#writing this on my phone in bed at 1am is maybe not the move but tldr i am so sorry for your loss but nothing that i shared

[nicollekidman]

Hi Abby, I am uncomfortable saying this off anon for a variety of reasons, please do not think one of them is cowardice. I have followed you for years and years. I’ve come to love so much media because of you and always appreciate your takes. I have chosen to unfollow you now. I am a Jewish person who has been so scared and upset about what the state of Israel is doing to Palestinians and am disgusted by the war crimes committed by Israel. At the same time, I have numerous Israeli friends and family members who have been murdered by Hamas in the last few weeks. Civilians visiting for educational and cultural exchange programs, horrifically killed. Your recently reblogged informational post about how Hamas is not a terrorist organization was deeply upsetting. This may not matter at all to you, but I ask that you consider empathy to all people involved in this issue. Decolonization is important. My friends and family are dead. These two facts can coexist. Just wanted to share this with you because I know many people see your blog and are affected by the information you share.

probably shouldn’t answer this at 1am and you’ve already unfollowed so you probably won’t even see this but i just want to ask you why my sharing resources and information about the reality of hamas and it’s current functioning within gaza / its original charter immediately made you think that i don’t care about loss of human life. there was not a single phrase in that post that minimized victims of the october attack, in fact, not a single phrase in that post took a stance on anything, it was purely informational. frankly, i think it was so measured to dissuade from reactions exactly like this, and if i had written it myself, i would’ve done a worse job.

and if you had been able to push past your knee jerk reaction to reading “they are not a terrorist organization” you would recognize that clarifying language and correcting misconceptions is one of the most important things we can do, both going forward in ending this genocide and looking back on how and why lives have been lost in both israel and palestine.

i have personal empathy and grief for your situation, and i’m so sorry you have suffered loss amongst your community and loved ones. but your loss does not form a shield behind which you are allowed to hide from truth, or force other people to close their mouths when trying to educate themselves and others. we are currently witnessing ongoing mass death, us-backed genocide, and a hugely successful (in the west) propaganda campaign to make this endeavor as Unknowable as possible, especially to those who have never looked into the reality of life in the region. grounding ourselves in recent history, learning more about words and labels that are thrown around weekly, daily, hourly, SPECIFICALLY to justify and excuse the ongoing campaign of death israel has visited upon the palestinian people for decades…. that is the LEAST we are all responsible for. it is your duty, as someone who has lost friends and loved ones, and it is mine, as someone with eyes on their stupid blog, to make every concerted effort to understand and spread the truth, in context, to enrich our own activism and honor the dead.

saying “decolonization is important” while unfollowing me after years bc i shared information about what hamas is, is so empty and meaningless you might as well have not said it at all. thousands of people are actively and endlessly being murdered behind a smokescreen of Terrorism with the VERY SPECIFIC connotations that holds over the west and the US in particular… attempting to relay information that complicates and clarifies your exact knee jerk reaction is the entire point. i hope one day you are able to look a little closer and recognize that your personal hurt in seeing new information that makes you uncomfortable is not important in the scheme of what we are currently trying to prevent

[its-time-to-write]

This may be a bit of a strange idea (Feel free to ignore this request)

But since your about Jaime Tartt baby fic. I had the thought of Jaime trying to give reader a break takes the baby in a stroller to training with Roy and Roy is just kind of like WTF and other hijinks ensue like maybe someone flirts with Jamie with the baby or roy gets left with the baby at somepoint or Reader is freaken out cause the baby is gone. IDK just an idea that has been stuck in my head since I read your baby fic

Dude this request was not strange AT ALL. It was actually nice because it was similar to something I wanted to write, and I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve been doing requests. THANK YOU.

i’ll still be right next to you my dear

Your daughter Bea is five months old. You’re still sleep-deprived, but less than you were a month ago. Jamie does his absolute best as her dad and your husband, but the weight of it still falls to you. Things have gotten considerably less tense, too, since you moved out of the flat and back into your house. It was weird at first, both you and Jamie walking on little eggshells around each other. 

The tension was broken with an all-hands-on-deck moment at 1am, when Bea had a stomach bug or something, and you two had no choice but to just laugh in resignation at the sheer enormity of the mess she made. There go the beginnings of sleep training. 

Bea had her own schedule, one that involved being an early bird like her dad. She would wake up five to ten minutes before his 3:30 alarm went off, and it got to the point where he barely even set it anymore. 

Jamie would get out of bed, throw on some pants, change her, and then zip through his morning routine. He’d put her back to bed, give you a half-awake kiss, then be out the door before Roy could knock. 

(Roy made that mistake early on, waking Bea. You thoroughly chewed him out in an exhausted rage. Jamie says it’s the closest thing he’s ever seen to Roy crying).

Anyway, at 3:55 this Saturday morning, Jamie kisses you, says, “I’ve got Bea, so sleep in,” and is gone before you even know what’s happening. 

You flop back on the pillow and are out in seconds. 

—

“The fuck is this?” Roy says the moment Jamie steps out the door, pushing a happy Bea in her jogging stroller.

“The fuck does it look like?” Jamie replies. “Her mum needed sleep, so Bea’s joining us for training.” He leans over the stroller to look at his daughter and coos, “Isn’t that right, angel?”

Bea makes a delighted gurgle and Roy grunts.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me the great Uncle Roy is daunted by a silly wee baby?” Jamie says, grinning. “You are Bea’s favorite.”

Roy glares at Jamie. “Don’t fucking lie to me, everyone knows Sam’s her fucking favorite. She even likes fucking Isaac better than me.”

Jamie pouts. “Don’t listen to him, Bea. We know you love Uncle Roy, even though he’s being a twat.”

Roy just grunts and looks at Bea. “You know how I feel about you, kid,” he says. She babbles. She knows. 

“Alright, come on. Suppose the stroller gives your dad some extra weight while he runs.”

Jamie grins, and starts jogging down the street.

—

You wake up to the sound of silence. No Bea, no Jamie. Just birds chirping and the sun shining. You squint at the clock. 8:37am. You reach for your phone and see a selfie from Jamie of him, Bea, and Roy marked 7:02am with the caption, headed to breakfast! 

You now have a hazy recollection of Jamie saying something about taking Bea when he left, but it felt like a dream at the time. The silence makes more sense now. 

You smile and send heart emojis. I love you! you type. 

love u 2, Jamie replies. Then: I hope that was for me not Roy?

You shake your head. That boy. He thinks he’s a comedian.

You roll out of bed and stretch. Time for a nice, long shower, then a good coffee from Jamie’s complementary espresso machine. You’re not gonna lie, there are certain perks to being married to a footballer.

—

Meanwhile, Jamie and Roy have stopped for breakfast at a café that Roy says fits in with Jamie’s diet. He says no coffee and Jamie makes a disgusted face and replies you’re not the boss of me, which is why they’re letting Bea decide if Jamie gets coffee or not by seeing who will get her to smile first. 

Jamie wins, of course. It’s part of being a dad. 

They’re sitting at a table outside till 9am, Bea out of her stroller and in Jamie’s arms. They’re on their third cups of coffee and Bea’s draining her bottle of formula like there’s no tomorrow. Jamie is in the middle of stroking Bea’s nose (a miniature version of yours) and watching her eyes blink slow, when two girls walk up to their table. 

“Ohmygod, no way, is that your baby?” one girl asks. 

Jamie looks up and gives a polite, perfunctory, “yeah,” and turns back to Bea. Roy’s sitting back in his seat, ready to watch this unfold. 

“It is like, so totally adorable. There’s something so sweet about a baby, don’t you think?” the other girl says, putting her hand on Jamie’s shoulder. He shifts away as politely as he can. 

“I just think that like, men with babies are so much hotter than men without babies,” girl 1 continues, oblivious to Jamie, who has shifted Bea onto his chest and is displaying his left hand as conspicuously as possible. He taps Bea’s back with his ring finger in what he hopes is an absentminded manner. 

Roy holds back a snort.

“Especially single dads,” says girl 2. “Soo hot. I’ll give you my number if you ever need a babysitter.”

She’s barely done speaking when Jamie blurts out, “I’m married.” He looks so harried that this time Roy can’t hold back a laugh. The girls turn to him with a glare, then back to Jamie. 

“She doesn’t have to know,” says one of them. 

“Pretty sure she does,” Jamie replies. “And anyway, I ain’t interested. Have a good morning.”

Bea, the angel that she is chooses that exact moment to start burping. 

The girls give her a disgusted look and turn away. 

Roy looks at Jamie, eyebrows raised and a ghost of a smile on his face. “Nice fucking move with the ring finger,” he says. “If it were me, I’d’ve fucking given them a different fucking finger.”

“That’s where you and me differ, granddad,” Jamie replies, wiping spit up off his vest (waterproof, thank god), “I’m a gentleman.”

Roy rolls his eyes and shakes his head. 

— 

The windows are open, the laundry is spinning, and you’re dancing around the house. You love Bea, but god you also love good rest. And a clean house. And Jamie Tartt. Man, you love him. You can’t believe he took Bea out for the whole morning and knowing him and Roy, they’ll be out until at least 11am. You smile. That gives you time to head to the shops and pick up some flowers, which will make you feel like a civilized human being, one who has her life together and can take care of her child and her husband and maybe, just maybe, one who is in the mood to get laid tonight. 

—

Jamie and Roy are strolling through Richmond, passing by shops and enjoying what feels like the first lovely day in ages. Jamie hasn’t heard from you since you asked is this shirt clean or dirty? with a picture near the washing machine. He knows Saturday cleaning is like a ritual to you, one you picked up in high school and carried on through college. You have a system and you take your time, windows open and music playing. He can picture you spinning around the house putting things away, and that mental image is enough to make his face split into a smile. He remembers the Saturdays you spent before Bea, you cleaning and dancing, and him, well, not helping but certainly dancing with you and promising that he’ll give you more dirty sheets to wash if you’d just take a tiny little break? In the bedroom? With no clothes on because they need to be washed, wink wink?

It usually worked. 

You’d lay in bed for precisely ten minutes afterward, take a no-nonsense shower, then kick him out of the house. He’d be gone for an hour, buying you that chocolate you liked and whatever flowers he thought suited the day. There’s a good thought. He should get you flowers, a reminder of their early days of romance. And maybe, just maybe, Bea can sleep soundly enough that they can revive other traditions, too. 

“Roy,” Jamie begins.

“No.”

“Oi, you didn’t even let me finish!” he says indignantly.

“Fine. What do you fucking want.”

“It ain’t for me,” Jamie says, “it’s for Bea. And my wife. I want to get her flowers, but it ain’t easy to push the stroller and look. Can you take Bea around the green? I’ll come find ya when I’m done.”

Roy stares at Jamie, and Jamie is sure he’s going to say no. But then Roy walks around to the front of the stroller and crouches down in front of Bea. 

“If your dad fucking goes and gets flowers for your mum, do you promise to be alright for twenty minutes? I know I’m not fucking Sam or Isaac, but Phoebe thinks I’m a good uncle. She’s a proper fucking dweeb, but a good judge of character.”

Bea just stares at him. Roy slaps his thighs and stands up. “Alright,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jamie grins and says, “Bye, Beatrice. Be good for Uncle Roy.” He gives her a kiss on her forehead, a boop on the nose, and is gone, weaving through Richmond, man on a mission. 

“Your mum’s a fucking saint for putting up with him,” Roy says to Bea. Bea says nothing. She’s fallen asleep. Roy shrugs and starts pushing her in the direction of the green. Better asleep than crying. 

—

You’re showered, dressed, with just a touch of makeup, and you’re on your way to the flower shop. There’s this little one you and Jamie used to go to. You know the owner a little, but you suppose Jamie knows her better because he’s been in more. She’s about the age of his mum, and has a soft spot for him. He overpays and always leaves one flower for her. He hasn’t had the time to be over since Bea, so you say hello and show her some baby pictures, and then some of Bea and Jamie. You both laugh over your favorite, Jamie passed out on the couch, mouth open, wearing gray sweatpants and a single sock, with Bea on his stomach in a gray onesie and a single sock. She’s drooling on him and his hair’s a mess, but you think it’s adorably hilarious. Like father, like daughter. 

Now, you’re perusing the flowers. It smells wonderful, the warm weather diffusing the fragrances through the shop. You turn a corner and bonk straight into a man with his back turned to you. You open your mouth to apologize and he turns, and out comes, “Jamie?”

He smiles and you peer behind him. “Where’s Bea? Oh my god Jamie, did you lose our daughter? She had better be close by, I swear to god, Jamie Tartt, how do you lose an entire baby, especially one as noisy as Bea?!” 

You’re oblivious to Jamie’s attempts to interrupt your rant, so when you pause for a breath he says, “love.”

You turn to face him, from where you were trying to stand on your tiptoes hoping for a glimpse of Bea’s stroller. 

“I didn’t lose her. She’s with Roy. D’you really think I’m that irresponsible?” 

He looks so hurt that you realize what you’ve been saying. Your hands fly up to your mouth. Of course Jamie wouldn’t lose Bea. He loves her. He looks at her as though she makes the stars shine. 

“Babe. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just wasn’t expecting to see you, and then I wasn’t expecting to see you without Bea, and I thought I’d surprise you by getting flowers before you both got back, and-” you stop. Jamie is gently holding your face and smiling, no longer hurt. 

“Babe,” he says, “love of me life and best mum around, it’s ok. I know whatcha mean.” He tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Bit funny we had the same idea, innit?”

You smile. You’d been so caught up in your split-second worry about Bea, you didn’t even realize what was happening. 

“Guess some things don’t change,” you reply. “You pick out any good ones?”

Jamie places his hand over his heart. “Love. I only pick out good ones. I picked you, didn’t I?” You laugh at his sparkling eyes, and put your hands on his waist, pulling him close. 

“Pretty sure I picked you,” you reply. 

Jamie hums. “That’s a fuckin lie, and you know it.”

Your feeble retort is cut off by his lips on yours. 

—

You and Jamie walk toward the green, hand in hand. He’s holding bright yellow daffodils in the other. 

Jamie spots Roy first. “Oi!” he yells, “look who I found!”

You wave, jog over to Bea, and crouch down. “Hi baby! I missed you! Did you have fun with Uncle Roy?” Bea babbles at the sound of your voice. 

“Oh good,” you reply, “he is your third-favorite uncle, after all.”

Roy nods. “You fucking get it. Jamie tried to feed me this fucking bullshit that I was fucking number one.”

“Jamie!” you say. “Everyone knows it goes Sam, then Isaac, then Roy.”

Jamie puts his hands up defensively. 

“Honesty,” Roy says, “Such an admirable quality. Remind me again why you’re with this fucking prick?”

You pretend to think for a moment then say, “For his money.”

Jamie says “Oi!” so you quickly amend, “And his smokin’ hot body.”

Jamie nods, satisfied. “That’s better.”

Roy is looking at Jamie in disgust. “You two are so fucking adorable, it’s fucking disgusting. C’mon Bea. I see Sam over by that bench. Let’s give these fucking idiots some time alone.”

You and Jamie turn to each other. 

“He said we’re adorable,” you say, grinning. 

“He said we get alone time,” Jamie says, grinning back. 

“Roy!” you call, “how much time do we have?”

“Three hours!” Sam yells back. “I want to walk Bea to my restaurant!”

You and Jamie turn back to each other, giddy. 

“You know what that means,” you say. 

“Sex,” he replies immediately. 

You laugh and grab his hand. “C’mon, babe. Let’s enjoy our alone time.”

As you walk away, Jamie says, “Oi, need to tell you about these girls who were trying to flirt with me. But don’t worry, I gave them the finger.” He holds up his ring finger and you slap his arm. 

“This is why I love you.”

“Really? And here I only thought you were with me for my money,” he replies. 

“And your hot body. Don’t forget that one,” you say. 

“How could I forget?” he says. “When we get home, let’s put it to some good use.

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader.

You ask for a part 3, you shall receive 😈 I’ve had a few inbox’s and comments asking me for this so I’m happy to continue hehehe, do you all wanna see this series as pure smut or a mix? I think there’s only so much sex I can write 😭😭 this one is a mix so obviously an 18+ warning in place, but it’s not so heavy on smut in comparison to the other two parts.

@allabouthappiness thanks for asking me to tag you!!! If anybody else wants tagging in any of my work lemme know! Christian Horner throws a bbq party after Silverstone, it’s a good nice for the drivers to unwind and have some down time. High of the announcement he’d be racing once again, Daniel is obviously present and celebrating with his second family. The night is running smoothly, or so the Australian thinks, he just can’t get Christians daughter out of his head, and when she arrives later that evening the sexual tension is unbearable between the pair. In such a close proximity to being caught, will Daniel make a move? Or suffer in silence with his undeniable attraction to the younger woman…

“What do’ya want Daniel, a burger? Steak? Or my daughter?” Christian questioned.

“What?!” Daniels head snapped up in shock. “Or a hot dog?” Oh. “Uh, a burger, go on then…” God, he was so in his head. It had to stop, she wasn’t even here and Daniel couldn’t stop thinking about her. There was an odd disappointment that the pretty girl wasn’t there, a sickness deep in his stomach knowing she was at another party than here. He knew it was wrong to feel that way, but after their exchange over text the other evening, he just had to see her.

After a couple of drinks his phone felt heavier than ever in his pocket. He knew she was just a text away and remembered how she’d told him he could have her whenever. Her bedroom was just right up there, maybe when she got home, if she got home tonight, she’d drag him up there. Daniel shook the thought from his head quicker than it arrived, her family was sat right in front of him, and it felt twisted to think such sinful thoughts about Christian’s daughter.

The night grew later, and at around 1AM, Max found the wondering, drunk girl lingering in her kitchen nervously. “Hey, look who I found!” Everybody’s heads lifted in unison, the petite girl standing shyly, waving as Daniel felt his heart jump in his throat. He felt her look at everybody but him, and then, when she finally did, he looked away in pure shyness. What the fuck happened to Dutch courage? Y/n felt her eyes slowly trail across the men and their girlfriends, before they fixated on Daniel. He was fiddling with the beer bottle on his lap, scanning over the logo like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. A gentle smile followed by a slight blush grew on her face. In an odd sense she was worried he’d think she was frigid by not doing anything, but it was kinda difficult when so many people were around in her family home.

When he did look up, they caught eyes for the first time. He almost had to do a double take, especially when she started smiling, angelic and innocent, lingering over his as her body angled away, tits bouncing slightly as she shuffled in her seat. “Have you got any food left?” She then stood up, speaking to her father as Daniel felt his eyes roam over her tight little dress. Fuck. He couldn’t- he shouldn’t. Watching her interact with her family was undeniably sweet and charming, but he felt so guilty. The way he had to adjust himself in his pants ever so slightly at the curves of her body, it was so wrong but he was so hooked. An hour or so later, she’d had enough to drink to make the first move to sit next to him. She had Checo’s jumper on, nipped by the cool British night as Daniel watched them interact in borderline disgust. Christian and Geri had ventured to bed, so had some of the other men, but there was enough people still lingering to make the whole interact with her inappropriate.

“Did you eat the last kebab? Max said he’d save me one but they’re all gone.” She fell against his leg, bum scraping over his thigh, almost as she went to sit on his lap. Her body was pressed against his and her drink sloshed slightly down her bare leg causing a shiny wetness that Daniel wanted to lick clean. “Nah, kebab? I didn’t even get one of those.” The Australian answered, head turned and tilted down so they were face to face. A knowing smile grew on her face as she purposefully looked down to his lips. Daniel thought he’d have a heart attack.

“It was me…” Checo commented, coyly. “Checo!” She groaned playfully, Daniel grimacing when her attention was no longer on him. “What? You’ve got my jumper, that makes up for it!” The Mexican man exclaimed as Daniel ground his teeth together even harder. Was he being paranoid or was he flirting? He knew the Red Bull racer had a bad reputation with women, despite having a wife and four whole children at home. Daniel didn’t respect it.

“Yeah, yeah.” She shook it off, waving her hand before sipping from her glass again. “I’ll take the jumper off you?!” Checo then continued. It took everything in Daniel’s power not to roll his eyes, he couldn’t believe he was the only one hearing this. Even she was a little cringed out, she wasn’t stupid, she knew when a man was openly flirting, but Checo just had one of those personalities, plus she knew his partner, she’d never go there.

“Have it back then… I’ve got millions upstairs.” She teased, pulling it off and throwing it back directly in his face. Daniel liked that, there was no longer the smell of a man’s cologne on her, now it was only her sweet perfume that he found intoxicating. Now they were skin to skin, she purposefully brushed her arm against his, teasing as she fought for a comfortable position for her arm.

“You didn’t try a kebab then?” She turned her attention back to Daniel. “Nah, why, should I have?” He couldn’t hold back the smile the whole time they were talking. “Mmmh, they were good, weren’t they, Checo?” Despite her words being aimed at another man, her eyes were glued to Daniel. For a second or so, Checo eyed up the pair, squinting in confusion. Were they flirting or was he just super drunk? Checo just assumed the second about himself.

“Yeah… they were…”

* “See ya’ guys later.” Daniel waved to Max and Kelly who drove off in their lift back to their hotel. Kelly waved whilst Max’s head hung out of the window, sickened from the mixture of alcohol he’d been consuming all evening. From behind Daniel he felt a hand smooth over his back, causing him to tense seeing it was y/n. She looked so sexy, changed into her oversized T-shirt and shorts that he couldn’t see the bottom of. Daniel could see the press of her hardened nipples against the white material, piercings obvious as he had the most perverted thought to lift the shirt up.

“My Uber’s 15 minutes away.” He then muttered, feeling a little awkward from the silence that took over them. “Oh.” She played with the bottom of the shirt. Daniel could’ve sworn he saw shorts earlier, but he must’ve been fooled because there definitely was no material covering her thighs. Fuck, he had such easy access to her cunt, something he’d basically dreamt of for endless nights. Alone now, Daniel’s eyes fixated on the bare of her tan skin, fists balling at either side of him.

She let out a sigh, questioning how the hell they could do everything they wanted in the space of fifteen minutes. Much to her disappointment, they couldn’t. But the alcohol buzzing through her bloodstream wouldn’t allow him to leave without even the smallest of a kiss. Her hand slowly closed the door, pulling the bolt on as he gulped, blinking away, back to the floor below. Feeling himself sway, he slammed a hand against the door, preventing himself from falling. When he did he caught her fingers under his own. “You okay?” She giggled, head tilting up to him. “A little drunk.” He rubbed over his face quickly. For some reason he didn’t want her to know that he couldn’t get the thought of her sweet cunt out of his head.

“Just a little?” She teased, his hand still resting on her own. “More than a little, fuck.” He snickered as she had the overwhelming urge to kiss him. “So am I.” She giggled, wrapping her two smaller fingers over his and nudging his hand slowly down the door. Daniel’s hand moved with ease, eyeing up the movement as she lead it down to her ass. Daniel swallowed, feeling her soft skin as he gripped on her flesh, squeezing a handful of her ass gently. “Hm.” She hummed out gently, moving her hand up over his shoulder, followed by the other, almost as though she was testing the waters. Daniel nudged his face closer, dipping his head as he inhaled the scent of her perfume once more. Fuck, she smelt so good. Their faces were so close, nudging closer, each aching for contact. “Kiss me, Daniel… nobody’s here.” She whispered, trailing a hand down the back of his scalp. She’d needed him all evening, craved the close proximity between them. Now she only had 15 minutes of it? “You want me to?” Why was he nervous? She’d nodded with the slightest moan, making the first move to press her lips against his own. The kiss was gentle, soothing, it ignited a fire in both their chests.

He’d moved in closer, kissing her a little deeper, but when he heard a thumping noise from upstairs he jumped back, eyes wide in worry. “It was just the dog…” she giggled. “Oh.” He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. Sure enough, the door came scurrying down, heading towards his water bowl in the kitchen.

Taking him gently by the jaw, she moved her lips to the soft skin of his neck. Her smooth lips moved over the sensitive area, kissing and sucking with the lightest pressure. Daniel’s palm was back on the door, pressing to avoid the urge to just grab her body. “Touch me, Daniel.” She sensed the worry in him. “I can’t.” He shakily exhaled, penetrated by the worry that her dad could possibly come down and catch them. He wanted to, he really wanted to. “If I start I won’t be able to stop.” He admitted as she swallowed a little, smiling simply and kissing his cheek.

She pulled off, and Daniels eyes opened again seeing her ready to spin away. He couldn’t bare it, “no.” So he grabbed her arm, keeping her in place. “No, no.” He muttered, pulling them around his neck again. Fuck… he couldn’t touch her but she could- “talk to me.” Daniel borderline pleaded, closing his eyes again as the swell of her breasts pushed up against him, nipples hard against his top. “Talk to you?” She teased, pushing her hips up to his. He was already rock hard, fuck, she bet he hurt straining against his jeans like that. “Talk to me. Tell me everything you want me to do to you.. please, y/n.” He was speaking quickly now, hands now gripping at her hips as she pressed up against him.

“So I can’t kiss you… and you can’t touch me, but you wanna hear everything I want you to do to me?” She blinked back to him, a fake confusion taking over her face. Daniel nodded, dropping his head so he could look at her better.

“Why are you torturing yourself like that?” She giggled again, hearing him groan. “M’ not messing around.” A hand slid up her body, onto her neck, gripping her throat as she let out a breathy moan. Fuck, she didn’t know he had that in him. It turned her on 10x more and she wasn’t quite sure if she could cope with Daniel holding off for much longer.

“Fuck, why are you winding me up like this?” She whined, grabbing a hold of his arm. It was the first time she’d let the confident guard down, staring up to him with pleading eyes. “Please Daniel, please… please. Nobody knows…” she whispered, feeling his hand smooth up to her jaw. Daniel felt himself losing control and had to snap back into reality, gritting his teeth as he held her close. “You know I can stay quiet for you.” Her hands tan dangerously close to the top of her jeans. Daniel let out an inward moan, frustrated by how close he was to feeling so good with her. He stumbled back against the door, head looking back as she fell with him, fingertips grasping around the material of his pants.

Spurred on by his hardness she let out a gentle hum, gazing up to him again. “I can be your good girl, Daniel. If you just want me to talk to you, then that’s all I’ll do… I won’t touch.” Deep down she knew he wouldn’t resist, he could barely even look back into her eyes or he’d lose his mind.

“I won’t touch you ever again if you don’t want that.” God no. That’s not what Daniel wanted. He took her by the back of the head, holding her close as he pressed his lips to her forehead, inhaling the scent of her freshly washed hair. It reminded him of the time they’d fucked in the changing room, her ass pressed against his hips, his cock so deep inside of her… he wanted it again, fuck he knew he couldn’t but he needed it.

“I need you.” Daniel told her, shaking his head as she gripped at his shirt. “Then take me, fuck, you’re making it so hard on yourself. You’re not doing anything wrong.”

“You’re 22.” He muttered, lips moving against her forehead. “And your dad is- is upstairs… he’s my princi-“ “And he has no fucking clue you’re down here with me.” She told him firmly, sliding a hand back down to the hem of his jeans. “He never will. It’s only me and you.” She kissed his jaw once more. Daniel felt himself losing control, again, his hand sliding up her shirt, grazing over the thin material of her underwear, over her waist and stomach. “You’ve got five minutes to do whatever the fuck you want to me, or I’ll just go upstairs and do it myself.”

“Not upstairs, do it here, do it now.” Daniel choked out, fingers curling over her underwear and yanking them down. “Please, please. I can’t touch you, I won’t, but I can watch you.” He shook his head as she bit down on her lip, enjoying the slight control he had over her. “Why can’t you touch me?” Her voice was light and airy as her black underwear fell to the floor. She’d purposefully changed into them just for him to see.

“Not now.” Daniel hushed, guiding her hand to her pussy, she felt herself, already wet, running her fingers over the sensitive bud. “I want you to-“ he cut her off with a bruising kiss. “Just do it. For me, please.”

Her fingers rolled at her words, almost falling back into the wall, but Daniel pulled her close again, holding her waist close as he could feel the slow moving of her hand. “Faster.” Daniel instructed, against her mouth, hearing her moan as she continued to pleasure herself.

“Want ya’ to make yourself cum before I leave.” Daniel shook his head, unable to get enough of her kiss. “I can’t-“ she went to whine fingers dipping in her wetness, it would never feel as his would. “Yes you can.”

“Need you Daniel, please, need you to touch me. Your fingers would feel so good inside of me.” She drunkly babbled, keeping her voice low as Daniel’s forehead rested against hers. He felt undeniably turned on, his cock was throbbing in his trousers and it took everything inside of him to not pull his pants down and give her what she wanted. “So beautiful.. you look so beautiful doing this, y/n.” He breathed out, overwhelmed by her beauty. Her lips were slightly agape and plump from where they’d been kissing, her eyes were lazily focused on him, and there was a slight knot of pleasure between her brows. Daniel kissed there once more before meeting her lips.

He’d felt something funny inside of him, not for the first time, and it wasn’t because he was drunk either. They were real butterflies, fuck, that wasn’t good- but the way she was sighing was angelic- he almost couldn’t stop himself. The alcohol fuelled his sex drive, and also his anxieties. How could they ever be together? Woah- together? Where did that come from? Daniel pulled back from the kiss, looking over her face once again. So pretty, so youthful, she had her whole life ahead of her, what were they even doing? “Daniel.” She whimpered, and he couldn’t stop. No matter what his brain was telling him, he was too entranced by her. God, he knew it was wrong, so wrong, but it felt too good to stop. “I got you.” He hushed, tilting her chin up to meet in a kiss. She felt blissful, the relief of the touch was good, but if it was his touch it would’ve been better. His hand flattened over hers, fingers on top of hers, mimicking the action, he was so close, yet not close enough.

Sneaking her hand away, his fingers finally sunk into her wetness, but it was cut acutely short when the buzzing of his phone interrupted them both. The Uber. Fuck. “Shit.” Daniel cursed as she awkwardly reached down to pull her underwear up. Her teeth sunk down into her bottom lip, looking at him through her eyelashes as he answered the phone, telling them he’d be out in a second.

“Sorry.” He whispered, leaning forwards and pecking her on the lips quicker than she could process. “See you later, Daniel…” “Fuck- I-I’ll make it up to you. Some how.”

[gobletofmilk]

hours of the day ranked

1. 6pm 6pm is the best hour of every day because this is when you are eating dinner. sometimes it doesn't happen in this hour but when it does, this is why we are on earth. dinner. it's also good because you eat dinner then. 

2. 7pm i love this hour because if you have eaten dinner already you have a good 4-5 hours of true free time. you can literally do whatever, spend time with friends, read, write, watch a movie, or do what god herself placed us on this earth to do which is rot in bed and look at phone.

3. 12pm yummy lunch time 

4. 4am I'll fight all of you on this but 4am is here because of that sweet sweet rem. you know how good sleep feels at 4am? you kidding me? this is why i LIVE.

5. 12am there's just something special about midnight you know. it's just cool. if you're still awake the vibes are kinda crazy you know. if you're with friends then the vibes are even crazy er. i love it when it is midnight. 

6. 3pm i haven't been in school for years (like millions of years), but there is no denying the power of 3pm. home time. it's also the peak time in the afternoon. lots of shenanigans to be had at 3pm you know

7. 5pm this is like like school ending but for adults although i don't have a job that ends at 5 i just kind of work whenever and it is so bad for my work life balance because i end up working at the worst times and don't give myself enough time to relax but if i had a normal job this would be the best time

8. 10pm sleepy vibes you know

9. 8pm i really like this time because i'm usually right into a movie or something or playing a game or rotting in bed usually rotting 

10. 4pm it's interesting at this point we are starting to get to the hours i'm not too fond of. don't get me wrong i'm a fan of 4pm, but my brain just turns off around this time every day. i can't get anything done. it sucks. i'm not a morning person or an afternoon person or an evening person tbh.

11. 11pm hey that's a good placement

12. 5am such a risky hour. if you're getting good rem then it is the greatest hour in the world. but if you wake up at 5am and still want to have a little more sleep. god. kill me. it happened to me this morning and it has just ruined my day

13. 9pm it's kind of sad at 9pm because the night is coming to an end and it's like sad and stuff??

14. 1pm i ated all my lunch :(

15. 10am hey this is usually like a snack time so that is good. but you have a whole work day ahead of you and it's like ugh lame you know. if it is a day off though 10am can be pretty exciting. i'm usually rotting in bed around 10am

16. 2pm controversial maybe but this time isn't it. i want to go home you know i don't have three hours of work left in me.

17. 11am the most nothing hour ever created what even happens at 11am

18. 1am not for me

19. 2am like 1am but slightly worse 

20. 3am like 2am but slightly worse

21. 8am of all of the morning hours, this one is the least offensive. you're usually eating breakfast or just commuting and listening to music so hey, it gets a pass i suppose. morning sux.

22. 7am the only good thing about 7am is your bed is so comfortable, but like why can't we take that comfort and move it to other parts of the day. i gotta get up at 7am, don't do that to me.

23. 6am kill me now it's so over

24. 9am imagine being henry time, inventor of time, and thinking you know what is a good idea? 9am? what a fool. i'm so upset this time should not exist. so sick and twisted.

[moonxmagix]

A Room Full of Silence

A/N: Hey !! This is not what I usually post so I apologize. I really wanted to write about my feelings of these past few weeks/months. It was such a in the moment story, and was able to get it done in maybe 30 minutes max. Enjoy !

There I sat on the edge of my bed, in the deafening silence of my dimly lit room. It wasn’t clean by any means, clothes scattered, makeup taking up space on my vanity, posters hanging on the wall, some beginning to peel away from aging tape. 

I sighed while taking a bite of the donut that was bought for me at the end of the night. Another date, failed. I spent so much time getting ready and dedicating myself to this one person, ignoring anyone who dared to talk to me. Thinking anything would come from it. 

If they saw your room, that disinterest would only worsen between us I thought to myself. I got up  still in my uncomfortable date clothes tidying up my room. I normally would change as soon as I got home due to my sensory issues but I felt too numb. My body is almost trying to savor the moments of the night. 

Clothes were put away, put in the laundry, makeup was organized neatly in draws, posters hung up with new tape, plants were watered. I felt accomplished in my work, I checked the time to see it hit 1AM. My date clothes were put in the wash while I put on my t-shirt that sported my comfort character and pajama bottoms. 

My comfort character could never hurt me, they’d be perfect for me. Right? I thought to myself. 

I turned the lights off, my fairylights casting a faint glow making it hard but not impossible to see in my room. I took my glasses off and  reached for my phone, no messages or new notifications. I sighed, not even a “Hope you got home safe!” text. 

I went and searched for the content of my favorite character. Giggles filled the room as my infatuation grew deeper. I decided to check my dating apps and swipe. Finding a few men I thought weren’t too bad. 

~

My alarms blared and I hesitantly arose from my coffin. I did nothing but rot there anyway. I went about my morning and decided to check my dating apps. One guy in particular caught my eye, long brown hair, dead sleepy eyes, skinny, almost dead, just my type I thought. We clicked instantly and our energies bounced off perfectly against one another. 

After spending a week talking we decided to meet up at my place for a movie night and some takeout. We matched even better in person, calling me beautiful, telling me how he liked my stretch marks and how they complimented me perfectly. Unable to keep his hands off me for a second, whining when I had to get up even a couple seconds. 

I knew this person was different, there was a special bond between us. He left that night and his smell lingered on my pillows, smiling from the joy of another person's touch. But that feeling soon changed, my lips tightened, my nose burned, and tears welled in my eyes. 

~

The second time we hung out, not even a date which is fine I guess. I’ll make an exception for him. Do I dare bring it up? Oh god no, you don’t wanna seem desperate do you? Let him make the moves. 

There he stood at my door, dressed in sweatpants and a band t-shirt. Similar to something I’d wear, I talked to him about my sensory issues and he understood surprisingly enough and said he related to me. It was such a sigh of relief not having to explain yourself and the way you acted. 

He left again that night, smiling and giggling, smelling, showering, and then crying. At least he told me he had a good night, right?

~

This is the third time he’s coming over! Maybe I’ll dress up a little more, maybe then he’ll ask me. Right? We cuddled, watched movies, talked about the stuff we love and dream about, we laughed until he spoke, “Just so you know, I’m not looking for anything serious,” my face drops. 

The energy shifted and he knew that. “I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner. We can still do this though with just no strings attached,” he said, trying to sound remorseful. I just nodded, clenching my jaw to stop myself from crying. “Yeah,” is all I could say, choking back tears. 

The rest of the night was tense, not much touching went on. Conversation was dim and held no substance. What did I do wrong? My apartment was clean. My makeup was done up nicely, not too heavy but not too light. Did I say something? Is it because of how I look? 

“It’s getting late, I should go,” he said, his words uncomfortable and awkward. I led him to the door, not even taking him fully out like I would usually do. Not a “goodnight”, not a “I’ll see you again”, not a “I had fun”. Just an odd, uncomfortable smile and wave. 

~

I shut the door and locked it, the sounds of the horror movie we were watching filled the room. The screaming and pleading of the victims were comforting to me this particular night. Is it because they were suffering along with me? 

I sat at the edge of my bed and sighed. Looking at my disheveled room, I didn't think it could get this messy this quick. The dissociation kicked in, there I sat frozen in place for hours. Unable to do anything with myself.

I pushed myself back into bed, clothes remained scattered scarcely along the floor, posters remained un-taped, food scraps and garbage remained on my nightstand, plants remained unwatered. 

But the next one will be different, right?

[moralalee]

21/08/2024 (2)

It is still a Wednesday. Just barely, it’s about 12:30am so technically I’m going to be talking about yesterday.

Woken up by Luca again. Again, a struggle to get out of bed. Some things never change. I got up, fed the baby boy, took my pill and knocked on BF’s door to make sure she was awake. She was meant to have gotten up at 6 but hadn’t managed to. She was supposed to have already gone for a shower. I apologised and told her I had to go for mine and that I always do at the same time every day. She understood.

CW had sent a bunch of long paragraphs to the group chat. He had spent the night hanging out with the girl he likes, who he’s totally not in a situationship with and who had already told him she doesn’t want a relationship. He was ecstatic cause they had been blurring the line between friends and more, and he was surprised when the rest of us told him he was playing with fire. It’s hard to sit back and watch someone do something you know is just going to get them hurt. He says he knows what he’s doing, but I think if he really got it, he wouldn’t put himself in the position he is. He just keeps getting his hopes up and thinking she’s going to change her mind.

Had my shower, got dressed while responding to the group chat. Was feeling pretty awful this morning. Maybe I was just tired or maybe it was due to something else, I don’t know. Got to work early, as per. SC told us that BR is going to be out for two weeks on a sick line. This sent me spiralling a little bit. I know realistically we’ll be fine, but I was feeling so awful at that moment and I knew that this meant I had to hold things together. I can’t be feeling sorry for myself because there’s just too much to be done.

Side note, I just had to get up and check on Luca and he’s randomly so obsessed with the kitchen sink. Doesn’t do anything, just sits and stares at it. And earlier today he started yowling and I went through and he was just sat inside the bathtub. He was totally fine, could jump out himself, it just seemed like he wanted me to see him there.

Back to it, work was uneventful aside from that. Got on with things, felt like I wasn’t pulling my weight enough, CA checked in with me which was nice of him. It’s started raining really heavy today which has made me happy. I love the rain and I feel like we haven’t had any properly in a while. Yesterday (well, Monday) when I drove home from mum & dad’s it was raining hard and I was listening to the Life is Strange soundtrack, it was so nice. I hope we start getting more rain in autumn.

Another side note, Luca just did the tub thing again. Reddit said maybe he just likes the sound of his own voice or maybe he’s thirsty (he has a cat fountain so shouldn’t be really) so I turned on the tap and now he’s just playing in the water. It’s nearly 1am, lmao. He’s now figured out how to turn the tap and moved it so there was tons of water.

In the afternoon at work, I had nothing left to do. I had already finished up my tasks in the morning and the phone was barely ringing. Tried asking SC for more stuff but really there was nothing I was needed for. I had a thought before then with my baking about how it would be fun to sort of log it and keep track of my progress, like vlog or something. And then this afternoon I thought “Maybe I could blog, it would be easier to write things out and I could talk about things I’m interested in too, like if there’s a game I’m into or a topic I’m passionate about.” I thought about different ways I could do that, like Squarespace or whatever but I knew it would be ridiculous to pay for my own website. Then I remembered Tumblr exists. I went to sign up with an email address I assumed I didn’t have an account with already, but it turns out I did. I reset my password, logged in and found all of this. I had nothing to do anyway, so I sat and read my old entries and listened to the music I posted. When I reached the end, I kind of felt like crying (although I had felt pretty weepy today anyway).

I had a whole different life back then. I had so many people I used to think about and be friends with, so many worries, and now everything is different. The crush I wrote about, the pandemic, skiving like half my classes (seriously, pretty much every entry I read had “I skived this class today”).

I considered archiving the old posts and setting the account up fresh for my baking idea, and then I thought I should keep the old posts. They are a part of me and it makes me happy having them here, I want them to exist in the same space as the new posts I make.

When I got home, I yapped away to BF, just blabbering really. I had felt so bored in the afternoon that it felt good to just chat about nothing. She was trying to read though and I didn’t want to interrupt her by watching stuff or anything, so I decided to go nap even though I wasn’t really tired. It gave me a chance to reboot a bit though. I felt better afterwards. Had pizza for dinner and watched Law and Order: SVU. All in all, a pretty typical day. I’m gonna make a little list though of things I want to get done tomorrow, because currently I’ve been feeling so exhausted that I’m getting lazy with it.

• Wash dishes - ridiculous pile there, needs dealt with

• Clean Luca’s litter tray

• Do a partial water change of William’s tank

Luca is being particularly active right now so I’m really hoping he settles now that I’m going to try to sleep. He’s been bouncing about for the half hour I’ve been writing this. Instead of the usual gif, I’ll have our footer be the picture I took of Luca when he decided to sit in the bath. Goodnight!

[even-if-in-another-time]

YOURE DATING SOMEONE???? HOW??? WHEN???

THIS IS THE THIRD ASK AJDJDKBDKDBDJD IM DECEASED /POS

[thirstybitchs]

1:00AM

Summary: someone can’t sleep

Warnings: Nothin but fluff. maybe a lil kissing

Word Count: 760

Author’s note:  I wrote this cus I big sad this week and I just needed some fluff. please enjoy. It is unedited, mostly.

Reblogs and Feedback are greatly appreciated and highly encouraged.

You don’t even register when he clambers out of bed. You don’t stir when there’s a clatter from the kitchen, followed by cursing. Oh, no, it’s not until a good hour later that the oven bell pulls its way into your dream, and the smell of…fresh baked cookies? Beings you right out. You open your eyes slowly, the other half of your bed left abandoned before you.

 There’s a shuffle on the other side of the door. And you stand up, and pull on the first tshirt your hand finds in the dark. You find your way to the door, and slowly open it to Taylor Swift and a stream of light from the adjacent kitchen. The sight before you, is one you hadn’t seen yet.  And one that thrilled you to absolutely no end. There. In the middle of your kitchen, stood Foggy Nelson. In his Captain America boxers, his wrinkled button up, and that damn pink apron he’d stolen from his mother. The one with the pink frills and kiss marks, and the burn book style writing ‘kiss the chef’ across the chest.

He’s dancing, shaking his ass as he pulls the fresh sheet of cookies from the oven, replacing it with the next sheet. You glance at the clock. 1:03am.  Foggy’s closed the oven now, and he goes to mix the next bowl, pausing to whisper-scream along to  the chorus of Paper Rings. It’s not until mid twirl that he sees you there, phone out, and pointed at him.

Your name leaves his lips in the most adorable little whisper, a blush crawling across his face. He hadn’t been expecting you to catch him.

“Foggy, darling, what on earth?” You walk over, setting your phone down on the counter.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He says with a small laugh, putting the whisk in the bowl of dough. “And I know you love mama’s cookies.”

“It is 1am, baby” you laugh gently,  brushing his hair off his face, and behind his ear, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Ah, I know, but I’m almost done. I’m sorry if I woke you” he says, returning the kiss. He turns back to his bowl, and offers you the bag of chocolate chips. “Here, you do the honours”

“Oh, no, Love. We measure this shit with our hearts.” He says as you grab a measuring cup. You let out a laugh, and drop the cup.

“Yes yes, how could I forget” you roll your eyes and pour a hearty amount into the remaining dough, and Foggy grins as he folds them in. You hop up on the counter behind him to watch. He sizes each one out with a scoop, bopping his head along to the music playing.  When they’re all laid out on the tray, he turns back to you, delighted that you’re still awake and here.

“That pink really is your colour.” You say, motioning for him to join you. And he does, standing between your knees.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You're exhausted aren’t you?”

“Lil bit, but If I don’t drag you to bed when the cookies are done, you’ll be up until the sun joins you.” You run your hands over the apron,  along his arms, and back up, one hand stroking his cheek. Foggy closes his eyes, and presses his head to yours, hands resting on your thighs.  

 Your lips brush his, and there are some, tired but loving kisses, Foggy stroking your hair, just the way that makes your eyes roll back. Time seems to be moving slowly as you stay like that, little gentle kisses, hands in hair. It’s not until the beep of the oven timer sends a shock through both of you, that you part with a sigh.

  “I could put the other ones in in the morning if you’d rather head to bed” he suggests, totally hiding the fact he now was ready to drop.

“You sure?” You ask, pushing the dishes into the sink, as he covers the unbaked cookies and puts them in the fridge.

“I’m sure, my love. C’mere.” He says, tossing the apron over the counter and scooping you up, carrying you the few short steps back to bed.

“I love when you call me that”

“I know, my love” he chuckled.

“Goodnight Fog.”

He returns the sentiment, your name a barely audible breath as he lays his head on your chest, arm draped around your hips, holding you soft.

You smile, stroking his hair until you too, feel the overwhelming peace of the night envelop you again.

[tommyspeakycap]

again, your new john stones fic blew me away!!! Amazing. Please feel free to write about him all day every day!! <3

thank you again!! here’s another sweet one inspired by my own 1am experience tonight :) i wish I had a john stones

My hero

Your heart is quite literally thundering in your chest. There’s no feeling like it, this kind of fear that sticks you to the ground beneath your feet. You honestly feel like you can’t catch your breath, tears streaking down over your flushed cheeks as you hold your phone in your right hand with trembling fingers, one thumb finally letting go of the little microphone shaped drawing in your iMessages app. Even the whooshing sound of the message you knew was about to send to your best friend catches you off guard, making your shoulders clench and raise in fright.

“Are you seriously alright??”

She texts back, her confusion and teasing is something you know is laced into those letters across the screen creating a glow in the dim room. You roll your eyes at her, trying to keep your vision up while sending another voice note back; “No, seriously. Why does this only ever happen when I’m alone??”

“Probably because you live alone?” She replies back, and you curse yourself for a choice of friends who clearly have no empathy for what you consider to be a very serious situation. You know you won’t hear the end of this teasing once it’s all over. But the fear to you is all too real.

“(Y/n) I got your text! Came right here, are you alright?”

The sudden voice makes you literally clench your entire body, nearly shooting off the floor in fright and making one of those internalised fear noises that sounds like you just been attacked with a taser. You hear keys dropping down by the door and then a pause of his footsteps as you try to catch your breath. Your heart swells a little at the thought of him being here.

“John!” You yelp, your voice coming out something more like a strangled cry. The tall defender hears that sound and finds himself in panic, those long legs carrying him quickly and easily up the stairs of your small home until he spots you standing now in the doorway of your bedroom. He rushes towards you, seemingly checking you over for potential injuries the best he can in the darkness only broken by the lowest setting of flashlight on your phone. The first thing he notices when checking over your face with his hands is the wetness still making its way over your cheeks.

“Are you alright? what happened? Is there someone in there? Are you okay? Did someone hurt-“

You cut off his rambling with a finger over his lips, creating even more confusion for the fluffy haired brunette who had very clearly rolled himself out of bed to hurry over here. He was wearing shoes without socks, dirty shorts from training that he’d thrown off before going to bed only to pull back in to come to your, and an old sweater that usually sat somewhere downstairs in the closet closest to the door. It was obvious he had come in a wild rush the second he got your erratic message.

“It’s a wasp, John!” You whisper, as if the little creature that sitting on your lightbulb unwilling to move from the place you couldn’t reach and wouldn’t dare to even if you could, was able to hear you.

“A wasp?” John repeats incredulously. “Seriously?”

You nod vigorously, and and as much as the exhausted footballer wants to complain or even sigh at you, he doesn’t. Maybe he can’t. Because he’s got his arms around you and he definitely can feel you quivering against him. He had expected something more along the lines of a one night stand gone wrong or even someone breaking it, but as his consciousness began to catch back up with his previously very sleepy self, it made a lot more sense. In the event of a break in, you would probably have been bloody calmer than you are now to be honest. John had seen you after a pretty dangerous car crash completely still and relatively calm as you gave statements to police officers with blood still trickling down your face. But put an insect in your path and you scaled the closest thing to you for protection.

It just so happened that closest thing was often John Stones, and he was happy to be that person really.

It has become a norm between the two of you in the years you had been friends. Winter was the worst for spiders, but he generally didn’t mind the mildly irritating insects. He just got rid of them one way or another while you hid as far as you could get and then he’d come get you when the coast was clean. But you hated summer for this particular reason.

Wasps.

They fly in, fly into things and somehow never make it back on the window on their own despite it being the most easy thing one could ever imagine. Then, they try and sting you as if they aren’t in your house. They just creep you out, even the sight of them with their nasty little bodies. Bees aren’t a problem, they’re fuzzy looking and don’t intrude in your home nearly half as much. Also, they don’t try to sting you all the damn time.

“Where abouts?” He asks, his voice showing no hint of any destain or irritation he may harbour. “On the light,” you tell him shakily, following close to him back as you both enter the room. “Right up there- careful!”

John sniggers a little to himself, much to your dismay. He kicks off his shoes by your bedside table and climbs up onto the bed with ease on those ridiculously long legs. By luck, chance or both, he has some toilet paper in his hoodie pocket that he’d probably used to wipe his nose or something like that earlier, he can’t remember. He holds it out at arms length, only inches away form the unsuspecting black and yellow insect. “Where?” He asks again, “I can’t see anything.”

“There!” You insist, pointing up with a shaking finger. “I don’t see anything (y/n).” He repeats, making you whimper slightly, more tears suddenly appearing as you try to come to terms with the fact it might’ve moved while you were outside the room. The thought of having to sleep in your house while not knowing where it was would send you absolutely mental. “It was there I swear, look-“

“Ahhh, I got it. Stand back.”

He leans forward with relative ease, careful with the force he used so close to a live electric source and grips the buzzing creature in his tissue. “There we go,” he hums, stepping down from the bed. “All go-“

As if on cue, it flies out of the paper and you let loose a literal shriek as you dive backwards, crashing into the wall and then jumping forward in fright at that. “Woah!” John calls, “it’s alright, it’s right there. Calm, calm. Take a deep breath. Look,” he tries to calm you. That deep accent with his fatigue coating each word seeps into you, carefully calming your firing heart as he grabs it tighter from the floor, making sure he squashed it this time and immediately takes it to flush it down the toilet. John doesn’t know if you’re supposed to kill them or not, but at this moment in time he genuinely does not care. Was he fuck going to chase a wasp out of a window at half past one in the morning. Not a chance.

When he returns from the bathroom now empty handed, you still seem upset.

“That was scary.” You announce.

John smiles, pearly whites all on display. “I noticed.” He teases, making you scowl tiredly at him.

That scowl falters when his smile breaks into a light, soft laugh and he moves to stand in front of you. You absolutely don’t mind the fact that he’s babying you a little, using the sleeves of his sweater to wipe your cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and taking you into his strong arms. In fact, it’s very much welcomed. His arms are the safest place in the world to you and even the residual discomforted shivers from the concept of a wasp in your bedroom couldn’t get through that defender. He looks after a lot more than just the Manchester City goal line. No, he’s the sole defender of something much more precious that he doesn’t even realise.

Your heart.

“You okay now?” He asks softly, his tired voice rumbling through you. You nod against him, “Feeling a bit better. Thank you Stonesy.” You mumble, words muffled by the muscled chest that your face his resting against. “Anything for you, lovely.” He responds easily, pulling back from you in a way that aches his heart. The sudden lack of your warmth and presence against him is utterly brutal. He loves holding you, but hates it in the same breath. He would love to hold you if it was something he got to do freely instead of fleetingly.

His eyes are stuck watching you sit down on the edge of your bed to grab your phone and check the time with an element of shock rolling through your eyes when you realise it’s nearly two.

“You got training tomorrow?” You ask sweetly, a yawn following the tail end of your words adorable in a way that makes John’s heart flutter like a teenage boy. He nods, “Not till after dinner though, around 5.”

It’s your turn to nod, seeming to be chewing over something in thought as you lie down in the middle of your bed.

“Wanna stay then?”

John has to pretend to think about it at least a little bit so he doesn’t look like he’s jumping right up at the opportunity, which is exactly what he wants to do. “Why not,” he shrugs, chucking off his hoodie to the foot of your bed, “Scoot over.”

He clambers in, long limbs moving nowhere near as coordinated as they are on the pitch as he lays down by your right. It’s like a familiar dance, one you both know so well as you shuffle around so you can lay against his chest, one leg hooked over him as his arm wraps around you to pull you even closer. A silence falls between you as he feels your eyelashes fluttering shut, tickling his chest. He can’t find that same relaxation, can’t seem to shut his eyes for the thoughts flying through his mind all at once.

“I should teach you how to catch them.” John states, rumbling voice interrupting the peaceful quiet in which you had nearly found sleep. “You know, for the future.” He adds almost flippantly. Almost.

“Why?” You hum groggily, sleep croaking your voice ever so slightly. “I got you.”

John has to pretend your half asleep admission doesn’t send his heart flying into his throat. You do always have him, right there in the palm of your hand. Always.

“I don’t think other guys would appreciate me barging into their house in the middle of the night.” He suggests, making you quirk an eyebrow in question, but you still don’t look up at him and he isn’t even sure if you’ve got your eyes fully open. “No other guys here,” you state, “Single, living all alone.” You add lazily. The words almost make John wonder if he has fallen asleep, each one spoke playing straight into the dream he’s had for years for you to be his.

“Yeah, I know but…but there will be, at some point.” He suggests. You give no response for a moment and he briefly thinks you’ve fallen asleep at some point in this conversation.

“Bet those other guys wouldn’t come get rid of wasps for me in the middle of the night like you do.”

“Maybe,” John shrugs, “but I think there’s plenty of guys like that, especially for you.”

He feels you shake your head against him, your words decisive as you speak;

“There are no guys like you, John Stones.”

His words and his breath are caught on his throat, his heart erupting in his chest as he replays those words in his mind, trying to figure out if he had actually just heard them or if his tired mind was playing tricks on him because it was so late and he hadn’t had enough sleep.

But then you look up at him with tired eyes and a sweet smile. You know what you’ve just done, know the bomb you’ve just dropped and you’re hoping with everything crossed that he feels the same way.

“You’re my hero, Stonesy.” You say softly, your voice now a little sheepish and he can barely just make out the flush of your cheeks in the dim room lighting. “And I love you with everything I have.”

He doesn’t know what to say, his eyes wide as his heart beats as erratically as he had felt yours beating when he first arrived with fear coursing through his veins thinking you were in some kind of mortal peril.

“John?” You ask timidly, voice sheepish as you sit up in fear.

“Sorry,” he rumbles, pushing himself to a seated position, allowing him to lean forward and slide his hand around the back of your head to pull you into him, your lips crashing down onto his.

It’s just about everything he’s ever wanted.

“God I love you.” He says against your lips, a groan leaving his throat from pure satisfaction, pure relief of finally getting those words off of his chest. You giggle, resting back against his chest. “Can we sleep now, please?”

He nods, both of you shuffling so you can resume the position you had been in before a life changing confession that had spun you and the Barnsley brunette into the kiss that had been years in waiting. This was the happiest either of you had probably ever been.

“Guess we have the wasps to thank for this eh?” John lulls just as sleep is about to encompass you. He feels you shiver against him, the hairs on your arms immediately raising to attention at the mention of that which you hate so much.

“Don’t say that! That’s basically an invitation for them to invade my house!” You hiss, giving his chest a gentle swat as he pulls you closer to his side.

“Let them come,” he says almost triumphantly, “You got me now, always.”

You cosy yourself against him, a soft sigh of complete content and comfort tickling his chest as it dances across him. He feels that gentle smile that settles onto your gestures as your heavy eyes allow sleep to truly begin to take you.

“Always,” you mumble, words diluted by sleep “My hero.”

[peaxhcringe]

Late Work

I wrote this at 2am because I got the idea and decided why tf not write this, it’s also very much my way of avoiding sleep 😌 Enjoy!

Genre: Comfort, Fluff

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x gn! reader

Warnings: a bit of cussing, stress, mentions of taking medication

wc: 1K

It was another night of you staring at your laptop screen, the bright light shinning in your eyes giving you you’re third headache of the week. You have no idea how long you’ve stared at the same worksheet, maybe an hour? 2? You lost track after the clock hit 11:30 pm.

Typically you’d be asleep by now, as it was a Sunday night -well Monday morning by now- but here you were doing some assignments you had managed to forget about. You totally blame Kaminari for this, if he hadn’t decided to make a stupid bet with you in Mario Kart you’d be sound asleep by now.

An annoyed sigh left your mouth as you rested your elbows on the wooden desk, letting your face fall into your hands and your eyes close. You were beyond tired even after drinking 2 cups of coffee and taking your medicine, both of which were supposed to make you focused or at least conscious.

Running your hands through your hair you leaned back in your chair, resting your arms behind your head as you stretch your back a satisfying pop filling your ears.

You glanced at your phone, thinking if you should really wake your boyfriend up. Your heart drops as you look at the time, 1:15 am, you have training first thing in the morning and at the rate, you’re going you’ll never finish this work.

Taking a deep breath you grab your phone and dialing his number and holding the phone up to your ear, heart beating loudly as you listen to the first ring then a second then a third. By the 5th ring you begin to think he isn’t gonna pick up, but as you move the phone away you hear the ringing stop then the sound of sheets shuffling.

“Hello?”

Bakugou’s voice makes your stomach do flips, you’ve heard his morning voice, plenty of times, but damn it never fails to make your heart skip a few beats.

“Hello??”

You quickly clear your throat as you realize you had begun to daze off.

“H-Hey, sorry for waking you up, but um do you think you can come over?” You ask, looking down at your lap watching as you mess with a ring on your pointer finger “You don’t have to, I just can’t get this assignment done and it’s due today and I don’t wanna-“

“Give me 5 minutes”

You’re cut off by Bakugou’s voice, a hinge of annoyance laced in his voice before the call drops.

You feel awful for waking him up, maybe you should have called Kirishima instead. With a sigh you set your phone down on the desk, glancing back towards the clock as you wait for him.

The 5 minutes felt like hours before you finally heard the soft knock then the door finally opening, a tired Bakugou slowly walking into your room. His hair was still the usual unruly mess, the only difference was the fact he was wearing the red and black flannel pajama pants you bought him for the holidays last year.

“This better be good for waking me up at 1am, what do you need?” He asks, closing the door behind him and raising a hand to rub his tired eyes.

“I need help finish these assignments, can you please help me?” You turn toward him, scooting your laptop in his direction, watching as he looks from you to the screen before nodding slowly.

“If I help you, I get to sit in the chair, so move”

You roll your eyes as you stand out of the chair, pushing it towards him lightly, the chair squeaking as he sits down.

After about 5 minutes of you standing next to him, you move his chair, sitting in his lap and facing the laptop. You’re both silent as he writes down each math problem flawlessly, your brain confused on how quickly and easily he’s able to figure out all of this shit.

Of course, he doesn’t make it that easy for you, after every other problem he makes you work it out and do it yourself, letting you use his past ones to help you finish it.

It isn’t until almost 3am when you finally get done, your eyes heavy with exhaustion while Bakugou is rather wide awake from you waking his ass up. Your head rested against his shoulder, your face in the crook of his neck as he began to close out all of the tabs you had managed to open.

His hand slowly running up and down your back, letting you snuggle closer to him, his body heat not helping you stay awake. The soothing sound of his breathing, and the soft ticking of the clock lulling you to sleep.

Although Bakugou wouldn’t dare admit it, he adored the way you’d fall asleep in his arms. He loved the way you scoot closer everytime he moved, your arms wrapping around his middle and fingers hugging tightly to his shirt.

Closing the laptop quietly, he barely lifts you, trying his best to not wake you. His hands gripping your thighs as he walks to your bed, laying you down softly and covering you up. He thought for a moment to leave and return to his room in order to let you sleep peacefully, but decided it against due to the walk back to his room.

He carefully climbed over you, getting comfortable before wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close to his chest, a soft hum falling from your lips as managed to move impossibly closer to him. A simple “goodnight” leaves Bakugou’s mouth as he gently kisses the top of your head before letting himself fall back asleep.

taglist: @katsulovee @blazedbakugou

[escapewithbts]

hiii I love your writing! It’s so good! So I was wondering if you could write one with Jin (he’s my bias, I love him 🥺) where y/n and him are in a LDR and it’s hard and she thinks he’s going to break up with her but it has a happy ending? They work it out somehow? I am an international army and think this would be so sweet. Thank you! xxx ^^

The Inevitable - Seokjin

Ahh I loved this request! Thank you! Hope you enjoy :)

————————————————

You sighed as yet another call to your boyfriend lead straight to his voicemail. Despite the fact that you both had agreed on this time of day to call, he didn’t answer. You knew he had work today, probably finishing around 7pm as usual, but the time difference was killer for your relationship. You were on your way to work yourself; busy at your job for a solid 8-10 hours after that. Lately Seokjin had been going to the studio in the afternoons, sometimes staying as late as 12 or 1am, then crashing immediately when he got back home. He was busy, you were busy, and it was proving more difficult to find time for each other.

Long distance really sucked.

As you pulled into the parking lot of your work building, your phone’s FaceTime ringer went off.

“Hey, jagiya.” A tired looking Seokjin appeared on your screen as you accepted the call.

“Hi.” You responded curtly, turning off your car.

“How are you today?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

He instantly noticed your short replies and sullen facial expression.

“What’s wrong, jagi?”

You couldn’t help but notice his tone sounded more annoyed than concerned.

You rolled your eyes.

“We were supposed to talk half an hour ago, Jin. I have to go into work now.”

Did you sound needy and dramatic? Maybe. But this was how it had been so often recently. You couldn’t even recall the last time the two of you spoke for more than 5 minutes.

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark black hair.

“I know, (y/n), but what do you want me to do? Practice went over again. I can’t exactly stop everyone else just to call my girlfriend.”

His words stung; making you sound so unimportant. You know he didn’t mean it like that, but you still didn’t like to hear it.

“I know you can’t, Jin. I would never ask that of you.”

He continued,

“It’s not easy. I have six other people that rely on me, and all the staff. I can’t just ask to get away randomly. It’s a lot harder for me than you. I’m important.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes again.

“I know, Jin, you’re an idol, you’re in the biggest band in world right now, the show can’t go on without you. The world revolves around Kim Seokjin.”

You cringed internally after those words slipped out.

Jin shut his eyes tightly and put a pair of crooked fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“That’s not what I meant, (y/n), come on.”

You let out a deep breath and stared into his chocolate brown eyes. They looked sad and defeated.

“I know. I’m sorry.” you paused then went on softly, “I just feel like this time difference has really been messing with us the past few months. We’re both busy.”

Jin rested his head in his palm.

“Yeah.”

Then his head shot back up.

“Hey, maybe you can come visit soon! I’ll have some time off in a few weeks.”

You frowned and shook your head at him, glancing over at your workplace.

“I can’t just take random vacations. I have a job too, you know.”

He cocked his head.

“Yeah, a job you hate,” he retaliated.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“So not the point, Jin.”

All of a sudden you heard a door open and close on Jin’s end of the call.

“Jin-hyung! There you are!”

You immediately recognized the cheerful voice of Jung Hoseok.

“Oh, are you on the phone? Who is it? Is it (y/n)?”

His wide heart-shaped smile and bleach blonde hair popped into view from the side of your screen next to Jin. He waved at you.

“Hiiiii (y/n)-ah!!!! We miss you so much!”

You grinned at sweet j-hope.

“Hi Hoba. I miss you guys, too.”

“Come visit soon, okay??”

You nodded.

“I promise.”

“Did you need something from me, j-hope-ssi?” Jin spoke in Korean to his fellow member.

“We have dinner with Bang PD in a few minutes, I came to get you. The other members are waiting.”

Jin threw his head back.

“Aiiishh, I forgot that was today.”

You watched as more people shuffled into your work building.

“I have to go into work now anyway. Have a good dinner with your boss.”

Jin looked back down at you.

“And have a good day at work. We… will talk later, okay?”

You nodded.

“Okay.”

He gave you a small smike.

“Bye, jagiya.”

You smiled back weakly.

“Bye, Jin. I love y-“

But before you could finish, his face disappeared and all you heard were the beeps of the call ending.

~

Later that night the sound of your phone ringing woke you up from a deep slumber. You groaned and picked it up off your nightstand to see who was calling at such an ungodly hour.

It was Jin.

You sat up and turned on the lamp next to your bed. It took a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the change in lighting. The clock read 2:24am.

“Jin?” you croaked out, your voice raspy from sleep.

“(Y/n)… I’m sorry to call so late.”

You yawned.

“Is everything okay?”

Jin hesitated.

“Yes. Well, no. Not exactly. We need… to talk.”

Immediately your heart started pounding in your chest, you breathing getting more rapid. You swung your legs over the edge of your bed. You felt wide awake now.

You knew this was it. You couldn’t say you didn’t see this coming. It had been weird between you two lately, you both knew this. A break up was inevitable.

Still, you weren’t ready. Couldn’t you at least try to work it out? You loved Jin. Didn’t he love you, too?

Your mind was already going a mile a minute.

“O-okay.” You squeaked out.

Jin sighed.

“This is hard. Us being apart.”

Tears started to prick the corner of yours eyes.

“Mmhmm” was all you could muster out.

Jin went on,

“I’ve been thinking of how to fix it, make it easier on us so there isn’t so much stress from not being in the same place.”

“And?”

“I thought and thought… coming up with no answers.”

You held your breath, hot tears falling down your cheeks now.

He sighed again.

“There seemed to be only one solution.”

You were full on crying now, little sobs escaping your chest.

“Jinnie…” you whimpered, grabbing your pillow and holding it to your chest.

“(Y/n)… I think… you should move here. With me.”

WHAT.

You instantly stopped crying.

“Wait… what?”

“Jagiya, hear me out before you say no! Just imagine, we could come home to each other everyday, I can cook you sooo many dinners, we would see each other all the time… no more trying to figure out times to talk! And I could hold you every single day. And I know you don’t like your job, so this would give you the opportunity to find something else here that you love, or not, I don’t mind supporting you, I just… I need you here.”

You burst into tears again, tiredness mixed with this emotional roller coaster taking over.

“(Y/n)-ah? Are you crying? Wh-why are you crying?”

“Jin!” you exclaimed, throwing your free hand in the air, “I thought you were breaking up with me!”

You couldn’t see him, but you could tell both his eyes and mouth widened in shock.

“What?? Shit, Jagi, no! I’m trying to do the opposite! I want you closer to me! Did you really think that’s why I was calling??”

You nodded even though you knew he couldn’t see you.

“Yes. I was terrified, Jinnie.”

Jin inhaled a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. But why would you think that? Do you-do you want to break up?”

You heard the worry in his tone.

“No! No not at all,” you quickly reassured, “it’s just… our conversations have been so short lately and I feel like I annoy you sometimes and-and you didn’t… say I love you after our call earlier today…”you mumbled the last part, slightly ashamed you knew now it was probably just something you were overthinking.

“Aiishh, no, I didn’t say it because Hoba was in the room. You know I’m weird about that stuff. I’m… bad at being cheesy and I get embarrassed easily.”

Relief washed over you.

“And you don’t annoy me. I think our lack of being able to talk a lot has been annoying me. I miss you, (y/n).”

You sniffled.

“I miss you, too Seokjinnie.”

“Which is why I asked you to move here!” He suddenly exclaimed, “So we can be with each other all the time! I know, you have your job and your family and everything, and I know I’m asking a lot I just thought-“

“Jinnie,” you interrupted him, smiling.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes. I want to. I want to move to Korea. To be with you.”

“Ohwaaa, really?”

You stood up from your bed out of excitement.

“Yes! I’m tired of this, too. No more scheduling calls or short conversations. I miss you, I want to be with you together, in the same place. And I am miserable at my job, you’re right. It’s not worth it anymore. Being with you will be worth it. And I can start a new career there. I’ll figure it out.” you took in a deep breath, “is this… for real, Jinnie?”

You could hear his smile as he spoke.

“It’s real, jagi. Yah I’m so happy. I love you.”

Your face hurt from smiling.

“And I love you, Jin.”

Then you paused and looked around your room.

“Sooo is it too early to start packing?”

[alldayangst]

gold rush (Tom Holland)

All of my fics are LGBT and PoC friendly. Inspired by gold rush by Taylor Swift. Everybody wants Tom, but you don’t like a gold rush. WC: 2.7K words. 

“Y/N, I just wanted to say again, thank you for coming in today and doing this for us.” Tom’s dad, Dominic, said as he displaced papers across desks, earl grey swaying like an angry lake in his mug. Approaching footsteps hinted that the star of the show was soon to be hold. In other words, Tom was running behind.

The door creaked and light from the corridor crept through like Sun peeping through curtains of the Night. It refusing to shut after Tom budged and pushed was maybe divine punishment for him being so late, and maybe provided the bit of laughter you needed after rolling out of bed at 6am for this, for him. When the door eventually did close, Tom turned around and saw you in all your glory; much taller than he remembered, more assured than he’d imagined, and more gorgeous than drowned out and half forgotten memories of you could ever fabricate.

You and Tom ran in the same social circles, but hadn’t seen each other since Tom’s career imploded when you were both nineteen. As much as Tom felt he owed his heart and soul to the UK, he maintained an almost permanent fixture on the States. It started to feel like his trips back to England were in fact actual holiday. At one point, you were in love with Tom, but meeting became a constant battle of ‘here, not there’ and your heart grew tired of the duck and goose chase. The gravity of the situation was too much for you, whom hadn’t even tasted their twenties yet. 

“Y/N!” Tom launched at you and held you in tight embrace. You let go of the hug, but he didn’t. And his dad watched on in momentary awe as you wrapped your arms around Tom once again, who breathed in every part of you with unwavering adoration.

“Tom!” You rubbed along his back as he hummed. “When I was told we were gonna have a ghost writer, I had no idea it was gonna be you.”

Tom and his dad (being an author) were collaborating on a book, a million dollar idea that’d been years in the making. Tom had stalled it, his dad told you out of simple insecurity. Now that the world was a stage, he was worried people would criticise his dyslexia with every line he wrote, that every stroke of his pen would reveal him as a rare type of monster that lacked intellect, he pondered that he wasn’t insightful enough in some way. His dad may have written a book about Tom outfaming him, but Tom felt like he’d always live in Dom’s shadow in this respect. Fresh from Oxford with an English Bachelor’s degree, Dom employed you to get grease on the gears to commence writing. Tom had always come out of his shell when you were around.

Your writing session lasted from 8 til noon, when Tom had promo with LadBible or Entertainment Weekly or whoever had bid the highest from his presence that day.

The door swung open and three men in all black and mics saddled around their waists called for and led Tom out of the room.

“Tom, session’s over. We need to get you to your BBC promo in 30 and we’re already running behind schedule.’ One cloaked Tom in a jacket you were sure was more expensive than your own home and another whispered something into a walkie talkie: “Holland is on the move. Check the back entrance is clear.” With that, Tom rose to his feet and left completely opposite of the way you came in. Without a word, no goodbye.

You and Dom left the building together around ten minutes later, where ten men with large cameras stood, lenses focused on you, glaring at you, not sure what to make of you. One of the men screams “Hey! You dating Tom Holland” and after that all you hear is clicks and all you see is bright flashing lights and Dom clenches your hand and leads you to your taxi cab.

The next time you see Tom is sooner than expected. The Hollands were hosting a last minute dinner party and you found yourself sitting opposite Tom, feeling his hard, hot and heavy gaze on you. The tension in the room was so thick not even a chainsaw cut through.

“Next topic,” You picked up a card from the deck and read it aloud. “Politics!” You said devilishly as you sip on what was left of the white wine in your cup, and now that your thought process is blurred; Tom’s longing gaze puts you at dismay.

“Fuck!” Harry exploded, and you hear their mother hiss. “Fuck I hate politics, there’s no making it out alive!” he remarked as he drummed on the table cloth, drunken excitement brewing a new energy in the room.

You go on like this for hours until dinner party is dinner party no more. And while Dom, Nikki and all of Tom’s siblings have chosen to exit stage left, it’s 1am and you and Tom have yet to leave the scene.

Tom sets down your deck of debate cards in favour of a genuine moment.

“What are you doing these days, Y/N?” Tom’s not looking at you, he’s looking at your knee as he rubs circles on it. You want to look down there too, see what he finds so intriguing; but you decide against it in fear you might spontaneously combust. You don’t know if this moment’s supposed to be intimate or innocent and you’re not sure if you want to find out.

So you put up a wall.

“I should be asking you the same thing, Holland.” You say sarcastically. “What have you been doing these days? I haven’t seen you around.” Your eyebrows scrunched up together but you’ve got a big, idiot grin on your face that’s more than telling. Tom giggles at your facetiousness.

Tom scratches his head in mock thought. He never clocks out, always putting on a show. “I don’t know - uh.” You’re laughing before Tom has even told the punchline, ‘cause I guess anything’s funny when it’s said by the one you love.”I’m kind of -” He snatches an old Spiderman comic off the floor. “I’m kinda doing this acting thing at the moment. Playing, y’know, this guy.”

“Well I wish you better luck in the future.” Tom has stopped rubbing circles but instead places his two hands on your knees as you rock back in laughter.

“I’m serious, Y/N. What do you do now?”

“Um.” You suddenly forgot your entire career as Tom, with no shade of subtlety, stares right into your soul. “I got my degree. I write like little stories, y’know? Have you ever heard of folklore?”

Tom shook his head.

“They’re like these little, old beautiful myths. And I write them for a living. And if I’m lucky, they get published in The Times. If I’m even luckier, I get to work with my old best friend - ” You feel your world stop temporarily as you call Tom your ‘best friend’ and you pause for all of 0.3 seconds to register Tom’s reaction but his face doesn’t flinch. “-Writing a book with him and his dad.” And that makes Tom smile. So he doesn’t have to tell you he missed you, you just know.

‘Undivided appearance’ and ‘undivided attention’ don’t necessarily mean the same thing in Hollywood as they do in real life, and you learn that the hard way in your writing session.

Tom may have been sat right next to you, but he was miles away. He was doing press with Cosmo, who hadn’t stopped tagging him with blue hearts on his Instagram, Twitter and Snapchat stories, causing his phone to go off every two seconds. You looked at the phone and then at him who then got the hint and put it on silent. Then there was a knock on the door. Tom rushed to open it, expecting that Dom had sent down a food delivery to egg you on finishing this chapter. You rehashed his childhood like a million times - in fact, you were part of it - so when it came to writing the parts that hurt, where you took a more supporting role in his life, you needed his help. The fact is, the knock at the door had come from one of Tom’s men (Tom liked to call him Man In Black no. 3) who hadn’t said as much as a ‘hi’ before he made his announcement. “Tom, you’re on the line with Cosmo in 10.” The man stepped back and pulled out his walkie talkie, “Holland knows he’s on the line with Cosmo at 10.” And then continued to pace around the hallway.

Cosmo called as he said they would and you almost felt for. second like tom might enjoy an entertainment magazine’s company more than yours. The interviewer made glaring comments and passive flirts at Tom who just blushed and chuckled and sipped his water like the woman on the phone calling him ‘hot’ was just too much to handle. At one point, she says: “What must it be like to grow up that beautiful, Tom? With your hair falling into place like dominoes.” You’re not expecting it when Tom tilts the phone so you’re in view. “Well I’m with the most beautiful being on Earth right now so..” Tom looks at you as if to ask ‘is this okay?” and you know it’s too late for these kind of questions, because that moment is headline fodder, so you smile not to make him feel bad for opening Pandora’s box. But Tom is merciless and likes to rub salt in the wound. “This is Y/N! Y/N’s helping me write the book with my Dad! We go way back.” He covers his mouth as soon as he says it. “Shit! They’re not supposed to know about the book yet.”

This is the moment, you think, where you believe when they say your first love is the one you never let go.

And you can’t think of anything purer than the love you have for him.

Tom thinks being on land is boring. He likes being strung from chords 30 feet in the air, and drowning in despair through scenes of emotional turmoil. You want to tell him you’re an arrow from Cupid’s bow about to reach him, but you couldn’t recover from the splinters if Tom shut you down. After all, Tom was a gold rush. A treasure that everyone had discovered but nobody owned. How precious is a jewel that anybody could take home with them?

Tom had invited you to a visit to Brighton with him, a city near the coast, for some inspiration on writing his section of the book. 

You accepted. And because you did, you found yourself at the beginning of the end, on Tom’s boat in Brighton. “We don’t have to talk about the book right now.” Tom throws a stack of blue tinted paper on the floor. His dyslexia meant that spelling and reading was so much easier when done on blue pages, and you could only guess that was the reason the body of water around you brought him so much peace. So when you saw that something might compromise your best boy’s happiness, you point it out. To give Tom a little bit of time to exit before things got ugly.

“Tom, I see someone in the bushes.”

“Yeah. It’s a pap.” Tom mumbled nonchalantly. 

“They’re here to get pictures of me,” He turned to face you. “and you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, the fans ship us. Think we’d be a good couple after that Cosmo stunt. We would have been a good couple when we were like, 18.” He laughs.

“Huh, yeah.” You look down.

“The best one around.” And you can’t tell if he’s serious.

You rip off one of his blue sheets. “I’m coming. I got hit with inspo.” And you trail to a different section of the boat. A very obvious click of the camera from a shrub nearby coaxes your pen to write without a second thought, How is he so accustomed to this? Fake private moments, protected by sheer glass curtains?

You scrunched your paper, well his paper, into a ball. 

Your mind had turned his life into folklore. You weren’t sure if that was crossing a line, so you just put the ball into your bag and hide it until he hits you with the spark again.

“Let me see it.” Tom says.

“No.”

“You ran off to write it and won’t let me see it?” 

You held your bag at your hip in defence. “No, Tom. Drop it.” 

Tom’s face drops a little bit, but then he reaches into his own bag and reveals a deck of your debate cards. “I know what will cheer you up, good ol’ Y/N.” He sets a card on the wooden table between you two. 

“Do you believe in a higher power?”

You toyed with the pendant around your neck which revealed your faith. “Do you?”

“I don’t. But I believe in soulmates.”

You look to the left to really ponder on what Tom is saying, and a paparazzis captures another photo of you in the corner of your eye.

“And you don’t think there’s a higher power that manufactures our souls to make our soulmates?”

Tom feigns a scowl. “That’s ridiculous.”

You scoffed. “How very contrarian of you.”

“What the fuck does that mean.”

“It means you contradict yourself, Thomas.” You laugh as he holds his chest in fake hurt.

“Are you implying I’m anything less than perfect?”

“Never.”

Never. Because you didn’t believe that to be true. 

“Good. Cause you’d have to be punished.” Tom picks you up and throws you in the water below before jumping in with you.

On your way home you stop at the yours and Tom’s writing booth, scavenging through your bag to drop off Tom’s notepad, some scrunched up blue and white papers you and Tom thought could still help you write his book. You’d made an addition to your love-hazed scribblings about Tom and reckon you’d die if he found it. You managed to throw the other in the water, excusing yourself with “It’s utterly awful.”, to which you and Tom agreed you wouldn’t throw any more paper in the ocean cause the poor fish already had it hard enough.

You and Tom had a session the next day. Tom was excited for the day, and you could tell because he’d given his phone to one of his big babysitters for the time he had you.

“I think that’s all of yours.” You and Tom made a business out of unscrunching your paper balls to see if they had any useful ideas. You were certain you reached the end of Tom’s. All of his notes had ‘T.H’ written on the back in big and were scribed on blue paper. When it came to your little ‘secret admirer’ notes you weren’t worried - you had an English degree and were quick to think on your feet and was ready to make something up when it came to opening it. 

“No, this one’s mine.” He’s confident, so you let him have it. He goes to pick up your tea and then realises it’s nowhere near warm, and was the one you made for yourself when you crept in yesterday evening. Tom has a smile on his face, and then he doesn’t. Before he goes to read it aloud, his eyes tell you he’s reading it again and again and again. “At dinner parties, I’ll call you out on your contrarian shit, and the coastal towns we wondered round will never see a love as pure as it.”

The look on Tom’s face gives you the splinters. He tries to look at you but you know he can’t. You don’t blame him. You can’t look at him either. “I really thought this was a good friendship.”

You hum and nod your head in agreement, pull your lips into a thin straight line as streaks of tears abandon your eyes. This was worse than Tom rubbing salt in your wounds. He’s rubbing dirt in your painful fucking gashes and you are reminded of why this didn’t work before, why it will never be.

And you wouldn’t dare to dream about him anymore.

Masterlist

Upcoming Works

[finalgilmoregirl]

lost love (loki laufeyson x reader, steve rogers x reader)

summary: loki makes an effort to woo you and it works!! until....he suddenly gives his love to another. heartbroken, you find a way to move on, and it isn’t until you’re happy with steve that loki realizes he made a mistake.

warnings: fluff & romance with angst in the end (i also didn’t proof read so i’m sorry for any mistakes!!)

a/n: based on a request “Hi, I see you are taking requests. Could you please write something with Loki where he makes efforts to woo the reader and after nowhere he starts dating someone else. The reader suffers but eventually mends her broken heart and Loki becomes jealous when he sees her happy and fulfilled with her new partner and realizes he lost her. Please!! Have a nice day ❤️”

sorry this took so long to put out. i love this request!! let me know if you’d like a part 2 with a happy ending !!

———————————

From the moment you met Loki, it was like he was already trying to please you. You knew who he was, famously known as the God of Mischief, and you were aware of the damage he’d done to New York (your apartment building being one of the many destroyed in his attempt to rule). You joined the Avengers shortly after the attack. You had a lifelong experience in mixed martial arts & ballet, making you strong and graceful, perfect for an agent, and now Avenger.

After working with the team for a year, you were given the news that Loki would soon be staying in the tower as well. At first you felt uneasy at the thought of his staying, but you were a little relieved to think he was changing his mischievous ways for the better. You were introduced to him when he was first given a tour of the tower by his brother Thor, who was excited to have Loki around.

“Lady y/n!” he called with his booming voice. “I wish for you to meet my brother, Loki.”

You turned around as they approached you and you definitely liked what you saw. Tall, dark hair, definitely attractive and very well dressed for someone fairly new to Earth. He had a small smirk on his face, eyebrows raised as if he was surprised to see you.

Truth be told, he was surprised. Suprised that you were a human. To him you looked like a goddess, and immediately intended on treating you as such.

“Hi” you said, reaching a hand out to shake his own. He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckle, “Hello darling, pleasure to meet you.” You blushed at the nickname, which ended up sticking. At first, you felt he was mocking you by constantly calling you sweet names like “love” or “darling” but that didn’t stop you from getting flustered anyway when he did.

It started with small gestures, like rushing to open the door for you and pulling out your chair at breakfast. Then you started receiving small gifts like roses with a sweet message on the card, his name signed with a heart. You thought for a second that he was trying to trick you, to make you fall in love with him and then laugh at you once you did. Whether it was a trick or not, it was working. It wasn’t until a late night that you fully believed his intentions were serious. You couldn’t go to sleep for some odd reason, you didn’t even feel tired. You went on your phone and saw it was just passed 1am. Sighing, you get up and walk to the kitchen, hoping a nice warm tea might help you. As you walked in you saw him: Loki. He sat at the table with a book in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. You took a second to look over your appearance, which was silk shorts and an old shirt, most likely one of Sam or Steve’s that didn’t fit anymore. Your hair only slightly disheveled from turning in your bed. It was weird to care so much when you’ve never cared about your appearance. But with Loki you couldn’t help but feel the need to look presentable around him.

He looked up as he sensed your presence. He smiled, “Good evening y/n” he said. You started feeling nervous butterflies as you said a soft “Good evening” back. You set some water to boil and picked out some Chamomile tea to help you relax. As you leaned against the counter and waited for the water you found yourself staring at him. He was wearing a black shirt that seems to fit him perfectly, you never got to see his arms since he always wore long sleeved button ups or sweaters but now you were able to see the impressive muscles he had and the veins that cascaded down his arms. You felt yourself blush as you imagined those arms holding you tight. You were snapped out of your daydream by the whistling of the kettle, quickly turning off the stove. While you prepared your tea you heard him clear his throat. “Why are you awake at this hour?” he asked. You turned and looked at him as you stirred your tea, shrugging.

“I’m not really sure” you said, “I just couldn’t.” He hummed at your response, and pushed the chair in front of him out with his foot, signaling for you to sit at it. You did and as you sat you both looked into each other’s eyes. You saw a sparkle in his, caused by the glowing kitchen lights. You broke eye contact as you sipped your tea. “Why aren’t you asleep?” You asked the god. He closed his book and set it beside him, giving you his full attention. “I don’t like to waste the rare moments of peace and quiet.” he said.

You understood what he meant. A majority of the day was filled with the team running around doing work related things, and if it wasn’t, there was always someone watching tv or filling the space with talking. You liked it that way, but you could see Loki’s appeal in wanting there to be silence. You started to feel bad, thinking that maybe you were interrupting his time of silence.

“Well I’d hate to take that from you.” you said, getting up from the chair. You didn’t even get to turn as he grabbed your hand to stop you. “Well I certainly don’t mind your company, pet.” he smiled. So you sat back down, and you continued to talk for another hour until you felt yourself drifting to sleep mid-conversation. You yawned and Loki took that as a sign that you were done for the night.

He walked you to your room and before you opened the door to enter you decided to ask him something you’d been wondering since you met him. Why was he so kind and gentle, but only to you? So you asked, and he didn’t look surprised by this question at all. That’s because he wasn’t. He knew you were smart enough to notice a shift in his behavior during breakfast with how he acted him Tony versus how he acted with you. With anyone else, he’d snap at them for asking him for something and try not to roll his eyes. But with you, he was always happy to pass you what you needed, or even serve you another plate if he saw you wanted one. Everyone else had noticed but like you at the time, thought he had another trick up him sleeve.

“You’re different” he said. “I feel warm around you, an almost comforting feeling that I’ve never felt with anyone else. You’re beautiful inside and out and if you trust me to, I could show you how much I could offer you. Which may not be much, but what I could only hope is enough to please you for a lifetime.” He placed a hand on your cheek as he finished his short speech, and that’s when you completely believed he was serious about perusing you. Heat rose to your cheeks in shock that he felt this way about you. He chuckled and leaned down to kiss your cheek, but not before whispering, “Goodnight my love.” That night you dreamed of your future with Loki, excited of what the future held for the two of you.

That was....until a week later at one of Tony’s infamous parties. What could have changed in a week? Even the days leading up to it, the Trickster God still continued with his loving gestures. A hug before bed, the ocasional forehead kiss when passing by, if anything they were more intimate that how he acted before. But here you were at a party, watching in heartbreak as he danced with another woman. You tried to deny him the satisfaction of your jealous glare, but as he held her close, with love in his eyes, all you felt was sadness.

You couldn’t even look away, feeling the need to torture yourself. It was a hand on your shoulder that broke you out of your painful daydream. You turned your head and sat up, seeing none other than Steve leaning on the table you sat at. Him being your closest friends, next to Wanda, was able to sense your emotions, feeling sympathy over you. You expected an “I told you so.” from him. He warned you not even a week into Loki living in the tower. “He’s bad news” he said. “Don’t waste your time. He’s not worth it.” But you didn’t listen.

“You okay?” he asked. You shrugged and took a drink from the glass that you kept asking to be refilled. “You were right. Like always.” you laughed dryly, looking away from Steve. You easily found Loki sitting on a couch across the room. He threw his head back in laughter and gripped the woman’s waist after she whispered something to him.

“I don’t like being right if it means you get hurt.” Steve said. “He’s going to see what he’s missing out on and come crawling back.” You smiled and looked at him again. Maybe it was the alcohol but you’d never noticed how sparkly his eyes were until now.

He held his hand out. “Let’s get out of here.” he said. You let out a giggle and took it, letting him lead you back to the residential floor, not even taking a second to look back at Loki. Steve told you to change into your pajamas and meet him in the kitchen and when you did, the night was filled with laughs and talking about life. You would think that after knowing Steve for a year you’d know of his hopes and dreams but you didn’t until he told you over a slice of cake Wanda had made for the party, but forgot about.

You two shared a dream. A family, a home right outside the city with a white picket fence. A chance at a normal life, a happy marriage and kids. You both took turns explaining how you’d decorate it, laughing when you’d say something at the same time like a brick fireplace or a big backyard. Steve felt relieved that someone else had still believed in the simple life and you were excited to talk about what you prayed the future held for you.

The warmth you began to feel with Steve was different. A good different. Different than what you felt with Loki. With Loki, the warmth you felt was nerves from attention you weren’t used to receiving and worry that the team thought you were associated with someone evil in their eyes. But with Steve, you felt at ease, almost like home. Sure he made you blush like Loki, but you were able to talk back and make Steve blush too. There was no awkward silence or worry of saying the wrong thing. This is nice. You thought, watching Steve wipe the counter with a smile.

You kissed him that night. Just a friendly peck as you thanked him for the nice night. Both of your hearts felt full for the first time in a long time.

The next morning began like any other after a party. Groans coming from the kitchen after any form of noise. The amount of junk food you ate with Steve probably soaked up all the alcohol in your system, only leaving you with a small headache, nothing like the hangovers Natasha or Tony were suffering from. You walked in and grinned at the sight of Steve cooking, still sporting his white t shirt and grey sweats from last night. You walked up to him and leaned on his arm. “Morning, Cap.” You said. He turned his head and smiled at you. “Good morning.”

You turned to go sit at the table and realized that Loki was sitting at the corner of it, glaring at Steve from behind his book. You held back a laugh as you pulled up a chair farthest from him, preparing to distance yourself. It hurt to see him, but if it was so easy for him to move on without warning, why couldn’t you do the same?

Days and even weeks repeated this. Loki would occasionally try to compliment you or give you a note, but you would brush him off. He knew what he did was wrong. He felt guilty, especially on days where he’d notice your eyes were red and puffy. Those were the ones you’d avoid his gaze the most. He also noticed the shift in your relationship with Steve. For the first few days he watched you two talk and how Steve would put him arm around you, which he thought he was fine. But then as the weeks went on he noticed times where you’d link hands with him, or lean your head on his chest as he watched a movie.

It was around a month later that he saw you and Steve kiss for the first time. Steve had just returned from a mission with Bucky, a fairly easy one that had him home within hours but he could tell you missed him nonetheless. After kissing him, you pulled him up the stairs, giggling and asking him about the mission.

Loki felt sharp pangs of jealousy. He knew he shouldn’t have. He broke your heart. He led you on and started seeing someone else. It was stupid of him to assume you’d wait for him, and now he’d have to pay the price.

a/n: thank you for reading. feedback & requests are always welcome!! let me know what you think. love you all <3

[supportivespaceforsurvivors]

An explanation of recent events

Hi all. I am posting a timeline of the recent events that have ended up with me inviting some of the mods I trust from @advicetotraumasurvivors to this blog. It is incomplete; as of this posting (4pm CST, August 23, 2021), nobody has admitted any wrongdoing, but I know a lot of you aren't really sure what happened at all. I apologize in advance for the verb tense shift midway through. I unfortunately don't have the spoons to edit it.

Hayden does not plan to stay with the blog. Olive plans to stay at least for now. I will likely stay. I'm not sure about Henrie or Berry at the moment. Those are the only mods that currently have access to this blog. (Edit from Mod Henrie: I’ll be staying.)

The timeline will be under the cut as it is fairly long. All times are in Central Standard Time.

Around 5:30pm CST last night, April messaged the Discord telling us she was leaving the blog. She left both the Discord and the blog shortly thereafter. We got some anons asking about why she'd left and I directed those towards her @traumasurvivors blog because I didn't feel comfortable trying to speak for her, One of them felt my answers was dismissive. That anon ended up being a mod in the Discord who was triggered by my tone. We received more asks from them, one passive-aggressive and one outright guilt-trippy.

At 7:30pm CST Henrie made an announcement that everyone who participates in the blog is a volunteer. Several mods offered in the Discord to mediate since the mod who was upset didn't feel comfortable addressing the issue with me directly.

Around 9:00pm CST we started getting some positive messages to the blog. I started to think maybe the situation had blown over. I tried to answer one of the positive anons. Tumblr gave me an error code.

We discovered the upset mod had deleted all of our inbox messages.

At 9:30pm CST Berry noticed posts were disappearing from our blog. I had noticed some weren't showing up for me, but because Tumblr is a Hellsite I figured they were there and it was just a glitch. Even the pinned post got deleted.

I panicked and asked what if the Carrd got deleted. Unfortunately, whoever the mod was, saw that and changed the email and password to the Carrd.

At 9:36pm I started adding Henrie, Hayden, Berry, and Olive to this side blog. This ended up taking several hours because we were all disoriented and triggered pretty badly by then.

At 9:45 pm I noticed they deleted my mod tag. We kept trying to encourage them to stop. Henrie reblogged all the asks that were still there to their personal in case they got deleted.

At 9:55pm I left the server and asked Berry to invite me to the new one they said they'd make so the handful of us could discuss the situation while feeling a bit more safe. There's a gap of about 20 minutes in the timeline here but I'm not sure anything super important happened during it.

Olive rescues most of the info from the Carrd by 10:21pm. April offers to transcribe the pinned post that I managed to screenshot on my phone.

Hayden makes a post around this time saying we've moved URLs. The upset mod deletes it.

I ask April if she will write down the URLs of all of our followers on advicetotraumasurvivors and send asks to them one by one to let them know what's going on. An extremely inefficient method, but at this point I'm at a loss. Henrie starts sending the asks to our followers. April finishes transcribing the pinned post at about 10:30.

At this point I have taken my sleep med and am losing reading comprehension rapidly. I say I'm going to bed but end up not sleeping until something like 4am.

At 10:31 Olive discovers that the upset mod has password-protected the blog. Henrie copy pastes the only ask in the inbox. It came in after the others were deleted.

At 11pm Olive announces she has a download/export of the blog in progress to hopefully preserve some of the posts and information on it. I ask April to boost the new URL. Henrie asks Tumblr's customer service system about uploading the file to the new blog.

At 11:10 Berry notices the queue is being messed with. Several mods go back and forth with the saboteur mod changing how often the queue posts. I suggest that we reblog ask games to the new blog so people can get to know us better once this all dies down.

At 11:21 Hayden announces the blog title has been changed to DON'T TALK TO US. A few minutes later Olive says some extremely tasteless tags are being added to queued posts, including the r slur and the n word. We won't go to any more detail about any of the other things that were said because they were extremely triggering, but we are deeply sorry to any followers (and mods) that may have seen those tags.

11: 38pm: Henrie makes posts on both blogs saying it's not us typing these awful things and to block advicetotraumasurvivors.

11:40pm: We decide to delete all the posts on the blog and the whole queue. April starts mass deleting.

11:53pm: I screenshot all the asks in the drafts. We delete all the drafts. The upset mod continues to change the blog title to triggering and inflammatory things.

1am today (Monday): Henrie asks if it's okay to announce to the original server that we moved discords and blogs. I ask if we can avoid adding people to the new discord until we know who the mod is that's upset. We eventually agree to hold off on adding people into the new discord.

2:44am: April gets an anon apologizing for their poor/inflammatory actions on her traumasurvivors blog and posts a response separate from the ask. We wait, hoping that the anon will message April.

3am: We get a similar apology on the new blog. It gets screenshotted and sent the new Discord so everyone can see it. I delete the ask from the inbox with everyone's permission because it feels very guilt trippy to me.

3:23 April gets more anons blaming her for the situation spiraling out of control, presumably from the upset mod.

12:22pm: April has more anons when we all wake up. All of us in the new server agree that we're tired and just want the situation resolved. No one comes forward.

Edit from mod Henrie: This is a timeline of all of the “major events”, but it doesn’t convey how frantic we all were. We were all feverishly working on deleting triggering tags/deleting posts/trying to find out who was doing this/etc. in between each of these times. It was chaotic and messy and incredibly exhausting for everyone involved.

[waatermelon-sugaar]

Half-Priced Chocolate

Words = 2.8k

Summary = You hate Valentine’s Day. Nick tries to change your mind. 

Warnings = One swear word

A/N = Reader is described as a similar height to Nick, and taller when she wears heels. Also I didn’t mean to write this, it just sort of happened so sorry if it’s not very well thought out ahaha

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“You know, I’d pegged you as the type of girl who would do anything to ensure she had a Valentine’s date.” This observation comes casual as anything from your boss, Mayor Wasicsko, as the two of you work together to build beds in the town hall. 

A combination of a lot of snow, an early thaw, and then rain, had resulted in flooding all around the city, many having to be relocated. And so here you were, on a night that most were celebrating with their loved one across an over-priced bottle of champagne, some heart-shaped chocolate and probably something red themed, in the town hall, setting up extra accommodation with Nick. 

Who you should probably call Mayor Wasicsko in your head. 

You’d been here for hours, first building the beds with other volunteers, all of whom had melted away as the night had gone on. All, apart from you and Nick.

“Yeah? Well I pegged you as the type of mayor to sit on his ass all day.” You snipe back, not thinking for a moment, before slapping a hand to your mouth in horror. “Sorry, Mayor Wasicsko, that was really unprofessional of me-”

You stopped your rambling, because … was he laughing?

You flip your end of the sheet the two of you are attempting to fit to the bed, successfully causing his end to yank out of his hands, flying up and causing enough of a breeze to dislodge his hair enough for a strand to flop onto his forehead. 

Not that you’d noticed. 

“I told you, call me Nick. And it’s ok,” he’s still smiling, annoyingly. “I just - you don’t have some annoyed boyfriend who’s sitting at home waiting for you?” 

You shake your head. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” You finally tuck in the corner of the sheet at the top of the bed and move to the bottom. “And anyway, I hate Valentine’s.” 

Nick throws you a pillow and a case when you hold your arms out. “So you hate love? And happiness?” 

You roll your eyes at him, busy stuffing the case, leaving him to struggle with the duvet, gathering the new sheets for the next bed as you talk. “No. I just … I hate the commercialisation of it.” 

You wait for Nick to finish with the duvet, before attempting the next bed. “It’s like … so what? If my hypothetical boyfriend doesn’t get me flowers, and chocolate and some shitty card on this one specific day of the year, he doesn’t love me?” You scoff. “No thanks.” 

Nick tucks in his corner, thinking about his response. “I think it reminds people to be thankful for the people they love.” Oh God he’s one of those. As if he hasn’t managed to drop in the fact that he’s woefully single for the last two hours whenever the opportunity arose.

“Only romantic love,” you remind him. “And,” you continue, remembering more and more reasons. “It’s all over-priced anyway, and it’s just so couples can feel smug while they walk hand in hand down the street, trying to get a table to a restaurant, where the prices have been upped for two people, and so single people, specifically women, can feel shit about themselves?” 

You harrumph again, handing Nick the other end of the sheet. “There is good about it though.” He’s looking at you differently, and you’re not sure how, but maybe it’s because you’re having the first real conversation with him tonight, despite having worked for him for the last year. 

You’d talked before, of course, but it usually had something to do with politics, Nick ducking out of his office to ask your opinion on something, before returning back to his phone and papers. It had never been a two-way conversation like this, never nothing to do with either of your jobs. 

You raise an eyebrow, tucking in your corners as you wait for him to make his point. “What about the half-priced chocolate the next day?” And … he nearly has you. Until you remember a counter-argument.  

“So it’s back to its normal price?” 

Nick looks at you like he’s never seen you before in your life. But he changes tack, which you take to mean that you’ve won that particular battle. 

“And what’s wrong with celebrating love? Even-” He anticipates your response before you do, “-if it is just romantic love?” He grabs the pillow before you can, leaving you to struggle with the duvet this time. 

You’re smiling now, unable to help yourself, as you watch the Mayor of Yonkers, of all people, pick up a pile of bedding. He looks good like this, you think, shirt rolled up to his forearms, collar open, tie left behind somewhere with his jacket. Not that he doesn’t normally look good. 

You’ve become more relaxed too, you can feel it, as though every bed that the two of you have completed has shod you of another layer, making you feel lighter. Your heels are by the door, and you are a similar height to Nick without them, which you’ve never noticed before, either being taller than him, or sitting in his presence. There’s something weird about it, but also nice, in a domestic sort of way, as your stocking feet pad around the beds, occasionally catching on the wooden floor. You hope you don’t get a hole. Or worse, a ladder. 

But you know it’s your mind which has relaxed the most. Allowing you first to smile at his jokes, then joke back, the tension in your shoulders melting away. And now this. A deep conversation. Which you suppose was bound to happen, the two of you alone after the last volunteer had called it a night at 1am and gone home. But love? Really? 

“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating love. It’s just forced, somehow. Like you’re a bad person for not doing it, just because of some long-dead guy who’s now in our calendar.” You finish your duvet, and move to help Nick. 

“I think you’re wrong.” And maybe it’s the way he says it, like it’s the most simple thing in the world. “I think it makes sure that people take a breath and appreciate what they have.” 

He looks so hopeful, you stop the scoff in your throat, instead letting yourself consider his point. “Well it doesn’t matter, it’s …” You pause and check your watch, blinking in surprise. “Fuck. It’s four in the morning. It’s not Valentine’s Day anymore.” 

And then you look up. Properly. 

There’s one bed left. You turn around, admiring all the made-up beds. Ok they could be neater, but so what? 

“Well.” You turn back to look at Nick as he speaks. “Do you want to take advantage of those sales, or not?” 

You blink at him, even as he gestures at you to take the other end of the sheet, unsure if you’re dreaming now. 

***

When you exit the town hall, the sky is the cool blue of pre-dawn. Grey clouds still hang, heavy and angry over Yonkers, a precursor of the rain to come. It’s been a cold night, a glimmer of frost on the ground, but you can already feel that it won’t last the day.

You yawn, rubbing your eyes with one hand, while your other holds your heels. Nick’s thrown his blazer over one shoulder, the tie hanging out of his trouser pocket. “C’mon.” Is all he says as he walks towards his car. 

It takes a second for your brain to engage. “What?” Your voice has become hoarse from a lack of sleep.

“Can I show you something?” And how can you say no, when he leans against the car roof with one arm, opening the door for you, and looking like that?

Inside the car it’s warm, and tiredness sinks down on you until you can hardly keep your eyes open. Nick only asks for your address, which you give him, and then you’re asleep. You wake when he stops the car on the high street, but fall back asleep when he tells you he just needs to pick up some groceries. 

You don’t wake up when he comes back, nor do you wake up when he sets off again. You open your eyes when he gently shakes your shoulder. The sky is much brighter now, the sun peeking over the horizon and you blink, looking at your watch. It’s nearly 7. Which means Nick let you sleep for 2 hours. It takes a second for your surroundings to fall into place, green and brown surrounding you.

Nick’s sitting next to you in the driver’s seat. And in the back seat are his groceries. 

You blink again. Harder this time.

Praying your makeup isn’t smudged all down your cheek, you move to sit up straighter, where you’d fallen asleep against the window. “What … where are we?” 

Nick doesn’t answer until he’s grabbed one of the bags, clambering out and opening your door for you. “We are in one of the city’s finest parks.” He announces, using his Official Mayor Voice.

As far as you can tell, it’s a pretty basic park. The only notable point is the view. You can see the full scrawl of Yonkers below you, as the sun rises to your right, still fighting the storm clouds left over from yesterday. Funny. You’d heard there was going to be more rain. 

As you step out of the car, you put your heels back on, and wince a little. Nick hands you a blanket to carry and sets off towards a clear area without too many trees, and you follow him, spreading the blanket for the two of you to sit on. Nick’s put his blazer back on and you try not to be disappointed, reminding yourself that he’s your boss. 

He places the bag between you, and … it’s stuffed with half price Valentine themed food. Chocolates, champagne, even a small teddy. You can’t help it. You let out a laugh as the two of you sit next to each other, the bag between you. 

“I never knew the Mayor would be a cheapskate.” You’re only half-serious, and you think Nick knows this, catching the glint in his eye as he replies. 

“You’d rather I bought you this full price?”

You shake your head, grinning, but confused on the inside. You must be tired. Hearing that the Mayor, your boss, wants to buy you something for Valentine’s? You must be misinterpreting this. 

“And I’ll have you know, that everything in this bag came to less than what it would be in a normal month.” He winks and you groan, theatrical and over the top. 

So instead you open the chocolate, grabbing the first one you see and popping it in your mouth. “Nice though,” you mumble, without having swallowed your mouthful, savouring the sweetness of it as it coats your tongue, eyes closing as you lean back on the blanket, missing the way Nick looks down at you. 

“Yeah? Worth every cent, aren’t they?” You smile, shaking your head. 

“Yes, Nick.” You finally sigh, giving in. “Worth every half-price cent.” You squint open an eye, waiting for his reaction, glad when he laughs, propping yourself up onto your elbows so you don't fall asleep again. And then you look down, and your eye catches on a bottle of champagne. 

You reach for it, twirling it on the ground. “So Nick, seeing as how you’re the Mayor and my boss,” you start, sure you’re going to get what you ask for, “and we worked all night long, can we have today off?”

You look at Nick to see him watching your face, amused at the long winded way you’re going about this. Finally he nods. “Yeah I think we deserve the day off.” 

You grin widely then, sitting up properly with a burst of energy, and pop the cork. You take the first sip straight from the bottle, leaving a small ring of lipstick behind. You use your thumb to wipe it off before passing it over, the bubbles still tingling on your tongue, washing away the chocolate. 

Nick takes a healthy swig as soon as his hand is wrapped around the cool bottle, and you can’t help but watch the way his throat bobs when he swallows, wiping at a drop that escapes his mouth. 

You turn to the rest of the bag to distract yourself. There’s at least 3 boxes of chocolate, a pack of strawberries, and a small bear. All of them have the tell tale yellow half-price stickers in clear view. You pull out the bear, amused. “He’s cute.” 

Nick hands the bottle back to you, running a hand through his hair. “Got a name for him?” 

You think about it for a minute, before deciding. “Arthur the Fourth.” And you place Arthur at the bottom of the blanket, so he’s looking at the two of you. 

Nick frowns, looking between the two of you. “The Fourth?” 

You laugh, biting on another chocolate. “Yeah. Throughout my childhood, I have had three other teddies, all named Arthur. He will be the fourth.” 

“And you lost them all?” 

“No, I still have Arthur the Third.”  You wash the chocolate down with another sip of champagne, and when you go to scrub away your lipstick again, Nick’s hand stops you. He shakes his head, like he’s having a secret conversation within your public one. 

“Shame to hear about the first two though.” You let him take the bottle from you, watching as he - his mouth - touches your lipstick. You can feel your heart rate raise, thumping inside your chest like a drum. You can still feel the ghost of his hand, warm where it touched yours. 

You look down on Yonkers again, unable to cope. “Yeah, well. It’s how it happens in real life, I guess.” 

The two of you fall silent as the sun climbs pathetically further and further, finally disappearing behind angry storm clouds. Conversation is quiet observations, both of you feeling wrapped up in a bubble of tiredness. 

You lie back down, ignoring how the cold of the ground is seeping through the blanket now and closing your eyes as you take a chocolate from the box which you intend to be your last, and you can hear Nick’s smirk when he talks. “Chocolate’s not too bad then?” 

You just hum, pretending to think about it. “Yeah not bad,” you finally agree, opening your eyes and turning your head to watch Nick as he leans back on his hands, “But it’s not Valentine’s day so you haven’t changed my mind …” 

And Nick’s looking at you like that again, and you could never in a million years anticipate his next question. “So you wouldn’t count this as the best Valentine’s Day date you’ve ever been on?” 

You freeze, what? You decline in that moment to mention that it’s the only Valentine’s date you’ve ever even been on, and you also choose to ignore that it’s not Valentine’s Day anymore, shaking your head. You can’t quite believe what you’re about to say, heart beating faster than normal, blood thrumming in your ears. “I would count it as the best date I’ve been on.” 

And then you’re laughing at the look of shock on his face, quickly stopping when he ducks down to kiss you. 

Nick, your boss, the mayor of Yonkers, is kissing you. 

It takes you a second to respond, shock freezing you where you lie. But then your hands are on his neck, pulling him back down over you as he deepens the kiss, tongue exploring your mouth. His forearm is resting on the blanket next to your head, supporting his bodyweight, his other hand cupping your cheek. His moustache is tickling you slightly, but you don’t care. 

He tastes sweet, from the chocolate. But then, you can taste the bubbles from the champagne, you can taste how cold it was, you can taste the birds chirping in the trees above you, and you can taste how warm the sun’s rays felt five minutes ago.

It’s perfect.

Until the clouds open above you.

It starts gently, and you don’t feel it at first, and when you do, you ignore it, more interested in snogging Nick. Your feet are becoming wet quickly and the rain falls in large drops. 

Nick’s the first one to pull away, and you follow him, chasing his lips with your own, not wanting to open your eyes. When you do, you realise your feet are wet from the bottle of champagne falling over, and Arthur’s looking to be in danger of rolling away. 

You can feel the rain on your head, and the drops are falling faster. You snatch Arthur and the now-empty bottle up, Nick scrambling to get everything back in the bag. At the last second, you ball up the blanket, ignoring how it brings half the floor with it, and the two of you run towards Nick’s car, laughing as the rain soaks the pair of you. 

***

Thanks for reading! Reblog and comments mean the world to me 🥰🥰🥰

[c-is-writing]

i do adore

pairing: wanda maximoff x gn!reader

genre: f l u f f

word count: 1775

warnings: yet again, i did not proofread this lmao. i am just typing whatever comes to my mind. otherwise, it’s just really fluffy so pls enjoy!!

a/n: good morning, i am writing this at 1am. i should be working on my college apps but this fic was just living in my mind rent-free and would not leave until i wrote it. also, this fic is inspired by and has lyrics from a song called “i do adore” by mindy gledhill. it’s a really cute song :’DD

Everything you do, it sends me

Higher than the moon with every

Twinkle in your eye

You strike a match that lights my heart on fire

 Ever since you had joined the Avengers, a certain brunette always caught your eye. You’d find yourself paying more attention to her than anyone else. At this moment, you lean against the kitchen counter, completely entranced by the way she spoke animatedly to Natasha. The way her hair cascaded down her shoulders. The way she waved her hands around, using her actions to emphasize what she’s saying. How the kitchen lights gleamed in her eyes, illuminating them. 

God, she’s so cute. And smart. And genuine. And caring. I- “Hello? Y/N? You there?” You are quickly brought out of your thoughts as a grimy hand waved in front of your face, blocking your view of Wanda. Your face scrunches up in disgust as you grip Tony’s grease-covered hand to stop it from moving, only to release it immediately after. Smiling, Wanda watches you glance at your now-dirty hands and start searching for a towel, careful not to get anything else dirty. You mumble, “Yeah, yeah. Sorry, just..distracted.”  

Natasha notices that the young girl’s attention is elsewhere and decides to put a pause on the conversation. As she bids her goodbyes, Wanda takes it as her cue to head over to where you were, crouched next to the cabinets, searching for soap. “Need help?” The melody of her words steals your attention as you turn your head, meeting her blue eyes. Suddenly, your heart begins to pound and you can hear the heartbeats in your ears. At a loss for words, you shake your head and quickly rush out of the kitchen, not caring about your dirty hands. Wanda just stands in the kitchen alone, wondering about what just happened.

 When you're near, I hide my blushing face

And trip on my shoelaces

Grace just isn't my forté

But it brings me to my knees when you say

Hello, how are you, my darling, today?

I fall into a pile on the floor

 It’s been only a day since the kitchen incident and that’s when you realized that you, Y/N L/N, have a crush on the one and only Wanda Maximoff. Groaning and draping your arm over your eyes, you ask seemingly no one “Oh, God. What if she doesn’t like me back?” You’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as you begin to think about her. You like, maybe even love, everything about her. Flashes of her laughs and smiles run through your head, like cars on a freeway until a knock on your door disturbs you. It creaks open and you have yet to remove your arm that’s covering your eyes. 

You feel the bed dip as you hear the voice you’ve grown to love, “Hey, how are you, darling? It seemed like you weren’t feeling well yesterday.” Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you bury your face into the pillow as you slowly melt into it. In a muffled voice, “I’m fine, Wans. I think I’m just tired.” She knows that there’s something you’re not telling her but she refrains from looking into your thoughts. “Okay, well, I just wanted to let you know that breakfast is ready.” and with that she gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.  

Sighing, you sit up and start getting ready for the day. Your mind can’t stop thinking about the way she called you darling, causing you to fumble with everything you come into contact with. In your flustered state, you nearly drop your phone, accidentally put on mismatching socks, and trip over yourself as you open the door. Quickly composing yourself, you take a breath and start heading towards breakfast. Oh boy, what a start to my morning.

 We're as different as can be

I've noticed you're remarkably relaxed

And I'm overly uptight

We balance out each other nicely

 “Y/N?! When’s the last time you took a break?”

“Uhhh, I’m not sure...but I just have so much paperwork to complete, I can’t really afford to take a break.”

“Nope. You’re taking one right now. Your health and sanity is more important than some paperwork.”

“But, Wans, I-”

“No buts. I’m going to a café and I’m dragging you with me”

Admitting defeat, you place the pen in your hand down and mark out where you stopped. Your joints crack as you rise up from the chair that you’ve been sitting in for almost 8 hours. Wanda gives you a smile and holds her hand out, signaling for you to take it. Gently taking a hold of her hand, she pulls you along with her, not noticing how clammy they are. 

A few minutes after you leave the compound, you readjust your grip on her hand to interlace each others’ fingers. As you walk at a steady rhythm, you feel more relaxed, all of the stress from the paperwork leaving your body. Wanda takes note of how your shoulders aren’t as tense and you seem to be enjoying yourself. She carefully looks over your figure; how the sun reflects in your eyes, bringing out their color, how the wind gently ruffles your hair, how you sigh contently when you lean your head against her shoulder. 

“Thanks for bringing me out here.” She squeezes your hand, “Of course, Y/N. I care about you. Plus, it looked like you really needed a break from that hellish paperwork.” Laughing at her comment, you don’t notice how Wanda looks at you as if you were a masterpiece in an art gallery; her eyes, full of adoration.

 Puppy love is hard to ignore

When every little thing you do, I do adore

 Arriving at the café shortly after, Wanda holds the door open for you as you step in, the smell of coffee beans and gingerbread floating through the air. She giggles as your eyes light up when they spot the gingerbread cookies on display. You turn your head to face her, offering a shy smile that sends butterflies into her stomach. Walking up to the counter, you realize that you aren’t holding hands anymore so you slowly link your pinky with hers, hoping that she’ll get the message. As she orders your guys’ drinks and a gingerbread cookie for you, she feels your finger hook on to hers. While the barista finalizes the order, Wanda releases your pinky finger, only to reattach her hand to yours, interlocking fingers once more. 

After paying, you opt to sit at a table next to a large window with plants placed along the windowsill. Wanda looks at the outside world, lost in her thoughts as she unconsciously brushes her thumb against your knuckles in a soothing motion. You take this time to commit this moment to memory -- Wanda watching the cars pass by as the golden sunset behind her creates a glowing aura surrounding her body. Spending a few more seconds basking in this quiet moment with her, you realize that you want more than what you have with her. You want to wake up next to her. You want to be the shoulder that she cries on. You want to be the person whose arms hold her up and protect her when she is too tired to do so. You want to be hers. 

Hearing her name being called, Wanda pries her eyes away from the cars and sees you staring at her with eyes full of adoration and love. She gives your hand a light squeeze and promises to be back as she heads to the counter to pick up the drinks and cookie. As she returns with the drinks in hand, you graciously take yours and, with a child-like excitement, ask “Is that for me?” when you notice the gingerbread cookie in her hand. Giggling at your reaction, she tells you yes and slides it over to you. 

 Finding words, I mutter

Tongue-tied, twisted

Foot in mouth, I start to stutter

Ha, ha, Heaven help me

The two of you fall into an effortless conversation that never stops until the café reaches its closing hours. You notice the time and can’t believe that you’ve been talking for nearly three hours with Wanda. As you apologize to the employees for staying so late, Wanda has a fond smile and reaches out for your hand. Grabbing her hand, you step outside and begin your walk back to the compound. For a majority of the walk, it’s quiet with the gentle tapping of your shoes on the sidewalk and occasional car passing by. You keep thinking about Wanda and how much you want to be with her. Wanda glances over, only to see you spaced out, thoughts swirling in your mind. 

“What’s on your mind, Y/N?” 

“Aren’t you able to read other people’s minds?” you quip. 

She chuckles and says, “Yes, but I would never read your mind without consent.” You pause, debating on whether or not you should tell her. Noticing your sudden silence, Wanda tilts her head in confusion and stops walking, pulling you back to her. The stop in movement brings you out of your thoughts. You quickly glance down and reach for her hand that’s not being held. Holding both of her hands, you look up to see her eyes, filled with concern. 

“Look, Wans. I-” You sigh and look down at your shoes, unsure of what you want to say. A few moments of silence pass by as you take a deep breath and confess, “Wanda, I really like you. Hell, I might even love you. I love the way your nose scrunches up when you laugh, the way you take care of me and check in on me, the way you control your powers and wield them with such grace. Everything you do, I do adore. And, I just- I...I was wondering if youwouldliketobemygirlfriend?” 

Wanda blinks at you with a dumbfounded expression, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit.” You hesitate, “Well, I- uh, um...Wanda, would you like to be my girlfriend?” After hearing those words, she flashes you a smile brighter than the sun and pulls you in a hug. “Yes, I would love to be yours, Y/N.” You release the breath you didn’t notice you were holding and stay in her embrace, soaking in the warmth radiating from her body. She pulls away slightly and moves to kiss you, pausing and searching your eyes for permission. With a slight nod, you move closer and meet her lips halfway. I really do adore her.

tag list (marvel) - @imnotasuperhero​

(if you would like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!!! :DD)