#nine not knowing he’s from new jersey

[killersnarl]

// BIG ANNOUNCEMENT !! :o

i am pleased to announce the nine bot made by @c0dykun !!!! (everyone go thank them cause this is super cool for you guys)

you can go play with it here !

(keep in mind it’s a bot so it’s not always going to be accurate and sometimes you’ll have to swipe through responses until you get a good one, but the more you talk and give it feedback it should get better ! it’s just to have fun and be silly ! the website can be pretty slow sometimes so be prepared lol.)

feel free to send me any funny interactions you get and i’ll tag it under bot shenanigans for everyone’s viewing pleasure

(by the way: i’m still working on something else big 😁)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

southern rivalries

warnings: 18+ only, smut, college au, cheerleader!reader, football player!rafe, college football but i dont know anything so please excuse any wrong details, rivals to lovers, p in v sex, protected sex to unprotected sex lol, sixty nine, male and female receiving oral, male receiving handjob, brief injury but no one is seriously hurt

words: 2.3k

“they're not just a different school.” steffie says, placing her hands down on the table as her tone turns way too serious for the subject. “they're our rivals, our arch nemeses. the war has torn families apart.”

“it's football.” you say plainly. “college. football.”

“i can tell you're new here.” steffies friend tiffy agrees (you've always wondered if they purposely chose their nicknames to rhyme considering they seem attached at the hip). “you just don't get it. football is life here in the south.”

“and north carolina are our rivals. even though we are north carolina.” you are trying to wrap your head around the culture at your new school.

“kind of but also, not at all.” tiffy says while steffie finishes the sentiment for her. “we are nc state. the wolf pack. our rivals are unc tar heels.”

“tar heels is a dumb name.” you snort.

“exactly!” steffie agrees.

the conversation shifts, but it never goes to far from football, too far from the rivalry that seems to extend to everything, from other sports to academics.

“did you cheer in high school?” steffie asks.

“yeah.” you nod. “well, not sideline because it conflicted with volleyball. i did competitive though.”

“you should try out for our sideline team. we need more numbers and…” her voice turns to a whisper like she's sharing a deep, dark secret. “my sister is the team captain. you'll definitely get on the squad if i put in a good word for you.”

-- two months later --

“wolf!” you shout with your fellow cheerleaders, listening to the crowd scream back.

“pack!”

“wolf!” you yell again before dropping your poms, quickly learning that most of the girls never did competitive cheer and aren't the best tumblers, leaving you to be the one flipping across the sidelines to the cheers of fans.

you wave and kick and cheer, just happy to have something to do on friday nights. you feel a little guilty for beating out girls that are a lot more passionate about football and your college, but you try your best to put it past you.

you get back in the line, yelling out cheers and keeping your cheeks stretched wide with a smile, occasionally glancing at the clock to see how much longer until your halftime routine (as well as the score… a little bit.)

the seconds are ticking down and you're about to raise your poms again to shake the red and white colors in the air, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, but before you can turn, you're hit in the back.

“ahhh!” you scream out and fall forward, the football player falling with you as the ball falls from his hands.

“shit.” he groans and quickly rolls off of you. “are you okay?”

you roll over onto your back, coughing and trying to suck in oxygen after the air was knocked out of your lungs.

you realize quickly that the football player now moved to hover over top of you is not one of your own with his powder blue jersey and white helmet.

“im-” you take another deep suck of breath, but this time not in recovery as you see his face through the face mask, blue eyes looking into yours and the most handsome face you've ever seen.

“im fine.” you manage to say before you're surrounded by a crowd, the wolfpack players pulling the opposing player away and your fellow cheerleaders helping you back up.

steffie pushes strands of hair out of your face, getting you back to proper uniform while tiffy shoves your fallen poms back into your grip.

“ew.” tiffy says, wiping the back of your uniform like the tar heel player left a literal stain on you.

“and our cheerleader is back and up on her feet! let's give it up for her as number 19 rafe cameron re-enters the field after their clash.”

you wave your hand in the air as the crowd claps for you, their attention briefly away from the field, but there's only one thing on your mind. rafe cameron.

-- two hours later --

“what are you doing?” steffie yells, snatching your phone from your hand and making you quickly regret agreeing to be her and tiffies third roommate.

“don't you know fraternization is not allowed with tar heels?”

“im not doing anything!” you grab your phone back out of her hand, still opened up to his instagram page. “simply looking at the guy who hit me, okay? i was just curious.”

“mhm.” steffie gives you a glaring look that clearly says she doesn't believe you.

you sigh softly and close out of the account, not that there's many posts to look at anyways, and only a few not on the football field with his helmet off and structured face in full view.

“let's go out.” you say quickly.

“after we lost the game?” steffie shakes her head.

“alright, whatever.” you get up to get dressed in something cute, not willing to let the football teams loss hold you back from living your life, and admittedly you need a breath of fresh air away from cheer or football or your dorm mates.

--

you're at a club you've never been to before, not one of the ones that plasters wolfpack pride posters to all of their walls and plays the red and white anthem like it's a kesha song.

you show the bouncer your id and step into the music filled room, quickly ordering yourself a drink when you hear loud whooping from a different section.

you look over and find a group of men that you quickly realize despite the clubs colorful lighting are wearing that recognizable baby blue.

“of course.” you groan, just happening to stumble into the same bar as the unc players while you're trying to not think about football or even college despite all your classes being easy entry level.

you're about to pay your tab and leave when a deep, familiar voice speaks from jarringly close.

“another drink of whatever the lady is having.”

“i- no, no.” you shake your head, only briefly glancing at him. rafe. “im fine.”

“you're that cheerleader, aren't you?” he leans his elbow against the table, and the bartender makes you a drink and places it down in front of you despite your attempted disapproval.

“yeah.” you nod. “not that… into all of this i guess.” you shrug, hand waving at the logo on his shirt. “i didn't know y'all came here to celebrate.”

“ah.” he nods. “and your name?”

you realize quickly that you know far too much about him when all he knows is that he accidentally hit you, and that you cheer for his rival team.

“y/n.” you reply, taking a sip of your drink, actually tasting it this time instead of quickly gulping it down like you did the first time.

“im rafe.” he reaches his hand out and you shake it, wondering if the invisible blue stain is somehow going to be picked up on by steffie and tiffy when you eventually make it back to your dorm.

“i never got to properly apologize. i did look for you after the game. i guess it was fate that brought you here tonight.” rafe squeezes your hand, and you quickly realize it's still held in his grip. “im sorry.”

“im not supposed to-” you quickly take your hand out of his grasp. “im not supposed to be talking to you. sorry.”

“ah.” he says again. “that pesty no fraternization rule. im not supposed to be talking to you either.”

there's a pause, a mutual understanding and acknowledgement of the tension brewing between the two of you.

“but that's not going to stop me from asking you back to my hotel room.”

the words barely leave his lips before your mouth is on his.

--

it's a mess of hands, furiously grabbing and tugging at clothes until you're both down to just your undergarments.

“shit.” you laugh, noticing that even rafes underwear is carolina blue.

“team issued.” he clarifies quickly as he pulls you down with him as he falls back onto the bed. your lips press against his as you straddle his hips.

you press your crotch down over his, feeling the way he's already pressing up against your panties.

“god, let me get my mouth on you.” you groan, sinking down to lick and kiss at the grooves of his chest and abs, trying to commit the taste of his skin to memory, not sure if you'll ever have this chance again.

you reach his blue boxers and press your lips against the clear outline of his hard cock, wetting the fabric with your spit before you're sick of the barrier and lean back only to pull the underwear down his thighs.

“fuck.” rafe moans out when your mouth is immediately back on his cock, this time able to put his length into your mouth as you bob your head up and down, quickly setting a rhythm as you try to coax your throat to allow him deeper.

“y/n.” rafe tugs on your hair, and you groan when you're forced to pull away.

“what?” you snap.

“get your ass up here.” 

you move quickly, shucking off your panties and moving so your pussy is hovering over rafes face. he looks up at you for a brief second, just to take a breath and stare into your glistening cunt, before his hands are pulling your hips down and your clit onto his awaiting mouth.

you take his cock in your hand, pressing open mouth kisses and licks all over, not sure how well you can blow him when your moans are loud and filling the hotel room.

rafe mumbles something that you can't might make out, but it may be “delicious.” as his mouth devours your pussy, tongue swiping through your folds obsequiously, paying attention to every moan of yours and what causes your pussy to clench.

“fuck.” you groan, hand moving to take over for your mouth as your jaw drops open, stroking up and down his length that makes your cunt squeeze again thinking about having inside you.

rafe pushes your hips away, and before you can argue or control your body, he uses his strong football muscles to flip you into your back and rest your head against the hotel rooms fluffy pillows.

“i need you.” rafe says, reaching towards his wallet on the nightstand and pulling out a condom, tearing it before sinking the rubber over his length.

“fuck yes.” you moan out. who knew exactly what you needed to feel better was to hookup with the player on the opposing team, the rule breaking only making things even more exciting.

rafe grabs your leg and pulls it over his hip before lining up with your entrance. he sinks forward slowly, eyes on your face in case you show any sign of pain.

“you're so fucking warm.” rafe moans out, dropping to kiss you sloppily as his hips press all the way forward, cock buried inside of you. 

he gives you both a minute to adjust before hes hovering over you, strong arms holding himself up as he pounds into you.

“fuck!” you squeal out, one hand gripping the bed sheets while the other reaches up to the headboard, trying to find some stability while he wrecks your pussy.

you hope rafe won't last too long because you can already feel your high building despite not wanting it to be over anytime soon.

one time certainly won't be enough to satisfy you, especially not as you look up at rafes face, still gorgeous and chiseled even as his jaw is slackened as he fucks you with pure pleasure and bliss in his eyes.

“you-” you gasp out. “you feel amazing. so good.”

“damn right i do.” rafe smiles a cocky grin down at you as he somehow manages to speed up even more. “filling you perfectly. this pussy is mine.”

you try (and fail) to not let the words go to your head.

you even briefly think of what your fellow cheerleaders would think if they knew what you were doing right now, how tiffy and steffie would react if they knew just how much that unseen blue has been smeared across your naked body, how much of it is dripping from your cunt.

“im-im not far.” rafe warns, ignoring the cramp in his throwing arm to warn you.

“ffff-” you hold back the urge to curse again as your mind spins. “condom off, please. i need you to cum in me.”

rafe certainly isn't going to argue, even though it might not be the smartest idea. he kneels between your legs, one hand coming to massage your clit while the other pulls the condom off. 

rafe strokes himself once before pushing back inside of you, keeping one hand on your clit as your pleasure grows, hips seeming to raise higher and higher off the bed the closer your high gets.

“cumming.” rafe manages to say seconds before he bursts, warm spurts of cum filling your insides, thankfully not being wasted being trapped inside rubber.

the warm filled sensation causes you to tip over the edge too, body shaking as rafe collapses over you, rubbing your clit with his cock lodged inside of you until both your highs have worn out, your pussy sucking and clenching out every bit of cum he has to give.

“god.” rafe rolls off of you and onto his back. “you are fucking amazing.”

“you did most of the work.” you giggle.

“you know.” rafe says as he pulls you into his chest. “you play us at home in three weeks.”

“mmm.” you lift your head up and press a kiss against his jaw before you bare your teeth and nip at his skin. “perfect time for us to get revenge.”

“keep that up and i might just have to tackle you again next game.” rafe laughs, but you just flip over so you're on top of him, straddling his hips as his cock starts to grow again.

“you wouldn't dare.”

“if it gets you in my bed all night then i might.”

[hottiesforhockey]

no nut november ⎜q.hughes

pairings: quinn hughes x afab!reader genre: romance ⎜smut ⎜angst? warnings: no nut november ⎜teasing ⎜ mentions of a bet/deal ⎜mention of sharing sex life ⎜fingering ⎜light dirty talk ⎜quinn second guessing his life choices ⎜ masturbation ⎜finger sucking ⎜insecure reader⎜hints at breaking up ⎜p in v ⎜ swearing ⎜praise ⎜no protection (please wrap it before you tap it)⎜ synopsis: quinn makes a deal with his brothers - he never realised how hard this would be for the both of you. word count: 3.8k authors note:  Quinn was the clear winner of my poll to decide who would star in this fic - so I hope all 39.6% of you enjoy. do we want a sequel? called dicked down december

(unedited)

DAY ONE

Quinn was only one day in and he already knew he wasn’t going to make it through the month. He knew now that he should’ve never let Jack drag him into the deal that most of the New Jersey Devils participated in every year - the winner coming out with a donation to the charity of their choice and the ability to pronounce themselves as “not whipped” by their girlfriends. 

But Quinn was very much whipped. 

Your whip was so tight around him, he could barely breathe as he watched you wander around the house in just your towel, grabbing your clothes fresh out of the dryer for the game later today. Quinn’s fingers twitched at his sides, as he resists the urge to reach out for you - knowing the only way he was going to get through this month was going to be by avoiding touching you at any and all costs. He wanted nothing more than to abandon this ridiculous bet and wrap his arms around you, pulling that towel away inch by inch. Every day, this month-long challenge to abstain from any intimate contact with you felt like it was going to kill him.

He took a deep breath, his jaw clenching as you glanced over your shoulder and flashed him a teasing smile. You knew exactly what you were doing to him - you had to know. 

But how did you know? He certainly didn’t tell you, and he made his brothers swear to secrecy. 

Quinn's gaze was glued to you, a mix of frustration and longing evident in his eyes. He tried to focus on anything else, on his suit laid out on the bed, or on his phone buzzing in his sweatpants pocket. Anything but the sway of your hips as you walk down the hallway - or the hinting smile you send him as you reach the doorway to the bedroom, inviting him to follow you. 

The sight of you, so effortless and beautiful, had his mind completely tangled.

"You okay there, babe?” you asked, clearly confused by his discomfort and unwillingness to trail behind you. He nods his head with a tight smile as you shrug and disappear from sight, Quinn letting out a long groan as he rubs his hands down his face - cursing his brothers in his mind for what they are doing to him. 

“One day down” he whispers, exhaling slowly. “Only twenty-nine more to go.”

+

+

DAY FIFTEEN

“One of you two must’ve told her something.” Quinn sneers at his phone. 

“We didn’t tell her anything, I swear on my life.” Luke retorts, making the sound of Jack’s laughter ring even louder in his ear, as Quinn waves goodbye to some of his teammates leaving the rink after practice - Quinn’s frown deepens as Jack tries to compose himself, only to laugh even harder as soon as he calms down. 

“Maybe she figured it out on her own.” Jack suggests one his laughing finally dies down, a few chuckles spilling out before he lets out a grunt of pain, presumably caused by the youngest of the brothers. 

“Well she knows something - she’s never been like this before.” Quinn sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, a habit that’s becoming far more common since the month began. “She’s ravenous, any chance she gets she’s trying to take my pants off.” Quinn’s words set his younger brother off again. 

“Look we promise we didn’t say anything to her - but maybe you should.” Luke suggests softly, the sound of Jack’s laugh quieting in the background as Quinn assumes his youngest brother walks away from the noise. “I’m sure she’d try to take things easier on you if you told her what you were doing - it’s for charity.” Luke voice is hopeful but Quinn knows that he’s wrong - his girlfriend would rather sell her soul then help him win a bet with his idiot brothers. 

“It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.” Quinn says into the phone before hanging up not waiting for his brother to respond. Quinn makes his short journey home - his apartment only a five minute drive from the arena, the apartment almost silent when he walks through the door - Quinn surprised not to see you perched on the couch like you usually are. 

The small muffled whimper coming from down the hall catching him even more by surprise. 

“Babe?” He calls out into the apartment, sliding off his shoes at the front door, placing his keys on their hook besides the front door. He waits for a moment, another whimper cutting through the silence. Quinn takes slow, quiet steps down the hallway, your soft sounds getting louder as he reaches the closed bedroom door - the softer whisper of his name giving him pause. 

“Baby? Are you okay in there?” He calls through the door, knowing that opening the door right now might be a mistake, but he can’t help his hand turning the door handle, peeking through the small gap as the door swings open. 

Quinn can feel his mouth drop open as he watches your fingers slip inside of you so easily. Your legs falling further open against the mattress as you let out a long sigh, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Fuck.” Quinn curses under his breath as head shooting up at the interruption, your legs snapping closed your hand trapped in between them. 

“Quinn? When did you get home?” You question as your cheeks burn a bright red, pulling yourself into a sitting up position slowly sliding your hand out from between your legs - your shirt falling from where it was bunched against your waist to cover you a little more. 

Quinn opens his mouth to speak but clamps it shut against as he sees you reaching for the towel besides the bed, his body moving faster then his brain as he steps forwards, his hand clamping around your wrist as he pauses your motions, glancing down at the sheen of liquid on your fingers. Quinn smiles as you try to yank your hand from his grasp, your whole body freezing as he raises your soaked fingers to his mouth - sucking them clean, a loud hum resonating from his throat. 

“What the fuck?” You whisper as he releases your wrist, letting the hand fall limply besides you as he lunges forwards, his hand clasping either side of your head as he attaches his lips to yours - the taste of yourself still fresh in his mouth. Quinn pulls away first, his hand knotting in your hair as he pants over your, your hands desperately clinging to the sides of his shirt. 

“No, wait.” You whine as he moves to pull away, pushing the hair off your face as his eyes lock with yours. “Why are you stopping?” His thumbs stroke your cheeks gently as a small pout forms on your face, Quinn smiling as he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips before pulling away from you completely. 

“I just can’t right now.”  Is all he gives you before he turns quickly and leaves the room - leaving you sitting on the mattress with burning skin and a throbbing pussy, the anger bubbling under the surface. You huff as you bed down, pulling your pyjama pants back on before marching into the living room behind your boyfriend. 

“What do you mean, you just can’t?” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch him flop onto the couch, his face pushed into the cushions as he lets out a sigh. “Is it me? Did I do something wrong?” You ask, the room suddenly feeling colder as a shiver racks your body, your arms pulling tighter against yourself.  

“No.” Quinn groans against the pillow. 

“Really? Cause it seems like I’m the problem - Quinn I’ve been throwing myself at you and you don’t even look at me anymore.” You don’t mean for your voice to tremble when you speak but you can’t help the growing lump in your throat. “I just want you to be honest with me, if this isn’t something you want anymore.” 

Quinn’s head shoots up from the pillow - his body scrambling off the lounge to make his way to you, your body stepping away from him as you hands wipe at your face. “I’m not going to be mad if you do want to brea—” 

“Don’t finish that fucking sentence.” Quinn hisses, his hands reaching out for yours, forcing you to uncross the arms against your chest. “What on earth would make you think that I want to break up with you?” He questions, bringing your hands to his lips, pressing soft kisses across your knuckles. 

“Are you kidding me?” You respond, a cold laugh leaving you before you add, “You’ve wanted nothing to do with me over the last two weeks - every time I try, you run away like you’ve been burned and not to mention you’ve been sleeping in the guest room. I never thought that I was so bad you couldn’t even share a bed with me.” Quinn flinches at the shaky breath you let out, the small hiccup as you try to hold back your tears. 

“No, it’s not like that.” 

“Then what is it, Quinn because I’m really fucking confused.” 

“Jack and Luke convinced me to—” Quinn pauses as he watches your head tilt in confusion - your mind racing a million miles an hour as he tries to figure out how to word this right, but falling short as he blurts out. “It’s because of no nut November.” 

A flicker of surprise crosses your face before a look of incredulous amusement takes over. You blink at him, as though waiting for the punchline.

“Wait, that's why you’ve been avoiding me? Because of… some dumb challenge?” You try to hold back a laugh, but a snort slips out anyway. Quinn’s cheeks flush, his gaze dropping as he sheepishly scratches the back of his neck.

 “It’s not dumb. It’s for charity—Jack and Luke both dared me, and if I finish the month, we’re each donating a bunch of money to the children's hospital.” His voice grows defensive, though he’s clearly embarrassed. “I just… I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

You raise an eyebrow, unable to resist. “Literally or figuratively?”

“Both!” he bursts out, letting out a frustrated sigh as he flops back down onto the couch. “You have no idea how hard this has been… and every time I see you—” He cuts himself off, cheeks going even redder, which only makes you chuckle harder. 

“Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” you tease, crossing your arms. “So you’ve been turning me down, not because you’re mad at me, but because of a bet?” Quinn grimaces, looking up at you with guilt in his eyes. 

“Yes. I know it’s dumb, but I didn’t want you to feel bad. I thought I could just… tough it out without saying anything.”

You sigh, feeling a mix of relief and exasperation. “I don’t think I’ve ever dated someone so stupid” 

“Yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing his temples. “I know. I didn’t mean to make you feel unwanted. It’s just… Jack and Luke won’t let me hear the end of it if I quit now. They’d never let me live it down.”

You roll your eyes, moving closer to him on the couch. “Well, maybe I can make this month even harder on you,” you say, grinning as you trail a finger along his jawline.

His eyes widen, and he gulps. “You wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I would. You’ve already put me through two weeks of this. You think I’m not going to make you work for it?”

He groans, dropping his head into his hands. “This is going to be the longest month of my life.”

You laugh, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before taking up ridiculous bets with your brothers.”

Quinn pulls you into a hug, holding you tight. “Yeah, maybe. But it’s worth it. For the kids.”

+

+

DAY THIRTY

“I can’t take this anymore” Quinn sighs as he watches you waltz around the room in your underwear, the sunflower yellow matching set the same he had picked out earlier in the year for your birthday. You shoot him a grin over his shoulder as you pull on the mid length dress, saving Quinn from drooling over your ass for any longer. 

“It’s the last day Quinn, think of the children.” You coo, adjusting each breast to sit more comfortably in the dress, Quinn letting out a long whine as his threads his fingers through his hair pulling on the roots. 

“Fuck the kids.” He grumbles, a surprised laugh escaping you as you make your way over to him - his hands instantly grabbing hold of your hips pulling you between his legs. His forehead dipping to leans against your stomach, your fingers gently playing with the ends of his curled hair. 

“Quinn, if you can make it to midnight, then I promise it’ll be worth your while.” You promise, your hands smoothing down the back of his head and dipping under the collar of his dress shirt, rubbing soft circles against his back. “And with the jackpot combined that’s almost fifty thousand for the children’s hospital palliative care unit. That’s so special, Quinn.” 

Quinn groans, his grip tightening on your hips, as he pulls you closer. “I know, I know… you’re right.” He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes smoldering with barely contained desire. “But you’re not making it any easier for me.”

You chuckle, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Just a few more hours. Then I’m all yours.”

Quinn sighs, releasing you reluctantly, his hands sliding down your waist before finally letting go. He leans back in his chair, watching as you smooth out the dress and adjust your hair in the mirror. The way he looks at you sends a shiver down your spine, and you can’t help but feel a surge of anticipation for what’s to come once this night is over.

"Fine," he relents, his voice low and gruff. "But I’m holding you to that promise."

You grin, blowing him a playful kiss before grabbing your purse and heading towards the door. “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Hughes.”

As you both step out, ready to put on smiles and charm for the last fundraiser of the year, you can feel Quinn’s hand settle on the small of your back, a silent reminder of everything waiting between you once the clock strikes midnight.

Quinn could feel his phone buzzing in his pocket for most of the evening, his brothers and their teammates admitting defeat and wishing Quinn congratulations - his hand tight in yours the whole evening as he watches the clock in the corner of the room, each tick of the hour hand building his anticipation. 

“Quinn you need to actually pay attention.” You hiss in his ear, his fingers squeezing yours as the clock ticks to eleven thirty pm. 

“I’d be able to pay attention if I could think of anything other then how good it’s gonna feel when I can finally put my dick inside you again.” Quinn leans his head down, his lips pressing to your ears as he whispers - your gaze instantly shooting around to see if anyone had heard what he said. “I hope you’re not attached to that matching set, baby.” He grins as he pulls away from you, the Quinn from the past month quickly replaced by a man you hadn’t seen in a while. 

“Hey, we’re going to head off, she’s not feeling too well.” Quinn whispers to the table as the speeches conclude - his teammates immediately wishing you well, as Quinn collects your purse and coat, dragging you from the ballroom hall in haste. Quinn makes quick work of the drive home - not even glancing in your direction as he fidgets in his seat, his hand clamped against the inside of your thigh, his other hand tapping against the steering wheel as he makes his way through the streets of Vancouver. 

“Five minutes, I can do this.” He mumbles to himself, as he races around the car, pulling the door open for you, offering his hand as you slide out of the car. The two of you taking the longest journey of Quinn’s life to the apartment, the tension rising to a boil as the front door clicks shut - Quinn’s pupils blown out as he glances at the clock. 

“One minute.” He whispers, your hands making quick work of your heels as you strip them off your feet, a bright grin on your face as you tug on the hem of your dress, pulling it up inch by inch as you watch Quinn, who watches the clock. You pull the soft fabric over your head just as the clock ticks to midnight, Quinn’s eyes shooting over to yours. 

“I did it.” He says in disbelief. 

“You did it.” You confirm, leaning against the front door as you fiddle with the band on your underwear. “Now fuck me.” Quinn doesn’t waste time, his hands pushing you hard against the door as his lips capture yours, the two of your breathless in seconds, as his lips leave yours to press soft kisses down your jaw. 

“I don’t know how long I’ll last.” He admits, a groan escaping him as you run your fingers against his scalp, his lips dipping to your collarbones before making their way back up. “God, you’re just so fucking gorgeous.” He says against your skin, your hands gripping his face to pull it away from your neck for a moment. 

“Let’s make this quick then, cap.” You says as you press a chaste kiss to his lips before slipping out from between his body and the door, sprawling yourself against the couch your legs opened wide in invitation. “Clothes off.” You murmur as he stumbles over to the couch - Quinn nodding his head vigorously as he strips himself of his shirt, pausing to watch as you tug on the front clasp of your bra, the two cups springing away from each other as your breasts tumble free. 

“I think I’ve been blessed by angels.” He says as his mouth falls open a little, his fingers fumbling on the button of his pants, finally letting out a sharp curse as he yanks at the pants, his button popping off and hitting the floor with a clattering sound. “I’ll fix them later.” He says, kicking the trousers off his legs as he dives towards you on the couch. 

You let out a soft moan as Quinn attaches his lips to your left nipple, his free hand grabbing hold of the right breast as kneads it slowly, before switching sides, your legs wrapping around his waist as you whisper - “God, please.” 

“My name is Quinn, and I expect you to use it.” He retorts, a wicked grin on his face as his finger tickle their way down to the waistband of your underwear, slowly slipping them down your legs and throwing them to the side - your pussy glistening as he sits back on his heels, glancing down at you. 

“What’re you doing?” You hiss. 

“Admiring the view.” He admits, his body jolting forwards as you use your legs to tug him back down towards you. 

“Well stop admiring and put your dick in me.” Quinns hands move faster now, his lips finding their way back to yours as he fumbles to strip off his underwear, his body slotting easily against yours as his hand guides himself to your entrance. 

“It’s as perfect as I remember.” Quinn says as he slowly pushes inside, a sigh of relief leaving you at the feeling of him after thirty long days. “God, your pussy is so perfect.” He groans, his hips slowly starting to rock back and forth, your arms thrown around his neck as you hold him to you as tightly as possible - his lips pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks as you let out a quiet whine. 

“It’s made for me.” He continues, his hands finding purchase against your waist gripping tightly as his motions speed up, his thrusts heavier as he pulls himself into a kneeling position, your arms loosening around his neck grabbing hold of the cushion beneath you. 

“Quinn, shit.” You hum, your teeth clamping down on your bottom lip as your throw your head back, his thumb rising to your mouth, your lips softly parting as he dips it into your mouth your tongue swirling around the digit before he pulls it back out - rubbing gently against your clit. 

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Quinn moans, his thrusts becoming more erratic, your hand letting go of the cushion to grip his jaw - pulling his face down to yours. 

“It’s okay.” You whisper against his lips, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw before adding, “Come for me, Quinn.” His movements halt, his hands leaving you to plant above your head as he lets out a low groan, your legs holding him against your as he whispers soft praise in your ear. 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He apologises as his body falls against yours, your arms wrapping around him as you chuckle into his hair, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“It’s okay.” You mumble, your fatigue already setting in as you try to yank the blanket off the back of the couch. “Let’s just stay here for a while.” Quinn humming in quick agreement as he settles against your chest, his fingers tangling with the ends of your hair as your hands rub against his bare skin. 

“We didn’t use protection.” He notes, his dick softening inside of you, the bare feeling something new for the both of you. 

“We can figure that out later.” You admit, surprised that neither of you had thought to grab a condom before leaving for the event earlier tonight.

“I’ll go to the pharmacy in the morning for you.” Quinn murmurs, his words softer as his body relaxes against yours. “I’ll make this up to you.” He adds. 

“Quinn, really it’s okay… It’s been a long month for you.” You chuckle, Quinn huffing against your chest in agreement. “Well we’ve got the whole of December to make up for it.” You add, pressing one more kiss to his head before settling into your boyfriends embrace, your legs wrapped around him until the early morning, when he drags himself away from you starting the bath and pulling you away from the couch in a half asleep daze. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” He whispers in your ear as he insists you go to the toilet before sliding into the enjoyably hot water, Quinn sliding into the bath behind you. 

“Thank you, for being patient with me.” He says against your skin, your body melting against his in the soapy water. 

“Just promise you won’t do it again.” 

“Deal.” 

[incorrectbatfam]

Which TV shows or sitcoms do the Batfam guest star in?

(I'm a 2010s girlie if you can't tell)

Selina has a one-episode subplot as a prisoner in Orange Is The New Black where she acts like she's going to try and make a daring escape just to mess with everyone else

Luke appears in the background of a large gathering or party in Black-ish but the characters are too busy with the storyline to notice until the end when they realize it's legendary MMA fighter Luke Fox, except he's just there for the food

Bette would be one of the extras in The Good Place whose entire role is to give people the wrong frozen yogurt toppings while acting like the absolute nicest person who got into the "Good Place" for saving an endangered goat species

Alfred is a customer just doing his shopping amidst the Superstore chaos. He just occasionally appears throughout the episode and when they're like "You're still here?" he unfurls a comically long shopping list

Barbara appears in New Girl as an HR worker at Schmidt's place of work, where she slows him down with pointless bureaucratic procedures when he's trying to get something done quickly

Bruce would appear as a prospective business client in The Office and offers to buy Dunder Mifflin until he gets a tour of the place as it's literally going up in flames

Harper would be sitting in the back of the classroom in Community interjecting with her side commentary until the characters realize she doesn't even go there

Damian would be a student in Abbott Elementary who starts doing the teacher's jobs, and when the school tries to call home, he poses as his own guardian with a costume and voice training

Cass is a part-time cashier who gets hired on the spot at Kim's Convenience but quits after one day not because of the characters or storyline, but because she was just bored

Dick appears in Brooklyn Nine-Nine as a New Jersey police officer working an interstate case, and him and Jake competing for the spotlight and recognition can be summed up by "oh my God, there's two of them"

Jason also appears in the same Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode as the main suspect, and the whole joke is that he keeps insisting he and Dick know each other (being irl brothers) while Dick is like "I've never seen this man in my life"

Carrie guest stars in Parks and Rec as a very passionate (and very annoying) lone teenage activist with a picket sign who won't leave the characters alone until they hear out her (very valid) concerns

Cullen appears in Psych as another "psychic" racing against Shawn to solve a case, but really he just knows how to get the evidence he needs from social media faster than surveying the actual crime scene

Helena plays a substitute teacher in Derry Girls who keeps insisting that the characters do a dumb assignment that actually makes sense in the end

Tim briefly makes a cameo in Cobra Kai at one of the karate tournaments, where he plays a competitor from a dojo that's not part of the main cast

Kate appears in Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt for a minute as the characters trying to get someplace urgently, and she has a car or something they want to borrow but she's just like "uh, no, I don't know you"

Duke plays a tutor in Modern Family where the episode centers on school, and the session consists of him just trying to do his job while everyone else keeps interrupting

Steph cameos in Scrubs as a know-it-all med student who keeps trying to point out that a character is making a (harmless) mistake, only to get shut down until it happens and she's just like "that's what I was trying to tell you"

[celiastjamesoscar]

Himbo Next Door

Pairings: Tara Carpenter x gn! Reader

Summary: you met Tara in the elevator your apartment and you two awkwardly hit it off. You begin to form a situationship with her, but Sam disapproves of you.

Warnings: Scream levels of violence, Pitbull Sam

Word Count: 5.5k

AN: this was from a request and I kind of expanded on it. I hope you enjoy it and if theres anything I need to change, let me know! If anyone has some requests, also let me know!

This is my first time writing a himbo reader, so im sorry that it’s not the best in that regard

Rain pattered against the quiet apartment complex as you rushed into the building, holding a pizza box. It had been a nice, beautiful day outside, but Mother Nature decided to flip on a dime. And, of course, you wore a white button shirt with black slacks, so your shirt was utterly see-through thanks to the rain. This was supposed to be a lovely evening out with friends, but it had turned into a disaster, and you were more than ready to binge-eat pizza while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine.

You were initially supposed to go to a fancy restaurant with your best friend, Olivia, her boyfriend, and another close friend, Lucas. It was a going away dinner for her, as she was moving away for college. The restaurant was one of the best ones in New York City, and you somehow managed to snag a reservation for the four of you. As it was a top-notch restaurant, there was a dress code that one had to follow: black tie. You wore a handsome black suit with a white undershirt, and you were more than excited to drink the best wine and taste the best food that New York had to offer.

You meet up with your friends outside the restaurant, waiting for Olivia’s boyfriend to show up. She wore a beautiful cocktail dress, while Lucas wore a decent suit; he wasn’t what you would classify as a redneck, but he fit the description to a tee.

Thirty minutes had passed before her boyfriend showed up, and you almost lost it. He wore sweat shorts with an ugly soccer jersey, and to top it off, he wore a beanie that he refused to take off. You were always calm and collected, not one to jump to violence even when needed, but he really pissed you off sometimes.

You knew there was no way you guys would be allowed to dine at this restaurant just because of him, but you still gave it a shot. And whenever you guys walked into the restaurant, the waiter asked him to leave or change, but he insisted that he was allowed to eat there because he was ‘more of a man’ than the owner. Because of this, he turned it into a fifteen-minute argument with the manager, and then all four of you were asked to leave.

You were naturally upset about this and the fact that you had to put down a hundred-dollar deposit just to reserve a table. After you guys had left, he decided the group would go to Hardee’s, as he needed to get his daily food from there. You held your tongue as you drove there; this was supposed to be Olivia’s going-away party, but he just had to hijack everything.

Long story short, you were out a hundred dollars, listened to Olivia’s boyfriend talk about the WWE for thirty minutes, and bought a pizza at a locally-owned pizzeria. Just as you left the pizzeria, a downpour of rain started, causing your outfit to get ruined while you had to drive home in the rain. Your nerves were more than shot, but you didn’t say anything. Confrontation made you uncomfortable, and you always did your best to avoid it.

As you made your way to the elevator, a soft voice called, ‘Hold it!’ You switched the box to your left hand and held the elevator door back with your right.

“Thank you,” the voice said once she entered the elevator. She was close to a foot shorter than you, and when your eyes made contact, your heart skipped a beat. She was easily the most beautiful person you have ever seen; she had soft chestnut-brown eyes, freckles that highlighted those eyes, and the prettiest smile you had ever seen. Her bangs perfectly framed her face, and you couldn’t even mutter, ‘You’re welcome.’

She looked at you uncomfortably while looking at the elevator buttons. “Oh, looks like we’re going to the same floor then,” she said with an awkward chuckle while glancing over at you.

Your eyes snapped to the buttons and then back to her. “I guess so,” you said with a weak voice.

Tara looked at you when you spoke, but her eyes slowly drifted down to look at your shirt. She admired your abs through the soaked white shirt as it clung to your body, trying her best to keep her cheeks from getting too warm. She loved how you towered over her, and she would pay money to see your muscles or watch you work out.

Tara was snapped out of her thoughts as the elevator dinger and the doors opened. You smiled at her politely as you left the elevator, and to your surprise, she followed you down the same hallway. As you approached your door, Tara walked to the door before yours.

When you found yours, you unlocked your door and opened it, but before you walked in, you looked over your right shoulder and smiled at Tara. “It was nice meeting you,” you said softly as you walked into your apartment and shut the door. Tara smiled back at you while saying, ‘You too.’

You ran into Tara several times like that, and you tried your best to talk to her. You weren’t the best at socializing, especially with beautiful women, and Tara seemed to like that about you. You would always listen to her and seemed to enjoy what she said.

After enough small talk in the hallway, she eventually asked you to come to her apartment for the first time. You were nervous, of course, but there was no way you could pass on an opportunity to hang out with the alluring woman.

“Here we are,” Tara said as she held the door open for you. You smiled at her while walking into the apartment. It was nice and cozy, and it looked a lot like yours, and you instantly felt at home. Tara crept up behind you, grabbed your hand, and eagerly pulled you into the living room. Your cheeks immediately warmed at the touch, and you didn’t fight back as the younger girl tugged you into the living room.

You sat on the couch next to her as she grabbed the remote. “So, you know how I told you I wanted to watch a movie with you?” Tara asked with a smile while staring into your eyes; she could look into them forever and never get bored.

“Yeah, ‘The Babadook,’ I think?” You questioned with an eyebrow raised.

“Yes, that’s the one,” Tara said with a smile as she got up and looked around the entertainment center for the DVD. After a few minutes of looking, she let out a loud ‘ah-ha’ and inserted the disk into the DVD player.

She then sat on the couch and rested her head on your lap. The action caught you off guard, but then you gently ran your fingers through her hair. She smiled at the action and let out a soft sigh of happiness as she nestled into your lap.

That's how you two spent every Friday night: curled up on her couch watching movies. You enjoyed being in the girl’s company, and Tara loved showing you her favorite movies. Sometimes, you two would gossip about people on campus- you were in psychology together- or you would talk about what you had done that day.

Tara had mentioned that she had a sister she lived with, but you had never met her. Frankly, you were a little nervous to meet the older woman. You had caught yourself slowly falling for Tara, and it seemed that Tara valued her sister’s opinion more than her own. You hoped that you would make a good impression when you did meet her; you just didn’t expect to have to meet her today.

You and Tara were watching your new favorite show, ‘New Girl.’ It had been a peaceful night, and you two refused to watch an episode without the other. You were lying on the couch with Tara curled up on your chest. You guys were laughing together as Jess explained how she bought a footstool with a giant bag of meth when you heard the door to the apartment open.

Tara quickly pushed herself off your chest when she heard the door open and sat at the opposite end of the couch.

“Hey, Sam! What are you doing back here so soon?” She asks with a slightly nervous tone as she pauses the tv.

You heard the sound of boots walking toward you on the couch. You slowly push yourself up on the sofa, resting on your elbow as you look at the woman.

Sam was certainly taller than Tara, but not taller than you. She had jet-black hair and beautiful brown eyes. You were almost certain if Tara didn’t hold your heart, you would have fallen for the woman. She has a neutral expression as her eyes dart between you and Tara. “What’s going on here?” She dryly asks as she hangs up her backpack purse and turns to face you two.

You were about to say something, but Tara quickly interrupted you. “We were just watching a movie. This is Y/N, by the way,” Tara says as she nudges you, silently telling you to introduce yourself.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. You are extremely gorgeous,” you say with a giant smile as you extend your hand. Tara gives you a look of disbelief, but you can't see it as you face her older sister.

Sam looks at you suspiciously before shaking your hand. She makes sure to give you a good death grip, and if it weren’t for Tara, you probably would have melted onto the floor.

She scoffs as she rolls her eyes and lets go of your hand, and then looks at Tara, “Where did you find this street rat?”

Tara let out a small laugh that caused you to whip your hand around and give her a disheartening look. She quickly clears her throat before speaking in an annoyed tone, “I ‘found’ her in the apartment building, actually. We met in the elevator and shared a few conversations in the hallway.”

“So you have invited a stranger into our home with just you two here?” Sam asks with narrow eyes as she stares at you.

Her sister huffed, “This isn’t our first time hanging out here.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly leave yours, and she is staring at Tara with wide eyes and her mouth slightly open. “Are you kidding me, Tara?! Have you been hanging out with this random person while I’ve been at therapy? What if they tried to kill you?” Sam exclaims as she walks over and kneels before Tara, checking her sister for scratches or cuts.

“I would never hurt her, Sam. She’s too kind,” you say with a giant smile, even though Sam just insisted that you were a potential killer. You didn't care that she implied it; all you could think about was the beautiful girl you shared the couch with.

Sam slowly looks at you while keeping her hands on her sister’s knees. She glares at you with narrowed eyes as her eyes look you up and down. She can tell that you are taller than her and undoubtedly stronger than her. The fact that you could easily overpower both her and her sister set Sam on edge, but the way you seemed to carry yourself: the way you talked, sat, smiled, and even breathed made her even more suspicious of you. Sam had already seen how someone Tara loved killed her friends and almost both of them; she refused to let that happen again.

But you just seemed so indifferent about things. Sam wanted to call you some other things that weren’t nice, but she stuck with calling you indifferent.

Sam looked back at Tara and lightly sighed. “Is this the one you’ve been talking about?”

Tara moves around nervously while Sam calls her out. Her eyes shift uneasily between you and Sam as she fidgets with her fingers. “Um, yeah, they are,” she says with a low voice.

“Okay,” Sam says with a defeated tone as she stands up. She looks at you and speaks threateningly, “If you do anything to hurt Tara, I will kill your entire family and then you.”

You smile at Sam’s words as you sit up on the couch. “I don’t talk to any of my family, so I wouldn’t really care if you did. But I would appreciate it if you didn’t kill me; I love hanging out with Tara, and I would greatly miss it,” you say gently as you look at Tara. Tara is staring holes into the floor while she tries to hide her smile with her right hand.

Sam rolls her eyes at your comment and walks into her room, but not before sending a threatening glance at you and Tara on the couch. You had moved closer to her sister, and you looked back at her, sending her a polite wave with a friendly smile, believing that you had made a great impression on the older woman.

Sam scoffs as she walks into her room, slamming her door. You look back at Tara with a gentle smile and ask with a quiet tone, “You told her about me?”

The atmosphere in the living room immediately changed into something tense, and Tara could almost taste it on her tongue as she spoke calmly, “Um, yeah, I did. Does that bother you at all?”

You love how Tara refused to meet your gaze when she spoke; it almost made you believe she harbored romantic feelings for you, just as you did for her. “No, it doesn’t bother me at all. In fact, I kinda like it,” you say with a gentle smile as Tara’s eyes meet yours.

Those beautiful brown eyes smiled for her as they quickly glanced down at your lips before returning to yours. “You mean that?” She asks in a more confident voice as she shifts her body to face you; she has pulled her left leg up onto the couch while letting her right one hang off the couch, and her entire body is facing you.

“Of course, I mean that, Tara. I actually think I made a good impression; she seemed really nice,” you say happily. Tara let out a small laugh as she grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to her. You followed her silent commands and ended up laying your head in her lap while facing the tv.

Once your head got comfortable in her lap, Tara softly ran her fingers on her left hand through your hair while she reached for the tv remote on the coffee table with her other hand. “Just so you know, you did not, in fact, make a good impression with Sam, but I still like you,” Tara said with a smile that grew bigger when she heard you scoff in response.

She loved having these small, soft moments with you. She knew you weren’t the brightest, but your kind and caring nature made up for it plenty. Tara would give up everything she had to her name if it meant spending an evening like this with you for the rest of her days. You held her heart in your hands, and it only took her two weeks to admit that after your first encounter with Sam.

You two were going on a ‘double date’ with Mindy and Anika. You were a bit iffy on calling it a double date, as you and Tara weren’t dating, but Mindy and Anika are. So in your head, you called it a ‘totally platonic hangout.’

You got dressed and left your apartment to head over to Tara’s. When you knocked, the door instantly opened, and Tara was wearing a giant smile and a cute outfit.

“Hi,” she says with an angel-like voice while staring up at you with soft eyes.

“Hi,” you reply breathlessly. If Tara would let you, you would always stare at her, admiring her beautiful features and counting her freckles.

She snaps you out of your daydream by taking your hand in hers and intertwining your fingers. You gently bump your shoulder against hers as you walk towards the elevator and out to your car.

When you two get in the car, you start it and drive towards the restaurant. You and Tara talk about your day and how you missed each other (it's been two days since you last saw each other). You tell her about the crazy things your roommates have done recently, and she laughs at your stories. She tells you about new things in her life, such as Sam asking about you more and that she’s got a new roommate named Quinn. Tara said that the girl was promiscuous but funny and lighthearted. She then starts to talk about Chad, and you instinctively tense up.

“Chad hasn’t left me alone all week, Y/N! It's starting to drive me crazy. At first, I thought he just wanted to hang out as friends more, but yesterday he told me he has feelings for me. Can you believe that?” Tara asks with a small laugh as she looks over at you. You had gripped the steering wheel tighter at the mention of Chad having feelings for Tara. Your chest began to tighten, and your heartbeat picked up with jealousy. You had no right to be jealous, but you couldn’t help. Chad was athletic like you, but he was also a lot smarter than you, which Tara valued and liked as a romantic partner.

“Oh. Well, I'm happy for you, Tara. You deserve someone like him,” you lie through your teeth with a sad tone.

At your saddened tone, Tara finally noticed how your body was tense and how you seemed to want to strangle the steering wheel. She reaches her left hand out and gently places it on your arm, “I don't like him like that, Y/N,” Tara says honestly while looking at you with love. You visibly relax at her words and almost let a smile appear.

“How come? He’s everything you want in a partner: smart, funny, caring, loyal, and strong,” you reply with a weak voice that Tara almost laughs at.

She rubs her hand up and down your arm as she says, “I don’t like him back because I have feelings for someone else.”

“Oh. Well, I hope they make you happy,” you say honestly. Tara might not like you back, but you wanted her to be happy. And if she was happy, you were too.

Tara gently squeezes your arm before pulling back and placing her hands in her lap. She looks at you with so much yearning and love that she’s surprised you can’t feel it, but then she remembers you were basically a himbo: friendly, respectful, handsome, but not that bright. “You have no idea,” she says while sending heart eyes your way.

When you two get to the restaurant, you meet with Mindy and Anika and walk in together. You four get a table in the corner of the restaurant. You are sharing a side with Tara while sitting across Anika and Tara across from Mindy. You guys made idle conversation while waiting for someone to take your orders.

An attractive young woman approaches the table with a pip in her step, “Hey guys, welcome to O’Charley’s, my name is Sadie, and I’ll be your waitress for today. What can I get your guys to drink?”

All four of you order sweet teas, and before she leaves, she sends you a flirty wink that you missed, but Tara didn’t. She let out a small scoff as she hid her face in her menu, trying to fight jealousy. You look at Tara but don’t say anything, afraid to upset the girl more.

When Sadie brings back your teas, your hand lightly brushes hers as you grab yours, causing the woman to smirk. “Alright, are you guys ready to order?” She asks as she pulls her notepad from her apron, and you guys nod. “Okay, what can I get for you, beautiful?”

You pull your head from the menu and find that Sadie is talking to you. “Oh, I would like six-ounce sirloin with a Caesar salad and fries, please,” you say with a small smile. Not a flirty one, just a friendly one, but both Sadie and Tara mistake it for a flirty one. One girl is excited, while the other is filled with thoughts of murder.

Sadie finishes taking everyone’s orders before she quickly disappears again, but the atmosphere at the table is tense. Everyone but you can feel it, to which you start another conversation, and everyone else but Tara joins in. You tried to get the girl to talk, but you would get a small ‘uh huh’ or ‘of course.’

When your meals arrive, the four of you eat in peaceful silence, occasionally talking about how excellent your food is. It was an overall relaxing dinner until the checks came.

“You guys are separate, and you two are together?” Sadie asks, gesturing to you and Tara before gesturing toward Mindy and Anika. She was asking about the checks, but Tara picked up on the hidden underlining that you did not.

“That is correct,” you say as you accept your check from Sadie and then hand Tara hers. You all pay in cash and quietly wait for Sadie to come back.

When she does, however, she hands everyone their change, and instead of leaving, she pulls out her notepad and writes her number down on it. “Give me a call sometime,” she says with a wink as she hands you the paper.

You were going to ask what she meant by that, but any words got lost on your tongue as Tara stood up from the table and stormed out of the restaurant. Your clueless eyes follow Tara out of the restaurant before you lose sight of her, and you turn away to find both Mindy and Anika staring at you with wide eyes. “Go get her, dumbass,” Anika says harshly after a moment.

You grab yours and Tara’s change before quickly excusing yourself from the table, almost knocking your chair over. After you leave the restaurant, your eyes scan the area, looking for your lady. It only takes you a few seconds before your eyes land on her; she’s sitting on a bench, just staring at the ground.

You jog over to her and stop when she looks up at you. Her eyes are filled with a bit of anger and a lot of hurt, and for the first time in your life, you are out of words to say. You were always overtly friendly with people and they often mistook flirting with friendliness, which seemed to be your downfall with Tara.

“Tara, I am so sorry-”

“Just take me home, Y/N,” Tara cuts you off as she stands up from the bench and walks towards your car. You followed closely behind her, and when you got to the car, you went to open the door, but she shut it and opened it herself. You were slightly startled by the action but shook it off as you made your way to the driver’s side and got it. You start the car and drive back to the apartment; tension is the only thing you two feel.

You tried to talk to Tara throughout the car ride home, but she just stayed quiet and looked out the window with her arms crossed. You knew she was mad, but you couldn’t tell why. At first, you thought it might have been because of Sadie, but you and Tara weren’t dating, so she can’t be upset about it. Plus, your heart only belonged to Tara, so you would never go for anyone else.

When you two returned to the apartment building, it was an awkward ride up to your floor. When you two stepped off the elevator, you finally spoke, “Tara, please, I’m sorry, just talk to me,” you pleaded as you followed behind the girl.

You were getting ready to usher more apologies as Tara opened her door, but you were quickly cut off when she slammed the door in your face. You were stunned at the harsh action but knocked on her door once you realized what had happened. “Tara, please. Talk to me,” you said with a defeated tone. You waited a minute before sitting on the floor and resting your back against the door, sending Tara a string of apologies and asking her how you could fix it. But you got no reply, so you closed your eyes and rested your head against the door, hoping she would open up.

You fell asleep at one point but were quickly woken up when the door opened. Tara scoffed at you before she stepped over you. You stood up after she did that and followed her down the hallway. “Tara, you have to talk to me. Tell me what I did wrong,” you pleaded as you grabbed her wrist.

She pulled her hand out of your grasp. “Leave me alone, Y/N. I'm going to a party with Chad,” she said with a voice full of anger. Your heart instantly dropped at the mention of Chad, and your face showed it.

“Why Chad?” You asked with hurt, causing Tara to stop and turn around. She noticed the hurt look on your face, and she instantly wanted to wrap you in her arms and never let go, but she refused to give in easily.

“Because, Y/N, he invited me to go with him as his date. And who knows, I might even get lucky tonight,” Tara replied as she crossed her arms. She had no intention of sleeping with Chad; she just wanted to make you jealous enough so you’ll finally make a move on her, but Tara soon found out how wrong she was.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped your shoulders and spoke with a heartbroken voice, “I didn’t know you truly felt that way towards him. I hope he gives you the world then, Tara. You deserve that kind of love. I hope you have fun tonight, and just so you know, I am so sorry and I don't want to lose you.”

When you finished talking, you gave Tara a tight-lip smile as you turned around and walked toward your apartment. You were just outside your door when you felt a tiny hand slip into yours, pulling you around. You barely have time to respond before Tara crashes her lips against yours.

You were so shocked to feel her lips against your own you just stood there like an idiot before you finally broke out in a grin and kissed her back. When you kissed her back, you felt butterflies in your stomach, and your entire body became warm the more Tara kissed you. You grabbed her hips and pulled her closer, needing to feel her body against yours. Tara parted her lips to deepen the kiss, and your knees almost buckled.

When oxygen was needed, you two pulled away, resting your foreheads together. You two could hear nothing but the sounds of each other trying to catch your breaths and the drums of your hearts. You placed one final kiss on Tara’s lips and pulled away from her. “Are you still going out with Chad?” You asked with a slight frown; you really wanted to hang out with Tara after what just happened, but you were still unsure of where you stood with her.

She laughed as she grabbed your hand and opened your apartment door. “Not a chance,” she whispered against your lips, pulling you into your apartment before closing the door.

That was four weeks ago, and today you are preparing a dinner for yours and Tara’s one-month anniversary. She told you it didn't have to be anything special, as you two would have many more months together in the future, but you insisted on doing something nice. You were cutting up some steaks in the kitchen while Tara made homemade mashed potatoes. “Do you think Sam would want any?” You ask, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know. You should ask her though. I think she’s on the couch,” Tara replies as she mashes the potatoes in a saucepan. You nod at her words and head into the living room with the knife still in your hand.

Sam was lying on the couch watching tv. She wanted to stay home tonight to keep an eye on you and Tara, but she wanted to give her sister some amount of privacy.

“Hey, Sam, I'm getting ready to make some steak. Would you like some?” You ask, pulling Sam’s attention away from the tv. She leans up, and her eyes instantly land on the knife, dripping with blood. Her mind is filled with thoughts of Tara, and her body reacts before she can even think; her hands grab your arm and flips you over the couch and onto the coffee table, breaking it. She quickly takes the knife out of your hand and presses her right knee into your chest, making breathing hard for you. The action slightly turned you on, and you mentally murdered yourself for thinking that way about your girlfriend’s sister.

“What the fuck was-oh my god, Sam! Get off of her!” Tara screams as she runs into the living room, pulling Sam off your chest. You suck in some air, and Tara moves to help you up, “are you okay, love? Is anything broken?” She questions while checking over your body for any injuries.

“No, I'm okay,” you say as you stand up and look at the table, “your table isn’t, though.” Tara laughs at your comment and kisses your cheek before turning toward her sister. Her caring and loving nature was gone and replaced with anger. “Why did you do that, Sam?! Y/N was just being nice!”

Sam scoffs at Tara’s words but flinches back as Tara points the knife at her, demanding an answer. Sam reaches out and pushes Tara’s hand down, “I saw the blood on the knife and freaked out. I'm sorry, Tara,” Sam mumbled with shame.

“Don’t apologize to me; apologize to Y/N,” Tara demands, still staring at her sister.

Sam glares back at her sister before looking at you. “I'm sorry I flipped you over the couch and onto the coffee table,” Sam says with a low voice as her eyes refuse to meet yours.

“It's okay, Sam. Don’t worry about it,” you say with a smile. It really was okay with you, even though you felt slightly bad about breaking the table.

After your dangerous encounter with Sam, you and Tara return to the kitchen and finish dinner. You even made Sam a plate and brought it to her room. She thanked you as she took it, and you smiled politely as a response.

You and Tara continued having small dinners at home, followed by movie nights. She would also stay up late reading her books to you as you fell asleep. You weren’t the best at reading, but you loved the stories more than anything, and you loved them even more when Tara let you lay on her chest as she read to you.

It was game night at the Carpenter’s apartment, and the core four plus the girlfriends were over, along with Quinn, but she had a ‘male friend’ over. The six of you were playing a not-so-relaxing game of Uno when muffled screams came from Quinn’s room. The group just laughed it off, believing it was just Quinn having a really good time, but when her screams became ones of pain, and she cried for help, everyone stood up from the table and ran into the living room, staring at Quinn’s door.

The apartment had fallen into an eerie quietness that sent shivers up everyone’s spine; it was as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

“Run,” Mindy says, but before anyone can move, the door opens, and Ghostface pushes Quinn’s body out of the door, causing it to land on Anika, knocking her to the ground.

Ghostface charges out of the room and swings his knife at Mindy, cutting her arm. You push Tara into the kitchen as you grab a bat from the corner of the room. You run towards him and quickly swing it; the sound of metal meeting bone rings throughout the apartment as he collapses onto the ground.

“Come on,” you command as you grab Tara’s hand and pull her towards the door, flinging it open as you rush everyone out of the apartment. You do a quick headcount, and when you reach head number five, you shut the door and follow everyone downstairs.

Once outside, everyone regroups with their loved ones; Anika and Chad both check on Mindy’s arm as Sam holds Tara close to her chest. You walk toward Tara and Sam, and when your girlfriend sees you, she pulls away from Sam’s grasp and throws her body at you, pulling you into a crippling hug. You smile at the contact and kiss her head, thanking all the gods that your Tara was safe in your arms.

[puckinghischier]

Heard you were in the mood for some yapping, so here I am lol! That Luke hugging blurb was everything! My supervisor decided that they weren't ruining my life enough, and now ask me to do something and have me completely redo it when I'm finished because they cannot decide on an aesthetic they want. So my daydreams are currently in a "stay at home girlfriend" era lol (please don't judge). Should you decide to quit and give yourself a few months Luke would be the happiest person ever. He gets all day every day with his sweet girl, his favorite person, his bestest friend. He gets pumped at every home game knowing you're there supporting, gets lunches with you to dissect practice or what you've been reading. You try to argue that since he's taken over all the bills, he won't buy you any gifts. He lasts two weeks before caving and buying you something "just 'cause."

“luke!” you screech from the kitchen, causing your boyfriend to come running, socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor.

“what? is everything okay? what’s wrong?” he rushes out, frantic eyes scanning you for any sign of a crisis.

when they fall on the large, open box on the island you’re standing behind, he knows he’s been busted.

“care to explain?” you cock an eyebrow at him, gesturing to the cardboard box.

luke rubs the back of his neck with his hand, thinking about how to drop the news without you blowing up.

“well…it’s a bag,” he starts slowly, walking towards you.

scoffing, you roll your eyes. “yeah, i can see that it’s a bag. care to explain why there’s a two thousand dollar designer purse in our apartment right now??”

when luke saw the handbag online the other day, he knew it was something you’d love.

you always talk about how much you’d love to have a good, quality purse, and he couldn’t think of anything better quality than designer.

with you having finally agreed to his offer of taking some time away from work, he was on cloud nine always having you around. he loved seeing you in his jersey at every home game (and several road games, too), and he loves how you meet him at the rink most days so the two of you can catch up over lunch or brunch, after morning skates.

one of the things he didn’t love about you not working, however, is the fact you told him no gifts for the time being.

luke has never been someone to spend his money on himself. he allowed himself a few frivolous purchases when he signed his rookie contract, but he really only spends his money on things he needs.

for the first few months of your relationship, luke refrained from buying you anything too crazy. a twenty for coffee here, a fancy dinner there, but nothing like what he started buying you once you knew he wasn’t just throwing his wealth at you.

he started showering you with random pieces of jewelry and trips and shoes and literally anything else he saw that he wanted to buy for you.

you told him to stop, once, loving how thoughtful he was and how well he knew how to pick out a gift for you, but you didn’t want him blowing through all of his contract money on you.

at first, he listened. the gifts stopped and you basked in your victory. but then, the gifts changed from physical gifts to trips, concert tickets, experiences.

as long as luke was able to experience the ‘gifts’ with you, you didn’t care to reap the benefits, because you could convince yourself he wasn’t spending his money on you. you were just a tag along on plans he wanted to do himself.

“you did say you wanted a good bag to use, so i thought i’d surprise you,” luke shrugged, hoping if he doesn’t make it a big deal, you won’t think it is one.

“yeah, i was thinking something along the lines of a tote bag, maybe a leather backpack, not this,” you hold the bag up, refusing to take it out of its protective packaging.

“well, this is good quality. and it’ll last you a long time, so really it’s something you specifically talked about needing,” luke defends himself.

groaning, you start pacing in frustration. “luke, we agreed when i took time off that the money you were spending on me had to stop. you’re already funding my existence right now, so there’s no reason for you to spend any more money on me than is absolutely necessary.”

luke walks over towards you, stopping your pacing. “honeybee, calm down. i was just trying to be nice. you seemed a little down lately so i wanted to surprise you with a little pick me up.”

you take a deep breath, calming yourself down. you’re not trying to be a bitch, because you do like the bag, you just don’t want luke wasting money on you now that you’re not contributing to any of the bills.

“luke, a ‘little pick me up’ is a coffee, or some ice cream. not a handbag that costs more than what i used to make in a month,” you place your hands on luke’s forearms, his hands resting on your shoulders while he’s crouched down to be eye-level with you.

“well, in all fairness they were grossly underpaying you at your old job,” luke ignores the point of your statement, earning another roll of your eyes.

“luke,” you warn.

luke stands tall again, letting out a sigh of defeat.

“you’re right. i should have asked you first. i’m sorry,” he starts, looking up at the ceiling. “but i’m not sorry that i bought you something nice that you genuinely need, even if you think it was too expensive,” he finishes, looking back down into your eyes.

you let out your own defeated sigh. the bag is really nice. and you couldn’t have picked out a more gorgeous one if you tried.

“just…don’t go so swipe happy next time. if you want to do something nice for no reason again, candy will work just fine,” you step back from luke, grabbing the bag again, allowing yourself to actually unbox it this time.

“no promises,” luke winks at you, walking around the island so he can see the awe on your face as you inspect the bag, knowing the matching wallet is already set to be delivered later this week.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 6: Athena, Goddess Of Wisdom]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 5.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Here at the midway point in our journey—like Dante stumbling upon the gates of the Inferno—would it be the right moment to review what’s at stake? Let’s begin.

It’s the end of August. The delegates of the Democratic National Convention in Chicago officially vote to name Aemond the party’s presidential candidate. His ascension is aided by 10,000 antiwar demonstrators who flood into the city and threaten to set it ablaze if Hubert Humphrey is chosen instead. At the end—in his death rattle—Humphrey begs to be Aemond’s running mate, one last humiliation he cannot resist. Humphrey is denied. Eugene McCarthy, dignity intact, boards a commercial flight to his home state of Minnesota without looking back.

Aemond selects U.S. Ambassador to France, Sargent Shriver, to be his vice president. Shriver is a Kennedy by marriage—his wife, JFK’s younger sister Eunice, just founded the Special Olympics—and has previously headed the Office of Economic Opportunity, the Peace Corps, and the Chicago Board of Education. He also served as the architect of the president’s “War on Poverty” before distancing himself from the imploding Johnson administration. Shriver is not a concession to fence-sitting moderates or Southern Dixiecrats, but an embodiment of Aemond’s commitment to unapologetic progressivism. Richard Nixon spends the weekend campaigning in his native California, a gold vein of votes like the mines settlers rushed to in 1848. George Wallace announces that he will run as an Independent. Racists everywhere rejoice.

Phase III of the Tet Offensive is underway in Vietnam; 700 American soldiers have been killed this month alone. Riots break out in military prisons where the U.S. Army is keeping their deserters. The North Vietnamese refuse to allow Pope Paul VI to visit Hanoi on a peace mission. President Johnson calls both Aemond and Nixon to personally inform them of this latest evidence of the communists’ unwillingness to negotiate in good faith. Daeron and John McCain remain in Hỏa Lò Prison. The draft swallows men like the titan Cronus devoured his own children.

In Eastern Europe, the Russians are crushing pro-democracy protests in the largest military operation since World War II as half a million troops roll into Czechoslovakia. In Caswell County, North Carolina, the last remaining segregated school district in the nation is ordered by a federal judge to integrate after years of stalling. On the Fangataufa Atoll in the South Pacific, France becomes the fifth nation to successfully explode a hydrogen bomb. In Mexico City, 300,000 students gather to protest the authoritarian regime of President Diaz Ordaz. In Guatemala, American ambassador John Gordon Mein is murdered by a Marxist guerilla organization called the Rebel Armed Forces. In Columbus, Ohio, nine guards are held hostage during a prison riot; after 30 hours, they’re rescued by a SWAT team.

The latest issue of Life magazine brings worldwide attention to catastrophic industrial pollution in the Great Lakes. The first successful multiorgan transplant is carried out at Houston Methodist Hospital. The Beatles release Hey Jude, the best-selling single of 1968 in the U.S., U.K., Australia, and Canada. NASA’s Apollo lunar landing program plans to launch a crewed shuttle next year, just in time to fulfill John F. Kennedy’s 1962 promise to put a man on the moon “before the end of the decade.” If this is successful, the United States will win the Space Race and prove the superiority of capitalism. If it fails, the martyred astronauts will join all the other ghosts of this apocalyptic age, an epoch born under bad stars.

The night sky glows with the ancient debris of the Aurigid meteor shower. From down here on Earth, Jupiter is a radiant white gleam, visible with the naked eye and admired since humans were making cave paintings and Stonehenge. But Io is a mystery. With a telescope, she becomes a dust mote entrapped by Jupiter’s gravity; to the casual observer, she doesn’t exist at all.

~~~~~~~~~~

What was it like, that very first time? It’s strange to remember. You’re both different people now.

It’s May, 1966. You and Aemond are engaged, due to be married in three short weeks, and if you get pregnant then it’s no harm, no foul. In reality, it will end up taking you over a year to conceive, but no one knows that yet; you are living in the liminal space between what you imagine your life will be and the cold blade of the truth. Aemond has brought you to Asteria for the weekend, an increasingly common occurrence. The Targaryens—minus one, that holdout prodigal son, always glowering from behind swigs of rum and clouds of smoke—have already begun to treat you like a member of the family. The flock of Alopekis yap excitedly and lick your shins. Eudoxia learns your favorite snacks so she can have them ready when you arrive.

One night Aemond takes your hand and leads you to Helaena’s garden, darkness turned to twilight in the artificial luminance of the main house. You can hear distant voices, chatter and laughter, and the Beatles’ Rubber Soul spinning on the record player in the living room like a black hole, gravity that not even light can escape when it is wrenched over the event horizon.

You’re giggling as Aemond pulls you along, faster and faster, weaving through pathways lined with roses and sunflowers and butterfly bushes. Your high heels sink into soft, fertile earth; the air in your lungs is cool and infinite. “Where are we going?”

And Aemond grins back at you as he replies: “To Olympus.”

In the circle of hedges guarded by thirteen gods of stone, Aemond unzips your modest pink sundress and slips your heels off your feet, kneeling like he’s proposing to you again. When you are bare and secretless, he draws you down onto the grass and opens you, claims you, fills you to the brim as the crystalline water of the fountain patters and Zeus hurls his lightning bolts, an eternal storm, unending war. It’s intense in a way it never was with your first boyfriend, a sweet polite boy who talked about feminist theory and followed his enlightened conscience all the way to Vietnam. This isn’t just a pleasant way to pass a Friday night, something to look forward to between differential equations textbooks and calculus proofs. With Aemond it’s a ritual; it’s something so overpowering it almost scares you.

“Aphrodite,” Aemond murmurs against your throat, and when you try to get on top he stops you, pins you to the ground, thrusts hard and deep, and you try not to moan too loudly as you surrender, his weight on you like a prophesy. This is how he wants you. This is where you belong.

Has someone ever stitched you to their side, pushing the needle through your skin again and again as the fabric latticework takes shape, until their blood spills into your veins and your antibodies can no longer tell the difference? He makes you think you’ve forgotten who you were before. He makes you want to believe in things the world taught you were myths.

But that was over two years ago. Now Aemond is not your spellbinding almost-stranger of a fiancé—shrouded in just the right amount of mystery—but your husband, the father of your dead child, the presidential candidate. You miss when he was a mirage. You miss what it felt like to get high on the idea of him, each taste a hit, each touch a rush of toxins to the bloodstream.

Seven weeks after your emergency c-section, you are healing. Your belly no longer aches, your bleeding stops, you can rejoin the living in this last gasp of summer. Ludwika takes you shopping and you pick out new swimsuits; you’ve gone up a size since the baby, and it shows no signs of vanishing. In the fitting room, Ludwika chain-smokes Camel cigarettes and claps when you show her each outfit, ordering you to spin around, telling you that there’s nothing like Oleg Cassini back in Poland. You plan to buy three swimsuits. Ludwika insists you get five. She pays with Otto’s American Express.

That afternoon at home in your blue bedroom, you get changed to join the rest of the family down by the pool, your first swim since Ari was born. You choose Ludwika’s favorite: a dreamy turquoise two-piece with flowing transparent fabric that drapes your midsection. You can still see the dark vertical line of where the doctors stitched you closed. Now you and Aemond match; he got his scar on the floor of the Breakers Hotel in Palm Beach, you earned yours at Mount Sinai Hospital in Manhattan. There are gold chains on your wrist and looped around your neck. Warm sunlight and ocean wind pours in through the open windows.

Aemond appears in the doorway and you turn to show him, proud of how you’ve pulled yourself together, how this past year hasn’t put you in an asylum. His right eye catches on your scar and stays there for a long time. Then at last he says: “You don’t have something else to wear?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Labor Day, and Asteria has been descended upon by guests invited to celebrate Aemond’s nomination. The dining room table is overflowing with champagne, Agiorgitiko wine, platters of mini spanakopitas, lamb gyros, pita bread with hummus and tzatziki, feta cheese and cured meats, grilled octopus, baklava, and kourabiethes. Eudoxia is rushing around sweeping up crumbs and shooing tipsy visitors away from antique vases shipped here from Greece. Aemond’s celebrity endorsers include Sammy Davis Jr., Sonny and Cher, Andy Williams, Bobby Darin, Warren Beatty, Shirley MacLaine, Claudine Longet, and a number of politicians; but the most notable attendee is President Lyndon Baines Johnson, shadowed by Secret Service agents. He won’t be making any surprise appearances on the campaign trail for Aemond—in the present political climate, he would be more of a liability than an asset—but he has travelled to Long Beach Island tonight to offer his well-wishes. From the record player thrums Jimi Hendrix’s All Along The Watchtower.

When you finish getting ready and arrive downstairs, you spot Aegon: slouching in a velvet chair over a century old, hair shagging in his eyes, sipping something out of a chipped mug he clasps with both hands, flirting with a bubbly early-twenties campaign staffer. Aegon smiles and waves when he sees you. You wave back. And you think: When did he become the person I look for when I walk into a room?

Now Aemond is beside you in a blue suit—beaming, confident, his glass eye in place, a hand resting on your waist—and Aegon isn’t smiling anymore. He takes a gulp of what is almost certainly straight rum from his mug and returns his attention to the campaign staffer, his lady of the hour. You picture him undressing her on his shag carpet and feel disorienting, violent envy like a bullet.

Viserys is already fast asleep upstairs, but the rest of the family is out en masse to charm the invitees and pose for photographs. Alicent, Helaena, and Mimi—trying very hard to act sober, blinking too often—are chit-chatting with the other political wives. Otto is complaining about something to Criston; Criston is pretending to listen as he stares at Alicent. Ludwika is smoking her Camels and talking to several young journalists who are ogling her, enraptured. Fosco and Sargent Shriver are entertaining a group of guests with a boisterous, lighthearted debate on the merits of Italian versus French cuisine, though they agree that both are superior to Greek. The nannies have brought the eight children to be paraded around before bedtime. All Cosmo wants to do is clutch your hand and “help” you navigate around the living room, warning you not to step on the small, weaving Alopekis. When Mimi attempts to steal her youngest son away, he ignores her, and as she begins to make a scene you rebuke her with a harsh glare. Mimi retreats meekly. She has never argued with you, not once in over two years. You speak for Aemond, and Aemond is a god.

As the children are herded off to their beds by the nannies, Bobby Kennedy—presently serving as a New York senator despite residing primarily on his family’s compound in Massachusetts—approaches to congratulate Aemond. His wife Ethel is a tiny, nasally, scrappy but not terribly bright woman, five months pregnant with her eleventh child, and you have to get away from her like a hand pulled from a hot stove.

“You know, I was considering running,” Bobby says to Aemond, chuckling, good-natured. “But when I saw you get in the race, I thought better of it! Maybe I’ll give it a go in ’76, huh?”

“Hey, kid, what a tough year you’ve had,” Ethel tells you, patting your forearm. You can’t tear your eyes from her small belly. She has ten living children already. I couldn’t keep one. What kind of sense does that make? “We’re real sorry for your trouble, aren’t we, Bobby?”

Now he is nodding somberly. “We are. We sure are. We’ve been praying for you both.”

Aemond is thanking them, sounding touched but entirely collected. You manage some hurried response and then excuse yourself. Your hands are shaking as you cross the room, not really seeing it. You walk right into Lady Bird Johnson. She takes pity on you; she seems to perceive how rattled you are. “Oh Lyndon, look, it’s just who we were hoping to speak to! The next first lady of the United States. And how beautiful you are, just radiant. How do you keep your hair so perfect? That glamorous updo. You never have a single strand out of place.” Lady Bird lays a palm tenderly on your bare shoulder. She has an unusual, angular face, but a wise sort of compassion that only comes from suffering. Her husband is an unrepentant serial cheater. “I’ll make you a list of everything you need to know about the White House. All the quirks of the property, and the hidden gems too!”

“You’re so kind. We’ll see what happens in November…”

“Good evening, ma’am,” President Johnson says, smiling warmly. He’s an ugly man, but there’s something hypnotic that lives inside him and shines through his eyes like the blaze of a lighthouse. He pulls you in through the dark, through the storm; he promises you answers to questions you haven’t thought of yet. LBJ is 6’4 and known for bullying his political adversaries with the so-called “Johnson Treatment”; he leans in and makes rapid-fire demands until they forget he’s not allowed to hit them. “I have to tell you frankly, I don’t envy anyone who inherits that den of rattlesnakes in Washington D.C.”

“Lyndon, don’t frighten her,” Lady Bird scolds fondly.

“Everyone thinks they know what to do about Vietnam,” LBJ plods onwards. “But it’s a damned if you do, damned if you don’t clusterfuck. If you keep fighting, they call you a murderer. But if you pull the troops out and South Vietnam falls to the communists, every single man lost was for nothing, and you think the families will stand for that? Their kid in a body bag, or his legs blown off, or his brain scrambled? There’s no easy answer. It’s a goddamn bitch of a quagmire.”

Lady Bird offers you a sympathetic smirk. Sorry about all this unpleasantness, she means. When he gets himself worked up, I can’t stop him. But you find yourself feeling sorry for President Johnson. It will be difficult for him to learn how to fade into disgraced obscurity after once being so omnipotent, so beloved. Reinvention hurts like hell: fevers raging, bones mending, healing flesh that itches so ferociously you want to claw it off.

LBJ gives Lady Bird a look, quick but meaningful. She acquiesces. This has happened a thousand times before. “It was so nice talking to you, dear,” she tells you, then crosses the living room to pay her respects to Alicent.

The president steps closer, looming, towering. The Johnson Treatment?? you think, but no; he isn’t trying to intimidate you. He’s just curious.

“Do you know what Aemond’s plan is for ‘Nam?” LBJ asks, eyes urgent, voice low. “I’m sure he has one. He’s sworn to end the draft as soon as he gets into office, but how is he going to make sure the South Vietnamese can fend off the North themselves? We’re trying to train the bastards, but if we left they’d fold in months. It would be the first war the U.S. ever lost. Does he understand that?”

“He doesn’t really discuss it with me.” That’s true; you know his policies, but only because they are a constant subject of conversation within the family, something you all breathe like oxygen.

“We can’t let Nixon win,” LBJ continues. “It’s mass suicide to leave the country in his hands. The man can’t hold his liquor anymore, getting robbed by Kennedy in ’60 broke something in him. He gets sloshed and shoves his aids around, makes up conspiracies in his head. He’s a paranoid little prick. He’ll surveille the American people. He’ll launch a nuke at Moscow.”

You honestly don’t know what he expects you to say. “I’ll pass the message along to Aemond.”

“People love you, Mrs. Targaryen.” LBJ watching you closely. “Believe it or not, they used to love me too. But I still remember how to play the game. You’re the only reason Aemond is leading the polls in Florida. You can get him other states too. Jack needed Jackie. Aemond needs you. And you’ve had tragedies, and that’s a damn shame. But don’t you miss an opportunity. You take every disappointment, every fucked up cruelty of life and find a way to make it work for you. You pin it to your chest like a goddamn medal. Every single scar makes you look more mortal to those people going to the ballot box in November. You want them to be able to see themselves in you. It helps the mansions and the millions go down smoother.”

“President Johnson!” Aegon says as he saunters over, huge mocking grin. He thumps a closed fist against the Texan’s broad chest; the Secret Service agents standing ten feet away observe this sternly. “How thoughtful of you to be here, taking time out of your busy schedule, squeezing us in between war crimes.”

“The mayor of Trenton,” LBJ jabs.

“The butcher of Saigon.”

Now the president is no longer amused. “You’ve never accomplished anything in your whole damn life, son. Your obituary will be the size of a postage stamp. I’m looking forward to reading it someday soon.” He leaves, rejoining Lady Bird at the opposite end of the room.

You frown at Aegon, disapproving. You’re dressed in a sparkling, royal blue gown that Aemond chose. “That was unnecessary.”

Aegon is wearing an ill-fitting green shirt—half the buttons undone—khaki pants, and tan moccasins. “I just did you a favor.”

“What happened to your new girlfriend? Shouldn’t she be getting railed in your basement right now? Did she have a prior commitment? Did she have a spelling test to study for? Those can be tricky, such complex words. Juvenile. Inappropriate. Infidelity.”

“You know what he brags about?” Aegon says, meaning LBJ. “That he’s fucked more women by accident than John F. Kennedy ever did on purpose.”

“That sounds…logistically challenging.”

“He’s a lech. He’s a freak. He tells everyone on Capitol Hill how big his cock is. He takes it out and swings it around during meetings.”

“And that’s all far less than admirable, but he’s not going to do something like that around me.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s not an idiot,” you say impatiently. “He was perfectly civil. And I was getting interesting advice.”

Aegon rolls his eyes, exasperated. “Yeah, okay, I’m sorry I crashed your cute little pep talk with Lyndon Johnson, the most hated man on the planet.”

“I guess you can’t stop Aemond from touching me, so you have to terrorize LBJ instead.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Aegon hisses, and his venom stuns you. And now you’re both trapped: you loosed the arrow, he proved you hit the mark. He’s flushing a deep, mortified red. Your guts are twisting with remorse.

“Aegon, wait, I didn’t mean—”

He whirls and storms off, shoving his way through the crowd. People glare at him as they clutch their glasses and plates, sighing in that What else do you expect from the worthless son? sort of way. You’re still gaping blankly at the place where Aegon stood when Aemond finds you, snakes a hand around the back of your neck, and whispers through the painstakingly-arranged wisps of hair that fall around your ear: “Follow me.”

It’s not a question. It’s a command. You trail him through the living room, into the foyer, and through the front door, not knowing what he wants. Outside the moon is a sliver; the light from the main house makes the stars hard to see. “Aemond, you’ll never believe the conversation I just had with LBJ. He really unloaded, I think the stress is driving him insane. I have to tell you what he said about—”

“Later.” And this is jarring; Aemond doesn’t put anything before strategy. He grabs your hand as he turns into Helaena’s garden, and only then do you understand what he wants. Instinctively, your legs lock up and your feet stop moving. Aemond tugs you onward. He wants it to be like the very first time. He intends to start over with you, the dawning of a new age in the dead of night.

Hidden in the circle of hedges, he takes your face roughly in his hands and kisses you, drinks you down like a vampire, consumes you like wildfire. But your skull echoes with panic. I don’t want him touching me. I don’t want another child with him. “Aemond…”

He doesn’t hear you, or acts like he doesn’t, or mistakes it for a murmur of desire, or chooses to believe it is. He has you down on the grass under the vengeful gaze of Zeus, the fountain splashing, the sounds of the house a low foreign drone. He yanks off your panties, but he doesn’t want you naked like he always did before. He pushes the hem of your shimmering cobalt gown up to your hips and unbuckles his trousers. And you realize as he’s touching you, as he’s easing himself into you: He doesn’t want to have to look at my scar.

You can’t ignore him, you can’t pretend it’s not happening. He’s too big for that. It’s a biting fullness that demands to be felt. So you kiss him back, and knot your fingers in his short hair like you used to, and try to remember the things you always said to him before. And when Aemond is too absorbed to notice, you look away from him, from the statue of Zeus, and peer up into the stone face of Athena instead: the goddess who never married and who knows the answer to every question.

“I love you,” Aemond says when it’s over, marveling at the slopes of your face in the dim ethereal light. “Everything will be right again soon. Everything will be perfect.”

You conjure up a smile and nod like you believe him.

“What did LBJ say?”

“Can I tell you later tonight? After the party, maybe? I just need a few minutes.”

“Of course.” And now Aemond pretends to be patient. He buckles his belt and returns to the main house, his blood coursing with the possibilities only you can make real, his skin damp with your sweat.

For a while—ten minutes, twenty minutes—you lie there on the cool grass wondering what it was like for all those mortals and nymphs, being pinned down by Zeus and then having Hera try to kill them afterwards, raising ill-fated reviled bastards they couldn’t help but love. What is heaven if the realm of the immortals is so cruel? Why does the god of justice seem so immune to it?

When at last you rise and walk back towards the house, you find Mimi at the edge of the garden. She’s on her knees and retching into a rose bush; she’s cut her face on the thorns, but she hasn’t noticed yet. She’s groaning; she seems lost.

You reach for her, gripping her bony shoulders. “Mimi, here, let’s get you upstairs…”

“No,” she blubbers, tears streaming down her scratched cheeks. “Just go away. Leave me.”

“Mimi—”

“No!” she roars, a mournful hemorrhage as she slaps your hands until you release her.

“You don’t have to be this way,” you tell her, distraught. “You can give up drinking. We’ll help you, me and Fosco and Ludwika. You can start over. You can be healthy and present again, you can live a real life.”

Mimi stares up at you, her grey eyes glassy and bloodshot but with a vicious, piercing honesty. “My husband hates me. My kids don’t know I exist. What the hell do I have to be sober for?”

You weren’t expecting this. You don’t know what to say. “We can help make the world better.”

“The world would be better without me in it.”

Then Mimi curls up on the grass under the rose bush, and stays there until you return with Fosco to drag her upstairs to her empty bed.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, you’re lying on a lounge chair by the pool. Tomorrow the family will leave Asteria and embark upon a vigorous campaign schedule that will continue, with very few breaks, until Election Day on Tuesday, November 5th. The children are splashing and shrieking in the pool with Fosco, but you aren’t looking at them. You’re staring across the sun-drenched emerald lawn at the Atlantic Ocean. You’re envisioning all the bones and splinters of sunken ships that must litter the silt of the abyss; you’re thinking that it’s a graveyard with no headstones, no memory. Your swimsuit is a red one-piece. Your eyes are shielded by large black Ray Bans aviator sunglasses. Your gaze flicks up to the cloudless blue sky, where all the stars and planets are invisible.

Jupiter has nearly a hundred moons; the largest four were discovered by Galileo in 1610. Europa is a smooth white cosmic marble with a crust of ice, beautiful, immaculate. Ganymede, the largest moon in our solar system and the only satellite with its own magnetic field, is rumored to have a vast underground saltwater ocean that may contain life. Callisto is dark and indomitable, riddled with impact craters; because of her dynamic atmosphere and location beyond Jupiter’s radiation belts, she is considered the best location for possible future crewed missions to the Jovian system. But Io is a wasteland. She has no water and no oxygen. Her only children are 400 active volcanoes, sulfur plumes and lava flows, mountains of silicate rock higher than Mount Everest, cataclysmic earthquakes as her crust slips around on a mantle of magma. Her daily radiation levels are 36 times the lethal limit for humans. If Hades had a home in our corner of the galaxy, it would be Io. She glows ruby and gold with barren apocalyptic fury. You can feel yourself turning poisonous like she is. You can feel your skin splitting open as the lava spills out.

Aegon trots out of the house—red swim trunks, cheap red plastic sunglasses, no shirt, a beach towel slung around his neck, flip flops—and kicks your chair. “Get up. We’re going sailing.”

“I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

“Great, because I’m not asking you to talk. I’m telling you to get in my boat.”

You don’t reply. You don’t think you can without your voice cracking. Aegon crouches down beside your chair and pushes your sunglasses up into your Brigitte Bardot-inspired hair so he can see your face. Your eyes are pink, wet, desperately sad. Deep troubled grooves appear in his forehead as he studies you. Gently, wordlessly, he pats your cheek twice and lowers your sunglasses back over your eyes. Then he stands up again and offers you his hand.

“Let’s go,” Aegon says, softly this time. You take his hand and follow him down to the boathouse.

Five vessels are currently kept there. Aegon’s sailboat is a 25-foot Wianno Senior sloop, just roomy enough for a few passengers. He’s had it since long before you married into the Targaryen family. It is white with hand-painted gold accents; the name Sunfyre adorns the stern. He unmoors the boat, pushes it out into the open water, and raises the sails.

You glide eastbound over the glittering crests of waves, slowly at first, then faster as the sails catch the wind. Aegon has one hand on the rudder, the other grasping the ropes. And the farther you get from shore, the smaller Asteria seems, and the Targaryen family, and the presidential election, and the United States itself. Now all that exists is this boat: you, Aegon, the squawking gulls, the school of mackerel, the ocean. The sun beats down; the breeze rips strands of your hair free. The battery-powered record player is blasting White Room by Cream. When you are far enough from land that no journalists would be able to get a photo, Aegon takes two joints and his Zippo out of the pocket of his swim trunks. He puts both joints between his lips, lights them, and passes you one. Then he stretches out beside you on the deck, gazing up at the September sky.

You ask as your muscles unravel and your thoughts turn light and easy to share: “Why did you bring me out here?”

“So you can drown yourself,” Aegon says, and you both laugh. “Nah. I used to go sailing all the time when I was a teenager. It always made me feel better. It was the only place where I could really be alone.”

You consider the math. “Wow. You haven’t been a teenager since before I was in kindergarten.”

“It’s weird to think about. You don’t seem that young.”

“Thanks, I guess. You don’t seem that old.”

“Maybe we’re meeting in the middle.” He inhales deeply and then exhales in a rush of smoke. “What do you think, should I get an earring?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“It might shock Otto so bad it kills him.”

“I’ll get two.” And then Aegon says: “It’s not cool for you to mock me.”

You are dismayed; you didn’t mean to hurt him. “I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were. You were mocking me. You mocked me about the receipt under my ashtray, and then you mocked me again last night. I’m up for a lot of things, but I can’t handle that. Okay?”

“Okay.” You turn your head so you can see him: shaggy blonde hair, stubble, perpetual sunburn, the softness of his belly and his chest, flesh you long to vanish into like rain through parched earth. “Aegon?”

He looks over at you. “Io?”

“I don’t want Aemond to touch me either.”

He’s surprised; not by what you feel, but because you’ve said it aloud, a treason like Prometheus giving mankind the gift of fire. “What are we gonna do about it?”

If you were the goddess of wisdom, maybe you’d know.

[ribread03]

Our Song II

M.stuniolo

What happens when Y/N cant afford to fly out to LA… Y/N and Matt text for the first time…

THIS IS MY WORK AND MY IDEA! PLEASE DONT USE THIS AS “INSPIRATION” OR TAKE IT WITHOUT GETTING MY PERMISSION FIRST! thank you :)

This is part two of our song! Find the mood board and part one through my master list!

Y/N POV

You and Nick have been texting back and forth for a few days at this point and your excitement for the collab has grown even more, if that is possible. You’ve been looking at hotels and plane tickets, trying to see how they would fit into your budget. You can't seem to find any plane tickets that are less than $250, so you decide to text Nick to see if they could collab next time they are back in Boston, that being a cheaper flight from Jersey.

“I can't find a cheap flight to fit into my budget, do you think we could collab next time the three of you are in Boston? It would be a cheaper flight for me to book…” You send Nick the text with a small sigh, not sure when the next time they will be home or if they will even want to collab with you when they are.

Your phone is quick to ping again, it was Nick texting you back, “girl don’t worry about anything! We’ll cover it for you, we wanted you to come out to LA so we don’t expect you to cover everything… We will book you a nice hotel near our house and get you a good plane ticket!” You read Nick's text with a large smile, they really didn’t have to do any of that, but it was nice that they are. Them paying to fly you out would help you out, leaving you with extra money to spend while in LA.

You're quick to shoot a text back to him, saying everything along the lines of “thank you so much” and “I really appreciate that” and “it means so much to me!” Because it really did, they didn’t know and probably wont ever know how much this means so you, you saying thank you will never be enough.

Matts POV

“She’s saying she can't afford a flight and hotel out here…” Nick says as he reads the text out loud, to Matt and Chris, that you sent him. Matt looks between his two brothers before an idea pops into his head.

”Tell her we will cover it,” Matt is quick to say. “Just take it out of my account, I was the one who wanted to collab with her in the first place.” He explains to his brothers before they can even say anything.

“Okay,” Nick says, slightly suspicious of his one brothers need to have you here. Nick was quick to catch onto Matt’s fond interest with you, seemingly always catching him looking at your new insta post or scrolling through your TikTok or watching an edit of you on there. Nick often hears your voice coming from Matt’s room, assuming Matt is watching one of your YouTube videos-one that he’s probably seen nine times already but still watches it because it is his favorite video of you.

After a beat of silence Matt speaks up again, “I just think it would be nice, since we are the ones who want to collab and have her come out here.” explaining his idea more, even though neither Nick nor Chris asked anything about why he was wanting to pay. “Could you do me a favor though, and not tell her I’m the only one paying for it?” Matt asks Nick with a shy smile.

Matt didn’t want you to know he was the sole reason they wanted to collab with you, being slightly embarrassed about how excited he is to meet you for the first time. He also didn’t want you to know he was paying for your whole trip, not wanting you to feel bad for only him spending so much money on you.

“Do you think you could give me her number? So then I can let her know what the car looks like and what number to expect when we go to pick her up,” Nick is quick to give Matt a small nod and even smaller smirk, knowing the exact reason he is asking for your number, but Nick didn’t wanna ruin Matt’s fun so he sent him your number.

Three days later…

Your phone pings with a random number but the message doesn’t concern you, it actually makes your stomach twist in excitement. The text reads, “Hey Y/N, it’s Matt Sturniolo. Nick gave me your number so then I can text you when we come to pick you up from the airport, or so we can just talk and get to know each other a little better before you fly here”

“Matthew Sturniolo wants to get to know me!” You say quietly to yourself, your heart pounding as you read the text over and over again. You’ve always liked Matt the most, thinking he was the best looking, the one you related to the most out of the three of them, and overall someone you genuinely wanted to meet and see what they are like in person.

With a big grin and shaking fingers you text him back, “Hi Matt, I would love to get to know you some more before flying out. Thanks for texting me, and know that I’m always open to talk and all!” You hit send on the text and send your phone flying across your bed with a small squeal. A few small giggles leave your lips as you think about what just happened. The Matthew Sturniolo just text you, wanting to get to know you.

But what you didn’t know is that your text did the same thing to him. Making his stomach twirl in excitement as he read over your words. The same small giggles leaving his lips as he blushes and smiles at the words, “I would love to get to know you…” on his screen.

AN: i hoped you enjoyed this part! The next part is Y/N flying out to la and meeting the triplets for the first time!! And texting Matt some more🤭

Any interaction is welcomed and very much appreciated

All borders from @issysh3ll

[loveshotzz]

kitchen? 😏

Just a little something i’ve been plugging away at since @palmtreesx3 put the idea of us wearing AIRWIY!steve’s baseball jersey from chapter nine and what that would do to him. It spiraled into our first sleep over at his house and him cooking us breakfast the next morning. Here’s a little snippet for you baby.

18+ - fem!reader, age gap, older!steve, fingering

Both his palms curve around the counter behind him, chest puffing out a little more just for you. Licking his full pink lips, they pull up into a lopsided grin, a hungry gaze roaming freely as you come to a stop right in front of him. His confidence only falters a little when he has to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, but the gesture only makes your heart swell especially when the tops of his ears redden.

You lean against the island with a smile that tells him you’re up to no good. Heat from the oven and the man across from you warms your legs against the chill that bounces off all the glass and stone in his kitchen. Electricity sparks in the space between your bodies making the tips of your fingers and toes buzz, your pulse jumping when he reaches a big hand out for you.

“Just a little bit too far for me still baby,” He wiggles his fingers at you making you giggle before you slip your hand into his palm, watching with glazed eyes when it disappears in his grasp.

His gentle tug makes you squeal, hitting his chest with a soft thump, while he grins down at you like someone who just won the grand prize at the fair. He wraps an arm around you to keep you from leaving, letting go of your hand to cup the side of your face. The pad of his thumb traces the length of your cheek bone, and he smells just his pillow. Your hands find themselves tangled into the cotton of his shirt, leaning deeper into his touch. It makes the playfulness that dances in the chestnut of his turn soft, with something lovesick.

“Good morning handsome,” you say in a content sigh, and the hand that's spread across your back starts to work a path up your spine pulling the fabric of his jersey with it.

“I could really get used to this you know,” He hums, dipping his head down so the tip of his nose runs up the length of yours, mint and coffee on his breath “waking up to you.”

Your stomach flips at his words, all the blood rushing to your cheeks when you feel the cool breeze hit where your underwear should be.

“Oh yeah? What about Bandit?” You tease leaning closer, letting your top lip catch his bottom one.

Steve snorts a little, the palm on your back squeezing you even closer.

“Are you kidding me? We’re obsessed with you over here honey.” The whites of his teeth show a little before they nip at your pout. He takes advantage of the gasp he gets because of it, closing the gap completely in the kind of kiss that doesn’t give you any time to catch your breath before he’s licking at your bottom lip.

Your fingers untangle themselves from his shirt, and find a new home to get lost in the locks at the nap of his neck. Tongues meeting in the middle with eager enthusiasm, front teeth scraping together as you push up on your tippy toes on the search for more. A deep groan vibrates from his chest, and his palm starts working its way down the dip of your back. He’s met with the bare swell of your ass when he reaches the bottom hem of his jersey, and you feel him kick up in his sweatpants.

“Tough girl.” He says your nickname like he's scolding you, leaving open mouthed kisses up your jaw, nipping at your earlobe before whispering with the kind of gravel in his voice that makes the inside of your thighs sticky. “We’re supposed to be eating breakfast.”

“Who says -“ your sentence is cut off by your own gasp when two thick fingers trace a line up your slick lips with ease, the pads of them pressing down on your bundle of nerves just long enough to make you whine and your knees shake.

“Who says what huh?” He whispers against the sensitive spot behind your ear, rubbing small circles on your clit with pointed pressure, obsessed with the way your jaw goes slack, and your eyebrows bunch together because of it.

“Who says we can’t do both?” You manage to get out, eyes rolling back when he spreads you apart.

[aliaology]

NEW JERSEY RED

summary: reader finds herself falling for the new jersey devil’s center even if her heart is supposed to lie with the new york rangers.

pairings: jack hughes x fem!reader

warnings: none..? just yn getting sappy as hell bc she fell for jack!! use of ‘daddy’ but not in a sexual way.

lowercase intended.

BASED ON “tennessee orange” by megan moroney

living in new jersey wasn’t much of a difference than living in new york, at least, not to you. at times it just felt less chaotic, in a way that made you miss the chaotic streets of nyc. but moving to new jersey to become a media manager for the new jersey devils was a pro and a con.

growing up in new york city, meant you and your family were very big rangers fans. your father had seasonal tickets, every year. you went to every game with him that you could.

when your family heard you now worked for the new jersey devils, it felt like hell broke loose. working for the.. enemy? now thats foul play, you just betrayed your home team! but you didn’t regret it.

see, there was this boy. specifically number 86, a center for the new jersey devils. jack hughes. he was cute, scratch that— he was hot. you, like many other girls, fell right at his feet. of course you didn’t out right do so or show that.

but he as well— fell hard for you, maybe even harder.

not only did you work for the ‘enemy’ but now you were fraternizing with one?

you had the day off, sitting at your now shared apartment with your current boyfriend of nine months. you didn’t tell your family about him, he didn’t tell his about you. the media had no idea that the jack hughes had a girlfriend either.

your thumb hovers over the call button. the stool under you creaked as you shifted your weight. you clicked the bright green button.

it rang until it didn’t, “hello?” the sound of your mother’s voice filled the room.

“hi mama.” you spoke gently. “ive got some news for you” you told.

“finally! i havent heard from you in so long sweet girl, please tell me everything!” you could hear her smile from the other end of the phone.

you smile. “just don’t tell daddy, okay? he’ll blow a fuse.” you chuckle.

your fingers tap against the counter as you anxiously listen to her laugh. “okay, sweetie. are you okay?”

“dont worry— im doing okay. listen— i know you raised me to know right from wrong, it aint what you think, promise.” you start.

“honey, you’re kind of scaring me.” your mother nervously chuckles.

“listen, okay? i um— i never thought i’d honestly see this day, seeing how scared i was with my past relationships—“ you cut yourself off with a nervous laugh.

“i met somebody.” you told. you heard a quiet gasp on her end.

“really? honey thats amazing! tell me about him— about your relationship.”

you let out a breath. “hes got blue eyes, the prettiest eyes ive ever seen, mama. hes so good to me too, he always holds the door open, he never makes me cry. there has never been a moment where he’s made me upset.”

“oh honey..” she trailed off, sounding happy.

“im not done, mama. last weekend he took me to michigan, where his family lives. we watched a football game, a college one. his brothers used to go there. he let me wear his cap that has been on his dash forever— mama i swear i fell even more for him under those stadium lights. hes perfect.”

“but..” you trailed off.

“but? there’s a but? honey… whats wrong?” your mother sounded concerned.

“mama, you cannot tell daddy— he’s gonna think its a sin. but mama hes a player on the new jersey devils— but forgive me, i really like him, mom. hell, im learning how to golf for him mama. hes perfect, hes got a smile, mama his smile is killer. ive never seen one like it.”

“honey… you’re dad is right here, listening.” you clamped your mouth shut. just your luck.

“does he make you happy?” you heard your father ask.

“yes he does, daddy. i know hes a devil but god you would love him! i know he aint where we are from, but he feels like home. hes got me doing things ive never done. he makes my stomach burst into butterflies, he makes me blush, he makes me feel loved.” you explained.

“and you know i still want the rangers to win, daddy” you told.

you heard him chuckle. “as long as he makes you happy, sweetheart.”

you grin. you stay on the call for what felt like hours, talking about jack. when you finally end it, you feel arms wrap around your shoulders and your chest. a kiss is pressed to your temple.

“i hope you know how much i love you” jack mumbled, trailing small kisses from your forehead to your cheek and your jaw.

“and just so you know, you look better in new jersey red than new york blue.”

i #hope this wasnt shit LMAO first time posting on tumblr 😻🤘

[withwritersblock]

Blessed

~Blessed by Thomas Rhett~

Author's Note: been a long week and a lack of creativity but here's some nate magic Summary: Y/N travels to Dallas for game one Warnings: none Word Count: 2,230 Nathan Mackinnon x fm!reader

It was late and she tried to stay awake. It was well past two in the morning and it was becoming harder and harder to stay awake. She was ready, waiting in her scarlett red lingerie. She sprawled out onto the bed in different poses, trying to show off the new lingerie she had bought.

But as the minutes ticked by, it was starting to get harder and harder to stay awake. She had fallen asleep between two-thirty and three-thirty, she wasn’t sure. “Baby,” she heard a voice, she jolted awake panickly looking around for only a second before she met Nate’s gaze. He had a wide smile on his lips as he rested his hand onto her waist. “This new?” he asked as he slowly trailed his fingertips up her side.

“It was,” she whispered as she leaned backwards, leaning her body against the headboard, “I bought it for when you made it to the second round,” she mumbled. He chuckle shyly as he tossed his hoodie from his frame. He quickly climbed on top of her, hovering over her frame.

“And how did you know we would make it?” he asked as he bumped his nose against hers. She giggled as she leaned her head back. 

“Because I know you Nathan Mackinnon,” she mumbled as she ran her fingers through the ends of his hair. He rolled his eyes as he leaned down and kissed her delicately. 

“You know me?” he whispered against her lips before he kissed her again. She hummed against his lips. She pulled away, putting her hand against her lips. He furrowed his eyebrows harshly, “Are you alright?” he asked. 

“I just have to get used to this again,” she mumbled as she slowly ran her thumb across his jawline. The playoff beard already long and only going to get longer. He chuckled as he tilted his head to the side, showing the beard off. “I do like it,” she mumbled as she continued running her thumb across the scruff of beard.

“Maybe I should start growing it out more,” he mumbled as he took a hold of her hand, kissing her fingertips.

“Yes, you should,” she let out confidently as she pulled him towards her, kissing him urgently. “And so I can stop getting acne around my mouth because of this thing,” she said as she took a hold of his chin. He chuckled before he kissed her urgently again.

~one week later~

It was announced Sunday night that the Avs would be facing the Stars. Which was a huge deal for Y/N because she was from Dallas. Her entire family were huge Stars fans, they had season tickets and everything. Y/N had a few Stars gear saved but over the years it was replaced by Avalanche gear and his jerseys. 

Her family brought up the idea that she spent a few days in Dallas to visit her family and to watch Nate. She didn’t hesitate to say yes. 

“Did you give it any more thought on traveling to Dallas?” Nate asked as he stepped out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. She looked his toned frame up and down and felt her cheeks flush. 

“N-no, I’ve got a lot of stuff on my plate at work right now, Love. But the girls and I will be watching,” she mumbled as she stood up from the bed. She wandered towards him, delicately resting her hand onto his bicep. He pouted his lips as he tilted his head back. He looked down towards her, clenching his jaw slightly.

“I was kinda excited that there was going to be at least one Y/L/N in the building rooting for me,” he let out while licking his lips. She rolled her eyes as she smiled. 

“You know, my mom will be wearing your jersey with a Stars hat so there’s that,” she offered as she continued running her hand slowly up and down his arm. 

“Your little brother has an Oettinger jersey so there’s that,” he mumbled a toothy grin on his lips. “At least he’ll have twenty-nine on his jersey,” he tightened his grip around her waist, pulling her towards him. 

“We’ll all be at Landy’s house cheering you guys on,” she mumbled, puckering her lips forward. He smirked before he leaned towards her kissing her gently.

“I gotta go finish getting ready,” he whispered against her lips. She gently rested her hand against his cheek, running her fingers across the scruff of the beard on his face.

“How much time do we have before we reach your almost late for the plane time?” she met his gaze, raising her eyebrow. He rolled his eyes before he took a hold of her head with both of his hands. He pulled her towards him, kissing her urgently.

“Maybe twenty minutes,” he whispered against her lips, He guided her towards the mattress. “I need you,” he muttered.

“Do you now?” she mumbled, he hummed against her lips.

~~~

The plane ride Tuesday morning was filled with Avs fans. It was loud and rowdy well before the game even started. The flight was at eight in the morning and lot more excited than she was. It was too early in the morning for her to fully process that she was even awake. 

She texted with Nate early in the morning about how she would be stuck in the office all day and wouldn’t be able to talk until before his game. There have been many days where work would be too much to handle and she wouldn’t be able to talk to him. He understood and went about his business.

This time she was only thirty minutes from landing in Dallas to visit her family and support her fiance. She was getting giddy and quite literally was bouncing up and down without realizing it. 

The older gentlemen beside her delicately tapped his hand against her arm. Her eyes widened as she pulled the headphone away from her ear. He smiled widely. “Don’t mean to pry but you seem like you’re actually vibrating,” 

Y/N chuckled nervously, “I-uh I’m visiting family,” she let out. He nodded suspiciously. “And I’m surprising my fiance,” she mumbled. 

“Does your fiance live in Dallas?” he asked. She shook her head. His eyes widened as he glanced down towards his Avs jacket. “Does he play for the Avs?” he pressed further. She smiled ass he felt her cheeks flush. She pulled her phone from her pocket and flashed her phone screen towards the gentleman. “Nathan Mackinnon?” he asked excitedly.

“Yeah, we’ve been together since we we’re twenty,” she mumbled.

“He’s a lucky guy,” he muttered nudging her arm teasingly. She smiled awkwardly.

Her flight landed after another thirty minutes and she was manuvering through the airport in search of her family. It had been almost a year since she’s seen them. It was crowded but she could spot her family in a crowded room in a second. 

Her little brother, who was not so little anymore, poked above the crowd at six foot five. She giggled as she excitedly jogged over to the four of them. “My older sister! Wow, I didn’t know I had one of those still,” Jason, her little brother, said as he hugged Y/N. She rolled her eyes dramatically as she squeezed her arms tightly around him. 

“Oh shut it,” she said as she shoved him backwards. He rolled his eyes as he smiled widely. She quickly hugged her younger sister, Bethany. 

“Damn, girl, look at you,” Bethany said as she dramatically looked her sister up and down. Y/N rolled her eyes as she hugged her sister once more. Y/N pulled away and walked towards her parents. 

Her mother smiled widely as she began unzipping her coat. “Look what I got made!” she said excitedly. Y/N eyes widened as her mother took the whole coat off to reveal a shirt. It was green on the front and maroon on the back. 

The white words across the front read Go Stars Go but… she quickly spun around to show the maroon on the back with white words read my future son-in-law is Nate Dogg. Y/N’s eyes widened as she let out a loud laugh.

“Oh please tell you showed this to Nate,” Y/N let out while shaking her head. She spun around and met Y/N’s gaze and nodded. “How did he react to that?” she asked as all five of them started walking out of the airport. 

“He said he liked it and said that he wants all of us to have our own versions,” she offered. Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically.

“What did he really say?” she asked.

“He laughed and asked if it was real,” she mumbled.

~~~

They were sitting in their seats in the lower bowl. Her brother and sister beside her. Her brother was wearing his Jake Oettinger jersey and her sister was wearing a Stars hoodie. Y/N was wearing her WAGs jacket with Mackinnon on the back. Her mother was wearing her new shirt and her father was wearing his own Oettinger jersey.

The game was going exactly as Stars fans were hoping it would. The last two minutes in the first and the Stars were up by three to nothing. “I’m sorry, sis, looks like it’s going to be a rough one for ya,” her brother said as they watched a puck drop in the Avs offensive zone.

Y/N smirked as she watched Nate whisper something to Cale. “Yeah, looks that way,” she mumbled as she watched Nate win the draw. The first period slowly came to an end and the Avs quickly skated off of the ice.

“What were they doing out there?” her brother asked as he nudged his arm against hers. 

“They had eight days off, give them a break,” she mumbled as she brought her soda to her lips. 

The intermission seemed to go by fast as the boys were back on the ice. The Avs were playing a lot better, faster, and more aggressive. During the entire second period they outplayed the Stars and began to cut into the deficit with two power play goals. After Cale’s goal, Y/N leaned towards her little brother.

“Yeah rough one,” she teased as she watched Nate skate towards the glass before he leaned down to take the draw. Her brother rolled his head as he leaned his head back as he watched the second period slowly come to an end.

After forty seconds into the third, Nate scores. She jumps into the air cheering. Watching the boys celebrate. Her brother shot up a fist bump, angry that the Avs came back to tie it but happy that it was Nate. Her father was similar. But her sister and her mother excitedly jumped up for the goal. Their seat neighbors were confused until they saw the speciality made WAGs jersey as well as her mother’s shirt.

“That was hot,” her brother mumbled as the game continued. Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. 

“You said it,” he let out with a huff of air.

The Avs won in over time and it was one of the greatest goals she has seen them score this season. She jumped in the air and teared up as she watched the entire bench jump onto the ice towards Miles. 

It took another hour for Nate to be done with the post game activities with the team for him to visit Y/N’s family. He promised to get dinner with them after the game. He left the locker room with a wide smile when he saw her family. “Hey guys, sorry about the loss,” he said with a teasing smirk. Her father rolled his eyes as he gave Nate a quick hug. 

Nate’s eyes widened as he saw Y/N waiting beside her brother. “Shut up,” he let out as he pulled away from her dad and quickly walked towards Y/N engulfing her in a hug. “I thought you couldn’t come,” he mumbled as he lifted her in the air. She giggled. 

“Turns out, I’m an excellent liar,” she muttered as pressed her lips against his cheek. “You were amazing,” she mumbled as he pulled away. Keeping his hands on her hips he examined her features. 

“This is a new thing now right? Every away game, you’re coming with? I mean with that win, you’re obviously good luck,” he let out as he scanned her features. She rolled her eyes playfully. He turned his head to the side to look towards her mom’s shirt. He laughed out loud as she spun in a circle showing it off. “Wow, it’s real,” he let out laughing. “That’s awesome,” he mumbled. 

“Just so they know when I cheer for an Avs goal it’s because of my son-in-law,” she said with a wide smile before she walked towards Nate and gave him a hug. “Come on, let’s get to dinner,” she said as Nate excitedly walked back towards Y/N. 

“Woody’s goal? Baby, that was awesome,” Nate let out as he took a hold of her hand. She rolled her eyes.

“Your goal was pretty awesome,” she let out. He nodded as he met her gaze. Gave her a wink before he dragged her closer to him.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Bullies

Dean Winchester x little sister!reader, slight Sam Winchester x little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: your big brothers are there to pick up the pieces after bullies come after you.

New schools were hard, and usually you dreaded walking into one. Not today, though. Today you were excited.

Why the change?

Well, this time, you were going to be able to stay at the school, maybe even for the whole year and beyond. Your brothers and you had moved into the Man of Letters bunker, and it seemed like you were there to stay. That meant no switching schools every few weeks. You would actually be able to make friends and keep them. You’d get a life here, you had a home now.

Needless to say, you were on cloud nine.

You didn’t know then, but you were about to be knocked off it.

…

In your anxious/excited hurry to get to your class on time, you weren’t paying as much attention as you should have been to where you were going, and in your rush your shoulder jostled a large boy at least two grades older than you.

“Oh, sorry,” you called over your shoulder, too intent on your forward motion to bother stopping.

“Hey!” You felt a large, meaty hand grip your shoulder and before you knew what was happening you were thrown back into the row of hard metal lockers.

You gasped in surprise, looking up to see the boy sneering at you.

“How about you watch where you’re going?”

Your good mood deflated a little in your annoyance.

“I apologized, there’s no need to get pushy,” you tried to walk away from him, but he wasn’t having it. He shoved you back against the lockers, and you winced when your head hit the cool metal.

“How about you show some respect here, you runt,” he growled.

“Who do you think you are?” You scoffed. This mouth breather had no right to go around demanding respect from his peers.

“What did you say to me?” You were shocked to feel your feet rise off the ground as the guy lifted you by your collar. “I’m the guy who can make your life a living nightmare, that’s who. I run this school, runt, and you’d do well to remember that. You’re just some new brat, you got no power here, understand?”

You stayed defiantly silent, lifting your chin and barely resisting the urge to spit in his face.

He raised one meaty hand, and before you knew what was happening you heard a harsh slap, followed by a ringing in your ears. Your cheek stung where the guy had slapped you, and you were dazed for a moment.

“I asked you a question, runt,” he pulled you away from the lockers only to slam you against them again. You were just starting to think that maybe you should give up your “normal” facade, and show this guy how a Winchester fights, when you noticed a whole group of boys, just as big and brawny, if not more. They were right behind the guy, and they all wore identical jerseys.

The football team.

Of all the douchebags you could’ve pissed off at this school, you had to get the guy who had the whole football team at his back.

“I understand,” you mumbled.

Your cheek burned when he slapped you again.

“What was that, runt? Speak up!”

“I said I understand!”

The pressure at your collar disappeared, and you dropped to the ground. You were just turning to go when your books were slammed out of your hands by one of the boy’s friends.

You know those scenes in movies where the bullies walk away, and some mysterious new friend helps the victim pick up their books?

Yeah, that didn’t happen.

Instead, the bullies lingered, and you felt your face burn hot with shame as a few of them laughed as you knelt to pick up your books. They got bored after a moment or two, and one of them even kicked the side of your head as they walked past you, still laughing.

Your hands were shaking, and you sucked in a breath when you saw a few tears drip onto your fallen books. You gathered your stuff quickly and rushed to your classroom, and your heart sank when you saw that all the back row seats were taken. You desperately needed to find a corner to hide in, but it was impossible.

You settled your stuff in the middle of the front row and ducked your head down, determined to stay below the radar for the rest of the day.

“Hello class,” the middle aged male teacher greeted, and he was rewarded with a few mumbled responses. Unperturbed, he continued. “We have a new student today. Y/N Winchester, would you like to share a bit about yourself?”

Crap.

Without another option, you rose unsteadily to your feet, keeping your head ducked low just in case your beating had left marks on your face.

“I-I…um…” you fumbled for the right words. In the melee of the past few minutes, you had forgotten the speech you had rehearsed just in case this moment came. You couldn’t exactly tell your life story, at least not most of it. “My-my name is Y/N.”

Come on, say more!

You were thrown off even more when you heard a couple of students giggle as the teacher said-

“Yes, yes we know. Anything else?”

“I-um…I live with my brothers,” you took a deep breath, fishing for anything else to say. “We moved around a lot, but we-we’re here now.” You cringed inwardly. Of course you were here now, they knew that!

“Alright, well we’re glad to have you,” you were relieved at his clear invitation to sit back down, and you took it without hesitation. The rest of class, and even the next few classes, passed without incident.

The day could not continue that way, unfortunately.

Came lunch time, the guy—Brock, you learned was his name (how cliche)—returned to torment you, and he’d brought four buddies with him. Thankfully, he didn’t hurt you this time, but he did steal the few dollars you’d brought to buy lunch.

You didn’t doubt that you could’ve stopped him, you probably could’ve taken out one or two of his friends with him, but not the whole group. So, you let him walk away, your money clutched triumphantly in his massive fist.

You thought about going to the lunchroom, but the idea of wandering around with no food and no friends to sit with was too exhausting to even think about, so instead you found an empty classroom and worked on homework until the bell rang.

You ended the school day exhausted, hungry, and completely defeated. If this was how the first day went, how would the rest of the year be? Just more of the same torment? You couldn’t imagine a silver lining to this, and the constant thrumming in your head was a constant reminder of how the bullies weren’t afraid of the consequences of physically hurting you.

The moment the last bell rang, you snatched up your bag and made a beeline for the parking lot. You figured the team must be busy with football practice or something, because you didn’t run into them in the hallways on the way out.

Dean was already waiting in the Impala when you arrived, a big grin on his face as he waved casually at you.

You ignored his greeting, sliding into the passengers seat and closing the door, making sure to keep your head down and facing the window.

“Was the first day ok?” He asked, not yet noticing your mood.

You simply nodded. You were pretty sure you hadn’t spoken a word since this morning, and you were too exhausted to speak now.

Dean finally noticed your silence.

“Cat got your tongue?”

At your shrug, he frowned.

“Kid come on, what’s up?”

You continued to stare in silence out the window, biting your tongue so hard that you tasted blood. You knew that if you tried to talk, you would cry. The best you could hope for would be to keep the tears at bay until you could hide in your room.

The second the Impala pulled up to the bunker, you rushed out, not looking back as you made your way to your room. When you got there, after brushing past a confused Sam, you locked your door and tossed your backpack on the floor, heading straight for your bed where you pulled your pillow to your chest and finally let your tears fall.

Once you started, you found it almost impossible to stop, and before you knew it you were finding it hard to breathe as you choked on your sobs.

…

“Where’d she go?” Dean asked as he stepped into the bunker. Sam, still confused, gestured to your room.

“She just ran right in there, didn’t say anything. Do you know what’s up?”

Dean shook his head, frustrated.

“She didn’t say a word the whole ride home, I don’t know what happened.”

“Should we…” Sam glanced at your locked door.

“Worth a shot I guess,” Dean stepped up to your door, knocking gently. “Sweetheart? Hey, can you let me in?”

It was silent for a long moment.

Dean frowned, “Kid, if you don’t answer me I’m gonna think something’s wrong, and I will pick this lock.”

Nothing.

“Wait, do you hear that?” Sam leaned closer to the door, and Dean followed his lead.

“Is she crying?” Dean whispered, not that he had to ask. The sound coming from your room was self explanatory.

“That’s it,” Dean said, pulling out his lock pick kit and going to work on the lock. Sam grabbed his arm.

“Are you sure-“

“She hasn’t said a single word, Sam. I think it’s about time we find out what’s-“ the click of the lock silenced them both.

“Honey, last chance. I’m coming in.”

Silence.

“Ok,” Dean sighed, and eased your door open.

The sight in front of them broke the brothers’ hearts.

Dean was the first to approach you, head buried in your pillow as you struggled to breathe between sobs. When he saw how much you were struggling, he abandoned his slow approach and rushed to your side, pulling your head away from the pillow to give you more room to breathe while his other hand came up to rub your back.

“Baby, you’ve gotta breathe, ok? Just take a deep breath, you can do it.”

Slowly but surely, your sobs subsided, and you were able to take full, deep breaths. Dean was so busy worried about your breathing that it took Sam pointing it out for him to notice the bruise forming on your cheek, and the small cut on your lip.

“Honey who did that?” Dean spoke the words through gritted teeth, and regretted it when he saw you flinch at his sudden change in tone.

“I fell,” you whimpered, burying your head against your pillow again.

“Don’t lie to me,” Dean struggled to control his anger. It wasn’t you he was angry at, after all.

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What? Of course it matters, you-“ Dean broke off when Sam pulled him out of earshot. “What?”

“Look, now’s not the time for an interrogation. We can ask her about that after, but I don’t think this is what she needs now.”

Dean glared at his brother for several seconds, before taking another glance at you and relenting. You looked exhausted, and this conversation could wait. For now.

“Fine, but-“

Dean stopped again when he heard your stomach give an angry grumble. He returned his attention to you, coming to stand by the side of your bed.

“Honey, did you eat today?”

You shook your head, and it took all of Dean’s restraint to keep from asking questions about that.

“Sam, can you…”

Sam just nodded and walked away to find you some food. As soon as he was gone, Dean climbed up on your bed next to you and pulled you into his arms.

He was relieved to feel you finally relax, releasing your tension and sinking completely into his embrace.

“Not a great first day, huh?” He said quietly.

“No,” he could hear the way your throat caught, and you hiccuped as a few more tears slid out, wetting his shirt.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he started to rock gently back and forth, and was rewarded by you burrowing further into his chest. He cradled the back of your head with one hand, rubbing circles along your back with the other.

“How about we just stay right here tonight, ok? Sam can bring us some ice cream, and you can pick out a movie. How’s that sound?”

He felt you moving around in his arms, and he smiled as one of your hands shot out and grabbed a book by your nightstand.

“Can you read this to me?”

Dean hesitantly picked up the book. He wasn’t big on reading, and he wasn’t sure if he was the best narrator, but if that’s what you wanted…

“Yeah, of course baby,” he settled back against the headrest, and you positioned yourself on top of his chest and closed your eyes.

“Hey, honey?”

You hummed.

“Will you please tell me everything that happened today, later?”

Your eyes popped open, and you stared at him for a long moment before slowly nodding.

“Later,” you promised quietly, and he smiled.

“Thank you, baby. You know I’m only asking because I wanna help, right?”

You nodded again, and settled back down, staring expectantly at the book.

Dean wrapped his arm around you and began to read.

When Sam returned a while later with food, he found the two of you fast asleep, your book resting on Dean’s chest as it slowly rose and fell, his breathing in sync with yours.

[golden-barnes]

Operation milkshakes, hospital visits and custody of Mr Bear

Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader Summary: Sequel to Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together. Bucky and Reader are finally on their little coffee date, but Amaya gets hurt. Then there's a shared custody to heal a broken arm. {wc: 2.7k} Warning: a bit of bucky being insecure again and a bit of insecurity from reader . Some sexual references bit of tension but its mostly fluff. Amaya gets hurt but it's brief. if you don't like a milf reader pls don't interact I don't want to get hate like last time lmao a/n: I have been writing this for years it seems and I finally am able to finish it and I'm so happy I hope you guys enjoy it. I am gonna try and finish all of my stories this month to be able to do other stuff. I am so sorry if it's shitty as hell, I tried my best to fight the writter's block Reblogs and comments are appreciated.

Is Bucky embarrassed that he has been texting none stop with his student’s mom? Yes, but who will stop him from feeling like he is walking on cloud nine? For the past few weeks, Bucky has been texting you back and forth whenever you had a break. 

Unfortunately, you haven’t been able to get that cup of coffee because of work, but Bucky knew he had found his match. Funny, intelligent, and the sweetest person he has ever met. 

Fuck, I feel like a love-struck schoolboy. Bucky thinks, cursing at himself while passing the exam papers to his students. Amaya smiled at him, basically giving him a knowing smirk. Holy shit, he feels blackmailed by a 6-year-old. 

She has no idea that Bucky and her mom are on a talking stage, but that doesn’t stop her from smirking at her teacher, who her mom has told her auntie that her teacher was cute. And that was enough for her already planning your wedding where she gets to be a flower girl. 

 Bucky sat down at his desk when he felt his phone vibrate. The notification had your name on it, almost making Bucky jump out of his seat. 

Hey, one of my clients canceled for Friday. U wanna get that coffee? 

Bucky couldn’t seem to write yes faster. He felt so happy, but shit, what was he going to wear? His closet comprises of henleys and sweaters. The occasional tank tops are there, but they weren’t the norm. He dresses like a middle-aged librarian, and he is proud of it. But, on the other hand, maybe he was overthinking it.

“Dude, it’s a coffee date. Not a Michelin restaurant.” Steve rolls his eyes at Bucky’s rant. Bucky told his best friends about inner turmoil and why he was so stressed. Sam just laughed at him.

“We don’t know about that one Rogers; she is a fancy lawyer for a fancy firm. She’s probably making the big bucks.” Sam winked at Bucky, which made him feel even more stressed. 

What if they dated, and she felt embarrassed to show him to her lawyer friends? He is on a New York Public school salary, it’s a miracle he has enough money to live alone, but he was going to be rooming with Steve. 

“Sam, stop torturing him, please. I can see the smoke coming out of his ears.” Wanda explained, heating up her lunch and smirking at her extremely stressed friend. 

“He is just so fun to mess with.”Sam whined while Bucky couldn’t help but scoff. 

“I am glad my suffering is your enjoyment, but I am about to run away to New Jersey and live as a hermit because I haven’t been on a date since college, and I have no fucking clue what to wear. Help me.” Bucky rambles, almost out of breath. Sam bites back a chuckle while Steve just looks worried. Wanda sighs; being the only person with brain cells in the teacher’s lounge is difficult.

“Bucky, wear that brown blazer you wore at my engagement party. Maybe a blue henley underneath. You did say she thought you looked hot in those, so who cares, honestly. “ Wanda Maximoff, the voice of reason to these messy elementary school teachers once again. 

Bucky should stop asking these things to Sam and Steve and just ask go directly to Wanda. 

(Y/N) wasn't doing that great either. She really liked Bucky; he was a hot guy but caring and smart. He made her laugh with his dorky quotes and references. He was well-read and gave her excellent book recommendations. 

More importantly, Amaya loved him. Every day she would show up rambling about something he had done in class that made her very happy. Whether it was telling her a funny story using Mister Bear, Bucky’s teaching assistant that Amaya adored, or handing her a fruit roll-up when the other kids weren't looking. Bucky was her favorite teacher, but it mostly felt like he had taken a father role that she needed.

One thing that made her stress out was how she was perceived. She had been on dates before, and every time the men went home running with their tails between their legs after feeling threatened by her confidence and career. 

Being a single mother and a powerful lawyer really fucked over her chances of dating. Apparently, knowing your worth and what you want doesn’t make you that appealing to men, especially these insecure, fragile masculinity-having assholes. 

But Bucky seemed different; he knew she had a kid and an influential career and still wanted to date her? He was different. 

“You still overthinking this date?” Her coworker and close friend, Jen, asked her. Nat rolled her eyes, knowing (Y/N) like the back of her hand. 

“She has been making a pros and cons list on her computer for the past hour. Girl, he likes you. No grown man texts you romantic quotes at 3 am without sending a you up? Text.” Natasha rambles but (Y/N) sighs. She knows what Nat is saying is correct, but still… She didn’t want to make things awkward for ‘Maya. 

“She has it really bad, but he seems so sweet. It’s just a coffee date; get to know him in person.” Jen tried to comfort her. She patted her shoulder, sorta giving (Y/N) a side hug. 

“Now on to date outfits. I say a plaid skirt and a sweater. The skimpiest skirt you have.” Nat grins evilly. 

“It’s a coffee date, not a hookup.” (Y/N) laughs at her suggestion. 

“Whatever you say, but that man’s shoulders are so broad that it wouldn’t be surprising if your legs were on them after the night.” Nat shrugs, but (Y/N) and Jenn laugh at the sexual joke. 

“I am trying not to give Maya a sibling yet.” (Y/N) threw a piece of paper at Nat. 

“Yet is the keyword in that sentence.” Nat winked at her comment. 

Bucky was shifting his weight on the chair. They had decided to meet at this cute little café that opened about a month ago. It was right next to a bookstore that Bucky loved so much, and coincidently (Y/N) took Amaya a lot to get her story time books. 

“Sorry I am late; traffic was horrible.” Bucky swore his breath was stolen from his chest because the minute he saw her, he felt like his lungs didn’t have air. 

“I- uhm, I get it. You look beautiful, by the way.” (Y/N) smiled at his compliment while sitting right before him. 

“You don’t look bad yourself.” She winked at the teacher, who started sweating bullets once she began to compliment him. 

“Are you ready to order?” The waitress asks the couple. (Y/N) nods while Bucky just looks puzzled at the menu. She smiled at him.

“Give us a minute, please.” (Y/N) said kindly. 

“Do you have any idea what you are going to order? If you don’t mind me asking?” Bucky asks sheepishly, but the woman just smiles. 

“I am dying to try this plum strudel, especially since Maya isn’t here to steal my pieces. And I need a milkshake.” (Y/N) explained; Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“Amaya is a bit of a sugar fiend, isn’t she? I can’t even eat my fruits in peace without her looking at me as if I stole them from her.” Bucky joked, (Y/N) rolled her eyes because she knew her daughter.

“It’s not a shocker. It’s practically my fault. When I was pregnant with her, all I did was eat candy. I have a sweet tooth, but she’s like a sugar monster.” She explained, reminiscing all the pregnancy cravings she had. Bucky laughed at her comment. 

“You sure you don’t want coffee?” Bucky asks all of a sudden. Finding it weird that she is ordering a milkshake at a café. She shook her head.

“Oh god, no. It would be my 5th coffee this day. I’ve had back-to-back meetings, and every meeting has a coffee run. Then there’s the coffee between every 15-page contract I have to write.” Bucky chuckles because that seems like he is the same in a completely different way. 

“I get you. After grading my 10th paper, I’ve already drank 3 cups of coffee. My record is 7 in one day. I was planning on getting the milkshake too.” Bucky joked, (Y/N) laughed. 

“So we are two coffee addicts on a coffee date, but we aren’t gonna drink any coffee. Got it.” (Y/N) smirked at Bucky. He felt his ears getting red. Suck it up, Bucky; she hasn’t even said anything sexual. She is just being funny. Bucky said to himself. 

“It appears that we are. I hope you don’t mind, but I’mma order the same thing as you. I love plums. My ma makes the best plum pie I’ve ever eaten.” Bucky rambled, trying to stop himself from buckling under her gaze. Suddenly (Y/N)’s phone rings. 

“Hey MJ, what’s up? Oh what? I am on my way.” (Y/N) hangs up, her face turns somber, and her eyes are filled with tears. 

“I am so sorry, Bucky, but I have to go. Amaya fell, and the babysitter told me she won't stop crying. Her arm might be broken, and I must take her to the hospital.”  She says, gathering up her purse. She was shaking, trying to stand up, but her legs were shaking. Bucky stands up to help her. 

“Can you drive?” (Y/N) shook her head, worried because Amaya was always careful. She runs around like any normal kid but is ultra-cautious about getting hurt. Bucky extended his hand, and she grabbed it. 

She gave him the directions to her house so Bucky could drive her home. She hadn’t really said anything during the entire ride; Bucky didn’t know what to do, so he did what he did best. Ramble on.

“You know I broke my arm around the same age. But mine was in a fight.” Bucky said, which got (Y/N)’s attention. 

“Back when we were kids, Steve was the smallest kid in our classroom, and there was this kid named Tom; he kept pushing him and making fun of him. So one day, I stood up for him and decided I could fight Tom. I should mention that Tom was 2 grades above us, so anyway, he pushed me so hard that I fell. Broke my arm and wasn’t allowed to go to recess anymore. My teacher, Sally, knew that Tom was a bully and got me a lesser sentence.” Bucky told her. She smiled.

“So you were a troublemaker as a kid. Kinda like my ‘Maya.” She joked, smiling, talking about her little girl. 

“Oh, Amaya is a little angel in comparison to me. She is manipulative as hell, but she’s a sweet kid. Takes after her mom.” Bucky complimented. (Y/N) sighed at his compliment. 

“I tried my best. It’s not easy, you know. Being a single mom. Sometimes I think I don’t do enough and that I am never there, but-” 

“Listen, I have been a teacher for a while now. I have seen parents who don’t care and never show up for their kids. You aren’t one of them. I know for a fact that every Wednesday, you take her to a museum or an interactive place. You are her person, and I think you are a fantastic mom. “ Bucky interrupts. He grabs her hand, and she squeezes it. Bucky parks in front of her house. Her big ass house. He keeps forgetting that she is, in fact, a well-paid lawyer. 

Amaya did indeed have a broken arm. Bucky had to carry her to the car and into the hospital. He even sat with her when she was getting her X-ray while (Y/N) talked with the doctors. 

“I wish all dads were like you.  You really made this a lot easier for her.” The nurse said, looking directly at Bucky, who was holding a very tired Amaya. Bucky felt his ears getting warm. 

“I’m not her dad.” The nurse scoffed at Bucky’s correction. 

“Could’ve fooled me with how she’s so attached to you.” She noted. (Y/N) walked into the room with the doctor.

“Hey, ‘Maya.” The little girl in Bucky’s arms stirred at the sound of her mom’s soothing voice. (Y/N)’s eyes were puffy, probably from crying at seeing her baby in pain. Bucky wanted to hug her and Amaya, but he couldn’t really move with a child in his arms with a broken arm. 

“The doctor needs you to sit on the little table over there to check you out.” (Y/N) said, which caused Amaya to slightly shake her head and grip Bucky’s arm with her non-broken hand. (Y/N) looked at Bucky in the eyes, almost pleading with him to help. 

“Amaya, if you sit there, you’ll get to take Mister Bear for the entire month.” Bucky wasn’t new to bribing kids, it’s sometimes the last resort, but Bucky knew how much Amaya loved Mister Bear. The little girl smiled weakly and turned to look at her doctor. (Y/N) smiled at Bucky, she mouthed him a thank you. Bucky was sure his cheeks were glowing red.

“Please, Mister Bucky, sign my cast.” Amaya said, giving him a pen to sign her super bright pink cast. Finally, she calmed down after they put the cast on her, and she got to pick a color. Then, they returned to (Y/N)’s house, where MJ, the babysitter, was still in the place, worried for little Maya.

Bucky laughed, signing his name on her cast and adding a roughly made butterfly. Amaya giggled at the butterfly. Bucky didn’t even notice (Y/N) walking towards them. 

“How are we gonna do the custody for Mister Bear?” She asks, noticing that Amaya is walking towards MJ so she would sign her cast. 

“Well, I use it as a teaching tool, so I have to have it during the day.” Bucky explained. (Y/N) nodded.

“And I can’t pick up Maya this week because I am in court all day.” She added. 

“I can bring him over after work if you want. “ Bucky suggests. (Y/N) extends her hand for Bucky to shake it. 

“I can agree to that, Mr. Barnes.” She said, smiling at Bucky. 

Bucky could die right now, and he would be happy. But who would’ve known that a ruined date could be saved by a shared custody agreement of a teddy bear with a 6-year-old? 

For the past week, Bucky brought Mister Bear for Amaya to play with. After giving the girl the bear, he wouldn’t leave the house. Oh no, no. (Y/N) would give him food, and he would even eat dinner with them. They talked for hours about shows, movies, their childhoods, and just everything they could think of with a glass of wine. Amaya would go to bed, and they would stay up talking, even if they had to wake up early. 

Bucky and (Y/N) had told Amaya that he was staying over for dinner in exchange for Mister Bear because saying, “Hey, mama and your teacher like each other a lot, but you can’t tell anyone” is too much for a 6-year-old. 

What they didn’t count for was that Amaya was too smart for her own good. She knew it was strange that Bucky stayed for dinner and that her mom would wear her “special” perfume whenever Mister Bucky came over. So is this how she’s gonna get a dad? And all she had to do was break her arm. 

Bucky was talking to Steve when Amaya approached him with a book. Both men turned their attention to the little girl with the bright pink cast. 

“Mister Bucky, Mister Bear and I want to read this book tonight. Could you bring it over later?” Steve’s eyes widened, and he turned to his best friend, bewildered by the revelation made by the kid. 

Bucky nodded, trying not to speak because he felt like Steve would have a heart attack if he had verbal confirmation that he was going to (Y/N)’s house every day. 

“James Buchannan Barnes, are you sleeping with your student’s mom?”Steve whisper-s creamed once Amaya was out of hearing range. 

“I am not sleeping with her… We just eat dinner together, and I bring Mister Bear for Amaya. It’s our custody agreement.” Bucky tried to explain, but Steve looked like the vein on his forehead would pop. 

“Fuck Bucky, you are in deep shit now,” Steve whispered. Wait until Bucky tells him he is utterly in love with his student’s mom. Oh shit, what?

[junespriince]

Bruce: so we need to go to China for a lab that might help with this problem we have, Dr. Liu has this serum. West go get it.

Wally: can't, not allowed to step foot on China's ground unless the government says so.

Clark: you're banned from China... What did you do, kiddo?

Wally: didn't want the Flash in there since I can go without going through airports and any other ways into the country. I'm also banned from Texas, Iowa, Tennessee, Mexico, and nine county in Europe.

Bruce: you forgot New Jersey.

Wally, smirking: og I'm banned from there but that one I don't care as much to follow that rule.

Bruce, grumbled: I know.

Wally, get up: welp I'll get the serum.

Clark: but you said you were banned...

Wally: I never listened to government body or Hal, why start now!

Diana: he was raised well.

Oliver: he raised by that scary woman, he's just a taller Iris....

Diana: I need to meet this woman.

Wally, come back: oooo momma having a dinner on Sunday for the family and speedster to come over and eat, you should come over!

Diana: ah, I'll be delighted to.

Oliver: I have a bad feeling about this...

Bruce, who got beat up with Iris shoes for getting her son kidnapped and forgot to save him, shudder: me too...

Hal: can't be too bad.

Arthur, taking the serums: ... Can I come over tho?

Wally: sure!

Clark: I think this is good for us to bond outside of heroing, can we all go Wally?

Wally: we're cooking a lot so more the merrier, and Bruce can finally feel sunlight!

Bruce, grumbled in he knows Alfred will force him to go too: hate this place...

Wally: best to get used to this now before I marry your son, but this is a weekly thing and you are expected to come every time.

Bruce:

Bruce: fuck.

[germhammy]

“Christmas Aftermath”

Enid: I can’t believe the food last night. Everything was so delicious!

Wednesday: do you always require that much protein before wolfing out?

Enid: not really. But it helps. I was so touched that your mom had an entire roast prepared extra rare just for me! The medium rare roast would have been just fine. She didn’t have to go through the trouble

Wednesday: it wasn’t any trouble.

Enid: my favorite way of red meat cooking is medium rare. Except before wolfing out. Then extra rare is the best.

Wednesday: I look forward to taking you for Kobe beef on Friday. We will be taking the train into New York. We can do some shopping if you like.

Enid: my mom will be so jealous. She always complains about how expensive it is. Even Evan has asked. Just once?

Wednesday: I do not blame her actually. You have five brothers?

Enid: six actually.

Wednesday: nine people is quite a lot to dine on Kobe beef. Even we only go sparingly. It’s usually six of us.

Enid: we rarely go out to eat.

Wednesday: tonight we will go to the homeless shelter to provide help with the food service. I usually play my cello. My father fences with foam swords with the children

Enid: wow. Do you do that every year?

Wednesday: yes. My mother and Grandmama prepare a large cauldron of stew. When my Aunt Ophelia and Granny are here they help with arts and crafts

Enid: that’s really cool!

Wednesday: perhaps you could help out painting nails.

Enid: I could

Wednesday: tomorrow you are watching the Devils game with Lucas, correct?

Enid: excuse me? The Sharks game.

Wednesday: you are in New Jersey. This is New Jersey Devils territory

Enid: do you even watch hockey?

Wednesday: not as much as my brother. But we are Devils fans.

Enid: Will you be watching with me?

Wednesday: I will be leaving you with Pugsley. I will take advantage of the time to devote to my writing

Thing tapped to draw attention to Xavier’s phone

Thing: he is texting. He’s asking if you would like to join him in New York to watch the ball drop in Times Square

Wednesday signed and picked up the phone

-good morning gorgeous! Say, my dad and I will be in New York for New Years Eve! Care to join me in NYC to watch the ball drop?

-absolutely not. I do not even watch it on the television. Much less in person

-oh come on! It’s a once in a lifetime experience!

-not for me. I would much rather spend my New Year’s Eve in my backyard huddled around a fire with my family telling ghost stories and roasting things

-sounds boring

-truly you have not lived if you have not roasted food over a raging fire

-very funny. Don’t tell me. It’s like a cremation right? Or it’s just s’mores

-roasted apples with butter and cinnamon sugar, roasted vegetables, and our family favorite, elote

-still sounds boring. Come on! What’s better than partying all night I. times Square?

-literally anything? I would not be able to withstand the noise. The crowd. The lights. It is not for me. You enjoy your party. I will enjoy my quiet time with my family

Thing: how does he not understand?

Wednesday: I do not know, Thing. Oh. I did not put this out. I hid it from you and then forgot where I hid it until we were at breakfast.

Wednesday took out a neatly wrapped present and placed it on the floor in the middle of her room. She sat down in front of it placing Thing on the box

Wednesday: Enid. Come sit. Help Thing open his present since I imagine you will not only be helping him use it but he will allow you to use it as well.

When opened, Thing was happy. Enid squealed. It was a beautiful wooden bowl filled with essential oils, soft towels, and neroli bergamot hand lotion. Thing gave Wednesday a finger heart and lifted his pinky for Wednesday. She linked her pinky.

Thing: thank you very much, Wednesday

[cupidbedsy]

ꨄ 𝗵𝗶𝘁𝘀 𝗱𝗶𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻𝘁 ; 𝘰𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘴 ꨄ

➪ summary: aubrey goes to alex's first home detroit game and when she meets one of his teammates, she realizes that he's going to be different then all the rest

➪ warnings: none? i think

➪ word count: 1.8k

➪ file type: au (once in nine lives) fic

➪ sunny's notes: i am so so so excited for this au, so send in thoughts whenever you please. the biggest help is @slutforseider so if the idea isn't mine it is probably hers tbh. but like i said, i'm very excited for this au so hopefully it'll show with my writing

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It wouldn’t be Aubrey’s first hockey game she’s been to, not even her first Red Wings game she’s been to, but it would be the first time seeing her brother play on the team and meeting the team. Alex was her number one supporter and she was his, so when she got the news that her brother would be living practically thirty minutes away from where she went to school, she was more than thrilled. 

She wore her new Alex DeBrincat jersey, loving her name plastered on the back of it. She always wanted to get a jersey for every team her brother played for and sharing their last name saved her money. She met up with Lyndsey two hours prior to when they had wanted to leave there and Archie ran into her arms as soon as he laid his eyes on her, “Hey little man.”

“Auntie Aubrey!”

“You excited to watch daddy play today?” Archie nodded his head ecstatically. 

She looked at the two of them in the mirror, fiddling with his jersey, “And look, we match!”

He grinned up at her, content with staying in her arms for the rest of the night. She talked with Lyndsey until it was time for them to go, both of them getting into their respective cars and making their way to Little Caesars Arena. As they got out of their cars, Archie begged his mom to hold his aunt’s hand on the way in and she agreed, grateful for the moments her sister-in-law was around.

Aubrey talked to Archie excitedly about the game tonight and about Alex playing as they made their way to where Alex had said to meet them. As Archie continued to walk, he grew tired and asked Aubrey to be picked up, which she did without question. Alex stood talking with some of his teammates as the three of them arrived, immediately stopping their conversation to walk over to them.

“Hi!”

Lyndsey kissed him before turning her attention to her son and his aunt, both of them giggling at each other. Alex walked closer to them, poking Archie in the side to gain his attention, “Daddy!”

Aubrey handed him over to her brother, smiling slightly at the interaction, “Hey bud. You excited for tonight?”

“Yeah, me and Auntie Aubrey are going to make fun of you the whole time.” 

She let out a nervous chuckle, “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her brother raised an eyebrow before setting his son down to hug her, “Nice to see you, Aubs.”

“You too, Lex. How’s the team doing?”

“Good, good. I think we got a shot this year.”

She smiled at him, “Good, you deserve it.”

“Come on, let me introduce you to them.”

The three of them followed after him, passing by a few of his teammates along the way before stopping where a large chunk of them were. Alex gained their attention and he looked between his family and his team, “Guys this is my wife Lyndsey and my son Archie. And this is my little sister, Aubrey.”

His eyes darkened before looking at the younger ones of the bunch, “No dating her, no touching her, don’t even smile at her.”

“Lex…” Alex held his hands up in defense before continuing, “And, this is our captain, Dylan Larkin, Ben Chariot, Lucas Raymond, Jake Walman, Simon Edvinsson, and Moritz Seider.”

The three of them nodded and waved, Aubrey trying to keep her emotions in check. But her mind didn’t stop her as she started spitting out random facts at them, “Oh yeah, Lark had a 13.1 shooting percentage, Ben you had 19 points, and Lucas had a 29.4% face off win percentage, Jake had 47 hits, Simon had 13 shot attempts and 5 shots, and Mo had 40 penalty minutes-”

She looked at all of their faces, “I did it again, didn’t I?” Alex nodded, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “It’s fine. I guess I would like them to know you’re nerd now rather than later.”

“Uh hi, I go to Michigan and I’m studying sports management. That isn’t usual, actually yes it is. I tend to blurt out facts when I’m nervous or I’m meeting new people, it just-” She took a deep breath, “Sorry.”

The boys stared at her in awe and Alex wasn’t having it, “Okay pretty and smart, we know. Time to go, you three.”

Aubrey didn’t have to be told twice and immediately rushed out of there with Archie and Lyndsey in tow. The whole game Aubrey felt embarrassed by what had happened, if it was anyone else she would’ve been fine with it, but her brother’s teammates? Her brother’s cute teammates? She felt like she could cry. 

It wasn’t often that she found her brother’s teammates cute, and it was often that the attraction that she felt for them was this strong. Sure she would find the occasional teammate cute, Lukas Reichel, Alex Vlasic, Brandon Hagel, Kirby Dach. But it wasn’t like she was attracted to them, mostly because she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to date them. 

However, this time around, she couldn’t help but find one of them attractive, nor could she help the feelings that she might’ve already had for him. She shook her head as she continued to watch the game and make comments about her brother with Archie, she was not going to let herself fall for one of his teammates, it was forbidden. She couldn’t break the one promise she had made Alex, the one promise she was determined to keep. 

After the game, the three of them met up with Alex once more, Archie taking his post-game nap on Aubrey’s shoulder. Archie truly loved Aubrey, he would always be by her side when she would come over, always asking to hold her hand when they went out, always asking her to do stuff with them. Since he was born, the two were attached at the hip, and everyone knew it wouldn’t change. 

She kept her grip on her nephew firm, not wanting to startle him by any sudden movement. Some of the players came out a little too loud and she immediately shushed them, she wasn’t going to let anyone wake Archie up, if she knew them or not. The players who had passed them apologized softly before moving on, some of them even patting his head gently as they walked out. 

Alex walked out and she cursed mentally when she saw him walking beside her brother. Of course this would happen to her, one little slip up and the Universe was trying to make her pay for it. She smiled at Mo and her brother, still keeping her grip on the boy, “Nice game, guys.”

“Thanks Aubs, how long has he been asleep for.”

“Probably like five minutes before we got here.” She handed him over to him, watching as he and Lyndsey walked out of the arena.

The two stood there awkwardly, none of them sure if they should start a conversation or just wave goodbye and leave. And just as Aubrey was about to do the latter, he spoke up, his German accent making its way to her ears, “So Michigan, huh?”

She nodded, “Yeah, they had a really good sports management program and it was close to a hockey city, so it was kind of fate.”

Mo stuck his hands in his pockets, “I’m assuming you like hockey then?”

“Yeah, both of my brothers played it but I could never. So when I figured out I liked math and that sports had a lot of statistics, I fell in love with it.”

“Math? I’ve never understood it.”

She chuckled, “A lot of people don’t but that’s also kind of what I love about it. It’s like I know something that people don’t in a weird way.”

The two started walking, both of them not wanting their conversation to end despite how awkward it was. Aubrey thought back to earlier and blushed, “I’m sorry about earlier. Or not sorry to you but to myself.”

“It’s okay. It’s really impressive actually. You said I had 40 penalty minutes last year?”

“Yeah.” She took her hands out of her pockets to fiddle with them, trying to focus on something other than her small nerd outburst from before. 

“That’s cool. So what other things do you know about me?”

Her eyes widened and looked up at him, “What?”

“I figured if you knew my penalty minutes from last year there must be some other things you know about me, hm?” He smirked, stopping and looking down at her. 

“Oh, uh.” The blood rushed into her cheeks, turning them a color close to maroon. 

“C’mon, you can tell me.”

“You had 5 goals and 37 assists, a total of 42 points. 3 of them were on even strength, one was a power play goal, and one was a short handed goal. You had 187 shots and 355 total shot attempts, leaving you with a 3.7 shooting percentage which was less from the year before.”

“Hmm, cute.” She looked down and waited for him to move, and once he did she followed him. 

He walked her to her car, leaning against the back driver side door, watching as she fiddled with her keys, “So…”

“So… what?”

“Can I have your number?”

“Bold aren’t you?” She finally unlocked her door, pulling it open and throwing her bag on the passenger seat, “Also I thought my brother said no dating.”

“Who said anything about dating? I can’t befriend a pretty girl?”

“Oh, um. Okay then.” She honestly thought it was embarrassing how easily it was for him to make her flustered. It only took him to call her pretty or for his hand to flex and her cheeks were flushed. 

He handed her his phone, watching her carefully as she typed her number into the new contact she had made. When she handed him his phone back, he grinned slightly and patted her head, “I’ll text you when I get home.”

And then he walked off, leaving her a stumbling and blushing mess. She got in her car and sat staring out into the practically empty parking lot of the arena. Driving back to her dorm room she listened to anything to get her mind off of the interaction she just had but she couldn’t. Everything she listened to reminded her of the way he dressed, the way he smiled, the way his eyes twinkled. God, what was she turning into?

She got back to her dorm and changed into her pajamas. She flopped onto her bed, talking a little bit with her roommate and then scrolled aimlessly on her phone. Just as she was going to put her phone down she got a notification from an unknown number, “ I hope you didn’t give me a fake number, pretty girl. Because I was really looking forward to texting you."

Yeah, she was fucked.