in his new-found knowledge. 

“I’m so sorry, was I a total pain?” 

Of course not! You only confessed your love to me like you were expressing a new hobby in which you now have no recollection of.

“Nah, I helped you clean up and then we went to bed. Besides, you’ve taken care of my drunk ass plenty of times.” He observes you in small glances he can get between looking at the road. You seem as though you’re holding back. 

To be honest, you were a bit frustrated. On one hand, you could just be honest with him and explain hat he’d said. But he was wasted, and it felt wrong to confess for him. Besides, if he wanted to act on his feelings he would have. And that definitely hurt, but it probably meant he had the same concerns as you. Being best friends made this shit complicated. With everything going on in this town, you had a lot of responsibilities to withhold. You couldn’t afford to lose each other. Ironically, you loved each other too much to risk starting a relationship.

“Sti, you just passed my neighborhood.”

“Yeah. It’s still early and I’m not waiting for this hangover to pass alone. We’re going to my place.”

“Star Wars and pizza?”

“Star Wars and pizza.”

*********

“I’m just saying, the amount of accidental incest in medi is actually uncanny.”

“You bring this up every time we watch A New Hope.”

“I know, but seriously!” He shuffles on his bed, pushing away the pizza box with only a few pieces of crust remaining inside. “Just like that movie you’re always making me watch. The one with the girl and her step-brother.”

“Hey! I told you, Clueless is so much better when you pretend Josh is just a family friend!”

“But we shouldn’t have to pretend it wasn’t originally written about two step siblings falling in love. I mean, what kind of trope is that?”

“Fair enough, I guess old rich white men all have a thing for their siblings.”

“Gross, I’m officially grossed out.” When your laughter settles down, Stiles starts to mess with his fingers. Looking between you and his lap as if debating with his next words.

“Listen, are you sure I didn’t...Say anything last night?” You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, figuring you could at least tell your own truth without completely exposing his.

“Stiles, we were both pretty drunk. I don’t know, I guess something could have happened?”

“How do you mean?” You’re unsettled with how awkward this has all become. But it’s not like this could keep going unsaid. It was too much of a weight to be concealing all of this from him. Stiles was the person you went to for a good vent, and you can’t really vent to your best friend about...Well, being in love with your best friend.

“I may have possibly, maybe asked you to kiss me. And you might have thrown up right after the offer.” His eyes bulge in surprise, and you cover your face with a strained cry at the confession. “It’s your fault for asking!” You whine, instantly regretting saying anything in the first place. This was dumb, you were totally dumb, and no you looked like a complete fool, all because of stupid Stiles.

“Hey.” His voice is soft when he pulls your hands down, mischievous smirk utterly confusing you. “Truth or dare?”

“You do remember! You asshole!” You shout instantly, slapping at his chest as he laughs. 

“Woah, woah wait. I may have remembered a bit more than I mentioned in the car. But how was I supposed to know you actually wanted to kiss me or if it was the tequila talking? I figured maybe if you told me the truth, then I’d know if you really meant it.” You stare at him blankly, not nearly as amused as he is.

“If it’s any consolation, you look really cute when you’re pissed at me.”

“Charming, Stilinksi. Do you happen to remember the part where your blacked out ass gave an entire monologue about how in love with me you are? And how sorry you were that you didn't kiss-” With that, he takes hod of the side of your face and connects your lips to his Finally releasing whatever tension that’s been building for agonizing months. It’s nice, really nice, but he’s not getting away that easy. You smack his chest again, fighting the urge to pull him back into you when you observe how flushed he looks. 

“Ow, stop hitting me! I had to do something, you were embarrassing me!”

“Good! I’m glad you feel a smidge of what I do, Romeo. You’re just gonna kiss me?”

“I’m sorry, should I not have? Did I totally just misread that?”

“N-no. I mean, I wanted to kiss you. But I figured the only reason you hadn’t said something sooner...Or sober, was because you were afraid of what I was afraid of. With all the shit we go through, I wouldn’t ever  want to jeopardize our friendship.” He’s silent at that, trying to find a way in which to convey his thoughts.

“Y/n, we’re a part of the pack. Nothing can break that bond. No matter what, you’re my best friend first. Whatever shit come our way next, we’ll know how to handle it together, like we always do. Besides, if I ever hurt you Scott and Isaac would make sure I never saw the light of day again.” You chuckle softly at his words, feeling a weight you hadn’t known was there lifted off your shoulders.

“I think this is the part where you ask the final truth or dare.”

“Well, I would dare you to kiss me, but you have to promise you wont puke again.”

[onceupon]

London Boy - Part 4: Just friends

summary: You wake up to find Rafe Cameron in your bed. Even though nothing happened, you’re still left trying to make sense of it all.

pairing: Rafe x reader (slowburn)

warnings: swearing, drinking

word count: 5k

a/n: thank you so much to all of you who have been reading along <333 sorry in advance if you want this to progress faster haha, it simply must be this slow, sorry I don't make the rules (even tho I do lol). Not canon Rafe!! 

masterlist

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the early morning rays wake you up. You didn’t even remember falling asleep. As you slowly gain consciousness you’re startled by the weight of Rafe’s arm draped across your body. What the hell? When did that happen? He spent the night in your bed?

Your mind races at a million miles an hour as you slowly slip out from under his hold. You were careful not to wake him up, not wanting to face any awkwardness. You throw on fresh clothes and grab your backpack, desperate to make your escape. You had wanted to get to school early today to work on some homework anyways, never before so eager to trade in the comfort of your bed for the library. 

After a quick pit stop to pick up a coffee and a croissant, you swing the heavy wooden doors open. You liked campus at this hour, the morning light still soft, the air crisp, and the atmosphere silent. As you scan your eyes for a spot to sit, you notice the unmistakable sight of fluffy brown hair hunched over a table. 

“Liam?” your whisper. “What the hell are doing here?”

That classic cheeky grin spreads across his face as he looks up to find you standing in front of him. “I go here, Y/n. Forget already?”

You roll your eyes, “I just didn’t know you were the studious type.”

“Not gonna lie to you babe, I’m not. But Rogers is already all the way up my ass over this class, and I’m not letting that prick hold me back a year.” 

You pull out the chair across from him and go to sit down, spreading your books out on the table. 

“Who said you could sit with?” he asks, and you shoot him a look. You’re not in the mood. “Geez alright, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed… you good Y/n?” he slows, taking in your disheveled appearance. You hadn’t so much as brushed your hair. 

“Can you promise not to tell anyone,” you stare dead into his eyes. 

“On my life,” he extends his pinky, and you accept. 

“Rafe… slept over last night…”

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, and your eyes widen at his echoing voice. 

“Not like that,” you hiss, not wanting to draw anymore attention to the two of you. “Nothing happened… like he just came over to watch a show and then we talked for a while and just accidentally… fell asleep. I panicked when I woke up and realized he was still in my bed so I ran out of there as fast as I could and now…. well now I’m here.” You nervously chug your coffee, heart racing. 

“So he hung out with you all night and didn’t make a move?”

You nod, nervously awaiting his analysis as you take a bite of your croissant. 

“Damn, boy must really like you,” he muses. 

“What? Definitely not,” you scoff. 

“Y/n, let me tell you a little something about guys. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. The fact that he’s coming over your room to watch a show and hanging out with you until he physically can’t stay awake - I mean I can’t make it any more obvious to you.”

“I don’t know I just don’t think so… You don’t know Rafe like that, he’s a total player back home. He can pull any girl he wants, so if he liked me like that he would’ve done something by now. This is probably how he is with all his friends and I’m just reading too much into it. I’m sure Lily Colts will be in his bed soon enough,” you mumble. That last part stings in particular, you had already thought it, but saying it out loud made you feel… icky. 

“I may not know Rafe like that, but I know guys like him. I am guys like him. He likes you Y/n. So what if he pulls a lot of chicks, he doesn’t actually care about them. But he cares about you, probably can’t even understand why, and now it’s like bam Uno reverse. He can’t pull the cards he normally does, and now you’ve got him confused and he doesn’t know what to do. Man’s down bad. Give him time though, he’ll come around,” he explains to you calmly, stealing your coffee cup from you and taking a sip. 

“Honestly can I just start paying you to figure my life out for me. You make everything seem so simple.”

“Because it is simple. You insist on complicating it. But I know how you could pay me,” he adds with a wink and you shoot him a glare. You know he’s just joking (partially), he loves pushing your buttons. 

“Well whatever. I’ll believe it when I see it,” you resign on the Rafe matter. You wanted to believe what Liam was saying but it didn’t quite make sense to you. You were only going to drive yourself crazy trying to read between lines that you weren’t sure existed. Rafe was just used to situations like this with girls. To him last night was probably no big deal. It was to you though. You would never let ‘just a friend’ stay over like that, with his arm around you no less. But Rafe didn’t need to know that, you decide. 

—-

You manage to avoid Rafe all day, not having any classes with him on Friday’s. As soon as your last class is over, you sprint home, relieved when you’re the first back at the flat and can quickly slip into your room undetected. You set down your bag and sit on the edge of your bed. Your hand slowly runs over your comforter, still ruffled from where Rafe had been laying the night before. The indent of his head is still on your pillow; you can almost smell the scent of him lingering in your room and hear the sound of his soft whispers. You wonder what his first thoughts were when he woke up in your bed alone - was he confused? Embarrassed? He probably thought nothing of it at all. You can just picture him casually getting up with a stretch, like it’s the start of any typical day.

You slip into the shower and let the water wash over your body. It’s warm and soothing, and it’s reminding you of Rafe laying next to you, of his arm wrapped around you. God if there was only a way to shut your brain off once in a while. As much as you tried to suppress it, there had been a tiny part of you that was happy to have woken up in his embrace, giddy like a school girl with a crush. You’d always wondered how a moment like that would feel, or how a moment like that with him would feel. You had conveniently failed to mention the “arm” detail to Liam, maybe because in the back of your mind you knew it would only help prove his theory right.  

When you make your way back to your room, your phone buzzes and the Royal Fam 🇬🇧🇺🇸 group chat appears. 

Olivia: who wants to go out tonight 😈

Topper: me and Rafe have to be up early tmrw for soccer - rain check on this one ladies 

Olivia: :( 

Olivia: girls night out??

Millie: you know I’m there!

You’re a little bummed that Rafe won’t be there tonight. But a girls night sounds like just what you need to get him off your mind. 

Y/n: I’m in :)

Not even a few minutes later Olivia and Millie are barging into your room, causing you to let out a startled yelp. 

“My god, heard of knocking,” you exhale with your hand coming to your chest. Your statement falls on death ears. 

“Which jeans with this top,” Olivia asks, holding the clothing items against her body. 

“Should I curl or straighten my hair with this,” Millie follows, holding her outfit up. 

“Uhh,” your mind scrambles, “those jeans Liv. And straight, Mills,” you reply, shocked by your own decidedness. “But now you guys have to help me, I have no clue what to wear.”

“Say less,” Olivia flashes a smile. 

Within minutes they tear through your closet, picking out your outfit. Things were always much more clear with a fresh set of eyes. The three of you discuss the night’s logistics before making your way to the kitchen - couldn’t go drinking on an empty stomach. Rafe and Topper are already there, and you try your best to act natural even though your stomach ties itself in a knot the moment you catch a glimpse of his face. You haven’t seen him since you ran out this morning. 

“Uh hey I’m gonna run to Sainsbury’s real quick, I wanna get a chaser, anyone need anything,” you ask, avoiding eye contact with Rafe. Your nerves get the best of you and in terms of fight or flight, you were ready to flee. 

“Hey wait I’ll come with you. Gotta pick something up for dinner,” Rafe stands grabbing his jacket, and before you can interject, he’s leading the way down the hall and out your shared flat. 

“So what are you chasing tonight?” 

“What?” you ask startled, his question pulling you back to reality. Your mind had been running in a loop, trying to read him and the thoughts in his head. You wished now more than ever that you knew what Rafe was like behind closed doors back home, so you could somehow make sense of it all.

He chuckles at you, lost in your own world. “You said you needed a chaser?” Those intimidating blue eyes have found their way to yours again and you hastily look away, focusing in front of you instead. 

“Oh yeah- uh just for the vodka,” you laugh nervously. 

“Basic,” he mocks. You scoff in surprise and lightly hit him on the chest as the laughter leaves your lips. He’s sporting a shit-eating grin, having successfully egged you on. 

“You’re funny if you think I’m gonna do shots of whiskey before going to a club.”

“Well you do owe me one…” he says.

“Oh so he remembers?” you reply, amused.

“Of course,” he states so calm and so sure. Your head swirls at that, his cool confidence making you melt. The automatic doors slide open in front of you, fluorescent lights stealing your attention from the boy you were finding dangerously more attractive by the second.

“I thought we’re supposed to take it together? But someone’s being lame and not coming out tonight,” you say sarcastically, playing it as cool as you can manage. Rafe’s confidence seemed to come naturally, but you were more of a fake-it-till-you-make-it kind of gal.

“Hey you know I have soccer,” he defends. The Kook Prince was not one to turn down a party without cause.

“Excuses excuses,” you shake your head.

“Actually, speaking of soccer, you uh- you and the girls should come tomorrow. If you’re not doing anything. Or not too hungover I should say. Game’s at 12.”

“Can’t make any promises Cameron, but we’ll see,” you smile, earning a satisfied smile from him in return. 

You make your way to the frozen food aisle, Rafe explaining to you how they call a soccer field a football pitch here, as you laugh at him grabbing 5 frozen pizzas (dinner solved for the next week, of course). You ask him which chaser you should pick. He points out a cola, so naturally you decide to get blackberry seltzer water, Rafe twisting his face in disgust (who would voluntarily drink that tv static). You always felt so nervous at first, to be in Rafe’s presence, but all it ever took was a few minutes for you to completely relax around him. He was intimidating, yet inviting. Mysterious, yet open. He was somehow the cause of your anxious nerves and yet the source of your comfort. The fear of facing Rafe after running out this morning had paralyzed your thoughts all day, and now you could hardly remember why. He hadn’t mentioned it at all, as if nothing happened. His normalcy confirmed for you that him sleeping over was in fact no big deal, and you almost want to laugh at yourself for how much you had worked it up in your head. You two were just friends, and perhaps Rafe was used to being… a friendlier friend than what you were used to. But that was okay, you could learn to be friendlier too.

—-

Rafe and Topper had decided to accompany you guys in the kitchen as you pregamed. They slowly sipped beers as you, Millie, and Olivia pounded back shots, laughing at the way you guys got progressively drunker and progressively louder before finally heading out. And much to your surprise, the boys were still seated in the same spot hours later, when the three of you stumble back into the flat, McDonalds in hand.

“Oh look who’s still up,” Olivia slurs, taking a bite of her cheeseburger. 

“We can’t go out, we have soccer,” Millie mocks, almost falling to the floor as she trips over her heel, Topper and Rafe not making any effort to hide their clear amusement. 

“Fun night huh?” Topper quirks his brow. 

“The funnest,” Millie holds her head high, sinking down against the wall until she’s sat on the floor. You had made a beeline for the dining room table, silently admiring your chicken nuggets. In that moment, they were the best thing you had ever tasted. 

“I want Jake,” Olivia pouts, and before anyone can say a word she’s turned on her heel, burger in hand, off to crawl into her boyfriend’s bed. 

“Alright you drunk, let’s get you to bed,” Topper laughs, scooping an incoherent Millie up to her feet by her elbows. 

“M’not drunk,” Millie protests, even though she’s leaning her full body weight against Topper who sarcastically nods at her, escorting her down the hallway. Rafe sits on the couch, silently playing with the cards in his hand again, not the least bit uncomfortable with sharing your company in silence. 

“I’m mad at you,” you say matter of factly, taking a bite of a french fry. At this point, the alcohol is doing the talking. 

“Mad at me?” Rafe stops shuffling the cards and raises his head to look at you, intrigued. 

“Yeah because you didn’t come to the club,” you furrow your brows, chucking a fry at him. He catches it instantly, laughing to himself with a shake of his head. 

“Don’t worry I saw all your guys’ snaps, I feel like I was practically there.”

“That’s not the same,” you frown, throwing another fry which he catches yet again.

“I’ll try to be there next time,” he laughs.

“That’s better I guess,” you grumble, eating another chicken nugget. The room grows quiet, Rafe training his attention back to the cards.

“When are we watching the next episode Cameron,” you break the silence, chucking another fry. He barely has to look up to catch your latest throw, shaking his head with a chuckle. He puts the cards down and makes his way over to the dining table, standing right above you now. 

“Come on, time for you to go to bed,” he beckons you toward him with his arm, to which you only furrow your brows in indignation.

“I’m not done with my food,” you protest.

“Now you are,” he says, grabbing your last fry and finishing it with one bite. “Now c’mon.” You reluctantly grab onto his extended arm to help you get up. You walk down the hall together and he opens your door for you, letting you in as he leans against the frame. You immediately fall back and collapse on to your bed with a gasp, you didn’t remember it feeling so soft when you were sober. 

“Goodnight L/n,” Rafe laughs, staring down at you. 

“Goodnight Rafe,” you mumble, seconds away from passing out. He smiles to himself at the sight of you still in the outfit and shoes you had been out in, bent in surely the most uncomfortable position possible, legs half way off the bed, yet somehow already asleep. He’s about to head back to his room, but he hesitates, turning back to you with a sigh. As slowly and quietly as he can, he pulls your shoes off for you, lifts your legs onto the bed, and covers you in your blanket. And just as quick, he slips out of your room and back into his.

—-

You wake up the next morning, letting out a groan when you realize you’re still in the outfit you had worn clubbing. Your head dully aches and your throat is desert dry so you force yourself up and to the kitchen. When you see the aftermath of McDonald’s containers on the table, vague memories start flooding your brain in horror. You couldn’t have… could you? Did you actually throw french fries at him? You close your eyes and slowly run your hand over your face in realization. Great, you think to yourself, Rafe probably thinks you’re an annoying idiot. Good grief.

You hear the door of the flat opening and Olivia appears in the kitchen, holding a plate of breakfast sandwiches, your mouth watering at the sight.

“Thank the lovely lads in apartment 4E,” she laughs, placing them on the table. “Oh god, we went hard last night didn’t we,” she says, taking in the sight of the flat.

“A little too hard…” you remark.

“No such thing, darling! Now eat up and get dressed, we’ve got a match to catch,” she declares before disappearing down the hall where you can hear muffled groans of Millie being reluctantly dragged out of her bed. You sigh and sink down into a chair, grabbing a sandwich and taking a bite. Heaven. You make a mental note to thank Jake for his chef skills. You had completely forgotten that you and the girls were supposed to go watch Rafe and Topper’s match today. Your worries about having to face Rafe yesterday had been quick to melt away, but today they were back with a new vengeance.

—-

“Okay no one wander off when we get there. Y/n, fair warning, these games get… rowdy,” Millie says, as the three of you walk toward the field, arms linked.

“Things get pretty crazy at Kildare too,” you laugh, “so yeah, don’t fucking let me out of your sight.”

The three of you shake off your fits of laughter as you stumble toward the stands, finding a spot amongst the already packed crowd. You’re finally able to take in your surroundings, glancing at the field ahead. The opposing team is warming up on the pitch, clad in red. Westheath’s team is off to the side, the boys stretching and getting ready in their white uniforms. The dirty blonde immediately catches your eye. He’s jumping and jogging in place, headphones in as though he’s tuning out the physical noise around him, and probably the mental noise too. You wonder if he’s listening to one of the songs he showed you the other night. 

He pauses his jogging to stretch out his arms, his eyes glazing over the stands, when suddenly they lock with yours. Your cheeks flush pink, embarrassed at having been caught staring, but his face just pulls into a wide grin and he gives you a wave. You wave back, and he does a quick hand motion that everyone does at Kildare games back home. You laugh and do the responding gesture, as he smiles cheekily at you before a teammate comes up to him, pulling his focus away. The exchange was brief, but oddly intimate. There was a whole field and a couple dozen people between you, and yet you two were the only witnesses to the interaction. You smile to yourself, relief in the fact that maybe getting a french fry chucked at him wasn’t enough to make him hate you after all. You wonder briefly if Rafe spends half as much time overanalyzing things the way you do. Liam was right, you do insist on overcomplicating things. 

“Hey, earth to Y/n!” Olivia laughs, waving her hand in front of your face. “The game is starting!”

—

The final score flashes on the screen: 4-2, a win for Westheath. The students are going nuts, rushing the field. Olivia and Millie lead the way, pushing through the crowd until you guys reach Rafe and Topper.

“Let’s go boys!!” Olivia yells, jumping up and down with the sea of bodies and beer around you. Rafe and Topper react with equal enthusiasm, pulling each of you in for a hug. You and Rafe are the last to hug, him pulling you in brief but close against his large sweaty body, arms wrapped around you. You don’t even mind the stickiness of the hug, feeling deja vu at the warm feeling of being in his embrace again; a feeling that is foreign yet familiar, one you hadn’t felt before. 

“Did you guys see Rafe’s goal in the second half!?” Topper asks, clapping his friend on the back.

“Of course we did, super star!” Millie cheers, giving Rafe a high five as he humbly shakes his head and laughs at his friends. The mental image of his goal was burned in your head, one that your mind would certainly play for you involuntarily over the next coming days. 

“Alright we gotta go do some stuff with the team, but everyone’s going to Central Bar later. See you guys there?” Rafe asks.

“You got it,” Olivia replies, and they jog off with quick waves, you meeting those blue eyes in silent acknowledgement once again. It was that gaze that always made the rest of the world seem to disappear while his eyes met yours, making your heart skip a beat. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Just a tall, attractive, soccer-playing friend…

—

“Y/n! Liv! We’re doing a round!” Jake calls you and Olivia over to where him and Liam are already at the bar, four shot glasses ordered and lined up.

“On three! One, two-“ Liam chants, as the four of you down the alcohol. Central Bar had been buzzing with what felt like half of Westheath’s student body all day. After the game, you and the girls had gone back to your flat to nap and eat, before meeting up with Jake, Liam, and the rest of their boys to head to the bar. Rafe and Topper were already pretty buzzed when you guys got there, playing a round of table tennis with you before the rest of the soccer team and their other friends pulled their attention away. You couldn’t help the way your whole body tensed when Rafe greeted Lily with a tight hug, humbling you with the confirmation that Rafe’s actions toward you weren’t anything special. You resolved yourself to a night of drinking and dancing your worries away with Liv and Liam instead.

“Alright, round of table tennis? You two against me and Y/n?” Liam challenges.

“Please, I saw Y/n playing before, you guys have nothing on us,” Olivia flashes an evil smile, her competitive side coming out.

“Oh it’s on Liv,” you laugh, as your foursome stakes your claim at the pong table. While Olivia and Jake gather the balls and paddles, you notice Liam grimacing off into the distance. You follow his line of sight, landing on Topper and Millie drunkenly dancing together across the bar, a bit too close for comfort.

“What is she doing with that geezer,” he mumbles.

“Liam! Jealousy is unbecoming of you,” you gasp in mock disbelief.

“I’m not jealous,” he scoffs, and you quickly realize that he actually is, even though you had just been joking. Your jaw falls slack as you put two and two together. Liam and Millie were always by each other’s side, at school, at the pub, when you were all watching a movie at his apartment a few nights ago. He would tease her relentlessly and his own words rang in your ears If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what. 

“Shut up! Shut up!,” you whisper yell, hand coming to your mouth. “I should have realized this whole time… of course you like Millie! Everything you’ve been telling me you think exists between me and Rafe has actually been about her! She’s your Uno reverse card!” You’re shocking even yourself at these revelations.

“No no no, you can’t use my own words of wisdom against me, that’s not how this works Y/n. So what, maybe I slightly give a shit about Millie? Who cares. Her and I both know that’s never gonna happen. I still stand by everything I said about you and Rafe so don’t think your getting off so easy on that.”

“Then tell me why you’re staring at Millie while Rafe hasn’t so much as glanced my way since the minute Lily Colts got here, hmm?”

“Oh Y/n, Y/n Y/n Y/n,” Liam tuts, shaking his head laughing as he turns to the game your group of four is about to begin. You don’t have the energy to argue with Liam over the matter right now, oblivious to the fact that Rafe had indeed been glancing your way, several times. In fact, he was glancing at you right now, as Liam reached his arm over yours to help you actually hold the paddle the right way. You just hadn’t been glancing back to notice, scared of what you may or may not see between him and Lily if you did. 

—

The night dies down and it’s time for the pilgrimage back to your building. You’re walking with Millie when Liam quickly falls in step with you two. You give him a knowing smirk, to which he responds with a glare behind Millie’s back, but you let the two banter as you fall behind, now walking alone. You stare ahead, eyes mindlessly settling on Lily walking in between Callum and Henry at the front of the pack. You don’t notice the pair of legs that begin moving in pace next to your own. 

“Tonight, by the way,” Rafe’s voice startles you as you jump next to him. He chuckles at the confusion written all over your face. “You asked last night when we’re watching the next episode. And my answer is tonight, L/n,” he states.

“Haven’t you been up since like the crack of dawn? Aren’t you tired?” you ask incredulously.

“Too tired for Game of Thrones? Never,” he scoffs, Liam’s words ringing in your ear. If we really like you, we’re gonna make the time to hang out with you, no matter what.

“Well then tonight it is,” you smile. “Sorry about the french fries last night by the way,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk in front of you, cheeks burning.

“Seriously L/n, talk about a horrible throw. Room for improvement,” he jokes with a comforting smile, saving you from yourself.

“Good game by the way,” you add, grateful for the way he was letting you off. 

“Thanks,” he looks at you, shoving his hands in his pocket. You turn to look at him too, and after a few moments laughter is taking you both apart. Nothing funny was said. Neither of you knew why you were laughing. And yet it felt natural, not an ounce of awkwardness in the air.

As your whole group walks into the building, people begin to peel off, splitting towards staircases and off elevator stops. 

“I’m fucking beat,” yawns Topper, as you and all your flatmates file into your hall. 

“I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight,” Millie yawns in agreement. One by one everyone files off into their rooms. You open your door, backing into yours, Rafe across the hall from you backing into his. Laughter tugs at both your faces once again, as you let your doors close. You manage to change into your sweats and brush your teeth before you hear the light rap on your door. Rafe enters, in a t-shirt and gray sweatpants, your weakness. But you feel comfortable being alone with him now. The Rafe jitters had finally began to subside. 

“Alright L/n, episode 4, you ready for this?” he asks, plopping down in his spot next to you. 

“Oh I’m very ready,” you reply, sitting up to reach for your laptop which was resting by your feet. As you lean back, you find yourself in Rafe’s arm. He had extended it out before you sat back, effortlessly catching you against him. His hand rests casually on your arm, and you gulp, pressing play. You pray he can’t feel the way your heartbeat quickens and your body flushes. So much for those jitters being gone. 

The episode plays, you and Rafe making comments here and there before your chatter eventually dies down, leaving just the sound of the show to fill the room. You can feel Rafe’s body lean further and further down, becoming heavier and breathing slower. You very slowly turn to check, and sure enough he’s fast asleep. You sigh, and shut your laptop, careful not to stir him. You could easily shake him awake, tell him to go to his bed, but for some reason you don’t. You don’t mind him here. In fact, you almost prefer it, his body heat keeping you warm. He had already slept over once before and it clearly hadn’t been a big deal, so what was the harm in letting it happen again? You’re just friends after all, you remind yourself, not sure who you’re trying to convince. And so, the two friends fall asleep in the same bed again. 

---

🏷: @hopebaker​ @pogueslandia​ @mardema​

[perpetual-stories]

How To Fight Writers Block

hello, hello. hope everyone is doing well. as you can all tell, this post will be about how to fight writers block.

it’s really annoying to me when I hear people say “oh you don’t have writers block, you’re just lazy.”

first of all, yes, I am naturally lazy. second of all, how dare you. writing isn’t as easy as many think. granted, all you have to do is write down words on paper, but it’s not always easy to find the right words to express what you are feeling, or what you wish to say.

I have had terrible writer’s block for the last few days and it’s horrible! as a business owner or a small writing store, I have to be ready to write and fulfill my clients’ ideas and orders.

it’s not easy. It takes a heavy toll on my imagination, and digs me a deep pit of blockage, drowning in the lack of originality because of the constant writing and repetition or certain phrases and sentences in different projects.

i am making this post in the hopes to remind myself about over coming the dreaded and sometimes skeptically believed writer’s block.

What is writer’s block?

Yeah, I know. We all know what that is, but let me define it.

is the state of being unable to proceed with writing, and/or the inability to start writing something new

some people believe it to be a real problem, others believe it's “all in your head”

What Causes Writer’s Block?

in the 1970s, clinical psychologists Jerome Singer and Michael Barrios decided to find out

they concluded that there are four broad causes of writer's block:

Excessively harsh self-criticism

Fear of comparison to other writers

Lack of external motivation, like attention and praise

Lack of internal motivation, like the desire to tell one's story

How to overcome writer's block: 20 tips

1. Develop a writing routine:

Author and artist Twyla Tharp once wrote: “Creativity is a habit, and the best creativity is a result of good work habits.”

it might seem counterintuitive

if you only write when you “feel creative,” you're bound to get stuck in a tar pit of writer's block

The only way to push through is by disciplining yourself to write on a regular schedule. It might be every day, every other day, or just on weekends — but whatever it is, stick to it!

2. Use "imperfect" words:

A writer can spend hours looking for the perfect word or phrase to illustrate a concept

You can avoid this fruitless endeavor by putting, “In other words…” and simply writing what you’re thinking, whether it’s eloquent or not

You can then come back and refine it later by doing a CTRL+F search for “in other words.”

3. Do non-writing activities:

one of the best ways to climb out of a writing funk is to take yourself out of your own work and into someone else’s

Go to an exhibition, to the cinema, to a play, a gig, eat a delicious meal

immerse yourself in great STUFF and get your synapses crackling in a different way

Snippets of conversations, sounds, colors, sensations will creep into the space that once felt empty

4. Freewrite through it:

free-writing involves writing for a pre-set amount of time without pause — and without regard for grammar, spelling, or topic. You just write.

The goal of freewriting is to write without second-guessing yourself — free from doubt, apathy, or self-consciousness, all of which contribute to writer's block. Here’s how:

Find the right surroundings. Go somewhere you won't be disturbed.

Pick your writing utensils. Will you type at your computer, or write with pen and paper? (Tip: if you're prone to hitting the backspace button, you should freewrite the old-fashioned way!)

Settle on a time-limit. Your first time around, set your timer for just 10 minutes to get the feel for it. You can gradually increase this interval as you grow more comfortable with freewriting.

5. Relax on your first draft:

Many writers suffer form perfectionism, which is especially debilitating during a first draft

“Blocks often occur because writers put a lot of pressure on themselves to sound ‘right’ the first time. A good way to loosen up and have fun again in a draft is to give yourself permission to write imperfectly.” — editor Lauren Hughes

perfect is the enemy of good,” so don't agonize about getting it exactly right! You can always go back and edit, maybe even get a second pair of eyes on the manuscript

6. Don’t start at the beginning:

the most intimidating part of writing is the start, when you have a whole empty book to fill with coherent words

instead of starting with the chronological beginning of whatever it is you’re trying to write, dive into middle, or wherever you feel confident

7. Take a shower:

Have you ever noticed that the best ideas tend to arrive while in the shower, or while doing other “mindless” tasks?

research shows that when you’re doing something monotonous (such as showering, walking, or cleaning), your brain goes on autopilot, leaving your unconscious free to wander without logic-driven restrictions

showering is my favourite thing to do if I may add

8. Balance your inner critic:

successful writers have in common is the ability to hear their inner critic, respectfully acknowledge its points, and move forward

You don't need to completely ignore that critical voice, nor should you cower before it

you must establish a respectful, balanced relationship, so you can address what's necessary and skip over what's insecure and irrelevant

9. Switch up your tool:

a change of scenery can really help with writer's block. However, that scenery doesn't have to be your physical location — changing up your writing tool can be just as big a help!

if you’ve been typing on your word processor of choice, try switching to pen and paper. Or if you're just sick of Google Docs, consider using specialized novel writing software.

10. Change your POV:

great advice from editor Lauren Hughes: “When blocked, try to see your story from another perspective ‘in the room’ to help yourself move beyond the block. How might a minor character narrate the scene if they were witnessing it? A ‘fly on the wall’ or another inanimate object?

11. Exercise your creative muscles:

Any skill requires practice if you want to improve, and writing is no different! So if you’re feeling stuck, perhaps it’s time for a strengthening scribble-session to bolster your abilities

12. Map out your story:

If your story has stopped chugging along, help it pick up steam by taking a more structured approach — specifically, by writing an outline

13. Write something else:

Though it's important to try and push through writer's block with what you're actually working on, sometimes it's simply impossible

feel free to push your current piece to the side for now and write something new

14. Work on your characters:

It follows that if your characters are not clearly defined, you’re more likely to run into writer’s block

15. Stop writing for readers:

write for yourself, not your potential readers

this will help you reclaim the joy of being creative and get you back in touch with what matters: the story.

this is something I really need to do. because of my etsy business i don't write for fun anymore, but instead as a business and a deadline. i'm going to have to pull out my old crappy wattled fanfics or write some new ones.

16. Try a more visual process:

when words fail you, forget them and get visual. Create mind maps, drawings, Lego structures — ideally related to your story, but whatever unblocks your mind!

17. Look for the root of it:

writer’s block often comes from a problem deeper than simple “lack of inspiration.” So let's dig deep: why are you really blocked? Ask yourself the following questions:

Do I feel pressure to succeed and/or competition with other writers?

Have I lost sight of what my story is about, or interest in where it's going?

Do I lack confidence in my own abilities, even if I've written plenty before?

Have I not written for so long that I feel intimidated by the mere act?

Am I simply feeling tired and run-down?

once you identify what's wrong, it'll be so much easier to fix.

18. Quit the Internet:

If willpower isn’t your strong suit and your biggest challenge is staying focused, try a site blocker like Freedom or an app like Cold Turkey

19. Let the words find you:

meditate, go for a walk, take that shower

Word Palette is a great app that features a keyboard of random words, allowing you to simply click your way to your next masterpiece.

You can also try AI auto-completers like Talk to Transformer, where you can enter a phrase and let the app “guess what comes next.”

even though they often produce nonsense, it's a great way to help that writer's block.

20. Write like Hemingway:

And if your biggest block is your own self-doubt about your prose, Hemingway offers suggestions to improve your writing as you go

it's a pretty cool app if you ask me.

it highlights your sentences (if need be) and makes suggestions on how to improve them!

well, there you have it! a lengthy post on how to fight writer's block. now i just hope i can combat my own soon.

like, comment and reblog if you find this useful! feel free to reblog in instagram and tag me perpetualstories

Follow me on instagram and tumblr for more writing and grammar tips and more!

[immaculatetfs]

Hey! I have a story idea. What if a group of bros decide to go cow tipping on a farm and the farmer is a wizard. He stops them and attaches cow bells to their necks slowly transforming them into cows. Their utters produce muscle milk which he sells in stores.

Can do (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

                                                     Muscle milk

*Animal TF*

Jaques Caleb and Chad had been best friends since starting school together. All three had been quick to meet on the football field, their loud, immature humour making the trio thick as thieves, all the while making the rest of their classmates dismiss them as egg-headed and obnoxious, stereotypical jocks. This bond between these three only strengthened as they grew into their late teens.They spent most of their time together either working out, playing football or partying. There was a rumour that back in the 50’s there had been a tradition for highschool leavers to go cow tipping on their last day, a practice that had been outlawed after perpetrators had mysteriously disappeared. Perhaps it was this that gave Caleb the notion at the school ball afterparty.

“YOOOOO BROOOO We should go cow tipping Broo” he slured

“What? Nah bro well miss the party” replied Chad as he made out with his girlfriend

“WeRe gOnnA MIss ThE pArTY, nah man. It's gonna be a RIOT. Don't you wanna uphold the Greenfield tradition?” Mocked Caleb

“Nah man, come with us , it's gonna be HILARIOUS” Jaques chimed in

“Ugh you guys are such idiots. Seeya babe” Chad gave his girlfriend one last long kiss and the trio left the party’s smell of deodorant and booming music, their heads swimming  with fireball and beer and mouths chuckling as Caleb made ribald remarks of what they would do to the unsuspecting cows.

They chose a field that was about 20 minutes away from their school that just scraped the outskirts of town. They believed that nobody would be looking out as the last caught tipping was ages ago, but still wanted a quick escape. 

After climbing over the wire fence, the three made their way up a hill to the nearest heftier, a large cow with swollen udders and belly, likely late in the stages of pregnancy. 

“Nah guys we shouldn't do this, it's wrong” said Chad, having sobered up on his walk there, but both of his mates ignored him entirely as they usually did. The two snuck up to the side of the slumbering animal, creeping up until they had hands right against her hide. 

Caleb looked left to Jaques, who gave him a stupid grin.

“One……..”

Twooooooooooo”

“STOP” a deep, mature voice commanded. They  froze. Behind them a man had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere

“What are y’all doing on my property this time’a night” he said in a thick southern drawl

“You kids doin’ some cow tipping?”

They were unable to move, each standing like statues in the cold, night air.

“My bad, y'all can move now” he waved his hand

Suddenly they could breathe again

“Sir, We didn't do anything!” pleaded Jaques

“Yeah sir! Nothing!” Caleb paroted 

The stranger sighed. Well I ca……..

“Well do anything, just don't call the cops on us! I have a scholarship and iy that happens...!” Caleb cried out, interupting

For a moment there Caleb thought he saw a sinister sparkle in the strangers eye, but it  was gone as fast as it had appeared, if it was ever there at all

“Well i've been needing work done round here recently, how's that sound?”

The sobered younger men agreed, reasoning  it was better shovel some hay than get caught breaking the law.

“Great, Follow me” 

He led the group to a large shed, heavy with the pungent smell of animals. They could hear cows mooing

I’ll need y’all to stick these round yer necks” the farmer pointed to three huge, steel cowbells, attached to leather harnesses that laying together on the barn floor.

“What?” exclaimed Caleb

“Put it on or do I need to tell the cops what I saw tonight?” the man said darkly

Begrudgingly, the three men lifted up the heavy metal bells and clasped them around their necks, struggling with the weight. 

“Don't we need better fitting ones? This is almost down to my belly button, and it's so heavy as shit!” complained Jaques

“Oh that's gonna right itself now don't you worry kid” the man clicked his fingers and all three of the jocks began to feel queasy. “Now y’all will stay here now wont you? I need to go get some things.” The man walked out of the barn, followed by an *click* as the door was locked.

The three jocks looked at each other, a mixture of fear and confusion on each of their faces. 

Suddenly, Caleb moaned.

“Oh guys, I feel really fucking weird” he said. He felt his balls tight against the fabric of his underpants, and when he looked down he could swear his bulge was bigger

“Guys, what’s happening?” His bulge was definitely getting bigger

“I don't know, but it's happening to me as well!” Jaques stared in horror as his sack grew with exponential speed until became so large it was visible against his baggy workout shorts 

“Ohhhh” moaned Caleb as his jeans tore apart with a RIIIP and his engorged sack spilled out, exposing himself for all his bros to see. 

Bonus pic

“What the fuck is that!” he exclaimed “It looks like a, a …”

“An udder”

Behind them, the farmer had returned with two buckets in hand. He was grinning

“The fuck is happening? I thought we were just gonna shovel some shit and be done?” the panic was clear in Caleb’s voice

“Never said nothing ‘bout that, told y’all that I needed work done. I ain't had no new muscle milk cows for a while, bout time I got myself a breeding pair or two” he smirked at the terrified jocks

“Speaking of” he looked over at Chad, who was growing a bulge of an entirely different sort than Caleb and Jaques. While their balls swelled to inhuman size, his member was growing longer and longer while his balls dropped lower and lower. His dick’s tip thinned, losing its mushroom-shape and becoming slender and pointed. Chad stared at his new member in horror, “I'm becoming a Bull” 

“There's a smart kid! and what are thems bout to be?”

“C..Cows''

The stranger walked over to Caleb, grabbed his member and gave it a firm tug. Orgasmic pleasure rolled over Caleb as thick musky cum squirted out his erect cock from his full sack, causing him to moan

“Hear that? yer gonna be a cow. Looks like you two are coming along nicely, rest of yer new nipples should be coming bout now”

And so they did, pushing out of the two jocks swollen new udders emerged round fleshy nipples, each was a size and thickness that made indistinguishable from what had been their loved cocks.

With the udders fully formed, the farmer tugged the two shell shocked jocks over buckets, his skilled hands milking them simultaneously. At first, hot jets of thick white pungent cum squirted out of their udders, but as the rhythmic tugging and squeezing and massaging continued, the content of these spurts became thinner and turned pink until what they excreted was entirely warm, creamy, muscle milk. The farmer dipped his finger into the liquid for a taste. Satisfied,  he then took the entire bucket and chugged, with each gulp his already toned frame grew harder and harder, his muscles expanding. “ ahh always best fresh.” he exclaimed, wiping his mouth of the warm, rich, creamy substance. 

the already muscular jocks began to bulk as well, though not solely with muscle. Their stomachs, pecs and asses swelled bulbously with muscle that was then smothered with a thick layer of wobbling fat. This expansion left the clothes of the men as little more than rags. Their fingers merged together, nails thickening and darkening as their thumbs sunk into their hands, all the while the same was happening to their feet concealed by their worn sneakers. Soon in place of hands and feet, the jocks had hooves 

As his body bulked up further, Caleb’s centre of gravity began to change. For a precious few seconds he wobbled and flailed, until ungraceful falling onto all fours. Try as he might, he would never again stand up. Jaques had better luck, keeping balance until he felt a harsh shove on his thick muscle ass and he too fell on his new hooves, humiliated.

Chad’s bull cock had been hard and throbbing all the while watching this, pumping him to the brim with raging bull hormones. He was overcome by the tide of  testosterone, surrendering to base animal instinct. Nothing mattered save eating sleeping and fucking. Gone was all of his higher brain functions His body expanded thicker and thicker as he grew to a size that put his two  bros to shame. From his head he felt a splitting pain as horns flushed out through his skin. No longer capable of speech, he roared in pain, a sound that deepened as it went on, becoming entirely animal as his vocal chords rearranged. He fell onto all fours, his feet and hands having been replaced with hooves and raw muscle.

As all three stood on all fours, the transformation accelerated. They felt as their organs rearranged in their massive bellies, their stomach splitting into five chambers as to better digest huge amounts of food. They lost control of their bowles, leaving piles of filth behind the widened holes. The taints of Jaques and Caleb sucked into their bodies, changing into the fertile wombs of muscle milk cows. The pheromones that they released drove the new bull into a frenzy and he mounted Caleb, who had only moments before been his best bro.

“I’ll leave you three too it, see ya tomorrow bright an early for milking” the farmer left the barn, not even bothering to even close the door. 

The skin of the young men began changing, it hardened, thickening into a rough and thick hide as short, pink hair sprouted across it. The last thing to change was their heads, noses moistened, becoming wide flat across their faces, eyelashes grew and hair fell from their heads. The men’s ears elongated into cow ears, being covered with the same hair that was now thick across their bodies. Their mouths pushed out, becoming snouts as their screams of lust as they mated lowered to base, animalistic grunts, moans then finally moo’s. Finally, Jaques and Caleb began to lose their minds, Chad having already succumbed to his base animal lust. Memories of being human disappeared from them, lives at school and at home, their crushes, their best and worst games everything was replaced with memories of gorging on grass, being milked (or mounting) and restfully sleeping in the barn. 

Despite this, there is evidently still present a bond between the three .The two new cows are inseparable. The same might be said of our new bull, though his mind would treat anything with a hole as an intimate friend

The Muscle milk produced at Green Valley farms is the best protein supplement on the market. Made free range, muscle milk cows are cared for in their every want to get the best possible product for you!

[you-show-me-love]

How Tami Met Mickey

I really just wanted to write a headcanon of when Tami understood Mickey's existence since we were deprived of their interaction in the show okay bye

Tami was going to kill Lip. She was going to kill him and leave Fred on the dirty floor of the Gallagher house and she was going to disappear from their lives, head out west and hide out in a hair salon under a false identity, because Lip swore up and down Fred's teething ring was here somewhere and the kid was screaming his head off and had been for the last hour.

"Where the hell is it?" She whined, feeling like crying herself as she pushed aside random junk on the floor near where they sometimes set up the playpen. 

Mickey descended the stairs into the kitchen, still in his tank top and boxers even though it was well past noon. He grimaced at the sound of the crying baby. 

"Will you shut that kid up? Some of us are trying to sleep." 

Tami rolled her eyes, disrupting her search of the coffee table covered in crayons and paper. She loved Ian, she did, but she couldn't comprehend why the sweetest Gallagher had up and married this surly, foul mouthed convict. She chose to ignore him most of the time, especially after Lip told her he had been in for attempted murder of one of their family members.

"Believe me if I could I would but he's teething and I can't find his teething ring anywhere and Lip said it was here in this mess somewhere..." 

She was rambling, losing her sanity as Fred screamed louder and pulled a fist full of her blonde hair. Maybe Mickey could put her out of her misery since he apparently had no problem killing family members. Afraid to ask in case he took her seriously she shifted Fred to her other hip and pushed her fingers into the couch cushions, trying not to think of what they might come in contact with in the process.

Mickey watched the tall blonde with apathy as he chugged orange juice straight from the carton. He belched loudly and moved back out of sight, running some water and opening the refrigerator. A few more minutes of fruitless searching and Tami decided to give up. She turned to head to the backdoor only to find Mickey there, a wash cloth in hand. She watched, rapt, as Mickey pushed the chilled, damp cloth into Fred's open, wailing mouth, watched as her son clamped down immediately and began to suck. Her ears rang in the blissful silence and she stared at Mickey in awe. 

Mickey wasn't looking at her, he was cradling the back of Fred's head and running his thumb along his baby soft hair, a small almost sad smile on his face.

"How did you know to do that?" Tami couldn't help but ask. 

"My kid used to cry like that, had to keep this shit on standby for him, twenty-four seven."

Mickey seemed to come back to himself, dropping his hand from Fred's head and stepping back from mother and son. He was back up the stairs before Tami couldn't say anything.

==

Tami had stopped by too late to have breakfast with the Gallaghers, Lip giving her the extra hour of much needed sleep after Fred kept her up most of the night. She accepted Franny's hug around her knees and gave Fred a tickle and a kiss to the forehead. He smiled around his squishy teething ring and wiggled in the high chair. 

Debbie paused her cleaning to pull Tami's plate from the microwave and Tami decided to ask Debbie something that had been on her mind since yesterday.

"So, Mickey has a kid?"

Debbie looked up at her, face twisted in confusion, but she nodded. 

"Yeah, Yevgeny. Why?"

Tami didn't know how to answer that. Why did she want to know? Maybe it was because of the obvious.

"But…he's gay."

Debbie rolled her eyes.

"Gay people can have kids." She seethed, indicating to her own mini-me. She shoulder checked Tami on her way upstairs muttering bitch under her breath as she did so.

==

Fred had been just put down and Lip and Tami were laying in bed, trying to decide if they should use this opportunity to fuck or to sleep. Lip made the decision for them when he pulled off his shirt and rolled onto Tami.

They were kissing, hands roaming, but Tami's mind was on someone else entirely. The trail of kisses Lip was leaving down her body stopped as she asked him what had been on her mind.

"So, Mickey has a kid?" 

"Uhhh, yeah." Lip affirmed, looking up at Tami in confusion. "With a Russian hand-whore." He concluded with a light chuckle.

"What?!" Tami sat up, Lip further away from his destination. He sighed and joined her at the head of the bed. 

"You good Tamietti?" Lip asked as he watched his girlfriend's face pass through a range of emotions. She eventually shook her head. Lip licked his lips and leaned closer to her, keeping his voice low even though it was only the two of them.

"Look, it's a touchy subject for Ian and Mickey both. Broke Ian's heart to see him marry her. Then Ian stole the baby-"

"Wait wait wait." Tami interrupted, too loud considering their own sleeping baby was just one room over. "Mickey was married before? Ian stole a baby? What-"

"It's best if you don't know just...don't bring it up okay?"

Tami nodded, accepting a few more soft kisses from Lip before they both settled into bed and fell asleep while they had the chance.

==

Tami couldn't not bring it up, not when Ian was right there, bouncing Fred on his hip and making silly faces. Tami had to get to work but she could spare a moment to ask what had been eating away at her for a week now.

"Ian, can I ask you something about Mickey?"

Ian regarded her hesitantly but nodded. She let out a breath and resolved to satisfy her need to know once and for all.

"He has a kid. He's gay but he has a kid and used to be married to a woman? And you stole his baby? I mean, what is the story here?" She ended with a hysterical giggle, arms smacking against her thighs in exasperation.

Ian went paler than usual, his chin jutting out in a hard line. He stared at his nephew, watched his tiny fingers wrap around one of his own. Tami swallowed at the dark look on Ian's face, sudden regret for not following Lip's advice filling her.

"Back when we were kids Mickey's dad caught us. The homphobic prick beat Mickey bad and forced him to fuck a woman in front of me." Ian's voice was rough as sandpaper only making Tami feel worse.

"Mickey got her knocked up, married her, thought we could still bang in secret, but I took off. I came back and we tried to make it work but then I had a manic episode and took off with Yevgeny. I wanted him to be mine, be ours. My brain just ran away with the idea."

Tami's knees were weak and she backed herself into the nearest chair. She knew about Ian's disorder, but had never witnessed it, never heard them talk about it much at all, and she understood why looking at Ian now, seeing how much guilt and pain he internalized over what he did when he had no control. 

"Svetlana filed for divorce while Mickey was in prison, married some old rich bastard, and disappeared. Mickey's never tried to find them, don't think either of us deserve to at this point."

Ian sighed, finally looking Tami in the eye. She could only stare helplessly back in the wake of his words. Mickey wasn't just some convict Ian brought home after his stint in prison after all. Mouth dry she figured she had already dug herself this deep, what's a bit more.

"He really go to prison for trying to kill your sister?"

Ian made a face of knowing, standing taller and squaring his shoulders, jutting his chin even further in defence. 

"Yeah, he did." And with a bit of softening creeping into his hard features he whispered, "He did it for me. Because he loves me."

Tami left a few minutes later, assured by Ian he was fine to watch Fred until Lip came home. She totally cut a client's hair uneven as her mind drifted back to Mickey and what she now knew about the man before today. Turns out she knew jack shit.

Now she knew he was so much more. 

==

Tami threw open the front door of the Gallagher home, Fred crying in her ear after refusing to take his afternoon nap. Two heads turned at the commotion. Quickly Ian halfway off the couch to rescue his brother's girlfriend. Tami ignored him entirely and dropped Fred in Mickey's lap.

"He needs some more of that Mickey magic." Tami explained as the husbands stared wide-eyed between mother, crying son, and each other.

She left them to take a much needed bathroom break. After she was done she grabbed a beer and leaned against the doorway, watching the way Fred squirmed in Mickey's arms as he held him close and rubbed his back. Ian watched the pair with adoration before looking up at Tami and mouthing a simple thank you.

And that's how Tami Tamietti met the real Mickey Milkovich.