#my tags are gonna be a real hoot)

[flowersandbirdsflyingfree]

Better add this MatPat guy to my list of people to look out for... He sure seems hazardous to my health! (X)

[mastcrmarksman]

I'm not online yet. . . . Been continuing my read of Avengers, and opinion time.

I'd say there's definitely more than doesn't hold up as well from the 70s than other eras, like 60s avengers has it rough patches, but there's definitely (the entirety of Clint's first stint) with the Avengers that for the most part holds well or at least a fun laugh to read.

I got to around #170s (korvac saga) and the year is 1977, the Jim Shooter stuff and few one-two writers, and it's a little rougher. It's not awful, the Korvac stuff that's focused on Korvac pov better than not. Now see, I knew that 1977 and the 70s was an era where Marvel was losing some popularity and on a slight decline, change of writers and staff, and such and that definitely shows.

I will say for 70s Avengers, the Kang saga with Clint in the Old West? That was fun, which was Steve Englehart, which he did leave during the 70s and for 8 years. Now I'm just reading exclusively the Avenhees run (I'll be dipping my toes in other stuff later date).

So as a Clint writer, Clint is kind of there but not really, he's fine. Harder character to screw up in that decade, but I mean Clint and a cowboy is a fun thing, and it's so silly he leaves the Avengers to show said cowboy around the present. The stuff that's really rough, I don't think Jim Shooter did a incredible job at highlighting the characters who were the Avengers, in their moments and saves. I don't think any character particularly shines in the narrative, although I will credit that Beast and Hellcat are fun additions.

I also additionally think as a newly re-christened (I always loved Hank, pow reminding me how EMH did him good) Hank fan? The 70s do not hold up for him and Janet at all, it's rough, it's bad, and so the YJ suit introduction will always be a rough part of the 60s, but his actual character from the Avengers 60s to early 70s until he and Jan left (again), like especially when it was just Clint and Hank And Jan as a team? Hank was a decent character. 70s also in general really poor about mental health, and so the Hank character suffers. Like he has a lost of memory not shown why and turns back to Ant-Man attacking the Avengers, Janet reveals she was going to a psychiatrist for Hank (not for herself but for hank instead of hank), faces Ultron, and then Tony has a machine to fix Hank's memories loss, fand then he's like fine and peachy and back in YJ with no explanation, in like two issues after, when before the whole memory loss return ant-man there were several issues displaying Hank's disinterest in heroics and being an avenger, and a legitimate interpersonal conflict with that, which just reburried under the rug or removed from the character after he suffers another mental breakdown.

That's an era thst definitely needed deserved some cleaning up, and where a retxoj would not be the worst thing, which Busiek's run in vol 3 of Avengers does attempt to smooth over, which will be lost when Geoff Johns (he gets somewhat of a pass since he just kept things the same) and Chuck Austen (namely Chuck Austen; I just loathe his writing and decisions i think hes a poor writer for a lot of characgers) take over.

[qkmlh]

Jesus’ been on indefinite music hiatus post Judas betrayal but still actively interacts with fans irl and some of the posted interactions are ducking wild but wholesome?? Hard to explain but y’all should check out @/t4rsvs_s4vl ‘s thread!! Apparently Jesus is the reason OP decided to become a trainee (seen netizens say the account might’ve prev been made by the newest rookie Paul 👀)

Ngl,,,considering how craaazy the scandal was it’s impressive how strong D12CIPLES’ popularity has been

Also!! It’s just really cute how the members still talk a lot about Jesus :(( Like you can genuinely tell how much they miss him 🥺💕

[bookish-karina]

Writing Share / Last Line / First Kiss Friday Tag!

thank you for all the tags @the-golden-comet (X2), @drchenquill , @willtheweaver , @rotting-moon-writes , and @gioiaalbanoart !

ahhhh okay so since I was tagged in a variety of these, I'm combining them! I've been playing around with how Jace and Maeve's first kiss is going to happen. I have so many ideas for this since it's a slow burn (and I'm little miss impatient when it comes to the slow burn burning) and the opportunities are limitless, please give me some feedback or a way you think it should happen (whether it's in a comment, reblog tags, ask, or private message)! bonus points if you've been reading the chapters as I've published them on AO3, which I know many of you have been (which thank you so so so much for all the love and support you have been giving me and Your Average Fangirl !! whenever I'm having a bad day at work, you never fail to make me want to cry happy tears at your comments, reblogs, kudos, etc)

without further ado, here's a first kiss scene <3

“Truth or dare?” Lucas asks, a small smirk dancing on the edges of his lips.

“Dare,” the word is out of my mouth before I can fully think of anything remotely gross he could dare me to do, being out in the middle of nowhere and all.

A full grin takes over his face as he says, “I dare you to sit in Jace’s lap,” he points towards where Jace sits to the right of me, “and make out with him for one full minute.”

“No way,” I laugh nervously. There’s no way he just suggested I make out with Jace. “That’s not gonna happen,” I shake my head.

Kai and Gabriel both laugh, shaking their heads at Lucas for such an inappropriate dare this soon in the game.

“You don’t have to do that,” Jace says to me before turning to Lucas, giving him a look I can’t decipher. “She doesn’t have to do that.”

“Come on,” Lucas taunts, “it’s just a dare.”

It’s just a dare. Except it’s not. I’m a fangirl, I’ve probably dreamt of this situation hundreds of times. But to actually do it? That’s too much pressure. Too much pressure to be perfect. In my head? I’m the perfect kisser. In reality? I could be mediocre. What if I ruin kissing for Jace?

“It’s just a dare,” Kai echoes, shrugging a shoulder as I meet his eyes.

“Come on, do it,” Lucas whines and I know he won’t drop it until I do.

With a deep, steadying breath, I get up and slowly walk over to Jace. His eyes widen as I lightly place my hand on his left shoulder.

“It’s just a dare, right? Meaningless?” I add the last part for his benefit, my heart beating so hard I swear I can feel the vibrations in my fingertips.

He nods, wetting his lips.

For some unknown reason, my heart sinks at his response. This is going to be meaningless. It doesn’t matter if I kiss him tonight or a year from now, I’ll only ever be a fan. A friend at most.

I gently crawl onto Jace’s lap and he moves so that I’m straddling him, my legs dangling on either side of his hips. His friends start hooting and hollering as I remind myself one last time that this means absolutely nothing.

Then, I lower my lips onto his.

The kiss starts slow, gentle, but my heart never slows down as his hands roam my body. His fingers dive into my hair as he pulls me impossibly closer, deepening the kiss. I wrap my arms around his neck as I lean into him, letting him take control.

His hands slide down my back and his fingers tickle the bare skin on my lower back, causing me to shiver at the sensation.

Jace smiles against my lips before pulling away and kissing a line down my jaw, where he finds the sweet spot on my neck and starts peppering it with kisses.

A timer goes off loudly, causing me to jump away from him and land harshly on the ground in front of his chair.

My chest heaves up and down in quick breaths as I refuse to look up at Lucas, Kai, and Gabriel, who are all laughing and clapping as if they’ve watched the best show.

I run my fingers through the grass, reminding myself of what’s real. What just happened, everything I just felt, it wasn’t real. It was meaningless. It practically never happened.

After a few more minutes of trying to calm my heart, I get up and walk quickly to the tour bus before slamming the door shut and burying myself into the covers in my bunk. Embarrassing. That was so embarrassing.

basically what I was going for with this scene is that Lucas knows there's something going on between Maeve and Jace (whether that's from mere observation or Jace confiding in him) and he knows nothing will happen unless he forces their hand a little. he bands together with Kai and Gabriel to egg them on into doing this, not thinking that he may be harming what could've happened naturally. he's definitely the golden retriever of the group, though!

one song I really associate with this scene for some reason is Dead Inside by LØLØ, which I'll link here :)

if you want another version of their first kiss, let me know!!

also no pressure tagging @romances-not-tragedies @wyked-ao3 @katenewmanwrites @kaylinalexanderbooks + an open tag

[piastrinorris]

WIP wordsearch game!

tagged by @stargyles! thank you friend <3

my words were: hold, freckle, moment, echo, soft, look

from a couplement of proud compare:

"Oh, drat, I knew this'd happen," you groan as you watch heavy translucently silver streaks of rain thrash against the pavement. "I knew it, I saw the clouds, and I foolishly remained an optimist."

"I shouldn't say that was ever something to regret," Leonard quips back, a smile just gently tugging at the corners of his lips. "Besides, what better excuse to bend your ear further about what we just listened to than while accompanying you home?"

You start a chain of half-words, fighting with yourself over how best to turn down his offer out of politeness, but his silent opening of his umbrella, holding it over your head and falling into your step defeats you into a simple, grateful nod of thanks.

from the untitled pirate!ralph au:

"For crying out loud, Ralph, what are you doing?!" Victoria hisses, clutching the wall behind her in terror.

But Ralph doesn't feel that fear. He slowly steps forward, heel to toecap, his eyes transfixed on the figure stood atop the overturned carriage, long coat billowing majestically around their ankles as though it were staged. Using a sword as an accent to whatever it is that they're yelling, it's unintelligible amongst all the riots surrounding him. As another carriage gets lit ablaze, it illuminates the face of this... Pirate? From the stories he was told as a child? They're real?

In that moment, Ralph can only tell his sister one thing: "I think I'm in love."

"Oh, for God's sake, Ralph, you fall in love six times a week! You'll find another in an hour's time, now get back, you'll get us killed!"

"Quite frankly, sister, I couldn't bloody care less," is the last thing Ralphs says while in Victoria's earshot. He's not completely stupid, mind - he scopes out the closest, safest place to watch as the entire market gets pillaged, in total adoration. Now this, he thinks to himself, this is the life!

from but it rains, and i rise

A girl from the cabin next to Chrissy's runs up to them both. "Ms. Marnie! Ms. Marnie!"

"Drop the formalities, kid, what's up?"

"Our bedsheets are gone! All gone! I even checked all the other cabins! All the girls' beds are empty!" The young girl wails.

Chrissy's heart sinks through the ground, and everything around her turns dark. Those sheets were her safety net, her one remnant of home in her first foray away from it, from the parents who've always told her she's nothing without them. They'd warned her she'd hate it here, and now, only a day in, she believes it more than ever.

Suddenly, a chorus of hooting and hollering echoes from where the boys are. Yelling and laughing, choruses of "Higher!", and then splashing. Marnie feels Chrissy tense beneath her and quickly finishes her braid, tying it off and squeezing her little camper's shoulder. "Hey," she whispers, "I'll go get your sheets, 'kay?"

"I'm coming," Chrissy states defiantly, standing herself up and marching alongside her counsellor, a pint-sized shadow.

By the time they get near, one of the male counsellors has figured out what's going on and is berating them. Chrissy sees one boy in particular is still hanging onto the makeshift swing he's made out of Chrissy's sheets. She tugs on Marnie's shirt. "Who's that?"

Marnie narrows her eyes and kisses her teeth as she tries to focus that far ahead. "Hmm, judging by that head of hair, I'm gonna guess that's Steve Harrington."

"Marnie?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate Steve Harrington."

from a couplement of proud compare: (again lol)

"It must be nice, you know," you muse through an unamused laugh. "Having the freedom to study whatever you like as a hobby, rather than being forced to make it your profession." Your tone gets softer as your words become more vulnerable. "Am I so unremarkable that my intelligence is only of use if I learn simply to teach others? A Plain Jane without a claim?"

Leonard stammers through a frown, "If it may please you to learn this from a relative stranger, I think you're far from unremarkable. In fact, this has been the most stimulating conversation I've had in years."

You inhale sharply. "Please forgive my sudden outburst there, you weren't to see that side of me. Especially since we are... Relative strangers, as you say, I'm the picture of embarrassment right now."

"Not in the slightest. If more of us wore our hearts on our sleeves, perhaps the world would be a better place," Leonard looks over at you with a hopeful smile that you just can't help but return.

"Now look who's the reckless optimist," you tease, and his loud laughter, the kind that erupts from deep within, fills your ears with a sweeter sounding symphony than anything that orchestra could have played.

from cheerscoops week day 2:

As her friends excitedly pour their cups of punch, Chrissy scans the crowd around them; partly to gauge who’s here, partly to see if there’s a spot where she and her friends can hang out around people that all three of them like. That’s when she spots him. 

It wasn’t unusual to have a crush on Steve Harrington. Everyone had a crush on Steve Harrington. But everyone seemed to be far more okay with the fact he’s dating Nancy Wheeler now that it’s been a year. Everyone except Chrissy. She doesn’t want her stomach to twist into a knot whenever she sees him, especially so obviously dressed as Joel Goodson from Risky Business. She looks down at her far more childish costume, suddenly feeling as though she should have insisted that she and her friends plan something way more mature than this.

It almost looks as though he’s dancing with himself, since his sunglasses make it look as though his gaze is somewhere far different than it really is. She doesn’t want to feel her insides burn when Nancy comes into view wearing a matching Lana costume. She doesn’t want to be consumed with jealousy. And yet, here she is, grabbing and slamming her first drink down her throat quicker than it was poured for her, before refilling her own cup and leading her friends over to the other side of the house, burying Steve from her field of vision as best as she can.

no presh: @pedgito @quinnsmunson @wordscomehither @keerysquinn @heroeddiemunson @roykentt

your words to try and find your WIPs are: sweet, deal, touch, wish, secret

[h0oty]

NEW PINNED POST :3

☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆Hooty/Sirius/Pickle/Whatever☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆

☆It/Hoot (they/them OK just not preferred) ☆

✧ 19 / palestinian-american / autistic + plural + xenogender ✧

☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆

I LOVE GETTING ASKS AND REQUESTS I try my best to reply to them on time send me words

☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆LINKS ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆

art tag / mlp redesigns / instagram / toyhouse

ko-fi

☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ INTRO ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆

Hi my name is Pickle and i am a weird autistic bird thing. I am aware hooty is a cartoon character (and i love him dearly) but my username is a coincidence dont sue me disney!!!!!!

I am a DID system host. I don't post about this often but to give some context as to why I refer to myself as a bird rather than a human LOL

I draw stuff! You probably know me from MLP art if you're on here but i work on all sorts of projects (i need to post more fr) please feel free to ask me about anything whenever i love it

I'd love to do art professionally some day, but for now im just a guy Feel free to send a dm at any time but keep in mind i have the social skills of a wet piece of bread and i might get too shy to answer. u have my explicit permission to spam me until i reply /gen

If you like my art, I do pwyw comms on my ko-fi, they start at $5! I can draw anything :3

^ u can also dm me if you don't have ko-fi but are interested...

BYF under the cut

Before you follow:

i don't have a real dni because no one respects it. if youre a creep or we disagree on important morals i will block you

this is not a safe space for bigotry (racism, lgbtphobia, ect.) and this extends to things like "contradictory labels" of lgbt people. (basically, idc if someone is a 'mspec lesbian' or whatever thats their choice and gender is made up!!!!)

i use my art to cope and therefore may explore dark topics in my art. im going to start posting more of whatever i want so if you need something tagged please lmk! anything generally agreed as upsetting will already have a warning

that being said i do NOT tag HEALED scars, deformities, or amputations. i believe bodies should not need to be censored like that its the same as saying "cw freckles" ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ Not a formal DNI because I know people like this aren't gonna listen but I'll probably block you if:

you're proship OR antiship* ( i obviously dont condone proshipping BUT i don't condone harassing them either, as they're usually misguided kids or traumatized. its always better to let ppl know WHY stuff is bad and help them grow rather than just saying they all suck and should die.)

zionist (im palestinian why r you here)

believe in or condone "sfw fetish" content (this does not mean liking it means posting kink art with no warnings where kids can access it because its ""sfw""/non-sexual PLS KEEP KIDS SAFE ONLINE GUYS!!!)

☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆ ☆⁎⁺˳✧༚*༚✧˳⁺⁎☆

also note that among various horrors i have BPD so i can get emotionally driven and impulsive. i have gotten a lot better w/ it and am making efforts not to but sometimes i will vagepost on a whim if something upsets me or get argumentative with obvious anon trolls . i am working on it just hit me with a "stop that" if im being wacky

[madamestephanie]

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?  — Snape, obviously. 💚🖤

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?  — Choco. 🤤

✨ Do you have any nicknames?  — My friends call me “Tussaud” all the time, because I always liked to behave in a sophisticated manner in public. It came from Marie Tussaud, of course.

🎵 Last song you listened to?  — Versus - Feel me.

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?  — Oh YES. 😏🔥💕

😏 Are you on discord?  — I was, but not anymore. I don’t have the time.

💛 Do you have any piercings?  — None.

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?  — The way they treat people when they are in their most unfortunate position.

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?  — Whoopie pie, but make the filling chocolate foam with forest fruits sauce.

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?   — Kitties all the way! 🐈‍⬛

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?  — Headphones at home, buds outdoors.

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?  — “Good night, granny.” 💕

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?  — Your pineal gland creates an anti-cancerous substance for your body at night during sleep.

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?  — Hoot hoot motherf*ckers! 🤣🤣🤣

🧸 Favorite place to nap?  — Fav place is my own bed, but anywhere comfy will do.

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?  — No, but I support them! 🙌🏻

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.  — Passionate, creative, intelligent.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?  — Jeans.

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?  — Anything chocolate-y combined with fruits.

🧡 A color you can’t stand?  — Dull, dirty colors. (ex. khaki)

💎 What’s your most prized possession?  — My hand-bound, decorated fanfiction books.

☕ Coffee or tea?  — I drink coffee almost daily, but out of necessity only. I prefer a nice fruity tea anytime.

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?  — Heath hen.

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?  — Approximately 1 year.

🌴 Desert island item?  — Sharp pocket knife or phone.

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.  — Classy, elegant, precise. Colorful, passionate, comforting. Ambitious, but keeper of balance. 

🔮 What’s your dream job?  — Writer or painter.

💙 Relationship status?  — In a relationship 😊.

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.  — Black jeans with an elegant form-fitting top. Preferably purple, and made of delicate material. Black, simple, mid-heel shoes.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?  — Many many.

🤎 What color is your hair?  — Chocolate brown.

💌 Do you talk to yourself?  — Like the ultimate patient escaped from an asylum 🤣 jk, sometimes I do.

💄 Do you wear makeup?  — Unfortunately I’m allergic to many products, so no. Maximum some lipstick on rare occasions.

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?  — “It really shows, that you come from a family of geniuses.” I got this from my teacher in high school who was also an acquaintance of ours. I performed really well on my final exams, and it felt extremely good to receive these words from her before stepping out in the real world. Never gonna forget this compliment. 

💞 @ your favorite blog. Gently tagging 

@giosnape @smilingformoney @snapeysister @mamawolfsmith87 @snapecentric @ravenshavenn

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[breathingliifearc]

>v<  good morning! Wish you all a great Sunday! :D 

[friendandphoe]

/deep sigh

[tteokdoroki]

May I request some hawks headcanons please? 🥺👉👈 I love when people talk about his lil bird like traits or tendencies! I could totally see him cooing and making noises while cuddling or when his girlfriend is sad! He’d totally make a nest on his big ass bed and find random things to give to his girlfriend! You can add some NSFW too if you want! I just love hawks with bird tendencies thank you <3

— bird tendencies w/ keigo takami

⇝ pairing(s): keigo takami x gn!reader

⇝ rating: mature, 18+.

⇝ genre: smut, fluff.

⇝ warning(s): please read ! this request has been split into sfw and nsfw so please read with caution. unprotected sex ( please wear protection ) oral sex ( male receiving ), male masturbation, mentions of rut, breeding kink, cumplay, dry humping and overstimulation.

⇝ author’s note(s): wew its been a while!! sorry that this took so long but im super excited to be back and posting requests, they’ll slowly be rolling out over the coming weeks so i hope you’re all excited!! i really liked writing this one and hope you don’t mind that i made it gender neutral! 

⇝ masterlist | requests

sfw !!

okay so we all know keigo is just one giant walking man bird

and one thing about make birds is that they can’t differentiate between reflections and real life, so every time keigo walks past a mirror in your apartment

he thinks it’s another male bird CHALLENGING him for the right to court you

sometimes you wake up to like a whole bunch of hooting like ??? what the fuck ???

so you get up and just see the big dummy squaring up to himself in the mirror HDJSJD HELP

“yn get behind me ! this mother fucker tried to break in !!”

“kei baby, that’s just your reflection.”

“oh.”

defo PUFFS up his wings when you’re talking to someone he doesn’t like.

he’s your big bad bird man and he’s going to protect you!!

because he’s a pro hero he doesn’t really get to see you during the week :( so while your out working he often leaves stuff on your front porch / balcony as a gift

birds love shiny things so it’s often a necklace, a diamond, a bracelet— anything shiny that catches his eye 🥺 you get it

you always call him after and tell him not to spend so much money on you but he claims it doesn’t hurt his pockets ( he must be earning big buck as the number two as well )

“keigo? did you even CHECK the price tag on this necklace??”

“kkrkrkrk can’t hear you babe Krkrkrk you’re breaking up !! *scrunches up paper* too much static will call you later bye!”

like you said, when he senses that you’re sad he’ll often build a nest for you to come home too

fills it with all your favourite snacks and pretty rocks that reminded him of you.

literally tucks you under his wing and sings you a little birdie song to help you sleep 🥺

will probably accidentally wake you up in the morning by cooing :(

but it’s okay cos he brought you breakfast !!

it totally wasn’t a dead rabbit that he caught you lol

nsfw !!

like any bird, keigo goes through a rut.

when you first started dating he tried to keep it away from you but you ended up going over to his to check on him anddd

there he was, legs spread out wide to jerk himself to orgasm.

and ofc you stayed to help.

gets really possessive of you when leading up to his rut— doesn’t let you leave his sight and hates when you come back from work smelling like other males.

when you’re not around or are away he sends you audio recordings of him fucking pillows, cocksleevs, fleshlights anything he can think of to get some release.

pls just get to this man as soon as you can

fucks you from behind on his bed, cumming on your ass and back until all he can smell is his sex on you.

“look at you baby bird, covered in my fucking cum...you look so fucking delicious.”

will literally hump your leg and end up creaming in his pants when he’s too far gone.

makes you suck him off to clean it up after.

even through his haze he’ll do his best to pleasure you, stimulating your sex or eating you out before hand.

primal urge to have you filled and stuffed with his cum, in your sex or your mouth he doesn’t care.

can go from hours of slow grinding and teasing you to making the both of you cum in a matter of minutes.

his wings always spread out w i d e when he blows his load.

he’s super super vocal too, will whine so brokenly and prettily and but also never stops with dirty talk NEVER

“gonna fuckin take that cock baby? yea? want me to fuck up those insides?” 

cums inside you or on your ass. no in between.

he doesn’t like to waste it okay :(

you have to swallow the whole load if it’s in your mouth, he wants you to fucking savour the taste !!

if you let some drip he’ll defo fuck your mouth again, cream in it and make you hold the cum in your mouth while makes you ride him to over sensitivity <3

leaves bruises and bites all over you and then ends up kissing each and every one of them after his rut.

WHEN EYE SAY YOU ARE MARKED FOR DAYSSS

always cleans you up with a warm bath and plenty of water for you both to drink :(

literally takes the best care of his baby bird, he loves you so much.

[actualbird]

tot ao3 fic recs part 5: character studies or just any fic that made me go, "damn, author knows/interprets this character AMAZINGLY!!!"

previous tot fic recs post can be found at the very bottom of my tot masterlist

these are fave fics ive read that made me further Understand the tot character in question, that opened my eyes or delved deeper into an already visible trait, that well and truly studied tot characters like a bugs under a microscope (affectionate).

all 6 fics here feature no ships and are completed

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it waits for you by quarterweeb

“I hope you liked the city; it’s a favorite of mine.” Artem nodded, and the old woman smiled indulgently. “Did you visit Vienna, too?” - Inspired by Billy Joel's "Vienna."

focus on artem, outsider pov

this fic is the most recent one on this list that i read and oh my god, it made me actually cry. real tears, yo. in the span of 1.5k words, artem wing was gently pried open and told the exact kindness he NEEDS to hear and also will have the MOST trouble believing. the prose here is so like, beautifully simple, just an everyday conversation that can happen to any of us. but then there are lines of dialog that happen that artem is never gonna forget.

and also im never gonna forget a very specific line here. it's been etched into my BRAIN. i wont spoil it tho, GO READ THIS! ESP IF UR AN ARTEM ENJOYER!!!

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artblock by quarterweeb

There’s the sound of some slapping, and then a switch flicks on. Cody blinks against the light, although it’s still kinda dim. The whole hallway looks...gross. It looks gross! The walls and the floors are just gray-brown concrete with little posters and stuff hung up to make it look less like a jail. In front of him is a guy with normal clothes on and dog tags. “You look like an asshole,” Cody says, because it's true and his parents aren’t around. - Cody Teller is locked in the depths of the Stellis Art Gallery, when some random guy comes out of nowhere to help him out.

focus on marius, outsider pov

yo, i think quarterweeb is a master of outsider pov by this point. this is another one of her fics and it's SO DELIGHTFUL!! LITTLE KID POV and thru this pov the fic takes us thru this like, rlly sincere snapshot of who marius is when hes connected over something he loves: art. thru just the interaction in here, a very clear understanding of marius shines thru even if the fic isnt going too "deep" so to speak.

all in all, this is funny and very earnest read!!

---

Two Degrees (of Separation) by samandspam

“... After all, I have two doctorate degrees, whereas Artem has only one.” Sure, he only had a doctorate in law, but he had managed to pass an exam that had a one percent pass rate with flying colors. He may have the patience and goodwill of a saint, but Neil and Celestine had honed on his subtle pettiness. But such was the saying: you should always lookout for the quiet ones. or alternatively: Artem is a petty guy who does not take lightly to being called out without reason.

focus on artem, comedy

who says character studies have to be "serious" all the time? not sam cuz this fic is a frigging HOOT. showcases an artem wing that, under what many think is a wooden sign that says No Fun Allowed, is a person who actually is Very Fun Allowed (Because Of Spite). sam is super great at taking what you "expect" a character to do and then turning that on its head in a way that still completely fits, and that specialty is v much highlighted here!

v much recommend if you want something lighthearted!!

---

Penne for your thoughts? by samandspam

"If you really want to make a friend, go to someone’s house and eat with him... The people who give you their food give you their heart." — Cesar Chavez or alternatively: artem makes food for the nxx. a series of three (maybe four) drabbles where artem makes food for marius, vyn, and luke.

focus on all nxx boys, comedy, found family

i like to call this fic "i cant believe pasta counts as therapy!" kJBKJKFGS but rlly, this fic is the 2nd in a series where artem is rlly fucking good at making pasta and each chapter delves into each nxx boys' insecurities or feelings. and then those feelings r met with warmth and comfort and pasta. each chapter shows a rlly wonderful understanding of who the boys are thru what they fear and how to address those fears.

in this fic, you'll get a laugh and also maybe a cry if ur a repressed bastard like me who really kins luke, HAHA. deffo give this a read if u want to feel an ache in ur heart but then like, a hug after that.

---

Despite All Odds, It Seems I've Met My Match by sure_galena

Now that she’s facing him — and at a closer distance — Artem notices there’s something familiar about her eyes. He’s used to seeing them each time he looks in the mirror. “Who—” Artem clears his throat, trying to shove away the pinpricks of fear, the snake’s fangs beginning to poke at him. “Who are you?” The woman stops about a meter away from him, keeping a cautious distance between them. “Artemis Wing, senior attorney at Justitia Law Firm. And I’m inclined to ask you the same question.” * Or: after an NXX mission causes Artem to get transported into a parallel universe, he meets the genderbent counterparts of the NXX Investigation Team.

focus on artem, found family

man mAAANNNNN!!! this fic is such a huge fave of mine!!! the artem wing we know and love ends up in a universe where things r the same but Not Really. that in itself had me hooked but then galena goes the extra mile by using this fantastic premise as a way to make artem realize and confront his flaws and fears. that + some rlly cool plot + SO MUCH FOUND FAMILY FEEEELLLSSSSS //SOBS. artem's pov here is exquisite, it's got this solid/strict vibe in how he handles himself but also this like, looping and almost endless questioning of his faults as a person, IT'S SO GREAT TO READ!!!

artem enjoyers, check this fic out!!

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In the end, all I hope for is to be a bit of warmth for you by sure_galena

When Vyn is away on a business trip and needs help with his plants, Luke (and the rest of the NXX crew) end up signing up for more than they thought they would

focus on luke, action, found family

nothing brings a team together than fighting a giant evil plant that vyn supposedly ordered!!! vyn, what the HELL?? but srsly, this fic is wonderful and i love it to bits. galena back at it again with a wonderfully absurd premise and then uses that premise to dissect character and this fic's victim is Luke Pearce. take it from me, self diagnosed luke pearce enthusiast, that this fic is incredible. be it through little quirks luke does with his phone contacts or how he strategizes a battle plan or the thoughts only us readers are privy to in his internal monolog, this fic delivers a LOVELY interpretation of who luke is. all the while telling a very entertaining and well paced story.

im pspspsppspss-ing luke enjoyers, come here, read this fic, it's great!!

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if you enjoy these fics, make sure to support the story with a kudos, comment, and/or bookmark!!!! feedback is the best way to make an author happy :D

[bruhlsbees]

Blurb idea! Okay so I wear alot of goth and punk clothing and I just love the idea of opposites attract pairings so like maybe a goth/punk/alternative reader with Alex? Like they meet at the bar on open mic night while she's preforming and he's like whoa she's so cool! But so out of my league💀 and he thinks he'll never get a chance and all of a sudden the reader comes up and is like hey you're cute wanna hang? And he is baffled lol

opposites attract || alex kerner x fem!alternative!reader

gif credit to @/lovecafes

summary: while singing at an open mic night in the bar, you catch the attention of someone least expected

pairing: alex kerner x fem!alternative!reader

word count: 2,313

warnings: drinking (alex and reader), alex being incredibly awkward, reader loving it and teasing him

a/n: hope you like this one!!! i thought this was an incredibly sweet idea - i imagine reader is singing something from the cranberries, like zombie or linger - this is also set a couple years after the events of goodbye, lenin! - i'd say in mid 90s

The last act had just left the stage when the host jumped on the stage, grinning out at the audience who continued to hoot and holler. It was open mic night down at the local bar, The Sour Apple, and for a last minute event, a lot of people turned out. The Sour Apple wasn’t your usual hangout. Typically you were in the basement smoking pot with the rest of your friends, or performing in backyards with your band - but you wanted a new change of scenery that night, and you thought - hell, an open mic might be fun.

You had invited a few of your friends and bandmates, hoping that maybe you’d be able to perform some of your new songs to test the crowd and see if they were feeling it or not. Only a couple of your friends showed, but the whole band came out and you were pleased. It took quite a bit of convincing, especially for your drummer, Reed, to tag along since apparently he had a bad history with The Sour Apple.

Not only that, but you all stook out like a sore thumb. Leather, studded belts, platform boots, multicolored teased hair, heavy makeup - you weren’t fazed by the stares you received when you walked in, all typical reactions when you went into a new place. Maybe that’s why you stuck to the typical spots, to avoid the judgement. It wasn’t like you cared, but it did get tiring after so long - feeling the stares on the back of your head while you just tried to enjoy life.

“Okay everyone, last call for anyone who wants to get up and participate in open mic!” The bar fell silent into hushed whispers, looking around to see if anyone else wanted to get up on stage. “Any takers? Come on now, don’t be shy!”

Turning towards the rest of your bandmates that were seated along the bar, you grinned their way before the bassist, Lee, shot up - beer spilling from the cup as you gained the host’s attention.

“Right here! We’ll come up!” He exclaimed, stepping off the barstool he was propped on and onto the main bar floor, turning and holding up his hand towards the bartender, “Five shots of jäger my good man!”

While the bartender poured out five shots, the rest of the band groaned, wishing that Lee hadn’t been the one to pick the shot. He was the only one to like the taste of the thick licorice. You only wished it was something more easy, like fireball or hell - Jack Daniel’s would suffice. But you braved the shot, clinking glasses with the rest of them before dumping your head back and letting the warm shot run down your throat.

You held in your gag as you sat the glass down, being pulled now by the guitarist, Winny, through the crowd and up onto the stage. As the singer, you took center stage, the spotlight blinding you as you held your hand up to block the light while you adjusted the mic stand, the rest of your band getting set up behind you.

“Hey everyone! We’re the Toxic Cats and we’ll be singing-” You stopped short, what were you going to sing? Turning around, you glanced towards Lee who shrugged before the other side at Winny who came up to the mic.

“You all know the Cranberries! How about their new song that just came out! You all liked that?” When the crowd erupted in cheers, you smiled weakly, looking at Winny who winked your way, “Looks like we got our song. Go kill 'em, Tiger.”

⋆ ⋆ ⋆

“You gonna sing tonight, Alex?” Denis teased from his spot at the bar, downing the rest of his pint while he glanced over at Alex who was facing the stage, shaking his head. “I heard you got a real pretty voice.”

“Well whoever told you that is lying. Don’t think anyone wants to hear me sing. Sound like a rat stuck in a trap.” He explained, lifting his own pint up to take a drink from. He sighed and leaned back against the bar, blinking slowly as he watched the last act get off the stage before the host jumped on. Shaking his head, Alex exhaled slowly, turning back to face the bar.

As he turned, he caught the laughs that came from the other end of the bar. The group of alternative folks catching his attention. He didn’t mean to stare, but they were just so...different. They weren’t the typical crowd that hung around The Sour Apple, and it surely didn’t go unnoticed.

“Weird folk they are,” Turning, Alex furrowed his eyebrows at Denis who was drinking a new pint now, glancing at Alex, “They’re in a band...not a big fan of their music, but they’re pretty popular I’d say. I’ve seen a couple of their shows. Always doing something with fire or chanting in another language. Gives me the heeby jeebies.”

“I think you’re drunk, Denis.” Alex noted, rolling his eyes as Denis waved him off, insisting that he wasn’t while sloppily sipping from his pint. His attention fell back towards the end of the bar, towards the band as they now took shots before heading up onto the stage.

Through the crowd, Alex only noticed the red hair on you. It reminded him of a Coca Cola can - maybe that wasn’t the best comparison, but it’s what he thought! His posture returned to his original spot, leaning against the bar while facing the stage where you now stood center stage at. While your teased dyed red hair stood out the most, he also noticed your outfit, which surprisingly impressed him.

Starting at your feet, he noticed the high platform boots - you were probably taller than him in them. Alex also noticed the ripped tights, wondering if they came that way or if you did that yourself, under the black skirt that was tattered. You were wearing a band tee of some sorts, not recognizing the band. He had seen alternative girls before, but never once did he look at them the way he looked at you. You were pretty and Alex was awed by your mystery.

When you finally began to sing though, the familiar tune of the Cranberries, Zombie, harmonizing through the bar, his lips turned into a smile, straightening up to really be intune with the song. He had heard it a thousand times, but your cover, hearing it from you - it was more haunting and beautiful than anytime he heard it on the radio.

Alex felt hypnotized to your voice, leaning forward with his mouth gaped open as he listened, gaze remained fixed on you as you swayed on the mic or leaned against one of the other band members. He hadn’t even realized it was over until Denis shoved him, his attention snapping towards him.

“Jesus man, you’re drooling!”

His cheeks went hot, face red as Alex reached his hand up to his mouth, wiping away the drool with the back of his hand before turning back towards the bar, doing his best to ignore Denis who was laughing and in a drunk fit.

“Oh man, you got the hots for her don’t you? The singer! Man, I don’t think I would have ever taken you as the type,” Denis watched as the band made their way back towards their spot at the bar, high-fiving those in the crowd as they passed by them. When you were settled back in your seat, Denis stood up and grabbed the back of Alex’s jacket, pulling him up and with him towards the end of the bar, “Come on, go introduce yourself!”

Before Alex could protest, Denis shoved him towards you, stumbling forward and knocking into you. You turned around, ready to yell at whoever had knocked into you and made you spill your beer before your gaze softened, seeing Alex cowering.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

“Hey, it’s fine...relax,” You let out a weak laugh and turned towards him, placing your now empty pint on the counter, “I’m a little disappointed though, someone just bought me that. I didn’t even get the chance to drink it.”

Alex smiled back at you, staring at you for a little too long before he knocked himself out of his trance, turning towards the bartender and holding up his hand.

“Two pints please!”

It didn’t take long for the bartender to fill up two new pints for the both of you. Scooting them forward while Alex picked up his, you picking up your own. You clinked your glass against his before taking a drink, setting your glass back down with a sigh.

“I don’t think I caught your name,” You introduced yourself and leaned forward, your right index finger swirling around the rim of the glass, “I’d like to thank the cutie who bought me my drink.” You sent a wink his way and grinned, seeing him look down briefly as his cheeks went pink.

“Alex, I’m Alex!” He introduced, sitting down finally on the barstool beside you. When you called him a cutie, his chest tightened, feeling flustered as he tried to think of what to say next.

“My favorite color is red!” He blurted, “How do you get your hair so big?”

Alex cringed at his question, closing his eyes and mentally slapping himself in the face. He was sure at that point he had lost all chance of impressing you, and he hadn’t even been talking with you for more than two minutes. But when you laughed and didn’t throw your drink in his face, he opened his eyes and smiled weakly.

“Lots of hairspray and teasing. Unfortunately I’m not the most eco-friendly with this hairstyle. Mother Earth is probably taking her revenge with all my split ends.” He let out a laugh at your joke, glancing at the guitarist of the band who turned in her stool, leaning forward.

“Or maybe it’s because you’ve just fried your hair. I’m telling you, you should just let it go natural.” You waved off Winny and nudged her back, your attention keeping fixed on Alex.

“So, Alex, did you just want to come over and ask me about my hair?” You took another drink from your pint, your gaze fixed on him as you watched him get flustered again, trying to think of the words to say. “You know, guys like you don’t usually go for girls like me. Did your buddy set you up for this?”

It had happened plenty of times. Pretty boys always got a kick out of embarrassing the alternative girl. You wouldn’t be hurt if this was what was going on, but you would be pissed to have your time be wasted. To your surprise though, Alex seemed to be different.

“No! I mean, well he pushed me over here, but not like that,” He rushed, leaning forward slightly in his stool, as if ready to catch you if you tried to turn away. “Your singing, I’ve never heard you guys before. You sound great! God, part of me was thinking that you sounded better than the Cranberries-”

“Better than the Cranberries? Now you’re just pulling my tail,” It was your turn to blush, cheeks red as you waved him off while he continued to praise you, his hand falling to your knee. You looked down briefly at his hand, smiling before back up at him, “Well, maybe you should come see one of our shows? I’ll get you a front row seat on the best couch in the basement.”

The best couch in the basement. Why did he have a feeling that this wasn’t something he had experienced before. He watched as you pulled a napkin from the bar, digging into your coat pocket before pulling out a pen, scribbing your number down before handing it over to him.

“Here’s the house number. If you call just ask for me, I’m usually around.” You looked up at him and smiled, opening your mouth to say another thing before hearing your bandmates call you for you behind, insisting that it was time to go. Frowning, you grabbed your coat and stood up, towering over him in your platform boots.

Your gaze kept on Alex who stared at the napkin, his smile stained on his face as he ran his thumb across the number. He looked cute, innocent, pure. All things you weren’t used to. When you heard Reed calling for you name, you nodded and waved them off before resting your free hand on Alex’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

But before he could answer, you were already turned and heading out of the bar, catching up to the rest of your bandmates who were climbing into the taxi to head back home. Standing up, Alex held the napkin in his hand, staring at the dark doorway that led outside of the bar. Of course he was happy, but damn - did you have to leave so quick?

Turning, Alex tucked the napkin neatly into his own jacket, making sure it was secured before making his way back to Denis, sitting back in his original spot. When Alex settled back in, he turned and looked at Denis who was laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Without saying a word, Denis motioned towards his own cheek, signaling for Alex to check his face. He reached his hand up and swiped at his cheek, noticing that your black lipstick had made it’s way onto his skin. He smiled to himself, feeling giddy inside before cleaning the rest off.

“So I take it went well?” Denis asked, leaning closer towards Alex. Smiling, Alex nodded and took a final sip from his pint.

“It went great, now come on, let’s get you home.”

[spencers-renaissance]

The Colour of Waiting is Purple

Summary: Spencer's just trying to get home as quickly as possible when a bad decision to take a shortcut down a back alley leaves him broken and bleeding into the night. // Hotch thinks it's a new case when his phone rings at 3 in the morning. It isn't.

Tags: whump, hurt/comfort, physical assault, major character injury, hospitals, dad hotch, hurt spencer, angst with a happy ending, eventual fluff

TW: graphic descriptions of violence // physical assault (no rape/non-con)

Pairing: Gen, Aaron Hotchner & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.7k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

Disclaimer: I'm sure there are some medical inaccuracies here, everything I know comes from google, whump tumblr blogs, and my embarrassing obsession with medical dramas. I also have no knowledge of the US medical system aside from what I know from the aforementioned sources so excuse any issues there.

Spencer doesn’t think anything of it when he leaves work at his usual time, the clock pushing midnight and the offices deserted. He packs his few personal belongings up and turns off his lamp before nodding to the janitor, the only other person to be seen, and taking the elevator down to the ground floor where there’s a little more sign of human life at least. 

As soon as he steps out into the crisp winter air, he feels the exhaustion of working close to 18 hours straight on far too little sleep hit him. They haven’t even been working a case, he just gets so caught up in his reports and consults that he doesn’t notice the hours whizzing by until he looks up and the bullpen is deserted, dark except for his desk lamp. 

Inevitably when spending the day at the office dealing with banalities, he finds something that captures his interest. It tends to send him on a trawl through the internet — or, occasionally, to another part of the building — looking it up in every journal he buys a subscription to until that itch is scratched.

The others always gently touch his shoulder or call out to him as they leave, which he tends to hear about 50% of the time, and Hotch especially tries to make him leave at a more sensible time, but he can’t help the way his brain works. Once it latches onto something it’s not letting go until it’s satisfied.

His feet carry him to the Metro station while his brain absently thinks over his most recent fixation, and soon enough he’s at his stop and back in DC. The streets are slightly more lively in the city, and the noise and light snap him back to reality enough to remind him of his bone-deep fatigue. He usually walks down the main streets to get to his apartment building, occasionally catching a bus if he’s earlier than usual or a cab if he’s later, but tonight he’s just longing for a quick microwave meal, a shower, and his bed. So, he dips down an alleyway and takes the shortcut home. 

It’s stupid. 

He knows pretty much every statistic there is to know about his city, and at the forefront of his brain are those concerning crime. DC has one of the highest crime rates in America, and a person’s chances of being a victim is 1 in 18, and although it’s slightly lower in Adams Morgan which is one of the safest, violent crimes are still 36% higher than the national average. This is decidedly increased when you take stupid risks like walking through the backstreets in the dead of night when you’re on your own.

Sadly, this does not occur to Spencer before he’s deep in the back streets of the city, being slammed ruthlessly against a wall by two men he didn’t see coming. 

He’s winded immediately, and before his brain can catch up with what’s happening, a knife is being held dangerously close to his neck. All his self-defence training, all the moves Derek had spent hours teaching him when he’d first joined the BAU fly out the window and he can only breathe heavily with what he knows must be a terrified expression on his face.

“Well, well, well,” the man holding the knife leers, his arid breath hitting Spencer’s face, “look what we have here.”

The other man doesn’t speak. He’s stood slightly further back, arms crossed as he stares Spencer down. Although he’s physically the lesser threat right now, something about him has ice pooling in Spencer’s stomach.

“Here’s what’s gonna happen, you fucking pansy,” he continues, pushing Spencer further into the wall, pain blossoming across his body, “you’re gonna let us look through your gay ass purse, and we’re gonna take whatever we want from it. And then, you’re gonna let Paulie here do whatever he wants to you. He’s had a real bad day, and a pathetic little queer like you is just the punching bag he needs, you hear me?”

It’s all Spencer can do to nod his head frantically. He wants to open his mouth, to negotiate, to talk them down, but this is nothing like when he’s faced with the FBI’s most wanted. He’s in control there, he’s on his turf, his playing field, it’s  his game and he knows every rule, every bylaw, every exception. 

Right now, he’s completely at these men’s mercy.

“Paulie, take his bag.” The man doesn’t take his eyes off Spencer’s face, scanning his expression and body language for any sign he’s about to bolt, for any reason to put his knife to work. 

He tries to calm himself down a little, enough to catch his breath at least. He’s taken countless beatings throughout his life, he knows how to survive, just… please, don’t let it be anything more. It’s all Spencer dares to hope for.

The other man steps forward and snatches his messenger bag, unceremoniously dumping the contents of his bag on the pavement. Spencer’s just grateful that he doesn’t have anything in there that hints towards his career. He knows this type: they’re intimidating but they’re easily scared. Right now, he’s a weak twenty-something on his way home, he’s not a threat to them, but who knows what they’d do to him if they realised he’s a fed?

They take his wallet and his phone before they rummage through his pockets to find some spare cash. His badge is tucked in an inner pocket in his blazer and his Quantico ID is still hanging around his neck, hidden under his scarf, blazer, and thin overcoat; he’s so glad he never took it off. 

An icy tear drips down his face as he stands there, pressed against the wall, awaiting his fate. All he wants right now is to be back at home. No, that’s not right. All he wants right now is  Hotch. As soon as the thought of his father-figure crosses his mind, the tears start flowing faster, desperate to feel safe again, knowing Hotch is the only person to really let him feel that way.

The man holding the knife has turned to watch Paulie sift through his bag and rummage through his pockets, but as soon as his steely grey eyes return to Spencer’s face, his face splits into a shit-eating grin. “Aw, are you crying?” he mocks, starting to laugh. “Are the big bad men making you feel scared? You gonna run home to Mommy?”

He knows that it’s exactly what the man wants, but he can’t stop the tears from devolving into full-blown sobs at his words. The whole terrifying experience, the implications, the realisations of what might be coming for him in the next few minutes start to catch up to him and he’s violently shaking as he cries uncontrollably. 

“You’re pathetic,” the man spits, releasing his grip on him slightly, letting Spencer’s shaky legs collapse under him and send him crashing towards the ground. “He’s all yours, Paulie. I’m gonna enjoy this.”

His position is quickly taken over by Paulie as the other man leans against a dumpster close by to watch the show, and Spencer looks up at the intimidating man with fear blazing in his eyes as he hangs in purgatory, knowing the hell that’s about to rain down on him. 

Paulie doesn’t take long to get started and he doesn’t hold back, his sturdy, black boots kicking him relentlessly in the stomach and his thighs before moving up to his chest, slamming the toe of his boots into each individual rib. Spencer can hear the other man laughing maniacally over the sound of his own bones breaking, over his own choked pleas for mercy, but it’s like Paulie doesn’t hear either of them. His face is blank as he gives Spencer the beating of his life, and it only makes him more terrifying. 

He quickly gets bored of kicking Spencer and bends down to yank him up by his scarf, only to land a hard, brutal punch on his jaw, then his cheek, then his nose before dropping him down again, this time so his back is vulnerable, at the mercy of Paulie’s cruel feet.

The torture continues for a few more minutes, and Spencer doesn’t know how no-one hears his desperate cries, but they’re left alone in the alley as he coughs up blood and feels his bones break under the tread of Paulie’s boots. He’s deprived of air as his chest is stood on, as his windpipe is crushed, but finally,  finally it’s over.

“I’m bored,” Paulie grunts, giving Spencer one last brutal kick to the base of his back before walking over to the other man. They both saunter off down the alleyway, not casting a single look back at Spencer lying curled up on the ground, surrounded by his own blood. 

Soon, the men have left, and he’s alone with only his ragged, painful breaths for company. He can hear the hoots of a bachelor party just a street over, but no-one’s coming to save him. No-one else is stupid enough to venture down the backstreets of DC. Not with crime rates like those of their city. Not in the small hours of the morning. Not alone.

He doesn’t even have his phone to call for help. 

⭐️

Hotch expects it to be work when he picks up the phone at 3am. By the time he’s sat up in bed and sliding the bar on his phone to answer it, he’s already half in work-mode, ready to call Jessica and drive Jack over before racing into work to beat the others on the team. He can already taste his first coffee of the day. 

“Hello, is this Aaron Hotchner?” 

It isn’t work.

“Uh, yes,” he says hesitantly, shifting upright a little further, sleep-addled mind trying to guess who the caller could possibly be, “speaking.”

“Hi, my name is Mary Kutner, I’m calling from George Washington University Hospital. I have you down as Spencer Reid’s emergency contact, is that correct?”

Hotch’s heart plummets, and he leaps out of bed immediately, ready to get dressed as the shock wakes him up. “That’s correct. What’s happened?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge much information over the phone, sir, but we’ll need you to come to the hospital urgently.” 

He isn’t usually an emotional person, but he can feel tears springing to his eyes already. Spencer is a surrogate son to him, and knowing he’s hurt without knowing what he can actually do about it is an atrocious feeling.  Please don’t let me watch another member of my family die, is all he can think as he tries to gain enough composure to reply to the nurse on the other end of the line.

“Can you tell me his condition?” he asks, somehow managing to get the words past the lump in his throat. 

“He’s currently in theatre, sir,” Mary replies as gently as one can in such a professional tone. “If you come down to the hospital and report to the ER a doctor will be able to tell you more. I’ll need you to bring identification with you, please.”

“Okay,” he breathes, trying to keep as calm as possible, “okay. Thank you for letting me know. I’ll be right there.”

He throws the phone on the bed as he finishes throwing his clothes on. He packs two bags: one for him (mostly filled with things Spencer might need) and one for Jack, pulls on his coat and shoes before creeping into his son’s room and lifting him out of bed gently, carrying him down to the car. 

Jack is a heavy sleeper — he frequently wakes up the next morning tucked in his room at Jessica’s, sometimes in the car on the way — and he’s endlessly thankful for that now. Explaining why he’s dashing out of the flat with a panicked look on his face to a seven-year-old is a conversation he’s glad to avoid.

He rings Jessica on the way who, used to his early morning calls waking her up, has no problem with looking after Jack.

Somehow, he manages to make it to the hospital only forty-five minutes later, and he didn’t even have to park illegally. Thank God the hospital is at least a little quieter in the dead of night.

“Hi, I’m Aaron Hotchner, Spencer Reid’s emergency contact,” he explains shakily to the woman at the front desk, laying down his FBI identification bag down as ID. He could use his driving licence, sure, but… if knowing they’re FBI agents will make any difference to Spencer’s care then he doesn’t give a damn if this could be construed in some way as abuse of his position. He’d rather lose his job than lose his son.

“Oh, hi Agent Hotchner,” the woman says with a tone of recognition, glancing at his ID before typing something into her computer, “I’m Mary Kutner, I spoke to you on the phone. Dr Reid is still in surgery but I’ll go and find a doctor who can explain the situation to you.”

He nods absently, face stern and pinched as furious anxiety toils inside him. He feels like the last forty-five minutes have been a daze, and now the bright lights and noisy machines and bustling action of the Emergency Department at a major trauma centre are slowly snapping him out of it, the implications of ‘urgent’ and ‘surgery’ and it being the middle of the damn night finally catching up to him. 

Some number of minutes pass by — he’s too anxious and caught in his head to keep track of the linear passage of time right now — before he’s approached by a young doctor, wearing a mask carefully constructed of confident professionalism and reassuring compassion. 

“Agent Hotchner?” She’s clarifying uselessly, she knows it’s him. He knows she probably has to confirm for some stupid HIPAA rule, but he just wants to know what happened goddamnit. 

“Yes,” he replies shortly, “what’s happened to Spencer?”

He doesn’t miss her almost perfectly concealed wince, and he feels his stomach sink further. “He was involved in an assault on his way home from work. A passer-by found him in a back road not far from the hospital and called for an ambulance. Luckily we got him into surgery quickly. Upon admission’s initial assessment, he had a ruptured spleen, a collapsed lung, a double kidney contusion, and he suffered a pelvic fracture along with multiple broken ribs, a fractured jaw and cheekbone, and several severe breaks in his left forearm, wrist, and hand.”

Hotch stares at the doctor in disbelief as she lists Spencer’s injuries: he feels like he’s going into shock. How could anyone want to hurt the sweetest person he’s ever met? How could anyone be so brutal? He’s worked with serial killers for nearly two decades and still, nothing could prepare him for this. He sits down in the seat behind him as the world spins, his brain trying to piece everything together. 

“Are you alright, sir?” the doctor asks, sitting down in the seat next to him. “Do you want a glass of water?”

“What?” He turns to look at her before her words sink in and he realises what she asked. “Oh. No, I’m fine… I— is he going to be okay?” As soon as the first tear spills down his cheek, he can’t stop them from falling one after another, dripping down his face in his most public display of emotion since Haley died.

“He’s going to need a lot of care,” she reasons, “he’ll need to stay in hospital for at least a week depending on the outcome of the surgery, but we have every reason to believe he’ll make a full recovery.”

“What’s— what’s the surgery for?” He feels like he’s having an out of body experience.

“They’ll address the internal bleeding first by either fixing or removing the spleen and making sure we didn’t miss anything else on the scans. The surgeon will also assess the damage to Spencer’s kidneys and make sure they aren’t contributing to the internal bleeding. They’ll address the pelvic fractures and the collapsed lung as well. You need to understand that Spencer may need further surgery and he’ll definitely need very close monitoring over the coming weeks and months.”

“What about his broken bones?” Hotch asks. “How bad is it?”

She sighs. “They’re bad,” she admits. “The pelvic fractures are likely going to have a big impact on his mobility, and he won’t have the use of his left arm for a long time. We’re looking at a long recovery, Agent Hotchner. But we have every reason to believe that he  will eventually recover.”

She pats him comfortingly on the hand before getting up. “Someone will fetch you as soon as he’s out of surgery.” 

It’s not until she’s halfway across the waiting room that he realises she never even told him her name. 

 It’s close to 8am by the time a surgeon walks over to him, still dressed in scrubs. There’s a smudge of blood on his shirt and Hotch winces at the knowledge that it’s Spencer’s. 

“How is he?” he asks, leaping up. He doesn't want any screwing around. He just wants to know if Spencer’s going to be okay. 

“He’s stable. The surgery went well. Unfortunately, we had to conduct a full splenectomy to stop his internal bleed which does put him at risk for serious infections, but otherwise, it’s good news. His kidneys will need support but should heal in a timely manner, and we were able to set the rib that punctured his lung and reinflate it, although we’re going to keep him on oxygen to be safe. His pelvis was severely fractured but we managed to reposition the displaced bone fragments and inserted a screw and metal plate to hold them together.”

“Oh, thank God,” Hotch sighs with relief. The worst, immediate threats have been dealt with, and it settles a small part of the anxiety he’s feeling. 

“He’s in room 338 if you’d like to go and see him. He should be waking up shortly.”

⭐️

Wasting no time, he races up to Spencer’s floor where a nurse lets him onto the ward and leads him down to 338. He pushes the door open apprehensively, swallowing his emotion at the sight of the man he considers a son lying in a hospital bed. He’s lost count of the number of times he’s been rushed to the hospital, but it’s never been like this. It’s always after a case: Spencer knows the risks of the job, they all do, and he puts himself deliberately in harm's way for the sake of others.

This time, though… this time he was just walking home from work. This time he had no say in the matter.

His left arm is in a cast and his face is bruised and swollen, chestnut hair matted and tangled. Opening the bag he packed, he pulls out a comb and gently teases out the tangles until he can comb through the curls completely unobstructed. There are undoubtedly more knots at the back of his head, but those can wait until he’s woken up at least. It just makes him feel like he’s doing something. 

It’s only when he sits down in the chair by his bed that he realises it’s Thursday morning now; he’s supposed to be at work today, they both are. No-one except Jessica knows what’s happened. 

The first thing, he supposes, is to ring Strauss. 

Once that’s out of the way and she knows that neither he nor Spencer will be in today and he’ll inform her of the latest updates as soon as possible, he messages Rossi. He’s the only one who will be able to remain objective enough to inform everyone, and he’s enough of a dad to the team to help manage everyone’s emotional responses. 

Just as he hits send on the message, his head snaps up at Spencer’s quiet whimpering as he comes around.

“Hey, hey, Spencer,” he says as soothingly as possible, “it’s okay, I’m here. You’re in the hospital. Are you in pain?”

Spencer blinks his eyes open blearily, wearing such a pained and vulnerable expression that it goes right to Hotch’s gut. He nods in response to his question, his good hand reaching to hold Hotch’s. 

“Okay, there’s a PCA pump right here, I’ll turn it up a little. Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, tears springing to his eyes. Now he’s not in as much physical pain, Hotch knows this is pure emotion, and he thinks that’s somehow worse. Spencer’s been through a horrifying physical ordeal, but the emotional recovery is going to be just as gruelling and last years. If there’s one word he’d use to describe Spencer, though, it’s resilient. 

He shushes him gently, bringing a hand to his hair and caressing it lightly. “I’m here,” he repeats. “You’re safe. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Spencer nods and relaxes into his touch, eyes fluttering closed as he calms down a little. 

“You rest now,” he murmurs. “I’ll be here when you wake up. Everything’s going to be okay.”

They’ll deal with the fall-out later. They’ll deal with the team coming to visit, with the paperwork for his sick leave and the frustration of government bureaucracy. They’ll manage their way through processing the trauma of what happened to him, the physical, mental, and occupational implications of the assault. They’ll stay glued at the hip while Spencer’s interviewed by the police, while doctors explain to him just how serious his injuries are. 

Right now, though, Spencer will sleep and Hotch will sit by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to every steady beep on the heart rate monitor, searing the living breathing proof that Spencer is alive into his mind. Spencer will sleep and Hotch will cry silently over the cruelty of the world, he’ll grieve for the man he said good-bye to 12 hours earlier, knowing he’ll never quite be the same again. 

Spencer will sleep and Hotch will be there, holding his hand, waiting for him to wake up again.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @strippersenseii @suburban--gothic @takeyourleap-of-faith

[hazbincalifornia]

Midnight Snack

Chapter 25: Blitzo gets peckish.

Warnings: As always, mpreg, and implied animal death. Also stuffing if that needs a tag I guess, and BABY VIOLENCE. (Violence committed by a baby, not against a baby.)

Likes, replies, and reblogs are all appreciated, both here and on ao3!

Ao3 link

Blitzo’s stomach gurgled, and his arms tightened around the pillow that he was hugging to his chest. A fussy, hungry stomach wouldn’t have necessarily been a problem, except for the fact that it had been doing it for the past hour, and he was just about ready to tear it right out of his skin and rip it in half. Acid sloshed around audibly in his empty gut- or maybe the freeloader wanted more room and was just squashing the organ down so much that it had resorted to griping as loudly as it could. Relatable fuckin’ content right there.

Dinner had been two burgers and fries smothered in hot sauce and mayo from the grease trap down the road, which was more than enough to coast through until breakfast. Besides, he’d be damned if the kid was going to make him deal with the grocery store any more than he had to in this condition. No, he was staying right where he was, especially considering he’d been denied any sleep last night. One day low on sleep was manageable with reduced caffeine, two would suck satan’s left tit.

“C’mon, that was enough and you know it, I don’t want you ruining my figure any more than you already have,” he grumbled as the muscles clenched around his stomach, wringing it out like a sponge and drawing a pitiful whine out of his throat. “I’m not gonna just- give in and give you whatever you want, daddy’s gotta do him sometimes and I’m not letting you empty out the fridge. I ate enough, siphon blood outta my system like a normal leech does. I’ve got plenty of that.”

The reply was another gurgling groan and a hard clench as Blitzo’s empty stomach demanded sustenance, this time loud enough to make his middle vibrate even through the pounds of baby. He stuffed the pillow over his mouth, drool leaking down the case and over his chin as he forced out a scream.

He had to take a few seconds to pant before setting a hand on the side of his stomach, fingers drumming. “This is a battle of wills, and I am not letting you win. Your baby-daddy already started all this shit, so I’m just going to treat you the same as him- by ignoring you as long as feasibly possible until you decide to pop up and make everything difficult. Sound good? Yeah, sounds perfect.” There was a nudge from inside and Blitzo nodded in satisfaction at the apparent agreement, settling back down on the bed. He’d gone to sleep hungry plenty of times before, the baby gut notwithstanding, he just had to muscle through this for the next few-

There was no time to muffle the next scream as a sudden pinching pain went from ‘noticeable’ to ‘holy shit who’s tearing up my guts with a chainsaw?’, and there was a thud and a shuffling of feet before Loona started pounding on the door.

“You having a heart attack in there or something?”

Blitzo clutched at his stomach, wheezing as he was clawed apart from the inside out. “N-no!”

“Look, if you die, I’m on the hook for the rent.” Still, there was a semi-worried vibrato to her voice, and he swallowed down the coppery taste flooding up with the saliva to his mouth.

“I’m- fINE-!” His voice pitched up at another pinch-turned-horrorshow and his claws dug all the way through the pillow, stuffing spilling out like viscera.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” The doorknob jiggled. Where was a portable x-ray when you needed one? Or ultrasound, or whatever the fuck you used to look at a baby that was trying to kill him before it even got out yet. What kind of horrible mouth or claws must it have- oh, fucking hell, Stolas had said something about his kid having a razor-sharp beak from birth, hadn’t he?

“Okay, I’m coming in.” Loona eased the door open, already in her pajamas and clutching a package of opened peanut butter crackers tightly enough that crumbs were sticking to her fingers. “You look like shit.”

“I feel like shit, so good-” Sharp inhale for breath, let it out- “-To know that I’m all on the same page.”

She dropped down on the bed with a metallic creak. “What’d the kid do now?”

“It feels like they’re biting me again, but w-worse- fuck!” Another nip, this one dragging a line on the inside of the womb like they were drift racing in there. Wait, dragging? He swallowed down more coppery bile. “Okay, fine, fine, sheesh, I’ll fuckin’ eat something, happy you little shithead?”

Loona raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything.”

Blitzo shoved himself up off the bed to wobbly knees. “Junior’s gotten real bold, and instead of just sucking up the meat I’m eating for them like a good little lump, they decided to put me on the menu- ow, fuck, I’m going, keep your baby-tits on!”

“Babies don’t have tits, Blitzo.”

“They do if I say they do, sweetie.” Blitzo ruffled Loona’s fur between her ears as he waddled across the room, pausing next to the TV to take a breath.

Loona raised an eyebrow. “Do you need me to bring you something? I don’t want you passing out in the middle of the apartment and tripping over you tomorrow morning.”  In response, Blitzo just waved a dismissive hand.

“I can handle walking across two rooms, Loonie.” The active chewing had paused for the moment, but whatever they’d shredded in there was still shredded, and he’d rather not make it any worse- he had work tomorrow, dammit.

The fridge bathed him in a sickly, hospital-like glow as he tugged it open, and drool immediately started leaking from his mouth as the smells of half-forgotten, time-ripened leftovers hit him. A small mouse with four red eyes leaped up from the floor when he opened the door, burrowing into a box of takeout on the bottom shelf that Loona must have gotten when he’d been at Stolas’s place. His tongue snapped out automatically, snatching its furry body up and slurping up the tail between his lips before swallowing, and it took a second for his brain to load enough to register- after it slid down his throat.

Holy shit, did he just…? It squirmed a little as it descended, little hairs stuck in his teeth, and his fingers tightened on the side of his stomach before he reached for the box it had been after to wash out the aftertaste.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur, although he did retain enough sense of mind to avoid the six-pack of cheap beer in the back that still had four cans on it. Better to not risk puking all of this up or ruining the kid any more than they already were. Carbs, meat, a few wilted veggies that Moxxie had pawned off on him, sweet, sour, cold chili and whole untoasted bagels- it didn’t really matter what it was as long as it was at least mostly edible (he was pretty sure he swallowed a wrapper at some point), he just needed it inside of him now. Smothering everything in hot sauce and salsa and mustard made it more palatable anyway, especially the ice cream. The kid didn’t start taking chunks out of him again, at least, so he must have been doing something right. More and more of the white fridge walls became visible as the floor around him littered with containers, and his stomach grew tighter before he finally slumped back against the nearby counter with a groan. His legs sprawled out on the cool tile, both hands now stained with a mixture of about five kinds of leftovers, and he cradled his stomach after muffling a burp.

“Are you happy now, you needy little shit?”

Blitzo didn’t really expect a reply and almost didn’t hear it over the churning gurgles of digestion, but a soft ‘eee’ of a hoot, more a whisper-screech than anything, murmured from his midsection. He stared down at it, the warmth of his full stomach counteracted by ice dripping down his back.

“Oh, of course you sound just like him.” His claws dragged along the sensitive, itchy-while-stretched skin before the protection spell sprung up and pushed the fingers away. It only let him touch his own stupid body when he laid his palm flat. “Sure, it’s cute now when it's all little and squeaky, but you’d better not be as entitled as he is, alright? Or as you are now, since I’ve gotta do everything for you until you’re born. Considering you just settled right down in there without even asking in the first place, I doubt it. Rude.”

There were no more noises other than his stomach grumbling about going from empty to full so quickly, and he stayed slumped against the cabinet for long enough to let some of it digest. He must have been more tired than he thought, because he swore that he already looked bigger than he’d been when he’d finished binging. Maybe it started swelling in a bad reaction from whatever fucked-up food cocktail he'd accidentally made.

When he didn’t feel quite so much like a boulder had gotten stuffed inside his guts, it took three tries to haul his ass off the tile and drag himself back to bed, huffing like a cop running for the last doughnut in the process.

The ice had crept from his spine to the rest of his bones and muscles as he tugged the blanket tight around himself, but at least the churning food kept his stomach warm, and he passed out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

[lord-explosion-baku]

Opia Night 2

Vampire!Shinsou x reader

Warnings: alcohol mentions, mentions of blood, dumb mc, campy vampire bullshit, swearing

A/N: ahhhhh. okay. so. this was a tough write. I think I got stuck because i started taking myself too seriously and then i just started throwing words out left and right. this is very back and forth, no-goal-reached, bullshit. I mean, getting from point A to point B is r o u g h, bro. Im SO SORRY. I was trying to make this natural and it just AINT. she’s messy today and it’s fine. Gotta just post what we can when we can lmfao. SOO! I’m aware that this chapter isn’t good, but I do hope that you find it entertaining regardless! I promise Night 3 will be better!

(PLEASE DO NOT REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION)

Night One

Night Two

You woke up to your phone buzzing next to your head on your pillow. Once, twice, and the third double-vibration made you realize that you were not going to be going back to sleep any time soon. Blinking at your window, you groaned at the flecks of dust that were lit up by the golden remnants of twilight. You’d slept most of your Friday away after slaving away on your school work Monday through Thursday. You tried telling yourself that you deserved the rest, but sleeping through sunlight has become habitual to you when you had nothing else going on. When you woke up from your coma, you would usually sleep some more. Usually.

The phone on your bed was alight with three unread messages, all saying something different, but with the same invitation handed out:

Kirishima(7:02): hey :)

Sero(7:07): you busy?

Kaminari(7:15): babe! partaaay tonite!!!! come over!

Again, you groaned.

The last night you’d spent over at their house was a complete disaster. You totally embarrassed yourself by screaming out of nowhere. Or so it seemed to have come out of nowhere to everyone else who heard you; what you thought you had witnessed went completely unnoticed to everyone at the last party. But to you, it was so vivid.

Purple-haired-couch-kid. Fangs. Blood.

You completely freaked and locked yourself in the bathroom. It took both Kirishima and Sero to coax you out after you battled the idea of calling the cops to their house. When you came out, there was a swarm of kids eyeing you like you were crazy. You asked to see Kodai. She appeared. She was unharmed: no blood, no marks, no recollection of any handsome boy who took a bite out of her wrist. Kamianri’s garage-sale couch had been occupied by no extremely handsome man, and there were no purple-haired people to be seen at the party afterwards.

It wasn’t something you could have imagined unless your drink had been spiked, but you thought you were pretty careful when it came to open containers! And besides, who’d want to spike your drink with hallucinogens. Getting you high could have been a prank or someone thinking they were doing the rest of the party-goers a favor, but to what you could tell, nobody else was seeing shit. So maybe you were crazy. Maybe there was no alluring voice speaking to you in your head, and your psyche had suddenly broken out of the damn blue. In the psychology class you took freshman year, you learned a lot about different mental illnesses that cause hallucinations and paranoia. Maybe you had to get yourself checked out.

Your phone buzzed again.

Kaminari: Kiri is gonna be real bummed if you don’t come :”(

Well, that was on him. You couldn’t really imagine why you would receive such a welcome invitation to another one of their parties after the big fuss you made. After you realized Kodai wasn’t in trouble, you stormed home; you lived close enough, so it was fine to leave your car there. You didn’t speak to anyone about what happened afterwards, so you were sure you’d be snubbed by your friends for at least a little bit. You figured that… if they wanted something else from you, maybe the rule of party fouls would be ignored.

You sighed, knowing that even though Kirishima definitely had a crush on you, he was still your friend and a great guy. You couldn’t think bitterly of him just because he might’ve wanted to kiss you on several occasions when you were just hanging out. You did sleep with him once, back in the day, but you both agreed to just be friends afterward. You were… kinda wild back then and didn’t like the idea of having a boyfriend. Kirishima tried to be understanding, but every now and then, you’d see him look at you with those sad, puppy-dog eyes.

There was a bleep! and you saw that you got a Snapchat notification from Sero. You pursed your lips and opened it to see a video of Kaminari singing your name, pushing Kirishima’s shoulder, and a chorus of several people making gross kissing noises at the two of them. You rolled your eyes and were about to close the video, but something—no, someone—in the background caught your eye.

You replayed the snap. There was singing, gross kissing noises, and him—right at the end of the video. He was only there for the last two seconds of the video, but those mesmerizing indigo eyes leering at the phone camera seemed to grab you by the throat.

You didn’t fucking imagine him. You didn’t fucking imagine him.

Sliding the screen to show the front-facing camera, you grimaced at your face. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes and snapped a quick photo with the tag, ‘who is all there rn?’

Kaminari’s reply came instantly. It was another video of people hooting in the kitchen taking shots. Sero was sniffing at a rough-looking pineapple and Kaminari was yelling.

“Who is all here right now?!” Kaminari called and cheers came as a response. Kaminari turned the camera to face his grinning self. Kirishima was in the background checking his hair in the mirror. When he saw that the camera was in him, he flexed his arm, the dork. Then, Kamimari threw his arm around somebody, and pulled him into frame. You actually gasped.

“Why, the whole word is here, babe! Come overrrr!” Kaminari sang at you, but you weren’t paying any attention to him. Purple-haired-couch-kid was side-eyeing your drunken friend, but when he looked into the camera, he appeared to be amused. He wasn’t as dressed up as he was two weeks ago; he just had on a plane black T-shirt with the same ropey necklaces. The camera didn’t do his likeness any justice. The shadows under his eyes seemed to be much darker, and his skin was straight-up pale. Still, his gorgeous lavender eyes had you captivated. He was all you could see.

Purple-haired-guy’s ivory arm wrapped around Kaminari’s shoulder. He grinned, the whites of his teeth gleaming dangerously at the camera, squeezed Kaminari against him, and the video ended. You were too enamored to even thinking of taking a screenshot and you couldn’t replay the snap.

You cursed and covered your eyes with your pillow. You really were planning on sleeping the rest of the night away—maybe put on some cheesy soaps you could snicker at before zonking out. But now, it seemed, you didn’t have any choice but to go to the party. You had to see him.

A shower and a quick trip to the liquor store later and you were showing up to your friends’ rented domain with a six pack in hand. You entered without knocking. They never had the door locked; it was a constant open-invitation to ‘Denki’s Dank Crib’ as Kaminari wished people would call it.

You were immediately slapped in the face with human musk and you were glad to be wearing something more light: a white, chiffon top over your sunflower skirt with yellow, scrappy heels. It wasn’t everyday that you wanted to dress nicely, but as ridiculous as the concept was, if you did see the purple-haired-couch-kid… you wanted to look nice.

“Hey, you! Glad you could make it!” Strong arms pulled you into Kirishima’s hard chest. He smelled like sweat and old spice. He held you for two seconds too long, going so far as to rest his nose on the top of your head, before you pulled away, offering him a friendly smile. “Your conditioner smells nice!”

“Hah… thanks.” You grimaced.

“Oh, I’m sorry! That was really creepy! I’m sorry!” A slow blush bloomed on Kirishima’s cheeks. “I wasn’t trying to be weird. I might’ve had a few drinks already and I just… uh…”

Lending him a saving grace, you lifted the six pack up. “Care for another?”

“D’aww, you didn’t have to grab beer!” Kirishima grabbed the six pack from you. “I do love this stuff though! Thank you!”

“I couldn’t come here empty handed. It’s the least that I can do after what happened last time.” You started walking towards the kitchen, keeping an eye out for the purple guy or Kaminari.

“What happened last time?”

“You know,” you said while Kirishima cracked open a bottle, “when I had a freak out?”

“Freak out?” He offered you the bottle, but you shook your head. “What do you mean?”

You scanned the kitchen and saw only a few kids you didn’t know and Sero messing around with some frothy, yellow liquid in a beat-up blender. Looking to your right, you saw that there was nobody occupying Kaminari’s old loveseat. It wasn’t like you were expecting to see him there with what—Kaminari on his lap?—but it didn’t hurt to check.

“Like when I screamed and locked myself in the bathroom,” you said. “Then I left without saying goodbye.”

Kirishima’s brows crinkled. “I don’t remember you screaming or anything like that. You did leave a little suddenly, and I was bummed for like a minute, but that’s yesterday’s news. You’re here tonight!”

“Kiri, I was standing right next to you when I threw a fit. You don’t remember? You got me out of the bathroom.”

Kirishima shook his head. “Are you sure that was me?”

You were positive. You were definitely leaning on him, talking about how you didn’t need any boys, and Kirishima was warm like he always was when you touched him. You turned to look back at the couch and then you saw that purple guy bite Yui Kodai! Everyone heard you!

“You’re here!”

Sero zoomed towards you with two large cups of something in-hand. He gave you a bright smile and offered you one of the cups. “As soon as I heard you were heading over, I started making these! Piña coladas!”

“Oh…” you took the drink and gazed into the glass. It was yellow and mushy. Thinking back on your original theory—being drugged—you gave him a tight, closed-mouth grin. “What’s in it?”

“Uhh… Pineapple, coconut rum, and ice?” Seeing the unsure look on your face, Sero hastily added, “the pineapple was close to expiring, but I tasted it, and it’s still fine! Promise.”

“Did you even blend it right?” Kirishima asked, peering into your cup. “It looks like it’s breathing.”

“It’s not my fault our blender is janky!” Sero shot back. “I’m not the one who’s always making weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with, like, kale and shit added in every morning like some sort of psychopath.”

“It’s not crazy to be looking after my body. In fact, you could learn something from me!” Kirishima poked Sero in the ribs. “Skinny.”

“I’m not skinny,” Sero argued, flinching away. He lifted up his shirt to reveal his tight, well-kept abdomen. “I’m lean.” Sero smirked when he caught you staring.

“Alright, well, our girl only deserves the best service, and this ain’t it, chief.” Kirishima reaches to take the atrocity out of your hand, but seeing Sero’s dejected face, you pulled away.

“This is fine,” you promised warily. Beside yourself, you took a sip of Sero’s sloshy creation. You got a big chunk of pineapple in your mouth and chewed the rum out. The parts that weren’t chunks were all watery, like you were drinking straight rum. You forced yourself to smile. “It… tastes good at least.”

Sero was ecstatic. “Lovin’ your look, by the way. Yellow heels look good on you.”

Kirishima rolled his eyes and placed a hand on your back. “C’mon, you don’t have to be nice to him. Lemme make you something good in the kitchen.”

“Oh, wait, Sero. I wanted to apologize to you too!”

Sero raised a brow. “Apologize?”

“Yeah...” You turned your head from Sero to Kirishima, hoping for any sign of recognition. “For freaking out. Screaming. Locking myself in the bathroom. All those good things.”

“Oh,” Sero said. “Yeah, well, you’re forgiven.”

“So you remember!” You beamed.

Sero’s hand went to the back of his neck. “To be honest, I don’t remember a lot about the last party. I think Denki broke a table—“

“You helped him break the table,” Kirishima interjected.

“—aaand someone stole my good bong? That’s it. I’m sorry you had a bad time, though. Hopefully you’ll have more fun tonight! Kaminari bought a karaoke set. It’s got all the shitty songs they’re playing on the radio right now.”

“Where is Denki,” you asked, looking around. Damn it, if nobody remembered you screaming, at least you could count on Kaminari possibly getting the name of the kid who he had his arms around in that video he sent you.

“Off somewhere being a dumbass.” Sero waved his hand absently at the crowd of kids in the living room. “You wanna smoke? I just got a new bong and it hits pretty smoothly. Or maybe you wanna try karaoke? Though you would probably wanna get a couple drinks in before that, huh?”

“Ah, maybe later. I just gotta find Denki.”

“Why?” Kirishima asked suspiciously.

“I just gotta ask him something…” you pulled out your phone and dialed his number. It rang three times before getting to his raunchy voicemail. You scoffed.

“He could be up in his room,” Kirishima suggested.

“With a chick?” Asked Sero, amused. You made a face and Sero quickly corrected himself, saying, “I mean… with a nice lady?”

“Who’s to say.” You took a sip of Sero’s special beverage. It was gross, but you were here, and probably getting a little annoyed. You came out, so you might as well try to enjoy yourself.

“I’m sure he’ll come down eventually. If he really is with a girl, he’ll be down soon, and he’ll be hungry,” said Kirishima. “Hey, I’m gonna be ordering a pizza. Any topping preference? I was gonna get a few and wanted to make sure—oh, hey!! Bakugou!”

Your eyes followed Kirishima’s to see some grouchy-looking blonde kid coming in from the front door. You took advantage of both Sero and Kirishima greeting the guy with high-fives and fist-bumps, and made your way into the dining room where kids were playing a drinking game on a broken table.

You chatted a bit with a few kids you hadn’t met before, a girl whose name you forgot from the biology class you took last semester, and some guy who was so drunk you couldn’t comprehend a single mumble that rolled off his tongue. Nobody seemed to know where Kaminari was. Nobody seemed to have seen any boy with purple hair and an angelic face...

You scooted past three boys who were playing some stupid slapping game and into the living room. You sat down on the couch and checked in on your phone messages. It’s been two hours since Kaminari last texted you to come over. You thought about shooting him a text now, but—

‘Do you realize that all of the air in the room goes out when you walk in?’

You choked on air, as embarrassing as that was, and looked up, expecting to see someone who spoke to you. Nobody was paying you any mind for Kaminari's shitty couch, but you knew you heard that titillating voice, and it wasn’t because you were crazy.

‘Such a pretty little thing to be left all alone at a party. Did you lose your fan club?’

“Actually, I chose to sit here by myself,” you said aloud, minding the few people who actually turned to see you talking to yourself. You shrunk back into the couch and pretended to be taking a video of yourself.

‘Well, I’m sure. It’s a comfortable couch, afterall—better when shared.’

Oh, so this voice was a dirty, little thot. You clicked your tongue and texted Kaminari. ‘Hey, I’m here. Where are you?’

Kaminari(11:02): side yard.

Hopping up, you headed for the sliding patio door.

‘Eager to see your babe, babe?’

“Oh, shut up!” You hissed while walking outside and a girl watching a beer pong game frowned at you. You weren’t sure, you thought that you could hear a chuckle in the very far back-end of your head.

Kaminari was in the side yard, thank god. He was leaning against the house, staring absently at the side gate. He was alone, not on his phone or anything to keep him busy. He was just standing there.

“Hey, Kami!”

Kaminari barely turned his head towards you when he said, “hey...”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you! What are you doing hiding away in the side yard?”

“‘m just chillin’. Waitin’ for my friend…”

“A friend?” You asked. “Kaminari, are you okay?”

“Of course,” Kaminari said, still staring at the side gate. “I’ve never been better… it’s a nice night…”

You stepped out in front of him. Kaminari didn’t meet your gaze; his yellow eyes were hazy and blank. You waved your hand in front of his face and he didn’t even react.

“Kami…”

“It’s a real nice night,” he repeated dreamily. “I‘m waiting for a friend...”

“What friend, Kami? Who are you waiting for?”

“Uhh… Dunno. He just left…”

“What does he look like?” You asked, growing impatient. Kaminari wasn’t the brightest, but he was never really this slow. There was something wrong with him.

“Hmmm… like the moon…”

“Denki.”

“...”

“I saw you near a kid with purple hair and a lot of jewelry in some of the snaps you sent, Kaminari. Do you know where I might be able to find him? He was at the last party too.”

“Yeah... That’s my friend…”

Thank god, thank god someone else knew who the hell you were talking about. “Do you know where he went?”

“To get a snack…” At that, Kaminari cracked a grin.

Fangs and blood flashed in your mind. You clenched your teeth together. If you remembered correctly, perhaps purple-haired-couch-kid’s idea of a snack wasn’t suitable for this party. You grabbed his wrist. “C’mon, let's go back inside. You need some water.”

But when you turned back to your house, you bumped right into what felt like a brick wall. But it wasn’t a brick wall. This barrier was a person whose ivory skin practically glowed an eerie white under the moonlight. This barrier was a person whose indigo eyes scanned you like a marauder finding his treasure. This barrier was a person whose flushed lips tugged up into a smirk when you shrieked.

Your stomach sank when he laughed at you after you leapt back and against Kaminari’s chest. Kaminari placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, as if he was trying to be reassuring, but his touch was too light and vacant to do much to calm you.

Goosebumps crawled up your skin when you took in couch-kid’s sudden appearance. You were mad at yourself for thinking that even though he was frightening in the dark, his sharp jawline was practically begging to be nibbled on.

Jesus, what the fuck was wrong with you?! You couldn’t be thinking about hooking up with strangers that bite while Denki was high and everyone else was forgetting shit! You shook your head and scowled.

“Sorry about that… didn’t mean to scare you.” Your heart did a little jump at hearing his voice for the first time. At least, you were pretty sure this was the first time you’d heard it. It did sound oddly familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it.  

Couch-kid held out his hand. For a second, you thought he was going to shake your hand, but then you saw that he was holding a wrapped cereal bar. Froot Loops. “Here you go, Denki.”

Kaminari’s arm snaked through the opening between your arm and waist to grab the treat. Your body nearly vibrated from being only just a couple inches away from Couch-kid’s finger tips. His arms were nice—white and long, but strong, with a few prominent veins running up them. Did he drink weird, keto-friendly protein shakes with kale and shit added in them like Kirishima? Why did you care?

“Oh man, thanks Shinsou. I was starting to get dizzy,” Kaminari said, unwrapping the sweet treat. You heard him crunching from behind you, and you don’t know why, but you were suddenly very irritated with his presence. You shouldn’t have been. There was obviously something going on with him and you should’ve been wanting to help him out, but then, you really wanted to be alone with Couch-kid. The thought just made you more agitated.

“Not a problem,” Couch-kid—Shinsou—purred. He didn’t look at Kaminari when he spoke; he was eyeing you.

“Shinsou,” you said, pulling at the hem of your skirt. Did he remember you? Did he think you were dumb for staring at him without saying anything for so long back at the last party?

“That’s me.” Shinsou grinned. This time, he took your hand, rather than offering his, and kissed the back of your wrist. You honestly would have swooned if you didn’t see him do the exact same thing to Yui Kodai just a short while ago. Still, his cool lips making contact with your skin made tiny electric currents shoot up from your arm, to your neck. You shuddered. “I don’t think we’ve officially met. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The, uh… pleasure’s all mine?” That was what they said in the movies, right? Cheesy soaps, whomst? What a weird thing to say, anyways. Even still, as silly as that old-time greeting was, he could’ve easily said something as ridiculous as, ‘charmed, I’m sure,’ and you still wouldn’t have been able to muster out a bark of laughter like you would with literally anywhere else.

“Denki, didn’t you say you wanted to go sing some karaoke?” Shinsou asked, his eyes still on you.

“I did say that,” Kaminari said, taking another bite out of his cereal bar. “Karaoke sounds nice…” And without any ceremony, he started walking. Sliding past you, he made his way down the side of the house. Just like that?! He was going to leave you with a stranger?

You called, “wait! Kaminari... are you really okay? You were acting a little funky just a minute ago.”

“Mmm, yeah, I’m fine. I just really wanted cereal.” Kaminari wiggled the now empty bar wrapper in the air. “But Shinsou took very good care of me…” That faraway look returned to his eyes when he said, “I’ll catch you later, babe.” With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with a guy who simultaneously made the hair on the back of your neck stand up and your heart melt with a quirk of his brow.

Shinsou’s eyes scanned over you, up from where your hand was bunched up in your skirt, to your torso, your collar bones, your lips, then back down to your neck. Unease settled over you when his eyes finally met yours and you had to quickly look away. You wished that  you were anywhere else in the world. You also wished you could think of something, anything, to say to him, but asking about Kodai seemed to be so wrong to you, at the moment, and the last time either of you had interacted, you were about to hop into his lap!

Finally, you mustered, “do you know if he smoked anything? He really wasn’t acting like his usual self. I’m worried something might be wrong…”

“Not to my knowledge. He might’ve had a couple drinks though,” Shinsou said. There was another long pause, and you fought your brain to come up up a normal conversational topic, but Shinsou beat you to to the punch. “Is he your boyfriend?”  

“What? No!” You still couldn’t look him in the eye as you answered. You hoped that it was dark enough to be able to hide your flushing face. “He’s really just a friend.”

“He calls you ‘babe’, though.”

“Yeah, well, if you put a skirt on, I’m sure he’d call you babe too.” You shrugged. “He’s just a flirt.”

“You weren’t wearing a skirt at that last party,” Shinsou mused, which gave you a little rush. He remembered you. “And he still called you babe.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling, but your humor rang out in your voice when you asked, “are you interested in him or something? Because I can go get him back for you, if you want. I’m pretty sure he dated a guy our sophomore year.”

Shinsou clicked his tongue, amused. “It’s not him I’m interested in. Not really my type.”

“Right, right,” you laughed, gaining more confidence. “Well, I haven’t seen Kodai here tonight, but I think I have her number saved. Would you like me to give her a ring? It’s the least I can do for you taking care of my poor, dumb not-boyfriend while I was away.”

You reached inside your purse to grab your phone. You really would have called her, but before you could even touch your phone, Shinsou’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist. You almost yelped. Shinsou’s fingers were much cooler than his lips were and it surprised you.

“I knew you were jealous,” he remarked darkly. Immediately, you yanked your arm free, but that only prompted him to grab your wrist from a newer angle. You narrowed in on him, ready to bite—he was someone you didn’t know grabbing you, so obviously you had every right to—but as soon as you gazed into his eyes, you were lost.

His pupils were abyssal; so dark that they appeared white. Looking at him, your body felt cool—numb almost. Beyond any control, your body relaxed which made you lose your tight grip of Sero’s shitty piña colada. You didn’t even care about the cold, sloshy mess splattering over your heels.

Shinsou backed you into the wall, his stare intense, his lips parted and amused. He planted his free hand on your arm and took his time running it up to your shoulder, your neck. The tips of his fingers lightly danced across your jugular, the pad of his thumb slowly running up and down the pulsing vein. He scrutinized you dangerously, daring you to move, to run, to scream for help. Not knowing whether you were scared or aroused, you let him touch you, though ‘let’ didn’t seem like the appropriate word. It was like you had no other choice. He wanted to study you, so he would, and you would not object. So naturally, when Shinsou slid his hand to the nape of your neck, you turned to grant him access to what you knew what he really wanted.

He first pressed his nose up against your skin and inhaled deeply. You shivered as he groaned, “I’ve been waiting for you for too damn long. My sanguine.”

When Shinsou’s lips pressed against your flesh, you melted. Every nerve-ending in your body set aflame; you were no closer to fleeing the scene than you were indulging in the sweet sensation that his kiss had to offer. His cool tongue traveled up your neck, sending waves of jubilant shivers down your spine. His fingers hooked around your shoulder as he deepened the kiss. You felt a tingling sensation warming up between your legs that was only a tiny bit eased when he lodged his knee between you. His hand slid down your back where he pulled you on to him more comfortably; held up by his thigh, his arm, and nothing more.

“Nhhh-“ you tried to object, like you should, like you knew you wanted to, but a carnal urge pulled at the strings of your willpower. Whether he kissed you, or killed you, you wouldn’t be able to deny him his satisfaction. You would give him, Shinsou, a stranger, anything he wanted at any given moment.

But when you heard your name called from inside, the spell was broken.  

You tensed. Shinsou’s lips froze against your skin. You felt his hands tighten around you protectively, possessively, and you knew you were in deep shit.

“Kiri,” you whispered despite wanting nothing more than to say another man’s name. Kirishima was looking for you and yet, here you were, in his side yard, with another boy. Perhaps you hadn’t changed as much as you originally thought you had.

“Don’t-!” Shinsou hissed when you tried to pull away. There was urgency in his voice, something unexpected from him. His eyes were desperate and hungry. Terrifying. It felt good knowing that he wanted to keep you, and that thought was more frightening than what you thought was his original intentions. Fingers slid their way to your waist, and Shinsou bowed his head, dipping in to kiss your lips, but before he could, your hand fell on his face.

It wasn’t a slap, no. You literally put your entire ass palm on his face to save yourself from a kiss you actually wanted.

“O-oh god!” You stuttered out. Beyond any responsible control, you shoved his head back. “I’m sorry!”

Finally freed, you bolted a good five feet away from him, back towards the house. Your assaulter gazed at you with surprise, sleepy eyes rounded in a sort of sincere, pitiful way, but you couldn’t let his dejection get to you. You swallowed harshly as you backed away from him and the wall, going against every fiber in your body telling you to stay put, to stay at his side, to let him satiate any and all needs that he had.

The thing is, you would have. Despite not being able to bark out the half-dozen questions you had for him (why do you bite people? Why can’t anybody remember you? Why do I think I can hear your voice in my head? Why the sudden smooches? What the fuck?) you would have stayed with him there, had you not heard your name called a second time.

“Leaving so soon?” Shinsou asked, gaining some composure, though as lax as he tried to make himself seem, there was an imperative note in his tone. “Don’t want to let your fan club down, I guess.” His voice was a shrug. “And here I thought you were going around asking about me.”

That was so excruciatingly embarrassing; being caught showing interest. Did he know how many people you spoke to? You wished you could wither up and blow away right then and there.

You glanced through the glass door to see Kirishima holding his phone up to your ear. A second later, your phone started buzzing. You ignored it.

“I guess I just wanted to know who you were, is all,” you said, a perfectly normal response. That was you: calm, cool, and collected—totally not willing to makeout with extremely hot strangers out of nowhere. “I haven’t seen you around before that last party…” which would be a perfectly fine segue into asking him why he bit Yui Kodai, if only you could will your body to ask!

“So you’re satisfied?”

“Uh-huh!” Not at all. Not at all. But that didn’t stop you from turning back towards the house.

‘Liar.’

Your body went cold. The voice rang too clearly to have been said aloud, but it was definitely his. In. Your. Head.

“What did you say?” You asked, turning back, trying to keep your tone steady. You didn’t know why, but you thought it would be bad if he heard your voice crack or squeak.

“I asked if you were satisfied. We barely got to converse and yet, you’re skittering away after making such a fuss about finding me. Why is that?”

“I’m not skittering away and—hey!” You put your hands on your hips. “You called me a liar just now, didn’t you?”

Shinsou placed his hands in his hips, mocking you. “I said no such thing!”

“Well, no, maybe you didn’t say it with your mouth…”

“What else would I have said it with? My hips?” He smirked. “Are you sure it wasn’t your own conscience calling you out?”

You scoffed. You couldn’t believe he was teasing you!” And what about your conscience?! Do you just go around attacking people’s necks out of nowhere like that as a hobby?!”

“Interesting choice of words,” he chuckled. “No, I wouldn’t say attacking people is a hobby, but more of a necessity. And I don’t usually go for the neck, either. I save that intimacy for victims who are a little more willing…”

‘Really, I wouldn’t want a single drop of you to run down your arms, anyways.’

“Willing?!” You started, incredulous. You pointed a shaking finger at him and continued with, “you really have a thing or two to learn about cons-!”

“Hey!” Kirishima was sliding the door to patio open. “I was looking for you! The pizza’s almost gone, but I saved you a couple slices.” He looked at you and registered the expression on your face. His eyes narrowed as he approached you. “Who are you talking to?”

But when Kirishima looked down the side yard, there was nobody there—just the slushy remains of your piña colada. He bent down to pick the cup up to see you shaken, wordless. “What happened?”

You could only shake your head. Because you didn’t know what happened—you didn’t know anything! Shinsou was there and now he wasn’t, and the more you tried to say anything on the matter, the more the words got stuck at the back of your throat.

“Hey,” Kirishima said, full of concern. He grabbed both of your trembling hands and wound his fingers through yours. That was intimate. Something sweet. Something that was supposed to be reassuring. What in the hell was supposed to be intimate about a guy you barely met narrowing in on your neck like that.

You sighed and allowed your head to fall against Kirishima’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close while that angry blonde kid, Bakugou, appeared at the doorway, munching on a slice of pizza (probably the last one.) He took one look at you, rolled his eyes, and walked away. Kirishima asked you what happened once more. You said, “I’d just really like to get home.”

“Let me walk with you,” Kirishima whispered. That would be pulling him away from his own party, but he didn’t seem to care about that. The world really needed more Kirishimas.

“Okay.”

Making your way through the house, you saw Kaminari in the living room slurring the lyrics to a lame song, Sero cheering him on while simultaneously recording every word, and Bakugou glaring out the front window. Kirishima quickly told Sero where the two of you were headed which made Sero form a tight line with his mouth. After seeing the stricken expression on your face, Sero seemed to ease up a bit.

Kirishima held your hand while he walked with you. He tried to make light conversation, attempting to get your mind off of whatever happened when you were alone in his side yard, but you couldn’t entertain him with idle chit chat. The entire walk home, you thought you felt somebody’s watchful gaze on you.

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[puckyess]

4 Times Fate Brought You Together +1 Time You Met Him on Purpose | Ryder Donovan

Thanks for being patient! What’s your favorite part/line? My fav line is in the tags.

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Words: 8.4k

Brewers Game

You and your group of friends were the worst at actually making plans, preferring to be spontaneous and see where the days took you. Today’s adventure included deciding to attend a Brewers game an hour before it started. Seeing as how Miller Park was a little over an hour away, there was no time to debate the idea if you wanted to make it there before the second inning. At the time, it had seemed like perfect timing, a great idea.

Now, however as you stood on the crowded patio, the only tickets left for today’s sold out game, you were rethinking the whole plan. While you were a fan of the game and an even bigger fan of Christian Yelich, the blisters on your feet from standing in flip flops were not making the experience worth it. Luckily, your friends had volunteered to scour the stadium for some neglected seats. That left you standing against the railing, nursing a beer and rolling your eyes at the very obnoxious group a couple tables over.

Glancing over your shoulder with a dirty look on your face was a mistake as you realized who that group was: a majority of the Wisconsin hockey team. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned your head back to the game, but your actions hadn’t gone unnoticed by a certain blonde.

“Guys, maybe we should cool it a bit. We’re getting looks”, he tried.

“Who’s giving us looks? I’ll fight ‘em”, Mike called a bit too loud.

Your eyes on the field, you felt your face flush as his voice easily carried over to your direction. You hated confrontation and you had a feeling you were about to get one. Hoping to avoid it and trying to look innocent, you pulled your phone from your back pocket and sent an sos text to your friend, alerting her of who else was in your presence and asking how much longer she’d be gone to find seats.

You heard a “dude!” and the sound of a smack and you couldn’t help but giggle a little as who you assumed was the boy who yelled was getting reprimanded. Mike was his name and he was apparently not as drunk as he was acting, as he spied your shoulders shaking, his eyes narrowing in on the person who had gotten him thwacked by Ryder.

“Hey!” He hollered. You froze.

“Yeah, you, Yelich shirt!” And though that could have applied to ¾ of the people there, you knew he was referring to yourself. It was time to face the music so you slowly turned toward the hollering boy with your eyebrows raised.

The shit eating grin you were met with spelled trouble and you braved yourself for whatever it was he had to say next. “My friend, here,” he says grabbing Ryder and roughing his shoulder, “says he has a major crush on you. Like big time. Won’t stop staring at ya. Isn’t that right, Dono?” The blush that took over your face surely matches Ryder’s, who’s staring at you with wide, apologetic eyes. Meanwhile the boys are snickering at Mike embarrassing their friend in front of a girl.

“Really? Why don’t you tell him to come over and tell me himself? I couldn’t hear him over your loud mouth”, you retort. And with that you turn back around, heart beating in your ears, definitely not focusing on the game anymore. The noise level in the stadium raises three decibels as the guys hoot and holler at your chirp.

--

Not too much time passes before you feel a tap on your shoulder. You begin to sigh as you turn again, can a girl not watch a baseball game in peace anymore? But you suck in a breath when you see the nervous boy in front of you. His one hand is stuffed in his pocket, the other rubbing at the back of his neck and he’s shifting his weight from side to side. Despite the butterflies in your stomach, you can’t help but give him a little smirk.

“Ok you need to chill, you’re making me nervous”, you chirp, gesturing with your hands at his nervous fidgeting. He drops his hand and pauses his rocking with a grin on his face, seeming to relax a little.

“Well you see, you just completely killed my teammate back there and I’m kind of nervous you're going to roast me the same,” he says, thumb jutting back to where he came from. You peer around his tall frame and see his teammates staring at the two of you, well his back mostly, on the edges of their seats trying to gauge how the conversation is going.

“The smile on your face is teasing as you ask “are you aware we have an audience?” and the laugh he lets out is better than you could’ve imagined, especially because you had made him tip his head back with laughter.

He answers, shaking his head. “I had no doubt they’d be watching to see if I fail”.

“If you fail?”

The smirk on his face is dangerous, “Well that depends on you”.

You hum in response. “I don’t know what you’d fail at? You haven’t even told me your name, your number, what you’re doing over here in the first place...?” You trail off, proud of yourself for that spark plug move.

He’s shaking his head then with a beautiful smile on his face. “I’m here to apologize for Mike’s headassery and for my team’s lack of manners when drunk in public. Well when sober too”, he laughs, then continues, “and as for my name, I’m-“ but he doesn’t get to finish as suddenly everyone around you is shouting “kiss, kiss, kiss!” You couldn’t believe what was happening right now. Your brain was suddenly unable to concentrate on anything except kissing the boy in front of you.

The nervous look is back on his face as he leans down to you “you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to”,  though there’s something hopeful in his eyes that you might say yes. Instinct takes over, your hands gripping his shirt and pulling him the rest of the way down to meet your grinning lips. You can feel him smiling as well, the rest of your senses only responding to him. You don’t hear the roar of the crowd. You can only smell his cologne and the beer that he had obviously been sipping on before coming to talk to you. You can hear the beating of your heart because of him and when you pull back, not wanting to get any farther than PG on national television, you can see his bright smile directed at you.

“Wow” is all he says, echoing your thoughts out loud. You can’t imagine the look on your face right then. You feel like you’re just staring at him with a big, dumb smile on your face. Luckily the boys, as with much of the stadium have gone back to whatever it is they were doing before your world was just rocked. Your phone ringing breaks up the moment and though you lift it to your ear you barely hear what your friend is saying besides “ohmygod, Ryder Donovan, Jumbotron and I found seats”. Ryder is still standing close to you and can very easily hear your friend’s squeals.

When you hang up he has an accusing look in his eyes but a cocky grin spread across his lips. “Don’t know my name, huh? It sounds to me like you very much know my name”.

Cringing, mostly at the fact that your friend had literally squealed over the boy staring at you expectantly, but also at your own embarrassment.

“Hey I never lied about that. I only pointed out that you hadn’t told me your name, not that I didn’t already know it. But I do have to get going to my seat. Don’t want to have to stand here with your friends any longer. I have a game to watch!” you say with a wink, leaving Ryder’s mouth open, his number never making it past his lips. He hadn’t even gotten your name.

KK

If there was one good thing about the abrupt end to the NHL season it was that you got to watch playoff hockey in the middle of September. And it gave you an excuse to be at the bar pretty much every night that week after work. You and your roommate would order a drink or two and spend the evening yelling at the TVs in the bar. Somehow in all of your excitement for game 3 of the Toronto/CBJ matchup you’d managed to forget that every Wisconsin student goes out on Thursday nights and so KK was a bit more crowded tonight, especially with how early it was. Surprisingly, a lot of people had on gear in support of both teams and were already pregaming.

Once you had your drinks in hand, you began to weave your way back to what had become your high top table in the corner. It had the best view in the place and it was out of the way, giving you a little space to jump around if the game got too crazy without being noticed. Or so you thought anyways. You made yourself comfortable on your stool, focusing on the screen as the puck dropped, completely missing the head turn and stare of the tall blonde who had not left your mind since three weeks ago.

He gets caught staring, but not by the person he wants to. Cole nudges his arm, “So are you gonna go make your move or what?” he challenges. Shay is next to his brother leaning on the table.

“Don’t think we haven’t noticed you drooling over her since the minute she walked in”, he teases. “See, you even have a little wet spot”, he says poking his brother’s chest.

“Where?” Ryder asks, confused and suddenly looking down, pulling on his shirt to get a better look at whatever mystery stain his brother was talking about.

“Right there”, Shay says at the same time he flicks his finger upwards, hitting Ryder in the face.

“You’re such a child, Shay”

“And you’re such an idiot. You fall for that everytime”, he cackles. “But for real, bro, you haven’t stopped looking for her everywhere we go. She’s right here, just pull out those moves I know you have”.

Looking over at you grinning up at the TV, pointing at something and talking animatedly to your friend, he decides his brother is right and he moves to get out of his seat and make his way through the crowd to you. But just as his feet hit the floor the bar erupts into a mixture of cheers and boos and you’re up out of your seat, hands on your head, watching Mitch Marner dangle his way through Jackets left and right and then going backhand on Elvis for one dirty goal. The distress is clear on your face and your arms are flailing wildly as you shake your head, yelling at the screen with your friend. Even from across the bar he can tell you're mad and pouting as you sit back in your seat with your arms crossed over your chest and a scowl on your face. You look cute all worked up over a goal and he decides he’ll settle for watching you interact with the game for a bit more. He also makes a mental note that you’re a Jackets fan.

--

Towards the end of the second period, you lift your cup to your mouth to discover it empty. You eye the thick crowd and debate whether or not to get another drink, but with the final seconds on the clock winding down and the Jackets trailing by two goals, you get off your stool and elbow your way through the wall of bodies.

Standing at the bar you feel someone grab your elbow. “What’re you stalking me now?” the voice attached to it asks.

You whip around, yanking your arm free not realizing that the bewildered boy was harmless. Seeing Ryder’s face with his eyes wide and hands up in defense you let out a breath of relief. “You can’t go sneaking up on a girl in a bar like that” you reprimand him.

He sheepishly apologizes, acknowledging that that wasn’t his best move.

“But to answer your question, I could ask you the same thing. I for one, live here” you tell him and he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Oh yeah? And who is ‘I’ anyway? I never did get your name.”

You laugh, thinking back to your first encounter and he was right, you had knowingly left him without introducing yourself. “Y/N” you say, letting him in on the mystery.

“Y/N” he repeats, liking the way it sounds on his lips and you have to admit that you do too. “And where is it that you live, Y/N? Maybe I know the place?”

You shake your head, “Probably not. It’s not on campus”, he still looks intrigued so you continue, “it’s a little ways the opposite direction. Right next to Festival, well, attached to it. Really convenient actually, I end up going there almost every day because I decide I need something new for dinner after work”.

Just then you hear commotion and look up just in time to see a replay of Werenski taking a dumb penalty, sending the lethal Leafs power play into action. You groan and Ryder chuckles. “You get pretty into this don’t you?”

You give him a look. “If you think that’s ‘into it’ you should see me when they actually get scored on”

“Oh I have, you’ve been losing your shit over there in the corner since about the fifth minute of the first period” he says nodding over toward your table with a smirk. You should feel embarrassed but knowing he’s seen you worked up over hockey and he’s been watching you this whole time makes you feel something else instead, something you don’t quite want to acknowledge.

“See, so I was right. You’re the one who is stalking me” you chirp him. He laughs and puts his hands up again.

“You’ve caught me. Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”. Normally you wouldn't accept drinks from guys, knowing there’s usually always strings attached, but Ryder isn’t normal by any means and you wouldn't even be mad if there were strings attached to this one, so you agree.

“If you can get her attention. I swear I’ve been waiting here pretty much the whole intermission”. After asking what you want he looks around for the bartender and flashes a smile. Within seconds he’s ordered both of your drinks and is looking at you with a smug look on his face, your mouth slightly ajar.

“Unbelievable”, you mutter, but you should’ve known better. You can tell he knows what you said but he still leans down, close to you and makes a big show of saying “what was that?” And if he wants to play games then so will you, so you grab a fistful of his shirt and bring him back down to your level. “I said it’s unbelievable that you can just bat your lashes and that girl rushes over to take your order. Must be nice to be a star hockey player”. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t annoyed, firstly over the fact that you had quite literally been waiting there for a good 20 minutes and she hadn’t even glanced your way, but the minute Ryder shows up he gets taken care of and secondly you didn’t like the way she was looking at him as she quickly filled his order and leaned over the bar to hand it to him, unabashedly showing off her cleavage.

You did however, enjoy the dirty look she threw your way as he handed you your drink and leaned down to your ear to ask if you were jealous. Whether he was referring to his non-existent wait time or if he had caught the pouty look on your face, you were unsure, but instead of inflating his ego too much you left his question unanswered.

You focused your attention on the mark you had left in his shirt at the center of his chest where your fist had grabbed the fabric, wrinkling it. Your hand reached out to smooth it and maybe curiously feel the muscles underneath. Ryder looked down, eyes watching your hand the whole time hoping you couldn’t feel the way his heart was pounding under your touch. Your eyes gauge his reaction and right when you thought you might lose your own self control, the crowd saved you, cheering as Josh Anderson wedged one in past Freddie. You quickly removed your hand from his chest and cheered along with the rest of the Jackets fans. You used the moment as your escape, thanking him for your drink and then turning on your heel, “I have a game to watch!” You told him just like the first time and strolled back to your table, leaving Ryder in a stupor.

Festival

“So tell me again why we had to drive all the way across the city to get donuts that were also at the convenience store right across from our building?” Shay asks from behind the wheel.

“Because he’s stalking kiss cam girl” Dylan pipes in, making kissy faces and then retreating when Ryder shoots him a glare.

“We’re going to Festival because all I know about Y/N is her name and that she lives in the building attached to it and goes to this store all the time” he says matter of factly.

“So we’re stalking her?” Mike sums up.

Ryder just rolls his eyes and huffs out a “no” in the front seat.

“Come on dude, what’s your plan here if you do end up seeing her? What’re you gonna say when she says ‘oh what’re you doing here?’ ‘Oh ya know, I just made my brother drive all the way across the city to get these donuts and oh by the way would you want to go out with me?’” Shay asks, imitating Ryder.

“Well no”, he answers defensively.

“So what’s your plan?” Mike pushes.

Ryder looks down at his hand, suddenly regretting his decision to shove his teammates into a car after practice and travel across town to your door. Well, grocery store. “I don’t know’ I haven’t gotten that far, okay? I haven’t really thought about it”.

At that Mikey dies laughing, “Don’t lie, Rydes! As if you haven’t been rehearsing in your bedroom mirror for the past four days”. Ryder twists in his seat to eye his teammate before he lunges for him through the opening to the backseat, making Shay swerve the car as he turns into the parking lot.

“Hey, hey, hey! Watch the shoulder!” He shouts, trying to shield his shoulder from his brother's aggressive movements. Putting the car in park he tugs on Ryder’s shirt, making him sit down and then popping the locks, he’s shoving him out of the car. “We should just leave him”, Dylan mumbles when the door shuts.

--

As he rounds the corner of  the donut aisle for the fourth time, he’s shaking his head at his stupidity. What was he thinking coming to this grocery store on a Monday night and expecting to see you? He’d checked the playoff schedule and there weren’t any games tonight, but that didn’t mean you’d be spending your night at the grocery store. Letting out a long sigh he frowns and grabs the box of Krispe Kreme donuts.

Having been watching him from the end of the aisle, you decide to finally speak up, “Someone having a rough day? I’ve never seen anyone have that reaction when they grab glazed donuts”.

His face lights up when he turns to face you. “You’re here”, he blurts out. His cheeks flame as he tries to recover. “I mean of course you’re here, you live right next door..I mean..” he’s clearly flustered and though you should say something to try and make him relax a little, you can’t help but chirp him just a tiny bit.

“I do. Someone has a good memory...I’m surprised no one’s called the cops on you for loitering. You’ve been pacing around the store for a good half hour now and you look nervous as hell like you’re gonna steal something”.

“Just your heart” he says automatically. His eyes widen and his hands cover his face. “Ohmygod, I can't believe I just said that '' he draws out with a groan, hand sliding down his face. “I’m sorry. I really don’t know what’s wrong with me” he says with slumped shoulders and red cheeks.

Your head is thrown back with loud laughs that earn you stares from the couple entering the aisle. “That was smooth, Donovan'' you say and put a hand on his arm, scooching a little closer to him to let the couple pass by. He tries to ignore your touch but it’s increasingly harder to do, the longer you let your hand linger.

“ So what are you doing here anyway? Isn’t this like kind of out of the way from campus?” Curiosity fills your voice. Ryder inwardly cringes at his brother being right. Of course you’d want to know what he was doing here and you’d picked up on the fact that it was very much out of his way. instead of answering the question he poorly tried to deflect, unable to come up with much. It’s like his brain won’t function properly around you.

“Well I just needed the world’s best glazed donuts and figured I would go to a grocery store instead of a convenience store because they’re probably fresher?” he offers.

“Uh huh”, you nod, clearly not believing him. “They are prettyyyy gooood” you say reaching across him to grab a box of your own and add it to the basket on your arm, “But not the best.” And you begin to tell him about the little bakery back home that makes literally the world’s best glazed donuts as you walk through the store and finish crossing items off your list.

When you self checkout and all Ryder has is the box of donuts you swipe them from him, scanning them and pulling a pen out of your purse. He’s practically wrestling you in the middle of the checkout, protesting, saying that “under no circumstances will you be walking out of there without money in your hands for the world’s second best glazed donuts”. After receiving dirty looks from the lady behind you in line, you shove the box back into his hands and quickly grab your couple of bags. He holds the door for you on your way out and offers to take your bags and walk you back. You shake your head though, knowing that if he walked you back, you’d invite him in, and if you invited him in he’d be staying until the sun came up.

“Just take your donuts home and call it a win, Rydes”, you say, nodding toward the box in his hand. Your face gets warm at the use of the nickname slipping your mouth but the grin it earns from him is worth the embarrassment of the slip up.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says but phrases it in the way of a question.

A small smile finds its way onto your features, “Maybe,” you turn to walk away, “if you use what’s written on that box”. He suddenly remembers you writing something on the box when you took it from him moments ago. At the time he had been too worried about paying you back that he had forgotten to actually see what you had written. He glances down to see your number messily scrawled on the top of the box, a small smile creeping its way onto his lips. When he looks back up you’re nowhere to be seen.

Turning to walk back to where the boys are no doubt anxiously waiting for him he pops open the box and takes a big, victorious bite out of a donut. He casually slides into the car to find Shay, Mike and Dylan on the edge of their seats. Mike looks a little too smug as he says, “Coming out empty handed I see?”. With an eyebrow raised Ryder asks him if he wants a donut, extending the box toward his obnoxious teammate, nonchalantly showing off the number on the top. Dylan was about to complain that he didn’t get offered any donuts when he spies something out of place on the polka dotted box.

“What’s that on the top-ohmygod you got her number didn’t you? She was actually there? You lucky son of a bitch. This never happens to me” he says, sitting back in his seat and pouting.

Shay’s laughing from the front seat. “That’s the Donovan way. Pay up, Vorlicky. You owe me 10 bucks”.

“Let me see that'' Mike grumbles, yanking the box from Ryder’s hand to inspect. Ryder tried to play it cool, like he had planned it and had no doubts that he’d get your number, but he ends up gushing about it like a little school girl the whole way home. As he finishes the last bite of his donut he can’t help but wonder what your world's best glazed donuts taste like.

Season Ticket Holder Brunch

If you could only eat one meal a day, it would be brunch. There was just something so satisfying about starting your day around 10 or 11 o'clock, sitting down to a fulfilling meal of whatever food your heart desired. It would be perfectly acceptable to fill your stomach with fluffy pancakes and sugary syrup or you could go the cheeseburger and fries route; it was a win win. A week ago, had someone told you that you were going to brunch and there would also be hockey talk/players there, you would have been in heaven. But today you were feeling more like you were going to be in your own personal hell. Not only would you be in the same room as the guy you had kind of humiliated in front of his buddies, but you’d also have to look the one in the eye who you had given your number to and never heard from. Oh and then there was the fact that you’d be with the whole damn Wisconsin hockey team as a fan, a season ticket holder fan at that. You wouldn’t even be going, but as fate would have it, your roommate had just so happened to threaten your life when you had first refused to go, using the phrase “I will kill you myself if I have to”. So here you were, about to celebrate the beginning of a new season with brunch and the stars themselves.

--

His eyes had widened in disbelief the first time he had caught sight of you that day. What were you doing here, at a luncheon exclusively for season ticket holders? Cole looked at his teammate.

“You still haven’t reached out to her yet?” He asked incredulously.

“I didn’t think she was serious. What am I supposed to say?”

“Dude she gave you her number. What more does she need to do? Sack up bro”. Ryder knew Cole was right. You hadn’t thrown yourself at him like other girls did, but you had definitely made it clear you were interested in him. Hell, you had literally kissed him in front of thousands of people and yet, he couldn’t compose a text? He knew he had to speak to you today before you left, but as he watched you greet Coach Granato with such confidence, he lost his.That didn’t mean his eyes didn’t follow you everywhere you went, constantly aware of your presence in the room, even if you didn’t appear to be aware of his.

From a fan’s perspective, the whole setup was pretty cool, you had to admit. The guys were greeting guests as they entered and mingling throughout the room. You knew where Ryder was at every moment and though you wanted so badly to be able to go up to him, you made yourself avoid him. A task that was made very difficult with the warmth of his eyes on your every more. This little dance of yours continued until the presentations started, then the guys were lined up at the front of the room at banquet tables that were facing the rest of the room. There were a couple speeches from the coach and the new captains, and a really well put together hype video, which you watched none of because the whole time you kept locking eyes with the one and only, Ryder Donovan. You both were casting glances each other’s way, alternating whose turn it was to quickly look away, the question in your eyes present each time and the guilt in his.

--

When tables are released to go get their food from the buffet he searches for you. Spotting you in line with a plate in your hand he slides up next to you.

“I was about to offer you a ticket to the game but I guess you’ve already got that covered” he tries. You don’t even turn his way, pretending to survey the food even though your heart is beating a mile a minute just with his proximity to you.

“Oh is that so? And how were you going to do that? I’m assuming you lost my number? And if you didn’t, you really should”.

He hears snickers from behind him and he shoots his teammates a glare before turning his attention back to you. Clearly he’s messed up and he knows he’s skating on thin ice (haha) with you so he tries to choose his words carefully before just deciding to put himself out there.

“I didn’t exactly know what to say? I typed out a bunch of different options, some cheesy pickup lines, a simple hey, but I erased it every time. It didn’t seem...good enough” he admits. Now you look at him, his face confirming his words and you see him look nervous for the third time since you’ve met him, and three times more than you thought you ever would.

“How about a ’hi it’s Ryder’ you’re plenty good enough already, you didn’t need to think of some snazzy message, it’s just me”

“Yeah, but that’s exactly my point. You’re..well you’re you. You’re kind of intimidating and by kind of I mean you’re intimidating”.

“That’s the first time I’ve heard that one” you say, but you’re reeling at the boy in front of you calling you intimidating, as if he didn’t know who he was.

“It’s true” he defends, calling Mike over.

“Mike, is she intimidating?”

“Oh hell yeah. I was pretty shitfaced at that game and even I knew not to mess with you after you handed me my ass” he jokes.

“See?” Ryder says, gesturing to Mike as if proving his point. “Okay you’re dismissed Mikey” Mike looks annoyed that he has to leave the conversation but shrugs and follows Ryder’s orders anyway, leaving you alone with Ryder once again.

“Well just know I don’t mean to come off as intimidating”, you tell him, wanting to break the ice and ultimately let him in.

He follows you to your table and then hesitates once he’s there, not knowing if it’s okay to sit down. You pat the chair next to you and his tall frame is collapsing into the chair next to you. Once he’s sitting you can see him visibly relax a bit, noticing for the first time how tiring these events can be for the young men that serve as the entertainment.

“Are you tired yet?” You ask. He can see the concern in your eyes and his heart swells a little at the fact that you might be worried about him.

“Don’t worry about me, today is about you guys, the fans” he teases, leaning toward you to knock your shoulder with his own.

You can tell he’s trying to keep it light, but you wanted a real answer from him.  “And I thought I was supposed to be intimidating. Clearly didn’t scare you into actually answering the question” you say with a light smile. He chuckles at your remark and gives you his honest answer, leaning forward so that he can prop his bent arm on the table and rest his head on his hand, watching you.

“Yes, these things are exhausting. I’m just kind of on display the whole time and have to say the right things all the time  And obviously I’m not very good at that” he motions between the two of you, “but don’t get me wrong I’m super grateful to be in this position and I know it comes with the territory and stuff. It really is fun too, meeting everyone and seeing all of the support and excitement for the team. It’s a really cool thing we have here at Wisconsin” the passion and gratitude leaking into his voice. The smile on your face is genuine as you listen to him open up and you can’t help but think about how easily you could get used to this, to him. Your thoughts are interrupted by another boy stopping at your table.

“Hey bud, coach said you have to fraternize with all of the fans, not just your girlfriend” he says, clapping a hand down on Ryder’s shoulder. Ryder’s cheeks turn the color of the scarlet Badger polo he’s wearing. You laugh at the older Donovan’s remark before sticking out your hand and introducing yourself. Shay gives his brother one last chirp before Ryder is excusing himself.

“I thought I’d never get rid of him” he jokes after Ryder leaves. “Look I know the kid hasn’t texted you yet, but I know for a fact he’s interested in you. I’m assuming you’re coming to our game this weekend?” He asks.

“I think I can arrange that, yes” you say as you watch Ryder work the room. As if he can sense you watching him, he sends a smile your way, a slight blush on his cheeks still.

“- and yeah, that’s the story of how Carole killed her husband and fed him to the tigers” Shay finishes and waits patiently for your reaction.

You only catch the tail end of what he’s saying and are very confused, “I’m sorry what?!”

He throws his head back laughing, earning Ryder’s attention. “You weren’t listening to a word I said, Y/N. You two have it so bad for each other” he taunts. You roll your eyes but there is a definite smile on your face.

“Yeah, says you”.

He smiles back, getting up from the table since you weren’t listening anyways. “I mean it, this weekend. You and Ryder. I’m gonna make it happen” he says pointing at you and his brother. You shake your head at him but don’t protest, continuing to watch the tall boy across the room.

--

With the event wrapping up you decide to head out, having to prepare some stuff for work the next day. You want to make it a point to say your goodbye to Ryder before you leave this time, but he beats you to it as he sees you nearing the door.

“So about that ticket..” he says grinning.

“Oh are you getting me a seat on the glass or right behind the bench?” You tease.

He’s just as quick with a response, “if that’s what you want. As long as I know where to look for you”. You look away not wanting him to see the way your face is heating up. He’s getting good at this.

“D5” you tell him, biting your lip.

“D5” he repeats as if committing it to memory. “Well then I will see you there”, he says.

“Not if I see you first, Donovan” you lightly flirt. He rolls his eyes at your cheesy response, fighting the grin that breaks out on his face.

“Get outta here, Y/N, I'm starting to rub off on you”.

+1

Since the season ticket holder event, Ryder had stepped up his initiative, even texting you for the first time later that day to make sure you had gotten home alright and again apologizing for not messaging you sooner. He made up for lost time by committing all of his free time to you, texting and FaceTiming you every chance he got, even sneaking messages in during practice where you got a text from his coach telling you that Ryder would no longer be available for the next hour as he would be bag skating. The boys let him have it for that one.

Needless to say, you two had grown closer in the span of a week, feeling like you had known each other for ages and you were very much looking forward to the next time you could see him, which would be at his game. Obviously he knew you had tickets for it, but the look on his face when he asked if you would come to his game was adorable.

The gameday experience itself and attending the game as someone’s possible significant other was new in every way and couldn’t have been more perfect from start to finish. Even getting ready for the game was exciting. The moment you walked through the doors of Kohl you were in awe. It was even bigger and better than you had imagined. You were taking so much time admiring the arena that you were a few minutes late to watch warmups. Of course you wandered down to the glass and Ryder was in front of you in an instant. He charmingly tossed a puck over the glass and then was hit by Dylan against the boards. The game itself was electric. The atmosphere was alive and you could tell the boys were feeding off the energy. It was a very tight game for all three periods, but Ryder luckily found the back of the net within the last minute, putting the Badgers up 1 and sealing the victory. He immediately crashed into the glass right in front of you, you capturing the moment with the proudest smile on your face.

--

Waiting for Ryder was nerve racking to say the least. Your eyes kept shifting from place to place and person to person and you exchanged fake smiles with the people you had made awkward eye contact with. There were small groups of family members and girls waiting for the team to make their exit and you stood off to the side by yourself. You couldn’t have felt more out of place if you tried.

Soon enough you see a blonde poke of hair through the doorway of the locker room. With his head above everyone else’s you watch his eyes scan the groups for your face. You find each other immediately and across the room his silhouette starts to make its way to you. As soon as he’s in front of you he’s wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off your feet. Your laughter is genuine, having not expected him to be so open in front of everyone, despite having already kissed on a jumbortron. Once he sets you on your feet, the playful conversation starts. He counters all your quick remarks and the interactions feel as fun and as alive as they used to in middle school when you’d pass notes in secrecy to your crush.

“So what did ya think?”, the nervous Ryder from previous interactions gone and the goal scoring, talented hockey player Ryder taking his place.

A smile tugs at your lips as you decide whether or not you want to inflate his ego any, but after a 3 point night you think he’s earned a little compliment at least.

“It was amazing! This arena lives up to the hype for sure and that #27, damn he’s pretty good. Do you think you could hook a girl up? He was on fire tonight”.

“I might be able to work a little magic. I don’t know though, he seems pretty into this girl already” he drawls out, reaching for you again.

“Well, she’s feeling pretty lucky tonight”.

His teammates begin joining you two, each one giving him a hard time as they enter the picture. “Y/N! I’m glad you showed up, we thought Ryder was gonna have a heart attack when you didn’t show for the very beginning of warmups. I’m Cole by the way, Ryder talks all about you”, he says sticking his hand out.

You giggle at his comment and Ryder’s cheeks. He doesn’t deny any part of what his teammate had just said. “I didn’t know I had to follow the team schedule, but I won’t be late next time” you say, knocking into Ryder’s side.

“Are you coming out with us tonight? We’re just going for a few drinks. Nothing too wild since we have another one tomorrow, but we want to celebrate the first one.”

His question takes you by surprise, as Ryder had said he wanted to hang out after the game but had danced around what he actually wanted to do. But before you can answer he does for you. “We’ll be there, but we have to make a little stop first” he says and then realized that he hadn’t even asked what your opinion on the plans were, “if that’s ok with you?”

You didn’t have the chance to answer, again because Dylan pipes up in the conversation. “Hey, you said I would get next goal!” He whines.

Your brows knit in confusion at whatever Dylan’s complaint is in reference to, as Owen throws an arm over the blonde’s shoulders. “It’s okay buddy, I’ll take you. Ryder has a girlfriend now, so things are going to be different”, O delicately explains like he’s talking to a child, welcoming a new human into the family.

Ryder rolls his eyes at his teammates, but doesn’t dispute or even address the girlfriend comment. “Sorry, D. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But we should probably get going if we want to make it an early one tonight”. The boys nod in agreement and all make the walk to their cars, dispersing. Ryder walks with you to the passenger side of the car and opens the door for you and you have to say, even though it’s a small gesture, it still makes you blush and earns him yet another brownie point.

After he gets in and starts to drive you ask, “So where is it that we’re going that Dylan’s so upset about?”

Of course he doesn’t give you a straight answer, wanting to keep it a surprise as long as he can. “You’ll see”.

It’s a short time before he’s pulling up in front of the Capitol building and telling you to “stay put” as he jogs around the front of the car to open your door for you. His hand is held out to help you out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You expect him to drop your hand once you’ve made it safely, but he keeps your hand tucked in his and pulls you along until you”re standing inside Dlux.

With an excited grin on his face he asks, “Are you ready for the best burger and shake of your life?”

--

Ryder was downright passionate, telling you about all of the different shake flavors they had and how he made it a mission last year to try every single one, “AND every month they come out with a new flavor! This month’s is red velvet”. Which one are you going to get?” You couldn’t decide but he assured you that no matter which flavor you chose, you couldn’t go wrong.

He was right on that, eventually leaving the shake decision up to him and he chose the flavor of the month, and it was delicious. The burgers were amazing too, in part due to the fact that you were starving. You’d barely eaten anything all day because of the nerves leading up to being with Ryder that night. Both of you finished your food lightning fast, but stayed to talk well past your plates having been cleared from the table. You only ended up leaving because the boys were blowing up Ryder’s phone with texts asking when you two were coming. When you looked down at your own phone you realized that you’d been there for a good two hours. Time flew when you were with him. He ended up paying for your meal, claiming it was in return for the donuts you had bought for him and though the amounts were very unbalanced, you agreed with the condition of you paying for the next time. He was overly satisfied with the promise of there being a “next time”.

“That was the perfect post-game meal. I can see why Dylan was upset he didn’t get to be your date tonight”, you said once you were back in the warmth of the car.

“Yeah I feel kind of bad, I did tell him next goal at the end of last season when he didn’t get to go”, glancing over at you he can see your eyebrow raised and further explains, “It’s kind of cheesy, but every time I get a goal, I come here for a shake and a burger. Kind of a reward I guess. A little tradition I started”. The small smile that dances across his face is endearing and almost embarrassed.

“Well thank you for letting me be a part of your tradition”, you tell him earnestly. You feel honored that he wanted to include you and share his tradition with you.

He just shrugs, “Well I figured I had to bring my good luck charm to celebrate. You’re coming to my game tomorrow too, right?” a little smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Your nose scrunches up at his line, but a giggle escapes you nonetheless. “That was really cheesy, Donovan. But yes, I will be there”.

“D5?”

“D5”, you confirm.

--

His hand finds yours again as he leads you to their booth in the back of KK. You can’t help but notice its view of your table in the corner that you’ve spent the majority of the playoffs at.

The boys surprisingly keep their word of only a few rounds of drinks. Ryder stays glued to your side the entire time, only leaving to retrieve you a drink. But soon he was back, an arm resting over the back of the booth, a comfortable weight over your shoulders. He used the noise level as an excuse to lean close to talk to you and you didn’t mind the close proximity one bit. Despite the bar being pretty crowded since it was a Friday night and the team being all around you, it was like you and Ryder were in your own little world.

“It’s kind of funny how things have come full circle”, he notes, ‘here we are, in KK with a Brewers and Stanley Cup game playing”.

You glance over at the TVs and sure enough, there’s a Brewers game on one and a Cup game on the other. You lean into him, a content smile playing on your lips as you think back to the first time you had met him. “I can’t believe we got kiss cammed” you reminisce.

“And I can’t believe how crazy you get watching hockey games”, he teases.

“Hey! I take my hockey very seriously, thank you very much”, you exclaim, giving his side a little jab and then settling to lean against him again. “Fate’s really got our backs, huh? First the game, then here, the grocery, and that brunch”. You revel in all of the times you had somehow ended up in the same place together, each time not knowing that you’d end up seeing the other again.

“Yeah, er, about that”, he says, taking a drink.

You can tell he’s about to tell you something that discredits something you had just said and you groan. “What is it?”

“I definitely drove to that grocery store on purpose to find you, fate had nothing to do with that”, he confesses.

“It’s true. I was the driver!” Shay interjects from beside Ryder, a gentle shove from Ryder following the interjection.

Your head tips back with laughter, “I assumed as much. Your excuse for what you were doing across town was pretty awful”

“Dude, I told you she was going to wonder why you were there and you should figure out a response before you went outside, but noooo Shay never knows what he’s talking about” the older brother butts in again.

“Yeah, exactly, you never know what you're talking about” Ryder says, quoting his brother out of context.

“Except this time”, you chirp, earning a high five from Shay.

“Yeahhh, I like this one”, he approves.

“And to think I thought this was going to work out”, Ryder jokes, gesturing between the two of you.

“Do you guys need to kiss and make up?”, Cole asks from beside you. This gets the attention of Mike and a few of the other boys, who childishly start a chant of “Kiss, kiss, kiss!” Things really had come full circle.

You’re grinning as you say, “Fate, Donovan”.

And right before his lips press against yours he says, “Must be”.

The guys cheer, almost identical to the first time, only this time the kiss is a little more heated thanks to there not being thousands of spectators and a jumbotron.

When you finally pull away from each other, Ryder says, “I’m not letting you walk away from me this time. Can I take you out on a date?”