#not kidding about the rootbeer

[vintage-tech]

Get out of my parents’ fridge, please; that’s MY Cragmont rootbeer, Dad’s Loenbrau, and Mom’s Bartles & Jaymes.

1988

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! Hope you're doing well. I was wondering if you could recommend some fics where Stiles goes around helping out other supernatural creatures/packs. I recently read the long fic Guardian by Lerya on AO3 and I just love the trope. Thanks for everything you do. :)

Yeah.

The Hale Pack by LessonsFromMoths

(1/1 I 3,914 I General I Sterek)

Per Stiles’s instructions, the Hale pack is tasked with building their web of allies at a west coast pack convention. Which is...fun, right? As their first convention, they’re technically making their debut as a pack. It’s only been, what, seven years? This is long overdue.

High Risk, High Reward by mia6363

(3/? I 22,034 I Explicit I Steter)

If there were three things to remember about Stiles Stilinski it was that he only deals in cash, he doesn’t belong to any Pack, and no one is allowed to touch. If Stiles were to remember three things it would be to always maintain eye contact, show a little skin, and let his reputation speak for itself.

History will remember Stiles many different ways. The infamous Las Vegas mage. The man who put a price on peace of mind. The hungry kid who asked a simple question:

What would Arnold Rothstein do?

Red Witch by rootbeer

(3/3 I 34,217 I Teen I Sterek)

The red hair of a banshee. The red eyes of an alpha. The red hoodie of a mage. The red of fire burning.

Derek Hale has been a prisoner to the hunters since they burned his family alive. But now someone has come to save him: skinny, defenseless Stiles--147 lbs of skin and fragile bones. Turns out, sarcasm isn't his only weapon.

[tealottie]

What are your headcanons about Della?

I have so many, but tbh my favorite headcanons have to do with her having PTSD - so i can't promise this will be a fun post

MASTERLIST OF DELLA HEADCANONS BELOW:

Appearance:

Scars from the Moon

One across her beak on left side

Scars on her arms and legs

Other markings

Stretch marks especially on her tummy and butt

A few stretch marks on her chest and thighs

Freckles on her beak (because she had triplets and ducks IRL sometimes get freckles after pregnancy)

Other

Chubby pear shape

DD cup size

Squishy belly

Big eyes

Fluffy unkempt feathers (she's bad at preening)

Thin hair (also bad at taking care of it)

Short beak

Queer Headcanons:

Homoromantic

Bisexual

Prefers to just call herself a lesbian

Ciswoman (doesn't mind they/them pronouns and probably finds it entertaining if she's referred to as he/him)

Supports all of her queer babies

She also does not actively seek out romance, but she isn't offput by the idea entirely

Mental Health and Neurodiverse Headcanons:

PTSD

Hates being alone at any given moment and had to ask Donald if she could room with him in the houseboat for a few months

Genuinely cannot look at her reflection and will be needing exposure therapy

Does not like the feeling of movement underwater because it reminds her of the moon's gravity

Terrified that she'll never be fully capable of being a mom because of the 10 years she missed

Cringes at any moon or space themed items now - sometimes triggers her on a bad day or if she looks at them for too long

Her hair being too long is a trigger for her, so she always keeps it shoulder length or above

She ALWAYS feels cold even if her body temperature is normal and sometimes it drives her crazy

Lots of nightmares about what-ifs - what if it was my kids instead of me, what if it was my brother instead of me, what if i didnt have oxychew, what if i never met the Moonlanders, etc etc etc

The taste of black licorice will genuinely send her spiraling, and because it lingers - it wrecks her for days (she hates similar flavors such as rootbeer)

Finds a lot of joy in warm places so she now loves to be out in the sun

Had a period of time where she wasn't really talking with Penumbra because of the severity of her triggers/ptsd

Both finds peace in dead silence, but it also brings her back to the moon as well - she has a very complex relationship with isolation

Prefers silver over gold (even though she doesn't wear jewelry, she likes silver on others and silver on things such as zippers and buttons)

Spent quite a few years terrified of flying after the horror of her own trauma set in, but it threw her into a big depression since piloting is her passion

Hates taking care of her stump because she doesn't like taking her prosthetic leg off - she sees it as her own, so she hates taking it off even though she knows she needs to when sleeping or showering

She has a hard time looking at her stump and scars because on one hand; sick as hell battle wounds, but on the other; damn was that the worst time in my entire life

Depression and Anxiety

Even before crashlanding on the moon, she dealt with depression and social anxiety

She has a bit of a hard time keeping her room tidy and taking care of herself, but she's phenomenal at putting other people first

Feels as though she's not attractive enough

Wants to be a ray of sunshine in other peoples' lives

She's very scared that she won't be enough for people and therefore she must put 110% into everything she does for others

ADHD and Autism

Her sensory issues tend to directly conflict with her PTSD issues - like she hates silence because of the moon, but sometimes she gets overstimulated by noise and needs the silence or alone time

She does not sleep until her body physically passes out because the change in activity is hard for her to deal with

Goes insane if she feels understimulated because her brain begins to shut down and she dissociates

Many, many stims (sometimes doubles as grounding with PTSD): bouncing her leg, various hand motions, feeling the fabric of her clothes, physical affection with her loved ones, playing with the tightness of her prosthetic (loosening and then tightening it over and over), shaking her head to feel her hair around her shoulders (and solidifying that what she's feeling is earth gravity)

Really hard time understanding social cues that makes her come across as rather ditzy

Special interest in aircraft technology and was a top student at her flight school

Love/Hate relationship with reading because if she enjoys what she's reading she gets invested, but if she's understimulated, the words jumble together in her mind

Not good at math for a similar reason

Fish are a huge sensory nightmare for her; the scales, the smell, the taste, etc

Is generally pretty sensory-seeking, but has a few Hard Nos on textures (such as slimy scales)

Other:

I headcanon Della having compulsive sexual behavior disorder, and her libido especially spiked after being on the moon for 10 years, and it makes her feel really gross at times

Due to said hypersexuality, she gets intrusive thoughts that piss her off

Because of the moon not really having a clear indicator of night and day, Della lost her circadian rhythm and struggles with a Hell combination of non-24 and ADHD insomnia

The lack of general sleep makes it hard for her to lose weight and so she's insecure about that

Physical Disabilities:

Because she was on the moon for so long, the zero gravity and lack of proper breathable oxygen took a huge toll on her, physically

She developed really bad asthma and will likely be recovering from it for the rest of her life

Her lungs can only intake so much oxygen at a time, so she also struggles with shortness of breath

Upon returning to earth, her body was really broken down from the cold atmosphere - causing her to not be able to regulate her body temperature properly

Her bones were weakened upon arrival, so she has to spend years recovering physically from it

Her stump is irritated a lot because she doesn't like taking care of it properly

She owns crutches for when she needs to take breaks from her prosthetic just because of the discomfort when wearing it

She is not afraid to hit Donald with a crutch BTW

IF THERE ARE ANY OTHER SPECIFIC HEADCANONS THAT YOU ARE CURIOUS ABOUT, SHOOT ME AN ASK! <3

[themareverine]

—worst!Logan x nameless!femOC

warnings: fluff, domesticity, absolutely self indulgent, mentions of a car accident, based on some limited Googling I’ve placed Logan and Deadpool in Hoboken, NJ.

car shopping with Logan torturing the salesman and being sexy, lol. can only imagine. absolutely no idea where this came from, took me 20 minutes on my phone. Enjoy.

“I just wanna know if the heads have been done, baby.”

Nervously twisting her foot against the stones and other used-car lot gravel has done little to sway Logan’s insistence on forcing the underpaid salesman to answer earthbending questions just short of torturous. Twice already the man had left back into the office to retrieve records—hasn’t been smart enough to just keep the file on hand. Kids these days, is all Logan had muttered. The man was no less than 55, at a wild hair guess—gray mottling his beard and once-copper hair was evidence.

Attention welded firmly to the top the motor humming quietly in front of him, Logan’s hands slip into his pockets as he studies. He’d been taking her to car dealerships all afternoon, for nearly five weekends in a row—money burning holes in the pockets of his Wranglers, no doubt.

Unable to find anything remotely worth his time, Logan had been nitpicking since she’d proudly waved the check from Geico proudly overhead. Like a battle flag staked in the survival of a car accident, it wasn’t a life changing amount of cash—meager, actually, considering the vehicle lost. She’d trashed the Tuscon on the backroads of Tennessee valley country, a tried and true companion with well over two hundred thousand on the dash and the Midwestern rust to prove it.

A wreck she’d walked away from. Logan had all but flown to her aid—he hadn’t slept the thirteen hours and thirty eight minutes it had taken to rescue her from hill country. With little warning, he’d packed a backpack, punched out of Jersey with his Jeep. Gas station coffee, cigars, and a stashed bottle of Jack Daniel’s under the front seat had found her, swept her up in a kiss and concern, and whisked her back to Hoboken.

And in true Logan fashion, he’d kept under wraps his intentions until that check hit the mailbox. Or, rather—a Snapchat had showed up on his phone. Ecstatic, a heavily filtered and stickered snap had made him smile—and she’d almost dropped her phone. Hadn’t been not a walking mess of flustered and flattered, doe-eyed and dreamwalking since he’d announced he would not only be helping her scout out her new rig, but paying the difference for whatever pink slip she came to acquire.

“It’s just money, darlin’—I got plen’y.”

Mistruth, she knew—Logan worked hard on a barely-livable wage working logs, but, despite any attempt to argue over shared chili cheese fries and rootbeer floats, she’d relented. Hands tossed in the air. He, after all, had money saved. Couldn’t think of a better investment.

“Gotta get my girl into something safer than a fucking Hyundai Tuscon.”

“Logan. I really think it’s fine—“ Hunger burns at the base of her spine. Her feet are near bleeding in wedge heels, and it may as well be sun surface degrees standing on the blacktop in jeans and a Greatest Showman Lip Sync t-shirt. The turquoise squash blossom necklace around her neck is heavy and slick with perspiration from the back of her neck—also a gift from Logan, for Hanukkah. Presented before her family as a grand gesture of vested interest and traditional courtship, it was as real as God. Expensive. Heavy.

His look is hard, wrinkled as his eyes scale over her. “You got somewhere to be?” Nodding to the phone in her hand, “You’re checkin’ the time like it’s your lover, honey. Secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” His brows wag teasingly for a second, pink flashing to life on her cheeks.

“I just think if we’re not gonna buy the car, we shouldn’t be making poor Phil run back and forth,”

They’d already discussed this on the test drive. Phil was two things, if not honest—a jackass, and completely incompetent when it came to the issue of Subaru Outback’s with the 3.6r. Logan and his copious amounts of obsessive access to Google, married with over 200 years of tinkering on anything with wheels, had determined every single known mechanical complaint about these damn wagons—and, once she’d decided which direction to go, had made it his life’s purpose to plague every single online forum to know. He’d asked questions. Googled schematics and blueprints. Had test driven no less than six vehicles, finding faults with all of them. Salespeople aside.

His nose wrinkles, snorting dismissively. “The fuck I won’t,” hands fall from his pockets to the frame of the Outback, Logan bending over the motor to consider the hum of the serpentine belt, “ain’t gonna kill him to make some steps when his ass is gettin’ fat in an office chair, darlin’. B’sides, haven’t decided if we’re buying this or not—not fully.” In other words, I’m having fun pullin’ his chain, baby.

Sighing, she drops her purse off her shoulder and reaches to unclasp the necklace from off her neck. Logan clocks her shift, brows furrowed—moves behind to undo it himself, thick fingers warm and calloused as they gently brush the curls on the back of her neck. Heat ebbs from him like a long black train, breath warm and heady on the back of her neck.

Handing the necklace over her shoulder, his arm snakes around her waist. Tugs her close. Smiling against her flittering pulse, his hand covers the necklace in hers as a low hum of approval rummages around the adamantium in his chest.

“You’re hot,” he hums. And she isn’t sure if he means overheated or otherwise, but opts into the adjective game.

“It’s a hundred degrees,” and that’s no lie. Gently tipping her head to the side, she smiles as his tongue gently lathes the spot behind her ear, “I’m in jeans and heels, Wolvie honey.” Her hand reached to brush fingers through his hair, tempted to pull. “And I know for damn sure you’re not buying this Outback. You don’t like Phil.”

Gut punched and pleasured, his growl is animalistic. Bestial. “How’d ya know that?”

Her lilt is light, teasing as her hips cant back against his pelvis. “You didn’t like him the second he slapped eyes on my tits in this shirt, that’s how,” her sigh is exaggerated, “and—for a guy over two centuries old, you don’t exactly have a poker face, Logan.”

His laugh is hard, rough around his chest. She can feel it rattle down her spine, chasing the heat that pools in the cradle of her womb. Every nerve is alive as he snugs up his arm around her waist, fingers tracing the buckle of her belt. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gently sways her back and forth.

She continues, “I am also waiting for you to cash in on that promise for lunch,” glancing down, “you can obviously see I’m withering away here, Wolverine.” Trying not to giggle as his hands move to her hips, nipping at her skin, his fingers gently slip into the pockets of her jeans as he angles his head to brush his nose against the shell of her ear.

“Got a better idea, sunshine—how about we screw Felony Phil and his clunker of an Outback, and I take you outback for some product research, huh?”

She didn’t have to be asked twice. Sold.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[oneirophobic]

Could you please write one about matt in which he has a burst of undirected anger towards the reader because of the anxiety he has been having the last few days and the reader comforts him?? Ilysmm take ur time<33

unintentional - matt sturniolo

pairing : matt sturniolo x gn!reader

genre : fluff with a hint of angst

warnings : anxiety

a/n : loving these requests, keep them coming!

matt had been having these outbursts for the past few days, i knew exactly what was going on. my own anxiety does it to me as well, so i let it flow out. but, there is so much anger that wells in his body that once it all spills out, it refills again and again.

today, i laid on his bed with my nose in my book as he took a shower to try and calm himself. once he exited the bathroom, he sat down to finish editing a video.

i drowned out the replaying video until i had heard matt's breathing pick up. "matt, you okay honey?" i asked softly.

"no, this stupid shit-" he exclaimed, slamming his hands on his desk and standing up beginning to pace around the room. i stood up with him, stopping him in his tracks, "matt, it's okay. can i help you with it?"

"no, it's my work! you shouldn't have to work for me while i have a meltdown like a little kid!" he exclaimed, his throat tightening.

"matt, deep breaths," i spoke, "you're not acting like a little kid, you're just having a hard time, and that's alright." he began wiping his tears, about to speak before i cut him off, "can i hug you?"

he was quick to accept, wrapping his arms around my waist. "how about i get you something to eat and we can work on it together, okay?"

"okay," he croaked into my shoulder.

matt sat back down and waited for me to come back. i came back with with a bag of chips and a can rootbeer for him. i sat down on his lap and helped him with the rest of the editing while he wrapped his arms around my waist and had his head on my shoulder.

"thank you y/n/n, i dunno what i'd do without you," he mumbled into the crook of my neck. "of course baby, i love you," i spoke softly, turning my head to place kiss his temple.

[prncssie]

caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you. 

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.”  parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.” 

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one,  it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off  oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately. 

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

[earth616variant]

the send-off | s.r ; 4

summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.

pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader

word count | 5k+

genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au

warnings | mention of blood, idiots…

note | after months, here's a new update! finally found the inspiration to write again :)) I apologize for the long delay. anyway, let me know your thoughts on this one. enjoy reading!

series masterlist

 “Ugh… What to do? What to do?” you hummed.

It’s been days since your arrival in this era. And so far, everything is fine. Confusing but fine. You were still having nightmares that always woke you up. But you didn’t bother to tell anyone about it. It’s probably a normal reaction.

Since the superheroes in the compound have alternative schedules for their missions, you found yourself rubbing shoulders with whoever Avenger is in the compound. It’s obvious that they don’t want you to feel excluded and made it clear that they don’t mind you asking questions if you find something puzzling. 

You usually bond with the youngest one, Peter Parker, who is always around since he is, based on what he said, “a friendly neighborhood superhero”. It means that he doesn’t go out of the country, like Natasha or Steve, or even this state for a mission since he still has classes to attend and he explains that his aunt won’t let him go anywhere far and dangerous. Understandable, you thought. The kid is only sixteen. But for now, Peter is staying back with his aunt in their apartment while the others are on their missions. He has a schedule for staying between the compound and his aunt’s place. 

Clint is with his family, who you heard lived in this secret farmhouse. Tony is probably home too. You don’t really know. You kind of feel that he avoids being alone with you. Wanda is resting in her room. You don’t want to disturb her as you saw her coming home earlier, looking really exhausted. 

When he can, Steve also kept you company. Of course, you enjoyed talking to him about his life after the whole defrosting thing. But sometimes, you felt like a disturbance or a burden in his free time. You thought, maybe he just wants to rest. Perhaps he just feels bad for you. So, you try to not stay around him all the time if he’s home.

So, you really have nothing to do. You have books but you don’t feel like reading now. You have this novel that you liked so much, you just finished it today. The compound also has this large, flat television but you don’t feel like watching anything either. It’s not like you’re not used to being alone. You’re always alone before! But at least you have a job to take up all your time. With all this free time, you cannot help but miss doing something in the laboratory. Computing numbers or testing prototypes with Howard. You wondered if your best friend ever finished that flying car he kept on re-working. You figured, maybe not. You see that people in this modern time still use four-wheeled cars.

“Oh, hey, Doctor Y/N.”

Sometime in the afternoon, Bruce Banner went out to the kitchen to get himself something to drink. That is where he sees you, looking all bored and spacing out. You forced a smile at him and greeted him back,

“Hello, Doctor Banner.”

“Bruce. You can call me Bruce.” he smiled as he opened a can of rootbeer.

“Then, you can call me just by my name too,” you replied, tapping on the hardbound book you had with you. You tried not to be obvious as you examined his look. With his eyeglasses and white coat, you know he’s been working in his laboratory. 

After taking a sip from his drink, he spoke, “What are you up to in here, Y/N?”

Hearing that question, you instantly sighed heavily, making your shoulder slump, “Nothing really. I’ve been watching the paint dry, Bruce.”

Thankfully, the scientist caught on to your use of words. He chuckled before asking you, “Do you want to go to the lab?”

You swore you jumped from where you were sitting when Bruce said that. He took it as a yes and you two walked together back to his laboratory. Instantly, you were in awe of the place. There are screens and machinery everywhere. You don’t understand how these new gadgets work but you cannot wait to hear about them. This is like something you dreamed of.

“Here.”

Bruce handed you a white lab coat and you immediately grabbed it, wearing it excitedly. Damn, you missed wearing it. You stood next to him in front of his messy desk, which is pretty normal. Notes were everywhere. Even pens and crumpled papers. You’re starting to miss your own messy work table.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that,” Bruce spoke, referencing his desk.

You smiled, “It’s fine. It means you’re really working hard for something.”

Slipping your hands into the coat’s pockets, you wander around the spacious lab. You try to stop yourself from touching anything, fearing that you might mess something up. So like a little kid, your eyes just show your enthusiasm as you watch some type of liquid flow into a transparent tube.

“What are you working on?” you asked, turning your head to Bruce.

“Something that can help the world, hopefully.” he chuckled. He walked next to you, “It’s a serum that may help cancer patients.”

“That’s nice,” you whispered, eyes still distracted.

“Yeah. But it’s still an experiment. This is the first time I’m working on something like this again after I tried to recreate the super soldier serum.”

Your eyebrows raised as you looked at him, “You tried to recreate that serum?!”

Steve did not tell you about that. No one told you that someone in the compound tried to recreate it. You always wondered what Dr. Ernskine did to that serum since it seems very impossible to reproduce. But now that you’re in this modern era, people have more resources and findings. Maybe Bruce succeed.

Bruce stared back at you with a small smile, “It’s what brought me here, Y/N.”

“Cap. You okay?” 

Tony asked as soon as he made sure the auto-pilot was set on the plane. Instead of answering, Steve grunts while pressing a hand on the right side of his stomach. Blood was gushing out from the stab wound he got from this mission. Bucky, on the other hand, also earned bruises on his face and small cuts on his arm. The two admittedly underestimated this mission. They didn’t expect that a hundred members will show up in this cult-like mob they raided. Thankfully, Tony was able to answer an emergency call.

“Those guys really got you cornered. Whoever stabbed you would probably brag about the fact he got to stab Captain America. Too bad he died.” Tony quipped, trying to lighten the mood. He signaled to Bucky to pass him a bandage.

Steve listened with exhaustion running in his veins. He breathed out as he closed his eyes, leaning his head on the surface behind him.

“You know, you got to be more careful now…” Tony suddenly spoke, sounding a bit serious. Steve opened his eyes and look at his friend who was focused on cleaning his wound. It took minutes of silence– since Tony made sure that his wound won’t get infected– before he continued,  “You have a girlfriend waiting at home.”

“She’s not my girlfriend, Tony,” Steve replied sternly.

His best friend still managed to chuckle at that. Steve groaned when Tony slightly applied pressure to his wound. Not that Steve doesn’t like the idea of you as his romantic partner, he just doesn’t want to tolerate this kind of teasing from his friends. They might get used to it and make you uncomfortable whenever you’re with him.

Tony rolled his eyes, “Okay, whatever. But my point is you are Y/N’s closest friend in the compound right now and I don’t think she will like seeing you come back like this. I mean, you already died before and Dad told me a lot of things that happened.”

Steve tilted his head quizzically. He looked at Bucky who shared the same expression on his face.

“What–”

“There.” Tony got up as if he didn’t just say something. He pointed at Bucky. “And you too, buddy. Bring more backup next time. Something worse could have happened. You’re lucky I’m just another country away for a presentation.”

He walked back to his seat as the pilot, ignoring the confusion and curiosity from the two a-decade-old super soldiers.

“That was your last memory?”

Bruce sat in front of you, typing on his laptop as you nodded an answer. A couple of hours after inviting you, you two ended up just chatting in his laboratory. Bruce told you about the time he recreated the supersoldier serum. You learned his history and how he joined this league of superhumans. He was open to sharing his struggle in accepting his power and learning to control himself from being Bruce and the Hulk.

After that, he ended up giving you a tour of his laboratory. You would share how a gadget you had before evolved into what he has now in these modern times. Your curiosity about these said gadgets made his offer to teach you whenever he can and you happily agreed. Although you’re still unsure if you’re staying here for the rest of your life, you think that it will be good to adapt in the meantime.

“The time machine…” your voice trailed off as you brought up the topic. “How did you and Tony make it?”

You’ve been wanting to ask someone about their version of a time machine here. But since Howard’s son was a bit distant, you get to talk about it with Bruce now.

Bruce shakes his head, “It was unsuccessful.”

“It brought me here.” you countered, pursing your lips.

The air around you two was suddenly all serious and Bruce feels it. You were just wondering how they built their time machine. How did they make it work? It was seemingly more successful than Howard’s. Was it because of the current and upgraded technologies? Did they use different formulas than Howard? Did they make their own original version that was way different than what you and your best friend worked on in the past?

 

Bruce looked at you for seconds like he was contemplating if he should tell you. Then, he exhaled, removing his glasses.

“Tony brought the blueprint and basically the whole plan for it months ago. He said he found it when he was digging up in his dad’s office in their old house.”

“Wait.” your eyebrows scrunched together as you paused. You take your time processing his answer. You made sure you understood it by saying, “So… it was originally Howard’s… The blueprint for it?”

He nods, “Yes, Tony found it along with other plans his dad never worked on. We just used other materials than the outdated ones...”

You didn’t really listen to the rest of his words when you heard the first sentence. Your eyes stared at some space. Never worked on? He means, Howard made this plan and never worked on it? Does it mean that if your best friend just worked it, you could have been back earlier than this era? Your hand slowly pressed a hand on your chest and you felt your heartbeat getting quicker Bruce quickly noticed it and you looked up at him with your eyes screaming in confusion and surprise, hurt.

“When did Howard plan it?” you asked. Your voice was weak and you almost said it in a whisper.

Although confused, Bruce replied, “1977. It was written on the bottom of the blueprint.”

Your brain was quick in computing it. It was thirty years after your disappearance. You feel like shaking as you blinked away the tears that were blurring your sight.

“W-Where can I find this blueprint? I want to see it.”

The change in your tone and expression made Bruce ask, “Y/N, are you okay–”

“Where?” you asked again instead of answering.

“Uh, Tony has it.”

You ran your palms all over your face, calming yourself down. You breathe out. You knew you had to stop yourself from crying as you cannot stand doing it again.  It’s pointless. You’ve been tearing up ever since you came here and you have never been this vulnerable. You don’t like it. Before Bruce can repeat a word, you sighed heavily.

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “I… I was just surprised Howard planned on building another time machine and never made a move on it.”

Bruce hummed quietly and replied, “It’s fine… Everything must have been a lot to you.”

You chuckled, trying to lighten up the atmosphere, “Yeah, it’s a real bummer and I think it makes me blow a fuse really easily. I swear I was never this emotional.”

If he did it, would I have come back earlier?

The question floats in your head as you set your eyes on the quiet lake just outside the compound. You pulled your knees closer to your chest and rested your chin on your knees. The sky was already dimming down as the sun already set. Nature was quiet and the only loud thing was your brain with all these questions you were asking yourself.

There was a part of you who wished you shouldn’t have just asked Bruce. Maybe you wouldn’t feel this way. But you were always curious about things, so you asked. And here you are, having this moment. As if knowing about Howard’s plans is not enough, you still had thoughts if you can ask Tony about it. You let out an exasperated, hopeless exhale. Maybe not.

“Dr. Y/N!”

You snapped out of your deep thoughts when you heard your name. Turning your head to your side, you spotted Peter approaching with a smile on his face. He waved his hand, and your lips form a small smile.

“Hey… I thought you were staying with your aunt tonight?”

He sat beside you on the green grass, “I’m just staying here until nine. Then, I’ll go back home. I dropped by to see if you’re baking tonight.”

You giggled, “Well, today’s not your lucky day, kid. But I think we still have a few brownies in the jar from the other day.”

“I checked. It’s already empty.” he feigned disappointment, holding his chest, and you two chuckled. “How was your day here, doc?”

“Boring. I haven’t really done much. Bruce saw me in the kitchen earlier and invited me to his lab. I just miss doing something again.“ you confessed with a hint of frustration in your tone. “How about you, kid?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “Eh, just school. I and my friend Ned ended up in detention because he cannot stop talking about this new movie during chemistry class. Then, our other friend, MJ joined us since she said she enjoys going to detention. We planned to eat something after but MJ has a part-time job to go to.” Peter shared and you feel that he was pretty satisfied with how his day went.

“Well, at least one of us got to bond with their friends,” you scoffed. “I have to get used to my friends being superheroes.”

“They are usually busy, aren’t they?”

You nod, “Yeah. It actually made me feel jobless.”

You two laughed at that. You resumed, “I can’t believe I finished two books in a short period– Speaking of books, I was wondering if you could lend me a hand.”

“For what?”

“Oh, you know that novel I’ve been reading these past few days?”

“Ah, the one with the whole time machine plot too?”

“Yes. I… I really loved the book. Is there any way I can reach out to the author? Maybe write them a letter? I just really want to let them know that it’s a good story.”

Maybe it’s because of a lot of free time on your hand. But you just really adored the plot and the novel itself. You found it in the new releases section of the bookstore you went to days ago. But the story was set around your time, in the 40s, and mainly revolved around time traveling, which initially pulled you into buying it. It was accurate by the era it was in, and it made you feel closer to where you came from. Now, you just finished it and it was beautiful even though it was left on a cliffhanger. It causes you something to look forward to.  

“We can try to reach out. Maybe they have e-mail. It’s faster than sending them written letters.” Peter suggests.

You cocked an eyebrow, “What’s an email?”

“Oh, it’s electronic mail. It’s like the modern type of exchanging letters with other people. Instead of asking for the person’s home address, they can just give you their email address. Then, you can send them a message with the computer or cellphone.” he explains and you nod.

“How about your laptop?”

He nods, “Yeah, we can also use that.”

You two ended up walking back to the compound. Peter helped you with creating your own e-mail address and typing your message to the author. You wanted to learn and get used to with using this gadget so you offered to type yourself. He was patient enough to teach you with the keys on the keyboard as you type. 

“So, it automatically saves itself as a draft?”

You moved the cursor on the screen as you glided your index finger on the touchpad of his laptop. It wasn’t a long message but it was genuine. You re-read the whole thing again before passing the laptop to Peter.

“Yeah, what’s the name of the author again?” the boy asked before opening a new tab in the browser.

“Oh, wait…” you reached for the book and read the huge, bold name written on the front cover. “It’s… Donald S. Burton.”

“Okay, we can look for his website. Maybe he has his contacts there.”

His voice trailed off when he began typing on the search bar. It never fails to amaze you how fast this thing can give you answers. It’s like all of the books in the library were compiled into this gadget. Peter input the name and a list of information about Donald S. Burton showed up. There were even images of the man. You cannot help but smile when the old guy reminds you of someone familiar.

“Here is his email!“

“I like these. What are these again?” 

Steve smiled at your curiosity, “Chicken nuggets.”

“Okay. Chicken nuggets,” you repeated. “I wished we had these in our time. I love these and these sauces. And of course, this sundae!” you exclaimed before taking a scoop with the tiny spoon.

Just a couple of days after you talked with Bruce in the lab and sent an e-mail with Peter’s help, you found yourself having a picnic with Steve just around the city. It was a quiet park in the busy city. It was a Tuesday so there were fewer people in the place. He invited you with it after he got home from his mission.

“Should I bake or make something?” you asked him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. We’ll be ordering food on the way to the park,” he replied.

“Are the others coming too?” you asked again.

He shook his head, “I… didn’t ask them.”

“Why didn’t you ask them?” you raised an eyebrow. 

Steve seemed to be caught off guard. Bucky, Sam, Natasha, and Peter, who were also in the living room when you asked, smirked and looked at each other knowingly when they saw their leader’s frozen reaction. He stood there awkwardly with his hands on his hips. Natasha was the first to break the silence.

“I’ll be training,” she said.

The others caught on to it and spew their reasons too. Peter chimed in, “I have a ton of homework to do, Doc.”

“I’m visiting my sister in Louisiana,��� Sam explained with a scoff. That made you squint your eyes at him. Then you looked at Bucky, waiting for his reason. He seemed frozen like the gears in his head is turning.

“I… uhm… I’m…”

“He’ll help me with training.” Nat saved him. “We’ll do some planning with the next mission.”

So that’s how you and Steve ended up alone on this picnic, which you don’t mind. You had a fun ride going here. He lets you play songs by connecting your rarely-used phone to the car’s stereo.

“How did you learn about that song?” he asked when American Pie played.

You smiled, “Natasha. I heard it from her.”

You ordered food from a fast food chain through a drive-thru. It was exciting as Steve ordered meals you didn’t try before. When you arrived at the peaceful park, you insist on helping him with bringing stuff. He just made you bring the blanket while he carries all the other things. When you found a perfect spot, you laid the gingham blanket on the green grass. You sat comfortably in your casual floral dress before you two began eating.

“Thank you for this, Steve.” you smiled.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for coming with me. I haven’t been on a picnic with someone for a while.” he said.

“You know, before I got in the time machine, I went picnic with my neighbors.” you shared, remembering that day with the Smiths.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jones?!” he asked with surprise.

Your ears perked when you heard that. The Jones were your neighbors before the Smiths. They are the last ones Steve knew since he and Bucky would sometimes fetch you if you were hanging out somewhere. The said couple was a bit grumpy, to be honest. They can hear even the smallest noise you would make in your apartment and would always let you know they don’t like it. 

“Oh, no. They moved out months after you disappeared. Another family occupied their space. Susan and Robert Smith. They have this little kid named Donny. They are much nicer.” you joked.

“Well, that’s nice. I missed a lot of things while on ice.” 

“It was only two years, Steve. Nothing much happened.” you snorted, finishing your sundae.

“A lot of things can happen. I know Howard found the Tesseract while searching for me on the ice… Share some things that happened in those two years.” 

“Okay…” you exhaled. “I bet you already know that they tried making a series after Captain America vanished. You became an icon. Have you seen it?”

You laughed when you saw Steve hissed, “I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, it was bad.” you cracked up. You only watched that once. You don’t like how they painted Peggy into a character named Betty who was always a damsel in distress. Peggy had complained about it too.

“Anyway, we– Howard and I– tried for like a year to search for you. But he would usually be the one to go on sites and I would always try to come with him. He needs more convincing but it always works.”

Howard often says that going in the field can be dangerous and you would fight back over and over again. You were glad you did because you were with them when they found the Tesseract.

“What convincing did you do?”

“Well, I would say that I’m his assistant. My job is technically following him around. Then when he says no, I’ll say that I am his best friend. I still do have my last reason if he denies me of coming with him.” you said.

“And what is it?”

You paused and just stared at him. Chewing on your bottom lip, you hmmed. It was like you were thinking if you should tell him the last reason for Howard to let you go with him. Steve waits. He tried to be comfortable as he leaned back with his arms resting behind him. He hoped he doesn’t look much curious or nosy. After what felt like an eternity, you spoke.

“It’s… It’s that I am the last one you spoke to while you were on that plane.” 

You looked away from him, avoiding his gaze. You tried to just look at the trees and people from the distance than just look at Steve. Your chest felt heavier when you remembered that time Steve fought that skull and had control of that plane. Steve didn’t say a word so you continued to explain more, just to get it off your chest.

“It would always work since he fully knows that I have guilt living in my system after the country lost you.” you chuckled bitterly. “I felt awfully bad that I cannot do anything to help you during that situation.”

When your voice shook uncontrollably in the last words of your sentence, Steve sat back up and you can see the sympathy in his blue eyes. He reached out for your resting hand, instantly caging it in his warm hands.

“Y/N… none of it was your fault. It was already a dead-end situation. I was the one who chose to crash it.” he tried to reassure you.

“I know, I know,” you mumbled, tears slipping from your eyes. “But I cannot stand losing another person in my life that time, Steve.”

Your tearful eyes met his concerned ones. “We just lost Barnes earlier that year. And I really just can’t lose you… I tried to think of something. Howard was in the same room while I was talking to you on the phone. We tried to make a plan but we don’t have any idea where the hell the plane was and it was moving really fast. It was really bad. I felt helpless. I thought I might have been able to do something to help you but we have no time. I hate that all I can do is talk to you on the phone, hoping that you won’t feel alone, while I prayed silently for some miracle to happen. And it was crazy because  I don’t even remember the last time I prayed before that moment.”

By the time you finished talking, you were full-on sobbing. Your chest heaved and your cheeks were damp from your salty tears. Steve held your hand. His thumb drew circles on it as he lets you cry for more. And when he felt you calming down, he uttered:

“Staying in that call with me until the end was enough for me. I appreciate you for handling yourself very well and being calm with me that time. You are amazing. And you don’t know how relieved I am when I knew you were the one who answered the call. Thank you.” Steve said softly, offering a small smile as he looked directly into your eyes. “You already did much more you know for me that time.”

2/19/1945

Y/N arrived with puffy eyes today. I knew it before she even removed the black sunglasses she had on. I already told her the day before that she have the choice of not going to the laboratory today. But she still did. It was quiet the whole day in the lab. We both tried to act busy like nothing much happened. Due to the events of these past two weeks, I’ve been getting telephone calls from a lot of people. I chose to ignore them because I know it has something to do with Rogers’ disappearance and I’d been hearing they want to make the serum like Ernskine’s. I honestly think that it would be hard to “remake” Captain America ever again. She didn’t eat anything for the whole day even a cup of coffee. I insisted on walking her home, saying I have to borrow her old research about the future of computers. She said she’ll just bring it tomorrow but I said I need it urgently even though I really don’t. In fact, I have nothing to do with her research. I just had to make sure she’ll get home safe. I thought it was a good idea to just walk with her instead of asking Jarvis to drive us. But boy, I was wrong. The loss of the nation’s superhero is plastered all over the place. I tried distracting Y/N by telling her about the funny encounter I had with a girl months ago. I never told her about it before because I know she doesn’t like that I cannot commit to a single girl. But I have no more story to tell at the moment. It was a relief that she let out small laughs and smile at it. Although the smiles didn’t reach her eyes, I hope she felt better for a bit. She was about to say some advice or something when she suddenly froze. Her lips formed into a frown and I see tears forming in her eyes. I follow where her eyes lay and it was the newspapers. WE NEED A NEW CAPTAIN. The headline was printed in big, bold letters. Eye-catching. “They cannot just replace Steve like that.” It was a whisper from her. I hate that all I can do is sigh. Two minutes later, we reached her apartment. She handed me her research and thanked me. She smiled. But it was forced, I know.

As I am writing this letter, I am thinking of leaving this city with Y/N for a vacation somewhere away from here. I don’t know if she will like that. Maybe she won’t. Maybe I’ll just settle on walking her home with another made-up reason from the back of my head. I don’t know. I just feel helpless seeing her like this again after Barnes’ and now, Rogers’ death. Even so, I’ll always make sure that she will be alright.

H.S. 

Tony removed his eyeglasses as he finished reading. His index finger traces the handwritten words by his father, sighing in the process. He can hear his father’s voice with each word in it. 

“Tony, we need to go. We should fly at six!” Pepper’s voice cuts off his thoughts.

He stretched his limbs before replying, “Okay, honey. Just getting my glasses.” 

Tony stared at the page again for a second before closing his father’s journal. He slid it onto one of the drawers on his nightstand and left.

THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST

@supraveng @sunflower-golden-vol6 @curi0usc4t @caitlyn-who @bitchy-bi-trash @stilltoomuchafangirl @matisse556 @ladybug05 @sunwoahkim @meanttobea @j69confessional2 @thenyxsky @swthxrry @justab-eautifulmess @7minutes-tomidnight @curlycarley @thefalconandthewinterwidowshield @wisepenguin @shatfairy @coffeeshub @stillthatbetch @cosmicgirls-things @mediocre-m @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @mrsjaderogers @themerc-with-a-mouth @slutdreams @royalwritersoftheuniverses @yunloyal @avengersinitiative2012 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @madnessinwrighting @lilizia @saintmagx @saranghaey @elmphoenix17 @animegirlgeeky @t-stark35 @ameliabs-world @seijaelee @sully-stick-together @capswife @katdahlali @avengersgirllorianna

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@rosedpetal

[cartoonguy08]

So I saw this one board thing a while ago and I thought it’d be fun to do it just cuz, and also so you guys know me a bit better 🤙 (I should probably do that one pinned post where people intro themselves huh?)

More detail if you want, as well as the board I used to do this with 👍

Movie - Hunchback of Notre Dame: Guys this movie is my everything and my childhood I was TERRIFIED of it as a kid but now I watch it and admire every aspect of it every SPEC and crumb of this movie is everything to me. The animation to the soundtrack to the characters to the backgrounds—OMG CAN I MENTION THE BEAUTIFUL BACKGROUNDS FOR THIS MOVIE JESUS—everything, absolutely everything of this movie is beloved by me ESPECIALLY my all time favorite villain Claud Frollo, guys, I LOVE (HATE HATE HATE HATE HATE ABSOLUTELY HATE HIM I WANT TO PUT HIM IN A BLENDER SO BAD OMG YES TAKE HIM TO HELL GUYS I HATE THIS GUY I HATE HIM SO MUCH 🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️) him so much you wouldn’t believe I am an absolute SUCKER for characters who are just the shittiest people ever and that are villains and that deserve everything that happens to them because they are massive hypocrites. Did I mention why I love Claud Frollo?

Hobby - Drawing: In general, I try and draw as much as I can. I’m pretty busy with school and friends and life in general but I will never pass up a moment to just doodle silly cartoon shit. I love cartoons, they are everything to me, and I will give me life to become in animator holy shit. I love it, I’ve been loving it since I was born dawg 🤙

Animal - Rhino: Literally no explanation for this except I love how majestic and cool asf they are. I went to the zoo once and I couldn’t stop admiring them guys, they’re absolutely gorgeous.

Character - Soldier: No specific Soldier for this cuz I love both of them. I wish he was real because I would die to meet him lol. My entire personality in a nutshell 💀 He is my life, he spins in my head on the daily and he makes me love being American lmao (RIP Rick May, you made such a lovable character, fly high man)

Color - Mustard Yellow: I have a beanie the same color as this and legit it made me love the color. That and I love mustard in general

Place - Quiet library: AND I MEAN QUIET, I love being social with people but sometimes I just wanna be left alone. Dawg, the library at my school is the shit, it’s so quiet in there and I can sit on a sofa and just chill. Great to relax 👍

Season - Winter: Unfortunately for me I live somewhere that does not snow at all. Which kinda sucks- BUT it sprinkle some snow every one and a while. It’s also just not about the snow but the weather, I like the breezy feel, the chilliness of it all. I can wear hoodies and beanies and my kickass baggy pants lol. And the blankets. My grandma got me this one comforter that’s immaculate, very comfortable, very soft. Love my grandma 🤙❤️

Song/Album - Void in Blue: WHERE DO I BEGIN WITH THIS SONG? The feeling I get actually has me ascending bro. The background instrumental the LYRICS THE ECHO, OMG THE ECHO THOUGH- my favorite part of any song is if it has an echoey effect to it, and THIS nails every part in the song. It’s great, please guys give it a listen it’s so good it’s like crack to me I listen to it on the DAILY

Food - Root beer Floats: I know technically it’s a drink but you could still eat it with a spoon, so I’d say it counts 👍 Anyways this shit is the bomb, love Rootbeer in general by FLOATS?? Amazing, I could eat them everyday if I could because they’re so good. Very refreshing. One time I actually went to Denny’s and asked if they had one and a nice waitress made me one lol, very sweet hole she’s going good 🙏 Also fun fact: I tried it in middle school and it became my LIFE

Pretty sure that’s all? Yeah that’s all. Thanks for reading if you wanted to, now you know a bit about me heh. Hope everyone’s having a good day 🤙🤙

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hiya! Do you know any Sterek fics where Derek rejects the mate bond with Stiles and just ignores it all, leading to Stiles feeling the strain or pain of an ignored/incomplete bond? I've read one before where Derek just moved away cuz he didn't think it was a big deal and Stiles really took the brunt of it. But any fics that are similar would be perfect. P.S. Thank you for everything that you do and I hope that you're having a great day!

Oh yes. I love this kind of angst.

soulmates tbh by bleep0bleep

(1/1 I 1,423 I Teen)

"It’s been five months," Derek says darkly. "Why am I still getting these proposals? You know these are probably all fake marks."

Five months since the paparazzi had snapped that photo of him with the overzealous fan tugging at his shirt, five months since millions of people on the Internet realized that the birthmark revealed was in fact, the mark, five months Derek was inundated by claims from people who desperately wanted him to believe that they were his soul-mate.

Second Chances by rootbeer

(1/1 I 2,624 I General)

"A lot of times the ‘markings’ were common, simple things you said to strangers all the time. 'Excuse me'; 'thank you'; 'hello'. Some got extremely romantic things like 'it’s you isn’t it? I’ve been waiting for you' or 'Wow you’re really pretty'. And they were always the first words their soulmate would ever say to them.

Of course, having 'You are the fucking worst kind of person in the world' tattooed down your side, didn’t bode well. How fucked up was Stiles Stilinski that even his fucking Soulmate hated him? High School had been a special kind of hell when all the kids learned what his tattoo said—despite his best efforts to keep it a secret."

Three Marks by sanam

(8/8 I 113,736 I Mature)

"And then there was pain again, but this time it was in only three places—his arm, below his clavicle, and next to his heart, all on the left side. It felt like the skin was being sliced apart, ripped open, flayed off— And suddenly it was done. Derek looked across the room and saw the boy on the floor, looking about as bad as Derek felt."

Derek and Stiles learn that bonding is probably best done with ridiculous amounts of video games and maybe a little bit of time.

I Hunt For You With Bloody Feet by CharWright5

(26/26 I 200,462 I Explicit)

“Mates don't always mean happy ever after.”

When twenty-year-old born omega werewolf Stiles Stilinski received that cryptic email from his twin brother—who'd been missing for two years exactly—in a language the two of them had made up, his drive to find Stuart is doubled. The search leads him to Oak Creek, the most secured and heavily fortified city in all of California, where he finds that not only is his brother dead, but also the literal alpha of his Dreams in Derek Hale—who just happens to be his twin's Mate and the main suspect in Stiles' eyes. Despite an agreement to fight mutual feelings, the two are still drawn to each other as they try to solve the case themselves, uncovering a plot that goes deeper than the murder of just one wolf.

Blue Monday by ExpectNothingGainEverything

(19/? I 535,709 I Explicit)

Stiles would have never guessed that the star player of the lacrosse team and presumably the hottest guy in school who everyone wanted a piece of and one of his most hated bullies would turn out to be his soulmate.

Derek would never have dreamed that fate would be so cruel to pair him up with a freak like Stilinski.

[tiredemzz]

FIORA CARMICHAEL HCS ::

☔︎ - doesn’t remember much of her childhood, does remember that her family decided to leave her in the woods until the fish head found her.

☔︎ - vanya decided to teach Fiora about music and it made her feel comfortable and happy since Fiora would listen to classical music or rock to smooth her down since the demon herself has a bit of a anger issues.

☔︎ - her and five r the emeries to friends to lovers type duo, I love them alright?

☔︎ - probably would wear a shirt that saids ‘me and five r friends?? wat-‘ /j

☔︎ - gets along with klaus, vanya and sometimes five when he’s not a jerk lel

☔︎ - at first.. the umbrella academy members didn’t like fiona b/c they thought she was evil but as months went by.. one by one in private conversations they started to treat fiona like she was a normal person and like she was apart of the family :) (some members didn’t think she was evil like klaus and vanya -v-)

☔︎ - doesn’t really know about dolores, but pretty sure that she doesn’t wanna know about her b/c she’s none of her business lel

☔︎ - drinks rootbeer in her own time b/c she isn’t in a mood for alcohol or a margarita

☔︎ - secretly smokes cigarettes in her own time b/c she smokes when she’s tired of bullshit that’s thrown at her :p

☔︎ - she basically got her demon powers by a evil scientist that her adopted father hired to do dangerous experiments on her, she sadly died during one of the experiments and was brought back in her 13 yr old body. (so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense, she’s a work in progress. + she has more powers then her demon ones.)

☔︎ - pretty much cusses once in a while, can’t control it tho whoops

☔︎ - she secretly can shape shift and clone herself but she doesn’t show those two extra powers b/c she keeps them to herself

☔︎ - pretty much is bisexual, pronouns r she/they/her

☔︎ - doesn’t like when you yell at her, makes her upset and angry

☔︎ - doesn’t really like lila that much

☔︎ - likes to break the fourth wall >:)

☔︎ - can’t stand loud ass noises or sounds

☔︎ - loves animals sm, doesn’t like kids that much

☔︎ - can’t stand relationships or romance stuff, makes her throw up inside and makes her cringe

•

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yall liked the hcs? I do too lel

what are your thoughts on Fiona? let me know in the comments lel

If you got any ideas on her, feel free to tell me :)

[fatmaclover]

who up thinkin about joymac slow dancing in the gang dances their asses off. just me? aight

im just thinkin about them goin to their first school dance together. middle school, or maybe like 5th grade if their school is cool. neither of them really get their own friends or young girlfriends to go with so they say. "well. we're not gonna miss out on this right???" and so they go together. and they have a nice time indulging in some decaf soda and way too expensive snacks (they had to pool their money together to share one slim jim and a rootbeer). they dress up all nice and have a good time just going with the music.

eventually the music starts to relax, and all the kids with their middle school partners are doing whatever their best guess at a slow dance is. and lo and behold, mac and joyce dont wanna be left out. so they start slow dancing together. they get some weird looks in a moment, maybe some teachers break them up or just everyone up after a little bit, but i think they go home happy.

[wilkp]

IM FEELING SILLY so here’s some random questions!

good old fashioned lover boy or killer queen?

what’s your opinion on smarties?

olivia rodrigo’s SOUR or GUTS?

is rootbeer superior to all sodas?

what’s your comfort tv show?

yes these are random questions i just thought of, and yes i will be doing more later <3

OMG FUN FEELING SILLY IS THE BEST and hiiii andi!!

andi i'm so sorry i'm about to be so annoying but i gotta choose killer queen bc liiike

Oooh, i love smarties!! they're so yummyyy. omg i rember when kids were like snorting those in middle school llama

OH THIS IS MEAN WHY ANDI WHYYYY i think i'm gonna have to go with guts bc it feels like sour but a darker shade, if that makes sense? but also this could change

YES ROOTBEER FUCKING RULES AND ITS MY FAVORITE SODA

Oooh, i've got sooo many, but i think the show i go back to the most atm is community

omgg fuun, i hope you enjoyed the answersss <3

ohohoh ALSO, what are your answers to these questions?? if you want to answer you don't have to if you don't want to

[liightsnow]

I bet Steve really likes rootbeer floats, he use to ask Nancy to share them on their dates, him and Robin make them late at night, but then he finds out Eddie hates rootbeer and it loses all its magic. Eddie says something about how it’s “gross and childish” for Steve to order them so he stops. He misses his comfort drink but he likes Eddie and besides, it’s just one thing right?

Pj Jesus fuck just go ahead and shoot me next time and finish the job if you're gonna stab me kn the heart-Because if you don't ill just make everything you send me even worse :>

He's absolutely devastated when Eddie says it. They're not dating yet, but Steve knows that he has a crush at this point. He's fine though. Really he is, it's just a single thing that he loves and Eddie makes fun of.

Then the list keeps getting bigger.

Eddie hates Abba, he hates sports, he hates almost everything thay Steve loves, and he hates it all so loudly. Steves clothes become something that everyone picks on just because Eddie said a single word. Sometimes he wonders if Eddie just hates him. He was hoping that with another adult in the group, maybe he wouldn't be the target of every joke, maybe the kids would see the 3 time senior and joke about HIS intelligence... but sometimes it just seemed like Eddie thrived off of making Steve feel like shit, and like the rest of his friends laughed along because they enjoyed it too.

Then Eddie asks Steve out. Steve's ecstatic, he thinks this could be a good thing. That going out with Eddie will solve both his crushing problem, and the problem of him being made fun of but...

"You're lucky you're so pretty Harrington"

"Look at you, not a single thought behind those beautiful eyes, huh?"

"Oh don't worry your pretty little head about this Stevie, you've got someone with brains to help you out now"

He feels stupid. No. He just knows he's stupid. All Steve Harrington is good for is being nice to look at, and sometimes he even doubts that.

[pbandjesse]

I am really tired. Today was a pretty excellent day. Which is really nice because I am wildly stressed about tomorrow.

I slept alright last night. I woke up a few times. But it was fine. I would wake up for real at 730. And stayed in bed scrolling on my phone until a little after 8. I made the bed. And took a shower. And tried to feel alright. I wasn't as introspective today but I was still tired.

I went downstairs and mom was on the couch. James was making breakfast. Mom was all excited that James she made breakfast for her. I'm glad that she was able to come and get taken care of a little. She deserves it.

James made me a hash for breakfast again and that was great. Me and mom chatted on the couch. She would go outside to sit on the porch swing and enjoy the brisk air with sweetp. It was a nice morning.

The plan was to go to the UPS store to get our indigogo backed campaign. Which was the cardboard router that I've been really looking forward to. And then we would go out to Ellicott City to go to the antique depot.

This mostly went fine. We got to UPS and when James went inside I realized I had stepped on dog poop and was beside myself. This is something that I am always so afraid of and was just so upset. We were really close to the museum so we would go over there to fix it. James would clean them with disinfectant and I would wash my hands a million times and changed into my Birkenstocks I keep in the car. I was trying very hard to not let this ruin my whole day but I was just so upset. This has happened only a few times ever and I remember every time so vividly because it is so upsetting to me. I was just trying so hard to breathe and not freak.

While James was working on cleaning my shoes me and Mom walked over to the water and took some pictures.

When we got back to the car James was trying to make me feel better but it was hard. They worry about my blood pressure and I was trying to just stop being upset but it was hard.

We got out to Ellicott city around 1045. And I was trying to be in a better mood.

I would have a lot of fun looking around. James was moving around the 4 stories with purpose. I wasn't sure what they were doing for a bit but they were going around finding the weirdest sports merch they could which was pretty funny. I would get in on to and sent them pictures as I was looking around.

I wasn't looking for anything in particular but I would have a lot of fun looking. Mom would even tell me what some things were that I didn't recognize. Like an ice shaver!

I would find some fun stuff. Some little gifts. A sandwich lizard, which is a toy I loved as a kid, great texture. I got a pill organize that's a little gold compact. And an amazing salad bowl that has frogs hanging off the side. It was just really fun searching.

Me and mom were down in the basement when I found this adorable dragon. It was from Avon and I could tell it had a container inside and I was trying to figure out what it was and I opened it, was startled because it was full of baby powder, got it all over me and the floor, and dropped the cap which fell under a shelf. I was laughing cause it was so stupid. But I found the cap and closed it and told my mom what happened because it was so silly.

We would finish all the floors. Found James again. And checked out.

When we got to the car we decided we would go back towards Catonsville for a snack. But as soon as we started driving I realized I didn't have my phone and panicked. I never lose my phone and I felt so stupid. I had been sitting on the floor in the basement looking through a basket. So we went straight there and it was in the middle of the floor. Felt so stupid. I was just glad it was in the first place we looked.

James tried to make me feel better. I hate how quickly upset I was getting today.

So we went to get a snack. Atwater's is a very nice cafe. James got a latte and a muffin. Mom got chicken salad, a cupcake, and a coffee. And I got avocado toast and a rootbeer. I did not want the nuts it comes with but it still came with them. Disappointed but I just took them off best I could. It would have been better with a fried egg rather then the folded egg it had. But I still enjoyed it and I enjoyed the conversations we had.

We discovered we all drink from a glass bottle differently. James said they thought the way I did was cute and I was like I truly don't understand how else you could drink this. Which lead to a whole debate about how to drink from a glass bottle. It was funny.

For our last stop we went a block away to a smaller antique store. I would find a cute little piggy bank and a pin for Jess. It was fun to look but mostly I loved when a woman came in to sell a set of Benoit balls. And her and the one shop owner didn't know what they were. But the other shop owner did and I was laughing when she was trying to explain. And I chimed in when they realized I was there and was like this is what they are. And it was hilarious. They are going to label them "massage bells".

We would head out of there and headed home. I was feeling really tired. It was a quiet ride back, with James podcast, and just a little chatting.

When we got home we brought everything inside. Unpacked and divided out the purchases. Me and Mom would lay on the couch and look at TikToks and talk. She was going to get ready to go soon. We opened my indigogo package. I was very impressed with how nicely built it was. I will probably try it out tomorrow.

But Mom had to go. She wanted to be home before the sun went down. Hugs all around. And then she was off.

The emotional let down after she went was tough. I was sad. And my body was just like. You gotta lay down. I didn't sleep. But I had to just lay down. And James hung out with me. But eventually I would go upstairs. I would work on moving some stuff from the guestroom to the baby room. I changed all of the knobs on the dresser with ones I had gotten today. But I was just exhausted. I went to lay in bed.

I felt very unsettled. I am still really stressed. About the election. About work. About everything. I am trying to think positive but man is it hard.

I would take a bath. And James made me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. And eventually a half a quesadilla.

James and Sweetp have been mostly dozing for the last hour. And I am ready to follow along. I hope I can sleep easy tonight.

Tomorrow James will go to work. And eventually I will go vote. And go to the craft store to pick up some things. And try to fill the day with making stuff so I don't feel so stressed and focused on politics.

I really hope and pray that tomorrow goes well. I love you all no matter what. Goodnight my friends.

[cavernclaw]

weasel kid and/or reggie for the 2nd ask game? :0

SWK

Sexuality Headcanon: pansexual! like me :3

Gender Headcanon: nonbinary he/him.

A ship I have with said character: i don’t really have any SWK ships, although the swk x junior one is cute! :3

A BROTP I have with said character: him and fpp are good friends in my brain.

A random headcanon: only allowed to drink soda or juice at the six pint inn and he’s so salty about it.

General Opinion over said character: i wish he got to know that squarrel wasn’t just a jerk who replaced his dad. :(

Rootbeer Reggie

Sexuality Headcanon: GAY. 🏳️‍🌈

Gender Headcanon: cis man. scary 😯

A ship I have with said character: regimiah ofc! old man yaoii

A BROTP I have with said character: bit of a silly one he plays poker with grimora on the weekends. ☝️

A random headcanon: sometimes he’ll drop things on purpose just so he can have jeremiah scuttle over and pick it up for him. then he kisses him on the forehead.

General Opinion over said character: what if he was called freakinald

[marshmallow-biscuit-blog]

muhaha the dumbass Time to actually give her a description/bio since I discarded her original post a long time ago. (solely because here design was outdated) Name: Rooty Beera Float Age: Typically depicted as 9-13. (she's whatever age Mugman is currently) Birthday: February 7th, 1921 Talents: Drawing and singing. Personality: Mischievous, Brave, kinda rude by accident, vulgar, wild, sassy, rebellious, pretty generous but does what she needs for herself, surprisingly emotional, sometimes paranoid, extroverted, nosy, brutally honest (absolutely no filter and doesn't understand why people get offended because to her it's just honesty.) Story: From a young age, Rooty learned to fend for herself. Without a mom, and having a dad who's too distraught to do anything but bring home what little money he can and drink hoarded moonshine, Rooty's taken to stealing things that she needs, like food and clothes. (To make clear, her dad loves her very much, and tries. But he's mentally not there at all) She doesn't know how to read a large portion of her childhood from not having access to school, and tries to self teach herself by picking out contextual things in the newspaper and combining it with the little bit of knowledge that her dad has about reading himself. Which is how she finds out about her idol, Detective Sketch. (@marinerainbow's oc) So while she can't read everything in the newspaper about what they've done to help Inkwell due to her limitations, she makes it a personal goal to find them. And let's be real, little shit is persistent and found them within a month. First, Sketch just kinda assumes "Ah, a kid following around an authority figure. That's something that happens quite a bit, didn't think it'd happen to me though." But slowly starts to realize how Rooty isn't exactly in the greatest of places for a home. (Which would be why she's always wandering on the streets and such) It begins to worry them, and they start letting her just follow them when they aren't really on a mission or anything. Just trying to observe anything abnormal about her behaviors (oh there's a lot) After a crime incident where Rooty didn't want to stay behind, Sketch finds out Rooty doesn't like to go home much. They end up walking her home, and find out about how her father can barely keep up with taking care of her, and that he feels guilty for it and wishes she had a better life. Later down the road, when Allen gets black lung and can no longer take care of Rooty at all, Sketch is the one who adopts her. From there, she actually gets a chance to go to school, and realizes she actually has a chance at life, so she actually tries hard to study, as well as aspires to be a police officer. She still visits her dad. Tidbits: Rooty's terrified of large bodies of water, and as a teen developed anorexia. She recovers before adulthood however. Despite being a rootbeer float, she despises sweet things.