#I don’t have the energy to rewrite all of them so��� quick summary

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: Rewrite the Stars

Rating: General Audiences

Warning: none

Paring: Azzi Fudd x !rival-athletic fem reader

Fandom: Women's basketball

Summary: Rivals on the court. Partners in everything else.

The arena buzzed with energy as I stood in the tunnel, adjusting my jersey. The weight of the number 35 on my back felt heavier tonight, not because of the game, but because of who was on the other side of the court.

Azzi Fudd.

She was more than my rival. She was my secret. My girlfriend.

But to the world, we were enemies.

“Ready to make her regret stepping on this court?” one of my teammates teased, slapping my back.

I forced a grin. “Always.”

In truth, I wasn’t ready. I hated these games—not because I didn’t love basketball but because they forced me to pretend Azzi and I were nothing but adversaries. Every game, the media pinned us against each other, building a narrative of animosity that couldn’t be further from the truth.

But tonight would be different.

The game was intense. Azzi’s sharp movements, her quick threes, her ability to weave through our defense—it was breathtaking. But I couldn’t let myself admire her, not openly.

“Lock her down,” my coach yelled from the sideline, and I nodded, gritting my teeth as I matched up with her.

Azzi smirked as we faced off. “Gonna let me through, (Y/N)?” she whispered, her voice low enough that no one else could hear.

“Not a chance,” I shot back, my lips twitching into a small smile.

She laughed softly, the sound making my chest ache.

By the time the game ended, I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Azzi’s team had won, and the arena roared with cheers. As we lined up to shake hands, my heart raced.

When I reached her, she gripped my hand tightly, her eyes locking onto mine for a fleeting moment.

“You played great,” she said softly.

“So did you,” I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

The tension between us was palpable, but we kept moving, pretending we were just two competitors.

That night, we decided it was time.

“We can’t keep hiding,” Azzi said as we sat on the floor of her hotel room, our legs tangled together.

I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “You know what’s going to happen if we go public. The media will tear us apart. They’ll question every game we’ve ever played, say it wasn’t real.”

“Let them,” Azzi said firmly. “I don’t care what they think. I care about us.”

Her words sent a wave of warmth through me. I reached out, cupping her cheek. “You’re not scared?”

“Terrified,” she admitted. “But I’d rather be scared with you than pretend we’re nothing.”

I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Then let’s do it.”

The next morning, after our game highlights flooded social media, we dropped the bombshell: a picture of us sitting together, her arm draped over my shoulders as we smiled at the camera. The caption was simple:

"Rivals on the court. Partners in everything else."

It didn’t take long for the internet to explode. Fans, reporters, and fellow athletes all had something to say. Some were supportive, others... not so much.

But we didn’t care.

A week later, we were sitting courtside at the WNBA All-Star Game, matching jerseys proudly displaying Nika and Caitlin’s names. Azzi laced her fingers through mine, her touch grounding me amidst the chaos of the crowd.

“Do you think they’re staring at us or the game?” I asked, leaning closer to her.

“Both,” she said with a smirk. “But they can stare all they want.”

I laughed, my heart feeling lighter than it had in months. For the first time, we didn’t have to hide.

As the game ended and we stood to cheer for our friends, Azzi leaned over, her lips brushing my ear. “We did it, you know. We rewrote the stars.”

I turned to her, my chest swelling with emotion. “Yeah, we did.”

And for the first time, I truly believed it.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[cuteniaarts]

Me, six-ish hours ago: Yeah, I had the idea for an Avatar Suiren AU pretty much as long as Suiren herself existed, but idk if I'm ever gonna develop it, it's really hard to upkeep interest for it on my own...

Me, as soon as the concept of Suiren and Vaatu bullying Raava together popped into my head while I was typing out that long ass post: Fuck it, new strain of brain fungus acquired–

(Also yeah traditional art being posted for the first time since... 2020, probably. Don't have the spoons to transfer this to digital rn, maybe I will at some point and I'll do a fuckass Spirit World background or smth. We'll see)

First time drawing Vaatu so don't make fun of me, but honestly he's such a funky little guy and rather fun to draw. You just get that main shape down and then go nuts with the frills :) But also, credit where credit is due, scrolling through the Vaatu tag on @shadelorde’s blog really helped, so thank you for that 😊 And I really had no idea what to do with Suiren’s design here, I think I’ve used up all my character design juices on the nine previous iterations of her that exist, so for now she’s in a random dress with her hair down. I’ll probably alter it if I ever do a proper design for her in this verse

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 4

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Did I write an angstier version of this chapter and then rewrite the last half entirely because y'all deserve a fluffy read? Yes, yes I did. Thank you for all your wonderful ideas! I've got them all lined up for future chapters hehehe So don't be blaming me for the heartache you're inflicting upon yourselves XD Muah!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: Swearing, suggestive language, protective Jake

WC: 2000+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Masterlist

“You have a what?” Jake exclaims, nearly choking on his coffee.

“A date,” you repeat, smiling giddily at both him and Bradley. “We met at pub night last week and we’ve been texting.”

“Texting?” Jake raises his eyebrows skeptically. He looks over at Bradley as though he expects him to express an opinion, but Bradley just rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“Be careful,” your brother says, returning his attention to the plate of scrambled eggs before him.

You snort. “In what way?”

“In all ways,” Jake chimes in, clearly annoyed that Bradley has nothing else to add. “Guys are dicks so keep your guard up.”

You give Jake a humorous look. “Not all guys,” you say.

Jake nods at you. “All guys.”

You shake your head with a laugh. “This isn’t my first date, Jake.”

“Just work under the assumption that all guys are dicks, alright?” he says. “That way, when he turns out to be a dick, you won’t be shocked.”

You set down the jar of jam you’re holding and let out a sigh. Since the incident with couch girl, Jake has gone out with three different women, which, to be fair, is normal for him. Still, you’re just about done pining over your brother’s best friend, whose signals you’ve clearly misread. If guys are dicks, then Jake Seresin is exhibit A. “He’s actually super sweet,” you say, taking your toast out of the toaster.

“Don’t be fooled,” Jake mutters.

Bradley grimaces as he looks up at you. “He’s not wrong.”

“I have dated plenty of nice guys,” you say. “Just because the two of you are assholes to women, doesn’t mean all men are.”

Bradley claps a hand to his chest. “Me?” he cries in disbelief.

Jake puckers his lips and gives you a sheepish grin without disputing your claim.

“I’m not going into this with your negative energy,” you say, waving your arms at the two of them. “Because maybe he’s nothing like you.”

“One could hope.” Jake shrugs.

Bradley eyes him dubiously. “Just be careful,” he repeats.

“Don’t worry, it’s just dinner and a movie,” you say, bringing your breakfast to the table.

“What movie are you going to go see?” Jake asks.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “We’re going back to his place so probably something on Netflix.”

Jake sets down his fork and knife and stares at you. “You’re going where?”

You ignore Jake’s outburst and take a bite out of your toast. “I’ll be home late,” you say, mostly to Bradley. “So, don’t wait up.”

Jake stares at you. “You can’t just go to some random dude’s home,” he says.

You cock your head at him inquisitively. “Interesting advice coming from someone who brings home random girls almost daily.”

Jake presses his lips together and exhales moodily. “That’s different.”

Bradley smirks, eyeing him expectantly.

“How?” you ask.

Jake rises from his seat and lifts his coffee cup. “Do whatever you want,” he says. “Bradshaw, let’s go, we’re gonna be late.”

Bradley gives you a resigned sort of look and shoves one last piece of toast into his mouth. “I’m driving,” he says with his mouth full.

“You better not be blocking me in!” you yell at their backs as they head for the front door.

…

That night, your date drops you off at the end of your driveway, leaning in for a kiss before you exit his car. You give him a quick peck and a tight smile before stepping out of the vehicle, knowing that, despite the evening having been pleasant enough, you’re probably not going to pursue the relationship further.

He asks about seeing you later in the week and you peek back through his car window and respond with a polite maybe because perhaps the guy deserves another chance. You walk up to the porch as he drives away, and then try the door before searching for your keys in the dark.

The door is unlocked, so you walk in, flicking on the light, and the first thing you see is Jake as he steps away from the window facing the driveway and places his hands on his hips.

“He didn’t want to walk you to the door?” he asks sternly.

You grimace at him. “Why are you here?”

“Bradley had to stay late tonight so I came to make sure you got home alright.”

You blink at him coolly. “And that involves spying on me?”

“If I were spying on you, you wouldn’t know about it,” Jake retorts, starting for the kitchen. “You hungry?”

“I just came from dinner,” you remind him, taking off your heels.

You follow him into the kitchen, dropping your purse on the floor as you go. You’re suddenly feeling extremely tired. Jake opens the refrigerator and starts taking out ingredients for a meal while you walk past him and land on the couch in the living room. Jake cranes his neck to look at you over the island. “I’m making spaghetti,” he calls.

“Knock yourself out,” you reply, closing your eyes.

You hear Jake step around the island and enter the living room, and then you feel the depression of the couch as he plants himself down by your feet. You open your eyes again. “Yes?” you say.

Jake watches you blankly for a second before finally blurting out, “How’d it go?”

You furrow your eyebrows, still confused by his interest in your dating life. You pull your knees up so that your feet don’t keep sliding into him and pretend like you aren’t at all intrigued by his question. “Fine,” you respond nonchalantly.

Jake nods although he doesn’t look entirely satisfied with your answer. “Still think he’s nice?”

You eye him wryly. “Very.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “Too nice?”

You make a face at him. “What’s too nice?”

Jake shrugs. “Boring.”

You give him a flat look. “This perspective explains so much,” you say, pointing at him reproachfully.

Jake laughs. “Girls don’t like nice guys.”

“I like nice guys!” you exclaim, sitting up with renewed energy.

Jake eyes you skeptically. “Sure, you do.” His gaze sweeps over your face in a slightly provocative manner and you get the sense again that he might be into you. And this possibility sends a rush through your body that makes your head spin. However, you remind yourself that, if this were, in fact, the case, Jake wouldn’t be going out and sleeping with a new woman every other night, because that would be counterintuitive. Besides, you are getting over him, anyway. You are well on your way to recovery.

You shake your head at him and lean your back into the armrest of the couch.

“You dressed up for him,” he notes, meeting your gaze as you glance up at him.

“Would you rather I undressed for him?” you ask pointedly.

Jake blinks at you uncomfortably. He looks like he might be sick. “Don’t joke about that,” he says, rubbing his forehead anxiously.

“You started it.”

“I just meant ” – he sighs without looking at you – “I just meant, you look good.”

“Then just say that,” you retort. “Without being a dick about it.”

He turns to look at you with an apologetic sort of cringe contorting his features. “Guess I’m not a ‘nice’ guy,” he mutters, complete with air quotes.

You stare at him, wondering if he’s hinting at something. You kick him in the leg with your foot. “Don’t be weird.”

He chuckles. “Come on,” he says, rising from the couch. “Let’s eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“But I want company,” he says with a slight whine, bending forward to grab your wrists and pull you up off the couch.

You let him lift you to your feet, your body crashing briefly into his while you find your balance. Jake releases you instantly and takes a step back, holding his hands up as though he doesn’t want to be held responsible for initiating the contact.

“Sorry,” he mutters quickly.

You give him a look. “I said, don't be weird, Jake.”

…

Three weeks later, you’re sitting with Jake on a patio, waiting for Bradley to bring the three of you drinks from the bar.

“Can I ask you a question?” you say tentatively, making sure that Bradley is still inside the pub.

“Shoot,” Jake responds, downing the last of his beer.

“It’s about my boyfriend,” you say.

Jake cringes. “He’s your boyfriend now?”

You shrug. “I mean, I guess. We haven’t really formally established our relationship status.”

Jake nods. “And you want out?”

“What? No!”

“What’s the question, then?” Jake raises his eyebrows.

“It’s about the sex,” you say, stirring your drink with your straw to avoid looking at him.

“The what?” Jake exclaims, reaching for his empty glass of beer and bringing it to his mouth before realizing there is nothing left.

You clear your throat and glance up at him, slightly mortified. “It’s… it’s good, it’s just” –

“Woah, woah, woah!” he shouts, leaping up from his seat as though your words have burned him. “I don’t want to hear about that!”

You give him a flat look. “Jake, I literally found you naked on my couch last month. The least you could do is give me some guidance.”

Jake squirms. “I’m not – I can’t,” he stammers. “I don’t think I can listen to this.”

“Why not?!”

Jake lets out a dramatic moan. “Why don’t you ask your brother?”

“For advice on my sex life?” you hiss.

“Don’t you have friends?” Jake asks, dropping back into his seat.

“I need a guy’s opinion.”

Jake lets out an irritable sigh and gives his head a slight shake to indicate that he’s still not on board with this turn of events. “Don’t you have guy friends?”

You nod. “I do. And you’re one of them. Are you not?”

Jake stares at you defeatedly. “How detailed is this going to get?”

You glance over your shoulder to check on the crowd of people waiting for drinks at the bar, looking for your brother. You spot him nowhere near the counter, chatting up a stunning brunette, and resolve that you have at least fifteen minutes alone with Jake. You turn back to him and say, “That depends on how helpful you want to be.”

Jake whimpers. “I have no alcohol left.”

You roll your eyes. “Have mine,” you say, sliding your cocktail across the bistro table.

Jake takes the glass from you, his hand wrapping momentarily around yours before you let go. “Okay,” he says, taking a big gulp. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” you say with a hesitant sigh. “So, the thing is, he really wants to try” –

“Nope, no, nuh-uh,” Jake says, shaking his head. “I don’t want to know.” He buries his face in his hands.

“Dude, I need your help!”

“You want my advice? Here it is,” he says, leaning into the table so suddenly that you jerk backward just to prevent a collision between your two faces. “Doesn’t matter what he wants to try if you’re not comfortable with it.”

“But it’s” –

Jake holds up a hand. “I don’t care what it is. If you’re sittin’ here talkin’ to me about it, it means you don’t want to do it.”

You stare at him, wondering when Jake Seresin had the opportunity to amass such profound wisdom. You furrow your eyebrows. “Even if it’s, like, supposedly a normal thing people do?”

Jake hooks his eyebrow; you’ve piqued his interest. “That’s what he told you?”

You nod slowly.

Jake lets out a long, heavy breath through his nose, his lips pressed tightly together as his jaw clenches. He studies your face with a look of concern. “You tell that asshole that the next time he pressures you into doing anything, he’s going to have to deal with me.” Jake takes another swig of your cocktail and then adds, “And your brother, of course.”

You grimace. “He’s not pressuring me. It just… was brought to my attention that there is a particular thing that we could be doing – that many people do – that we’re not currently doing – that… ugh, it would be so much easier if you just let me tell you what the thing is!”

Jake places a hand on your knee. “If you tell me what the thing is, I might hurl.” You groan in frustration while Jake pats your leg sympathetically. He shakes his head. “I knew this guy was gonna be a dick.”

Read Part 5

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[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Knight in Shining Red Armor | Dante + Child!Reader (DMC 4)

A/N: Hey so this is a rewrite of one of my first (and only) DMC fic from like...2016. This takes place post-DMC 4

You can read the og one on my DeviantArt! But if you're here for the new one then I hope ya'll enjoy!

Summary: Child!Reader was taken under Dante's wing after being saved from a demon invasion, but even years later he hesitates to tell them what he truly is, fearing they'll resent him for his demonic heritage.

............

"Hey, um..Dante?"

"What's up, kiddo?" The red-clad devil hunter asked, though he wasn't completely paying attention to you. Rather he was sitting at his desk, feet kicked up as he was flipping through a magazine.

Meanwhile you were roaming around the shop, stopping only to gaze at the massive curved sword with glowing gems hanging on the wall behind him. He mentioned claiming many weapons--"Devil Arms" as they were called--from defeated demons, but you were curious about their names.

"Just wondering..what's that sword behind you called?"

"The Sparda. It sealed the barrier between the Underworld and human world. Nero went through hell and back, quite literally, to return it to me, so don't even think about touching......it?"

Dante put the magazine down as he turned to see you holding the Sparda in your small hands. You smiled triumphantly, but stumbled a bit before the blade accidentally slammed into the wooden floor, making you wince.

"Oops."

Yet your little act amused him, as he chuckled and shook his head. "You're a little too young to go devil-hunting, I'm afraid. But maybe one day you will."

"And maybe you can help pay off Dante's debt, too." Trish lightly joked as she entered the room, taking the giant sword from you and putting it back on the wall.

Her words were responded by a groan from the male, who went back to reading.

"Whatcha reading?"

Dante slowly lowered the magazine to see you sitting on his desk, but he just snapped it shut and tossed it into the trash, out of your line of sight. "Nothing that eyes like yours gotta see."

"Okay....ooooooh, what's this briefcase?" Hopping off the desk, you ran over to Pandora and crouched down to poke the skull emblem.

"Pandora. That baby can turn into six hundred and sixty six different weapons, but...right now we only have access to seven." Now he was feeling like an exhausted teacher on a museum trip, trying to explain each exhibit to his hyper first graders--the exhibits being his Devil Arms.

Yet as you ran around asking him about more of them, he couldn't help but see his childhood-self reflected in you. Just full of energy and never-ending curiosity and optimism.

Yeah..he definitely saw the resemblance.

Eventually you decided to leave him be and dash off to your room.

And only then did Dante drop his smile, sighing as he put both feet back on the ground. He ran a hand through his hair before dragging it down the side of his face tiredly.

"You know..you'll have to tell them eventually." Trish reminded.

"How, though? That kid's afraid of all demons..hybrids or not. I'm pretty sure saying "oh by the way the guy who rescued you is actually half-demon" is gonna send 'em running, and...I can't risk that." He shook his head, gazing at the jukebox in the corner.

"But I think [y/n]'s old enough to comprehend the concept of not all demons being evil," Lady chimed in after overhearing the conversation. "Just give it to them straight and I'm sure they'll understand."

As much as Dante wanted to argue, he saw that she had a valid point. But he still worried...

How would you react?

It's been a few years since he saved you from a Mega Scarecrow, though it turned out that more demons invaded your neighborhood, slaughtering everyone you knew and loved. And as he took you back to the shop to patch you up, he could see the terror in your eyes, any traces of innocence long gone.

No child should have gone through such a tragedy.

A tragedy that he was all-too familiar with.

After the defeat of the Savior, things have been looking up. You've regained your happiness as you lived in Devil May Cry and learned of Dante's tales of devil hunting, though the memories of that horrible night never truly left you alone.

Along with that, just seeing a demon is enough to make you run and hide, and you were terrified when you first met Nero and saw his demonic arm.

From that incident alone, Dante became extremely reluctant to tell you of his own demonic heritage.

He just didn't know if he's only hurting you more by keeping it hidden..

...............

Later that night, you were plagued by yet another nightmare. Different demons, same neighborhood...same deaths of your loved ones.

But in this one Dante got hurt, too. And you tried so hard to be brave for him, even shouting in the demon's face...but in the end you failed as it snatched you away, dragging you into the darkness of the Underworld before he could reach you.

Although you calmed down since awakening, you wanted to be sure he was alright.

So with what little moonlight shone in the shop's darkness, you located the worn sofa where Dante laid. He was engrossed in some TV program, though after sensing your presence his eyes flickered to you.

No words had to be exchanged in order for him to see what was wrong, as he sat up and patted the spot beside him. You smiled in relief and climbed onto the sofa, snuggling into his side as he wrapped an arm around you. "Th-Thanks, Dante."

"No prob. So uh..another nightmare, I guess?"

"Yeah, but..they hurt you, too and...I-I tried staying brave. I shouted at them to leave you alone and..they didn't listen. But...I think one of them looked scared of me."

"Wow." He raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Gotta say I'm impressed."

"Really?"

"Absolutely. Y'know demons are used to seeing kids scream and cry, not take a stand against them. Plus that's pretty epic of you to defend me, so thanks." With a smile, he ruffled your hair.

"You're welcome," you giggled a bit. "But..I really just wanna be as brave as you. I mean...Nero says you laugh at giant demons and tease them all the time. How do you do that without being scared?"

"Well..it comes with the business. Getting them riled up just makes the fight more fun. At least for me. You might think I'm crazy but if ya decide to hunt demons one day...you'll see what I mean."

"But until then, could I watch you fight one? Like a big bad one?"

"......."

"Dante?"

"..kid, there's a reason I never took you on any missions." Dante sighed, swallowing back the growing lump in his throat as he carefully planned his next words. "And how I always...bounce back from getting smacked by a demon tail. No human would be able to withstand that without some broken bones."

"Oh?" You tilted your head. "Then..how can you if you're human?"

"....because I'm not fully human."

As much as he wanted to shut up, he decided to tell you the truth once and for all, not sugarcoating anything:

He explained how his parents were a demon and human--a forbidden romance which resulted in himself and Virgil being born. His bloodline allowed them to blend in with humans, exercise their demonic abilities in battle, and even tap into their true demon forms.

All the while you listened silently, with not much emotion on your face. So it was hard for him to tell what you were probably thinking in this moment.

It scared him.

"...and that's it." He sighed, closing his eyes and looking away from you. "So go ahead and hate me if you want. I won't blame you for-"

"Can you show me?"

Dante blinked stupidly as he swung his head back towards you, wondering if he heard you right.

"I...wish you told me before, but I don't wanna be scared of demons anymore." You smiled a tiny bit as you elaborated. "Especially not one who helped me. So...can I see your other form?"

"...a-alright. Just...if you get scared I can turn back instantly, so don't freak."

"I won't."

He had doubts you'll keep your word, but he got up and activated his Devil Trigger form. As he opened his eyes, you gasped upon seeing how much they were glowing--being orange rather than blue. Red electric sparks danced around his metallic body as he observed you close, anticipating your reaction. He expected you to scream or cry.

Yet..there was only curiosity and wonder in your eyes.

"Scared yet?" He asked in his distorted voice, crouching down in front of you.

Not even the way he spoke startled you, as you just shook your head. "I was wrong all along..not all demons are bad."

"Not even this one?"

"Nope. You look awesome..like a knight in shiny red armor."

"...wow..I um...." For once, the talkative devil hunter was at loss for words. But when you learned forward to hug him around the neck, he was completely shocked.

Earlier in the day he thought of countless worse-case scenarios, and yet...the best-case was happening right now.

You were accepting him, hugging him even.

He couldn't believe it.

Dante smiled as he wrapped his arms around you, making sure his armor spikes didn't hurt you. "Thanks, kid. It really means a lot that you're not terrified anymore........[y/n]?" He was concerned about your lack of response, before realizing you were dozing off.

'Damn..I might make a pretty good dad, after all..' He mused, standing up and making the trek back to your bedroom. Then he set you down and tucked you in, relief and warmth in his heart.

He had a feeling that your nightmares won't be so bad anymore. Now he felt like he could truly protect you.

Why?

Because he was gonna be your knight in shining red armor.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Jeez, man. Quit clanking around shit and---AH!!! WHAT THE FUCK?!!"

"Shhhh! Chill out, Nero. You'll wake 'em." Dante was quick to shift back to his human form once he was outside your room, glaring at his nephew. "Why are you so freaked out? This ain't the first time you've seen my devil form."

"But still..why in the middle of the night?! Thought we had company."

"...just go back to bed, kid."

"Don't call me kid!"

[twinklelilstarkey]

Early Surprise - Qb!Rafe Cameron

Words: 2.4k+

Summary: Rafe's sisters decide to go to his apartment and surprise him early, but they meet you first instead.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Exhaustion over physical activities [playing football].

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

You roll around in bed, bored out of your mind.

Still one more hour for Rafe to get home from practice, and that is only if coach doesn’t want to talk to him or make him stay a little bit more for whatever reason.

You’re dying to watch your favorite show’s new episode, but, jokes on you, that’s Rafe’s favorite show as well. Therefore, he wants to watch it with you at the same time since that would exclude any possibility of spoilers in your household.

But... you’re bored. Dying of boredom, really.

Would he even notic-? No! You are a good girlfriend, Y/N! Good girlfriends and good human beings wait for their friends/significant others to get home... Patiently.

A frustrated groan escapes your lips as you continue to have an argument with yourself, but the sound of the doorbell stops you before you could think about another way to defend yourself, against yourself.

Before getting up from bed, you grab your phone from the nightstand, checking if you have any messages announcing the arrival of any of your friends, study-group, or even Rafe, who always forgets his keys when leaving in a rush.

But, nothing. No messages or calls.

You stand from the bed, still confused, and the doorbell rings again. You don’t rush, your instincts telling you to be more careful, than quick.

Yes, it could just be your neighbor asking for sugar, but it could also be a serial killer, also asking for sugar, but actually just planning on killing you.

You reach the door and take a peek at the door’s peephole, and... What the fuck?

Two girls stand behind it, both talking to each other, seeming to be planning to walk out now that nobody is answering the door. One looks slightly younger than you, while the other is way younger.

If you hadn’t ‘stalked’ Rafe on social media before you two started dating and when bored, you would have no idea who they are. But they’re, god damn, Sarah and Wheezie Cameron.

Who, by the way, Rafe does not talk about all that much and does not have any pictures with on social media. So, the fact that you were able to recognize them over pictures that the three of them have been tagged in, is insanely impressive.

You unlock the front door and open it, not wanting them to leave and think that their brother is refusing to open the door, and their voices stop right away.

“Uh-” The oldest, Sarah, says, seeing you, “Hi...?”

Oh god.

“Are we at the right apartment?” The youngest, Wheezie, asks her sister and you bite your tongue, sensing the awkward energy incoming.

“You’re Rafe’s sisters, right?” You ask and they nod, still confused, “You’re at the right apartment. I-I live with him.”

“Oh.” Sarah says with a relieved tone, “We just wanted to surprise Rafe and come earlier than expected. We didn’t know he shared the apartment with someone.”

You and Rafe have been dating for, what, 4 months? And been friends for longer. Family, especially meeting each other’s family, hasn’t been on each other’s plans at all lately, so it doesn’t surprise you all that much that they don’t know what you look like and who you are.

You had moved in with him after he offered you a place to stay after the dorm building flooded. That was a month before you started dating. And now, this is happening.

But... ‘come earlier’? for what?

“Yeah, I moved here some time before this semester started.” You explain. “And, yeah- Rafe is not home right now. He is at team practi-”

“Wait! I think I recognize you!” Wheezie says and you look at her confused.

Sarah does the same thing and looks down at the small girl next to her. Wheezie pulls out her phone from her back pocket and you all stay silent, finding this awfully strange yet interesting.

Wheezie opens Instagram and you see her opening Rafe’s account, clicking on one of the pictures that he has with you.

“You’re his girlfriend?!” Sarah asks, surprised, eyes slightly widen and mouth left slightly open.

“Yeah.” You say with a smile.

“Oh my god!” She squeaks in excitement, “I’ve waiting to meet you for so long. This is so exciting, you’re practically my sister-in-law!”

Before you could say anything, Sarah pulls you into a hug and you laugh, slightly taken off guard.

Is she always this affectionate?

(...)

Rafe feels like he’s a blink away from dying. Sweat is dripping down and off his face, the practice jersey is clinging onto his torso because of the sweat, the sun is burning his exposed skin, mouth is dry and body is aching and shaking.

He just wants to go home. Maybe lay in his bed with you curled up against him and just, god damn, sleep. 

How long has he been in this field for, again?

He pants as he crouches and tries to regain his strength. His teammates are acting the exact same way, some laying down and looking like they’re melting onto the grass.

Why didn’t he choose a sport like golf? Or, god, maybe even ping pong? Anything that doesn’t require him feeling like he’s going to pass away if he moves one more muscle.

“Come on, everyone, go get some water!” One of the coaches says as his eyes lay on the tired young adults scattered through the field’s sidelines.

Rafe forces himself to stand back on his feet and move towards the large water carts with all the hoses. There’s no way he’s going to be waiting in line to get a sip.

He looks over his shoulder, just to make sure he doesn’t have to make a run for it, and eventually trip over his own feet over any possible competition, but he is sure that most of his team has fallen asleep or is just passed out because absolutely no one moved a muscle.

The water is freezing cold, which even though it’s said to not be good for you, it does feel amazing. Rafe’s standing in the shade now, assuming that he got sunburnt over his arms now he looks down at them.

There are some people sitting in the back of the makeshift stands of the outside field (one only used for practices since even scrim games are on the stadium) but they’re playing no mind to the close to dying team, they just keep on talking to their friends, or just doing homework.

A weird habit that people have and Rafe never understood. Unless it’s you. He puts on a god damn show when you’re seated there. Ever since you two met.

Thank fuck that dorm building flooded.

He misses you, and he really just wants to go home. Will he even be able to drive home with these shaky legs? Well, he can always call you to pick him up... right? Ooooh, and you two could go get lunch too!

Now, that’s a plan!

“Alright, boys!” Head coach shouts, “All of you, over here.”

Rafe, and all of the other guys, drag their legs over the grass, too tired to even lift their cleats off the ground (probably ruining the terrain, but, whatever). Everyone surrounds the head coach and kneels, most almost falling off to the side as their bodies try to bring them down.

The usual end-of-practice speech is made by the coach: highlighting what needs to be fixed on everyone’s playstyle, what has been corrected today, what needs to keep happening, and, of course, a ‘we’re better than them’ small speech with a few curses in the middle of it.

Some parts of the speech were separate, the coach would pinpoint someone and say what they need to change and blah blah. Rafe was one of those players, but he definitely only heard half of the words.

Everyone does the team chant, lacking its usual screaming and energy, so it was just mumbled, which did make the people by the stands and the coaches laugh.

“Don’t forget that we have tubs for the ice baths!” One of the training coaches reminds everyone and some sigh in relief.

(...)

You close the driving seat’s door and walk over to the building of the locker rooms, trying to look through every guy and find your ‘so tired’ boyfriend leaning against someone.

Sarah and Wheezie are in the backseat, still wanting to surprise Rafe, even if it’s not at his door.

“Hey bubs.” You smile as you see the familiar head of messy straight blonde hair.

Rafe turns and looks down at you, a smile already on his face as he heard your voice over everyone else’s.

“Hi, baby.” He says, eyes half-closed as he is almost falling asleep against his friend and he pulls you into a hug.

You hug him back and he snuggles in close to you.

Honestly, if you didn’t have two girls in the backseat of your car, you would continue to give him this tired hug for as long as he wanted, but you really don’t want to keep them waiting.

“Let’s go to the car, yeah?” You ask him and he nods.

You pull him away slightly and he stands back straight, arm still over your shoulders while yours is still around his waist. You say a quick goodbye to every guy that has acknowledged you, or, in other words, is still awake.

You drag Rafe with you, off from the side of the building to the small parking lot. He’s laying some of his weight on you, but you don’t really care since it is not that much and he really does look like he’s exhausted.

When you reach the car, you notice that both Sarah and Wheezie hid behind the seats, away from your and Rafe’s field of view.

You unlock the doors and Rafe takes his arm from around your shoulders, opening the door for himself. You smile as he almost throws himself in and you close the door behind him.

Right as you walk around the car, two high pitched screams sound off the car muffled and you smile as the surprise was more of a scare than anything else.

You reach your door and Rafe has his hand over his chest, mouth open, eyes widened, and looks slightly out of breath.

“What the fuck?!” He says to them and you chuckle as the girls giggle.

You finally open your door and his eyes fly over to you.

“How are they in your car?” He asks, extremely confused, and still a little shook with everything that happened.

“We came early to surprise you!” Wheezie says, laughing at her step-brother’s shocked face.

“Yeah! Like a week early?!” He says, giving them a glare.

Oh, he will not live this down any soon. This is just as hilarious as it is bad.

“You did the same thing to me when I started senior year!” Sarah defends herself, “It’s only fair that you get this big of a scare!”

Rafe falls back to his seat and his hand falls from his chest. You close your door and all of their eyes go to you.

“I can’t believe you went with their plan. You’re supposed to be on my side.” He says and you smile at him.

Even though he does sound annoyed and hilariously out of breath, the air between everyone isn’t thick with tension or some other sort of negative emotion. The girls are smiling widely, Rafe has a slight grin as he forces a frown, and you are just letting out some laughs.

You decided to turn on the car and start driving back home. Sarah is the one to break the ice after the whole discussion of whether the scare had been fair or not.

Rafe spoke back. His first words formed the shortest of answers, but for the looks of it, he kind of forgot he was supposed to be angry by the time you were halfway in your way home because he’s talking just as much now.

“I hated practice today." Rafe groans out loud, to nobody specifically.

You park the car over its previous spot and the girls are the first ones to jump out. You look over at Rafe, and he's slowly, really slowly, reaching to unbuckle himself.

A chuckle escapes you, but you still help him out. You unbuckle his seatbelt and do the same to yours before jumping out of the car. You wait a little for the sore and tired man to follow you out, and he does after some time.

His arm comes to rest over your shoulders as you all start walking inside the building, and you sense that he is almost asleep right as the elevator blings at your floor.

"You didn't watch the show without me, right?" He asks you in a whisper as you walk down the hallway.

You giggle a bit at his strange list of priorities before falling asleep.

"No, but I was considering it." You admit, gaining a glare that almost comes unnoticed with how closed his eyes are. "Sorry, you just take way too long in practice."

He grins a bit at your playful tone and grabs onto his keys in his pocket. The door of the apartment opens and Rafe is the first one to walk in, already with a destination in mind.

"What are we going to do now?" Wheezy asks her brother, curious.

"Whatever you want to do." Rafe answers, taking his jacket off, "I'm probably going to watch the first five minutes of an episode and sleep. But if you want to go... I don't know, play with barbies or whatever, go right ahead."

Wheezie punches Rafe's arm at his wrong choice of words and he smiles down at her.

"You can go sleep and then we can all go eat out." You offer the idea, getting a nod right away from Sarah.

"I like that idea." She comments.

Wheezie seems to also agree but she's too busy glaring at her brother to do so. And Rafe doesn't seem all that comfortable about it.

"Alright then..." He claps, taking a step back. "Guess I'll see you all later. If you need me, I'll be in my bed... But please, don't need me."

You smile at his words with a slight shake of your head and he continues to get away from the scene, while you walk towards the living room.

"Don't watch it without me, please!" Rafe pleads from the other side of the hallway already, dragging out the last word.

"I won't." You answer.

The girls happily take a seat on the couch, Wheezie still looks annoyed, until she looks up at you.

"You should definitely watch it." She says to you, "He deserves it."

I am not proud of this at all, but it has been rotting on my drafts for weeks so I just had to post it. I’m sorry if you expected a way better post on QB!Rafe. 

My imagination is just awful right now. I promise I’ll do better next time.

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff / Reader - WandaVision Canon Divergence

Gif is not mine.

Summary: You liked the simplicity of life in Westview, it was quiet and mundane, completely different from what you have lived all your life. So when a witch rewrites the reality around you, you are slightly annoyed.

Warnings: This is trash, lot of swearing, idk really know what i was trying to write here., a bit of fluff but mostly my attempt at humor; hopeful ending.

Words>  3895k   ///// Read on AO3 too.

You were trying to remember how you got where you were. Your last memory was making breakfast, a little while after feeding your cat, and then everything went silent. You blinked again, and there were people in your house, whom you called husband and children, who were smiling and speaking words that you thought were funny.

And now sitting on your bed, while a stranger slept next to you, you could finally realize that something was not right.

Feeling a ringing in your ear, you tried to wake up. It felt like someone was inside your head, pushing your consciousness down. You took a deep breath, clenching your fists, using all your mental control to resist. 

And then your memories hit you in an instant, and you lost your breath. All your life returned to you. Rising abruptly from your shock, you looked around.

Your house was completely different from before, and your first impulse was to look for Mr. Whiskers, but you couldn't find him anywhere. 

Looking down you noticed that you were wearing an old dress, and you grumbled discontentedly. You hate dresses. You didn't have time to worry about it, though.

You tried to remember who was controlling you, but every time you thought the image was getting through, you heard a noise, and lost your concentration.

Turning to the man sleeping in your bed, you frowned at the image. He was the newspaper delivery man on Seventh Street. You had never had any contact with him at all. And now he looked troubled, as if he was having a bad dream.

You raised your fingers to the man's forehead and read his thoughts.

Choking on the intensity of the pure pain you felt, you stopped touching him then, stumbling backwards. What the fuck was that, you thought. But remembering the dream, you now knew who was doing it to him.

Putting on the first pair of shoes you found around the house, you walk out the front door, trying to feel the energy of the witch who was doing this, as you walked around the town.

A woman stopped you, smiling strangely. You had never seen her around here before.

- Are you all right, darling? - she asked. You noticed that everything looked antique, the clothes, the decorations.

- Actually I'm looking for someone. - You answered, and she kept that weird friendly smile. You didn't trust her, and honestly, all this nonsense was getting on your nerves.

- Oh, I can help you if you like. - She said cheerfully, and you took a step back. She didn't seem to mind, then spoke up: - And how is your family? I hear Thomas is giving you trouble at school.

You blinked in confusion, starting to get annoyed.

- Who the fuck is thomas? - You shouted. - You know what, stay away from me!

The woman stood there in shock for a moment, and you took advantage of this to turn her around and keep walking. 

But then you felt something grab you by the neck, you fell breathlessly to your knees, raising your hands to remove the grip, and noticing that it was magic. Great, two witches, you thought.

- You won't spoil the narrative, dear. - said the woman, now sounding much more threatening. She loosened the spell just so that you could breathe, and then turned you to face her. - I didn't know we had another witch in town.

- I am not a witch. - You grumbled. - I'm a mutant.

- I beg your pardon?

- A fucking mutant. - You retorted angrily. - You don't have much of that here, do you.

- And why are you here?

- Can you please let me go? - You strike back, and the woman looks at you with irony. - I'm not going to attack you.

- Oh, I wouldn't dream of it. - She sneers. You let out an impatient sigh.

- Look, I was living very well here. And then somebody put a 1950s filter on my life, and just disappeared with my pet cat. And I really liked him. - you say, getting up. - So if you and your witch friend can take whatever all this shit is somewhere else, I'll be very grateful.

The woman considered for a moment, and then smiled, offering a hand for you to shake. You raised your eyebrows.

- Agatha Harkness, sweetheart. - She introduced herself, and you shook her hand, feeling the magical energy in her fingers. - I'll tell you everything.

She said as she released you from the magical chain, and dragged you by the arm along the street.

Agatha served you tea when you arrived at her house. You noticed that the place was also decorated like in the forties. Your head was hurting a little, you could feel the pressure of the magic trying to make you obey.

- It's painful, isn't it? - says Agatha, looking at you closely. - I have never seen a human resist with such intensity.

You shrug.

- It's just mind control, isn't it? Everyone can learn to resist it. - You say, making Agatha laugh slightly.

- Oh, no, dear. - She denies it. - This is magic. It is not so simple to avoid.

You take a sip of your tea, it tastes good after all. 

- Weren't you going to tell me what's going on here? - you ask, changing the subject. You don't trust Agatha, and you have no intention of chatting with her.

She lets out a giggle at your impatience. 

- We have a witch in town. - She explains. - The very powerful kind. I'm trying to find out what is going on here.

- Do you work for the government or something?

- Oh no, I am from a special organization. - She says mysteriously, you shrug. You don't really care, you just want things to go back to normal. If Agatha can help you with that, you will work with her.

- Fine then. - you say, finishing your tea. - And how do we end this spell?

- It doesn't end. - she says, and you blink in surprise. - The witch who conjured it needs to remove it.

- Fucking hell. - You complain, getting up.

- Where are you going? 

- To talk to a witch! I'm sick of this shit.

You open the door, but Agatha uses her magic to close it at the same instant. You let out an irritated grunt.

- What's the problem? - You say to her, turning to face her. Agatha has a thoughtful expression.

- What exactly are your abilities?

- It doesn't matter. - You say. - I won't use them. Can I go now?

- I intended to play the girl's game to find out what's going on here.

You let out a short  laugh.

- You're kidding me, right? There are thousands of people here who have had their lives completely changed, and you have the power to put an end to it, and you're more interested in studying the witch than stopping her. - you exclaimed angrily. And then you opened the door, Agatha didn't stop you this time, a mixed gleam of surprise and curiosity in her eyes. - I'm going to end this nonsense now. I don't have the time or patience for games.

You left the house, looking around, and were slightly startled to see Agatha standing right next to you, as if she had just teleported there. She gave you a mischievous smile before pointing to the next residence.

You stepped forward to the front door, and knocked on the wood. It didn't take long for you to answer the door.

- Hello, good evening. - Greeted a tall, blond man. You hesitated for a moment, the noise his mind echoed was low, almost non-existent.

- Vision, darling! - Said a voice beside you before you could respond. Agatha placed one hand on your shoulder as she greeted the man with the other. They smiled politely. - I wanted to introduce my niece to Wanda! She came from the south to visit me.

You frowned, blinking in disbelief. Vision smiled, making room for the two of you to enter the house. Agatha pushed you inside, whispering in your ear to play nice, and you rolled your eyes without patience.

And then a woman entered the room, and you could tell you were relatively surprised at how beautiful she was. But this was no time to think about things like that.

- Agatha, darling, good evening! - greeted the woman.

- Hi Wanda, how are you?

They greeted each other with a quick hug while you stood there, arms crossed, not believing the acting.

- This is my niece, she came to stay at my house for a few days. - Agatha said, giving you a gentle nudge with her elbow to introduce yourself. You let out a sigh, forcing a smile at the redhead as you held out your hand to her.

- I am Y/N. - You said, and almost choked when Wanda touched your hand, feeling an electric current go through your body. Wanda's eyes widened, probably feeling it too, but she didn't say anything, letting go of the squeeze.

- We just wanted to say hello, and see how you were doing. - Agatha said with a smile, and Wanda looked at her in the same way. And then the man named Vision came over, hugging the redhead on the side and matching smiles. You squeezed your eyes shut, not believing the scene.

- Is everybody here crazy? - you exclaimed with irritation. Wanda and Vision looked at you with confusion, and Agatha made an angry expression as if to tell you to shut up, but you just raised your hand at her and kept talking. - Look, I don't know what's going on here, and honestly I don't care. If you could just stop the whole show, I'd appreciate it.

All three were quiet for a moment, completely confused. And then the doorbell rang

As Wanda went to answer the door, Agatha pinched your arm, and you just grunted in pain, asking her if those people were mental.

- Pietro? - said the woman looking tearful. The man hugged her then, and then when he turned to you, you let out a surprised exclamation.

- What the fuck are you doing here? - you exclaimed, and everyone looked at you in confusion and surprise. But you felt a mixture of relief and happiness. - Peter, how are you here?

You asked, approaching the boy. But he had a confused expression, as if he didn't really know you. You shook your head in irritation.

- Okay, this is too weird. - You declared. - What the hell is going on? How did Peter get here? Who are you, and why don't I have any pants in my closet?

Agatha let out a nervous laugh, probably hoping that the couple would reconsider their little outburst. But then Wanda acquired a serious expression, her eyes glowing red as she stood in front of you.

- Who are you? - she asked.

- I'm the one who is asking. - You countered. - You are the one who invaded my town and changed the decoration of my house. And more importantly, where the fuck is my cat?

Wanda looked surprised for a moment, and then she held up one hand, a red glow coming from her fingers. You raised your eyebrows.

- I'll ask you again.

- Was that meant to intimidate me? - You reply with irony, nodding your head at the red glow.

- Wanda, dear, what's going on? - Vision asked, sounding really confused. You imagined he was being controlled too. Wanda looked slightly perturbed, and then she launched a large amount of energy at you, pushing you hard enough to break through the wall, and you rolled a few feet into the grass outside.

- Fucking great. - You grumbled as you stood up. Wanda was already coming toward you, her fists and eyes red.

- I want you out of my home.

You wiped the grass from your clothes, laughing wryly.

- You are the one who came to my town, Wanda. - You say in a calmer tone. - I just want things back to normal, and more importantly, I want the newspaper vendor out of my bed.

- I don't understand what you are talking about. - Wanda says with a mixture of confusion and anger in her voice. You frown. Did she really not know what she was doing?

You looked away from her to Agatha, who seemed to be enjoying the whole conflict. You let out a grumble of annoyance.

- That is great. Fucking great. - You muttered as you began to walk in circles, wondering what exactly to do. - Look, I don't know exactly what's going on here. But I do know that this is not my life. And well, it's nobody's life either. That guy over there is not even from this universe! - You explain and point at Peter, or Pietro, with your finger. He looks at you with raised eyebrows. - I just need you to undo whatever this is all about.

- I don't ... - Wanda murmured, looking perplexed. You sighed. 

- Maybe I can help you remember. - You suggest. Wanda nods her head in agreement. 

Agatha approaches quickly, a smile on her lips.

- I would like to participate, please. - she says. You roll your eyes. 

- This will only take a second. - You say tenderly to the redhead. And you raise a finger to her forehead and one to Agatha's, and then you remember.

You see Agatha's memories first. All the hate, and the ambition. She and Wanda walk beside you through the memories. You look closely, wrapped up in the feelings. Agatha had a lot of anger and a lot of hurt, but she was extremely powerful. 

She doesn't seem to mind sharing, and even the most painful memories no longer affect her.

When you see Wanda's memories, however, everything seems to hurt like a freshly opened wound. The death of her parents, the loss of Pietro, and the death of Vision. You feel her emptiness, her pulsating pain. It takes the air out of your lungs, and you just wish you could take that feeling away from her. No one should ever feel this way. As you wade through the memories, you don't understand why none of the people in her life helped her deal with her grief. 

When you stop looking at the memories, you are back in front of the house, no time has really passed in reality, only in your heads. Thick tears stream down Wanda's face, and you resist the urge to dry them, thinking that you didn't really have this intimacy.

But before you can say anything, Agatha lets out a laugh that startles both you and Wanda. 

- Have you gone mad too? - You remark, but a purple haze comes over her, and then she is wearing a different costume. You figure it's her "`witch's outfit,'" and let out a giggle.

- You have no idea how dangerous you are, Mrs. Maximoff. - She says, lifting herself into the air with her own magic. You should know better, witches are always so dramatic. - You're supposed to be a myth.

Wanda looks a mixture of nervousness and impatience. You just cross your arms, waiting for the speech to be over.

- A being capable of spontaneous creation, and here you are. Using to serve breakfast for dinner. - Agatha says with irony. You frown slightly, not catching the reference. - All this little life you have created here. This is chaos magic, Wanda. And that makes you a Scarlet Witch.

- Okay, that's enough, right? - You interrupt, putting yourself in front of Wanda, only to look at Agatha impatiently. - What exactly are you planning to do? Because if I'm not going to help the city, my interest is zero.

Agatha looks really shocked by your intrusion, and it takes a second, or rather a muffled laugh from Peter, or Pietro, laughing at the situation for her to acquire an angry expression and launch a big magic energy ball at you.

Letting out an impatient sigh, you watch the shocked and impressed expressions as you just absorb Agatha's power.

- Good, let's do the introductions then. - You say, and raise your hand, pulling Agatha to the floor. All that theater was wearing you out. - My name is Y/N. I am what you call a mutant, or homo superior. My abilities consist of absorbing, altering, and enhancing the powers of other mutants. The cute one over there - you signaled Pietro - is from my universe too, his name is Peter Maximoff. I came to this world after an accident, about seven years ago. I never made it back. A bald woman put me in this city, and told me to live a quiet life here. And everything was fine, until you arrived. - You say, pointing at Wanda. - Look, I've never met any Wanda Maximoff in my world, but I know we have scarlet witches there. Anyway, would you have any way to remove the spell from Westview? I'd like to get back to my normal life.

Wanda is in shock for a few seconds, and Agatha lets out a laugh. Maybe she has finally given in to insanity, you think.

- You can't stand in my way! You don't know how much I've had to sacrifice to get here.

- Agatha, stop the drama. - You respond, walking over to her and helping her to her feet. - I didn't do anything, I just absorbed the magic you threw at me. What did you expect to do anyway, huh? Absorb Wanda's power?

Agatha grimaces, nodding. You roll your eyes.

- That's ridiculous, you have more than enough power, - you say. - What's the problem with villains and boundaries - You grumble and walk toward Wanda, smiling tenderly at her. - Hey, Wanda. Can we liberate the city now? I'll wait for you to say goodbye to Vision.

Wanda frowns, and you give her a sad smile. It takes a moment, but she nods, turning toward Vision, who had been watching everything in silence until now. She walks back into the house, fixing the wall she had thrown you through as she enters, and you figure they will say goodbye with a little privacy.

While you wait, you turn to Agatha and Peter.

- So who will tell me how he got here? - you ask, with a mixture of seriousness and playfulness in your voice. 

Agatha sighs impatiently. 

- I made a deal with a demon. Simple stuff, really. - She says.

You raise your eyebrow.

- Oh yeah, right. - You agree with irony. - Is he at least the Peter Maximoff of my world, or just a spiritual copy?

- You'll have to ask Mephisto that. - She answers. You let out a sigh, running out of patience. And then you walk over to Peter, and read his mind. And you see nothing but Westview.

- Great, it's empty. - You grumble. Peter looks surprised. - You have a whole life here. His name is Ralph by the way. - You say. - I just don't understand where the super speed comes from.

- Well, he's still a copy. - Agatha suggests, and you shrug, turning to her.

- I imagine you'll try something very illegal and dangerous if I let you out of here, huh? - You joke, and she flashes you a wry smile.

- You could be a nice girl, and lend me some of your abilities. - She looks at you suggestively. You raise your eyebrows wryly.

- On my world they said that a mutant like me would be responsible for annihilation. I don't think it would be wise to use my abilities on people as powerful as you.

Agatha fakes a hurt look, but you surprise her by holding her hands.

- You will stay away from Wanda, okay? - You ask tenderly, making Agatha's eyes widen. - Or I will drain every last drop of magic out of you myself.

What could you say, having seen all of someone's memories created a bond. You can't help but care about Wanda. In fact, you even cared about Agatha too. 

You watched as Hex began to diminish, finally realizing that you were in a kind of bubble until now.

Putting your hands in your pockets, you smiled at the other two beside you. - I hope it doesn't hurt. 

Peter laughed, but Agatha seemed too shocked by your last words to react to anything.

Hex finally reached you, and you watched the house in front of you turn into a plot of land. Wanda stood in the center, her head bowed. 

You waited for her to walk over to you.

- What happens now? - she asked in a broken voice. You smiled, trying to cheer her up.

- I'll take you out for some hot chocolate. - You say, offering your arm for her to hold. Wanda gives you a sad smile, but accepts. As you walk with her toward your house, you wave to Agatha and Peter.

You let out an exclamation of joy when Mr. Whiskers runs to your feet just as you open the door. You pick him up, petting his ears as he purrs. Wanda follows you across the room, appearing unfocused.

You place him on the floor, and motion for Wanda to sit down, as you head toward the kitchen to prepare the chocolate for you two.

- Here it is. - You say as you bring the drink to Wanda. She has a lost look in her eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, not knowing exactly what to say. - Do you want to talk about it?

Wanda shrugs, tasting the chocolate.

- I don't know what else to say. - She confesses, her voice breaking. - I'm tired. 

- I'm so sorry for everything, Wanda. - You say sincerely, looking at her. You want to wipe the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. - But I'm going to stay with you now. You won't be alone anymore.

Wanda looks away, tears finally streaming down her face. She excuses herself, wiping them away quickly. 

- Why are you doing this? - she asks. - Why are you helping me?

- Why wouldn't I? - You shoot back as if it were obvious.

- I just kidnapped an entire city. You don't even know me.

- Everyone makes mistakes. - You joke and shrug. - Your mistakes are only bigger because of your magic. Besides, I saw your head. You were in pain, and you lost control. You would be surprised how many times I have seen this happen. - You count, and Wanda shakes her head in disbelief at your reassurance. You give her a smile, and signal her to drink the chocolate before it gets cold.

You are silent for a moment before she speaks again.

- I can't stay here. - she says. - This city. Vision... he...

- Let's leave, then. - You interrupt her, seeing that she was about to cry again. 

She looks at you in surprise, laughing slightly.

- What are you saying? You live here.

- And? - You shrug your shoulders. - I can sell the house. Buy a van, live on the road. Take you to all the places you don't know. - You joke, making her smile.  - I told you, Maximoff. You won't be alone. I like you.

Wanda places the mug on the coffee table in the living room and presses her face against her palms for a moment, sighing. Then she looks at you.

- And when are we going? - she asks and you smile, feeling excited.

- Whenever you want.

- Now.

You laugh, placing your mug next to hers on the table.

- Your wish is my command, madam. - You joked before getting up.

You stroked Mr. Whiskers from inside the shipping box while you were in the front seat of Wanda's car. She looked at you tenderly before she started the car, and you drove out of Westview.

[littlemisspascal]

The Last Mandalorian

Chapter One: The Warrior in Carbonite Part 3

Fandom: The Mandalorian / Pedro Pascal

Eventual Pairing: Din x Togruta!Female!Reader

Word Count: 4,320

Rating: G

Summary: A series that is a mixture of Mandalorian, Star Wars, ATLA, and my own imagination. The Imps have seized control of the majority of the galaxy, including your homeworld Shili. You and your sister Ahsoka have developed a daily routine despite the stormtroopers keeping your village imprisoned. One morning you make a startling discovery that will change the course of your lives forever.

Warnings: I don’t know much about starship mechanics so probably nothing in this is accurate but it’s fanfiction people so cut me some slack please, reader gets a nickname 🥳, plot plot plot, discussion of loss of loved ones, worldbuilding, dialogue heavy, this is a slow burn but it’s also ridiculously self-indulgent so I’m including as many cute getting-to-know-you scenes as I can, reader is 17 and Din is 19 so I’m going to warn this as underage even though nothing sexual or even vaguely romantic happens in this chapter.

Author Note: Thank you anyone and everyone who has read even a sentence of this story! Special thanks and love to @dindja for creating this stunning, fantastic, amazing piece of fanart for me 💖💖💖 I still can’t believe how perfect it is. I mean, I’m such a sucker for pinky promises it’s not even funny and this is just beautiful 😍😍😍

Part 2

Cross-posted on AO3

For as grand and wide-reaching as the Galactic Empire has become in its ten years of existence, it had relatively small beginnings. A group of radical Force-wielders banded together under the leadership of an old, beady-eyed man named Sheev Palpatine who believed it was his divine destiny to seize control of the entire galaxy, rewriting the ancient laws to match his own beliefs. His cult, the Sith Order, gained attention by attacking Jedi temples, capital cities, places with large populations until every corner of the galaxy had heard of them. Most regarded them with fear, but over time they began garnering a startling amount of followers who were discontent with the status quo and willingly drafted themselves as soldiers in Palpatine’s fight for control.

At first everyone in your village thought Palpatine and his cult of followers weren’t worth worrying about—after all, Shili was a peaceful planet that never drew much attention to itself. But within the first year of its inception, the Sith Order captured Ryloth and the similar peaceful characteristics between the Twi’lek planet and Shili were too glaring to overlook. A seed of anxiety took root in every Togruta’s mind after that, and continued to grow with every planet seized as the years progressed.

The Decimation of Alderaan didn’t start as a tragedy, believe it or not. The Mandalorians, Jedi, and Alderaanians combined their numbers in an all-out fight against the Sith Order. It was the largest battle ever fought in the history of the galaxy, thousands of souls willing to die to defeat Palpatine’s followers. For the first three days of warfare, the fight seemed to be in favor of the allies with many noteworthy Sith members reportedly killed in the fray, such as Palpatine’s second-in-command Dooku and lethal Zabrak assassin Maul. You remember there was a sense of hope felt within your village as everyone listened to the news reports blaring across the Holonet. A belief that things were finally, finally going to return to normal after so much chaos.

But on the fourth day, the Sith Order brought their own ally onto the battlefield.

At the time there wasn’t a name for the droids that slaughtered every opponent they faced. They were described as indestructible, unharmed by blasters and the intense heat of Mandalorian flamethrowers. Not even lightsabers could damage them. The allies didn’t stand a chance, brutally murdered one by one, their dying screams echoing across the Holonet, forever haunting listeners far and wide.

The Dark Troopers were unleashed upon Mandalore afterwards and out of the ashes rose the Galactic Empire, except, in a twist nobody—not even the Sith Order—saw coming: Palpatine died before taking on the title of emperor, passing away in his sleep. A mediocre ending for the monster who permanently altered the foundations of the universe. One of his loyal followers from the cult’s early beginnings took control in his place, a vile man with a penchant for spilling blood and a deceptively bland name: Gideon.

Only seven years-old then, you didn’t understand the unbalance in the Force your aunt kept referencing. You didn’t understand the meaning of the word genocide either. But you did understand the galaxy would never be the same ever again, and the lesson was only further established as truth when the Imperials seized your village. 

There is no normalcy to return to anymore.

And as long as Emperor Gideon remains in control, there is no future to hope for either.

__

Silence reigns in the aftermath of Maar’s explanation as the long list of tragedies hangs heavy over the four occupants. There is tension in the air as you await the Mandalorian’s response to the extinction of his people, whether that be an outburst of anger or tears, and each passing minute only intensifies the nervous energy thrumming through your veins. Your leg starts to bounce restlessly, a bad habit you have had since childhood.

The Mandalorian stands eerily motionless. Your eyes keep flicking from your lap to his visor though you know it is rude to stare. His helmet hides his expression, but you don’t need to see it to know he is floundering right now, mind scrambling to piece together all the details thrown at him. From personal experience, you know the loss of a loved one hits like a tidal wave, hitting you over and over again until you must decide if you are going to stand up or surrender to drowning. Grieving the loss of your parents is the hardest experience of your lifetime to date.

But this...this is vastly different. The Mandalorian didn’t just lose his loved ones. He has lost his friends, neighbors, comrades, acquaintances, everyone all at once. This loss isn’t a tidal wave. It is a kriffing avalanche, burying him ten feet under in total darkness, and there is no one he can count on to save him. 

Finally, after the longest five minutes of your life, he shifts, resting his hands upon his belt with an unexpected air of seriousness. “I need to go.”

You frown, head tilting. That is his reaction?

“Go?” Ahsoka echoes, sounding as incredulous as you feel. “Go where?”

“To look for survivors,” he answers, blunt and harsh, the words forced through clenched teeth. 

Ahsoka is struck silent, and you feel your heart break on his behalf. Your mother’s stories about the Mandalorians had always included, one way or another, their lifelong bonds with each other. You had felt those ties when you had connected with the Mandalorian, believed for a moment as strongly as he did that his fellow warriors would come search for him, that his absence would be noticed and missed amongst them. And here he is now, still desperately clutching to them, unable—or, perhaps unwilling is more apt—to believe a stranger telling him those bonds have been cruelly severed. 

“What you need is to rest,” Maar says, gentle yet firm, letting her authority as the eldest in the room seep into her tone.

He shakes his head, not backing down. “I’ve been asleep for ten years. I don’t need any more rest.”

“Your ship, it, uh,” your shoulders hike up defensively when his visor snaps in your direction, pinning you with its blank stare. Clearing your throat, you continue with a slight grimace, “It’s going to need some repairs before it can take off. I can help you fix it.”

Ahsoka looks over at you in surprise, and then in worry. You don’t blame her, especially since the offer had slipped out without you consciously meaning it to. Once again, the Force is calling the shots and you are just along for the ride, a passenger in your own body.

He considers you for a long moment, then asks, “What do you know about the mechanics of a gunship?” 

If anyone else had asked you that same exact question, you would have bristled at their condescension and retracted your offer in the next breath. But with the Mandalorian, there isn’t even the slightest hint of patronizing courtesy. It is a serious question prompted from genuine curiosity.

You sit up straighter, smiling at him now. “Enough to confidently say I’m your best shot at getting off the ground.”

__

“What’s your plan, exactly?” Ahsoka asks you, braced against the wall with one eye on you and one on the Mandalorian across the garage, patiently waiting for you to finish assembling your tool kit. 

“Huh?” You reply distractedly, trying to decide if you should bring your carbon chisel or not. 

“You don’t have one, do you?”

Not. There are bigger concerns than a bit of carbon scoring. You move to grab your favorite screwdriver with a tapered socket, only for Ahsoka to snatch it away, holding the tool hostage.

“Hey!”

“Have you thought about what you’re doing?” Ahsoka asks slowly, staring you directly in the eyes. “Once you fix his ship, he’s gone. And he’s taking our best chance at escaping Shili with him.”

A quick glance over your shoulder shows the Mandalorian studying the scattered BB unit parts on your workbench. You are missing a few vital components needed in order to bring the little droid back to life after a stormtrooper shot a plasma bolt through it for accidentally bumping into his leg, and haven’t had any luck convincing the village traders to track them down for you when they went to the capital. 

“We can’t keep him here against his will,” you manage at last, turning back to your sister. “Otherwise we’re no better than the Imps.”

When Ahsoka doesn’t say anything, you shrug a shoulder, adding, “Besides, I think I’m supposed to fix it for him. The Force seems pretty insistent about it.”

She makes a face at that. “I liked you better when you ignored your Force instincts. You didn’t make me worry as much.”

A laugh escapes you, embarrassingly loud in the otherwise quiet space, and your cheeks immediately start burning. Ahsoka’s lip twitches like she wants to smile, but instead she schools her features into a blank expression when the Mandalorian’s head turns at the sound. Only once he diverts his attention elsewhere again does her stare lose some of its intensity, looking less like she wants to dissect him beneath a microscope. You can practically see her protective-older-sister-instincts buzzing, reacting to the warrior’s presence. 

As much as he is a chance at providing an escape, he is also first and foremost a complete and total stranger. Even worse, he is a complete and total stranger who knows how to handle weapons. 

“I’ll be fine, I promise.” You squeeze her arm reassuringly. “Shouldn’t take longer than a couple of hours. You’ll be so busy smoothing the Elders’ ruffled feathers you won’t even notice I’m gone.”

Ahsoka finally relinquishes the tool, exhaling a quiet sigh. “You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.”

__

Walking side by side with the Mandalorian in silence isn’t awkward, per se, but it definitely isn’t comfortable either. He is close enough your arm keeps accidentally grazing against his, the cold brush of metal against your skin startling you each time. You would have considered his nearness strange if you hadn’t heard Ahsoka threaten to castrate him if you wound up hurt before she sent him flying at the juni tree branch outside your window with an unnecessarily strong push of Force. 

To his credit, the warrior handled her rough treatment with the same ease he has handled everything else thrown at him. You are beginning to think Mandalorians don’t just wear beskar—they are made of it too. Other than the few glimpses of frustration earlier in Maar’s office, he keeps his cards close to his chest, impossible to read. 

He watches everything though, reacting to the slightest of movements and sounds. Constantly alert. You are certain he is watching you right now, despite the fact his helmet is facing forward, your nerves prickling in response to the sensation of eyes upon you.

To your surprise, he is the one to break the silence first. “You sneak out often.”

It is a statement, not a question. 

You suppose the dots are easy enough to connect to reach that conclusion. Still, the certainty in his voice has your heart skipping a nervous beat. He hasn’t even known you a day and yet he is privy to secrets no one outside your community is aware of. “Yeah,” you nod your head after a brief lapse of silence, “Ahsoka can’t train in the village. Not with the stormtroopers around.”

“Has your village tried to run them out? Fight back?”

It is only because you know he is just trying to understand your village’s predicament with the little bits of information he has that you don’t snap at him for being so insensitive. He has no idea what these past five years have been like for you all. No idea the amount of losses and sacrifices the community has suffered. 

Your grip on your tool kit tightens. “I was twelve when they came. The community is mostly traders and hunters, not trained fighters. The few weapons we had were nothing compared to their blaster rifles, but some of the adults tried to defend the village, including our parents. They...” You swallow, or try to, at least, your throat suddenly dry as sand. “Our aunt looked after us until last year we woke up one morning to find a note she’d left to join the rebellion. We haven’t had any contact with her since.”

The Mandalorian’s gloved hand brushes against your knuckles. This time you think it might have been on purpose.

“I lost my parents as a child, too. There was a riot and they died protecting me,” he offers his own private details with the same reluctance as one volunteering to have their teeth pulled out. “The Mandalorians took me in, raised me as one of their own.”

You say nothing about the way his breath slightly hitches when he says Mandalorians, appreciating his openness as it puts you both on somewhat equal footing with each other. 

“I owe it to them to look for survivors,” he tells you, and your montrals detect the quietest hint of a plea in his voice. 

“I understand,” you answer, keeping your tone light to preserve the fragility of this moment. This kind of situation doesn’t happen often—two strangers on the same wavelength, exposing their vulnerable underbellies, desperate to be heard and yet skittish at the same time—and it is oddly therapeutic. 

A decision is made right then and there in the span of a heartbeat. And even more significantly, it is 100% your own choice without any intervention or manipulation from the Force. 

You stop walking, causing the Mandalorian to halt as well. He scans the area for a threat, then visibly jerks when he turns back to find you have your hand held out towards him, pinky raised high, reacting as if you are pointing a weapon at him.

“I don’t understand,” he says, blunt and almost suspicious sounding. Are you just imagining it or can you actually hear him frowning? “What are you doing?”

“Haven’t you ever made a pinky promise with someone before?”

“...A what?”

You snort, ducking your head to hide your smile, and then reach for his hand. Surprisingly, he doesn’t protest your touch.

“A pinky promise,” you repeat as you make his hand form a fist, curling his fingers towards his palm, and then adjust his pinky so you can wrap yours around it. He watches the whole process wordlessly. “It’s a sacred vow shared between two people. The Elders say once it’s sworn, the promise can never be broken.”

He cocks his head, skeptical. “Never?”

“Never,” you reaffirm with a nod. Licking your lips, you look at his visor, right where you instinctively know his eyes are staring back. “I promise I’m going to help you. No matter the odds.”

And something leaks into your voice then, something resolute and binding and otherworldly. A tremor shoots down your spine, too quick for you to make sense of it.

Your sister’s words echo in the back of your mind, ‘You shouldn’t make promises you don’t know for certain you can keep.’ 

You try to pull away, self-doubt gnawing a hole in your stomach, only for the Mandalorian to wrap his pinky tighter around yours, holding you still. A gasp escapes your lips, muffled by the bleeding sincerity in his voice as he swears:

“I promise I will be there when you need me. No matter the odds.”

And although your sister could undoubtedly provide you with a long list of reasons why you shouldn’t, you believe his promise to be true.

__

The Mandalorian heaves a heavy sigh at the sight of his crashed ship. 

“I can’t do much about the landing gear,” you inform him, believing honesty to be the best policy for cases like this. “And I brought some foam-jet for the cockpit viewport, but it’s not a permanent fix. You’re going to have to find someone offworld to replace them.”

“Right,” he agrees absently without turning his eyes away. It occurs to you then that this ship is the closest thing to a home he has now. One of the few precious relics from his past he can still physically cling to. 

“Does your ship have a name?” you ask.

He looks at you, as if coming back to self-awareness, and answers, “Razor Crest.”

A good name, you think. Strong. A bit mysterious. Just like its owner.

You nod decisively. “I like it.”

His modulator crackles faintly, a quiet noise produced from a sudden exhale of air. You blink at the unexpected sound, surprised to realize you recognize it. A laugh. The Mandalorian just laughed at something you said. What is next in store for you? Are akul going to sprout wings and start flying?

He steps around you, heading for the side entry door still open from yesterday with its ramp laying on the ground, pebbles shifting noisily beneath his boots with each step. You don’t realize you are staring, oddly entranced by the swish of his cape and his purposeful strides, until he calls out your name to ask if you are coming.

You nearly drop your tool kit in your haste to follow after him into the Crest’s interior, ignoring the flaring heat radiating from your cheeks. 

For the next few hours, you and the Mandalorian work in companionable silence, engrossed in rerouting wires and welding damaged components with your trusty hand torch. The gunship is older than you initially assumed, perhaps even as old as yourself, and you idly wonder if the Mandalorian found it in a scrapyard somewhere or maybe inherited it from another Mandalorian. You notice the way he handles each piece with an experienced and respectful touch; the same kind of care someone reserves for their most cherished possessions. Anyone with eyes can see how much he loves the Crest just by watching him.

Once you have finished sealing the numerous cracks dissecting the cockpit’s viewport like a spiderweb with foam, you approach the Mandalorian to see his progress on returning power to the dashboard. He is on his back beneath the steering controls, rearranging a mess of wires, and barely acknowledges your presence when you squeeze yourself into the tight space next to him.

“The red wire goes before the white one,” you point out, noticing the mistake immediately. “Fire hazard.”

He pauses, looks at where you have gestured, and corrects his error without criticizing your intervention. You bite back a smile, pleased to be heard. Within your community, even though you have proven your skills time and time again, some of the villagers, usually men, don’t always adhere to your advice, thinking you are too young and too female to know about technology, until they inevitably make their problems worse for themselves and come back to you with their metaphorical tail between their legs. 

You help him reattach the cover plating once he has finished, screwing the bolts back into their corners, and then watch, fingers crossed, as he attempts the ignition sequence, flipping a series of switches.

None of them light up with even the faintest flicker of life.

“Dank farrik,” he growls under his breath, slamming a fist upon the console.

You take a tiny step forward, hesitant to direct his frustration your way. “Can I try?” 

He tilts his head, probably thinking he knows this ship better than anyone and if it doesn’t work for him then you aren’t going to have any luck either.

Eventually he steps back with a shrug, uttering a simple, “Sure.” 

Although you can’t remember the last time you were on a ship, it doesn’t take long to refamiliarize yourself with the various controls and screens once you take a seat in the pilot chair. When your hobby for fixing broken machines changed into a passion you wanted to pursue as a future career, you started memorizing any reading material you could find on the Holonet, including the flight manuals for different classes of starships. You flip through the stored information in your mind about gunships as you press a few buttons on the panel overhead, trying out different sequences for a response.

When your third attempt fails, you bite your lip, racking your brain for a solution. You think about Huno’s kitchen droid and how you had been on the verge of ripping off one of your head-tails trying to repair it after one of its fuses blew, causing it to malfunction. Your tools and knowledge hadn’t been able to fix it in the end. It had required a special remedy to bring it back to life.

You lay your palms flat on the console, just as you had held onto the droid’s square torso. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the Mandalorian fidget, as if he wants to come closer but is hesitant to crowd you. You ignore him, pressing your fingertips harder against the metal, visualizing in your mind the unseen gears, cables, and components stiff and powerless. You imagine the parts working properly, a current of electricity running through each wire, life ultimately returning to the entire ship, and whisper under your breath a request to the Force.

“Please work, please work, please work…”

An invisible pulse of energy burns down the length of your arms and discharges through your fingertips, strong enough you jerk backwards against the seat. Every button and screen on the dashboard lights up all at once, beeping with alarm at being so rudely resurrected.

You sit there helplessly, stunned and breathless, hands twitching in your lap. The kitchen droid hadn’t required even half as much energy to restart, barely a pinch. Now your body feels like you have been thrown against the electric fence a dozen times. Wordlessly, the Mandalorian comes to your side to help, punching buttons and turning knobs until the alarms quit blaring. A distant part of your brain thinks the Razor Crest as a whole seems strangely soothed by his presence, not quite as cold and dark, but it is hard to follow that train of thought due to the distracting pain throbbing along your temples.

“That’s quite a spark you’ve got,” he says, not unkindly or accusingly, just a statement of the obvious. He looks down at you, not outright asking for an explanation, but giving you the opportunity to open up if you wanted to.

“Yep, that’s me,” you reply, forcing a cheerful smile, praying it doesn’t resemble a grimace. “Sparks Tano at your service.”

He chuckles again, oblivious to how your heart stutters at its raspiness. “Thank you, Sparks. I appreciate it.”

“Well, we’re not done yet.” You rub at your temples under the guise of adjusting your headband. “I need to take a closer look at the engines before we attempt flying out of here. I—”

“I’ll do it,” he cuts in, already heading for the ladder. “You stay here, see if you can update the navicomputer settings.”

You know he knows that updating the navicomputer is child’s play for you. Clearly you aren’t as great at concealing your pain as you thought you were and this is his way of giving you a break. A small part of you is irritated at being treated like a porcelain doll, but you push those negative feelings aside as quickly as they develop. Your aunt always used to remind you and Ahsoka it was okay to accept help when it was offered, that needing support didn’t in any way make you weak. 

“Hey, wait a second,” you call out as you spin around in your seat, freezing him right before he disappears from view into the hull. He holds onto the ladder, waiting patiently for you to continue.

“Back at Maar’s place you didn’t introduce yourself and it’s weird just calling you Mandalorian in my head,” you say, awkwardly drumming your fingers on top of the armrests. He doesn’t answer, eliciting a sigh from your mouth after a drawn-out beat of silence. “What’s your name? You do have one, right?”

“I do, but I can’t tell you it,” he admits at last. “By Mandalorian Creed, only other Mandalorians or my riduur—my spouse,” he corrects, seeing your confusion, “are allowed to know my name and see my face. This is the Way.”

He doesn’t linger to hear your response, dropping down into the hull with a resounding thud. You slowly turn back around, staring absently out the glass. Every culture is unique, including your own, but you think there is something especially interesting about the Mandalorians’. It sounds like a lonely existence, only able to show your face while in select company. What would have happened if he had been unconscious and you had slipped the helmet off his head? What consequence would he have faced? 

And if there truly aren’t any Mandalorians left besides him, his spouse will be the only one to ever know him completely. It almost sounds like a love story, if not a little bit heart-wrenching. 

Two high-pitched dings from the console jerk you out of your thoughts with a wince. You look for the source, finding the radar lit up and actively scanning the area, and bristle when you see a pair of red dots moving across the screen. 

Not even a minute later you are sprinting out of the cave, ignoring the Mandalorian’s alarmed shout from the roof of the Razor Crest. They’re early, you think with panic, looking towards the sky where two starships with Imperial logos are heading straight for your village. Why have they come back so soon?

You push your legs to run faster, your surroundings a blur beyond the trail in front of you, but the effort is meaningless. You won’t make it back home before they land.

And when your absence is noted, bloodshed is not a possibility. 

It is a guarantee.

Series taglist: @pedro4ever @cannedsoupsucks

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[danijimenezv]

Not a Mistake

Summary: Rewrite of what happened after the kiss in Miami. Takes place in OH1 Ch10.

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x MC (Jillian Valentine).

Word Count: 1025 words.

A/N: This is angsty, my friends. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help myself, not after reliving Miami all over again. If you want to be tagged or untagged, feel free to let me know. As always, feedback is much appreciated! (please, I crave it)

“Ethan?”

“We… can’t.” Ethan hesitated, “We can’t go further. We’ve already crossed a line.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

The question came out as a broken whisper, and it made his heart sink. How could she even think that? How could he have let her believe something like that? It was unfair and painful to realize his actions had been the ones to cause that insecurity.

“Of course not, not in the slightest.” he was quick to assure her, “You…”

You were perfect, are perfect. Ethan wanted to say, but he refrained.

If he said what he wanted to say out loud, she would never let him walk away from the moment, from him, and he needed her to, because he was too close to losing the little self-control he had at the moment.

“No, I did. I shouldn’t have let this happen. And it can’t happen again.”

“Why not?”

Please don’t do this. Jillian begged with every fiber of her being, but she couldn’t articulate the words, because deep down, she already understood his point.

“I’m an attending, and you’re an intern. You’re in the running to join my team. I’d be your boss-”

“So? Screw the competition.”

“It’s unethical. And it’s complicated.”

Jill looked away, closing her eyes shut to prevent the tears from falling. She wouldn’t let him see her cry; she didn’t let him her first day at Edenbrook, and she wouldn’t let him now.

“And it’s not worth the risk? Is that it?” she opened her eyes again, and the intensity Ethan saw in them was almost enough to take his breath away.

“Jill, please.” he broke the eye contact, unable to keep facing her.

“Ethan, no one would have to know.”

Jill knew she was probably coming off as desperate, something she had never been in her whole life, but she couldn’t let him walk away just like that. She had never felt that with anyone, that need to just be with him, and she had also never actively wanted anything serious with someone, until that moment. She wanted to pursue what they had, to see the possibilities, what could’ve been. Because she knew, she just knew as crystal clear as water, that they could be great together, that they could have something wonderful. That realization was terrifying, but Jill figured it had to mean something, to truly want it, from the bottom of her heart.

“We would know, Jill. We would know.” Jillian deflated and nodded sadly, the last shred of hope she had been desperately holding on to vanishing completely, and instead leaving heartbreak and resignation in its place.

Ethan didn’t know what would’ve been more heartbreaking, that she hadn’t fought him about it, and hence showing that for her it was probably just a one-night thing, or the fact that he knew he had to fight it while she was right in front of him, begging him with her big puppy eyes not to do it. But he had to. He owed it to her. He couldn’t do that to her. As much as he wanted it, he knew it would only bring consequences for her. And she was too damn important for him to put his selfish feelings before her wellbeing.

“I need to be able to push you to your limits, to help you become the doctor you want to be; the one I know you can be. I can’t do that if I…”

Her breath hitched in her throat at the implication, “If you… what?”

Ethan shook his head, angry with himself, “I’m sorry. I should have stopped myself before…”

Yes, you should have. Her mind wanted to scream at him, but her heart, no matter the hurt it was feeling at the moment, treasured their brief moment.

“We should call it a night. You can take the bed, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“No.” Jillian stood up from the bed abruptly and cut his path off, “I’ll take the couch.”

“Jill-”

“I’m shorter than you.” she excused, but her voice wavered, “I’ll fit better in the couch.”

“I can’t let you–”

“Goodnight, Dr. Ramsey.”

Jill hurriedly escaped the room and closed the door behind her, resting her back against it and trying to get a full intake of oxygen into her lungs. She felt a knot forming in her throat and an unpleasant feeling in the pit of her stomach, threatening to suffocate her. Though, she tried to gulp it down and blink back her tears. It hurt even knowing that he was right there, just a few feet away from her, but he felt miles away. She didn’t have the energy to feel angry at Ethan at the moment, just hurt and heartbreak at the obvious rejection. In all her life, Jillian had never felt the kind of pain that only a broken heart could inflict, she had seen it happen to her older siblings and had vowed to never let it happen to her, and right then she knew she had made the right decision for years. But she had slipped; she had let herself get sucked in too deep without even realizing it, and now she had to suffer the consequences. Jillian figured that the universe had to be playing a sick joke on her, because the one man she wanted to be with was the one who didn’t want her at all. In a haze, she walked to the couch and sank deeper in it, letting its warmth seep into her in an attempt to feel any kind of comfort, but it was in vain.

If it had been like any other kiss, with any other man, she would’ve gotten out unscathed, maybe even brushed it off as a mistake, as she had done several times in the past. But kissing Ethan was not a mistake. Because how could something that felt so right be a mistake?

Her brain started to ache almost as much as her heart, from all the overthinking. So, she did the only thing that she could think of that would help. She took her phone out and texted her two best friends.

Tags: @jamespotterthefirst, @missflashgeek, @openheart12, @takeharryandgo, @aestheticartsx, @choicesfanaf, @fireycookie, @the-pale-goddess, @drariellevalentine, @trappedinfanfiction, @tsrookie, @perriewinklenerdie, @genevievemd​, @drethanramslay, @openheartthot, @lucy-268, @writinghereandthere, @rookie-ramsey, @missmiimiie, @ramseyandrys, @ruinedbypixels, @queencarb, @lovingramsey, @gryffindordaughterofathena, @ohchoices, @anntoldst0ries, @bluebellot, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @mysticaurathings, @iemcpbchoices, @itsjustamesshonestly, @shanzay44, @lsdw-blog, @liaromancewriter, @heauxplesslydevoted, @starryeyedrookie, @casey-v, @mercury84choices

[tickly-trashcan]

Fortune Cookies {ObaMitsu}

A/N: okay this started out as a decent idea but i’m not super happy with how it turned out. I just needed some obamitsu content and i think it ended up a bit too forced but oh well, i don’t have the energy to rewrite it lol. I also started this like two months ago and dropped it for a bit, so it’s pretty rough,,, Anyways, hope you guys wanted some demon slayer content cuz i sure as hell did. Enjoy! (also pardon the editing skills in the picture, i’m still figuring out editing and panel coloring)

Summary: Obanai and Mitsuri are out at a restaurant when Mitsuri gets them some fortune cookies. Obanai refuses to tell her what was on his, and Mitsuri intends to get it out of him no matter what.

Word Count: 2.6k (under the cut)

“Ah, this is delicious!” Mitsuri exclaimed after taking another bite of her food, a bright smile on her face. Obanai looked at her from where he sat next to her, a small smile growing on his lips, though it was hidden by his face covering.

“I’m glad you enjoy it, Kanroji,” He said softly, pushing another plate of food towards her. “Please, have as much as you like.”

Mitsuri nodded eagerly, mouth full. She had always been embarrassed about her eating habits until she met Obanai, who was open about everything with her and made her feel safe and content. 

“Do you want some as well, Iguro?”

Obanai shook his head, his heterochromatic eyes gleaming. “I’m content just sitting here with you.”

Mitsuri blushed faintly at his words but nodded, reaching again for a new plate of food as she continued to eat. 

They continued like that for a while, Mitsuri gabbing about her pet rabbit or the other pillars while Obanai listened intently, taking in her every word. He was always entranced by her, no matter how simple a task she was doing, and he loved to listen to her voice, ringing through his ears like soft bells.

“You haven’t eaten at all today, Iguro! Here, have some of this! Say aaah~”

“Ah, I’m alright Kanroji, thank you though,” he said softly, holding up a hand to the food Mitsuri held close to his face, blushing. Mitsuri pouted, but quickly changed back to a smile and ate the food instead, letting out a satisfied sigh before turning to Obanai.

“That was really delicious Iguro, thank you for treating me!”

Obanai nodded, standing up with Mitsuri as they began to walk out of the restaurant together. Mitsuri looked towards the front desk of the restaurant, seeing a bowl of fortune cookies that sat in front.

“Ah! Iguro, would you like a fortune cookie? I’ve heard they’re very accurate with their fortunes!” Mitsuri said, clapping her hands together.

“If you’d like one feel free to take one, Kanroji,” Obanai said simply, opening the door to the restaurant, ready to leave.

“I’ll grab one for you!”

“Ah, you don’t have to-”

Mitsuri was already excitedly reaching into the bowl, grabbing a fortune cookie for both her and Obanai. She handed one to Obanai, who took it gingerly from her hands. They walked out of the restaurant and Mitsuri immediately opened hers.

“‘A lifetime of happiness awaits you.’ Ahh, how wonderful! Iguro, what does yours say?” 

Obanai hesitantly lifted up his fortune cookie, cracking it open. He pulled out the thin sheet of paper from the cookie, staring at the words as his face practically lit on fire with a blush as he crumpled it in his hands, stuffing it in his pocket.

“Here, you can have the cookie, Kanroji,” He said quickly, handing the cookie part to Mitsuri who held it gently, looking at Obanai and noticing his bright red face.

“What did it say, Iguro?”

“N-Nothing,” He stuttered, surprising Mitsuri. She didn’t say anything as they walked down the road of the town, curiosity nagging at Mitsuri.

“Iguro, what did your fortune cookie say?”

Obanai’s face went slightly pink again and he averted his gaze, staring at the ground as he walked a tad bit faster.

“It wasn’t important,” He said quickly, Mitsuri speeding up her pace to keep up with Obanai. They reached the outskirts of the town quickly at that pace, and Mitsuri pouted.

“Igurooo, I wanna know!” She whined, speeding up a bit more to walk in front of Obanai. He stopped, the blush on his face rather apparent now as he turned, walking back to the town as Mitsuri whined again, reaching out to grab Obanai’s arm, but missing and instead grabbing his side. 

Obanai gasped, jumping away from Mitsuri, immediately reaching to cover his side as Mitsuri stared at him, slightly baffled at his reaction. She slowly put two and two together and her face lit up with excitement as Obanai cringed in fear.

“Are you ticklish!?”

“N-No! I mean, that’d be silly. A Hashira, ticklish? Absurd. You only startled me is all.”

Mitsuri grinned, knowing easily that Obanai was lying. She knew that man like the back of her hand considering their closeness, he wouldn’t be able to get away with lying to her.

Mitsuri nodded softly. “Alright, I startled you, sorry about that!”

Obanai nodded, his face still slightly pink as ideas swarmed in Mitsuri’s head. This might be a good way to get him to tell her what was on the fortune cookie… 

Mitsuri would need to wait for the right moment though, because Obanai was quick and always had his guard up. Mitsuri smiled sweetly when Obanai glanced at her, quickly turning his head and continuing to walk down the path with her.

They eventually arrived at the Butterfly Estate, where they had been planning to meet Shinobu before heading out on a mission together. Mitsuri figured this would be the perfect opportunity to finally get what she wanted out of Obanai.

They walked inside, waiting in the front room for Shinobu who was still checking in on some patients. Obanai scratched Kaburamaru’s chin and looked around the room that Shinobu had them waiting in. Misturi scooted closer to Obanai, glancing over at him without turning her head. Obanai glanced at her as well, quickly turning his attention back to Kaburamaru who kept nudging his cheek for more chin scratches.

“Hey, Iguro,” Mitsuri started, leaning forward slightly to look at Obanai.

“Yes, Kanroji?”

“I really want to know what your fortune cookie said.”

Obanai sent her a soft glare and sighed, shaking his head.

“I already told you that it’s nothing, kindly drop the subject.”

Mitsuri shook her head, scooting closer to Obanai who backed away slightly.

“If you don’t tell me I’ll make you,” She threatened, grinning as she raised her hands. Obanai immediately caught wind of what was going on, remembering earlier, and jumped up and bolted.

He was quick, but Mitsuri was quicker, grabbing his wrist easily and pulling him back into a hug with her insane physical strength. She pulled a bit too hard, though, and they both went tumbling down, causing a huge ruckus in the room. 

“Kanroji! Stop this!” Obanai yelled, struggling in Mitsuri’s ridiculously strong grip. She shook her head. She and Obanai were currently rolling around on the floor, Obanai trying to escape the arm Mitsuri held him in. They looked quite ridiculous, and Obanai was beyond embarrassed being this close to Mitsuri, especially with her practically pressed up against him.

Mitsuri was also slightly flustered, but she quickly enacted her plan, pressing her free hand to a wriggling Obanai’s side, giving it a squeeze as he gasped, immediately slapping a hand over his masked mouth.

“I’ll give you one more chance, Iguro - What was on the fortune cookie?”

“I-It’s nothing. Kanroji, please, don’t do this,” He said, trying to keep his voice level. Mitsuri shook her head, immediately scribbling her fingers around Obanai’s side, making him roll around again as he huffed.

“K-Kanroji, I’m sehe-serious! This isn’t funny!” Obanai said, trying to hide his laughter. Mitsuri grinned, pushing Obanai down onto his back, quickly sitting on top of him before he could get away.

Obanai blushed several shades of red as he looked up at Mitsuri, quickly shaking his head.

“Don’t,” He said, a hint of desperation in his voice. Mitsuri only wiggled her fingers, slowly lowering them down until they made contact with Obanai’s tummy. He held his breath and shut his eyes, waiting for the horrible sensations to start…

They didn’t. He cracked open his eye to look up at Mitsuri, who smiled sweetly. Was she going to let him off the hook?

No sooner had he thought that did he feel Mitsuri’s hands immediately start to scribble up and down his tummy, Obanai quickly slapping a hand over his clothed mouth as he held his breath, trying desperately not to laugh.

“K-Kanroji,” He muttered, inhaling sharply when Mitsuri tweaked his side. She hummed, focused on getting Obanai to laugh as he struggled to keep himself from even chuckling beneath her. 

“Just tell me what was on the cookie and I’ll stop, m’kay?” She said sweetly, skittering her fingers across his ribs as he gasped, biting his lip now to keep himself from laughing as he huffed softly.

“I-It was nothing,” Obanai managed to get out, a quiet squeak escaping his lips when Mitsuri poked his upper ribs. Mitsuri raised an eyebrow and grinned.

“Kanroji, you’re being - you’re being ridiculous,” Obanai sputtered, huffing out a short breath of laughter as Mitsuri grazed over his underarms, immediately making him clamp down his arms.

“Hehe, I’m - I’m serious, Kanrohoji,” He giggled softly, and Mitsuri beamed.

“You’re giggling! Come on, I want to hear more!”

The gentle tickles that Mitsuri had been performing before halted, and were immediately replaced with rougher tickles that caught Obanai by surprise. His chuckles escalated, and he quickly went to put his hand over his mouth again, only for Mitsuri to grab his wrist and pin it next to his head.

“Nuh-uh! Tell me what was on the fortune cookie and I might stop before I really get you laughing,” She said, giggling as Obanai writhed underneath her, desperate not to make any noise as Mitsuri deeply prodded his sensitive ribs. She trailed her fingers up, twirling them around Obanai’s underarm, making him gasp and squeeze his eyes shut as he tried to keep his laughter in.

“Kaha - Kanroji,” He huffed, trying to hold his laughter in.

Mitsuri chuckled, dragging down Obanai’s upper arm down to the hollow of his underarm excruciatingly slowly, teasing him as he shook with withheld laughter.

“Stop holding back already, you’re gonna pop like a balloon if you keep that up,” She teased, starting to scribble her fingers under his arm.

Obanai continued to struggle to hold his laughter in as Mitsuri egged him on, trying to get him to break. He figured if he held out just a little bit longer that she would get bored and give up, there was only so much her attention span could handle.

She sighed as she scribbled all over his tummy, poking and prodding at it as Obanai continued to shake with quiet laughter, managing to keep it from Mitsuri who was indeed growing bored.

“I can tell you’re ticklish, why won’t you just laugh?” She whined, tweaking Obanai’s hip experimentally. He jumped, yelping as Mitsuri lit up, noticing how different his reaction had been compared to the other spots she had tried. Obanai looked at her fearfully.

“Kanroji, don’t you dare,” Obanai tried to sound threatening, but when Mitsuri squeezed his hip again and he squeaked, his previous threat was lost in the wind.

Mitsuri immediately dug her thumb into his hip bone and kneaded them, Obanai squirming around wildly beneath her as he grabbed onto her wrists, trying to peel them off.

“K-Kahahahanroji! Stop it!” He laughed breathily, making Mitsuri positively radiate joy as she listened to his laughter.

“Your laugh is so cute! Ah, I’m so glad I got to hear it!”

Obanai blushed madly. He wasn’t expecting her to tickle him in the first place, let alone find the one spot that got him laughing like a small child. The gods were not on his side today, and he could definitely tell there was no getting out of this.

He was worried, despite his laugh being relatively quiet, that Shinobu would hear in the next room as she took care of patients. He could handle Mitsuri knowing about this, he trusted her, but none of the other Hashira would be allowed to live if they found out.

“Just tell me what was on that fortune cookie and I’ll stop right away, I promise!” Mitsuri quipped, one hand still squeezing his hip as her other hand ran back up to his ribs, poking between each one as Obanai jolted.

“I-I cahahahahan’t! Kanroji, stohohohohop!”

“Yes you can! Just tell me what it said!”

Obanai shook his head and Mitsuri pouted.

“Time to see just how ticklish you are then!”

“Nohohohoho!”

Kaburamaru had slithered away from Obanai long before the tickling had started, but the small snake was intrigued by the reactions of its owner. He slithered over and flicked his tongue at Obanai, watching as Obanai squirmed wildly and cackled. 

“K-Kaburamahahahahahaharu! Hehehehelp!”

Kaburamaru looked up at Mitsuri, who was laser focused on tickling Obanai, and the small snake slithered over to her leg and nudged her.

She turned to look at the white snake, who was currently headbutting her knee. She thought it was cute that Kaburamaru had so much compassion, and ceased her tickling for a moment to pick up the small creature and give it a quick peck.

Kaburamaru wriggled around excitedly, slithering out of Mitsuri’s hands and flicking its tongue again at Obanai, making him giggle and swat at the small animal.

Mitsuri laughed at the two happily, placing her hands back on Obanai’s hips as she looked down at him, waiting for him to catch his breath.

“Do you wanna tell me what was on the fortune cookie?”

Obanai flushed, but decided that telling her what it said would be better than suffering through any more of that cruel tickle torture and risking Shinobu walking in on the two.

“It said… It’s time to tell them how you feel,” Obanai said, his face now bright red.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Mitsuri started, though suddenly a pang of sadness hurt her chest. What if it wasn’t her…?

“You should… tell them,” Mitsuri said slowly, Obanai sitting up and looking at Mitsuri, who looked down. Obanai instantly picked up on the drop in her mood.

“Kanroji,” Obanai started, leaning towards Mitsuri. She looked up at Obanai, only to be surprised as Obanai lowered his mask and pressed his lips gently against hers. She was taken aback by the sudden kiss, but her defenses slowly melted as she shut her eyes, reaching her hands up to hold Obanai’s face.

They pulled away eventually and Obanai put his mask back up, turning away from her, bright red as she stared at him, her own face turning bright red as she processed what had just happened.

“I-Iguro,” She said softly, lowering her hands as Obanai glanced at her.

“Do you feel the same, Kanroji?”

Mitsuri could barely contain her emotions, and she quickly hugged Obanai, nodding her head vigorously as Obanai slowly hugged her back.

“Yes, of course I do! I’ve felt the same since the day I met you! You’ve been so sweet, so kind… I love you,” She said, whispering the last bit. Obanai smiled softly under his mask, squeezing Mitsuri tightly as they embraced for several moments, happy for their feelings to finally be spoken.

“Ara ara~ What do we have here?”

Obanai and Mitsuri froze, and Obanai stared up at Shinobu who grinned smugly at the two of them. Mitsuri quickly let go of Obanai and spun around, shaking her hands in front of her, face bright red from embarrassment.

“K-Kochou! Uhm, hello! We were just - uhmm,” Mitsuri floundered, quickly realizing she was still sitting on Obanai and quickly jumped up, blushing madly.

“We were just waiting for you,” Obanai said calmly, standing up as well, picking up Kaburamaru and settling him back on his shoulders as Shinobu continued to smile at the two of them, clearly knowing what was going on.

“Took you two long enough. Anyways, it’s about time we headed out, isn’t it? Let’s go,” She said, winking at them as she turned. Obanai’s face burned, though Mitsuri didn’t seem to catch onto what Shinobu had said.

Obanai laced his fingers with Mitsuri’s glancing at her. “Are you ready?”

She blushed at the sudden contact, but nodded, smiling eagerly.

“Ready!”

[bones-sprouts]

SELF INDULGENT APOLLO JUSTICE ACE ATTORNEY AU BECAUSE IT BRINGS ME JOY ( SPOILER WARNING ⚠️‼️)

@burnoutandbookworms-ohmy you wanted to be tagged :>

okay so the cast would be as follows

apollo - tommy

phoenix - wilbur

trucy - tubbo

klavier - ranboo (this one's ambitious but hear me out-)

kristoph - dream

ema - techno

lamiroir - kristin

zak - phil (F in chat for mr minecraft 😔)

and then all of the filler characters would be various other smp members (suggestions?)

so then the plot would go as follows (we're bullet pointing this bitch you better run)

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

• so tommy arrives in the courtroom with dream, and he's nervous as hell, because not only is it his first trial

• his client is wilbur fucking soot

• world renouned defense attorney, now disbarred for forging evidence

• but tommy is 110% sure wilbur is innocent

• because wilbur is his HERO

• and then dream introduces them and damn he looks like shit

• i'm talking full pogtopia era get-up, plus a ratty beanie that has wilby painted on it and a crown pin

• so wil spouts the standard cryptic bullshit you'd expect from phoenix

• and tommy does an early smpe earth 'i am so cool and not at all starstruck' type act

• and they head in

• you meet the judge, who i didn't replace bc it's the judge

• tommy does his chords of steel, but with significantly more swearing then apollo would use

• and dream seems to be just a bit off

• and he goes on this big tirade about blue cards

• the case goes smoothly, until

• tommy feels something akin to a burning from the compass he's kept as a necklace for as long as he can remember

• and he just knows that the witness is lying

• it's like he can see the tiniest of tells that tip him off

• dream doesn't quite understand it, but wilbur looks like he knows exactly what's going on

• before he calls this out, though, a recess is called

• wilbur and dream have a chat, so tommy's left to his own devices

• and this boy about his age in a green magician's outfit runs up to him

• and he looks like an older version of the picture of wilbur's kid that he showed off in court beforehand

• and he hands tommy a (bloody??) playing card and poofs away

• then the trial resumes as normal, with tommy grilling the witness and eventually accusing her

• but it just doesn't seem right

• he knows she's not lying about being innocent, her tells would have tipped him off if she was

• but dream pushes and pushes him to formally accuse her

• until wilbur fucking soot interjects with an OBJECTION!

• while tommy geeks the hell out, wilbur asserts that there must have been someone else in the room

• and accuses dream.

• tommy's confused, and the both of them argue back and forth for a bit, until wilbur starts explaining his theory with evidence from tommy along the way

• but it's seeming like they don't have any non circumstancial evidence

• until wilbur has tommy pull out the playing card

• (i haven't been explaining the case but it makes sense i promise)

• they win the case, with dream never faltering or showing emotion, even after being taken away

• tommy's shaken up, but happy, all things considered

• but before he can ponder on what's just happened, wilbur takes him aside to talk

• and admits the card was forged

• tommy's shocked, and he's sad, and he's angry, because how could wilbur fucking soot forge evidence??

• and he punches him in the face

• wil smiles and gives him an offer to work at his office, since tommy's boss is kind of in jail

• tommy leaves

• but he comes back a few months later, only out of desperation

• he's greeted by the boy from the trial (wil's kid?)

• who demands to know his name and his 'talent'

• tommy says he's a lawyer and introduces himself

• the kid says his name is tubbo and that the building hasn't been a law office in a long time

• tommy asks to see wilbur

• so they go to see him

• in the fucking hospital

• he managed to get hit by a car, which sent him flying 40ft back into a telephone pole

• and he sprained his ankle

• he's very lucky apparently

• so from there, cases 2 and 3 play out (i'm gonna skim though these bc if i write them out ill end up rewriting plot points and i don't have the energy)

• along the way, they meet a few interesting people

• ranboo, a prosecutor who's dream's younger brother and the guitarist for a popular band, that tubbo immediately gets along with and tommy despises

• dispite seeming cocky, he's impressively awkward outside of court

• technoblade, a detective who's fairly standoffish towards tommy and tubbo alike, but has a soft spot for wilbur (do they have a history)

• kristin, a singer with a past she can't remember (unbeknownst to tommy, his compass tends to point towards her and tubbo. odd)

also before we move on to the final case, a quick summary of the dynamics and other small shit bc seritonin

• though wil adopted tubbo, they have much more of a sibling dynamic, and cause general mayhem

• wilbur does actually warm up to tommy fairly quickly (beanix and apollo dynamic, my abbhorrent) and while tommy still doesn't 100% trust wil, they do end up getting pretty close as time goes on

• tubbo and ranboo IMMEDIATELY hit it off, much to the dismay of tommy, and the two of them act like the dummy named micheal that tubbo uses for magic tricks is their son

• tommy acts like he hates ranboo's guts, but that won't stop him from trying to sweet talk his way into getting evidence from him (it always works, ranboo has no spine.) he also, like in canon, vents to ranboo whenever he needs to, and ranboo ends up knowing more ab him then even wil and tubbo

• jack is eldoon. they all go to his noodle shop constantly and tommy always complains about them being too salty. jack hates him with a passion but adores tubbo and wil

• instead of snakooos, techno deadass just has entire bags full of raw potatoes that he eats like chips, this is terrifying to everyone except wilbur, who acts like it's completely normal

• instead of pretending to be taken hostage in case 2, tubbo deadass pretends to have a nuke and threatens to set it off unless a recess is called. after things calm down they go back in and he just,, doesn't get arrested. the law is fucked

• after case 1, dream wears a smiley mask in order to not show his face, paranoid that tommy or someone else like him will know his secrets though his tells

okay now final case here we go

• wilbur tells tommy and tubbo that he's been working on a special trial with the jury system, and that he needs them to defend

• they agree, and go to meet the client

• things generally go like any other investigation, but there's just something about it that feels game changing

• and as they power though the first part of the trial, they start to uncover that there might be someone pulling the strings from behind the scenes

• tommy clocks her tell (chewing her nails) and they start to make progress

• but before they can uncover answers from her, she passes out

• a recess is called, and so are paramedics

• it turns out she's ingested the same kind of poison as the victim, coming from her nail polish

• tommy and tubbo are shaken up, and they go to wil for help

• he decides they need to know the full truth, but he knows that some of the evidence is lost at this point

(and holy shit stay with me here i promise that as out of left field this is the original game made significantly less sense)

• he phones a friend that he knows is the only one that can help them

• karl

• he explains the situation, and karl agrees to help them

• and they fucking time travel

(again, the game makes even less sense i promise)

• they chat with the victim and defendant from seven years beforehand, right after wil was disbarred

• they watch the trial wil got disbarred over, where he defended tubbo's bio father, phil

• and they see a much smaller tubbo hand wil the forged evidence, saying that a kind man told him to give it to the man with the bright blue hamilton suit

• and they watch wil present it, only to be shot down by a much younger ranboo, who proves it's fake

• and they find out tubbo and tommy are bio siblings, which they're shocked about but decide to talk about later (fuck canon tommy and tubbo get to know)

• and they go visit dream in prison

• at this point wil is CONVINCED dream is behind everything, they just need the right evidence

• so they head to the cell, only for it to be empty

• naturally, they start snooping

• wil finds a letter, and opens it to reveal exactly what they need to win the case

• but before they can leave, dream, equipped with a smiley mask, stops them

• they exchange a few words before they leave, letterless

• luckily, wil has a trick up his sleeve, and reveals that his crown pin has a built in camera

• they examine the contents of the letter, and wil hastily makes a replica, and they head off to the trial

• since they're experimenting with the jurist system for the first time, they can't afford to wait for the defendant to heal, so they proceed

• they call dream to the stand

• they grill him for quite a while, with the help of ranboo who refuses to protect his brother, getting him to show his true colors, and then pull out the letter

• and he says that it's a fake, which the judge unfortunately agrees with

• so they don't have their evidence

• and even though they've shown pretty much everything and dream had practically admitted to bring a murderous bastard and the one who gave tubbo the fake to give to wil

• they don't have enough to convince a judge

• tommy and tubbo are crushed

• but wil is happy

• because they don't have to convince a judge

• they have to convince a jury

• and they win

• dream shatters along with his mask, going completely off the deep end

• their client is safe, and so is wil

• kristin also reveals to wil that she's tommy and tubbo's bio mom, saying that she'll tell them when she's really

• so things come to a close

• for now, anyway

so yeah, thats AJ but dsmp, to anyone who didn't play the game, i'm so sorry this makes no sense, and to anyone who did, you're cool as hell can we be moots 👉👈

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fire & Desire (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

Summary: After the funeral, Naomi heads to Ethan’s apartment for comfort. Let’s pretend that 30 diamond scene in chapter 12 didn’t happen, okay? I made up 95% of this.

A/N: Guys, I have an embarrassing amount of rewrites/drafts of this on my computer. Pls enjoy.

~v~

In order to survive the past few days, Naomi has made it her mission to get through things one step at a time. Her first goal was to survive the toxin. She did. Then it was to just get well and be discharged from the hospital. The last step was to make it through Danny and Bobby’s joint memorial service in one piece. Not only did she do that, but she delivered a eulogy flawlessly, while her friends and colleagues all fell apart at the seams and waited for her to do the same.

But now that it’s all over, now that there’s no goal to work towards especially since Naveen won’t let her back in the hospital without clearance from a therapist, Naomi has never felt more lost or out of sorts in her life.

After the memorial, Naomi went home with her roommates and she regrets it. Jackie and Elijah can barely look at her without giving her pity glances, Sienna has been trying to feed her nonstop, and Aurora has convinced them all that she’s spiraling due to her meltdown at Ethan earlier that day. So she hid in her bedroom, pretending to be asleep simply because she was tired of them.

But sleep evades her. Outside of a quick 15 minute power nap, Naomi hasn’t been able to sleep, thoughts of being back in that hospital room never too far from her mind. Every time she closed her eyes, the fear took over, gripping her and refusing to let go.

So that’s how she ended up here, in Ethan’s apartment, on his couch, nursing a glass of scotch. Being at home wasn’t an option and there’s no one else she’d rather be with, so as soon as her roommates went to bed, Naomi slipped out and made her way across town to Ethan’s place. Ethan was shocked when he found her outside of his apartment at midnight, especially with the way their last conversation ended. He wanted to scold her for taking an Uber so late at night by herself, but of course he didn’t turn her away. 

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asks, opening and closing his refrigerator a few times, as if that will make food magically appear. “I didn’t cook today, but I can probably throw something together.”

Naomi doesn’t know if her appetite still hasn’t returned or if it’s her mind playing tricks on her, as she can still taste the vomit in her mouth at the mere mention of food. “No, I’m fine for now.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay.” Ethan wants to ask questions because she’s obviously come here for a reason, but he doesn’t want to push her. “It’s late and you must be exhausted though.” He walks back to his living room and holds out a hand, which Naomi grabs. He ushers her to his bedroom. “You can sleep in here.”

His room still looks like she remembers. The king sized bed takes up most of the space, and he still has the most amazing view in all of Boston. The night is still young and bustling, the buildings all lit up.

“You’re sleeping in here too, right?” Naomi asks.

“I was going to take the guest room, or the couch.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Nonsense, you’re sleeping with me.”

Even though there’s no light other than moonlight spilling into the room, Naomi can still see his cheeks tinge pink. “I didn’t want to assume.”

“I think after our night together in the hospital, assuming will be safe. It’s cute, but we’re grown and you won’t offend my virtue.”

“Noted.” Naomi watches him as he moves around the room, a sort of anxious energy radiating off of him. He rummages through a drawer until he finds something suitable for her to put on. “Here you go.”

It’s a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from a charity 5k because of course Ethan is the type to participate in something like that. Naomi rids herself of the jeans and sweater she haphazardly threw on in her rush to leave her apartment and slips on the t-shirt, forgoing the pants. Their obvious size differences make the shirt look comically large on her like a nightgown.

“Fair warning, I don’t have a scrunchie or anything to wrap my hair in, so I apologize if you wake up to like...a lion’s mane of hair in your face.”

“I think I’ll survive.”

Naomi pulls back the covers and slides into the bed, moaning upon contact. Oh, to be rich and have fancy high thread-count sheets and a memory foam mattress. “God, I never want to leave this bed.”

“Keep making noises like that, and I won’t let you.” He doesn’t climb bed behind her, opting to sit on the edge. “You want to talk?”

“About what?”

“The fact that you’re here right now, instead of your own apartment.”

“Is it not enough to say I wanted to see you?”

Ethan scoffs. Naomi is charming, but she can’t bullshit him. “Sure.”

She doesn’t want to talk about herself. That’s all she’s done for the past 48 hours, and she’s tired of it. It’s selfish.

She manages to turn the tables on Ethan. “You look tired. I’m sorry if I woke you.”

“You didn’t,” Ethan assures her. “I wasn’t sleeping anyway.”

“I didn’t have you pegged as an insomniac.”

“We’re doctors, so it goes without saying that we’re all insomniacs.” Ethan sighs. “But to be honest, I haven’t had a good night’s sleep all week.”

“I get it. With the toxin, and Bobby and Danny, and Raf–”

“It’s not them, Naomi, it’s you,” Ethan argues. “I spend all 24 hours of the day with you on my brain, worrying about you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I thought you were going to die in my arms,” Ethan continues. “I tried to stay optimistic for you, but all I could think about was the fact that it could’ve been my last night with you. That night, after you finally fell asleep, I stayed up, analyzing your vitals. The only time I wasn’t looking at you is when I was looking at your chart. And every night since, I lay awake, forcing myself to not contact you.”

Naomi frowns. She’s spent so much time wrapped up in her own head, she didn’t take much time to think about how Ethan was affected as well. She’s sure she’d be a wreck if the situation was reversed, if he was the one fighting an unknown deadly agent. 

She crawls out the sheets and joins Ethan at the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even think–”

“Don’t you dare apologize to me. You’ve been going through enough, I shouldn’t even be burdening you.”

“It’s fine. We shared deathbed confessions, I think I can handle whatever else you throw my way.”

Ethan turns to lock eyes with Naomi, her expression open and earnest. “I meant everything I said in there. I regret putting us on hold, and I’m sorry I wasted so much time.”

Naomi sucks in a deep breath. “Okay. So what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m done pretending that I don’t have feelings for you. I’m done trying to hold you at arm’s length. I want you, Naomi.”

“Are you feeling like this because I almost died?”

“No. I mean, sure it was a major wake-up call for me, but I’ve felt this way for a long time. The last time you were here, the night of the softball game, I kissed you, and instead of making my intentions known then and there, I put it off, and that almost cost me everything. I don’t have all the answers, because I’m your boss, and people at hospitals like to gossip, but whatever this is, I want to explore it with you.” 

Naomi doesn’t say anything, her brain and heart trying to process all of this information. Ethan watches her, his heart pounding wildly. Did he seriously miscalculate her feelings for him? Did he pick the most inopportune moment to drop this on her?

“It took you long enough,” Naomi says.

He laughs, his relief evident and he grabs her hand. “Well I appreciate you having the patience of a saint, Rookie.”

“It’s because I am a saint.”

He runs his thumb along the inside of her wrist, tracing a pattern into the warm skin. The steady thump of her pulse is enough to soothe the anxiety that lingers. She’s here. She’s with him. She’s alive.

His other hand grips the back of her neck, forcing her to look him in the eye. Ethan’s gaze sweeps across her face, his 11 years as a doctor having given him a keen eye for detail. There’s her long, dark eyelashes, her full lips, her pronounced cheekbones, her button nose that crinkles whenever she’s smiling and laughing, a sight he hopes to see again soon. He doesn’t know what emotion is more overwhelming: the relief that she’s alive, or the fear that she was that close to dying.

Ethan is all too aware of the fact that he could’ve lost her. That he and Naomi would never share a quiet moment like this ever again. That she’d never know the full extent of his feelings for her, because he’d been too much of a coward to be honest a long time ago. The thought of the hypothetical makes his insides twist uncomfortably. He can’t dwell on it, not while she’s here, looking to him for comfort.

Without thinking further, his lips slowly collide with hers, pulling the younger woman into a kiss. She wastes no time, kissing him back with an unrivaled fervor that borders on desperation, but Ethan isn’t one to complain. He deepens the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth until he finds her own.

The kiss sparks something inside of Naomi, a buzz building in the pit of her stomach, so potent and all consuming, it nearly startled her. For the first time in what feels like forever, the rest of the world fades away. It’s just her and Ethan, and this magical little flame between them. So she clings to it, to him, to them, and swings one of her legs over, straddling him. One arm wraps around the back of his neck, one hand tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck as she pulls herself closer. He tastes smoky like the scotch they drank earlier, and she swears the kiss alone is enough to leave her intoxicated.

Desperate for any sort of friction, Naomi rolls her hips into his. She can feel him hardening beneath her, his erection straining through the thin layers of fabric preventing them from being completely bare with each other. Unable to help himself, Ethan breaks the kiss only to let out a low, “Fuck.”

He needs to stop this. Logically, Ethan knows that putting a kibosh in this is the right thing to do. Naomi came to him because she needs a support system, and the last thing he wants to do is take advantage of her trust and manipulate her grief.

“Naomi, stop,” Ethan gently commands, hands gripping her hips in order to keep her still.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” Ethan says. “Let’s just go to bed.”

“But I don’t want to go to bed.”

“But you should.”

“No. I want this, I want you.”

Her lips are on his jaw, kissing and biting, and it’s becoming harder for him to stay focused. “You’ve had a very long day, it’s been emotionally draining, and I’m sure you’re exhausted–”

“Oh my God, stop!” Naomi exclaims. “I don’t need another person explaining to me what I’m going through or what I’m feeling. Trust me, no one is more aware of my shitty life than I am.” She leans forward resting her forehead against his. “I get it, I’m the one who barely survived an assassination attempt, and I’m going to walk around with that for the rest of my life. For tonight, can I just be a normal girl who wants to fuck her boyfriend, or whatever the hell you are to me? Please?”

Despite the circumstances, his cock twitches almost painfully as soon as the word “boyfriend” leaves her mouth. He’s a grown ass man, he hasn’t used the term since high school, and here he is, ready to dissolve into a puddle of goo. What the hell has Naomi Valentine done to him and who is this mess of a man that she’s replaced him with?

Whatever she’s trying to do won’t work. Pushing aside her grief and trying to avoid the problem with sex isn’t a coping mechanism he’d ever recommend (not that he has any brilliant ones of his own, but still). It’s not going to fix anything in the long run. 

Naomi’s lips brush against his before giving him another teasing kiss before pulling away. “Please,” she whines. “I want you, Ethan.” Ethan has always considered himself to be a staunch man who isn’t easily swayed. Until he met Naomi. How can he be when she’s looking at him with those big doe eyes of hers, weakening his otherwise tough resolve? It may not help her tomorrow, but who is he to deny her reprieve at least right now? Saying no to her has never been a strength Ethan claimed to possess.

Not giving any sort of warning, Ethan grips the oversized shirt she’s wearing and forcefully pulls it up, barely giving her enough time to lift her arms and help with the process. Once the piece of clothing is discarded somewhere on his bedroom floor, Ethan flips their positions, Naomi’s back landing on his mattress with a soft thud.

He sucks in a sharp breath. Ethan considers himself to be a well traveled, well cultured man. He’s seen the Eiffel Tower multiple times, visited the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro, driven a Ferrari through the streets of Rome, drank wine while overlooking a Napa vineyard, and more. But none of those even comes close to the sight of Naomi naked in his bed, writhing on top of his sheets, her curly hair splayed out like a crown atop her head. She’s absolutely beautiful, and he’s a goner. He’s always known it, but this moment right here, right now actually seals the deal.

“Why don’t you take a picture?” Naomi asks, jolting Ethan out of his thoughts. He feels her dainty foot running along the soft cotton of his pajama pants before traveling higher, lightly brushing his side.

He catches her foot, his strong hand wrapping around her ankle, and yanks her forward. “I don’t need to take a picture because the real thing is just fine.” Maintaining eye contact, Ethan presses a line of kisses from her ankle to the inside of her knee, smirking as he feels the goosebumps pop up along the trail he’s set. “God, it really doesn’t take much to get you going, huh?”

“Not when it involves you, no,” Naomi replies.

Ethan drops her leg unceremoniously. His hands wander until they’re hooked into the waistband of her lacy underwear, and he pulls them down quickly, deciding not to make a production of it. A hum of approval leaves his throat when he finds her already soaked for him. He runs a finger along her spreading the wetness around before pressing the single digit into her. “I like that answer.”

Her toes curl at the contact and Naomi grips the sheets beneath her. “Oh, fuck.”

“Christ, you’re tight.”

“It’s been a while,” Naomi admits, panting heavily. “The guy I was into ran off to another continent, and put us on ice.”

Ethan can tell by her tone that she’s merely teasing, but his heart still hammers wildly nonetheless. He wasted so much time, and for what? He slides another finger into her, enjoying the moan she gives him in return. “It appears I have some atoning to do, hmm?”

Naomi nods. “A lot of atoning.”

“Very well.” 

She feels him remove his fingers, and nothing makes her head spin more. Lifting herself up by her elbows, Naomi glares down at Ethan. “What are you doing? You can’t just stop!”

“Relax.” Ethan forces Naomi back to her originally flat position. “I think you know better than anyone that I’m going to take good care of you.” She chooses not to respond, because they both know the answer to that is a resounding yes.

He spreads her thighs and Naomi shivers at the gleam in his eyes, positively engraved by the way he looks at her: all lust and hunger. Desperate for Ethan to actually do something, she tilts her hips up, hoping he’ll get the hint.

Ethan chuckles and places an open mouthed kiss on the inside of her thigh. She swears she can feel herself buzzing with anticipation, her insides on fire, and all she wants him to do is just touch her.

When he finally does, she’s shocked she doesn’t combust then and there. Her head tips back and a low groan tumbles from her lips, and her thighs clamp shut so tightly around Ethan’s head, she’d be apologetic if she wasn’t so far gone. Ethan doesn’t skip a beat though, his fingers digging into her thighs and spreading them apart, and then he’s back to his original mission.

Ethan’s tongue glides through her folds with ease, stroking her up and down a few times before closing his mouth around her clit and sucking hard. Her hips fly off the bed and she grinds into him with a reckless abandon she hasn’t felt in a really long time, but Ethan splays a strong hand across her stomach to hold her down, trapping her between him and his bed.

Trying to gain a modicum of power back, Naomi grips a handful of his hair and tugs at it roughly. It’s an action that makes Ethan growl, his mouth vibrating against her.

Her little moans and cries do nothing to help the raging ego Naomi claims he has, instead they only fuel him further. He ups the ante, his two fingers sliding back into her, curling in a come hither motion and pressing repeatedly against the spot that makes her see stars.

He can tell by the vice grip she has on his fingers and the way she’s undulating against him that she’s close. And while he’s content to draw this out for as long as humanly possible, until he’s wrung every little ounce of pleasure from her that he can, Ethan is well aware that the woman occupying his bed doesn’t have that type of patience.

Giving her a bit of reprieve, he takes his mouth off of her, only moving it slightly so he can kiss the soft flesh of her inner thigh.

“God, Ethan.”

“Say my name again, Rookie,” Ethan commands. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Naomi obeys without as much as a second thought. It doesn’t take much to get her to say his name again, the word coming out as a shout in between a broken cry. Ethan smirks, satisfied with his work, and his tongue finds her clit, stroking the tiny bundle a few more times until her orgasm zips through her with the intensity of a lightning strike. Her entire body tenses up as Ethan continues to lap at her, as she rides out the aftershocks.

When she’s finally in control of her senses again, the first thing Naomi notices is how absolutely wrecked Ethan looks, eyes red and glossy, mouth and beard soaked, and she wants to do nothing more than kiss him. So she does, grabbing the back of his head and pulling him back on top of her. She can taste herself on his mouth and it makes her moan.

Impatient, Naomi reaches between their bodies and tugs at the waistband of his pants. Ethan receives the message loud and clear, and he breaks the kiss to strip as quickly as he can. She watches as Ethan flings his shirt across the room and kicks off his pajama bottoms. He isn’t the only one with above average observation skills, and she notices the slight tremble in his hands, the anticipation as intense for him as it is for her. She’d be lying if she said reducing this great and powerful man to nothing more than a shaky mess isn’t a turn on. Once his boxers are gone, Naomi looks him up and down, every part of him still as she remembered.

Her eyes zero in on his erection, painfully hard. She wraps her hand around him, stroking firmly. “My my, doctor, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me.”

The other four letter L-word rattles around in his brain, begging to be set free, and with more strength than he thought he had, Ethan manages to keep quiet. He’d never forgive himself for such selfishness if he blurted out he loves her in the middle of sex. Naomi has enough to deal with already without that added layer of complexity.

Ethan’s thoughts are interrupted, a sharp hiss passing through his teeth as he feels her tongue languidly glide across the swollen head of his erection before taking him fully in her mouth.

He doesn’t know what will kill him first: how good it feels, or the fact that she’s staring up at him with those fucking Disney princess eyes again, feigning innocence like she’s unaware of exactly what she does to him.

He allows her to get in one more stroke of her tongue before he grabs a fistful of her hair and pulls her away. One of her eyebrows raises in question. “What’s wrong? I was just getting started.”

He drags them back into bed before answering, “I need to be inside you. You can do whatever you want to me afterwards.”

She grins at the promise of a next time. Whatever she wants? “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Ramsey.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” Ethan assures her. 

Naomi feels him, poised at her entrance and she arches backwards, too overly sensitive. Ethan’s hands are back on her hips, holding her in place, and inch by inch, he fills her. They both groan at the sensation, familiar territory but something new entirely. Her hands fly to his back, nails digging into the skin as she’s stretched to maximum capacity, uncaring if she leaves marks.

Ethan is unsure of how long they’ve been like this, but he’s nearly shaking with the restraint it’s taking him to not thrust into her. He drops his head, kissing a line across her collarbone. “Fuck, baby, I need you to let me know when I can move.”

The pet name wasn’t intentional, spilling from Ethan’s lips before he could stop it, but Naomi whimpers regardless. She hooks her legs behind his back, keeping him just as trapped as she is. “Please.”

He moves slowly, partially to give her a chance to adjust to his size, the other reason because he doesn’t want it to be over as quickly as it started. This, being inside of her again, is overwhelming and Ethan can’t believe there was ever a time he thought he could go without.

“You’re incredible,” Ethan compliments.

“Okay, say it again when I’m not in your bed. Like during a team meeting where you’re shooting down my ideas.”

“You are,” Ethan insists.

He thrusts into her again, and Naomi cries out, nails raking at his back. Surely she’s broken skin at this point, but Ethan doesn’t care. He’s never been one for pain in bed, but with Naomi, he’s willing to make an allowance, especially since it leaves way for pleasure. They move in tandem, hips moving against each other, both trying to coax out the release that’s been building. Unable to do much of anything else, Ethan leans forward, kissing Naomi again. She meets him halfway, just as eager as he is.

Eventually she has to break the kiss, and she gasps in a large breath of air, her lungs constricting tightly in her rib cage. In her distracted moment, Ethan manages to free himself of her hands marking him relentlessly, and he captures both of her wrists in one fell swoop. He holds them above her head in one hand, pressing her as deep into the mattress as possible. The new angle catches her by surprise and she can’t do anything but gasp into the air above her.

“Please.” She doesn’t even know what she’s pleading for at this point, but it’s the only word her brain can comprehend so she chants it repeatedly like a prayer until she’s shattering around him, mouth open, head tipped back, skin flush and warm. She’s perfect like this, Ethan surmises. 

It doesn’t take him more than a few more thrusts before Ethan’s own release takes control and he falls forward, leaning some of his weight onto Naomi. He doesn’t trust himself to not say or do something completely stupid, so he buries his face in the crook of her neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh.

It could’ve been mere minutes that they spent in that position, or it could’ve been hours for all Naomi knows, but when Ethan finally pulls out, he’s kissing her all over: her cheeks, her nose, her forehead.

He wraps her in a solid embrace, arms circling around her and holding her close, their erratic heart rates trying to slow down. Ethan feels at peace doing just this, holding her close to him, feeling the rise and fall of her chest.

Do you feel any better?”

That isn’t a question Naomi expects to hear right after sex, and it causes her to pause.  After a few more moments of silence, she answers, “I mean, the endorphin release was great if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.”

Naomi knew going into it that the sex wasn’t going to soothe all of her hurts and be the magical solution to her problems, so she doesn’t need some major “I-told-you-so” moment from him. But for the first time in almost a week, she feels like herself again. Within the confines of these four walls, Ethan didn’t treat her like some fragile little doll, and her mind was able to take a break from overthinking.

“It was nice to turn my brain off, if only for a short time,” Naomi replies. “It was nice to not be a captive to my trauma.”

Ethan’s fingers gently graze her scalp, massaging. “Do you think you’re ready to talk to me now?”

“No.”

She’s as stubborn as ever. “Fair enough. But if we were to talk about it, I would say that you went through something horrible and traumatic, and you have to allow yourself to actually feel and process whatever emotions you have. I’d also say that you are incredibly strong, but your strength doesn’t mean that you have to bottle everything inside in order to make everyone around you feel better, especially when you’re with me. Strong people have the right to be vulnerable too.” Ethan sighs. “But since we aren’t talking about it, I’m not going to say any of those things.”

Naomi curls in closer to Ethan, comforted by his body warmth. “I think I would really enjoy hearing those things if this was a conversation we were having.”

“Good. Now whenever you’re ready to talk, I’ll be prepared.”

“Thank you.”

“I think it’s what good boyfriends do. Or whatever the hell I am to you. That’s what you said, right?”

“Okay, I have an explanation for getting agitated about the technical definition of our relationship.”

“Oh yeah? I’d love to hear it.”

“I was impatient and horny.”

Ethan laughs, the warm and rich sound curling around her insides. It does more to help than she’ll ever be able to convey to him. “You’re also very honest.”

“To a fault at times, yes.”

A silence settled between them again, and Naomi feels her eyelids getting heavier. Maybe she’ll be able to finally get some real sleep, not the fitful unconsciousness she’s been subjected to for the past few days.

“Thank you for indulging me tonight,” Naomi says. 

He’s going to suggest she talk to a therapist. He’s going to say it multiple times, until he’s blue in the face and she’s tired of listening. But he'll leave her alone for tonight.

“You’re welcome. Now, get some sleep. The sooner you get to bed, the sooner we wake up, and I can cook breakfast for you.”

“Mhmm, sounds like a plan, Ramsey.”

Ethan can feel her falling asleep on him. He presses a kiss into her forehead. “Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“For the record, I am definitely your boyfriend.”

~v~

tags: @maurine07 @aka-calliope @edgiestwinter @soft-for-drake @greenbean-kylie @akshara16 @mrsramseyy @honeyandsunfl0wers @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @paulfwesley @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @mvalentine @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey

[jadoue1999]

Wanda and the life she deserved (she’ll make sure of it) Chapter 9

Summary:  This chapter is about Monica and why she wants to help Wanda so much. It also follows the post credit scene of episode 7 and a little of the finale.

Previous part: chapter 1,  chapter 2 , chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5, chapter 6, chapter 7, chapter 8, chapter 9, chapter 10, chapter 11, epilogue

Chapter 9: Rambeau

Ever since her talk with Wanda, Monica was even more determined to help the woman. She had had her own painful experience after finding out her mother had lived two more years, only for her cancer to come back. It had taken her multiple days to really accept that she could have had more time with her, had the blip not happened. Also, adjusting to a universe that was five years ahead of her had been a challenge. Everything was different, not only culturally or technologically, but even in spots she had thought untouchable. Her favorite shop her and her mom used to go to escape the everyday stress of life was now gone. The owners were blipped, they had come back to find an empty lot that once contained their whole life. Monica, not one to dwell too much, decided that it would be better to move. Her apartment only served as a reminder that her mother truly was gone. Maria had probably wandered the same walls trying to convince herself that her daughter would come back only to succumb without finding out she was right all along. So, she had changed town, one closer to S.W.O.R.D. headquarters, that way, she could concentrate on more assignments. She had tried going to therapy, the world had offered counseling for those who came back. Monica had found it unfortunate that no one seemed to consider that some needed more than just talking out their feelings. As much as she understood why they limited their service to this, the entire world was grieving after all, she just wished there were more options.

She had instead focused on getting herself back together and forming a new world for herself. She had tried socializing, but every conversation eventually ended up talking about lost opportunities and the grief people or their loved one had endured. She bought books of the latest invention and discovery, trying to understand the world who moved on without her. She had eventually settled her finances with the bank, her position at S.W.O.R.D. gave her priority over the everyday citizens. She was part of the lucky ones, her mother’s hope had kept her from claiming her life insurance, which made things a lot easier since she didn’t have to restart her life with a debt. While she wasn’t at peace with what happened to her mother, she decided to come back to her work. She couldn’t take the days alone, being assaulted by advertisements about fake opportunities offered by scam artists looking to make quick money on the web.

So, after three weeks of trying to adjust in a grieving world, she was back at S.W.O.R.D. headquarters. She was then assigned to the Westview anomaly which opened a whole new world of weird. Being mind controlled by Wanda had been one of the strangest things she had ever experienced. She was expected to hate her once she had been pulled out; but she couldn’t bring herself to. The avenger wasn’t doing this out of hate, but out of grief. She had felt her pain, one that was so similar to her own. The whole experience only made her more certain of her future: she had to help Wanda Maximoff.

...

That’s why even after being clearly shown that Wanda didn’t want her help, she decided to stick around. Agnes was definitely suspicious; she knew Wanda was grieving and seemed to want to keep it that way. Luckily, Wanda’s brother had intervened. That was another thing, who was he? He wasn’t on the resident board and he definitely wasn’t the real Pietro; she had seen the footage of Ultron. They didn’t even look similar. Yet Wanda seemed determined to keep him at her side and he seemed convinced that they truly were twins. She felt for the man, the mind control of the town definitely wasn’t a pleasant experience.

There were whispers of newcomers on the base the same day she, Jimmy and Darcy had been kicked out. She didn’t have time to learn much, but Hayward didn’t like them. Then again, he didn’t like most people that wasn’t directly on his team or that obeyed him without questions. Still, their arrival had ruffled some feathers, the identification process was made even more of a priority. She guessed that they were part of the many agencies that dealt with insurance and were trying to prepare for the storm of paperwork coming after the Hex would be brought down. As far as she knew, the counseling offered only covered the effect of the blip, not the after effect of being mind controlled by a grieving avenger.

After being pushed away, Monica wasn’t sure where to go. She walked around aimlessly; last time she was in town it was the 70s. Now, the advertisements were different, and everyone were dressed in the 2010s. She had to admit how impressive it was that Wanda was able to rewrite reality like that. She saw Herb, or John Collins, according to the citizen chart. He was watering his backyard and taking care of his garden, something he’d been a fan of even when she was part of the town. She didn’t see many other of the ‘main cast’, but she did see a few couples. Still no children, like Vision had pointed out on the last episode she saw on the base. The Halloween one didn’t count since she missed most of it trying to hide on her own base. After about half an hour, she decided that Wanda had probably calmed down. She had to talk to her again, she had begun to form a connection, she knew she could make Wanda see reason. She walked over to her house, but soon realized that nobody was there. Instead of going after her, she decided to investigate Agnes’ house. She looked through the windows, but not much was happening. The TV was on, but no one was watching it. She went in the back, perhaps she could find clues there. After watching through the windows and still not finding anything, she spotted a cellar.

She walked over and examined the door before opening it. She found what looked like vines that escalated the walls. She could see them glowing a deep purple, probably had something to do with her newfound powers. They seemed to give her the ability to see energy field that surrounded her. She was about to step inside when she felt a sudden gush of air.

“Snoopers gonna snoop,” came a voice next to her.

She gasped as she took in the person. It was the man who was cast at Pietro, only, he seemed off. Like he was doing something he didn’t want to. Before she could ask him anything, he grabbed her arm and the back of her neck. In a blur, they were in the house. Nausea suddenly hit, she grabbed onto a nearby table to stabilize herself.

“Give it a few minutes, it’ll pass,” reassured the man. “Happens with everyone.”

“W-who are you?” She asked once her head had stopped spinning.

“I’m Pietro, I thought you knew that?” She stared at him; something was strange about him. He seemed so kind, why would he help Agnes?

“That’s not what I mean,” she started. “It might be hard, but the mind control usually let you access a few memories of your true identity. You just need to concentrate.”

The man looked at her with a confused look. Seeing that she wasn’t getting anywhere, she tried running out of the room, but he stopped her only a few steps away from the window. He put a hand in front of him, with one finger, she was catapulted back onto the couch. The force of the impact knocked the breath out of her.

The man looked at Monica, “I’m sorry, I can’t let you out of here. T-the witch, whatever she is, she has my nephews. I have to keep you here or they get hurt.”

She smiled at his comment, relieved he wasn’t just another villain. “You truly care about them, don’t you?”

The man turned to look outside the empty street before answering, “of course, they’re family.”

“You truly can’t remember?” Monica looked at Pietro, who once again looked confused at her questions. “Nothing here is real, Wanda is giving everyone fake identity, giving them roles to fill. You’re no different.”

“What? Of course not, Wanda’s not like that.”

“Please, think about your life before Westview. Pietro Maximoff died; how can you be here if you were killed?”

“I-I,” He stammered. His confusion was a good sign, he was starting to wake up. He looked at her once again. “Look, I know my sister, she wouldn’t-“

Suddenly, his necklace glowed a scarlet red and his eyes glazed over. He looked disoriented for a second before shaking his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t let you out, my family’s lives are on the line.”

Monica didn’t react to what he said, she was all too focused on the necklace. What was it? It seemed to be controlling him, but what could the jewelry piece do that the Hex couldn’t?

She reached for it but stopped as the man backed off. Realizing how rude she was being, she cleared her throat, “may I?” Hesitantly, the man nodded yes. As she was about to touch it, it glowed red and sent a burning sensation through her hand. She gasped and put her hand in a fist, “I’m sorry, I can’t remove it. Do you remember when you got it?”

He seemed lost in thoughts for a moment before shaking his head, “I’ve just always had it.”

Monica had more questions but screams in the street made them both turn towards the window. Agnes was somehow floating in the air, holding both of the boys with a magical rope. She saw Pietro disappear, only to reappear a second later.

“I can’t get out, there’s a sort of barrier keeping me from leaving.”

She quickly got down the stairs, she was surprised he let her go, considering that his nephews’ life was on the line. She supposed the real threat compared to possible one was a good enough reason. She opened the front door, only to come crashing into a purple barrier. She put her hands on it, it felt strange, it was like... an energy field. She knew she could get rid of it, but she didn’t know how.

“So,” said Pietro, appearing beside her, “how to we get out? Considering we can’t even see the barrier.”

She pushed against it once again, the magic bending to the force but not letting them pass. “I can see it, but I don’t know how to break it.”

They both contemplated their options, but they couldn’t think of many. That is, until Pietro spoke up. “What... what if you synced your powers with the frequency of the barrier?” His eyes seemed slightly foggy, like he was remembering something from long ago. “You keep your hands there, and you concentrate as much as you can. You can match the strength, and slowly increase it until it becomes too much, and it breaks.”

She did as he told her, feeling her way through. Her fingers began to slightly vibrate, increasingly speeding up as her fingertips began to glow blue. After a few seconds, the barrier shattered, and they were free to go. She turned to the man, both surprised and excited that it had worked. “How did you know that would work?”

The man shrugged, “I think I did it once... on glass? Not sure but I definitely remember using this technique.”

She nodded and they ran to Wanda, Agnes, and the twins. The final battle was ready to begin.

...

Notes:  So, we are close to the end! I promise that we will be back to Wanda's point of view after this one, I simply thought more context on Monica couldn't hurt. Also, she doesn't remove the necklace, I figured that if someone had to remove it, in the context of my story at least, it has to be Wanda. Props to those who understood the days of future past reference! Thanks for reading, reviews are appreciated!

[twinklelilstarkey]

Secret - Rafe Cameron

[Requested]

Words: 3.9k+

Type: Fluff & Smut

Summary: Pogue!Y/N and Rafe have been dating for over a year and she has been keeping it a secret ever since.

Warnings: Fem!Reader. Quite bad writing, if you’re expecting an amazing smut, I’m sorry in advance. Mentions of Alcohol. Mentions of cheating (Sarah & Topper). IF YOU ARE MINOR, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS!!

DO NOT REPOST, REWRITE OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORK!

Part 2

Imagine how your life would be if you were a pogue and worked at a restaurant part time (which also does cater for many events in the island) yet dated a member of the richest family in the whole Outer Banks.

Now, that would be the big talk of the island, right?

Unless they didn’t know a thing.

And that is your reality. Nobody knows that you date Rafe, and you’re quite proud of how you two have been able to hide every single interaction.

Yes, there were very close calls a few times, but there was never once a day where you two were close to being caught.

Working as a waitress and caterer for most of the Cameron’s events was always a good enough justification for the two of you to be talking. So, nobody suspected a thing.

Not even Sarah. And not only are you insanely close (which is also bad for your friendship with the pogues), you don’t even know how many times you’ve slept over.

She never cared enough for her brother to know who sleeps with in his bed, so that worked in your favor as well.

“Wait, mom” You say while dragging the white box over in the back of your family’s car, “Weren’t we supposed to take the sliders in two boxes instead of a big one?”

As your mom studied you while deep in thought to check if you’re right, you lean on the side of the car as your phone starts to vibrate on your back pocket.

You pull it out to check who it is, and you decide to ignore it since it’s JJ asking if there’s any scraps from the food you’re taking to the Midsummers’ event.

“I think Rose told me yesterday by the phone that it could be one box” Your mom says, “We just have to be careful so that they don’t ‘look smushed’”

You grin at the sight of your mom air quoting the Rose’s words with a small annoyed look. Not that your mom doesn’t like Rose. She can’t, she’s her biggest client. And also gives amazing tips at the end of each event. But she is indeed annoying.

“That’s fine then” You say while shrugging.

“Can you go grab the last box while I go through everything?”

“Yeah, of course”

You run back in the house and go in the kitchen to get the last white box filled to the top with food. You don’t even know what you’re carrying sometimes.

You do have the curiosity to peek and check the delicious, yet cold food that your mom and her coworkers prepared. But ever since you tried to peek at the deserts and instead you saw a bunch of uncooked marinated meat. You never had the desire to do it again.

The disappointment was just too big.

You close the trunk once the last box is well put away and secured and walk all the way back to the driver’s seat.

“You have all the lists with you, right?” You check with your mom before driving off.

“Yes, Y/N. I will not forget them again”

(…)

“Rose, my dear, how are you?” Your mom asks right as she spots the blonde woman standing at the front of the mansion.

“I’m great, how are you?” Rose answers with a slightly less excited tone.

You jump out of the car as two men start walking towards it to help carrying everything to the back, where the event is going to take place.

“Y/N, I didn’t even see you there” Rose says as you open the trunk.

You look up at her and give her a small smile, followed by a whispered ‘hi’. You tell the workers where to take the white boxes with the desserts and you grab one with the raw meat (to be grilled later).

“Sarah is in the back, helping with the last decorations, if you want to go talk to her” Rose tells you as you walk past her, and you give her another small smile.

“Thank you”

You walk in the mansion and start to make your way to the backyard, finding Sarah standing on top of a ladder.

“Y/N!” She shouts as you walk out to stand beside her ladder, “What’s in the box?”

“Just… You know…” You start while looking up at her, “Food”

“Oh, come on! Let me just peek!”

“Nop”

You walk away from Sarah as she almost throws herself off the ladder to reach you faster. You make your way over to Heyward, Pope’s dad, but also one of the best cooks in all the rich events.

“I brough you the meats” You say with a playful tone as you’re close enough for him to hear you.

“Thank you, sweetheart” He says with a smile, finding what you said quite funny.

“Oh” Sarah says as she gets close to you, “It’s raw meat? I almost fell off of there and ran this whole backyard for raw meat?”

“Yes, Sarah Cameron” You say with a smile, “You sure did”

Once Heyward is done with storing the meat close to the griller, you turn back to the house, in hopes to get back to work, and Sarah lays her arm over your shoulders.

“How’s your day going?” She asks you.

“Going well, even though I would’ve preferred to stay home and watch a show on Netflix” You admit as you walk up the porch, “What about you?”

“It’s going great, I’m actually excited to this year’s Midsummers. Are you going to stay here the whole night?”

“As a worker, yeah”

“What? But I want to have some fun with you” Sarah says, sounding deeply saddened, “Can we at least share a drink? Like the old days” (old days aka last year)

“At the back, with all the waiters. Sure” You say with a smile.

Sarah groans loudly beside you as you keep walking towards the front door to look for your mom.

“Where’s the rest of your family?” You ask Sarah.

“Getting ready at home. Dad’s going to get here later than everyone since Rose still has to go home and change. Rafe, I believe, is coming in with the guys. And Wheezie… I have no idea, honestly”

“Oh okay”

“Why? Are you choosing me over one of my siblings?” She asks playfully.

“I mean…” You start, making her glare at you, “Wheezie is superior out of all of you”

Sarah gasps loudly but soon erupts into laugher as she almost chokes in her own spit. Once she regains her energy and composure, she speaks again.

“At least you didn’t say Rafe”

You breathe in at her words, holding back any physical way to show your distress over them and smile a bit.

“Yeah”

(…)

Two hours went by and the once empty mansion is now filled with all the rich families from the island. You have spent most of your time checking on all the boxes of food and other things, such as the small bags that each guest will take home (filled with seasonal dried flowers and overly expensive snacks).

Rose has always been a fan of these small bags, which means that she’s also overly obsessed with them being perfect and just like she imagined them.

And yes, you are just one of the caters, but since your mom is friends with Rose, your services are also brought up and offered in conversations many times as a ‘thank you for choosing us’.

You’re quickly surrounded with people wearing expensive, yet beautiful, dresses and suits.

Some of them mistaking you for a waitress and requesting drinks, in which you answered with a ‘sure’ before running to nearest waiter.

You’re wearing a white t-shirt tucked in your light purple cargo pants (color picked by Rose). The logo of your mom’s business is printed on the back of your shirt. And even with that, it still makes you stand out as much as the other colorful guests.

“Take this to the back, please” You hear someone say to the team of waiters behind you.

You snap back to reality and restart counting the bags laying on the table. As soon as you reach the last five, a wave of clapper fills your ears.

You look over your shoulder and the Cameron family walks down the white porch confidently.

Your eyes travel from Rose, all the away over to Wheezie, admiring the floral dress that her mom had chosen for her.

Rafe walks out behind Sarah, his eyes glued to the ground, ignoring the clapping around him (probably finding it an exaggeration). You hold your gasp at the sight of how amazing he looks, and before you could admire him for any longer, your mom screams for you.

“Y/N” Your mom calls, and you look back at her, “Can you give your opinion on something?”

You walk over to her, looking at the many drinks that are stored with the marinated meats.

“Don’t you think that this way too much alcohol for just the food that we’re doing out here?”

“Yeah, but Heyward might need more than we think” You say while shrugging, “You know how he is with his recipes”

She nods before answering.

“I’m starting to think his big secret ingredient is just alcohol. We’re just too drunk to taste it”

You roll your eyes at your mom’s dry joke and she chuckles at your expression.

“Sarah! Hi, sweetheart” Your mom says, looking at the person behind you.

“Hi, Mrs. Y/L/N. How’s everything going so far?” Sarah asks with a smile, being as cheerful and nice as your mother.

“Going great. You look amazing, by the way”

“Oh, why, thank you”

You stay in the middle of the conversation for a little bit more and your eyes travel through the guests, trying to see if someone needs something.

You find Rafe leaning back on the railing of the porch while talking to Kelce, Topper and two other friends; he looks somewhat entertained, which surprised you.

“Can I steal Y/N for a minute?” Sarah asks.

“Of course, she has done so much work so far. She’s free to go” Your mom answers.

Sarah pulls you by the hand with her to the middle of the party and starts taking you inside of the house.

“I need to tell you something very important” She says to you.

“A new gossip?”

“No. A new update in my life”

You two walk faster up the porch and you slow down, letting go of Sarah’s hand, when Kie notices you.

“Hi” She says with a smile.

You two share a small and quick hug and Sarah stands by you awkwardly, not wanting to disrupt your moment with her ex best friend. Kie looks her way and her eyebrows lift in annoyance.

“Will you be working all night?” She asks and you nod, “That’s a bummer, I wanted to hang out with you more”

“Me too. Once I find another free time tonight, I’ll try to find you”

“I’ll wait for that” She says with a smile, “Now go, I’m sure she needs to talk to you”

You look back at Sarah, who isn’t even bothering enough to give the dirty look back, and you grab her hand again, as a way to say, ‘let’s go’.

You two walk past the guys, that didn’t even notice you (or at least that’s what you think), and go find somewhere quiet to talk.

“Please don’t judge me for what I’m going to say to you” She starts, “It’s something very recent and unexpected”

Once you nod, she blurs it all out.

“John B?” You ask with a confused look, “You’re dating John B?”

“Not dating-dating” She corrects, “We’re… something”

“So, almost dating” You conclude, and she sighs, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just shocked. But why now? Didn’t he work for your dad for years?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t exactly know him at the time” She explains, “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Of course not,” You say, and she sighs in relief. “But, Sarah- What about Topper?”

“I’ll break up with him”

Those words hit you like a train almost. Over the year you’ve been dating Rafe, Topper and you have started an amazing friendship. He would always help you find excuses when you would be almost found with Rafe, or something of the sort.

And one thing you know about him, is how much he actually cares for Sarah.

Not that you want to pressure Sarah into continuing a relationship with Top just because you’re friends with him. Of course not. You just think he deserves a good explanation on why everything is going on, and not just a simple ‘I don’t want to date you anymore’. And Sarah is extremely bad at that.

But yeah, you don’t know what is going on in their relationship, therefore, you can’t judge Sarah’s actions all that much.

“You won’t tell him, right?” Sarah asks you, snapping you back to reality, “I know you two are friends but, I want to be the one telling him”

“Of course. I won’t say a thing”

(…)

“Y/N!” You hear someone scream from behind you, “I’ve missed you”

You look at the person, to find Topper, exactly where he was previously with Rafe and Kelce. But this time, he’s only with Kelce.

“I’ve missed you too” You say with a small smile, walking towards them, “Where’s Rafe?”

“Getting a drink, I think”

Topper lays his arm over your shoulders and pulls you in closer to him.

“How’s the event going for you?” He asks.

“Fantastic” You sarcastically answer.

“It’s not going that well for us either” Kelce adds, “These events are always so boring”

You agree with him with a nod and someone appears next to you, Rafe. You eye him up and down, admiring the suit that was chosen for him, and he looks down at you.

“Shouldn’t you be working, Y/L/N?” He asks teasingly and Topper chuckles beside you.

“Fuck off, would you?”

A smile appears in his face and he looks up to look through the large amount of people.

“Where’s my sister?” He asks when looking back down.

You look at him confused.

“Drinking somewhere, why?”

“Inside?” He asks and you look at Topper and Kelce even more confused, trying to find some answers for his questions.

“Yes?”

“Can you show me?”

You blink at him a few times in silence while looking at him and slowly nod. You lean way from Topper and start walking towards the door you just walked off.

“Have fuuuun” Kelce sings and you look back at him.

Something in your mind clicks and you feel like the dumbest person alive. You look back at Rafe and he’s straight up laughing at your dumbfounded face.

“Oh my god” You whisper to yourself and keep walking.

You two walk back inside the room, filled with a lot of waiters chaotically working and some richer parents having their drink in the silence.

Some look up at Rafe and recognized him. They tried to start a conversation, which never goes past ‘hi’, but nothing that they’re used to getting for the young adult/teen rich kids.

His eyes stay glued on the ground as you two walk, sometimes carelessly looking up at your ass, which looks marvelous in those pants.  

“Upstairs” He says so low that you almost don’t even hear him.

You two walk quickly up the stairs and as soon as you start making your way to one of the many empty rooms in the mansion.

Rafe’s arm circles your waist and pulls you against him as he holds your face with his other hand, pressing kisses all over your face.

Your giggles fill the hallway, echoing through the walls, and he makes a turn so the two of you enter a room. As he struggles to open the door, you turn around in his arms and smile up at him. He smiles back and pushes you in the room.

The door closes behind him and your lips touch right on that same second.

Right outside of the door and at the top of the stairs stands a lost JJ, looking for Sarah so he can finally give John B’s little note.

Or should he say Vlad?

They’re weird.

Rafe pulls your t-shirt from inside your pants and his hands attach to your skin under it. Goosebumps erupt through your skin as his cold skin touch yours. You get rid of his bowtie in a quick tug and start unbuttoning the first buttons of his dress shirt.

JJ walks through the hallways, kicking the ground in boredom, and looks at all the closed doors.

Should he peek inside each one?

But there are so many.

Rafe’s expensive blazer hits the ground and he picks you up once you pull away from the kiss. He sits you on top of the desk and pulls away to help you take off your shoes.

As they hit the ground loudly, your hands clasp into his cheeks and you pull him for another soft kiss.

Rafe smiles into the kiss and pushes you to lay down on the desk. He throws the unused notebooks, pens and blank books onto the ground, making you chuckle at his desperation.

JJ lifts his head at the loud noise and looks through the closed doors confused.

What in the hell was that?

“JJ?” Kie asks and JJ jumps at the sudden sound.

“Jesus Christ” He says while laying his hand over his chest.

“What are you doing here?”

He can’t tell her that he’s here to give something to Sarah. Especially that that something was given to him by John B.

“Uhm… Looking for…” He starts, itching the back of his head, “Pope and Y/N”

“Oh, Pope is with his dad in the backyard and I’m also looking for Y/N”

JJ nods at her words while biting the inside of his cheek and Kiara continues to stare, expecting him to say something else.

Once you unbutton the last button of his shirt, your hands move over to Rafe’s abs and up his chest softly. His kisses on your neck are slow and loving, his hands do most of the work, getting rid of your clothes.

As the zipper of your pants is heard, he moves up to kiss your lips again. His hand slides in your pants and underwear and you moan into the kiss.

“Why are you up here?” JJ asks.

“Looking for Y/N?” Kie answers.

Didn’t she just tell him that?

“Right. Of course,”

Rafe’s finger moves in circular motions over your clit and you moan louder as he does it. He pulls away from the kiss and smirks down at you as he also moves his hands away.

As you were getting ready to protest your distress, he grabs the top of your pants and tugs them down with your underwear.

Once they hit the floor, you ‘help’ him unbutton his pants and they easily fall down when past his thighs. You lick your lips and Rafe pulls you back to your laying position.

“As much as I would love you if you did that. We don’t have much time” He whispers into your lips and you nod.

Your shirt had fallen down from you sitting up, so it covered most of your naked body, but Rafe was quick to lay you back and get a grip onto your hips, bringing them right to the end of the table.

You gasp loudly at the feeling of his boxers against you and before he stands up, he moves down and presses a wet kiss on the inside of your thigh.

He stands back up and you wrap your legs around his hips so he can come closer. He smiles down at you and positions his hands on top of the elastic of his boxers, making you bite your lip at the simple sigh of his bulge.

“Maybe we should go check downstairs, this is empty” Kie says, noticing that JJ won’t say anything else.

“How do you know? All the doors are closed”

“Well, I don’t see Y/N closing herself in a room when she’s working” She says, “Let’s go”

JJ nods and as soon as Kie turns around, he starts following her back to the stairs.

On half of their back down, Sarah appears, very much to JJ’s relief but Kie’s annoyance.

“What were you two doing upstairs?” She asks.

“Nothing you deserve to know” Kie answers.

Sarah rolls her eyes and continues to go up the stairs as Kie mocks her voice and movements while making her way down them. JJ uses their hatred to his advantage and in a quick movement shoves the small piece of paper in Sarah’s hand.

“Oh fuck, Rafe” You moan out loud, back arching in pleasure as Rafe hisses out loud.

Rafe thrusts into you once more, slowly picking up his pace. His eyes move from down to your face. He brings one of his hands up and covers your mouth, before speeding up.

You moan into his hand and grip into his wrist, closing your eyes.

“Open your eyes baby, come on” Rafe says in a deep voice and you do as told.

His hand moves down over your neck and as soon as he wraps his hand around it, a malicious smile grows on his face.

“What is this?” Sarah asks to JJ.

“Vlad told me to give this to you” He answers, winking at her and running off to follow Kie out of there.

Sarah opens the piece of paper confused yet excited and smiles down at it.

She continues to walk upstairs discreetly, planning on just to go check on her makeup in the bathroom before going to see John B.

And as she continues to make her way up the stairs, her big and white flowy dress is noticeable enough.

“Fuck-” Rafe whispers and your grip intensifies on his arm.

The pleasure was getting easily out of control for you, and as soon he lifts his other hand off your hip and brings it down, starting to play with your clit. Bringing you over the moon.

“Rafe- Clos-” You try to say out loud but fail horribly with not only the pleasure but also the pressure on your neck.

“Come for me, baby”

His words were literally the only thing that you needed, his hand moves away from your throat and covers your mouth, letting air back into your lungs but isolating your possible sounds.

The pleasure hits you with an amazing strength, erupting all through your body. Your eyes roll back with the intense feeling and Rafe groans loudly at how tight you feel.

Sarah walks down the hallway without a care in the world, in hopes that she’ll find the bathroom, she had found last year, quickly.

“Sarah! What are you doing here?!” Topper shouts from the other side of the hallway.

She looks back at him, annoyed expression over her face at the unnecessary volume.

“Do you have to scream?!” She screams back just as loud.

Rafe groans against the crook of your neck as he comes off his high, the only thing you two could hear was both of you heavily breathing.

Your fingers run through Rafe’s hair as he places sweet kisses from your neck to your lips.

“What are you doing up here?” Topper’s voice sounds from the hallway.

The two of you quickly sit up as a reflex and look at each other with widen eyes.

You are fucked.

- - - - - 

Quite literally. I’m so sorry that this smut is so trash! I’m actually trying, I promise. I’m just not a natural, I guess.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Misunderstandings” Cameron Frye x Reader

(A/N: @nikitty-to-the-rescue asked: “could you maybe please write a Cameron Frye x reader with the enemies to lovers trope.”

Here’s my first try at a enemies to lovers trope. Thank you for requesting!

Oh my goodness…I usually don’t read anything with this trope, but I read one, which was good. Then I actually went as far as researching how to write an enemies to lovers trope and found someone’s 10 tips or steps. Either way—it made sense! Also extremely helpful. So this insert Reader has been through A LOT of brainstorming, rewrites, and pages in my notebook then literally an outline I filled out because this is so new to me. I hope you like it. Also….the amount of events and things I had forgotten about during my time in high school were brought up writing this. Wow.

Summary?: So here’s an insert reader where the Reader sees Cameron as their opposite and doesn’t even want to see his face. (That’s the summary I’m going with.)

Warnings: I wouldn’t fully define this as angst, but it involves high school frustrations. There’s for sure a couple of curse words. A couple of Star Wars references. Mentions of bologna. Absolutely no offense to anyone who likes bologna.

2022 me: I edited the grammar errors.

Word Count: 12,737 )

~~~

Twisting, side-stepping, and quick, you made your way towards your next class through the heavy traffic of the white hallway. It was noisy and bustling with energy. Energy that was practically sucked out of every student in a class in the final semester of the school year.

It was your senior year. A crucial year in school as adult life was just around the corner. All of the teachers were telling their students to go to college, but they never mentioned for what though, no suggestions. There was a major to be picked while at college, but you were still in your last semester of high school. Your focus was on good grades, surviving through the exhaustion, and having a minimal social life considering how much everyone had on their plates.

Balancing a textbook in one arm, you waved to some of your friends as you headed down the hall. You didn’t share all of your classes with your friends, but that’s high school for you. It wasn’t always entertaining. It wasn’t terrible every second either. Thankfully.

Out from the incoming students came Ferris Bueller who waved to you with a bright smile. He looked well considering what symptoms you had overheard he had the other day. Beside him walked Cameron Frye—you were surprised he was at school at all. Between the two of them, Cameron seemed to always think he was sick and in turn missed school. But that was none of your business. So what if he seemed to not take school seriously, that he just didn’t care about anything, and snubbed his nose at whatever he was disinterested in? Nope, none of your concern.

Slacker, you thought. He’s not even going the right way to class. Hmm. Sure, Cameron is Ferris Bueller’s best friend, but Ferris got along with everybody. Did he dislike anyone? He’s just one of those people, I guess. Can’t imagine doing that.

You continued on your way without much of a delay. Arriving to the classroom ahead of time, which gave you the satisfaction of not feeling rushed.

Already in your seat, you checked the time. It was about time to start, according to the clock on the wall anyway. The one that either ticked by slowly or outright taunted you.

“Did I miss much?”

You peered up to see Ferris walking to his seat, he gestured to your desk.

“About a page or so of notes,” you answered as you placed a notebook on your desk. “But it’s not like the information is lost forever.”

“Too bad.” Ferris took his seat near Cameron who looked to you only briefly.

Everyone took their seats as the bell rang, their chatter simmering down. The teacher stood to the front of the class.

“Alright, class, before we do roll call, there’s a new seating arrangement.” The teacher announced to a chorus of more chatter and disappointed groans.

Say what? You thought. It’s the end of the semester.

You immediately begun putting your belongings back into your bag.

After about five minutes of dragged feet, bumping into chairs, and limited excitement, everyone sat in a different seat. The other students did their best to waste time away from the lesson, at that point you couldn’t blame them. You weren’t fast to your new seat either. You especially weren’t thrilled to hear who was sitting beside you from then until the end of the semester: Cameron.

Could it had been worse? Yeah, probably, but you purposefully did not look at him besides a side glance or two. Just to be certain that he was the one beside you.

But that was what happened when the teacher decided to rearrange where everyone was sitting because there had been too much talking for the last few classes.

Well, there’d be definitely less talking from you. You only hoped there wouldn’t be any more group projects. There’d be a raging senior if there was any more.

You might have been attending the same school for years with Cameron, but that didn’t mean you actually knew him. Perfect seating from a teacher’s standpoint. Mildly inconvenient for you. In terms of comfort anyway.

Already, more than mildly irritated, you didn’t so much as take out a pencil until you were sure that the teacher was finished with their rearrangement. Once they were telling everyone to take out their homework, were you comfortable to resume your classroom tasks. By that point it was automatic and barely took any brain power. Not quite exciting. Actually, not at all.

That was basically how that class period went. You were more than relieved when you were able to pack your things and head out to your next class.

It wasn’t that you necessarily hated that class nor did you fully respect the teacher, but could you cut one break? One ounce of joy to be placed in a learning environment instead of added dread? Of added anxiety? Why’d you have to be put next to someone who you saw as a tense student of do-absolutely-nothing, but also supposedly didn’t care about even his future. Not that you expected anyone to jump for joy when being given a project or anything in class. To you, he just seemed kind of…lazy, uninterested, and never doing anything for himself. What kind of life was that to live?

Taking your seat beside your friend in your next class, you smiled.

“How are you holdin’ up?” Your friend asked.

“I still breathing and my stomach hasn’t growled yet. But I’m hungry.” You said, stacking your notebook on top of your textbook.

“Aren’t we all?” They folded their jacket onto their lap. “It’ll be lunch soon. Do you know what’s for lunch?”

“I forgot,” you murmured and slouched in your seat. “It was either pasta or…maybe a hamburger? Maybe…?”

You continued talking with your friend, a social relief.

Before you knew it, the bell rang again.

“Seating changes. Everybody up.” The teacher announced loudly, they weren’t even at the front of the classroom.

They talked to each other, you thought as you hastily put your things back into your bag. Okay. I hope I’m not put in the back. I want to actually see the board. It’s the flippin’ end of the school year. Okay. Okay. Everything’s fine. It’s just seats.

The teacher had created the new seating chart the night before. They didn’t even go alphabetically. Oh, no, they knew exactly what they were doing. You gave them credit for that much.

Once you saw exactly where you would be having to sit your limbs heated like getting into a car that had been in the summer’s heat for more than three hours.

Please, no, you thought.

Following instruction, you walked to your new seat, your jaw locked.

Cameron Frye literally had the seat in front of you. He had glanced behind him once and not a time more.

Leaning up, and side to side was what you expected on a fair ride not taking class notes. What sort of luck did you have? Where did you go wrong? You did all that you could right. You followed directions. Tiredly and internally complaining some times, but then this?

Once class was over, you shoved your class essentials back into your bag. You knew that there was no need to be frustrated with the new arrangement, but you were. Things were building up. You were already pushing your hobbies out in order for more time dedicated to your school work. You didn’t want to physically work harder to take notes. You hadn’t had more than five hours of sleep a night. More than anything, you wanted rest. To have at least one thing go your way besides getting to class on time and being able to take notes safely.

Looking up at the sound of your name, you saw one of your friends already by the door.

Just a little bit longer and high school would be only memories.

. . .

Soon enough, as one of your friends had said, it was time for lunch. Noisy, full of movement, and had a variety of smells.

Good news for you, you were more than half way through your school day. Also the lunch wasn’t terrible, it was quite nice. That and you were really hungry.

Having already eaten, you were waiting in line with a group of other seniors to turn in a paper form and money. It was getting closer to the time when all seniors would have their cap, gown, and any approved decorations. That was what the money was for — paying for everything.

It was one of the first days to turn in the forms and you were glad you remembered, lest be questioned later at home. Waiting in line was the least stressful part of your day. In other words you didn’t have to force yourself to listen to anyone’s monotone voice for an hour nor try to keep up with writing down notes.

Having the time to yourself, you kept the form and envelope close. Your eyes peered around the immediate area; bright and full of students. Normal for a school day that wasn’t near a holiday.

Movement caught your eyes and you crinkled your nose when you saw who it was. Cameron Frye leaving from the front of the line.

Of course. Eh, you know what—so what, you thought. You trained your eyes forward.

Cameron had managed to turn in his forms before you. Freely able to do so and return to a lunch table.

Good job, you thought flatly, forcing some sort of positivity into your mindset. He actually did something on his own for once.

The line moved up, leaving you third in waiting. Possibly, you couldn’t tell if friends were using the buddy system or all turning in forms. Likewise, Ferris had been in line with Cameron before walking towards Sloane, his girlfriend, and then with a quick jolt Ferris spun back rapidly towards the table.

Intrigued you watched on. The line moved fairly quickly, however with Ferris returning to the table where a staff member tended, there was a short delay before he was dismissed. The absurdity written on his face.

What happened? He looks kind of panicked. Poor kid.

It was then that he made eye contact with you and zoomed towards you.

“Are yo—?”

“(Y/N), I turned in my paper for our next class instead of the form.” Ferris announced in one breath.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, but that…,” he scrunched his face together. “They shooed me off just now.”

“That paper is due today.”

“I know and I’m not letting someone like that stop me from getting my paper back. I already had to write it in the first place.”

“They didn’t let you explain?” You asked in a hushed tone.

“Not a chance.”

“Okay,” you looked to see that you were next in line. “When it’s my turn, you can explain it to them calmly.” You nodded firmly.

There wasn’t any need to dismiss a teenager just because they were a teenager or thought they were just a bother. That wasn’t going to settle well with you. You were all human beings after all.

When the person in front of you moved away, the staff member did not look enthused. At all. In fact they looked bored out of their ever-loving mind.

You smiled.

“Hi again,” Ferris greeted them. “I know I was just here and turned in a paper, but I was wondering if I could have it back? It wasn’t the right one. Thank y—.”

“You already gave me your form and signed that you did so. That’s all you had to do. Please don’t hold up the line.” Their tone was uninterested, suspicious, and tired as they dismissed the boy for the second time. 

Ferris looked to you. He needed help and fast.

Clearing their throat and gaining your attention, the staff person looked to you expectantly.

Oh, boy. Uh…

Your eyes darted around the table. Just a bunch of papers, files, pens, and stacked boxes with folders.

Files.

“There must be a lot of students—seniors this year?” You asked them and gestured to the open box behind them.

They hummed as if just realizing. Taking a form-filled folder in hand, they tucked it into one of the boxes.

“Your form please.” They opened up an empty folder atop of the table.

“Ah, yes.” You placed the form and attached envelope onto the surface. “When will we be getting our cap and gown? Do you know?” You asked quickly, doing your best not to bring attention to Ferris as he maneuvered his way around to the boxed folders. “In a couple of weeks,” they answered. Their expression was deadpanned.

There was only so much small talk you could manage with this person. They were disinterested to begin with. Added that there were other seniors waiting in line. Through your peripheral vision, you spotted Ferris going through the file folder. “I’m sorry,” you said as you signed your name onto another paper with a list of other seniors. “Is everyone asking that?” “Did it give a date on the paper form?” The voice of Cameron Frye asked as he stepped in from your right. Your eyes flickered over to the boy for a second. You mentally cursed.

What the heck is he doing? I can handle this. The staff member looked over to him and answered, “You’ll get your cap and gown in a couple of weeks like everyone else. Don’t cut in line.” Ferris was pulling paper from the file. “Will we pick them up here or will there be some sort of announcement?” You asked. “You’ll have to find out later.” “In a couple of weeks.” You smiled, unenthusiastically. “Do we really have different colors?” Cameron asked. “One fo—.” “Boys get one color and girls get another,” they answered. Ferris spun off in a different direction, paper in hand. “Thank you.” You nodded and fast-walked away from the table with Cameron hot on your heels. “That was ridiculous,” you muttered.

With frustration lingering, you approached Ferris and an intrigued Sloane. You were about to ask and make sure he had grabbed his paper when he victoriously displayed it for both you and Cameron to see. Sloane looked proud. You were just relieved for the sake of knowing Ferris hadn’t lost his final essay. “You’re lucky,” Cameron said to Ferris. “If they had seen you do that, Rooney would have had you.” “Rooney wouldn’t have done anything.” Ferris waved. “Those were cap and gown forms with money. You were lucky.” You stated.

Cameron had a valid point. Sure, the staff person, whoever they were, should had at least checked the papers that Ferris handed them, however what Ferris did was probably more than detention worthy. “Yeah…,” Ferris made a face, “I still have to turn mine in, but I have tomorrow, right?” “You have until the end of the week.” You stated. “No sweat.” “Just make sure you don’t turn in another class’ assignment, okay?” “It was a fluke. I got it.”

For a moment the group of you simply stood there. There weren’t any words, just standing in the accomplished energies.

One of your legs shook, seconds away from being entirely visible. Your eyes shifting between Sloane, Ferris, and the lunch table where your friends still remained. Not once did you look beside you.

“Well…uh,” you swallowed, “I’ll see you guys later.”

“Sure. Thanks again,” Ferris spoke while his two friends gave brief waves.

After the quick excuse you made your way back to your friends. You had helped Ferris, a nice guy, that was good enough for you. You didn’t need to force yourself into small talk. You wanted a break after all.

Finally sitting at the table again, you joined your friends who were visibly eager and leaning onto the table for information.

“What was that about?” One of your friends asked.

“Ferris needed some help. Everything’s fine.” You replied.

“You helped Ferris Bueller?” Another friend asked.

“It was extremely minor. Chill. Not a big deal. Everything’s fine.”

“Hmm. Frye seems to be alright with it. I think he’s smiling.”

“What?”

“We saw you talking with him.”

“He just…we just helped Ferris get out of a tight spot. That’s all.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, it worked. Everything’s fine.”

How you hoped that the rest of your day would be less exciting.

. . .

The next day everything was going per usual. Each class dragged on each minute like an hour. You were starting to wonder if all of the clocks were fixed on a slower pace. How were you suppose to know?

It was another day closer to the weekend. Another day to spend in new seating arrangements. Another school day where one of your favorite times of day came about: lunch time. Meaning food, social time, and seniors still being able to turn in their forms for cap and gown. It was the final days to do so.

“..and he called on me twice. He seriously needs to at least give us more than two seconds to think of an answer. It’s still early in the morning.”

“I hate that. Is it so hard to pick on those with their hands raised? They know the answer. It’s annoying and dismissive.”

“Like this sandwich.”

“Huh?”

“I think the lettuce is older than I am. I’ve seen people more green than this.”

You continued listening to your friends talking to one another. It was lightly entertaining. As long as they avoided talking about any unnecessary drama, it was all good.

“So, what’s up with you and Cameron?” Your friend asked between poking their salad. “…Frye?” You glanced over to your friend, “Nothing. Why?” “He keeps looking over here.” You made a noise in your throat, “I hope not.”

Your first instinct was to look of course, to see if they were right. You pushed that instinct down. Deep, deep down.

Nope. Not looking. No. Nope. I’m eating. He can look somewhere else. He better be looking somewhere else. He’s not looking. “He’s totally looking.”

You gave your friend a pointed look and said, “I have to sit by him in two classes now.”

“What?”

“New seating arrangement yesterday.”

“You didn’t say you were by Cameron Frye.”

“I didn’t need to.” “Are you wishing you didn’t have to keep up your perfect attendance now?” They smiled. “I’m just ready to graduate already,” you said.

“Yeah, but you have to enjoy high school while it lasts.”

“It’s kinda hard to enjoy sleep deprivation.”

“I meant spending time with people. Real people.”

“I feel like you’re trying to tell me something…” You rose and eyebrow. “You can just say it.”

“Speaking of…,” your other friend smiled as their attention was extended passed you.

The hair stood up on the back of your neck.

“(Y/N).”

“Hey, Ferris,” you turned in your seat. Suspicion already rising.

“He—,” he looked behind him and made a quick hand motion. His best friend, Cameron, walked up beside him with shifty eyes. “Hey, (Y/N).” Ferris smiled. “I need a new form for cap and gown.”

“Seriously?” You almost laughed. “Okay,” you shrugged.

Leaning closer, Ferris gestured with both hands and said, “Please tell me I don’t have to go ask that snooty-dismisser at that table.”

“All you have to do is ask for a new one. I’m sure they still have some left. This is the last few days though.” “Did…Did you forget what it was like getting my essay back from them? No.” “Ferris, all you have to do is ask or I’m sure they might have some in the front office.” You said. “With Principal Rooney there,” Cameron added in, “No way.” Sighing heavily, you said, “I’ll be back.” You stood up from your seat and walked out of the lunchroom without looking back. There was obviously an obstacle for every option you gave. Why not save some time?

Roughly five minutes later, due to walking distance and quickly explaining what you were doing in the halls to staff, you returned to the lunch table from the front office with an empty page form.

“Ta da~,” you handed Ferris the form.

“You…and the…you…”

You zipped open your backpack and soon gave him a pen.

“Have at it, Ferris.” You said.

“Thank you, I owe you,” Ferris said as he scribbled onto the paper.

“How about you turn in the form the right way this time?” Cameron offered. “(Y/N) was able to get out of this lunch room without any trouble, you can hand in a form.”

You turned to Cameron and rose an eyebrow. In response, he gave a small smile.

Well, darn. He can help distract a staff member and give me some credit.

“Nothing can really get in (Y/N)’s way if they really need to get something done.” Your friend said before sipping from their water bottle.

“That doesn’t mean everything’s easy.” You interjected.

“I didn’t say that. Just you…you can tackle obstacles.”

“Thank you?”

You stood by your seat and grabbed your backpack as Ferris was handing you back your pen.

“Thank you,” you returned your belongings into your bag just as the bell rung.

“Yah better hurry, Ferris,” your friend said to the boy who just waved. They stood up quickly with their bag. “See you, (Y/N).”

“See yah.”

Looking back, you didn’t see any trace of Ferris. In fact half of the people at your table were already leaving. Even your friend who had mentioned Cameron in the first place.

Huh. Weird.

You turned your attention to said boy who was in question.

“Does he do that a lot?” You asked. “Do what?” Cameron asked in reply. “Disappear.” “Oh…yeah. Some times. He just…does whatever he wants…when he wants.”

“I think that would personally weird me out if that happened.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“Oh, uh…well because I’m always having to do something for school or my family. I’m just waiting for my own free time.”

He nodded.

Slinging a bag strap over your shoulder, you were partially surprised to have Cameron still beside the table. Again, you rose an eyebrow.

What’s with him?

Hands wringing together and eyes downcast gaze, Cameron spoke to you, “That was really nice what you did for Ferris. You didn’t have to. Even yesterday. It was nice.”

You looked at him for a moment, a bit at a loss for words.

“It…it was nothing. I mean,” you peered over and saw that your friend had already left the cafeteria. “I mean, he needed help. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“But you helped him. It matters.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah…um. It does.” Your eyes flickered to the other students who were filing out of the cafeteria. “I gotta go.”

“Right,” he stepped back and nodded towards the doors.

Starting your walk out of the cafeteria, you looked to Cameron who was letting you walk ahead.

“So, uh…,” you fell into step with him. “Did you finish your homework for science?”

“I did.”

You both continued walking. You had no idea what to say to him. There was just the new want to talk. It was strange. You weren’t used to talking with Cameron. Darn, you weren’t used to being near him for this long outside of class.

You kept pace with one another at an even walk. Not exactly speeding to your next destination.

“So, how were you able to get to and from the front office so fast?” Cameron asked. Honest curiosity in his features, blue eyes alight.

“Well no one’s really in the halls anyway. But I don’t like going into the office. So I made it a quick trip.” You said. “Plus Principal Rooney’s really strange…and kinda rude.”

“Did he tell you something?” Cameron was quick to ask.

“Not really just the usual, ‘who is it?’ ’what are you doing?’ And stuff. It’s like he sees himself on a pedestal or something. We’re not dirt. Even then…”

“I don’t doubt it.” He huffed before suddenly smiling. “But he’s probably really nervous if someone was actually upset with him.”

“Ha. I’d pay to see that.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you a story one day.”

You turned to him with raised eyebrows, “is it a good one?”

“You probably wouldn’t believe a word of it.”

“Depends.”

Another smile appeared on his face. It brightened up his whole appearance, from the tiny creases at the corner of his eyes to his lean forearms. His skin was quite fair with no blemishes in sight.

Focusing your eyes to what was in front of you, you avoided running into any students in the halls.

Three students raced passed you, one nearly tripping over their own two feet.

“I’ll be glad to be out of high school. Not that I won’t still miss some things.” Cameron said as he watched for any more incoming students.

“Like your friends?” You asked. You figured he had to at least like his friends. They seemed close enough. “Yeah,” his smile was soft. “Everything will be different. Different schools. Work.” You all but grumbled, “Yeah. Work is a whole other thing. I’ve been told how, by adults, that I’ll love college, but then others were saying the same thing about high school a few years ago. What…what if I hate it? What if it’s harder and my grades aren’t the best? ….I just won’t know anyone and college isn’t free. What’s so great about that?” He shrugged, “maybe you’ll make new friends.” “Maybe.” “Do you know what you want to do?” “Like a major or job?” “Both.” “I’m still trying to figure that out.” You admitted. “I’ve been so focused on school that I haven’t had time to think about what I’ll do outside of it. It’s frustrating.” “Well,” Cameron sighed, “I don’t know what I’m even interested in to pick a major.” “Really?” You looked to him so quickly your neck about popped. “Yes, life’s hard enough and then I have to have interests on top of surviving high school.” “You seem to be surviving just fine.”

“It’s still surviving. That doesn’t make me happy. I want to do something��something that I want to do. Have my own life.”

“…maybe…maybe getting out of high school. After graduation. Maybe it’ll be easier. I mean, like, being able to finally learn about what you want to learn and finding hobbies or something you never knew existed.”

“Any thing’s better than what it used to be.”

You nodded. A heaviness in your stomach quarreled with your mind, changing your thoughts.

So…he’s not a slacker? Ummm.

Seeing as he didn’t have his things for class, you figured he wasn’t heading straight for class.

Approaching another hall, you turned to him.

“I…uh.. See you later.” You went to wave, but your hand bumped his arm. “Ah. Sorry. Sorry.”

“See yah.” Cameron said, leaving to his locker with a smile remaining on his lips.

. . .

Something was different. Something had changed, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was another day, that you were certain of. There weren’t any last minute essays, you hadn’t changed shampoos, your friends still compared school lunches to home meals, you weren’t grounded or anything, but you still couldn’t figure out the specific change. Maybe it was just a new feeling that came with being closer to graduating.

You leaned back in your chair. There was still time before the late bell and you were more aware than you expected. You had been waiting for that class with anticipation.

Because the other class couldn’t end fast enough. If I don’t have my hand raised, don’t flippin’ pick on me and then ask why I didn’t know. You thought as you tapped the soles of your shoes atop of the floor. I’m so glad it’s over.

Each time there was movement at the door, you glanced up with a jumpy feeling in your stomach. That feeling doubled when Cameron filed in behind a pair of half-asleep friends. You sat up straight.

Boy, do they need a weekend.

Your eyes did a quick sweep of Cameron. There appeared to be nothing out of sorts, he looked more awake than half of the kids in class.

You recalled your first real conversation with the boy and wondered if talking to him again would be alright.

What is there to talk about? I feel like a parrot if I only ask people if they finished their homework or something.

The opened notebook on your desk became incredibly interesting for the following thirty seconds. Words marked the page on lines and scribbled between margins. Through your peripheral vision you were able to see Cameron take his seat beside you. The other students in turn took their seats once the bell rang.

With a slow gait, the teacher moved to the front of the classroom.

A sigh sounded beside you.

You held the pencil in your grasp tightly, willing yourself not to look over.

Class will be fine. Everything’s fine.

It felt like half an hour went by. It hadn’t. The teacher still gave their lecture and wrote notes across the chalkboard.

Your eyes strained to decipher the words that were scribbled. Too preoccupied with figuring out words, it became more difficult to keep from zoning out. After awhile the words were just letters and the teacher’s speech was just sounds.

I really don’t think this teacher even likes the subject of this class, you thought as you absentmindedly twirled a pencil between your fingers. Shake it up, baby. Twist and s—.

Clink Clink

Crap, you thought.

You had dropped your pencil. You also had no idea where it landed.

Great.

Head turning right, you watched as Cameron leant over towards the floor. In about three seconds he was sitting up right with your pencil in hand and he handed it over to you without a word, careful not to touch hands. You gave him a curt nod. He smiled, looked back to the front of the class, still smiling, and a straighter posture. Hmm. That was….nice of him. You focused your gaze back to the front of the room. Decent. Just descent.

You were quite aware of how you handled your pencil from then on. You didn’t want the pencil flying across the room or worse. So you made sure everything you needed stayed on your desk.

Although keeping up with the lesson the best you could, you kept peeking up at Cameron between note taking during the rest of class. It just sort of kept happening. Your curiosity getting the better of you.

By the time class was over you were grabbing your stuff and soon were trading textbooks in your locker.

Class was pretty warm today. Kinda thought it was cool the rest of the year. At your locker you did your best not to think of him. Not thinking about his name seemed to help. You had other things to think about, to focus on.

You blamed it all on sleep deprivation.

Focus on your next class. Just focus there. Even if he sits in front of me.

. . .

At lunch things were…interesting. Sure the food was odd as usual for the time of the week, but you had been looking forward to lunch eagerly. You and your friends had your usual table, but getting the table wasn’t something to feel eager about.

You found yourself sitting straighter, aware of how you smiled at your friends’ jokes, and making wider gestures. Every movement had an awareness behind it and a purpose that you left unnamed.

Thoughts bounced around Cameron no matter how many times you paid attention to a friend’s story or quizzed yourself to remember a mathematics equation. It was like monkey in the middle in your brain. Only it was irritating you to consider yourself entertained. More entertaining than your last class with him? Maybe.

Finding yourself peering over to where Cameron sat with a partially empty lunch tray, you internally groaned at your own actions. That had to be the fifth time you had done it already. Although you did it way more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

You did all of those things even with a vile taste in your mouth.

Yeah…he has a cute smile, but that means nothing if he doesn’t have respect or even passion for something. You have to like something! To do something! How could someone of his height hold nothing inside him? How could he be like that? But…he wants to do something he likes. Such a pain.

. . .

Somewhere near the middle of the cafeteria sat a variety of students. Most of which were only there for a few moments to talk before returning to another table altogether. Regardless of the conversations, one was held importance between two best friends.

“Ferris, they hate me.”

“They do not.” Ferris leaned over the table to his grumbling friend.

“Well, they don’t like me.”

“Come on, Cameron, name five reasons why they don’t like you.” He gestured with both hands widely.

Cameron shuffled his feet and said, “Well…I don’t think they can stand the sight of me or talking to me. Probably annoyed whenever I talk. So…me as a person.”

“You sit next to each other in two classes. Any annoyance they have is with the class not you.”

“I sit right beside them in one and in front of them in the next class.”

“Lucky man.”

Cameron narrowed his eyes and said, “I didn’t say I liked them.”

“No, but you were saying all yesterday how surprised you were to realize they aren’t selfish.”

“I said it once.”

“Three times. Once over the phone.”

. . .

“Hey, (Y/N).”

You hit your knuckle against the inside of the locker and yelped.

“Ow…,” you looked beside you. “Hi Ferris.” You shook your hand out to diffuse any incoming pain.

“Hey, so.” The boy leaned against the neighboring lockers.

“‘So’ what?”

“How’s school treating you?”

“Like a number. You?” Your knuckle seemed fine when you moved it.

“Good one. I’m fine. I was talking with Cameron at lunch and he mentioned you two sat with each other now in—.”

“They’re new assigned seats. Two different classes.”

“Ah, yeah.” Ferris blinked for a moment. “Well I’m sure class will be less boring now.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Cameron’s my best friend and he’s a lot of fun once he let’s himself have fun. Not unlike you sometimes, you’re always up on your schoolwork, right?”

“I have to be.”

“I-uh..,” his expression faltered. “I have to thank you again for the other day. You and Cameron were great together. Perfect. I never would had gotten that paper back if it wasn’t for your quick thinking.”

“Well the staff person was being a jerk.” You reasoned, putting a textbook in your bag. “If someone needs help then someone who can help can.”

That was the third time he mentioned Cameron. You knew he was up to something. He was Ferris Bueller after all. It then came down to whether you should be worried or irritated.

Why’s he only talking about Cameron? Did I say something?

“Cameron’s just about the most loyal friend someone can have. He can be a bit….wound up, but that’s because he’s got a lot on his plate. I’m proud of him though. He’s standing up for himself.”

You nodded. There was a bait and you weren’t biting. Glancing at your watch you said, “It’s almost time for class. I gotta go.”

“Yeah. Sure. See yah around. And if you see Cameron can you tell him that I’m looking for him?”

“Uh…sure?”

. . .

SLAM buzz

You made sure your locker was properly closed and made a beeline to your next class. You weren’t in the mood for conversations where it felt like you were being interrogated or accused of something first thing in the morning. It was like your friends and even Ferris Bueller were on your case. It had been on like that for almost two weeks. What you would give for one minute of peac—

“Hey, (Y/N), how’s it goin’?”

“Busy. Gotta go.”

“We’re all busy. It’s school.” Ferris picked up his pace to keep up with you. “Did you he—.”

“I have to get to class, Ferris. I’m sorry, but I’m really not in the mood for another one of your pop quizzes.”

“Wha—I—I have not given any quiz.”

"Yes, you have.” You quickened your pace.

“Awh, come on, (Y/N).”

“All you do is talk about Cameron. Can’t you think of anything else to talk about?”

“You were fine with it last week—I mean—no, it—”

“No. Exactly. We just sit by each other in class. That’s all. See you in class.” With that, you rushed off, zigzagging through other students.

You opted for ignoring, to your best ability, Cameron Frye, which meant avoiding any conversation with Ferris.

What is with them lately? You thought. If they need notes for something, they should just ask. Why can’t it just be about notes? I can understand needing class notes. Cameron had fairly good handwriting in his notes. Maybe Ferris will tell me all about that next time. Pfft.

. . .

“Is everything okay?”

“Not really,” you murmured to Cameron when he finally sat down.

“Anything I can—What is it?” His expression was soft aside from his eyebrows that pinched together.

“Can you get Ferris to leave me alone?” You asked under your breath.

Cameron all about turned sideways in his seat and lowered his voice as he leaned closer, “What’d he do?”

“No, he keeps telling me…,” you crossed your arms, “Telling me random stuff between classes.”

“What’s he telling you?”

“Stuff about other people.” You said simply, not elaborating and not looking at him. “I’m not a gossip column.”

He made a noise in his throat.

“My thoughts exactly.”

. . .

At your locker with your friend, you quickly shuffled your things into place.

“Something’s up. You’ve been talking about Cameron Frye more than movies and your homework lately.” Your friend said as they stood next to you.

Hot air left your nostrils and your hand firmly grasped the locker door.

“You have a crush on him or something?”

“No.”

“You talk about him more now than when you were extremely annoyed by him.” They paused and leaned closer to you. “Is this a Han and Leia thing?”

“No.” You slammed your locker door closed. “I….no, I’m more Artoo than anyone else, thank you. Let’s go.”

“Okay.”

. . .

Long strides made the distance shorter. The conversation that would follow was practically falling out into the open air already. The boy wasn’t going to wait until after school to have it either.

“Ferris.” Cameron walked with a textbook in hand. “Ferris.”

Said popular boy turned around with a smile, “Cameron, how’s m—?”

“What have you been telling (Y/N)?”

“(Y/N) told you?” His dark brows rose in surprised delight.

“Ferris, are you telling them about me between classes?”

“Did they say it was about you?”

“I asked you first. Have you been telling them about me?”

“Awh, Cam—.”

“No, Ferris, they’re annoyed. You’re making it worse.”

“They talked to you, didn’t they? I’d say that’s a —”

“They’re annoyed. More than annoyed.” Cameron said firmly. “No. Ferris, you have no right.”

“I’m trying to help you, Cam. Is complimenting you wrong? Is telling them about your strengths wrong?”

Cameron grumbled.

“I’m helping you out. Trust me.”

“Last time I trusted you—.”

“You ended up having a great time.”

The two best friends walked side by side, quiet for a few moments.

“Promise me…that you won’t go overboard and you’ll let me figure this out.”

“You don’t need to worry. But if you need any advice on wooing—.”

“Ferris!”

. . .

Days merged in your mind and school seemed to still be adamant on allowing homework to be given despite practically every senior counting down the days until their last day. Caps and gowns were due to arrive any day. Most announcements were reminders that school was still on and any misconduct would be disciplined.

Tension in your muscles threatened to either tire you out before lunch or convince you there was a headache in your future. You elected to be more aware of how you were reacting. You had been reacting more than observing for the past month and it was incredibly obvious. Well, not to you at the time. Having your friends actually point that out was mildly uncomfortable. Your actions were invisible. In fact, you knew that something had to change especially with all the change that was happening around you.

I really need to tone it down. Didn’t realize I was being so…vocal..? No, I just don’t want to be complaining so much. It’s exhausting, you thought as you shut your locker door. Starting with no more slamming. The locker hasn’t done anything wrong.

Tuning everything and one out, you made your way to class.

Breathe and just get through today. Don’t worry about tomorrow. It’s not here, you reminded yourself.

You looked forward to class, but not their entirety. You feared being approached with an unwanted conversation between classes, but you needed the tiny break. It was sort of ridiculous. When was it to end or to change more?

It was freeing to get thoughts out of your mind, however it did no good if negative feelings bounced back in or you reacted snippy. Complaining about specific classes or Cameron Frye’s attendance record wasn’t helping you study for final exams. It lended to procrastination.

If anything, Ferris was more annoying to you than Cameron. Who would had thought you would be alright with seeing Cameron and having a small chat than seeing Ferris approach you after class to talk about Cameron? The boy needed to cool it. It wasn’t any of your business to know what Cameron was doing after school or which teacher he disliked the most. It was kind of random of Ferris to do it to begin with. You had to focus on yourself, working hard in school because the consequences for less than satisfactory were unknown to you.

You swallowed dryly at the mere thought of not doing well…or at least the best you could.

Doing my best has to count…, your eyes barely registered the textbook on your desk. I just want to do something else. I don’t like being frustrated. It sucks. Stress can also fly out the door.

You wandered what it’d be like to just be yourself without being constantly under stress. To experience more fun and something…something nice. Something not school related for once in your life.

Is Cameron going through it…well going through something similar?

. . .

Rubbing your wrist, you continued leaning on your desk after taking notes for a good solid ten minutes. Just a little break wouldn’t hurt. If you didn’t your poor wrist would pay the consequences or you might drop your pencil again.

Your gaze drifted to the side. You all but raised an eyebrow, however decided against it.

Cameron was making strange hand gestures to no one other than himself. No one else seemed to notice or even see him doing so.

You peered back to the front of the room, the teacher was speaking with hand gestures.

Oh.

Again, your gaze fell upon Cameron. You did your best to keep your head trained forward.

His gestures were quicker, but not as wide. He kept his movements restrained to above the desk. Any exaggerated facial expressions were held neutral, however there was a concentration in how his eyes remained focused and his jaw locked.

You breathed in deeply, clearing your head.

Class. You were in class. There wasn’t any time for that. You were in class.

You twirled your pencil between your fingers and smirked.

Although you were fairly certain that the teacher had lost track of what they were talking about. They had gone off topic again. Much to your relief and entertainment. Another small break in class.

. . .

In the next class, scribbles and taps grew louder the more he listened. Cameron hardly heard an entire sentence from the teacher. You were quick and if he hadn’t seen your handwriting before he’d think it wouldn’t be legible. Sitting behind him didn’t seem to phase your note taking abilities in the least.

Biting the inside of his lips, Cameron forced his eyes to look to the chalkboard. He swallowed.

A light brush of a sound reached his ears, barely. He knew exactly where the sound came from. The sound of the pads of your fingers brushing atop of the paper, light and soft, a tick he found you to do when listening and preparing to write.

He could almost see it. The paper unharmed and your thumb traveling the margin.

Blinking, he swallowed and barely heard a direction to hand in homework.

Flipping through a couple of pages, he pulled out his homework. The papers had to be passed to the front. Nothing new to him. It saved the teacher time instead of them having to go to each individual student.

A light tap came to Cameron’s shoulder and his mouth went dry.

He turned just enough to see you, his blue eyes catching your gaze. There were more shades of color in your irises than he imagined anyone to have. Some color held the lighting in the room just per—

You tapped the small stack of papers against his hand that was held in midair.

It took a few blinks before he tore his eyes from your own and grabbed the papers. Hastily he put his paper on top and passed them along forward to the next student.

Cameron all but called himself stupid out loud. In accordance with him being annoyed by himself, his shoe tapped against the floor for the remainder of class.

. . .

The last two minutes before the end of the day bell rang seemed endless. Well, pretty close.

Walking away from your locker, as per usual, your feet carried you in the direction of the front doors. Even with crowds of students between you and the outside world you still felt a glimmer of joy.

“(Y/N).”

You stumbled to a complete halt. It took you a couple of moments before you managed to actually look over your shoulder. When you did, your stomach made a small flutter.

“Hey,” Cameron took a few more long strides before he reached you.

“Hey.” You greeted as you both moved with the crowd of students. You couldn’t very well stand in the middle of a hall and not expect a miniature stampede-like experience.

“Are you okay?”

“Huh?” You all but squinted at him. “I’m fine.”

“I saw you leaving the consular’s office earlier.”

“Wha—oh! No, everything’s fine. Thank goodness. I’m good.”

He gave you a questioning look, still filled with unease.

Out of all the things you did during the school day, he had to be the one that saw you at the consular’s office. You knew none of it was a big deal. Well, you found out that nothing was terrible. There was nothing to worry about on your end, but having Cameron see a sliver of that unsettled you.

“Everything’s fine.”

“You’re sure?” He pressed as he walked beside you. The crowded halls made it extremely difficult not to walk inches a part as other students pushed their way toward the desired exit. 

“Yeah. It was just…I had made an appointment to make sure everythi—that I was on track for graduation.” You kept your arms close to your sides as you continued forward. “Nothing to worry about.”

Students bypassing the pair of you enclosed the area with little where else to go. Tight paths lead some to shoulder passed or squeeze by with a bounce in their steps.

Your shoulders were held tight to keep to yourself. Cameron, beside you, did likewise the same.

The boy walking with you let out a huff of a exhale.

“Do I annoy you that much?”

“What? No. I—What? You don’t…you don’t annoy me.” You looked at him, really looked at him. It was near impossible not to see the true look of concern in his eyes and across the rest of his face as he looked to you in return. Swallowing, you dared to know more. “Why do you ask?”

Cameron’s brow creased more before he said, “This is the first time in all of the time we’ve had school and classes together that you’ve ever actually talked with me, for one. It’s like any time you’d see me that you’re disappointed or disgusted that I was even in the same room as you. It was like the world ended when we had new assigned seats a couple of weeks ago. Or whenever the hell it was.”

A sickening taste started on the back of your tongue and your throat.

“What did I do?” His voice had softened and held a contrast to the noisy white noise of the hallway.

You did your best not to elbow him or step on his toes between being pushed by other students. That wasn’t to say that your other side hadn’t been an obstacle for another student like a bird and glass door.

“Ow! Dang it.” You glanced over at Cameron, “Look. I don’t hate you. You haven’t actually done anything. Nothing bad.”

Cameron’s hand reached a door first and kept it open as the two of you with a number of other students rushed through.

Sunlight and fresh air greeted you warmly, relieving some of the tension in your shoulders. The pair of you hastily made your way down the front steps.

“I’m just…jeez.” You stopped on the side of the concrete pad and faced the boy. “You’re not annoying, Cameron. You’re not bad to have around. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for probably making you feel like crap. I feel like crap for it…, but I should.” You exhaled heavily.

Cameron simply watched you with a soft smile on his lips.

“If I’m being honest,” he said, “I thought you were a selfish snob.”

Your head tilted as confusion set in.

“You thought I was selfish…and a snob?”

“Yeah,” he scratched the back of his neck.

“We didn’t…uh,” you smiled, “Funny what happens when we actually talk to each other, huh?”

Cameron returned your smile.

. . .

“Shit.”

Your head turned in the direction of the hushed curse.

Cameron’s gaze met yours and he lifted up his pencil. The point had broken off.

You held up a finger for a second and picked up a spare sharp pencil from your desk. With a smile you handed him the pencil and ultimately saved him a trip to the sharpener on the other side of the room.

He nodded his thanks.

Not able to speak in class, you both returned to note taking. It was like it never ended.

By the end of the class period, you took longer to pack up. You weren’t the first nor the last out of class. You had time.

You reached the door around the same time as Cameron. Your timing had changed.

He turned, a smile already on his face.

“We’re alive,” he said, voice deep and theatrically spooky.

You laughed.

Ugh, he’s cute.

You stumbled a step.

What? What? Not now. Oh, no, no, no.

“Are you alright?”

“Huh?” You peered over at the brunette.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Gravity…weird.” You were very aware that your voice had raised to an abnormal level for a moment there.

“Don’t let it bring you down.”

You almost snorted.

“That was pretty bad,” he admitted.

“It was,” you laughed, “But it’s appreciated.”

“Then it wasn’t that bad.” Cameron glanced over to a wall of lockers. “I gotta go to my locker.”

“Alright. See you in a bit,” you said.

He waved.

Sitting in your next class, your fingers slowly rolled your pencil back and forth across the desk. Your thoughts and imagination flowed in the images of talking to Cameron more. You would be happy to consider walking with him to class more often.

Darn, you thought, this whole time Cameron has been a nice guy. Really glad I didn’t actually insult him at any point. To his face. That would have sucked. The guy cares so much that he’s not sure how to handle things or balance it all out. Does that make me some sort of hypocrite? Gee, I hope not. He probably has more on his plate than I do. Does he…maybe…is there a chance he could like me?

Squeak Tap Tap Squeak

Your friend walked in to the room with a minute to spare before the late bell. They had enough time to slide into their seat beside you.

“Made it.”

“I can see that. Good timing.” You smiled, turning to twirl your pencil between your fingers.

“Hey, you’re in a better mood today. Does that mean no homework?”

Your smile widened.

“Sweet!” Your friend clapped their hands together.

“Yeah,” you peeked up and saw that Cameron had yet to enter class, “Cameron said that the teacher looked practically disappointed in not giving another assignment. They did have a weird expression, like they were almost about to complain about it or something.”

“So you still have a crush on Frye? Thought you’d like someone else by now.”

The pencil in your hand stilled.

“You liked him, right?”

You blinked.

The teenager in question quickly made his way into class. In a a few seconds he was seated in front of you.

I like Cameron. I…have a crush on Cameron Frye.

“Hello? (Y/N)?” Your friend poked your shoulder as the late bell rang.

Your mouth opened and no words were sounded.

“Are you o—?”

“Quiet. Class has started.” The teacher projected their voice across the room.

Your eyes stared unfocused at what was probably the corner of someone’s desk. With a flutter in your stomach, you could only hope to remember anything absolutely important in class because your mind was not in that department that time.

What do I do?

. . .

You had made it to another day, you had decided the night before that you shouldn’t make too drastic of changes. Then again, you were up late going back and forth between possible scenarios of when and where to strike up conversation with Cameron. Even little conversations. Cameron wasn’t entirely the talkative type, but that didn’t bother you in the least.

You elected not to tell your friends about any of it. You wanted to figure it out on your own. They basically heard about everything else anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you maneuvered your way to your locker. Your next class was the one where talking to Cameron was a higher possibility, you did sit next to one another. More than any other class, that one you had been thinking about the most and it was definitely not about the subject matter.

Be cool. Just do what you do everyday. It’s fine, you thought as you opened your locker.

Although it was starting to become an everyday occurrence at school to practically have a radar specifically trained to be wary of when Cameron Frye was nearby. Another habit you only noticed until later.

Like feeling a disturbance in the Force, your looked away from your belongings and the inside of your locker towards the rest of the hallway behind you. Your gaze immediately spotted and lingered on Cameron Frye as he walked between students.

For once, he wasn’t with Ferris nor was he speaking with anyone else. He was in his own world, walking through the hall.

Your heart jolted when his gaze met yours.

After a second of recognization, Cameron started walking over to you.

Oh, dang.

“Hey,” Cameron greeted, moving to stand beside the lockers. “How are you?”

“Pretty good, I think.” You answered while managing not to drop a textbook onto the floor. “You?”

“I’m fine. Nothing new to report.” He had his textbook tucked underneath his arm.

“Nothing about the cap and gown?”

“Oh,” he breathed out a laugh. “The solid color tent with a collar?”

“Yeah,” you grinned. “At least everyone has to wear them. A blessing and a curse.”

“Maybe it’s their last way of showing that they can force us to do anything.”

“Ugh, don’t say it like that. It makes me want to leave more.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He leaned against a locker.

“When we can’t leave yet. Yeah.”

He made a cringing expression.

“On the bright side,” you said as you fumbled with a few things in your locker. “No more P.E. ever again.”

Cameron started chuckling happily.

Your hand stilled on a notebook.

It was one thing to see Cameron smile instead of looking like he was quietly suffering in school, but to witness him laughing and be the cause of his laughter offered you such a light feeling in your chest. You had no idea what to do. So you smiled. Getting him to laugh was an accomplishment you wouldn’t mind working on more than once.

“I feel bad for anyone who has it first thing in the morning.” You said.

“Yeah, who’d want to be running and being yelled at that early?”

“That, but I was also thinking about having to be all sweaty and uncomfortable for the entire school day.”

He scrunched his nose and made an expression of disgust.

“Heheheh. Exactly,” you slung your bag’s strap over your shoulder and shut your locker. “Never again.”

“That’s one of the best things about graduating.” Cameron said as he stood a little straighter.

“You ready for class?”

He nodded and started in the direction of the classroom with you beside him.

By the end of class, you and Cameron walked out together fully aware not to make any comments until you were physically out of the classroom.

“Okay, they seriously were dragging that out.”

“How many different ways can someone say the same damn sentence?”

“Maybe…,” you held back a smirk, “Maybe they were trying not to plagiarize themselves.”

He looked up in thought for a moment before turning to you for more, “Maybe. Or maybe they’re trying to out do themselves from the final exam. As if that wasn’t hell enough.”

“Ye—Did…did you have a lot of trouble on the exam? I would have helped if you would’ve said something. With studying or notes or something.”

“We weren’t fully speaking to each then.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine. My grade wasn’t as poor as I thought it’d be.”

“Well that’s good.”

“Hey,” Cameron made eye contact with you, “It’s done with. No need for you to worry about it.”

“I…I wasn’t worried. I know.”

“You were frowning.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. It was cu—You don’t need to frown. Uh.” His blue eyes flickered to what was in front of him. “I have to go to my locker real fast.”

“Okay. See you in class.”

With quick, long strides, Cameron hustled to his locker.

You made your way to your own locker. It was closer to your next class than Cameron’s.

Was he gonna say what I think he was gonna say? No flippin’ way. Ohhh goodness. I mean it did kinda sound like it. Was he going to say ‘cute’? Would he say something like that?

Backtracking to your locker that you almost passed, you unlocked it.

Wow, it’s like the beginning of the school year.

It was starting to look empty. Less textbooks and less notes taped to the inside of the door. At least it made it easier to sort through your things.

You looked over as someone popped up beside you as you shut your lock.

“Hi again,” you looked over to Cameron.

A small grin appeared on his face. Whatever minor frantic movements he had about two minutes ago were gone.

“Hi.” He met your gaze for a fleeting moment.

“Did you miss me?” You teased.

“Heh.” His fair cheeks flushed softly. “A little…I mean…yeah, I did…shit..ah.” His face turned an even brighter shade of red.

You couldn’t help but to smile. He was simply too cute for words.

I can’t remember even making someone blush before. It looks cute on him. Is he blushing more?

You already had everything you needed in your bag, however you and Cameron seemed to remain planted to the spot.

“We should probably head to class,” you said as you realized how few people were traveling the halls.

The two of you hurried across the white flooring towards your next class. Neither of you wanted to be late or cause unwanted attention to yourselves. Added that Cameron’s face was still dusted pink.

Later at lunch, you sat at your usual table with your friends and others. The smells of hot meals, cardboard, and sneakers permeating the area. They, of course, chatted animatedly about their day. You on the other hand had chosen not to tell anyone about your talks with Cameron. You were entitled to some privacy, even if you were busting at the seams to say what you two had been talking about. Perhaps your conversations might not seem like much to others, however they meant so much to you.

A few tables over, you saw Cameron walking to an open seat. His gaze caught yours and he sent you a smile that you gladly returned. Beside him, Ferris nudged his arm and smirked before they sat down with their trays of food.

Ferris better not start tracking me down between classes again to talk about Cameron, you thought as you turned your attention back to your food.

The food might not had been free, but at least it appeared safe enough to eat and didn’t completely stick to the tray. Well, not all of it anyway.

“Is this second day bologna? What even is bologna? Is it pig? Is it a mixture of different things?” One of your friends asked, poking at their food.

“How would anyone know if it was second day or tenth day? It flops around like rubber.” Your other friend added.

“Which is why I don’t eat it,” you said before taking a sip of water. “It’s like a wobbly frisbee.”

“Harsh.”

“That’s how I see. I’m not telling anyone else to see it that way.” You paused. “I hope no one sees it like that.”

“Too late.”

“Sorry.” You said as you steered your attention over to another table. Like a magnet, your gaze was pulled to the teenage brunet that made your heart flutter.

It only took a couple of seconds before Cameron noticed. When he did, he did a check that no one else was looking and pulled a funny face.

You had to stifle a laugh.

Oh, goodness, you thought as you quickly glanced to your tray. Looking away did little to stop the smile that grew on your face.

“Anything you want to share, (Y/N)?” One of your friends asked.

You peered up at them and said simply, “No.”

They rose they eyebrows.

You took in a mouthful of food to counter the possible questioning.

They narrowed their eyes.

In midst of eating, you gave a small smile.

“You’re no fun.”

You made a face in response.

For the remainder of the lunch period, you and your friends ate, talked about whatever came to mind, imagined what it would be like not waking up before dawn, questioning the scent of milk cartons, and critiqued the food. Not to forget that you had sneakily and happily watched Cameron properly dispose of his food and tray.

As the bell rang signaling the end of the period, all students rose to their feet at their own paces. Everyone either waving to their friends as they departed or joining one another for the trek to the next class. Sound levels lowered, if only because there were more shoes hitting the ground than people talking.

Likewise, you had already risen to your feet and started making your way out of the lunchroom. To your delight, Cameron walked up beside you. Neither of you said anything as you left the large room even after Ferris sent you both a wink. No, especially after he winked at the two of you.

Even though you and Cameron did not have the upcoming class period together, you still didn’t mind walking some of the way to his class. Neither of you had even brought it up in discussion, but there wasn’t a real need to. Why would there be? There wasn’t any problem. Having the company was nice. The sort of company that didn’t fill the air with unnecessary words when just being there was enough.

Whilst walking, one of you must had swung an arm out wider than intended because in a matter of a second there was a brush of knuckles against the back of your hand.

You inhaled sharply.

A few more paces and there wasn’t any more contact. The muscles and nerves from your shoulder to your fingers were alert to any changes. Every light swing of your arm with every step caused a short flutter in your chest. A chance to be closer to Cameron.

Reaching a cross-section of halls, your shoulders fell.

“See yah later,” Cameron gave a short smile.

“Yeah. Have fun in class.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “We’re in school not an arcade.”

You shrugged.

He walked off with an amused smile on his lips.

Smooth, (Y/N), smooth. How about…I like your face. Yeah, can’t say that one out loud, you thought as you strolled to your next class.

. . .

The school day was finally over. Another day closer to the final day of high school and later graduation. It was so close you could almost see it. You could almost feel the freedom in your chest. You could almost smell the outdoors with fresh rain and hot food.

You breathed in and coughed.

Forgot that I shouldn’t breath in too deeply here, you thought as you shook your head.

At your locker, you were in the middle of sorting through what you needed to bring home and what could stay locked up. The usual.

I feel like I spend more time at my locker than in my own room.

You turned away from the wall of lockers to be met with a familiar pair of blue eyes.

“Hi.”

“Hi, (Y/N).” Cameron stood no less than a foot away from you. His shoulders were rigid as he wrung a hat tightly between his hands. “How’d your day go?”

“Good, I guess. Only one textbook to carry around. Still waiting to be told to return it. Some classes are kind of a blur…or I’m still trying to forget about most of it.”

“Yeah…it’s ridiculous that some of them are still having us take notes. The tests are over. It’s ridiculous.”

“But at least we know there aren’t any more tests.”

“Yeah,” he twisted the hat more. His eyes flickered between you, the lockers, and the students who rushed to get home.

You weren’t sure what was up with Cameron. There was an air of anxiousness around him. Something that tore at him while he decided to stand there in front of you. He wasn’t even actually saying anything fully.

“Cameron?” You asked. “Yeah?” “Is everything okay?” Cameron didn’t answer, instead he looked down to his shoes.

Taking a step forward, you tilted your head as your curiosity and concern peaked.

“Cameron!” Ferris Bueller shouted from walking in the middle of a crowd of other friends. Always nearby. “You can do it!”

“I…ah shit…,” Cameron put his hands on his hips and exhaled slowly.

You looked between both boys.

“I’ll say it!” Ferris yelled.

“Ah! To hell with it.” Cameron exhaled again. “I like you.” You blinked and formulated one word, “What?” “I like you, (Y/N).” He looked up, daring to make eye contact. His cheeks all flushed when he did meet your eyes. Your skin almost instantly felt warm and your mouth became exceedingly dry.

You repeated his words in your mind twice over. He liked you. He said that he liked you. Cameron liked you back.

Managing to blink, your mind realized that you were staring quietly at the boy.

To heck with it. He said it first.

It was true. You liked him more than you realized. You valued him as a friend and as a person more than you were willing to admit to yourself for quite some time. So what if your hands were a little shaky and on verge of clammy? This was something new. But darn it all if you would let it all slip away when it was laid out in front of you.

You took a breath in.

“I like you….a lot.” You swallowed, your shoulders hunching inwardly.

Cameron’s dark brows rose and his mouth dropped open. “…I thought….you hated me.” His voice barely above a whisper. “Not hate,” you clutched your textbook tighter. “More like…unreasonably annoyed at who I thought you were.”

“What?”

“Oh, boy. Okay.” You swallowed. “When you first asked if you annoyed me, before that I saw you as this slacker, not giving a crap about anything in life, kind of person. And that annoyed me. That person…that isn’t actually you. You’re not like that at all. Not even close.” “Glad I’m not him.” “Me too.”

Slowly, a smile creeped onto your lips.

He let out an audible exhale as his shoulders relaxed.

“You like me. You like me back.” His face broke into a grin.

“Yes, I like you back. That flirting wasn’t because I hated you.” You lightly bumped your shoe to his. “I’ve never hated you. Not sure if anyone could ever not like you.”

“You fooled me for a while.”

“Not on purpose.”

“I know…,” Cameron shoved his hands into his pant pockets. “So, uh…would you…” He pressed his lips in a thin line.

You clutched your textbook more firmly, anticipating his words.

His blue eyes scanned your face, every color tone and eyelash. Vulnerability shone brightly in his eyes and soft features. He inched closer. With shifting eyes and a stuttered breath, Cameron swiftly kissed your cheek.

You froze.

When he pulled back, his face was burning a blush like you had never seen before.

“Was that…okay?”

Your smile rapidly spread into a grin.

That was the start of something quite new and fun indeed.

. . .

Weight off your shoulders, ceiling lights cascading like sun-rays, and underclassmen dragging their feet around the excited seniors.

It was finally the second to last day of school for seniors. You could not had been happier. Actually, you could, but you were happy in the moment.

You and Cameron had been learning how to go about your romantic relationship. Cameron had started calling you after school and during the weekend. There had yet to be any arrangement to meet up other than between classes. You were both quite timid, perhaps Cameron more so, to go out on a date in public just yet. It had barely been a full week. Meaning that displays of affection were still incredibly new and something to navigate through.

You were still reminding yourself that it was okay if you looked a little longer when you saw Cameron in school. It was okay even if Cameron caught you looking at him. It was all fine. He got a big smile on his face when he did see you staring.

There was not a single complaint from you as you got use to meeting up with Cameron in the mornings by your locker before class started. He tended to step in when your friends zipped off elsewhere. Neither of you were quite ready for others to know. It was still the beginning of the relationship. Not having anyone find out was tricky.

“Hey handsome,” you said as Cameron bounded over to your locker.

“Hey.” A bright grin greeted you.

“How are you?”

“Better now,” he took a step closer.

“Anything I can do?” You asked and tossed an eraser into your bag.

“You’re doing quite a lot already.”

“I’m just standing here cleaning out my locker. How’s that helping you?”

“You’re talking to me like,” he leaned his head against the lockers, “like I really mean something to you.”

Sighing, you felt a tightness in your heart.

“Cameron, you do mean a lot to me. Don’t let anything or anyone convince you otherwise. Okay?”

He nodded softly.

“Here.” You planted a soft kiss on his cheek.

Cameron’s smile returned tenfold.

“I forgot to say good morning,” you said.

“I think I like mornings.” He chuckled, reaching up to adjust your bag’s strap as it hung oddly in front of you. “But we only have tomorrow left like this.”

“Yeah…I’m trying not to think of it that way. We have time to figure this out.”

“Work and school.” Cameron sighed heavily. “Didn’t think it’d turn out like this.”

“I don’t have any complaints.” You sent him a smile. “So…is it tomorrow or by the end of today that we have to empty out our lockers?” You asked Cameron.

“I think it’s today.”

“Well, better to be early than late,” you gathered a few notes that were taped inside your locker and playfully offered them to Cameron.

“No, thanks.” He smiled kindly.

You shrugged and just stuck them inside of a random folder. You loaded up your backpack with whatever was left in your locker. Thankfully it wasn’t too much. You shrugged on your bag.

“Would you like to get some milkshakes this weekend?”

“Friday?” Cameron suggested, his eyes lighting up.

“No, no, no. Too crowded.”

“Oh. How about Saturday?….When everyone’s still sleeping in.”

“I like how you think,” you smirked.

“Yeah.” The smile on his lips even creased the skin by his eyes. Sweet and incredibly happy.

“Uh huh.” Delicately you touched his fingers with your own. When he did not move his hand away, you interlocked your fingers. The pad of your thumb rubbing a circle along his skin.

You peeked up to see that Cameron was watching on in quiet awe. Blue eyes not leaving you for a second.

A gasp from nearby startled the pair of you.

Ferris Bueller had gasped so loudly that at least seven people looked over. Ferris’ eyes were on you and Cameron. “I knew it!” “Ferris,” Cameron groaned.

“And to think…you almost didn’t say anything.”

“I know…” If you had the ability to teleport or go invisible at that moment, you entirely would had. You opted for allowing Cameron to be the barrier between you and multiple curious eyes. It was either that or the thought of sending an unenthusiastic glare at Bueller.

“Remember what I told you. Now or never!” Ferris gave a short wave as he and Sloane both walked away after giving approving smiles.

Cameron turned back to you and sighed.

“Sorr—.”

“You don’t need to apologize for something you didn’t do, Cam. Just be you and do what makes you happy.”

He tilted his head. “How can you give wisdom and advice this early in the morning? Was it something you ate?”

“No. Because I’m happy.” You lightly tugged at his jersey.

“You know,” Cameron leaned closer to you, “That’s the first time you called me ‘Cam’.”

“Is that okay?”

“Yeah. I like it. My best friends call me that.”

“Am I your best friend too?”

“You’re under more than one category—name. Not that I categ—.”

“I get it. It’s fine.” You pulled him into a hug. “There’s still a lot you need to know about me though…being that we’re best friends now too.”

“Yeah.” He wrapped an arm around you and slowly hid his face in the crook of your neck. His lips forming into a smile against your skin. “Guess I’ll find out which milkshake is your favorite on Saturday.”

You turned and kissed his cheek.

“No worries. We have all the time we need, Cam.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @cubedtriangle 

**Let me know if you would like to be tagged in insert readers, either through replies, ask, or message.**

[skellebonez]

Smoke, Flasks, and Unfinished Tasks

Hey. So. Remember THIS fill from like... a week and a half ago? Because of the comments I received I decided to rewrite it as a multi-chapter fic. The first chapter has the same premise but is completely written (barring a couple lines) and has many new scenes. Like a hint as to where the trio is maybe?

AO3 Link!

Summary: It had been over a year since MK had become the Monkie Kid. Months since Mei formed an unlikely bond with the Monkey King. Fewer months since Red Son had defected from his parents and was desperate to prove to everyone he could change a second time. In all that time a routine was set, communication alleys were formed, and agreements were made. Things had been going well.

Now the trio was missing without a single clue to where they had gone. And they weren't the only ones.

Warnings: None for this chapter, but perhaps mind the tags on AO3 for future ones.

Chapter 1: Thunder and Lightning

They were late. They had made sure to remind him of their plans multiple times last night... and they were late.

Sun Wukong, The Monkey King himself, would have been starting to get angry if he wasn't so worried. He wouldn't be surprised if Mei was late, it wasn't odd for her get distracted by some new thing she wanted to show him and take the time to get it before coming by. But Red Son and MK as well? That wasn't normal. MK had only been late to training once, that had been during the entire incident with Macaque training tricking him (they don't talk about that anymore), but even then he wasn't this late. Not to mention Red Son's thickheaded determination to show off just how serious he was about joining their side. He'd made promise after promise and did his best to keep his word in attempt to impress them, even going as far as going far over and earlier than what he promised.

The three of them were supposed to come to Flower Fruit Mountain for the day. Some training for MK, video games with Mei, and Red Son just tagging along so someone could keep an eye on the new comer (by Red Son's own insistence). They never showed. Didn't even send him an e-mail. He'd waited almost a hour, a personal record for patience, but not a peep from any of them. Something was wrong.

That was why he found himself standing outside of Pigsy's Noodles in the middle of the day disguised as a human, tail wrapped around his waist as a "stylish belt". Though, in retrospect, a mysterious man with flawless eyeliner falling from the sky without a single injury was not the most inconspicuous way to arrive. He didn't take the time to think about that, instead entering the noodle shop with a hastiness in his step he couldn't hide.

"Welcome to Pigsy's Noodles, home of the lon-oh..." The chipper greeting from the shop owner was cut off, a mix of annoyance and confusion taking over the tone. Pigsy looked over the counter at him and the ever present Tang turned around in suit. "It's just you. Ain't you supposed to be not here? With the trio?"

"Yeah," Wukong started, laughing oddly as he rubbing the back of his neck. There was an awkwardness he wished he could get rid of, something that didn't really belong on him. But things had always been tense between him and his once-younger brother and the tenseness had only grown since their separation after the journey. After he trapped the Demon Bull King. After he vanished for 500 years... after he came back. "See, funny story about that! I was waiting for them and you know how impatient I am but I was doing my best to not be so I waited for almost an hour and they kinda never... showed up?"

"What do you mean never showed up?" Pigsy questioned carefully, coming around he counter and brandishing a ladle in one hand.

"They did leave pretty late," Tang offered quickly, awkward smile showing he could sense the tension between the two old friends. "Red Son was fixing some of the equipment in the kitchen, maybe they ran into a demon and are on their way to the island right now! Maybe you just... missed them?"

"Yeah!" Wukong agreed immediately, laughing harder to hide his worry. Tang didn't seem convinced by his own explanation but Wukong as more willing to believe that without question than think about what the alternative could mean. "Yeah, that's probably it! I'm sure they're just fine, but if it makes you feel better I'm going to take a look around. If they make it there before I do they're sure to come home when they realize I didn't wait for them. Yup, totally sure of it. BYE!"

He ran out the door, jumping on his cloud faster than anyone could follow and took off in the direction of his home. He didn't miss the odd frown on Pigsy's face at his overly quick reaction.

----------

They weren't anywhere he could see on the way to Flower Fruit Mountain. They weren't on the island or in any of the surrounding areas. There were no boats or any sign of a pogo ride on the staff on the sandy beach. There was just... nothing.

He only waited for another 10 minutes before the concern (not worry, he was not worried the three were very capable adults despite him thinking of them as his kids kids, one was even an ancient demon who nearly bested him centuries ago for Heaven's sake) took over once again and his somersault cloud was getting more distance this day that it had in years. He zipped back and forth over the ocean, looking for any sign of bodies people, boats, anything, and he breathed a sigh of relief when he found absolutely nothing in the calm and clear water. But this only raised more questions. They had left Pigsy's, there were witnesses, but had they made it to- Sandy! He was so focused on them coming by that he forgot how they would get there!

----------

"I'm sorry, elder brother," Sandy said with a frown. "They weren't going to come by today, see?" He held up his phone, way too small for his massive hands, a text from Mei reading "Took ur boat yestday, srry! Will return tmm! *heart heart heart cat*" Well. That at least explained how they were supposed to get there without going to Sandy.

The Monkey King, changed back to his usual form, took a half shaky breath and sipped the tea the fish demon had offered him the moment he opened the door. Mo sat in his lap, purring softly as he no doubt sensed the tension in the air. "Then where are they..?" He wondered out loud. He hadn't seen one of Sandy's boats anywhere, they stuck out like a big blue sore thumb just like his still-younger brother.

"I don't know," Sandy answered, standing and stretching before giving the shorter man a wide smile. "But I'll do anything to help!"

----------

He'd returned to Pigsy's shop immediately after that, not bothering to change back into his human disguise. That took so little energy and time but it was still energy and time he didn't want to waste. It had just started to sprinkle rain, the weather station having planned this for some time now. He had sent Sandy out to check all the waterways in the area, just to be safe, and he hoped that his search would be fruitless. He really hoped he sent Sandy on a wild goose chase...

"Are they back?" He demanded the second he opened the door, startling the 2 customers in the shop in addition to Tang and Pigsy. "Pigsy, Tang, did they come back?"

The dawning worry on the two men's faces was enough of an answer for Wukong to immediately run out, ignoring the shouts that followed him as he flew off again.

----------

It was starting to rain harder. They weren't at Mei's house.

----------

It was starting to downpour. He didn't see them at any of the food stalls.

----------

The downpour worsened. They weren't at the anti-gravity arcade.

----------

It was a torrential downpour. Red Son's apartment was empty.

----------

There was electricity in the air. They hadn't been taken to the hospital.

----------

Thunder and lightning. He carefully flew around DBK and PIF's hideout. He heard them talking about their next plan to "knock sense" into their son. They weren't there.

----------

It was when he was nearly struck by lightning, nothing that would have actually caused him real harm but would have hurt like he'd been hit by a truck, that Sun Wukong finally decided that he wasn't going to find the trio. Not like this. Running around without a plan was not helping. He wouldn't find his kids like this.

So he made his way back to Pigsy's, soaked to the bone and brain fuzzy. Numb almost, not from the cold but in a mental exhaustion he couldn't explain. He walked in with his head down, dripping icy water from his fur, and was greeting with an almost as cold hiss before he could say anything.

"Where are my kids, Wukong?"

He looked up and took in the sight before him. Pigsy, Tang, Sandy, and Mo were all gathered in the shop. He hadn't even noticed it was closed until that moment. Sandy had a towel over his shoulders, as did the little blue cat, and they sat sipping a bowl of hot broth each.

"You said they'd come home. So, where are they?"

Wukong grit his teeth, continuing to avert his eyes from the furious gaze of his once-brother. "Idon'tknow..."

"What was that?" Pigsy almost yelled, stepping forward to grab he tails of his soaked cloak to drag hi down to eye level. "You said they'd come home! Where the FUCK are my kids, Sun Wukong!?"

"I don't know!" He grabbed Pigsy's hands, not gripping them or moving to remove them just holding them, grip shaking as he tried to keep his tone level. "I don't know, Pigsy, I looked everywhere but... I couldn't..."

For a split second there was nothing but disbelief and fear in the shorter ancient's eyes and it hurt Wukong more than he thought it would. Far more than he prepared himself for. Everything from the entire day came forth to hit him like the lightning truck he barely missed and he collapsed to his knees, mental exhaustion finally taking it's toll and tears began to mix with the rain water running down his fur as he looked off into nothing. He came to the horrifying realization that he really had no answer.

"I don't know where they are Pigsy..."

----------

"You ok, bud?"

MK groaned as the Monkey King grabbed him by his arms and stood him up, brushing all the dirt from his clothes. Training had been going well, Red Son and Mei battling each other in the new Monkey Mech game as he continued to have his butt handed to him. But he had gotten a single hit in on his mentor, matching his last training session, and he looked so proud of him! "Yeah, we gonna go again?"

"Nah, I think making a new crater with your own body twice in one day is more than enough," Monkey King laughed out, guiding MK toward the small house he called home now. "Besides, I want to kick your butt in Monkey Mech too!"

"Hey! I'll totally kick your butt!"

"Prove it Monkie Man!"

Despite the lighthearted banter between them something just felt... off. MK couldn't quite put his finger on it... now that he really gave it thought...

Didn't the weather station call for rain today?

[side-shawty]

What the Tech?

Fandom: DC

Type: one-shot

Prompt/Summary: Damian Wayne with a quirky, tech-savvy girl.

Pairing(s): Damian Wayne x Reader

Requested? YES by Anon

This is an old old old request that I found in my drafts when I had a different fic account and I figured I’d share it with all of you. I was too shy to post things like this back then but now I’m more than happy to. (I couldn't find the og request so that's what it is lol)

-Duckie

Stupid Hackers.

Technically speaking it wasn’t exactly Damian’s fault that his katana had practically sliced Tim’s laptop in half. He should have never been working so close to the training area in the first place.

So now here he was, spending his free period in the library grumbling at his laptop as he attempted to break the codes that Tim had put on it as his way of revenge.

That was when you walked in. As per usual, you were spending your free period working on a new coding program in hopes of impressing the judges at the Wayne Tech contest next month. You always impressed the judges. However, it became harder and harder to work with Damian Wayne cursing under his breath and slamming on keys.

With a sigh you stood up, dark curls swishing in your face with the speed, and waltzed over to him.

You put a hand on the desk he was working at and leaned over the back of the computer, “What exactly did that laptop do to you?” You questioned looking curiously at your fellow senior.

“And what does it matter to you?” He asked without ever looking up at you.

“It matters because I can feel your frustration from the other side of the library, Damian Wayne.”

At the use of his full name the young heir finally looked up at you. This was your first time seeing him so close since the week-long project you did together freshman year. Since then it had been distance looks from the other side of the classroom and your stupid school girl crush came back ten-fold.

He was no longer the baby-faced 14-year-old and puberty had hit him like a truck. His face was all angles, blue eyes, and tan olive skin with a head of black hair that Y/N wanted to run her fingers through.

As Y/N cleared her throat and stood up straight again she failed to realize that Damian was having the same train of thought. He thought of how much she had filled out in all the right places and how she had gone from cute to dangerously sexy in the past few years—even in the school uniform. Her dark skin stood out against the pristine white of her button-down and her curls were a casually organized mess.

He cleared his throat, throwing a playboy smirk on his face as he leaned back in his chair. “Y/N Y/L/N, just the person I need. You’re good with computers right?”

You rolled your eyes, “Well I’d hope so considering I am the head of the computer club. What do you need?”

“One of my many idiot brothers has decided to put a series of codes and viruses on my computer and on it, I have a paper that’s due at midnight. Mind lending a hand,” he asked with a voice that could have made you rob a bank if he so desired. Walt, was he flirting with you?

“I’m sure if you just apologize and ask nicely he’d remove everything,” Y/N told moving around the table and leaning over slightly to have a better took at the screen.

“You don’t know my brother,” Damian scoffed, “he’d make me grovel and I refuse to ever have to stoop to that humiliating level,” he said, nose in the air and crossed arms.

You sighed, “Well move over and let me see what the damage is,” you motioned him to switch over to the next chair whilst you took his seat and got straight to work.

As time ticked by the awkwardness that had settled in the silence was driving Y/N crazy so she stared to ask Damian questions while she worked and soon enough he began to ask too. The awkwardness was long forgotten by the time the bell interrupted Damian’s next question about animals.

“Well if you have a last period class I can finish up here. I have computer graphics but I’m excused for today,” Y/N told him.

“It’s fine,” Damian replied, too quickly before he cleared his throat and regained his composure, “I have history but Mrs. James is so old she’ll forget to take attendance again.”

“Okay, well in that case maybe we should take a little break,” you stood and stretched all of your limbs exposing just a bit more leg that the young man couldn’t help but stare at as you went back into a standing position and held your hand out to him. He took it almost instantly and felt a warm electricity in his hand and spread all through him. you gave him a warm smile before walking to the vending machines just outside of the library.

“Pick anything you want, this one’s on me,” you said with a wink and never let go of his hand as you fished a debit card from your breast pocket.

Damian got an energy bar and you got a pack of skittles, your hands were intertwined until you sat down again and Damian felt an immediate loss of warmth.

You were about to start working again when you froze, “Good lord Damian is your brother so kind of brainiac level hacker? He put like fifteen more locks on it while I left,” You gave a heavy sigh and leaned far back in your chair, silently counting to ten before pulling eyedrops from your bag, using them, throwing your curls into a messy bun and cracking your knuckles.

He sighed and closed his eyes, rubbing his temples, “Maybe I should just rewrite the paper.”

You laughed and patted his shoulder reassuringly, “Don’t worry I can help.”

And with that, you stood to get your abandoned laptop from its place at the next table over just as the bell ending the final class of the day sounded.

You and Damian looked to each other in question.

“Do you, uh, wanna finish this back at my place?” Damian asked bashfully with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck.

“No!” you answered too quickly, and it took everything for the Wayne heir not to flinch, “Um, I mean, we can just go to my house. I live closer and, uh, I wouldn’t want to intrude,” it was your turn to look sheepish as Damian smiled softly.

Not wanting to make you any more uncomfortable Damian said, “Okay, I’ll drive.”

And that’s how it started. Every day you and Damian would meet up during free period and then after last class (if either of you went) he’d drive you home. His excuse was because he insisted that the beginnings of October were much too cold to walk home in a skirt and tights.

You couldn’t argue and you didn’t really want to.

During the daily meet-ups, Damian couldn’t help but notice the little things about you, like how you never wore the uniform tie and seemed to have a different color or patterned one every day. How you loved to change up the style of your curly hair as much as you could.

One day after school you asked Damian if he could drive you to the hair solan instead of home and when he asked why you saw a glint of sadness in his eyes. Why would you want to change anything about those beautiful curls?

But when you told him you were going to get box braids he seemed much happier. He even stayed with you for all the hours it took to finish them. This was when Damian knew he was in too deep, going as far as checking on your house during patrol and never telling the others why he’d stopped coming home immediately after school (or earlier).

Damian was happier and he knew the reason was you. He was happy with knowing that fact, and he told himself being your friend was more than enough. He was wrong.

Damian usually got to the library first but he got caught up talking to Colin and Maps on his way and when he got there your attention was occupied by one of the football players. He was obviously flirting with you and Damian hated the feeling that this gave him. But some of the tension fell when he realized how desperate you seemed to get out of that situation.

So Damian sprung into action and approached the two of you. You caught his eye over the jock’s shoulder. A look of utmost relief on your face and Damian cooly slid in and put an arm around your shoulders.

“Everything alright here, Y/N,” Damian asked as you placed a warm hand on his back in gratitude.

“Fine, Wayne, I was just asking Y/N here about her plans after the game on Friday,” the jock, Brandon, said smiling at you and doing his best to ignore Damian altogether.

Damian’s back muscles tensed beneath the white button-down at his words, “I’m afraid she’ll be otherwise occupied,” Damian replied and after being friends with him since the beginning of the school year you could read him much better now. But this was something different, like a mix of anger, and annoyance and…jealousy?

But that was crazy. Right? Why would Damian be jealous, it made no sense. Unless...

“Well, that's too bad. I guess we’ll catch up some other time, yeah?” He asked and you only nodded with a tight smile on your lips before Brandon turned and left. But Damian never let go of your shoulders.

You looked up at him but his eyes were glued to the spot that Brandon once stood, glaring.

“Damian,” you said looking to get his attention.

And when he turned to you, all of the tension instantly left him and he found himself lost in your Y/E/C orbs, kind face showing nothing but concern for him. He took in all of your features, from the polka dot hair tie to the electric blue tie tucked beneath her sweater vest. He realized he’d been staring for too long, but couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“What’s wrong? Is there something on my face?” You asked and he smiled softly at you. A smile only you ever got to see.

“No it’s perfect,” he almost whispered.

Though the blush wasn’t prominent the heat worked its way into your cheeks anyway.  

“Good. Now quick question.”

“Mmm?” he hummed.

“We’re you jealous?” You asked with raised eyebrows and his eyes widened in the slightest.

He sputtered just a bit and released his hold of your shoulders in favor of standing across from you.

Damian didn’t look at you as he asked, “Does it matter if I was?”

You stood shocked for a few seconds at his earnestness before replying in a teasing voice.

“Damian Wayne was jealous over little old me? Wow wait until the papers hear about this one,” you said and he finally turned to you at that.

“I might have a better story for them,” he told you, and his sudden mischievous aura sent a tingle down your back.

“And what would that be?” You asked.

“This,” he said before unexpectedly closing the distance between the two of you in a sweet kiss. He tasted like peppermint and you were quick to melt into him as he placed his hands on your waist.

When you finally pulled back he was smiling and you couldn’t help but do the same.

“Oh yeah, Vicky Vale would have a field day with that one.”