#the five fics i have open in my tabs

[patchodraws]

i miss lellowjackets 🥺👉👈

[h-didanart]

Hey can anyone like yell at me to go write or something?

Thanks

[lehana37]

Oh god I just opened safari on my phone and all 241 tabs of AO3 are gone

What am I supposed to do with myself

How do I get them back

[bambino1294]

why is researching for a fic like this

[xiaoluclair]

.

[munsster]

sharing a bed (trope bingo)

A/N: i could melt (pun not intended. you’ll see) this trope is literally my fav, all my fics would be about it if i could… (gif creds: @bubbarnes)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x GN!Reader

Summary: You're cold, Bucky's a living heater. Need I say more? 1.2k words

Warnings: fluff, fluff, more fluff, sharing a bed, cuddling, nervous/borderline horny Bucky, pet names (doll, sweetheart)

You should have made this decision before your fingertips went numb. November in a northern motel room found you freezing. In basketball shorts and a crewneck, no less. You should have been in California by now, but Bucky has been dragging his feet since Maine. Though, he does drive more than half the time, so it's a sacrifice you had been willing to take.

There's no snow on the ground, but you can feel the beginnings of it on the damp pavement. Your socks are soaked through, and you cringe making a mental note to burn them. You cross your arms over your chest and tuck your fingers under your armpits, jaw clacking as you shiver. The heater in your room scuttled hurriedly to a wheezing stop five minutes after whacking it alive.

Now you're shifting from left to right outside Bucky's door with your blood about to run purple. He hollered something through the door when you knocked the second time. It was either a it's unlocked or a don't come in and you don't trust your hearing enough to distinguish between the two at midnight.

"Bucky," you whine, resting your forehead just below the peephole and trying to shake the low beating sound from your ears. You lift your head. Footsteps then a rattling chain, and he whips the door open.

"Why are you up?"

"What?" How could he be annoyed right now when you're freezing your ass off and you can practically feel the heat rolling out of his room in waves. "I'm cold."

"Well... what am I supposed to do about that?"

You roll your eyes and glare up at him. You could swear he's doing it on purpose. You could swear he's making mental bets just to play with you. Right now he's betting all his cash on who'll crack first. His bet's on you. It always is.

"James, I swear to fucking God—I will walk back to Brooklyn if you don't—"

"Jesus, don't have an aneurism, doll. Come in," he mumbles. You follow him into the little square motel room: one bed, one table, half a bathroom. Plus a TV that only plays soaps and, half the time, crackles with static. The door shuts, and you sigh. You're swaddled by heat; the blood gushes back into the tip of your nose. You can feel your joints again.

"Take this." He tosses a coat at you. At you. It's heavy and green and thick. It's army grade. "Put it on." So you put it on and zip it up. He chuckles at the sight of you because the jacket is massive: down to your knees, quarter-foot past your fingertips. It dwarfs you. It's incredible.

"I feel like a gym teacher."

"What?"

"It's a... mm… nevermind," you hum, "'M tired." Your eyes sink shut, and he watches you from the bed, entertained by your sleep-standing act. For a second, he thinks you're actually gonna fall asleep like that. But then your eyes snap wide open and he looks away.

Bucky shuffles under the sheets, and you watch him curiously through the window of the coat's hood. You suppose you'd missed the fact that he's wearing only boxers, completely shirtless with his cropped hair messily flared around his head. You start to sweat.

He looks up when you whine. "What now?"

"... It's hot."

"You're killin' me, doll."

"I know, I'm sorry," you huff, hands fiddling the flannel insides of the hot jacket sleeves. He watches you struggle to glance at the floor and becomes flush with pity for you. He sighs.

"Alright, hon, take that off and c'mere. We'll get you warm, hmm? Come here."

You flail your arm before latching onto the metal zipper tab and tugging it down with a hissing bzzzz. Bucky watches you relax and let the coat slump to the floor before you peel your socks off and toss them in the small metal trashcan by the door. You pad your way to the empty side of the bed and pat the moth-eaten comforter a few times, smoothing your hand over the soft cotton.

"Don't be shy now. I probably won't bite," he teases.

"You piss me off, Barnes."

"Oh, feel free to freeze your ass off in your room, sweetheart. I'm doin' you a favor."

You harrumph and swing your legs onto the mattress, sliding yourself under the sheets and tucking the blankets under your chin. You face the door, and Bucky settles in beside you, leaving a comfortable six inches of space between you. He faces the wall.

"Night, Bucky."

"Goodnight."

You’re not sure when you fell asleep, and you don't know when Bucky got so close. Or when you turned around. What you do know is that Bucky runs red hot in the middle of the night. Or maybe all the time, but you've never been skin-to-skin in the day. Hell could freeze over and Bucky would still be an inferno.

Sometime between two and three, you tossed around and ended up facing him as he crept closer unconsciously. His hands felt empty in dreams about dancing, so he reached into the darkness and tucked his fingers into the crooks of your knees to draw you into his warm body. On instinct—and because you're still in need of thawing—you curl into him and let your heart beat comfortably alongside his.

Bucky's a talker. He's a vocal sleeper. Good thing his deal was talking. Becca got saddled with sleep walking, and he remembers Ma asking him to install an extra lock high up to keep her from wandering out at twilight. Again. They'd found her mumbling at a brick wall half a block away one night and decided it was for the best.

Now he's rambling on about goats, describing their rough coats as he nuzzles into your navel. His palm spread over your back, he keeps you close, taut to every bit of his body, your leg draped over his waist.

He moans. Loud. And you shift in your sleep, fingers moving to cup the back of his head, brushing through his soft hair. His scalp is hot, and you sigh lazily as you melt further into his tight skin and smooth muscle. If either of you had woken up, it would've been a bloodbath. But for now, it's peaceful, and a dove coos from a lamppost outside.

A couple of times, you open your eyes but find yourself so disoriented, you can't bother to assume it's anymore than a dream and pass out again. At the crack of dawn, Bucky's lashes flutter open, and each of his veins flows with new life and the rising sun. It takes a second for him to realize he's breathing in the warmth of your skin. And he doesn't hate it.

He falls back asleep.

In the morning, you're both too busy adjusting to central standard time to register that you'd been pressed up close and personal all night. Too busy to acknowledge the comfort you both found in each others arms. And hands.

Over breakfast at the twenty-four-hour diner, he smiles meekly, and you blink down at your short stack like nothing happened. Like nothing ever will.

marvel masterlist

[alltheprettyplaces]

i’m so behind on lone star fics omg

[sunflower-lilac42]

𝟲𝟬𝟯 ; 𝘭𝘩43 ୨୧

➪ summary: luke's main goal is to make sure y/n is taken care of, however it's hard for him to do it 603 miles away

➪ warnings: reader overworks herself, school, stress

➪ word count: 2.5k

➪ file type: fic - reupload

➪ sunny's notes: i’ve been in a like mood so i decided to get this one out tonight!! ill post a connor blurb tomorrow morning/afternoon and a nico fic tomorrow. more of a schedule release tomorrow probably for the next two weeks

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

lh43 masterlist || nhl masterlist || new taglist || navigation

She expected this to happen, the pounding in her head, the 20 tabs open on her computer, the dozens of resource articles and research strewn about in her room, the five packets of review guides sitting in a stack on her desk, the half drank cup of coffee, and the tears springing in her eyes. The white noise coming from her earbuds was starting to bother her causing her to rip them out of her ears and throw them somewhere where she probably wouldn’t be able to find them again.

She could hear voices in the living room, just outside her closed bedroom door. They were laughing about something, what it was she had no idea. Her three roommates all had presentations tomorrow and that was it, no more studying, no more writing, they were done. She, however, still had three papers to write and two exams to take. She had regretted her decision to take this many classes this semester but she was preparing herself for her future.

She had gone to stand up, feeling dizzy immediately as her feet planted flat on the floor. She held a hand to the wall, bracing herself from toppling over. She blinked a few times, trying to clear the blurry sight of tears, dehydration, and lack of nutrition. She knew people would be worried about her if they were to see her like this, her hair matted and pulled into a bun as best as she could, and mascara dried on her face that highlighted the dark circles and bags under her eyes. She was wearing Luke’s sweatshirt, the Devils logo plastered over it in the center, mocking her, reminding her that her boyfriend was 603 miles away from her.

At the thought, she allowed herself to tear up more, letting tear after tear fall. There wasn’t much she could do, he was in the middle of a game right now. When she realized he had a game, she turned it on and watched with a soft smile whenever he would show up on the TV. Despite knowing the fact that he would not answer his phone, she called him, hoping to just hear his voice through his voicemail. 

When his voice reached her ears, she could feel some of the tension release from her body. However, the feeling was short-lived as the beep from the end of his voicemail was heard. She didn’t leave a message, she just hung up and watched the remainder of the second period. When the horn blarred in the arena and through the tv speakers, she shut off the screen and returned to work, making her head hurt more. 

She didn’t notice the multiple attempts Luke had made to call her, her phone having died 20 minutes prior when she was writing her essay. Her headphones laid atop her earbuds, trying to create a total noise blocker from her apartment’s noises. She had been ripping off post-it notes after post-it notes, scrambling to write down as many ideas as her brain could process. 

Meanwhile, Luke had been minorly, no majorly, freaking out. She would never call him if he was at a game, not even if it was super important. He could feel himself start to sweat again as he rushed to put his suit jacket on, wiggling his feet into his shoes. He had gone home by himself, not feeling the need to celebrate when his girl could be suffocating 603 miles away from him. 

Ever since they’ve known each other, Luke has known about y/n’s tendencies to throw herself into her school work. He remembers the first time he saw her during exam season. It was the end of their freshman fall term, they had been dating for four months at the time. They had just gotten back from their games in Ohio, he was exhausted from the trip and their 6-1 loss following their win the previous day. All he had wanted to do was go over to her dorm and lay in bed with her. 

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

He knocked on the door, waiting for an answer but nothing came. He felt saddened and knocked again. He received the same answer, none. He turned around and slid down the wood door, hitting the ground with a thud. He put his hands on his head as he waited, kicking his bag to the side. It was only then he heard the footsteps come rushing down the hallway and looked up to see her. She had her backpack that looked as if it weighed 10 pounds, she was clutching five books in her arms and a coffee cup rested on top of them. She had been mumbling when she noticed him and her eyes lit up, “Hi!”

“Hi pretty girl, whatcha doing?”

“Studying.”

He looked at the way her eyes were hidden by the circles underneath them and frowned. He reached out to grab the books from her grasp and she gratefully accepted the offer, going straight to dig the keys out of her bag, “How were the games? Did you guys win?”

He felt heartbroken and confused, she always watched his games when they went away. She would always be the one to point out his goal or an assist that he got, sometimes she even pointed out if Dylan, Mackie, Ethan, or even Owen got a goal. He watched as she pushed the door open, removing her hand from her side to run it through her hair, “You didn’t watch?”

She turned to him, dropping her bag on the ground and reaching out for her books, “No, I was studying. Sorry, Lu.”

Studying? At that time? He did nothing but let her take the books, watching as she started to clean up her dorm. It was only then that he had noticed the state her dorm was in. There were empty boxes scattering the floor, paper plates and bowls on any surface possible, and some of her clothes were mixed in with her roommate’s, it was a mess, to say the least. He made no effort to say anything about it, though. 

She cleaned as much as she could in a matter of five minutes, looking at him with a small smile on her face, “I’m sorry I didn’t watch. I was going to watch the highlights when I got back tonight.”

“Back from?”

“Library. I think I’m starting to become a regular for everyone who works there.”

The thought of her being a regular was somewhat concerning to him, “How often have you been going?”

His voice was a mixture of stern and worried, his eyes somewhat squinted in a glare. She looked as if she had committed a crime at the tone of his voice, “Every day… from the time class was over until they closed.”

His eyes widened, “Jesus y/n.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to study. I need to do well.”

“I understand that but you can’t work yourself to the brink of death.” He grabbed the coffee out of her hand and emptied it into the sink, getting rid of the cup afterward.

She whined at the motion, watching him in horror as if he just hit a bird with his car. He walked back over to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, “Tomorrow you are not going to touch a single book, I won’t even let you touch your computer.”

“But-”

“Nuh-uh, nope. No computer, no books, no papers, no anything school-related. We are going to stay in your bed and watch movies all day and eat properly.”

“I eat properly!” She exclaimed in offense.

He gave her a look that said all the different, “Sure. Now I can only hope you still have some of my clothes here somewhere because I do not want to talk to my dorm right now.”

She pointed in embarrassment to one of her drawers, “In there.”

He kissed her forehead and grabbed the clothes before heading for the bathroom, “I’ll be back and I better not see you do any work when I get back.”

She nodded but as soon as he left she ran to her backpack and grabbed her computer. She rushed to finish the last two paragraphs of her essay before he got back but luck was not on her side as she was halfway through her last paragraph and the doorknob turned. She had been so focused on writing that she didn’t care that he entered, “Just let me finish my last paragraph.”

He sighed, dropping his clothes into her laundry basket. He walked back to her bed and looked at her, “Last paragraph?”

“Mhm.” She nodded and scooted over so Luke could sit next to her, “Fine. I don’t want you to lose your train of thought.”

She beamed up at him and kissed his cheek before returning to her work.

ू ₒ ु ୨୧ ू ₒ ु

Ever since then, he had been careful with how much he left her alone in exam season. He always called on road trips, always went to the library with her to make sure she didn’t overwork herself, always made sure she was eating properly, and always made sure that she was okay. But now being 603 miles it was hard to do that for her. 

Luke was packing a bag as fast as he could, looking at his laptop for the earliest flight out of there which wasn’t until early the next morning, leaving at 7 and not arriving until 9. Then he would have to wait to get a car and do a 30-minute drive to Ann Arbor. He groaned at the time and went to throw something, at that point he could drive there and be there before getting a plane but he was in no state to drive. 

He continued to try and call her for 30 minutes, on the brink of giving up at that point. Her phone was still dead and she had yet to realize it. She had music playing through her earbuds attached to her computer, typing about something that she considered stupid and unnecessary. She only took breaks to take a sip of coffee or to groan and throw her head back in exhaustion and frustration. 

Luke threw his phone on the bed, running his hands down his face, falling asleep not even five minutes later. Y/n was the same way, she closed her laptop as she finished her last sentence, finally allowing herself to take a break. She got up to go make a burrito in the kitchen, waving to her friends who were also still awake at the time. 

She went to turn her phone on and that was when she realized the lack of battery it had. She shrugged it off and put it down on her nightstand before walking back out to eat and finish watching the movie with her roommates.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

She didn’t go to bed until almost three in the morning despite finishing the movie four hours ago. Once they finished, she looked at the piles of paper and study guides she still had to do and sighed. Deciding that her first class wasn’t until noon, she could easily get done with one or two study guides or an essay in three. 

She curled up on her bed when she was done and wrapped the blankets around her tightly. When she woke up and went to look at her phone and saw a tweet from Amanda from an hour ago, “Luke is not at morning practice due to personal reasons. Should expect him back for Saturday’s game in Columbus.”

She immediately woke up at the fact, looking back at her other notifications. There must’ve been at least a dozen missed calls from Luke and 15 text messages. She could only think about the worst, if he had gotten hurt but just didn’t want to tell someone, if he had been so drunk that he couldn’t think straight, if he had a panic attack last night. Her thoughts raced but halted when there was a knock on the door.

She went out to the living room, still clad in her sweats from the previous night. Her friends must’ve either already left or were still sleeping. She walked to the door, peeking through the peephole and gasping. She all but ripped the door open, “Lukey?”

He smiled when he saw her, immediately feeling better. Her eyes were still the same from the first time he had experienced her like this and he knew there would probably be a coffee pot brewing in the next few minutes, but he was here now and that was a wave of relief, “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls and I know you were studying last night so you probably wouldn’t have answered them anyway. But when I saw you called during the game I got worried because you never call. And I just wanted to make sure you were okay and that you weren’t overworking yourself but I can tell that you are.”

She frowned at his words but also felt butterflies in her stomach at the thought of him flying out just because he wanted to ensure she was okay. She stepped aside to let him in and then led him to her bedroom. It was cleaner than what he had witnessed in the past years.

“You can’t just fly out every time you think I’m overworking myself, Luke.”

“I know but I wasn’t thinking. I was worried, really worried.” He held her hand, playing with her fingers as a form of comfort, “How long were you up to last night?”

She hesitated before responding, “3…”

He only sighed and tugged her closer to the bed so they could lay down, “Luke I have class in two hours.”

“I know but just for a little bit, and then I’ll take you to class.”

“You still know you’re way around campus?”

“Did I ever know my way around campus?”

She shook her head and laughed, “No.”

He smiled at her laugh, “You do realize I’m only going to be allowing you to rest while I’m here right?”

“But I have one more essay to finish.”

He glared at her, “Fine, but after that, you are going to be right here, in my arms, and not thinking about school at all.”

“Deal.”He kissed her before allowing her to get up and get ready for class. They both walked on campus to her class with the same thought, grateful that Luke had come to see her. Even with being 603 miles away from each other, they would do anything to be there for one another.

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗝𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗦 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@blakesbearsblog @toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @prettyjoseph @nicole01-23 @auriesphantom @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43

© sunflower-lilac42 ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[simpforrooster]

i love when you call me pete.

pete ‘maverick’ mitchell x f!reader

t/w: mentions of an age gap, some smooching. drunk!maverick

summary: maverick almost drunkenly tells reader how he feels about her

a/n: lowercase intended! wrote this on my phone and have autocaps off xD two fics in one day!!!

maverick laughs as jake, one hand over his own eyes, takes aim at the dart board.

jake hits a bullseye. mav pulls out his wallet, and reluctantly hands jake a folded bill. your eyes roll at the captain’s stupidity. jake never misses a bullseye.

the guys surely hustled the poor man. mav’s hand falls on jake’s shoulder as he finishes off his beer.

“how long are you gonna stare at him?” phoenix asks with a raised brow.

“i am not staring,” you counter, knowing full well that you are indeed staring.

not that you could help it. the man may be twice your age, but he’s hot. even phoenix, happily engaged to bob, gets her an eye full of the elder captain.

you wipe down the bar in front of phoenix and hand her another lemon drop. tucking the rag in your back belt loop, you turn to hand another regular their drink.

ever since penny hired you, you’ve managed to take care of the bar almost as good as she does. she lets you take on the slower days of the week alone, and the two of you manage the weekend crowds together.

once everyone has been taken care of, you turn your attention back to your friend. you catch her admiring her ring. she looks up at you with a grin.

“sorry,” she shrugs. you shake your head.

“no indeed. i’d be gawking at that rock all day if it was mine.”

“you know you said that entire sentence looking at him and not me, right.”

you startle. she’s right. you’d basically been undressing maverick with your eyes. imagining your left hand heavy with a ring.

“you’re impossible,” she laughs.

your heart picks up its pace as maverick saunters, or better yet, sways up to the bar.

“four more, please. on my tab, babe.” maverick holds up five fingers, a giant grin on his face.

babe?

you lean over the bar and lay his thumb back against his palm. “that’s four.”

maverick looks down at you and then back to his hand. a chuckle falls languidly from his lips. “you’re right.”

phoenix raises a brow at you, out of sight from mav, who is looking at you like you’re his center of gravity.

“have i ever told you how gorgeous you are?” maverick says, still holding up those four fingers. the comment turns your insides into jelly.

“are you drunk, pete?” you ask him. there’s no way he’d be saying any of this if he were sober.

his hand falls to the bar top and his eyes fall closed. he stands there a moment, gathering himself, you assume.

his eyes open, those blue irises almost knocking you off your feet with how intense they look at you.

“i may be drunk, but that doesn’t mean i’m lying about you being gorgeous.”

phoenix grins at you over his shoulder, maverick completely oblivious to her.

no, he’s definitely only noticing you. every moved you’ve made, he’s tracked it. well, as well as he can given that he’s shitfaced.

maverick shrugs a shoulder. “maybe sober me is just nervous to tell you that.”

“pete,” you breathe. “you’re a naval aviator. there’s no way i make you nervous.”

“god, i love how you say my name,” he admits. before he can say anything else, jake and rooster appear at his side.

“come on, pops, we’ll get you home.” the men each take an arm, seeing as maverick can hardly remain upright.

he tries to shake them off. “i can’t go until i ask y/n out.”

your hand comes up to your mouth, your heart picking up pace again.

“let’s try tomorrow, mav,” rooster murmurs to his godfather. maverick vehemently shakes his head.

“no. i have to tell her now. i have to tell her i—,”

“oh no you don’t,” jake says, forcing maverick away from the bar. “you will not finish that sentence until you’re sober. she doesn’t deserve a drunk admission.”

rooster shoots you an apologetic look, handing you his card to close out the three of their tabs. you move on autopilot. punching in the men’s names, clicking on them, swiping the card, repeat. you hesitate on pete’s account. god, he did have a lot to drink.

that’s all that was. drunken words. he won’t remember any of this in the morning.

once the men are out the bar and pete is loaded in the back of the bronco, you turn to phoenix.

“what the fuck?” she screeches.

“i told them not to let him approach her with as far gone as he was,” bob comments, saddling up in the barstool next to his fiancé.

“what are you talking about, bob?” you ask.

bob shares a look with phoenix.

“you’re nuts if you’ve never seen the way he looks at you.”

“please don’t get my hopes up, bob,” you tell the bar, already fearful of those hopes plummeting once maverick comes to his senses and takes everything that just happened back.

you close out the remaining people at the bar. phoenix and bob hang around with you, walking you to your car once you’ve got the hard deck locked up.

the dagger squad take turns staying with you when you have a closing shift. they’re more protective of you than a set of new parents.

you hug your friends goodbye and drive to your apartment.

~

the next morning, your doorbell wakes you up with a start.

literally rolling out of the bed, you hit the floor tangled in your sheets. the doorbell chimes again. searching for a pair of pants, dread fills you as the doorbell rings once again.

what could be so urgent at..7 am?!

your mind runs through every possibility.

the doorbells chimes for a forth time just as you throw the door open, shrieking, “what?!”

pete mitchell stands on your stoop. he looks like hell. the two of you stare at one another, while pete grips the flowers he’s holding with a death grip.

you open the door wider, silently inviting him in. he follows you to the kitchen and settles at your island. the silence in the room thickens as you set to work making coffee. you feel his eyes on you the entire time.

“listen, y/n,” maverick starts, but you cut him off, sharply holding up a finger. you fish two mugs from your cabinet. you fill his mug to the brim, spooning two teaspoons of sugar in it. you fix yourself a little coffee with your creamer. setting the coffee in front of him, you step back and lean against the counter across him.

waving your hand, you tell him to proceed.

“i’m so sorry about last night,” he says, finally laying the flowers down. he runs his hands down the front of his jeans, wiping away the sweat.

“if you’re about to take it all back, i really don’t want to hear it, mav,” you tell him.

“mav..” he repeats to himself, looking at your counter top. “last night you called me pete.” he brings his eyes to yours.

you stare at him. okay, he remembers that.

“i don’t want to take any of it back, y/n.”

your breath catches at the back of your throat.

“i want to apologize,” he continues. “you didn’t deserve a drunken admission. i was being cowardly. because believe it or not, you’re ten times scarier than an f-18.”

when you say nothing, he keeps on.

“i know how to handle an f-18. i know what makes it work, how to get it back on track. i know that plan inside and out.” he takes a breath. “i don’t know how to navigate this. you.”

“me?”

“you. god, y/n. you have the ability to wreck me to my core. and i have so terrified to admit my feelings to you.”

“come on, pete, you can’t mean that,” you tell him, folding in on yourself.

“of course i do. the guys told me talking to you drunk was a bad idea. i thought i could handle it, but you just looked so gorgeous, i couldn’t help it.”

you are fully aware of how you looked last night during that fiasco. and gorgeous surely wasn’t it. not with your tank top and cut offs. and you know your hair had to be a mess. it always was at the end of a shift.

maverick rises from his stool. coming around the kitchen island, he stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking terrified as he walks over to you.

“i am sorry i tried to do this shitfaced,” he whispers, a breathe away from you. “tell me i didn’t ruin anything.”

he’s never stood this close to you, and it’s doing odd things to your heart.

“you didn’t ruin anything, pete,” you tell him. his eyes drop down to your mouth, silently asking permission. you nod, not trusting your voice to not betray how much you want this.

maverick pins you to the counter, his hands on either side of you, holding his weight off you. you speed him up by balling your hand in his shirt and pulling him down to you.

maverick grins as his mouth meets yours, falling back into his normal self. you can fill the confidence flowing through him as his hands move from the counter to your body.

his expert hands fall exactly where you need them. he deepens the kiss, his tongue running along your bottom lip. opening up to him, he pulls you tight against his body.

“fuck,” he breathes against your lips.

“tell me about it,” you murmur.

he plants tantalizing kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“pete,” you moan. he tightens his hold in response.

“i love it when you call me pete,” he says, returning his kisses to your mouth.

masterlist.

[achillean-heartbeat]

Hey friend!!! Can you recommend any good fics for Teen Wolf?

I'm about to start watching it this weekend, and kinda want to supplement it with the fics..

Thank you in advance

HELLO TO YOUUU!!

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME!!! i would absolutely fucking LOOVEEE TOOO!!!

First of all, thank you so much for this ask. Can't believe you just gave me a reason to recommend some of my fave teen wolf fics.

second of all, IT'S AWESOME THAT YOU'RE GONNA WATCH IT!!! It is a shitshow of a show (hah) BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOYY!!<<<<33333

third, a little disclaimer, i mostly read sterek (stiles x derek) and thiam (theo x liam), so this list is going to be mostly them. However, i do read any and all ships as long as its fun and i like the tropes of the fic. So when you start watching it and there is a particular ship you liked that is not mentioned in this list i would love to rec u more stuff!!!<<33

fourth, i will also be putting at the end a list of fics i plan to read soon and have not read yet, cuz why not.

fifth and finally, i'm pretty sure i don't have to say this but i just thought i'd give you a heads up just in case: in some of these fics there are certain triggers, certain kinks, so please make sure not to miss any surprise tags, especially 01001in the short fics.

OKAAYYY NOW THAT THAT'S SETTLED HERE WE GOOO!

SOME FICS I HAVE READ AND LOVED:

LONG FICS: (>50k)

THIAM: Airplanes by Captinmintyfresh (236k) what still grows in darkness by eneiryu (137k) To be Led by a Liar GoldFox99 (79k) Tethered by Tonytones(85k)

STEREK: Put Down in Words by paintedrecs (200K) Windows by dr_girlfriend (83k) Foxgloves by formeldehyde (71k) To The End by formeldehyde (181k) Strange Turns That Bring Us Closer demonicfairie2009 (100k) Sex Therapy by Asterekmess (51k)

SHORT FICS: (<50k)

THIAM: i loathe you i love you by tonytones (30k) here in the twilight it's all hearsay by eneiryu (2k) Craving Every Part of Your Raw, Wild Soul by ksbbb (29k) you can say that we are nothing, but you know the truth by pansexual-puppy-pack (1k) i think i left my conscience on your front door step pansexual-puppy-pack (8k)

STEREK: we are tangled by drunktuesdays (5k) Lock All The Doors Behind You by entanglednow (25k) I don't know why, but I guess it has something to do with you by LunasCanisLupus_22 (17k)

Choice by Omni (8k) Last Lovesong of a Dying Lemon by wldnst (10k) Romance In Progress by Asterekmess (32k) here is the deepest secret nobody knows by owlpostagain (22k) How To Be a Normal Person by drunktuesdays (8k) Five Days of Dickings by mklutz (17k) I Wanna Take Down The Walls With You by drunktuesdays (10k) bigger, longer and uncut by drunktuesdays (4k)

BONUS: Theo/Josh/Corey/Tracy/Hayden we ain't ever getting older (6k)

FICS I HAVE NOT READ YET THAT ARE IMPATIENTLY CALLING OUT FOR ME FROM MY ENDLESS OPEN TABS:

LONG FICS: (>50K)

THIAM: "Where no Hope is Left, is Left no Fear" ( No mere Human can Stand in a Fire and not be Consumed) by ksbbb (71K) Take my heart (and put it somewhere safe) by not_carrying_on (172k) Consequences of Our Past by xTarmanderx (70k) All About Control Universe by EquallyLoyalAndLethal (152k) Handle With Care by Attempted Eloquence (190k)

STEREK: Predators by Hedwig221b (74k) Words Cannot Espresso How Much You Bean to Me by isthatbloodonhisshirt (68k) Not So Boring by beerwolves and isthatbloodonhisshirt (69k) yes chef seaweedwater (228k) You're stronger than you know by littleredridinghunter (234k) Getting Better by thebadassisin (205k) A New Perspective by Asterekmess (323k) The Moon's Gonna Follow Me Home by turningterrific (82k) Home by thetypewritergirl (167k)

SHORT FICS: (<50K)

THIAM: I Love You as Certain Dark Things are To Be Loved, in Secret.” by ksbbb (46K) Sweet talkings by captainmintyfresh (28k) i'm not ready to die yet, should i pray? (i'm wasting time, haunted by the ghost of you) by petitommo (6k) when oblivion is calling out your name, you always take it further than i ever can by likelightninginabottle (8k) you're my head, you're my heart Or: The Shameless Thiam 'verse by likelightninginabottle (20k) loving you's a bloodsport by THENINTH09 (21k) a thing with sellable skin by Attempted Eloquence (22k) a shot in the heart (doesn't make it unbreak) (4k) it gets so hard to breathe when i think of you (thinking of me) by wingsoutforshin (5k) Too Afraid to Follow Through by dangerouscoffeetheorist (14k) i know about things i wish I didn't - the not yet a corpse series by yikeshereiam (29k) Absence makes the heart grow fonder by laheysmythes (11k)

get him back! by marymacgf (21k)

STEREK: Together, Apart by justanotherbusyfangirl (14k) Spellbinding Mishap by isthatbloodonhisshirt (45k) Untouchable by Hedwig221b (17k) the feral wind that lit him ablaze by quackquackcey (37k) Which Con at Witch Con? by quackquackcey (10k) Stilinski's Speakeasy by sinna_bon (10k) the way our horizons meet by dumpac (3k) Even Greenberg has a Soulmate by beerwolves and deancebra (22k) red hoodies and bronze daggers (the secrets you keep glow in the dark) by patolemus (19k) Ground Me With Your Touch by asterekmess (7k) Let Me Take My Time With You by asterekmess (6k) Whispered in the Sound of Silence by dr_girlfriend (7k) always the sidekick by mirrorkill (49k)

BONUS: Stiles x Theo: Partners in Crime by snaeken (2k)

Okay i'm done!

oof sorry for the long ass post!

i'm not gonna lie, the story and writing is kinda wonky in some places, but the characters are so loveable it's impossible not to find them endearing in some way or another.

but no matter the outcome, i hope you enjoy it and have a great time!!

i hope you have an amazing day!!

[saradika]

—HOW TO USE CANVA TO MAKE MOODBOARDS

I got a kind message asking how I make moodboards in Canva, so I wanted to do a little tutorial! Canva is a free graphic design app/website, and I use it for everything.

To start - open the app/page and use the search bar at the top to search for a template. I usually use: photo collage, scrapbook, aesthetic moodboard - all of these will pull up pre-made templates for you to use.

[I have a couple linked below that I’ve used and liked, or have bookmarked to try:]

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight

Anything with a crown is for Canva Pro members - you used to be able to use the templates as a free member (just not the paid assets) but that changed recently. The linked templates above are all free ones that you can use right away.

PHOTOS:

Once you’re in the template, you can press the + in the bottom corner to bring up the menus. The Elements tab have items you can add in (more on that later) - for now you want to go to Uploads, and add the photos you want to use. I mostly get mine from Pinterest and Google Images.

[If you are writing an x reader fic and are looking for tips for creating an inclusive moodboard, there are some awesome resources here: one | two !]

After that, go back to your template and click on the different photo frames, and use the Replace button in the toolbar - it will let you replace the template photos with your own. Double tap to move and resize your image within the frame, (and there are also filters you can use if you want!)

When working on moodboards, I like to move things around. You can replace the frames they use by clicking on the item and then clicking the Trashcan. Then go back to the + menu, and then Elements, and scroll down to Frames. You can scroll through them all, but my fave keywords to use in the search bar is: polaroid, torn, and ripped.

Once they’re added, you can move them wherever you want. There’s a button on the toolbar that says Position, and you can shift the object forward/back between the items around it.

DETAILS:

Once you add your photos, then comes the details! You can change the background color and add/change the fonts (or upload your fave font to use!) Try out all the tools on the toolbar to see what you can do, there’s a lot of options.

I love love layering with my moodboard, so I will go back to the + / Elements tab, and then search for things to layer in. My fave searches for Graphics recently are: ripped paper, grunge patterns (to use in the background), star patterns, dried flowers, and dried leaves.

You can use the Position tool on them to fit them in-between or in front of your photos. I usually use them to hide harsh edges or in places that look a little empty.

I also like adding fabric texture to the backgrounds, to fill the space between the photo frames. There isn’t an easy way to do this - the best way I figured out is to find an image of the texture you want, and then to add a photo frame with a torn or jagged edge in the very back (and then use your new texture there). You can duplicate and move it, to cover the space (you can see some examples below - the beige flower pattern in the Din one, the black velvet for Alfred).

Here are some examples of the original templates, and then what my finished ones look like. You can see what I swapped out, moved, and added:

original image | my moodboard

EDITING:

Once I am happy with the design I download it, and then edit. I love this part - pop it into your fave editing app, and play around with the exposure/contrast/hues/sharpness. I will mess with the color balance & vibrancy as well - this can really take a moodboard I like, to one I love.

Here’s some gifs I made showing before /after editing - both are pretty before but I think the after has an oomph that I really appreciate.

[When you finish with one and want to use the same template, you can click Make a Copy, and it will duplicate it. I began with templates but everything I do now are copies of heavily/edited templates or ones I’ve made from scratch. But for starting off, I think a template is the way to go!]

And that’s it!! I would really suggest just opening it up and seeing what you can do. Not all of mine turn out great, but each time I think I get a better handle on all the different options and what my moodboard style is.

I really hope this helps! And feel free to tag me if you post any you make, I’d love to see them (or drop me an ask if you have any questions!) 💖💕

[joelmillers-whore]

Hard Light | Chapter 1

summary: when a new english professor begins teaching your class for the duration of your semester, you can’t help but develop an innocent crush on him. he’s as off-limits as he can be, but that doesn’t deter you in the slightest. after a drunk night, you accidentally email him something that wasn’t intended to ever be seen by anyone. but that doesn’t matter. it triggers a misunderstanding that manifests into an affair with your professor who is twenty years your senior. nothing good could come of this, right? 

pairings: professor!joel x college student!reader

word count: 2.2K

series or one-shot

warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, no mention of Y/N, alternate universe, professor/student relationship, eventual smut, self-esteem issues, workaholic, joel x female!reader, infatuation bordering on obsession (stay delulu friends), some sexual thoughts, masturbation (f), joel being a huge tease lol, (will add more tags as i write)

AN: i am so excited by the response that my joel one-shot got a few days ago and i’ve been itching to get something else out to you all. big, giant forehead kisses for those who want one, i love you all. so, anyway, a mini-series about professor joel is coming at you fast. i’ve written the first few chapters, so expect those in the near future. i’m thinking once a week? this fic is going to be something else and i’m so excited to share it with ya’ll. enjoy, and let me know what you think. find my ao3 here for more content and other fandoms.

You were running late for your shift at the coffee shop on campus, rummaging around your dresser, trying to find the low-cut black top you always wore when you had a shift. You weren’t usually one to feed into the peer pressure of those around you, but push came to shove when you found it nearly impossible to keep yourself afloat as a twenty-something student without the added extra tips from your part-time job.

So what if you had to show a little bit of cleavage? Right? There was no harm. Student loans were a bitch and on top of rent and food costs, you had to get a job at the coffee shop and balance a full course load just to make ends meet. 

A thought popped into your head and you rushed to your laptop, throwing it open as you checked the time; 5:45 AM. If you busted out your lightning-fast typing skills, you would have enough time to catch the next bus and make it to campus with five minutes to spare. If only your crappy second-hand computer would work.

The thing honestly sounded like a chopper engine, getting ready for lift-off. You were surprised you’d gotten this far with it. Not that you weren’t appreciative, your older brother had passed it down and it had relieved a huge weight—  and expense off of your shoulders. 

You tabbed into your school portal, typing in your credentials and selecting your English course. You sighed heavily, as you skimmed over the assignment for this week, something to do with a sonnet that you couldn’t care less about. You loved school but ever since becoming an English major, the spark that you once had for literature sort of just evaporated.

You couldn’t tell if it was because of how busy you were with everything else that you just couldn’t find the time to enjoy it, or the thought that really scared you, you had fallen out of love with it. 

It had been two years of go, go, go and you were, for lack of a better word, burnt out. You’d tried dropping courses last semester, thinking that you just needed a little bit of ease when it came to your course load, but when that didn’t solve the problem and only made things worse for you, you spent the last two semesters trying to catch up and get yourself to a place where you could finally breathe.

But it wasn’t easy. You were only now caught up to where you had been, the illusion that you were someone who could afford to take time off and slow down was a distant memory. 

In bold letters, the words Paid Internship jumped off of the screen. You smiled as you leaned in closer to the screen, making sure you read through everything correctly. This was the break above the surface that you needed, the reprieve that you had been chasing. A paid internship was exactly how you’d be able to make more money and maybe have a little breathing room before you worked yourself into an early grave.

You clicked the mail icon at the top and clicked into a new email, deciding that the worst-case scenario was that you wouldn’t get the internship. All you were doing was inquiring about the application process. Best-case scenario; you’d get it and make some extra pocket money. 

You saw the time, cursing under your breath as you slammed the laptop closed, grabbed your phone out of the charger and ran out of the door. You couldn’t be late, not again. You texted your co-worker Jeremy to open the shop without you and explained to him that you were running a few minutes late, as you barely made it to the bus. You climbed on board, scanned your student pass and found a seat near the back. Your chest was burning from the rush of trying to make it on time, but you could breathe easy now.

You checked your messages mindlessly, scrolling through a bunch of unread ones that you didn’t have the heart to answer. 

Before you knew it, the familiar monuments and buildings of UT Austin came into view, and the subtle change of scenery from downtown to a more densely packed area made your heart skip a beat. It was the same each time you were back on campus. Which, these days, was often. Sliding out of the seat, you made your way to the front, thanking the driver as the bus came to a complete stop. 

The coffee shop was only a short walk from the bus stop but even still you quickened your pace. You didn't want to leave Jeremy alone for long, you already felt bad enough about letting him open by himself. You stifled a yawn as you pushed open the door to the small cafe, leaning your body into the door, slightly cringing at the shrill sound of the bell. 

"There you are", a male voice called, making your head snap up. You wiggled your nose, the familiar timbre of your ex-boyfriend's voice ringing in your ears. "It's about time you got your ass down here". 

You snickered, shrugging your heavy bag off of your shoulder, and dropping it behind the counter, turning around and greeting him with an unamused smirk.

Jeremy and you had gone out for a few months last year, it was your first and, as of right now, the only short-term relationship that you'd had in college. 

Dating your co-worker, even in a relatively small place like the coffee shop on campus, almost always spelled trouble, but Jeremy was not the type to hold something like a failed relationship over your head. He understood that school was a priority for you and making a living for yourself came first, even above something like a relationship. It might not be the healthiest way to live, but it was how it always was. 

Jeremy and you had developed a fast friendship, one that went beyond the romantic relationship that you'd had last year. You parted amicably and now, you had someone you could confide in, someone you could trust. 

"Why don't you say that to my face?", you teased, raising a brow at him over the milk frother you were setting up. 

Jeremy threw his rag down and stalked over to you. "You're snippy this morning", he chided. 

You banged into his shoulder playfully, "Doesn't help that I have to see your ugly mug first thing in the morning". 

You snorted out a laugh and Jeremy looked at you, feigning defensiveness, "Ouch", he paused, returning back to his post near the coffee machine, "Remind me how we ever went out?". 

You scrunched your nose and threw your rag at Jeremy, hitting him square in the face with it, "That was rude". 

He shrugged his shoulder, "You started it".  

You both devolved into a fit of giggles and fell into a comfortable silence, setting up and getting the coffee shop ready for the day. You had a half-day shift to look forward to and then you had class until the late afternoon. The days were long and the nights were longer.

You usually found yourself nose-deep in your textbooks, more often than not, or some classic novel that was required for class, not moving from the couch until your eyes were red and you were seeing double. 

Only then did you retire to sleep, crashing hard until you had to wake up and do it all again the next day. 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The coffee shop had been bustling with people since six in the morning, and at one in the afternoon, it hadn't let up, only now you had to go to class. Waving Jeremy goodbye, you sidestepped Tara, the fourth-year who was covering the rest of the afternoon and closing shift. 

You'd crossed the far side of campus, passing by the science building and one of the massive libraries that had acted like a second home to you back when you’d been studying for exams when you were a freshman. You could thank your obnoxious roommates for that one. 

Entering the lecture hall, bodies pressed into you as you weaved through the growing crowd, trying to find a spot in the middle where you could see and hear your English professor. But also blend in with the masses. As if the universe had other plans in mind, and everyone suddenly showed up to the Tuesday lecture all at the same time, you found yourself picking a seat near the front, an exasperated groan leaving you. 

You hated sitting at the front, not because you didn't want to get called on to answer something or because you didn't know the answers, but because you did. You wanted to get through your four years as quickly and unscathed as possible and if people knew, mainly professors, that you knew more about the subject matter than you needed to, you'd surely get called on more often, making you stick out in ways you didn't want. 

It was a terrible curse, going through life with the self-esteem that you did. But it was how you were raised. Blend in. Don't be too loud. Be quiet and only observe. Nerves rapped at your insides when you thought about getting called on when class started. Your heart rate ticked up and you found that your hands were beginning to get clammy, your throat constricting with each breath.

You rubbed your hands up and down your thighs, grounding yourself with the sensation of the material. 

With a jump, you sat up straighter in your seat, being jostled from your thoughts by a loud slam. You snapped your head toward the entrance, eying the person who had startled everyone. It was a man carrying a briefcase.

Your lips tilted up at the edges, amusement tickling you when you thought of anyone using a briefcase nowadays. But here this man was, head down as he made his way to the front of the room, toward the desk. 

You couldn't help keeping your eyes trained on him. On how his slacks tightened around his butt, moulding to the shape and curve of it. You bit your bottom lip out of reflex, your eyes dragging down the length of the mystery man who had crashed your lecture. Maybe he was a TA? Your brows furrowed when you thought about how your professor was nowhere in sight. 

The man with the briefcase placed his case on the desk, turning to face the audience of students who blinked back at him, who now settled down enough to hear him speak. Air caught in your throat when his eyes flicked momentarily to you, and lingered on you for half a second longer than you'd expected. He had massive, warm brown eyes, and soft wrinkles that danced at the edges of his eyes when he smiled, making him seem more boyish than he appeared.

He looked older than a TA would but then again, who were you to judge someone's position in life? You thought that his age did nothing to undermine just how attractive he was, if anything it added to it.  

The man, who may or may not have been moonlighting as your English TA cleared his throat, nodding his head, "My name is Joel, well, Professor Miller to most, but 've always been a little bit more informal than my peers". 

He began to circle the wooden desk nervously, his large hand finding the edge of it and stroking it far more sensually than necessary. You flexed your fingers, gripping the arm of your seat to stabilize yourself. "So, you can call me Joel from here on out... since we'll be seeing more of each other from now on". 

Murmurs began to break out around the lecture hall, and confused and hushed whispers followed. 

Professor Miller— Joel, mumbled something incoherent, and you were unable to hear it from where you sat. He cleared his throat again, "Professor McCarthy has taken a leave of absence, so I'll be filling in for him for the remainder of the semester". 

You crossed your legs, feeling heat rise and a furious blush break out across your face, and shuffled in your seat, a loud creak emitted from it and you stilled, praying that the loud sound had only been heard by you and no one else. But when you lifted your gaze, Joel's eyes were already locked on you, blown and brimming with cautious inquiry. A touch of a smirk graced his lips. 

"And I look forward to getting to know each and every one of you, personally". His eyes were still on you, not ready to release you from their hold. 

His tongue darted out to wet his lips and you couldn't help but stare. You had every reason to look away from him, he was your professor and given the clear age difference, he was someone who was off limits. But when he didn't look away from you either, trapping you with his gaze, your face heated up, suddenly aware that he was purposely staring at you. 

You swallowed thickly, heart hammering as Joel's eyes finally drifted away from you and back to the faces of your classmates. He continued on with addressing the class, and you noticed that he avoided your eyes for the rest of the lecture. 

Only one thought rang through your mind as you tried and failed to focus back on the lecture. This was going to be one long semester. 

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗦 - part five charles leclerc  x  fem! driver! reader (fluff) “… forgetting is troublesome especially when you used to be enemies.”

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

"What's been taking you so long?" You heard Charles whine as you stepped out of the washroom. "My eye hurts." You explained, moving over to him while rubbing your eyes.

"No- don't touch it." He pulled you to sit on his lap, praying your hand from your eye gently. "Let me see." He held your chin, leaning closer to take a look.

After a few good minutes of investigation, Charles was able to brush out the eyelash that made you uncomfortable. "No 'thank you' for the best husband in the world?" He chuckled, watching you lean on his chest and snuggle into him.

"My ego is too big for that." You joked laying your head on his shoulder. Charles shook his head, returning to the crossword puzzle he was doing.

"Thank you." You whispered as if you didn't want him to hear. You gave a soft kiss on his cheek before falling asleep in his arms.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You kept a baseball cap on as you traveled through the airport. Your disguise was good enough now that your hair was in a common style. As for Charles, who decided not to hide, has been stopped multiple times for pictures and autographs.

You tried to avoid people for the most part, but you photo bombed the pictures from time to time. Charles would crack a laugh after feeling you come up from behind him and lean an elbow on his shoulder.

You couldn't help but giggle deeply to yourself upon watching Charles pull out a pair of glasses to read some papers and documents. "Never knew I was married to spectacles." You teased him.

"You didn't even know you were married." Charles replied amused with his eyebrows raised, holding out the box to show you where your own pair of rimless glasses waited. "Touché." You chest vibrated with giggles as you held his hand to continue your walk out of the port.

Instead, Charles wrapped his arm around your waist pressing a kiss to your temple. "We could see what's to love about that Tim Hortons guy before we go to the circuit." He offered.

You nodded quickly, walking faster and pulling him along. "Can you get me that coffee I liked?" He liked the way you smiled up at him. It felt like the old times.

You ran into a few more of your fans. Charles had to stand by, watching you closely while you took pictures or shared hugs. "Psst, Charles." He hummed, leaning down so you could whisper in his ear. "What does my autograph look like?"

He could help but laugh quietly, shrugging. "I'm going to have to make a new one on the spot, if you don't mind." You told a fan shyly who just urged you to go on.

You actually liked the signature. You took a photo so you could practice later. When you were finally able to get a cab, you went to the hotel where you dropped off your stuff before opening Google maps for the closest red Café.

"What do you think that is?" You pointed the distant green field aside. "Might be a golf course. You want to check it out later?" "Later." You nodded.

You held open the door when you did eventually get to Tim's. Charles wiggled his eyebrows as he entered first, choosing a table somewhere at the back.

You sat next to Charles, both of you snuggled into each other as you scrolled through tiktok. "Wait, do I have my own account?" You pressed on his icon to see his following. And yes, you did. The content you posted was more centered about your personal life outside of F1.

"Is that you?" You pressed on the video. You were secretly filming Charles and your brother while they tried to play “just dance”. You found yourself cracking up, closing the app and opening instagram instead.

Charles opened the discover tab, pulling out your .jpg account. Your jaw dropped at the husband centered account. "Am I your personal photographer? And what is this username?" You chuckled while scrolling through some of the pictures. "I like him. He's very cute don't you think?"

"Haha." Charles laughed pushing the phone away. You chuckled watching him get up to order your drinks.

You found a few pictures of your friends like Lando or Alex, Carlos and Max at times as well. But the account was mostly centered around you and Charles. You felt jealous. The two of you looked happy and close, like true soulmates.

You never thought about having such a life, nevertheless with Charles. "What are you thinking about?" You leaned your hand on your palm looking up at the brunette. "Can you tell me more about us?"

Charles smiled like a puppy, sitting back down and wrapping his arm around your waist. You listened intently as he shared a few stories from your adventures of living together.

"What about our wedding?" You held his hand as you sipped the chocolate latte, swinging your hand as you balanced on the sidewalk, walking back to the hotel. "Or wedding hmmm . . ." Charles pretended to think, raising an eyebrow in thought.

"You don't remember our wedding?" You gasped in offense, putting a hand on your heart. "I do, I do. You know I'm joking." You laughed with him as he pulled you in a side hug, kissing the top of your head.

"Our wedding was . . . Peaceful. Just us. It was quite a rash decision to get married, but the best one we've ever made. It was January in Tuscany 2019." You listened closely as you entered the hotel, making a B-line to the elevator.

"You wore a cute little white dress and we had a little cake just for us. It was the winter break so we could eat all we wanted and mess around as we liked."

Charles nuzzles his nose in your neck with a faint giggle, tickling you. He pressed the button to the lift. "We had a little dance just me and you, in the backyard." "I remember that." You murmured quietly.

"- ---- ---." He sang quietly, one hand on your back the other in your hand as you swayed together. His smile was wide as he twirled and spined you.

You could still vaguely feel your bare feet on the grass and his cold hands in yours. You don't remember the words to the song, but bits and pieces from the melody.

You hummed what you could salvage from your memory. Charles felt his back relax. And just like in the memory, he held your back and hand.

"It's our favorite song," he reminded you before beginning to sway with you. Just two idiots, dangerously in love, dancing in an elevator.

"I love you." He began to sing, clearing his voice once he heard you giggle at him. "For sentimental reasons. I've given you my my my my heart. Given you my heart because mmm love you. And you alone were meant for me. Please give your loving heart to me, and say we'll never part."

You giggled silently as he twirled you before pulling you close and leaning down for a passionate kiss.

"I think about you every-"

Ding!

You both froze looking at the elevator doors which opened slowly revealing an awkward Bottas who pursed his lips at the sight of you and Charles waltzing in a 8x8 elevator. No one moved a muscle for a few minutes until the doors closed.

You and Charles looked at each other before bursting out in laughter. He held your hand as he pulled you back to the hotel room. You hugged Charles' back as he unlocked the door.

You saw Gorge Russell pull his door open to see the source of noise, only to wave and flip you off. You could feel yourself fall over and wheeze on the floor as Charles pulled you in the room from your ankles ( the same way criminals drag around a dead body ).

Charles fell on the floor beside you, laughing with you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You walked out the kitchenette, listening to Lando scold Charles over the phone about how your laughter woke him up from across the hall.

"We're sorry, Lando." You sat beside your husband as Charles apologized for the millionth time.

"You guys were so loud! And I needed my sleep before today! How am I going to deal with all these annoying reporters?!" "How about you get over it and actually catch sleep before we have to go." You butted in before saying a quick bye and pressing the red button.

"You are free of Landito." You patted Charles lap before laying your head on. He brushed your hair gently, smiling down at you. "I wanna shower." You got up walking to the washroom, pulling your shirt off.

"Join me?" His smile widened as he followed you, hopping out of his pants and pulling off his shirt, eventually pinning you on the shower wall.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"How are we feeling for Sunday?" "Absolutely Exhausted." You chuckled, leaning back into the couch. "Charles dragged me through an hour of hair care routine, I'm not letting him touch my hair again."

"But it's fluffy and shiny." Charles from across the couch leaned forward to look at you. "I could've taken a nap in that amount of time." You countered. "If you did take a nap, you'd be all tired and lazy. Plus we needed to shower that long flight off."

"I could've had a short shower in the motorhome." You went back and forth with the audience of reporters laughing amused and entertained.

"I'm not losing this round." You chuckled getting up and sitting on Charles lap instead. Lando who had been sitting beside him looked unamused and traumatized.

The press conference continued with you holding the mic for Charles because he had his arms wrapped around your stomach. "Two questions to Y/N. How comfortable is your seat and how do you-" the room broke out in laughter upon hearing the question.

"My seat is very fluffy and comfortable." You answered wiggling around Charles' lap happily. "You'd think it'll all be hard muscle but it's really fluffy and soft."

"Way to make a man feel single, Y/N." Lando tsked, making you stick your tongue out at him.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You sat in your car, snuggling into the seat you've come to love for about thirty minutes now. "This always feels so heavenly." You hummed in satisfaction, watching Charles talk with a few engineers and mechanics before he came over.

"You ready for the media pen?" You held your hands upwards, gesturing for him to carry you. Charles chuckled, reaching down and lifting you up. God dang he was strong, holding you up from your thighs and walking around with you.

"You're so cute." You whispered in his ear. "Too cute. I wanna squeeze you." You and him shared a quiet laugh. You listened to him chat with his PR on the walk, laying your shoulder on his head bored.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

ylerc.jpg

liked by pieregasly charles_leclerc and 89M others ylerc i think he was trying to impress me . . . should i be impressed?

landonorris no, he was very bad. dont be impressed. ↳ charles_leclerc im pretty sure hes talking about himself.

user THE JPG IS BACK THE QUEEN IS SERVING DINNER

user what do we do? we get down on our knees and say thank you y/n ↳ user thank you y/n 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user thank you your majesty 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user all hail the queen 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user long live the mother🧎‍♀️ ↳ user thank you y/n 🧎‍♀️ ↳ user thank you, goddess 🧎‍♀️ ↳ ylerc.jpg your welcome 👍 ↳ user WAIT SHE ACTUALLY REPLIED?

charles_leclerc i'd call myself impressive ↳ ylerc.jpg impressive when it comes to burning our dinner, thank you charles. i love eating black pasta. ↳ charles_leclerc like you could do any better ↳ carlossainz55 she can. ↳ ylerc.jpg thank you, carlos. I'll let you pass on turn 4. ↳ alex_albon dibs on passing in turn 6 ↳ landonorris WHAT ABOUT ME?! Y/N!! ↳ ylerc.jpg nah, you didn't let me join in, so . . . i'll be lapping you on turn 7? 11? ↳ landonorris NO FAIR!

voice notes 🔊 . . . ( just a nice short one, more fluff. next one is going to be rough )

[gluion]

[TEASER] finger trapped (ripped to its seams) ➵ ji changmin

ji changmin x reader

with an unexpected reunion, you and changmin relive the memories of cheongju—and confront what could’ve been between you two.

inspired by ➵ "seasons" by wave to earth, the last five years

general genre/warnings ➵ friends to almost lovers, angst, fluff, the last five years story-telling method aka present will be told going backwards while past will be told moving forward (i hope that makes sense), missed chances, unexpected reunion, keeping secrets & lying, hurt/comfort, jealousy remains but love triumphs, tiger parents, journalist reader (u kno i had to do it), reader is a nerd and changmin is a student-athlete, kms jokes from jongseob (all /lh), finger traps aren’t efficient after all

word count ➵ est. 10-15k [now available! read here]

playlist ➵ end of beginning by djo // high school in jakarta by niki // i know it won't work by gracie abrams // no big deal (i love you) by dodie // keeping tabs by niki // no one knows by stephen sanchez & laufey // so what now by renee rapp // i wish i hated you by ariana grande // the 1 by taylor swift // seasons by wave to earth

a/n ➵ shhhhhhh.... i know that i'm still writing this but a lil motivation and accountability goes a long way SOOO !!! this is just a lil teaser for the upcoming jichang fic for the deoboyznet event <33 thank you again to my lovely @hcuyk for beta reading !!! (i've only written 1/4 please understand.) but i'm dedicating this to my lovely @sungbeam whose love for changmin is one i'll forever feel even to my ribs and @wavesmp3 who forever remains an inspiration in the way i write </3 plus, i've posted these snippets anyway so :P if ure interested in this fic, feel free to ask to be part of the taglist for this! and dont forget to always leave feedback <3

want to be part of my taglist? send me an ask! masterlists

it’s a late night on a tuesday, about to be a midnight wednesday, and you’re in a convenience store as you scout for your dinner. all hauled up in the newsroom, the idea of ordering food during a time where restaurants would still be open slipped your mind. now, you’re left to scan through the same options you’ve eaten for the past years since you started living in seoul.

the convenience clerks are familiar with you, both kim jongseob and kim jiwoo. with your constant late-night meals at the store, you’d talk to whichever one had a shift. jongseob is saving up to upgrade his setup at home to record more music. with all the stories he shares about his time in underground rap battles along with the short verses he’s performed for you, you’re positive that he’ll get signed to a label soon. as for jiwoo, this is one of the many jobs she has in order to save enough money for fashion school. you’ve seen her sketches and outfits she’s put together and you’re hoping that she’ll get accepted.

a sigh leaves you. you didn’t have a problem with eating the food here but you were craving for something new in your life in seoul. the perpetual cycle of eating takeout food and unconsciously skipping meals for work needed to be disrupted just for a moment. but you weren’t seeking michelin-star food—all you wanted was home cooked, something from home.

the spice of tteokbokki, the burn of freshly fried hotteok, and the sweetness of homemade peach iced tea—mr. kim’s convenience store had it all.

your tastebuds long for cheongju.

“planning to beat your record of spending 23 minutes on deciding what to get?”

you roll your eyes before looking to your right, seeing jongseob stocking up the drinks in the fridge. “i hate you.”

“what? i’m just saying, you’re taking a lot longer to decide today.” he chuckles before placing the last bottle of sweetened probiotic milk in the fridge. “none of the options look good to you?”

“sort of,” you hum before you scan through the aisle of packaged meals. “i think i’m craving for something different.”

“i get it. the food here can get boring, which is why i’m planning to order pizza if you want to split the costs.”

your eyebrows shoot up at jongseob’s suggestion. “really? you’d share pizza with me?”

“yeah, as long as you pay for your share.” he shoots you a smile before grabbing on a trolley carrying empty boxes. “unless… you want to pay for the whole thing.”

you bite back a smile as you shake your head. you should’ve known the guy would ask you to buy him food, but you knew that he needed the money and you at least had a stable income to keep you comfortable. “fine,” jongseob’s smile grows as you fish out your wallet from your pocket and pull out a couple of bills. “just order enough for us two.” 

“of course,” he says as soon as you hand him some money. “i’ll make sure to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

you scoff at his joke. “just make sure to treat me to something.”

the bell by the door chimes. “sorry, can’t hear you over that! need to attend to a customer!” jongseob quickly runs away from you while dragging the trolley. that little shit just knew how to press your buttons, but you love the kid, anyway.

still, you stand in the middle of the mart and your heart longs for home.

then, you shut your eyes, and you’re transported back in front of the familiar aisle filled with bags of potato chips and sweet corn. the noisy fan along with the soft sounds of mr. kim’s korean drama fills your ears. a mix of yellow and orange hues paint every corner of the mart, including you—and you’re not alone.

your best friend stands on your right, wearing the unbuttoned school uniform polo over a tank top along with jogging pants. he’s lost in thought as he scans through the options of snacks you two can have for today’s afternoon. he starts to giggle to himself, probably from a silly thought he’ll share with you in the next second or a memory involving you, and the dips in his cheeks appear—your heart thumps in your ears.

and just like how quickly you were transported back to cheongju, your surroundings transformed into the cool-lit convenience store found in seoul. all you have left is the image of him bathed in the sunlight.

but he fades away like the ink on old receipts, never gone, because the glowing image of him warps into a different version who stands next to you in the cold mart. he’s grown a few inches taller and his hair doesn’t get in the way of his line of sight. while he wears a green sweater, you notice that he’s gained some muscles. his eyes scan through the aisle behind you filled with different brands of instant ramen.

but he bites the inside of his cheek, and his dimples appear.

it’s a tornado that brews within you, enough to uproot trees and displace buildings, all because of an unexpected reunion with changmin. why did the universe decide to bring two ex-best friends on a random tuesday night? what brings him to the convenience store at the same time you’re there? and why did it have to happen a day before the interview?

you weren’t going to commit the same mistake; keep your eyes off of him and make your way out of the store. it didn’t matter if you had an empty, growling stomach, or gave free money to jongseob. you need to leave without the distant, familiar face noticing.

your feet act fast, and you're almost certain that might’ve caught his attention, but it didn’t matter as you see jongseob standing behind the cashier with his phone out. “i just ordered the pizza. it should arrive in about… 20 to 30 minutes.”

“yeah, about that…”

“don’t tell me you’re taking your money back.”

at the sight of jongseob’s pout, you roll your eyes. “no, keep it. i just—i need to go.”

“what? why?”

you peek behind you. it seems like he didn’t recognize you, after all. “i’ve got… work!”

“but don’t you only have your interview with the bo—”

“hey!” your fingers snap at him. “you cannot—i mean, you just… just take the goddamn money.”

“but we’re supposed to share the pizza. you haven’t eaten.”

an exasperated sigh leaves you. “jongseob, just treat me next time. i can eat at home.”

and you’re ready to leave the convenience store, bid farewell to jongseob and a delicious pizza made for two, and never greet or say goodbye to the living fragment of what you last know of cheongju—

“y/n?”

and the plan failed.

when you meet his gaze, you’re able to take in the different version of him. he’s grown so much—it’s such a pain that you weren’t there to witness it. his eyes are a pool of emotions; you can’t identify them.

all it takes is one breath from you. “changmin.”

a beat passes.

“i’m just gonna… go through the storage,” jongseob points his thumb at the back of the mart, “and maybe kill myself afterwards. i don’t know.” before you can protest, he’s already gone. (and he still has your money. that fucker.)

taglist ➵@winterchimez @miusgirl @jenoscafe @sweet-unicorn-world @mosviqu @vernyangel @stealanity @deobi0412 @blue-rainydays @maessseongs

[noneedtoamputate]

Band of Brothers Olympics AU - Chapter One

I don't have a great title for this yet. I was thinking about The Vault in Our Stars, a pun on another Shakespeare quote to go along with Band of Brothers. If you have any ideas, please let me know.

This came out of my Olympic obesession, and I've tried to include a lot of details that came out of the Paris games in the fic.

I can't thank @mercurygray enough for helping me flesh out this story and providing some much-needed details. She deserves co-author credit on this chapter, but any mistakes or sections that don't work are on me. And thanks to @shoshiwrites for beta-reading and telling me it was a fun read. That's exactly what I am going for with this fic.

Hope you all enjoy!

Tuesday, July 23, 2024

Five days before Opening Ceremony

Four of the five members of the United States men’s gymnastics team lounged in the larger of the two bedrooms in their Olympic Village suite after their designated practice time. Harry Welsh texted his girlfriend, Kitty Grogan, a member of the U.S. women’s gymnastics team and America’s current sweetheart. High bar specialist George Luz balanced a plate of French baked goods on his lap. Team himbo Floyd Talbert read the newest issue of Field and Stream. Carwood Lipton, the youngest member of the squad, sat on the floor doing a v-stretch. 

“My mattress here is worse than the one in my dorm room,” Carwood lamented, grabbing his foot and reaching his head to his knee.

“Yes, but it’s environmentally friendly,” Harry pointed out without looking up from typing. “You can save the world or save your back, but not both.”

“Fuck, this pain au chocolat is good,” George said, his mouth full and his pronunciation terrible.

“You don’t say the last letter of the word,” Tab explained, hardly looking up from his magazine. 

“Whatever.” George considered the pastry again. “I think I’m going to record a review and put it on TikTok.”

“You know French?” Carwood asked Tab. It wasn’t impossible, but Carwood didn’t take Tab as the … cultured type. He knew Dick and Harry pretty well - he was a few years behing them at Penn State, after all - but he was still getting to know George and Tab. Both men liked to joke, although their senses of humor worked in different ways - in strong contrast to Dick, who didn’t really go for jokes when it came to his team and his sport. 

“Kinda. I’ve been doing twenty minutes of Duolingo a day for the past two months. I’m up to Level Six,” Tab explained proudly.

Harry laughed and shook his head. “And here I was thinking the only French Tab knew was mènage à trois.”

“I resent that you think that low of me, Harry - and that’s an important phrase,” Talbert defended, finally looking up from his reading. “Speaking of, any chance Kitty introduces us to her teammates?”

Harry put his phone down. “Kitty’s already told them all about you. And if that didn’t scare them off, she threatened  that if they so much as shook your hand, she’d send their names to the doping agency and they’d have to take extra urine tests.” 

“Shit, I wouldn’t cross Kitty. She scares the hell out of me.” George admitted, brushing crumbs off his chin. 

“If only the American public knew about the real Kitty Grogan,” Carwood agreed. Harry’s girlfriend had worked hard for the America’s Sweetheart nickname, but George was right. Her tiny frame and blond curls hid a ruthless sense of humor, a deceptively strong arm, and a very, very strong protective urge for the other women on her team. (Necessary equipment, she would have said.)

“Well, there’s lots of other women in the Olympic Village,” Tab said, unbothered and unashamed. “And I’ll need some more condoms, too, since someone -” he glared at George - “wouldn’t share.”

“Christ, will you let it go? Harry asked for mine first. And everyone got five to start with. If you need more than that, walk your lazy ass downstairs to the clinic. They have more there for the taking.”

The suite door opened, and team captain Dick Winters walked into the room.

“Hey, have you had any of these, Dick?” George asked, gesturing to the remnant of croissant on the table. “They’re really good.”

Dick looked at the pastry like George had just suggested he eat something toxic, and gave a brief shake of his head.“I just got through talking with Coach Taylor, and he was really happy with the way practice went this morning.”

“Well, that’s why I came to France. To make Coach Taylor happy.” Harry rolled his eyes. He wasn’t on the best of terms with the national team coach, and he wasn’t afraid of letting everyone know it. 

“Hey, Tab, you should ask Dick!” George suggested. 

“Ask me what?” Dick looked over Tab’s way.

“Can I have the condoms that came in your welcome pack? George already gave his to Harry.” Tab still sounded put out.

Dick looked even more offended about this than he had about the chocolate croissant. “No!” 

“Why? Did you use them already?” Tab sat up and looked at Dick, interested in his answer.

“No!” Dick shouted again, even louder this time. “And nobody is no going to need the condoms, because nobody on this team is going to have sex until we’re done with the competition.”

“What?” Tab asked incredulously. “There are 5,000 women here. And 5,000 men, if that’s your thing. Ten thousand people, all of us at the peak of our physical well being. And you want us to refrain from doing anything that requires a condom for a week?”

Dick sighed, more than a little agitated he had to explain this to his teammates. “We have a chance to do something really special here. I know it's a long shot, but we could medal. It would be huge for men’s gymnastics back home. We owe it to ourselves and our sport to do our best, and that means focusing. Abstaining for a week isn’t going to kill anybody.”

Harry shook his head. “Look Dick, I understand what you’re saying, but you know how superstitious I am, and I always sleep with Kitty before a big meet. She does this thing where … ”

“STOP!” interrupted Dick, eyes closed in pain. “Nobody is interested in what you were about to say.”

“I am,” Tab answered honestly, and George laughed.

“Look, I didn’t come up here to talk about condoms,” Dick said, desperately wanting to change the subject. “I’ve been thinking we should skip the opening ceremonies.”

The rest of the team stared at him.

Dick sighed before starting again. “I know we’ve all been looking forward to it, but it’s only two days before our qualification round, and we’ll be on our feet and it will throw off our sleep schedule.”

“C’mon, Dick. It’s one night,” George said.

“I know it’s not a big deal for you, being in just one event,” Dick said, sounding judgmental. 

George sat up straighter. “Yeah, I only won the silver medal at last year’s world championships for the high bar. I have no idea how I even got picked for the Olympic team, because that’s not a big deal.”

The three other teammates turned their heads back and forth, following the heated exchange.

Dick grimaced. “That didn’t come out the right way, George. I’m sorry. But you have to see my point. You get it, don’t you, Carwood?”

Everyone looked at Carwood. 

Carwood looked up to Dick, both as a gymnast and a person, so he was slow to voice his dissent. Truthfully, he’d been looking forward to the ceremony quite a bit, and the idea of not going for something like a sleep schedule sounded … well, lame.  “I want to do well, too, Dick, but there are so many things about the games that we don’t want to miss out on. The opening ceremonies, meeting new people …”

“Mènage à trois,” Harry added with a huge grin, and Tab threw the magazine his way. 

“You know what, forget it,” Dick said, clearly agitated. “Let’s just treat this like one big frat party and forget about representing our country and bringing home a medal.” He walked out of the room.

“Aw, Dick, come on!” he heard Harry call out to him, but he didn’t respond. He’d shared his feelings with his team, and they’d shared theirs. 

How was a captain supposed to lead when his team didn’t want to be led?

-

Dick decided to take his frustration out in the weight room, and then he got a massage. Back in the locker room, he checked his phone and saw Harry had messaged him.

Harry: Hey, you okay? We’re going to grab dinner, but I understand if you need to cool off.

Harry: I don’t think that conversation went the way anyone wanted it to.

Harry: They’re all good guys and they care a lot, but we all need a little fun, too.

Harry: You don’t have to be perfect, Dick. You’re already a good leader.

Harry: You know I love you, man. Kitty says she loves you, too (but not like she loves me).

Dick smiled briefly at the words on the screen. Harry was more than just a long time teammate. He’d been his freshman year roommate, one of the first friends he’d made at Penn State, and the guy on the team who understood him the best. They had shared wins and losses and ups and downs. Dick was even there the first time Harry laid eyes on Kitty, and she quickly became one of Dick’s people, too.

Thanks. Dick texted back. Grabbing dinner with Lew. Appreciate the invite, though. I’ll catch you before lights out.

He would need to apologize to them all later - he could see that now. Sometimes he forgot that other people saw the world a little differently than he did. But that was part of being a leader, too. 

It’s good to have people who care about you, he thought.

-

An hour later, Dick took the Metro and walked a few blocks to meet team sponsor Lew Nixon at a bistro. A second-generation tech titan, Lew and his sister, Blanche, needed a way for their father’s software company to save face after Stan’s headline-making fourth divorce. Blanche suggested adopting two Olympic teams that needed financial support and didn’t mind the backing of NixWorks, despite the reputation of its founder. 

So Lew met with men’s gymnastics, promising free housing for its national team members, as well as covering travel expenses and extensive social media coverage. Blanche did the same with the women’s rugby team, and both teams were happy to accept. 

Nix hated athletics - his idea of weight training was 12 ounce curls - and Dick had nothing in common with the San Francisco tech bro. But in spite of their differences - or maybe because of them - the two had become close friends during the past year. Dick appreciated having someone he could talk to outside of the gymnastics bubble he placed himself in leading up to the games. 

Dick spotted Lew sitting at a table for two on the outdoor patio, looking at his phone, a glass of red wine already in front him. 

“Dick!” Lew said, greeting him a little too loudly. Dick thought the glass of wine may not have been Lew’s first of the evening. 

“Have you seen the new dating app we created for the Olympians?” Lew turned his phone around so Dick could see it.

“Yeah. Light My Fire. Great name,” Dick said.

“I know, right?” Lew missed the sarcasm from Dick. “You know, because the torch and everything.”

“I get it,” said Dick.

“And my dad is a huge Jim Morrison fan. Once I told him the idea and the name, he had the programmers start working on it right away.” The waiter came over to go over the specials and take Dick’s drink order. Lew translated and answered back in perfect French.

“Dick, it wouldn’t kill you to try some new things while you’re here,” Lew said, considering his friend over the candle in the middle of the table.

“I don’t like sparkling water. I just want tap. And what’s wrong with ranch dressing?”

Lew tried to hold in his smile.“They call it still water here, Dick. And nothing is wrong with ranch dressing ... if you’re in State College, Pennsylvania. But you happen to be in the culinary capital of the world, and I’m going to let you in on a little secret,” Lew said conspiratorially, leaning a bit closer to Dick across the table. “Champagne vinaigrette won’t get you drunk.”

Dick rolled his eyes. 

Over the meal - Lew had steak frites, rare, and another glass of what Dick learned was Bordeaux, while Dick stuck to water, still, and a grilled chicken salad - Dick shared what had conspired earlier in the day. Dick would have never guessed it when they first met, but Lew was a good listener, always taking in facts and asking pertinent questions. 

Lew took a long sip of wine before sharing his conclusion.

“Listen, I know you don’t have beaches in Pennsylvania, but I’m sure you’ve held sand too tightly before,” Lew said. “I don’t think I need to tell you it usually doesn’t work.”

Dick couldn’t help but laugh. Lew was right.

“I’ve seen all five of you work hard, make sacrifices. You’re all ready for this. Give them a little space, a little freedom. This thing only happens every four years - enjoy it a little!” 

Dick nodded.

When he got back to the room, the team was half-watching an action movie dubbed in English on the television while Kitty was recording George eating another one of those chocolate pastries. Several sets of eyes swung to him and the door as he came in, just as quickly going back to the movie.

He looked down at his feet for a moment. “I owe you all an apology. I came on a little strong earlier, and I’m sorry. I’ve … got a lot on my mind at the moment.” The group continued to watch the movie, but George’s frown had softened a little.

“Here’s the deal,” Dick said in such a way that everyone turned around and stared at him intently. “We’re going to work like hell for the next two days. Then we’ll go to the opening ceremonies. And then we’ll kick some ass.”

His teammates look stunned. They never heard him swear once before, let alone twice in one speech. 

“Fuck yeah,” George answered back, smiling.

“Fuck yeah,” Harry and Tab said at the same time.

Carwood took his time. He didn’t swear much, either. “Fuck yeah,” he finally said, and Harry patted him on the back.

As Kitty recorded the moment on George’s phone for posterity, she knew this group was something special. 

[puppetwoman17]

Ladies and gents, my first Billy Batson-centric fic! It’s called: The Batson Family Soap Opera: Ft. The Justice League

Here’s a snippet of the first chapter, already released on AO3 under the name SunShade878

In Study Room #1, Billy propped himself up on a chair and opened his laptop. The screen lit up the room, showing a half-finished Whiz Radio broadcast script. On another tab, Billy pulled up a bullet point list of topics to cover, and got to work.

He took bites out of the sandwich he got from the cafeteria as he worked. Looking from tab to tab, Billy paraphrased some of his talking points and left slots open throughout the script for a few brief questions.

He tapped a nail against the table when he paused after a commercial break slot and glanced at the time.

“Five minutes ‘til monitor duty,” he muttered. “Better close off for now.”

Not to say Billy was satisfied with his work, but he was proud of his clean punctuality record from his time with the League. It also translated to his reporter work, so that was a nice bonus. Now that he thought about it, Morris told him he could give Billy a small bonus if he turned everything in today…

Nope! He shook his head. Monitor duty now, Whiz work later.

Billy quickly packed his things and slotted his laptop in a cubby before making his way toward the monitor station. He checked the time on his watch, sighing in relief when he saw he was two minutes from the beginning of his two hour shift.

Okay, good.

He quickened his pace toward the familiar room, dutifully ignoring the concerned and curious looks on several familiar faces.

I swear, you’d think I was catatonic with the way these people look at me.

The monitor room had a large, imposing window that showed the expanse of space. It was something Billy could never get over, no matter how long he stared at it. Multiple screens were lit, showing various cities with superheroes of their own, helping children out of burning buildings and stopping robberies in progress.

A transparent hologram of Earth spun around slowly in the middle of the room. Graph lines went over and across each section of land and sea. Several small, red dots blinked green, and Billy smiled in satisfaction that they were doing good. He was doing good.

“Hey, Little B!”

Billy rolled his eyes. “Hey, Hal.”

Billy doesn’t have to turn around to see the Green Lantern’s cheeky grin as he sauntered into the room, power ring glowing emerald. “Ya seem tense, little man.” The grin faltered, revealing what Billy knew to be truer than the smile. “You okay?”

Now, you remember what Billy said about loving how protective the League was, right? And the thing is, he didn’t lie. He didn’t blame them for it, and he understood the need to protect people younger than you. Hell, he was well known enough in Fawcett for the younger street kids to know him by name. For them to know he knew all the best hiding spots and hoarding spots around the Cobbler District.

But sometimes it could just be so. Damn. Annoying.

“Oh, it’s just some last minute revisions for my broadcast tomorrow. Nothing major.”

“You remembered to eat, yeah?

Don’t roll your eyes, he’s not being condescending. “Took a sandwich from the canteen.”

“Cool, cool.”

Yeah, this was definitely one of those times where he felt coddled instead of protected. Now, maybe seven year old Billy, who’d just learned that he was now responsible for the wellbeing of an entire community and subcommunities of ethereal-infused life, would’ve loved the worry on Hal’s face.

Fourteen year old Billy, on the other hand, couldn’t help the queasy feeling in his stomach.

“Anyway, we should get started, huh?”

The whites of Hal’s domino mask widened. “Uh, yeah. Let’s.”

Billy mustered a small smile as he propped himself on one of the two chairs facing the screens. Hal flopped unceremoniously onto the other one, the smile on his face more prominent. Weird. Before, the smile seemed…dim, somehow.

Now, though, with the two of them looking through screens and chatting quietly as the hours ticked by, Hal’s nervousness and tenseness was chipped away, revealing the bumbling idiot Billy knew and cared for. The easy way with which they communicated was something Billy was thankful for. If anything, his identity reveal only strengthened their relationship.

It sort of felt like he was the reason for Hal’s better mood. But that was silly.

Right?

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